Post by TIA Promotions on Oct 16, 2023 22:38:46 GMT -5
“Alabama Peffercorn?! What kind of stupid Mary Poppins sh*t name is that?”
On a calm, moonlit night, a reimagined version of the Titanic sails towards Southern Florida, transporting some very important people to a charity event for the Make-A-Wish Foundation. The organization's mission is to create life-changing experiences for children with critical illnesses , providing them with hope, strength, and joy during challenging times. Among several pro-wrestlers on board is Cherry Cola, a foul-mouthed character with daddy issues and a weak moral compass. Mischief is afoot.
An athletic girl with long blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail defends her namesake. "I know, it’s not much of a wrestling name, but it's the one I got. My grandmother’s name was Alabama. And I’m proud to carry on her legacy."
Young Alabama Peffercorn, with her inherent kindness, is a beacon of grace and humility in a world that doesn’t deserve her. She’s helpless prey in a predatory world. The twenty-something just smiles while leaning over the railing at the water below. Cherry considers throwing her overboard.
“I’m sure Gam Gam will be thrilled to see her baby girl get porn stacked in public. You don’t look like you could bust a grape in a fruit fight.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know we have to actually wrestle at this charity event right?”
“Of course, I do! I’m looking forward to it. All I need is an opportunity. And to address your comment, my Grandma passed a few years ago. She died in a long term care home during lockdown. It was horrible. The whole experience was kind of an inspiration for me to get into wrestling.”
“Oh sh*t, Gam Gam is tits up? Whoopsie daisy. Well, let’s put on a good show in her honor, eh?”
Alabama, not the type for negativity, lets Cherry’s playful disrespect go unchecked. “She’d be so proud of me. I mean, look at me now. If you told me 12 months ago that I’d be on the Titatanic with a bonafide star like yourself, I’d tell you that you’re crazy.”
Cherry leans over the railing herself and watches the waves go by. She wishes an iceberg would rip into the side of the vessel, dragging them all to the icey depths. “What if I AM crazy, Ally? Then what do we do?”
“You just do the best you can with what God gave you.”
“God gave me crabs and bad credit. And I can promise you that I’m not doing the best I can with either of those. I swear, you’re like a sugar-coated goose turd, Allybama.”
The comment confuses Alabama Peffercorn. Unsure whether it’s an actual insult or just an idiom she’s not familiar with yet. Her lips tighten and her eyes squint as she seeks insight to the intent of the words. She comes up empty.
“I’m heading upstairs to get black out drunk.” announces Cherry.
“Wait. Don’t go yet. I need your advice. I’m graduating soon. What advice would you give to someone who’s new in this business?”
There’s a brief pause of contemplation before Cherry provides an answer. “My advice. Quit. Quit now. Before it’s too late. You don’t want this job.”
“I do! My father was a wrestler. I was born to do this.”
“Then I feel sorry for you, because pro-wrestling isn’t a career. It’s a scam. And you’re too f*cking nice for it. The kind of people at the top of this game are not good people. I mean some are, but they are rare. Run as far away and as fast as you can.”
Cherry isn’t wrong. Alabama has the kind of genuine sweetness that makes her an instant fan favorite and an obvious mark for those who seek to stay at the top by destroying purity and beauty. Cherry continues to stir the pot. “Look, even if the fans DO like you, it's only a matter of time before they don’t. And when they decide to cannibalize you, they won’t be gentle. The harder you try, the more they resent you. They build you up and destroy you, rinse, repeat, or they just stop caring about you all together. To that, you should say ‘F*ck you’. Embrace the hate and pull their strings. Because having the world hate you is better than having the world not even acknowledge you.”
A tear runs down the face of Miss Peffercorn. She wipes it with a sleeve she’s pulled up and over the palm of her left hand. “I don’t want anybody to hate me. This is all I’ve ever wanted to do with my life.”
“Well that ain’t good enough, sweetheart.” Cherry drawls, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. "If you actually take this job seriously, they will hate you. Or they will love you ironically, which is worse. So, try hard my little dove. Or don’t. It doesn’t matter. The art of not giving a f*ck is something you have to learn over a time, through trial and error, making every possible mistake, and landing in a place where there are no f*cks left to give.. Let go and ascend. That’s my advice to you.”
“With all due respect Ms. Cola, I think you’re wrong. I think it’ll be different for me. When I’m done wrestling, I’ll be proud of the work I’ve done. And hopefully, my Granddaughter will be proud of me too.”
“Oh, barnacles! Two years into this thing and you’ll be selling your bathwater to neckbeards. You don’t have a chance at making it long term. Nobody does, except the ones that don’t deserve to be there. You don’t strike me as the type to bury the weak. And the one that buries you, won’t even remember your name.”
“I’m not weak.”
