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.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
EPISODE 248: Kitchen Nightmare, Part 2
Thursday April 24, 2014
The Nest- Kitchen
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:37 PM Local Time
“Oh my God…”
Wendy involuntarily took a step back, bumping into the kitchen door that had swung shut behind her. It took every ounce of willpower in her to not turn on her heel and run screaming into the street. She couldn’t abandon Theresa, no matter what her instincts had.
For her part, the seven year old girl was on the kitchen table, sobbing and wiping the tears from her face, although she’d stopped screaming at least. Next to the table was a chair, overturned- the lound thump she had heard no doubt. Theresa must have knocked it over climbing onto the table.
Not that she could blame her. For on the floor, situated between Wendy and the table her daughter was sitting on, was a rat.
An enormous rat.
The rodent was at least two feet long from head to tail, and had to weigh at least fifteen pounds- not that Wendy would EVER in a million years hold it. It’s coat was slimy and disgusting, and Wendy wrinkled her nose at the wet-boggy smell. She looked up at Theresa. “Did it bite you? Are you hurt?”
“N-no…” Theresa said, wiping her eyes. “I was getting an apple, and I heard a hiss over here, and I thought Chant was coughing up a hairball, and I was going to open the door and let it out and… well it was there.”
“Thank God.” Wendy said, sighing in relief that her daughter wasn’t about to come down with a case of rabies. She took a deep breath. “My God… this thing is HUGE! How did it even get in here?”
“I don’t know! But make it go away, mom!”
“I’m trying, sweetie,” Wendy said, trying to think quickly. .How in the blooming hell was she going to KILL this thing? Or could she run it off? The rat was between her and the door, so maybe she could chase it that way… if she could figure out how to get it open. Could Theresa…?
“Okay, I have an idea.” Wendy announced, steeling herself to believe in what she was about to suggest. “I’m going to grab it by the tail, and you… you hop down and open the door, and then I’ll carry it outside and throw it off the deck.”
The prospect of coming down from her perch terrified the seven year old, Wendy could tell. But Theresa swallowed, and looked at her skeptically.
“What if it comes back?”
“I think the fall will kill it,” Wendy said. “And if not, it’ll be so frightened it runs away, and we can figure out how it got in. Can you do this, Theresa? Can you open this door?
Theresa took a long time debating internally with herself, and seemed to so badly want to tell her mom no. But finally, she nodded, trembling. “Oh-okay…”
“Alright.” Wendy agreed, crouching down. “Okay, I’m going to count to three. Then you jump down, open the door, and get away, alright? One…. two…” She swallowed hard, offering up a silent prayer that this wasn’t going to backfire in some horrible way and end up with her- or even worse, Theresa- being bitten. “THREE!”
Wendy lunged forward, grabbing the tail, and picking the rat up. It was heavier than she had thought, and its tail was slippery. She took two steps forward, then the rat writhed, it’s tail sliding from her grasp. The angry rodent hit the floor with a loud thud, twisting and squealing as it righted itself back to it’s feet.
And that was the moment that any last bit of nerve remaining in Wendy Briese shattered.
Terrified screams echoed through the kitchen as Wendy leapt at the kitchen island, flopping on her belly and pulling up. Theresa had just reached the door when she saw her mom drop the rat, and for a second, remained transfixed, unsure what to do. Then she saw her mom flopping onto the island counter, and immediately determined that the table was a far better place to be. She didn’t even need a chaiir this time- her panicked leap-dive easily carried her on the table, and then the only thing left on the floor was one very large, slimy, stinky, angry rat.
It was several seconds before the screams quieted and Wendy was able to regain her senses. Looking up, she saw Theresa back on the table, unharmed, but staring angrily at her. “Great plan, MOM.”
“Sorry, just… oh God I TOUCHED it…” She stared down at her slimy hand, swallowing down a wave of nausea. Luckily, the island had the kitchen sink on it. Wendy flopped her way, turning on the water, and scrubbing her hands until she thought the skin was going to fall off.
