Post by King on Jan 13, 2021 0:30:43 GMT
Sacrifice has long since ended. Gone is the the ebb and flow that had been present between the adulation and/or disapproving jeers of the fans. The ring has been nearly broken down and prepared to be shipped to Tulsa. The sounds of hammers clanking, and posts being shuffled are all that fill the air as Stephen Terrella sits alongside Portia, high up in the seats of the Talking Stick Resort Arena.
He's dressed casually in a pair of faded denim jeans, black t-shirt and beanie. There is a small sliver of bandage visible on his forehead beneath the hat from where he had been busted open earlier in the night. Portia, too, has a much more casual look to her. The stains of her own boyfriend's blood had ruined her dress, forcing her to change into a pair of jeans and a olive green sweater. She places her hand on top of Terrella's, her best attempt to provide comfort after the loss.
"Baby, it's fine" she says, her voice calm and reassuring.
He stares almost blankly into the distance, saying, "I fucked up, babe. I let that worthless little fuck beat me. Ain't the first time I got my ass beat, won't be the fucking last. It's the fucking when of it all that bothers me. This was our chance, our fucking moment... and that smart-mouthed motherfucker is living it. Shit fucking frustrates me. I hate that motherfucker. Right now, all I can think about is finding out where that fucking little bitch is staying, driving there and crippling his ass. The office can like it, or not. I don't really give a fuck right now."
"I know, baby," Portia tells him. "I know what this meant to you. I don't care that you lost, though. You shouldn't, either. It's one match."
"Yeah, but it was a pretty fucking big match though, babe," he responds.
"So," she asks. "We've been down before, baby. You've won a lot, and the lawyer fees are going down."
"Yeah," he says.
"We'll see him again," she reassures him. "He's too fucking proud and too foolishly confident in himself for us not to."
"That, babe," he says, turning toward her, "is what I'm fucking plannin' on. Shit stings right now, but I ain't going to cry about it. I'm just sittin' here thinking how I'm going to crawl up inside that motherfucker's head, and when the time is right, hurt his ass real fucking bad."
Portia places her other hand on top of hers' and his. "Hey, come on, let's get out of here. This building sucks. We'll go back to the hotel and I'll make you forget all about this for awhile."
She whispers something in his ear.
"Fuck yeah," he says.
They stand up and gather their belongings, and shortly thereafter walk toward the exit
He's dressed casually in a pair of faded denim jeans, black t-shirt and beanie. There is a small sliver of bandage visible on his forehead beneath the hat from where he had been busted open earlier in the night. Portia, too, has a much more casual look to her. The stains of her own boyfriend's blood had ruined her dress, forcing her to change into a pair of jeans and a olive green sweater. She places her hand on top of Terrella's, her best attempt to provide comfort after the loss.
"Baby, it's fine" she says, her voice calm and reassuring.
He stares almost blankly into the distance, saying, "I fucked up, babe. I let that worthless little fuck beat me. Ain't the first time I got my ass beat, won't be the fucking last. It's the fucking when of it all that bothers me. This was our chance, our fucking moment... and that smart-mouthed motherfucker is living it. Shit fucking frustrates me. I hate that motherfucker. Right now, all I can think about is finding out where that fucking little bitch is staying, driving there and crippling his ass. The office can like it, or not. I don't really give a fuck right now."
"I know, baby," Portia tells him. "I know what this meant to you. I don't care that you lost, though. You shouldn't, either. It's one match."
"Yeah, but it was a pretty fucking big match though, babe," he responds.
"So," she asks. "We've been down before, baby. You've won a lot, and the lawyer fees are going down."
"Yeah," he says.
"We'll see him again," she reassures him. "He's too fucking proud and too foolishly confident in himself for us not to."
"That, babe," he says, turning toward her, "is what I'm fucking plannin' on. Shit stings right now, but I ain't going to cry about it. I'm just sittin' here thinking how I'm going to crawl up inside that motherfucker's head, and when the time is right, hurt his ass real fucking bad."
Portia places her other hand on top of hers' and his. "Hey, come on, let's get out of here. This building sucks. We'll go back to the hotel and I'll make you forget all about this for awhile."
She whispers something in his ear.
"Fuck yeah," he says.
They stand up and gather their belongings, and shortly thereafter walk toward the exit
Well howdy there pardner.