Thursday April 24, 2014
The Nest- Kitchen
Indianapolis, Indiana
3:45 PM Local Time
“Mom, I’m hungry!”
“Your dad will be home soon, Theresa,” Wendy Briese patiently promised her daughter for what felt like the hundredth time. “Then he will take care of our… problem, and you can get something to eat.”
“But you’ve been saying that for three hours!” Theresa whined, folding her arms in front of her in a pout.
Wendy sighed as she looked at the microwave clock. In truth, it had only been an hour since she had gotten trapped on the island counter in her own kitchen, her daughter marooned on the table. But it had been a long, boring, and occasionally scary hour. The only excitement had come when Chanticleer wandered into the room, coming to a stop when he saw the rat. The two had stared at each other for several minutes, with Theresa egging the cat on. In the end, Chant’s wisdom proved more potent than his instincts, and he left the kitchen.
The mighty hunter indeed.
Although Wendy wasn’t much better herself, she had to admit. Here she was, former FFW World Champion, darn near unbeatable for the past year, trapped in her own kitchen with her daughter, unable to set HER foot on HER floor in HER kitchen in HER house, all due to something that was at LEAST four links lower on the food chain!
The mighty wrestler, indeed!
But she was trained to fight people, not animals. And to her credit, she DID at least perpare to attempt several times to leap down, and sprint across the gap to the house phone so she could call 911. But every time her revulsion got the better of her, and she had stayed in her perch. Other than kicking herself for being a wuss, she wasn’t TOO worried. It wasn’t a real life or death emergency.
Yet.
“Come on, Terry,” she hissed, staring at her dead mobile phone. He had to be home any-
The sound of the front door opening and shutting hit her eardrums as if on cue, and Wendy perked up, as did Theresa. “WE’RE IN THE KITCHEN!” both females screamed.
She heard heavy footsteps approaching, and the door swung open, Daniel Pollaski strolling into the room. Wendy’s heart sank slightly. It wasn’t her knight in shining armor.. but eh, he’ll do.
Pollaski looked from Wendy to Theresa, a quizzical expression on his face. “What are you two doing?”
“Hiding from the rat monster.” Theresa replied, seemingly as relieved as Wendy was.
Pollaski looked around. “What rat?”
“THAT RAT!” both Theresa and Wendy screamed, pointing to the monser rodent in the middle of the floor, not six feet from the obese manager.
Pollaski snorted. “That’s not a rat.” When Wendy looked at him with a flabbergasted expression on his face, he simply. shrugged. “Well, it’s obviously a rodent, but… just doesn’t look like a rat. I think it’s a nutria.”
“...a what?!” both Theresa and Wendy demanded.
“You know, a nutria. You know, they have em all the time down in Louisiana. Saw a few when we were with the BWA. Ugly little… well, ugly big things. Hell on the vegetation, too, although I heard they make really nice pelts.”
“Whatever.” Wendy snapped. “Just kill it. Or scare it away. Make it so that I don’t ever have to see it any more.”
“Heh,” Pollaski chuckled shaking his head. “Women are all like ‘we can vote!’ ‘we can drive!’ ‘we can beat men in a wrestling ring!’. But the moment a rodent starts camping out in the kitchen, it’s ‘save us big strong men’.”
“Shut. Up.” Wendy snarled, turning red in the face.
“Alright, alright, hang on,” Pollaski said, leaning against the wall. For all his bravado he didn’t seem to be all that eager to get near to the rat/nutria/whatever either. Edging against the wall (looking ridiculous due to hiis girth). He tiptoed circumventing the rodent, all the way to the opposite counter. He grabbed a cleaver out of the drawer, raising it high. “May I?”
Wendy meekly nodded. “We can buy a new one…”
Pollaski tiptoed up to the rat, cleaver raised high. “Alright, you little bastard…” he whispered, bringing the cleaver down with all his might, aiming right for the neck.
Of course, he missed.
