Slipping Standards
Dec 25, 2021 23:43:05 GMT -6
Post by Hunter Hearst Helmsley on Dec 25, 2021 23:43:05 GMT -6
[align=center] ![]()
![]()
www.tvinsider.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/Triple-H-768x768.jpg[\img]
His eyes narrowed as they drew closer to the arena. Even with the limousine windows raised completely, tinted so dark that it was nearly impossible for those filthy commoners to even so much as look at him... none the less, Hunter found himself repulsed to the point of shivers. Christmas always brought a chill in the air, but as Master Helmsley let his eyes focus on the mob of misfortune known as the poor and he had to fight back the venom in his words.
Hunter Hearst Helmsley:[\color] Would you just look at them? Those... cretans, how they gather like blood hungry barbarians- in hopes of bringing home a trinket. Maybe the dislodged eyeball or the airborne cauliflowered ear of some unlucky sod.
Pennyworth:[\color][\b][\u] Sir? ... ... ...
The servant had asked with his one word. The tone of uncertainty in his voice irritated Hunter even more, provoking him to roll his eyes as he turns away from the blood hungry heathens, now only gesturing to them whiled fixing his entitled and piercing glare on his tuxedoed assistant
Hunter Hearst Helmsley:[\color][\b][\u] Are you blind?-THEM! Those who have the audacity to take a proud and noble sport and....PROSTITUTE it. It sickens me to my God Damned core
At this Pennyworth swats the hunt of Hunter with his pocket handkerchief and wagged a finger at him in scorn.
Pennyworth:[\color][\b][\u] Tisk-tisk Master Helmsley. One must never go rogue and slip down to their level. Foul language is quite a slippery slope. Besides, there is no reason to fret. It’s not as though you would be setting foot in-well, in that dwelling
Hunter looks back out the window now, past the masses and now on the Halfway House that dared to call itself the “ECW Arena”. It was and would always be nothing more than a Bingo Hall. But still it made Hunter’s blue blood boil and he practically snarled thru gritted teeth; his eyes still on that Methadone Clinic masquerading as a wrestling company.
Hunter Hearst Helmsley:[\color][\b][\u] No...I will not be that humiliated. I work for the World Wrestling Federation now- the champagne of wrestling. But if I am honest... it isn’t pure. The World Wrestling Federation has that Philadelphia STINK that infests ever corner and crevice of this place. With the likes of Taz and Raven haunting the locker room how can it not? The fact is a plague has befallen this entire industry.
Pennyworth nodded, he too turning his nose a smidge high as he now looked to the decomposing structure that was at risk of collapsing on the Philadelphia natives at any moment.
Pennyworth:[\color][\b][\u] Are you saying that you already regret your decision to sign with the WWF? If so, I can have the legal team-
Helmsley cut him off short with a condescending smirk and some sharp words.
Hunter Hearst Helmsley:[\color][\b][\u] Do I look like a man who just breaks his word on a whim? Of coarse not!- Haven’t you been listening? This industry that I love, this industry that I have invested my time, attributes and most importantly MONEY into is now at risk of going to the dogs. Standards for what a professional wrestler have begun to slip and I can not... no, I WILL NOT allow that to happen.
Hunter nods in the direction of the ECW fans, his face showing that he obviously sees them to be beneath him.
Hunter Hearst Helmsley:[\color][\b][\u] Those rats are going to show up more and more. And when they do, they are going to bring their unemployed friends and bring down the entire value of the sport.
Pennyworth:[\color][\b][\u] What can be done?
This provokes a cruel smile to cross Hunters’ smug face.
Hunter Hearst Helmsley:[\color][\b][\u] Isn’t it obvious? I just have to do the unthinkable and roll up my sleeves and get my hands dirty. Violence really is the only language they understand and one by one they are going to see that Hunter Hearst Helmsley is FLUENT in it!... whatever it takes to have a return to form. To the rise of cultured competition... even if it kills them.
At this, Hunter does a half hearted toast with his remaining glass of wine. Pennyworth can only chirp in with a “well said sir” as the limo pulls away from the ragged ECW arena and towards the bright future of the WWF. A future that beamed even brighter not that a true man of competition and class was coming to save it.
