Wednesday April 27, 2011
Pike Creek Aparments- Apartment 146
Indianapolis, Indiana
11:29 PM Local Time
“So, were we planning on driving to Salem and back each day for Terrence’s race or were you?.. Okay. So you want me to find a gym in or around Salem. Yeah, I’ll do that tomorrow. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Yeah. Rings at Eleven. Goodnight.”
I could hear Wendy’s voice wishing me a good night as well, but I was already pulling my Droid away from my ear, my thumb finding the button to end the call. Stretching lazily, I slid my phone onto my end table, and plopped down on my sofa.
Another day in the life of Daniel Pollaski complete.
I turned the television to ESPN, where they were running highlights of the days NBA and NHL playoff games, and picked up my laptop. Time to do one last final cruise of the internet before going to sleep.
I found myself fairly disappointed by the assortment of material. None of the new quizzes on Sporcle were all that intriguing, and Drudge was just getting more and more depressing by the day. Even ESPN, on the eve of the NFL draft, just didn’t seem to have anything worth sinking my teeth into.
Ah well, nothing left to do than check Twitter, then maybe watch a couple episodes of Red vs Blue before turning in.
Twitter was just as disappointing as anything else on the internet tonight, and I quickly scanned the latest tweets, finding absolutely nothing of any value whatsoever. I was just about to close TweetDeck when a new Tweet suddenly popped up.
FFWSupergirl: what a day what a FUCKIN' day...
My lips curled up in a sneer. Excellent. Robbyn Helmsley.
About five minutes after signing up for Twitter, I pretty much figured out that the most entertaining aspect of the Social Networking site was the absolute endless opportunities it presented to make fun of people. And there were few people on the planet who were easier and more enjoyable to make fun of than the former Evolution Champion.
Tonight might just have some level of entertainment value to it after all.
Except the more and more I typed, the more annoyed I got. It wasn’t that Robbyn was actually firing back with any good shots of her own- girl didn’t have enough brains to do that. I don’t know what it was that was grating on me. Maybe I was still agitated from being pulled aside by TSA earlier in the day. Maybe I was still cramped and sore from the flight back from Seattle. Maybe I was just bipolar or something.
Or maybe it was just all so mundane. I mean, calling Robbyn Helmsley a pathetic, attention seeking whore, in actuality, could only hold so much entertainment value. No, I needed something bigger, something better, something truly damning.
And then it hit me. I had been watching old Rori Snyder promos, trying to get a feel for her mindset (Not much of one, it turned out. Girl was just as dumb as her cousin), and I had remembered something about her uncle- Robbyn’s father, taking her under his wing and training her to wrestle.
The Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland had NOTHING on the grin that had come over my face. I knew exactly how to bring this little TweetWar to another level. I began typing...
@FFWSupergirl I have never met anyone so needy for attention in my entire life. I can understand it considering your parents loved your cousin more than they did you. But please... it's just irritating.
I paused. I knew what had happened to Robbyn’s parents, and this constituted as the mother of all cheap shots. It was as low a blow as anyone could make, and it would change everyone’s perception of me, and probably Wendy too. Maybe it wasn’t a good id-
Ah fuck it. ENTER!
The moment I typed it in, the feed got completely silent. It was almost as if some cyberbomb had gone off, and the survivors and witnesses were still in too much shock to react over it. I chuckled to myself as I envisioned Robbyn Helmsley, staring wide mouthed at her computer screen, tears welling up in her eyes.
She may be Supergirl, but I was mother-fuckin’ KRYPTONITE!
So, naturally I kept going, pouring salt, vinegar, rubbing alcohol, anything I could think of, into that wound.
It was an adrenaline rush, the kind you got when you kicked a homeless guy in the face for asking you for change. It was invigorating. It was liberating. None of this sunshine, lollipops and unicorns shit that Wendy was into. THIS was how you fuckin’ shot on someone. THIS was what it was all about. THIS was what happened when people stopped being polite, and STARTED BEING REAL!
And then, in my feral glee over ruthlessly ripping into someone over with my mad keyboard skillz, I got the one tweet that will forever define this evening as EPIC MOTHERFUCKING WIN.
DivaofExtreme: @Pollaskinator That's enough. You're being really harsh.
That was Isabella Pazzini.
That’s right. ISABELLA PAZZINI, one of the most brutal, sadistic, mean-spirited women in women’s wrestling history, actually said I was too cruel. The woman who had taken a bladed staff to Rori Snyder was actually BEGGING me to stop this. I tossed my laptop aside, and stood up, beginning to pace. The inner-beast in my chest let out a triumphant roar, and I almost did the Chuck Lidell victory pose right in my own living room.
Because I, Daniel Pollaski, was WRECKING PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET!
I turned back to my computer, snarling in ferocity. I wasn’t done yet. If I was going to let my thoughts out, I was going to let them ALL out. Fuck Robbyn. Fuck Rori. Fuck that whole backwoods family. I was gonna go get a camera, and I was going to...
Nah, fuck it. That was too much work. A simple column would provide enough of an opportunity for me to make sure the world knew what the Helmsley family was really like.
I stalked off towards the kitchen, ready to make a midnight snack. I was gonna need it- it was gonna be a long night after all.
Some little part in the back of my mind was telling me that I should stop right now. That this was uncalled for, across the line of any human decency. That there would be consequences for my actions. But at that moment, I didn’t care. For once in my life, I wasn’t going to be neutered by some idealistic expectations of my wrestler. I was going to be Pollaski.
Damn the consequences. Full speed ahead.
========================================
The following column was posted on WhirlyBirdz.com at 2:31 AM Eastern Time on April 28, 2011. It was removed at 8:17 AM Eastern time on the same day. However, copies of the column were later posted on several pro-wrestling news sites.
