The one where I have this, like, totes awkward Starbucks ru-
Sept 13, 2018 14:41:11 GMT -5
Magdalena Lockheart likes this
Post by cooltubesource on Sept 13, 2018 14:41:11 GMT -5
~~Thursday, September 6th~~
I stand before the door of my apartment...hotel room…whatever this thing is...and take several deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. Mackenzie and I have not had a row in months, at least not a real one, and my hands are shaking uncontrollably. Usually, its just something silly while we play games, pretending to be mad at one another, a silliness which would then lead into whatever sex game we are aiming for at the end. But this was different...today was different. And it shouldn’t be. IT SHOULDN’T BE. I KNOW that it was just a misunderstanding. I KNOW that it was just miscommunicated sarcasm, just me saying something that didn’t go over quite well through text, that started us on this battle, but I still couldn’t stop being so MAD. WHY AM I SO FUCKING MAD ALL THE TIME?! But, holy FUCK, how was it MY fault that Kenzi, in her goddamn NEED to forgive EVERYONE, had “hugged it out” with that racist douchebag Darryl?! And how is it MY fault that it was then EXPECTED that I forgive that IDIOT STRAY DOG KEM for calling me a BIGOT?!
I don’t want this fight. I don’t want ANY fight with my Beloved. Or even most people any more. Not since my accident. Not since Jacob. So many things have been put into a different perspective. I don’t find it fun to fight with people online anymore. I don’t find it fun to get people flustered or triggered that way any more. Hell, I had had to FORCE myself to jaw-jack with Maggie earlier in the day, and that was only because the dumb bitch had decided to shit on my purchased Synergy card FOUR GODDAMN DAYS after it had happened. The fuck was THAT all about?!
I don’t want this fight...but I WILL fight it. Mackenzie is WRONG.
I take more deep breaths, futilely trying to slow the shake in my hands. God, I hate this. People have quipped about how I “magically” recovered from my injuries, as if “nothing” had happened, but all the while I have only wrestled with the help of leg braces, and I have hands that won’t STOP. FUCKING. SHAKING.
I give up. My hands shake as I put them on the doorknob to my home. I open the door and prepare to meet the wrath, regardless of how displaced, of the love of my life. Every moment, every tear, will be worth it.
The one where I have this, like, totes awkward Starbucks run with Team Bellatrix and Voldemort (mental note: make a gif about that), "accidentally" help Angie in her match before I double-down on something I said a few months ago, debut the Legion because some dumbass doesn't think anyone is real unless they are slobbering over titty pics on Twitter, and then remind Rydell that he ain't shit, yo
~~The Next Day~~
Welp, today has been interesting.
So, Kenzi and I talked about that whole massive fight we got into last night, right? We sat down, and rubbed shoulders, and talked, and talked, and talked. And then ate food. And then ate...um...OTHER THINGS...and went to bed on the same page. Like always. But truth be told, things have been a little strained all morning. See, us #CoolKids are all in New York for this MASSIVELY IMPORTANT match of Angie’s that IN NO WAY WOULD EVER be, like, a week late, where Ms. Cats-A-Lot is in this final for a tournament held at MSG, right? Now, New York is a sore subject between some members of our little stable of awesomeness for reasons I won’t repeat here, so we always look forward to Big Apple time to be positive about our whole group, but today is a TOUCH different.
Because of Team We Totes Cosplay as Voldemort and Bellatrix.
People don’t quite GET why I and Eden have been hanging out together lately, but that’s because most of those people are lamers. Like, what is NOT to like about both Eden and I, ya know? We’re both hawt...though she IS starting to look a TEENIE EENIE BIT like Skeletor (note to self: Give Eden a How To on face cream and moisturizing), and we totes dig fashion, though some of her choices are kinda “Errrrrrmmmmmmmm.” We are both badass women wrestlers in a traditionally male-dominated business, and we both have an appreciation for boobs. Mind you, it a different KIND of appreciation, because Eden likes the pipe that, like, 27 guys a year lay into her, but who doesn’t love boobs, amIright?
Now, Mackenzie KNEW that we were meeting with Eden and Baal for coffee once we touched down in NY. She KNEW that this was Fashion Week (note the proper noun!). She KNEW that I, as the brains behind Firestarter Clothing, had a reputation to uphold on multiple fronts. Yet STILL she, in order to show a certain level of displeasure with Auntie Eden, wore THAT?! My God! It was a polyester smock! How the hell did she even GET one of those?! It must have been before we got together what felt like years ago, because now way (#ItsAThing) in HELL would I have let her buy that thing!
As you can imagine, I was so embarrassed by my wife’s chicanery that I was no doubt beet red. Normally, my skin is the color of cream milked from virgin cows under the cover of moonlight, but Good LORD! Mackenzie can be SO EMBARRASSING sometimes! Of course, Eden just HAD to bug me about it. And what a BAD Auntie! It’s one thing to whisper about it private while our voices get faster and faster and higher and higher as we accidentally compete with each other, but to POST the conversation online?!
And lets be honest here: “Things” doesn’t even cover the half of it! Oh, did you know that Eden and I like the same drink? Mind you, mine’s better, obvs, because I have them turn mine upside down twice, but ya know. But the fact that we both independently love the same drink is hot as flame. That's #AThing, too.
Unfortunately, that was when Kenzi just straight up left the table in the middle of the conversation. Not because of what was being said, mind, but because that was a silent protest in response to Team We Totes Ship Voldatrix SO HARD leaving their match with the Clear Connection the week before. Ugh. Wives can be SO dramatic.
Before long, we found ourselves at MSG and watching the XWA Lord of the Ring. Now, interesting thing about this: I’m only wrestling part time, as though I have been cleared for full-time work, I am easing back into things, right? But after watching Angie wrestle here a few times, it dawned on me that THIS would be a great place for Team 👠💩⬆️ to work! Just as long as no one tells Angie what our team name actually means.
So, we were there in the crowd, freakin’ FRONT ROW, and it was pretty awesome. Unfortunately, XWA is known as the “Battle Zone,” and Mackenzie thought that meant “Battle Bots,” so all FREAKIN’ NIGHT she was asking me where the robots were. I TRIED to explain it to her, but once she gets a bee in her bonnet, its impossible to get her to focus. Angie’s big match came about and she gave all three of us hugs, and we clapped her on the back, and I had popcorn, and it was all good.
The match was NUTS! It was a three-way dance with this other chick who was hot enough for Ken and I to Art4, if that was still a thing, and this monstrous dude. Not like Nekkie monstrous or anything, no murder and grape and abuse on camera, just a really big dude. The BEST part of the match was when Angie came to the outside for a breather. Kenzi wiped off her brow with an official Vaughnamous Towel (“I won’t give in...until I’m dry!”), I rubbed her shoulders and whispered some words to her about kicking the monster in the balls (...she never did…), and Roxy gave her one of those protein shakes that Amira started pitching because of that STUPID AS FUCK “BITCH I’M A COW” video. What does that even mean?!
My eyes had gone wide when I saw what was coming. That monster was leaping through the air. Angie didn’t see it. No one did.
But I did.
You have to do whatever it takes to win. You have to win AT ALL COSTS.
So WHAT if I wasn’t in this match?
So WHAT if I wasn’t even officially signed with the company yet?
We WILL win at ALL costs.
I grabbed Angie’s arm and pulled her to the side, and the monster came crashing down onto his own face.
Angie was PISSED.
Well, pissed for HER. That just means wide eyes and a look of rapprochement that no doubt sends Sers Bobby and Alex (wonder if Fatty will ever be able to tell the difference?) running for the hills. She told me NOT to do that in the future as she headed back into the ring. But I won’t apologize for getting involved in the match. I won’t apologize for helping my dearest friend. I won’t-
And THAT is when I realized that, in the chaos of the match, my popcorn bucket suddenly became empty and Kenzi’s face just SO HAPPENS to be glistening with butter and she has a wide-eyed look of innocence.
Bitch ate my popcorn!
The match continued and...in a damn shame...Angie was unable to win the Lord of the Ring. Try as she might, fighting as hard as she did, she just couldn’t outlast her opponents. We were all hugs and “You did great out there!” afterwards, of course, but something just didn’t sit right with me. Why didn’t she win? Why didn’t she try harder? WHY DIDN’T SHE DO EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING TO WIN?!
We all promised to meet up afterward to get some coffee, maybe some ice cream. Roxy wants to hang out for brunch tomorrow, but I’m not sure if I want to spend so much time with her two days in a row. I mean, I love my Bully Sister and all but she can be trying in large doses, ya know? Maybe I’ll make up some kind of excuse. Though it IS funny to see Angie get wasted on brunch drinks. Bitch is SUCH a lush!