[\align]
His eyes narrowed as they drew closer to the arena. Even with the limousine windows raised completely, tinted so dark that it was nearly impossible for those filthy commoners to even so much as look at him... none the less, Hunter found himself repulsed to the point of shivers. Christmas always brought a chill in the air, but as Master Helmsley let his eyes focus on the mob of misfortune known as the poor and he had to fight back the venom in his words.
Hunter Hearst Helmsley:[\color] Would you just look at them? Those... cretans, how they gather like blood hungry barbarians- in hopes of bringing home a trinket. Maybe the dislodged eyeball or the airborne cauliflowered ear of some unlucky sod.
Pennyworth:[\color][\b][\u] Sir? ... ... ...
The servant had asked with his one word. The tone of uncertainty in his voice irritated Hunter even more, provoking him to roll his eyes as he turns away from the blood hungry heathens, now only gesturing to them whiled fixing his entitled and piercing glare on his tuxedoed assistant
Hunter Hearst Helmsley:[\color][\b][\u] Are you blind?-THEM! Those who have the audacity to take a proud and noble sport and....PROSTITUTE it. It sickens me to my God Damned core
At this Pennyworth swats the hunt of Hunter with his pocket handkerchief and wagged a finger at him in scorn.
Pennyworth:[\color][\b][\u] Tisk-tisk Master Helmsley. One must never go rogue and slip down to their level. Foul language is quite a slippery slope. Besides, there is no reason to fret. It’s not as though you would be setting foot in-well, in that dwelling
Hunter looks back out the window now, past the masses and now on the Halfway House that dared to call itself the “ECW Arena”. It was and would always be nothing more than a Bingo Hall. But still it made Hunter’s blue blood boil and he practically snarled thru gritted teeth; his eyes still on that Methadone Clinic masquerading as a wrestling company.
Hunter Hearst Helmsley:[\color][\b][\u] No...I will not be that humiliated. I work for the World Wrestling Federation now- the champagne of wrestling. But if I am honest... it isn’t pure. The World Wrestling Federation has that Philadelphia STINK that infests ever corner and crevice of this place. With the likes of Taz and Raven haunting the locker room how can it not? The fact is a plague has befallen this entire industry.
Pennyworth nodded, he too turning his nose a smidge high as he now looked to the decomposing structure that was at risk of collapsing on the Philadelphia natives at any moment.
Pennyworth:[\color][\b][\u] Are you saying that you already regret your decision to sign with the WWF? If so, I can have the legal team-
Helmsley cut him off short with a condescending smirk and some sharp words.
Hunter Hearst Helmsley:[\color][\b][\u] Do I look like a man who just breaks his word on a whim? Of coarse not!- Haven’t you been listening? This industry that I love, this industry that I have invested my time, attributes and most importantly MONEY into is now at risk of going to the dogs. Standards for what a professional wrestler have begun to slip and I can not... no, I WILL NOT allow that to happen.
Hunter nods in the direction of the ECW fans, his face showing that he obviously sees them to be beneath him.
Hunter Hearst Helmsley:[\color][\b][\u] Those rats are going to show up more and more. And when they do, they are going to bring their unemployed friends and bring down the entire value of the sport.
Pennyworth:[\color][\b][\u] What can be done?
This provokes a cruel smile to cross Hunters’ smug face.
Hunter Hearst Helmsley:[\color][\b][\u] Isn’t it obvious? I just have to do the unthinkable and roll up my sleeves and get my hands dirty. Violence really is the only language they understand and one by one they are going to see that Hunter Hearst Helmsley is FLUENT in it!... whatever it takes to have a return to form. To the rise of cultured competition... even if it kills them.
At this, Hunter does a half hearted toast with his remaining glass of wine. Pennyworth can only chirp in with a “well said sir” as the limo pulls away from the ragged ECW arena and towards the bright future of the WWF. A future that beamed even brighter not that a true man of competition and class was coming to save it.
[\align]
