Post by Tiffany White on Jan 17, 2016 17:24:01 GMT -5
PROMO #2 - fINALLY mOVING
I was beginning to regret my choice of hotel very much this week. The room itself was very nice, nothing out of the ordinary at all. In fact it wasn't even the hotels fault that I was getting annoyed. It was just the fact that it was stationed not too far from the local church. So every hour on the hour I would those goddamned bells.
*DIN-DONG-DING-DONG....DONG-DING-DING-DONG*
I already have enough disdain in the system as it already is, I don't need it to be my fucking alarm clock too. I like to take my time getting out of bed, not have the children of god force me out against my will. On top of that, I hadn't picked up any chicks at the club beforehand, so I was all by my lonesome in that room. Just a frustrating experience all around.
*DIN-DONG-DING-DONG....DONG-DING-DING-DONG*
Tiffany: God fucking dammit...
Reluctantly I crawled out of bed clad only in a sports bra and sweatpants. My room, compared to how it usually is, was a mess. I was jet lagged as all get out and just threw all my shit down on the floor and passed out. I usually wake up at like 11 AM, checked the time on my phone and it was almost 7 AM. A loud groan escaped my lips, as I grabbed some halfway decent and went to shower.
My debut in the WCF was about as pitch perfect as you could make it. I took four egotistical fuckboys, all of whom thought they could get the better of me cause I was just a girl, and I made absolute fools of them all. In fact, I'm pretty sure I absolutely destroyed Brao Kitt's WCF career, I had heard shortly after I pinned him he got released. Good. Maybe now he could get the help he so desperately needed.
I had gotten myself cleaned up from the match and was clearing out to head back to the hotel. I could've just went quietly out the back, not at the little meet and greet after the show, but that wasn't my personality. I wasn't that person at parties who just left without any warning. So I decided "fuck it" and left for the meet and greet, hopefully to get a better idea of what type of fanbase I was going to be pandering to.
I don't think anything could have prepared me for what I was about to experience. As I steppe out the doors into the arena lobby, I just saw a sea of WCF fans, all looking like they could charge at any moment and trample us all to death. Lots of screaming. Yelling. It's weird, it was as if these people were legit ANGRY over this so called "much beloved product." I saw near the very end of the table, the WCF's very own Joseph Malignaggi trying to sign autographs when some random asshole yelled out...
Fan: I HOPE YOUR KID BURNS IN HELL FLASH!
I didn't care to pay enough attention to see what the fallout of that was, but I could imagine it wasn't pleasant. Hank Brown, the intrepid interviewer who I met with at the local poker tournament saw me enter the lobby.
Hank: Ah, Tiffany! Glad you decided to join us.
Tiffany: Sup...looks like you got a packed house in here.
Hank: You got here just in time, we just started about ten minutes ago, take a chair at the table, any one will do.
I did as he said, and started observing the fans' behavior close up. It was appalling, to say the least. Lot's of obscenities, hate speech, racism, you name it, it was there. This was less a exhibition of wrestler/fan appreciation and more of a riot. For the most part, I kept to myself, and people seemed to ignore me, most probably had no idea who I was because they came in late or skipped the opening-newbie match. That didn't last long though. Soon some drunken idiots, two of them, came up to my part of the table, initially harassing Spencer Adams, until they turned their attention to me.
Drunk #1: HeY! Good match tonight, BITCH!
Drunk #2: God, I almost busted a nut watching your slutty ass fly through the air, ass in perfect view of me and my buddy here.
Tiffany: Is that what you thought was going to get my autograph from you tonight?
Drunk #2: Oh we don't want your autograph, no no no...
Drunk #1: ...but maybe a kiss for the both of us would be just as good.
Tiffany: Are you serious? You're fucking serious, aren't you?
Drunk #1: Babe I'm ALWAYS serious, hehe.
Tiffany: Hank, is there security over here? I didn't come out here to deal with these drunken fucks tonight.
Hank came over to my table from the lobby doors.
Hank: Sorry, but most of our security clocked out for the night. We couldn't afford to keep them around for both the show AND the meet and greet.
Tiffany: What?! What kind of shady operation is this Lerch guy running?
Hank: You'd be surprised.
Drunk #1: Hey beat it bub! We're trying to get some action here!
Tiffany: Listen here, I don't have the patience nor the energy to deal with either of you two fucks. So if you could please just leave me alone so I can actually, yknow, talk to fans?
Drunk #2: Or else what? Don't tell me you're one of those bitches with pepper spray-
I didn't allow him to finish his sentence. I got up, used the folding chair I was sitting on as a launchpad, lept onto the table, jumped off of it and kicked him right in the face, landing on both of my feet. The guy fell backwards and laanded straight on his back, knocked...the fuck...OUT! His buddy shrieked in drunken fear, and looked at me scared out of his wits.
