June 25, 2018
Candi Bratton has secured her home, bought and paid for and she is now a proud (or perhaps not so proud) owner of a home in Denver. Feels weird not driving for days to get to the show, but she has found some time for her to relax. It was brought to her attention at some point that Emily Falls has broadcast another of her drivelous promos and she happened to find it online somewhere. It amused Candi, for sure. The girl had some type of charm, though it was hard to determine what type of charm that might be. She’ll find out soon enough whether charm is enough of it this girl actually has a set of balls on her. She has stepped from her truck and is walking with her sunglasses on as her face comes into view.
“So, Emily Fails.”
Candi has started recording on her social media account.
“You’re disappointed that I didn’t fucking serve you up enough time during my last little exchange, is that it? Well, I got news for you, sugar tits. The goddamned world doesn’t revolve around you regardless of what your mommy and daddy might tell you. I know we have a bunch of goddamned snowflakes out there thinking their something special when their just one in a trillion faces on this motherfucking planet and just existing doesn’t make you goddamned special.”
She appears to be walking down a sidewalk as she is speaking into her phone.
“It doesn’t make you anything but a goddamned waste of fucking space. Unless you decide to ball up and do something with your motherfucking life. I’m a fighter but that doesn’t make me shit unless I win or become the champion, which despite what fake fucking news might come out of the mouth of Forget over there with his sister wives. He knows where he can fucking find me and I’m more than happy to put up this title. I don’t sit around and duck contenders. I fight contenders.”
She stops in front of a store and decides to finish before she goes inside.
“The difference between Forget and you, Emily Fails is that he’s done something with his career up to this point. You haven’t done shit. So you can do all the motherfucking talk that you want. Call me grandma and whatnot, but the fact is when we get in that ring and I school your fucking ass on how to be a goddamned professional wrestler, maybe you’ll walk out of there learning a thing or two and maybe even learn when to shut your goddamned mouth and listen for one fucking minute.”
She leans in really close.
“And maybe at that point, you’ll finally get it. You’ll finally get what being in this business means. You’ve had a couple hard breaks since you’ve been here, trust me I have been paying attention. But now you’ve just upped the ante and you’re not taking on any goddamned amateur now. You’re taking on a champion. A veteran. I’ve been in this sport for 20 plus years and little girl, you’re about to get schooled.”
She reaches up and removes her sunglasses from over her eyes and rests them on her head.
“And little girl, if you fucking puke on me, I will make you eat it right there in front of the goddamned world. I will rub your face in it and make you regret ever coming face to face with me. So come ready to fight, Emily Fails. I hope you’re not deluding yourself into thinking you can win. The best you can hope for, and I mean the best case scenario is that you survive.”
She places her sunglasses back over her eyes and gives a fake smile.
“I hope I’ve addressed you more thoroughly this time, you star-gawking, YouTube wanna-be, Tiger Beat reading turd.”
She cuts the feed.