“Oh, you don’t think so? Remember this conversation a couple years from now when you want to quit. Remember what Ole’ Cherry Berry told you. And just know that you had a chance to get out before things got stupid.”
…There’s no response.
“Whatever… Let’s talk about this stupid charity match.”
“Yes. Please. Let’s change the subject.”
“Are you excited for this thing?”
Alabama smiles warmly, her enthusiasm evident. "Oh, absolutely! It's an honor to be part of this event, and I can't wait to raise money for the kids."
Cherry couldn't help but smirk. "Great. Be less excited than that.”
“What? Why? Aren’t you excited?”
“Hellll nah. The truth is that I don’t want to do it at all. I don’t want to be around sick kids. I don’t even want to be in the state of Florida. But I have to be here to win this competition I’m in.”
“So, how do you want to do this?” Alabama asks with doubt in her breath.
“We will just improvise. It’ll be fine. I’m not worried about it. So, like I was saying before, when you rudely interrupted me, you can go to bingo or bible study or whatever it is that you do to distance yourself for all the mudbloods, but it’s everybody’s favorite part of the show, where I get black out drunk, and steal things that I won’t remember taking.”
Alabama speaks up. "If you don’t want to do the match with me then we shouldn’t do it. I just figured…
“Oh, STOP.” Cherry chuckles. “We’re doing the show. But we need to do something special. We can’t just go out there and wrestlef*ck eachother like a pair of horny scissors. We need to do something memorable to get the crowd turnt up. So, once we get to Florida, let’s turn up the heat to 11 and really get people talking. Call me a skank on Twitter or something. Do whatever good girls do when they get sassy. I’ll get kicked out of a Panera Break for lewd conduct or something and go viral. Just do me a favor and don’t take this all too seriously, because it’s a joke that’s being forced on us by a voice of authority."
Alabama, red in the cheeks, and glossy-eyes only shakes her head. "I don't know, I don't think I can be ruthless. I just want to make a wish come true for some lucky girl or boy in the audience."
Cherry sighs dramatically, her voice oozing disappointment. "Those kids are not LUCKY. They got a raw deal and are powering through it. I respect them a lot more than these crybullies strutting around in championship belts, like french bulldogs in skinny jeans."
Alabama is torn. "I won't compromise on the charity's mission."
Cherry relents and finally decides to play along. "Sure, sure, sweetheart. You go be virtuous, and I'll be the villain. We'll give them a show they won't forget."
As the Titanic replica sails off into the starry night sky over the Atlantic, we bid you a fond farewell. Be sure to tune in next week for the LMS Supercard live from Vero Beach, Florida."
On a calm, moonlit night, a reimagined version of the Titanic sails towards Southern Florida, transporting some very important people to a charity event for the Make-A-Wish Foundation. The organization's mission is to create life-changing experiences for children with critical illnesses , providing them with hope, strength, and joy during challenging times. Among several pro-wrestlers on board is Cherry Cola, a foul-mouthed character with daddy issues and a weak moral compass. Mischief is afoot.
An athletic girl with long blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail defends her namesake. "I know, it’s not much of a wrestling name, but it's the one I got. My grandmother’s name was Alabama. And I’m proud to carry on her legacy."
Young Alabama Peffercorn, with her inherent kindness, is a beacon of grace and humility in a world that doesn’t deserve her. She’s helpless prey in a predatory world. The twenty-something just smiles while leaning over the railing at the water below. Cherry considers throwing her overboard.
“I’m sure Gam Gam will be thrilled to see her baby girl get porn stacked in public. You don’t look like you could bust a grape in a fruit fight.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know we have to actually wrestle at this charity event right?”
“Of course, I do! I’m looking forward to it. All I need is an opportunity. And to address your comment, my Grandma passed a few years ago. She died in a long term care home during lockdown. It was horrible. The whole experience was kind of an inspiration for me to get into wrestling.”
“Oh sh*t, Gam Gam is tits up? Whoopsie daisy. Well, let’s put on a good show in her honor, eh?”
Alabama, not the type for negativity, lets Cherry’s playful disrespect go unchecked. “She’d be so proud of me. I mean, look at me now. If you told me 12 months ago that I’d be on the Titatanic with a bonafide star like yourself, I’d tell you that you’re crazy.”
Cherry leans over the railing herself and watches the waves go by. She wishes an iceberg would rip into the side of the vessel, dragging them all to the icey depths. “What if I AM crazy, Ally? Then what do we do?”
“You just do the best you can with what God gave you.”
“God gave me crabs and bad credit. And I can promise you that I’m not doing the best I can with either of those. I swear, you’re like a sugar-coated goose turd, Allybama.”
The comment confuses Alabama Peffercorn. Unsure whether it’s an actual insult or just an idiom she’s not familiar with yet. Her lips tighten and her eyes squint as she seeks insight to the intent of the words. She comes up empty.
“I’m heading upstairs to get black out drunk.” announces Cherry.
