Post by Alysson Gardner on May 10, 2012 19:46:08 GMT -6
A Night to Remember week is truly an unique event. It's a week when people from all over the country and even from other countries gather to see their favorite superstars in action, in the biggest event of the year. It's the week when the venue is on fire, in an absolutely unprecedented showing of love for wrestling and idolizing one's favorite athletes.
It's a week where you can see identical twin brother wrestlers playing video games in the same hotel room.
These two boys are going to drive me crazy one of these days. Back to the hotel room Spike Kane and I are sharing, as I'm carrying little Xander on my lap, I see the God of Xtreme himself and his mirrored image in the form of "Reckless Jack" Brad Kane playing on an XBox. The only difference between the both of them right now is that Brad is now back to his long hair, while Spike is trimming it short. While I do admit I have a thing for dudes with longer hair, though, my fidelity remains with Michael.
Until, of course, they decide to trick me. Not hard to fool me when it comes to THAT.
Alysson: Um, Mike?
Both Kanes: Yes?
The both of them look at me with the same voice tone and the same motion of slightly dropping the controller, acknowledging my presence in the room. The fine tuning ends when Spike hits Brad on the arm sort-of-playfully.
Spike: Brad!
Brad: What?
Spike: Um, she called me, not you?
Brad: One of these days, Mikey. One of these days.
With a funny face, Brad gets up, as their game is now paused.
Brad: I'll give you guys some room to talk, gonna grab me some water.
And just like that, Brad leaves the happy family alone. I know it's Spike because he has the railroad spike scar on his hand, something that Brad does not. Thanks to these two I've learned to identify certain characteristics of their bodies to differentiate one another, because I'd be damned if I had to ask them to remove their shirts to check out on their tattoos.
Spike: So, yeah. How was the girls' day out?
Alysson: Pretty much like the boys' day in.
I check the video games. They're playing a fighting game. One can only wonder how long have they been playing this. All my chips on all day long.
Spike: Ummm, yeah, we kinda ran out of s*** to do, and the casinos are only open late at night, so I was stuck with being with either your brother or that a**hole over there.
Brad: F*** you!
Brad's voice comes from the kitchen, echoing from afar as the two - likely three of us smirk.
Alysson: So, yeah. We went out shopping, treated the kids to burgers with fries... Of course I gave Xander a baby dish and not a burger...
I had to do that before big daddy Spike shanked me.
Alysson: So yeah, the boring stuff.
Spike: I see you didn't bring much back. I take it Freya and Linda took everything to their rooms?
Alysson: They did, including a couple of things I bought myself. But I did bring something with me.
Spike: Can I see it?
Alysson: Of course, I bought it for you.
Spike's naughty smile turns into a curious smile, seeing as I bought him something from Vegas. If only I wasn't his Goddess of Xtreme, I guess he'd freak out thinking I might've bought, I don't know, a flowered shirt so he'd look like a German dude at the Bahamas. But he still gets surprised as I give him the little black box.
Spike: Hmm. Something in such a small box...
He starts to open it, but I put my hands on his hands.
Alysson: Let's open it together after A Night to Remember.
Spike tilts his head to the side with the cutest "what the f*** are you doing to me?" face ever. I can just smile and peck him on the lips, as Brad comes back from the kitchen with his glass of water.
Alysson: Let's make justice to that name. "A night to remember".
And just like that, I leave. Behind my back, as tells me my female instinct, Brad is patting his brother on the back saying something like "you must have dome something REALLY good." And they're probably back to video games right now.
Who would have ever thought that a full year later, we'd be in the biggest stage of them all?
With this thought, we open this promo, as I'm standing in the middle of nowhere. One of Nevada's deserts, one of the infinite landscapes of pure dirt that surround the Wonder City of Las Vegas. Welcome to my personal devastation scenario.
