Post by Deleted on May 13, 2017 21:31:56 GMT -5
Never had Missy Sippy felt so good about beating a beech's ass. At Final Encounter, she did what she pro-fee-cied she'd do, and that is beat the brakes off Susie Price. There was one problem with it though; in doing so she had broken her favorite toy. And what is a gal to do when they permanently ruin such a cherished item?
GET A TATTOO OF COURSE.
The scene opened up to a wide grinned Missy Sippy, who sat in a tattoo artist's chair, clad in a pair of denim Daisy Duke shorts, brown cowboy boots, and a sleeveless flannel shirt so the ink artist could have easy access to her arm. As the camera moved closer, it focused on the arm in question, noting that there was a list of names under the banner "Kill Streak" inked into the appendage. One by one the lens paid each name attention, showing them to be Zora Grayson, Maryse, a few others and part of the fresh new name SUS
Missy: Yip! Eddie the inker will be back in a moment y'all. He had to step out for a smoke break. I'm just sittin' here getting a sleeve made of all my slain enemies thus far in GZWA. As you can see, he's about to put on Susie Price, and yes sir-re Bob there's plenty of room for all the beeches in GZWA. I'll use both arms and legs as if I need extra space. And after this comin' Primetime I'm gonna add The Georgia Whore Morgan Davis on this here arm too.
Missy turned and pulled out a jug of Moonshine, then tipped it up and down the hatch for a good few seconds. She slammed it down and let out a guttural noise before training her gaze back on the all seeing eye of the camera.
Missy: Morgan, I ain't got but one thing to say to you.
She cleared her throat.
Missy: Go fuck yourself, because ain't nobody else gonna fuck you.
Missy cocked her head back and laughed.
Missy: Yeah ya snot-twat, ole Missy here ain't got no problems fuckin'. And I ain't got no shame in lovin' me some dick. Hell, if I could, I'd plant penis seeds on the farm so I could grow dicks all the time. Ever since I became a Vixen on the roster here, men been lining up for me left, right and center. Speaking of becoming a Vixen here... interesting fact: I am undefeated. Yip. Susie holds two "wins" over me but one was cheating ways and the other was a referee mistake. Ain't no beech legitimately pinned or submitted me yet, and you sure as hell won't be the first. Why?
She looked around a bit loopy eyed and shrugged.
Missy: Because I have white privilege and my privilege forbids me to lose to you. HA! I kid, I kid. That's not the reason. The real reason is because I'm simply better than you. I'm taller than you. I'm stronger than you. I'm faster than you. I have bigger tits than you. My shit dispenser is nicer lookin' than yours. Oh, and I'm tougher. The only thing you'd be able to beat me in, is a food eating contest ya cow mouthed popinjay.
The countrified cutie swung her arm wide in grandiose manner.
Missy: I even wrestle better than you. Look no further than Final Encounter for proof of that. While you were busy getting your giant 44 pound bowling ball size of a head drilled into the mat by Ursula's Tempest Turn, I was decimating that little tinker toy Susie Price, securing me a spot that nobody in any wrestling organization can claim - and that is beating my opponent in the first two falls of a three falls match. What's your claim to fame? Huh? Being a stripper turned wrestler? Your 50 percenter win/loss record? Your knack for walking away? Your thickness? Baa. Haa.
Sippy's hand shot away in a dismissive gesture, finding Morgan of no real threat or importance.
Missy: Look, beech, you're so damn boring that it's actually a benefit; anyone suffering from insomnia can just look up a promo of yours and be fast asleep in no time. If I were you I'd market that shit and turn a profit, but you won't, because you're just as thick in the head as you are in the body. You're yawn worthy and I ain't gonna waste more time on my victory tour by poppin' off a the mouth at you. Just know this, come Primetime, in nobody cares New Meh-he-ko, you're going down quicker than Chelsea Clinton's political aspirations.
The ornery southerner got a good kick out of that one, then held up a finger as a scrawny, heavily inked man came into view, presumably Eddie. She pointed at the camera, moreso to her upcoming rival.
Missy: Whoregan Davis, it's like my grand-mammy used to always say... "There's a place for everything, and everything in its place." There's a place upside your nappy ass head for my boot, and come Primetime, I'm going to put it there. YEEEEEEE HAAAAW!
With that said, she downed the rest of the shine like a champ, then smacked her arm in preparation for the ink man to finish his work.
End