“Now what?” came her daughter’s voice.
“Now… we call your father.” Wendy’s reply came, reaching into her pocket, and pulling out her cellphone. She quickly dialed Terrence’s number, whispering rapdily ‘c’monc’monc’mon…’
“Hey-o! It’s Terrence. Can’t talk. You know the drill.”
“Terry!” Wendy nearly howled into the phone once annoying recorded operator lady finished talking and gave the beep. “There’s a GIANT rat in the house, and Theresa and I are trapped in the kitchen. Please come home NOW.” She hang up, grimacing as the battery warning came on. “Five Percent Remaining?” she whimpered.
Still, she had to keep trying. She quickly tapped out a text message saying the same thing, then a tweet- although this time leaving out the part about the rat. She didn’t really want the FFW universe thinking there were regularly rodents running around the Thompson family kitchen. She was preparing to call again, when the tweet notification hit.
@WendyBriese Im in the middle of the scoreboard test. Ill come home right after
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Wendy bleated, fighting the urge to fling her Droid across the room. “THIS IS WAY MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE STUPID RACETRACK!” Angrily, she tweeted back.
@TwisterThompson I DONT GIVE A DAMN WHAT YOURE IN THE MIDDLE OF WHAT PART OF IMMEDIATELY DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!
….maybe the use of profanity would clue him in on the SERIOUSNESS of the situation. Wendy sighed, and went to call again- and the phone promptly died.
“Are… you… kidding….me?”
Wendy looked helplessly over to the kitchen counter attached to the wall, upon which sat the house phone, nestled right next to the knives (Knives?! Why hadn’t she tried STABBING the bloody thing?!). It was inaccessable now, as the rat was angrily pacing back and forth the ten foot gap between the island and the counter. There was no way she was going down there. Out of options, she looked over at Theresa, helpless. “Any ideas, Terr-Bear? How we’re going to get rid of King Rat here?”
The seven year old shook her head, then suddenly perked up. “The Rat King!” When her mother looked at her blankly, Theresa grinned. “The Rat King from the Nutcracker! Remember how he died? Clara killed him-”
“By hitting him with her shoe!” Wendy finished, clapping her hands. “You’re a genius, Theresa!”
“Do I get a cookie if this works?” Theresa asked as Wendy began to untie her left shoe.
“You’ll get ALL the cookies if this works,” Wendy promised, taking aim. She flung the shoe down, as hard as she could, aiming for the rat’s head. “DARNIT! Missed!” She took a deep breath. “Alright, one more chance…” She undid the right shoe, staring at the rat. Imagining herself as Travis Wood, she wound up, and let the shoe fly as hard as she could.
*SMACK!*
The footwear landed flush on the rat’s head, knocking it over, and Wendy whooped triumphantly, swinging her legs over the edge, ready to leap down, and run to the knives in case she needed to finish it off. Before she could go anywhere, however, the rat popped back up, and with an angry hiss, tore into the shoe, shredding it immediately. Wendy quickly swung her legs back up onto the island, looking over at Theresa.
“Well, your father got my tweet, so he should be home soon.” She hoped.
Theresa didn’t look pleased by the prospect of waiting for “soon”. “Where’s Chanticleer?” she asked, referencing the Thompson family cat. “He’d eat the ugly rat king…”
Wendy wasn’t so sure about that. The rodent was at least twice the size of her tabby, and judging by the way it continued to tear into her sneaker, at least twice as vicious too. She had a feeling that if Chanitcleer came looking for a meal, she’d end up looking for a new cat.
She looked around the island for anything else to throw, for once regretting tidying up the kitchen this morning. Nothing. All that could be done was to play the waiting game.
“Mom?” her daughter’s voice cut into her thoughts.
“Yes, Theresa?”
“This thing can’t climb, can it?”
Wendy gulped.
