Post by pete on Dec 30, 2013 18:16:11 GMT -5
"Ugh! I hate kids!"
Backstage at PURE TV episode #6, John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt splashes some more water on his face and over the front of his dress shirt, where the purple damage caused by Violet Rose's mist seems sadly irreversible. With a groan of frustration, he rubs at it energetically, but the stain does not so much as dim in colour.
At length, his attention is diverted from his lost cause by a distant clamour: in the aftermath of his victory over Jordan Caliban and subsequent attack from the little brat, the crowd are chanting his name. Singing the very same song, in fact, that he has been fighting for as long as he can remember. But there is a twist, John realizes: they are singing it with respect and admiration, rather than mockingly. The PURE Wrestling superstar feels a jolt run through him as he acknowledges that it feels almost...
"...good."
He says that again, louder this time, to make sure he isn't hearing things: "IT FEELS GOOD!"
"I've had a breakthrough", he thinks, his mind still giddy with conflicting emotions, "I have to tell Dr. E!"
It is with this intention that he leaves the restroom, the stain on his shirt long forgotten. He has gone no more than a few steps, however, before a nearby argument stops him in his tracks.
"Excuse me", a familiar voice is saying, "I am his psychologist, and I absolutely must see him! You're going to have to let me through!"
"Doc?", John says, stepping closer to the spot the voice is coming from. And indeed, after a moment, the security guard blocking his path budges slightly and he can see a shock of crimson hair peeking from behind him. Another beat, and said shock of hair is upon him, enveloping him in a tight hug whilst talking a mile a minute:
"John! Thank goodness! Oh, look at you, darling! Look at your shirt! Are you hurt? Did she hurt you, John?"
"Relax, Doc", John says, even as he meets the gaze of the security guard, who raises an eyebrow as if to say 'psychologist, huh?' John assuages his fears with a nod of the head, then endeavours to pry the doctor away from him.
"I'm fine!"
"Oh, but you're NOT fine, honey, you've got a gash right here, look...!"
"I SAID, I'm FINE!" the wrestler suddenly growls, his moodiness returning in droves as a result of being fussed over. The look on his physician's face, however, makes him relent, and he actually looks sorry for his outburst as he adds: "In fact, I was gonna call you. I had a breakthrough."
"You did?", Dr. Everhardt says, leaning forward, her manner instantly professional once again.
"Yup". John nods, then drops the bombshell: "Just now, those people out there were singing THAT SONG...and I LIKED it, Doc! I LIKED IT!"
"Please", the physician says, her eyes twinkling with excitement at the news, her tone colloquial once again. "Call me Evie."
"Well, Evie, I liked it", John says, not keeping a surprisingly devious grin from invading his features.
"Good", Evie replies, the same goofy grin on her features, as she looks into her patient's eyes.
Before the wrestling show can turn into a PG-13 rom-com, however, a cameraman walks by, causing John to signal to him. Once he is within range of the superstar, he motions for him to turn the camera on and hand him a microphone. A moment later, with both conditions in place, he begins to talk:
"Violet Rose, do you see this?"
He points at his irrevocably damaged shirt and continues:
"This is a Versace shirt. Which you RUINED with your stupid little kiddie prank!"
He takes a moment to control his rage, then proceeds:
"Now, I know you were getting back at me for beating the shit out of you on that one match a couple months ago. But you see, li'l Violet, I was a different man then. A TROUBLED man. But I've changed. I've focused my energy towards bettering myself. And the NEW J3S does not suffer fools lightly!"
John's tone is rising as he gets wound up by his own words:
"What I mean, grape girl, is that if you're lookin' to make a joke out of ol' John Jacob, you better think twice. Because at Crisis, I'm going out there with one purpose and one purpose only: to teach you to respect your elders! So be on the look out, li'l girl. I don't give a damn how old you are, or if you're a girl or not behind that mask. Come Crisis time, I'm gonna get you."
"WE'RE going to get you", a voice suddenly interrupts. Triple J looks genuinely puzzled as his shrink enters the frame, placing a hand on his shoulder and glaring into the lens determinedly.
"'We' are?"
"Yes", Evie Everhardt says, nodding. "WE are."
It is with the PURE superstar grinning goofily and his shrink-come-manager smirking beside him that the cameraman switches off his gear. No sooner has he done so that Evie leans in, whispering words not quite fit for the television cameras:
"So...my place or yours?"
