From the private journal of Wendy Briese
15 August AD 2011
And so once again, things change.
Ever since Terrence and I returned to wrestling seventeen months ago, we’ve lived a life constantly on the go. Running from one show to the next, coming back home, only for just a couple days rest, before it’s back on the road to the next one. It was tough, especially at first, but the addition of the RV made things so much easier. After all- when you can sleep in a familiar bed each night, and wake up and eat breakfast at the same table each morning, it never truly feels like you’ve left home.
But, of course, I’d worry most about how Theresa would handle it. She’s done remarkably well, given the circumstances. I think part of it can be owed to the fact that my little girl is so bright, and tough, and eager for adventure. And Terrence and I have done everything we could to make the trips as exciting for her as they were necessary for us. The Grand Canyon Skywalk. The Santa Monica Pier. The Atlanta Aquarium. Wrigley Field. Times Square. Theresa’s been more places and seen more things in her first five years than many get to in a lifetime
Tomorrow, that all comes to an end.
Ever since I returned to wrestling, the knowledge that sooner or later my daughter would start school has both excited me and filled me with dread. Obviously, the beginning of school is a notable milestone- it marks the end of early childhood, and the beginning of a thirteen year process designed to transform the American child into an adult ready to take on the world. But it also marks the end of an era for us. An era where our family could live together on the road.
I’ve wrestled with how to handle this change as fiercely as I’ve wrestled any opponent inside that ring. I thought about retiring, but ultimately decided that doing so was unnecessary, especially considering the relatively light schedule that FFW offers. I also thought about tutoring- either Cassie or I (or both) getting qualified as a homeschooler, and educating my daughter that way. But I don’t want Theresa to grow up in a bubble. She needs to interact with other children, and see what the world is like outside of our house and RV. She wouldn’t be able to do that tucked away inside our house.
All the decisions Terrence and I have had to make have been reeling. Ultimately, we chose to send her to AM kindergarten at the public school. And even then, I’m wondering, did we make the best decision? Should I have sent her to St. Anthony’s? All-day kindergarten? Did I make the right decisions concerning Theresa’s education?
I guess only time will tell. Tomorrow, it won’t be about whether I made the right decision or not. It’s about turning the page in Theresa’s life, and sending her off as she embarks on that wonderful journey, one that will conclude just before her eighteenth birthday.
And the greatest honor of all is knowing that I’ll be there as well, to help and guide her on the road.
-WCBT
==========================
Tuesday August 16, 2011
The Nest- Entryway
Indianapolis, Indiana
7:34 AM Local Time
“Hold still, Theresa. Just for a second. And smile!”
I steadied the camera I was holding in my hand, and aimed it directly at my daughter, who stood patiently, her back against the wall. A bright flash and a click later, and I glanced down at the viewscreen of the camera. “Oh, you look beautiful...” I breathed. Indeed, in her navy blue short-sleeved polo shirt and pants, and shiny white tennis shoes, with her long brown hair held back by a matching headband, my daughter looked absolutely radiant.
Theresa, of course, only shrugged at my praise, merely glad to have the picture taking ritual over and done with. She tugged at the small black backpack, and waited patiently as I continued to look at the picture.
“Okay, gotta go.” Terrence walked into the hallway behind us, his voice impatient. “State law says that if she’s late on the first day, they get to keep her.”
“Terrence...” I warned, looking at him in exasperation. I looked my husband up and down, and frowned. “We’re supposed to bring two boxes of Kleenex. Where are they?”
“Already in the car,” Terrence said patiently.
“Okay, and we have the check for her supplies here... Theresa, do you have your backpack?”
“Its on her back...”
“Okay, and I have the camera. Is there anything else we need? I knew I should have made a checklist...”
“Wendy,” Terrence said, his voice a mixture of calm and irritation. “She’s not going to boarding school or anything. It’s a three hour kindergarten class. One that we’re going to be late for if we don’t like, leave now.”
“O... okay.” I finally said, breathing a sigh of frustration. It really felt like I was forgetting something. Or maybe I was just being paranoid again. “Alright, let’s go. You ready, Theresa?”
Theresa nodded, and the three of us turned, and walked out of the foyer, to the door, and outside. It was a perfect morning for school to begin- the sun peeking over the trees, only a couple puffy white clouds hanging in the aquamarine colored sky. The temperature was in the lower sixties- cool, but with hints that it was going to be fairly warm come afternoon.
As usual, Terrence’s cherry-red 1971 Dodge Charger sat in the driveway, it’s bumper having been reattached since Unstoppable 2. However, there was still a dent in the hood from where Shane had been sent flying onto the hood. Terrence looked at the car, and grimaced.
“That reminds me, have you talked to Rori yet? About the damages she caused to my car?”
I snorted, and shook my head. “Yes,” I sighed, as I opened the door, and helped Theresa climb into the backseat. “She was fairly... unreceptive of the idea of paying damages.”
“Is that so?” Terrence snorted, climbing into the car and taking the wheel. “Maybe I should have a little talk with her myself.”
“Good luck with that,” I muttered, as Terrence started the engine, popped the Charger in reverse, backed out of the driveway, and began the drive up Wabash Circle to leave our neighborhood.
“So, you excited for school?” I asked after a couple minutes silent, looking at our daughter in the back seat. Theresa was looking out the window, watching the houses, parked cars, and trees go by, her face blank. Finally, she turned away.
“Yeah, I guess,” she said, with all the enthusiasm of finding out she had to go to a dentist’s office.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” I asked, surprised by Theresa’s lack of excitement.
My little girl sat silent for a couple seconds, pouting. Then she finally looked at me. “I don’t really wanna go. I wanna stay home and be with you and daddy!”
I smiled consolingly. “I’m sorry hon. But all children need to go to school and get an education. You’re no different.”
“But what if no one likes me? What if the other kids make fun of me, or the teacher hates me, and tries to drive me out?”
I grimaced. “Theresa, your teacher isn’t going to drive you out, and she won’t hate you. Your father met Ms. Lawlor last night, and she was a very nice woman. She wants to help you to learn, okay?”
It was true enough, while Theresa and I were in Greenville ‘babysitting’ Pollaski’s newest side project, Terrence had gone alone to the kindergarten orientation. He had told me that Theresa’s teacher was a fifteen year veteran, and had been very friendly and outgoing with the parents- a fact that had made me sit easier as I prepared to turn my daughter over to her.
“And as far as people liking you go... what’s there not to like?” Terrence interjected. “Just be yourself, treat other’s with respect, and you’ll be fine!”
Theresa nodded, but she looked unsure. Terrence chuckled. “Come on, Terr. What did I tell you was all you needed to do to pass kindergarten?”
My daughter frowned, thinking, then tried reciting. “Don’t hit anyone. Don’t eat the school supplies. And any funny changes we make to the school song, make sure a grown-up doesn’t hear us singing them.”
I shot a sidelong glare at Terrence. “Really?”
Terrence shrugged, as we crossed Michigan Avenue, getting closer to the school. “It’s a pretty stupid song.” he said. “Now, look, Theresa. Kindergarten is easy. Just do what the teacher asks you to, and be respectful, and you’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” Theresa said sullenly. “I’ll miss you guys though.”
“We’ll miss you too, honey,” I said, smiling. “But its only three hours. You’ll be having so much fun, it’ll be over before you know it!”
“There it is!” Terrence announced pointing off to the right.
I looked over, and swallowed hard. I had seen College Park Elementary before, but never so active. Children, laughing with each other, were heading towards the school from all directions, while a row of over a dozen buses dispensed more kids. Even more were emerging from cars, dropped off by their parents, just like Theresa would be. I was even more reassured when I saw that Theresa was hardly the most apprehensive one. One little boy was clutching his mother’s legs, crying, while the poor woman, and a member of the school staff tried to pry him off.
Terrence found a spot, and threw the car into park. “Okay, here we are!”
I opened the door, and helped Theresa out of the car. “Go stand on the sidewalk, sweetie, I want to take a picture of you and your new school.”
Theresa obeyed, and did her best to put on a smile, although the morning sun made her squint into the camera. Still, it was a beautiful picture- one I couldn’t wait to email to Nana back in Ireland. I set the camera down, and knelt on the ground, throwing my arms wide. Theresa ran in, and we embraced. “Be good, okay?” I muttered in her ear. “You know I love you, and I wouldn’t let you come here if I didn’t think you’d enjoy it. Okay?”
