Post by Everybody Hates Jenny Myst on Dec 2, 2023 18:38:57 GMT -5
OOC: For best context as to how this road trip came about, reference the CD RP below:
PRELUDE
The heels of her Converse clicked against the seat bottom as Gabriella roared her thunderous tune through the scorching desert. She looked out the window at the vast expanse of nothingness around them–there was a sort of calming presence to it.
The landscape, dominated by endless expanses of sandy terrain and occasional shrubs, lacks the vibrant diversity found in more varied ecosystems. The arid climate contributes to an almost relentless uniformity, with the sun beating down on the desolate landscape, creating an unchanging and predictable environment.
She despised ‘predictable’.
The absence of prominent features or striking landmarks left her yearning for some sort of visual stimulation. Endless horizons of monotonous hues, ranging from earthy browns to faded yellows, create a repetitive and uninspiring panorama. The occasional tumbleweed rolling across the barren expanse becomes a rare moment of movement in an otherwise static scene.
Some may find solace in the vast emptiness, but the more she stared out the window at the reddish-tan nothingness, she struggled to find excitement in the lack of diversity and stimulation. In the New Mexico desert, the pervasive sameness can lead to a perception of monotony, leaving visitors longing for the dynamic allure found in more varied landscapes. In the WGWF, the pervasive sameness can lead to viewers changing the station at alarming rates…..
"Are we there yet?" Her voice came out with a childlike whine.
"Does it look like we're there yet?"
"I saw a sign! It said Dallas!"
"Yeah, in 800 miles."
Jenny huffed and crossed her arms. She thought it would be fun to get to know her partner but he's a tough nut to crack. Doesn't open up nearly as much as she hoped.
He was a name she had heard many times. Nationally and internationally known, a multi time champion in multiple companies. His name transcends wherever it goes, yet he dresses so humbly. He isn't flashy, doesn't have to have a gimmick (like their opponents this week----God Goth and Bobby are so corny and don't even realize it!), he just shows us, kicks ass, and leaves. She respected that.
"Sooooooooo then where are we?"
"New Mexico"
"Oh! We learned about New Mexico in school, never thought I'd actually ever come here."
"What could they possibly have taught you about New Mexico? Not much goes on here....."
"It's like Mexico, but newer!"
"I bet you were an honor student."
Peter let out the smallest of chuckles as he gripped the wheel, shaking his head slightly.
"What's funny about New Mexico?"
"Nothing.....it's not New Mex----" he trailed off.
It was the first smile he had cracked since they started driving, albeit a small one.
"Come on.........." she said.
He stayed looking straight forward.
Peter turned his miniscule smile back into steely resolve and didn’t change it.
“If this is new Mexico, can we change Spain’s name to Old Mexico?”
Peter didn’t respond. He did, however, appreciate her wittiness. Sure, she was batshit crazy, but somewhere in that bleach blonde and pink head of hers there was a brain. She was smarter than she let everyone think.
“Do you know anything about New Mexico?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“New Mexico has a bad drug problem that has a causal relationship with them not paying their teachers enough.” Peter used an informative tone that took Jenny back a bit.
“Oh…….I know they have a lot of Meth, too! And made the news for some bitch getting kidnapped back in the 80’s.”
Peter nods, trying not to get annoyed.
Jenny sighed. Peter wasn’t going to allow himself to smile again. This was going to be a long 800 miles. She clutched her Amber doll and looked out the window, her eyes catching a glimpse of Miriam in the back seat, still strapped in and being a good girl. The thought flashed through her mind for a second if she was a good parent–or a good friend. Did Miriam trust her? Better yet, did Peter?
The desert, like trust, is a vast expanse that demands patience and resilience. In both, there is an initial sense of emptiness and an absence of immediate gratification. Trust, much like the arid landscape, requires time to cultivate and is often built through a series of small, consistent actions. Just as the desert may seem desolate at first glance, trust can appear elusive in a world filled with uncertainties.
In the desert, mirages play tricks on the eyes, presenting illusions of water and refuge that vanish upon approach. Trust, too, can be fragile, susceptible to the mirages of deception and betrayal. It necessitates a discerning eye and a willingness to navigate through the uncertainties, distinguishing between genuine connections and deceptive illusions.