Hey kids.
Yeah, it’s been a few months since my last column, but what can I say? Some busy things have been going on in our lives. Namely, Terrence’s return to auto racing, and Wendy’s decision to join Femme Fatale Wrestling. Between all the traveling, orientation, acclimation, and ultimately, ass-kicking, its been a busy few weeks for the Pollaskinator.
Now that things were starting to settle down, I was actually planning on bringing back my unofficial Power Rankings column (now tentatively called the Fatal X... and still probably going to change) after the Breaking Point show from Oakland on Saturday. But recent happenings have driven me to the keyboard a little bit earlier than planned.
For those of you who follow Twitter (and dear God, consider yourself lucky if you don’t), earlier tonight I had a bit of a dust-up with one Robbyn Helmsley, and, to a lesser extent, her cousin Rori Snyder. If you want all the messy details, feel free to check out the feed. But here’s a general synopsis.
1. I signed on.
2. Robbyn Helmsley signed on.
3. Robbyn Helmsley annoyed me.
4. I completely and utterly wrecked her.
Now, I know that arguing on the internet is a lot like running in the Special Olympics- even if you win, you’re still a retard. However, in my defense, it WAS eleven thirty at night, and I had absolutely nothing better to do.
Some might also say that what I said on that feed might have constituted being a bit on the “harsh” side. Some might even say that what I said was just downright uncalled for and cruel. Those people may be right. In fact, they probably are.
Here’s the catch: I don’t really care.
I’m pretty certain that I’m not the only person in the world who’s tired of the daily drama spoonfed to us by the Helmsley/Snyder cousins. I just did a quick peek... did you know that those two girls have combined for over ELEVEN THOUSAND TWEETS? Seriously. And within a couple days, It’ll be over twelve.
And so what are these girls saying with all this copious amount of tweeting they’re doing. Well, a general synopsis of Robbyn Helmsley’s 8,500 tweets can be broken down into...
1. I love Belladonna
2. But I really love Cody Kincaid, but he chose that bitch Scarlett over me (Note: Good call there, bossman! Otherwise you’d have ended up with more baggage than a Samsonite factory)
3. Isabella Pazzini still wants me.
4. But all this doesn’t make me a whore! Honest!
5. Casey Magnusson is a jerk.
6. Oh, by the way. My parents are dead. Boo Hoo. Pity me.
Meanwhile, Rori’s even more limited...
1. Actually, Casey loves me very much and I’m happy we’re married. Despite all evidence to the contrary.
2. What’s playing on my Ipod.
Rinse. Wash. Repeat. Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.
If it turns into year after year, Pollaski’s gonna have to choke a bitch. Or two.
It makes me wonder, however, just how these two can actively train and prepare for their coming matches when they spend all day hammering out one hundred forty character ‘status updates’ and changing their profile picture every couple hours.
Oh wait, I just remembered Rori Snyder’s match record, and everything is explained. At least she has that win over Destiny Loveheart to hang onto!
It’s made me realize that the name “Future Shock” is appropriate for FFW’s talent development show. Seems to me that if people like Rori Snyder are, in fact, the future of women’s professional wrestling, sticking my finger into the nearest light socket actually sounds like an appealing prospect.
The problem is, my own client (that would be Wendy Briese, for those of you not paying attention) fails to grasp what a threat a person like Rori Snyder is to this business. Wendy’s quick to condemn the ‘unethical’ people, like Isabella Pazzini, as people who cheapen and degrade this business, but she fails to realize that idiots like Rori are just as detrimental, if not more so. And that’s why I felt morally obligated to write this column.
Because yes, Rori Snyder is an idiot.
Okay, so this girl is apparently a four-time state Wrestling Champion from High School. I’m sure she’s proud of that, even if she hasn’t exactly managed to get those skills transfered over into the big leagues yet. But maybe it’s just me, and I really hate to play fashionista here, but you would think that someone with an amateur wrestling background, who was proud of that, would come out dressed in something a little more appropriate for, y’know, WRESTLING. Like, gee, I don’t know, a singlet? Or for God sakes at least a pair of tights? Not something that makes her look like an extra from a Disney Channel Original Movie?
Of course, she comes out to a song from a Disney Channel Original Movie. Think on that for a second. Let it gestate, and then join me in asking this question...
WHY THE FUCK ARE PROFESSIONAL WRESTLERS WALKING TO THE RING TO DISNEY SONGS?
Honest to God, if ANYONE starts coming out to “Friday” by Rebecca Black, I WILL be forced to kill them for the good of humanity.
Speaking of killing, I’m sure we all remember now that Isabella Pazzini tried to do just that to poor Rori. Over the past couple of days, I heard several people (namely Wendy) wondering why so much more of a deal was made over Twisted Path’s attack on Tiffany than Izzy’s attack on Rori. The answer is painfully simple.
Everyone knows that the moment Tiffany recovers, Traci Loveheart and Victoria Summers are dead. I mean heart stopped, eyes open, tongue lolling out, flies starting to buzz, D-E-A-D.
After Rori Snyder’s recovery, what’s in store for Isabella Pazzini? Let’s hear it from Rori herself!
From my Twitterfeed, April 17 (before Wendy discovered that she would be facing Rori)...
Wendy: @RoriSnyderFFW Even so, I hope that you get your chance to avenge yourself against Isabella. You're the one who most deserves that chance
Rori: @WendyBriese I couldn't waste my time on Pazzini. What she did was wrong, but it's for a reason...
Wendy: @RoriSnyderFFW And what reason is that?
Rori: @WendyBriese simple, to get me over my fear of blood... I've seen blood and not passed out now for about a weekish...