Theresa nodded, and I let her go, standing up. Terrence merely patted her on the head, and said “You’ll have fun, kid.” At that moment, the bell rang. I felt for my camera, to take a picture of Theresa heading into the school, but realized I had left it on the ground. I bent down to retreive it, and when I looked up, Theresa was gone, into the maelstrom of students.
Oh God... it suddenly hit me in a wave of emotion. My little girl was gone!
Terrence noticed me quickly trying to wipe away moisture from my eyes, and put his arm around me holding me close. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I sniffed. “Just... she grew up so quick.”
“Yup,” Terrence agreed, patting me on the shoulder. “Come on. We’ve got three hours. Let’s hit Starbucks up for some fraps.”
I nodded. “That’d be fine. I could use some sugar.”
Terrence quickly hopped to the other side of the car, and we both got in, as the other cars and buses surrounding us did likewise. Terrence reached in, and started the ignition, as the radio came on.
There goes my life....
There goes my future, my ev-*CLICK*
Both Terrence and I lunged for the radio’s power button, nearly jamming our fingers on it. I glanced at the Charger’s clock- it was exactly eight. I looked over at my husband.
“I think they did that on purpose.”
Thursday August 18, 2011
Daniel Pollaski's Saturn
Near Lewisberg, Ohio
3:14 PM Local Time
[It’s a good thing that FFW video transmissions don’t include smells, because otherwise fading in on Daniel Pollaski’s 2002 Saturn LS would be enough to cause massive illness amongst the FFW faithful. If you need any inclination- notice the half a dozen air fresheners hanging from the rearview mirror at the top of the shot, as the dashboard mounted camera looks back on the car’s occupants. The angle is just wide enough to where we can see both Wendy and Pollaski, the former sitting shotgun, looking at her Droid, the latter driving. And eating what appears to be a Rice Krispy treat, as they make the relatively short three hour drive from Indy to Columbus]
[But since you didn’t click the play button here to watch Pollaski nom-nom, your attention is probably more focused on the redhead. Given the intent look on her face, she’s watching a video, and, by the sounds that were coming out of the phone’s speakers, its likely Crystal Hilton’s latest promo. Wendy doesn’t exactly look amused. Finally, the video ends, and Wendy flips off her phone]
Wendy: Well, that’s nice...
Pollaski: Hmmm?
[Obviously Pollaski wasn’t listening. Although, to be fair, there’s a lot of crunching in a Rice Krispy treat]
Wendy: Oh, just... for all the ‘You and I could be great friends, let’s go shopping’ malarkey she feeds me on Twitter, Crystal Hilton doesn’t seem to have too much of a problem taking me to task in a video...
Pollaski: Hmmm?
[Wendy looks slightly annoyed by this]
Wendy: Were you even listening?
Pollaski: I was trying to. But your phone’s not very loud, and I was eating a Rice Krispy treat. Those are pretty tough to hear over, snap crackle pop and all...
[Told ya]
Wendy: Well, she takes one look at Belladonna’s hair color, somehow associates it to me, and says she’s going to beat Belldonna’s brains because she sees my face when she looks at hers. I think she might be taking that loss to me a bit harder than we originally thought.
Pollaski: You worried?
[Wendy pauses, and it’s fairly obvious that the answer is ‘yes’, if just for the fact that the last thing Wendy needs right now is a woman, especially one as dangerous as Crystal Hilton, having some sort of a vendetta against her. Of course, Wendy does what any good professional wrestler does when they’re asked if they’re worried/frightened. She lies]
Wendy: Not really. I mean, I beat her before, there’s absolutely nothing to suggest that I couldn’t do it again. Heck, I’m already facing her at Sin & Sacrifice, in a match where the prize is something ‘any member of the FFW roster would kill to have.’”
Pollaski: An orgy with the Kincaid brothers?
[A very long pause, and Wendy looks over at Pollaski, her mouth open in horror. Pollaski shrugs]
Pollaski: What? Like sixty percent of the fuckin’ roster is trying to get in at least one of their pants!
Wendy: Ugh! I mean... no offense to Cody, but.. UGH! Where do you even get these ideas?
Pollaski: I think Rice Krispy withdrawal. Speaking of which...
[Pollaski reaches to the side of his chair, and pulls out another Rice Krispy Treat. He opens the package, driving with his knees as he does so. Wendy does her best to talk over the rustling of the tinfoil]
Wendy: Anyways, I have no clue what it is. Maybe we’ll find out tonight. But whatever it is, it’s got to be huge, if they’re telling everyone about it this far away from the pay-per-view. They must be hoping that it’ll generate extra buys. At least I hope that’s the case...
Pollaski: Whoo-hoo! You’re marketable!
[Wendy grins at her manager, although it quickly fades]
Wendy: Although... I’ve kind of noticed a trend. Haven’t you?
[Pollaski doesn’t answer. Mouth too full of Krispy. Wendy decides its better to just continue on her own.]
Wendy: But... it’s like every woman I’ve faced in this company has gone... well, nuts. I face Charity, and suddenly she starts thinking she’s a time traveler. I face Rori, and she completly goes mental. I face Crystal, and apparently she’s now viewing her opponents as Wendy Briese voodoo dolls. And I face Colleen, and then she’s cracking me over the head with a microphone. It’s kind of... well, messed up.’
Pollaski: What about Kaitlynn Stryfe? She’s hasn’t changed too much...
[A brief pause]
Wendy: To be fair, I think Kitty was pretty much bat-dung crazy to begin with...
Pollaski: So, you’re worried that little Miss Mercer could be next.
Wendy: Again, not really worried. But it’s definitely food-for-thought. If she’s willing to turn her back on her cousin the way she has, she certainly won’t have any issue doing something unscrupulous to me.
Pollaski: Heh, you sound bit annoyed with Whitley.
[Wendy pauses, for a second, and finally nods]
Wendy: You know what? I kind of am. Because this isn’t MY Carpe Diem match. This isn’t MY big opportunity tonight. It’s Whitley’s. I know my role in this match, and that’s gatekeeper. For me, I’m protecting my spot, and hoping I can prove enough to get into the Femme For All. But in management’s eyes, I’m Whitley’s test, someone for her to prove against whether or not she’s ready for the big time. But when it comes to who has the most to gain from this individual match, I don’t think it’s me.
[Pollaski’s slowed his chewing down, presumably the better to hear her with over the crunching. Wendy, for her part, looks out the window, and back]
Wendy: Her match, HER opportunity to shine, and in the past two-plus weeks since Unstoppable, all we’ve gotten is twenty-one tweets from her. No promos. No blogs, no television appearances. I hope she’s spent the last two weeks training her butt off, because there’s no way I’m going to let this girl ‘seize the day’ at my expense, when she hasn’t done ANYTHING to seize the last two weeks. And if she thinks waking up on the day of the match, and heading to Columbus is all she needs to do to cut it against me, she’s going to be in for a world of correction.
[Pollaski swallows the chunk of marshmallow he was gnawing on, but says nothing, although his facial expression indicates he’s slightly amused by Wendy’s outburst]
Wendy: And the Pick Your Poison Ladder match, all that whining. “I’m tired of not being taken seriously.” Like it’s the fault of her ring-costumes? I thought what she and Gretchen wore to the ring were fun, and it’s obvious the fans enjoyed them. And trust me, I know I don’t exactly have the most trendsetting, eye-catching ring gear myself- it’s not what you wear to the ring that determines whether or not you’re taken seriously. It’s how you conduct yourself, before, during, and after your matches.
[Pollaski’s fiddling with another wrapped Rice Krispy treat, the rustling of the rapper obviously getting on Wendy’s nerves. She reaches over, grabs the treat from her manager’s hands, and tosses it into the back seat. Pollaski cringes, and looks over at his wrestler]
Pollaski: Sorry.
Wendy: It’s fine. But instead of blaming her cousin, or her attire, or these ‘stupid barriers’ she thinks she has, maybe she should look in the mirror at herself. Because she can make nasty faces into the camera all she wants about how no one respects her, but until she walks into that ring, and does it, and does it the RIGHT way, all she’s going to be is a little girl with an increasingly bad attitude who makes nasty faces into cameras.
[Pollaski’s been trying to drive one handed, reaching into the back seat for the Rice Krispy treat. Seeing Wendy looking at him, Pollaski abandons the rescue mission, and turns his full attention back to the road.]
Pollaski: Sorry, but that was my last one!
