Post by mayamisako on Jun 23, 2024 18:58:59 GMT
Have you ever seen someone so cheerful and naive that it makes you want to throw up at their absentmindedness? Ladies and gentlemen, Aspen Sterling! The personification of ‘just happy to be here'. Of course there's nothing wrong with that. Get your money, girlfriend. The issue is that people that are THAT blissfully clueless don't know their place. This match may be labeled a rookie showcase, but let's be real. You may not be...hideous...but you're an average face in an above average place. I'M the REAL star of this showcase.
Luckily for you, there's no pressure on you in this match. Sure it's our first one here and there's obviously a lot to gain from a victory, but will anyone REALLY care once you lose? Nope! No one will bat an eye. There will be no gasping for Aspen. You know why? It's because they'll be too busy celebrating my triumph. They'll be so focused on me as the future of this place that they'll probably forget that you were even in the match. You get to hide behind the fact that you're gonna be a deer in headlights out there. Being able to fight one-on-one is one thing, but this is like taking a stroll through the back alleys of Gotham. There's no honor in these types of matches. No hugs or handshakes. It's gonna get ugly fast. Know who thrives in chaos like that? ME! I've fought people on and off the court ever since my hands could make a fist. This is just another day in the office for me. Another chance to show the world how amazing I am as a multi-sport athlete.
And don't even get me started on Britney Madison. I'm actually glad that she's in this match. With a face you wanna punch like hers, I'm gonna have a field day pummeling her into the dirt. In fact, I'm sure the world would LOVE to see her get decimated. If Aspen is the airheaded one, then Britney is the undesirable one. An unbearable mess that only serves as a target to throw tomatoes at. Sadly, we must only settle for punches and kicks...and chairs...and kendo sticks. I suppose that'll do. This walking publicity stunt is so far in over her head that I'd be surprised if she knows how the rules of the match go. Regardless, due to the nature of this match, I can't rule out the chance of her ruining everything. Nor can I understand how she even managed to get signed. A black hole of charisma with a black eye that she's gonna get from me. Shameful. That's what she is. And she's gonna face a harsh reality when that bell rings.
Now let's take a moment to talk about The Delivery Girl. You know, because that's all she has to spare. Whether it be in or out the ring, she doesn't have time for the people. That's cool. Get that money, girlfriend. While you're focusing on that, I'll be building and solidifying myself as the wrestling's next Supernova star! Honestly, it's a win-win for the both of us. First, I'll win this match. Then, I'll keep building my momentum until I'm NPWA’s most successful wrestler. And once I reach the top of the charts, I'll celebrate by ordering from you. Seeeeeee? Unlike you, I'm considerate and selfless. At least this way you can say you were a part of something truly legendary.
Besides, it's clear that the squared circle is merely a side quest for you. You're a sprinter that shines when you can speed run through a contest. Unfortunately for you, this match is a marathon. One that you can't finish faster than it takes the average fan to finish, Sonic the Whorehog. This is just a curtain covering the fact that you just don't have what it takes to go the distance. What happens when one of your precious orders comes in mid match? Are you gonna leave everyone, praying that the rest of us prolong the battle long enough for you to sneak back in and steal the win? Probably. Clearly you don't care about anyone but yourself. All of those people who pay money to see me, and I guess you by proxy, have to deal with you abandoning them five minutes into the match. You could be the greatest thing since me and it wouldn't matter because you'd never be around long enough for anyone to see it. It's okay though. While you're out trying to break the world record for most speeding tickets, I'll be winning our match. And who knows, IF you manage to come back, I might consider tipping you as a token of gratitude since I'm CLEARLY the only one in this match that isn't an inconsiderate imbecile.
“I peaked in highschool? Oh yeah!? Well you peaked in the womb, bitch!” Furious typing on the phone ensues as Maya Misako is being a passenger princess. Her classmate turned manager, Douglas Nacromus, is driving them to Minnesota just over two weeks before Maya’s week one matchup. “Are you arguing with those social media trolls again?” “NO......they started it. Besides, it's become a part of who I am. So I can't stop now.” “Perhaps, but you could at least choose your battles better instead of wasting your time. You could be studying right now.”
If Maya could roll her eyes further back, they'd spin around like reels on a slot machine. Add in some groaning and you have the perfect recipe for displeasure. “Ohhhhhhhhh my goodness, Doug. I have been studying ALL. LAST. WEEEEEK! Which is probably more than the three people I'm facing COMBINED. I'll be fiiiiiiine.” Doug mentally presses X to doubt after hearing her complaints.”You did legitimate studying ONCE last week, BARELY did any studying after working out on two of the days, and you spent the other four whining about the three days that you actually did stuff on.” “You know what that's called? Balance. I needed four days of rest. I can't be burning myself out and risking an injury you know?” “An injury to what? Your brain from thinking too much?” “Shut up. I'm a genius.” “Yeah you keep telling yourself that.” “WOW! That was so hurtful!” The overdramatic button is pushed as Maya pretends to cry with her arms folded. “I'm not talking to you anymore.”