So we meet again, Ashlie. For another round. Another chance to prove who is the best female wrestler of this dying division. Another turn to show them all who is the one woman the rest of the girls in the backstage should take notice of. I won't take that away from you, you are the champion, and despite all the accusations I've thrown your way, it more than likely means you could do something right in your life, seizing an opportunity and capitalizing majorly on it. And I can respect opportunity. And opportunism.
But at the other hand, that's everything you are. an opportunist. A spotlight hog that was in the right place at the right time against the right woman: Mercedes Lewis... A woman that probably can't tell a diaper from hair dye. And just like that, you became a champion, as I watched from the sidelines, waiting for my time to return to come. I won't sit here and be a lying hypocrite if I didn't say I'm not an opportunist as well... But I made a career out of it... And you just took full advantage of ONE lucky shot.
With my index finger outstretched at the screen, I signal the number one, and then I wiggle it for you. No. Not anymore. With a chuckle, I follow on with my rant.
Just admit it, Ashlie... You know that what I say is the truth. Every f***ing body does. You're the poster child of a rotten scenario. A degenerating roster populated with plastic bitches plastered with blush powder and fake promises that can't hold their own inside a wrestling ring with people like ME.
Do you even know what I stand for? Have you ever taken the time to listen through what I say? Because, well, as much as I'd like to just go and say you're a talentless hack that does not deserve to be a champion, I'm not here going Bukkake Man all "LOOK AT ME, I'M AN EVIL BITCH, GRUNTS AND SNARLS!" Yet the fact that THAT is all you could understand from what I said only proves my point right even further. You're a dumb, shallow, unintelligent little blondie that does not deserve to represent the already dying Female Roster of New Championship Wrestling. And this is not me being a coward, Ashlie... This is a fact.
I've been better than you since day one. Trauma, April 9th, 2011. My debut as an NCW wrestler. Ooooh, I remember that one day like it's yesterday. Do you remember that night, Ashlie? The night when I first beat you to the point you could hardly get up? The sound of your scream when your head crashed against the announce table is just second in pleasure to my senses as the tact of feeling you tap out to the Main Riff. And what happened after that? You again vanished into oblivion, under Simon Daye's shadow... And I kept with my tear in the female rankings of New Championship Wrestling. And you can call me out on anything... On being an Every Man's Fantasy groupie... On being a psychosocial maniac... Hell, go ahead and be unoriginal, call me out on being a glamor model as well as a wrestler, talk about my size 32 triple-D boobs, talk about my past as a former drug user... I took you down with two blows once.
Me... It took TWO WOMEN to put me to rest once.
It took YOUR former dysfunctional tag team partner in Mercedes Lewis hitting a soft spot in my skull to take me down.
And what happened when I returned, again? Oh, yeah... You were one half of the Female Tag Team Champions after you pinned one of the only wrestlers that're most inapt and useless than you are. I hope you've said enough thank-yous to Stephanie Sanderson for being the brainless waste of air time everyone knows she is - except for Amy Marshall, who knows... But I digress - for giving those worthless belts to you and Lewis.
After a brief moment of silence, I put up a thoughtful look, as if things started to make sense.
Do you notice a pattern already, Ashlie? You're constantly reliving your Cinderella tale. Big win after big win, you've had a worthless opponent that allowed you to make it. When you had everything to lose to Kelly Fox, you pinned Lewis. When you had everything to get your butt kicked by Amy Marshall, you had Stephanie Sanderson. And when you had everything to lose when you first faced me for the Women's World Championship...
You had the ringside. Not so glorious now, huh?
But this Sunday, your Cinderella story ends. Just like everything that I mentioned when I returned to NCW on February 12th. All the embarrassment people like you and Rose Acantha and Jazz Barrera and Jennifer Williams are putting us, ALL of us female wrestlers through... This s***'s on borrowed time. And after I'm done with you, the era of "Starlets" will finally reach its f***ing apocalypse. A long overdue full stop, so the revolution to turn this uninteresting, bland, eye-candy division into a successful product, something the FANS will THRIVE to be a part of. It's time for another era to begin. The era of true female wrestlers, and not g**damned Barbies that believe tripping and tumbling equals wrestling. The era of amazons, unlike you, that fight EVERY SINGLE WEEK to give the f***ing viewers their QUALITY TIME and their MONEY WORTH.