Wendy: Just, try not to get us killed, okay? And I know you like Whitley, and there’s a lot of people out there who do as well. And i can see why- she’s got a streak of originality and spunk to her. But originality and spunk don’t win you matches any more than my supposed altruism does. You need willpower, drive, heart, technique, knowledge, and talent. And if your focus isn’t on obtaining those, then no amount of supposed Carpe Diem matches will help you turn the corner. Opportunities mean jack in this business if you’re not willing to capitalize on them.
[Wendy reaches behind Pollaski, to the back seat, and grabs the Rice Krispy Treat]
Wendy: So if Whitley wants to ‘Seize the Day’ tonight, she knows exactly where I’m going to be. I’ll be in that ring, and if she wants to prove herself ready for the next level, well, I’ll be more than happy to oblige her. But like I said on Saturday, I’m fighting for things of my own here, and there won’t be a free pass. It doesn’t matter what she’s wearing, or who her friends are, or whatever her deal with Gretchen is. All that matters is that dangling carrot that’s been hovered over her head.
[Wendy begins to unwrap the Rice Krispy Treat herself, while Pollaski stares at her, scandalized]
Wendy: But unless she’s ready, unless she’s fully prepared to take me, and this challenge on, she’s seizing nothing but a huge pile of disappointment. Because even in as opportune a place like FFW, if you can’t take advantage of the one’s you’re given, if you let them get away from you...
[Wendy takes a bite out of the Krispy Treat, and smirks over at Pollaski]
Wendy: ...then they’re gone for good.
[Fade]
Saturday August 13, 2011
Castleton Square Mall- JC Penny's
Indianapolis, Indiana
11:31 AM Local time
[Just the first thing when you want to see when you click the play button... CLEAVAGE!]
[No, not Wendy’s. Pervert.]
[Even Wendy’s fair skin isn’t as white as the coloring on this woman, which is probably because said woman is obviously a mannequin, the frilly pink attire suggesting the lingerie section of some mid-range department store. The camera zooms in closer and closer to the mannequin’s bust area, then zooms out, then back in again. The view zooms out one more time, and suddenly, the scene goes black and white. Then sepia.]
Daniel Pollaski: Whoah! Bitchin!
[Yeah, Pollaski’s behind the camera. Hence the voice. And the ubiquitous cleavage shot on an inanimate object.]
[In hindsight, maybe someone shoulda edited this part out. The scene suddenly goes back into full color, and the zoom adjusts one more time, to more reasonable zoom that, at this distance, covers the mannequin’s head and upper torso.]
Pollaski: There we go!
[The camera finally set up, Pollaski spins a near 180, and begins to venture through the store, slowly, the camera lowering and bobbing back and forth, as if the bearer was trying to be stealthy and evasive. As he exits the lingerie section, Pollaski begins humming a tune, which a good observer would recognize as the Crystal Man theme from Mega Man 5. Apparently Pollaski thinks this is good sneaking music.]
[Fortunately, it’s not far to the destination, which seems to be the Young Ladies’ department of the store. While normally the thought of twenty-nine year old single males heading over to the little girls’ clothing section of the store with a video camera would be a major cause for alarm, the reason for this trip is apparent- Wendy Briese obviously out shopping for her daughter]
[Wendy doesn’t seem to notice the camera, although little Theresa, accompanying her mother, does, and gives Pollaski a quick wave. Wendy, on the other hand seems more concerned with the rack of clothing in front of her. Finally, she seems to sense her manager’s presence, and looks up at the camera. She does a double take, and frowns.]
Wendy Briese: What are you doing here?
Pollaski: I figured it was time to get a good promo out of ya, so I came to The Nest, but you weren’t there. Terrence said you were here. So I came here. Now here we are!
[Wendy nods, the expression on her face mostly blank]
Wendy: Uh-hunh. Well, I’m shopping for Theresa’s school clothes, so maybe after-
Pollaski: Nah, right now! All people have seen of you recently is stuffy Wendy Briese sitting on a couch... I figured why not show the world the real Wendy Briese. The Wendy Briese who’s more than an ultra-conservative Indiana housewife.
[Wendy’s eyes narrrow just slightly at that]
Wendy: So let me get this straight... you want to depict me as someone who’s not just a housewife, and to do it, you’re going to video tape me buying clothes for my daughter.
[Brief pause]
Pollaski: Well, that and the mall has a Sbarro, and I was planning on hitting the food court after we were done, so...
[Wendy nods, her smile strained]
Wendy: It’s good to see you’ve gotten this all figured out, Dan.
[Wendy quickly turns back to the rack of clothes that she’s been looking at, and grabs one- a small white polo shirt. She hands it to her daughter.]
Wendy: Here, Terr-Bear, go try this on. We need to see what your size is.
[Theresa nods, and heads off for the nearest fitting room, and Wendy turns back to Pollaski.]
Wendy: Okay, what did you have in mind?
Pollaski: Well, for starters, why don’t you tell us about your opinion on the Evolution Championship match at Unstoppable? There’s a lot of people out there who think you dropped the ball, or blew it, or-
[Wendy suddenly lookes slightly annoyed, and she rolls her eyes]
Wendy: I don’t think I have anything to be ashamed about from that match. What was it... thirty-four women competed at Unstoppable? And exactly ELEVEN of them got to walk out of there with a victory. Was I disappointed? Absolutely. But if people want to say I choked, or whatever, that’s their deal. Personally, it sounds like agenda-driven hyperbole to me, because while it might be a couple months, I’ll be back, and I’ll be challenging for that title. And hopefully next time I’ll get it one-on-one.
Pollaski: After what happened after the match, I’m sure you’d love another chance at Colleen, regardless.
[Wendy snorts]
Wendy: What Colleen did was pointless and infantile. I’ve watched the tape of what happened several times, and what gets me is that Colleen was halfway to the locker room, when she noticed that the fans were cheering Robbyn and I, and then she came back down. Is she that petty, to where she has a problem with us being cheered for a good effort? The only thing she proved with that attack was that she has just as much a penchant for the ‘high school drama’ she accuses the rest of the locker room on. But Colleen hasn’t seen the last of me. We’ll be in that ring again, and she’s going to find out that I’m hardly as forgiving a person as some might think.
[Wendy puffs a loose strand of her red hair out of her face, then turns and grabs a couple pairs of pants, and puts them in the front of her cart. She looks over her shoulder, presumably for her daughter, but not seeing her returning, she turns back to the camera.]
Wendy: I don’t appreciate having a microphone rammed into my head by some miserable wretch of a woman who can’t take the victory she got and be satisfied. Just as I certainly don’t appreciate the snivelling whining and crying that’s been coming from my other opponent from that night.
Pollaski: You mean Robbyn Helmsley?
Wendy: I do. Robbyn said several times that I didn’t belong in that match, that it was between her and Colleen. Right. I get that Colleen’s her nemesis, and I can appreciate Robbyn being desperate to beat her. Lord knows there’s been opponents I struggled with as well, and every loss made me want that win more and more. But if she has an issue with the way that contest was booked, she needs to take it up with the executives that she spends half her life idolizing. Not me.
[Pollaski chuckles]
Pollaski: I guess you can say it’s just ‘Robbyn being Robbyn’
Wendy: Right, well, to me it’s ‘Robbyn being excrutiatingly tiresome and annoying.’ I’m sure she’s a nice person and all... at least when she wants to be. But maybe she’d be better served by taking half an hour from complaining about me, or tweeting about her amazing mystery girlfriend, and going to work on her submission resistance.
[Wendy looks over, just as her daughter arrives, dressed now in the white polo shirt. Wendy looks at Theresa appraisingly, tapping her chin as she looks her over.]
Wendy: I dunno... maybe a size bigger? How do you feel? Are you comfortable?
[The little girl nods]
Theresa: I’m okay!
Wendy: Yeah, but you’re going to grow throughout the year. Here, this is the next biggest size... try that on, and this skirt as well. Okay?
[Obviously, clothes shopping isn’t very high on the list of things Theresa wants to do, and she looks slightly put-off by having to try on more. But she obediently takes the clothes and runs off to change.]
Pollaski: So, well, after the events of Unstoppable, you’re hoping to rebound next week on Velocity when you face Whitley Mercer in the carpe diem match. How you feel about that?
