Post by Deleted on Oct 23, 2023 4:10:02 GMT -5
10.22.23
With Night One of the Cannabis Cup ending, we find ourselves backstage in the media scrum area where reporters wait for the next person to arrive so they can bombard them with questions from the mundane to the spicy.
Artemis stumbles in, if only for lack of finding her dressing room, and walks into the interview room. She sits down to avoid the embarrassment of not knowing where she is going, and Donatello, equally clueless if not more, fans her while she sits.
Artemis: I guess you’re all here to ask me about the travesty that happened earlier when your Artiste was disparaged and made a fool of by Mr. and Mrs. Page drafting me to that rat drowning sinking ship knows as Brawl!
A PR manager’s intern is furiously pointing at her clipboard because Artemis hasn’t even been invited to this scrum. One reporter takes pity on the embattled Artiste if only to pass the time for someone who’s actually on the list.
Robyn Banks: It’s probably not your ideal choice but you did get drafted to the flagship show after your beef with the Brawl general manager and her husband. It could mean they see something in you.
Artemis blinks like a robot. Something is not computing. Maybe she is having issues understanding the pure idiocy coming out of the mouth of the media rep. Donatello hands Artemis a water which she sips so very gently before suddenly hurling it at the reporter’s face.
She misses and it hits someone else in the back.
Artemis: Are you daft you reeling-ripe pottuck?!? Their drafting was an abuse of power. They intend to book me against all of their hired guns in CCPE in every unfair match they can because of the protest I held outside of that Whore Palace run by that rancid bulldog-faced Candice Page. You saw it last time, did you not? They gave me the Halloween everyday swag-bellied lewduster, Enchantra, and that stark raving idiot Joule as partners to take on the Show Stealerz and their collective hemorrhoid Sam Chatman. I’m a brilliant artiste in that ring, but not even I in all my resplended grace can overcome such odds. My being drafted to Brawl was a punishment! A punishment I tell you! A punishment!
Donatello increases his fanning of her while the throng of media murmurs.
Wayne Kerr: You weren’t booked for either night of the Cannabis Cup but since you’re here what are your thoughts on Night One and what lies ahead on Night Two?
Our heroic Artiste looks at Donatello as if to double-check if such an idiot can ask such an idiotic question. Her muse shakes his head at the reporter.
Artemis: Watching the matches was like watching a bunch of drunken baboons brawling in a mud-floored bar in some third-world country. It was an awful display of wrestling. No precision. No art. I expected more. Instead, my eyes were assaulted by a mental midget like Mac Bane not knowing how to break a submission hold before a ref’s count of five. There was also a tub of jello that somehow fitted itself into a singlet and got beat up by Clyde Newton. What a disgusting display of whatever it was Jello was trying to do. Don’t get me started on that silly spectacle with those three unchin-snoted hedge-pigs who fought over a ladder to win a tertiary championship that lost its credibility to Sonya Benson and Kim Riddle.
She all but snorted out her displeasure at what she viewed during her wait for drafting.
Noah Pinion: We’re sorry you had to suffer through that. I take it you won’t be in attendance for Night Two, so what’s next for you? How are you going to deal with being on Brawl and have you heard anything from the competitors you name-dropped as potential candidates for joining your Renaissance?
She holds a hand up to cut him off from asking another question. Her eyes have lifted up with a surge of clarity. It’s as if an idea has just popped up.
Artemis: To the contrary, I will be in attendance on night two, because I am making a statement, no, a demand right now. I demand to be traded to the Smash brand! If Mr. and Mrs. Page don’t make this happen by the opening match of night two, then I will protest their main event between Peter Vaughn and that big ugly guy. I will disrupt it. I will make a farce out of it. Spread the word through your media outlets. I have given them an ultimatum. As for Emily Simms, Lexi Gold, and the Cassette Collective……. I have not heard from them about my offer but I will keep it extended until they decline it. Others are welcome to join if they can carry the burden of art inside the ring.
The intern from earlier has stopped pointing at her clipboard and is now furiously gesturing to a crew of muscular black shirts with SECURITY written across them who storm in looking for any reason to get froggy. Artemis bolts from her chair in anger at what she feels is another abuse of power and she tries to flip over the table at them but it doesn’t budge so she and Donatello make a dramatic run for the exit.
The End. Comments welcome.
Join the Renaissance.
Tags: Chris Page and please re-tweet on Twitter.