The Nest- Kitchen
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:37 PM Local Time
“Oh my God…”
Wendy involuntarily took a step back, bumping into the kitchen door that had swung shut behind her. It took every ounce of willpower in her to not turn on her heel and run screaming into the street. She couldn’t abandon Theresa, no matter what her instincts had.
For her part, the seven year old girl was on the kitchen table, sobbing and wiping the tears from her face, although she’d stopped screaming at least. Next to the table was a chair, overturned- the lound thump she had heard no doubt. Theresa must have knocked it over climbing onto the table.
Not that she could blame her. For on the floor, situated between Wendy and the table her daughter was sitting on, was a rat.
An enormous rat.
The rodent was at least two feet long from head to tail, and had to weigh at least fifteen pounds- not that Wendy would EVER in a million years hold it. It’s coat was slimy and disgusting, and Wendy wrinkled her nose at the wet-boggy smell. She looked up at Theresa. “Did it bite you? Are you hurt?”
“N-no…” Theresa said, wiping her eyes. “I was getting an apple, and I heard a hiss over here, and I thought Chant was coughing up a hairball, and I was going to open the door and let it out and… well it was there.”
“Thank God.” Wendy said, sighing in relief that her daughter wasn’t about to come down with a case of rabies. She took a deep breath. “My God… this thing is HUGE! How did it even get in here?”
“I don’t know! But make it go away, mom!”
“I’m trying, sweetie,” Wendy said, trying to think quickly. .How in the blooming hell was she going to KILL this thing? Or could she run it off? The rat was between her and the door, so maybe she could chase it that way… if she could figure out how to get it open. Could Theresa…?
“Okay, I have an idea.” Wendy announced, steeling herself to believe in what she was about to suggest. “I’m going to grab it by the tail, and you… you hop down and open the door, and then I’ll carry it outside and throw it off the deck.”
The prospect of coming down from her perch terrified the seven year old, Wendy could tell. But Theresa swallowed, and looked at her skeptically.
“What if it comes back?”
“I think the fall will kill it,” Wendy said. “And if not, it’ll be so frightened it runs away, and we can figure out how it got in. Can you do this, Theresa? Can you open this door?
Theresa took a long time debating internally with herself, and seemed to so badly want to tell her mom no. But finally, she nodded, trembling. “Oh-okay…”
“Alright.” Wendy agreed, crouching down. “Okay, I’m going to count to three. Then you jump down, open the door, and get away, alright? One…. two…” She swallowed hard, offering up a silent prayer that this wasn’t going to backfire in some horrible way and end up with her- or even worse, Theresa- being bitten. “THREE!”
Wendy lunged forward, grabbing the tail, and picking the rat up. It was heavier than she had thought, and its tail was slippery. She took two steps forward, then the rat writhed, it’s tail sliding from her grasp. The angry rodent hit the floor with a loud thud, twisting and squealing as it righted itself back to it’s feet.
And that was the moment that any last bit of nerve remaining in Wendy Briese shattered.
Terrified screams echoed through the kitchen as Wendy leapt at the kitchen island, flopping on her belly and pulling up. Theresa had just reached the door when she saw her mom drop the rat, and for a second, remained transfixed, unsure what to do. Then she saw her mom flopping onto the island counter, and immediately determined that the table was a far better place to be. She didn’t even need a chaiir this time- her panicked leap-dive easily carried her on the table, and then the only thing left on the floor was one very large, slimy, stinky, angry rat.
It was several seconds before the screams quieted and Wendy was able to regain her senses. Looking up, she saw Theresa back on the table, unharmed, but staring angrily at her. “Great plan, MOM.”
“Sorry, just… oh God I TOUCHED it…” She stared down at her slimy hand, swallowing down a wave of nausea. Luckily, the island had the kitchen sink on it. Wendy flopped her way, turning on the water, and scrubbing her hands until she thought the skin was going to fall off.
“Now what?” came her daughter’s voice.
