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E-volution of Women's Wrestling; Lohan archieves
Topic Started: Feb 19 2010, 11:40 PM (70 Views)
BLo
Advanced Member
[ *  *  * ]
Some recent stuff from MCW.

==

December 24th 2000:
Nature versus nurture. It’s a century old argument. Does our environment determine the person we are as adults? Or do our parent’s child rearing skills (or lack therefore) doom/bless us for the rest of our lives? If you ask Brittany Lohan she’ll tell you her terrible childhood, her hellish school years morphed her from what she was [a caring, compassionate, good girl] to what she is today. In three years, she has earned the reputation of a sadistic, sociopathic, blood thirsty psycho.

In Lohan’s demented mind her transformation began one faithful day ten years ago.

Brittany stood outside her light blown apartment door. Two small Stop and Shop bags, full of groceries; rest against the mango walls. She reached into her denim blue jeans, drawing out her keys. She inserts the key in the keyhole, twist the doorknob, pushing the door slightly open. Open entry we hear feint moaning in the distance. Ignoring her grocery bags, Lohan cautiously walks in.

She walked through the living room, heading straight to the back. She stands outside her bedroom door. Taking a deep breath, she pushes the door slightly open. The same feint moaning we heard earlier morphs into a full crescendo.

What Brittany witnessed shocked her. There is a red haired, malato woman buck naked, squatting on her boyfriend’s crotch. Thrusting up and down like pistons operating inside a Ford Mustang she screams. “Oh Trevor!”

Lohan football kicks the door open. Trevor and the unknown woman’s attention switches from their night of sexual ecstasy to a heart broken, irritated Brittany Lohan.

“Trevor!” Brittany screams.

“Baby. This isn’t what it looks like!” Trevor says nervously

“So you’re not fucking my best friend?”

“Brittany…” Brittany’s friend chimes in.

“Don’t want to hear it Sam!”

Brittany methodically approaches her soiled queen size bed. Sam, whose terrified for obvious reasons, dismounts a grief stricken Trevor. She slowly slithers off the bed. Her first instinct is to run for safe haven. Brittany has other plans. Before Sam can make a clean getaway, Lohan grabs Sam’s right hand. She forcibly clotheslines Sam, head first; right into the wall. Lohan spins Sam around, pinning her soon-to-be best friend firmly against the wall.

“Why Sam? Why’d you do this to me?”

“Please… let go… you’re hurting me!”

“You were supposed to be my friend Sam! Why are you sleeping with my boyfriend?”

“Look… I’m sorry. I’m really… really… sorry.”

“Answer my fucking question! Why Sam? Why!”

Trevor rolls out of bed. In an effort to keep the peace; he foolishly intervenes, pulling Brittany off Sam.

“It’s not her fault. It’s mines.” Trevor says

“You’re… protecting her?”

“No. I’m not.”

“Sounds like it to me.”

While Brittany and Trevor were talking, Samantha bolted out the room as if her house was on fire. Brittany, noticing her friend’s departure; returns her fury on her soon to be ex-boyfriend.

“How could you!”

“I’m so sorry Brittany. Didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Save it!” Brittany screams. In one swift motion; she smacks the Holy Ghost out of Trevor. “You wanted a prettier girl. Didn’t you? I should’ve known. All men want pretty girls. You use girls like me for practice. You were using me to get to Sam.”

“No. That’s not..”

“Don’t lie you son of a bitch! I thought you were different. I thought you loved me for me. You can’t love me for me. It’s all about looks. You were waiting to fuck Sam. She’s yours now. Go. Chase your eye candy. Leave me the fuck alone!”

Trevor tries hugging Brittany but is met with a punt right between his legs. He collapses to the floor, screaming in unholy pain. Lohan’s attention diverts to her queen size bed, she stares at a medium size green vase perched on small brown table. She approaches it, retrieves the vase. She returns to the site of her fallen naked boyfriend. She stands over him, raising the vase over her head. When he notices Brittany ready to strike him, he shields his face the best he can. Lohan stomps on his chin. Due to the immense pain, his hands instinctively leave his face, giving Lohan enough of an opening to drive the green vase straight into his skull.

With shards of glass surrounding him, Lohan rises to her feet. She turns to leave her bedroom. She stops at the door, returning her attention to her battered, unconscious boyfriend’s body.

She was justified to feel the way she did. Her boyfriend betrayed her truth.

