Celebrity Status
Posted: Sun Jul 01, 2012 6:32 pm
*Maryse and Daffney had recently formed a team because they had similar goals despite being about as opposite as two people could be. They wanted to increase their star power and get mentioned in the same breath as the male superstars. Either by winning the most matches or by being the most entertaining parts of the show. Maryse was only a win away from becoming Queen of The Ring and doing that would fit very nicely into their plans. To expand their mulit-media exposure they signed up to be a part of a celebrity volley ball tournament on a big, sparkly, sexy white sand covered beach. Except that all the celebrities were super lame. In fact, Gary Busey was currently introducing himself to them.*
Gary Busey: HI I'M GARY BUSEY. YOU GIRLS SEEN GINGERDEAD MAN PART ONE?
Maryse and Daffney: ...
*Busey walked off while speaking to himself about his role as a killer pastry.*
Maryse: This is garbage. This is not sexy. Did they send us here as a joke?
Daffney: There are three of those movies. Three.
*The two diva's sat on the hood of an enormous pink jeep to further attract attention to themselves because they thought they were going to be surrounded by A-Listers. Not the guy who played Carl Winslow on Family Matters or Rob Schneider. Maryse was wearing a pink bikini with red shutter shades over her eyes while Daffney was dressed in a light blue and white striped bikini with a purple flower in her hair. To keep her pasty complexion in tact she held a gothy looking parasol over her head.*
Maryse: Watch this...
*Maryse turned over onto the hood of the car and pushed her behind out while wiggling it around.*
Maryse: Oh! I dropped something! I hope a bring strong man helps me pick it up!
*But all the big strong men were guys like Dog The Bounty Hunter and Fred Durst who were too busy trying to pass off their resumes to one another to find work.*
Maryse: See? Nothing. Horrible, oui?
Daffney: I would like to kill them but their careers are already dead. And I don't think anyone would notice.
The Coach: Oh hey! You two are here too?
*Maryse and Daffney slowly looked over to spot the interviewer. He was wearing a very bright Hawaiian shirt with a straw hat and flip flops.*
Maryse: They sent us to the same event as an interviewer.
Daffney: I would like to die now. ...Drowning is my third favorite way. But they are all good.
The Coach: Well sure! I'm on ESPN sometimes as well!
Maryse: We should be on ESPN!
*Maryse was becoming infuriated and Daffney was beginning to sport an icy glare*
The Coach: If you become Queen Of The Ring you're sure to increase your notoriety.
Maryse: Oh. Yes. I do have a match with the clown girl with busted neck.
*Maryse yawned and rolled over onto her side as if dealing with Christy Hemme was no big concern*
Maryse: I thought she was a third rater interviewer. What has she been doing to keep her spot when she's so useless?
*Maryse mimed performing filacio for a moment before setting up and quickly removing her shades*
Maryse: She isn't here, is she?
The Coach: Christy? No. I don't think this is a big enough deal for her.
*The French-Canadian balled up her fists*
Maryse: Of course! None of the stars are big enough for her to blow! Stupide pute de clown!
*Meanwhile, Daffney was being hit on by K-Fed and Screech from Saved By The Bell*
K-Fed: I was on WWE one time.
Screech: I made a porno!
*Daffney leaned over the hood of the car and whispered to both the D-Listers*
Daffney: I'll feed you to pigs. I'll have to shave your heads and remove your teeth because it's not good for their digestion.
*Both men were filled with "integrity" and "charisma" but not bravery and they sped off.*
Maryse: I was expecting to chit-chat with Chris Hemsworth and Robert Downey Jr. NOT Coolio.
The Coach: Why don't we get in a game of volleyball? That will get you pumped and ready for your match with Christy in the final round.
Maryse: I don't need any preparation. What is she going to? Interview me to death? Give Scott Stanford my cell phone number? Or maybe she's going to trip on the ring apron and snap that twiggy chicken neck of hers again.
*Her eyes drifted to the volleyball being batted back and forth over the net by Tay Zonday and Bob Saget*
Maryse: ..Those aren't the balls I like to play with anyway.
*The blond rested her hands on her chin and licked her lips*
Daffney: You are a whore.
Maryse: You're the one who likes to be beat, Powder.
The Coach: Ah, you know, Christy has defeated three different opponents to advance this far in the tournament.
Maryse: Yes and so have I. And the last one was the Slammy Winner for Diva of the year. Who did Christy beat? Hm?
The Coach: Torrie Wilson.
*Ms. Ouellet's face twisted up in anger.*
Maryse: Well, she must be quite horrible these days to lose to someone like her. Besides...she would look completely ridiculous in a crown and cape. I would make it look fabulous. Orgasmic even. I will make her get down on her knee's and bow to me.
Daffney: If they give you a scepter...can I hit her over the head with it?
Maryse: You may. The Queen allows it.
The Coach: You have one match left before you can call yourself that, Maryse. Live on pay per view.
Maryse: Why are you speaking like that?! You're off the clock! Are all of your interviewers programmed to interview at any given moment?!
*Before Coach could answer this pressing question a stray volley ball slammed onto the hood of the car and smashed the plate of expensive sweets Daffney had been nibbling on. Since the meds she took gave her a ridiculous sweet tooth this was a world ending offense. Her usually dead expression changed to uncontrollable anger*
Daffney: ...
Maryse: Ah. This is about to get good.
