Post by Solitaire on May 14, 2017 9:48:07 GMT -5
“It is a curious situation we find ourselves in.
I don’t expect you to agree Ms Millar, if only out of spite.
I suppose that is always the case when you consider the industry we find ourselves in, albeit for entirely different reasons. We are all fuelled by the strangest things- some of us join in search of fame and fortune, taking an inherited taste for the violent and translating it into equally vicious dollar signs. Other seek something a little less tangible, something that doesn’t equate to flashy cars or diamond encrusted everything whether it be revenge, redemption or simply a place to belong.
Ms Millar, which side of the line do you stand?
I ask cause you are one for the crowd, of course there are other possibilities but they are far less mainstream and anything that isn’t inherently obvious clearly isn’t worth your time or attention. My semi-educated guess happens to be that you’ll say neither and perhaps attempt to spout of something designed to inspire and promote all this goodness, creating a gravitational field of positive influence around your darling daughter.
Were you never taught not to lie to children?
It appears not, but that’s a minor flaw in comparison to the others you have boldly displayed in previous weeks. Please don’t think I’m so ignorant as to not have noticed the way you regard me- what was the terminology, arrogance?
What one perceives as arrogance, another comprehends as a supreme confidence in their own abilities and unique perspective. It’s called backing up what you say, something I’m sure must be quite the foreign concept these days.
I suppose it must be easy for the word ‘arrogance’ to be tossed around, particularly by those who have been guilty of it in the past before ‘bettering’ themselves and suddenly becoming cured of the cursed affliction in the process.
If only it were truly that simple, if only it were a minor disorder to be beaten out of an unknowing sufferer instead of a choice made to be entirely obnoxious in the hopes that others might fall under the spell of self-imposed self-importance.
Oh how I wish I could say that you’re fooling me Ms Millar.
I might be a lot of things, thing I never claimed were good nor evil because I find it much easier to simply not pigeonhole oneself, only to flip-flop between fickle points of view determined by the time of the month. By my watch, I give it another two weeks before Ms Millar is condescending to the ungrateful masses she panders to now, claiming never liked them and that their false adoration meant nothing.
Of course it meant nothing you cheap slag, you cannot expect them to gift you with their reverence regardless of their intelligence and gullibility and expect that they will simply accept your bi-polar allegiances when it happens to suit you. After awhile, the respect you claim you give them is equally as false as what’s returned in kind.
Truth is Ms Millar, I still don’t take umbrage with you despite what you will surely sling forth in my direction with all the accuracy of a two year old wielding a flame thrower, not something I’d happen to recommend by the way. Responsible parenting and all that.
What I take offense to is the idea that I might simply be a pawn in a game of chess you are far too thoughtless to play with any conviction. While your championship intentions clearly lie elsewhere- I suggest that you consider handling your own shit before stepping neck deep into someone elses.
Stand back and watch Ms Millar, you might even learn something.
You see, unlike you, I happened to take advantage of an opportunity when presented instead of simply squandering it in the name of impressing the masses, proving an invalid point or simply wasting it on your total ineptitude. I didn’t hold this chance in my hands and believe that if this didn’t work, that another might simply be handed to me cause I’ve been around for a little while.
This isn’t how it works in MMA and while my interpretation of rules and regulation might be a touch fuzzy, I can confidently say that it isn’t the case for wrestling either.
Of course, what would you have to learn from me- I’ll admit I’m not as experienced inside the ropes as you contend you are, a fact I am still more than happy to debate openly, I am not simply a green little nobody wanting to play ‘big bad wrestler’.
MMA is a different beast no doubt, however the concept remains the same. While rules and regulations remain in place, the objective is to beat your opponent… I struggle to find where this concept fails to grasp you in all honesty.
Tell me though, is it the fear and/or loathing of submissions that bothers you the most Ms Millar, the idea that with a single foul swoop I could have you tapping wildly on the canvas for those precious couple of seconds before someone, for some reason, turns the lights out? Or is it simply the fact that the world is moving past you at a rate that you simply cannot match nor maintain. It must be terrifying, knowing you’re getting lost in the rearview even with foot flat to the floor- you were decent Ms Millar, but the bar has changed and you haven’t changed with it.
While my wrestling experience may be minimal, a point you’ll no doubt beat like a partially decomposed horse still sprawled out on the track, I still have enough tricks up my sleeve to efficiently roll you and magically pull a white fluffy rabbit from up my sleeve with an ace to spare.