There is a pause for about five seconds. “I’m hungry. How much longer is this drive?” “Thought you weren't talking to me anymore.” “That was forever ago.” “It was literally....” Doug stops himself with a sigh. “We're about ninety minutes out.” “NINETY!? Oh hell no I'm hungry noooowwwwwwuuuhhhhh. Can we stop for food?” “We can if you actually do some studying on the way there.” “UGGGGHHHHHH you're the worst! Fine.” The driver looks at the signs on the road. “Uhhhhhhhhh there's a Chick-fil-A coming up.” “YES! Perfect! You know why I like them so much?” “Because you're obsessed with grilled chicken?” “Because I'm OBSESSED with grilled chicken. Plus, they say ‘my pleasure’ a lot, and you know what? It IS their pleasure. They have the fortune of serving food to me....to us....to me. More places should take pride in appreciating my presence.” “I'm sure they would if you'd stop cursing them out every time they don't have what you want.” Maya shrugs unashamedly. “Well maybe they should stop being out of stuff. And I'm not taking responsibility for cursing out rude people. They started it.” “That doesn't mean make it worse.” “Well why should I make it better? It's customer service. I'm the customer. It's their job to service me correctly, and if they don't, I have a right to voice my concerns.”
“Yeah, but you don't have to be profane about it.”
“And they don't have to be wrong.”
Doug shakes his head in disbelief. “.....you have problems.”
“Ouch. Rude. Can't you see I'm trying to prepare for my match? I have THREE opponents and instead of my manager supporting me, I'm being attacked!? That hurts, man.”
“Does it? Does it really?” The sarcasm was potent here. “No, but.....this is helping a lot.” “What is, and with what?” “Talking. Venting stress and nervousness. The preseason is one thing, but the regular season is much different. These matches really count, and I only get so many. Even though it's a marathon, I have to at least push my way to the playoffs. No matter what it takes, if I can just lock up one of the spots, I'll be okay. But that's down the line.” “Right. Just take things one match at a time. Once you get into a rhythm and we get deeper into the season, then we can focus on the extras.” “Yeah. Yeah that works. Thanks, Doug.” “No probs.”
There's a slow fade as they arrive at the Chick-fil-A. Maya smiles in excitement while Doug prays that she doesn't go off the deep end.
Alright, now that I've fed those leeches far more attention than they deserve, let's talk about the REAL MVP here. ME! We haven't even gotten to the match and I'm already carrying it. I'm the one bringing the star power here. I'm the polarizing athlete putting butts in seats. I should be getting praised left and right, but noooooooo. They're all jealous of me even though I'M doing THEM a favor. This match wouldn't even be good enough to make the card without me being in it. So they should be worshiping the ground I walk on. I'd say they should be kissing my ass, but none of them are worthy of such a sacred honor. What they ARE worthy of is a beat down of a lifetime courtesy of yours truly.
Look at me. I'm the epitome of marketability. I bridge the gap between wrestling fans and basketball fans. Bringing them together in a unified effort to praise me. How many people out there can say that? I don't mean missing the team because you weren’t good enough to keep chasing your dreams. I was a starter from day one. If people didn't like it, I shut them up by showing them that I deserved it. Just like how I'ma show the world that I'm worthy of being the poster model of the NPWA. And for those living under a rock, I'll be more than happy to educate you. I'm inherently built for matches like these because of how menacing I was on the court. An offense’s worst nightmare that made opposing players AND coaches lose sleep. I'm no stranger to fighting either. I've NEVER backed down from the chance to throw hands. The only difference between the hardwood and the ring is that I'm going from being the best competitor in a rectangle to being the best one in a square. There better be a back massage waiting for me after I'm done carrying this match. And yes, I do mean CARRYING. Someone has to. It's not gonna be little miss sunshine Aspen Sterling. She'll be too busy being overwhelmed by the spotlight like she was Jarrett Allen in last year's NBA playoffs. It definitely won't be the prissy and pissy Britney Madison. In fact, there should be a petition to sell throwing tomatoes just for the sake of pelting Britney with them. That'll at least give the fans ONE reason to want to watch her. Damn sure ain't gonna be for her wrestling. Oh and it most certainly won't be The Delivery Girl. Pretty hard to carry a match if your heart's not in it, and it's even harder to do so if you're not actually there. So even if I was nerfed all the way down to being average, I'd STILL have to be the one carrying by process of elimination. Fortunately for you all, I'll step up, be the ONLY reason this match is worth the watch, AND walk out with the victory!