[Wendy smiles a little]
Wendy: I’m actually honored. Ever since I arrived in FFW, my goal’s been to establish myself, and work my way up the rankings and the card as quickly as possible. It’s great that after just four months here, management thinks that I’m high enough to where beating me is considered a career launcher. And it’s also an interesting change for me. Since I came in, every match I’ve been in the focus has been working my way up. Now, for the first time, I have to protect my spot. But it’s also got me feeling just a little uneasy.
[Wendy pauses expectantly, waiting for the obvious question. But it never comes, so she merely shrugs and continues]
Wendy: People love underdogs. The idea that someone who’s overlooked or less highly regarded can rise up and overcome one of the ‘big shots’ is a heavily romanticized element of our society. How many books and movies revolve around that very concept? And in sports especially. You think of events, like the Playoffs, or the NCAA Basketball tournament, or the FA Cup across the ocean. The moment the brackets are drawn up, the first thing people look for are where the big upsets are going to lie. Everyone likes a good Cinderella story. Heck, that’s one of the reasons this Carpe Diem concept was created in the first place. To give people like Whitley Mercer a chance to step up. I’ve been an underdog much of my career, and I’ve thrived as a result. So when the glass slipper is placed on another’s foot, yeah, it definitely puts me on alert.
[A rueful smile]
Wendy: Upsets are one of those things where they’re awesome... until they happen to you. Because for every great Cinderella story that’s worthy of a Hollywood movie, the fact is, there’s someone on the other side who has been let down, who saw the prize that they were seeking get ripped away by someone who wasn’t supposed to do it. I’ve been on that end a couple of times as well, and there’s really no worse feeling. I’m not about to let that happen here.
Pollaski: Well, it’s good that you see this match for what it is, and won’t come in overlooking Whitley.
[Wendy smiles slightly, and chuckles quietly]
Wendy: I can’t afford to. The billing of this match puts the focus on my opponent. Is this the match where Whitley finally turns the corner, and begins establishing herself as a major threat in this company? It puts some pressure on her. But I’ve got a lot riding on this match as well. I think I’m personally in a tenacious position here. I won the Chase for the Crown, and I sure don’t think I’ve disappointed in that ring. But the fact is, I’ve lost two out of my last three matches. Now granted, those two matches were against the top two champions in this company, but it still leaves me in no position to afford another one. Not if I want to be considered a top contender for the Evolution Championship... or for other things.
Pollaski: I’m assuming you’re talking about the Femme For All tournament that Samantha announced a couple days ago.
[Wendy nods, her smile brightening a bit. And she nods. Behind her, Theresa has returned, dressed in the dark blue polo shirt and skirt that Wendy had given her. She patiently decides to wait, although she does make a couple faces at the camera while Wendy talks.]
Wendy: I don’t need to tell you how excited I was when I heard about that! I don’t think I’ve been shy about saying how ambitious I am. I want to take advantage of every opportunity I can, and there’s no bigger opportunity than that tournament! Samantha says she’s choosing nine women, and we have until Sin and Sacrifice to impress her. Well, I intend to do just that, and hear my name called when those brackets are released. And that all starts next Thursday, when I beat Whitley- oh, you look beautiful!
[Wendy says the last as she notices her daughter (who wisely had managed to stop with the faces before she turned). She looks down, smiling, but Theresa returns with a pout.]
Theresa: I hate it!
Wendy: Why? Is it uncomfortable? Do you need a different size?
Theresa: No, I look stupid!
[Wendy rolls her eyes, and shakes her head]
Wendy: No you don’t! This is what your uniform is, honey. All the kids at school will be wearing stuff like this.
Theresa: But I look like a dork.
[Wendy folds her arms over her chest, her patience obviously starting to run thin.]
Wendy: Theresa Serena Thompson, I don’t want to hear another word about it! You look like a beautiful young lady about to start kindergarten, and I expect you to act-
Pollaski: Dude... she looks like a Wimbledon ball girl!
[Wendy, cut off in mid-scentence, glares at her manager. She glances back to her daughter, and sighs.]
Wendy: Would you rather wear pants instead of a skirt, hon?
[Theresa thinks for a few seconds, then nods. Wendy grabs a pair of black slacks from the rack, and hands them to Theresa.]
Wendy: Okay, go try these on.
[Theresa takes the pants, and runs off. Wendy shakes her head, and glares back at her manager.]
Wendy: Thanks, Dan.
Pollaski: What? Seriously, I thought Serena Williams was going to show up and start screaming at her.
Wendy: Says the person who wears Hawaiian shirts and shorts all-year round. It’s probably because of people like you that schools now have a uniform policy.
[Pollaski is heard chuckling, seemingly taking the comment in stride]
Pollaski: Well, back to the subject at hand... if you hope to impress your way into the Femme For All, beating Whitley is sure as hell a good start. But what do you think about Miss Mercer?
[Wendy grimaces]
Wendy: Honestly, I don’t know what to think of Whitley. The general consensus around here is that she’s a metaphorical ‘sleeping giant’. She just needs the right spark to wake her up, and unleash her potential. I’m guessing that some people are wondering if I might be the spark.
Pollaski: Why not? It worked for Rori- she hasn’t lost since you beat the crap out of her.
[Wendy looks cross at the bare mention of Rori Snyder]
Wendy: She’s only lost any bit of credibility and respect she ever had. Ugh, don’t even mention something like that. The last thing we need is Whitely Mercer turning into another rabid little hellion. Anyways, in Whitley’s defense, she’s had about as tough a schedule over the past few months as anyone here. Kaitlynn Stryfe, that three-way with Hayley and Mindy, the ladder match, and now me. That’s a tough run to have, and even if she hasn’t scraped up any victories there, she hasn’t exactly been dominated either.
Pollaski: Heck, she even gave Kitty a bit of a challenge. That’s tough.
[Wendy snorts]
Wendy: Believe me, I know. And I’ve been in Whitley’s situation before, too. You know, it’s tough to go out there, week after week, and keep coming up short. And I think we all saw the frustration that Whitley had, both before and after that ladder match. That frustration’s been building up more and more. And I know that’s going to make her hungier, and more dangerous in that ring. But it’s also likely going to make her desperate... and more apt to do something... stupid.
Pollaski: And cost her the match.
Wendy: Or a lot more...
[Theresa’s returned, again, still in the blue polo shirt, but now a pair of matching navy pants as well. She looks a lot happier than she did in the skirt, but it’s obvious that the trying on clothes thing isn’t sitting well with her.]
Wendy: Oh, you do look nice! Do you like it better?
[Theresa nods]
Wendy: Okay, we’ll get you a couple more pairs and a couple more shirts as well. You can go ahead and change back, Terr. Hurry, though, please!
[Theresa nods, and bolts off one more time]
Pollaski: Told you she’d look better. What did you mean ‘or a lot more,’ though?
[Wendy rolls her eyes at the first remark, then pauses, obviously trying to think of a... delicate answer to the question.]
Wendy: Well, everyone saw her right before Unstoppable. Her attitude’s definitely taken a turn for the worse- and I’m sure a lot of it’s due to the pressure’s on her. But you know, the way she dismissed her tag partner and cousin like that. Wanting to be rid of her? The best showing she’s had in the past few months was when she and and Gretchen last teamed as Pawned!
[...]
Pollaski: Teamedaswhatnow?
[Wendy looks a little sheepish, as if she’s not sure what she’s doing here]
Wendy: Isn’t that what it’s called? Pawned? Pohned? Pween-threed? I don’t know...
Pollaski: PWN3D!
[Wendy’s jaw drops]
Wendy: How did you even manage to say...
Pollaski: I’m awesome like that. Speaking of awesome, they were facing the Lovehearts in that match, the combined might of whom would pretty much make anyone look awesome. So...
[Wendy waves a dismissive hand]
Wendy: I know that. But still. They worked well together, and I think they’re coming around as a team. It’d be a shame for them to break it up now. And Whitley mentioned something about her ‘friends’... friends who apparently encouraging her to ‘break the barrier’. I’ve heard talk like that before.. and what comes of it is rarely good. So whatever Whitley’s thinking of doing, I hope she truly thinks it out first.
Pollaski: Ah, preachy Wendy is preachy!
[This seems to fray the last bit of Wendy’s patience, and she snarls in a stage whisper.]
Wendy: Okay, fine! I’ll shut up about it, because God forbid I actually state my opinion about anything unless it’s to tell someone how much they suck or what a whore they are! But I’ll certainly say that seven tag team championships later, I’m certainly GLAD I didn’t give up on Terrence after a rough start! So maybe for once, someone might actually want to CONSIDER that I’m speaking from experience here, and may actually have a CLUE what I’m talking about!
