SCU Underground Champion Celeste was all settled in in her cabin. She had had down to the level below to visit her Le Coven partner Jenifer Lacroix. She wanted to hang out for a bit before Jenifer would disappear to hang out with her cousins, AML band members Linnéa Lacroix and Alissa Lacroix. Celeste walks in on Jenifer doing some yoga.

Celeste: You been here 10 minutes and you're already working out.

Celeste shakes her head.

Celeste: Relax a bit, enjoy the week, you're off. Use this as a vacation, one you get with your family.

Jenifer nods looks at Celeste with a smile as she keeps doing her leg stretches.

Celeste: Orchid sent out another letter to get GRIME to stop using her likeness and added my name as well. She sent it to WGN this time.

Jenifer looks at Celeste as she switches from stretching one leg for the other.

Celeste: WGN was not happy, they have the money to go to court but I don't think they want to piss off the Chinese market so they could end up telling GRIME to stop using those colors.

Jenifer isn't bothered by such news and keeps doing her yoga.

Celeste: Okay, screw it, move over, I'll join you.

 <img src=https://media.giphy.com/media/H8MmQ1EHrZfws/giphy.gif>

Hello Old Friend
#NP "The Morning After” by Meg Myers
Grand Princess Cruise


Five days on this ship.  The noise is never ending.  I’ve stayed holed up in my room, except when ordered to come out for the stupid meet and greets.  I sat at the table, while people walked by to make it to the Kris and Mikah table, or even the Bad Boys table.  I figured it would happen, so I wasn’t upset, because it was par for the course for this entire cruise ship.  But, as soon as the signing (or lack thereof) was over, I walked right back to my room.  Dax followed after me each time I was forced out of my room, and each time, I had to pretend that I didn’t care, even though it tore me up inside.  See, I’ve spent so much time pretending to be okay, even if I did a shitty job, I’ve never let them see me cry.  Today, I have no problems admitting that I cried.  I sat here, and I thought about all of the wasted potential walled up inside of me.  I thought about all of the friends who turned their backs on me, not because of a single thing I did to them, but because I decided I was tired of waiting in the shadows.  But, apparently it’s all my fault, and I’m done arguing it.  You’re right.  It’s all my fault.  I’m horrible.  I’m shit.  I’m the worst thing that’s happened since Mikah signed a Sin City Wrestling contract.  Oh, I’m sorry, apparently I’m worse than that.

I looked back at everything I’ve done in SCW.  Everything that I accomplished, and everything that I was a part of.  It seems like something to be proud of, but no one seems to think so.  As Dax walks behind me, trying to talk to me, I cover my mouth and hide my face as I walk into my cabin, practically in the bowels of the boat itself.

Me:  Oh, goddess, it stinks…

Dax:  C… C!!!  Will you please just talk to me?

As the pipes above my head hiss, I let out a small squeak of a cry, but cover it up as we walk around the corner.  My door is right there, and I put my hand on the knob, as Dax puts his on my shoulder.

Me:  DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!!!

I slap him across the face as I fidget with my room key, fumbling around with my to go box of food, and jiggling the handle enough for the trick I’ve learned to getting it to actually open to work.  I fail, and my box falls on the ground, spreading food all across the floor as I curse under my breath.  Dax leans down and tries to help collect it all, despite having just slapped him hard enough to make his beard move.  I knock into the door enough for it to pop open, and I close myself inside.  I lean against the door as I slide to the ground, hugging onto my knees.  I let it loose now.  I don’t have anyone to hide it from.  I’m an ugly cryer, and I know it, so I even try to shield my face from the mirror across the small cabin.  I bury my face as I sob.  After a moment, I hear Dax muttering to himself on the other side of the door.  I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I know he’s there.

Me:  Damn it, I told you to leave me alone, Daxton.

Dax:  And I told you that we’re friends, like we promised we would be before all of this craziness happened.

