Tuesday July 22, 2014
3:34 PM Eastern Daylight Time
The Nest- Backyard
Indianapolis, Indiana
“UNGH!” Wendy grunted, her arms pinwheeling as she landed in the grass, having taken the last three steps in one leap. She nearly fell, but kept her balance, turning to find her daughter, lying fifty feet away on the grass, screaming in pain and terror as she was savaged by the puppy that had been brought home two months ago. The puppy WEndy had never wanted- had WARNED her husband against, only to be treated like a Cassandra. And now…
Well, there was no way they’d be keeping it now. Not after this savagery…
“Fireball, stop!” Wendy yelled, sprinting across the lawn towards her daughter. “STOP! GET AWAY! FIREBALL, NO! GET A-”
But Wendy’s voice trailed off as she neared the commotion. Theresa was down on the ground screaming, but not from being savaged. Near as Wendy could tell… she was unharmed. And Fireball was barking and snarling savagely, but had her tail towards Theresa, facing the other way. Barking at the same spot Theresa’s eyes were fixated on… a dark coil of rope in the grass not five feet away.
No, not a rope, Wendy realized as she got even closer.
“Oh... shit….”
Neither she nor her daughter noticed the profanity that had slipped from her mouth. Both were staring at the coil, which ever so slightly slithered and unwound. It was a snake, and judging by the faint rattling sound coming from it as it beadily eyed the dog threatening it, not a benign one.
She had to get Theresa away from there. Now.
Without taking her eyes from the venemous reptile, she reached down and grabbed her daughter’s wrist, pulling back as hard as she could to drag the eight year old away.
“OW!” Theresa protested at the sudden pulling on her shoulder as she was dragged back ten feet. “That hurt.”
“Are you okay?” Wendy asked, only now daring to take her eyes of the snake as she more gently helped Theresa to her feet. “Did it bite you?”
“No.” Theresa said, although she was trembling- most likely from fear. “Mom, Fireball is…”
“Are you sure?” her tone was more forceful this time, almost demanding, as she visually inspected her daughter for any sign of being bitten. “Because if you’re hurt, we need to…”
“Mom, I’m POSITIVE. I haven’t been bitten!” Theresa protested adamantly. “But Fireball-”
“Theresa, listen to me,” Wendy demanded, cutting her daughter’s plea off. I want you to run up to the garage, grab the hoe, and bring it back down here as fast as you can, okay?”
“But what about…”
“DON’T ARGUE!” Wendy snapped, with so much force she surprised herself. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself- it worked marginally- “We don’t have time. Please, go up and grab the hoe, okay?”
Theresa looked as if she wanted to protest again, but thought better of it. With one last desperate look at the barking dog, she turned and ran around the side of the house, as fast as her eight year old legs could carry her.
Wendy turned her attention back to the snake, which was still watching Fireball, bobbing its head back and forth with the dogs movement as the goldendoodle continued to bark and snarl at it. Good, Wendy realized. If the snake was so fixated on the dog, maybe she could move around…
Slowly, she sidestepped, trying to move in as wide a berth around as she could, and get behind the snake. It had to be an Eastern Massasagua, near as she could tell. Those were the only rattlesnakes found in Indiana, right? She wasn’t sure… she was no expert on snakes, but she’d been to reptile house at the Indianapolis zoo a few times.
Either way, she had never heard of a poisonous snake in Pike Creek before. Brown recluses, black widows, fire ants, and rabid fruitbats had plagued one house or another over the years, but never had she ever heard her neighbors talk about snakes, or seen one herself. And what was it doing up here anyways? They were over a half-mile from the creek. Didn’t snakes live by water? Had it slithered up the stormdrain.
It ultimately didn’t matter in the end, she figured. She had to get rid of this thing, and for that, she needed Theresa to come back. And hope the stalemate between the snake and Fireball wasn’t broken in the meantime, and the snake escaped or- even worse, turned on her.
After what seemed like an eternity (but in actuality hadn’t been more than a couple of minutes, Theresa came back around the corner of the house, holding the hoe awkwardly, the pole far too long for her small frame to effectively hold. Still, Wendy breathed a sigh of relief at the gardening tool that should hopefully prove to be their salvation.
“Go wide,” Wendy hissed, trying to keep her voice from getting too high lest she draw reptillian attention to herself. She beckoned for Theresa to swing to the outside of her, away from the snake. Luckily, the little girl obeyed, and held out the hoe for Wendy to take.
“Thanks.” Wendy said, brandishing the tool. “Now step back. Back, Theresa!” She repeated when her daughter balked. She waved for her to take a couple more steps back. She wanted her out of the way to where she didn’t have to worry about her. She needed all her focus for what she was about to do.
Lightly, Wendy crept the fifteen or so feet between her and the snake, doing the best she could to not startle it and turn it on her. Luckily, the viper’s attention was still held by Fireball, head bobbing as it watched the dog.
Finally, she was in range. She hoped.
“AIIIIIIIIIIIIEAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Wendy screamed as she swung the hoe with all her might, smashing it down blade first onto the snake. She was rewarded with a disgusting squishing and crunching sound, and leapt back as the animal began to writhe furiously, the rattle noise growing as it thrashed angrily. Slowly, the snake began to turn towards her, its mobility severely hampered by the wound she already gave it. She raised the hoe again, this time looking more for precision instead of power, aiming for just behind its head.
“HYIAH!” she grunted again as the hoe came down again, connecting perfectly and severing the snake’s head with another disgusting squishcrunch sound.
“Oh, God…” Wendy groaned, disgusted by the sight of the severed snakes head lying on the side in the grass, as the body continued to spasm. She looked down at the hoe in her hands, unable to hold back a resigned grin. All the girls in the Ultraviolence division would have been impressed with the way she had swung that!
“Got it!” Wendy said, looking back over her shoulder at her hopefully impressed daughter. She reached out the hoe again, hooking it under the spasming decapitated snake body. With a heave, she tossed it into a small rockbed that housed a hydrangea bush. Terrence could take care of that later.
“Fireball! Fireball! Oh, Fireball!” She heard her daughter exclaiming as her daughter ran around her, kneeling in the grass and embracing the dog. “Did you see that, Mom? Fireball saw the snake, and realized I was geting too close, so she knocked me down and protected me!”
Wendy looked back to her daughter, somewhat surprised at what she was hearing. But it had to be true. It explained why she had gone for Theresa’s legs- to knock her down and keep her from running into the snake, and give her a chance to get between. “She did, yes…” Wendy admitted.
“Oh, Fireball, good girl Fireball!” Theresa said, squeezing the puppy, and scratching her ear. “You saved me from that nasty evil snake!” Fireball only happily wagged her tail, licking Theresa’s face.
No, it wasn’t just her tail wagging, Wendy realized. Somehow, Fireball was wagging her whole body, which was causing her to make a squeaking sound. No… that wasn’t right… she wasn’t wagging… she was tremblinig. And it didn’t take long for both Wendy and her daughter to realize that the squeaking sound was the dog whimpering.
“Fireball? What’s wrong? What is it? Fireball?”
Fireball looked up at Theresa, the puppy’s big brown eyes locking onto Theresa’s green ones. She gave one more lick of the girl’s face, and even Wendy could see every last ounce of affection Fireball had in her had gone into it.
And then the puppy collapsed onto the grass, turning on its side, continuing to whimper and tremble, her breathing now labored.
“Oh God…” Wendy whispered, her blood running cold as she saw the two puncture marks on the dog’s chest, just above the leg, blood slowly trickling out, matting in the dog’s shaggy fur.
“Fireball? Fireball? FIREBALL! MOM! FIREBALL! HELP HER! FIREBALL! NO!!!!!!!!!!!”
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
EPISODE 257: Be Careful What You Wish For (Part 1)
From the private diary of Theresa Thompson
Wendsday July 16 2014
So Mom got me this diary for my birthday, and told me it’s a great way for me to write down my thoughts. This seems kind of dorky, but Mom says that she writes in it whenever she wants to say something, but she can’t. That’s weird, because Mom always gets time on TV to say what ever she wants pretty much when ever she wants. Except she has to show tack and keep up appearances. I don’t really know what that means, but I’d much rather call Clinton Sickles a stupid mean idiot on television than I would in a book.
Any ways. My birthday went rather well. We went to Fun Fun Mountain and played mini-golf. I even got to ride a gokart, because I’m old enough now! It was kind of scary, so I didnt go very fast. I think Daddy was sad watching me. He said that driving was a bad place to have mommy’s jeans, but I wasn’t even wearing jeans.
Mom’s getting stressed though, with her big match coming up. She’s spending really long hours practicing now, and seems so tired in the evning, but she gets up and does it again. I know she wants to win the FFW Title back, but she seems even more nervous this time than when she faced Val. I don’t think she likes Mika like she did Val, which is bad for Mika because if she beat up Val so bad when she likes her, she’s going to really beat up Mika!
Unless Mika wins. Then Mom’s going to be pretty sad and angry. And she’ll send Fireball away for certain. I don’t want that to happen. She hasn’t said anything about giving her up, but I know from the way she looks at Fireball that as soon as she gets a chance, and Dad’s going to let her once July’s over. I know because I heard her telling Dad about it right after we got the dog, and time is running out.
So I need her to win. Because maybe then Mom will be so happy about being Champion again that she’ll forget that she doesn’t like Fireball, and then I’ll get to keep her. If not, maybe we’ll run away together. I’m not letting her take Fireball! I swear it!
Anyways, that’s all I have for now. Maybe I’ll write again tomorrow. It did kind of feel good to say some things.
Bye!
Theresa
====================
Tuesday July 22, 2014
3:13 PM Eastern Daylight Time
The Nest- Kitchenette
Indianapolis, Indiana
“She’s like a golden apple of discord,” Wendy Briese sighed as she watched the screen on her laptop, where the main event of the previous evening’s Aggression was playing out. “She’s the real enemy, both of them know that, and there they are squabbling with each other…” She sighed, shaking her head at the arguing duo of Ryan Sheffield and Anders Stark. “Anders needs to just walk away at this point and let Ryan work and Ryan… just focus.”
“Keep watching” came her manager’s voice over the computer’s speakers, courtesy of Skype. “Although I should probably tell you any scouting opportunities in this match are behind us now. It’s just…”
“Oh look, there’s Samara,” Wendy deadpanned as the camera cut to Mika Demidov’s friend and Team Kyle-compatriot come down to the ring, obviously with bad intentions in mind. “No, Ryan… don’t look at her… look at… Mika.”
But it was too late, as the latter had grabbed Ryan, rolling him up with a blatant use of the tights she couldn’t believe the referee had missed. She sighed again as the bell rang to the jeers of the crowd. “Of course.”
“Told ya it was bad,” Pollaski said sympathetically as Wendy shut the video window, then saved and exited the Notepad file on which she had been taking notes. “Team Kyle lets her steal another one.”
“Yeah…” Wendy said, taking a deep breath as she stared at the skype window. “Is that what I’m in for Saturday Night?”
“Tough to say. On one hand, she’s been a good girl in FFW for the past couple of months, at least as far as clean matches go. On the other hand, we’ve been seeing what she’ll stoop to in SVW during regular matches. So when her back’s against the wall, and it’s truly and honestly that title on the line, well…”
Pollaski may have left the definitive answer hanging, but Wendy got the gist of it. “Yeah…”
“Eh, don’t worry. I’d love any excuse in the world to commit war crimes on Samara Steele’s face if the opportunity presents itself. Or Marla. Or Sylvia. I’ll keep them off you.”
“And what if more than one member of Team Kyle comes out?” Wendy asked, somewhat amused by Pollaski’s bravado, even if it did have some merit.
There was a pause. “Hrm… maybe you better just work on finishing that match as qick as you possibly can before the harem even has a chance to try anything,” Pollaski suggested. “Stay focused off the get go and keep up the pressure. Like, y’know,the exact opposite of hwo you did Unstoppable last year.”
“Okay, that’s not even fair,” Wendy proclaimed defensively. “Isabella and I were having a MOMENT… and then she just…”
“Pulled an Isabella?”
“... Pulled...a...yeah…” Wendy admitted. “Look, I’m not exactly going to be having any kind of sentimentality with Mika here. There’s not going to be any hugs or handshakes or anything like that, even if it were Mika’s last match in FFW… not that I’d complain if it actually were.”