Not the era of the StarLETS anymore.
The era of SUPERstars.
Because there's no gamble in the world that's going to make you walk out of Vegas as a champion, because I'm going to make sure your luck'll have left you behind when you enter that stage. The same way Mercy Lewis turned her back on you when she realized your tag team stuff wouldn't work out, and it really didn't; the same way Joe Everyman left you behind for Maria Williams; the same way Simon Daye left you behind when he likely found out he was gay, and most importantly... The same way Adam Knite will leave you behind when he realizes you are not a suitable replacement for his wife, no matter how hard you try to be the new Kelly Fox. Because you aren't CLOSE to being as talented as she is. Hell, Amy Marshall would know.
And it doesn't matter which persona of yours you bring to the ring, if it's Ashlie Ember of the Burning Man, if it's the Ashlie from the threesomes with Simon Daye time or if it's the one Ashlie whose name we will ALL remember as the one who managed to be a WORSE champion than Trashy Newborne... When we meet in the ring again, for the third time, it won't be no charm. I'm coming for the trifecta. Like I did with Emma Danielson, defeating her four times in a row, including a hardcore match for the Women's Championship. I'm coming for the kill, like I did in the Anniversary All-Female Riot Match, in which I came out as entrant number 6 and eliminated four women to become the Women's Champion, whereas you could only last longer than Mandi Matthews with her awesome sub-two-minuter, and Mercedes Lewis and her incredible two seconds.
I'm coming to embarrass you. Like I did in my debut. Like I did at Sovereign.
And most of all... I'm coming to
ROCK
YOUR
WORLD
so f***ing HARD you're going to wish you still were nothing else but Joe Everyman's manager.
And just like that, I throw the horns to the screen, and go back to admiring the empty landscape of the Nevada desert. Fade out.
It's a week where you can see identical twin brother wrestlers playing video games in the same hotel room.
These two boys are going to drive me crazy one of these days. Back to the hotel room Spike Kane and I are sharing, as I'm carrying little Xander on my lap, I see the God of Xtreme himself and his mirrored image in the form of "Reckless Jack" Brad Kane playing on an XBox. The only difference between the both of them right now is that Brad is now back to his long hair, while Spike is trimming it short. While I do admit I have a thing for dudes with longer hair, though, my fidelity remains with Michael.
Until, of course, they decide to trick me. Not hard to fool me when it comes to THAT.
Alysson: Um, Mike?
Both Kanes: Yes?
The both of them look at me with the same voice tone and the same motion of slightly dropping the controller, acknowledging my presence in the room. The fine tuning ends when Spike hits Brad on the arm sort-of-playfully.
Spike: Brad!
Brad: What?
Spike: Um, she called me, not you?
Brad: One of these days, Mikey. One of these days.
With a funny face, Brad gets up, as their game is now paused.
Brad: I'll give you guys some room to talk, gonna grab me some water.
And just like that, Brad leaves the happy family alone. I know it's Spike because he has the railroad spike scar on his hand, something that Brad does not. Thanks to these two I've learned to identify certain characteristics of their bodies to differentiate one another, because I'd be damned if I had to ask them to remove their shirts to check out on their tattoos.
Spike: So, yeah. How was the girls' day out?
Alysson: Pretty much like the boys' day in.
I check the video games. They're playing a fighting game. One can only wonder how long have they been playing this. All my chips on all day long.
Spike: Ummm, yeah, we kinda ran out of s*** to do, and the casinos are only open late at night, so I was stuck with being with either your brother or that a**hole over there.
Brad: F*** you!