Well, that’s a regular Hallmark moment, isn’t it? Isabella wasn’t being a monstrous bitch to get at my tag team partner, she was just helping me out with my hemophobia!
Personally, I can’t wait until THAT treatment starts showing up on episodes of “Dr. Phil.”
Okay, time out here for a reality check. Even if Rori Snyder was the most forgiving person on the planet, anyone with a brain should have seen the implications that attack could have had for her career. Namely, she had carte blanche to call out Isabella Pazzini for a match.
But no, we couldn’t waste our time on Isabella Pazzini, could we? Because, you know, getting to face the NUMBER ONE CONTENDER TO THE FFW CHAMPIONSHIP IS A FUCKING WASTE OF TIME.
Go ahead. Facepalm. Or headesk. Or both. I’ll wait.
I’m not sure if it was cowardice or stupidity that caused Rori to throw away such a golden opportunity for her career, but well, if she’s content to spend her life jerking more curtains than her husband jerks off to pictures of other women, well, then I guess more power to her.
But I feel obligated to warn Rori here. Facing Wendy in the ring is every bit as dangerous as facing Isabella. Wendy’s as nice a girl outside the ring as you can get. And once she’s in the ring, she plays by the rules as well as anyone in pro wrestling. But that doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous. Wendy does not go easy on people- she views holding back as a sign of disrespect. And I’ve seen Wendy dislocate limbs. I’ve seen her bust people open. I’ve seen Wendy knock people unconscious and send them to the hospital with a concussion. It’s not intentional- she doesn’t take liberties, but that’s what happens when you’re in a combative sport like this.
Rori’s not rolling around on a mat like she did in high school. She’s not facing a couple other greenhorn rookies who are still trying to learn their way around a sport. She’s in a full-scale professional wrestling WAR, against a seasoned veteran who brings her A-game every single match and competes with the highest level of intensity possible. If Rori comes to that ring expecting anything else but the most physically painful encounter of her life (and yes, that includes the Izzy incident), then this match is going to more resemble a Mortal Kombat Fatality.
At least then we’ll be certain whether or not Rori’s over her fear of blood, so at least there’s that plus.
So let’s get direct here: You’ve got one week, Rori. One week until you learn what professional wrestling really is. One week until you begin to wish that the doctors had waited another week to medically clear you. One week until your worthless hide is steamrolled into oblivion by the hottest new commodity FFW has to offer. Just take solace, as you’re lying there broken, that there wasn’t a damned thing you could do to prevent it it.
Although even if there was, I doubt you’d have the brains to figure it out.
Polla. Out.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
EPISODE 94: Dispirited
Tuesday April 19, 2011
The Rose Garden- Backstage Hallway
Portland, Oregon
11:31 PM Local Time
“Have a good night, ma’am.”
I barely acknowledged the doctor as I stormed out the door and began the long walk through the backstage hallway towards my locker room. Now that I was cleared medically, I just wanted to get out of this ring gear, out of this arena, and out of this city.
I didn’t care where, just anywhere but Portland, Oregon.
Considering what I had just gone through, I suppose most people probably would have been in a bad mood. Getting jumped by five people was never a pleasant experience- but considering all the factors involved- that it was coming on the heels of such a huge win for me, and those of us in X3 who still supported Brydon Talinsdale, and not to mention an attack perpetrated by the number one contender to my championship- tonight had ended on as about a sour note as you could get.
Even worse was that ever creeping cloud of doom that seemed to be getting closer and closer to me. Fatal Attraction was now less than two weeks away- just the Seattle Shatterpoint before the event- and the dread I felt about getting into that cage had only intensified. Flynn’s decision to throw himself in with Mike Powers and Madeline McTaggert was the last thing I needed to happen.
It irked me to think that somewhere in the building, the interim-CEO of X3 was probably laughing herself silly right now. She had gotten “Little Miss Sunshine” into the match she had wanted. She had gotten the perfect opponent for me- the winner of the first Fatal Attraction. And now she had Kevin Flynn squarely in her and Mike Power’s pocket.
I found myself wishing that I had done a little bit more than dropkick that woman over the top rope earlier tonight. I had no idea why McTaggert had seemed to have a personal problem with me, but I was quickly finding myself returning her sentiments.
As usual for the post-show hullabaloo, the backstage hallways were fairly chaotic as I stalked back towards my room. Most of the workers were either too busy to acknowledge me, or noticed my inherent irritation, and wisely stayed out of my way. Some, however, called out congratulations on my win, and a few careless souls even had the audacity to slap me on my back as I walked by.
I gritted my teeth in frustration, and clenched my fists at my side so tightly I could feel my nails digging into my palm. Normally I wouldn’t mind the unabashed adulation, but for crying out loud, couldn’t people SEE I was in a bad mood?
I had entered a staging area, a room formed from the intersection of two corridors. With my thoughts turned inward, and me pretty much still seeing red anyways, I didn’t notice the stagehand rolling up a cable- until I tripped over it, sprawling onto the floor.
All I could hear as I scrambled back to my feet were people laughing, as what they had just seen was the funniest thing ever. My cheeks burning with humiliation, I looked around the room. If people thought me falling down was funny, boy were they in for a treat in two weeks!
The laughter seemed to quickly subside when people realized that I wasn’t the least bit amused with my blunder, and a nervous tension seemed to fill the air. The stage hand who had been rolling up the cable rushed to my side. “Are you okay Briese?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine...” I assured him. Except I wasn’t fine. I was a dead girl walking, a target of some coalition hell bent on my destruction. And for what? Because I tried to maintain a generally positive attitude? Because I was a vocal supporter of the true owner of this company?
