The Chris CK Mansion
Barrington, IL.
February 5th, 2010
As like most Chicagoland winters in years past, the snowfall has not been kind or gentle to the small affluent northwest suburb of Barrington in the year 2010. For Justin Decent, the Lord of the Chris CK Manor so to speak, an arduous task awaits him each and every time Mother Nature takes a cold white dump on his property; the task of snow blowing. One would think that with his newly procured wealth Justin would simply hire someone to do it for him, however his lack of foresight into the harshest of winter months has forced him to take on the matter himself. Utilizing an old Toro brand snow blower Justin thunders away at the thick, white substance coating every last inch of the concrete surrounding his property. The winds are foul and relentless as Justin persists in trying to clear his massive rainbow driveway. With blustery winds beating against his cold red cheeks, he starts to wonder why the hell he purchased such a large plot of land to begin with. Justin continues to make headway with his trusty old Toro when movement catches his eye. He peers up just in time to catch Santoro walking toward him from the base of the driveway, carrying what appears to be an envelope in his hand.
Santoro - Hey.
Justin Decent - Can't you see I'm busy?
Santoro - I just got back from a meeting with the HOW administration... you're not going to like what I have to tell you.
Justin Decent - Do I ever?
Justin switches off the old Toro and follows Santoro into the Chris CK mansion. The warmth contained within the residence quickly heats Justin's cool skin, causing the snow that's resting upon his fresh military haircut to melt instantly. He takes off his damp winter coat and tosses it onto the floor, sparing no time in following Santoro into the kitchen. Justin begins brewing a fresh pot of coffee as Santoro hesitantly addresses his recent meeting with High Octane representatives.
Santoro - Well, I've got good news and bad news.
Justin Decent - The good?
Santoro - Due to the fact you defeated Jimmy Kort a few weeks back, you're still alive in the Best Invitational. However, your loss to Sparrow has only put you on an EVEN keel with your last opponent.
Uninterested in how the Invitational standings break down, Justin begins to pour a piping hot cup of coffee. He reaches for the creamer and adds just enough to cause the dark liquid to gain a light brown hue. Justin raises the cup to his mouth and takes a small sip, savoring both the aroma and the taste.
Justin Decent - And the bad?
Santoro - Well... the bad news is your next invitational match could be your last if you don't win. It's do or die time for you. If you defeat your next opponent, you'll proceed to the knock out stage of the tournament. If you lose... well... you're shit out of luck.
Justin Decent - And my opponent?
Santoro - Heh heh heh... well... that's kind of the other part of the bad news.
Justin continues to sip his coffee nonchalantly.
Justin Decent - Go on.
Santoro - You're scheduled to wrestle... a woman.
Without a moment's hesitation Justin spits coffee all over the place, spewing it all over the coffee pot, the counter and Santoro. Justin begins coughing wildly and struggles to regain his composure while Santoro dries himself off with a paper towel.
Santoro - Her name is Kirsta Lewis.
An overwhelmed Justin provides Santoro with a vacant gaze.
Santoro - The "Hellcat" Kirsta Lewis.
Justin continues to render a blank stare.
Santoro - One of the most influential female wrestlers in High Octane, next to Bobbinette Carey.
Still nothing.
Santoro - For crying out loud Justin don't you pay attention to anything over there? This envelope I'm holding in my hand is the official notice from HOW regarding your next invitational match and you don't even know who the hell your opponent is!
Justin Decent - I don't NEED to know who the hell my opponent is Santoro! She's a woman!! That's enough said right there!! This is a disgrace!! The disgrace of all disgraces!! I, Justin Decent, do not step into the ring with WOMEN!! They belong in one of two places, in the bed or in the sack. Making my dinner or rearing my offspring. THAT'S IT!!! Women have no place in the wrestling ring!!
Santoro - You're preaching to the choir Justin, I agree with you. They're inferior in every way.
Justin Decent - Just two short months ago I was ragging on Effing Holmes for beating the piss out of Erites Kallisten and now I find myself in the same situation! How do I NOT kick the shit out of this broad? I have to advance in the invitational don't I? HO Wrestling FUCKS ME AGAIN!!! ARRRGGGGHHH!!!!!!!!
Furious over the information regarding his forthcoming match, Justin storms out of the kitchen and rushes to his bedroom. He slams the door shut and sits on his bed, pouting like a small child. With his arms crossed he leans against the headboard and starts feeling sorry for himself.
"Kirsta Lewis. BAAAAHHH humbug! Me? Wrestle a woman? What a fucking joke. They're such an inferior species that I can't believe HOW would even allow them to do anything more than cheerlead. Pfffffbbbbbbttttt. "Hellcat" Kirsta Lewis my balls, should be the "Cheerleader" Kirsta Lewis. I wonder what this stupid bitch looks like anyway."
Justin grabs his Macbook Pro laptop off of the nightstand and opens it up. He instantly pulls up Google.com on his web browser and types in 'Hellcat Kirsta Lewis' under the image search. Within seconds photos of Kirsta Lewis flood his screen.
"Oh... my... god..."
Taken aback by her beauty, Justin allows the laptop to slide off his lap and onto the bed. He looks up toward the ceiling and begins to contemplate the possibilities surrounding his Turmoil match next week.
"She is gorgeous! A goddess if I've ever seen one. Perhaps this could be an opportunity for me. I haven't been in such close proximity to a beautiful woman since... since... well... I don't even know when. But think Justin, THINK! She's a female wrestler in a male dominated profession... which means she probably has fat, smelly and sweaty beefcakes hitting on her all the time. Who knows how many countless male chauvinist comments she has heard over the years? Who knows how many guys have asked her out before, after and even during matches? What makes me so different?