The cleaver sank into the wood floor so hard that Pollaski had no choice but to let go. Finding himself staring at an enormous angry rodent, Pollaski screamed- somehow even higher than Wendy had. Before she knew it, he was belly flopping onto the range, leaping up to avoid the pissed-off rat-thingie. He squirmed, trying to get comfortable- a feat made difficult as he was pinned between the counter and the cupboards above him.
“My hero.” Wendy deadpanned. “Thank God a big strong man showed up.”
“That thing is invincible!” Pollaski wheezed, clutching his chest. “Did you see that?”
“You missed!” Wendy exclaimed. In truth, she was a bit jealous- Pollaski had come closer to killing it than SHE had, but still…
“So, ah, what now?” Pollaski asked, rolling onto his side.
“You’re right by the phone. Call 911, and get animal control over here,” Wendy sighed, as if the answer was obvious. “I don’t know when Terrence is going to be here, and-” her voice cut off at the sound of a clatter, and she looked over, to see the house phone sitting on the ground, rolling over by the rat, who simply ignored it. She looked back up at Pollaski, who grinned at her sheepishly.
“Whoops… butterfingers.”
======================
Thursday April 24, 2014
The Nest- Kitchen
Indinapolis, Indiana
4:17 PM Local Time
The moment the feed cuts in, it’s pretty obvious that this is not your bog-standard Wendy Briese promo. For one, the redhead, normally dressed in fairly nice, albeit casual clothing, is wearing a dingy gray Chicago Cubs t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and a pair of gray socks. She’s also sitting on a island-counter in her kitchen, with her daughter behind her, perched upon the kitchen table, looking bored. The camera seems to be shooting from another counter altogether, though judging by the shakiness, is hand held. Wendy suddenly looks over, realizing the camera’s on, her eyes going wide in alarm.
Wendy: “Here?! NOW!?”
Pollaski’s voice comes from offscreen. Evidently he’s the one holding the camera.
Pollaski: “Well, why not? I’m stuck right here. You’re stuck over there. None of us have the guts to move. None of us have a working phone, but I had a camcorder in my pocket. Awfully convenient, I know. But… considering that we have the big Future Shock and North Marion Opening Night tomorrow… and have to fly in to Grand Forks the morning of the show, we’re not going to have a lot of time. So, here and now is as good a time as any.”
Theresa: “Pollaski’s right mom. You have a busy weekend ahead, and you should DEFINITELY not wait til the last minute to do everything.”
Wendy, who had her mouth open to argue with Pollaski, freezes at the extremely sarcastic comment by her daughter. Slowly, somehow not moving any muscles but the ones in her neck, she turns her head to glare at her. Theresa, for her part, grins and waves to the camera. It’s adorable. Wendy finally sighs, and turns back to her manager.
Wendy: “Look, I just don’t think now is a good time. And I don’t want the world to know-”
There’s a hissing sound, and the camera tilts downward, to the kitchen floor. On the floor is a cordless phone, lying idly on its side. And a meat cleaver, buried halfway into the floor. And between the two pacing back and forth is one huge, ugly, disgusting looking rodent, with a long worm-like tail, a long, bushy body, and a head that almost looks like a beavers. It’s currently going to town on the shredded up remains of a sneaker that’s scattered all over the floor.
Wendy: “-about the rat on the floor.”
Pollaski: “You mean nutria?”
Now Wendy’s death glare is transfixed on Pollaski. It’s a good thing laser’s don’t shoot out of her eyes in a literal sense. Then again, if they did, she’d have just killed the rat/nutria and we wouldn’t even be in this situation, so trade-off.
Pollaski: “Well, it’s there. We’re up here. None of us is able to deal with it.”
Wendy: “I know! It’s just… embarassing, okay?”
Pollaski: “Well, you know what they say! When life gives you embarrassing lemons, go out there and make embarrassing lemonade! Now, we all know you have something to say to the FFW Faithful, so say it!”
Wendy looks at Pollaski (and the camera) like he’s nuts.