Just remember Ms Millar, you HAVE to beat me… There is no technicalities, no loopholes. You have to, by some god forsaked miracle, pin me or make me submit- that’s the way this works. There is no maybe, no perhaps or what if. Beat me or don’t Ms Millar- cause contrary to popular belief, I’m not the one in this situation with something to prove- I have the gold already, all you’ve got is a handful of L’s and this fools glimmer of hope that Lady Luck isn’t going to take a day off when you need her shine the most.
It’s not a hard concept Ms Millar, I win. You lose.
Why must we over-complicate the obvious?"
******
“I hope I haven’t inconvenienced any of you by calling this staff meeting today.”
Truth be told I didn’t actually care by this point.
Perhaps that was what the stress had done to me recently, the constant juggling and ricocheting thoughts through my mind. Nikolay Vashenchko had been quiet, which had only served to put me further on edge, the constant thought that a quiet man was indeed one scheming or at the very least committing treachery and stratagem in his head.
He was due to arrive any second also, although I had deliberately neglected to inform my staff in the same way that Mr Vashenchko had been invited to speak with me under the impression of it being a more private affair.
It was oddly jarring, as the women started arriving, to see many of my employees outside of work attire and some in anything providing more coverage than an outlandishly exposed burlesque wardrobe. No doubt they senses the tension, it was written across confused features and on their lips as they quietly conversed between themselves- normally I would have engaged in these trivial communications however I had to keep my mind clear.
There was something I’d been planning on saying, only now I’d managed to find the words.
A couple at a time, they entered with some nestling small children on their hips and by the hand. It was difficult to recall at times, in the garish neon and borderline explicit apparel, that many of them had lives beyond these four walls. Husbands, boyfriends, children- sometimes not even their own. Something about that startling authenticity- the tattoos and piercings many prided themselves on suddenly disguised in an attempt to societally conform, make up normally extravagant and excessive now toned back to the point that some wore none and were almost unrecognizable.
Even those who’d ornately dyed their hair seemed dulled by the weight of compliance to a greater unspoken norm.
“I appreciate your attendance on such short notice, and I apologize if you have been put out of your regular routines. I shall endeavour to make this as quick and painless as possible in the hopes that-“
There was something about men in perceived power that rubbed me the wrong way, and I don’t mean in an outrightly feminist sense either. Nikolay entered flanked by two cronies, if I’d been in a better mood I’d likely have found it comical the way the bear of a man found himself almost led in by two much less imposing ‘handlers’ and secretly I was waiting for the whip to be cracked and the Russian to be forced into an awkward state of dance.
Another practice I didn’t condone unless the bear had the surname Vashenchko.
If he seemed surprised by the presence of staff, he did well to disguise it beneath a charming, yet frosty façade. Smiles all around, while a disingenuous smirk no doubt lurked just beneath the surface. He had come in with expectation, one I wasn’t preparing to disappoint.
“I trust you are well Mr Vashenchko, I hope you haven’t been put out by the last-minute nature of this meeting.”
He grinned at me the same way a bear might have grinned at an incoming wave of exhausted salmon, dark eyes and robust cheeks scattered with salt and pepper whiskers twitched in accordance. No doubt I’d interrupted something, and while the importance was irrelevant, and it brought an extra something into my confidence momentarily.
“For you, Ms Reilley, I am willing to make the time. No doubt it is something important, seeing as you have gathered together quite the array of people.”
It was an intended dig, he knew what I was going to say and was simply waiting to silently self-congratulate on his unspoken victory. Meanwhile my staff seemed more confused than ever, I should have felt more bad than I did however I had worked too hard and too long for this to be done any other way.
“I believe it to be important, yes. Important enough that I wanted to let everyone know at the same time.”
Nikolay must have been mentally rubbing his hands together, his cronies looking uncomfortable being almost paraded before what looked as though women from all walks of life had congregated for the sake of congregation instead of alternative gentleman’s club employees brought together for a spontaneous staff gathering.
“It has been no secret that for some time, Mr Vashenchko has made some offers to me for the property on which Ink Elite stands-“
Murmurs within the staff confirmed the theory, perhaps to a greater extent than I’d first imagined. None of them seemed surprised, although a few refused to hide their disgust even when presented before the man in question. Nikolay simply nodded, no doubt saving a possible explosion of celebration for later on.
