Tuesday 30 August 2011
What the heck am I doing?
Today I met with Isabella Pazzini on the Baltimore waterfront. Since I had never really spoken to Isabella before, and we are going to be tagging together next Monday, I thought it would be a nice chance to get to know her. But, just how open, and honest, Isabella was with me was startling.
This is a woman that I can see is in turmoil. I think she’s realizing just how fruitless all that she had done in the past turned out to be. All the cheating, the backstabbing, the malicious backstage attacks... it honestly seems like she has remorse for them, and wants to put it all behind her, and atone for her actions. I find that admirable, that she’s apparently willing to face her past.
Equally admirable is that Isabella has come to realize that this ‘A-List’, much like the Power Trip and any other clique that Samantha has surrounded herself with in the past, is the absolutely last thing FFW needs at the moment. I’ve been in companies before where the boss decided to build themselves an inner circle of employees, and those times were some of the most painful, frustrating, and miserable tims I’ve ever had in this business.
But still... do I really want to stand up to them? When the only person I know who willl stand next to me is Isabella Pazzini?
Pollaski can make all the jokes he wants about the A-List not actually having many ‘A-Listers’ in it, but the fact remains is that we’re looking at five extremely dangerous women, led by a spoiled, conniving, ruthless she-devil who holds the vast majority of the power in this company. We’ve seen several examples in just the past few months over the consequences of annoying Samantha Star. Rose Astral. Nina Astral. Isabella Pazzini. Lord knows who else before I even arrived.
I don’t want to be added to that list. Samantha doesn’t just organize beatdowns- she arranges flat out destructions, designed to injure and humiliate her adversaries as much as possible. Obviously, I don’t want it to happen to me. No one likes being hurt or humiliated. But its the fact that I have a daughter that worries me the most. Opposing Samantha Star is a one-way ticket to having a hard life. Any difficulties experienced by me will no doubt be witnessed by Theresa. I’m already terrified that one day I’ll fall victim to an accident in that ring with Theresa watching. Do I really want to put myself even more into harm’s way?
But... and I have to keep telling myself this... it’s the right thing to do.
You look back at history, and the horrible, oppressive governments we’ve seen over the years, and you’re left wondering “why didn’t anyone stop this?” Why were monsters like Hitler and Stalin, Hussein, Gaddafi, Pinochet, Castro, and Franco allowed to wreak havoc on their people, and their neighbors, largely unchecked?
Because no one was willing to stand up to them. Everyone was too afraid of the consequences that would befall them, and their families.
Obviously, the situation here doesn’t even compare to the situations that were in Germany, Iraq, or Chile (although I would hate to think of what the world would be like if Samantha Star ever gained actual political power). And I don’t mean to cheapen the deaths of millions of innocents by making it seem that way. But if we can’t stand up to our boss in a wrestling company, how can we expect people to stand up for themselves when the true tyrants arrive?
Doing the right thing is easy when there’s not likely to be any consequences from it. It’s much harder when you know that it could bring you pain, suffering, humiliation, or worse. But those are also the moments when doing the right thing matters even more.
And that means standing up to the A-List, and not letting them bully me, or anyone else in this company around. And not because Isabella asked me to. Because this is simply what needs to be done, for the well-being of FFW. No one wants to see Samantha’s goons running roughshod over the company, that’s for sure. And maybe when the other roster members see me and Isabella standing up to these clowns, they’ll be willing to stand up too. There’s over fifty wrestlers in FFW, and there’s a grand total of five ‘A-Listers’. Even if just half the roster stands up with us, and tells Samantha that just because she owns this company, its not her personal playground, the A-List will be effectively kept in check.
Either way, I sense a bumpy road ahead in the FFW. I can only hope and pray that whatever does happen, myself and my family are kept safe through it all.
But I can’t let that stop me. Not now.
-WCBT
==============
Wednesday August 31, 2011
The Nest- Master Bathroom
Indianapolis, Indiana
11:32 PM LOcal Time
“You should try swallowing, I heard it’s sexier that way.”