“You really don’t like her, do you?” Pollaski asked, no small amount of amusement in his voice.
“You have no idea…” Wendy said softly turning around and looking out the window. Out in the backyard she could see Theresa playing with Fireball, throwing the ball for the goldendoodle puppy. Fireball seemed to grasp the concept of “Chase”, however, “retrieve” seemed to be a bit of a foreign concept, as it would only take a few steps back towards Theresa before dropping the ball and seemingly forgetting about it.
Stupid animal, Wendy thought. The two months grace period she had allowed with the dog hadn’t done much to change her opinion at all. Even though Fireball was now housetrained (for the most part), she was still managing to leave messes all over the place. Just this morning Wendy had found her favorite pair of slippers shredded all over the master bedroom, and just yesterday somehow the kitchen garbage can had been knocked over and scattered all over the house. It was just too much chaos, more than she could handle, and she couldn’t wait to be rid of it.
And yes, she knew that Theresa would be upset by seeing her dog disappear, but in truth, that was Terrence’s fault. He was the one who had impulsively put false hope in their daughter’s mind, and created an unsustainable situation. Damn him for making her play the bad guy…
“... well anyways, I got Terrence and Theresa’s passes in the mail today for Unstoppable, so I’ll drop them off the next time I come over.” Pollaski’s voice butted into her thoughts, drawing her attention away from the window.
“Hunh? Oh…” Wendy shook her head to focus. “Might as well return them. They’re not coming.”
“They’re not?” Pollaski’s voice was surprised.
Wendy shook her head- a meaningless gesture considering the Skype call was audio only. “Nope. You know it’s Brickyard week. He’s got his ARCA race Friday Night, and the Nationwide people want to meet with him on Saturday, so he’s going to stay in town. He’ll watch on TV, of course.”
“Of course…” Pollaski said in a sympathetic tone. “Still it sucks that he’s going to miss your match… and your Hall of Fame induction ceremony.”
“Well, he was always going to miss the ceremony” Wendy said with a shrug. “It’s probably for the better anyways. I won’t have any distractions for the match, then, and I can focus on downing Mika, and getting that title back.” In truth, she wasn’t sure if she felt irritated about Terrence’s decision to skip attending Unstoppable or not. On one hand, maybe having Terrence away WOULD help her focus, but on the other hand, she wasn’t happy that he was still expressing an interest in racing in the Nationwide series, especially with him meeting with some owners while she was otherwise preoccupied.
“Alright. We’ll, I’ll give Eileen a call. Maybe she’s got some sick kid who could use the passes. Put them to a good cause.”
“That’s a great idea!” Wendy agreed. “Yeah, and then she could…”
Her voice trailed off as the sounds outside changed. Fireball was growling and snarling, and Wendy turned around just in time to watch the goldendoodle charge at Theresa, taking her out by the legs, sending the eight year old tumbling down into the grass with a shriek. Wendy lost sight of her daughter as the line of sight was interrupted by their backyard deck, but she could hear the shrieks turning to bloodcurdling screams, still combined with the vicious growls and snarls of the dog.
“Oh my God…” Wendy said, her blood running cold as she realized what was happening. “DanIGottaGo” she shrieked, leaping to her feet and running out of the house, flinging open the back door, not even hearing Pollaski’s startled response coming from the computer.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God…” Wendy said, her heart leaping into her throat as her daughter’s screames echoed in her ears. She sprinted to the stars of the deck, sprinting down them, her only thought on getting to her daughter.
No, not her only thought…
For deep down inside her, shamefully, appallingly, came another far more triumphant exclamation that disgusted the rest of her for it even crossing her mind.
“I knew it!”
Wendsday July 16 2014
So Mom got me this diary for my birthday, and told me it’s a great way for me to write down my thoughts. This seems kind of dorky, but Mom says that she writes in it whenever she wants to say something, but she can’t. That’s weird, because Mom always gets time on TV to say what ever she wants pretty much when ever she wants. Except she has to show tack and keep up appearances. I don’t really know what that means, but I’d much rather call Clinton Sickles a stupid mean idiot on television than I would in a book.
Any ways. My birthday went rather well. We went to Fun Fun Mountain and played mini-golf. I even got to ride a gokart, because I’m old enough now! It was kind of scary, so I didnt go very fast. I think Daddy was sad watching me. He said that driving was a bad place to have mommy’s jeans, but I wasn’t even wearing jeans.
Mom’s getting stressed though, with her big match coming up. She’s spending really long hours practicing now, and seems so tired in the evning, but she gets up and does it again. I know she wants to win the FFW Title back, but she seems even more nervous this time than when she faced Val. I don’t think she likes Mika like she did Val, which is bad for Mika because if she beat up Val so bad when she likes her, she’s going to really beat up Mika!
Unless Mika wins. Then Mom’s going to be pretty sad and angry. And she’ll send Fireball away for certain. I don’t want that to happen. She hasn’t said anything about giving her up, but I know from the way she looks at Fireball that as soon as she gets a chance, and Dad’s going to let her once July’s over. I know because I heard her telling Dad about it right after we got the dog, and time is running out.
So I need her to win. Because maybe then Mom will be so happy about being Champion again that she’ll forget that she doesn’t like Fireball, and then I’ll get to keep her. If not, maybe we’ll run away together. I’m not letting her take Fireball! I swear it!
Anyways, that’s all I have for now. Maybe I’ll write again tomorrow. It did kind of feel good to say some things.
Bye!
Theresa
====================
Tuesday July 22, 2014
3:13 PM Eastern Daylight Time
The Nest- Kitchenette
Indianapolis, Indiana
“She’s like a golden apple of discord,” Wendy Briese sighed as she watched the screen on her laptop, where the main event of the previous evening’s Aggression was playing out. “She’s the real enemy, both of them know that, and there they are squabbling with each other…” She sighed, shaking her head at the arguing duo of Ryan Sheffield and Anders Stark. “Anders needs to just walk away at this point and let Ryan work and Ryan… just focus.”
“Keep watching” came her manager’s voice over the computer’s speakers, courtesy of Skype. “Although I should probably tell you any scouting opportunities in this match are behind us now. It’s just…”
“Oh look, there’s Samara,” Wendy deadpanned as the camera cut to Mika Demidov’s friend and Team Kyle-compatriot come down to the ring, obviously with bad intentions in mind. “No, Ryan… don’t look at her… look at… Mika.”
But it was too late, as the latter had grabbed Ryan, rolling him up with a blatant use of the tights she couldn’t believe the referee had missed. She sighed again as the bell rang to the jeers of the crowd. “Of course.”
“Told ya it was bad,” Pollaski said sympathetically as Wendy shut the video window, then saved and exited the Notepad file on which she had been taking notes. “Team Kyle lets her steal another one.”
“Yeah…” Wendy said, taking a deep breath as she stared at the skype window. “Is that what I’m in for Saturday Night?”
“Tough to say. On one hand, she’s been a good girl in FFW for the past couple of months, at least as far as clean matches go. On the other hand, we’ve been seeing what she’ll stoop to in SVW during regular matches. So when her back’s against the wall, and it’s truly and honestly that title on the line, well…”
Pollaski may have left the definitive answer hanging, but Wendy got the gist of it. “Yeah…”
“Eh, don’t worry. I’d love any excuse in the world to commit war crimes on Samara Steele’s face if the opportunity presents itself. Or Marla. Or Sylvia. I’ll keep them off you.”
“And what if more than one member of Team Kyle comes out?” Wendy asked, somewhat amused by Pollaski’s bravado, even if it did have some merit.
There was a pause. “Hrm… maybe you better just work on finishing that match as qick as you possibly can before the harem even has a chance to try anything,” Pollaski suggested. “Stay focused off the get go and keep up the pressure. Like, y’know,the exact opposite of hwo you did Unstoppable last year.”
“Okay, that’s not even fair,” Wendy proclaimed defensively. “Isabella and I were having a MOMENT… and then she just…”
“Pulled an Isabella?”
“... Pulled...a...yeah…” Wendy admitted. “Look, I’m not exactly going to be having any kind of sentimentality with Mika here. There’s not going to be any hugs or handshakes or anything like that, even if it were Mika’s last match in FFW… not that I’d complain if it actually were.”
“You really don’t like her, do you?” Pollaski asked, no small amount of amusement in his voice.
“You have no idea…” Wendy said softly turning around and looking out the window. Out in the backyard she could see Theresa playing with Fireball, throwing the ball for the goldendoodle puppy. Fireball seemed to grasp the concept of “Chase”, however, “retrieve” seemed to be a bit of a foreign concept, as it would only take a few steps back towards Theresa before dropping the ball and seemingly forgetting about it.
Stupid animal, Wendy thought. The two months grace period she had allowed with the dog hadn’t done much to change her opinion at all. Even though Fireball was now housetrained (for the most part), she was still managing to leave messes all over the place. Just this morning Wendy had found her favorite pair of slippers shredded all over the master bedroom, and just yesterday somehow the kitchen garbage can had been knocked over and scattered all over the house. It was just too much chaos, more than she could handle, and she couldn’t wait to be rid of it.
And yes, she knew that Theresa would be upset by seeing her dog disappear, but in truth, that was Terrence’s fault. He was the one who had impulsively put false hope in their daughter’s mind, and created an unsustainable situation. Damn him for making her play the bad guy…
“... well anyways, I got Terrence and Theresa’s passes in the mail today for Unstoppable, so I’ll drop them off the next time I come over.” Pollaski’s voice butted into her thoughts, drawing her attention away from the window.
“Hunh? Oh…” Wendy shook her head to focus. “Might as well return them. They’re not coming.”
“They’re not?” Pollaski’s voice was surprised.
Wendy shook her head- a meaningless gesture considering the Skype call was audio only. “Nope. You know it’s Brickyard week. He’s got his ARCA race Friday Night, and the Nationwide people want to meet with him on Saturday, so he’s going to stay in town. He’ll watch on TV, of course.”
“Of course…” Pollaski said in a sympathetic tone. “Still it sucks that he’s going to miss your match… and your Hall of Fame induction ceremony.”
“Well, he was always going to miss the ceremony” Wendy said with a shrug. “It’s probably for the better anyways. I won’t have any distractions for the match, then, and I can focus on downing Mika, and getting that title back.” In truth, she wasn’t sure if she felt irritated about Terrence’s decision to skip attending Unstoppable or not. On one hand, maybe having Terrence away WOULD help her focus, but on the other hand, she wasn’t happy that he was still expressing an interest in racing in the Nationwide series, especially with him meeting with some owners while she was otherwise preoccupied.
“Alright. We’ll, I’ll give Eileen a call. Maybe she’s got some sick kid who could use the passes. Put them to a good cause.”
“That’s a great idea!” Wendy agreed. “Yeah, and then she could…”
Her voice trailed off as the sounds outside changed. Fireball was growling and snarling, and Wendy turned around just in time to watch the goldendoodle charge at Theresa, taking her out by the legs, sending the eight year old tumbling down into the grass with a shriek. Wendy lost sight of her daughter as the line of sight was interrupted by their backyard deck, but she could hear the shrieks turning to bloodcurdling screams, still combined with the vicious growls and snarls of the dog.
“Oh my God…” Wendy said, her blood running cold as she realized what was happening. “DanIGottaGo” she shrieked, leaping to her feet and running out of the house, flinging open the back door, not even hearing Pollaski’s startled response coming from the computer.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God…” Wendy said, her heart leaping into her throat as her daughter’s screames echoed in her ears. She sprinted to the stars of the deck, sprinting down them, her only thought on getting to her daughter.
No, not her only thought…
For deep down inside her, shamefully, appallingly, came another far more triumphant exclamation that disgusted the rest of her for it even crossing her mind.
“I knew it!”
EPISODE 256: Overheated (Part 3)
Wednesday June 25, 2014
4:33 PM Eastern Daylight Time
Streets of Indianapolis, Indiana
“Sometimes I stare into space! Tears all over my face! I can’t explain it. Don’t understand it! I hadn’t ever felt like this before!”
It wasn’t very often that one could catch Pollaski singing Linda Ronstadt at the top of his lungs, even while driving, but he certainly was today, even if the convection in his Saturn was making it rather hard to breathe.
