Post by The Beautiful One on Jun 8, 2019 14:30:58 GMT -5
We begin staring at a set of high, wrought iron fence that’s been polished to a blinding gleam. Its flanked on both sides by a large and thick looking stone wall. Behind the wall is a long driveway that’s flanked by thick forest and disappears at the apex of a small hill. We jump forward to said hill, which reveals an even longer stretch of driveway that ends nearly a mile away and is crowned by an enormous, almost palatial mansion. The scene jumps again to the front of said mansion, right at the obscenely large white front doors. The doors silently open and we slowly move through the house.The furniture and other decorations are expensive, bordering more on the side of garish than ornate, as if the person who planned the decorating has an abundance of ego, but a deficit of design sense.
We pass through the front room, the living room and eventually through the kitchen until we go through the large glass back doors and out onto the back veranda. The back of the house is occupied around an Olympic pool and a spa house that’s largely made of glass. It looks idyllic, even if only for an extremely wealthy person and very relaxing.
“Khan, get have one of the servants bring me fresh towel.”
The tone is imperious and snotty.
“This one is still wet from the last time I used the pool and that’s unacceptable.”
The source of the voice flings the saturated pure white towel and a nearby butler, who catches is square in the face with a loud and squishy splat. The butler slowly pulls it from his face with a resigned sigh, turns and walks back toward the house.
“Don’t forget my dry towel, you clown! And it had better be heated this time!”
“Khan, make sure that they do it right!” He bellows after a brief pause.
A large man nods his head but the gesture is accentuated by what appears to be an eye roll, although his eyes are largely obscured by a pair of dark sunglasses.
“Yes, sir.”
His tone expresses that this is a daily occurrence and one that he’s extremely displeased by.
“Don’t back talk me.” The owner of the voice snaps. “I pay your salary and I own you...”
Khan’s olive skinned jaw briefly sets, but it only lasts for a moment before he nods. His nod draws a smug and self-satisfied laugh in return.
“Remember, Khan that you are nothing more than hired muscle.” The smug voice explains. “You have no rights, you have to voice and you can’t say ‘no’ to me. You will do what I say, when I say to do it. Do you understand me?”
Khan flexes his hands, which causes loud cracking noises.
“Yes.” He replies coldly. “I understand.”
“I understand...what.” The voice presses.
“I understand, Master Deegan.” Khan replies, again coldly.
“Excellent.” The voice replies. “Never forget that you are only where you are at my forbearance. If it were not for me, Bradley Deegan, the most beautiful man alive, you would not be a free man. Never forget that.”
“Prison might be more enjoyable.” Khan mutters in reply. “It would certainly be quieter.”
“What was that?” “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan snaps.
“Nothing, sir” Khan replies. “I shall go check on your towels.”
“Good.” “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan replies with immense satisfaction.
Later.
Still by the Pool
“Hello members and fans of UGWC.” The young man now known as “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan says with an arrogant smile. It is I, your savior from mediocrity, boredom and frankly everything that your lives are made of.“
He pauses..
“Beautiful” Bradley Deegan.”
He bows with a flourish as he says his name, then straightens up and pushes his short brown hair back from his face.
“Now I’ve watched UGWC on and off for a while now and I have to say...”
“I’m not impressed.”
He says it with open contempt and disgust.
“Just look at the collection of misfits, freaks and quite frankly losers that you have here.” He continues. “Even your World Champion is just some chicken-legged child who thinks that she’s something special in a man’s world just because she’s blonde.”
“How pedestrian.” He sneers. “How...common.”
He lifts a thin glass filled with a clear liquid and a small decorative umbrella protruding from it to his perfect lips and takes a short sip. He stands silently for a moment as a rolodex of expressions pass across his face. Then he spits it out. Right into the face of a waiting servant.
“This is revolting.” He snarls. “Have it made again and this time get it right or you’re all going to be fired and replaced with the worthless masses from somewhere south of the border who will do what I say, do it right and never complain.”
“That’s because they’ll be illegal, sir.” Khan replies.
“That’s beside the point.” “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan snaps. “They’re expendable.”