At least I had been. That moment, I didn’t feel much like singing the praises of X3 Wrestling, or Brydon Talinsdale. For the past three weeks, I had stood in that ring, fighting off Mike Powers and his attempt at an insurrection. Three weeks in a row I faced Johnny Rotten, one of the most unpleasant opponents I had ever dealt with. I had publicly supported my boss, his company, an everything else X3 stood for.
But where had the company been for me? Where were the loyal members of the X3 locker room when I lay semiconscious in the ring, getting stomped on by five people? Where was my boss as that witch Madeline continued to turn X3 into her own personal playground, doing everything she possibly could to hurt me and my friends?
Hell, for that matter, where were my so-called ‘friends’? I had stood in Ariel’s corner as she undertook the most emotionally difficult match of her career. I had spent hours talking to her on the phone, trying to help her deal with the emotional trauma she no doubt held inside. She couldn’t have given me five minutes out there to help even the odds?
No, she was just like everyone else- nowhere to be seen. Nowhere to be heard. It was PWX all over again. I nearly sacrificed my career to get the rightful owner reinstated as chairman, and I had been repaid by being flatout ignored. All the blood, all the sweat, all the tears I had shed... all they meant to anyone was that they made great package art for the DVD covers!
Pollaski was right. I was too much of a crusader, charging blindly into whatever I believed was right, without any regard for the consequences. Enough of that! So screw you, Brydon Talinsdale! Screw you, Ariel Shadows! I other things to worry about. I have a legion of psychos trying to kill me, and a venue to do it in. I need to worry about me for a change!
I looked over at my side, and I saw two tables, placed end to end. They had been set up for catering, and even at this late hour, half-filled platters of food, and a punch bowl, sat on the tables. I had helped myself to some of the food earlier in the evening, and it had been excellent.
But right now, nothing seemed like a more inviting target.
With a shriek of rage, I kicked out at one of the tables, sending it toppling over with a crash. I turned and grabbed the other table, and flung it with all my might, overturning it. The crystalline punch bowl shattered as it hit the ground, and the metal pans clattered as food flew everywhere.
And then silence. Everyone in the room had gone silent, and was looking at me. I could tell that some had fear in their eyes. Good, I thought. I was the Heavyweight Champion of the World. They had every right to fear me.
“Well, I thought the carrot sticks were a bit bland, but the food had to have been better than THAT!”
Furious at the irreverence, I wheeled around at the voice, and saw my husband standing at the edge of the room, his arms folded over his chest, his eyebrows arched. Seeing him standing there, all the rage inside left me, leaving me weak kneed. No longer did I feel like an abandoned crusader. No longer did I feel like an irate champion. I felt like a tired, frustrated, twenty-nine year old woman who just got caught throwing a tempter tantrum.
“I...” I couldn’t even bring myself to speak. I brought my hand up to my face, and wiped away a few more tears that had begun to leak out.
Terrence quickly pushed his way through the silent crowd of stagehands, and walked up to me, putting his hand on my back, and guiding me away from the wreckage I had caused. “Come on, let’s go,” he said gently.
The crowd parted as Terrence guided me towards the hallway, and I could see him nodding apologetically at them. “I... I should help clean up...”
“They can do it,” Terrence replied simply. “You’ve done enough tonight.”
Save for the occasional sniffle, I was silent as we walked the rest of the way back to the locker room. Finally, we were inside, and Terrence shut the door behind him. To my relief, the room was empty, my daughter, manager, and nanny were elsewhere in the building at the moment. With nothing else to do, I quickly began to get out of my ring gear, starting with undoing the golden sash around my waist.
Terrence, for his part, leaned against the door he had just shut, and folded his arms over his chest. “So you okay, hon?”
I snorted disdainfully, as I threw the sash into my bag, and knelt down to begin untying my boots. “Do I LOOK like I’m okay?”
“Well, no. I was more trying to start a conversation here. No need to go all rhetorical on me...”
“I’m upset, okay?” I responded shortly. “After tonight, I think I have every right in the world to be.”
“Well, yeah,” Terrence responded slowly. “But you didn’t have a right to trash the catering station back there...”
“I know,I know!” I said, jerking off my boots, and tossing them in my bag. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just was so... frustrated.”
There was another pause as I shucked my gloves, elbow, and kneepads. Finally, Terence spoke again, his voice still calm. “Well, no one ever said being champion was easy.”
“Excuse me?” I barked incredulously, turning towards my husband. “THAT was not part of being champion. Being champion is about representing your company, showing honor and respect to the prestige you’ve been blessed with, and being ready to defend it at any moment, against any challenger, in any kind of match. It does NOT mean getting beaten up by five people while everyone else just sits in the back watching!”
Another pause as I threw my pads into my bag, where they sat with the boots and my sash. Terrence’s voice remained calm, although there seemed to be a level of reproach to it. “You’re talking like you’re the first world champion who’s ever been jumped by their challenger.”
“And that makes it right?” I snapped, although my voice was muffled by the fabric of my tunic, which I was in the process of removing. I turned towards my husband. “And how many more are there Terrence?”
“How many... what?”
I sighed, and rolled my eyes. “Psycho Solider stood in my locker room, told me how much he respected me, and shook my hand. Next thing I know, he’s kidnapping people, painting Satanic symbols on my HOME, and trying to kill me in the hallway! Flynn tells the world that I’m the “real deal,” and makes everyone think that he’s turned over a new leaf in his life, and now he’s hitting me with Ultrasaults while I’m lying half-conscious in the ring! So who’s next? Jenova? Ariel? This new girl, Rachel Cole?”
Terrence blinked at me, seemingly surprised by my outburst. “Well, I don’t know about this Rachel chick... but if Jenova was going to do it, he’s already had a couple great opportunities to do so. And Ariel’s your friend...”
“Is she?” I shot back hotly. “I didn’t see her out there tonight, helping me.”
