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   Chapter 37 No.37

Sheryl's Last Stand By Kerrie Noor Characters: 4804

Updated: 2018-02-07 12:01


He watched a group of men enter on skateboards with trousers so baggy you could swing a cat in them. He watched as scantily-clad Brazilian women entered the ring behind a steel drum band, and he wondered what connection Brazil had with Jamaica.

He had seen Martin Latino 'Pile Drive', sending the women behind him into a frenzy.

He had seen a wrestler called 'Mongoose' pull a snake out of a black bag; wave it about the audience a bit before tormenting his opponent with it. He had managed to sit through an eight-man tag team match called, 'The combat of injustice', which as one of the commentators put it, 'crossed the sacred line of justice'.

All this was accompanied by the howls and screams of the women behind as they called the wrestlers things that he was sure were physically impossible. Their language made Beatrice's 'earthy talk' sound like something out of a fairy tale book.

The only good thing about all this was sitting next to Sheryl, hoping one day that he could arouse in her the passion he now saw on her face; that he could make her round chest heave with such anticipation as it was now doing at the thought of Johnston entering the ring.

He sighed and offered Sheryl a chocolate.

As much as Steven hated it, Beatrice loved it. She got her first autograph from Uno Sumo. His main winning move was to sit on his opponents from a great height, which was then repeated at least a dozen times in slow mo

g on to the ring like a royal, he grabbed a microphone and began talking about his newly-discovered Scottish roots.

'All my life I have been a hard core wrestler!' he said 'With one eye on the ring and one over my shoulder, I have fought the best and beat them all.'

'You a true Scot?' yelled someone.

'Oooh, I love a man in a kilt.'

Steven heard it all and wondered what it was with women; give them a tight butt and a torso with more six packs than an off licence and suddenly they were talking like someone out of 'Loaded', or worse still, 'Cosmopolitan'.

'And now as I look deep into my soul, ' Steel began to increase the volume in his voice, 'discovering the roots...'

'What the hell is he talking about? What roots is that?' said Frank. 'Get a decent hairdresser, luv!'

'I HAVE FOUND A PURPOSE!' Steel yelled. And with the agility of a lap dancer, he began to strip off his sash and kilt, ending with a few robust pelvic thrusts.

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