“Now… we call your father.” Wendy’s reply came, reaching into her pocket, and pulling out her cellphone. She quickly dialed Terrence’s number, whispering rapdily ‘c’monc’monc’mon…’
“Hey-o! It’s Terrence. Can’t talk. You know the drill.”
“Terry!” Wendy nearly howled into the phone once annoying recorded operator lady finished talking and gave the beep. “There’s a GIANT rat in the house, and Theresa and I are trapped in the kitchen. Please come home NOW.” She hang up, grimacing as the battery warning came on. “Five Percent Remaining?” she whimpered.
Still, she had to keep trying. She quickly tapped out a text message saying the same thing, then a tweet- although this time leaving out the part about the rat. She didn’t really want the FFW universe thinking there were regularly rodents running around the Thompson family kitchen. She was preparing to call again, when the tweet notification hit.
@WendyBriese Im in the middle of the scoreboard test. Ill come home right after
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Wendy bleated, fighting the urge to fling her Droid across the room. “THIS IS WAY MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE STUPID RACETRACK!” Angrily, she tweeted back.
@TwisterThompson I DONT GIVE A DAMN WHAT YOURE IN THE MIDDLE OF WHAT PART OF IMMEDIATELY DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!
….maybe the use of profanity would clue him in on the SERIOUSNESS of the situation. Wendy sighed, and went to call again- and the phone promptly died.
“Are… you… kidding….me?”
Wendy looked helplessly over to the kitchen counter attached to the wall, upon which sat the house phone, nestled right next to the knives (Knives?! Why hadn’t she tried STABBING the bloody thing?!). It was inaccessable now, as the rat was angrily pacing back and forth the ten foot gap between the island and the counter. There was no way she was going down there. Out of options, she looked over at Theresa, helpless. “Any ideas, Terr-Bear? How we’re going to get rid of King Rat here?”
The seven year old shook her head, then suddenly perked up. “The Rat King!” When her mother looked at her blankly, Theresa grinned. “The Rat King from the Nutcracker! Remember how he died? Clara killed him-”
“By hitting him with her shoe!” Wendy finished, clapping her hands. “You’re a genius, Theresa!”
“Do I get a cookie if this works?” Theresa asked as Wendy began to untie her left shoe.
“You’ll get ALL the cookies if this works,” Wendy promised, taking aim. She flung the shoe down, as hard as she could, aiming for the rat’s head. “DARNIT! Missed!” She took a deep breath. “Alright, one more chance…” She undid the right shoe, staring at the rat. Imagining herself as Travis Wood, she wound up, and let the shoe fly as hard as she could.
*SMACK!*
The footwear landed flush on the rat’s head, knocking it over, and Wendy whooped triumphantly, swinging her legs over the edge, ready to leap down, and run to the knives in case she needed to finish it off. Before she could go anywhere, however, the rat popped back up, and with an angry hiss, tore into the shoe, shredding it immediately. Wendy quickly swung her legs back up onto the island, looking over at Theresa.
“Well, your father got my tweet, so he should be home soon.” She hoped.
Theresa didn’t look pleased by the prospect of waiting for “soon”. “Where’s Chanticleer?” she asked, referencing the Thompson family cat. “He’d eat the ugly rat king…”
Wendy wasn’t so sure about that. The rodent was at least twice the size of her tabby, and judging by the way it continued to tear into her sneaker, at least twice as vicious too. She had a feeling that if Chanitcleer came looking for a meal, she’d end up looking for a new cat.
She looked around the island for anything else to throw, for once regretting tidying up the kitchen this morning. Nothing. All that could be done was to play the waiting game.
“Mom?” her daughter’s voice cut into her thoughts.
“Yes, Theresa?”
“This thing can’t climb, can it?”
Wendy gulped.