Wendy: “Okay, look. If you’re watching this… this is a *FREAK* coincidence. I have NEVER in the eight years I’ve lived in this house EVER had a pest problem. I keep a CLEAN house, I am a GOOD housekeeper, and this is absolutely NO indication of the quality of life that we have here. So please do NOT leap to conclusions.”
There’s a long pause.
Pollaski: “I was thinking more aloing the lines of Laura Steele.”
Wendy: “Oh right. The other vile, disgusting, slime ridden diseased vermin I’m dealing with…”
Wendy glances back over at her daughter, motioning for her to be quiet. Theresa nods, knowing its time for mommy to go to work.
“Fortunately, that’s ONE vermin I’m not afraid of. Nobody’s afraid of Laura Steele. Not Scarlett at the top of this company. Not Nene, who just enetered the company and is starting out from the bottom. Not Misty, not Undine, not Lightning, all somewhere in the middle. Not even Adam Grant, who has zero wrestling ability. and was nearly KILLED by her, is afraid of Laura Steele. And you want to know why that is, Laura?”
“Because nobody’s afraid of a child. And that is exactly what you are. A whiny, spoiled, self-indulged, petulant CHILD. You may have the body of a twenty-three year old, but you have the mental maturity, both psychologically and intellectually, of a four year old. Now, even a child can become dangerous if they get ahold of the wrong thing, even more so because there’s a chance that they might be too STUPID to realize the consequences of their actions, but that doesn’t mean you walk around being afraid of children.”
If you look closely, you can see Theresa in the background silently mouth “except me!”. Wendy misses this, and fidgets a bit- sitting on the counter for so long has obviously made her a little tight.
“Children do NOT belong in a grown-up business, because children do NOT know how to handle themselves in grown-up situations. And you’re aware of that too, aren’t you Laura? You knew from day one you were in this company, when you stepped out for the first challenge of Season 10 of Future Shock. You saw the Witches Brew. You saw the Rudos. You saw Angela and Jemma. You saw your own partner, future SVW Champion Becka Hate, and you KNEW you were in over your head.”
“And it’s all been downhill from there. You got a couple of early wins, mainly because you’re more lethal with a pot of tea than you are with any particular wrestling maneuver. And then the losses started piling up, one on top of another. You couldn’t handle it. And like children tend to do when in a situation they can’t handle, you panicked, and went into full fledged meltdown mode. You kidnapped Todd Warren and did God-knows-what with him, earning the enmity of your family. You riled up YOUR OWN TAG TEAM PARTNER, and then DUMPED her for her considerably less talented sister Crystal, ensuring you’d never ever win another tag match again. And all the while you pranced around acting like a fool, trying to draw attention away from your inability to even COMPETE in that ring to your juvenille antics.”
Behind Wendy, Theresa has folded her arms over her chest, and is nodding along, pompously agreeing with every point Wendy makes. Again, her mother completely misses it.
“I don’t even know why you joined Season 13. You HAD to have known it wasn’t going to end well. You were still in over your head, and you wouldn’t even have a partner to bail you out. You were truly ALONE. And you weren’t even facing green rookies anymore, but experienced veterans, several which had won more accolades than you’re ever going to see over the entire course of your CAREER. Same song, different verse. In over your head, so act like an idiot to deflect the developing cloud of doom that was forming above.”
“Only this time, it failed miserably.”
A derisive snort. On the bright side, cutting the promo seems to have distracted everyone from the killer rat/nutria.
“This time, DESPITE your best efforts to drag your team down to your level and make them ALL look stupid, they shook it off. They won. And the moment that bell rang, you knew you were SCREWED. You had to take people’s mind off your miserable performance. You had to draw it elsewhere. You had to do something to take attention away from the winners and put it on you. Not the fact that you completely FAILED at sabotaging your own team, but YOU. And this idea came to your head…”
“Well, it worked, Laura. You got everyone’s attention. How’s that been working out for you?”
