+ Fuck, Marry, Kill : Short Circuit +

By: Apathy

Writing Prompt: No

Date: 18th Feb 2022

Money leads to fame

And fame is the disease

The latest epidemic

Reality TV

Nickelback – Kiss It Goodbye


//Las Vegas, NV. Morning. Get Real Podcast\\


++Press junkets weren’t a new thing for me. Let alone anyone else that is worth their salt in the industry. It isn’t all flippy shit, big boy spots and shock and awe. Smoke and mirrors are a great deal of it sure, but there is still leg work that needs to be put in for those who hold a certain status within a company. That Bare Knuckle strap was slung across my shoulder, so tag, I guess I’m it. Of course being in the business as long as I have it naturally warrants that I won’t do an interview or podcast with just anyone. Over the years shilling company after company, holding up belt after belt, selling petty feud after petty feud, you just learn the type of hosts and interviewers that you are comfortable with and I had mine. For years I would only do a SiriusXM radio show that a guy in Chicago fronted. He was a retired indy guy, never went to an international level. Now he was in Vegas. As the makeup girl was giving me a last once over, Mike was pouring whiskey into his coffee, still trying to shake off the hangover he already had. I scoffed at him audibly++


Elizabeth: Seriously Mikey? It’s not even 10am! I mean shit man I get it, I’m right there with you but if I have to do my mandatory community service sober, so do you. 


Mike: Is that what you’re calling these junkets now? That’s fucking funny. Seriously. 


Elizabeth: I guess in my old age I finally learned the finer nuances of perspective. Yeah every single one of these fucking things I do I consider my community service requirement for being a champion. Or at least semi-noteworthy right now. With great power comes great responsibility, for the rest of us not shoved up NSQs ass, or any of the fucking Days of Our Lives bullshit that’s going around, we have to do this instead. You catch the free fall on that building collapse though? Fucking hell…


Mike: Oh for fucking sure I saw it. It was, in a way, terrifying. Just given the way it went down, and it being in NYC. I don’t need to spell it out, you’re a smart cookie. You know what I’m getting at. 


Elizabeth: Yeah I won’t lie and say it didn’t send chills down my spine. I have heard Dane is doing alright, all things considered, but I choose not to pry. Nothing personal, we just run in different circles. Nobody lost their life and honestly that is all that matters, but if these fucking multi-man matches they keep booking continue on the course they currently on, someone is bound to get killed or permanantly injured. 


Mike: What’s this? Elizabeth worried for the well being of her colleagues?


++The makeup girl finished and gave the ok to the producer. I crossed my legs, rested my arms on either arm of the high back chair and waited for the cues. As Mike went through his spiel, smiling and nodding as he casually gestured to me, we got the formalities out of the way. If I knew Mikey, and I did, he was going to come out swinging. This was a blind interview and every interview he did was different depending on the person. As he finished getting his opener out of the way he swiveled in his chair and turned straight towards me as a stage hand set a flute of orange glass out in front of me++


Mike: Welcome back, Elizabeth. Obviously this isn’t your first time on my show or any of my shows for that matter so what do you say we just get right into it? 


Elizabeth: Whatever works for you Mikey, you’re the one getting paid by the hour and per click. What do you have for me? 


Mike: Well first of all, congratulations on winning the FIGHT Bare Knuckle championship in what was a very hard fought bout against Druscilla White. It would insult you both if I didn’t comment on how ferociously you fought for that belt, it was honestly refreshing. It was a nice change of pace from the usual more personal grudge matches. Though I am sure Ms. White sees things a bit differently, but you’re on my show and she isn’t, so fuck her I’m only interested in what things look like from your point of view. We’ll come back to her though. I can’t help but notice the stitches on your head as well as the bruising and swelling on your left eye. You and Brandon Moore went at each other like wild fucking dogs woman and people want to know, why? 


Elizabeth: Why did I gun for him? Or why did we try to dismantle each other? I’ll answer both. I did it, because it would have been absolute disrespect not too. Brandon Moore is a proud son of a bitch with a chip on his shoulder. I know that makes it sound like I feel about him in a negative way but the truth is, why would I? We ALL have chips on our fucking shoulders about something. Moore and I could never coexist, our egos would never allow it. I see the armchair bookers all over reddit slobbering all over themselves with their dirty cheeto fingers and mt. dew piss bottles. I see their long, angry, posts about how The Cure going to shit wasn’t his fault and I’m a cunt for blaming him. Except, I never have. My arrangement with Moore was purely business. A transaction. My mind was already made up that The Cure was going to expire. 


As for why he returned every punch with a head butt, it was a test of endurance. One of us was going to lose and it was me. People can say what they want about Moore, but at least he looks you in the face, with a wide satisfied smile, as he slits your throat. I respect that. 