The harsh conditions of the desert parallel the challenges inherent in establishing trust. Both environments demand endurance, as trust is not easily won, and the arid land requires organisms to adapt to survive. In the absence of immediate sustenance, trust relies on the gradual accumulation of shared experiences and demonstrated reliability.
Yet, like an oasis emerging unexpectedly in the vast desert, trust can blossom in the most unexpected moments, rejuvenating relationships and fostering connection. It is a delicate ecosystem that, once established, requires continual care and attention to flourish. The desert, with its harsh beauty, serves as a metaphor for the intricate and nuanced journey of building and maintaining trust—a journey that unfolds slowly, demanding patience, resilience, and a keen understanding of the landscape.
“I have to pee”, broke the seemingly year-long silence.
“You couldn’t have peed back at the border when we stopped to get gas?”
“I didn’t have to pee then.”
“There aren’t exactly rest stops in the middle of the desert.”
“Miriam has to pee, too.”
“I highly doubt that.”
Jenny huffed, shifting a bit in her seat. She really did have to go.
Peter noticed this slight shift in movement and something in him felt bad. Oh god, what was he becoming? Soft in his aging years?!
“I think there is a town coming up here in a bit, if you can hold on.”
“What about Miriam?”
“Something tells me she will be fine…….”
After what felt like a month in the car, it was emergency status for Jenny. If this truck wasn’t stopped soon, there was going to be a puddle on the passenger seat. Jenny was biting her lip now, and her legs were crossed tight enough to crush a watermelon.
Gabriella rolled into the dirt path in front of the store and Jenny jumped out of the car and ran towards the door. Just before she opened it, however, she stopped. Turning around she ran back to the truck, opened the passenger door and took Miriam out. “Sorry”, she said, “lets go pee, and get some road snacks!”
Peter, however, had a different mind frame. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the clientele.
Unbeknownst to Jenny, she became the unintended center of attention as the group exchanged knowing glances and followed her with unabashed curiosity. Their lingering presence outside the bathroom hinted at unsolicited intentions, turning a mundane pit stop into an uncomfortable situation. One mumbled something to the other about “the fine piece of ass that just walked in” and “we don’t see that type ‘round here.”
Peter, sensing the tension, decided he couldn't let this unfold. Swiftly, he rose from his seat, his lanky frame moving with purpose. As he reached the bathroom door, he tapped the foremost local on the shoulder, diverting their attention. In an instant, a quick and decisive blow from Peter left the group incapacitated, sprawled on the floor in surprise.
Inside the bathroom, Jenny finished her uneventful business, oblivious to the dramatic scene that unfolded just outside the door. As she emerged, her face lit up with the satisfaction of finding her favorite snacks. "That was the most boring pee ever," she quipped, completely unaware of the thwarted encounter. "OOOO! CHRISTMAS OREO'S!". The red centers beckoned here, and she grabbed a handful.
Back at the truck, Peter, concealing the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, shared a knowing smile with Jenny. Little did she realize that, in the midst of the seemingly uneventful convenience store stop, Peter had provided the excitement she craved, ensuring their journey continued with the simple joy of snacks and the reassurance of an unspoken protector by her side.
The truck rolled out of the lot as Jenny stared out the window again. She saw the confederate flags perched on the back of the beds of the local trucks. "Pretty flags" she said. Peter let this go, hoping she didn't know what she was saying.
As Peter and Jenny traversed the darkened roads on their journey to Dallas, the Texas border welcomed them with the distant glow of city lights on the horizon. The sun had long set, casting a vast expanse of stars overhead. As they idled at a stop sign, a fleeting shadow caught Jenny's attention. Her eyes widened, and with unbridled excitement, she exclaimed, "Doggy!"
Peter turned to see a lone coyote in the periphery. He corrected her, "Jenny, that's not a doggy. That's a coyote. Stay in the car."
But Jenny, fueled by her untamed curiosity, swiftly unlocked the door and dashed into the night after the creature. Peter's heart quickened, a sense of dread settling in. He unbuckled his belt, ready to intervene if necessary, his mind replaying past situations where he had to come to Jenny's rescue.
Seconds turned into minutes, and just as Peter readied his flashlight to search for his partner, the car door swung open. Jenny stood there, bathed in moonlight, with a triumphant grin. However, the scene that unfolded was unexpected – she was covered in blood, and slung over her shoulder was the lifeless body of the coyote.