EPISODE 247: Kitchen Nightmare, Part 1
From the private journal of Wendy Briese
4-24-2014
It’s been a while since I’ve been able to write in this journal. Part of it’s been because I’ve been so busy, but I’ve always had time to write my thoughts down before. It’s just that I couldn’t FIND this. I don’t know how it ended up getting packed away with the Christmas decorations, or what made me think to look in the box of lights, but here it is.
Either way, it’s been three months, and a lot’s happened since the last time I wrote in this. For starters, I lost the FFW Championship. Wasn’t even pinned for it, just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it doesn’t matter in a triple threat match. Scarlett pinned Val, and she’s now the champion. That’s the way it is, sometimes.
But in all honesty, it’s eating at me more than it probably should. It was a fair result, and I’m trying to be as gracious as I can about it, and it’s not that I personally have a problem with Scarlett Kincaid being the champion again, but… every time I see her with that belt, I feel a twinge. An impulse to cash in my rematch clause right then and there and take it back, because I was never more proud to hold that belt than any other belt I’ve ever held, and the thought of waiting SIX MONTHS for a chance to get it back..
But (and I keep reminding myself about this) that’s Unstoppable. The biggest show of the year, and while there is something awesome about winning the FFW Championship, winning it at the fifth Unstoppable makes it that much more special. So I need to be patient, and remember that my time will come soon enough. Heck, I’m already halfway there. Three months isn’t so long in this business, and I have plenty of other things to focus on until that fateful day arrives. I just have to take care of my business, and pray that Scarlett takes care of hers against Mika.
Yes, Mikaela Demidov has a title shot. God help us.
At least Scarlett has been every bit as gracious as I’ve been, if not more so. 80% of this roster would have gleefully rubbed that belt into my face, but Scarlett hasn’t. Heck, we even teamed together on a couple of occasions, and it worked better than I could have possibly dreamed. Both times we were on the winning team. I think Scarlett understands the awkwardness of the situation just as well as I do. We’re on a collision course, and I’m sure as that match becomes more emminent, things will get more tense between us, but until that time, there’s no reason we can’t be friends.
And it’s not like I missed a step in the ring, thankfully. After losing the title, I beat Sophie Richards, teamed with Scarlett to beat Mika and Camilla, then won Ten Femme Chaos with Scarlett, Caroline, Valerie, and Kate (okay, actually Kate won 10FC, while I got isolated and had the ever living tar beaten out of me, but it worked out well in the long run!). Then I teamed with the Brew again to beat the Rudos and Tara. So at least I’m still getting results, which is fortunate. Quite a few women seem to go on slumps after winning the FFW Championship, so I should be thankful I didn’t.
So now I’m officially over a year since I returned, and I still haven’t taken a fall to lose a match. That’s a heck of an accomplishment, and one I’ve never done before, I’m proud of that. But it’s kind of scary as well. I’m not invincible, and I never have been. It can’t last forever. How long? Another year? That’d be something else… heck, even six months? Three months, at Unstoppable? What a heartbreak that would be. Next month at Relentless when I face Tara? This Saturday on Breaking Point against Laura Steele? How humiliating would THAT be?
Perish that thought! No way in hell am I going to let that snot nosed sadistic idiot get the better of me. She attacked Adam with a cattle prod during a Future Shock competition right after One Night Stand, and half the locker rooms wanted a crack at her ever since. Misty got her chance (Laura ran away). Undine got her chance (Laura ran away). Lightning got her chance (Laura couldn’t run away). With everyone else having their way with the little twit, I certainly can’t do anything less.
Besides, I have my own personal reasons for wanting to stick Laura Steele in the Banshee, and keep her there until every last shred of her pride shatters and she begs me to stop.
Honestly, though, I can’t wait until this week is over. After nearly a year of hard work, and a lot of frustration, we’ve finally got North Marion ready and it’s opening Friday night. Not just that, but FFW is holding its opening Future Shock night for the fourteenth season there, too, so we’re going to be on global television on opening night! The amount of work to get ready is insane, although thankfully Terry and Cassie are handling most of it, and they’ve done a great job of making sure none of the preparations interrupt my training at the Storm Shelter.