*After a quick cut many of the D-Listers were laying in heaps on the sand. Some of them were tangled up in the net and the pink jeep was floating in the ocean and on fire. The sounds of dozens of struggling actors groaning in unison were heard. Wrestling Superstar Virgil was hurt. Badly. Maryse looked on in satisfaction while Daffney licked idly at an ice cream cone that seemed to sedate her.
Maryse: La Révolution!
*Maryse threw a fist in the sky and the pair walked off.*
Gary Busey: HI I'M GARY BUSEY. YOU GIRLS SEEN GINGERDEAD MAN PART ONE?
Maryse and Daffney: ...
*Busey walked off while speaking to himself about his role as a killer pastry.*
Maryse: This is garbage. This is not sexy. Did they send us here as a joke?
Daffney: There are three of those movies. Three.
*The two diva's sat on the hood of an enormous pink jeep to further attract attention to themselves because they thought they were going to be surrounded by A-Listers. Not the guy who played Carl Winslow on Family Matters or Rob Schneider. Maryse was wearing a pink bikini with red shutter shades over her eyes while Daffney was dressed in a light blue and white striped bikini with a purple flower in her hair. To keep her pasty complexion in tact she held a gothy looking parasol over her head.*
Maryse: Watch this...
*Maryse turned over onto the hood of the car and pushed her behind out while wiggling it around.*
Maryse: Oh! I dropped something! I hope a bring strong man helps me pick it up!
*But all the big strong men were guys like Dog The Bounty Hunter and Fred Durst who were too busy trying to pass off their resumes to one another to find work.*
Maryse: See? Nothing. Horrible, oui?
Daffney: I would like to kill them but their careers are already dead. And I don't think anyone would notice.
The Coach: Oh hey! You two are here too?
*Maryse and Daffney slowly looked over to spot the interviewer. He was wearing a very bright Hawaiian shirt with a straw hat and flip flops.*
Maryse: They sent us to the same event as an interviewer.
Daffney: I would like to die now. ...Drowning is my third favorite way. But they are all good.
The Coach: Well sure! I'm on ESPN sometimes as well!
Maryse: We should be on ESPN!
*Maryse was becoming infuriated and Daffney was beginning to sport an icy glare*
The Coach: If you become Queen Of The Ring you're sure to increase your notoriety.
Maryse: Oh. Yes. I do have a match with the clown girl with busted neck.
*Maryse yawned and rolled over onto her side as if dealing with Christy Hemme was no big concern*
Maryse: I thought she was a third rater interviewer. What has she been doing to keep her spot when she's so useless?
*Maryse mimed performing filacio for a moment before setting up and quickly removing her shades*
Maryse: She isn't here, is she?
The Coach: Christy? No. I don't think this is a big enough deal for her.
*The French-Canadian balled up her fists*
Maryse: Of course! None of the stars are big enough for her to blow! Stupide pute de clown!
*Meanwhile, Daffney was being hit on by K-Fed and Screech from Saved By The Bell*
K-Fed: I was on WWE one time.
Screech: I made a porno!
*Daffney leaned over the hood of the car and whispered to both the D-Listers*
Daffney: I'll feed you to pigs. I'll have to shave your heads and remove your teeth because it's not good for their digestion.
*Both men were filled with "integrity" and "charisma" but not bravery and they sped off.*
Maryse: I was expecting to chit-chat with Chris Hemsworth and Robert Downey Jr. NOT Coolio.
The Coach: Why don't we get in a game of volleyball? That will get you pumped and ready for your match with Christy in the final round.
Maryse: I don't need any preparation. What is she going to? Interview me to death? Give Scott Stanford my cell phone number? Or maybe she's going to trip on the ring apron and snap that twiggy chicken neck of hers again.
*Her eyes drifted to the volleyball being batted back and forth over the net by Tay Zonday and Bob Saget*
Maryse: ..Those aren't the balls I like to play with anyway.
*The blond rested her hands on her chin and licked her lips*
Daffney: You are a whore.
Maryse: You're the one who likes to be beat, Powder.
The Coach: Ah, you know, Christy has defeated three different opponents to advance this far in the tournament.
Maryse: Yes and so have I. And the last one was the Slammy Winner for Diva of the year. Who did Christy beat? Hm?
The Coach: Torrie Wilson.
*Ms. Ouellet's face twisted up in anger.*
Maryse: Well, she must be quite horrible these days to lose to someone like her. Besides...she would look completely ridiculous in a crown and cape. I would make it look fabulous. Orgasmic even. I will make her get down on her knee's and bow to me.
Daffney: If they give you a scepter...can I hit her over the head with it?
Maryse: You may. The Queen allows it.
The Coach: You have one match left before you can call yourself that, Maryse. Live on pay per view.
Maryse: Why are you speaking like that?! You're off the clock! Are all of your interviewers programmed to interview at any given moment?!
*Before Coach could answer this pressing question a stray volley ball slammed onto the hood of the car and smashed the plate of expensive sweets Daffney had been nibbling on. Since the meds she took gave her a ridiculous sweet tooth this was a world ending offense. Her usually dead expression changed to uncontrollable anger*
Daffney: ...
Maryse: Ah. This is about to get good.
*After a quick cut many of the D-Listers were laying in heaps on the sand. Some of them were tangled up in the net and the pink jeep was floating in the ocean and on fire. The sounds of dozens of struggling actors groaning in unison were heard. Wrestling Superstar Virgil was hurt. Badly. Maryse looked on in satisfaction while Daffney licked idly at an ice cream cone that seemed to sedate her.
Maryse: La Révolution!
*Maryse threw a fist in the sky and the pair walked off.*