Post by teevee on Nov 29, 2015 10:28:41 GMT -5
We see Tee Voland stretched out on a cheap looking chaise lounge on the rooftop patio of her family's gym. She's wearing loose fitting sweat pants and a Pittsburgh Steelers hoodie with the hood down behind her neck. She looks at the camera and narrows her eyes.
"I'm just going to say this because it needs to be said. I'll address Hayden Phoenix later, as pertains to the main event match that we're scheduled for. Because I'm actually the kind of talent that gets booked in main event matches. A lot.
"As opposed to John 'Blade.' Yeah, call yourself whatever you want, John, but I'll call you what everybody in this promotion knows you to be but nobody's bothered to spend the breath to say it. You are a FUCKING LAMEASS JOKE!"
Tee pauses as her voice doesn't echo off of anything, there isn't anything to create an echo along the Erie skyline (which, at least in this neighborhood, includes absolutely no skyscrapers or even any buildings over four stories in height). After making a point to note that nobody is listening, Tee speaks once more.
"Do us all a favor, 'John,' though I doubt that's your real name, and just go away. Stop bothering us with your pitiful attempts at impersonating a certain well known professional wrestler who bears a freakish resemblance to yourself (and I feel sorry for him about that); people might mistake you for that guy if they're drunk and then you'd be open for all kinds of libel and slander suits. That guy actually wins matches at least once in a while. And the only "they" that want you to lose are...okay, that's everybody who's ever been subjected to the minute and a half of run-on sentences that you call promos. And anybody who's ever stepped into a ring with you because I don't think anybody has ever failed to defeat you, at least not in NGW. Maybe you're a 'champ' in whatever make-believe world you think includes people that believe you can beat a drunken toddler in an over the top rope Battle Royale, but us grownups don't recognize the plastic replica belt that you seem fond of wearing.
"I would really like to see some more high grade talent compete in NGW. I can only properly show off my awesomeness against decent opponents and you're getting underfoot for any rookies that might have a chance at kissing my boots. So begone, shitstain."
Tee flashes a middle finger at the camera as it blinks out to black.
"I'm just going to say this because it needs to be said. I'll address Hayden Phoenix later, as pertains to the main event match that we're scheduled for. Because I'm actually the kind of talent that gets booked in main event matches. A lot.
"As opposed to John 'Blade.' Yeah, call yourself whatever you want, John, but I'll call you what everybody in this promotion knows you to be but nobody's bothered to spend the breath to say it. You are a FUCKING LAMEASS JOKE!"
Tee pauses as her voice doesn't echo off of anything, there isn't anything to create an echo along the Erie skyline (which, at least in this neighborhood, includes absolutely no skyscrapers or even any buildings over four stories in height). After making a point to note that nobody is listening, Tee speaks once more.
"Do us all a favor, 'John,' though I doubt that's your real name, and just go away. Stop bothering us with your pitiful attempts at impersonating a certain well known professional wrestler who bears a freakish resemblance to yourself (and I feel sorry for him about that); people might mistake you for that guy if they're drunk and then you'd be open for all kinds of libel and slander suits. That guy actually wins matches at least once in a while. And the only "they" that want you to lose are...okay, that's everybody who's ever been subjected to the minute and a half of run-on sentences that you call promos. And anybody who's ever stepped into a ring with you because I don't think anybody has ever failed to defeat you, at least not in NGW. Maybe you're a 'champ' in whatever make-believe world you think includes people that believe you can beat a drunken toddler in an over the top rope Battle Royale, but us grownups don't recognize the plastic replica belt that you seem fond of wearing.
"I would really like to see some more high grade talent compete in NGW. I can only properly show off my awesomeness against decent opponents and you're getting underfoot for any rookies that might have a chance at kissing my boots. So begone, shitstain."
Tee flashes a middle finger at the camera as it blinks out to black.