“I know you loved it at first. You had the spotlight, everyone’s attention was upon you and you were the star of the show. And oh, god, the puns you could make! So many great awesome jokes to be had when you electrocute a man so badly HIS HEART STOPS. Actually there’s really only two or three puns, but you could certainly repeat them AD NAUSEUM. And it was even better, because this Humiliation Conga-line of wrestlers that formed up in the wake of your attack didn’t turn out to be so humiliating. Sure you were losing by countout, but at least you weren’t being picked apart by Undine and Misty! Laura Steele, the great Karma Houdini!”
“It was going to go the same way at Chaos Theory too. Make all the ‘shocking’ jokes you could. Antagonize Jestine, then make your escape yet again. Only this time, to paraphrase your former partner, the shadows spoke and your luck ran out Except the shadows turned out to be Jestine’s very angry sisters. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and it all came rushing back to you in a very, VERY brutal fashion.”
“Not so much fun then, was it Laura? Not much fun when the shoe’s on the other foot, when the body wracked with pain is your own. Not so much fun being at the complete and utter MERCY of someone who despises you, and to only be SAVED because the man who YOU attacked didn’t want her to stoop to your level. No more ‘shocking’ jokes. No more giggling. No more antagonizing. For the last month, you have been completely and utterly SILENT.”
“But at least it’s all over, right? Jestine got her revenge, you got put through a flaming table. We can all move on, right?”
Wendy laughs coldly, shaking her head. Theresa emulates a bobblehead doll.
“No. I don’t think we can. By any law in the land, Laura, you should be in prison for attempted murder. For many, MANY years. Whatever reason, you’re not. Fine, but you honestly think that ONE DAY in hell is appropriate for your sins?”
“Your hell’s just beginning, Laura Steele. First, it was Jestine. Now, it’s me. After that? Oh, I’m sure there’s a line. You see, this is how life works, and I was just teaching my daughter about it. You do something stupid, there are consequences. You do something REALLY stupid there are BIG consequences. And being a big-girl, and working in a big-girl industry, means you have to deal with those consequences. And you’re going to be dealing with THESE consequences for a very, VERY long time. And it will go on, and on, and on.”
For emphasis, Wendy punches her fist a couple times. Theresa does it too, although looking like a seven year old raving lunatic.
“But it’s not eternal Laura. It’s indefinite. That means there is an ending, it’s just up to you. You can’t just wait this out and hope it blows over, no, no no. There’s no time limit on this, it will END when you decide it ends. It will END when you wake up in the morning and you realize that you have been STUPID. That you have been CHILDISH. That you have been MALICIOUS. And that you have been- and I don’t use this word lightly- EVIL. And you decide that you’ve had enough,and you take these consequences into your own hands, and start making AMENDS. I don’t mean an ‘I’m sorry’ tweet, or a present, or just ‘acting nice’. I mean a full on change of HEART where you DEVOTE yourself to making the world a better place and to WASH AWAY the filth and ugliness that you have helped propagate. Only then, Laura- ONLY THEN will this train stop and let you off.”
“But that takes time Laura, and where I’m concerned, you don’t have that. You only have until Saturday night to strap in and prepare yourself, because you’re about to be in for a very bumpy, PAINFUL ride.”
As if sensing that her daughter is goofing off behind her back, Wendy turns around, but Theresa is now a perfect angel. A perfect angel twiddling her thumbs and looking at the ceiling. Shaking her head, Wendy turns back towards the camera.
“So why me? I’ve been hearing that question a lot ever since this match got announced. Why involve Wendy Briese in all this? Wendy Briese is chasing the FFW Championship while Laura Steele is simply trying to not get killed by one of the many people she’s ticked off. Why would Wendy Briese risk her reputation, risk giving Laura a foothold up, simply for the purposes of revenge that Jestine Leavenworth already got?”
