Post by LACKLAN on Apr 13, 2018 14:37:48 GMT -5
Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen.
We here at Circle Television Network have been asked a particular question over and over the last couple of months, and we, the documentary team, are going to take this installment in order to answer it:
“How in the HELL is ’Dear Bordy’ a thing?!”
Funny story, that.
See, the woman currently known professionally as Le Bord de Dieu popped up on various social media platforms in January and, after a few weeks, began to let everyone around her know of how she felt about their antics. For the most part, the exclusively French-speaking woman would call people out for the way they dressed, for being “sluts” online, for forsaking “biblical” relationships, and for NOT enjoying the blessed day God provided. And while this message annoyed and turned most people off more than a #StuffedSluts production, there was a particular member of the CTN family that thought Bordy’s voice and opinion should be heard, if not exactly celebrated. Kenzi Grey-Lacklan pitched the idea both to Bordy and our boss, Mrs. Jones, that perhaps Bordy’s faith-based perspective would not only be good for ratings and flavor, but also help out the returning wrestler with what seemed to be some personal and identity issues. And while a program such as Bordy’s might seem strange for a network which, lets face is, is a warren of everything sin-related, Kenzi is, after all, a Scientologist married to a Baptist, so she knows a bit about how differing faiths or creeds can be brought together to make something beautiful.
Thus, we have ‘Dear Bordy.’
And, hoooooo boy, was she PISSED when she found out that her proposed name, “Slut-Shaming with Bordy,” wasn’t used!
Just about as pissed as when she found out the name of this documentary. It is not quite what she herself had proposed.
Today we take you to the streets, as we have done in the two previous parts of this docuseries, as Bordy has spent nearly all of her time over the last month among those who are less fortunate. She has visited the homeless, spoken words of praise to the helpless, washed the feet of the sinners. And we have seen a distinct change in those people. We have seen them stand straighter. We have seen them smile. We have seen them open their eyes to the sky, with heads held high, far more than they did before. We think that, even after the fire which took down one of the “tent cities” last week, that she is even MORE revered than before. Many of these people have come to her for help and advice, and thus it came to us that she could help spread her message further by doing a live broadcast of Dear Bordy from one of the homeless shelters she has been volunteering at.
We hope you enjoy this episode of Savior in the Streets...Ultraviolet in the Sheets and take away an answer or two to your questions on life, relationships, and faith.
A makeshift studio had been prepared along the street in the 200’s section of Main in Bangor. A long table with several stacks of paper and a monitor, another table next to it where an engineer sat, and several wires trailing away towards a van with the CTN logo painted on the side. A crowd of transients, far more thoroughly washed, nearly to the point of being pampered, than they were even a few weeks ago, stands in a sea surrounding the setup; men, women, children, all with smiling faces and eyes full of that most elusive feeling and emotion for their kind: Hope.
Wearing a long red dress with a high neck, small stripes of sparkling orange running up and down the long sleeves, Le Bord de Dieu sits at the table, her fingertips moving through the stack of papers, pausing occasionally to raise her head and smile at members of the crowd. Everywhere he gaze fell, faces grew even brighter than before. Children laughed. Woman wept. Men, strong men, nearly fell to their knees. Bordy took them all in, took in her people, took in those who needed help, needed shelter, and found God’s grace through her words and actions.
Movement at her side caught her attention and her gaze found her engineer silently counting down with her fingers. She smiled at her, and noticed a small hitch in the engineer’s counting, and tried not to blame her. Someone recently said that her smile could change the world, and lately, it had.
The chord from the piano goes through the speakers and the soft voice proclaims the name of the show, “Dear Bordy,” and she tries not to wince. She loathed that name but one had to learn to compromise for the greater goodness of God. She leaned forward into the microphone and gave that world-changing smile.
“Welcome everyone, to the newest edition of ‘Dear Bordy,’ you opportunity to have life and relationship problems answered from a faith-based perspective, which means the ONLY perspective worth having! I am your host, His Edge and His Blade, the United Global Wrestling Coalition Champion of Chaos, Le Bord de Dieu. And let us get right into it by taking a live question from the audience! And remember: You will thank me later.”
A woman in a stained dress, but with a clean face, raises her hands and speaks into a microphone offered by a CTN staff member.
“Hello, Ma’am. I just wanted to say thank you for all you have done for us over the last month. I mean, with the blankets, and food, and-”
Bordy cuts her off with a raised hand a smile.
“Do not thank me. Thank Him.”
The woman nods her head enthusiastically.