“Whatever you say, sir.” Khan replies.
“Of course ‘whatever I say’.” “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan replies with an arrogant smile. “Everything is always because I said so. I’m never wrong.”
“As you say.” Khan replies, clearly bored.
“Now, where was I?” “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan asks.
He pauses as he slowly strokes his chin.
“Ah!” He exclaims. “UGWC and its...circus of losers.”
“Except for one, sir.” Khan replies.
“Yes.” “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan answers. “But even he has been pathetic lately.”
“He seems a bit uninspired.” Khan replies. “I sympathise.”
“Was that sarcasm, Khan?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. There’s no be no sarcasm out of you. Now shut up, I’m not finished yet.”
“Right, sir.” Khan replies blandly.
“Where was I?” “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan asks. “Oh yes, UGWC and losers.”
“Before I get to that, you should all be graced with a proper introduction to who I am. I am ‘Beautiful’ Bradley Deegan. I was born to a multi-billionaire family and I can have anything, or anyone that I want. I own six mansions and every single worthless servant who keeps them running. I hobnob with Kings, Senators and other people of power and influence.”
“So none of you impress me.”
“Least of all, this ‘Iceman’ character that I’m being forced to endure on Monday.”
“Before I get to...that...let me make it clear that I’m here to give this sad company a much needed facelift. Once I’ve been here a week, fans will come pouring in because no one can resists my charming personality. I’m a natural leader and a genius and I’m never wrong.”
“So why did I come to ‘Chill’, especially when I could go to ‘Synergy’ and be awarded the World Championship from that silly girl who currently sullies it with her filth.”
“That’s simple.”
“Because I can.” He says flatly. “And my mere presence will elevate the normally insultingly low bar that this pathetic attempt at a wrestling program manages to achieve.”
“Since the show is pathetic, it seems only reasonable that the current ‘face’ of it is pathetic too.”
“The ‘Iceman’ Konrad Raab.”
“You’re pathetic, old man. You waste everyone’s time talking about ‘honor’ and ‘right and wrong’ and how you’re going to bring all of that trivial nonsense back to wrestling because that’s what it needs. What the hell would a German know about those things? Didn’t you warmongering thugs cause two World Wars because of your hateful and savage natures that we Americans had to end? Aren’t you German’s just a country of fat, stupid, beer swilling sausage eaters who will fall all over themselves for the first thug who comes along and tells them how great they are?”
“Besides, you’re a boxer.”
He says it with clear disgust, as if it’s the worst skill that a person can have.
“A boxer.”
“Boxing is a sport for stupid people.”
“And the poor.”
“You’re both stupid and poor and even worse than that...”
"You’re a loser.”
“You lose.”
“All.”
“The.”
“Time.”
"You lose so much that it's the only thing anyone in wrestling knows you for anymore."
“In fact, you’re so bad at everything that I wouldn’t even pay you the honor of allowing you to work for me because your inability to do anything right would negatively reflect on me.”
"I can't have that."
“I know that the truth I’m telling you here is only going to make you angry. I know it’s going to upset your delicate sensitivities and it might cause you to cry. From what I’ve heard, you’re such a dumpster fire of a person that you vomit when you’re upset.”
“Ew.” He says with an audible gag. “How gross.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
"Who does that?"
“You’re such a worthless sad-sack of a man that your kid gets bullied at school, your wife probably cheats on you, your best friend sticks with you out of sympathy and your life coach uses you for material for stand up comedy acts. Even if those don’t happen, except for your dumpy idiot of a child being bullied at school, I’d pay someone to make them happen because I enjoy watching you suffer so much.”
“Do yourself a favor, Connie. When the bell rings lay down and let me pin you. If you do that, I’ll give you enough money to crawl off to a bar that’s commensurate to your status in society. From there you can go and drink yourself to death as you attempt to find your dignity at the bottom of a bottle of whatever cheap swill you drink.”
“If not for you being my opponent, I’d be where I should be...”
“The Main Event.”
“Instead, because of you, the Main Event is two bimbos no one cares about.”
“I hope that you’re happy.”
“When I’m done embarrassing you on Monday...”