“- offers that are beyond generous and far exceed not only the worth, but the price to which I originally purchased it a little over two years prior.”
I was stalling, trying to gauge a mixed reaction. Only Nikolay’s cronies, still with sunglasses on inside despite the perpetually dimmed lights, seemed unresponsive as though they might have died and an unusually immediate rigor mortis set in or that they were simply just overpaid assholes.
“As such I have taken the time to carefully consider the decision- on the basis that should the offers be accepted, Ink Elite would remain as is with the exception being that Nikolay would become the owner and I would simply remain on to ensure its smooth daily operations.”
It was difficult to keep the vitriolic notes out of my voice, and I hoped that I was the only one who had noticed my failure. Murmuring grew louder, however I had to remain ignorant for fear that distraction might have derailed what I was going to say next.
“It has been a rough couple of months as the negotiations have taken place, and I’m aware that my lack of presence at times can only have made things more difficult. Juggling two careers is never easy, as I’m sure many of you can agree, and therefore that also has weighed in on my decision.
I’d like you all to know, before I go any further, that regardless what happens from now- we are still what we always have been, nothing will change and nothing will stop us from remaining an inked elite.”
A few cheers peppered the group, I couldn’t help but smile as those little moments of encouragement further cemented my thinking that I was indeed about to make the right decision.
“Therefore, and I address you directly now Mr Vashenchko so that all may witness… I have finally arrived at the decision that I believe will benefit not only the club, but those associated with it.”
A deep breath was all that remained between a decision and the consequences that would surely lay beyond. Nikolay’s eyes glistened, if it has been appropriate I’m sure the man would have licked his chops like something out of a poorly animated cartoon. A deep breath never came, and yet the words tumbled out regardless.
******
“It really is a pity, if you happen to ask me. So much potential wasted on someone who clearly hasn’t the faintest clue why she’s this far over her head and only sinking deeper.
I want you to understand this very clearly Ms Millar, and I don’t plan on repeating nor mincing my words so some of this might happen to sting a little.
At one point you might have been good, hell you might have even been great… Now? You’ve become little more than a hypocritical ring rat who lacks anything and everything short of individuality and talent, scraping by on sheer mediocrity and the pity of those around her.
I don’t secede to the charity case, the never-was desperate to remain relevant in a place where the sands of change shift beyond her spatial comprehension, if she ever was to begin with.
An assumption to be made with an Everest sized pinch of salt.
You waltzed into this confrontation believing this would be a fair, clean match as though it was ever intended to be different- which makes it such a further pity that she dare try to sully my name by disparaging it on social media, influencing mindless cohorts looking to simply be noticed amidst the thousand other nobodies in search of a cheap golden rub.
I find it incredibly amusing the brush of negativity that I am so over-zealously painted with originates with the fact that she couldn’t simply remain out of the spotlight. There was no reason our paths should ever have crossed in anything more than a professional capacity and indeed that was the case until she practically begged for my attention once the Marquee title came into my possession.
Quite the oddity, I must say.
If only that were where the absurdities end, seeing as it was only after she’d drawn my ire that she hightailed it towards the top of the mountain with sights set on a goal well beyond her limited scope as though I might simply forget she inserted herself into my business.
Perhaps you mistake me for someone of equal intelligence Ms Millar, instead of my being overtly superior, or that you cannot comprehend that actions have equal and opposite consequences, by feigning ignorance of your faults you simply brought a fragile house of cards down upon your own head.
Yet somehow I happen to be the villain.
That is quite fine, I’ll play the villain in your precious pantomime while the other puppets frolic around you idly- those dishonest comrades preparing to bury you once the spotlight dims and someone else becomes proverbial flavour of the month. I’ll commend you for gaining favour with a certain Ms Grey who cannot seem to keep my name from her perpetual motion face hole, keeping her trained on you for even a couple of seconds- long enough to make pointless tweets commending you must be quite the feat.
It will indeed be a real shame when she moves onto a newer, shinier plaything that she can wind up and watch march in concentric circles.
Ms Grey- keep on disparaging me as much as you like, however when you are adequately prepared to accept an inevitable loss then feel free to come and see me. Until that come comes, one I expect shan’t be arriving soon because no doubt the keyboard is greater than the sword, I kindly request that you stay out of things that don’t concern you.