“Yes, Ma’am. I am new to Christianity, thanks to you, and I wanted to know what I should memorize first. Corinthians or Isaiah?”
“Corinthians.”
Bordy’s answer was immediate.
“Every word of the Bible is true and divinely inspired, thus equally important, but I believe that new believers should study Corinthians first. It speaks of love, but not the love you might think. It speaks of how God loves us, and how we should, in turn, aspire to love Him. It is not romantic love, as Hallmark would have you believe. Indeed, Corinthians is the single most misunderstood and misquoted passage, with people taking words out of context in order to fit their own needs or designs. Much like other wrestlers I compete against. Particularly the ones so ugly on the inside that they must change their outer appearance in startling ways in order to find even some semblance of worth. Next question!"
A surprisingly tall blonde receives the microphone next.
"I'm, like, totes way taller than all of my other friends. Like, way way taller! But I'm also the only one who's single. Sometimes I think my height can be intimidating, but what can I do to remedy that?"
“You could try being less of a slut.”
The blonde’s face looks like she had been slapped.
“It is theologically proven that any blonde woman at the height of 5’10” or more is, by default, a whore. So how about you drop out of Prostitute College and try NOT being a skank. Next question!”
“We have a few questions from the text line, if you would like.”
“Certainly! Put them up on the screen so that everyone can see!”
A projector shows the engineer’s phone.
Bordy rolls her dark eyes so hard that the Cool Rankings tabulators give her a bonus Cool Point for the next edition.
“Oh please. The Nothing became Something by pinning Pierce. But a winning percentage of 33% in matches with me is hardly something to write home about. Thank you for the question, Lucy!”
“Please consult the 10th commandment about coveting things which are not yours and, like, 27 different verses on gluttany.”
“Men make terrible decisions when it comes to women. While my dear husband might well be as perfect as a man can be, the truth is that ALL men are descended from Adam. And while Eve had been tricked by Lucifer, Adam CHOSE his path. Men are, in a word, dumb.”
Bordy blinks several times, her face a mask of confusion. She gives her head a shake. And then another.
“The only thing I can POSSIBLY think your question refers to is the carnage which happened last week involving…”
She pauses for a moment.
“Necron.”
Murmurs rise and spread through the crowd, voices full of anger, sadness, and confusion.
“I do not know what aim this man earns for, but I know well the game he plays. It is a game I play well, a game I am currently playing on multiple fronts, and a game which I was taught by a master player. Necron believes himself to be far more than he truly is, and when the time comes for me to deal with him personally, he will learn that not all men who wears masks are equal or worthy. So yes, he has done damage. Yes, he has caused a surge of uncertainty in the new followers of the Path of the Light. But that pain and uncertainty will not last much more than the setting of the sun. Indeed, the rise of the sun, the light breaking the horizon, will send him back into his city of darkness like a cockroach.”
“We have some callers on the line, if you would like.”
Bordy smiles at her engineer and gestures for her to continue.
“We have ‘MGL from Maine’ with a question about dealing with her mother-in-law.”
“Always a sensitive subject. Hello caller!”
“Hello, Bordy. I am a happily married woman-”
This makes Bordy smile widely.
“-and am living a life that is almost perfect, but there is a HUGE problem that is bothering me. My spouse’s mother-in-law is a gigantic loser who delights in crapping on everyone around her. I have tried my best to get through to her and to do what I can to bridge the gap, but her closed mindedness and disgusting nature makes that impossible. I know that I should honor my mother, but what do you do when that person isn’t worthy of any honor at all?”
Bordy ponders for a moment.
“It is wise of you to wish to honor her, as the 5th commandment demands and as Peter reminded us in 5:1-5. I myself understand how difficult that can be, as my own step-daughter’s mother-in-law, who I think is nearly 50 years my senior, can be hard around the edges. My suggestion to you is to do as I do: Honor her, even in her roughest times, so that she may look at you and your glorious marriage and see God’s will. Even the worst cantankerous slut, as my step-daughter’s mother-in-law is known to be, can only last so long in their sins with such a great display of His love.”
“Next, we have ‘Shattered,’ from the Port of Los Angeles...which...um...I don’t think is a real place? Er...anyway…”
“Hello Bordy. I love my wife dearly-
The feminine voice saying this makes Bordy frown with judgement.
“-and I think that she loves me too, but recently I have been noticing very strange charges made to our shared bank account for some sort of ‘cam show.’ I logged into the account and what I saw there disgusted me! It was FEET! This woman’s filthy, nasty FEET!”
Bordy’s face turns a particularly sickly shade of green.