"Mean doggy," she panted, seemingly unfazed by her own daring pursuit.
Peter, torn between relief and bewilderment, couldn't help but chuckle. "Jenny, that's not a mean doggy; it's a wild animal. You could have been hurt!"
Jenny, still grinning, retorted, "Nah, he just had a bad attitude." She tossed the lifeless coyote into the bed of the truck with a nonchalant gesture. "Now we don't have to spend money on more snacks. So overpriced these days. Thanks Biden." She gets into the truck and buckles in. "I hope I didn't scare Miriam too badly."
Peter looked at his partner and shook his head. Here he was, worried about her safety for a reason he couldn't find the words to explain, when all of this time she didn't need his protection after all. Jenny could hold her own.
Peter nodded, his faith in her increased, and his trust that she could, if it came down to it, protect him as well, made him feel a sense of ease as he shifted the truck into drive.
As they continued their journey into the Texas night, Peter couldn't shake the mix of concern and amazement. Jenny, undeterred by the dangers lurking in the dark, had once again injected a dose of the unexpected into their travels, turning a simple encounter with wildlife into a memorable, if not slightly unsettling, adventure.
As Gabriella, the trusty truck, rolled to a stop in front of the hotel in Dallas, Peter couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. The worn leather seats and the familiar hum of the engine had become more than just elements of their journey – they were companions on the winding roads of adventure. Jenny, his spirited and occasionally exasperating travel partner, turned to him with a smirk.
"Gabriella brought us safely to Dallas," she declared, patting the dashboard as if to acknowledge the truck's role in their escapades.
Peter, despite the occasional irritation caused by Jenny's impulsive actions, couldn't deny a growing connection with his unconventional companion.
As Jenny prepared to exit the vehicle, she turned to Peter with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "Hey, Peter," she said, her eyes locking onto his. "Do you trust me?"
The question hung in the air, and for a moment, Peter pondered the depth of their partnership. Despite the quirks and unpredictability, Jenny hadn't betrayed him. In fact, she had become a source of unexpected entertainment and, surprisingly, a sense of security. His initial skepticism had given way to a realization that, somehow, Jenny had managed to become a dependable ally on their cross-country trek.
With a wry smile, Peter replied, "Yeah, Jenny, I guess I do." The answer seemed to satisfy her, and as she stepped out into the Dallas night, Peter couldn't help but acknowledge the unspoken bond that had formed between them, sealed by the miles traveled and the unpredictable adventures encountered along the way.
That said, at least Jen and I have a championship pedigree and a love of sponge cake to unite us. What on earth do Goth and Willis have?
You've got Goth, a man so dark that he still can’t release his rage towards J-Mont even after being victorious, and then you’ve got Bobby Ray… the guy who likes to walk around naked and get greased up, and who apparently likes cocaine motorboating PETA representatives. What a combination. You’ve got the man in black and the man in the nude. “The Messiah of Pain” and the “Mistake of Texarkana”.
Okay, sure, we could sell it to Netflix or YouTube or something as a sitcom, but that doesn’t make them a good team.
Now, Goth, you know we’ve been teammates in the past. We’ve worked together in the Saviors. I’ve beaten you up a few times, you’ve tried to beat me up a few times, it’s just the way our relationship has gone. You know I harbor no ill will towards you… unlike my partner. So I can just give you some helpful advice in this case: there’s no point in you continuing this fight. I’ve been given a championship partner, you’ve been given the resident new sack of donkey turds. You’re going to have to wash your hands with every tag, you know that, right? Better bring the hand sanitizer.
It’s a terrible situation for you, my man. You blow your chance at the #1 contender spot, sending my friend Mac going after my other friend, Cholo. And now this. You have to see that the odds have been stacked against you like a game of Texas Jenga, and there are basically no 2x4s you can pull to survive.
The best thing you can do, Golfie old boy, is tag that Bobbaloo in and then take a walk. Let us do what we’re going to do anyway, and you can save your skin for another day.
I don’t expect to listen, of course. You’ve never listened to me about stuff like that. But I want to be able to say I at least told you the right path to follow.
