lIP cARPET

[Tiffany White]

PROMO #14 - lIP cARPET

Hugh Jazz: You want me to do WHAT?!

Not surprisingly, Hugh was a little perplexed by my request to shave off his mustache for my promo against Vulgar. I was standing outside his trailer door, a very dirty and rusted out shed behind the mobile home, the stench of white trash and uncollected garbage filling my nostrils. Hugh himself was dressed in nothing but a gaudy pink bath robe and a pair of boxers, apparently just waking up. I felt very out of place in this god forsaken piece of property, but I needed this mustache to add a sense of "realism" to my shoot.

Tiffany: You heard me. $1000, right here, right now, no questions asked, for that mustache of yours. Lookin at you now, I'd say you could probably use it.

Hugh Jazz: Girlie, do you have ANY IDEA how important this piece of facial hair is to me? It's practically my entire persona! My legacy! I can't just give up something like that willy nilly.

Tiffany: If a tacky mustache is your entire legacy, then quite frankly you need to start building a better legacy bub.

He started to say something, then quickly retracted. I was right and he fucking knew it. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the aforementioned wad of $1000. Just to show him this was for real.

Hugh Jazz: Jesus...that's more then my entire monthly pay at WCF.

Tiffany: Perks of playing poker on the side.

Hugh Jazz: Just what exactly are you going to do with my 'stache?

Tiffany: That's for me to know and for you to find out when the video goes viral.

He grumbled to himself. Right before I was going to close the deal with him, I heard Victoria honk the car horn at us from the driveway. I glanced at her briefly, she looked impatient.

Tiffany: I'll give you a quick minute to think this over. I'll be right back.

I scurried back to the car, hopping inside with Victoria in the passengers seat.

Tiffany: What's up babe?

Victoria: Really Tiff? How can you be so casual? Are we just not going to talk about the big ole' elephant in the room?

Tiffany: What elephant? I don't have a clue about what you're talking about.

Victoria: You know damn well what I'm talking about. That Sophie girl you keep stalking on Facebook.

Ahh shit. I knew it would probably be something like this. A few days ago I had let it slip to Victoria that an old friend of mine had added me on Facebook. Nothing else. I tried to play it off as cool as possible.

Tiffany: What about her?

Victoria: It's been a fucking week and you still haven't responded to that request. Something's up, Tiff.

Tiffany: Been snooping through my phone again, I see. You find any...interesting photos? Hehe.

Victoria: Be serious for a moment Tiff. You're being weird.

I took a quick look at Hugh, still waiting outside his door, chest hair in full, disgusting display. He was probably getting impatient, so I had to close this deal fast. I turned back to Victoria, taking a more serious tone with me.

Tiffany: It's very complicated, my relationship with her, and it's one I'm not itching to get resolved quickly. Now I have a TV Title defense on Sunday, and I'd rather be making progress on that then worrying about someone I haven't seen in ages.

I opened up and stepped out of the car, before shutting the door though, I said one last thing to Victoria.

Tiffany: I'll explain everything later. I promise.

Victoria: You better, I'm gonna fuckin hold you to that.

In no time I was back at Hugh's doorstep, wad of cash still in hand. I briefly flashed it to him just to remind him what was at stake.

Tiffany: So do we have a deal?

Hugh Jazz: I've thought it over, and I've come to this conclusion: as much as it will pain me now, it'll eventually grow back. So yeah, we have a deal.

Tiffany: Beautiful, now if you'll excuse me...

Before he could even realize what was going on I was behind him, and just as he let out a confused "what?" I had him in a tight-as-fuck sleeper hold. I could hear his consciousness exiting his body in the form of gargling choking.

Tiffany: No tears, only dreams. No tears, only dreams...

And just like that he was out like a light.

---

When Hugh awoke, the first thing he did was clutch his neck, taking very hard and deep breathes. Then he noticed a few things.

One. His prized mustache was now completely shaved off.

Two. He was wearing a very dirty, very grimey wig of long brown hair.

Three. He was alone in his own shed.

I saw all of this through the window, and after making sure the adhesive would keep the mustache in place, I got into character. My hair was put in a clean ponytail, I wore a shirt that just said "THE BEAST" in bold black letters, and on my waist was a replica of the Elite-1 MMA Heavyweight Championship, while on both my shoulders were replicas of two toher belts, the CFA Super Heavyweight Championship on my left, and the Gladiator Challenge Superfight Heavyweight Championship on my right. I made my entrance, opening the door to the shed as it made a terrible, rusty sound, a large gym bag on my shoulder. It startled the bejesus out of Hugh, or as he would be known as today, "Vulgar."

"Vulgar": WHO'S THERE?! What do you want?!

I spoke up in a menacing, deep voice. Right now, I was not Tiffany White, WCF Television Champion.

I was...

"DAN SEVERN."

"Dan Severn": Well well well, we finally meet face to face, Mr...Vulgar, is it?

"Vulgar: What? I'm not Vulgar! My name is Hugh!

For his insolence, "Vulgar" received a stiff as hell kick in the face.

"Dan Severn": I'll only say this once, BOY. I will not have the name of Dan Severn disrespected by the likes of YOU! All thiss talk I see of "Dan Severn wants to rape people!" "Dan Severn wants to create Frankenstein!" Well I'VE HAD ENOUGH BOY. And it's about damn time someone made you HUMBLE.

Without hesitation, I had "Vulgar" in an armbar, and almost immediately the screams became deafening.

"Vulgar": AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

"Dan Severn": Say you're sorry.

"Vular": FOR WHAT?!?

I applied more pressure.

"Vulgar": AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

"Dan Severn": I SAID...say you're sorry.

"Vular": I DIDN'T FUCKING DO ANYTHING!

"Dan Severn": Tsk tsk tsk...oh will you ever learn?

The pressure was at maximum. At any point "Vulgar"'s arm could've snapped right off, I could practically feel the bones cracking right there.

"Dan Severn": This is your last chance. Say. You're. SORRY.

"Vulgar": OKAY! I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY! JUST PLEASE STOP!

Satisfied, I released the hold. "Vulgar" dropped flat on his back, almost assuredly passed out, before ripping off the fake mustache and dropping the fake MMA belts on me before unzipping the gym bag to reveal the TRUE championship, the WCF Television Title.

Tiffany: Now that I've had my bit of fun, it's time to get real here. Vulgar, there's no way in hell you're gonna beat me on Slam. It just ain't quantifiably possible. I'm actually kinda off pissed off I have to defend my title against someone like you. I want to go up against people who actually WANT to try and take this pretty piece of gold off me. Shadowlove wanted to do it. CJ Phoenix wanted to do it. Johnny Rabid is gonna try at Aftermath. You? You don't really seem to give a shit, do you? You just want to be silly and do things irrelevant to the matter at hand. Fuck that noise, I ain't about playing games, I'm about fucking WINNING. And Vulgar, this little win streak I've been on? Yeah, it ain't stopping any time soon. Hope you're ready to get fucked up Sunday.

I began to make my way out of the shed, before stopping in my tracks.

Tiffany: Oh right, I almost forgot.

I turned around and approached the unconscious "Vulgar", grabbing the $1000 out of my pocket and dropping it right there on his chest.

Tiffany: As promised, Mr. Jazz. You truly earned it.