“I want to throw up, just thinking about it! I need you advice Bordy, I need to know what I need to do to get my wife to stop spending our money on #BitchCoins to masturbate to Roxy Cotton’s gross ass grape stomping Fred Flintstone FEET!”
Bordy’s face immediately returns to the judgement from before.
“I do not take kindly to fake calls for my show, child. I happen to know Miss Cotton personally and, while she still defies me and God by STILL not marrying her fiance, I know that Miss Cotton is a wonderful person inside and would NEVER do this disgusting ‘cam show’ with her feet, as you are suggesting. Lies like this make Baby Jesus cry! Next question!”
“Our final caller is ‘Cat Hater’ from right here in Maine.”
“I already do not like this person. I love cats! I miss Linus.”
“Well, she has a question about a possible false friend.”
“Even cat haters need help. Let her speak.”
“Thank you for taking my call, Bordy. I have some of the best friends in the entire world! They are all so supportive and nice…well…all except one of them. One of them isn’t very nice at all! In fact, over social media she pretends to be the sweetest person of them all, but in private she is the meanest, nastiest, grossest bully I have ever met! I try to be nice to her, but all she does is belittle me and keep me in constant fear.”
“This does not sound like a real friend, caller.”
“I know, Bordy! I am at my wits end! Should I expose her to the world? I feel like everyone should know what a two-faced person she is, but I am legitimately scared for my life. She almost killed a woman a few months ago with a [REDACTED] in her wrestling [REDACTED]. I don’t want to be a victim, but I think the world needs to know how evil this woman is. PLEASE HELP!”
“It sounds like your friend is as bad of a person as the Pharisees were. They were religious leaders in the time of John the Baptist and Jesus, Himself. They strived to lead people but were really just controlling them and perverting God’s word, just as much as the tax collectors were. I saw you do with this supposed friend of yours exactly what Jesus did: Turn over the table. Rip that [REDACTED] from her and beat her over the head with it until she gives up her sinful ways! She will thank me later.”
Bordy smiles at the crowd before her.
“Well, that is all the time we have for today. Thank you for being here for this live edition of ‘Dear Bordy’ and thank you to everyone at home for listening!”
CTN crew members immediately enter the area, beginning to take down the electronics and tables. Bordy’s personal assistant Jet/Mike, with his contractually obligated “dumb soccer mom hair” beginning to grow in nicely, is quickly at her side to help her out of the chair.
“Come, Jet. I wish to get a drink at the local bar down the street.”
Jet looks at her with clear confusion in his eyes.
“What?”
“Geese and gander, dear Jet. If Dave Rydell can do it...I can do it.”
Aveline Lacklan walks into the bar like a diamond shining in the light. The bar is dank and musty, the smells and moisture of a thousand nights of debauchery nearly thick enough for the stately woman to wade through, but she keeps her lean chin high. Men and women, some seemingly as dirty as the room itself, naturally turn their heads as the door opens and closes behind her, the light of the day blinding half-lidded eyes before it was swept away by the gloom. Most kept their heads turned towards the beauty with the shoulder-length curls highlighted by a handful of grey streaks, but some quickly turned away in fear of her brightness.
“Well...isn’t this...somethi
She turns her head left and right, taking all of them in, before giving a sad shake of her head.
“So many at this time of day. Shameful.”
She strides forward toward the long bar, her heels clacking loudly on the wooden floor, with Jet trying to keep up behind her. The heads that had stayed on her swivelled to match her movements before the woman in the sparkling gown was standing in front of the wooden bar.
“Barkeep! A bourbon, if you please. Clean, of course.”
Jet looked surprised as she smoothed her skirts and had a seat at the bar. He turned his surprised gaze to the bartender and ordered a beer before turning back to his employer.
“Wow. A...um...that’s a pretty hard drink.”
She gave him a smile, one of those smiles filled with dimples and light which were becoming legend all around the North East, and gave a small chuckle.
“My husband’s preferred spirit, young man.”
“...huh.”
Jet sat down next to his employer and, after a moment, the bartender returned with the two ordered drinks, a bottled beer for him and a small glass of brown liquid for her. As the bartender leaves, she takes up her glass and gestures towards Jet.
“To absent friends.”
His look of surprise deepens as he clinks the neck of his bottle against the lip of her glass.
“To absent friends.”
They drink in silence for a moment, a small smile rising on her lips as she takes a sip.
“Hey...um...can I say something?”
She gives him a small arched eyebrow but doesn’t otherwise respond. He gives himself a small shrug to gather himself.