I know you probably think I’m being too harsh on you, Bubba Dick, but I’m sorry. This is like matching up Coke & Pepsi against Dr. Pepper & that yellow Sun Drop soda that tastes like piss. Three of us have accomplished something in this business, some more than others. But you, Bucky Roy, have won exactly one match in the WGWF, and it was over three other complete nobodies who barely gave a damn about showing up… and you STILL NEEDED OUTSIDE DISTRACTIONS TO WIN!!!
That’s just embarrassing on a whole host of levels.
And now you’re going to be out there talking a big game, thinking that you now deserve to be in there with two wrestlers who are legit Hall of Famers in this business. By winning ONE match. I’m sorry, Buddy Boy, but the bookers let you down big-time. There’s seriously no way in hell you take Jen’s TV Title, and to think that you deserve to be standing in the ring with me? ME?
Thinking about it, this may all be my fault.
I said that I wanted to face different talent for a while, leave the top contenders alone and go after guys and gals I haven’t been able to fight yet. That’s why I destroyed JD Smith last Brawl… and now they decided to throw you into my path. If I need to take the blame, so be it… but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re more screwed than a hooker on the Clinton payroll.
Wait, that’s probably going to go right over your head. Let me pull on some of my Texas roots and come up with a line that might resonate with you a little better…
You two guys are more fucked than a two-legged cat trapped on a hot tin roof.
Yeah, I bet that one got your attention.
Plain and simple, boyos, you’re facing a tidal wave of talent, and it’s going to overwhelm you. The only question will be: will it end up Myst flying down with the Identity Crisis, or will it be The Mechanic airborne, making one of you take The Plunge? Could it be Pink Perfection or Revenged? Really, that’s the only thing worth betting on, because the ending will be the same no matter what the final move is.
Working together, Jenny & I are guaranteed to be successful. Got-Bob? Only guaranteed to be greasy, both before and after.
PRELUDE
The heels of her Converse clicked against the seat bottom as Gabriella roared her thunderous tune through the scorching desert. She looked out the window at the vast expanse of nothingness around them–there was a sort of calming presence to it.
Peaceful. Serene. Relaxing.
Boring. As all fuck.
The landscape, dominated by endless expanses of sandy terrain and occasional shrubs, lacks the vibrant diversity found in more varied ecosystems. The arid climate contributes to an almost relentless uniformity, with the sun beating down on the desolate landscape, creating an unchanging and predictable environment.
She despised ‘predictable’.
The absence of prominent features or striking landmarks left her yearning for some sort of visual stimulation. Endless horizons of monotonous hues, ranging from earthy browns to faded yellows, create a repetitive and uninspiring panorama. The occasional tumbleweed rolling across the barren expanse becomes a rare moment of movement in an otherwise static scene.
Some may find solace in the vast emptiness, but the more she stared out the window at the reddish-tan nothingness, she struggled to find excitement in the lack of diversity and stimulation. In the New Mexico desert, the pervasive sameness can lead to a perception of monotony, leaving visitors longing for the dynamic allure found in more varied landscapes. In the WGWF, the pervasive sameness can lead to viewers changing the station at alarming rates…..
"Are we there yet?" Her voice came out with a childlike whine.
"Does it look like we're there yet?"
"I saw a sign! It said Dallas!"
"Yeah, in 800 miles."
Jenny huffed and crossed her arms. She thought it would be fun to get to know her partner but he's a tough nut to crack. Doesn't open up nearly as much as she hoped.
He was a name she had heard many times. Nationally and internationally known, a multi time champion in multiple companies. His name transcends wherever it goes, yet he dresses so humbly. He isn't flashy, doesn't have to have a gimmick (like their opponents this week----God Goth and Bobby are so corny and don't even realize it!), he just shows us, kicks ass, and leaves. She respected that.
"Sooooooooo then where are we?"
"New Mexico"
"Oh! We learned about New Mexico in school, never thought I'd actually ever come here."
"What could they possibly have taught you about New Mexico? Not much goes on here....."
"It's like Mexico, but newer!"
"I bet you were an honor student."
Peter let out the smallest of chuckles as he gripped the wheel, shaking his head slightly.
"What's funny about New Mexico?"
"Nothing.....it's not New Mex----" he trailed off.
It was the first smile he had cracked since they started driving, albeit a small one.
"Come on.........." she said.
He stayed looking straight forward.