“Has high blood pressure got a hold on me? Or is this a way that love’s supposed to be? It’s like a HEAT WAVE! Burning a hole in my heart! Can’t… breathe…”
Pollaski leaned to his left, and stuck his head out the window, taking great big gulps of air, which helped a little. He probably should have fixed his car’s air conditioning at the start of summer, but he had kept putting it off, and now… it was a bit late. It wasn’t exactly ideal- even simply having the windows rolled down wasn’t enough to keep cool. At least it was better than his stuffy apartment, and it would be definitely nicer once he got to the Thompson house and their lovely, air conditioned abode.
He turned into the neighborhood, slowing the car down. That didn’t help- the airflow was less, and he immediately began to sweat again. He’d basically been sweating nonstop ever since they had come back from Green Bay into this immolated hell hole, and he was certainly looking forward to the trip to the (hopefully) much cooler Portland.
Almost no one was outside as Pollaski drove down the street. Everyone had shut themselves up in their suburban four bed three baths that comprised the majority of the neighborhood, preferring the comfort of inside to the agony of outside. Finally, he pulled into the driveway, flinging the door open, and peeling himself off of his carseat (which was quite painful). With the promise of 70 degree thermostats ringing in his brain, he scurried up the front walk, flung open the door, and dove inside.
“JESUS CHRIST! It’s an oven in here!”
“Hey, Dan.” he heard a weak voice to the side, and turned to see Wendy lying on the couch, holding her Nexus tablet, on which he could hear commentary for an FFW match (likely one of Maddie’s since she was her next opponent). On her head was a bag of ice that was quickly melting, dripping water down her face onto her shirt, although she didn’t seem to particularly mind.
“Air conditioners broken,” she explained. “Terrence is working on it.”
“Oh,” Pollaski paused. “Has Terrence ever fixed an air conditioner before?”
“Nope.” Wendy said simply, her eyes never leaving the tablet, although, judging by the half-vacant stare in them, Pollaski wasn’t sure if she was actually watching. “By the way, your SVW paycheck came here again. They got your address wrong.”
“Ah, dangit. I’ll get it fixed this weekend at Uprising.” Pollaski said. He wasn’t entirely sure why his check kept coming to the Nest instead of his own apartment. Something to look into, indeed. “Where is it?”
“Over on the dining room table with the rest of the mail.” Wendy said blandly, pointing over at the neighboring room, where Theresa sat working on some schoolwork. Pollaski walked over, Theresa barely looking up. Like Wendy, she was lethargic, despite the desk fan blowing full speed in her face.
Pollaski flipped through the mail, grabbing his check, then heading into the kitchen, and grabbing a bottle of propel out of the fridge. Heading back to the living room, he paused, looking down at Theresa. “Annapolis is the capital of Maryland, not Baltimore,” he whispered, rousing the seven year old from her stupor.
“Thanks!” Theresa said, flipping her pencil over to use the eraser.
“No problem,” Pollaski said, heading back into the living room, where he collapsed into a recliner, unscrewing the cap and taking a big swig. “So what’s the good word?” he asked Wendy.
“Hot. Watching match tape.” The sweltering redhead replied. “What about you?”
“Oh, just chillin. Was hopin it’d be cooler here, but..” he shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “I see Terrence got his Nationwide application.”
THAT seemed to get Wendy’s attention, and she spun to regard him. “You KNEW about that?”
“Well yeah. I thought he told you too.”
“No,” Wendy replied. “He didn’t tell me anything about it before today!”
“Oh.” Pollaski frowned. “I could have sworn that you were in the room when he said it. Either way, hope he can get it this year. That’d be a huge break for him.”
“Yeah.” Wendy said flatly, turning back to her sceen. “Enormous.”
“You’re not thrilled?” Pollaski asked, leaning over, now suddenly curious.
Wendy looked as if she was going to give another sarcastic response, but then thought better of it. Glancing to make sure Theresa wasn’t listening, she turned back to Dan. “How many races does the Nationwide series run?”
“Uh, like thirty-three, I think.”
“And how many dates does ARCA have?”
Pollaski bit his lip as he recalled the number. “This year? Twenty-one.”
“That’s twelve more weekends Terrence is going to be on the road! Twelve more weekends we’ll likely have to split up! That’s a QUARTER of the year!”
“Wait? So? FFW Averages almost forty…”
“Exatly!’” Wendy hissed. “So we’ll have like three weekends in December and January where neither of us have anything. Do you see the strain that’s going to cause?”
“Not really.” Pollaski replied. “I mean, Nationwide generally races on Saturday, so on Velocity weeks, you can fly over to meet him, and on Breaking Point or PPV weekends, you guys both do your thing then meet up however you want.”
“Right. So he’ll never make another pay-per-view again because he’ll be busy! I LIKE him at pay-per-views! No, don’t say anything!” she snapped as Pollaski began to open his mouth. “You’ll take his side. You ALWAYS take his side.”
“What the fuck am I? Your marriage counselor?” Pollaski shot back.
“Language!” Wendy hissed nodding her head towards Theresa, who’d fallen asleep at the table again. Her voice softened. “Look, I’m just tired of him not telling me about anything! He bought that stupid dog without consulting me, and now he’s going to join the Nationwide series without asking for my input? What happened to us being tag partners in and out of the ring?”
“Well, now you know, Wendy. And he’s still in the preliminary phase of getting his Nationwide license anyways, so nothing is set in stone. It’s not like he’s going to go ‘bye hon, I’m off to race the Firecracker 250!’ sometime next week. And did it ever occur to you that maybe he doesn’t tell you because you treat nearly everything like its the end of the world?”
“I do not!” Wendy protested.
“Oh, God, yes you do.” Pollaski said. “Buying the RV, his retirement, the dog, the racetrack, Nationwide. You thought everyone’s going to be a disaster, and none of them have been.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of the dog,” Wendy interjected. “She got in the garbage again. Just this morning. I just… I just wish I had more SAY around here, okay?”
“Okay. Fine. You now have total say in Terrence’s racing career. Does he go to Nationwide, or stay in ARCA?”
“What’s wrong with ARCA? He was so excited to get into it three years ago.” Wendy sighed.
“Nothings wrong with it. But it’s a fourth-tier series, Wendy. You know that. Nationwide is second-tier. Better cars, better drivers. Normally better sponsors, but Terrence kinda lucked out with that. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever’s interested in him doesn’t hope he’ll bring FFW along. Kinda like how Paul Menard always gets a ride because his family owns the hardware store chain and will always sponsor him. But you never answered my question.”
“I… I suppose I’d want him to do what made him happy.”
“There you go,” Pollaski said, smiling a bit. “Look, this isn’t going to happen overnight, but just make sure Terrence keeps you in the loop, and… for the love of God, let him know it’s okay for him to come to you with news that you may not like without you biting his head off. You have to remember how many disaster’s you’ve had because one or both of you weren’t communicating.”
“I guess you’re right.” Wendy said with a sigh. “I should be happy for and supportive of him, just as he’s always been happy for and supportive of me. And if we find our time together gets strained, we’ll work with it then.”
“Awesome,” Pollaski said mildly, knowing this wasn’t quite the finality Wendy was trying to project.
“But I’m still getting rid of that freaking dog at the end of July.”
“That’s between you two,” Pollaski said mildly, again making sure Theresa wasn’t hearing. “I also suspect it probably wasn’t the best day to be hearing unsettling news, with it being all nine hundred degrees out there and shit.”
“Tell me about it,” Wendy sighed. “Anyways, thanks at least for listening, Dan. I’ll talk to Terrence once… it’s not so hot. And we have a better idea of what’s going to happen.”
Pollaski nodded, and took a chug of his Propel, while Wendy went back to watching her match tape. He sat in silence, half-listening to the commentary (Mark and Mai, which was always amusing). After a couple of minutes though, he decided he’d rather watch some TV of his own, maybe check how the World Cup was going. But as he reached for the remote, something caught his eye, and he turned to look.
A portal was opening on the front lawn, shimmering blue in the sunlight. Pollaski rose from his chair, as two women, one with flaming hair, another in a full set of armor, stepped through the portal, accompanied by a massive lion-like creature walking on his hind legs. The three walked towards the house, entering the front door without even bothering to knock. Wendy leapt to her feet, indignant. “May I help you?!”
The three ignored her, instead turning their attention to Daniel. The leonin spoke first, in a deep rumbling voice. “Pollaski.”
“Ajani,” Pollaski said in reply, rising to his feet, and nodding at the trio. “Chandra. Elspeth,” he said, nodding at the flaming woman and the knight, respectively. “What brings you here to Indianapolis?”
“Nicol Bolas has made his move. Dominaria is under attack, and we need your help.” Elspeth said.
Pollaski paused for just a second, frowning, before sighing, and nodding. “We feared this day would come. I’m ready.”
“Wait! You can’t go!” Wendy cried, drawing his attention away.
“He has to go.” Chandra said. “It is his destiny.”
“But… when will you be back?”
“I don’t know,” Pollaski said simply. “Maybe never.”
“But… what about Breaking Point? What about Unstoppable?” Wendy was almost on the verge of tears.
“You’ll be fine.” He assured her. “But this is more important. The lives of millions, no Billions are at stake.”
“But… everything I’ve ever done in my career I owe to you!” Wendy exclaimed, breaking into sobs. “You’re the one who’s guided me to the top. You’re the one who’s given mme the training and strategies and mindset I neeed to succeed. Without you, I’m lost!.” She wiped her eyes. “I’ll go to Cody Kincaid and retire. I can’t go on without you.”
“You’ll find a way, Wendy. I know you will.” Pollaski said, giving her a hug. “But I have to go now. He knelt down to Theresa, giving her a hug too. “Take care of your mom and dad for me, okay?”
Theresa nodded, snuffling tears. “I’ll miss you.”
“I know.” Pollaski stood up, and hugged Wendy one last time. “Tell Terrence I’m sorry. But I have to go. We’ve wasted too much time as it is.” He turned, steeling his will, back to the trio who had come for him. “I’m ready.”
Elspeth made a gesture and chanted something, and soon the world began to go white, and he felt himself being whisked away from the Nest, from Indianapolis, from Earth. All the while he could hear Wendy’s sobbing. “Pollaski! Pollaski come back! POLLASKI!!!!”
“POLLASKI! HEY, POLLASKI!”
Pollaski eyes open and he bolted upright at the sound of Terrence’s voice, and looked around, to see his best friend standing above him. “Wha… what’s up?”
“I fixed the air conditioner,” Terrence said, looking fairly smug with himself. “We’re going out for ice cream. You wanna come?”
Pollaski looked back over at the window, but there was only grass outside, leading to a sidewalk, then a street, the to the lawns and houses beyond. No portal, no shimmering blue. He sighed sadly as he made to rise from the chair. “Yeah… I’m coming.”
=============================
Saturday June 28, 2014
11:38 AM Pacific Daylight Time
Ira Keller Fountain Park
Portland, Oregon
A couple miles south of the Moda Center (AKA THE ROSE GARDEN, YOU STUPID OREGONIAN SELLOUT FUCKS), across the scenic Wilammette River, sits the Keller Fountain Park. Built on just under an acre in 1970, the plaza sits home to the Ira Keller fountain, a massive waterwork construct that pumps 13,000 gallons a minute over a dazzling modernist series of platforms, the water cascading from one platform to the next and down into the pool at the bottom. It is here that we open, with Wendy Briese sitting on a park bench at the bottom of the falls, the landmark in the background. Wendy’s dressed in a pair of jeans, and a pale green t-shirt, an umbrella in her hands testifying to the dreary conditiions of the day, although we appear to have caught a break between showers.
“I just want to say a big thank you to the city of Portland, for making a wonderful weekend so far here.”
Wendy flashes a genuine smile as she crosses her legs, setting the umbrella down next to her on the bench.
“Thank you for sales tax-free shopping. Thank you for being so beautiful, and offering scenic views of Mount Hood… at least yesterday when there were less clouds. Thank you for such kind people and dedicated fans, and… most of all…”
“Thank you so, so, SO much for not having hundred degree weather.”
She’s exaggerating. THe worst it ever got was 97. With 80% humidity.