After all, I’d hate to have to be one of the long line of many to prove how false and utterly tragic you actually are.
Will you look at what you’ve done Ms Millar- all this dreadful social media nonsense has me quite up in arms that I seem to have forgotten myself, and you. Although I’ll admit I do find you rather… unremarkable.
Do tell, how long exactly have you been in LAW?
Long enough to have crafted a legacy worth detailing to your delightful child? Long enough to have made an imprint beyond the temporary lopsided sandcastle that is your crumbling reputation?
Long enough to know better than picking fights you are far to ill-equipped to fight, I'm sure.
Another riddle that I’m sure you’ll struggle to answer- how many attempts did you make to dethrone my predecessor, one I respect far more greatly than you can even begin to grasp, failed attempts I really should say.
After all, one can only assume that since she happened to reign for 400 plus days, that the attempts would no doubt be multiple instead of singular- you do seem to be the demanding type but I’d like to hear it from you anyway.
You may call it a fluke, call it dumb beginners luck or whatever trope you feel necessary to vaguely disguise your jealousy with. Remember that I did the one thing you never could, over and over you must have come so very close. Agonizingly so, if you don’t mind me saying- I can only imagine the way it must have stung knowing that you were never quite good enough to dethrone Ms Roberts… and quite rightly so.
While I’m not ‘arrogant’ enough to put myself on that level quite yet- I can safely say that I’m still well above you. Not a hard feat to achieve, and roughly on par with the difficulty it takes to distract Ms Grey from doing, well anything.
Oops, another name mention that I’ll surely be hearing about on twitter- how very quaint. Excuse me while I search the internet for a fitting witty reply to whatever nonsensical garbage that is sure to be plastered on my timeline upcoming.
Let it be known, taking on too much does not make you brave. Fighting a dragon with a wooden sword is not an act of courage, but one of stupidity and attempted martyrdom. I dare not make you a martyr Ms Millar for fear that others may feel the need to replicate your unreserved idiocy.
No, instead I hope following the inevitable loss that you shall face- that you will simply fade into obscurity with a shred of dignity so that your child may grow up knowing that her mother was only a partial failure at the only thing she seemed to be half decent at.
Do yourself that favour at least.
Amirai xoxo”
I don’t expect you to agree Ms Millar, if only out of spite.
I suppose that is always the case when you consider the industry we find ourselves in, albeit for entirely different reasons. We are all fuelled by the strangest things- some of us join in search of fame and fortune, taking an inherited taste for the violent and translating it into equally vicious dollar signs. Other seek something a little less tangible, something that doesn’t equate to flashy cars or diamond encrusted everything whether it be revenge, redemption or simply a place to belong.
Ms Millar, which side of the line do you stand?
I ask cause you are one for the crowd, of course there are other possibilities but they are far less mainstream and anything that isn’t inherently obvious clearly isn’t worth your time or attention. My semi-educated guess happens to be that you’ll say neither and perhaps attempt to spout of something designed to inspire and promote all this goodness, creating a gravitational field of positive influence around your darling daughter.
Were you never taught not to lie to children?
It appears not, but that’s a minor flaw in comparison to the others you have boldly displayed in previous weeks. Please don’t think I’m so ignorant as to not have noticed the way you regard me- what was the terminology, arrogance?
What one perceives as arrogance, another comprehends as a supreme confidence in their own abilities and unique perspective. It’s called backing up what you say, something I’m sure must be quite the foreign concept these days.
I suppose it must be easy for the word ‘arrogance’ to be tossed around, particularly by those who have been guilty of it in the past before ‘bettering’ themselves and suddenly becoming cured of the cursed affliction in the process.
If only it were truly that simple, if only it were a minor disorder to be beaten out of an unknowing sufferer instead of a choice made to be entirely obnoxious in the hopes that others might fall under the spell of self-imposed self-importance.
Oh how I wish I could say that you’re fooling me Ms Millar.
I might be a lot of things, thing I never claimed were good nor evil because I find it much easier to simply not pigeonhole oneself, only to flip-flop between fickle points of view determined by the time of the month. By my watch, I give it another two weeks before Ms Millar is condescending to the ungrateful masses she panders to now, claiming never liked them and that their false adoration meant nothing.
