Post by Old Line Jeff on Mar 7, 2021 16:17:33 GMT -5
When Kirsty McKinney had been going to college in Oklahma City, she’d hated every minute of it. She’d hated the noise, the commotion, the amount of people that she didn’t know that she had to walk past every day. She was a country girl, used to having birdsong for an alarm clock, and every day she missed seeing the sun come up over the mountains.
She had liked Jeff Andrews more or less from the moment she met him. When she learned he’d bought a small farmhouse on the outskirts of Vancouver for her, she became a fan for life. He was an excellent coach, always encouraging from in front, making her want to cruch out that last rep, perfect that suplex, learn that counter…
She was struck to the core when one morning he stopped by her house, in person, to tell her that he had to leave for a while. Family stuff. He didn’t want to talk about it much, only to say that it was more important than wrestling, that he had to go deal with it, and he didn’t know how long it was going to take.
“I don’t like having to ditch you.” He’d said. “You’ve got a support system here though. Jeffrey and Lee are good dudes, and Cole’s still gonna be here to continue your training.”
“But I wanted you to do it.” She’d told him.
“I know. I didn’t ask for my life to go cockeyed. There’s something I want to tell you before I go though. When you act like a jerkass - that is, when you ‘play the heel’, you end up paying a bill for it sooner or later. I know you’ve got to team with Isabel Rios, and I know you’re angry that she beat you over in SWAT. I think I know what you’re thinking, also. But before you go there, think about what you’re about to do and where it’s going to lead.”
Then he left.
She hadn’t seen him or heard from him since.
About a week later, she rolled out of bed when she heard the birds fussing outside her window. It wasn’t quite like home, but it was comfortable. While she was scrambling some farm fresh eggs for breakfast, she finally figured out what she had to say about her match.
******
A half hour later, wearing light sweatpants with a matching hoodie, Kirsty sat down on her front steps with her camera and a holder, sat down on the top step, and began to speak.
“Isabel… listen.”
“I know what happened between us in SWAT is a much bigger deal to me than it is to you. You probably haven’t thought about it since. Thing is though, right now, I’m feeling towards you a lot like I figure you’re feeling towards Kid Dynamite. I’m frustrated. I’m bitter.”
“But… I know it’s not your fault. You just did your job so well that I couldn’t stop you from doing it.”
“I’m frustrated and bitter at me. After beating Graycie I felt like the whole thing was mine to win… and then I couldn’t put it together.”
“So I know you might be a little bit worried about whether I’m going to have your back in this match. Don’t be. I promise I’ll be a good tag team partner before and immediately after the match. No backstabbing you during it and no ‘hooray we won okay i’ma hit you now’ bullcrap after it either.”
“As for the Dark Novas…”
“Commandrix, I am going to do everything within my power to break your cunty little neck.”
“At this point, the New Untouchables have every right to fuckstomp the whole bunch of you back into the loving, derpbrained arms of Shaakar and launch you back to the Crab Nebula or wherever it is you’re supposed to have come from. The boys don’t care for what you did to me, and it’s only thanks to Gus Arnold’s anti-intergender agenda that they weren’t out there at the moment throwing superkicks and breaking jaws.”
“Thing is, I leave the jaws to them. I’m a neckhunter. I’ve got the Pitty Choke, sure, but I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve for a rainy day, and guess what? They all hurt. And the only way Isabel Rios and I aren’t going to get along just fine during this match is if she tries to be too much of a goody two shoes and tries to make me stop hurting you before I’m damn well ready.”
She had liked Jeff Andrews more or less from the moment she met him. When she learned he’d bought a small farmhouse on the outskirts of Vancouver for her, she became a fan for life. He was an excellent coach, always encouraging from in front, making her want to cruch out that last rep, perfect that suplex, learn that counter…
She was struck to the core when one morning he stopped by her house, in person, to tell her that he had to leave for a while. Family stuff. He didn’t want to talk about it much, only to say that it was more important than wrestling, that he had to go deal with it, and he didn’t know how long it was going to take.
“I don’t like having to ditch you.” He’d said. “You’ve got a support system here though. Jeffrey and Lee are good dudes, and Cole’s still gonna be here to continue your training.”
“But I wanted you to do it.” She’d told him.
“I know. I didn’t ask for my life to go cockeyed. There’s something I want to tell you before I go though. When you act like a jerkass - that is, when you ‘play the heel’, you end up paying a bill for it sooner or later. I know you’ve got to team with Isabel Rios, and I know you’re angry that she beat you over in SWAT. I think I know what you’re thinking, also. But before you go there, think about what you’re about to do and where it’s going to lead.”
Then he left.
She hadn’t seen him or heard from him since.
About a week later, she rolled out of bed when she heard the birds fussing outside her window. It wasn’t quite like home, but it was comfortable. While she was scrambling some farm fresh eggs for breakfast, she finally figured out what she had to say about her match.
******
A half hour later, wearing light sweatpants with a matching hoodie, Kirsty sat down on her front steps with her camera and a holder, sat down on the top step, and began to speak.
“Isabel… listen.”
“I know what happened between us in SWAT is a much bigger deal to me than it is to you. You probably haven’t thought about it since. Thing is though, right now, I’m feeling towards you a lot like I figure you’re feeling towards Kid Dynamite. I’m frustrated. I’m bitter.”
“But… I know it’s not your fault. You just did your job so well that I couldn’t stop you from doing it.”
“I’m frustrated and bitter at me. After beating Graycie I felt like the whole thing was mine to win… and then I couldn’t put it together.”
“So I know you might be a little bit worried about whether I’m going to have your back in this match. Don’t be. I promise I’ll be a good tag team partner before and immediately after the match. No backstabbing you during it and no ‘hooray we won okay i’ma hit you now’ bullcrap after it either.”
“As for the Dark Novas…”
“Commandrix, I am going to do everything within my power to break your cunty little neck.”
“At this point, the New Untouchables have every right to fuckstomp the whole bunch of you back into the loving, derpbrained arms of Shaakar and launch you back to the Crab Nebula or wherever it is you’re supposed to have come from. The boys don’t care for what you did to me, and it’s only thanks to Gus Arnold’s anti-intergender agenda that they weren’t out there at the moment throwing superkicks and breaking jaws.”
“Thing is, I leave the jaws to them. I’m a neckhunter. I’ve got the Pitty Choke, sure, but I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve for a rainy day, and guess what? They all hurt. And the only way Isabel Rios and I aren’t going to get along just fine during this match is if she tries to be too much of a goody two shoes and tries to make me stop hurting you before I’m damn well ready.”