Post by Wylde Hunt on Jun 21, 2017 16:19:55 GMT -6
Outside Hoover Fitness
Birmingham, Alabama
--------------------------------------
A few hours after leaving Misses Phelps the bad conscience was a thing of the past. Silvia felt like Honey Hunt once again. He had learned a lot about Greco-Roman holds, lifted some serious weight and now after a shower left the gym to go home.
Home.
In her case home was parked just outside.
A physical address was one of the things Honey had scarified for her dream because a physical address meant either a monthly rent or a lot of good advice from your parents.
She didn´t have the money for the former because it went to the wrestling coaches and the fuel stations. She didn´t have the nerve for the latter because mom and dad, well they weren´t really happy with the choices their daughter had made in her life. Problem was Honey couldn´t be happier.
So Honey lived inside her campervan that she had named KactuS-UV after the paint shop that depicted wrestling legend Kid Kactus in psychedelic colors.
It was amazing how little luxury you needed and how simple life could be when you were having fun.
Okay the paint job including the slogan on the van´s back “Find what you love and let it kill you” had been as expensive as several months of rent but that was really the only thing outside wrestling Honey had ever burned money on.
In some ways she lived like a hobo, showering in gyms, community centers or trailer parks, sometimes in truck stops or plain and simple in rivers and lakes.
Her money went into everything that made her a better wrestler, additional training, nutrition, car repairs to keep her mobile for any pro wrestling gig between Alabama, Arizona and Mexico City. That was important. Other stuff was not. Other people´s opinions were not.
Her new smartphone was important too even if Honey had cringed at the cost. It had replaced the old portable TV because if you lived on the road you really needed a smartphone or the digital age would screw you over three times a day.
She was lying in the bunk that was her bed and watch EWC Prime on her phone. They said her application was under consideration. Perhaps she would be booked soon. She would not believe it until the EWC guys notified her but she could still watch the matches. And if it didn´t work out she still had that new gig in Mexico going.
The PRIME show soon had her head spinning. It wasn´t the action in the ring. It was because of the figures thrown around by Ben Moss.
500.000 bucks.
1.000.000 bucks.
In total one-million-five-hundred thousand dead presidents for a double-team ass kicking mission on Kyra Johnson?
This wasn´t right. Surely Kyra was a total pain in the ass but there had to be a cleaner, better way to show her the ropes.
Honey shook her head and forgot about the money after Arcane had fulfilled what looked like his first part in the dirty deal. She enjoyed watching the main event for all the skill and athletics that Candy and Trixie displayed.
And then in the end there was this sick letter.
Some people in PRIME really needed to eat a fist sandwich or two to get their heads straight again.
Birmingham, Alabama
--------------------------------------
A few hours after leaving Misses Phelps the bad conscience was a thing of the past. Silvia felt like Honey Hunt once again. He had learned a lot about Greco-Roman holds, lifted some serious weight and now after a shower left the gym to go home.
Home.
In her case home was parked just outside.
A physical address was one of the things Honey had scarified for her dream because a physical address meant either a monthly rent or a lot of good advice from your parents.
She didn´t have the money for the former because it went to the wrestling coaches and the fuel stations. She didn´t have the nerve for the latter because mom and dad, well they weren´t really happy with the choices their daughter had made in her life. Problem was Honey couldn´t be happier.
So Honey lived inside her campervan that she had named KactuS-UV after the paint shop that depicted wrestling legend Kid Kactus in psychedelic colors.
It was amazing how little luxury you needed and how simple life could be when you were having fun.
Okay the paint job including the slogan on the van´s back “Find what you love and let it kill you” had been as expensive as several months of rent but that was really the only thing outside wrestling Honey had ever burned money on.
In some ways she lived like a hobo, showering in gyms, community centers or trailer parks, sometimes in truck stops or plain and simple in rivers and lakes.
Her money went into everything that made her a better wrestler, additional training, nutrition, car repairs to keep her mobile for any pro wrestling gig between Alabama, Arizona and Mexico City. That was important. Other stuff was not. Other people´s opinions were not.
Her new smartphone was important too even if Honey had cringed at the cost. It had replaced the old portable TV because if you lived on the road you really needed a smartphone or the digital age would screw you over three times a day.
She was lying in the bunk that was her bed and watch EWC Prime on her phone. They said her application was under consideration. Perhaps she would be booked soon. She would not believe it until the EWC guys notified her but she could still watch the matches. And if it didn´t work out she still had that new gig in Mexico going.
The PRIME show soon had her head spinning. It wasn´t the action in the ring. It was because of the figures thrown around by Ben Moss.
500.000 bucks.
1.000.000 bucks.
In total one-million-five-hundred thousand dead presidents for a double-team ass kicking mission on Kyra Johnson?
This wasn´t right. Surely Kyra was a total pain in the ass but there had to be a cleaner, better way to show her the ropes.
Honey shook her head and forgot about the money after Arcane had fulfilled what looked like his first part in the dirty deal. She enjoyed watching the main event for all the skill and athletics that Candy and Trixie displayed.
And then in the end there was this sick letter.
Some people in PRIME really needed to eat a fist sandwich or two to get their heads straight again.
