MollyWop
May 12, 2016 18:14:01 GMT -5
Post by pimp on May 12, 2016 18:14:01 GMT -5
MollyWop
May 10, 2016
Miami, FL
Location: Premier Athletics [After Hours]
I walked into the gym and was greeted by Ricky the Guard. He had taken time away, dealing with some back issues. It was good to see him, but I wasn’t exactly in the mood to catch up or check on him. I could tell in his face that he knew that, not inquiring me with too much small talk. He motioned for me to walk around the metal detector and told me that Nicky and Damon were already in the ring warming up. I wasn’t prepared to work out tonight, for Damon told me to come to the gym after hours just to talk with him and Nicky. I pushed through the double door entry to the ring room where I see Nicky doing monkey pushups in the middle of the hard mat. He was dressed in long track pants with a Cordy Stevenson shirt on, unusual from his usual shirtless and ball shorts combo.
“Ewww why are you wearing THAT shirt?” I yelled out, causing him to laugh and raise up to his knees. “Seriously, Nicola it’s been how long now? When are you going to get over her? She obvs just used you for sex.”
As I got closer to the ring, I notice the entire floor was covered in plastic. Nicky laughed, “well there he is. King Carmine! Ben fatto! Brava!” I smiled, even though I sensed a bit of sarcasm. “Damon’s in the locker room gearing up. He’s finally getting his own sessions he’s been complaining about lately.” I nodded, not really giving a fuck.
“That’s nice. But back to meeeee! Yes I AM the king! I told you assholes I could do it.” Nicky raised his eyebrow.
“Who said you couldn’t do it? You have to stop putting the world on trial against you without any evidence.” He says slyly with a wink. I shook my head. “Hey all I’m saying is man sometimes you act as if you have no type of support system. Not to say we help you win, but we sure as hell are rooting for you. It’s just nice to see you do things the right way and not take shortcuts. We teach you too well here for you to feel you have to do that to succeed.”
Rolling my eyes I wagged my finger. “Not getting into this with you right now. Let me guess, you’re proud but you’re not proud because I won with Johnny Cannon.”
Nicky shrugs. “No. I wasn’t going to say that, even though it is a strange concept to have two winners and not force them to fight for the actual thing. But whatever gives you guys your bragging right am I right?” He smiles. “Just don’t get too comfortable with that guy’s company.”
“Here you go. Just like everyone else thinking I need this guy. This isn’t some newly found bond that I’m expecting to blossom into a wonderful friendship. Cannon’s a business partner, we figured we’d make way more money in this business together than alone. Money’s important isn’t it?” Nick couldn’t contest since money had been a secret vice of his for most of his life. Being adopted from a small Italian village, Nicola tasted the rich lifestyle when he came to America and never looked back. “So why am I here if it isn’t to train? Not like I need to for this next match anyways. Fucking Molly Reid what a joke.”
Nicky shakes his head. “I don’t know who she is, but from what I’ve seen she’s talented and has a fun personality. What’s your beef?” I looked at him with a blank face.
“I have no beef. I just think she isn’t on my level and the fact that she thinks she is annoys me. She also isn’t consistent and is desperate for attention. That’s all. I’m going to show her why I’m king and she’s no more than a peasant!” I waved her off, trying to not to think about her face. It gives me the creeps.
“You sound like Queen Banks right now.” I roll my eyes. “Anyways you’re really here because those friends of yours are on their way for a session. Wanted you to be here for it.” My eyes widen, not sure if we were thinking about the same guys. “Yes we’re thinking of the same guys. Those sassy three or whatever they call themselves.”
“Umm…kay. Do they have Kenny’s shit? And why is there plastic all over the place?”
“Yes that’s the transaction, and the plastic is because of reasons. Just know I told them to bring it and we’ll start training.” His eyes wander a bit as he rubs his neck. I’m the only one who could tell when Nicky was lying. And he was lying. Before I could respond, Ricky The Guard enters the ring room escorting Aaron, Devin and Ricky inside. They were all dressed up for the gym, with Devin was carrying two duffle bags. “Hey guys. Welcome, come on in.” Nick greeted them. As the three walked came over to ringside, Aaron blew me a kiss to which I returned with a middle finger.