“That’s not being fair, hon. Everything happened so fast out there, none of us had time to react. Hell, I was on my way out there myself, racing contract be damned. But by the time I got there, security was already flooding the ring, and breaking everything up. She wouldn’t have had any more time than me.”
“Or maybe she’s been playing me for a sucker like everyone else!” I retorted. “Her boyfriend hates me, remember? Her best friend screwed me over... against Flynn, I might add. Who’s to say she’s not-”
To my shock (and utter displeasure), Terrence actually began laughing. “Wendy, if Ariel Shadows is setting you up for a patsy, she’s doing a HELL of an acting job to hide it. That girl admires you, Wendy, and she’s gone through hell for merely being associated with you. Don’t you get paranoid on her. Not now.”
I stared at Terrence hard, but said nothing. Finally, I turned back to my ring gear, removing my tights, and returning them to the bag with the rest of my stuff. Now clad only in my undergarments, I went to grab my street clothes.
“You’re tired, hon. And you’re upset, and I get that. But your mind is running wild, and its thinking of things that you normally wouldn’t imagine otherwise. Let’s just get you back to the RV. So hurry up and get dressed. Or don’t. I don’t mind seeing you like this.”
I shot my grinning husband a glare, then grabbed the yellow camisole that was dangling from a hanging rack. “I’m sorry for whining like this. Every week, I’m feeling less and less like a champion, and more and more like some dumb animal, getting lured deeper and deeper into a trap.”
Terrence again shrugged. “You wanna give it up? There’s always that option.”
“Not really. At least not now,” I said glumly. “Have you seen the preliminary buyrates for Fatal Attraction? It’s in the millions. Millions of people are spending money to watch Kevin Flynn kill me in an electrified barbed wire cage. I might as well oblige them.”
“Wow. Look at that self-pity go,” Terrence remarked, earning himself another glare. “You DO realize, hon, that the reason why millions of people are spending money on this event is that they believe you can win? That they’ve seen you overcome the odds so many times before, just in the last couple of months? Why can’t you do it one more time?”
I said nothing, just slid on my capris, and went to find my tennis shoes.
“The fans believe in you, hon. They think you’re inspiring. Who are you to tell them they’re wrong?”
I laughed wearily. “It just looks a little more dreary in my neck of the woods right now.”
“That’s because your neck of the woods is very tired, and needs sleep. Now come on, hon. We’ve gotta be in Baltimore by Thursday afternoon, and that’s a very, VERY long drive. Pollaski’s got first shift, but all you’re going to do is rest, and heal up.”
I nodded, and picked up my bag, but Terrence quickly took it from my hands, and put his other arm around me, as I left the locker room. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was just tired, and weary from an emotional night. Maybe I was just being paranoid about everything. Maybe things weren’t so bad.
Maybe I had a chance, after all.
=============================
Monday April 25, 2011
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:19 PM Local Time
[Well, so much for “Little Miss Sunshine”]
[Sure, Wendy woke up with a better attitude Wednesday morning, as the RV travelled through the great state of Wyoming on its coast-to-coast nonstop journey. And sure, Wendy called Ariel Shadows, and the two had a bit of a talk about the previous night, where any hurt feelings were quickly healed between the two women. And sure, Wendy even made it back to the Nest Friday afternoon, and with her and Pollaski having to fly to the Seattle show, that meant that the Thompson family got to spend Easter weekend in the comfy abode of the Nest.]
[But you wouldn’t know all that by the absolute sneer of disdain and defiance that has come over Wendy’s features as we fade in.]
[Wendy is sitting on the couch in the living room of her home, dressed in a pink pastel blouse and a pair of jeans. She sits even more rigid than usual, her arms stiffly at her sides as she glares into the camera. Without wasting much time at all, she begins to speak.]
“Well, I guess here we go again.”
[Short eyeroll, and a huff of irritation]
“X3 booking seems to have turned into a broken record. For the third show in a row, I team with Joey Jenova. And for the fourth week in a row, Johnny Rotten stands across from the ring against against me.”
[Wendy takes a deep breath]
“Rotten, Ms. McTaggert must be mistaking you for a piece of spaghetti, because she keeps throwing you against the champion, and hoping to God that sooner or later, you’ll stick. Three times now, three times you’ve gotten into the ring with me, and three times you’ve walked away unsatisfied.”
[Wendy shakes her head and shrugs]
“Now, the first couple of times, you could chalk up to aspects beyond your control. Jenova jumped you our first encounter, and cost you the match. I can’t deny that, or make any excuses. The second time, you had us beat, you just pinned Jenova, while Jason had me trapped on the outside. It was a sound strategy, and it got you the win, but if it left you unsatisfied, well, I can understand that.”
[A small smile, almost vindictive]
“But that third match, last week, you had your chance, and you failed.”
[Another eyeroll, almost as if she’s practicing her reaction for when her daughter starts passing off excuses as to why she didn’t do her homework]
“I’m sure Mike Powers, your insufferable mouthpiece, will come on the airwaves, saying I was dodging you. Saying that I sent Jenova out to fight my own battle for me. Say what you will, Mike, but you know the truth. I’ve no more ducked you last week than I did any other week.”
[A small shrug]
“We all know the context of the match. Someone had to go first, someone had to go second, and someone had to go last. I was chosen to go last, just as you were chosen to be in the middle for your team. All Johnny needed to do to get to me was pin Jenova, something he had no trouble doing at Shatterpoint 13. But Johnny let his hubris get the better of him, and Jenova got him with the sunset flip.”
