[::: Hooray for Boobies!:::]
[a teardrop on the fire: act twenty-nine]
((Tuckers Town, Bermuda. A hot tub, a margarita fit for a queen, and a baby blue bikini you couldn't afford on your best day.))
Enika Engel: "Here's an idea, Ross, and an original one at that, how about the next time you come on camera? You put some coherent thought into your interview. You know - think about what you're saying before you say it. Because you made yourself look really fucking bad back there."
((Enika appears nothing short of bored and unoccupied. A feeling uncommonly left to just about every member of the roster these days.))
"Let's start with the obvious - because, well, I'm bored. Your request for a tag team title shot? Null-and-void of the sense of having actually earned it. You didn't get here because of your ability, you're untested with this crowd at best. You didn't get here because of your dashingly handsome good-looks; because an early nineties bleach-blond steroid revival is obviously just the thing we needed around here. Intelligence? You make Don Mega look like a superstar. Your charisma? Please, take a number and fuck off."
"You're here because, well, there's no one left. Don't follow? I'll clue you in, 'cause I can."
((Sighing in deep, she continues.))
"The tag team division is in shambles. There's all of you and Zout, who I'll get to in a minute, G.O.D, and myself left. Officially speaking of course. So why here, why now? It's simple - my partner's gone from this sport. Big surprise there, and you can't really blame him - between his medical condition and the level of respect he gets around this place, it's pathetic. That's five people in a sea of otherwise nothing. Fighting for a set of belt's that've lost any sort of credibility in this sport, with due reasoning. The only way to put on a proper pay-per-view showing for the belts, to put any sort of steam back into them, is obviously - what else? Have a contested set of champions fight a set of proxy withdrawn challengers. It just so happens the front office seems to think I can't win this thing handicapped; and carry this whole thing on my back, but that's where they're wrong. I've slipped up as of late; and I've admitted to that - but me losing to you? Is the day I flat out retire from the sport and find a new hobby. Swear to god."
((A half-hearted chuckle, this sort of thing was routine.))
"Now let's get to the juice and meat of this equation - you assimilating that I had to go down on Flynn to make him become my tag team partner. Yeah, okay, we'll pretend for a minute that he... wait, no we won't, because you're a fucking idiot, plain and simple. For starters? His tag team partner, Kyle Stevenson, was a worthless piece of shit. Couldn't hold his weight around here - so Flynn asked me to become his tag team partner, with fellatio left at the doorstep. That's what you get for assuming. It's simply called talent, that's why we're both three time PWA tag team champions. As for not knowing whether to slap me in the face or slap me on the ass? Flattered - but I'm married, a mother to one, and a step mother to three - so how about I just slap your goddamned teeth down your throat, okay?"
((Sarcastic fun for the whole family.))
"Now - for the comment about having had as many sexual partners as Flynn has had tag team partners... wow. Barn-fucking-burning observation there, sport. That's less than the national average, you know? Your typical male demographic, age eighteen to twenty-five, is sexcapading it up with around twenty to twenty-five sexually active women. Flynn's had three official tag team partners here in the PWA. So you're saying, you're fresh out of the meat market, and nothing short of being a virgin? Big wow factor there, and it comes as a surprise, let me tell you. Can I just ask you one question - having read your little background blog there on the PWA site - have you ever seen a real set of tits? You know, other than on the internet? Because I'm guessing not. Oh, wait, that's right - you're still suckling at your momma's teat because your Daddy was an alcoholic. Yeah, you and everyone else here. What's next, you changing your hometown to parts unknown? Get over yourself, you're nothing special."
"As for Mark Zout? Yeah man, I markz out all the time. Especially when Dustin has me locked in the Shoulder-Holder. Ouch."
"Guess the joke was lost somewhere in translation."