My eyes narrowed, I glanced over at my husband, who stood leaning against the bathroom counter, grinning at me. Resisting the urge to chuck my toothbrush at him, I turned and spit into the sink, turning the water on to wash it down. “How is that sexy?,” I said irritably as I reached for the bottle of Listerine. “It’s disgusting.” I could barely stand the taste of the Arm & Hammer toothpaste as it was. Actually introducing that stuff to my digestive tract was hardly an appealing concept.
“I dunno, just something I heard,” Terrence grinned, as he grabbed a plain white t-shirt and slipped it on over his head. “So, you’re like Isabella Pazzini’s best friend now? Or...”
“Mmmm mmm mmm mm NM!” It was kind of hard to respond with a mouthful of Listerine. I leaned over again and spit. “Not really her friend. Just... someone she’s going to tag with. And have her back if the A-List tries anything stupid again.”
“Well, just be careful.” Terrence warned, putting some Arm & Hammer onto his own tootbrush. “The last person you ended up tagging with, you ended up marrying them. I might get jealous.”
Considering I was busy pulling my blouse off over my head, Terrence couldn’t see me smiling. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about there, hon. But thanks for reminding me. Isabella’s coming here tomorrow, and we’re going to cut a promo and then work out together. See if we can get this team to mesh at all.”
“Ah, what time?”
I shrugged, tossing my clothes into a nearby laundry hamper, then reaching into my closet for my nightgown. “She never said a time. Doubt it will be too early though- Isabella’s never struck me as an early bird type.”
“Ah well, I’ll probably miss her then. I gotta leave for Nashville around eight-ish.”
I stopped in the middle of slipping my nightgown over my head, and I looked over at Terrence, knowing full there was an expression of surprise on my face. “You’re going to Nashville?”
“Yeah, didn’t I tell you at dinner?”
“No,” I said, quickly finishing slipping my nightgown on, although considering I did it rather abruptly, I’m sure some of my irritation was displayed. “I’d have remembered if you did.”
“Om... wmf... smry” Apparently Terrence was better at communciating with a toothbrush and toothpaste in his mouth than I was. He leaned over the sink and spit. “They called a team meeting for tomorrow. Everyone’s supposed to attend.” He paused, giving me the look he normally did when he was deciding whether to tell me something or not. Finally he shrugged. “Probably what we’re going to be doing next year without Hamilton.”
I couldn’t quite leave the excitement out of my voice. “Wes is leaving Diamond Motorsports?!”
Terrence laughed sheepishly. “Jesus, I really don’t tell you anything, do I? Yeah, Wes got a ride with Tri-Star Motorsports to race in the Nationwide series next year.”
I grinned back, “That’s great, Terrence!”
Terrence’s own expression crinkled. ‘Great?” He asked quietly. “You’re happy that cocksucker got promoted?”
“No,” I replied, a little defensively. “I’m happy that you won’t have to deal with him anymore. Maybe your next teammate will actually know how to act like one.”
“Or maybe I’ll get bumped up too...” Terrence said, although the tone in his voice suggested as if he didn’t truly believe it would happen. In likelihood, it wouldn’t. Terrence had steadily improved throughout the year, but still sat in eleventh in the standings in his rookie season. Compared to Wes, who was in second, and had finished top five the last two years, the prospect of moving up wasn’t as realistic for him.
Besides, I wasn’t sure myself if I wanted Terrence to race at the next level. Nationwide was a more prestigious series, by far, but it also meant more dates- thirty-four compared to the nineteen races ARCA held. That would mean a lot less time together.
“With any luck though, they’ll give me an extention now..” Terrence said, flopping back onto the bed, his hands behind his head. “They told me they were going to evaluate it in October, but with their other guy leaving, maybe they’ll toss me a bone. Lord knows it’d be nice to have an assurance I have a ride next year.”
“You’ll get one. Everyone’s talking about how much better you’ve gotten,” I remarked, climbing into bed as well. “Besides, you still have four races left in THIS season to get them talking some more.” I leaned over, and kissed Terrence. “But no more Wesley Hamilton,” Or Andrea, I added silently, thinking of his little shrew of a wife.