“Ohh Tony. Don’t act like you’re not happy to see me, sweet pea.” Aaron said. Ricky and Devin laughed and made “wooo” sounds.
I wasn’t in the mood. “Cut the shit and show us the package. Is one of those ours?” I pointed to the bags Devin was carrying.
“Yes. This blue one is for you. The pink has our clothes because after this we’re going to the cluuuuub!” Some ‘ayeeees’ by the sassy three followed.
“The club huh? Well we’ll see if you guys can walk after this session.” Nicky says with a chuckle. It made the boys feel a bit uncomfortable, but they enjoyed the eye candy of both myself and Nick standing in the ring.
I stroked my chin for a second. “So where’s Chauncey?” I looked over to Ricky who acted like he knew I would ask but didn’t want me to.
“The hospital.” Aaron mentioned. “Long story.” I was confused but didn’t think much of it. I just wanted to see the bricks and make sure it was all there.
Devin threw the blue bag into the ring and I opened it up. I started counting the duct tape-wrapped kilos. “Are there ten canolis, Antonio?”
“Only eight.” I looked up at them. “What the fuck?”
“We tried to get a hold of Chauncey before he went to the hospital but we couldn’t.” Ricky said half-heartedly.
Nicky just sighed. “Whatever, we’ll worry about the other two later. Are you boys ready?” They all nodded in excitement as I could hear Ricky the Guard yelling from the hallway. I didn’t make out what he said.
Seconds later, Damon Brooks stormed into the ring room and ran up behind the trio. He pulls out a pistol and shoots Ricky in the back of the head. Blood splashed the ring skirt as he dropped. Aaron ducked immediately entering shock. Nicky pulled out a submachine micro Uzi (hence the name Nicky Uzi) from behind his waist, catching Devin in the back twice. He went limp on Damon’s shoulders before falling to the plastic. Now there was just one. Damon pistol-whipped Aaron who couldn’t move or scream from the shock. Just as he was about to shoot…
“Wait. Give me the gun.” I stopped Damon who scoffed and passed me the pistol. “I want to do this one.” Aaron Ying’s been the albatross in my life too long. I needed to take back what he always tried to take from me: control. “Pull his pants down.” Damon looked at me weird. “JUST DO IT!” He wouldn’t so I rolled out the ring to do it myself. “This is what you always wanted right, huh you little faggot? It’s always been about me right?!? Well here!” I unzipped my pants only to zip them back up. “Nope won’t give you the satisfaction. Fuck you, but just not literally.” I pulled Aaron up to his knees and shot him execution, for the style points.
“You can never just do something always gotta be all that extra shit!” Brooks shook his head.
I winked.
Where’s the fanfare? How come no one’s lining up in droves to come pay their respects to New Kings of FGA?
Oh I know.
We’re weren’t any of the sympathetics who tried using their outside baggage for an advantage. I didn’t need any of you to wish me good luck before my match. I didn’t have to band together with half of an entire roster to eliminate any of you either. Johnny Cannon and the Scandalous One didn’t have to pray for it. We didn’t have to hold each other’s hands and kiss each other on the cheek for good luck. We came, we saw, and we conquered. Did I try to knock Cannon’s ass out of the match? You’re damn right I did and he would’ve done the same to me, but that’s just it. We saw it coming. We know each other. There are no surprises with us, because our intentions have always been clear from the start. We’re here to get to the top no matter what that means.
Even before the New Kings, we clashed because we were so much alike in that aspect. Now we’ve smartened up and realized that the both of us together are unstoppable. It’s only the beginning. Zero McHannon is about to be a thing of the past. We’re dumping him in a trash heap with the other temporary stars of yesteryear. The Scotts, The Pages. The Doms. He’ll be in good company because once the New Kings are the only top dogs on the hill, we can show the rest of you motherfuckers what a real fight is. What a real champion is. How a real star shines. What REAL MEN look like. We’ve brought a new meaning to self-fulfilling prophecies, because we believe in who we are and we practice what he preach.