“Alright, so let’s get down to business. I’m back in the ring for the first time since I lost to Tara, which broke all kinds of streaks and added another person breathing down everyone’s neck in the FFW Championship picture. Not to mention… God that was brutal. I can’t remember ever taking a shot like that. But I had a month to pick up my pride and dignity, heal up, and get back on the horse. So here I am ready to go, and waiting across the ring from me tonight will be… Madelyne McTaggert.”
“Of. Course.”
Wendy flashes a very strained grimace, one that’s filled with about three and a half years of irritation.
“Madelyne, I’ve already heard what you’ve had to say, and I confess myself disappointed. I’m disappointed because we have a match here that’s been brewing for three years, and you go and spew the exact same schlock that you did for Eileen, Kate, and everyone else beforehand. Ten Femme Chaos was a sham! Hypocrites! I’m superior because I’m not held down by petty morality! And, my personal favorite… At least I’m honest about what I am!”
“And of course sprinkled in you have the exact same stock anti-Wendy Briese fodder that half the company’s already tried their hand at. Wendy’s a hypocrite, not really a good person, tyrant, bad for business, yada yada yada, my God has anyone ever actually stopped and thought and realize that none of this actually works?”
Wendy gives a disdainful laugh and a shake of her head, rolling her eyes.
“And of course you give the anecdotes to ‘prove’ all this. The wrong woman got pinned in Ten Femme Chaos and Wendy’s okay with it because it doesn’t hurt her or her friends! Actually, Wendy deferred to her boss on the matter for an impartial opinion, and he dismissed it out of hand. Wendy put Madman Szalinski in a coma! Except that coma happened three years after our match, when Szalinski’s been wrestling the entire time, presumably with medical clearance, and collapsed after a barbaric cage match. So while I feel bad for Madman and Ariel for what happened, and wish him the best, but to blame me when every shred of medical evidence goes against it… yeah, no.”
“And the amazing…. the UTTERLY amazing thing about it all of this is that YOU, of all people, Madelyne, actually had something in my past that you could have dragged out. And I was curious to see if you were going to fling my closet open and toss the skeleton out for the entire world to see, but somehow… SOMEHOW you FORGOT. The biggest moment of our old company, X3W, where our mutual dislike stems from, and you FORGOT it. You RAN this company, you MADE this match, you sat in the back laughing the entire time it was going on and now, three years later, while spewing CONTRIVED anecdotes left and right, forget the big one? Since it so obviously slipped YOUR mind, Madelyne, I’ll go ahead and do it for you. After ALL, I am HONEST about what I really am. ”
Even with the sarcasm evident, there's still a measure of disbelief in Wendy's voice
“So I’m sure most of you in the FFW Faithful are confused by now. Wondering what the big deal is, because this is, in reality, ancient history. But I think it’s important because for all the yipping she does about what a hypocrite and horrible person I really am, Maddie can’t even seem to remember the time I whipped Kris Keebler in the face with a steel chain. Not to mention giving him a Banshee after he had fallen atop a steel chair wrapped in barbed wire.”
“How the HELL did you forget that, Maddie? You’re the one who made the Fatal Attraction. You’re the one who gleefully commissioned an electrified steel cage wrapped in barbed wire, and ordered every single weapon you could think of fastened to it. You’re the one who put C4 on the turnbuckles, and gave Keebler’s girlfriend the activation code so she could set them off while I was atop them. You’re the one who booked me into the match, to face Kris, gleefully cackling the entire time about how ‘Little Miss Sunshine’ was going to be DESTROYED. And somehow, now, all those details have slipped your mind, and we’re back to ‘I didn’t really lose Ten Femme Chaos?’”
It’s evident by the tone of her voice, that was a night Wendy Briese isn’t going to be forgetting anytime soon. She looks directly at the camera, her voice soft, but with a definite edge to it.
“You don’t even realize what you accomplished that night, do you? You hit the jackpot, Maddie. You helped find Wendy Briese’s breaking point, that glorious little event horizon where my idealism SHATTERS into cold, hard pragmatism. It’s not an easy place to take me to, Maddie, because it involves a spot that I purposely steer FAR away from, because I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to go anywhere NEAR that line where it stops being about winning and losing, where it stops being about retaining a title, and it becomes a matter of pure survival. But YOU of all people helped take me there, that’s the height of your accomplishment, and you should be bragging about that from the highest mountain top. But no… instead it’s stock anti-Wendy Briese promo number seventy-four.”
“So there you have it, folks. The deep, dark secret of the White Knight. When she’s afraid for her life. When she’s terrified that she’s never going to see her daughter and husband again. When she KNOWS that one slip up, one mistake, one lapse will have her RAMMED into an electrified barbed wire cage so many times she will be sliced to ribbons and her heart STOPPED… that’s when this all crashes down. The absolute edge of the pit of despair and destruction. And some of you may call that hypocrisy. But I call it being human. I’m willing to do, and undergo, a lot of things for the sake of pure competition, but dyings not one of them, and if people have a problem with that… sorry.”
Wendy takes a deep breath. It’s obvious that what she’s just been talking about was a bit difficult to go through.
“But now can you see why I’m not a fan of the Ultraviolence Division? The POINT of that division is to push people towards that dark spot. But at least there it’s voluntary, comprised of women who WANT to be there, instead of those forced into it by a sadistic boss who wants to commit murder by proxy. And it serves a purpose, being an EXCELLENT vehicle for those who get a rush going into that dark, dangerous area, giving them a venue they can play without -ahem- having to ‘change their personality’.”
“In fact, it’d be a wonderful place for you, wouldn’t it, Maddie? After all, it’s the SUPERIOR style of wrestling, right? You have so much freedom! You’re unfettered from everything, and you can go up against strong, like-minded women who are just as unfettered, without having to worry about those pesky disqualifications. Everyone can play by YOUR rules! It’s really a haven for you, and you don’t have to waste your time picking on us fettered weaklings like Eileen Amaro and myself.”
Wendy’s not even attempting to keep the sarcasm out of her voice at this point.
“Yeah, that’s not worked so well for you, has it? You get Kate Steele, a woman that the rest of the division seemingly has NO respect for, inside a steel cage. Carte Blanche to do ANYTHING you want to her, and she leaves you lying in the middle of the ring, one two three. You get Penny Buchanan at Byte This, and she runs you over. Alysson in a tag match? Same result. So maybe this whole Ultraviolence Division thing ISN’T a good idea after all, especially now that you’ve ticked the entire division off by breaking their title. I guess you ARE better off taking on us reluctant weak rule-abiders. At least then you can get yourself disqualified to save face.”
“Pretty much your modus operandi the entire way, isn’t it? If you can’t win, break something. You did it back in X3W… I managed to survive your stupid death match, and you were losing control of the company to its rightful owner, so you steered the ship right into the rocks and killed the company. Here in FFW, the Blondetourage flounders, so you completely humiliate your supposed best friend and run her out of the company. Eileen starts getting the upper hand on you, no surprise, so you get yourself disqualified and try to save face by smashing Eileen’s skull in. Kate Steele whips your butt in a cage match, so you run over her title.”
Wendy leans forward, her voice dripping with disdain.
“You hve no sense of pride. No heart. No perserverence. Not even any willpower. You’re the same darn thing every match. Come down to the ring. Use some stupid, underhanded trick to get yourself the advantage. Hold it for a few minutes, realize your opponent is tougher than smarter than you gave them credit for. Completely panic, attempt to blow everything up, come up with an excuse, and move on to the next one. The only time it’s ever subverted is either when you get caught and it blows up in your face, like against Rebecka, or, even more rare, you somehow manage to get away with it, like against Figgins.”
“And that is the fundamental difference between myself and you, Madelyne McTaggert. I have heart. I have perserverence. I have willpower. When a match goes wrong for you, you start looking for a way OUT. When a match goes wrong for me, I look for a way to stay IN. You witnessed that first hand in Ten Femme Chaos. You had me isolated, tired, weary, and your team gave me a beating. Over, and over, and over you guys pounded me, and over and over and over I fought to keep myself in the match, and find that opening to make the tag and make everything you put me through be for naught. And I did it. I tagged out, I helped our team win.”
“And the most hilarious thing about it all is that your ‘superior mindset’, as you so like to think of it, COST you the match! Your ‘willingness’ to break the rules didn’t work so well when you had a referee in there that was actively UNwilling to allow you to. Had you guys kept up the isolation, maintained pressure, hit your big moves, and kept me from gaining any momentum, maybe, just MAYBE you would have worn me down enough to pin me. But instead you decided to get STUPID. Use the ropes to assist holds. Choke. Illegal double teams. And more often than not, the ref caught it, put a stop to it, and your lot bickered with them, which gave me time to recover, and eventually break free to my own corner, where four fresh partners stood waiting, and the rest is history.”
“That willingness to do anything sure has helped you SO much, hasn’t it?”
Wendy breaks out into mocking laughter, looking up at the sight of more potential rainclouds gathering, reaching over and grabbing her umbrella, just in case.
“There was a time, Madelyne, when I actually dreaded you. That was back when you had the power to make my life a living hell, and you used it with abandon. You threw your minions at me, you put me in horrible stipulations to screw me over. And I would fight through it all, only to do it all over again the next week, over and over again, culminating in that horrible night inside the Fatal Attraction. So when you reentered my life by joining FFW after I had been BLISSFULLY rid of you for two years… I think you can understand my concern, especially when your very first action was to suck up to our boss with all that ‘Pretty Miss Samantha’ nonsense. And when you pummelled that poor rookie before her TRYOUT match for crying out loud, for a second,for just a brief second, I thought the reign of terror was beginning anew, and I was determined to put a stop to it.”
“I needn’t have worried.”
“No, Maddie, I needn’t have worried, because THIS ‘reign of terror’ has more turned into a reign of moderate irritation. You and your associates have proven time and time again that the only power you possess is the power to annoy. You can’t dominate ANYONE here. You can’t dominate Misty. You can’t dominate Kate. You can’t dominate Nicole. Neither Witches’ Brew, the Rockin’ Kittens. NOBODY, because you're only able to successfully prey on the WEAK, and there’s precious little of that in Femme Fatale Wrestling.”
“So where does that leave you now? Three years ago, you were a puppetmaster, pulling strings and manipulating matters to your own ends. Now you’re little more than an overgrown high school girl, focused more on being pretty, and petty, and catty, blonde than any particular meaningful objective. And you stand alone! You chucked the only person in this company with the same mindset you had to the curb, and your new compatriot isn’t exactly endorsing of your methods, is she?”
Wendy gives another disdainful shake of her head.
“And maybe you should listen to Syren a bit more, Maddie. Stop dismissing every plea she makes to reign it in, because she’s exactly right. You’ve deluded yourself into believing your greatest weakness is actually your greatest strength, and vice versa where people like me are concerned. Because cheating’s not even a part of your gameplan… it IS your gameplan, and you’ve turned it into a crutch. People see it coming a mile a way, the ref knows to look out for it, nobody’s surprised when it happens.”
“So yeah. Tonight. You’ll swing at my head with a ring bell, or a chair, or whatever else you can get your hands on tonight. Right. We all know its coming. There’s really no point in pretending it’s not. And you honestly think I’m worried? Have you been paying attention around here? Do you have any idea how many people have TRIED to do stuff like that to me? The first thing Isabella Pazzini did when I faced her was smash me with a bellhammer. I recovered and won. Alex Adonis interjected himself at every opportunity when I rematched Starla for the No Surrender Championship… I won. Aimee Easter had her entire TRUTH gang wait to ambush me… I won. Sensing a pattern here?”
Wendy raises her eyebrows, as if to say ‘well’? With a small shrug.
“Once upon a time, Madelyne McTaggert, you were my worst nightmare. Tonight, I’m going to be yours. Not only someone who doesn’t subscribe to your philosophy, but someone who is willful enough, disciplined enough, and, most importantly GOOD enough to blow it up right back in your face. So what are YOU going to do, Madelyne McTaggert, when you swing a ring bell at my head, and I grab it, toss it aside, and spike your head into the mat with the Vortexinator? What are YOU going to do when you beat me with a Kendo Stick, and fight right back to my feet, knock you down and pop you in the Banshee? What are YOU going to do, when you raise a chair up, only to receive a Sparkstarter right to your jaw?”