“I’m going to fly to Anaheim on my private plane, I’m going to take your wife out on the town and when I’m finished...”
“She’s going to feel like a real woman for the first time since she married you.”
He slides his sunglasses down over his brown eyes and smiles evilly. A few seconds later a servant walks over and hands him a towel with a pair of tongs. He takes the towel and gently lowers it down onto his face.
End
We pass through the front room, the living room and eventually through the kitchen until we go through the large glass back doors and out onto the back veranda. The back of the house is occupied around an Olympic pool and a spa house that’s largely made of glass. It looks idyllic, even if only for an extremely wealthy person and very relaxing.
“Khan, get have one of the servants bring me fresh towel.”
The tone is imperious and snotty.
“This one is still wet from the last time I used the pool and that’s unacceptable.”
The source of the voice flings the saturated pure white towel and a nearby butler, who catches is square in the face with a loud and squishy splat. The butler slowly pulls it from his face with a resigned sigh, turns and walks back toward the house.
“Don’t forget my dry towel, you clown! And it had better be heated this time!”
“Khan, make sure that they do it right!” He bellows after a brief pause.
A large man nods his head but the gesture is accentuated by what appears to be an eye roll, although his eyes are largely obscured by a pair of dark sunglasses.
“Yes, sir.”
His tone expresses that this is a daily occurrence and one that he’s extremely displeased by.
“Don’t back talk me.” The owner of the voice snaps. “I pay your salary and I own you...”
Khan’s olive skinned jaw briefly sets, but it only lasts for a moment before he nods. His nod draws a smug and self-satisfied laugh in return.
“Remember, Khan that you are nothing more than hired muscle.” The smug voice explains. “You have no rights, you have to voice and you can’t say ‘no’ to me. You will do what I say, when I say to do it. Do you understand me?”
Khan flexes his hands, which causes loud cracking noises.
“Yes.” He replies coldly. “I understand.”
“I understand...what.” The voice presses.
“I understand, Master Deegan.” Khan replies, again coldly.
“Excellent.” The voice replies. “Never forget that you are only where you are at my forbearance. If it were not for me, Bradley Deegan, the most beautiful man alive, you would not be a free man. Never forget that.”
“Prison might be more enjoyable.” Khan mutters in reply. “It would certainly be quieter.”
“What was that?” “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan snaps.
“Nothing, sir” Khan replies. “I shall go check on your towels.”
“Good.” “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan replies with immense satisfaction.
Later.
Still by the Pool
“Hello members and fans of UGWC.” The young man now known as “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan says with an arrogant smile. It is I, your savior from mediocrity, boredom and frankly everything that your lives are made of.“
He pauses..
“Beautiful” Bradley Deegan.”
He bows with a flourish as he says his name, then straightens up and pushes his short brown hair back from his face.
“Now I’ve watched UGWC on and off for a while now and I have to say...”
“I’m not impressed.”
He says it with open contempt and disgust.
“Just look at the collection of misfits, freaks and quite frankly losers that you have here.” He continues. “Even your World Champion is just some chicken-legged child who thinks that she’s something special in a man’s world just because she’s blonde.”
“How pedestrian.” He sneers. “How...common.”
He lifts a thin glass filled with a clear liquid and a small decorative umbrella protruding from it to his perfect lips and takes a short sip. He stands silently for a moment as a rolodex of expressions pass across his face. Then he spits it out. Right into the face of a waiting servant.
“This is revolting.” He snarls. “Have it made again and this time get it right or you’re all going to be fired and replaced with the worthless masses from somewhere south of the border who will do what I say, do it right and never complain.”
“That’s because they’ll be illegal, sir.” Khan replies.
“That’s beside the point.” “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan snaps. “They’re expendable.”
“Whatever you say, sir.” Khan replies.
“Of course ‘whatever I say’.” “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan replies with an arrogant smile. “Everything is always because I said so. I’m never wrong.”
“As you say.” Khan replies, clearly bored.
“Now, where was I?” “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan asks.
He pauses as he slowly strokes his chin.
“Ah!” He exclaims. “UGWC and its...circus of losers.”