So what’s so wrong with that? Why is everyone out to get us? It’s like it’s a tragedy that someone in the wrestling business finally backs up their words. Why shouldn’t I be proud of myself for doing exactly what it is I set out to do? What the fuck do you people want from me? To lie and say that I suck? To lie and give my opponents a false sense of confidence? Bullshit. Just because I believe in myself, why should I have to feel sorry for all the rest of the you who NEVER get the job done when it matters?
You people act as if we’re demons for saying what most people only wish they could. That’s why Annie gets all pissy when I tell her that her friends like Molly Reid are fucking pure-dee garbàge. As much as I love that girl, she falls into the same trap that many of you do. That happy to be here mentality. That fake encouragement. She didn’t win the Mid Atlantic by being the Annie Zellor everyone loves. She won that belt after realizing there was no playing nice with Bernie Dizzy Anders and Savannah OhSoBulimic Montana. It’s a lesson I’ve taught to her, Noelle, FujiWater and countless others. I’m about to teach the same to Molly Reid.
You think the Scandalous One hates you. That’s not a fact. The fact is, I just don’t see anything at all special about you. I had no choice but to begrudgingly respect Dizzy after seeing what she could do against a guy like Dom. But you? You’re just playing dress up out here. I don’t hate you, I’m just indifferent. I don’t get why people look at you as a big deal. I don’t understand your personality. I don’t understand your sexuality. I don’t get you, and I have no desire to get to know you and try. You want to be to this big FGA breakout star that eventually earns the respect of her enemies, but if that’s the story you’re going into this match with, I feel real sorry for you. You’re going to pull out every move in your arsenal and then some Saturday night. I’m ready. I’m ready to watch to fall flat on your face, wait for you to rise up to you knees and shatter your skull with some #PimpShit. Sometimes that’s all it takes for bitches like you to learn their lesson, hun.
Molly will learn that her and the Scandalous One will always be on two totally different stratospheres. Two totally different levels of talent. You want me and everyone else to kiss your ass for going out and doing your job: wrestling. Oh so you had a match and no one manage to drool all over the ground from a deep slumber? Big deal. Try not being fucking boring every week to impress me. You’re an opener. An afterthought. The Vertigo time-filler, but it’s not all bad. All that means is FGA is full of talent, so much talent that unfortunately some of you will end up getting lost in the shuffle. That’s just the biz, kiddo. I know you may be used to being the big fish in those small ponds where everything else in your company was so brutally uninteresting, people had no choice but to tune into whatever Twitter drama was going on with you. Now you’re in a situation where no matter what you do, say or no matter what matches you win, a large sector of fans will never EVER give a fuck and that should be ok.
It’s what happens when you’re privileged enough to share a roster with the Scandalous One sweetheart. I’m so fantastic that everything I do is news. Everything I do comes with some sort of controversy. I’m a must see talent, which is why FGA doesn’t have to showcase me every week. I no longer have to “put the work in” to prove how valuable I am to this business. My name rings bells. My Royal Court is only comprised of whom I deem worthy to attach themselves to me. I’m not going into this match with you with a new and improved attitude because what I do works, and it’s worked for years. Obviously what you’re doing, Molly, isn’t. You claim to be so proud of your win over the New Kings; and yet, you don’t have shit to show for it. Annie might have given you a friendly consolation, but you’re not good enough to snatch that belt from her. There’s no desire. What’s your purpose other than scoffing at the players who are actually making moves?
