Post by Summer McCoy on Aug 16, 2006 20:06:41 GMT -5
Summer McCoy: Hello?
Chelsea York: Summer! Hey!
Summer McCoy: Um, I don’t mean to burst any happy bubbles, but I need you to do me a huge favor. Alright?
Chelsea York: Yeah, sure. But, first I have some great news for you and some great news for myself. Heehee.
Summer McCoy: Alright, spit it out.
Chelsea York: Alright. So, like you have a match this week against someone. Don’t worry, I don’t think he’s too much of a challenge.
Summer McCoy: Who is it?
Chelsea York: Heehee…It’s Jay SyN!
Summer McCoy: He’s not as easy as it seems, Chels.
Chelsea York: Yeah, but so what! You can beat him. Oh, and I forgot to mention that it’s for your UN-Limited X Championship.
Summer McCoy: Stop lying.
Chelsea York: I’m being one thousand person honest, Summer. It’s for your belt, and that just makes it good! You’ll easily get the win, and won’t have to defend it for sometime!
Summer McCoy: Well, knowing HWF, you never know when I’ll have to defend this belt. Hm…well, thanks for telling me.
Chelsea York: Okay, so what did you need?
Summer McCoy: Hm?
Chelsea York: You said that you needed me to come over so I could help you out with some favor or something. What did you need?
Summer McCoy: Oh! That.
Chelsea York: Yes, that.
Summer McCoy: Oh, um, I need you to drop off at Home Depot or some fancy place and grab me some paint, okay?
Chelsea York: Oh, Summer. Painting your hair will never work! You totally need to go to that hair cutting place by my house. They turned this girls hair purple, but she loved it.
Summer McCoy: No. You and I are painting these walls of mine today. Okay? So, I need you to hurry up some.
Chelsea York: Ugh! I hate painting, Summer! You know I hate it.
Summer McCoy: It can’t be that painful. Just grab the brush and stroke it onto the walls, it isn’t complex.
Chelsea York: Fine. But, I’ll warn you. I get tired easily, so you might be a one woman job once I stop. Okay?
Summer McCoy: Fine.
Chelsea York: You promise not to over work me? And you promise not to force me to work once I get tired?
Summer McCoy: Fine.
Chelsea York: Okay…
Summer McCoy: Chels, I promise.
Chelsea York: I know, I know.
Summer McCoy: Now, hurry up and go buy that paint. I need lots of pink colors, just get whatever is good. Hurry up, buh-bye.
Chelsea York: Be more spe--
And with Chelsea trying to finish off her sentence, “Be more specific with those colors“, Summer quickly hung up the phone. This entire time, the scene was a black screen. The only thing heard was the conversation that Chelsea and Summer were speaking of. All we could infer as of now, was that Chelsea was out to buy some paint for Summer, and that Summer was painting her walls pink. You would think that they were already pink, but not every room was covered with the most delicate pink. Not every wall. Her bathroom wall was an icky blue. She hated that bathroom, and decided it needed a change. A change for the better, that is. She sighed heavenly as she reached for her paintbrush that rested onto the ground. She picked it up, dangled it and shrugged, sitting on the floor. Her legs were crossed over each other, in which most people call it, Indian style.
Summer McCoy: Say buh-bye, you icky blue. Ugh, I hate that damn color so much. It is so not…pink.
Summer sighed softly. Summer knew that she needed to defend her title this upcoming show, and she really didn‘t feel like it. Of course she wanted to retain her title. Of course. And she would. Well, at least in her mind she would. Summer was very conceited, and if you haven‘t noticed already, she might just kick you in the skull.
Summer McCoy: Great. I have to defend my title to someone as the likes of Jay SyN. What kind of name is that? Well, if you say it fast enough, it makes Jason. I guess that’s his real name or something. Heehee.
Sumemr shrugged her shoulders.
Summer McCoy: This is going to be really hard though. Chelsea has never gotten into the ring and fought men like I do. She’s had about three matches in her whole career, and she was up against a rookie for two of those matches. She just doesn’t really understand that when men say they are stronger than women, they sometimes are.
Summer picked up the paintbrush once more and held it, examining it out of complete and utter boredom. She wiggled it softly and dropped it back down onto the ground.
Summer McCoy: Jay SyN, I never fought you, and I honestly don’t want to, but I will do whatever it takes to keep this title. It is mine. And, little Mark, or whoever you are, you think you’re all hardcore and everything, huh? Well, you aren’t. Just because you can take out my manager, doesn’t mean you can take me out. I still won that match, fair and square.
Summer giggled softly.