“Except for one, sir.” Khan replies.
“Yes.” “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan answers. “But even he has been pathetic lately.”
“He seems a bit uninspired.” Khan replies. “I sympathise.”
“Was that sarcasm, Khan?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. There’s no be no sarcasm out of you. Now shut up, I’m not finished yet.”
“Right, sir.” Khan replies blandly.
“Where was I?” “Beautiful” Bradley Deegan asks. “Oh yes, UGWC and losers.”
“Before I get to that, you should all be graced with a proper introduction to who I am. I am ‘Beautiful’ Bradley Deegan. I was born to a multi-billionaire family and I can have anything, or anyone that I want. I own six mansions and every single worthless servant who keeps them running. I hobnob with Kings, Senators and other people of power and influence.”
“So none of you impress me.”
“Least of all, this ‘Iceman’ character that I’m being forced to endure on Monday.”
“Before I get to...that...let me make it clear that I’m here to give this sad company a much needed facelift. Once I’ve been here a week, fans will come pouring in because no one can resists my charming personality. I’m a natural leader and a genius and I’m never wrong.”
“So why did I come to ‘Chill’, especially when I could go to ‘Synergy’ and be awarded the World Championship from that silly girl who currently sullies it with her filth.”
“That’s simple.”
“Because I can.” He says flatly. “And my mere presence will elevate the normally insultingly low bar that this pathetic attempt at a wrestling program manages to achieve.”
“Since the show is pathetic, it seems only reasonable that the current ‘face’ of it is pathetic too.”
“The ‘Iceman’ Konrad Raab.”
“You’re pathetic, old man. You waste everyone’s time talking about ‘honor’ and ‘right and wrong’ and how you’re going to bring all of that trivial nonsense back to wrestling because that’s what it needs. What the hell would a German know about those things? Didn’t you warmongering thugs cause two World Wars because of your hateful and savage natures that we Americans had to end? Aren’t you German’s just a country of fat, stupid, beer swilling sausage eaters who will fall all over themselves for the first thug who comes along and tells them how great they are?”
“Besides, you’re a boxer.”
He says it with clear disgust, as if it’s the worst skill that a person can have.
“A boxer.”
“Boxing is a sport for stupid people.”
“And the poor.”
“You’re both stupid and poor and even worse than that...”
"You’re a loser.”
“You lose.”
“All.”
“The.”
“Time.”
"You lose so much that it's the only thing anyone in wrestling knows you for anymore."
“In fact, you’re so bad at everything that I wouldn’t even pay you the honor of allowing you to work for me because your inability to do anything right would negatively reflect on me.”
"I can't have that."
“I know that the truth I’m telling you here is only going to make you angry. I know it’s going to upset your delicate sensitivities and it might cause you to cry. From what I’ve heard, you’re such a dumpster fire of a person that you vomit when you’re upset.”
“Ew.” He says with an audible gag. “How gross.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
"Who does that?"
“You’re such a worthless sad-sack of a man that your kid gets bullied at school, your wife probably cheats on you, your best friend sticks with you out of sympathy and your life coach uses you for material for stand up comedy acts. Even if those don’t happen, except for your dumpy idiot of a child being bullied at school, I’d pay someone to make them happen because I enjoy watching you suffer so much.”
“Do yourself a favor, Connie. When the bell rings lay down and let me pin you. If you do that, I’ll give you enough money to crawl off to a bar that’s commensurate to your status in society. From there you can go and drink yourself to death as you attempt to find your dignity at the bottom of a bottle of whatever cheap swill you drink.”
“If not for you being my opponent, I’d be where I should be...”
“The Main Event.”
“Instead, because of you, the Main Event is two bimbos no one cares about.”
“I hope that you’re happy.”
“When I’m done embarrassing you on Monday...”
“I’m going to fly to Anaheim on my private plane, I’m going to take your wife out on the town and when I’m finished...”
“She’s going to feel like a real woman for the first time since she married you.”
He slides his sunglasses down over his brown eyes and smiles evilly. A few seconds later a servant walks over and hands him a towel with a pair of tongs. He takes the towel and gently lowers it down onto his face.
End