“Nothing! Nothing, except lie there, and look like an idiot as the referee raises MY hand in victory, because once I thwart that, you will be completely and utterly out of options. Remember, Maddie. MY philosophy has gotten me five title reigns in FFW, including the biggest one in the business, so that when I walk into that proverbial little social lunchroom you keep in your mind, I can sit at the table for past FFW Champions and current FFW Championship contenders.”
“And you, Madelyne McTaggert cannot, nor will you EVER be allowed to sit there.”
As Wendy begins to get off the park bench, the scene fades.
4:33 PM Eastern Daylight Time
Streets of Indianapolis, Indiana
“Sometimes I stare into space! Tears all over my face! I can’t explain it. Don’t understand it! I hadn’t ever felt like this before!”
It wasn’t very often that one could catch Pollaski singing Linda Ronstadt at the top of his lungs, even while driving, but he certainly was today, even if the convection in his Saturn was making it rather hard to breathe.
“Has high blood pressure got a hold on me? Or is this a way that love’s supposed to be? It’s like a HEAT WAVE! Burning a hole in my heart! Can’t… breathe…”
Pollaski leaned to his left, and stuck his head out the window, taking great big gulps of air, which helped a little. He probably should have fixed his car’s air conditioning at the start of summer, but he had kept putting it off, and now… it was a bit late. It wasn’t exactly ideal- even simply having the windows rolled down wasn’t enough to keep cool. At least it was better than his stuffy apartment, and it would be definitely nicer once he got to the Thompson house and their lovely, air conditioned abode.
He turned into the neighborhood, slowing the car down. That didn’t help- the airflow was less, and he immediately began to sweat again. He’d basically been sweating nonstop ever since they had come back from Green Bay into this immolated hell hole, and he was certainly looking forward to the trip to the (hopefully) much cooler Portland.
Almost no one was outside as Pollaski drove down the street. Everyone had shut themselves up in their suburban four bed three baths that comprised the majority of the neighborhood, preferring the comfort of inside to the agony of outside. Finally, he pulled into the driveway, flinging the door open, and peeling himself off of his carseat (which was quite painful). With the promise of 70 degree thermostats ringing in his brain, he scurried up the front walk, flung open the door, and dove inside.
“JESUS CHRIST! It’s an oven in here!”
“Hey, Dan.” he heard a weak voice to the side, and turned to see Wendy lying on the couch, holding her Nexus tablet, on which he could hear commentary for an FFW match (likely one of Maddie’s since she was her next opponent). On her head was a bag of ice that was quickly melting, dripping water down her face onto her shirt, although she didn’t seem to particularly mind.
“Air conditioners broken,” she explained. “Terrence is working on it.”
“Oh,” Pollaski paused. “Has Terrence ever fixed an air conditioner before?”
“Nope.” Wendy said simply, her eyes never leaving the tablet, although, judging by the half-vacant stare in them, Pollaski wasn’t sure if she was actually watching. “By the way, your SVW paycheck came here again. They got your address wrong.”
“Ah, dangit. I’ll get it fixed this weekend at Uprising.” Pollaski said. He wasn’t entirely sure why his check kept coming to the Nest instead of his own apartment. Something to look into, indeed. “Where is it?”
“Over on the dining room table with the rest of the mail.” Wendy said blandly, pointing over at the neighboring room, where Theresa sat working on some schoolwork. Pollaski walked over, Theresa barely looking up. Like Wendy, she was lethargic, despite the desk fan blowing full speed in her face.
Pollaski flipped through the mail, grabbing his check, then heading into the kitchen, and grabbing a bottle of propel out of the fridge. Heading back to the living room, he paused, looking down at Theresa. “Annapolis is the capital of Maryland, not Baltimore,” he whispered, rousing the seven year old from her stupor.
“Thanks!” Theresa said, flipping her pencil over to use the eraser.
“No problem,” Pollaski said, heading back into the living room, where he collapsed into a recliner, unscrewing the cap and taking a big swig. “So what’s the good word?” he asked Wendy.
“Hot. Watching match tape.” The sweltering redhead replied. “What about you?”
“Oh, just chillin. Was hopin it’d be cooler here, but..” he shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “I see Terrence got his Nationwide application.”
THAT seemed to get Wendy’s attention, and she spun to regard him. “You KNEW about that?”
“Well yeah. I thought he told you too.”
“No,” Wendy replied. “He didn’t tell me anything about it before today!”
“Oh.” Pollaski frowned. “I could have sworn that you were in the room when he said it. Either way, hope he can get it this year. That’d be a huge break for him.”
“Yeah.” Wendy said flatly, turning back to her sceen. “Enormous.”
“You’re not thrilled?” Pollaski asked, leaning over, now suddenly curious.
Wendy looked as if she was going to give another sarcastic response, but then thought better of it. Glancing to make sure Theresa wasn’t listening, she turned back to Dan. “How many races does the Nationwide series run?”
“Uh, like thirty-three, I think.”
“And how many dates does ARCA have?”
Pollaski bit his lip as he recalled the number. “This year? Twenty-one.”
“That’s twelve more weekends Terrence is going to be on the road! Twelve more weekends we’ll likely have to split up! That’s a QUARTER of the year!”
“Wait? So? FFW Averages almost forty…”
“Exatly!’” Wendy hissed. “So we’ll have like three weekends in December and January where neither of us have anything. Do you see the strain that’s going to cause?”
“Not really.” Pollaski replied. “I mean, Nationwide generally races on Saturday, so on Velocity weeks, you can fly over to meet him, and on Breaking Point or PPV weekends, you guys both do your thing then meet up however you want.”
“Right. So he’ll never make another pay-per-view again because he’ll be busy! I LIKE him at pay-per-views! No, don’t say anything!” she snapped as Pollaski began to open his mouth. “You’ll take his side. You ALWAYS take his side.”
“What the fuck am I? Your marriage counselor?” Pollaski shot back.
“Language!” Wendy hissed nodding her head towards Theresa, who’d fallen asleep at the table again. Her voice softened. “Look, I’m just tired of him not telling me about anything! He bought that stupid dog without consulting me, and now he’s going to join the Nationwide series without asking for my input? What happened to us being tag partners in and out of the ring?”
“Well, now you know, Wendy. And he’s still in the preliminary phase of getting his Nationwide license anyways, so nothing is set in stone. It’s not like he’s going to go ‘bye hon, I’m off to race the Firecracker 250!’ sometime next week. And did it ever occur to you that maybe he doesn’t tell you because you treat nearly everything like its the end of the world?”
“I do not!” Wendy protested.
“Oh, God, yes you do.” Pollaski said. “Buying the RV, his retirement, the dog, the racetrack, Nationwide. You thought everyone’s going to be a disaster, and none of them have been.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of the dog,” Wendy interjected. “She got in the garbage again. Just this morning. I just… I just wish I had more SAY around here, okay?”
“Okay. Fine. You now have total say in Terrence’s racing career. Does he go to Nationwide, or stay in ARCA?”
“What’s wrong with ARCA? He was so excited to get into it three years ago.” Wendy sighed.
“Nothings wrong with it. But it’s a fourth-tier series, Wendy. You know that. Nationwide is second-tier. Better cars, better drivers. Normally better sponsors, but Terrence kinda lucked out with that. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever’s interested in him doesn’t hope he’ll bring FFW along. Kinda like how Paul Menard always gets a ride because his family owns the hardware store chain and will always sponsor him. But you never answered my question.”
“I… I suppose I’d want him to do what made him happy.”
“There you go,” Pollaski said, smiling a bit. “Look, this isn’t going to happen overnight, but just make sure Terrence keeps you in the loop, and… for the love of God, let him know it’s okay for him to come to you with news that you may not like without you biting his head off. You have to remember how many disaster’s you’ve had because one or both of you weren’t communicating.”
“I guess you’re right.” Wendy said with a sigh. “I should be happy for and supportive of him, just as he’s always been happy for and supportive of me. And if we find our time together gets strained, we’ll work with it then.”
“Awesome,” Pollaski said mildly, knowing this wasn’t quite the finality Wendy was trying to project.
“But I’m still getting rid of that freaking dog at the end of July.”
“That’s between you two,” Pollaski said mildly, again making sure Theresa wasn’t hearing. “I also suspect it probably wasn’t the best day to be hearing unsettling news, with it being all nine hundred degrees out there and shit.”
“Tell me about it,” Wendy sighed. “Anyways, thanks at least for listening, Dan. I’ll talk to Terrence once… it’s not so hot. And we have a better idea of what’s going to happen.”
Pollaski nodded, and took a chug of his Propel, while Wendy went back to watching her match tape. He sat in silence, half-listening to the commentary (Mark and Mai, which was always amusing). After a couple of minutes though, he decided he’d rather watch some TV of his own, maybe check how the World Cup was going. But as he reached for the remote, something caught his eye, and he turned to look.
A portal was opening on the front lawn, shimmering blue in the sunlight. Pollaski rose from his chair, as two women, one with flaming hair, another in a full set of armor, stepped through the portal, accompanied by a massive lion-like creature walking on his hind legs. The three walked towards the house, entering the front door without even bothering to knock. Wendy leapt to her feet, indignant. “May I help you?!”
The three ignored her, instead turning their attention to Daniel. The leonin spoke first, in a deep rumbling voice. “Pollaski.”
“Ajani,” Pollaski said in reply, rising to his feet, and nodding at the trio. “Chandra. Elspeth,” he said, nodding at the flaming woman and the knight, respectively. “What brings you here to Indianapolis?”
“Nicol Bolas has made his move. Dominaria is under attack, and we need your help.” Elspeth said.
Pollaski paused for just a second, frowning, before sighing, and nodding. “We feared this day would come. I’m ready.”
“Wait! You can’t go!” Wendy cried, drawing his attention away.
“He has to go.” Chandra said. “It is his destiny.”
“But… when will you be back?”
“I don’t know,” Pollaski said simply. “Maybe never.”
“But… what about Breaking Point? What about Unstoppable?” Wendy was almost on the verge of tears.
“You’ll be fine.” He assured her. “But this is more important. The lives of millions, no Billions are at stake.”
“But… everything I’ve ever done in my career I owe to you!” Wendy exclaimed, breaking into sobs. “You’re the one who’s guided me to the top. You’re the one who’s given mme the training and strategies and mindset I neeed to succeed. Without you, I’m lost!.” She wiped her eyes. “I’ll go to Cody Kincaid and retire. I can’t go on without you.”
“You’ll find a way, Wendy. I know you will.” Pollaski said, giving her a hug. “But I have to go now. He knelt down to Theresa, giving her a hug too. “Take care of your mom and dad for me, okay?”
Theresa nodded, snuffling tears. “I’ll miss you.”
“I know.” Pollaski stood up, and hugged Wendy one last time. “Tell Terrence I’m sorry. But I have to go. We’ve wasted too much time as it is.” He turned, steeling his will, back to the trio who had come for him. “I’m ready.”
Elspeth made a gesture and chanted something, and soon the world began to go white, and he felt himself being whisked away from the Nest, from Indianapolis, from Earth. All the while he could hear Wendy’s sobbing. “Pollaski! Pollaski come back! POLLASKI!!!!”
“POLLASKI! HEY, POLLASKI!”
Pollaski eyes open and he bolted upright at the sound of Terrence’s voice, and looked around, to see his best friend standing above him. “Wha… what’s up?”
“I fixed the air conditioner,” Terrence said, looking fairly smug with himself. “We’re going out for ice cream. You wanna come?”
Pollaski looked back over at the window, but there was only grass outside, leading to a sidewalk, then a street, the to the lawns and houses beyond. No portal, no shimmering blue. He sighed sadly as he made to rise from the chair. “Yeah… I’m coming.”
=============================
Saturday June 28, 2014
11:38 AM Pacific Daylight Time
Ira Keller Fountain Park
Portland, Oregon
A couple miles south of the Moda Center (AKA THE ROSE GARDEN, YOU STUPID OREGONIAN SELLOUT FUCKS), across the scenic Wilammette River, sits the Keller Fountain Park. Built on just under an acre in 1970, the plaza sits home to the Ira Keller fountain, a massive waterwork construct that pumps 13,000 gallons a minute over a dazzling modernist series of platforms, the water cascading from one platform to the next and down into the pool at the bottom. It is here that we open, with Wendy Briese sitting on a park bench at the bottom of the falls, the landmark in the background. Wendy’s dressed in a pair of jeans, and a pale green t-shirt, an umbrella in her hands testifying to the dreary conditiions of the day, although we appear to have caught a break between showers.
