II: The Whore & The Four Men

Was there a timekeeper for my debut match on Breakthrough? I’m not sure but I think my entrance, which was the shit by the way, was longer than the actual match itself. Seriously, I want to know how long the match was. Was it ten seconds? Twenty? Someone needs to get me that info ASAP. I mean, that could’ve been like a record for the shortest debut match in VOW history. It must’ve been my dazzling looks that threw little Tyler Stormy off of his game, not to mention him apparently forgetting about his wife or girlfriend or whatever in ogling at me like a total creeper perv. Still though, all it took was blowing him a kiss to distract him followed one swift kick to the temple and he was done.

D-O-N-E.

Too bad for him that he didn’t witness all that much, being unconscious and all. One thing was pretty clear though after I Iron Miked his ass to the canvas like he was some local schmo or one of the Skull Valley guys I used to spar with back when I was training with Frankie.

I made him my bitch, just like I said that I would.

So, what’d I do to celebrate?

I hit the first bar I could find after leaving the arena and got totally shitfaced with the help of my buddy Jack which wasn’t too difficult seeing as every time I go out guys seem to trip over their fucking selves to buy my drinks trying to get in my lacy panties. Not very many of them can hang with me shot for shot though, those New Yorker business pussies sure as fuck couldn’t that’s for damned sure. I drank all of those bitches right under the table and they all took cabs home to their wives and girlfriends with their blue balls and whiskey dicks. Amateurs. Good luck with the bells ringing on the stock exchange tomorrow with those hangovers, lightweights.

There was another guy I had my eye on though, a super hot guy that didn’t look like the kind of girl would take to meet her parents and I was just about to go over to him, but of course before I could make my move and get him back to my hotel room, Jonny waltzed in the door of the bar...

“There you are, Lexi. I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said to me as he walked over to me, feeling a little relieved that he’d finally found me I guess.

“Well…” I slurred drunkenly as I stood up off of my stool at the bar, nearly falling to the floor in the process but managing to keep my footing. “Look no further, fella. Ya found me. Ya found ye Pearl...yaaaarrrrr!!!”

Jon’s face turned from relief to irritation. He clearly wasn’t impressed with my Captain Morgan impression, but I think some of the others still in the bar got a chuckle out of it. “Yeah, I found you. Not soon enough from the looks of it.”

“Let’s celebrate my first VOW victory, Jonny!” I announced in drunken glee as I stumbled towards him. “Have a drink with me! What’ll it be? Jose? Jim? Or how about my old friend Jack?”

Jon respectfully declined as he shook his head. “No, thanks,” he replied as he pulled out a small bronze coin from his pocket. “I don’t drink...and from the looks of it you probably shouldn’t have any more drinks yourself.”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” I retorted in disappointment before I tripped right in front of him, Jon fortunately having good enough reflexes surprisingly to catch me.

“Come on Lexi, you’ve had enough. Let’s go,” he said to me, helping me out of the bar.

I got totally shitfaced, but I think I earned it. It’s a good thing I made some money at least, seeing as right after we got out of the bar I totally ralfed on Jon’s shoes. Apparently they were expensive or something. My bad. I’ll buy him a new pair.

Anyway, I’ve got a big match coming up this week against four guys. I could name them off, if I remembered their names and if they were actually relevant which they’re not. Little old me and four guys...sounds like the start of some cheesy amateur porno or something. Seriously, it’s like the beginning of a gangbang gone horribly wrong.

Too bad it’s the four of them that are about to be fucked.

That’s right ladies, I’m walking out with this one. Why? Because, to be brutally honest, nobody gives two shits and a fuck about any of you. I mean you’ve got your stereotypical Irish guy that probably gets drunk and in more fights than I do which is saying something, a pretty boy that fancies himself as the best thing since sliced bread when news flash he totally blows more than Lindsey Lohan in a room full of coke, and two guys with so much ego that I’m surprised they haven’t drowned in it by now.

Who in the blue hell wants any of those guys to win this match? I’ll wait for an answer.

…

…

...

Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.

Think I can’t do it? Think I can’t beat each and every one of those bitches? Watch my match on the last Breakthrough. Yeah, that one that lasted about ten seconds. Think that was some sort of fluke? I’ll be more than happy to try and repeat it. I might not do it as quickly what with there being four guys, but at the end I know I’m going to be the last one standing.

That Zero Gravity title shot is mine. It was mine the second that match was put on the card. It will be mine definitively when the ref calls for that bell and raises my hand.

You girls can just start crying about it like you’ve lost your virginity now and get it over with…

I’m going to win, and there’s not a damned thing any of you can do about it.