Brad's voice comes from the kitchen, echoing from afar as the two - likely three of us smirk.
Alysson: So, yeah. We went out shopping, treated the kids to burgers with fries... Of course I gave Xander a baby dish and not a burger...
I had to do that before big daddy Spike shanked me.
Alysson: So yeah, the boring stuff.
Spike: I see you didn't bring much back. I take it Freya and Linda took everything to their rooms?
Alysson: They did, including a couple of things I bought myself. But I did bring something with me.
Spike: Can I see it?
Alysson: Of course, I bought it for you.
Spike's naughty smile turns into a curious smile, seeing as I bought him something from Vegas. If only I wasn't his Goddess of Xtreme, I guess he'd freak out thinking I might've bought, I don't know, a flowered shirt so he'd look like a German dude at the Bahamas. But he still gets surprised as I give him the little black box.
Spike: Hmm. Something in such a small box...
He starts to open it, but I put my hands on his hands.
Alysson: Let's open it together after A Night to Remember.
Spike tilts his head to the side with the cutest "what the f*** are you doing to me?" face ever. I can just smile and peck him on the lips, as Brad comes back from the kitchen with his glass of water.
Alysson: Let's make justice to that name. "A night to remember".
And just like that, I leave. Behind my back, as tells me my female instinct, Brad is patting his brother on the back saying something like "you must have dome something REALLY good." And they're probably back to video games right now.
Who would have ever thought that a full year later, we'd be in the biggest stage of them all?
With this thought, we open this promo, as I'm standing in the middle of nowhere. One of Nevada's deserts, one of the infinite landscapes of pure dirt that surround the Wonder City of Las Vegas. Welcome to my personal devastation scenario.
So we meet again, Ashlie. For another round. Another chance to prove who is the best female wrestler of this dying division. Another turn to show them all who is the one woman the rest of the girls in the backstage should take notice of. I won't take that away from you, you are the champion, and despite all the accusations I've thrown your way, it more than likely means you could do something right in your life, seizing an opportunity and capitalizing majorly on it. And I can respect opportunity. And opportunism.
But at the other hand, that's everything you are. an opportunist. A spotlight hog that was in the right place at the right time against the right woman: Mercedes Lewis... A woman that probably can't tell a diaper from hair dye. And just like that, you became a champion, as I watched from the sidelines, waiting for my time to return to come. I won't sit here and be a lying hypocrite if I didn't say I'm not an opportunist as well... But I made a career out of it... And you just took full advantage of ONE lucky shot.
With my index finger outstretched at the screen, I signal the number one, and then I wiggle it for you. No. Not anymore. With a chuckle, I follow on with my rant.
Just admit it, Ashlie... You know that what I say is the truth. Every f***ing body does. You're the poster child of a rotten scenario. A degenerating roster populated with plastic bitches plastered with blush powder and fake promises that can't hold their own inside a wrestling ring with people like ME.
Do you even know what I stand for? Have you ever taken the time to listen through what I say? Because, well, as much as I'd like to just go and say you're a talentless hack that does not deserve to be a champion, I'm not here going Bukkake Man all "LOOK AT ME, I'M AN EVIL BITCH, GRUNTS AND SNARLS!" Yet the fact that THAT is all you could understand from what I said only proves my point right even further. You're a dumb, shallow, unintelligent little blondie that does not deserve to represent the already dying Female Roster of New Championship Wrestling. And this is not me being a coward, Ashlie... This is a fact.
I've been better than you since day one. Trauma, April 9th, 2011. My debut as an NCW wrestler. Ooooh, I remember that one day like it's yesterday. Do you remember that night, Ashlie? The night when I first beat you to the point you could hardly get up? The sound of your scream when your head crashed against the announce table is just second in pleasure to my senses as the tact of feeling you tap out to the Main Riff. And what happened after that? You again vanished into oblivion, under Simon Daye's shadow... And I kept with my tear in the female rankings of New Championship Wrestling. And you can call me out on anything... On being an Every Man's Fantasy groupie... On being a psychosocial maniac... Hell, go ahead and be unoriginal, call me out on being a glamor model as well as a wrestler, talk about my size 32 triple-D boobs, talk about my past as a former drug user... I took you down with two blows once.
