Post by nick on Feb 18, 2022 10:09:02 GMT -5
(Vicious sits up from the weights bench where he’s just finished shifting some prodigious weight. He checks his phone.)
Vicious: Well, well, well, will you look at that. No place for cute, little me on the card. Hey Vile, I still get paid shitloads, don’t I?
(Vile stops her bent over flies and dumps the weights on the floor. She stretches before answering.)
Vile: Yeah, don’t sweat it. It’s all good. We’re under contract so we get paid. PLUS, you’re now free to take up additional offers. Okay, so most haven’t got the fucking brains they were born with and won’t ante up the readies, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun. See, take Blackheart for example. He SEEMS like a smart guy: knows shit about wrestling, can get all technical and shit, BUT actually, he’s really NOT that fucking bright at all. He’s somehow got it into that vacant head of his that I am not a threat. That I am nothing to worry about.
Vicious: Fuck. Now that, that is SERIOUSLY fucking dumb. Perhaps I ought to try to knock some sense into him – say, right in the middle of the match when it’s super important to him.
Vile: I got no issues with that. I mean, it’s not like I’m there to actually fucking WIN the damn match. Once again, it’s all about the fucking pain: other people’s. Still, Blackheart COULD wise up and actually listen to Ragsdale – Ragsdale who holds the purse strings. Give us the money and – BLAM! - an easy run for your over-aspirational dipshit: that’s YOU, by the way, Blackheart. Hey, not like WE have anything to worry about. Life is good.
Vicious: Doesn’t get an easier. Do fuck all, get paid!
Vile: You know that Von Krauss bitch has shit loads of money.
Vicious: Yeah, she does. From what I’ve seen, way more dollars than brain cells.
Vile: Perfect combination. For us. (She pauses, smiles and stares into the camera.) Hey Izzy, you have real fun match coming up against LeBeau. You know him: the idiot that harms himself shitloads and thinks that makes him tougher. The fact is though: he’s certifiable – totally fucking whacked – nuttier than squirrel shit. That isn’t a big problem. Well, not for us, but YOU have two fucking useless idiots to ‘help’ you. What you really need is someone capable of inflicting some serious, lasting damage. Someone like, say….HIM! (Points at a grimly smiling Vicious.) Your call, or funeral.
Vicious: I say she’s too dumb to go for it.
Vile: We’ll see. Now shut up. I have a match to prep for and whilst I honestly don’t give a flying fuck about winning, I want to be in the best possible shape to deliver as much carnage, pain and suffering as possible.
Vicious: No problem. That works for me.
FIN.
Vicious: Well, well, well, will you look at that. No place for cute, little me on the card. Hey Vile, I still get paid shitloads, don’t I?
(Vile stops her bent over flies and dumps the weights on the floor. She stretches before answering.)
Vile: Yeah, don’t sweat it. It’s all good. We’re under contract so we get paid. PLUS, you’re now free to take up additional offers. Okay, so most haven’t got the fucking brains they were born with and won’t ante up the readies, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun. See, take Blackheart for example. He SEEMS like a smart guy: knows shit about wrestling, can get all technical and shit, BUT actually, he’s really NOT that fucking bright at all. He’s somehow got it into that vacant head of his that I am not a threat. That I am nothing to worry about.
Vicious: Fuck. Now that, that is SERIOUSLY fucking dumb. Perhaps I ought to try to knock some sense into him – say, right in the middle of the match when it’s super important to him.
Vile: I got no issues with that. I mean, it’s not like I’m there to actually fucking WIN the damn match. Once again, it’s all about the fucking pain: other people’s. Still, Blackheart COULD wise up and actually listen to Ragsdale – Ragsdale who holds the purse strings. Give us the money and – BLAM! - an easy run for your over-aspirational dipshit: that’s YOU, by the way, Blackheart. Hey, not like WE have anything to worry about. Life is good.
Vicious: Doesn’t get an easier. Do fuck all, get paid!
Vile: You know that Von Krauss bitch has shit loads of money.
Vicious: Yeah, she does. From what I’ve seen, way more dollars than brain cells.
Vile: Perfect combination. For us. (She pauses, smiles and stares into the camera.) Hey Izzy, you have real fun match coming up against LeBeau. You know him: the idiot that harms himself shitloads and thinks that makes him tougher. The fact is though: he’s certifiable – totally fucking whacked – nuttier than squirrel shit. That isn’t a big problem. Well, not for us, but YOU have two fucking useless idiots to ‘help’ you. What you really need is someone capable of inflicting some serious, lasting damage. Someone like, say….HIM! (Points at a grimly smiling Vicious.) Your call, or funeral.
Vicious: I say she’s too dumb to go for it.
Vile: We’ll see. Now shut up. I have a match to prep for and whilst I honestly don’t give a flying fuck about winning, I want to be in the best possible shape to deliver as much carnage, pain and suffering as possible.
Vicious: No problem. That works for me.
FIN.