BEIN'S BEEEEEEEEEELIEVIN

[Perello]

"WHAT A FEEEEEEEELING! BEIN'S BEEEEEEEEEELIEVIN! I COULD HAVE IT ALL, NOW I'M TWERKIN' FOR MY LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE!"

MacRear began inside the comfort of his mother's hair salon, his hair slicked back in a ponytail, dressed up in Gucci pajamas from head to toe.

"Laura, Laura, Laura! OH MACDADDY, HOW I HATE THAT THIS HAS TO BE YOU! HOW I HATE THAT YOU, A NONE NASTY, HAVE TO FALL VICTIM TO THE BEST STREAK IN THE HISTORY OF SPORTS AND WRESTLING. THE STREAK OF THE UNDEFEATED, UNTOUCHABLE - THE SULTAN OF SELFIES, PRINCE MACREAR!"

He sighed, covering his face with his hands.

"But, I guess... I guess that's just how the booty bounces, huh? I GUESS I JUST HAAAAAAAAVE TO BEAT YOU, MAKE YOUR FACE LESS PRETTIER THAN IT IS, AND TAKE A SELFIE WITH YOU AFTER THE MATCH SINCE I AM UNDOUBTEDLY THE LEADER OF THE LOCKER ROOM!"

He stood from his seat, walking over towards one of the mirrors inside the hair salon.

"You know what, Laura? I gotta admit. I respect your drive. I respect your heart. I respect your dedication to everything that you do! There's not a lot of people out there who are as dedicated to their craft as you are, and that’s something anyone can respect! Even A GORGEOUS LIFEFORM SUCH AS MYSELF CAN RESPECT AND ADMIRE SOMEONE WITH THE AMOUNT OF DETERMINATION THAT YOU HAVE!”

He grabbed the first can of hairspray that he saw and began drenching his hair with it.

“But I have news for you, HONAY. I’ve been the laughing stock of professional wrestling for FAAAAAAR TOO LONG, AND I WILL NOT LET THAT HAPPEN TO ME AGAIN! I WORKED TOO HARD ON MY CRAFT! I WORKED TOO ON MY HAIR AND ALL OF MY SELFIES THAT HAVE BROUGHT ME THIS FAR! I WORKED TOO HARD ON THE MOST EPIC STREAK OF ALL THE TIME. THE STREAK OF ---”

He breathed in, choking on some hairspray, but it was almost like he was immune to it.

“MAC DADDY MACREARRY, BAYBAY! YOU!? YOU’RE JUST TEENY TOT STILL LOOKING TO MAKE A NAME FOR HERSELF, AND ME?!”

He laughed.

“I’M ON MY WAY TO BECOMING A HOUSEHOLD NAME! I’M ON MY WAY TO BECOMING THE BEST, AND WITHOUT A DOUBT THE PRETTIEST WRESTLER WHO EVER LIVED OR DIED!”

He placed the hairspray back onto the table, and turned his head to look over at the camera.

“Who am I kidding? I’M THE PRETTIEST LIFEFORM WHO HAS EVER LIVED OR DIED - PERIOD! But you! You’re not that far off from giving me a run for my money in the pretty department, but when it comes to wrestling ability? YOU CAN’T TOUCH ME!”

He spun around in a circle with his arms extended out to his sides, the ladies in the salon whistling in his direction.

“Yes, sweetums. I am more experienced than you. Yes, sweetums. I AM THE MAIN EVENT BOOTAY OF LIONS DEN FIGHTING CHAMPIONSHIPS. And yes, sweetums… I’m going to make you my bitch at Pride; just like I made Nest my bitch when he touched my phone!”

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out the infamous iPhone.

“You wanna stay on my good side, right? Then do NOT touch the PHONE! This isn’t a game, Laura. This isn’t a joke. You touch the phone, and I WILL PUT THE FEAR OF FABIO INTO YOUR HEART! I WILL MAKE SURE THAT YOU’RE WRESTLING CAREER IS NEVER, EVER, EVER, EVER THE SAME AGAIN!”

He raised his hand, holding the phone just a few inches away from his face.

“Ready...set…”

He grinned.

“SELFIE.”