It’s not just you though, the majority of you morons think they deserve the same amount of spotlight as the New Kings and the rest of the dying FGA Elite. Good news is more and more of the greats are getting fed up sharing a locker room with Degrassi: the next generation of entitled wrestler cunts. Now you and the rest of these boring broads in FGA have more free space to fill with your bullshit shenanigans. Be happy with that instead of being jealous of the spotlight only reserved for the best. I’ve already proven to the rest of these bottom feeders that they can’t hold a candle to my rays, you’re next up. If you want to get attention (especially MY attention), get noticed somewhere that isn’t Twitter. Go out and make a fucking impact for once instead of hanging your boots on a prayer. This business isn’t for the wishful. It’s for the ones who do whatever the fuck they have to do to win. Honestly, HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY THIS BEFORE YOU ALL GET IT!?
You want the media appearances, but there’s absolutely no stock behind your name. There’s nothing in this business that you’re known. You’re nothing more than a utility, that’s going to make the Scandalous One look good and gracious on Vertigo. This isn’t going to be some multi-man situation where you have the advantage of taking a W while my back is turned. To think you actually tried to pass that off as a victory over me. Want a real win? Here’s your test baby. Here’s your chance to shine as bright as me. Too bad you won’t make the most of this opportunity. I’m not looking to give out any pity wins. I’m not out here looking to build you up out of the dirt, you’ll do that on your own if you keep taking pages out of the Scandalous One’s book like you have been.
Some things can’t be taught, and the vast majority of my talent was God-given. My success was written into the stars before I even signed an FGA contract. You know why? Because I believe it to be. Not only do I believe it, but I live it. I carry myself like a champion. I talk, walk and move like a champion. I damn sure look like a champion. Most of all, I’ve BEEN a champion. Multiple times. The difference between us is my arrogance developed over countless years of winning, making tons of money and being drop dead gorgeous. Your ugly broke loser ass can’t relate to any of that. Believe it or not, there was a time where the Scandalous One was humble. There was a time when I too was wet behind the ears, trying to be friends with everybody. I thought riding Kenny Kasual’s coattails would get me to where I needed to go, and all I worried about was being respected in this industry. You know where that got me? Beaten and bloodied by my own friend. It got me blackballed from a company I never worked for, attacked backstage at the same company and it almost cost me my dearest friendship. All because I just wanted to fit in and I had no fucking clue if I’d be able to make it on my own.
Don’t look at the Scandalous One with disdain, look at me as a success story. Look at me as someone now who needs no one to be happy. I don’t need anyone by my side, but the fact that I have some real ones around that are willing to give me a hand is a bonus. I never compromised who I was to become one of the greatest, I just started being who I actually was instead what I thought people wanted me to be. Until you learn this, you’ll always be fucked over. You’ll always be overlooked until you start to realize your self worth. I know what you’re worth Molly, and it isn’t motherfucking shit! Not a red cent; but baby, it’s ok because not everyone can be THE Scandalous One. There’s nothing wrong with playing your position, being a part of this wonderful FGA machine is a privilege on its own. Be thankful that you’re here in my company, and are allowed to compete on national television. Stop trying to level yourself with me, it’ll never happen.
Stop trying to get my approval, because as great as I am, it won’t make you any better. My approval will add to the rest of the empty compliments you receive from so called friends. When these people are telling you how great you are or how pretty you are, they’re lying and it’s hurting you. Even if you don’t admit it, it must be strange to have everyone love you so much and yet when it comes time to pass out the awards, you’re in the cold. My approval will just add to the patronizing sons of bitches who lead you to believe that you do nothing wrong and it’ll all be ok. You need someone to call you out. You need someone like me to make your existence feel meaningless. You need someone like to me to keep you on your toes and remind you that you’re fucking useless. Because once you lose that someone? You stop growing and you no longer elevate. Don’t stop trying to grow Molly. Even if you’ll never be more than a first hour act, it doesn’t mean you can’t make sure you’re the best damn opening contest of every show. Take pride in your pre-determined mediocrity, and keep hating the ones at the top though it serves you nothing. I’ve accomplished as much as I have here because all of you hate me. I’m motivated by the shit. The thrill I get from pissing you all off is priceless. The goosebumps I get when I watch your little vlogs and here the disgust in your voice when you mention my name…it drives me. But it’ll never drive the Scandalous One out the door, just straight to the top. Facts Only.
