Let's pretend that wrestling and all it's storylines are completely real
and that Samoa Joe isn't a total sweetheart.

JOE/OC HATE FICS R00L, AIGHT.
CO WRITTEN BY SENSIBLEHEART & PATTONESQUE


'Congrats, Dee. One year on the job today.'
Deanna Ambrosio sighed as she picked up the stack of files on Jim's desk, Jim had of course left hours ago, getting home to his family or friends, or possibly out drinking, oh man would she kill someone for a martini. This was how most of her Friday nights were spent now, filing and tidying up Jim's office. Kind of odd for a twenty five year old, right?

I switched off the light and took one last look at the dimly lit office, all nice and clean for Monday. She closed the door and waited to hear the distinct sound of it locking before she began walking down the hallway, listening to her heels click behind her. Sure, this wasn't exactly what she wanted to do when she was eight years old but it was still pretty great. Deanna had begun working with TNA after she had lost her job at some random place in LA. SHe got a call that seemed like fate a day later, from one of her best friends in the world. Shelly Martinez, yes, that Shelly Martinez.

Sure, they hadn't talked in three years since Shelly was touring the world with the WWE but who cares. Sisters are sisters for life, I always say. So, Shelly heard from a cousin, of a cousin, of a hairdresser's boyfriend that Dee had lost her job, so of course Shelly wanted to help her out. Shelly had just lost her job, talk about parallel lives right? Well, Shelly had just been signed to TNA wrestling, and they had an opening for a PA, so who better than her own best friend.

Well, Dee was no doubt great at her job. But it wasn't really what she expected, not very social and not too much fun. The only real wrestlers she talked to were the women, and the ones that were about to be signed, so after 365 days of working there she still hadn't been able to meet that fine peice Chris Sabin, am I right ladies?

"Shiiiiiiittttttt." She groaned, rolling her eyes to the roof. Not again, you clumsy bastard.
She sighed as she bent over to pick up the hundred of so peices of paper she had just let slip to the ground, as she wasn't paying any attention. It was 11:30 at night, who the hell was going to be walking around to see her bend over in a skirt, right?

"That for me, sweetcheeks?" And with that raspy voice, she felt an hand slap against her behind. She groaned, ready to destroy someone. It was almost midnight, she had missed Rock of Love on MTV and she wanted a drink, who was going to be stupid enough to smack her ass on today of all days?

She turned and stopped dead in her tracks.
Scott Steiner.