Roxy and Kenzi are off getting the Uber, but I slip into Angie’s locker room. Something is bothering me. Something I just can’t put my finger on. Why didn’t she win that tournament? Why did she not do what she NEEDED to do?
She’s in the shower and I can hear her singing. Well, meowing, anyway. Only person I have ever met who meows in the shower. The servants used to giggle about that when she was staying at the manor, but I made sure they shushed when she came around. I’m protective of her, have been since the moment we met, though I can’t exactly say why. There is something between us that I just can’t explain. I light up a cig, one of my Coffin Nails, and halfway hope that her room has one of those "No Smoking" signs so I can take an ironic selfie. Mil would love that. I miss her, sometimes. Wonder if I can get Angie to start smoking? Meh. She'd probably light the wrong end, anyway.
Found her phone. Her password is easy enough, of course: PussyLover69. She doesn’t understand why I giggled so much when she first came up with it. “I love cats!” Yes, honey, we know. We know. It’s just...well...
Ugh. I don’t understand a damn thing about her phone. What’s with all these apps I don’t recognize? I slide into her #DigitialPigeons and can barely recognize anything. How come MY phone doesn’t have all these emojis?! I have gotten three different upgrades of my Windows phone and I don’t have HALF of these things. And why does everyone make fun of me for my phone? IT'S A PERFECTLY VIABLE OPTION!
Whatever. Let’s see. Cat pictures. More cat pictures. Even MORE cat pictures. Awwwwwww! She has that awesome pic we took together when we met in Hawai’i! I’ll make that her default background. Yeesh...she was nearly bent over at the waist to not be both head and shoulders taller than me for the pic. Giantess freak.
Let’s see. #DigitialPigeons to all the girls. Hey, even some to Ash! Wonder how she did on that diet? A doc that says “Hightower Family Tree.” Huh. Wonder what that’s for? I wonder who that is? Maybe I should look at it. Hmmm. My ringtone is set to Carly Simon's "Older Sister." Huh. That's a weird song choice. I'll change it to "Everything is Awesome!" from the Lego Movie. There, much better. What the...why is Roxy's ringtone Queen's "You're My Best Friend"?! That MUST be a mistake. Here, let me change it to Rooney's "I'm a Terrible Person." FAR more appropriate. Hmmmmm. Kenzi's is Jhonson's "Two Big Feet." Yeah, that works.
Hey! There it is! The video camera app. Okay, lets do this. A personal message from me to my (non-spouse) best friend.
Hey Angie!
So, like, I hope it doesn’t take you forever and a day to see this message, but I don’t want to TELL you that its here on your phone, because I want you to find it yourself and be, like, OH EM GEE THAT IS SO SWEET, ya know?
So, I need to say a couple of things to you, and I want you to hear me out, but since you’re my tobvs best friend outside of the owner of the sweetest booty in all the land, I’m sure you will listen with rapt attention. Because what I have to say is honest, from the heart, with LOVE, and is an example of holding up that mirror of truth that I have been talking about lately. So, first thing’s first:
I love you. Truly, honestly, wholly. You have been there for me when many others would not, and you see the best in me when it would be easier not to. You have stood at my side, sat with me when I was forced to sit, and shared the Word when others were afraid to face the truth. You are an INCREDIBLE wrestler, and seem to be BORN into it despite having no family who fought before you, and possess a range of skills so wide that we would need Moses himself to split them if we were to try to cover them all. You have been a champion everywhere we have gone, have been a force of positivity, and are any companies’ dream for your combination of skill, attitude, determination, and marketability. It would be an honor, a God damned HONOR, to lose the Co Operation Titles to you.
But Kenzi and I are not going to lose them on Monday.
Because you don’t have it in you.
I know that I have said this before, but it bears repeating: You do NOT have it in you to beat ME. Its not an insult, at least not meant to be. Simply the truth. You need to be willing to go into the very depths of Hell if you wish to beat me. You must be willing to sacrifice everything you are and hope to be in order to beat me. You must be willing to BE me in order to BEAT me.
Its not your fault, of course. As I mentioned a second ago, you don’t have the background that I do. You didn’t grow up with wrestling lessons being given to you with mother’s milk. Well, with the nursemaid’s milk, anyway. You don’t have the blood that I have, don’t have the pedigree that I have, and so you have hit a glass ceiling. Successful...yes. A champion...yes. But not the legend which I will become. Not the very future of this business like how I am.
But I’m going to change that, dearie. Because I have watched you just as much as I have watched the rest of our group, and thus I know your weaknesses as much as your strengths, and I now know what I must do to help you be as successful as you can be. I must teach you. I must lead you. I must guide you. Watching you tonight, watching you balk at your opportunity to become the Lord of the Ring, has helped me make this decision. Because while I watched, with eyes rapt and stomach clenched, fight Ava with fire to win at Day of Reckoning, I also saw Travis’ proclamation turn true at my Appreciation Night. You had it in you to beat Ava, but didn’t have it in you to take that emotional battle, the battle against my Evil Step-Mumsie, and turn it towards an opponent you are not so connected with.
I am going to change that.
On Monday, I will take you by the hand and lead you. I will show you my wrath and my power in ways which our training sessions together can never do justice. All the times we have lifted together, starting with those squats back in New York? All the lunges we have taken? All the wristlocks we have exchanged in the gym? They are nothing compared to the Blood Princess unleashed and unchained. I am back, fully hale and healthy, and you will have no recourse for the rage I bring.
Let me be the sister that neither of us have, Angie. Let me guide you. Let me teach you. Learn from the beating I am going to give you on Monday. Take those lessons in physicality and emotion I show you and go into Outlast as a Captain, just as I did the year before, and become the wrestler who you may not have been born to be, but who you CAN be.
And do not stop until you are victorious.
~~Wednesday, September 12th~~
The Reverend Dr. Virgil Jones had seen many odd things in his time as the head of the Calvary Baptist Church in West Hollywood. Many wondered why he bothered with a church in a place full of so much sin, in a town which beckoned the thoughts and emotions of Sodom, but he knew that God’s plan was for him to be there. Reverend Chuck Smith, may he rest at God’s side forever, started his revolution in the 70’s by converting hippies, and so he would continue the founder of the Calvary Baptist Church’s example. And in that time, he had seen men demand to be married in his church, seen women wearing stout shoes fight for a sinful equality, and some strange combination of men/women/things demand to have their own bathroom in the church.
But NOTHING compared to what entered his church that morning.
He had met Sarah Selena Grey-Lacklan last year, and the two had had several one-on-one discussions. The girl was steeped deep into the Word, but had had several points to argue which were certainly NOT part of the Bible. She was a representative of the Path of the Light Church, a fellow Protestant and Baptist, from a compound in Maine. He had never met the founder, her father Jean-Paul, but he had heard stories. Unpleasant stories. Stories of racism, of ostracising the Jews, who WERE still God’s chosen nation, no matter what other Christians said. Stories of vileness and pain.
Sarah had an odd look about her, almost as if a wraith or some ghost out of a story, and she had giggled when she first introduced herself to him as “The Vampire of Lacklanland,” with a deep and well-practised curtsy. She was an albino, with bright white hair and skin, and had the strangest eyes which flashed red in the light. In the time he had known her, she was always extremely fashionable, though he wasn’t quite sure what century she thought she lived in. Her clothes were patterned after the turn of the century...the LAST century...and she often seemed to wear large hats and carried a matching parasol, and more often than not had a large purse that housed a dwarf bunny which looked awfully like her. But the oddest thing about the young lady today was her companions.
“Number Seven, please send the Duchess a smiling face emoji.”
“Yes, Matron.”
Joining the girl today was a sea of girls, all young and pretty, who were all on their phones. When the reverend had asked about them, Sarah had giggled, such an odd sound coming from her, and said:
“They are the Legion of Nameless, Faceless, Penniless Interns.”
The reverend could only shake his head as the girl and her...interns...went about their business while the two talked. Apparently, the heiress now employed several dozen interns who took care of all of her social media responsibilities, including tweeting, posting Facebook updates, writing e-mails, and crunching the numbers for her so-called “Cool Rankings.” The reverend had asked her if she employed any who were NOT attractive young women with appealing curves, and she had said that she DID have one plain looking boy, but that was only because the OTHER Mrs Grey-Lacklan had enacted their “Marital Veto” at the hiring of a particularly alluring woman of Asian heritage.
“Matron, someone said something dumb on Twitter.”
“Hmmm….use Subtweet Haiku Number Three.”
“Yes, Matron.”
Each of the interns had an identical phone, a large black Windows phone that they typed away on.
“Now, where were we, Reverend?”
He was surprised that the girl had returned to their conversation.