Me:  It’s too much for me, Dax.  Do you realize that it’s been six fucking months since I said I was going to turn my career around?  Yeah, I turned it around, right back through the fucking starting point.

I sniffle as I try my best to hide the fact that I just want to punch him in his face right now.  I look across the room at the mirror, and I see my usual angry look come back over my face.  I decide to embrace it.

Dax:  It’s not your fault that they decided to push everybody and their mother ahead of you.  You did everything you could to prove that you were championship material.

Me:  It’s all because Veronica Taylor somehow found a way to suck even more, and she dragged the Mean Girls name down to the ground, and through the mud.  They couldn’t trust a Mean Girl as a champion, unless that champion is Mercedes Vargas.  Mercy is fucking awesome, but so am I.  I was just never given the chance.

Dax:  Hey, maybe it’s because you’re as forgettable as I am, apparently.

Me:  Oh, fuck you… Seriously, just go the fuck away.  I’m done listening to your piss poor excuse for a pep talk.  Don’t you have some movie sex chicks to bother or something?

Dax:  They had to get air lifted off of the ship again.

Me:  Fuck, I didn’t even think about that option.  I’m so fucking sick of being trapped on this ship for my last SCW show.  It’s depressing enough as it is.

Dax pauses for a minute, thinking about it before speaking again.

Dax:  Last show?  Your contract is up already?  Six months fucking flies by.

Me:  Not fast enough.  I can’t wait to leave this whole shit storm behind me.  It’s hard watching people get pushed ahead of me constantly.  It’s hard to see where this division is going.  It’s hard to see Veronica Taylor constantly shitting all over everything I’ve been trying to build.  It’s hard to see everyone that I used to call friends, snubbing their noses at me.  And It’s hard seeing… you…

Dax doesn’t say anything.  I can hear some indistinct mumbling outside of my door, but I can’t tell what’s going on.  I sigh, as apparently I just unburdened my soul to myself… once again.  I stand up from the floor and pop my back a bit, ready to go lie down in bed with a sleeping pill, when there is an obnoxious knock on my door.  I go to open it, trying my hardest to yank the door open, laughing in a bitchy tone as I speak to Dax.

Me:  I thought it was Mickey who was playing peek-a-boo with the closet door, Da…

Spoiler alert:  It’s not Dax on the other side of the door.  Instead, I’m staring at a darker blonde, pregnant Alexis Edw… Staggs.  So much has changed with her, and everything in me wants to just hug her, but I put on my resting bitch face as I lean against the door frame.

Me:  Did you just have to come and get your last digs in before I fall off the face of the planet, Lexi?  Well, let me break it down for you.  I’ve heard it all before, more than once, and you should save your breath for the baby…

Lexi:  No, C… I didn’t come here to dig into you.  I promised Dax that I would come by and check on you, so… you seem pretty alive.

Me:  Yep.  You can tell that scrawny bastard that I don’t need his concern.

Dax:  I’m still right here, so…

Me:  I know, Dax!  I’m not blind, and I can smell that sandalwood oil you call cologne, so…

I stare over at Lexi as if to ask if we’re finished here.  She gives me the same look in return, before slipping a bit in the food I dropped moments ago, and she slides into my room, and topples over on me.  Dax rolls us both further in the room and slams the door shut.  We both instantly stand up, and fight over trying to get the door opened.

Me:  No, you asshole!  You gotta open it like…

Lexi:  Yeah, I know how to open a fucking door, bitch.

Me:  Yeah, well apparently not because you’re not doing it.  Is it open?  I think fucking not…

We glare at one another for a while as we both give up on trying to open the door.  Dax knocks a couple of times on the door from the outside.

Dax:  Hey, your door’s jammed.  I’m gonna wait an hour, and then get maintanence.

Lexi:  Uh, how about you go right fucking now?  I’ve got shit to do.

Dax:  You shouldn’t talk that way about your baby.  Plus, we had a deal.  You were supposed to talk to Celeste, but so far, you’re just talking with her and neither one is listening.