Summer McCoy: Because you are a complete dumbass.
Summer busted out into a slight chuckle, but ended it quickly as she bit her bottom lip. She continued playing with the brush, waiting for Chelsea‘s arrival.
Summer McCoy: I just don’t understand how someone could just cost themselves the match like that. I mean, I would’ve won anyways. Maybe you just felt the need to get it over with before I crushed you.
Summer shrugged. It could‘ve been any reason, really. Maybe he was scared of her, maybe he wasn‘t. Maybe he wanted to humiliate her, and maybe he didn‘t mean to. Summer didn‘t know the real reason, it seemed that only Mark would know.
Summer McCoy: But, that’s alright. Because, I still have the UN-Limited X belt around my waist, and you have that slutty as bitch around yours. Which is better? My belt of course.
Summer delivered off an evil grin towards the camera. That grin soon turned into her mouth being struck open, as her phone began to ring. She ran to the phone and picked it up.
Chelsea York: Summer? I got the paint. I’m on my way.
Summer McCoy: Jesus Christ, Chelsea, you scared the shit out of me.
Chelsea York: Huh? You never heard a phone ring before? Or possibly me saying I got the paint? And that I’m on my way?
Summer McCoy: Nevermind, Chelsea. You wouldn’t understand.
Chelsea York: I got some nice pink colors. I should be there in about fifteen minutes, okay? So, don’t get too bored.
Summer McCoy: Oh, believe me, you are too late for that.
Chelsea York: Well, let me entertain you…phone wise.
Summer McCoy: Chelsea…I don’t run that way. I will not have some stupid phone sex with you, okay? That is just…urgh!
Chelsea York: Oh my god! Ew, no! I want to talk to you.
Summer McCoy: I know, I’m just messing with you. Okay, so what colors did you get me?
Chelsea York: Pink.
Summer McCoy: And…?
Chelsea York: All sorts of pink, okay? Heehee. Well, I have another phone call on the other line, so I will call you later.
Summer McCoy: You’ll be at my house by the time you call.
Chelsea York: So true…well bye!
Summer McCoy: Bye.
Summer quickly pressed the off button, and placed the phone down onto the table, in which it was first on. She pushed her hair out of her face, and walked over by the paintbrush, sitting down once more. She sighed and tilted her head backwards, hitting the wall with it.
Summer McCoy: Oh, Chelsea…hurry up.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Chelsea York: Summer! Hey!
Summer McCoy: Um, I don’t mean to burst any happy bubbles, but I need you to do me a huge favor. Alright?
Chelsea York: Yeah, sure. But, first I have some great news for you and some great news for myself. Heehee.
Summer McCoy: Alright, spit it out.
Chelsea York: Alright. So, like you have a match this week against someone. Don’t worry, I don’t think he’s too much of a challenge.
Summer McCoy: Who is it?
Chelsea York: Heehee…It’s Jay SyN!
Summer McCoy: He’s not as easy as it seems, Chels.
Chelsea York: Yeah, but so what! You can beat him. Oh, and I forgot to mention that it’s for your UN-Limited X Championship.
Summer McCoy: Stop lying.
Chelsea York: I’m being one thousand person honest, Summer. It’s for your belt, and that just makes it good! You’ll easily get the win, and won’t have to defend it for sometime!
Summer McCoy: Well, knowing HWF, you never know when I’ll have to defend this belt. Hm…well, thanks for telling me.
Chelsea York: Okay, so what did you need?
Summer McCoy: Hm?
Chelsea York: You said that you needed me to come over so I could help you out with some favor or something. What did you need?
Summer McCoy: Oh! That.
Chelsea York: Yes, that.
Summer McCoy: Oh, um, I need you to drop off at Home Depot or some fancy place and grab me some paint, okay?
Chelsea York: Oh, Summer. Painting your hair will never work! You totally need to go to that hair cutting place by my house. They turned this girls hair purple, but she loved it.
Summer McCoy: No. You and I are painting these walls of mine today. Okay? So, I need you to hurry up some.
Chelsea York: Ugh! I hate painting, Summer! You know I hate it.
Summer McCoy: It can’t be that painful. Just grab the brush and stroke it onto the walls, it isn’t complex.
Chelsea York: Fine. But, I’ll warn you. I get tired easily, so you might be a one woman job once I stop. Okay?
Summer McCoy: Fine.
Chelsea York: You promise not to over work me? And you promise not to force me to work once I get tired?
Summer McCoy: Fine.
Chelsea York: Okay…
Summer McCoy: Chels, I promise.
Chelsea York: I know, I know.