Peter turned his miniscule smile back into steely resolve and didn’t change it.
“If this is new Mexico, can we change Spain’s name to Old Mexico?”
Peter didn’t respond. He did, however, appreciate her wittiness. Sure, she was batshit crazy, but somewhere in that bleach blonde and pink head of hers there was a brain. She was smarter than she let everyone think.
“Do you know anything about New Mexico?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“New Mexico has a bad drug problem that has a causal relationship with them not paying their teachers enough.” Peter used an informative tone that took Jenny back a bit.
“Oh…….I know they have a lot of Meth, too! And made the news for some bitch getting kidnapped back in the 80’s.”
Peter nods, trying not to get annoyed.
Jenny sighed. Peter wasn’t going to allow himself to smile again. This was going to be a long 800 miles. She clutched her Amber doll and looked out the window, her eyes catching a glimpse of Miriam in the back seat, still strapped in and being a good girl. The thought flashed through her mind for a second if she was a good parent–or a good friend. Did Miriam trust her? Better yet, did Peter?
The desert, like trust, is a vast expanse that demands patience and resilience. In both, there is an initial sense of emptiness and an absence of immediate gratification. Trust, much like the arid landscape, requires time to cultivate and is often built through a series of small, consistent actions. Just as the desert may seem desolate at first glance, trust can appear elusive in a world filled with uncertainties.
In the desert, mirages play tricks on the eyes, presenting illusions of water and refuge that vanish upon approach. Trust, too, can be fragile, susceptible to the mirages of deception and betrayal. It necessitates a discerning eye and a willingness to navigate through the uncertainties, distinguishing between genuine connections and deceptive illusions.
The harsh conditions of the desert parallel the challenges inherent in establishing trust. Both environments demand endurance, as trust is not easily won, and the arid land requires organisms to adapt to survive. In the absence of immediate sustenance, trust relies on the gradual accumulation of shared experiences and demonstrated reliability.
Yet, like an oasis emerging unexpectedly in the vast desert, trust can blossom in the most unexpected moments, rejuvenating relationships and fostering connection. It is a delicate ecosystem that, once established, requires continual care and attention to flourish. The desert, with its harsh beauty, serves as a metaphor for the intricate and nuanced journey of building and maintaining trust—a journey that unfolds slowly, demanding patience, resilience, and a keen understanding of the landscape.
“I have to pee”, broke the seemingly year-long silence.
“You couldn’t have peed back at the border when we stopped to get gas?”
“I didn’t have to pee then.”
“There aren’t exactly rest stops in the middle of the desert.”
“Miriam has to pee, too.”
“I highly doubt that.”
Jenny huffed, shifting a bit in her seat. She really did have to go.
Peter noticed this slight shift in movement and something in him felt bad. Oh god, what was he becoming? Soft in his aging years?!
“I think there is a town coming up here in a bit, if you can hold on.”
“What about Miriam?”
“Something tells me she will be fine…….”
After what felt like a month in the car, it was emergency status for Jenny. If this truck wasn’t stopped soon, there was going to be a puddle on the passenger seat. Jenny was biting her lip now, and her legs were crossed tight enough to crush a watermelon.
Gabriella rolled into the dirt path in front of the store and Jenny jumped out of the car and ran towards the door. Just before she opened it, however, she stopped. Turning around she ran back to the truck, opened the passenger door and took Miriam out. “Sorry”, she said, “lets go pee, and get some road snacks!”
Peter, however, had a different mind frame. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the clientele.
Unbeknownst to Jenny, she became the unintended center of attention as the group exchanged knowing glances and followed her with unabashed curiosity. Their lingering presence outside the bathroom hinted at unsolicited intentions, turning a mundane pit stop into an uncomfortable situation. One mumbled something to the other about “the fine piece of ass that just walked in” and “we don’t see that type ‘round here.”
Peter, sensing the tension, decided he couldn't let this unfold. Swiftly, he rose from his seat, his lanky frame moving with purpose. As he reached the bathroom door, he tapped the foremost local on the shoulder, diverting their attention. In an instant, a quick and decisive blow from Peter left the group incapacitated, sprawled on the floor in surprise.