May 10, 2016
Miami, FL
Location: Premier Athletics [After Hours]
I walked into the gym and was greeted by Ricky the Guard. He had taken time away, dealing with some back issues. It was good to see him, but I wasn’t exactly in the mood to catch up or check on him. I could tell in his face that he knew that, not inquiring me with too much small talk. He motioned for me to walk around the metal detector and told me that Nicky and Damon were already in the ring warming up. I wasn’t prepared to work out tonight, for Damon told me to come to the gym after hours just to talk with him and Nicky. I pushed through the double door entry to the ring room where I see Nicky doing monkey pushups in the middle of the hard mat. He was dressed in long track pants with a Cordy Stevenson shirt on, unusual from his usual shirtless and ball shorts combo.
“Ewww why are you wearing THAT shirt?” I yelled out, causing him to laugh and raise up to his knees. “Seriously, Nicola it’s been how long now? When are you going to get over her? She obvs just used you for sex.”
As I got closer to the ring, I notice the entire floor was covered in plastic. Nicky laughed, “well there he is. King Carmine! Ben fatto! Brava!” I smiled, even though I sensed a bit of sarcasm. “Damon’s in the locker room gearing up. He’s finally getting his own sessions he’s been complaining about lately.” I nodded, not really giving a fuck.
“That’s nice. But back to meeeee! Yes I AM the king! I told you assholes I could do it.” Nicky raised his eyebrow.
“Who said you couldn’t do it? You have to stop putting the world on trial against you without any evidence.” He says slyly with a wink. I shook my head. “Hey all I’m saying is man sometimes you act as if you have no type of support system. Not to say we help you win, but we sure as hell are rooting for you. It’s just nice to see you do things the right way and not take shortcuts. We teach you too well here for you to feel you have to do that to succeed.”
Rolling my eyes I wagged my finger. “Not getting into this with you right now. Let me guess, you’re proud but you’re not proud because I won with Johnny Cannon.”
Nicky shrugs. “No. I wasn’t going to say that, even though it is a strange concept to have two winners and not force them to fight for the actual thing. But whatever gives you guys your bragging right am I right?” He smiles. “Just don’t get too comfortable with that guy’s company.”
“Here you go. Just like everyone else thinking I need this guy. This isn’t some newly found bond that I’m expecting to blossom into a wonderful friendship. Cannon’s a business partner, we figured we’d make way more money in this business together than alone. Money’s important isn’t it?” Nick couldn’t contest since money had been a secret vice of his for most of his life. Being adopted from a small Italian village, Nicola tasted the rich lifestyle when he came to America and never looked back. “So why am I here if it isn’t to train? Not like I need to for this next match anyways. Fucking Molly Reid what a joke.”
Nicky shakes his head. “I don’t know who she is, but from what I’ve seen she’s talented and has a fun personality. What’s your beef?” I looked at him with a blank face.
“I have no beef. I just think she isn’t on my level and the fact that she thinks she is annoys me. She also isn’t consistent and is desperate for attention. That’s all. I’m going to show her why I’m king and she’s no more than a peasant!” I waved her off, trying to not to think about her face. It gives me the creeps.
“You sound like Queen Banks right now.” I roll my eyes. “Anyways you’re really here because those friends of yours are on their way for a session. Wanted you to be here for it.” My eyes widen, not sure if we were thinking about the same guys. “Yes we’re thinking of the same guys. Those sassy three or whatever they call themselves.”
“Umm…kay. Do they have Kenny’s shit? And why is there plastic all over the place?”
“Yes that’s the transaction, and the plastic is because of reasons. Just know I told them to bring it and we’ll start training.” His eyes wander a bit as he rubs his neck. I’m the only one who could tell when Nicky was lying. And he was lying. Before I could respond, Ricky The Guard enters the ring room escorting Aaron, Devin and Ricky inside. They were all dressed up for the gym, with Devin was carrying two duffle bags. “Hey guys. Welcome, come on in.” Nick greeted them. As the three walked came over to ringside, Aaron blew me a kiss to which I returned with a middle finger.