“I just want to say a big thank you to the city of Portland, for making a wonderful weekend so far here.”
Wendy flashes a genuine smile as she crosses her legs, setting the umbrella down next to her on the bench.
“Thank you for sales tax-free shopping. Thank you for being so beautiful, and offering scenic views of Mount Hood… at least yesterday when there were less clouds. Thank you for such kind people and dedicated fans, and… most of all…”
“Thank you so, so, SO much for not having hundred degree weather.”
She’s exaggerating. THe worst it ever got was 97. With 80% humidity.
“Alright, so let’s get down to business. I’m back in the ring for the first time since I lost to Tara, which broke all kinds of streaks and added another person breathing down everyone’s neck in the FFW Championship picture. Not to mention… God that was brutal. I can’t remember ever taking a shot like that. But I had a month to pick up my pride and dignity, heal up, and get back on the horse. So here I am ready to go, and waiting across the ring from me tonight will be… Madelyne McTaggert.”
“Of. Course.”
Wendy flashes a very strained grimace, one that’s filled with about three and a half years of irritation.
“Madelyne, I’ve already heard what you’ve had to say, and I confess myself disappointed. I’m disappointed because we have a match here that’s been brewing for three years, and you go and spew the exact same schlock that you did for Eileen, Kate, and everyone else beforehand. Ten Femme Chaos was a sham! Hypocrites! I’m superior because I’m not held down by petty morality! And, my personal favorite… At least I’m honest about what I am!”
“And of course sprinkled in you have the exact same stock anti-Wendy Briese fodder that half the company’s already tried their hand at. Wendy’s a hypocrite, not really a good person, tyrant, bad for business, yada yada yada, my God has anyone ever actually stopped and thought and realize that none of this actually works?”
Wendy gives a disdainful laugh and a shake of her head, rolling her eyes.
“And of course you give the anecdotes to ‘prove’ all this. The wrong woman got pinned in Ten Femme Chaos and Wendy’s okay with it because it doesn’t hurt her or her friends! Actually, Wendy deferred to her boss on the matter for an impartial opinion, and he dismissed it out of hand. Wendy put Madman Szalinski in a coma! Except that coma happened three years after our match, when Szalinski’s been wrestling the entire time, presumably with medical clearance, and collapsed after a barbaric cage match. So while I feel bad for Madman and Ariel for what happened, and wish him the best, but to blame me when every shred of medical evidence goes against it… yeah, no.”
“And the amazing…. the UTTERLY amazing thing about it all of this is that YOU, of all people, Madelyne, actually had something in my past that you could have dragged out. And I was curious to see if you were going to fling my closet open and toss the skeleton out for the entire world to see, but somehow… SOMEHOW you FORGOT. The biggest moment of our old company, X3W, where our mutual dislike stems from, and you FORGOT it. You RAN this company, you MADE this match, you sat in the back laughing the entire time it was going on and now, three years later, while spewing CONTRIVED anecdotes left and right, forget the big one? Since it so obviously slipped YOUR mind, Madelyne, I’ll go ahead and do it for you. After ALL, I am HONEST about what I really am. ”
Even with the sarcasm evident, there's still a measure of disbelief in Wendy's voice
“So I’m sure most of you in the FFW Faithful are confused by now. Wondering what the big deal is, because this is, in reality, ancient history. But I think it’s important because for all the yipping she does about what a hypocrite and horrible person I really am, Maddie can’t even seem to remember the time I whipped Kris Keebler in the face with a steel chain. Not to mention giving him a Banshee after he had fallen atop a steel chair wrapped in barbed wire.”
“How the HELL did you forget that, Maddie? You’re the one who made the Fatal Attraction. You’re the one who gleefully commissioned an electrified steel cage wrapped in barbed wire, and ordered every single weapon you could think of fastened to it. You’re the one who put C4 on the turnbuckles, and gave Keebler’s girlfriend the activation code so she could set them off while I was atop them. You’re the one who booked me into the match, to face Kris, gleefully cackling the entire time about how ‘Little Miss Sunshine’ was going to be DESTROYED. And somehow, now, all those details have slipped your mind, and we’re back to ‘I didn’t really lose Ten Femme Chaos?’”
It’s evident by the tone of her voice, that was a night Wendy Briese isn’t going to be forgetting anytime soon. She looks directly at the camera, her voice soft, but with a definite edge to it.
“You don’t even realize what you accomplished that night, do you? You hit the jackpot, Maddie. You helped find Wendy Briese’s breaking point, that glorious little event horizon where my idealism SHATTERS into cold, hard pragmatism. It’s not an easy place to take me to, Maddie, because it involves a spot that I purposely steer FAR away from, because I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to go anywhere NEAR that line where it stops being about winning and losing, where it stops being about retaining a title, and it becomes a matter of pure survival. But YOU of all people helped take me there, that’s the height of your accomplishment, and you should be bragging about that from the highest mountain top. But no… instead it’s stock anti-Wendy Briese promo number seventy-four.”
“So there you have it, folks. The deep, dark secret of the White Knight. When she’s afraid for her life. When she’s terrified that she’s never going to see her daughter and husband again. When she KNOWS that one slip up, one mistake, one lapse will have her RAMMED into an electrified barbed wire cage so many times she will be sliced to ribbons and her heart STOPPED… that’s when this all crashes down. The absolute edge of the pit of despair and destruction. And some of you may call that hypocrisy. But I call it being human. I’m willing to do, and undergo, a lot of things for the sake of pure competition, but dyings not one of them, and if people have a problem with that… sorry.”
Wendy takes a deep breath. It’s obvious that what she’s just been talking about was a bit difficult to go through.
“But now can you see why I’m not a fan of the Ultraviolence Division? The POINT of that division is to push people towards that dark spot. But at least there it’s voluntary, comprised of women who WANT to be there, instead of those forced into it by a sadistic boss who wants to commit murder by proxy. And it serves a purpose, being an EXCELLENT vehicle for those who get a rush going into that dark, dangerous area, giving them a venue they can play without -ahem- having to ‘change their personality’.”
“In fact, it’d be a wonderful place for you, wouldn’t it, Maddie? After all, it’s the SUPERIOR style of wrestling, right? You have so much freedom! You’re unfettered from everything, and you can go up against strong, like-minded women who are just as unfettered, without having to worry about those pesky disqualifications. Everyone can play by YOUR rules! It’s really a haven for you, and you don’t have to waste your time picking on us fettered weaklings like Eileen Amaro and myself.”
Wendy’s not even attempting to keep the sarcasm out of her voice at this point.
“Yeah, that’s not worked so well for you, has it? You get Kate Steele, a woman that the rest of the division seemingly has NO respect for, inside a steel cage. Carte Blanche to do ANYTHING you want to her, and she leaves you lying in the middle of the ring, one two three. You get Penny Buchanan at Byte This, and she runs you over. Alysson in a tag match? Same result. So maybe this whole Ultraviolence Division thing ISN’T a good idea after all, especially now that you’ve ticked the entire division off by breaking their title. I guess you ARE better off taking on us reluctant weak rule-abiders. At least then you can get yourself disqualified to save face.”
“Pretty much your modus operandi the entire way, isn’t it? If you can’t win, break something. You did it back in X3W… I managed to survive your stupid death match, and you were losing control of the company to its rightful owner, so you steered the ship right into the rocks and killed the company. Here in FFW, the Blondetourage flounders, so you completely humiliate your supposed best friend and run her out of the company. Eileen starts getting the upper hand on you, no surprise, so you get yourself disqualified and try to save face by smashing Eileen’s skull in. Kate Steele whips your butt in a cage match, so you run over her title.”
Wendy leans forward, her voice dripping with disdain.
“You hve no sense of pride. No heart. No perserverence. Not even any willpower. You’re the same darn thing every match. Come down to the ring. Use some stupid, underhanded trick to get yourself the advantage. Hold it for a few minutes, realize your opponent is tougher than smarter than you gave them credit for. Completely panic, attempt to blow everything up, come up with an excuse, and move on to the next one. The only time it’s ever subverted is either when you get caught and it blows up in your face, like against Rebecka, or, even more rare, you somehow manage to get away with it, like against Figgins.”
“And that is the fundamental difference between myself and you, Madelyne McTaggert. I have heart. I have perserverence. I have willpower. When a match goes wrong for you, you start looking for a way OUT. When a match goes wrong for me, I look for a way to stay IN. You witnessed that first hand in Ten Femme Chaos. You had me isolated, tired, weary, and your team gave me a beating. Over, and over, and over you guys pounded me, and over and over and over I fought to keep myself in the match, and find that opening to make the tag and make everything you put me through be for naught. And I did it. I tagged out, I helped our team win.”
“And the most hilarious thing about it all is that your ‘superior mindset’, as you so like to think of it, COST you the match! Your ‘willingness’ to break the rules didn’t work so well when you had a referee in there that was actively UNwilling to allow you to. Had you guys kept up the isolation, maintained pressure, hit your big moves, and kept me from gaining any momentum, maybe, just MAYBE you would have worn me down enough to pin me. But instead you decided to get STUPID. Use the ropes to assist holds. Choke. Illegal double teams. And more often than not, the ref caught it, put a stop to it, and your lot bickered with them, which gave me time to recover, and eventually break free to my own corner, where four fresh partners stood waiting, and the rest is history.”
“That willingness to do anything sure has helped you SO much, hasn’t it?”
Wendy breaks out into mocking laughter, looking up at the sight of more potential rainclouds gathering, reaching over and grabbing her umbrella, just in case.
“There was a time, Madelyne, when I actually dreaded you. That was back when you had the power to make my life a living hell, and you used it with abandon. You threw your minions at me, you put me in horrible stipulations to screw me over. And I would fight through it all, only to do it all over again the next week, over and over again, culminating in that horrible night inside the Fatal Attraction. So when you reentered my life by joining FFW after I had been BLISSFULLY rid of you for two years… I think you can understand my concern, especially when your very first action was to suck up to our boss with all that ‘Pretty Miss Samantha’ nonsense. And when you pummelled that poor rookie before her TRYOUT match for crying out loud, for a second,for just a brief second, I thought the reign of terror was beginning anew, and I was determined to put a stop to it.”
“I needn’t have worried.”
“No, Maddie, I needn’t have worried, because THIS ‘reign of terror’ has more turned into a reign of moderate irritation. You and your associates have proven time and time again that the only power you possess is the power to annoy. You can’t dominate ANYONE here. You can’t dominate Misty. You can’t dominate Kate. You can’t dominate Nicole. Neither Witches’ Brew, the Rockin’ Kittens. NOBODY, because you're only able to successfully prey on the WEAK, and there’s precious little of that in Femme Fatale Wrestling.”
“So where does that leave you now? Three years ago, you were a puppetmaster, pulling strings and manipulating matters to your own ends. Now you’re little more than an overgrown high school girl, focused more on being pretty, and petty, and catty, blonde than any particular meaningful objective. And you stand alone! You chucked the only person in this company with the same mindset you had to the curb, and your new compatriot isn’t exactly endorsing of your methods, is she?”
Wendy gives another disdainful shake of her head.
“And maybe you should listen to Syren a bit more, Maddie. Stop dismissing every plea she makes to reign it in, because she’s exactly right. You’ve deluded yourself into believing your greatest weakness is actually your greatest strength, and vice versa where people like me are concerned. Because cheating’s not even a part of your gameplan… it IS your gameplan, and you’ve turned it into a crutch. People see it coming a mile a way, the ref knows to look out for it, nobody’s surprised when it happens.”
“So yeah. Tonight. You’ll swing at my head with a ring bell, or a chair, or whatever else you can get your hands on tonight. Right. We all know its coming. There’s really no point in pretending it’s not. And you honestly think I’m worried? Have you been paying attention around here? Do you have any idea how many people have TRIED to do stuff like that to me? The first thing Isabella Pazzini did when I faced her was smash me with a bellhammer. I recovered and won. Alex Adonis interjected himself at every opportunity when I rematched Starla for the No Surrender Championship… I won. Aimee Easter had her entire TRUTH gang wait to ambush me… I won. Sensing a pattern here?”
