"Keep Your Finger off the Switch"
All these stupid rules!
Ha, that's a good one. "All these stupid rules" doesn't apply to my life. There are no rules in the World Wrestling Federation. Hell, Vince let's us do whatever the hell we want. Party all night; sleep with anyone we want, as long as we are back in the arena by ten. It's all good.Does anybody know who's sleeping with who?
Well, that certainly applies to anyone here- married or not. One day you see Trish in the backseat of Kurt Angle's car, and the next day she's in Matt Bloom's car. Oh, it's true- it's true.It's our time!
Hell, yeah it is. New morons join the WWF everyday demanding more and more. They say it is their time- their "era." Well, I got news for them. It isn't there time- it's my time. Our time. Yeah, that's right- I manage Hunter Hearst Helmsley, in real life his name is Jean-Paul Levesque. And when your with HHH, it your time all the time.Well, now it's time for Ally's story. My story. And you better keep your finger off the switch.
*-*-*-*-*
"Hmm… Are sure you want to end with a Pedigree?" I asked, flipping through the script. "I mean, Paul Wight is awfully big and we don't need you injuring yourself again." I pointed to Jean-Paul's quadriceps, which he had injured a few months before. Jean nodded. "Yes. I am sure. I am that-" I sighed. "Damn good, I know, I know."
"Yup." Jean kissed me on the cheek, much to my dislike. I really didn't care for Jean that much, probably because he was married and he continued hit on me, after I had repeatedly told him no. "Alright, Jean. That's enough." I pushed him off of me. "Aw, Ally. Can't I give you one innocent kiss on the cheek? You are my manager…" I glared at him. "Check with your wife first."
"Ally… My marriage isn't going so well." Jean said. I blinked. "So get a divorce. If you think you can just hit on me because your marriage isn't going well, you're wrong. Get a fucking divorce." Jean hung his head. "Sorry, Ally. Anyway- Let's go. My match is next." I reluctantly got up, not making any eye contact with Jean. I hated doing this. I hated Jean. I didn't know how much more I could take.
DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND YOUR OWN DELUSION?!
DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND YOUR OWN CONFUSUON?!
I didn't know. I knew this was all a delusion- I didn't belong here. I didn't belong with the high class crowd with all the glitz and glamour. I was confused- Jean confused me, this whole fucking life style confused me! Jean showed off his muscles as he walked down the ramp. I was behind him, sucking my stomach in to make my chest look bigger- Just like Vince told me too.
The flash photography burned my eyes, but I couldn't squint. I was aware of what my body was being put through, but I didn't do anything about it. As Jean made his way into the ring, he was thrown a Mic. He was going to bullshit about how "damn good" he was, and then I would have to agree with him. No, he wasn't good. He was a sick, bastard who I despised. But, still, every Monday and Tuesday I would have to put my best face forward. I hated being a phony.
Jean started to talk about Ken Shamrock, his new enemy. "And I'll tell you one thing, Ken Shamrock- As far as your challenge at Armageddon is concerned, I accept. My European Championship belt will be on the line, and I will win it back!" Jean handed me the Mic with a little massage on my neck. I shivered the whole time, but made sure that I stood my ground.
"So, Ken Shamrock-" I said, with a wicked grin on my face, "I hear you like pain. Well, you're going to get a lot of it at Armageddon." Our music played again and we stepped out of the ring, and into the backstage areas. "I am going to go change for my match." I declared as we stepped into the lounge. Jean looked at me stupidly. "You have a match tonight?" He asked.
I nodded. "Yes! I told you yesterday. I am defending my women's title against Stacy. Don't you listen to anything I tell you? Or do you tune me out when I don't say 'Jean' and 'that damn good' in the same sentence?" Jean frowned. "Listen, Ally, I am sorry. It totally slipped my mind." I sat down. "This isn't working, Jean. You and me. I don't like this."
Jean started to stroke my wavy blonde hair. His hand got lost in it. "Ally-" He began. "No, Jean." He stopped stroking my hair and I left. I headed for the showers, as I wanted to freshen up a bit. As I sprinted to the showers, I tried my hardest not to cry.
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"One, two, three!" Earl Hebner tapped his callused hand down on the canvas, and I was completely in shock. I had just dropped my title to Stacy, when Jean was supposed to come out and save me. The bastard never came out!
I stalked up the ramp, and headed for the lounge. I saw him on the couch, getting more that friendly with Joanie Laurer. "WHAT THE FUCK?" I screamed. Jean and Joanie unhooked from each other. Jean solemnly said, "where's your belt?" I glared at him. I took my hand, which was gloved, and slapped him square across the face.
"My belt is around Stacy's waist now because you can't follow a fucking script!" Jean gasped. "Oh my god…" He muttered. I shook my head. "FUCK YOU!" I screamed. I left the lounge, while Jean furiously tried to run after me.
You don't know trouble!
I don't know trouble? My middle name is trouble. My whole life was trouble and tragedy and suffering. I thought it would end when I came to the WWF, but it was only beginning.A/N: So what do you think? Should I leave it how it is or add another chapter?
Disclaimer: I own Ally and Vince McMahon owns the WWF. Lyrics are from "My Time" and they belong to the WWF as well.