“You keep talking about your husband. But I haven’t seen him around...and I hear that he’s not...ya know...alive...so I was wondering-”
“I like you, Jet,” she says, cutting him off. “I would not have hired you to be my assistant otherwise.”
She gives him a wink and a tip of her glass.
“But do not presume TOO high above your station.”
An awkward silence falls between them until Jet tries a different direction.
“You...um...you seem different...than from when I first met you. Like...I don’t know...more confident? I think? And you scream at me less...sometimes…”
He cuts off as she gives out a loud yet still musical laugh.
“Oh, young man. I have simply found myself.”
“Found yourself? What does that mean?”
She looks around the room, gesturing with the drink in her hand.
“A few months ago I was not much unlike the people around here, dear Jet. I was lost. Unsure of where I was going or even of where I came from. That was a...dark...time.”
She brings the glass back to her lips takes a sip of the liquid, her smile returning.
“But I found myself, dear boy. With Redmaine’s help...I have found myself. Not just telling the world that I am the Ultraviolet...but showing them. Yes...yes...I found myself...which is what Rydell is trying to do, I think.”
Jet gives her a questioning look.
“He is? What do you mean?”
She ponders for a moment, takes a sip of her drink, and then sets it down on the table before them.
“Dave Rydell is like many competitors in 2018: Lost. He has had his victories for certain, held championships and been the face of the entire Coalition. And I do not say that in same bland way, like someone like Mizore or that Vaughan woman would say; no, this is not about doing a small bit of research through the UGWC databases online. I know him...I know his kind...I know what and how he feels. Many people in this business had success in their youth, in a wrestling world which was full of small ponds or lakes which barely knew of the rivers that connected them, much less the giant ocean that is combat sports. But in this day and age? In this era of connectivity? He does not belong.
“You see, if finds himself in world populated by the aforementioned Mizores and Vaughans. He competes with those who use social media not only to constantly insult, or troll, as you kids say, their compatriots, but to combat them in a variety of arenas. For instance, that odd woman with the three names...Little Red Riding Hood, or some such. It was through social media that she and Wylde found themselves at odds, and through social media that Hood found herself, to use their verbiage, ‘getting her ass kicked.’ Such an advent of technology is being the likes of Rydell, particularly since that man is known for barely knowing what goes on in his lake, much less those rivers and oceans.
“This is why he has had so little success in the last couple of years, and why the Court of Owls’ joke was so funny those weeks ago when he found Fear and Pierce: To fall upon his own recent achievements meant automatic failure. He has none. And, yes, he has won a couple of matches this year, it is still that: A couple. This world of lightening booking, of competitors regularly traveling across the world to fight several times a week, is beyond his comprehension. And so he searches for himself, searches for his place in this world which has changed so much in the last handful of years.”
She dips a fingertip into her drink, her dark eyes watching it swirl as she moves it.
“Others have been able to adapt nicely. Somers. Scott. Baal. But not Rydell. He is not wholly irrelevant, of course. He was able to secure a chance at Pierce’s championship next week, but that is as much for establishing the Cross-Hemisphere Championship as the least important within the company as anything else. No, not irrelevant. Just...outclassed. Outdated. And without much in the way of hope.”
She looks up at Jet, her dimples strengthening again as she smiles.
“But perhaps this week will bring a bit of that hope to him. Perhands he will SEE and FEEL in ways he never has before. Because he faces the Champion of Chaos. The Edge and Blade of God. He faces me. And he-”
She cuts off suddenly, her smile turning to a frown, and she looks around.
“This has to be the WORST way to cut a promo.”
Jet shakes his head in confusion.
“What?”
She throws her arms wide.
“This! This...thing! Why would ANYONE cut a promotional video or rant in a bar? And do it every week! It makes no sense! The patrons of this establishment do not care! And what could being in a bar POSSIBLY do to inspire a wrestler? Again, this must be the WORST way to cut a promotional video!”
“Not even Top Five.”
Employer and Employee turn to the bartender, who approached them with a clipboard in his hand.
“Pardon me?”
He turns the clipboard toward her.
“Barely even Top Ten. Look, here is the latest poll on the worst ways to cut a promo for a combat sport. See for yourself.”
She takes the clipboard and looks at the paper. At first her face is confusion...but then it turns to disbelief...and finally understanding and acceptance.
“Huh. What will those polling places think of next?”
We here at Circle Television Network have been asked a particular question over and over the last couple of months, and we, the documentary team, are going to take this installment in order to answer it:
“How in the HELL is ’Dear Bordy’ a thing?!”