You're welcome. Now...
Luckily for you, there's no pressure on you in this match. Sure it's our first one here and there's obviously a lot to gain from a victory, but will anyone REALLY care once you lose? Nope! No one will bat an eye. There will be no gasping for Aspen. You know why? It's because they'll be too busy celebrating my triumph. They'll be so focused on me as the future of this place that they'll probably forget that you were even in the match. You get to hide behind the fact that you're gonna be a deer in headlights out there. Being able to fight one-on-one is one thing, but this is like taking a stroll through the back alleys of Gotham. There's no honor in these types of matches. No hugs or handshakes. It's gonna get ugly fast. Know who thrives in chaos like that? ME! I've fought people on and off the court ever since my hands could make a fist. This is just another day in the office for me. Another chance to show the world how amazing I am as a multi-sport athlete.
And don't even get me started on Britney Madison. I'm actually glad that she's in this match. With a face you wanna punch like hers, I'm gonna have a field day pummeling her into the dirt. In fact, I'm sure the world would LOVE to see her get decimated. If Aspen is the airheaded one, then Britney is the undesirable one. An unbearable mess that only serves as a target to throw tomatoes at. Sadly, we must only settle for punches and kicks...and chairs...and kendo sticks. I suppose that'll do. This walking publicity stunt is so far in over her head that I'd be surprised if she knows how the rules of the match go. Regardless, due to the nature of this match, I can't rule out the chance of her ruining everything. Nor can I understand how she even managed to get signed. A black hole of charisma with a black eye that she's gonna get from me. Shameful. That's what she is. And she's gonna face a harsh reality when that bell rings.
Now let's take a moment to talk about The Delivery Girl. You know, because that's all she has to spare. Whether it be in or out the ring, she doesn't have time for the people. That's cool. Get that money, girlfriend. While you're focusing on that, I'll be building and solidifying myself as the wrestling's next Supernova star! Honestly, it's a win-win for the both of us. First, I'll win this match. Then, I'll keep building my momentum until I'm NPWA’s most successful wrestler. And once I reach the top of the charts, I'll celebrate by ordering from you. Seeeeeee? Unlike you, I'm considerate and selfless. At least this way you can say you were a part of something truly legendary.
Besides, it's clear that the squared circle is merely a side quest for you. You're a sprinter that shines when you can speed run through a contest. Unfortunately for you, this match is a marathon. One that you can't finish faster than it takes the average fan to finish, Sonic the Whorehog. This is just a curtain covering the fact that you just don't have what it takes to go the distance. What happens when one of your precious orders comes in mid match? Are you gonna leave everyone, praying that the rest of us prolong the battle long enough for you to sneak back in and steal the win? Probably. Clearly you don't care about anyone but yourself. All of those people who pay money to see me, and I guess you by proxy, have to deal with you abandoning them five minutes into the match. You could be the greatest thing since me and it wouldn't matter because you'd never be around long enough for anyone to see it. It's okay though. While you're out trying to break the world record for most speeding tickets, I'll be winning our match. And who knows, IF you manage to come back, I might consider tipping you as a token of gratitude since I'm CLEARLY the only one in this match that isn't an inconsiderate imbecile.
“I peaked in highschool? Oh yeah!? Well you peaked in the womb, bitch!” Furious typing on the phone ensues as Maya Misako is being a passenger princess. Her classmate turned manager, Douglas Nacromus, is driving them to Minnesota just over two weeks before Maya’s week one matchup. “Are you arguing with those social media trolls again?” “NO......they started it. Besides, it's become a part of who I am. So I can't stop now.” “Perhaps, but you could at least choose your battles better instead of wasting your time. You could be studying right now.”
If Maya could roll her eyes further back, they'd spin around like reels on a slot machine. Add in some groaning and you have the perfect recipe for displeasure. “Ohhhhhhhhh my goodness, Doug. I have been studying ALL. LAST. WEEEEEK! Which is probably more than the three people I'm facing COMBINED. I'll be fiiiiiiine.” Doug mentally presses X to doubt after hearing her complaints.”You did legitimate studying ONCE last week, BARELY did any studying after working out on two of the days, and you spent the other four whining about the three days that you actually did stuff on.” “You know what that's called? Balance. I needed four days of rest. I can't be burning myself out and risking an injury you know?” “An injury to what? Your brain from thinking too much?” “Shut up. I'm a genius.” “Yeah you keep telling yourself that.” “WOW! That was so hurtful!” The overdramatic button is pushed as Maya pretends to cry with her arms folded. “I'm not talking to you anymore.”