Of course it meant nothing you cheap slag, you cannot expect them to gift you with their reverence regardless of their intelligence and gullibility and expect that they will simply accept your bi-polar allegiances when it happens to suit you. After awhile, the respect you claim you give them is equally as false as what’s returned in kind.
Truth is Ms Millar, I still don’t take umbrage with you despite what you will surely sling forth in my direction with all the accuracy of a two year old wielding a flame thrower, not something I’d happen to recommend by the way. Responsible parenting and all that.
What I take offense to is the idea that I might simply be a pawn in a game of chess you are far too thoughtless to play with any conviction. While your championship intentions clearly lie elsewhere- I suggest that you consider handling your own shit before stepping neck deep into someone elses.
Stand back and watch Ms Millar, you might even learn something.
You see, unlike you, I happened to take advantage of an opportunity when presented instead of simply squandering it in the name of impressing the masses, proving an invalid point or simply wasting it on your total ineptitude. I didn’t hold this chance in my hands and believe that if this didn’t work, that another might simply be handed to me cause I’ve been around for a little while.
This isn’t how it works in MMA and while my interpretation of rules and regulation might be a touch fuzzy, I can confidently say that it isn’t the case for wrestling either.
Of course, what would you have to learn from me- I’ll admit I’m not as experienced inside the ropes as you contend you are, a fact I am still more than happy to debate openly, I am not simply a green little nobody wanting to play ‘big bad wrestler’.
MMA is a different beast no doubt, however the concept remains the same. While rules and regulations remain in place, the objective is to beat your opponent… I struggle to find where this concept fails to grasp you in all honesty.
Tell me though, is it the fear and/or loathing of submissions that bothers you the most Ms Millar, the idea that with a single foul swoop I could have you tapping wildly on the canvas for those precious couple of seconds before someone, for some reason, turns the lights out? Or is it simply the fact that the world is moving past you at a rate that you simply cannot match nor maintain. It must be terrifying, knowing you’re getting lost in the rearview even with foot flat to the floor- you were decent Ms Millar, but the bar has changed and you haven’t changed with it.
While my wrestling experience may be minimal, a point you’ll no doubt beat like a partially decomposed horse still sprawled out on the track, I still have enough tricks up my sleeve to efficiently roll you and magically pull a white fluffy rabbit from up my sleeve with an ace to spare.
Just remember Ms Millar, you HAVE to beat me… There is no technicalities, no loopholes. You have to, by some god forsaked miracle, pin me or make me submit- that’s the way this works. There is no maybe, no perhaps or what if. Beat me or don’t Ms Millar- cause contrary to popular belief, I’m not the one in this situation with something to prove- I have the gold already, all you’ve got is a handful of L’s and this fools glimmer of hope that Lady Luck isn’t going to take a day off when you need her shine the most.
It’s not a hard concept Ms Millar, I win. You lose.
Why must we over-complicate the obvious?"
******
“I hope I haven’t inconvenienced any of you by calling this staff meeting today.”
Truth be told I didn’t actually care by this point.
Perhaps that was what the stress had done to me recently, the constant juggling and ricocheting thoughts through my mind. Nikolay Vashenchko had been quiet, which had only served to put me further on edge, the constant thought that a quiet man was indeed one scheming or at the very least committing treachery and stratagem in his head.
He was due to arrive any second also, although I had deliberately neglected to inform my staff in the same way that Mr Vashenchko had been invited to speak with me under the impression of it being a more private affair.
It was oddly jarring, as the women started arriving, to see many of my employees outside of work attire and some in anything providing more coverage than an outlandishly exposed burlesque wardrobe. No doubt they senses the tension, it was written across confused features and on their lips as they quietly conversed between themselves- normally I would have engaged in these trivial communications however I had to keep my mind clear.
There was something I’d been planning on saying, only now I’d managed to find the words.
A couple at a time, they entered with some nestling small children on their hips and by the hand. It was difficult to recall at times, in the garish neon and borderline explicit apparel, that many of them had lives beyond these four walls. Husbands, boyfriends, children- sometimes not even their own. Something about that startling authenticity- the tattoos and piercings many prided themselves on suddenly disguised in an attempt to societally conform, make up normally extravagant and excessive now toned back to the point that some wore none and were almost unrecognizable.
Even those who’d ornately dyed their hair seemed dulled by the weight of compliance to a greater unspoken norm.