Funny story, that.
See, the woman currently known professionally as Le Bord de Dieu popped up on various social media platforms in January and, after a few weeks, began to let everyone around her know of how she felt about their antics. For the most part, the exclusively French-speaking woman would call people out for the way they dressed, for being “sluts” online, for forsaking “biblical” relationships, and for NOT enjoying the blessed day God provided. And while this message annoyed and turned most people off more than a #StuffedSluts production, there was a particular member of the CTN family that thought Bordy’s voice and opinion should be heard, if not exactly celebrated. Kenzi Grey-Lacklan pitched the idea both to Bordy and our boss, Mrs. Jones, that perhaps Bordy’s faith-based perspective would not only be good for ratings and flavor, but also help out the returning wrestler with what seemed to be some personal and identity issues. And while a program such as Bordy’s might seem strange for a network which, lets face is, is a warren of everything sin-related, Kenzi is, after all, a Scientologist married to a Baptist, so she knows a bit about how differing faiths or creeds can be brought together to make something beautiful.
Thus, we have ‘Dear Bordy.’
And, hoooooo boy, was she PISSED when she found out that her proposed name, “Slut-Shaming with Bordy,” wasn’t used!
Just about as pissed as when she found out the name of this documentary. It is not quite what she herself had proposed.
Today we take you to the streets, as we have done in the two previous parts of this docuseries, as Bordy has spent nearly all of her time over the last month among those who are less fortunate. She has visited the homeless, spoken words of praise to the helpless, washed the feet of the sinners. And we have seen a distinct change in those people. We have seen them stand straighter. We have seen them smile. We have seen them open their eyes to the sky, with heads held high, far more than they did before. We think that, even after the fire which took down one of the “tent cities” last week, that she is even MORE revered than before. Many of these people have come to her for help and advice, and thus it came to us that she could help spread her message further by doing a live broadcast of Dear Bordy from one of the homeless shelters she has been volunteering at.
We hope you enjoy this episode of Savior in the Streets...Ultraviolet in the Sheets and take away an answer or two to your questions on life, relationships, and faith.
A makeshift studio had been prepared along the street in the 200’s section of Main in Bangor. A long table with several stacks of paper and a monitor, another table next to it where an engineer sat, and several wires trailing away towards a van with the CTN logo painted on the side. A crowd of transients, far more thoroughly washed, nearly to the point of being pampered, than they were even a few weeks ago, stands in a sea surrounding the setup; men, women, children, all with smiling faces and eyes full of that most elusive feeling and emotion for their kind: Hope.
Wearing a long red dress with a high neck, small stripes of sparkling orange running up and down the long sleeves, Le Bord de Dieu sits at the table, her fingertips moving through the stack of papers, pausing occasionally to raise her head and smile at members of the crowd. Everywhere he gaze fell, faces grew even brighter than before. Children laughed. Woman wept. Men, strong men, nearly fell to their knees. Bordy took them all in, took in her people, took in those who needed help, needed shelter, and found God’s grace through her words and actions.
Movement at her side caught her attention and her gaze found her engineer silently counting down with her fingers. She smiled at her, and noticed a small hitch in the engineer’s counting, and tried not to blame her. Someone recently said that her smile could change the world, and lately, it had.
5!
4!
3!
2!
1!
4!
3!
2!
1!
The chord from the piano goes through the speakers and the soft voice proclaims the name of the show, “Dear Bordy,” and she tries not to wince. She loathed that name but one had to learn to compromise for the greater goodness of God. She leaned forward into the microphone and gave that world-changing smile.
“Welcome everyone, to the newest edition of ‘Dear Bordy,’ you opportunity to have life and relationship problems answered from a faith-based perspective, which means the ONLY perspective worth having! I am your host, His Edge and His Blade, the United Global Wrestling Coalition Champion of Chaos, Le Bord de Dieu. And let us get right into it by taking a live question from the audience! And remember: You will thank me later.”
A woman in a stained dress, but with a clean face, raises her hands and speaks into a microphone offered by a CTN staff member.
“Hello, Ma’am. I just wanted to say thank you for all you have done for us over the last month. I mean, with the blankets, and food, and-”
Bordy cuts her off with a raised hand a smile.
“Do not thank me. Thank Him.”
The woman nods her head enthusiastically.
“Yes, Ma’am. I am new to Christianity, thanks to you, and I wanted to know what I should memorize first. Corinthians or Isaiah?”
“Corinthians.”
Bordy’s answer was immediate.