“Psalms, Mrs. Grey-Lacklan. Forgiveness, and the importance of it, is featured quite a few times. If I could direct you to one hundred and three…”
The two of them held Bibles in their laps as they sat in his office. Reverend Jones’ Bible was relatively new, purchased for him a couple of years ago as a gift for his birthday by his son, but Sarah’s was worn and tattered. He had asked her about it once, and she had called it her “Travel Bible,” the one she took with her on the road, and had owned for many years. She and her wife were professional wrestlers, a life filled with long trips on the road, and she seemed to get much use out of it. It was small, and therefore quite thick, and had numerous multi-colored reference tags.
“Now, in verse ten-”
One of the interns interrupted them as she approached.
“My apologies, Matron. But it appears that Ms. Dynamo is trying to gain your approval again.”
Sarah rolls her eyes. She seemed to do that a lot.
“Respond with Spray Bottle Gif Number Nine. Maybe she will finally figure it out this time.”
“Yes, Matron.”
Sarah turns back to the reverend and shakes her head.
“You mute trash, utterly destroy them emotionally and physically to the point where they are sobbing in the back, and they STILL want your approval. I swear, she’s not just a stray dog...she’s like one of those abused dogs that always goes back in hopes of a pat on the head, now matter how many times they get bopped on the nose."
The reverend gives her a look of disapproval.
“Not the nicest words to say, Mrs. Not very Christian of you, I would say.”
Sarah glowers at him in pure petulance and sighs.
“That IS why I am here. I’m supposed to figure out how to forgive her for being a terrible person, but I cannot figure out how, for the LIFE of me.”
She looks back at her Bible.
“So, as you were saying, in Psalms-”
“Matron? We just saw this cute baby picture and-”
“YOU GIVES ME THE PHONE!”
Sarah LEAPED from her chair and ripped the phone out of the poor girl’s hands. Sarah’s eyes turn bright and her face broke into a massive smile as she looked at the picture of the baby.
“OMG SHE’S SO CUTE KEN NEEDS TO SEE THIS”
Fingers flashed as she retweeted the picture herself and then sent it to to her wife. The reverend cleared his throat, forcing Sarah to look at him, and her face blushed from clear embarrassment.
“Um...umm...sorry.”
She handed the phone back to the intern.
“Please send a picture of a kitty driving a Matchbox corvette to Angie, she’ll understand why, as well as a text to Roxy of that picture Number Sixteen found of a Barbie Doll with a tramp stamp.”
“Yes, Matron.”
Sarah took her seat again and looked into her Bible, but the reverend stopped her.
“A small obsession, Mrs?”
Sarah’s cheeks colored deeper for a moment. She set her Bible back down on her lap and looked out the window of the office, eyes taking in the bright Southern California day.
“It started in the beginning of the year. When I was still in the chair.”
The reverend gave her a nod. She had seen him several times during those three months after her accident. She had been someone who was rocked to the very core of her faith, and had been in desperate need of guidance.
“I don’t know...its like my biological clock is ticking so bad that I feel it in every bone. My body QUIVERS at the thought of bearing a child, of bringing that joy into our lives. But my wife-”
She licked her lips in silence for a while.
“My wife wants nothing to do with it. She wants nothing to do with a child.”
“Have you talked about it?”
“Many times.”
She turns back to the reverend and her eyes shine with unshed tears.
“She is afraid that we would fail as parents because of our careers. I disagree. There has been little middle ground. Oh Lord, look at me...”
She plucks a kerchief from one of the folds of her voluminous dress and, pushing her glasses to the top of her forehead, uses it to dab about the wetness from her eyes. She takes a deep breath and picks up her Bible again.
“Where were we?”
The reverend points out to the Psalm, but then closes his Bible.
“Why are you so angry all the time?”
Sarah looks at him with a face of stone, but only for a moment. She chews on the inside of her lips, painted scarlet to match her eyes like usual, and she eventually sighs.
“I don’t know.”
She looks away for many moments.
“I just always am. Someone says something I don’t like? I attack them. They do something I don’t like? I attack them. They even THINK about something I don’t like? I. ATTACK. THEM.”
Her voice grows harsh and dark as she continues, her words coming crisp and with an edge.
“I can’t help it, Pastor. If someone has a shitty take...pardon my language...on ANYTHING, I make sure they understand just how terrible they are as a person. And should they do something blatantly wrong? Should they lie or cheat in order to make themselves feel or look better in the eyes of others? My viciousness knows little bounds. And I never...EVER...let them forget it!”
The reverend reaches over and puts his hands on Sarah’s. They were shaking violently. The girl looks down at their hands and sighs.
“...God, I hate that…”
“He will not give you more than you can take.”
She looked back up at him.
“Forgiveness is important, Mrs. The Word is FULL of examples of forgiveness. But the most important one? The ONLY one that matters? Turn to John. Chapter Three, verse-”
“Sixteen.”
The preacher nodded, but Sarah did not need to open her Bible.
“‘For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten son.’”
The preacher nodded again.
“Forgiveness, Sarah. It is not only one of the most important tenets of our faith, but some would argue that it is THE most important. God the Father gave us God the Son, forced Himself to live out every sin, past, present, and future, in a short time. He felt our pain. Felt our loss. Felt our death. All to forgive us for Adam’s sin. If He can forgive...so can you.”
Sarah looked down at her lap, at the preacher’s dark hands holding hers, the shake unstoppable. She was silent for a long time.
“...its hard…”
She licks her lips and sniffs away the approach of tears.
“Father taught to never forgive. Never forget. Burn the infidels in all their transgressions. It wasn’t until the end of his life that he started to speak differently. But by then…”
She looked up at the pastor, eyes again welling with tears.
“My wife is a better person than me, Pastor. She has this unstoppable ability to forgive people for what they have done. She’ll tell you that it is through Clarity, through her belief in Scientology, but I believe she is wrong on that. I believe that she was simply built to forgive. Built to be a better person than most.”
Her body shakes in mirthless laughter.
“She forgave me for some terrible sins I pushed onto her. She has been able to forgive people who called her a bigot and a racist, something I myself cannot do. She has been able to forgive people for lying about her and spreading rumors, for bearing false witness, something I myself cannot do. She has been able to forgive and find love for those people...something that I cannot do.”
The pastor gives her a warm smile and pats her hands.
“You are using the word ‘cannot’ too much. Its in you. You just have to believe in it. Embrace it.”
She gives him a nod.
“Embrace it. The Path of the Light teaches about Embracing the Light. Embracing God. I will work on it.”
“Good!”
The pastor gives her a firmer shake of her hands.
“And take it from someone who has been married far longer than you: If you work on this, you and your wife will become even closer than ever before. Show her that you truly wish to change for the better, and she will meet you on other things.”
Sarah offers him a smile, but it is sad, which does not slip past the reverend.
“Tell me: This desire to have a baby. Is it genuine? Are you truly serious?”
“As a heart attack, Sir.”
The strength in her voice matched the sudden fervor in her eyes.
“Then pray on it, child. Speak to God...and then LISTEN for His words.”
She gave him a nod and, settling back in her chair, closed her eyes and spoke to God.
‘Sup, Fang Gang!
This is your Mistress of Mischievousness, the Bang for Your Buck, the Sultranress of Sexiness herself, Sarah Lacklan here, for yet ANOTHER amazing breakdown of wrestling which will make the world weep for joy at the beauty contained within. Now, I know it’s been a while since I recorded one of these, as I think the most recent one was for Day of Reckoning, and that was, like, a month ago, and I KNOW that all you Fang Gangers out there are jonesing for a fix of amazeballsness.
Well, if you existed, anyway. Because apparently you don’t? Because some fat chick with shitty takes on wrestling has never met you?
Hey! You know what THIS calls for?!
A NEW GIF!!!!
Now, one of my bestest buddies gave me crap for making so many gifs that say how I am “silently judging you” (I have, like, half a dozen now) when my NEWEST SPECIAL MOVE is literally me picking up a mic in the middle of the match and quite verbally judging you, but the POINT here...assuming I have one...is that I have been busy doing stuff like making gifs over the past few weeks. I spend a TON of time on the road with the #CoolKids to be there for their matches, and you can only watch so many cute pigeon videos, so making gifs has filled my time. Oh! Speaking of pigeons! Check out this BADASS gif I made of myself where I totes look like a pigeon!