Me:  Same fucking difference!  Look, I know you’re trying to do something nice, but you’re being a total dick bag right now.

I don’t hear anything else from Dax.  I just hear those heavy fucking boots stomping against the ground, getting further and further away.  I sigh as I try to tug on the door.

Me:  Great.  Now it’s fucking stuck.  Thanks a lot, Lexi.

Lexi:  Me?  Thank your gay bestie slash ex boyfriend for this.  He’s the one who jammed up the door like the idiot he is!

Me:  Don’t talk about Dax like that!  He’s been more of a fucking friend to me than you ever were, even while breaking my heart by dumping me publicly and slutting it up with guys on social media.  Shitty, right?  Well, you’re worse than that.

Lexi:  Oh, yeah, I’m so much worse than Dax.  You know, what you did was pretty shitty too.

I laugh.  I shake my head, because I truly don’t understand what she means.

Me:  Oh?  Please tell me what I did to personally offend you.  Because all I did was try to advance my career, while doing or saying nothing to you or about you.  Tell me what I did that was so fucking bad, Lexi.  Please, I’m all ears.  What did I do to make you fucking hate me, after all we went through?

Lexi gets mad as she tries to muster up the words to speak to me, but I don’t give her the opportunity.

Me:  It’s not like I mother fuck you on social media at any opportunity I get, to someone who actually fucking betrayed us, but you know?  It’s whatever.  Hey, while you continue to talk shit on me, how about I go ahead and take a nap.  The less time I’m conscious on this fucking ship, in this fucking room, with you… the better…

I stand up and move to my bed, plopping down on it as I pull my blanket up to my chest.  I close my eyes, even as Alexis tries to talk to me, tuning her out as best as I can.  Lexi takes a deep breath, and pounds on the door, frustrated.

Lexi:  Look, C… we both made mistakes here, and you can’t put all of the blame on me.

Me:  Yeah… I joined the Mean Girls.  It was clearly a mistake.  I know that.  But that was no reason for you to wash your hands of me.  That was bullshit, Lex.

Lexi:  You know what?  You’re right.  That was my mistake.  I’m sorry.  No one is perfect, least of all, either of us.  I think we established that years ago when we first met.

I sigh and roll my eyes.  I kind of just want this conversation to be over, so I try my best to be convincing.

Me:  Fine.  I’m sorry too.

Failed… it came across much more snarky than I meant for it to.  Instead, I sit up and look at her and show her that I’m just ready for this whole ordeal to be over.  I open up my arms, and we hug.  Not like a bestfriend hug, but an “I don’t hate you anymore” kind of hug.  She leans against the wall as we sit there silently for a moment, letting the animosity pass us by as much as we possibly can.  Then, she surprises me.

Lexi:  So… you have a match this week, right?  You and the skanks…

Me:  Mean Girls…

Lexi:  Are going up against Amy Marshall, Kate Steele, and Devona?  What are you thinking about it?

Me:  Honestly, I hate the fact that I have to face Amy Marshall for the millionth time.  I cared so little a couple weeks ago, that I didn’t even take it seriously.  I lost, because I didn’t care.  I actually care even less this week, because it’s the last time I’ll ever step foot inside of a ring.

Lexi:  What?  You’re leaving wrestling?  For a break, or…?

I sigh as I look up at the ceiling.

Me:  I think for good.  I’m just tired of it all.  I didn’t do anything to anyone except Delia, and she fucking deserved it. I don’t know what Kris’s problem is, because I didn’t do a damned thing to him, like he did to all of us.  All I did was dethrone the worst cancer to ever step foot in SCW.  I should be fucking celebrated!  Instead, I’m a pariah.  That’s why this match came to be anyway.  Three little girls decided to poke us and piss us off.  A newcomer looking to jump the line like her partners have, and the other two trying to make a name off of us.  It never mattered how many times we won or lost.  We were always shoved to the back of the line while lesser talents jumped in front of us.  It’s a game that I refuse to play anymore.  They had a star in the making, and they shit all over her.  I’m done.  This match will be my last match.  You of all people should understand that.