“Every word of the Bible is true and divinely inspired, thus equally important, but I believe that new believers should study Corinthians first. It speaks of love, but not the love you might think. It speaks of how God loves us, and how we should, in turn, aspire to love Him. It is not romantic love, as Hallmark would have you believe. Indeed, Corinthians is the single most misunderstood and misquoted passage, with people taking words out of context in order to fit their own needs or designs. Much like other wrestlers I compete against. Particularly the ones so ugly on the inside that they must change their outer appearance in startling ways in order to find even some semblance of worth. Next question!"
A surprisingly tall blonde receives the microphone next.
"I'm, like, totes way taller than all of my other friends. Like, way way taller! But I'm also the only one who's single. Sometimes I think my height can be intimidating, but what can I do to remedy that?"
“You could try being less of a slut.”
The blonde’s face looks like she had been slapped.
“It is theologically proven that any blonde woman at the height of 5’10” or more is, by default, a whore. So how about you drop out of Prostitute College and try NOT being a skank. Next question!”
“We have a few questions from the text line, if you would like.”
“Certainly! Put them up on the screen so that everyone can see!”
A projector shows the engineer’s phone.
#DearBordy - why are you maggie lockhearts bitch
Bordy rolls her dark eyes so hard that the Cool Rankings tabulators give her a bonus Cool Point for the next edition.
“Oh please. The Nothing became Something by pinning Pierce. But a winning percentage of 33% in matches with me is hardly something to write home about. Thank you for the question, Lucy!”
#DearBordy: Is it weird when you think a girl is a total slut man-eater, but when your best friend hooks up with her you suddenly find yourself attracted?
“Please consult the 10th commandment about coveting things which are not yours and, like, 27 different verses on gluttany.”
#DearBordy: How does Eden still get men to fall into her thrall after years of devouring them? Is it the boobs? The eyes?
“Men make terrible decisions when it comes to women. While my dear husband might well be as perfect as a man can be, the truth is that ALL men are descended from Adam. And while Eve had been tricked by Lucifer, Adam CHOSE his path. Men are, in a word, dumb.”
#DearBordy: What that dick do, tho?
Bordy blinks several times, her face a mask of confusion. She gives her head a shake. And then another.
“The only thing I can POSSIBLY think your question refers to is the carnage which happened last week involving…”
She pauses for a moment.
“Necron.”
Murmurs rise and spread through the crowd, voices full of anger, sadness, and confusion.
“I do not know what aim this man earns for, but I know well the game he plays. It is a game I play well, a game I am currently playing on multiple fronts, and a game which I was taught by a master player. Necron believes himself to be far more than he truly is, and when the time comes for me to deal with him personally, he will learn that not all men who wears masks are equal or worthy. So yes, he has done damage. Yes, he has caused a surge of uncertainty in the new followers of the Path of the Light. But that pain and uncertainty will not last much more than the setting of the sun. Indeed, the rise of the sun, the light breaking the horizon, will send him back into his city of darkness like a cockroach.”
“We have some callers on the line, if you would like.”
Bordy smiles at her engineer and gestures for her to continue.
“We have ‘MGL from Maine’ with a question about dealing with her mother-in-law.”
“Always a sensitive subject. Hello caller!”
“Hello, Bordy. I am a happily married woman-”
This makes Bordy smile widely.
“-and am living a life that is almost perfect, but there is a HUGE problem that is bothering me. My spouse’s mother-in-law is a gigantic loser who delights in crapping on everyone around her. I have tried my best to get through to her and to do what I can to bridge the gap, but her closed mindedness and disgusting nature makes that impossible. I know that I should honor my mother, but what do you do when that person isn’t worthy of any honor at all?”
Bordy ponders for a moment.
“It is wise of you to wish to honor her, as the 5th commandment demands and as Peter reminded us in 5:1-5. I myself understand how difficult that can be, as my own step-daughter’s mother-in-law, who I think is nearly 50 years my senior, can be hard around the edges. My suggestion to you is to do as I do: Honor her, even in her roughest times, so that she may look at you and your glorious marriage and see God’s will. Even the worst cantankerous slut, as my step-daughter’s mother-in-law is known to be, can only last so long in their sins with such a great display of His love.”
“Next, we have ‘Shattered,’ from the Port of Los Angeles...which...um...I don’t think is a real place? Er...anyway…”
“Hello Bordy. I love my wife dearly-
The feminine voice saying this makes Bordy frown with judgement.