Inside the bathroom, Jenny finished her uneventful business, oblivious to the dramatic scene that unfolded just outside the door. As she emerged, her face lit up with the satisfaction of finding her favorite snacks. "That was the most boring pee ever," she quipped, completely unaware of the thwarted encounter. "OOOO! CHRISTMAS OREO'S!". The red centers beckoned here, and she grabbed a handful.
Back at the truck, Peter, concealing the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, shared a knowing smile with Jenny. Little did she realize that, in the midst of the seemingly uneventful convenience store stop, Peter had provided the excitement she craved, ensuring their journey continued with the simple joy of snacks and the reassurance of an unspoken protector by her side.
The truck rolled out of the lot as Jenny stared out the window again. She saw the confederate flags perched on the back of the beds of the local trucks. "Pretty flags" she said. Peter let this go, hoping she didn't know what she was saying.
As Peter and Jenny traversed the darkened roads on their journey to Dallas, the Texas border welcomed them with the distant glow of city lights on the horizon. The sun had long set, casting a vast expanse of stars overhead. As they idled at a stop sign, a fleeting shadow caught Jenny's attention. Her eyes widened, and with unbridled excitement, she exclaimed, "Doggy!"
Peter turned to see a lone coyote in the periphery. He corrected her, "Jenny, that's not a doggy. That's a coyote. Stay in the car."
But Jenny, fueled by her untamed curiosity, swiftly unlocked the door and dashed into the night after the creature. Peter's heart quickened, a sense of dread settling in. He unbuckled his belt, ready to intervene if necessary, his mind replaying past situations where he had to come to Jenny's rescue.
Seconds turned into minutes, and just as Peter readied his flashlight to search for his partner, the car door swung open. Jenny stood there, bathed in moonlight, with a triumphant grin. However, the scene that unfolded was unexpected – she was covered in blood, and slung over her shoulder was the lifeless body of the coyote.
"Mean doggy," she panted, seemingly unfazed by her own daring pursuit.
Peter, torn between relief and bewilderment, couldn't help but chuckle. "Jenny, that's not a mean doggy; it's a wild animal. You could have been hurt!"
Jenny, still grinning, retorted, "Nah, he just had a bad attitude." She tossed the lifeless coyote into the bed of the truck with a nonchalant gesture. "Now we don't have to spend money on more snacks. So overpriced these days. Thanks Biden." She gets into the truck and buckles in. "I hope I didn't scare Miriam too badly."
Peter looked at his partner and shook his head. Here he was, worried about her safety for a reason he couldn't find the words to explain, when all of this time she didn't need his protection after all. Jenny could hold her own.
Peter nodded, his faith in her increased, and his trust that she could, if it came down to it, protect him as well, made him feel a sense of ease as he shifted the truck into drive.
As they continued their journey into the Texas night, Peter couldn't shake the mix of concern and amazement. Jenny, undeterred by the dangers lurking in the dark, had once again injected a dose of the unexpected into their travels, turning a simple encounter with wildlife into a memorable, if not slightly unsettling, adventure.
As Gabriella, the trusty truck, rolled to a stop in front of the hotel in Dallas, Peter couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. The worn leather seats and the familiar hum of the engine had become more than just elements of their journey – they were companions on the winding roads of adventure. Jenny, his spirited and occasionally exasperating travel partner, turned to him with a smirk.
"Gabriella brought us safely to Dallas," she declared, patting the dashboard as if to acknowledge the truck's role in their escapades.
Peter, despite the occasional irritation caused by Jenny's impulsive actions, couldn't deny a growing connection with his unconventional companion.
As Jenny prepared to exit the vehicle, she turned to Peter with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "Hey, Peter," she said, her eyes locking onto his. "Do you trust me?"
The question hung in the air, and for a moment, Peter pondered the depth of their partnership. Despite the quirks and unpredictability, Jenny hadn't betrayed him. In fact, she had become a source of unexpected entertainment and, surprisingly, a sense of security. His initial skepticism had given way to a realization that, somehow, Jenny had managed to become a dependable ally on their cross-country trek.
With a wry smile, Peter replied, "Yeah, Jenny, I guess I do." The answer seemed to satisfy her, and as she stepped out into the Dallas night, Peter couldn't help but acknowledge the unspoken bond that had formed between them, sealed by the miles traveled and the unpredictable adventures encountered along the way.