Pretty neat, huh? Now, making tobvs coolies gifs isn’t the ONLY thing I have been doing, of course. As you all well know, I spend a TON of time doing research and -
“OMG WHY DO YOU CARE SARAH NO ONE SHOULD CARE ABOUT WRESTLING”
Yes, Maggie. Thank you for reminding me of your dumbass take on wrestling that you shared with me on Twitter. Thanks! Here's a gif inspired by said dumbass statement:
N-E-Ways, along with making gifs, I have been doing research, right? Now, oddly enough, this has NOT been research on my next opponents. See, Team Kickass will be defending our Co Operation Championship titles the week before Outlast against the winners of my tobvs badass Prime Open Battle Royal, Angie Vaughn and Dave Rydell. Now, I know Angie inside and out (still not apologizing for the video, Ang!), and I’d like to think I know plenty about Rydell, what with me being as awesome as I am by default, but I decided to go back and re-watch anything I have had to say about him. That’s right, I did research...ON MYSELF! BEST way to do research, baby!
Hey, Ichy! Tell the Fang Gangers what you think of my take on research this week:
Thanks, Ichy! Love the shoes! Kisses! Well, not KISSES, per se. Because Kenzi gets MEAN when she is all jelly-belly, let me tell you. N-E-Ways, you know what I found after I did all that research on myself:
I have NOT been very nice to Dave. Like, going into Outlast last year? I totes compared him to Kenzie Rydell, ya know, the rainbow chaser? Now, normally, that would have been straight up MEAN, but he kinda proved that I was right by punking out over and over again after I said that, just like the OTHER Rydell. And I have consistently given him crap for pulling that “I don’t know who you are and won’t bother to find out, hey how did I lose?” schtick that I also recently gave Raab crap for.
But that’s all changed now, right? I mean, its been a year since then, and holy CRAP what a year it has been! People have loved and lost, people have been napped and capped (STILL not funny!), people have kidnapped other people after nearly killing their girlfriends and no one bothered to call the cops, homeless people have had their cardboard houses burned to the ground, LOTS of stuff. And in that time, Dave has taken some time off, spent time with his family, and recharged his batteries, coming back to the Coalition after Deimos said his name three times in a dark room with a mirror and he appeared. And you know what I have noticed since Dave got back? Three things:
1). Dude looks GREAT! Seriously! The old fart obviously took his time off seriously. I mean, sure, he kinda looks like an ugly billy goat now, what with the bald head and massive beard, but his body is LEGIT right now! So obviously, the time away from the rigors of the unrelenting Coalition schedule have done him wonders. And that is a GREAT thing!
2). He is more focused than I have EVER seen him! Now, he’ll probably do that tired “who are you, again?” line with me, but you guys all know how well-versed I am in the Coalition’s history, so I know ALL about Dave, and he has not been this focused in YEARS. Honestly, the past couple of years has just been him wallowing around, finding himself bemoaning his work-related frustrations in the same dive over and again, with nothing but the feeling of a meandering sheep. But now he is here and focused on the TOP PRIZE in the company, veritably DEMANDING a shot at the title so that he can end his career with what could possibly be the MOST important accolade available, the UGWC World Championship. And that is a GREAT thing!
3). Now, as I break down the final observation I have of Dave since his return, I want to take this moment to speak to him personally. You there, Dave? Here, let me give you a second.
.........................
.........................
.........................
You there, buddy? Sweet. Okay, third observation I have since you came back:
You still ain’t shit.
This comes from the very bottom of my heart, Dave. Now, I know how much my Beloved HATES when I do this, but I MUST tell you the truth. I MUST tell you straight. Much like with Kem a couple of weeks ago (please stop crying, Fatty; what I did to you was NOTHING compared to what I did to Courtney Leinart last year!), it is my DUTY to hold up the Mirror of Truth, to FORCE you to look into it and face yourself for who you are, for what the world sees. And because of that, you MUST go back, rewind the video, and listen to the beginning of Point 3 again. Here, I’ll give a you a second.
.........................
.........................
.........................
Got it? Great. Because that’s the truth of the matter, Dave. For all of your focus...for all over your designs...for all of your intent...you still haven’t got it in you to be better than someone who last held a title of any kind in this company two years ago. You are no better than someone who has to go back TWO FULL YEARS to accumulate enough wins to need a third hand to count. And yes, that’s a fact, not just some made-up statement like CERTAIN people on the roster count as “research.”
Now, I could very well see you being all, “None of that matters! I iz the best now!” And to that, I say this:
You had your chance to prove otherwise. You came back with piss and vinegar and blasted Raab. You had all the momentum. You outlasted most everyone in my battle royal. But then you couldn’t get the job done later that night. And you couldn’t get the job done against my Beloved last week. And this week? You will continue to not get the job done. Because the Dave Rydell who walked out of the Coalition several months ago is, regardless of mission statement, still the same one who walked back in a few weeks ago.
To quote myself:
“And STILLLLLL!
The BIGGEST piece of GARBAGE in the HISTORY of UGWC!!!!!
DAAAAAAAAVE!!!!!
MEDIOCRITYYYYYYYY!!!!
RYYYYYYYDEEEEEELLLLLLLL!!!!!!
And the crowd...stays...mild.”
I actually said that, ya know, the night before the Massive Melee. I was right then...and it is so freakin’ funny how I am right now. You came back and the crowd has stayed mild. Because no matter how cut you got, not matter how badass your beard is, no matter how well-constructed your mission statement is, you cannot escape the fact that you are mediocrity at it’s finest.
Now, if you would allow me, I would like to quote myself again. Its kinda funny, ya know, as I pull out an aside here. There are people all around us who have to fill their time with quotes from other people, or song lyrics, or other words from their superiors like Novelicious or Word Porn retweets, because they know that their own originality would cause the crickets to come out and sing their song, but not me, baby. Because when I open my mouth, the eyes turn on me. So, again, if you will permit me to quote myself:
“Dave Rydell will NEVER beat me in ANYTHING he does.
Period.”
I am a better Co Operation Champion than you. I am a better Cross Hemisphere Champion than you. If I ever went after the Chaos Championship, I would be better than that at you. Hell, when Outlast comes around next week, I’ll prove that I’m a better tag partner with Hastings than you...and it might well be the cardboard version of him!
THAT is what you face on Monday, Dave. You face someone who has come back from the very depths of Hell to represent this company as a CHAMPION. Someone who has clawed her way back to show the world that, yes, the new breed of modern wrestler is LIGHT YEARS better than your generation. Someone who will win at ALL COSTS. If I may quote myself a final time, you will face the red and black, the revolution herself. Hoist the banner, Dave. Raise the colors.
And the worst part of it all, for you?
My partner is 1000 times better than I am. She’s just too humble to admit it.
Finally...ultimately...the thing you need to remember, above ALL else, is this:
The difference between people like you and me?
You aspire to be someone who matters, while you hold onto the dreams of yesterday.
And me?
I am ALL that glitters.
My hands shake...but I am ready. I am prepared for this. She opens the door and I am ready for her. She is all smiles as she comes in, moves in for a kiss on the cheek, but she stops short. Her face turns down into concern, her eyebrows knitting. She knows something is up. She can probably feel it in the air.
“You okay?”
I tell her I am. And I AM. I have listened to God. I have worked on what I need to. I have prepared a slide-show presentation for this plea, to show her the pros and cons of my pitch, to break it down and get into the minutia of the matter. But all of that floats away as I see her. She takes my hand with such care and love that I know that I am right.
“I want to have a baby with you.”
I feel my eyes well as her face turns to a grimace. We have been through this, she says. It’s impractical, she says. We would be terrible parents, she says.
No, we won’t.
She doesn’t want to listen. Throws her braids over her shoulder. But I press. She is wonderful. She is caring. She is forgiving. She loves more wholly than any person I have ever met. She would be a wonderful mother.
“This is a big responsibility, Sar! This isn’t like keeping Lil’ Has in your purse and bringing her out at parties to show off the wings you painted on her! This isn’t like the flock of pigeons on the roof of our hotel! This is a life! A HUMAN life!”
She is right, of course. A human life who would be OURS. Filled with OUR love. Filled with OUR care. Filled with the love that brought me out of the darkness and back to my wife. We live on the road. I understand that. It would be hard. I understand that. But we can do anything. ANYTHING. Together. When my career is over-
“What happened to your ten year plan? How does a BABY fit into that?!”
I scoff. My ten year plan is dead. Ava didn’t plan on exactly what had happened with Jacob, but she was pleased with the result. Years taken away from my career. No way I can kick and run later in life. No way I can make that ten year career I wanted. But five more years? I could do that. And then-
“My mother-”
You are better than your mother. You are better than my father. WE are unstoppable as a team. WE would be amazing parents.
I love you.
I love us.
Let us grow.
She is silent. She is chewing on her lips, something she got from me.
“Five years?”
I nod. I dare not breathe. We’ll be 26. I’ll have access to my inheritance from Daddy. We will have all the opportunity in the world. We will-
She nods.
Did I see that right? Am I seeing things? I take off my glasses, rub them with the lace of my dress, put them back on.
She takes in a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and nods again.
