X-treme Wrestling Federation » XWF Live! » 24/7 X-treme Championship » Just checking

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Your Message:	[quote="YourHighnessofViolence" pid='185215' dateline='1766305074'] Half-empty trays. Crumbs everywhere. A mountain of pulled pork. Three brownies missing suspiciously clean bites. [b]Charlie Nickles[/b] is sprawled out on a couch that has definitely never supported a human being of that size before. One boot still on. One boot kicked halfway across the floor. His chest rises and falls like a malfunctioning air pump. Every exhale comes with a low, contented [i]snrrrkkk[/i]. Enter [b][color=#ff56ff]Jenny Myst[/color][/b], [color=#ffdc00]WGWF X-Division[/color] she has named "Mortimer" title slung over her shoulder, iced coffee in hand, eyebrow already raised. She stops. Looks at the carnage. Looks at Charlie. Jenny (whispering to herself): [color=#ff30dc]“Pulled pork before cardio. Rookie mistake.”[/color] She gently nudges his boot with the toe of her heel. Nothing. She waves a brownie wrapper under his nose. Nothing. She leans down, snaps her fingers loudly. Charlie rolls over, mutters something about “five more minutes” and immediately resumes snoring. Jenny’s grin spreads slowly. The kind that means someone is about to be embarrassed on television. She glances down the hallway, checks for cameras… then [i]drags[/i] a referee in by the wrist. Jenny (stage-whisper): [color=#ff30dc]“Don’t ask questions. Just do your job.”[/color] The ref looks from her… to Charlie… to the catering table… and sighs like a man who has seen this movie before. Jenny carefully adjusts Charlie’s shoulders flat against the couch cushions, hops up, and [b]casually sits across his chest[/b], hooking a leg like she’s posing for a magazine shoot. She throws her free arm up. [color=#ff30dc]Jenny:[/color] [color=#ff30dc]“COUNT IT.”[/color] The ref hesitates. Charlie snores louder. Ref: “…one.” Jenny brushes imaginary dust off her belt. Ref:“…two.” Charlie shifts slightly, still asleep, accidentally patting Jenny’s knee like he’s reaching for a pillow. Jenny freezes, deadpan to the ref: [color=#ff30dc]“If he wakes up, you’re dead.”[/color] [i]SLAP.[/i] [color=#ff30dc]“And [b]STILL[/b] undefeated in the ‘Wait For You To Pass Out After Catering’ division.”[/color] His hand is about to hit the three...... [/quote]
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Thread Review (Newest First)

Posted by Charlie Nickles - 12-21-2025, 01:18 AM

KICK OUT! But, only out of instinct. Still dazed and half-asleep, Chuck grabs Jenny by the abdomen before forcing her into a little spoon position! The referee cringes before slowly backing out of the room.

Posted by YourHighnessofViolence - 12-21-2025, 12:17 AM

Half-empty trays. Crumbs everywhere. A mountain of pulled pork. Three brownies missing suspiciously clean bites. Charlie Nickles is sprawled out on a couch that has definitely never supported a human being of that size before. One boot still on. One boot kicked halfway across the floor. His chest rises and falls like a malfunctioning air pump. Every exhale comes with a low, contented snrrrkkk. Enter Jenny Myst, WGWF X-Division she has named "Mortimer" title slung over her shoulder, iced coffee in hand, eyebrow already raised. She stops. Looks at the carnage. Looks at Charlie. Jenny (whispering to herself): “Pulled pork before cardio. Rookie mistake.” She gently nudges his boot with the toe of her heel. Nothing. She waves a brownie wrapper under his nose. Nothing. She leans down, snaps her fingers loudly. Charlie rolls over, mutters something about “five more minutes” and immediately resumes snoring. Jenny’s grin spreads slowly. The kind that means someone is about to be embarrassed on television. She glances down the hallway, checks for cameras… then drags a referee in by the wrist. Jenny (stage-whisper): “Don’t ask questions. Just do your job.” The ref looks from her… to Charlie… to the catering table… and sighs like a man who has seen this movie before. Jenny carefully adjusts Charlie’s shoulders flat against the couch cushions, hops up, and casually sits across his chest, hooking a leg like she’s posing for a magazine shoot. She throws her free arm up. Jenny: “COUNT IT.” The ref hesitates. Charlie snores louder. Ref: “…one.” Jenny brushes imaginary dust off her belt. Ref:“…two.” Charlie shifts slightly, still asleep, accidentally patting Jenny’s knee like he’s reaching for a pillow. Jenny freezes, deadpan to the ref: “If he wakes up, you’re dead.” SLAP. “And STILL undefeated in the ‘Wait For You To Pass Out After Catering’ division.” His hand is about to hit the three......

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