I leaned over and shut off the lamp on my bedstand, plunging the room into darkness. Still, I almost expected my grin to be causing my teeth to glow in the dark, so wide it was. Only four more races, four more weekends until one of the biggest thorns in my side was gone.
If only the same held true to the thorns that existed in my own career.
Friday September 2, 2011
The Nest- Formal Dining Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:13 PM Local Time
BLACKNESS.
Then, finally, the words appear on the otherwise still black scene:
JULY 30, 2011
UNSTOPPABLE 2
HOW THE EVOLUTION CHAMPIONSHIP WOULD HAVE ENDED...
IF ROBBYN HELSMLEY WASNT SUCH A PUSSY
Now, fade in.
Theoretically, the scene would be a wrestling ring, set in the middle of a packed and screaming arena. But, in actuality, all that’s there is a mahogany table. It’s a decent sized table. Fairly high quality. Completely round, but with a crack down the center for leafs to be inserted.
Also on the table is a Robbyn Helmsley action figure, being held by a hand that would seemingly belong to an overweight adult male. Like, y’know, Pollaski.
Pollaski: “Robbyn Helmsley has just knocked Wendy out of the ring! I think she’s contemplating another suicide dive!”
Pollaski’s voice carries in from behind the camera, as it’s obvious that he’s playing the announcer for the match. Robbyn dances around a bit, as if she’s debating charging to the edge of the ring and jump. Suddenly, a Colleen action figure comes in, Robbyn’s immediately on the ground, Colleen seated beside her, the scene trying to resemble an cross armbar.
Pollaski: “Cross Armbar! Oh my god! There’s no way Robbyn is going to survive! She taps out in ten seconds!
Pollaski makes the Robbyn action figure writhe in pain for a few seconds, but doesn’t tap.
Pollaski: “Oh my God! Robbyn’s actually showing some heart! She might hang on! Wendy’s getting up on the outside!”
More thrashing in pain, but again, Robbyn doesn’t tap. Pollaski suddenly reaches down, grabbing Robbyn’s arm...
*SNAP!*
...breaking it clean off!
Pollaski: ‘OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! COLLEEN JUST RIPPED ROBBYN HELMSLEYS ARM OFF! ROBBYNS CAREER IS OVER! HOW HORRIBLE IS THIS!?”
As Robbyn writhes in pain more, Pollaski, with his other hand, has apparently grabbed a bottle of red food coloring, and is squirting it with an eye dropper all over Robbyn’s shoulder, a small puddle beginning to spread on the table.
Pollaski: “BUT SHE NEVER TAPPED! HER ARM IS RIPPED CLEAN OFF, BUT ROBBYN HELMSLEY NEVER TAPPED! FINALLY, ROBBYN HAS LEARNED THE MEANING OF HEART!”
Pause
Pollaski: “Although she probably is in too much shock right now to do anything. But BLEED!”
More food dye squirting.
Pollaski has the Colleen action figure stand up, still holding the arm. Suddenly, another action figure comes running in from the side.
Pollaski: “OH NO! HERE COMES WENDY!”
Pollaski has the Wendy action figure hit a very sloppy, stiff version of a Vortexiantor, spiking Colleens head into the middle of the growing puddle of ‘blood’. Pollaski flips Colleen onto her back, then drops the Wendy figure on her. More blood squirting onto Robbyn’s wound.
Pollaski: “One! Two! Three! WE HAVE A NEW EVOLUTION CHAMPION!”
Pollaski grabs Wendy, and has her jump around in victory.
Pollaski: “Wendy is the winner! Like we all knew she would be! And Robbyn Helmsley is going to bleed out and die because no one likes her enough to help her! This is a great day for FFW! But I think Colleen has a problem with it!”
Sure enough, Colleen attacks Wendy from behind, knocking her down. She then begins jumping up and down on Wendy, who’s face down in the puddle of blood.
Pollaski: “Oh no! This is barbaric! Colleen is such a stupid sore loser! Will anyone stop this? Yes... look... ITS DANIEL POLLASKI!”