“We can have a baby. In five years.”
I leap into her arms and can’t stop crying.
I stand before the door of my apartment...hotel room…whatever this thing is...and take several deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. Mackenzie and I have not had a row in months, at least not a real one, and my hands are shaking uncontrollably. Usually, its just something silly while we play games, pretending to be mad at one another, a silliness which would then lead into whatever sex game we are aiming for at the end. But this was different...today was different. And it shouldn’t be. IT SHOULDN’T BE. I KNOW that it was just a misunderstanding. I KNOW that it was just miscommunicated sarcasm, just me saying something that didn’t go over quite well through text, that started us on this battle, but I still couldn’t stop being so MAD. WHY AM I SO FUCKING MAD ALL THE TIME?! But, holy FUCK, how was it MY fault that Kenzi, in her goddamn NEED to forgive EVERYONE, had “hugged it out” with that racist douchebag Darryl?! And how is it MY fault that it was then EXPECTED that I forgive that IDIOT STRAY DOG KEM for calling me a BIGOT?!
I don’t want this fight. I don’t want ANY fight with my Beloved. Or even most people any more. Not since my accident. Not since Jacob. So many things have been put into a different perspective. I don’t find it fun to fight with people online anymore. I don’t find it fun to get people flustered or triggered that way any more. Hell, I had had to FORCE myself to jaw-jack with Maggie earlier in the day, and that was only because the dumb bitch had decided to shit on my purchased Synergy card FOUR GODDAMN DAYS after it had happened. The fuck was THAT all about?!
I don’t want this fight...but I WILL fight it. Mackenzie is WRONG.
I take more deep breaths, futilely trying to slow the shake in my hands. God, I hate this. People have quipped about how I “magically” recovered from my injuries, as if “nothing” had happened, but all the while I have only wrestled with the help of leg braces, and I have hands that won’t STOP. FUCKING. SHAKING.
I give up. My hands shake as I put them on the doorknob to my home. I open the door and prepare to meet the wrath, regardless of how displaced, of the love of my life. Every moment, every tear, will be worth it.
The one where I have this, like, totes awkward Starbucks run with Team Bellatrix and Voldemort (mental note: make a gif about that), "accidentally" help Angie in her match before I double-down on something I said a few months ago, debut the Legion because some dumbass doesn't think anyone is real unless they are slobbering over titty pics on Twitter, and then remind Rydell that he ain't shit, yo
~~The Next Day~~
Welp, today has been interesting.
So, Kenzi and I talked about that whole massive fight we got into last night, right? We sat down, and rubbed shoulders, and talked, and talked, and talked. And then ate food. And then ate...um...OTHER THINGS...and went to bed on the same page. Like always. But truth be told, things have been a little strained all morning. See, us #CoolKids are all in New York for this MASSIVELY IMPORTANT match of Angie’s that IN NO WAY WOULD EVER be, like, a week late, where Ms. Cats-A-Lot is in this final for a tournament held at MSG, right? Now, New York is a sore subject between some members of our little stable of awesomeness for reasons I won’t repeat here, so we always look forward to Big Apple time to be positive about our whole group, but today is a TOUCH different.
Because of Team We Totes Cosplay as Voldemort and Bellatrix.
People don’t quite GET why I and Eden have been hanging out together lately, but that’s because most of those people are lamers. Like, what is NOT to like about both Eden and I, ya know? We’re both hawt...though she IS starting to look a TEENIE EENIE BIT like Skeletor (note to self: Give Eden a How To on face cream and moisturizing), and we totes dig fashion, though some of her choices are kinda “Errrrrrmmmmmmmm.” We are both badass women wrestlers in a traditionally male-dominated business, and we both have an appreciation for boobs. Mind you, it a different KIND of appreciation, because Eden likes the pipe that, like, 27 guys a year lay into her, but who doesn’t love boobs, amIright?
Now, Mackenzie KNEW that we were meeting with Eden and Baal for coffee once we touched down in NY. She KNEW that this was Fashion Week (note the proper noun!). She KNEW that I, as the brains behind Firestarter Clothing, had a reputation to uphold on multiple fronts. Yet STILL she, in order to show a certain level of displeasure with Auntie Eden, wore THAT?! My God! It was a polyester smock! How the hell did she even GET one of those?! It must have been before we got together what felt like years ago, because now way (#ItsAThing) in HELL would I have let her buy that thing!
As you can imagine, I was so embarrassed by my wife’s chicanery that I was no doubt beet red. Normally, my skin is the color of cream milked from virgin cows under the cover of moonlight, but Good LORD! Mackenzie can be SO EMBARRASSING sometimes! Of course, Eden just HAD to bug me about it. And what a BAD Auntie! It’s one thing to whisper about it private while our voices get faster and faster and higher and higher as we accidentally compete with each other, but to POST the conversation online?!
And lets be honest here: “Things” doesn’t even cover the half of it! Oh, did you know that Eden and I like the same drink? Mind you, mine’s better, obvs, because I have them turn mine upside down twice, but ya know. But the fact that we both independently love the same drink is hot as flame. That's #AThing, too.
Unfortunately, that was when Kenzi just straight up left the table in the middle of the conversation. Not because of what was being said, mind, but because that was a silent protest in response to Team We Totes Ship Voldatrix SO HARD leaving their match with the Clear Connection the week before. Ugh. Wives can be SO dramatic.
Before long, we found ourselves at MSG and watching the XWA Lord of the Ring. Now, interesting thing about this: I’m only wrestling part time, as though I have been cleared for full-time work, I am easing back into things, right? But after watching Angie wrestle here a few times, it dawned on me that THIS would be a great place for Team 👠💩⬆️ to work! Just as long as no one tells Angie what our team name actually means.
So, we were there in the crowd, freakin’ FRONT ROW, and it was pretty awesome. Unfortunately, XWA is known as the “Battle Zone,” and Mackenzie thought that meant “Battle Bots,” so all FREAKIN’ NIGHT she was asking me where the robots were. I TRIED to explain it to her, but once she gets a bee in her bonnet, its impossible to get her to focus. Angie’s big match came about and she gave all three of us hugs, and we clapped her on the back, and I had popcorn, and it was all good.
The match was NUTS! It was a three-way dance with this other chick who was hot enough for Ken and I to Art4, if that was still a thing, and this monstrous dude. Not like Nekkie monstrous or anything, no murder and grape and abuse on camera, just a really big dude. The BEST part of the match was when Angie came to the outside for a breather. Kenzi wiped off her brow with an official Vaughnamous Towel (“I won’t give in...until I’m dry!”), I rubbed her shoulders and whispered some words to her about kicking the monster in the balls (...she never did…), and Roxy gave her one of those protein shakes that Amira started pitching because of that STUPID AS FUCK “BITCH I’M A COW” video. What does that even mean?!
My eyes had gone wide when I saw what was coming. That monster was leaping through the air. Angie didn’t see it. No one did.
But I did.
You have to do whatever it takes to win. You have to win AT ALL COSTS.
So WHAT if I wasn’t in this match?
So WHAT if I wasn’t even officially signed with the company yet?
We WILL win at ALL costs.
I grabbed Angie’s arm and pulled her to the side, and the monster came crashing down onto his own face.
Angie was PISSED.
Well, pissed for HER. That just means wide eyes and a look of rapprochement that no doubt sends Sers Bobby and Alex (wonder if Fatty will ever be able to tell the difference?) running for the hills. She told me NOT to do that in the future as she headed back into the ring. But I won’t apologize for getting involved in the match. I won’t apologize for helping my dearest friend. I won’t-
And THAT is when I realized that, in the chaos of the match, my popcorn bucket suddenly became empty and Kenzi’s face just SO HAPPENS to be glistening with butter and she has a wide-eyed look of innocence.
Bitch ate my popcorn!
The match continued and...in a damn shame...Angie was unable to win the Lord of the Ring. Try as she might, fighting as hard as she did, she just couldn’t outlast her opponents. We were all hugs and “You did great out there!” afterwards, of course, but something just didn’t sit right with me. Why didn’t she win? Why didn’t she try harder? WHY DIDN’T SHE DO EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING TO WIN?!
We all promised to meet up afterward to get some coffee, maybe some ice cream. Roxy wants to hang out for brunch tomorrow, but I’m not sure if I want to spend so much time with her two days in a row. I mean, I love my Bully Sister and all but she can be trying in large doses, ya know? Maybe I’ll make up some kind of excuse. Though it IS funny to see Angie get wasted on brunch drinks. Bitch is SUCH a lush!
Roxy and Kenzi are off getting the Uber, but I slip into Angie’s locker room. Something is bothering me. Something I just can’t put my finger on. Why didn’t she win that tournament? Why did she not do what she NEEDED to do?