“Ohh Tony. Don’t act like you’re not happy to see me, sweet pea.” Aaron said. Ricky and Devin laughed and made “wooo” sounds.
I wasn’t in the mood. “Cut the shit and show us the package. Is one of those ours?” I pointed to the bags Devin was carrying.
“Yes. This blue one is for you. The pink has our clothes because after this we’re going to the cluuuuub!” Some ‘ayeeees’ by the sassy three followed.
“The club huh? Well we’ll see if you guys can walk after this session.” Nicky says with a chuckle. It made the boys feel a bit uncomfortable, but they enjoyed the eye candy of both myself and Nick standing in the ring.
I stroked my chin for a second. “So where’s Chauncey?” I looked over to Ricky who acted like he knew I would ask but didn’t want me to.
“The hospital.” Aaron mentioned. “Long story.” I was confused but didn’t think much of it. I just wanted to see the bricks and make sure it was all there.
Devin threw the blue bag into the ring and I opened it up. I started counting the duct tape-wrapped kilos. “Are there ten canolis, Antonio?”
“Only eight.” I looked up at them. “What the fuck?”
“We tried to get a hold of Chauncey before he went to the hospital but we couldn’t.” Ricky said half-heartedly.
Nicky just sighed. “Whatever, we’ll worry about the other two later. Are you boys ready?” They all nodded in excitement as I could hear Ricky the Guard yelling from the hallway. I didn’t make out what he said.
Seconds later, Damon Brooks stormed into the ring room and ran up behind the trio. He pulls out a pistol and shoots Ricky in the back of the head. Blood splashed the ring skirt as he dropped. Aaron ducked immediately entering shock. Nicky pulled out a submachine micro Uzi (hence the name Nicky Uzi) from behind his waist, catching Devin in the back twice. He went limp on Damon’s shoulders before falling to the plastic. Now there was just one. Damon pistol-whipped Aaron who couldn’t move or scream from the shock. Just as he was about to shoot…
“Wait. Give me the gun.” I stopped Damon who scoffed and passed me the pistol. “I want to do this one.” Aaron Ying’s been the albatross in my life too long. I needed to take back what he always tried to take from me: control. “Pull his pants down.” Damon looked at me weird. “JUST DO IT!” He wouldn’t so I rolled out the ring to do it myself. “This is what you always wanted right, huh you little faggot? It’s always been about me right?!? Well here!” I unzipped my pants only to zip them back up. “Nope won’t give you the satisfaction. Fuck you, but just not literally.” I pulled Aaron up to his knees and shot him execution, for the style points.
“You can never just do something always gotta be all that extra shit!” Brooks shook his head.
I winked.
Where’s the fanfare? How come no one’s lining up in droves to come pay their respects to New Kings of FGA?
Oh I know.
We’re weren’t any of the sympathetics who tried using their outside baggage for an advantage. I didn’t need any of you to wish me good luck before my match. I didn’t have to band together with half of an entire roster to eliminate any of you either. Johnny Cannon and the Scandalous One didn’t have to pray for it. We didn’t have to hold each other’s hands and kiss each other on the cheek for good luck. We came, we saw, and we conquered. Did I try to knock Cannon’s ass out of the match? You’re damn right I did and he would’ve done the same to me, but that’s just it. We saw it coming. We know each other. There are no surprises with us, because our intentions have always been clear from the start. We’re here to get to the top no matter what that means.
Even before the New Kings, we clashed because we were so much alike in that aspect. Now we’ve smartened up and realized that the both of us together are unstoppable. It’s only the beginning. Zero McHannon is about to be a thing of the past. We’re dumping him in a trash heap with the other temporary stars of yesteryear. The Scotts, The Pages. The Doms. He’ll be in good company because once the New Kings are the only top dogs on the hill, we can show the rest of you motherfuckers what a real fight is. What a real champion is. How a real star shines. What REAL MEN look like. We’ve brought a new meaning to self-fulfilling prophecies, because we believe in who we are and we practice what he preach.