But still, pressure is running high, and it’s not making it any easier that I’m not getting into Grand Forks until Saturday morning. I don’t like travelling the day of the show, but honestly, to see so much of our time and effort pay off Friday night is just something I can’t miss.
Anyways, I-
===========
Thursday April 24, 2014
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:17 PM Local Time
“Mom, can I have a cookie?”
Wendy Briese looked up, shutting her pen inside her journal to mark its place as her daughter bounded down the stairs and into the living room. She smiled patiently, setting the journal on the end table.
“Hey, Theresa. Did you finish your school work?”
The seven (nearly eight!) year old shook her head. “No, but I’m hungry.”
Wendy took a quick glance up at the clock, grimacing. “You just had lunch barely an hour ago.”
Theresa shrugged, as if saying ‘yeah, so?’. “I’m still hungry,” she repeated.
Wendy sighed, rubbing her eyes. “You can have an apple or an orange. No cookies until your schoolwork is done. ALL your schoolwork.”
“But it’s not even due til Monday!” Theresa whined, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Right, but your going with your dad to Salem this weekend, and I’m going to be out of town in Grand Forks. And we have the big opening night tomorrow night. So you’re going to be too distracted to do your work, and your father and I are going to be very busy. So you need to get it finished today. I told you this on Monday.”
“Yeah, but… you also let me go out and play, so, this is kind of your fault too!” Theresa countered, pouting just a little.
Wendy’s eyebrows rose just a bit. “I gave you the freedom to manage your time as you saw fit. Is it my fault that you chose not to use it wisely and productively?”
“Well, I um… but…” Theresa was at a lost for words. “It’s not fair!”
“But it is fair, Theresa,” Wendy responded, a slight smile on her face. “Fair is when actions, or inactions, have appropriate consequences. If you wait til the last day to do your schoolwork, you have to do it all at once, and then it’s even less fun than normal. But if you don’t do it today… then you’d have to do it this weekend, when there’s so much going on.” She paused, smiling. “Unless, of course, you just don’t do it at all.”
“Really? I think that would be the best,” Theresa said earnestly, happy to see an out. “So I can really skip the homework for the week?”
“Sure! I can’t really force you to do your schoolwork Theresa. If you don’t want to do it… then don’t do it… so long as you’re prepared to deal with the consequences… which I certainly can and will impose.”
Theresa seemed to grasp the point. “I’ll… um… get an apple. And then, get back to my multplication tables..”
“That’s a splendid idea.” Wendy agreed, and she smiled again, “In fact, get me one too, please.”
“Yes, mom,” the defeated seven year old sighed, trudging towards the kitchen.
“And if I find out you took a cookie without my permission-”
“Yeah, consequences,” Theresa muttered, disappearing into the kitchen.
Wendy sighed, shaking her head, half amused, half irritated with the stubbornness of her daughter- obviously inherited from Terence, of course. All in all, it had amazed her at how well the arrangement to Homeschool Theresa had worked out, and already Theresa was exceeding standards for the second grade level. But her stubbornness and propensity to procrastinate did create some headaches and arguments.
Ah well. Maybe she learned her lesson about putting things off til the last minute this time.
Not likely.
Reaching over, she picked up her journal opening it and reading the last paragraph to remember her place. She picked up the pen, tapped it against her chin, thinking of what to write next.
“AHHHH! MOM! MOM! HELP! HEEEEEELP! MOMMY!!!!”
Both pen and journal went flying as Wendy leapt to her feet at the horrified scream of her daughter, followed by a loud thud, as if something heavy had fallen over. Her heart leaping into her throat in alarm, Wendy sprinted towards the kitchen, flinging open the door- and stopping dead in her tracks at the sight before her, her throat going dry as she swallowed hard.