She’s in the shower and I can hear her singing. Well, meowing, anyway. Only person I have ever met who meows in the shower. The servants used to giggle about that when she was staying at the manor, but I made sure they shushed when she came around. I’m protective of her, have been since the moment we met, though I can’t exactly say why. There is something between us that I just can’t explain. I light up a cig, one of my Coffin Nails, and halfway hope that her room has one of those "No Smoking" signs so I can take an ironic selfie. Mil would love that. I miss her, sometimes. Wonder if I can get Angie to start smoking? Meh. She'd probably light the wrong end, anyway.
Found her phone. Her password is easy enough, of course: PussyLover69. She doesn’t understand why I giggled so much when she first came up with it. “I love cats!” Yes, honey, we know. We know. It’s just...well...
Ugh. I don’t understand a damn thing about her phone. What’s with all these apps I don’t recognize? I slide into her #DigitialPigeons and can barely recognize anything. How come MY phone doesn’t have all these emojis?! I have gotten three different upgrades of my Windows phone and I don’t have HALF of these things. And why does everyone make fun of me for my phone? IT'S A PERFECTLY VIABLE OPTION!
Whatever. Let’s see. Cat pictures. More cat pictures. Even MORE cat pictures. Awwwwwww! She has that awesome pic we took together when we met in Hawai’i! I’ll make that her default background. Yeesh...she was nearly bent over at the waist to not be both head and shoulders taller than me for the pic. Giantess freak.
Let’s see. #DigitialPigeons to all the girls. Hey, even some to Ash! Wonder how she did on that diet? A doc that says “Hightower Family Tree.” Huh. Wonder what that’s for? I wonder who that is? Maybe I should look at it. Hmmm. My ringtone is set to Carly Simon's "Older Sister." Huh. That's a weird song choice. I'll change it to "Everything is Awesome!" from the Lego Movie. There, much better. What the...why is Roxy's ringtone Queen's "You're My Best Friend"?! That MUST be a mistake. Here, let me change it to Rooney's "I'm a Terrible Person." FAR more appropriate. Hmmmmm. Kenzi's is Jhonson's "Two Big Feet." Yeah, that works.
Hey! There it is! The video camera app. Okay, lets do this. A personal message from me to my (non-spouse) best friend.
Hey Angie!
So, like, I hope it doesn’t take you forever and a day to see this message, but I don’t want to TELL you that its here on your phone, because I want you to find it yourself and be, like, OH EM GEE THAT IS SO SWEET, ya know?
So, I need to say a couple of things to you, and I want you to hear me out, but since you’re my tobvs best friend outside of the owner of the sweetest booty in all the land, I’m sure you will listen with rapt attention. Because what I have to say is honest, from the heart, with LOVE, and is an example of holding up that mirror of truth that I have been talking about lately. So, first thing’s first:
I love you. Truly, honestly, wholly. You have been there for me when many others would not, and you see the best in me when it would be easier not to. You have stood at my side, sat with me when I was forced to sit, and shared the Word when others were afraid to face the truth. You are an INCREDIBLE wrestler, and seem to be BORN into it despite having no family who fought before you, and possess a range of skills so wide that we would need Moses himself to split them if we were to try to cover them all. You have been a champion everywhere we have gone, have been a force of positivity, and are any companies’ dream for your combination of skill, attitude, determination, and marketability. It would be an honor, a God damned HONOR, to lose the Co Operation Titles to you.
But Kenzi and I are not going to lose them on Monday.
Because you don’t have it in you.
I know that I have said this before, but it bears repeating: You do NOT have it in you to beat ME. Its not an insult, at least not meant to be. Simply the truth. You need to be willing to go into the very depths of Hell if you wish to beat me. You must be willing to sacrifice everything you are and hope to be in order to beat me. You must be willing to BE me in order to BEAT me.
Its not your fault, of course. As I mentioned a second ago, you don’t have the background that I do. You didn’t grow up with wrestling lessons being given to you with mother’s milk. Well, with the nursemaid’s milk, anyway. You don’t have the blood that I have, don’t have the pedigree that I have, and so you have hit a glass ceiling. Successful...yes. A champion...yes. But not the legend which I will become. Not the very future of this business like how I am.
But I’m going to change that, dearie. Because I have watched you just as much as I have watched the rest of our group, and thus I know your weaknesses as much as your strengths, and I now know what I must do to help you be as successful as you can be. I must teach you. I must lead you. I must guide you. Watching you tonight, watching you balk at your opportunity to become the Lord of the Ring, has helped me make this decision. Because while I watched, with eyes rapt and stomach clenched, fight Ava with fire to win at Day of Reckoning, I also saw Travis’ proclamation turn true at my Appreciation Night. You had it in you to beat Ava, but didn’t have it in you to take that emotional battle, the battle against my Evil Step-Mumsie, and turn it towards an opponent you are not so connected with.
I am going to change that.
On Monday, I will take you by the hand and lead you. I will show you my wrath and my power in ways which our training sessions together can never do justice. All the times we have lifted together, starting with those squats back in New York? All the lunges we have taken? All the wristlocks we have exchanged in the gym? They are nothing compared to the Blood Princess unleashed and unchained. I am back, fully hale and healthy, and you will have no recourse for the rage I bring.
Let me be the sister that neither of us have, Angie. Let me guide you. Let me teach you. Learn from the beating I am going to give you on Monday. Take those lessons in physicality and emotion I show you and go into Outlast as a Captain, just as I did the year before, and become the wrestler who you may not have been born to be, but who you CAN be.
And do not stop until you are victorious.
~~Wednesday, September 12th~~
The Reverend Dr. Virgil Jones had seen many odd things in his time as the head of the Calvary Baptist Church in West Hollywood. Many wondered why he bothered with a church in a place full of so much sin, in a town which beckoned the thoughts and emotions of Sodom, but he knew that God’s plan was for him to be there. Reverend Chuck Smith, may he rest at God’s side forever, started his revolution in the 70’s by converting hippies, and so he would continue the founder of the Calvary Baptist Church’s example. And in that time, he had seen men demand to be married in his church, seen women wearing stout shoes fight for a sinful equality, and some strange combination of men/women/things demand to have their own bathroom in the church.
But NOTHING compared to what entered his church that morning.
He had met Sarah Selena Grey-Lacklan last year, and the two had had several one-on-one discussions. The girl was steeped deep into the Word, but had had several points to argue which were certainly NOT part of the Bible. She was a representative of the Path of the Light Church, a fellow Protestant and Baptist, from a compound in Maine. He had never met the founder, her father Jean-Paul, but he had heard stories. Unpleasant stories. Stories of racism, of ostracising the Jews, who WERE still God’s chosen nation, no matter what other Christians said. Stories of vileness and pain.
Sarah had an odd look about her, almost as if a wraith or some ghost out of a story, and she had giggled when she first introduced herself to him as “The Vampire of Lacklanland,” with a deep and well-practised curtsy. She was an albino, with bright white hair and skin, and had the strangest eyes which flashed red in the light. In the time he had known her, she was always extremely fashionable, though he wasn’t quite sure what century she thought she lived in. Her clothes were patterned after the turn of the century...the LAST century...and she often seemed to wear large hats and carried a matching parasol, and more often than not had a large purse that housed a dwarf bunny which looked awfully like her. But the oddest thing about the young lady today was her companions.
“Number Seven, please send the Duchess a smiling face emoji.”
“Yes, Matron.”
Joining the girl today was a sea of girls, all young and pretty, who were all on their phones. When the reverend had asked about them, Sarah had giggled, such an odd sound coming from her, and said:
“They are the Legion of Nameless, Faceless, Penniless Interns.”
The reverend could only shake his head as the girl and her...interns...went about their business while the two talked. Apparently, the heiress now employed several dozen interns who took care of all of her social media responsibilities, including tweeting, posting Facebook updates, writing e-mails, and crunching the numbers for her so-called “Cool Rankings.” The reverend had asked her if she employed any who were NOT attractive young women with appealing curves, and she had said that she DID have one plain looking boy, but that was only because the OTHER Mrs Grey-Lacklan had enacted their “Marital Veto” at the hiring of a particularly alluring woman of Asian heritage.
“Matron, someone said something dumb on Twitter.”
“Hmmm….use Subtweet Haiku Number Three.”
“Yes, Matron.”
Each of the interns had an identical phone, a large black Windows phone that they typed away on.
“Now, where were we, Reverend?”
He was surprised that the girl had returned to their conversation.