So what’s so wrong with that? Why is everyone out to get us? It’s like it’s a tragedy that someone in the wrestling business finally backs up their words. Why shouldn’t I be proud of myself for doing exactly what it is I set out to do? What the fuck do you people want from me? To lie and say that I suck? To lie and give my opponents a false sense of confidence? Bullshit. Just because I believe in myself, why should I have to feel sorry for all the rest of the you who NEVER get the job done when it matters?
You people act as if we’re demons for saying what most people only wish they could. That’s why Annie gets all pissy when I tell her that her friends like Molly Reid are fucking pure-dee garbàge. As much as I love that girl, she falls into the same trap that many of you do. That happy to be here mentality. That fake encouragement. She didn’t win the Mid Atlantic by being the Annie Zellor everyone loves. She won that belt after realizing there was no playing nice with Bernie Dizzy Anders and Savannah OhSoBulimic Montana. It’s a lesson I’ve taught to her, Noelle, FujiWater and countless others. I’m about to teach the same to Molly Reid.
You think the Scandalous One hates you. That’s not a fact. The fact is, I just don’t see anything at all special about you. I had no choice but to begrudgingly respect Dizzy after seeing what she could do against a guy like Dom. But you? You’re just playing dress up out here. I don’t hate you, I’m just indifferent. I don’t get why people look at you as a big deal. I don’t understand your personality. I don’t understand your sexuality. I don’t get you, and I have no desire to get to know you and try. You want to be to this big FGA breakout star that eventually earns the respect of her enemies, but if that’s the story you’re going into this match with, I feel real sorry for you. You’re going to pull out every move in your arsenal and then some Saturday night. I’m ready. I’m ready to watch to fall flat on your face, wait for you to rise up to you knees and shatter your skull with some #PimpShit. Sometimes that’s all it takes for bitches like you to learn their lesson, hun.
Molly will learn that her and the Scandalous One will always be on two totally different stratospheres. Two totally different levels of talent. You want me and everyone else to kiss your ass for going out and doing your job: wrestling. Oh so you had a match and no one manage to drool all over the ground from a deep slumber? Big deal. Try not being fucking boring every week to impress me. You’re an opener. An afterthought. The Vertigo time-filler, but it’s not all bad. All that means is FGA is full of talent, so much talent that unfortunately some of you will end up getting lost in the shuffle. That’s just the biz, kiddo. I know you may be used to being the big fish in those small ponds where everything else in your company was so brutally uninteresting, people had no choice but to tune into whatever Twitter drama was going on with you. Now you’re in a situation where no matter what you do, say or no matter what matches you win, a large sector of fans will never EVER give a fuck and that should be ok.
It’s what happens when you’re privileged enough to share a roster with the Scandalous One sweetheart. I’m so fantastic that everything I do is news. Everything I do comes with some sort of controversy. I’m a must see talent, which is why FGA doesn’t have to showcase me every week. I no longer have to “put the work in” to prove how valuable I am to this business. My name rings bells. My Royal Court is only comprised of whom I deem worthy to attach themselves to me. I’m not going into this match with you with a new and improved attitude because what I do works, and it’s worked for years. Obviously what you’re doing, Molly, isn’t. You claim to be so proud of your win over the New Kings; and yet, you don’t have shit to show for it. Annie might have given you a friendly consolation, but you’re not good enough to snatch that belt from her. There’s no desire. What’s your purpose other than scoffing at the players who are actually making moves?