There has yet to be a Daniel Pollaski action figure. So, Pollaski was forced to take liberties, and instead use a He-Man action figure. Narcisistic, delusional liberties, but liberties none the less. Colleen immediately falls to her knees in a gesture of supplication.
Pollaski: “Pollaski is here to wreak vengeance upon the stupid and bitchy! Colleen is begging for mercy! Will Pollaski grant it?”
He-Man swings Robbyns arms, and Pollaski’s real hands grab Colleen...
*SNAP*
Twisting her head off!
Pollaski: “OH MY GOD! POLLASKI JUST DECAPITATED COLLEEN AND SENT HER HEAD INTO THE UPPER DECK! WHAT POWER! AND WHAT A SOUVENIER FOR A LUCKY FAN!”
The now-headless Colleen lies on the table, and Pollaski squirts more red food dye all ove the place. He-Man stands triumphant, Robbyns arm still in his!
Pollaski: “Tonight is the greatest night in FFW history! Colleen and Robbyn are dead, Wendy is the Evolution champion, and Pollaski is the supreme dominant force in the universe! And now look! All the rest of the FFW locker room is coming down and thanking Pollaski personally!”
There’s a moments pause, and suddenly a moderately sized white bucket enters the shot, being overturned. Pouring out is pretty much every single FFW action figure ever made, intermixed wtih some other female ones (namely every girl to ever appear in either Soul Calibur or Dynasty Warrirors, and a couple of the Sailor Scouts). They all fall into a pile atop He-Man.
Pollaski: “What a night! There is an absolutely insane Pollaski-centered orgy in the middle of the ring! This is amazing! And we have to cancel the rest of the show, and make this our main event, because this is just too awesome! Good night everybody, and-”
Pollaski’s voice trails off and, the camera slowly turns upwards, to see Wendy Briese standing in the door way of the kitchen, looking fairly disgusted, horrified, and furious at the same time.
Wendy: “What are you doing?”
Pollaski: “Presenting an idealized version of prior events.”
Given by the expression on Wendy’s face, it’s likely that, outside the part about her winning, there’s nothing of the scenario that she would find ideal.
Wendy: “Right. Well, in the future, could you present your ‘ideal situation’ in a more ideal setting? Namely, not my nice table? I swear, Dan... if that food dye stains the wood...”
Pollaski sets to clearing the action figures off the table, grabbing them by the handfulls, and dumping them into the bucket. Wendy disappears around the corner for a second, but quickly returns holding a roll of paper towels, and a bottle of Spic and Span. As Pollaski chucks the last of the action figures into the bucket, Wendy rips off several long sheets of paper towels, and begins soaking up the dye. She pauses, and picks up the severed arm of Robbyn Helmsly, looking at it.
Wendy: “You know, that wouldn’t have happened either. I was almost there to save her.”
She’s trying, but not quite succeeding at keeping the bitterness from her voice.
Pollaski: “You sound bitter.”
See?
Wendy: “Ever since that night, I’ve tried not to blame losing that match on her. It was just as much my fault for being too slow, and just as much to Colleen’s credit by capitalizing on the situation. But DANG it... if Robbyn Helmsley could have held on for another five seconds. I know... no ‘woulda-coulda-shouldas’... but still. It just stinks when you lose knowing you fully well could have done more and better in that match.”
Wendy shoots her manager a dejected half-smile, and procures some more paper towel to soak up the red dye.
Pollaski: “Well, look on the bright side. Robbyn’s pretty much blown her credibility with her lack of heart and her constant psychotic meltdowns. She gets to play around with her ex-girlfriend, and leave serious business like the Evolution Championship to the grown-ups.”
Wendy can’t help but smile at that.
Wendy: “I’m lucky to be back in the picture myself... at least so quickly. I thought that it’d take more than a win over Whitley Mercer to get back here, but... here I am! And from the sounds of things, I actually have Wolf Ramsey to thank for that. I guess I’m honored that he figured that I’m the best person to be a part of his final revenge on Colleen.”
Pollaski doesn’t quite sound too happy that another manager is going to get to claim credit for this.