Defeated by his logic, Justin's back slinks down the headboard until his chin touches his chest. He lets out a long sigh as he stares at Kirsta's image on the computer.
"So beautiful..."
Justin's eyes suddenly catch the inanimate Curel skin lotion bottle resting on top of the dresser.
"Lotion?"
His eyes then travel back toward the laptop, which is still brandishing a large photo of the "Hellcat" posing.
"Kirsta..."
He then looks back toward the Curel bottle.
"Lotion."
And then back at Kirsta.
"Kirsta."
The Curel bottle beckons him.
"Lotion."
The computer image of Kirsta Lewis seems to call his name...
"Kirsta."
Temptation is a loose fitting glove worn frequently by the devil. The image continues to call for Justin.
Kirsta's Web Photo - Go on Justin, do it. You know you want it, and you know you want me to give it to you.
"Kirsta..."
Kirsta's Web Photo - Just grab that bottle of Curel... just grab it... one little squirt is all it takes...
"Lotion..."
As if possessed, Justin begins his trancelike descent into temptation. He shuffles over toward the dresser like a zombie and snatches the blue bottle of Curel skin lotion. Justin pumps the nozzle and a cool, sweet smelling goo falls upon his right hand.
Kirsta's Web Photo - There's a good boy. Now get back onto this bed and look me in the eyes.
"Yes...yes Kirsta..."
Justin lies back onto the bed and starts sliding his black snow pants down his legs. He adjusts the laptop monitor so as to ensure Kirsta's image is staring directly at him, as if she were really there next to him.
Kirsta's Web Photo - Now take me Justin... make me yours forever.
"Ohhhhhh Kirsta Lewis I think you've just Hell's-Bitch-Kicked my heart..."
Ready to do the 'deed' Justin begins to slide down his boxers, preparing for what he expects to be a quick and euphoric moment of bonding between himself and Kirsta Lewis' google image. But just then, the bedroom door flies open.
Santoro - Hey Justin I was just thinking that...
Words cannot describe the ensuing exchange of glances.
Santoro - JUSTIN RUTHERFORD DECENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN ALMIGHTY!!!!!!!!!
Justin lets out the most effeminate shriek his body is physically capable of, while simultaneously pulling up his pants.
Justin Decent - GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM YOU PERVERT!!!!!!!
Santoro - YOU'RE THE FUCKING PERVERT, PERVERT!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!!!!!!!!!
Justin Decent - THAT'S JUST NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!!!!!! GET OUT OF HERE!!!!!
Santoro - NONE OF MY BUSINESS!!!!! I'M YOUR FRIEND AND MANAGER!!!! WHEN I CATCH YOU SLAYING THE ONE EYED DRAGON TO AN IMAGE OF YOUR TURMOIL OPPONENT I THINK I SHOULD BE SOMEWHAT CONCERNED!!!!!!!!!
Justin Decent - I WASN'T DOING ANYTHING AT ALL!!! MY SNOW PANTS WERE SOAKED AND MY HANDS JUST HAPPENED TO BE REALLY DRY AND CRACKED FROM SNOW BLOWING!!!!!!!!!
Santoro - LIAR!!!!!!!! AND WHAT ABOUT THAT GIANT PHOTO OF KIRSTA LEWIS ON YOUR LAPTOP SCREEN?!?!?!?!
Justin Decent - PROFESSIONAL RESEARCH FOR MY FORTHCOMING MATCH!!!!!!!!!!
Exasperated, both men begin breathing heavily as they give their voices a chance to rest. After a few moments Santoro finally offers up the olive branch.
Santoro - Ok Justin... I know it has been quite a while since you were last with a woman...
Justin Decent - It hasn't been all that long!!!
Santoro remains motionless, simply staring at Justin.
Justin Decent - Alright... fine. Perhaps it has been a little while, but it isn't my fault. Up until we robbed Chase bank using a boring-as-balls Chris CK promo we were living on the streets of Chicago like rodents! How the hell is a homeless guy supposed to pick up chicks?
Santoro - Justin I think you're losing sight of the fact you're supposed to be getting ready for your all important invitational match, the one that will determine whether or not you make it to the next round. NOT FANTASIZING ABOUT YOUR OPPONENT! Kirsta Lewis is NOT a viable option when it comes to picking up women you fucking MORON!!!!
Justin Decent - I know.. I know..!! I just lost myself in her eyes... I couldn't help it...
With that Santoro snatches Justin's laptop off of the bed and slams it shut.
Santoro - I'm enrolling you in sensitivity training. You're painfully out of touch when it comes to female interaction and the last thing I need is for you to bomb this next match because you don't know how to compose yourself when her perfume reaches your filthy nostrils.
Justin Decent - Sensitivity training?!?! Awwww come on Santoro!! I don't need that!!
Santoro - End of discussion! Now wash your hands and finish snow blowing! Tomorrow I'll brief you on the details of your female sensitivity training session! And as for your laptop, it'll stay with me until AFTER your match!
Justin Decent - NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!
Justin falls to his knees and begins to weep aloud, banging his fists into the carpet floor. Santoro exits the room abruptly muttering obscenities under his breath. A tear slides down Justin's cheek as the web photo of Kirsta Lewis continues to haunt his thoughts.
"Sensitivity training? Oh Kirsta... what'll I do? Maybe... maybe this is a good thing? Maybe this is just what we need to bring our little love affair to the next level."
He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling.
"You may be my opponent next week, but you're still the girl for me. Maybe a sensitive man is indeed what you need after years of enduring hurtful words and slander from male wrestlers far and wide. You'll see Kirsta! You'll see! I'll be a much more sensitive Justin Decent after this upcoming training session! And after I defeat you next week, gently of course, our future will know no bounds..."
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