[Wendy looks like she’s trying to supress a smile with that thought]
“So one more round, Johnny, and this time, you’re out of excuses. You’ve got the champion across from you, Jenova standing next to her. And standing next to you is the number one contender for my title. The two biggest threats to me in this company, in the ring together. If you can’t get it done this week, Rotten, you’re never going to.”
[Another derisive laugh]
“But Joey and I won’t be making it easy on either of you, Johnny. See, I too want to end this ‘issue’ between us. I want to shut your mouthpiece up, and I want to leave it in no uncertain terms that this attempted takeover you and your cronies have instigated is doomed to fail as long as people like Jenova and I are in this company. I want your defeat to send a message, in no uncertain terms, to Madeline McTaggert that whatever she throws at me will NEVER stick. And I want to send the message to your tag team partner that last week, he made the biggest mistake of his life.”
“And as for you, Flynn...”
[Wendy stops talking, and she takes deep breaths. Nonetheless, her face flushes a little bit, and she looks away from the camera, biting her lip. Finally, she tries again.]
“Kevin Flynn, you...”
[Again Wendy’s voice trails off. She runs a hand through her hair in frustration, and shakes her head. She takes another deep breath, and opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Wendy sits quietly for a few seconds, swallowing hard, her eyes blinking rapidly. Then without another word, she gets up off the sofa, and walks away, leaving an empty scene with just a couch A few seconds pass, and the sound of a door slamming is heard, before the feed finally cuts out]
The Rose Garden- Backstage Hallway
Portland, Oregon
11:31 PM Local Time
“Have a good night, ma’am.”
I barely acknowledged the doctor as I stormed out the door and began the long walk through the backstage hallway towards my locker room. Now that I was cleared medically, I just wanted to get out of this ring gear, out of this arena, and out of this city.
I didn’t care where, just anywhere but Portland, Oregon.
Considering what I had just gone through, I suppose most people probably would have been in a bad mood. Getting jumped by five people was never a pleasant experience- but considering all the factors involved- that it was coming on the heels of such a huge win for me, and those of us in X3 who still supported Brydon Talinsdale, and not to mention an attack perpetrated by the number one contender to my championship- tonight had ended on as about a sour note as you could get.
Even worse was that ever creeping cloud of doom that seemed to be getting closer and closer to me. Fatal Attraction was now less than two weeks away- just the Seattle Shatterpoint before the event- and the dread I felt about getting into that cage had only intensified. Flynn’s decision to throw himself in with Mike Powers and Madeline McTaggert was the last thing I needed to happen.
It irked me to think that somewhere in the building, the interim-CEO of X3 was probably laughing herself silly right now. She had gotten “Little Miss Sunshine” into the match she had wanted. She had gotten the perfect opponent for me- the winner of the first Fatal Attraction. And now she had Kevin Flynn squarely in her and Mike Power’s pocket.
I found myself wishing that I had done a little bit more than dropkick that woman over the top rope earlier tonight. I had no idea why McTaggert had seemed to have a personal problem with me, but I was quickly finding myself returning her sentiments.
As usual for the post-show hullabaloo, the backstage hallways were fairly chaotic as I stalked back towards my room. Most of the workers were either too busy to acknowledge me, or noticed my inherent irritation, and wisely stayed out of my way. Some, however, called out congratulations on my win, and a few careless souls even had the audacity to slap me on my back as I walked by.
I gritted my teeth in frustration, and clenched my fists at my side so tightly I could feel my nails digging into my palm. Normally I wouldn’t mind the unabashed adulation, but for crying out loud, couldn’t people SEE I was in a bad mood?
I had entered a staging area, a room formed from the intersection of two corridors. With my thoughts turned inward, and me pretty much still seeing red anyways, I didn’t notice the stagehand rolling up a cable- until I tripped over it, sprawling onto the floor.
All I could hear as I scrambled back to my feet were people laughing, as what they had just seen was the funniest thing ever. My cheeks burning with humiliation, I looked around the room. If people thought me falling down was funny, boy were they in for a treat in two weeks!
The laughter seemed to quickly subside when people realized that I wasn’t the least bit amused with my blunder, and a nervous tension seemed to fill the air. The stage hand who had been rolling up the cable rushed to my side. “Are you okay Briese?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine...” I assured him. Except I wasn’t fine. I was a dead girl walking, a target of some coalition hell bent on my destruction. And for what? Because I tried to maintain a generally positive attitude? Because I was a vocal supporter of the true owner of this company?
At least I had been. That moment, I didn’t feel much like singing the praises of X3 Wrestling, or Brydon Talinsdale. For the past three weeks, I had stood in that ring, fighting off Mike Powers and his attempt at an insurrection. Three weeks in a row I faced Johnny Rotten, one of the most unpleasant opponents I had ever dealt with. I had publicly supported my boss, his company, an everything else X3 stood for.
But where had the company been for me? Where were the loyal members of the X3 locker room when I lay semiconscious in the ring, getting stomped on by five people? Where was my boss as that witch Madeline continued to turn X3 into her own personal playground, doing everything she possibly could to hurt me and my friends?
Hell, for that matter, where were my so-called ‘friends’? I had stood in Ariel’s corner as she undertook the most emotionally difficult match of her career. I had spent hours talking to her on the phone, trying to help her deal with the emotional trauma she no doubt held inside. She couldn’t have given me five minutes out there to help even the odds?
No, she was just like everyone else- nowhere to be seen. Nowhere to be heard. It was PWX all over again. I nearly sacrificed my career to get the rightful owner reinstated as chairman, and I had been repaid by being flatout ignored. All the blood, all the sweat, all the tears I had shed... all they meant to anyone was that they made great package art for the DVD covers!
Pollaski was right. I was too much of a crusader, charging blindly into whatever I believed was right, without any regard for the consequences. Enough of that! So screw you, Brydon Talinsdale! Screw you, Ariel Shadows! I other things to worry about. I have a legion of psychos trying to kill me, and a venue to do it in. I need to worry about me for a change!