“I appreciate your attendance on such short notice, and I apologize if you have been put out of your regular routines. I shall endeavour to make this as quick and painless as possible in the hopes that-“
There was something about men in perceived power that rubbed me the wrong way, and I don’t mean in an outrightly feminist sense either. Nikolay entered flanked by two cronies, if I’d been in a better mood I’d likely have found it comical the way the bear of a man found himself almost led in by two much less imposing ‘handlers’ and secretly I was waiting for the whip to be cracked and the Russian to be forced into an awkward state of dance.
Another practice I didn’t condone unless the bear had the surname Vashenchko.
If he seemed surprised by the presence of staff, he did well to disguise it beneath a charming, yet frosty façade. Smiles all around, while a disingenuous smirk no doubt lurked just beneath the surface. He had come in with expectation, one I wasn’t preparing to disappoint.
“I trust you are well Mr Vashenchko, I hope you haven’t been put out by the last-minute nature of this meeting.”
He grinned at me the same way a bear might have grinned at an incoming wave of exhausted salmon, dark eyes and robust cheeks scattered with salt and pepper whiskers twitched in accordance. No doubt I’d interrupted something, and while the importance was irrelevant, and it brought an extra something into my confidence momentarily.
“For you, Ms Reilley, I am willing to make the time. No doubt it is something important, seeing as you have gathered together quite the array of people.”
It was an intended dig, he knew what I was going to say and was simply waiting to silently self-congratulate on his unspoken victory. Meanwhile my staff seemed more confused than ever, I should have felt more bad than I did however I had worked too hard and too long for this to be done any other way.
“I believe it to be important, yes. Important enough that I wanted to let everyone know at the same time.”
Nikolay must have been mentally rubbing his hands together, his cronies looking uncomfortable being almost paraded before what looked as though women from all walks of life had congregated for the sake of congregation instead of alternative gentleman’s club employees brought together for a spontaneous staff gathering.
“It has been no secret that for some time, Mr Vashenchko has made some offers to me for the property on which Ink Elite stands-“
Murmurs within the staff confirmed the theory, perhaps to a greater extent than I’d first imagined. None of them seemed surprised, although a few refused to hide their disgust even when presented before the man in question. Nikolay simply nodded, no doubt saving a possible explosion of celebration for later on.
“- offers that are beyond generous and far exceed not only the worth, but the price to which I originally purchased it a little over two years prior.”
I was stalling, trying to gauge a mixed reaction. Only Nikolay’s cronies, still with sunglasses on inside despite the perpetually dimmed lights, seemed unresponsive as though they might have died and an unusually immediate rigor mortis set in or that they were simply just overpaid assholes.
“As such I have taken the time to carefully consider the decision- on the basis that should the offers be accepted, Ink Elite would remain as is with the exception being that Nikolay would become the owner and I would simply remain on to ensure its smooth daily operations.”
It was difficult to keep the vitriolic notes out of my voice, and I hoped that I was the only one who had noticed my failure. Murmuring grew louder, however I had to remain ignorant for fear that distraction might have derailed what I was going to say next.
“It has been a rough couple of months as the negotiations have taken place, and I’m aware that my lack of presence at times can only have made things more difficult. Juggling two careers is never easy, as I’m sure many of you can agree, and therefore that also has weighed in on my decision.
I’d like you all to know, before I go any further, that regardless what happens from now- we are still what we always have been, nothing will change and nothing will stop us from remaining an inked elite.”
A few cheers peppered the group, I couldn’t help but smile as those little moments of encouragement further cemented my thinking that I was indeed about to make the right decision.
“Therefore, and I address you directly now Mr Vashenchko so that all may witness… I have finally arrived at the decision that I believe will benefit not only the club, but those associated with it.”
A deep breath was all that remained between a decision and the consequences that would surely lay beyond. Nikolay’s eyes glistened, if it has been appropriate I’m sure the man would have licked his chops like something out of a poorly animated cartoon. A deep breath never came, and yet the words tumbled out regardless.
******
“It really is a pity, if you happen to ask me. So much potential wasted on someone who clearly hasn’t the faintest clue why she’s this far over her head and only sinking deeper.
I want you to understand this very clearly Ms Millar, and I don’t plan on repeating nor mincing my words so some of this might happen to sting a little.
At one point you might have been good, hell you might have even been great… Now? You’ve become little more than a hypocritical ring rat who lacks anything and everything short of individuality and talent, scraping by on sheer mediocrity and the pity of those around her.