“Wait. Don’t go yet. I need your advice. I’m graduating soon. What advice would you give to someone who’s new in this business?”
There’s a brief pause of contemplation before Cherry provides an answer. “My advice. Quit. Quit now. Before it’s too late. You don’t want this job.”
“I do! My father was a wrestler. I was born to do this.”
“Then I feel sorry for you, because pro-wrestling isn’t a career. It’s a scam. And you’re too f*cking nice for it. The kind of people at the top of this game are not good people. I mean some are, but they are rare. Run as far away and as fast as you can.”
Cherry isn’t wrong. Alabama has the kind of genuine sweetness that makes her an instant fan favorite and an obvious mark for those who seek to stay at the top by destroying purity and beauty. Cherry continues to stir the pot. “Look, even if the fans DO like you, it's only a matter of time before they don’t. And when they decide to cannibalize you, they won’t be gentle. The harder you try, the more they resent you. They build you up and destroy you, rinse, repeat, or they just stop caring about you all together. To that, you should say ‘F*ck you’. Embrace the hate and pull their strings. Because having the world hate you is better than having the world not even acknowledge you.”
A tear runs down the face of Miss Peffercorn. She wipes it with a sleeve she’s pulled up and over the palm of her left hand. “I don’t want anybody to hate me. This is all I’ve ever wanted to do with my life.”
“Well that ain’t good enough, sweetheart.” Cherry drawls, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. "If you actually take this job seriously, they will hate you. Or they will love you ironically, which is worse. So, try hard my little dove. Or don’t. It doesn’t matter. The art of not giving a f*ck is something you have to learn over a time, through trial and error, making every possible mistake, and landing in a place where there are no f*cks left to give.. Let go and ascend. That’s my advice to you.”
“With all due respect Ms. Cola, I think you’re wrong. I think it’ll be different for me. When I’m done wrestling, I’ll be proud of the work I’ve done. And hopefully, my Granddaughter will be proud of me too.”
“Oh, barnacles! Two years into this thing and you’ll be selling your bathwater to neckbeards. You don’t have a chance at making it long term. Nobody does, except the ones that don’t deserve to be there. You don’t strike me as the type to bury the weak. And the one that buries you, won’t even remember your name.”
“I’m not weak.”
“Oh, you don’t think so? Remember this conversation a couple years from now when you want to quit. Remember what Ole’ Cherry Berry told you. And just know that you had a chance to get out before things got stupid.”
…There’s no response.
“Whatever… Let’s talk about this stupid charity match.”
“Yes. Please. Let’s change the subject.”
“Are you excited for this thing?”
Alabama smiles warmly, her enthusiasm evident. "Oh, absolutely! It's an honor to be part of this event, and I can't wait to raise money for the kids."
Cherry couldn't help but smirk. "Great. Be less excited than that.”
“What? Why? Aren’t you excited?”
“Hellll nah. The truth is that I don’t want to do it at all. I don’t want to be around sick kids. I don’t even want to be in the state of Florida. But I have to be here to win this competition I’m in.”
“So, how do you want to do this?” Alabama asks with doubt in her breath.
“We will just improvise. It’ll be fine. I’m not worried about it. So, like I was saying before, when you rudely interrupted me, you can go to bingo or bible study or whatever it is that you do to distance yourself for all the mudbloods, but it’s everybody’s favorite part of the show, where I get black out drunk, and steal things that I won’t remember taking.”
Alabama speaks up. "If you don’t want to do the match with me then we shouldn’t do it. I just figured…
“Oh, STOP.” Cherry chuckles. “We’re doing the show. But we need to do something special. We can’t just go out there and wrestlef*ck eachother like a pair of horny scissors. We need to do something memorable to get the crowd turnt up. So, once we get to Florida, let’s turn up the heat to 11 and really get people talking. Call me a skank on Twitter or something. Do whatever good girls do when they get sassy. I’ll get kicked out of a Panera Break for lewd conduct or something and go viral. Just do me a favor and don’t take this all too seriously, because it’s a joke that’s being forced on us by a voice of authority."
Alabama, red in the cheeks, and glossy-eyes only shakes her head. "I don't know, I don't think I can be ruthless. I just want to make a wish come true for some lucky girl or boy in the audience."
Cherry sighs dramatically, her voice oozing disappointment. "Those kids are not LUCKY. They got a raw deal and are powering through it. I respect them a lot more than these crybullies strutting around in championship belts, like french bulldogs in skinny jeans."
Alabama is torn. "I won't compromise on the charity's mission."
Cherry relents and finally decides to play along. "Sure, sure, sweetheart. You go be virtuous, and I'll be the villain. We'll give them a show they won't forget."
As the Titanic replica sails off into the starry night sky over the Atlantic, we bid you a fond farewell. Be sure to tune in next week for the LMS Supercard live from Vero Beach, Florida."