I looked over at my side, and I saw two tables, placed end to end. They had been set up for catering, and even at this late hour, half-filled platters of food, and a punch bowl, sat on the tables. I had helped myself to some of the food earlier in the evening, and it had been excellent.
But right now, nothing seemed like a more inviting target.
With a shriek of rage, I kicked out at one of the tables, sending it toppling over with a crash. I turned and grabbed the other table, and flung it with all my might, overturning it. The crystalline punch bowl shattered as it hit the ground, and the metal pans clattered as food flew everywhere.
And then silence. Everyone in the room had gone silent, and was looking at me. I could tell that some had fear in their eyes. Good, I thought. I was the Heavyweight Champion of the World. They had every right to fear me.
“Well, I thought the carrot sticks were a bit bland, but the food had to have been better than THAT!”
Furious at the irreverence, I wheeled around at the voice, and saw my husband standing at the edge of the room, his arms folded over his chest, his eyebrows arched. Seeing him standing there, all the rage inside left me, leaving me weak kneed. No longer did I feel like an abandoned crusader. No longer did I feel like an irate champion. I felt like a tired, frustrated, twenty-nine year old woman who just got caught throwing a tempter tantrum.
“I...” I couldn’t even bring myself to speak. I brought my hand up to my face, and wiped away a few more tears that had begun to leak out.
Terrence quickly pushed his way through the silent crowd of stagehands, and walked up to me, putting his hand on my back, and guiding me away from the wreckage I had caused. “Come on, let’s go,” he said gently.
The crowd parted as Terrence guided me towards the hallway, and I could see him nodding apologetically at them. “I... I should help clean up...”
“They can do it,” Terrence replied simply. “You’ve done enough tonight.”
Save for the occasional sniffle, I was silent as we walked the rest of the way back to the locker room. Finally, we were inside, and Terrence shut the door behind him. To my relief, the room was empty, my daughter, manager, and nanny were elsewhere in the building at the moment. With nothing else to do, I quickly began to get out of my ring gear, starting with undoing the golden sash around my waist.
Terrence, for his part, leaned against the door he had just shut, and folded his arms over his chest. “So you okay, hon?”
I snorted disdainfully, as I threw the sash into my bag, and knelt down to begin untying my boots. “Do I LOOK like I’m okay?”
“Well, no. I was more trying to start a conversation here. No need to go all rhetorical on me...”
“I’m upset, okay?” I responded shortly. “After tonight, I think I have every right in the world to be.”
“Well, yeah,” Terrence responded slowly. “But you didn’t have a right to trash the catering station back there...”
“I know,I know!” I said, jerking off my boots, and tossing them in my bag. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just was so... frustrated.”
There was another pause as I shucked my gloves, elbow, and kneepads. Finally, Terence spoke again, his voice still calm. “Well, no one ever said being champion was easy.”
“Excuse me?” I barked incredulously, turning towards my husband. “THAT was not part of being champion. Being champion is about representing your company, showing honor and respect to the prestige you’ve been blessed with, and being ready to defend it at any moment, against any challenger, in any kind of match. It does NOT mean getting beaten up by five people while everyone else just sits in the back watching!”
Another pause as I threw my pads into my bag, where they sat with the boots and my sash. Terrence’s voice remained calm, although there seemed to be a level of reproach to it. “You’re talking like you’re the first world champion who’s ever been jumped by their challenger.”
“And that makes it right?” I snapped, although my voice was muffled by the fabric of my tunic, which I was in the process of removing. I turned towards my husband. “And how many more are there Terrence?”
“How many... what?”
I sighed, and rolled my eyes. “Psycho Solider stood in my locker room, told me how much he respected me, and shook my hand. Next thing I know, he’s kidnapping people, painting Satanic symbols on my HOME, and trying to kill me in the hallway! Flynn tells the world that I’m the “real deal,” and makes everyone think that he’s turned over a new leaf in his life, and now he’s hitting me with Ultrasaults while I’m lying half-conscious in the ring! So who’s next? Jenova? Ariel? This new girl, Rachel Cole?”
Terrence blinked at me, seemingly surprised by my outburst. “Well, I don’t know about this Rachel chick... but if Jenova was going to do it, he’s already had a couple great opportunities to do so. And Ariel’s your friend...”
“Is she?” I shot back hotly. “I didn’t see her out there tonight, helping me.”
“That’s not being fair, hon. Everything happened so fast out there, none of us had time to react. Hell, I was on my way out there myself, racing contract be damned. But by the time I got there, security was already flooding the ring, and breaking everything up. She wouldn’t have had any more time than me.”
“Or maybe she’s been playing me for a sucker like everyone else!” I retorted. “Her boyfriend hates me, remember? Her best friend screwed me over... against Flynn, I might add. Who’s to say she’s not-”
To my shock (and utter displeasure), Terrence actually began laughing. “Wendy, if Ariel Shadows is setting you up for a patsy, she’s doing a HELL of an acting job to hide it. That girl admires you, Wendy, and she’s gone through hell for merely being associated with you. Don’t you get paranoid on her. Not now.”
I stared at Terrence hard, but said nothing. Finally, I turned back to my ring gear, removing my tights, and returning them to the bag with the rest of my stuff. Now clad only in my undergarments, I went to grab my street clothes.
“You’re tired, hon. And you’re upset, and I get that. But your mind is running wild, and its thinking of things that you normally wouldn’t imagine otherwise. Let’s just get you back to the RV. So hurry up and get dressed. Or don’t. I don’t mind seeing you like this.”