“Oh my God…”
4-24-2014
It’s been a while since I’ve been able to write in this journal. Part of it’s been because I’ve been so busy, but I’ve always had time to write my thoughts down before. It’s just that I couldn’t FIND this. I don’t know how it ended up getting packed away with the Christmas decorations, or what made me think to look in the box of lights, but here it is.
Either way, it’s been three months, and a lot’s happened since the last time I wrote in this. For starters, I lost the FFW Championship. Wasn’t even pinned for it, just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it doesn’t matter in a triple threat match. Scarlett pinned Val, and she’s now the champion. That’s the way it is, sometimes.
But in all honesty, it’s eating at me more than it probably should. It was a fair result, and I’m trying to be as gracious as I can about it, and it’s not that I personally have a problem with Scarlett Kincaid being the champion again, but… every time I see her with that belt, I feel a twinge. An impulse to cash in my rematch clause right then and there and take it back, because I was never more proud to hold that belt than any other belt I’ve ever held, and the thought of waiting SIX MONTHS for a chance to get it back..
But (and I keep reminding myself about this) that’s Unstoppable. The biggest show of the year, and while there is something awesome about winning the FFW Championship, winning it at the fifth Unstoppable makes it that much more special. So I need to be patient, and remember that my time will come soon enough. Heck, I’m already halfway there. Three months isn’t so long in this business, and I have plenty of other things to focus on until that fateful day arrives. I just have to take care of my business, and pray that Scarlett takes care of hers against Mika.
Yes, Mikaela Demidov has a title shot. God help us.
At least Scarlett has been every bit as gracious as I’ve been, if not more so. 80% of this roster would have gleefully rubbed that belt into my face, but Scarlett hasn’t. Heck, we even teamed together on a couple of occasions, and it worked better than I could have possibly dreamed. Both times we were on the winning team. I think Scarlett understands the awkwardness of the situation just as well as I do. We’re on a collision course, and I’m sure as that match becomes more emminent, things will get more tense between us, but until that time, there’s no reason we can’t be friends.
And it’s not like I missed a step in the ring, thankfully. After losing the title, I beat Sophie Richards, teamed with Scarlett to beat Mika and Camilla, then won Ten Femme Chaos with Scarlett, Caroline, Valerie, and Kate (okay, actually Kate won 10FC, while I got isolated and had the ever living tar beaten out of me, but it worked out well in the long run!). Then I teamed with the Brew again to beat the Rudos and Tara. So at least I’m still getting results, which is fortunate. Quite a few women seem to go on slumps after winning the FFW Championship, so I should be thankful I didn’t.
So now I’m officially over a year since I returned, and I still haven’t taken a fall to lose a match. That’s a heck of an accomplishment, and one I’ve never done before, I’m proud of that. But it’s kind of scary as well. I’m not invincible, and I never have been. It can’t last forever. How long? Another year? That’d be something else… heck, even six months? Three months, at Unstoppable? What a heartbreak that would be. Next month at Relentless when I face Tara? This Saturday on Breaking Point against Laura Steele? How humiliating would THAT be?
Perish that thought! No way in hell am I going to let that snot nosed sadistic idiot get the better of me. She attacked Adam with a cattle prod during a Future Shock competition right after One Night Stand, and half the locker rooms wanted a crack at her ever since. Misty got her chance (Laura ran away). Undine got her chance (Laura ran away). Lightning got her chance (Laura couldn’t run away). With everyone else having their way with the little twit, I certainly can’t do anything less.
Besides, I have my own personal reasons for wanting to stick Laura Steele in the Banshee, and keep her there until every last shred of her pride shatters and she begs me to stop.
Honestly, though, I can’t wait until this week is over. After nearly a year of hard work, and a lot of frustration, we’ve finally got North Marion ready and it’s opening Friday night. Not just that, but FFW is holding its opening Future Shock night for the fourteenth season there, too, so we’re going to be on global television on opening night! The amount of work to get ready is insane, although thankfully Terry and Cassie are handling most of it, and they’ve done a great job of making sure none of the preparations interrupt my training at the Storm Shelter.
