Imagine.....
Imagine... being Seth in this match and having to be all like "damn, Becky Lynch, you fuckin' fine, all sexy with your tight body and horrific androgynous monster face. I would totally have sex with you, both my character and the real me." when all he really wants to do is fuck another NXT whore in the locker room. Like seriously imagine having to be Seth and not only sit in the back while Becky Lynch flaunts her disgusting body in front the WWE universe, the favorable lighting barely concealing her stretchmarks and leathery skin, and just sit there, match after match, hour after hour, while she botches every move. Not only having to tolerate her monstrous fucking visage but her haughty attitude as everyone in goeilla tells her she's STILL GOT IT and DAMN, BECKY LYNCH LOOKS LIKE THAT?? because they're not the ones who have to sit there and watch her mannish fucking gremlin face contort into types of grimaces you didn't even know existed before that day. You've been fucking nothing but a healthy diet of tight athletes and high school dropouts and later alleged scat lovers for your ENTIRE CAREER coming straight out of the boonies in Buffalo. You've never even seen anything this fucking disgusting before, and now you swear you can taste the sweat that's breaking out on her dimpled ass as she tries in vain to stick it out and shake it suggestively at you, smugly assured that you are enjoying the opportunity to get paid to sit there and revel in her "statuesque (for that is what she calls herself)" beauty, the beauty she worked so hard for with personal trainers in the previous months. And then Triple H calls for another match, and you know you could kill every single person in this room before the arena security could put you down, but you sit there and endure, because you're fucking Seth. You're not going to lose your future booking career over this. Just bear it. Hide your face and bear it.