It’s not just you though, the majority of you morons think they deserve the same amount of spotlight as the New Kings and the rest of the dying FGA Elite. Good news is more and more of the greats are getting fed up sharing a locker room with Degrassi: the next generation of entitled wrestler cunts. Now you and the rest of these boring broads in FGA have more free space to fill with your bullshit shenanigans. Be happy with that instead of being jealous of the spotlight only reserved for the best. I’ve already proven to the rest of these bottom feeders that they can’t hold a candle to my rays, you’re next up. If you want to get attention (especially MY attention), get noticed somewhere that isn’t Twitter. Go out and make a fucking impact for once instead of hanging your boots on a prayer. This business isn’t for the wishful. It’s for the ones who do whatever the fuck they have to do to win. Honestly, HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY THIS BEFORE YOU ALL GET IT!?
You want the media appearances, but there’s absolutely no stock behind your name. There’s nothing in this business that you’re known. You’re nothing more than a utility, that’s going to make the Scandalous One look good and gracious on Vertigo. This isn’t going to be some multi-man situation where you have the advantage of taking a W while my back is turned. To think you actually tried to pass that off as a victory over me. Want a real win? Here’s your test baby. Here’s your chance to shine as bright as me. Too bad you won’t make the most of this opportunity. I’m not looking to give out any pity wins. I’m not out here looking to build you up out of the dirt, you’ll do that on your own if you keep taking pages out of the Scandalous One’s book like you have been.
Some things can’t be taught, and the vast majority of my talent was God-given. My success was written into the stars before I even signed an FGA contract. You know why? Because I believe it to be. Not only do I believe it, but I live it. I carry myself like a champion. I talk, walk and move like a champion. I damn sure look like a champion. Most of all, I’ve BEEN a champion. Multiple times. The difference between us is my arrogance developed over countless years of winning, making tons of money and being drop dead gorgeous. Your ugly broke loser ass can’t relate to any of that. Believe it or not, there was a time where the Scandalous One was humble. There was a time when I too was wet behind the ears, trying to be friends with everybody. I thought riding Kenny Kasual’s coattails would get me to where I needed to go, and all I worried about was being respected in this industry. You know where that got me? Beaten and bloodied by my own friend. It got me blackballed from a company I never worked for, attacked backstage at the same company and it almost cost me my dearest friendship. All because I just wanted to fit in and I had no fucking clue if I’d be able to make it on my own.
Don’t look at the Scandalous One with disdain, look at me as a success story. Look at me as someone now who needs no one to be happy. I don’t need anyone by my side, but the fact that I have some real ones around that are willing to give me a hand is a bonus. I never compromised who I was to become one of the greatest, I just started being who I actually was instead what I thought people wanted me to be. Until you learn this, you’ll always be fucked over. You’ll always be overlooked until you start to realize your self worth. I know what you’re worth Molly, and it isn’t motherfucking shit! Not a red cent; but baby, it’s ok because not everyone can be THE Scandalous One. There’s nothing wrong with playing your position, being a part of this wonderful FGA machine is a privilege on its own. Be thankful that you’re here in my company, and are allowed to compete on national television. Stop trying to level yourself with me, it’ll never happen.
Stop trying to get my approval, because as great as I am, it won’t make you any better. My approval will add to the rest of the empty compliments you receive from so called friends. When these people are telling you how great you are or how pretty you are, they’re lying and it’s hurting you. Even if you don’t admit it, it must be strange to have everyone love you so much and yet when it comes time to pass out the awards, you’re in the cold. My approval will just add to the patronizing sons of bitches who lead you to believe that you do nothing wrong and it’ll all be ok. You need someone to call you out. You need someone like me to make your existence feel meaningless. You need someone like to me to keep you on your toes and remind you that you’re fucking useless. Because once you lose that someone? You stop growing and you no longer elevate. Don’t stop trying to grow Molly. Even if you’ll never be more than a first hour act, it doesn’t mean you can’t make sure you’re the best damn opening contest of every show. Take pride in your pre-determined mediocrity, and keep hating the ones at the top though it serves you nothing. I’ve accomplished as much as I have here because all of you hate me. I’m motivated by the shit. The thrill I get from pissing you all off is priceless. The goosebumps I get when I watch your little vlogs and here the disgust in your voice when you mention my name…it drives me. But it’ll never drive the Scandalous One out the door, just straight to the top. Facts Only.