“-and I think that she loves me too, but recently I have been noticing very strange charges made to our shared bank account for some sort of ‘cam show.’ I logged into the account and what I saw there disgusted me! It was FEET! This woman’s filthy, nasty FEET!”
Bordy’s face turns a particularly sickly shade of green.
“I want to throw up, just thinking about it! I need you advice Bordy, I need to know what I need to do to get my wife to stop spending our money on #BitchCoins to masturbate to Roxy Cotton’s gross ass grape stomping Fred Flintstone FEET!”
Bordy’s face immediately returns to the judgement from before.
“I do not take kindly to fake calls for my show, child. I happen to know Miss Cotton personally and, while she still defies me and God by STILL not marrying her fiance, I know that Miss Cotton is a wonderful person inside and would NEVER do this disgusting ‘cam show’ with her feet, as you are suggesting. Lies like this make Baby Jesus cry! Next question!”
“Our final caller is ‘Cat Hater’ from right here in Maine.”
“I already do not like this person. I love cats! I miss Linus.”
“Well, she has a question about a possible false friend.”
“Even cat haters need help. Let her speak.”
“Thank you for taking my call, Bordy. I have some of the best friends in the entire world! They are all so supportive and nice…well…all except one of them. One of them isn’t very nice at all! In fact, over social media she pretends to be the sweetest person of them all, but in private she is the meanest, nastiest, grossest bully I have ever met! I try to be nice to her, but all she does is belittle me and keep me in constant fear.”
“This does not sound like a real friend, caller.”
“I know, Bordy! I am at my wits end! Should I expose her to the world? I feel like everyone should know what a two-faced person she is, but I am legitimately scared for my life. She almost killed a woman a few months ago with a [REDACTED] in her wrestling [REDACTED]. I don’t want to be a victim, but I think the world needs to know how evil this woman is. PLEASE HELP!”
“It sounds like your friend is as bad of a person as the Pharisees were. They were religious leaders in the time of John the Baptist and Jesus, Himself. They strived to lead people but were really just controlling them and perverting God’s word, just as much as the tax collectors were. I saw you do with this supposed friend of yours exactly what Jesus did: Turn over the table. Rip that [REDACTED] from her and beat her over the head with it until she gives up her sinful ways! She will thank me later.”
Bordy smiles at the crowd before her.
“Well, that is all the time we have for today. Thank you for being here for this live edition of ‘Dear Bordy’ and thank you to everyone at home for listening!”
CTN crew members immediately enter the area, beginning to take down the electronics and tables. Bordy’s personal assistant Jet/Mike, with his contractually obligated “dumb soccer mom hair” beginning to grow in nicely, is quickly at her side to help her out of the chair.
“Come, Jet. I wish to get a drink at the local bar down the street.”
Jet looks at her with clear confusion in his eyes.
“What?”
“Geese and gander, dear Jet. If Dave Rydell can do it...I can do it.”
Aveline Lacklan walks into the bar like a diamond shining in the light. The bar is dank and musty, the smells and moisture of a thousand nights of debauchery nearly thick enough for the stately woman to wade through, but she keeps her lean chin high. Men and women, some seemingly as dirty as the room itself, naturally turn their heads as the door opens and closes behind her, the light of the day blinding half-lidded eyes before it was swept away by the gloom. Most kept their heads turned towards the beauty with the shoulder-length curls highlighted by a handful of grey streaks, but some quickly turned away in fear of her brightness.
“Well...isn’t this...somethi
She turns her head left and right, taking all of them in, before giving a sad shake of her head.
“So many at this time of day. Shameful.”
She strides forward toward the long bar, her heels clacking loudly on the wooden floor, with Jet trying to keep up behind her. The heads that had stayed on her swivelled to match her movements before the woman in the sparkling gown was standing in front of the wooden bar.
“Barkeep! A bourbon, if you please. Clean, of course.”
Jet looked surprised as she smoothed her skirts and had a seat at the bar. He turned his surprised gaze to the bartender and ordered a beer before turning back to his employer.
“Wow. A...um...that’s a pretty hard drink.”
She gave him a smile, one of those smiles filled with dimples and light which were becoming legend all around the North East, and gave a small chuckle.
“My husband’s preferred spirit, young man.”
“...huh.”
Jet sat down next to his employer and, after a moment, the bartender returned with the two ordered drinks, a bottled beer for him and a small glass of brown liquid for her. As the bartender leaves, she takes up her glass and gestures towards Jet.
“To absent friends.”
His look of surprise deepens as he clinks the neck of his bottle against the lip of her glass.
“To absent friends.”
They drink in silence for a moment, a small smile rising on her lips as she takes a sip.