"Coming together is a beginning; keeping together is progress; working together is a success." - Henry Ford
Ol' Henry never knew what strange partnerships the WGWF brass could come up with.
Look at what they've done for Brawl, pairing the former two-time World Champion Peter Vaughn up with the Television Champion, Jenny Myst. Two people from different circles of life. I've never had any problems with Jen, or much of anything else; in fact, I don't think we've ever spent much time in the ring together. Guess fate decided that needed to change, as I continue my journey down a different road with WGWF. I mean, I DID say I was going to work on the tag-team skills in 2024. We're just starting slightly early.That said, at least Jen and I have a championship pedigree and a love of sponge cake to unite us. What on earth do Goth and Willis have?
You've got Goth, a man so dark that he still can’t release his rage towards J-Mont even after being victorious, and then you’ve got Bobby Ray… the guy who likes to walk around naked and get greased up, and who apparently likes cocaine motorboating PETA representatives. What a combination. You’ve got the man in black and the man in the nude. “The Messiah of Pain” and the “Mistake of Texarkana”.
Okay, sure, we could sell it to Netflix or YouTube or something as a sitcom, but that doesn’t make them a good team.
Now, Goth, you know we’ve been teammates in the past. We’ve worked together in the Saviors. I’ve beaten you up a few times, you’ve tried to beat me up a few times, it’s just the way our relationship has gone. You know I harbor no ill will towards you… unlike my partner. So I can just give you some helpful advice in this case: there’s no point in you continuing this fight. I’ve been given a championship partner, you’ve been given the resident new sack of donkey turds. You’re going to have to wash your hands with every tag, you know that, right? Better bring the hand sanitizer.
It’s a terrible situation for you, my man. You blow your chance at the #1 contender spot, sending my friend Mac going after my other friend, Cholo. And now this. You have to see that the odds have been stacked against you like a game of Texas Jenga, and there are basically no 2x4s you can pull to survive.
The best thing you can do, Golfie old boy, is tag that Bobbaloo in and then take a walk. Let us do what we’re going to do anyway, and you can save your skin for another day.
I don’t expect to listen, of course. You’ve never listened to me about stuff like that. But I want to be able to say I at least told you the right path to follow.
I know you probably think I’m being too harsh on you, Bubba Dick, but I’m sorry. This is like matching up Coke & Pepsi against Dr. Pepper & that yellow Sun Drop soda that tastes like piss. Three of us have accomplished something in this business, some more than others. But you, Bucky Roy, have won exactly one match in the WGWF, and it was over three other complete nobodies who barely gave a damn about showing up… and you STILL NEEDED OUTSIDE DISTRACTIONS TO WIN!!!
That’s just embarrassing on a whole host of levels.
And now you’re going to be out there talking a big game, thinking that you now deserve to be in there with two wrestlers who are legit Hall of Famers in this business. By winning ONE match. I’m sorry, Buddy Boy, but the bookers let you down big-time. There’s seriously no way in hell you take Jen’s TV Title, and to think that you deserve to be standing in the ring with me? ME?
Thinking about it, this may all be my fault.
I said that I wanted to face different talent for a while, leave the top contenders alone and go after guys and gals I haven’t been able to fight yet. That’s why I destroyed JD Smith last Brawl… and now they decided to throw you into my path. If I need to take the blame, so be it… but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re more screwed than a hooker on the Clinton payroll.
Wait, that’s probably going to go right over your head. Let me pull on some of my Texas roots and come up with a line that might resonate with you a little better…
You two guys are more fucked than a two-legged cat trapped on a hot tin roof.
Yeah, I bet that one got your attention.
Plain and simple, boyos, you’re facing a tidal wave of talent, and it’s going to overwhelm you. The only question will be: will it end up Myst flying down with the Identity Crisis, or will it be The Mechanic airborne, making one of you take The Plunge? Could it be Pink Perfection or Revenged? Really, that’s the only thing worth betting on, because the ending will be the same no matter what the final move is.
Working together, Jenny & I are guaranteed to be successful. Got-Bob? Only guaranteed to be greasy, both before and after.
"They say history repeats itself. Here I am, Television Champion again. Here I am starting over again, re-inventing myself on a weekly basis. Here I am making headlines, being the most talked about, sought after, and underappreciated member of a major roster. Here I am proving everyone wrong again. Here I am, in yet another position to kick Goth's ass from post-to-post and further cement my legacy.
