Post by hawkeye on Feb 10, 2019 18:03:54 GMT
The camera now opens upon a place in the FAWN Arena not often seen by the public, one of the luxury skyboxes. A high back leather chair sits facing the window overlooking the ring below, and a figure rises up out of it. As the designer dress-clad figure turns, viewers see it is Cynthia Mitchell, who although not scheduled to wrestle on tonight's broadcast, nevertheless makes a point of attending so as to keep abreast of developments. If she had ever expected that she herself would be a part of an unexpected development, she doesn't seem perturbed by it. In fact, the subtle smile on her lips announces that she's rather pleased with this turn of events.
Cynthia Mitchell
Bringing a mic up to those lips, her eyes sparkle with seeming delight as she addresses the camera in general, but one specific person in particular: "Kylie, they say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but I guess an aging bitch can forget a few simple facts, if she suffers enough head trauma. So," she says in her soft Carolina lilt, "let me re-educate you. Fact One...the only reason I stopped wrestling you is because I ran out of interesting ways to beat you, because Lord knows fighting you was a bore. Fact Two...you, me, and every other single person on the good green Earth knows that the one and only win you ever got over me was an absolute, never-to-be-repeated fluke. You really should have just retired after that, because you never hit a higher peak. Heaven knows you're an even less marginally acceptable wrestler now than you were when you were full of youthful vim and sugar."
"And Kylie, I know you grew up shucking corn out in the back forty, but were you raised in the barn? Poor Cassava, bless her heart, is clearly a bit addlepated, what with her inexplicable admiration of you, so she needs to be treated gently and respectfully, as one would a somewhat backward child. But what did you do? You were just plain mean and cruelly rude to the poor dear. So Fact Three...you're just a surly, no-class hayseed."
"But you'll be impressed to know that I've learned something as well. I've learned from watching that Kat Braddock, Gabby Mendoza and Harley Jo Collins have all found new and fascinating ways to beat your wide-hipped derriere down, and you know, their fine work has been downright inspiring to my own creative muse."
With a shake of her long chestnut mane, Mitchell then leans in ever so slightly to the camera, a definite smile curling on her lips. "So here's what I propose: You, me, and yet another crushing defeat for the Vanilla Slushie. And all of you fans out there, I suggest you hurry up and buy every copy of this new DVD, because it's about to become a collectors' item as it's rapidly replaced by a new volume featuring little Miss Sanders' latest, greatest loss to me."
And with a wink and a crinkle of her nose as the second generation superstar smiles broadly, the camera fades to black.
Cynthia Mitchell
Bringing a mic up to those lips, her eyes sparkle with seeming delight as she addresses the camera in general, but one specific person in particular: "Kylie, they say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but I guess an aging bitch can forget a few simple facts, if she suffers enough head trauma. So," she says in her soft Carolina lilt, "let me re-educate you. Fact One...the only reason I stopped wrestling you is because I ran out of interesting ways to beat you, because Lord knows fighting you was a bore. Fact Two...you, me, and every other single person on the good green Earth knows that the one and only win you ever got over me was an absolute, never-to-be-repeated fluke. You really should have just retired after that, because you never hit a higher peak. Heaven knows you're an even less marginally acceptable wrestler now than you were when you were full of youthful vim and sugar."
"And Kylie, I know you grew up shucking corn out in the back forty, but were you raised in the barn? Poor Cassava, bless her heart, is clearly a bit addlepated, what with her inexplicable admiration of you, so she needs to be treated gently and respectfully, as one would a somewhat backward child. But what did you do? You were just plain mean and cruelly rude to the poor dear. So Fact Three...you're just a surly, no-class hayseed."
"But you'll be impressed to know that I've learned something as well. I've learned from watching that Kat Braddock, Gabby Mendoza and Harley Jo Collins have all found new and fascinating ways to beat your wide-hipped derriere down, and you know, their fine work has been downright inspiring to my own creative muse."
With a shake of her long chestnut mane, Mitchell then leans in ever so slightly to the camera, a definite smile curling on her lips. "So here's what I propose: You, me, and yet another crushing defeat for the Vanilla Slushie. And all of you fans out there, I suggest you hurry up and buy every copy of this new DVD, because it's about to become a collectors' item as it's rapidly replaced by a new volume featuring little Miss Sanders' latest, greatest loss to me."
And with a wink and a crinkle of her nose as the second generation superstar smiles broadly, the camera fades to black.