Post by Moss Works Jericho's Schedule on Oct 1, 2009 15:12:06 GMT -5
Moss Edwards and his lovely assistant step through the curtains into the gorilla area. He turns to Grace. “Who the FUCK was that?”
Grace simply shrugs. “I assume she has some ties to Raenius.”
Moss runs his hand through his increasingly shaggy new hair and scoffs. “Well, I could have guessed that. It’s a safe bet when you could say that about two thirds of the fucking roster. Though she may be more anti-Salem than pro-Raenius. Not that it makes them interfering in my match any less annoying. You’re in charge of my schedule, was I supposed to work someone’s shaft and missed it? Because ever since Battleground, it’s been a fucking joke. Fucking Boolzian.”
“How do you think I feel? My ass is feeling very underappreciated.” Grace juts it out slightly for emphasis.
----
Moss steps into the men’s room of the Impact Arena, and is immediately attacked by the pine fresh scent. Animalistic grunting emanates from one of the stalls, and a pair of sensible shoes are visibly poking under the door. Moss can’t help but smile as he opens the door, revealing the form of Mary Jo Roberts who is furiously scrubbing away at the grout.
She turns her head sheepishly, and the deep despair in her eyes quickly demolishes any joy that Moss was feeling. “All my nails are broke.” She begins to weep.
Moss helps her off the floor, tears streaming down her face along well worn paths. “I was supposed to be enforcer, and you were supposed to be champion, and Travis was going to be begging me to let him back into the house because he realized he was still in love with me and wanted to get his life back on track, he was going to care about something again. And I was going to be a sexy, powerful executive woman with nice clothes and unnecessarily expensive hair and nails. What happened?”
“We were outmaneuvered, checkmate. Now you’re a janitor and I’m getting the Covenant’s sloppy seconds. And Travis Roberts is as oblivious to the world around him as ever, even as he’s being threatened with lawsuits.”
She shakes her head. “He never let me take care of him. Never wanted it. Stupid, selfish man.”
“Well, if watching you jump on Randy’s bones didn’t get to him, there’s really no hope, is there. You’d have to do something to the person he loves…himself.”
MJ rubs her sore, calloused hands. “Maybe we could figure something out, we’ll make it your year yet!”
Moss shakes his head. “He belongs to Hastings, and quite frankly, they deserve each other. I was supposed to be moving into the tag division, as sad and pathetic as that is, but somebody forget to find me a partner.”
“I don’t know who there would be, there really doesn’t seem to be anybody that you could conceivably team with. Why, you’d almost have to create a partner.”
At that, their eyes meet, this time devoid of sadness.
----
We see monochrome shots of a shack defiantly standing in the midst of a swamp, and hear the voice over.
“What type of creatures live here? Only the deadliest. Only the fiercest. Only the biggest most disgusting examples of god’s plans getting coffee spilt across them.
And what type of man would choose to live amongst them?
And what do I do when we come face to face?
Salem, you are a dangerous creature. You are a snake, a monitor, a poisonous beast. You are a monster. But here in the swamp, we see that even the sickest, most deadly predator carries a silent nobility. They do what they do, because that’s what they were born to do.
You were born to cause pain. You were born to hurt people.
But me?
I was born to win.
Grace simply shrugs. “I assume she has some ties to Raenius.”
Moss runs his hand through his increasingly shaggy new hair and scoffs. “Well, I could have guessed that. It’s a safe bet when you could say that about two thirds of the fucking roster. Though she may be more anti-Salem than pro-Raenius. Not that it makes them interfering in my match any less annoying. You’re in charge of my schedule, was I supposed to work someone’s shaft and missed it? Because ever since Battleground, it’s been a fucking joke. Fucking Boolzian.”
“How do you think I feel? My ass is feeling very underappreciated.” Grace juts it out slightly for emphasis.
----
Moss steps into the men’s room of the Impact Arena, and is immediately attacked by the pine fresh scent. Animalistic grunting emanates from one of the stalls, and a pair of sensible shoes are visibly poking under the door. Moss can’t help but smile as he opens the door, revealing the form of Mary Jo Roberts who is furiously scrubbing away at the grout.
She turns her head sheepishly, and the deep despair in her eyes quickly demolishes any joy that Moss was feeling. “All my nails are broke.” She begins to weep.
Moss helps her off the floor, tears streaming down her face along well worn paths. “I was supposed to be enforcer, and you were supposed to be champion, and Travis was going to be begging me to let him back into the house because he realized he was still in love with me and wanted to get his life back on track, he was going to care about something again. And I was going to be a sexy, powerful executive woman with nice clothes and unnecessarily expensive hair and nails. What happened?”
“We were outmaneuvered, checkmate. Now you’re a janitor and I’m getting the Covenant’s sloppy seconds. And Travis Roberts is as oblivious to the world around him as ever, even as he’s being threatened with lawsuits.”
She shakes her head. “He never let me take care of him. Never wanted it. Stupid, selfish man.”
“Well, if watching you jump on Randy’s bones didn’t get to him, there’s really no hope, is there. You’d have to do something to the person he loves…himself.”
MJ rubs her sore, calloused hands. “Maybe we could figure something out, we’ll make it your year yet!”
Moss shakes his head. “He belongs to Hastings, and quite frankly, they deserve each other. I was supposed to be moving into the tag division, as sad and pathetic as that is, but somebody forget to find me a partner.”
“I don’t know who there would be, there really doesn’t seem to be anybody that you could conceivably team with. Why, you’d almost have to create a partner.”
At that, their eyes meet, this time devoid of sadness.
----
We see monochrome shots of a shack defiantly standing in the midst of a swamp, and hear the voice over.
“What type of creatures live here? Only the deadliest. Only the fiercest. Only the biggest most disgusting examples of god’s plans getting coffee spilt across them.
And what type of man would choose to live amongst them?
And what do I do when we come face to face?
Salem, you are a dangerous creature. You are a snake, a monitor, a poisonous beast. You are a monster. But here in the swamp, we see that even the sickest, most deadly predator carries a silent nobility. They do what they do, because that’s what they were born to do.
You were born to cause pain. You were born to hurt people.
But me?
I was born to win.
x2
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