Summer McCoy: Now, hurry up and go buy that paint. I need lots of pink colors, just get whatever is good. Hurry up, buh-bye.
Chelsea York: Be more spe--
And with Chelsea trying to finish off her sentence, “Be more specific with those colors“, Summer quickly hung up the phone. This entire time, the scene was a black screen. The only thing heard was the conversation that Chelsea and Summer were speaking of. All we could infer as of now, was that Chelsea was out to buy some paint for Summer, and that Summer was painting her walls pink. You would think that they were already pink, but not every room was covered with the most delicate pink. Not every wall. Her bathroom wall was an icky blue. She hated that bathroom, and decided it needed a change. A change for the better, that is. She sighed heavenly as she reached for her paintbrush that rested onto the ground. She picked it up, dangled it and shrugged, sitting on the floor. Her legs were crossed over each other, in which most people call it, Indian style.
Summer McCoy: Say buh-bye, you icky blue. Ugh, I hate that damn color so much. It is so not…pink.
Summer sighed softly. Summer knew that she needed to defend her title this upcoming show, and she really didn‘t feel like it. Of course she wanted to retain her title. Of course. And she would. Well, at least in her mind she would. Summer was very conceited, and if you haven‘t noticed already, she might just kick you in the skull.
Summer McCoy: Great. I have to defend my title to someone as the likes of Jay SyN. What kind of name is that? Well, if you say it fast enough, it makes Jason. I guess that’s his real name or something. Heehee.
Sumemr shrugged her shoulders.
Summer McCoy: This is going to be really hard though. Chelsea has never gotten into the ring and fought men like I do. She’s had about three matches in her whole career, and she was up against a rookie for two of those matches. She just doesn’t really understand that when men say they are stronger than women, they sometimes are.
Summer picked up the paintbrush once more and held it, examining it out of complete and utter boredom. She wiggled it softly and dropped it back down onto the ground.
Summer McCoy: Jay SyN, I never fought you, and I honestly don’t want to, but I will do whatever it takes to keep this title. It is mine. And, little Mark, or whoever you are, you think you’re all hardcore and everything, huh? Well, you aren’t. Just because you can take out my manager, doesn’t mean you can take me out. I still won that match, fair and square.
Summer giggled softly.
Summer McCoy: Because you are a complete dumbass.
Summer busted out into a slight chuckle, but ended it quickly as she bit her bottom lip. She continued playing with the brush, waiting for Chelsea‘s arrival.
Summer McCoy: I just don’t understand how someone could just cost themselves the match like that. I mean, I would’ve won anyways. Maybe you just felt the need to get it over with before I crushed you.
Summer shrugged. It could‘ve been any reason, really. Maybe he was scared of her, maybe he wasn‘t. Maybe he wanted to humiliate her, and maybe he didn‘t mean to. Summer didn‘t know the real reason, it seemed that only Mark would know.
Summer McCoy: But, that’s alright. Because, I still have the UN-Limited X belt around my waist, and you have that slutty as bitch around yours. Which is better? My belt of course.
Summer delivered off an evil grin towards the camera. That grin soon turned into her mouth being struck open, as her phone began to ring. She ran to the phone and picked it up.
Chelsea York: Summer? I got the paint. I’m on my way.
Summer McCoy: Jesus Christ, Chelsea, you scared the shit out of me.
Chelsea York: Huh? You never heard a phone ring before? Or possibly me saying I got the paint? And that I’m on my way?
Summer McCoy: Nevermind, Chelsea. You wouldn’t understand.
Chelsea York: I got some nice pink colors. I should be there in about fifteen minutes, okay? So, don’t get too bored.
Summer McCoy: Oh, believe me, you are too late for that.
Chelsea York: Well, let me entertain you…phone wise.
Summer McCoy: Chelsea…I don’t run that way. I will not have some stupid phone sex with you, okay? That is just…urgh!
Chelsea York: Oh my god! Ew, no! I want to talk to you.
Summer McCoy: I know, I’m just messing with you. Okay, so what colors did you get me?
Chelsea York: Pink.
Summer McCoy: And…?
Chelsea York: All sorts of pink, okay? Heehee. Well, I have another phone call on the other line, so I will call you later.
Summer McCoy: You’ll be at my house by the time you call.
Chelsea York: So true…well bye!
Summer McCoy: Bye.
Summer quickly pressed the off button, and placed the phone down onto the table, in which it was first on. She pushed her hair out of her face, and walked over by the paintbrush, sitting down once more. She sighed and tilted her head backwards, hitting the wall with it.
Summer McCoy: Oh, Chelsea…hurry up.
TO BE CONTINUED…