“A couple of reasons. First of all, when I volunteered for this… I… and forgive me, Lightning… wasn’t so sure that Jestine was going to get it done. It’s not that I thought you would actually beat her, Laura. But you had this reputation of weaseling out up to that point. It turned out to be a moot concern, because Jestine was smart enough to make sure that didn’t happen, and she got her revenge. And yet, I was still given my own crack. And that’s fine with me. I have my own personal reasons for wanting to give Laura Steele a piece of my mind.”
Wendy leans forward, even nervous as she is about the rat, and uncomfortable as she is on the counter, her eyes are burning with intensity.
“See, Laura, this isn’t going to be like what happened at Chaos Theory. Jestine was red hot. Full of fury, brimstone and hellfire. You’re not going to see that from me, Laura. I have a temper, but just like its name implies, temper is only temporary. You’re not going to see a . rage brawl Saturday night, Laura. There won’t be any flaming tables to go thorugh. This is going to be technical. This is going to be calculated. There will be just two similarities to what happened when you faced Jestine. One, anything you bring into that ring, whether electrified or not, is still going to be broken like a twig, and two… this is still going to hurt a LOT. Lightning broke your BODY. I’m going to break your fighting SPIRIT.”
“I don’t like you. There’s a few people I don’t like in this company. Some just annoy me. Some I find to brutal, too violent, to disregarding of the rules and respect for their opponents. You fall into all three… and THEN some. Whenver I hear you going on about your English superiority, nobility, and so-called sophistication, I can’t help but think back to my history lessons as a kid. Because your mentality is the EXACT same mentality English aristocrats had when they rode around the countryside burning Irish farms just for the heck of it. Because they were SUPERIOR, and it didn’t matter worth a DARN who they hurt or killed.”
“Which included some of my ancestors, by the way. I’ve seen my family tree, and there’s quite a few premature deaths due to starvation and violence over the years. My father…”
Wendy’s voice catches for just a second, and she takes a deep breath, keeping the emotion out.
“My father was one of them, because he thought the exact same way you did, Laura, only from the other side of the field. He *HATED* anything English, and tried to raise me the same way. Obviously it didn’t work out- otherwise I’d harldy be married to a man of English descent, and have several English friends in this company like Hayley, Kate, and Lilly. But I WILL NOT put up with your trite and offensive superiority mindset. Not when I know the damage it has caused through the years, even if YOU are pretty much destined to be a footnote in wrestling history, let alone the grand scheme of things.”
“Speaking of history, I don’t know how much you know MY history, but what you did hits a little bit close to home with me on a personal level. It was three years ago, just before I came to FFW. I was in this company called X3, and I was set to face a guy by the name of Madman Szalinski in the finals of a tournament to crown their first ever champion. Madman was a bit like you, Laura. Self-indulgent. Narcissistic. See, he thought he was going to dominate, win the belt, and shove it in the owners face. And then this plucky little housewife from Indianapolis comes along, and suddenly the fans are behind her, her momentum’s building, and she’s now the favorite to win the tournament. He could feel it all slipping away.”
Theresa’s stopped goofing around, and is looking down. She remembers this story all too well. Wendy for her part still looks angry three years later.
“So what does he do? He attacks my husband backstage- right IN FRONT OF MY DAUGHTER- and beats him unconscious with a VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER. Terry didn’t compete for X3, but he’s still a wrestler. He can handle his own in a fight, but he was BLINDSIDED. So I know what its like to spend the night in a hospital with your loved one because a colleague decided to be a cheap attack piece of trash. Terrence’s wasn’t life threatening, at least. But seeing Adam being electrocuted still brought back memories of that awful night. I know what Lightning went through as much as anyone else here, even though she definitely still had it far worse.”
“I broke Szalinsky, Laura. I did the Irish Death off the ladder, and hit him so square, and jarred something in his brain that rendered him mute for three months. I’m not exactly proud of it, but it’s what happens when you go beyond the veins of wrestling. Nothing will turn a woman into a ball of fury more than a loved one being blatantly attacked. It’s why you didn’t see me having too much of a problem with what Lightning did. Was it too far? Yeah. Was it dangerous? Yeah. Was it wrestling? Nope. But when someone’s pushed that far for NO reason whatsoever, it’s kind of tough to rebuke them when they fight fire with literal, honest-to-god fire.”