[A brief pause, and Wendy takes a deep breath, nervously looking around to see if any of the other customers in the store heard her. Another deep breath.]
Wendy: I’m sorry, that was...
Pollaski: That was awesome! You should do that more. Anyways, your opinion about Whitley’s attitude aside, do you think that Whitley’s got a chance against you, the way things are now?
Wendy: Absolutely Not!
Pollaski: Buh...
[There’s an awkward pause, only for Pollaski to realize that Wendy isn’t even talking to him. She’s looking at something off camera, and shaking her head. We soon see that it’s Theresa walking into the frame]
[Holding a Justin Beiber t-shirt and looking hopeful]
Wendy: No! I’m not getting you that, and you wouldn’t even be allowed to wear it in school anyways. Now put it back, Theresa.
[Theresa decides to whine like a Deas. Not a good idea at the moment.]
Theresa: But mooom... all my friends have one!
[Pollaski to the rescue]
Pollaski: Theresa, if all your friends stabbed themselves in the ear with a screwdriver, would you do that?
[Wendy suddenly looks horrified]
Wendy: DAN!
Pollaski: What? It amounts to basically the same thing!
[Theresa’s mopey, but again, she leaves. Wendy takes another deep breath, and looks up, as if asking for a bit of divine patience. Finally, she turns back to the camera.]
Wendy: Of course Whitley has a chance against me. She’s a talented wrestler, and she’s going to get where she wants to go, provided she manages to keep her head on straight. But she better learn patience, because this big career boosting win she’s looking for, it’s not coming against me. Not this week. Not when I have as much riding on this for myself as I do. Because while the match might be about Whitley seizing the day, it’s me who’s going to grab it instead. Just as I’m going to seize another shot at the Evolution championship, and one of those nine spots in the Femme For All.
[Theresa’s returned one last time, sans Beiber, and dressed in her normal clothes, the clothes she was trying on in her hands. Wendy takes them, and plops them into her cart, exhaling]
Wendy: Okay! That’s all done! Time to go.
Theresa: Home?
[Wendy grins, and shakes her head.]
Wendy: Nope, we need to get you a new pair of shoes!
[Wendy turns to walk off, pushing the cart in front of her. Theresa groans, and trudges after her, dragging her feet.]
Theresa: This is taking FOREVER!
Pollaski: Psh... trust me, in ten years, we won’t be able to drag you out of here.
[Theresa looks up at Pollaski skeptically]
Pollaski: Oh, and your mom and I were talking, and she says that after this, we’re going to Sbarro for pizza, her treat. AND that she’ll let us have the garlic bread. And big sodas.
[This seems to brighten Theresa up, and she starts skipping away. The camera raises- right into a very, very irritated face of Wendy Briese. Evidently she heard the whole thing.]
Wendy: I should tell her no, take her home and give her brussel sprouts, just to teach YOU a lesson about making promises you have no control over!
Pollaski: But you won’t. I’m gonna hit up Gamestop. Meet you at Sbarro in fifteen?
[For a second, Wendy looks after her kid, then sighs]
Wendy: Better make it twenty.
[Now it’s Wendy who drags her feet after her daughter, and the scene fades][/i]
Monday August 1, 2011
Pepsi Center- Backstage Area
Denver, Colorado
7:31 PM Local Time
“Mo-ther FUCKER,” I groaned as I trudged through the backstage area. Despite having just gone through a match with big Nick Sanders, I wasn’t all that sore.. save for my pride, which had taken a bit of a beating considering not just the fact that I had lost, but the way I had done so as well.
I suppose the question in my head was what the hell Nikkii Spainhower was even thinking, but chances were the answer would be ‘nothing’. I hadn’t even talked to her after the match... I was a bit irritated at the moment, and I didn’t really want to say something to the girl I was going to end up regretting. Nikki’s self-esteem seemed a bit on the... fragile side.
Still, having her coming out, highjacking the ring bell, and distracting me into a loss was hardly the way I had wanted things to happen. At the moment, I just wanted to get back to my locker room, hear some comforting words from my friends, and get the hell out of here back to the hotel.
Comforting words... yeah, fucking right.
Terrence was howling with laughter as I swung the door open, as Theresa stood nearby, banging a crayon on her coloring book in a perfect imitation of Nikki’s bell ringing. Wendy stood by, not exactly laughing, but certainly amused by her daughter’s sense of mimicry. Terrence took one look at me, and his laughter only redoubled, so hard he doubled over, clutching his side.
“Oh, shaddup,” I grunted, taking off my football jersey, and throwing it over Terrence’s head. As could be expected, my so-called friend stopped in his mirth long enough to toss the shirt off in disgust. Still clad in my tanktop, I quickly went to my bag, grabbed a stick of degree, and made a fairly liberal application before grabbing a Hawaiian shirt. “Some friend you are... I’ve never laughed at one of your losses.”
“That’s because I never lost because my Barbie girlfriend started playing with something pretty, shiny, and makes a lot of noise,” Terrence snorted.
“Oh, f-” I stopped as Wendy cleared her throat, remembering that Theresa was in the room. “Shut up!” I snarled again, bending over, picking my Central jersey, and stuffing it into my bag. “And she’s not my girlfriend.”
I looked over at Wendy, who was smiling, but at least looked somewhat sympathetic. “Don’t get too down, Dan,” she said, her voice comforting. “They started you steep in facing Nick Sanders. It would have been a tough win.”
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t stop it from sucking,” I grumbled at her. “At least *you’re* sympathetic.”
“Well, part of me is,” Wendy confessed with a shrug. “But there’s also a part of me that thinks you just got hoisted on your own petard...”
“WENDY!”
I was shooting a dirty glare at my client, but Terrence’s voice caused both her and I to look over at him. Terrence looked scandalized, and had promptly placed his hands over his daughter’s ears.
“I know Nikkii isn’t the smartest girl, but there’s no reason to call her that! Especially in front of our daughter, when we want her to be raised to be tolerant!”
There was a very long moment of silence, as Wendy and I looked at each other, each blinking several times in our astonishment. Wendy was the first to find her voice.
“Um.. Terry, I said PETARD not... it’s a.. well never mind that. It doesn’t mean what you think it does, okay?”
Terrence was skeptical, but he looked over to me for confirmation. I only nodded, and Terrence shrugged, suddenly mollified, and he removed his hands from Theresa’s ears.
“Though that does beg the question.. why ARE you helping Nikkii?” Wendy asked, turning my attention back to her.
I could only shrug. “I dunno. I guess at first I was just doing it to tick Millar and his wife off. But.. I dunno. There’s something about Nikkii that makes me actually like her, despite the fact that she’s hardly the brightest tiki torch in the backyard. I dunno, it’s like she reminds me a cousin, or something. Except... not the kind of cousin you want to push out of the boat in the middle of the lake, then row just hard enough so they can’t catch you as they’re trying to swim back to climb in. You know?”
Apparently neither Bird had... although to be fair, I wasn’t entirely sure that Terrence had any cousins, and all of Wendy’s cousins were kinda Amish...
“Well, it looks like she’s taken a liking to you, too.” Wendy replied, trying to get back to the subject. “Seems to think you’re her guardian angel or something...”
“Yeah... that’s kind of turning out to be a problem. Especially if she wants me to guard her while I’m trying to wrestle..” I mused. I tapped my chin for a couple seconds... “A-HA!” I suddenly exclaimed. “I got it! You’re coming with me to the next Aggression.”
Wendy did a quick bit of calendar math in her brain, then shook her head, her long red hair bobbing back and forth. “Absolutely not. Theresa starts Kindergarten the next morning, and there’s absolutely NO-”
“We can catch a redeye and be back in time for school,” I replied, waving my hand dismissively. “And you OWE me, Wendy.”
“For what?!”
I wagged my finger at her. “Remember when I wrote about Rori Snyder being a phony little lunatic and you suspended me because you thought I made you look bad and it turned out that I was right all along? Yeah, that.”
Wendy opened her mouth, and shut it without a sound, making her look like a suffocating fish. She glanced to Terrence for assistance, but for once, my pussy-whipped friend took MY side.
“He’s kinda right. We all kinda thought that was a cheap move from you. Even you said so later...”
“Dan.. her FIRST day of school...”