“Psalms, Mrs. Grey-Lacklan. Forgiveness, and the importance of it, is featured quite a few times. If I could direct you to one hundred and three…”
The two of them held Bibles in their laps as they sat in his office. Reverend Jones’ Bible was relatively new, purchased for him a couple of years ago as a gift for his birthday by his son, but Sarah’s was worn and tattered. He had asked her about it once, and she had called it her “Travel Bible,” the one she took with her on the road, and had owned for many years. She and her wife were professional wrestlers, a life filled with long trips on the road, and she seemed to get much use out of it. It was small, and therefore quite thick, and had numerous multi-colored reference tags.
“Now, in verse ten-”
One of the interns interrupted them as she approached.
“My apologies, Matron. But it appears that Ms. Dynamo is trying to gain your approval again.”
Sarah rolls her eyes. She seemed to do that a lot.
“Respond with Spray Bottle Gif Number Nine. Maybe she will finally figure it out this time.”
“Yes, Matron.”
Sarah turns back to the reverend and shakes her head.
“You mute trash, utterly destroy them emotionally and physically to the point where they are sobbing in the back, and they STILL want your approval. I swear, she’s not just a stray dog...she’s like one of those abused dogs that always goes back in hopes of a pat on the head, now matter how many times they get bopped on the nose."
The reverend gives her a look of disapproval.
“Not the nicest words to say, Mrs. Not very Christian of you, I would say.”
Sarah glowers at him in pure petulance and sighs.
“That IS why I am here. I’m supposed to figure out how to forgive her for being a terrible person, but I cannot figure out how, for the LIFE of me.”
She looks back at her Bible.
“So, as you were saying, in Psalms-”
“Matron? We just saw this cute baby picture and-”
“YOU GIVES ME THE PHONE!”
Sarah LEAPED from her chair and ripped the phone out of the poor girl’s hands. Sarah’s eyes turn bright and her face broke into a massive smile as she looked at the picture of the baby.
“OMG SHE’S SO CUTE KEN NEEDS TO SEE THIS”
Fingers flashed as she retweeted the picture herself and then sent it to to her wife. The reverend cleared his throat, forcing Sarah to look at him, and her face blushed from clear embarrassment.
“Um...umm...sorry.”
She handed the phone back to the intern.
“Please send a picture of a kitty driving a Matchbox corvette to Angie, she’ll understand why, as well as a text to Roxy of that picture Number Sixteen found of a Barbie Doll with a tramp stamp.”
“Yes, Matron.”
Sarah took her seat again and looked into her Bible, but the reverend stopped her.
“A small obsession, Mrs?”
Sarah’s cheeks colored deeper for a moment. She set her Bible back down on her lap and looked out the window of the office, eyes taking in the bright Southern California day.
“It started in the beginning of the year. When I was still in the chair.”
The reverend gave her a nod. She had seen him several times during those three months after her accident. She had been someone who was rocked to the very core of her faith, and had been in desperate need of guidance.
“I don’t know...its like my biological clock is ticking so bad that I feel it in every bone. My body QUIVERS at the thought of bearing a child, of bringing that joy into our lives. But my wife-”
She licked her lips in silence for a while.
“My wife wants nothing to do with it. She wants nothing to do with a child.”
“Have you talked about it?”
“Many times.”
She turns back to the reverend and her eyes shine with unshed tears.
“She is afraid that we would fail as parents because of our careers. I disagree. There has been little middle ground. Oh Lord, look at me...”
She plucks a kerchief from one of the folds of her voluminous dress and, pushing her glasses to the top of her forehead, uses it to dab about the wetness from her eyes. She takes a deep breath and picks up her Bible again.
“Where were we?”
The reverend points out to the Psalm, but then closes his Bible.
“Why are you so angry all the time?”
Sarah looks at him with a face of stone, but only for a moment. She chews on the inside of her lips, painted scarlet to match her eyes like usual, and she eventually sighs.
“I don’t know.”
She looks away for many moments.
“I just always am. Someone says something I don’t like? I attack them. They do something I don’t like? I attack them. They even THINK about something I don’t like? I. ATTACK. THEM.”
Her voice grows harsh and dark as she continues, her words coming crisp and with an edge.
“I can’t help it, Pastor. If someone has a shitty take...pardon my language...on ANYTHING, I make sure they understand just how terrible they are as a person. And should they do something blatantly wrong? Should they lie or cheat in order to make themselves feel or look better in the eyes of others? My viciousness knows little bounds. And I never...EVER...let them forget it!”
The reverend reaches over and puts his hands on Sarah’s. They were shaking violently. The girl looks down at their hands and sighs.
“...God, I hate that…”
“He will not give you more than you can take.”
She looked back up at him.
“Forgiveness is important, Mrs. The Word is FULL of examples of forgiveness. But the most important one? The ONLY one that matters? Turn to John. Chapter Three, verse-”
“Sixteen.”
The preacher nodded, but Sarah did not need to open her Bible.
“‘For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten son.’”
The preacher nodded again.
“Forgiveness, Sarah. It is not only one of the most important tenets of our faith, but some would argue that it is THE most important. God the Father gave us God the Son, forced Himself to live out every sin, past, present, and future, in a short time. He felt our pain. Felt our loss. Felt our death. All to forgive us for Adam’s sin. If He can forgive...so can you.”
Sarah looked down at her lap, at the preacher’s dark hands holding hers, the shake unstoppable. She was silent for a long time.
“...its hard…”
She licks her lips and sniffs away the approach of tears.
“Father taught to never forgive. Never forget. Burn the infidels in all their transgressions. It wasn’t until the end of his life that he started to speak differently. But by then…”
She looked up at the pastor, eyes again welling with tears.
“My wife is a better person than me, Pastor. She has this unstoppable ability to forgive people for what they have done. She’ll tell you that it is through Clarity, through her belief in Scientology, but I believe she is wrong on that. I believe that she was simply built to forgive. Built to be a better person than most.”
Her body shakes in mirthless laughter.
“She forgave me for some terrible sins I pushed onto her. She has been able to forgive people who called her a bigot and a racist, something I myself cannot do. She has been able to forgive people for lying about her and spreading rumors, for bearing false witness, something I myself cannot do. She has been able to forgive and find love for those people...something that I cannot do.”
The pastor gives her a warm smile and pats her hands.
“You are using the word ‘cannot’ too much. Its in you. You just have to believe in it. Embrace it.”
She gives him a nod.
“Embrace it. The Path of the Light teaches about Embracing the Light. Embracing God. I will work on it.”
“Good!”
The pastor gives her a firmer shake of her hands.
“And take it from someone who has been married far longer than you: If you work on this, you and your wife will become even closer than ever before. Show her that you truly wish to change for the better, and she will meet you on other things.”
Sarah offers him a smile, but it is sad, which does not slip past the reverend.
“Tell me: This desire to have a baby. Is it genuine? Are you truly serious?”
“As a heart attack, Sir.”
The strength in her voice matched the sudden fervor in her eyes.
“Then pray on it, child. Speak to God...and then LISTEN for His words.”
She gave him a nod and, settling back in her chair, closed her eyes and spoke to God.
~~The PrincessTwilightSexyFang podcast, as viewed on the AWARD WINNING app of awesomeness that is the CoolTube app, located just about anywhere apps are sold~~
This is your Mistress of Mischievousness, the Bang for Your Buck, the Sultranress of Sexiness herself, Sarah Lacklan here, for yet ANOTHER amazing breakdown of wrestling which will make the world weep for joy at the beauty contained within. Now, I know it’s been a while since I recorded one of these, as I think the most recent one was for Day of Reckoning, and that was, like, a month ago, and I KNOW that all you Fang Gangers out there are jonesing for a fix of amazeballsness.
Well, if you existed, anyway. Because apparently you don’t? Because some fat chick with shitty takes on wrestling has never met you?
Hey! You know what THIS calls for?!
A NEW GIF!!!!
Now, one of my bestest buddies gave me crap for making so many gifs that say how I am “silently judging you” (I have, like, half a dozen now) when my NEWEST SPECIAL MOVE is literally me picking up a mic in the middle of the match and quite verbally judging you, but the POINT here...assuming I have one...is that I have been busy doing stuff like making gifs over the past few weeks. I spend a TON of time on the road with the #CoolKids to be there for their matches, and you can only watch so many cute pigeon videos, so making gifs has filled my time. Oh! Speaking of pigeons! Check out this BADASS gif I made of myself where I totes look like a pigeon!