“Hey...um...can I say something?”
She gives him a small arched eyebrow but doesn’t otherwise respond. He gives himself a small shrug to gather himself.
“You keep talking about your husband. But I haven’t seen him around...and I hear that he’s not...ya know...alive...so I was wondering-”
“I like you, Jet,” she says, cutting him off. “I would not have hired you to be my assistant otherwise.”
She gives him a wink and a tip of her glass.
“But do not presume TOO high above your station.”
An awkward silence falls between them until Jet tries a different direction.
“You...um...you seem different...than from when I first met you. Like...I don’t know...more confident? I think? And you scream at me less...sometimes…”
He cuts off as she gives out a loud yet still musical laugh.
“Oh, young man. I have simply found myself.”
“Found yourself? What does that mean?”
She looks around the room, gesturing with the drink in her hand.
“A few months ago I was not much unlike the people around here, dear Jet. I was lost. Unsure of where I was going or even of where I came from. That was a...dark...time.”
She brings the glass back to her lips takes a sip of the liquid, her smile returning.
“But I found myself, dear boy. With Redmaine’s help...I have found myself. Not just telling the world that I am the Ultraviolet...but showing them. Yes...yes...I found myself...which is what Rydell is trying to do, I think.”
Jet gives her a questioning look.
“He is? What do you mean?”
She ponders for a moment, takes a sip of her drink, and then sets it down on the table before them.
“Dave Rydell is like many competitors in 2018: Lost. He has had his victories for certain, held championships and been the face of the entire Coalition. And I do not say that in same bland way, like someone like Mizore or that Vaughan woman would say; no, this is not about doing a small bit of research through the UGWC databases online. I know him...I know his kind...I know what and how he feels. Many people in this business had success in their youth, in a wrestling world which was full of small ponds or lakes which barely knew of the rivers that connected them, much less the giant ocean that is combat sports. But in this day and age? In this era of connectivity? He does not belong.
“You see, if finds himself in world populated by the aforementioned Mizores and Vaughans. He competes with those who use social media not only to constantly insult, or troll, as you kids say, their compatriots, but to combat them in a variety of arenas. For instance, that odd woman with the three names...Little Red Riding Hood, or some such. It was through social media that she and Wylde found themselves at odds, and through social media that Hood found herself, to use their verbiage, ‘getting her ass kicked.’ Such an advent of technology is being the likes of Rydell, particularly since that man is known for barely knowing what goes on in his lake, much less those rivers and oceans.
“This is why he has had so little success in the last couple of years, and why the Court of Owls’ joke was so funny those weeks ago when he found Fear and Pierce: To fall upon his own recent achievements meant automatic failure. He has none. And, yes, he has won a couple of matches this year, it is still that: A couple. This world of lightening booking, of competitors regularly traveling across the world to fight several times a week, is beyond his comprehension. And so he searches for himself, searches for his place in this world which has changed so much in the last handful of years.”
She dips a fingertip into her drink, her dark eyes watching it swirl as she moves it.
“Others have been able to adapt nicely. Somers. Scott. Baal. But not Rydell. He is not wholly irrelevant, of course. He was able to secure a chance at Pierce’s championship next week, but that is as much for establishing the Cross-Hemisphere Championship as the least important within the company as anything else. No, not irrelevant. Just...outclassed. Outdated. And without much in the way of hope.”
She looks up at Jet, her dimples strengthening again as she smiles.
“But perhaps this week will bring a bit of that hope to him. Perhands he will SEE and FEEL in ways he never has before. Because he faces the Champion of Chaos. The Edge and Blade of God. He faces me. And he-”
She cuts off suddenly, her smile turning to a frown, and she looks around.
“This has to be the WORST way to cut a promo.”
Jet shakes his head in confusion.
“What?”
She throws her arms wide.
“This! This...thing! Why would ANYONE cut a promotional video or rant in a bar? And do it every week! It makes no sense! The patrons of this establishment do not care! And what could being in a bar POSSIBLY do to inspire a wrestler? Again, this must be the WORST way to cut a promotional video!”
“Not even Top Five.”
Employer and Employee turn to the bartender, who approached them with a clipboard in his hand.
“Pardon me?”
He turns the clipboard toward her.
“Barely even Top Ten. Look, here is the latest poll on the worst ways to cut a promo for a combat sport. See for yourself.”
She takes the clipboard and looks at the paper. At first her face is confusion...but then it turns to disbelief...and finally understanding and acceptance.
“Huh. What will those polling places think of next?”
x2