“You’ll be there! I promise! We’ll even bring her. Then if something goes wrong, and you miss it, she’ll miss it too, and you can do the whole first day thing on WEDNESDAY! Besides, she won’t miss much. She already knows her teacher’s name, and I’m pretty sure she’s smart enough to know that just because Elmer’s LOOKS like milk...”
I trailed off as Wendy shot me a dirty glare, and then another, pleading glance to her husband, although Terrence merely shrugged. “It’ll be okay. And besides, she’ll have a great ‘Guess where *I* was last night?’ story during graham cracker time.”
Wendy didn’t look happy, but she finally gave in, rolling her eyes. “Okay. What do you want me to do, oh almighty manager?”
For the moment, I merely laughed at my own genius in response.
===============================
THe following blog was posted on whirlybirdz.com. The comments within are solely the opinion of Daniel Pollaski and do not reflect the opinions of either Terrence Thompson and Wendy Briese.
Hey kids!
Yeah, yeah. I’m sure everyone wants to talk about what happened at Aggression. I had Nick beat, Nikkii had a little fun, I lose. Yada yada yada, I’m not bitter towards Spainhower, let’s move on.
Because let’s face it, every single one of you is here to read as I rip Michelle Taylor to shreds. I hope to not disappoint.
Okay, so in case you haven’t been paying attention (and I don’t blame you if you haven’t), here’s a bit of a history lesson to explain how I came to be scheduled to face Goldilocks McIdiot on Monday.
1. The Unstoppable 2 card over in FFW comes out, and Michelle Taylor is not booked. This MIGHT be due to the fact that at the previous PPV, Michelle Taylor was given a shot at the Television title, and she sucked it up. Come to think of it, she also sucked it up in her carpe diem match with Scarlett Kincaid. And that was AFTER Kitty Stryfe interfered.
2. After being oh-so-tragically left off the Unstoppable card, Michelle Taylor decided she was going to bitch, which turns out to be one of the few things Taylor is good at. Michelle also vowed that she would be at Unstoppable. After that news, the debate and conversation about Unstoppable only increased, although it was pretty much about anything BUT Michelle Taylor’s appearance at Unstoppable.
3. Oh yeah, this is kinda important. During said bitching, Michelle decided that a great power play would be to threaten to leave FFW for SVW which was pretty stupid. That led to...
4. As she’s oft to do when people get stupid on her, Samantha Star got irritated. Which means she turned to her BBB (Big Black Bulldozer), Rose Jenkins, and told Michelle beat her, or GTFO.
5. Michelle Taylor showed up at Unstoppable. No one cared.
6. SVW owner Anthony Gambini, wanting to get rid of Michelle just as much as his rival owner does, puts her in a, *ahem* ‘tryout match’, against yours truly. This should say some things about Michelle’s perceived value given that, A. No one else has been forced into a tryout match, including Undine, who also just jumped ship from FFW and was welcomed with open arms, and B. Gambini pretty much said that win or lose, Michelle’s not getting a contract.
So pretty much, I’m under the impression that I’m pretty much here to beat the living shit out of Michelle Taylor, teach her a lesson, and send the fans home (or at least to the second match on the show) happy. I’ll gladly oblige.
You’ve got to give Taylor credit here. There are few figures in professional wrestling that are as uniting as she is. But let’s be honest, the girl brings people together like a singing of Kum-Ba-Yah at Christmastime. Everyone, from the highest main eventer, to the lowest curtain jerker, from big dude Mikola Povola to li’l Hayley Dark, from goody-goody Jo McFarlane to the sinister Kitty, from the fun-loving Danger Queens to the overly serious Collen, simply cannot STAND this bitch. Only Twisted Path has also gained this kind of level of hatred, and again, it ain’t because Twisted Path was sinister. We simply didn’t want them on our television ANY MORE.
And I think we can all look forward to seeing this stupid bitch off television, as well. I mean, what exactly does Michelle do? There was the brilliant “I stole the TV title” interview. There’s that always annoying “Yes, but!” you get whenever Michelle tries to make a point that only she can see the logic of. And there’s the fact that this is a woman who somehow still thinks she belongs in professional wrestling despite the fact that her ONLY win is over some dumb broad who tied her arms behind her back.
And let’s face it- there is nothing more annoying than some stupid twat who can’t fucking take a hint. I don’t know how many Michelle’s been given... being left off of Unstoppable, the ‘win or you’re fired’ match against an opponent she has no hope of defeating, the ‘tryout match that still won’t get you in even if you win’ here in SVW.
Okay, so let’s spell it out for Michelle.
N-O-B-O-D-Y
W-A-N-T-S
Y-O-U
I-N
E-I-T-H-E-R
C-O-M-P-A-N-Y
So Michelle, you have a couple options right now. You can...
A. Wisely decide that this is time to retire, and ride off into the sunset. You’re so dumb, you’ll probably be on the burro backwards, but no one’s gonna hold this against you.
B. Decide that you dont’ want to be in SVW after all, and take your chances with Rose Jenkins. This will also end your career, but there’s a slight chance Rose might be more gracious about this than I’m going to be.
C. ‘Try out’ for SVW, even though it’s been made perfectly clear that you are not welcomed in the company.
Option A and option B don’t concern me, I take the night off, sip a few mai-tais, watch the Strike/Showtime vs. Stark/Stone match, hope Nate manages to use his Daredevil like extrasensory abilities to beat Moxie, and go home happy.
If you choose Option C, though, well, I feel compelled to warn you what’s going to happen.
First, Michelle, do you like the Offspring? Of course you do. Everyone likes the Offspring. I would like to direct you to the cover of their 2003 album, Splinter.
I’m going to do that to your face. Only that won’t be ceramic statue-bits. That’s going to be your skin. Seriously, there will be chunks missing, and you’re going to resemble some zombie from Resident Evil. And that’s just me getting started.
Next, we’ll go to your bones. Of course, that means a trip to their 1995 Album, Smash.
There will be some punching, Michelle. Maybe some kicking. But most of all, Michelle, I’m going to do what I know is going to hurt the most. You ever see Hayley Dark on a trampoline? BOING, and all that? That’s you, and don’t even THINK there’s any sexual connotations there, you fucking diseased dumpster-diving tramp. I’m going to jump on you, landing feet first Three hundred twenty pounds of pissed off Polish-American landing directly on various bones and internal organs. It won’t be BOING. It will be CRACK. Lots and lots of very loud, very painful cracks. I think I’ll finish up with a couple of curbstomps, just to make sure there is no hope that you can ever function as a viable independent creature again.
Seriously, Michelle, if you survive this, you’re going to be a fucking vegetable. You will eat mushed up food through a feeding tube. You will piss and shit into a catheter bag. But dont’ worry, you’ll still get that attention you crave, because I’m sure the media will flock to you when you become the latest ‘right to die’ controversy as your loved ones (provided you actually have any) embark on a furious, humiliating legal battle on whether or not they should pull the plug.
But that’s not the end, Michelle, oh no. While you’re lying there, a quivering, miserable little mess of flesh, bone, and hopelessness, I’m going to plunge my iron fist into your belly, and I’m going to rip out your ovaries and your uterus. Again, there’s nothing perverted about this, I’m just doing what’s best for the survival of our species. Because I’m going to douse those ever-so-essential reproductive organs in gasoline, and light them on FIRE in the middle of the fucking ring, just to make sure that when it comes to the Offspring, there is ABSOLUTELY NO CHANCE IN HELL YOU WILL HAVE ONE!
Seriously, I could post a photo of what the end result is going to be, but I don’t think people could actually stomach to be able to look at it. I fully expect this match to cut to commercial in the middle, so that SVW can save a shitload of media scrutiny. So here’s the Offsprings 1989 debut album, just so I can keep the theme here.
Now I’m sure some of you are wondering “Daniel Pollaski, you horrible person! How could you even think of doing this to a woman!” And you’d be right. Violence against women is deplorable. But any woman who steps into a wrestling ring is a competitor, pure and simple. Trust me, if there’s one thing Wendy’s taught me in my life, it’s that.
But the thing is, Michelle isn’t a real woman anyways. She’s a demon, sent to us by Satan himself, to destroy all semblance of rationale from human society. So I’m not going to be doing this because I’m twisted and sadistic. I’m doing this because this has been given to me as my sacred, civic duty. For the betterment of society, Michelle Taylor needs to be destroyed.