Lohan didn’t anticipate she’d snap. Ten years ago, she never imagined assaulting anyone in such a sadistic fashion. She never anticipated feeling like an arctic blizzard after the fact. Her Freudian shadow has been brewing like fine wine for years, from the teasing she received from the beautiful people in middle school, high school and college. To the media throwing in her face that she wasn’t standard of American beauty, to truckload of guys ignoring her because she wasn’t blessed with a supermodel body, she was destined to unload.

Tupac said… “The Hate U Give Little Infents Fucks Everyone.”

MCW… consider yourself fucked
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BLo
Advanced Member
[ *  *  * ]
January 1st 2001:


Brittany Lohan sat patiently in the waiting room of a local California hospital. The only people in the waiting room with her was a young Caucasian couple in their mid twenties seated behind her. They were laughing, exuding clear signs of a fully functional relationship. The more they spoke, the more they enjoyed each other’s company; the more B-Lo drove herself insane wishing she was in their position. The couples words didn’t matter to her, she blocked them out in the sea of her own thoughts. Their desires to mock Lohan with their happiness bothered her more then their words.

She rose to her feet, looked over her shoulder, snarling at the happy couple. They’re too lost in the mist of their own happiness to care for her moodiness. Lohan walks down the urine snitched hospital hallway, ignoring the two female nurses she passes along the way. She soon reaches a closed blue door that reads “12”. She gazes at the chart sitting in the plastic holder. It’s confirmed, she’s standing in front of Trevor’s room.

Why was B-Lo here? Did she feel remorse for putting Trevor here? How could she? He committed the cardinal sin of any relationship, he made sweet passionate love with another woman, on the same satin sheets he brought Brittany for her birthday. He soiled those sheets with the sweat of her then best friend. As those memories rushed through her veins, she felt tempted to run away. She can’t. She doesn’t know nor understand why.

B-Lo looks through the small rectangular window. She sees Trevor lying under white cotton covers. His thick forehead is heavily bandaged, shielding the stitches she was responsible for. She notices Sam in the room with him, sitting on a small stool by his bedside. She snarls under her breath, offended Sam would have the audacity to check up on her ex-boyfriend.

Lohan pushes the door open enough to listen to the contents of their conversation.

Sam: Call the cops! Have’em put that psycho in jail!

Trevor: No, Sam. I can’t do that to her.

Sam: Your kidding me? She’s the reason you’re in here!

Trevor: No. We’re the reason I’m in here.

Sam: But—

Trevor: But nothing. I love her.

Sam: Excuse me? You love her? Even after she put you in the hospital?

Trevor: Yes.

Sam: I hate you!

Lohan hears Sam snarling at Trevor. Part of her wants to rush in there and dispatch of Sam but for now she’s content peeping in on the rest of their conversation.

Trevor: What we did was wrong.

Sam: Then how come this moment feels so right? I’m sorry, I’m not giving you up without a fight.

Trevor: It’s over between us. I’m afraid Brittany will hurt you. I saw the look in her eyes before she knocked me out. There’s something not right with her.

Sam: If she cared so much, why isn’t she here? Exactly. I’m here for you. I’ve been at your side the minute they wheeled you in here. Don’t worry. Brittany isn’t a threat to us. Knowing her, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was balling her eyes out right now.

Trevor: That’s mean.

Sam: I don’t care. I’m tired of her whining about everyone teasing her. You have any idea how sick and tired I am listening to her moan? I wanted to throw up. But I was a great friend. Well no more. You deserve to walk down the street with a woman you worth bragging about. I’m beautiful. She’s a freak.

Brittany heard enough. Did Samantha speaking ill of her shock Lohan? No. Lohan was used to pretty girls looking down on her. She storms down the hall, heading straight to the elevator. She takes one last look down the hall before the elevator door opens. She sees the down arrow light up, that was her cue…

==

Later in the day:


Like a hunter stalking its prey, Brittany Lohan sat in the passengers seat of her Black H2 Hummer. Staring out the window at the three story apartment complex across the street she saw Sam. Her rival pushed through the double green doors leading into the complex. Lohan opened her car door, her white Nike’s connecting with the concrete. She slowly approached the complex, pushing through the green doors. She gazed upon Samantha from a safe distance. As the red head reached into small black pocket book for her keys, Lohan figured now was the perfect time to unleash two weeks worth of pent up aggression. As Sam inserted her key apartment door; Lohan passionately burst at her, driving a vicious forearm into the back of Samantha’s head. The bone on bone collision felt intoxicating to Lohan. This was her second callous assault ever; her domestic abuse on Trevor was driven by a crime of passion. Her assault on Sam? She held this moment in her mind for two weeks, she allowed her darkest fantasies rot in the soil of subconscious mind. Its time for her vision to bare fruit.