++I shrugged. How could I hold malice towards a man who operates with the same agenda I do? Fucking marks. I leaned forward gracefully and grabbed the stem of the glass, sitting back then taking a sip of the fizzy orange juice. My nose tickled as the tiny bubbles burst against the skin. Mike nodded and continued++


Mike: Fair enough. I mean clearly it sounds like you hold no animosity, it’s just business as usual. He seemed pleased about his eliminating you though. Not trying to stir the pot, just remarking on an observation. Well with Disney in the books, the company without a home is headed to Las Vegas, which was great for me because here we are. 


Elizabeth: I know you aren’t used to interviewing champions, Mikey. How’s Raider Nation by the by?


++I had to get the dig in. He started out as an armchair quarterback that ended up actually being very good at what he did. The lawsuits, cancellations and controversies that surrounded him helped too++


Mike: Ha ha. Funny. ANYWAYS. Las Vegas. Valentine’s Day. You vs. nine others in a, what the fuck does this say…oh! Speed Dating? I don’t even know what the fuck I just read, do you even know what KIND of match it is? 


Elizabeth: It’s another multi-man shit show. That’s all there is to say. Ten of us in the ring, and me with a huge target on my back because Druscilla is going to be in that fray and she wants her baby back. I would expect no less. She’s seething with an insatiable thirst for blood and you bet your ass I would be glad to oblige. Daffy bitch acts like she’s the only woman to go off the deep end before. She tries so hard to come off as intimidating but I’m a show me kinda gal. I want you to show me how unhinged you are. Brandon had to practically knock me the fuck out with his own fucking skull to get rid of me, I hate to tell the Prophet this but it’s going to take more than just being lost and unsettled to get over on me. Afterall it is the BAREKNUCKLE championship. It’s the type of championship where indulging in your more animalistic and hedonistic instincts are encouraged. If she wants this strap back…she’s going to have to bleed for it, bleed like me. 


Mike: I would expect no less from you by now Lizzy. I underestimated you, boy did I fucking come to regret it. But that isn’t important right now I…


++My eyebrow raised as I leaned forward, setting the flute glass down and I raised my hand, interrupting him++


Elizabeth: Really now? You think our origin story is unimportant? I disagree. Ladies and gentlemen let me spin you a short story about the gentleman that hosts this podcast. We met at a territory company way back when gas prices were tolerable. He was a cocky, overconfident prick that was appalled at the idea of wrestling a woman. Me. He pushed his envelope as far as I would let him, then destroyed him. Were you not humbled Mikey??


Mike: You are such a shill for yourself. But yes. To pander to your ego Lizzy, you did kick my ass. You were stiff as fuck. By the time that match was done, I felt like I needed to go call my mom to comfort me. Absolutely fucking wrecked. But now you are in MY domain where I make the rules, and Mikey says, let’s play a game. In the spirit of Valentine’s Day, we’re going to play Fuck, Marry, Kill. You ever played that when you were a kid? How this works is the winner of each category, for example Fuck, will face off agains the other two winners of the same category in a lightning round. During that round you have to choose one winner from each category, so that only one Fuck, Marry or Kill remains. The catch? You have to tell us why. Ready, set, go! Anicka Swan. 


Elizabeth: Marry. 


Mike: J Monty!


Elizabeth: Kill. 


Mike: Eoin O’Rourke. 




Mike: Group two! Bam!


Elizabeth: Fuck. 


Mike: Todrick?


Elizabeth: Marry. 


Mike: Sahara? Like I need to ask…


Elizabeth: Kill. 


Mike: Alright, last group! Cassidy?


Elizabeth: Marry. 


Mike: Druscilla? Actually curious about this one…


Elizabeth: Fuck. 


Mike: Wow not what I was expecting. Alright, alright. So Frenz would be killed then?


Elizabeth: A noble sacrifice. Round two. Let’s gooooooo. 


Mike: Okay out of the following three, O’Rourke, Bam and Druscilla, who wins? And why?


Elizabeth: I GUESS O’Rourke, but I mean Bam, invitations out there now huh? I wouldn’t say no…


Mike: Out of Anicka, Todrick and Cassidy, who do you walk down the proverbial isle with?


Elizabeth: Anicka. Hands down. I mean that in every essence of respect. Her and I have traded blows and schemes. If there is anyone in this business that I feel like I relate to or am a kindred spirit to, its Anicka. Nothing but total fucking respect for her. I’d be a proud fucking wifey. Todrick is a very close second. I’m a Todrick Stan, fight me. 


Mike: Alright, last round. Who loses Squid Game? J Monty, Sahara or Frenz? I think this one is tough for you…


++I nodded my head side to side as I seriously pondered this question like I was trying to solve the equation for a nuclear bomb. Finally I scoffed and smirked++


Elizabeth: I think I’m going to swipe left on Sahara. Bitch can’t stay out of anyone’s fucking business. Snobby cunt needs to be knocked down a few pegs. At least J Mont earned his ego. She just hops from coattail to coat tail. 


++Mikey burst into laughter and went into his ending spiel++