Pretty neat, huh? Now, making tobvs coolies gifs isn’t the ONLY thing I have been doing, of course. As you all well know, I spend a TON of time doing research and -
“OMG WHY DO YOU CARE SARAH NO ONE SHOULD CARE ABOUT WRESTLING”
Yes, Maggie. Thank you for reminding me of your dumbass take on wrestling that you shared with me on Twitter. Thanks! Here's a gif inspired by said dumbass statement:
N-E-Ways, along with making gifs, I have been doing research, right? Now, oddly enough, this has NOT been research on my next opponents. See, Team Kickass will be defending our Co Operation Championship titles the week before Outlast against the winners of my tobvs badass Prime Open Battle Royal, Angie Vaughn and Dave Rydell. Now, I know Angie inside and out (still not apologizing for the video, Ang!), and I’d like to think I know plenty about Rydell, what with me being as awesome as I am by default, but I decided to go back and re-watch anything I have had to say about him. That’s right, I did research...ON MYSELF! BEST way to do research, baby!
Hey, Ichy! Tell the Fang Gangers what you think of my take on research this week:
Thanks, Ichy! Love the shoes! Kisses! Well, not KISSES, per se. Because Kenzi gets MEAN when she is all jelly-belly, let me tell you. N-E-Ways, you know what I found after I did all that research on myself:
I have NOT been very nice to Dave. Like, going into Outlast last year? I totes compared him to Kenzie Rydell, ya know, the rainbow chaser? Now, normally, that would have been straight up MEAN, but he kinda proved that I was right by punking out over and over again after I said that, just like the OTHER Rydell. And I have consistently given him crap for pulling that “I don’t know who you are and won’t bother to find out, hey how did I lose?” schtick that I also recently gave Raab crap for.
But that’s all changed now, right? I mean, its been a year since then, and holy CRAP what a year it has been! People have loved and lost, people have been napped and capped (STILL not funny!), people have kidnapped other people after nearly killing their girlfriends and no one bothered to call the cops, homeless people have had their cardboard houses burned to the ground, LOTS of stuff. And in that time, Dave has taken some time off, spent time with his family, and recharged his batteries, coming back to the Coalition after Deimos said his name three times in a dark room with a mirror and he appeared. And you know what I have noticed since Dave got back? Three things:
1). Dude looks GREAT! Seriously! The old fart obviously took his time off seriously. I mean, sure, he kinda looks like an ugly billy goat now, what with the bald head and massive beard, but his body is LEGIT right now! So obviously, the time away from the rigors of the unrelenting Coalition schedule have done him wonders. And that is a GREAT thing!
2). He is more focused than I have EVER seen him! Now, he’ll probably do that tired “who are you, again?” line with me, but you guys all know how well-versed I am in the Coalition’s history, so I know ALL about Dave, and he has not been this focused in YEARS. Honestly, the past couple of years has just been him wallowing around, finding himself bemoaning his work-related frustrations in the same dive over and again, with nothing but the feeling of a meandering sheep. But now he is here and focused on the TOP PRIZE in the company, veritably DEMANDING a shot at the title so that he can end his career with what could possibly be the MOST important accolade available, the UGWC World Championship. And that is a GREAT thing!
3). Now, as I break down the final observation I have of Dave since his return, I want to take this moment to speak to him personally. You there, Dave? Here, let me give you a second.
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You there, buddy? Sweet. Okay, third observation I have since you came back:
You still ain’t shit.
This comes from the very bottom of my heart, Dave. Now, I know how much my Beloved HATES when I do this, but I MUST tell you the truth. I MUST tell you straight. Much like with Kem a couple of weeks ago (please stop crying, Fatty; what I did to you was NOTHING compared to what I did to Courtney Leinart last year!), it is my DUTY to hold up the Mirror of Truth, to FORCE you to look into it and face yourself for who you are, for what the world sees. And because of that, you MUST go back, rewind the video, and listen to the beginning of Point 3 again. Here, I’ll give a you a second.
.........................
.........................
.........................
Got it? Great. Because that’s the truth of the matter, Dave. For all of your focus...for all over your designs...for all of your intent...you still haven’t got it in you to be better than someone who last held a title of any kind in this company two years ago. You are no better than someone who has to go back TWO FULL YEARS to accumulate enough wins to need a third hand to count. And yes, that’s a fact, not just some made-up statement like CERTAIN people on the roster count as “research.”
Now, I could very well see you being all, “None of that matters! I iz the best now!” And to that, I say this:
You had your chance to prove otherwise. You came back with piss and vinegar and blasted Raab. You had all the momentum. You outlasted most everyone in my battle royal. But then you couldn’t get the job done later that night. And you couldn’t get the job done against my Beloved last week. And this week? You will continue to not get the job done. Because the Dave Rydell who walked out of the Coalition several months ago is, regardless of mission statement, still the same one who walked back in a few weeks ago.
To quote myself:
“And STILLLLLL!
The BIGGEST piece of GARBAGE in the HISTORY of UGWC!!!!!
DAAAAAAAAVE!!!!!
MEDIOCRITYYYYYYYY!!!!
RYYYYYYYDEEEEEELLLLLLLL!!!!!!
And the crowd...stays...mild.”
I actually said that, ya know, the night before the Massive Melee. I was right then...and it is so freakin’ funny how I am right now. You came back and the crowd has stayed mild. Because no matter how cut you got, not matter how badass your beard is, no matter how well-constructed your mission statement is, you cannot escape the fact that you are mediocrity at it’s finest.
Now, if you would allow me, I would like to quote myself again. Its kinda funny, ya know, as I pull out an aside here. There are people all around us who have to fill their time with quotes from other people, or song lyrics, or other words from their superiors like Novelicious or Word Porn retweets, because they know that their own originality would cause the crickets to come out and sing their song, but not me, baby. Because when I open my mouth, the eyes turn on me. So, again, if you will permit me to quote myself:
“Dave Rydell will NEVER beat me in ANYTHING he does.
Period.”
I am a better Co Operation Champion than you. I am a better Cross Hemisphere Champion than you. If I ever went after the Chaos Championship, I would be better than that at you. Hell, when Outlast comes around next week, I’ll prove that I’m a better tag partner with Hastings than you...and it might well be the cardboard version of him!
THAT is what you face on Monday, Dave. You face someone who has come back from the very depths of Hell to represent this company as a CHAMPION. Someone who has clawed her way back to show the world that, yes, the new breed of modern wrestler is LIGHT YEARS better than your generation. Someone who will win at ALL COSTS. If I may quote myself a final time, you will face the red and black, the revolution herself. Hoist the banner, Dave. Raise the colors.
And the worst part of it all, for you?
My partner is 1000 times better than I am. She’s just too humble to admit it.
Finally...ultimately...the thing you need to remember, above ALL else, is this:
The difference between people like you and me?
You aspire to be someone who matters, while you hold onto the dreams of yesterday.
And me?
I am ALL that glitters.
My hands shake...but I am ready. I am prepared for this. She opens the door and I am ready for her. She is all smiles as she comes in, moves in for a kiss on the cheek, but she stops short. Her face turns down into concern, her eyebrows knitting. She knows something is up. She can probably feel it in the air.
“You okay?”
I tell her I am. And I AM. I have listened to God. I have worked on what I need to. I have prepared a slide-show presentation for this plea, to show her the pros and cons of my pitch, to break it down and get into the minutia of the matter. But all of that floats away as I see her. She takes my hand with such care and love that I know that I am right.
“I want to have a baby with you.”
I feel my eyes well as her face turns to a grimace. We have been through this, she says. It’s impractical, she says. We would be terrible parents, she says.
No, we won’t.
She doesn’t want to listen. Throws her braids over her shoulder. But I press. She is wonderful. She is caring. She is forgiving. She loves more wholly than any person I have ever met. She would be a wonderful mother.
“This is a big responsibility, Sar! This isn’t like keeping Lil’ Has in your purse and bringing her out at parties to show off the wings you painted on her! This isn’t like the flock of pigeons on the roof of our hotel! This is a life! A HUMAN life!”
She is right, of course. A human life who would be OURS. Filled with OUR love. Filled with OUR care. Filled with the love that brought me out of the darkness and back to my wife. We live on the road. I understand that. It would be hard. I understand that. But we can do anything. ANYTHING. Together. When my career is over-
“What happened to your ten year plan? How does a BABY fit into that?!”
I scoff. My ten year plan is dead. Ava didn’t plan on exactly what had happened with Jacob, but she was pleased with the result. Years taken away from my career. No way I can kick and run later in life. No way I can make that ten year career I wanted. But five more years? I could do that. And then-
“My mother-”
You are better than your mother. You are better than my father. WE are unstoppable as a team. WE would be amazing parents.
I love you.
I love us.
Let us grow.
She is silent. She is chewing on her lips, something she got from me.
“Five years?”
I nod. I dare not breathe. We’ll be 26. I’ll have access to my inheritance from Daddy. We will have all the opportunity in the world. We will-
She nods.
Did I see that right? Am I seeing things? I take off my glasses, rub them with the lace of my dress, put them back on.
She takes in a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and nods again.
“We can have a baby. In five years.”
I leap into her arms and can’t stop crying.
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