So Michelle. The balls in your court. Retire, skip over to Rose, or face me. But you’ve been warned what’s coming should you choose option C. I think it’s only fair that you know, just as its fair that I’m giving you a fair shot at defeating me, instead of just simply hiring a sniper to stand in the rafters and put a bullet in your brain as you walk down to the ring, and end all our problems immediately.
But you’re an idiot, Michelle. You never took a hint before, what’s to believe you’re going to take one now? So you’re going to choose Option C anyways.
Go ahead. I dare you.
Polla. Out.
Saturday July 30, 2011
Time Warner Cable Arena- Section 113 Access tunnel
Charlotte, North Carolina
11:56 PM Local Time
“YES!” I screamed as Scarlett’s knee crashed into Kaitlynn’s chin, the older woman flopping onto the mat. Kaitlynn had been throwing another one of her temper tantrums, crying and whining to the referee- after the referee had made the correct decision, and it had finally caught up with her- Scarlett had just nailed Kitty with her own finisher, and there wasn’t a throat in the arena that wasn’t cheering the move. Those throats only grew in volume as everyone chanted in unison as Scarlett dove atop Kitty’s prone form, referee Jennifer Stringer making the count.
I yelled along with everyone else! “ONE! TWO! THR-” The arena exploded in a disappointed groan as Kaitlynn’s shoulder rolled off at the last possible moment. I found myself clutching my hair... I had honestly thought that Scarlett had just retained her belt there. But no, the main event of Unstoppable 2, draining and brutal in its own right, doubly so for Scarlett, who had been forced to start the chamber, was to continue.
To her credit, the only one in the arena not reeling from disappointment was the champion herself, who immediately went back onto the attack, dragging up Kitty and nailing a gutwrench powerbomb, the final challenger to her belt this night- Scar had already outlasted four of them- falling to the mat, lying still. For a second, I thought Scar was going for the cover, but no- she was stumbling towards the corner.
My breath caught in my throat. On one hand- landing the Kincaid Cascade *had* to be enough to get the win. On the other hand, I remembered all too well what had happened in my match against Stryfe- I had gone for my Emerald Cyclone, and she had reversed it into a powerbomb, which led to my defeat. And there wasn’t a person in the world who had forgotten what Kitty had done to Valerie at Conviction...
But even if those thoughts crossed Scarlett’s mind as well, they weren’t stopping her. She had climbed to the top turnbuckle, and was looking to leap... but no... that wasn’t enough... she turned, and started to climb atop one of the Elimination Chamber pods.
“Don’t do it, Scar...” I silently pleaded, even as the crowd around me rooted her on as she kept climbing. Scarlett had been obsessed with silencing all doubters for this match- prove to the world that she was the rightful champion. She didn’t need to- anyone with any sense of logic and no agenda knew that Scar had earned every single second of her reign. But as she perched on the top of the cell, I prayed that this wouldn’t cost her the exact title she was trying to prove she deserved.
Scar hesitated- and looked out at the crowd, almost as if she seemed to be saying goodbye. I swallowed hard. She had taken too much time already... if Kitty rolled away just as Scarlett leapt...
...or even worse, kipped up to her feet, which she did just as Scarlett’s feet left the platform.
Scar had nowhere to go but down, and Kitty timed her kick perfectly, smashing into Scarlett’s jaw, so that the redheaded champion flopped lifelessly to the mat. The arena erupted at the counter- all rooting interest in Scarlett forgotten by the brutality of the move.
“Oh, Scarlett,” I whispered, closing my eyes in disappointment, and heartbreak. I didn’t need to see Kitty rolling her up. I didn’t need to see Stringer diving to count. I only heard the bell ringing, and the cheering of the crowd as they hailed the new champion, and I turned away, retreating back up the tunnel, not willing to watch anymore.
So that was it. The era of Scarlett was over, at least for now, and the age of Kitty would begin. No longer a champion who was hard working and dedicated, honest and forthright, kind and compassionate. Now it was a pretentious wretch of a woman who preferred duplicity, flew into a tantrum at the slightest hint of criticism, and considered honor and respect a sign of weakness.
All in all, it had been a bad night for honor and respect. Scarlett had been dethroned, sure, but it was hardly the only discouraging moment. Isabella, for once in her life, had tried to play the straight path as well, and she had been blasted by a chair from her own best friend (well, probably former best friend by now) for her change of heart. And while I had spent the Snyder/Sanders match showering and changing back into my street clothes, I had heard that Rori had only achieved victory after bringing in Maddison to help her.
Even my own match had left me a sour taste in my mouth. Losing was disappointing, but I had known going into that match that I couldn’t control Robbyn’s tolerance for pain, and if Colleen ever got her into a hold, the end of the match would come soon after. But the after-match still had me wondering. Colleen was abrasive, sure, but I always felt she was an honorable sort. Suddenly, she’s cracking me over the head with the microphone, and beating the tar out of Robbyn. And what did it accomplish? That she was better? She had already proved that- at least for that night- in our match!
I sighed, as I worked my way through the hallways, back towards my locker room. Maybe people like Colleen and Kitty were right. Maybe I was delusional. Maybe I was turning into a relic. Maybe pro-wrestling wasn’t about hard work and technical prowess anymore- it was about who was the most brutal, and sadistic, or who could take the quickest and easiest shortcut to the top.
Maybe honor was truly and utterly dead in this sport.
I stopped dead in my tracks, just in front of my locker room door. The door was ajar, and I had left it shut when I had gone to watch the main event. I approached slowly, silently. Not sure of what to expect. I didn’t expect an attack- anyone that I would be worried about attacking me and actually doing damage would have been smart enough to shut the door to alleviate any suspicions. But if someone was stealing from me...
But it wasn’t a thief in my room when I opened the door. Just my nanny, who smiled grimly as she saw me. Even though we travelled together and slept in the same RV, I really hadn’t had any discussions with Cassie since that day in the kitchen. It hadn’t exactly been a complete, or even hostile silence between us, but I had definitely gotten the impression that she was avoiding me, and, in truth, I was probably avoiding her as well.
“Hey,” Cassie said quietly, looking almost uncomfortable.
“Hey,” I responded. “What are you doing down here?”
A small shrug. “Terrence sent me to get you. Guess we’re leaving.”
“Figured. The show’s over,” I replied, grabbing the duffel bag containing my ring gear, and lifting it up. I looked over at Cassie quizically. Given that my perch in the entrance tunnel was a lot closer to my locker room than the mid-deck seats Terrence had gotten, she would have had to leave well before the final match had ended to beat me here. But I decided not to pursue the matter. “Okay, I’m ready.’
But Cassie didn’t move, but rather stared at the floor in front of her. “I’m sorry you lost.”
I grimaced, and did my best attempt at a nonchalant shrug. “It happens. I’ll get her next time.” If there was a next time...
Cassie wasn’t moved. “Still, you obviously don’t look happy about it.”
I snorted. “Well, of course I’m not. No one likes losing. But it’s not just that, I...” I paused, and took a deep breath. “Everyone I wanted to win tonight ended up losing. Scarlett, Shane, myself. Even Crystal lost to that psychotic Tara. I know Jo won pick your poison, so that’s something.. but still. Just... not a good night for me.”
“I’m sorry,” Cassie apologized again, her voice remaining quiet.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” I simply said with a shrug. “Only one of those matches I had any control over the outcome. Still, I just feel bad that so many people I like came up short. And then you throw in what Colleen did and...” I cut myself off. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t stand here whining like that. Where’s everyone else?”
“Terrence said to meet them at the car.” Cassie replied.
I nodded, then looked around to make sure I had everything. Satisfied that I was leaving nothing behind, I slung my duffel over my shouldder and turned towards the door, Cassie following me. We killed the lights, and shut the door behind us, Cass pointing the way towards the garage.
We walked in silence for a couple minutes, until I had to stifle a yawn. “‘Scuse me,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “I guess I’m pretty tired.”
“I think we all are.” Cassie responded, yawning herself (stupid contagiousness). “Still, no rest yet. Back to Indy, then off to Denver for fatso’s SVW debut. I can’t believe he’s going to actually be wrestling... the idiot.”
“He’s tried it before,” I muttered, half-smiling as I pushed through a door. “And didn’t Terrence tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“You’re not coming to Denver with us. We didn’t get you a ticket.”
Cassie gasped, and she immediately stopped walking. It took me a couple more steps to realize this, and I turned around, puzzled. The look of hurt on Cassie’s face was obvious- hurt and betrayal, with a little anger and outrage thrown in.