Wendy raises her eyebrows, as if to say ‘well’? With a small shrug.
“Once upon a time, Madelyne McTaggert, you were my worst nightmare. Tonight, I’m going to be yours. Not only someone who doesn’t subscribe to your philosophy, but someone who is willful enough, disciplined enough, and, most importantly GOOD enough to blow it up right back in your face. So what are YOU going to do, Madelyne McTaggert, when you swing a ring bell at my head, and I grab it, toss it aside, and spike your head into the mat with the Vortexinator? What are YOU going to do when you beat me with a Kendo Stick, and fight right back to my feet, knock you down and pop you in the Banshee? What are YOU going to do, when you raise a chair up, only to receive a Sparkstarter right to your jaw?”
“Nothing! Nothing, except lie there, and look like an idiot as the referee raises MY hand in victory, because once I thwart that, you will be completely and utterly out of options. Remember, Maddie. MY philosophy has gotten me five title reigns in FFW, including the biggest one in the business, so that when I walk into that proverbial little social lunchroom you keep in your mind, I can sit at the table for past FFW Champions and current FFW Championship contenders.”
“And you, Madelyne McTaggert cannot, nor will you EVER be allowed to sit there.”
As Wendy begins to get off the park bench, the scene fades.
EPISODE 255: Overheated (Part 2)
Wednesday June 25, 2014
2:32 PM Eastern Daylight Time
The Nest- Driveway
Indianapolis, Indiana
“Is everything alright here?”
At the sound of her voice both her daughter and Clinton Sickles stopped in their tracks, glancing over at her. Clinton looked somewhat sullen, but her daughter barely even acknowledged her, continuing to stare at Clinton, not answering.
“Theresa, Is everything okay?” Wendy tried again, but it was clear that her words were simply bouncing off her daughter’s skull. “Shut up Fireball!” she snapped, turning back to dog who had been annoyingly yipping through the entire confrontation. She glanced back at Theresa, and for some reason, her daughter wasn’t exactly all there. She had zoned out, her eyes in a faraway place, a wistful smile on her lips. Wendy couldn’t blame her, really- this heat was making it hard for anyone to focus. She’d caught herself slipping into daydreams several times already.
Still, this wasn’t exactly the best time for it…
“THERESA! HEY, THERESA!”
THAT jarred the little girl out of her trance, and she looked over at her mom, blinking as if just waking from a sleep. “I’m sorry, Mom. What?”
“I was asking if everything was okay.”
For an answer, Theresa pointed at Clinton’s hand, and Wendy realized that the bucket in his hands looked awfully familiar. “He stole my chalk!” she protested.
Oh for crying out loud, Wendy thought. The last thing she needed today (or any day really) was that spoiled selfish brat starting more altercations with her daughter. He’d already done enough damage. She took a deep calming breath, rubbing her eyes. “Why did you steal her chalk?”
Clinton shrugged. “Just havin’ some fun.”
“Well, I don’t think its very much fun for her. Give it back, please.”
For a second she thought he was going do be defiant, which she really, REALLY wasn’t in the mood for. But the third (or rather now, fourth… assuming somehow he passed) grader simply shrugged. “I don’t want your stupid girl chalk anyhow,” he sneered to Theresa, then tossed the bucket high in the air, the contents spilling out and raining down as Theresa shrieked and covered. Before Wendy could even say a word, the boy had ran off between the houses across the street, to find a more unsupervised target to torture.
“ASSHOLE!” Theresa screamed after him.
“THERESA!”
“Well, he IS, Mom!” Theresa protested. “You should have kicked his stupid head off!”
“I’m not going to kick an eight year old, Theresa,” Wendy sighed, as she looked around at the sticks of chalk littering the ground, groaning silently as a green one rolled into the stormwater drain, disappearing with a plop. “Come on, I’ll help you pick these up.”
It didn’t take too long to pick up find all the remaining sidewalk chalk pieces, although at least six had broken on impact, while a few more were chipped. Soon though, the rest of the sticks were in the bucket, and Wendy picked up the bucket, grateful to get off the scorching pavement.
“You didn’t touch him or anything, did you?”
“No. Of course not,” Theresa replied innocently. “Although I was probably going to…”
“Well you have to keep your cool, okay? Remember, YOU’RE the one who’s going to get in trouble if anything happens. Don’t let him goad you into doing something you’ll regret.”
“I know,” Theresa huffed irritably. “But it’s not fair!”
“I know, hon,” Wendy said sadly. “It isn’t, and it’s wrong that reacting to that jerk put such a stigma on you with the school district and the courts. But until we get that all taken care of, the last thing we want to do is give the Sickles and the courts MORE ammo…” her voice trailed off
“I know. Just… UGH.” Theresa grumbled. “Well, thanks for helping out, anyways, Mom.”
“No problem, I was on my way to get the mail and just walked in,” Wendy said, handing her daughter the bucket of chalk. “Well, you better head on in. You’ve been out for a while, and you don’t want to get sunburned. And maybe you should finish up your schoolwork so you can go with your dad to the races Friday night.”
“Oh, I’m done,” Theresa proclaimed.
“Really?” Wendy asked skeptically. “With everything?”
“Yup! I know they’re not due until the end of the month, but watching how vigiliant you are in keeping on top of things, I’ve realized how important time management is,” Theresa replied. “I’ve read them over every night too, making sure that everything is in order. When you have time, could you and Daddy read them and double check to make sure I did everything properly?”
“No problem, Theresa!” Wendy said, smiling warmly with pride. “We’ll look them over tonight.”
“Great! Thanks mom! I’m going to get the best scores I can, make you and Daddy proud, and make St. Joseph’s have no choice but to accept me next year!”
“That’s wonderful, Theresa. Now run along. I’ll get the mail and check with your father on the air conditioning, and then you and I can have some cookies to celebrate the end of your school year!”
“MOM! HEY, MOM!”
Wendy jumped at her daughter’s voice, startled. Evidently in the heat, she had let her mind wander. She looked down at Theresa, rubbing her eyes.
“Sorry, Terr-Bear. I was daydreaming for a second. What were you saying?”
“I was telling you thanks for helping me out with Clint.”
“Oh! No problem, Terr-Bear. I was just walking out to get the mail and saw the commotion.” Wendy held out the bucket of chalk for her daughter to take. “Well, you better head on in. You’ve been out a while and I don’t want you getting sunburned.”
“But it’s so stuffy inside!” Theresa whined. “It’s like an oven!”
“It’s not so bad now,” Wendy promised. “I opened all the windows, and got some fans running. It’s aired out quite a bit.”
“When’s Dad going to be done with the stupid air conditioning?” Theresa pouted.
“I was going to get the mail, and then I was going to ask him,” Wendy said. “Can’t be too much longer. He’s been at it for a couple of hours. By the way, have you gotten your schoolwork done yet?”
“It’s not due until the end of the month,” Theresa replied. “I got five days.”
“You *have* five days. Why don’t you just do it now? Then you’ll have it out of the way, can enjoy the weekend instead of surrying to get it all done, and save yourself the headache of having to do things at the last minute?”
“I still dont’ see why I have to do it anyways. I did my 180 days. You said so yourself.”
“Yes, but the accredation service were using wants to make sure you learned the material right. This way, when we try to get you into a school, we’ll have proof that you mastered the second grade. And with good score, it’ll help you get into a better school next year.”
“Fine, whatever,” Theresa said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll get the stupid exams done. Don’t worry about it, mom,” she turned to stomp off into the house.
“Make sure you take your time! Don’t rush things!” Wendy reminded her.
“I know..”
“And I’ll want to look it over when it’s done!”
“Yeah, whatever,” Theresa said in the snottiest tone Wendy’d ever heard from her, as she stalked up the steps into the house. Wendy watched the door slam behind her, and sighed. She enjoyed being Theresa’s teacher, for the most part, but sometimes getting her to do the work was such a fight.
And it’s not like she hadn’t had a month to work on these exams. But like it or not, they WERE going to be done by next Monday. Of that she had no doubt.
“Right, the mail,” she finally said, reaching into her pocket, and pulling out the key, turning back towards the street, and the communal mailbox waiting across.
===================================
Wednesday June 25, 2014
2:43 PM Eastern Daylight Time
The Nest- Side Yard (Right Side facing the street)
Indianapolis, Indiana
"I've brought you a drink, Terry,"
Terrence Thompson craned his neck up to see his wife standing over him, holding a tall plastic tumbler almost overflowing with ice and lemonade. "Oh? Great, thank you. It's murder in this heat" he said, pushing himself off the ground where he had been lying next to the air conditioner unit.
"Well, you've been out here a while, working so hard. How much longer do you think it's going to take?"
Terrence shrugged. "Not one hundred percent sure, but I think I'm getting the idea. Shouldn't be too much longer."
"Thank God," Wendy huffed. "It's so bleeping HOT today!"
"Well, if you're so hot, you could always take something off, " Terrence offered with a wink, eyeing his wife, who was wearing a bright yellow T-shirt and white cargo shorts, along with a pair of sandals.
Wendy pondered for a second, then shrugged. "I suppose I could for a bit. It's not like anyone's going to see me, since the Andersons are out of town," she said, gesturing over at the house next door. She grabbed the hem of her shirt, lifting it up and off over her head, so that now she only stood in her bra.
"There. Bet you feel a lot cooler now, don't you?" Terrence asked with a wink.
"Actually,” Wendy said, panting and fanning her chest. “I feel… hotter.”
They looked at each other, and suddenly they had collided, mouths and tongues pressing into each other, as their hands ripped at the clothes they were still wearing, sweating even more in the sweltering sun, despite the discarded garments. With a grunt, Terrence spun, throwing Wendy atop the air conditioning unit, falling atop her and kissing her neck, as she gasped. “Oh, Terry…. Terry!”
“TERRENCE! HEY, TERRENCE!”
Terrence looked up, squinting into the bright sunlight to see his wife standing over him, arms on her hips. He blinked, rubbing his eyes, and stifled a yawn. “Sorry, hon. What was that?”
“I was asking you how much longer it’s going to be. We’re you sleeping?”
“No!” Terrence said defensively… and perhaps a tad untruthfully. “I just got… lost in thought for a second. This heat… it plays tricks with your brain.”
“Tell me about it,” Wendy said, fanning herself with a small stack of envelopes in her hand. “So, how much longer, you think?”
“Can’t say for certain. I think I’m pretty sure what I need to do, just… I’ve never done it before, so new territory.”
Wendy closed her eyes and sighed. “Maybe you should just call a repairman.”
“Nah, I got this. I’ve come this far, haven’t I?”
“Well, hurry it up. It’s so bleeping HOT today!”
Terrence grinned at his irritated wife. “Well, if you’re so hot, you could always take something off.”
The look that Wendy gave him was not one of amusement. “And walk around in exactly what, Terrence?”
“Well, nothing if you want.” He said, putting his hands on his shoulders, and pulling her in. “But that might just make you hotter.”
“Oh, God, Terry,” Wendy said, pulling away. “Not now. You’re all sweaty and gross and anyone could see us…”
“Hey, you never objected, before, like after we were done training or anything.”
“Well, that’s different. That’s like good sweat. You’re all greasy and icky and… no…” she quickly changed the subject, waving the envelopes in her hand. “Mail came. You got something from NASCAR. I’ll drop it off at Cassie’s office tomorrow when I go in to train.”
“Nah, all the track stuff goes there anyways,” Terrence said, breaking out into a grin. “That’s actually for me. It’s my Nationwide license application.”
Wendy’s eyes narrowed. “Wait… Nationwide license?”
“Yeah, you know, the Nationwide Series? The second-highest one, one step below Sprint Cup. I was talking to a guy at Michigan, and he was expressing interest in maybe me running some races for him next year. But I gotta get myself licensed right to race in the division, so I figured I’d look into it.”
“When were you going to tell me about this?” Wendy asked. She was a lot less happier than he had anticipated her hearing this news.
“I dunno. It’s not like it’s all that big of a deal, hon,” Terrence said with a shrug. “Nothings set in stone yet, but I just figure that maybe at least looking into it would be good. Even if I don’t get a full time ride, maybe doing a few here and there on intersecting weekends with ARCA would be a good way to get my feet wet.”