Sit around the fire kids, it's story time with Jenny Myst!"
*clears throat*
"It all began back in the North Korea of professional wrestling companies, XWF. Goth was an ambitious chap back then. An up-and-comer who thought he could make his come up at my expense.
Silly boy.
Goth sought me out, and made me a target. Time and time again he would shoot his shot, and time and time again I intercepted, blasting his best try out of the air with brutal precision. Goth has never beaten me, though he tried so hard. Some may say I brought out the best in him. The best performances of his career came in losses to me. I even let him get close a few times, dangle that carrot so to speak, just to rip it away in the waning seconds and shove the carrot directly up his poop-chute. I think he liked it. Masochist much?
I digress.
Goth has always been second tier. He has always been playing catch up, but has never been able to finish the race. No wonder he said I had a nice ass, he's spent so much time behind me! You see, Goth has always had his mental issues, most of them stemming from being a pussy--the others from the ghost of his ex-whore errr.....wife. You know, the one that died. He was always putting his one-person therapy sessions on tape for us to dissect, hoping to get sympathy. This isn't a charity, Gerrit, this is professional wrestling. If there was a title for being the biggest whiny douche, hell you'd have won it and never lost! Undefeated! Instead, he decided to pester me.....always being up in my business like one day things would be different.
Do you know the definition of insanity?
In all of his failures and short-comings, however, I'll give him props. He took his lumps and kept coming back for more abuse. It was like 'bring your beau to work day' at the battered women's shelter every time Goth and I got together. He couldn't get enough, even though he knew it was bad for him. It got so bad XWF booking had to call a meeting to discuss how they weren't going to get sued. Eventually, they threw in the white towel for him.....
..............since he was too stupid to do it himself.
Now, they team you with my number one contender, some hillbilly redneck sister-fucker whose been making waves in the undercard. Bravo? I wanted to slow clap for you, because I know deep down you think this means you have a chance....but in my corner is a multi-time world champion who is known around the world. You really think your partner stacks up to mine? Clearly, Goth, someone either substantially overestimated your ability to do anything besides suck, or they aren't very good gamblers. What's the line on this match? Whoever is betting on you and Bobby is in for a giant disappointment. Right before the holidays, too! Shame.
That is what you do, Goth. You disappoint. You're the textbook definition of a let down. You're underwhelming to a T, and you've never been anything else. You're incapable of it. You ran here thinking you could get WGWF fans to buy into your bullshit, to see through your paper thin resume of actually mattering, and not have to embarrass yourself night in and night out when a five foot woman kicks your dick into oblivion.
Well.....
SURPRISE BITCH!
I am here, and like always, I am eons above you. How long have you been here now? And I have already accomplished more than you ever have in your miserable existence as a 'wrestler'. Hurts, doesn't it? It's only a matter of time before Candace sees how inept you truly are and you are working the house show circuit because the company actually loses money by having you on television. Maybe if you're a good boy, she'll let you work the ring crew. I wouldn't get my hopes up yet, though, because lets be frank here.....you'll probably fuck that up too.
And as for Bobby Ray Willis. Get used to seeing this face, and get used to seeing this title around my waist. Get nice and comfortable! Because after Peter and I dispatch you two also-rans in this tag match, you’re next on the menu. A little down home cooking, beer battered and chicken fried! You tag yourself as pure piss and vinegar….
I mean, both things are hard to swallow I guess…..
Like you getting a title shot. I guess it's fitting?
They say everything is bigger in Texas, but I guess your balls didn’t get the memo. You’re nothing but a sniveling weasel, and I’ll be damned if I lose to Sunshine from Remember The Titans!
You’ve never held a title in this sham you’ve called a ‘career’, and this tag match will be the first real taste you get of a level you will never get to. You try to get by on childish comedy and shock value, but Trailer Park Boys has never been funny and you aren’t even a knockoff version. Your little segment last week was cute, but if you really want to be a contender here you better start getting serious…….
…..it’s all fun and games until you step into the ring with someone who doesn’t care about your wellbeing. Someone who would rather see you suffer than see you succeed, would rather die inside that ring than have to go through life knowing they lost to you.”
FIN.
FIN.