I don’t secede to the charity case, the never-was desperate to remain relevant in a place where the sands of change shift beyond her spatial comprehension, if she ever was to begin with.
An assumption to be made with an Everest sized pinch of salt.
You waltzed into this confrontation believing this would be a fair, clean match as though it was ever intended to be different- which makes it such a further pity that she dare try to sully my name by disparaging it on social media, influencing mindless cohorts looking to simply be noticed amidst the thousand other nobodies in search of a cheap golden rub.
I find it incredibly amusing the brush of negativity that I am so over-zealously painted with originates with the fact that she couldn’t simply remain out of the spotlight. There was no reason our paths should ever have crossed in anything more than a professional capacity and indeed that was the case until she practically begged for my attention once the Marquee title came into my possession.
Quite the oddity, I must say.
If only that were where the absurdities end, seeing as it was only after she’d drawn my ire that she hightailed it towards the top of the mountain with sights set on a goal well beyond her limited scope as though I might simply forget she inserted herself into my business.
Perhaps you mistake me for someone of equal intelligence Ms Millar, instead of my being overtly superior, or that you cannot comprehend that actions have equal and opposite consequences, by feigning ignorance of your faults you simply brought a fragile house of cards down upon your own head.
Yet somehow I happen to be the villain.
That is quite fine, I’ll play the villain in your precious pantomime while the other puppets frolic around you idly- those dishonest comrades preparing to bury you once the spotlight dims and someone else becomes proverbial flavour of the month. I’ll commend you for gaining favour with a certain Ms Grey who cannot seem to keep my name from her perpetual motion face hole, keeping her trained on you for even a couple of seconds- long enough to make pointless tweets commending you must be quite the feat.
It will indeed be a real shame when she moves onto a newer, shinier plaything that she can wind up and watch march in concentric circles.
Ms Grey- keep on disparaging me as much as you like, however when you are adequately prepared to accept an inevitable loss then feel free to come and see me. Until that come comes, one I expect shan’t be arriving soon because no doubt the keyboard is greater than the sword, I kindly request that you stay out of things that don’t concern you.
After all, I’d hate to have to be one of the long line of many to prove how false and utterly tragic you actually are.
Will you look at what you’ve done Ms Millar- all this dreadful social media nonsense has me quite up in arms that I seem to have forgotten myself, and you. Although I’ll admit I do find you rather… unremarkable.
Do tell, how long exactly have you been in LAW?
Long enough to have crafted a legacy worth detailing to your delightful child? Long enough to have made an imprint beyond the temporary lopsided sandcastle that is your crumbling reputation?
Long enough to know better than picking fights you are far to ill-equipped to fight, I'm sure.
Another riddle that I’m sure you’ll struggle to answer- how many attempts did you make to dethrone my predecessor, one I respect far more greatly than you can even begin to grasp, failed attempts I really should say.
After all, one can only assume that since she happened to reign for 400 plus days, that the attempts would no doubt be multiple instead of singular- you do seem to be the demanding type but I’d like to hear it from you anyway.
You may call it a fluke, call it dumb beginners luck or whatever trope you feel necessary to vaguely disguise your jealousy with. Remember that I did the one thing you never could, over and over you must have come so very close. Agonizingly so, if you don’t mind me saying- I can only imagine the way it must have stung knowing that you were never quite good enough to dethrone Ms Roberts… and quite rightly so.
While I’m not ‘arrogant’ enough to put myself on that level quite yet- I can safely say that I’m still well above you. Not a hard feat to achieve, and roughly on par with the difficulty it takes to distract Ms Grey from doing, well anything.
Oops, another name mention that I’ll surely be hearing about on twitter- how very quaint. Excuse me while I search the internet for a fitting witty reply to whatever nonsensical garbage that is sure to be plastered on my timeline upcoming.
Let it be known, taking on too much does not make you brave. Fighting a dragon with a wooden sword is not an act of courage, but one of stupidity and attempted martyrdom. I dare not make you a martyr Ms Millar for fear that others may feel the need to replicate your unreserved idiocy.
No, instead I hope following the inevitable loss that you shall face- that you will simply fade into obscurity with a shred of dignity so that your child may grow up knowing that her mother was only a partial failure at the only thing she seemed to be half decent at.
Do yourself that favour at least.
Amirai xoxo”