Tiffany: I don't need pepper spray, I AM the goddamned pepper spray.
The lil fuck finally got the right idea and sprinted the fuck out of the lobby. I made my way to exit, passing up Hank along the way.
Tifffany: Sorry about the ruckus.
Hank: Don't worry, it happens.
The shower was just what I needed. After that whole fan debacle I got all my shit out of the hotel and headed straight to the airport. But now I was refreshed and actually ready to be a part of real life again after mostly sticking to my hotel room and the gym for a few days. I figured I'd actually go out on the town and see what little old Raleigh had to offer me.
I stepped outside and started walking, trying to find the nearest bar in town for a little day drinking. I didn't usually do this, but fuck it, I won my debut match a few days ago, I deserved it. After a while of searching, I found what looked like a quaint little joint called "The Lucky Tavern." Silly name, but fuckin whatever. I stepped inside, not a whole lot of people were there. Just a couple of random dudes watching a replay of a playoffs game on the flatscreen in the corner of the room. Across from them, a bartender (an older guy) cleaned up the bar with a rag. No one was sitting there, so I took a quick seat.
Tiffany: You servin?
Bartender: A little early for drinks, but yes, I am serving.
Tiffany: Cool, I'll have a beer.
Bartender: Coming right up.
As the bartender got my drink ready, I began to hear those damn bells again.
*DIN-DONG-DING-DONG....DONG-DING-DING-DONG*
The bartender came back.
Bartender: Here ya go.
Tiffany: Much obliged. Say, you ever get tired of hearing those bells all day?
Bartender: They were annoying at first when I first set up over here, but I've managed to tune them out as I've stayed. Now I barely even hear them most of the time.
Tiffany: I gotcha. I'm not from around here, so I guess I'm just not as "tuned out" as you are.
Bartender: Not a regular church goer, I imagine. Considering you're spending your morning here.
Tiffany: You could say that, yeah.
I took a sip of the beverage the bartender handed me. Pretty good shit, all around. But nothing could really get the annoyance out of my system from the bells. They reminded me too much of the god I had disowned all those years ago. Trying to distract myself from old memories, my thoughts turned to Benjamin Atreyu.
I hadn't known much about the guy before Sunday, but just looking his bio, and how he called himself "God Given Greatness" already put a bad taste in my mouth. I realize that giving himself that nickname was more just a way to promote his persona (that of an asshole) then anything. Still, the foolish-ness of claiming your abilities came from god himself still reeks to me. And you know what? For all the greatness god gave him, where has that landed Atryu? A spot as a perpetual midcarder, sometimes bottom carder, with no real accolades to his name. That team with Gein and Updegraff? Absolutely went fucking nowhere. Titles? Only a one month US title reign and two tag title reigns. Big fuckin what.
He takes his ball and leaves for god knows how long, doing god knows what, only to show up out of the blue a few months ago...as head of talent relations. Ha. Ha. fucking. Ha. I can't think of anyone less qualified for a job like that then Benny Atreyu. Being the head of anything having to do with relations of any sort require at least some type of inerrant charisma. Atreyu has the charisma of a hobo garbage can fire, and half the social grace. Motherfucker barely knew how to run shit, did nothing of note that changed the WCF in any way whatsoever, and once the higher-ups caught on they fired him, as they rightfully should have. They then re-instated him into the active roster...for some reason, and think now that he's back at his rightful home on the mid card that he can do some damage. What they didn't count on was me.
Y'see for me, the midcard is not my permanent home like it is for Atreyu. To me the midcard is merely a stepping stone to bigger and better things. A necessary stop on the way to something Atreyu has never known about...POWER. The power of being able to stand up against all the fuck boys of the world and show them who's boss. The power to kick all the boy's asses and that the WCF isn't exclusively a boys club anymore. We've only had one female World Champion in the entire history of the WCF, Sarah Twilight. But trust me, you'll see another name next to hers soon enough.
Tiffany Fucking White.
But for now I have to contend with dealing with facing fuck boys who aren't worth my time. Case in point, Benjamin Atreyu. And once I hit Ole' Benny with those Pocket Queens and send him packing like I did to Brao Kitt, I move up in the food chain to fuckboys worth my time. And if the fuckboys think they can take me on, they can come right on over and see what happens.
It didn't take my beer that long to finish, and after I was done I paid the bartender and got up.
Bartender: Only one beer, ma'am?
Tiffany: For now, until Sunday night. I'll be back, and buying everyone shots.
I smirked and left the bar to head back to the hotel, specifically to the gym. Time to get ready for Sunday.