I shot my grinning husband a glare, then grabbed the yellow camisole that was dangling from a hanging rack. “I’m sorry for whining like this. Every week, I’m feeling less and less like a champion, and more and more like some dumb animal, getting lured deeper and deeper into a trap.”
Terrence again shrugged. “You wanna give it up? There’s always that option.”
“Not really. At least not now,” I said glumly. “Have you seen the preliminary buyrates for Fatal Attraction? It’s in the millions. Millions of people are spending money to watch Kevin Flynn kill me in an electrified barbed wire cage. I might as well oblige them.”
“Wow. Look at that self-pity go,” Terrence remarked, earning himself another glare. “You DO realize, hon, that the reason why millions of people are spending money on this event is that they believe you can win? That they’ve seen you overcome the odds so many times before, just in the last couple of months? Why can’t you do it one more time?”
I said nothing, just slid on my capris, and went to find my tennis shoes.
“The fans believe in you, hon. They think you’re inspiring. Who are you to tell them they’re wrong?”
I laughed wearily. “It just looks a little more dreary in my neck of the woods right now.”
“That’s because your neck of the woods is very tired, and needs sleep. Now come on, hon. We’ve gotta be in Baltimore by Thursday afternoon, and that’s a very, VERY long drive. Pollaski’s got first shift, but all you’re going to do is rest, and heal up.”
I nodded, and picked up my bag, but Terrence quickly took it from my hands, and put his other arm around me, as I left the locker room. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was just tired, and weary from an emotional night. Maybe I was just being paranoid about everything. Maybe things weren’t so bad.
Maybe I had a chance, after all.
=============================
Monday April 25, 2011
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:19 PM Local Time
[Well, so much for “Little Miss Sunshine”]
[Sure, Wendy woke up with a better attitude Wednesday morning, as the RV travelled through the great state of Wyoming on its coast-to-coast nonstop journey. And sure, Wendy called Ariel Shadows, and the two had a bit of a talk about the previous night, where any hurt feelings were quickly healed between the two women. And sure, Wendy even made it back to the Nest Friday afternoon, and with her and Pollaski having to fly to the Seattle show, that meant that the Thompson family got to spend Easter weekend in the comfy abode of the Nest.]
[But you wouldn’t know all that by the absolute sneer of disdain and defiance that has come over Wendy’s features as we fade in.]
[Wendy is sitting on the couch in the living room of her home, dressed in a pink pastel blouse and a pair of jeans. She sits even more rigid than usual, her arms stiffly at her sides as she glares into the camera. Without wasting much time at all, she begins to speak.]
“Well, I guess here we go again.”
[Short eyeroll, and a huff of irritation]
“X3 booking seems to have turned into a broken record. For the third show in a row, I team with Joey Jenova. And for the fourth week in a row, Johnny Rotten stands across from the ring against against me.”
[Wendy takes a deep breath]
“Rotten, Ms. McTaggert must be mistaking you for a piece of spaghetti, because she keeps throwing you against the champion, and hoping to God that sooner or later, you’ll stick. Three times now, three times you’ve gotten into the ring with me, and three times you’ve walked away unsatisfied.”
[Wendy shakes her head and shrugs]
“Now, the first couple of times, you could chalk up to aspects beyond your control. Jenova jumped you our first encounter, and cost you the match. I can’t deny that, or make any excuses. The second time, you had us beat, you just pinned Jenova, while Jason had me trapped on the outside. It was a sound strategy, and it got you the win, but if it left you unsatisfied, well, I can understand that.”
[A small smile, almost vindictive]
“But that third match, last week, you had your chance, and you failed.”
[Another eyeroll, almost as if she’s practicing her reaction for when her daughter starts passing off excuses as to why she didn’t do her homework]
“I’m sure Mike Powers, your insufferable mouthpiece, will come on the airwaves, saying I was dodging you. Saying that I sent Jenova out to fight my own battle for me. Say what you will, Mike, but you know the truth. I’ve no more ducked you last week than I did any other week.”
[A small shrug]
“We all know the context of the match. Someone had to go first, someone had to go second, and someone had to go last. I was chosen to go last, just as you were chosen to be in the middle for your team. All Johnny needed to do to get to me was pin Jenova, something he had no trouble doing at Shatterpoint 13. But Johnny let his hubris get the better of him, and Jenova got him with the sunset flip.”
[Wendy looks like she’s trying to supress a smile with that thought]
“So one more round, Johnny, and this time, you’re out of excuses. You’ve got the champion across from you, Jenova standing next to her. And standing next to you is the number one contender for my title. The two biggest threats to me in this company, in the ring together. If you can’t get it done this week, Rotten, you’re never going to.”
[Another derisive laugh]
“But Joey and I won’t be making it easy on either of you, Johnny. See, I too want to end this ‘issue’ between us. I want to shut your mouthpiece up, and I want to leave it in no uncertain terms that this attempted takeover you and your cronies have instigated is doomed to fail as long as people like Jenova and I are in this company. I want your defeat to send a message, in no uncertain terms, to Madeline McTaggert that whatever she throws at me will NEVER stick. And I want to send the message to your tag team partner that last week, he made the biggest mistake of his life.”
“And as for you, Flynn...”
[Wendy stops talking, and she takes deep breaths. Nonetheless, her face flushes a little bit, and she looks away from the camera, biting her lip. Finally, she tries again.]
“Kevin Flynn, you...”
[Again Wendy’s voice trails off. She runs a hand through her hair in frustration, and shakes her head. She takes another deep breath, and opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Wendy sits quietly for a few seconds, swallowing hard, her eyes blinking rapidly. Then without another word, she gets up off the sofa, and walks away, leaving an empty scene with just a couch A few seconds pass, and the sound of a door slamming is heard, before the feed finally cuts out]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)