Me... It took TWO WOMEN to put me to rest once.
It took YOUR former dysfunctional tag team partner in Mercedes Lewis hitting a soft spot in my skull to take me down.
And what happened when I returned, again? Oh, yeah... You were one half of the Female Tag Team Champions after you pinned one of the only wrestlers that're most inapt and useless than you are. I hope you've said enough thank-yous to Stephanie Sanderson for being the brainless waste of air time everyone knows she is - except for Amy Marshall, who knows... But I digress - for giving those worthless belts to you and Lewis.
After a brief moment of silence, I put up a thoughtful look, as if things started to make sense.
Do you notice a pattern already, Ashlie? You're constantly reliving your Cinderella tale. Big win after big win, you've had a worthless opponent that allowed you to make it. When you had everything to lose to Kelly Fox, you pinned Lewis. When you had everything to get your butt kicked by Amy Marshall, you had Stephanie Sanderson. And when you had everything to lose when you first faced me for the Women's World Championship...
You had the ringside. Not so glorious now, huh?
But this Sunday, your Cinderella story ends. Just like everything that I mentioned when I returned to NCW on February 12th. All the embarrassment people like you and Rose Acantha and Jazz Barrera and Jennifer Williams are putting us, ALL of us female wrestlers through... This s***'s on borrowed time. And after I'm done with you, the era of "Starlets" will finally reach its f***ing apocalypse. A long overdue full stop, so the revolution to turn this uninteresting, bland, eye-candy division into a successful product, something the FANS will THRIVE to be a part of. It's time for another era to begin. The era of true female wrestlers, and not g**damned Barbies that believe tripping and tumbling equals wrestling. The era of amazons, unlike you, that fight EVERY SINGLE WEEK to give the f***ing viewers their QUALITY TIME and their MONEY WORTH.
Not the era of the StarLETS anymore.
The era of SUPERstars.
Because there's no gamble in the world that's going to make you walk out of Vegas as a champion, because I'm going to make sure your luck'll have left you behind when you enter that stage. The same way Mercy Lewis turned her back on you when she realized your tag team stuff wouldn't work out, and it really didn't; the same way Joe Everyman left you behind for Maria Williams; the same way Simon Daye left you behind when he likely found out he was gay, and most importantly... The same way Adam Knite will leave you behind when he realizes you are not a suitable replacement for his wife, no matter how hard you try to be the new Kelly Fox. Because you aren't CLOSE to being as talented as she is. Hell, Amy Marshall would know.
And it doesn't matter which persona of yours you bring to the ring, if it's Ashlie Ember of the Burning Man, if it's the Ashlie from the threesomes with Simon Daye time or if it's the one Ashlie whose name we will ALL remember as the one who managed to be a WORSE champion than Trashy Newborne... When we meet in the ring again, for the third time, it won't be no charm. I'm coming for the trifecta. Like I did with Emma Danielson, defeating her four times in a row, including a hardcore match for the Women's Championship. I'm coming for the kill, like I did in the Anniversary All-Female Riot Match, in which I came out as entrant number 6 and eliminated four women to become the Women's Champion, whereas you could only last longer than Mandi Matthews with her awesome sub-two-minuter, and Mercedes Lewis and her incredible two seconds.
I'm coming to embarrass you. Like I did in my debut. Like I did at Sovereign.
And most of all... I'm coming to
ROCK
YOUR
WORLD
so f***ing HARD you're going to wish you still were nothing else but Joe Everyman's manager.
And just like that, I throw the horns to the screen, and go back to admiring the empty landscape of the Nevada desert. Fade out.