Sam playboy body crashed to the wooden floor. Having her right where she wants her; Lohan backed up, charged full steam ahead, her hard soled boot meeting Sam’s exposed rib cage. Her prey’s muffled screams did nothing for B-Lo. She was more focused on the completion of her masterpiece.

Lohan pushed the door open. Grabbing Sam by her fiery red; she drug her through apartment. Lohan had to make sure to shut the door, she wanted no witnesses to bare witness to what she was about the do. Once inside, Lohan continued dragging her carcass into the living room area. She pulls Sam to her feet. Feeling Sam trying to escape, she tightens the grip on her grip.

Lohan: So I’m a freak am I?

Tried of Sam’s relentlessness, Brittany gorilla presses Sam above her head. She turns around, looking at Sam’s black leather couch. She flings her into the couch, her frail body crashing into it like an airplane submerging into the Hudson River. Like a tiger salivating at its prey; B-Lo saunters to Sam. She turns Sam on her back, and mounts her. Staring coldly into Sam’s eyes; Lohan utters with unapologetic vindictiveness

Lohan: So you’re tired of my whining?

Sam: Britt.. I don’t know what you’r—

Lohan drove her open right hand into Sam’s left cheek, the sudden impact feeling like the act of breathing for Lohan. Sam looked into her cold blue eyes; it was an expression she never thought she’d derive pleasure from. Here’s a woman she called friend quivering for her life. A normal person would feel the slightest remorse. For the first time, Lohan couldn’t experience empathy. Even in the most extreme circumstances, an attacker would have second thoughts about what they’re doing. For B-Lo, there is no second thinking; her dark fantasy had to see its completion.

Lohan. I was at the hospital. I heard everything you told Trevor. About wanting me in jail so you could have him.

Sam: Britt. I only told him that to make him feel better. I didn’t---

Lohan wrapped both her hands around Sam’s skinny neck. Watching her hardly able to breath, Sam’s eyes slowly creep behind her eye lids; giving Lohan a sugar rush. In Lohan’s mind it wasn’t about the infidelity anymore; it was about fulfilling the same sadistic urge she felt when she smashed her grandmothers green vase into Trevor’s temple. Sensing Sam is about to die; Lohan lets go. Sam coughs, feeling a sigh of relief.

Sam: I knew you couldn—

Lohan again drives her open right hand into Sam’s left cheek. Lohan slid her right hand into her pocket. Fumbling through the contents of her pocket, she withdraws what she’s looking for; a red Bic’s lighter. The terror flowing through Sam’s body brings a sick smirk to Brittany’s face.

Sam: You wouldn’t.

Lohan: You won’t die. I promise.

Lohan flicks the lighter, a small flame captures B-Lo’s imagination. She doesn’t care about Samantha desperately trying getting away; the toxic smell of the lighter is the object of her fascination. Done playing around, Lohan draws the lighter closer and closer to Sam’s fear stricken face.

Sam: Brittany. I’m sorry. Please. Let me go. I’m sorry!

Lohan stops. Sam smiles, believing her plea for mercy saved her from a hate worse then death. Brittany sets Sam’s long flowing red hair on fire. Panic stricken, Samantha’s screams are like Beethoven Ninth Sympathy to the monster’s ears. Lohan quickly dismounts Sam, narrowly avoiding getting caught up in her apocalyptic masterpiece. As Sam’s screams engulf the empty apartment, Lohan rushes into the kitchen, grabs an empty pitcher, and runs water into her. Taking her time, she returns with a half pitcher full of cold water. When she returns, she watches Sam rolling around on the beige carpet, trying to snuff out the hellish flame. Lohan finally offers Sam needed relief by dosing all the water on Sam.

Lohan grabs Sam’s right arm, dragging her to her feet. The putrid smell of Sam’s burnt hair; the tears of suffering is a pleasant sight to Lohan. She gazes emptily into ex-best friend’s damaged eyes.…

Lohan: Am I a threat now, Sam?

Sam nods nervously.

Lohan: You going to see Trevor again?

Sam shakes her heads nervously, letting Lohan know she won’t see Trevor again.

Lohan: You’re such a good friend.

Lohan rolled her eyes at Sam. She drew back her right arm, clinched her fist; and drove her cinderblock like jab right into Sam’s perfect nose. She watches Sam dropped to the carpet like Mike Tyson knocking out jabroni’s in his heyday. Lohan shook her hand, not used to beating the crap out of people, she jammed her hand. The numbness in her hand was the least of her concerns. She walks way, content knowing Samantha was scared mentally, physically and emotionally the rest of her life.
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