There is a pause for about five seconds. “I’m hungry. How much longer is this drive?” “Thought you weren't talking to me anymore.” “That was forever ago.” “It was literally....” Doug stops himself with a sigh. “We're about ninety minutes out.” “NINETY!? Oh hell no I'm hungry noooowwwwwwuuuhhhhh. Can we stop for food?” “We can if you actually do some studying on the way there.” “UGGGGHHHHHH you're the worst! Fine.” The driver looks at the signs on the road. “Uhhhhhhhhh there's a Chick-fil-A coming up.” “YES! Perfect! You know why I like them so much?” “Because you're obsessed with grilled chicken?” “Because I'm OBSESSED with grilled chicken. Plus, they say ‘my pleasure’ a lot, and you know what? It IS their pleasure. They have the fortune of serving food to me....to us....to me. More places should take pride in appreciating my presence.” “I'm sure they would if you'd stop cursing them out every time they don't have what you want.” Maya shrugs unashamedly. “Well maybe they should stop being out of stuff. And I'm not taking responsibility for cursing out rude people. They started it.” “That doesn't mean make it worse.” “Well why should I make it better? It's customer service. I'm the customer. It's their job to service me correctly, and if they don't, I have a right to voice my concerns.”
“Yeah, but you don't have to be profane about it.”
“And they don't have to be wrong.”
Doug shakes his head in disbelief. “.....you have problems.”
“Ouch. Rude. Can't you see I'm trying to prepare for my match? I have THREE opponents and instead of my manager supporting me, I'm being attacked!? That hurts, man.”
“Does it? Does it really?” The sarcasm was potent here. “No, but.....this is helping a lot.” “What is, and with what?” “Talking. Venting stress and nervousness. The preseason is one thing, but the regular season is much different. These matches really count, and I only get so many. Even though it's a marathon, I have to at least push my way to the playoffs. No matter what it takes, if I can just lock up one of the spots, I'll be okay. But that's down the line.” “Right. Just take things one match at a time. Once you get into a rhythm and we get deeper into the season, then we can focus on the extras.” “Yeah. Yeah that works. Thanks, Doug.” “No probs.”
There's a slow fade as they arrive at the Chick-fil-A. Maya smiles in excitement while Doug prays that she doesn't go off the deep end.
Alright, now that I've fed those leeches far more attention than they deserve, let's talk about the REAL MVP here. ME! We haven't even gotten to the match and I'm already carrying it. I'm the one bringing the star power here. I'm the polarizing athlete putting butts in seats. I should be getting praised left and right, but noooooooo. They're all jealous of me even though I'M doing THEM a favor. This match wouldn't even be good enough to make the card without me being in it. So they should be worshiping the ground I walk on. I'd say they should be kissing my ass, but none of them are worthy of such a sacred honor. What they ARE worthy of is a beat down of a lifetime courtesy of yours truly.
Look at me. I'm the epitome of marketability. I bridge the gap between wrestling fans and basketball fans. Bringing them together in a unified effort to praise me. How many people out there can say that? I don't mean missing the team because you weren’t good enough to keep chasing your dreams. I was a starter from day one. If people didn't like it, I shut them up by showing them that I deserved it. Just like how I'ma show the world that I'm worthy of being the poster model of the NPWA. And for those living under a rock, I'll be more than happy to educate you. I'm inherently built for matches like these because of how menacing I was on the court. An offense’s worst nightmare that made opposing players AND coaches lose sleep. I'm no stranger to fighting either. I've NEVER backed down from the chance to throw hands. The only difference between the hardwood and the ring is that I'm going from being the best competitor in a rectangle to being the best one in a square. There better be a back massage waiting for me after I'm done carrying this match. And yes, I do mean CARRYING. Someone has to. It's not gonna be little miss sunshine Aspen Sterling. She'll be too busy being overwhelmed by the spotlight like she was Jarrett Allen in last year's NBA playoffs. It definitely won't be the prissy and pissy Britney Madison. In fact, there should be a petition to sell throwing tomatoes just for the sake of pelting Britney with them. That'll at least give the fans ONE reason to want to watch her. Damn sure ain't gonna be for her wrestling. Oh and it most certainly won't be The Delivery Girl. Pretty hard to carry a match if your heart's not in it, and it's even harder to do so if you're not actually there. So even if I was nerfed all the way down to being average, I'd STILL have to be the one carrying by process of elimination. Fortunately for you all, I'll step up, be the ONLY reason this match is worth the watch, AND walk out with the victory!
You're welcome. Now...
PRAISE ME!