He could see her mouth moving to mimic the words “full time ride”, although no audio came out. Wendy took a deep breath, and nodded. “Alright. Well, I better get back inside before my skin starts to peel off. Let me know when you get the AC fixed, alright?”
“I think you’ll know,” Terrence said, still miffed at his wife’s less than receptive attitude, but she only nodded and turned to walk away, rounding the house. It was then that something else suddenly popped in his brain.
“Hey, could you bring me some lemonade?” Terrence called after her.
The sound of the front door slamming without a reply was a pretty good indication that he probably wasn’t getting refreshments any time soon.
Ah well, he thought, dropping back down to look at the air conditioning unit.
Back to work.
2:32 PM Eastern Daylight Time
The Nest- Driveway
Indianapolis, Indiana
“Is everything alright here?”
At the sound of her voice both her daughter and Clinton Sickles stopped in their tracks, glancing over at her. Clinton looked somewhat sullen, but her daughter barely even acknowledged her, continuing to stare at Clinton, not answering.
“Theresa, Is everything okay?” Wendy tried again, but it was clear that her words were simply bouncing off her daughter’s skull. “Shut up Fireball!” she snapped, turning back to dog who had been annoyingly yipping through the entire confrontation. She glanced back at Theresa, and for some reason, her daughter wasn’t exactly all there. She had zoned out, her eyes in a faraway place, a wistful smile on her lips. Wendy couldn’t blame her, really- this heat was making it hard for anyone to focus. She’d caught herself slipping into daydreams several times already.
Still, this wasn’t exactly the best time for it…
“THERESA! HEY, THERESA!”
THAT jarred the little girl out of her trance, and she looked over at her mom, blinking as if just waking from a sleep. “I’m sorry, Mom. What?”
“I was asking if everything was okay.”
For an answer, Theresa pointed at Clinton’s hand, and Wendy realized that the bucket in his hands looked awfully familiar. “He stole my chalk!” she protested.
Oh for crying out loud, Wendy thought. The last thing she needed today (or any day really) was that spoiled selfish brat starting more altercations with her daughter. He’d already done enough damage. She took a deep calming breath, rubbing her eyes. “Why did you steal her chalk?”
Clinton shrugged. “Just havin’ some fun.”
“Well, I don’t think its very much fun for her. Give it back, please.”
For a second she thought he was going do be defiant, which she really, REALLY wasn’t in the mood for. But the third (or rather now, fourth… assuming somehow he passed) grader simply shrugged. “I don’t want your stupid girl chalk anyhow,” he sneered to Theresa, then tossed the bucket high in the air, the contents spilling out and raining down as Theresa shrieked and covered. Before Wendy could even say a word, the boy had ran off between the houses across the street, to find a more unsupervised target to torture.
“ASSHOLE!” Theresa screamed after him.
“THERESA!”
“Well, he IS, Mom!” Theresa protested. “You should have kicked his stupid head off!”
“I’m not going to kick an eight year old, Theresa,” Wendy sighed, as she looked around at the sticks of chalk littering the ground, groaning silently as a green one rolled into the stormwater drain, disappearing with a plop. “Come on, I’ll help you pick these up.”
It didn’t take too long to pick up find all the remaining sidewalk chalk pieces, although at least six had broken on impact, while a few more were chipped. Soon though, the rest of the sticks were in the bucket, and Wendy picked up the bucket, grateful to get off the scorching pavement.
“You didn’t touch him or anything, did you?”
“No. Of course not,” Theresa replied innocently. “Although I was probably going to…”
“Well you have to keep your cool, okay? Remember, YOU’RE the one who’s going to get in trouble if anything happens. Don’t let him goad you into doing something you’ll regret.”
“I know,” Theresa huffed irritably. “But it’s not fair!”
“I know, hon,” Wendy said sadly. “It isn’t, and it’s wrong that reacting to that jerk put such a stigma on you with the school district and the courts. But until we get that all taken care of, the last thing we want to do is give the Sickles and the courts MORE ammo…” her voice trailed off
“I know. Just… UGH.” Theresa grumbled. “Well, thanks for helping out, anyways, Mom.”
“No problem, I was on my way to get the mail and just walked in,” Wendy said, handing her daughter the bucket of chalk. “Well, you better head on in. You’ve been out for a while, and you don’t want to get sunburned. And maybe you should finish up your schoolwork so you can go with your dad to the races Friday night.”
“Oh, I’m done,” Theresa proclaimed.
“Really?” Wendy asked skeptically. “With everything?”
“Yup! I know they’re not due until the end of the month, but watching how vigiliant you are in keeping on top of things, I’ve realized how important time management is,” Theresa replied. “I’ve read them over every night too, making sure that everything is in order. When you have time, could you and Daddy read them and double check to make sure I did everything properly?”
“No problem, Theresa!” Wendy said, smiling warmly with pride. “We’ll look them over tonight.”
“Great! Thanks mom! I’m going to get the best scores I can, make you and Daddy proud, and make St. Joseph’s have no choice but to accept me next year!”
“That’s wonderful, Theresa. Now run along. I’ll get the mail and check with your father on the air conditioning, and then you and I can have some cookies to celebrate the end of your school year!”
“MOM! HEY, MOM!”
Wendy jumped at her daughter’s voice, startled. Evidently in the heat, she had let her mind wander. She looked down at Theresa, rubbing her eyes.
“Sorry, Terr-Bear. I was daydreaming for a second. What were you saying?”
“I was telling you thanks for helping me out with Clint.”
“Oh! No problem, Terr-Bear. I was just walking out to get the mail and saw the commotion.” Wendy held out the bucket of chalk for her daughter to take. “Well, you better head on in. You’ve been out a while and I don’t want you getting sunburned.”
“But it’s so stuffy inside!” Theresa whined. “It’s like an oven!”
“It’s not so bad now,” Wendy promised. “I opened all the windows, and got some fans running. It’s aired out quite a bit.”
“When’s Dad going to be done with the stupid air conditioning?” Theresa pouted.
“I was going to get the mail, and then I was going to ask him,” Wendy said. “Can’t be too much longer. He’s been at it for a couple of hours. By the way, have you gotten your schoolwork done yet?”
“It’s not due until the end of the month,” Theresa replied. “I got five days.”
“You *have* five days. Why don’t you just do it now? Then you’ll have it out of the way, can enjoy the weekend instead of surrying to get it all done, and save yourself the headache of having to do things at the last minute?”
“I still dont’ see why I have to do it anyways. I did my 180 days. You said so yourself.”
“Yes, but the accredation service were using wants to make sure you learned the material right. This way, when we try to get you into a school, we’ll have proof that you mastered the second grade. And with good score, it’ll help you get into a better school next year.”
“Fine, whatever,” Theresa said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll get the stupid exams done. Don’t worry about it, mom,” she turned to stomp off into the house.
“Make sure you take your time! Don’t rush things!” Wendy reminded her.
“I know..”
“And I’ll want to look it over when it’s done!”
“Yeah, whatever,” Theresa said in the snottiest tone Wendy’d ever heard from her, as she stalked up the steps into the house. Wendy watched the door slam behind her, and sighed. She enjoyed being Theresa’s teacher, for the most part, but sometimes getting her to do the work was such a fight.
And it’s not like she hadn’t had a month to work on these exams. But like it or not, they WERE going to be done by next Monday. Of that she had no doubt.
“Right, the mail,” she finally said, reaching into her pocket, and pulling out the key, turning back towards the street, and the communal mailbox waiting across.
===================================
Wednesday June 25, 2014
2:43 PM Eastern Daylight Time
The Nest- Side Yard (Right Side facing the street)
Indianapolis, Indiana
"I've brought you a drink, Terry,"
Terrence Thompson craned his neck up to see his wife standing over him, holding a tall plastic tumbler almost overflowing with ice and lemonade. "Oh? Great, thank you. It's murder in this heat" he said, pushing himself off the ground where he had been lying next to the air conditioner unit.
"Well, you've been out here a while, working so hard. How much longer do you think it's going to take?"
Terrence shrugged. "Not one hundred percent sure, but I think I'm getting the idea. Shouldn't be too much longer."
"Thank God," Wendy huffed. "It's so bleeping HOT today!"
"Well, if you're so hot, you could always take something off, " Terrence offered with a wink, eyeing his wife, who was wearing a bright yellow T-shirt and white cargo shorts, along with a pair of sandals.
Wendy pondered for a second, then shrugged. "I suppose I could for a bit. It's not like anyone's going to see me, since the Andersons are out of town," she said, gesturing over at the house next door. She grabbed the hem of her shirt, lifting it up and off over her head, so that now she only stood in her bra.
"There. Bet you feel a lot cooler now, don't you?" Terrence asked with a wink.
"Actually,” Wendy said, panting and fanning her chest. “I feel… hotter.”
They looked at each other, and suddenly they had collided, mouths and tongues pressing into each other, as their hands ripped at the clothes they were still wearing, sweating even more in the sweltering sun, despite the discarded garments. With a grunt, Terrence spun, throwing Wendy atop the air conditioning unit, falling atop her and kissing her neck, as she gasped. “Oh, Terry…. Terry!”
“TERRENCE! HEY, TERRENCE!”
Terrence looked up, squinting into the bright sunlight to see his wife standing over him, arms on her hips. He blinked, rubbing his eyes, and stifled a yawn. “Sorry, hon. What was that?”
“I was asking you how much longer it’s going to be. We’re you sleeping?”
“No!” Terrence said defensively… and perhaps a tad untruthfully. “I just got… lost in thought for a second. This heat… it plays tricks with your brain.”
“Tell me about it,” Wendy said, fanning herself with a small stack of envelopes in her hand. “So, how much longer, you think?”
“Can’t say for certain. I think I’m pretty sure what I need to do, just… I’ve never done it before, so new territory.”
Wendy closed her eyes and sighed. “Maybe you should just call a repairman.”
“Nah, I got this. I’ve come this far, haven’t I?”
“Well, hurry it up. It’s so bleeping HOT today!”
Terrence grinned at his irritated wife. “Well, if you’re so hot, you could always take something off.”
The look that Wendy gave him was not one of amusement. “And walk around in exactly what, Terrence?”
“Well, nothing if you want.” He said, putting his hands on his shoulders, and pulling her in. “But that might just make you hotter.”
“Oh, God, Terry,” Wendy said, pulling away. “Not now. You’re all sweaty and gross and anyone could see us…”
“Hey, you never objected, before, like after we were done training or anything.”
“Well, that’s different. That’s like good sweat. You’re all greasy and icky and… no…” she quickly changed the subject, waving the envelopes in her hand. “Mail came. You got something from NASCAR. I’ll drop it off at Cassie’s office tomorrow when I go in to train.”
“Nah, all the track stuff goes there anyways,” Terrence said, breaking out into a grin. “That’s actually for me. It’s my Nationwide license application.”
Wendy’s eyes narrowed. “Wait… Nationwide license?”
“Yeah, you know, the Nationwide Series? The second-highest one, one step below Sprint Cup. I was talking to a guy at Michigan, and he was expressing interest in maybe me running some races for him next year. But I gotta get myself licensed right to race in the division, so I figured I’d look into it.”
“When were you going to tell me about this?” Wendy asked. She was a lot less happier than he had anticipated her hearing this news.
“I dunno. It’s not like it’s all that big of a deal, hon,” Terrence said with a shrug. “Nothings set in stone yet, but I just figure that maybe at least looking into it would be good. Even if I don’t get a full time ride, maybe doing a few here and there on intersecting weekends with ARCA would be a good way to get my feet wet.”
He could see her mouth moving to mimic the words “full time ride”, although no audio came out. Wendy took a deep breath, and nodded. “Alright. Well, I better get back inside before my skin starts to peel off. Let me know when you get the AC fixed, alright?”
“I think you’ll know,” Terrence said, still miffed at his wife’s less than receptive attitude, but she only nodded and turned to walk away, rounding the house. It was then that something else suddenly popped in his brain.
“Hey, could you bring me some lemonade?” Terrence called after her.
The sound of the front door slamming without a reply was a pretty good indication that he probably wasn’t getting refreshments any time soon.
Ah well, he thought, dropping back down to look at the air conditioning unit.
Back to work.
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