But still, pressure is running high, and it’s not making it any easier that I’m not getting into Grand Forks until Saturday morning. I don’t like travelling the day of the show, but honestly, to see so much of our time and effort pay off Friday night is just something I can’t miss.
Anyways, I-
===========
Thursday April 24, 2014
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:17 PM Local Time
“Mom, can I have a cookie?”
Wendy Briese looked up, shutting her pen inside her journal to mark its place as her daughter bounded down the stairs and into the living room. She smiled patiently, setting the journal on the end table.
“Hey, Theresa. Did you finish your school work?”
The seven (nearly eight!) year old shook her head. “No, but I’m hungry.”
Wendy took a quick glance up at the clock, grimacing. “You just had lunch barely an hour ago.”
Theresa shrugged, as if saying ‘yeah, so?’. “I’m still hungry,” she repeated.
Wendy sighed, rubbing her eyes. “You can have an apple or an orange. No cookies until your schoolwork is done. ALL your schoolwork.”
“But it’s not even due til Monday!” Theresa whined, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Right, but your going with your dad to Salem this weekend, and I’m going to be out of town in Grand Forks. And we have the big opening night tomorrow night. So you’re going to be too distracted to do your work, and your father and I are going to be very busy. So you need to get it finished today. I told you this on Monday.”
“Yeah, but… you also let me go out and play, so, this is kind of your fault too!” Theresa countered, pouting just a little.
Wendy’s eyebrows rose just a bit. “I gave you the freedom to manage your time as you saw fit. Is it my fault that you chose not to use it wisely and productively?”
“Well, I um… but…” Theresa was at a lost for words. “It’s not fair!”
“But it is fair, Theresa,” Wendy responded, a slight smile on her face. “Fair is when actions, or inactions, have appropriate consequences. If you wait til the last day to do your schoolwork, you have to do it all at once, and then it’s even less fun than normal. But if you don’t do it today… then you’d have to do it this weekend, when there’s so much going on.” She paused, smiling. “Unless, of course, you just don’t do it at all.”
“Really? I think that would be the best,” Theresa said earnestly, happy to see an out. “So I can really skip the homework for the week?”
“Sure! I can’t really force you to do your schoolwork Theresa. If you don’t want to do it… then don’t do it… so long as you’re prepared to deal with the consequences… which I certainly can and will impose.”
Theresa seemed to grasp the point. “I’ll… um… get an apple. And then, get back to my multplication tables..”
“That’s a splendid idea.” Wendy agreed, and she smiled again, “In fact, get me one too, please.”
“Yes, mom,” the defeated seven year old sighed, trudging towards the kitchen.
“And if I find out you took a cookie without my permission-”
“Yeah, consequences,” Theresa muttered, disappearing into the kitchen.
Wendy sighed, shaking her head, half amused, half irritated with the stubbornness of her daughter- obviously inherited from Terence, of course. All in all, it had amazed her at how well the arrangement to Homeschool Theresa had worked out, and already Theresa was exceeding standards for the second grade level. But her stubbornness and propensity to procrastinate did create some headaches and arguments.
Ah well. Maybe she learned her lesson about putting things off til the last minute this time.
Not likely.
Reaching over, she picked up her journal opening it and reading the last paragraph to remember her place. She picked up the pen, tapped it against her chin, thinking of what to write next.
“AHHHH! MOM! MOM! HELP! HEEEEEELP! MOMMY!!!!”
Both pen and journal went flying as Wendy leapt to her feet at the horrified scream of her daughter, followed by a loud thud, as if something heavy had fallen over. Her heart leaping into her throat in alarm, Wendy sprinted towards the kitchen, flinging open the door- and stopping dead in her tracks at the sight before her, her throat going dry as she swallowed hard.
“Oh my God…”
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