Backstage at PURE TV episode #6, John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt splashes some more water on his face and over the front of his dress shirt, where the purple damage caused by Violet Rose's mist seems sadly irreversible. With a groan of frustration, he rubs at it energetically, but the stain does not so much as dim in colour.
At length, his attention is diverted from his lost cause by a distant clamour: in the aftermath of his victory over Jordan Caliban and subsequent attack from the little brat, the crowd are chanting his name. Singing the very same song, in fact, that he has been fighting for as long as he can remember. But there is a twist, John realizes: they are singing it with respect and admiration, rather than mockingly. The PURE Wrestling superstar feels a jolt run through him as he acknowledges that it feels almost...
"...good."
He says that again, louder this time, to make sure he isn't hearing things: "IT FEELS GOOD!"
"I've had a breakthrough", he thinks, his mind still giddy with conflicting emotions, "I have to tell Dr. E!"
It is with this intention that he leaves the restroom, the stain on his shirt long forgotten. He has gone no more than a few steps, however, before a nearby argument stops him in his tracks.
"Excuse me", a familiar voice is saying, "I am his psychologist, and I absolutely must see him! You're going to have to let me through!"
"Doc?", John says, stepping closer to the spot the voice is coming from. And indeed, after a moment, the security guard blocking his path budges slightly and he can see a shock of crimson hair peeking from behind him. Another beat, and said shock of hair is upon him, enveloping him in a tight hug whilst talking a mile a minute:
"John! Thank goodness! Oh, look at you, darling! Look at your shirt! Are you hurt? Did she hurt you, John?"
"Relax, Doc", John says, even as he meets the gaze of the security guard, who raises an eyebrow as if to say 'psychologist, huh?' John assuages his fears with a nod of the head, then endeavours to pry the doctor away from him.
"I'm fine!"
"Oh, but you're NOT fine, honey, you've got a gash right here, look...!"
"I SAID, I'm FINE!" the wrestler suddenly growls, his moodiness returning in droves as a result of being fussed over. The look on his physician's face, however, makes him relent, and he actually looks sorry for his outburst as he adds: "In fact, I was gonna call you. I had a breakthrough."
"You did?", Dr. Everhardt says, leaning forward, her manner instantly professional once again.
"Yup". John nods, then drops the bombshell: "Just now, those people out there were singing THAT SONG...and I LIKED it, Doc! I LIKED IT!"
"Please", the physician says, her eyes twinkling with excitement at the news, her tone colloquial once again. "Call me Evie."
"Well, Evie, I liked it", John says, not keeping a surprisingly devious grin from invading his features.
"Good", Evie replies, the same goofy grin on her features, as she looks into her patient's eyes.
Before the wrestling show can turn into a PG-13 rom-com, however, a cameraman walks by, causing John to signal to him. Once he is within range of the superstar, he motions for him to turn the camera on and hand him a microphone. A moment later, with both conditions in place, he begins to talk:
"Violet Rose, do you see this?"
He points at his irrevocably damaged shirt and continues:
"This is a Versace shirt. Which you RUINED with your stupid little kiddie prank!"
He takes a moment to control his rage, then proceeds:
"Now, I know you were getting back at me for beating the shit out of you on that one match a couple months ago. But you see, li'l Violet, I was a different man then. A TROUBLED man. But I've changed. I've focused my energy towards bettering myself. And the NEW J3S does not suffer fools lightly!"
John's tone is rising as he gets wound up by his own words:
"What I mean, grape girl, is that if you're lookin' to make a joke out of ol' John Jacob, you better think twice. Because at Crisis, I'm going out there with one purpose and one purpose only: to teach you to respect your elders! So be on the look out, li'l girl. I don't give a damn how old you are, or if you're a girl or not behind that mask. Come Crisis time, I'm gonna get you."
"WE'RE going to get you", a voice suddenly interrupts. Triple J looks genuinely puzzled as his shrink enters the frame, placing a hand on his shoulder and glaring into the lens determinedly.
"'We' are?"
"Yes", Evie Everhardt says, nodding. "WE are."
It is with the PURE superstar grinning goofily and his shrink-come-manager smirking beside him that the cameraman switches off his gear. No sooner has he done so that Evie leans in, whispering words not quite fit for the television cameras:
"So...my place or yours?"