“So it’s true...” she whispered, a tear leaking out of her eye. “You *are* firing me!”
“What? NO!” I exclaimed, suddenly caught off guard by the accusation. Cursing myself for my flippant phrasing I shook my head. “God, no! Cassie, you’re fine. Your job is safe. Terrence and I just thought that you might want a couple days to yourself. No Theresa, no me, no Pollaski. Just you know, some time to have fun.”
“Oh,” Cassie wiped her eyes. “I just thought.. with the whole Christian Kincaid thing... and … the fight we had...”
“Yeah, about that,” I began, grimacing. I waited until I knew Cassie was more focused on listening to me than she was wiping her eyes. “Look, Cassie. I... I was wrong to react like that. You’ve been a great babysitter for Theresa over the past couple years, and there is no one outside of Terrence that I trust my daughter with more. And it was completely disrespectful to you to assume that you would ever let your personal life interfere with your professional judgement, especially when you’ve shown me time and time again the exact opposite. It was a knee-jerk reaction, and I’m sorry.”
Cassie blinked through watery eyes, obviously, surprised. “So you’re okay with me and Christian? Really?”
I laughed shortly. “Well, I don’t like it, but it’s hardly my place to tell you who you can and can’t date. I don’t think Christian’s the guy you’re looking for, but who can really say? Maybe he is the prince charming everyone believes he is. Just please, be careful. And if you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here for you, any time, okay?”
The response was hardly what I had intended- Cassie flung herself at me, and wrapped her arms around me. I could feel my shoulder getting wet as she buried her face in it. Wincing, and gingerly, I patted her back.
“Thanks, Wendy,” the blonde woman said. “And thanks for, y’know, not firing me.”
“Um... Cassie?” I asked, my voice slightly strained. “I hate to say this, but this really hurts...”
“What? Oh!” Cassie immediately let go, and backed away, grinning sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I forgot you were kind of sore.”
“It’s nothing,” I responded, smiling. “And trust me, it’s nothing compared to how Robbyn Helmsley’s feeling.” I turned to continue walking, and Cassie followed. “Just do me a favor, and keep it G-Rated around Theresa.”
“Of course,” Cassie responded as we pushed through the door into the parking lot. “I don’t want Theresa asking those ‘awkward questions’ any more than you do.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle, and the two of us began walking through the indoor parking garage, towards where the car was parked. We hadn’t gone more than a dozen steps, however, when a scream of tortured misery cut through the air, giving both of us goosebumps.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUGH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
The two of us exchanged glances. “What was that?” Cassie whispered.
“I don’t know. But if someone’s hurt, we better go help them. Stay behind me!” I responded as I broke into a run, hoping it wasn’t an attack. Street fighting was hardly my forte, but I at least capable of defending myself. But Cassie, to the best of my knowledge, had never been in a fight in her life.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!”
There it was again. I picked up the pace, hearing Cassie’s footsteps maybe ten feet behind me. It sounded like it was on this level of the garage, and close by. I looked around wildly, and bolted towards a cement column. I rounded the column... and nearly tripped over my husband.
Terrence was kneeling on the ground, staring at the bumper of his cherry-red 1971 Dodge Charger, which had been knocked clean off the car, and lay on the ground. The horrified expression on his face, as well as the fearful expression on Theresa- who was standing with a stone-faced Pollaski nearby, told me that the screams had been his.
“What’s going on?” My nanny asked arriving behind me. She took one look at the car, and stepped back. “Uh oh...”
In addition to the removed bumper, the hood of the car was dented, the depression receding nearly two inches in some places. Dried blood also smattered the hood, the bumper, and the ground around us.
“Who did this?” Terrence whispered, his voice rough and hoarse. “Who did this to her?”
“Rori Snyder and Maddison Knight.” Pollaski said quietly, off to the side. “They used it as a weapon in the Falls Count Anywhere match.”
It would make sense- Terrence would have come like a bat out of hell if he felt his car was in danger, and he down in my locker room, checking to make sure I was okay after my match, while the FCA match went on.
It was hardly any consolation. Terrence grabbed the bumper, cradling it in his arms like a dead Shakespearean lover. He looked over at the hood, and shook his head- a mixture of sorrow and anger. Then he looked to me.
“I want restitution. Those two are going to pay for this, whether willingly or not. Nobody touches my car. No... BODY... USES MY CAR AS A WEAPON!”
The ferocity in his voice made me step back, and Terrence looked down at the bumper, then the hood again. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry...”
Then solemnly, he slowly carried the bumper towards the back of the car. As he dug into his keys, the slow, haunting melody of Taps began to emanate from Pollaski’s cellphone. Terrence opened the trunk, and gently laid the bumper to rest inside it, angling it so it was just barely able to fit, and gently shutting the lid as the song ended. For a couple long seconds, there was silence.
“Alright, everyone in,” Terrence finally said, his voice still hoarse.
For a moment, I thought about reminding Terrence that my duffel needed to go in the trunk as well, but I thought better of it. It could ride on my lap- it wasn’t that far back to the RV.
Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but hear my nanny as we climbed into the Charger’s backseat. “You ever get that feeling he loves the car more than you?”
“I don’t know,” I responded with a shrug. “I really don’t know how he’d react if any part of mine got knocked off or severely dented. And, I’m not really in any hurry to find out.”
“Fair enough,” Cassie said, as she slid in, and made room for me and Theresa to join her.
From the private journal of Wendy Briese
31 July AD 2011
Once again, I’m left feeling like a total idiot.
No, it’s not because I failed at my bid to become the Evolution Champion. Nor is it because I believed Colleen’s words of praise, and willingly stepped forward and shook her hand, only to be proven gullible. And it’s not because I howled in outrage along with twenty thousand fans as Isabella was betrayed by Samantha Star, nor is it because I turned away, disgusted, as Kaitlynn Stryfe hit that horrible kick to become the new FFW Champion.
No, I feel like a total idiot because I let the events of last night discourage me. I’ll confess, I was feeling pretty down after the show ended. I even began to wonder- what’s the point of honor in this sport if the people who don’t have any keep managing to get away with it? What’s the purpose of hours upon hours of endless training if a simple swing of the chair, or a stupid call by a referee, or a roll up with tights can accomplish the exact same thing?
This morning, I’m left realizing that’s just exactly what they want me to think.
By ‘they’, I mean wrestlers like Kaitlynn Stryfe and Rori Snyder. People who think I’m delusional because I still view this as a sport, and view the rules of the ring as what keeps this sport honorable, instead of obstacles to work around en route to their own self-styled feelings of supremacy. People who have no hope, or faith in their abilities, and have to resort to other methods, such as duplicity, or foreign objects, to accomplish their goals.
Hope and faith are my foundations. The way things are in pro-wrestling these days, I couldn’t walk the path I do without some faith that my own talent and hard work will get me through. I couldn’t do this if I didn’t have hope that I would succeed. Without hope and faith, I am nothing.
Last night, Colleen, and others, tried to rip that hope out of me. They tried to make me think that there was no longer a place for people like me in professional wrestling. They tried to make me feel inadequate, and weak, and obsolete.
Well, to hell with them! Colleen showed me nothing, during or after that match, that would suggest that I stood no chance the next time we met. Kaitlynn showed me nothing that would suggest that Scarlett, or I for that matter, stood no chance in a rematch. And Rori Snyder showed nothing that suggested she was little more than a weakling who hid behind the dirty work of others.
I don’t know where I’m going from here, and I don’t know how long it will take me to get back to where I was last night, but I will be back. I will be here, and I will triumph. But most of all, I’m going to do it MY way. The RIGHT way. The way it was intended when this sport was envisioned, and the rule-book was written, so many years ago. I don’t give two whits what Colleen, or Kaitlynn, or Tara, or Crystal, or anyone else has up their sleeves. I’ve overcome obstacles before, and I will again.
I hope that when the Velocity show is booked, I’m on it, because I want to get back in that ring, and I want to prove to anyone that there is NOTHING that can keep me down! Because whatever discouragement I felt last night is gone, replaced by a burning desire to once again show the wrestling world just why I’m considered one of the most dangerous women in this sport.
Whoever is my first opponent after Unstoppable better watch out. Because I think I have a lot to prove around here, and they are about to be made into one very quick, very painful, very cleanly executed example.
Because Wendy Briese is out to prove that ‘fair play’ and ‘easy pickin’s’ are by no means anywhere close to being synonyms
-WCBT