A small sigh, and Wendy shakes her head.
“But again, Laura, that won’t be happening tonight. This isn’t an ‘anything goes’ kind of match, although I’m fairly certain you’re going to try and make it one, do whatever you can to win. After all, it won’t be good if you’re a whipping girl for, what… your sixth match in row? Besides, this is a bit of an opportunity for you, isn’t it? Huge match against the #1-Contender-In-Waiting, such as I am. And it’s amazing that NO ONE’s brought that up yet. How huge a chance you have here. Instead, it’s just everyone looking forward to how badly Wendy Briese is going to beat Laura.”
“And I won’t disappoint, Laura. Because I may not be able to handle a rat with four paws and a tail, I can certainly take care of one with two arms and two legs. And in the end, you’re going to get what all vermin get…”
Lean forward for the finishing zinger-
“Exterminated..”
As she finishes, Wendy looks over as the kitchen door opens, and Terrence “Twister” Thompson walks in, wearing an FFW Racing T-shirt, jorts, and a pair of sunglasses.
Wendy: “Oh, thank GOD. Where have you been?”
Terrence: “Scoreboard check. And traffic SUCKED. So, where’s the rat?”
Everyone points to the floor. Wendy in particular seems miffed that everyone seems to fail to see it when they first walk in.
Terrence: “Hunh. Wait… isn’t that a nutria?”
Wendy’s face, which has been by and large slightly red for most of the promo, is slowly turning purple.
Wendy: “Just. Get. Rid. Of. It.”
Terrence pauses and thinks for a second, then walks over to the kitchen table, turning around, and crouching down.
Terrence: “Alright, Theresa. Climb on.”
The seven year old obliges, piggybacking onto her father. Terrence makes sure she’s holding on tight, and walks over, passing the door. He looks over at the rodent, grining.
Terrence: “Well hey there, little guy! Aren’t you the ugliest little rabid thing I’ve ever seen! Yes you are, yes you are!”
Wendy looks shocked and alarmed by this.
Wendy: “Weren’t you going to piggyback her out of the kitchen?”
Terrence: “Nah, this for extra weight.”
Wendy: “Extra weight for-”
Terrence: “GOOMBASTOMP!”
*CRUNCHSQUIRT*
For having a fifty pound girl on his back, Terrence hits remarkable height in his jump. Two loud squeaks are heard, one definitely coming from Wendy, the other likely from the rodent that just had about three hundred pounds land on it. Wendy’s immediately covers her mouth with both her hands, and even Terrence looks a little squicked out.
Terrence: “Aw, man. These are my good shoes too…”
Theresa: “AWESOME! Do it again, dad!”
Through her hands, Wendy can be heard whimpering like a wounded puppy. Terrence carefully let’s Theresa down to the floor.
Terrence: “Thanks for your help, Terr-Bear! Now run and get Daddy’s snow shovel. The metal one.”
Terrence lifts one foot, and looks down, wincing a little.
Terrence: “...and the ice scraper.”
Wendy can’t take it anymore, and leaps off the counter, running out of the room, half-whimpering, half-wailing, half-retching and half-sobbing as she flees. Terrence watches her go, and exchanges a shrug with his daughter, who follows Wendy out. Terrence looks over at Pollaski, shaking his head.
Terrence: “Alright. Show’s over. Get off my counter.”
Pollaski: “Dude! It’s splattered all over the floor! There’s a puddle!”
Terrence: “I don’t care. You’re denting my range, fattie. DOWN.”
Pollaski obliges, but the moment his feet touchdown, he slips.
Pollaski: “WHAOH!!””
The camera blurs as it tumbles end over end, a squishy sloshy sound is heard, then darkness and silence.
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