Pollaski: “Well, any idiot can see that outside of Tara’s official status as number one contender, you have just as much a claim to that belt as anyone else in the locker room. If Wolf wants Colleen to lose, he should go for the best chance he has. It’s a shame Camilla Pazzini probably has other plans. That tends to be a sure-thing where Colleen is concerned.”
Wendy snorts, shaking her head, mostly at the thought of Chunks in a ladder match.
Wendy: “Either way, I’m here. And now, more than ever, I have to deliver the goods.”
She looks over at her manager, her expression dead serious.
Wendy: “This is as much of a ‘must-win match’ as any I’ve ever competed in.”
Wendy leans back over the table, grabbing the now-red soaked paper towels, and setting them aside, then picking up the bottle of Spic & Span, and spraying a fairly liberal amount of the chemical onto the table. It should be noted that Pollaski, despite being the one who made the mess, hasn’t done a damn thing to help with the cleanup, other than picking up the action figures.
Wendy: “People seem to think I’m an eternal optimist, and maybe I am. But I’m not clueless, and I’ve been around long enough to know how things work. So I could stand here all day and say that I’m never going to give up, no matter how many times I come up short, I’m still going to be pressing on, until that Evolution Championship is in my hand. But let’s be honest- that’s not how the wrestling world works.”
Wendy pauses, looking at the table, and then spraying some more chemicals.
Wendy: “You only get so many chances at a title in this business. Especially in FFW, when every single title picture is completely loaded, and titles are defended monthly at the most. Title shots mean something here, so when you blow it once, and are immediately given a second chance, it would be unwise to blow it again. I wanted a second chance, I got it. I’m not getting a third. At least anytime soon. So the best thing for me to do is not need one.”
A small smile as she wipes up more of the dye.
Wendy: “Honestly, I like my chances here. I’ve been in ladder matches before, and I know the key to winning them. They reward the quick and agile, and I’m as fast as anyone on this roster. They also reward those who have heart, because it takes a considerable amount of it to get back up after being pushed off a ladder. Trust me, no one’s gotten better over the years at getting up after being knocked down than I have.”
A small, self-deprecating smile.
Wendy: “And I don’t think it’s a secret that Colleen detests ladder matches- heck, I’m pretty sure that’s one of the reasons why Wolf chose this to be a ladder match in the first place. And Tara... well, she’s a good wrestler. But she seems to be the impatient type. And, perhaps even more than agility and speed, ladder matches require patience. Because they are quite possibly the most frustrating type of match you can be in. One minute, you’re at the top of the ladder, the title belt in your grasp, all you have to do is unhook it, and the next, you’re falling, landing, wracked in a world of pain, back to square one. You have to be able to shrug off the disappointment and the pain, get back up, and keep going.”
Wendy seems to have finished the table, and she tosses the last of the paper towels into a nearby trashcan, then turns, admiring her handiwork.
Pollaski: “Well, maybe you’ll get off easy then. Maybe Colleen will be so busy bitching about how ladder matches aren’t ‘real’ wrestling, and Tara will be so busy throwing a tantrum about... whatever the hell Tara Thunder throws tantrums about... you’ll be able to waltz right up that ladder.”
Wendy bursts out laughing, shaking her head.
Wendy: “I doubt it will be that easy. There’s no such thing as an easy match in FFW. But there’s also no such thing as an unwinnable match, either. But if I want to be considered one of the top wrestlers in FFW, I need to start winning matches like this. When it comes to the Evolution Championship, I’m out of shots, and I’m out of excuses. Either I deliver the goods here, or...”
Wendy’s voice trails off, unwilling to finish the sentence.
Pollaski: “Well, you’re about the only wrestler in FFW who’s actually capapble of keeping herself in perspective. So you know what’s at stake. You won’t let yourself come up short. Not this time.”
Wendy: “No...”
Wendy’s bending over, picking something up off the ground. She stands back up- Coleen’s tiny action figure head in her hands. She casually walks over, holding her hand out, over the garbage.
Wendy: “I won’t.”
Wendy drops Colleen’s head into the trash, and the scene fades.
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