Lexi:  I actually do.  If you don’t have the passion anymore, then why continue to do it?

I nod my head as I stand up from the bed.  I have to admit, I feel better, strangely enough.  But, I don’t like being trapped, so I walk over to the door to try to get it to open.  Lexi stands up too, and walks over to me, putting her hands on my shoulders.

Me:  Lex, please no repeats of before…

Lexi:  Fuck you, C.  I’m trying to have a moment.  Look, if you ever need to talk to anyone, you have my number.  It hasn’t changed in two years now.  I’ll be around.

Me:  Likewise.  Now, let’s knock this fucking door down, shall we?

We begin kicking and shoving into the door until it starts to splint.  It’s a tough door, so it takes a while.  But, as long as I get out of here by Sunday, kick a little basic ass, and move along… I’m straight.  Later, fuck wads!

 This is the manifesto of a mad woman.  No, I’m not crazy.  I’m fucking pissed off.  I’d like to say that I’m beyond pissed off.  I’d like to tell you all that I simply don’t care anymore.  I wish that I could tell each and every one of you reading this… yeah, all four of you, should I be so lucky… that I’ve moved on to a place where I’ve accepted my role as the new Twisted Sister, or the new one woman Azz n’ Class.  But that’s simply not the case.
 
Take, for instance, my record this year.  I’ve defeated every piece of opposition that’s come my way.  My one, singular loss comes from me playing mind games and handing Mercedes Vargas a win on a silver platter.  I’ve beaten everyone else.  No, as a matter of fact, let’s go back to mid October of last year when I defeated Veronica Taylor, a decorated Bombshell with more accolades than most of this bolstered show ponies SCW brings in for a few weeks, or a few months, who collect one title reign, and act like they’re God’s gift to wrestling.  In that same match, I defeated Amy Marshall, a “Hall of Famer” whose name was only entered because she did the impossible by taking away Delia Darling’s undefeated streak and seemingly endless World Bombshell title reign.  She’s been here for like a decade, so sure, she’s won every title in the place, losing 90% of them on her first defense.  Slow clap, Aimes.  Ya done good kid.  But I did one better by beating you.  Sammi Wich.  Ms. Marlowe.  Grand Slam Champion.  Yeah, I beat her too.  And let’s not forget Polly Playtime.  Oh, sweetie, you actually made me clap when you took down Mellie.  I had high hopes that maybe, just maybe, you would prove that you aren’t as fucking useless as everyone said you were.  I wanted you to prove them wrong.  And now I look like a jackass.  The moral of the story is that I beat you, too.  I won my first championship of my entire career.  Then, with not two, not four, not six, but eight helping hands and a shifty referee later, that was taken away from me.  I was literally robbed of that title.  But it’s okay.  I accepted that I was above the Bombshell Roulette title.  I was ready to move on to bigger and better things.
 
And here I am, five… five… FIVE FUCKING MONTHS later, still waiting.  Oh, I can hear all the voices going right now.
 
Alexis Edwards:  Maybe it’s because you’re not fucking good enough.
 
Kris Halich:  You haven’t done anything to deserve more than what you’ve gotten.
 
Crystal Millar:  Just stop.
 
Well, the first two are just rooting to see me fail.  Yet, I come out, week after week, showing them just how wrong they are.  Without outside help, I put down every fucking bitch that Mark and Christian put in front of me.  I’ve showed up to work.  I was told that I should stay off TV, so I stay backstage, waiting for news that my hard work has paid off.  Despite having beaten Crystal Millar herself, in front of her home town of Detroit in a rather embarrassing display might I add, I’m not worthy of a title shot.  I get it.  I should have to earn my spot by beating someone worth a damn.  Maybe like the champ herself?  Wait, I already fucking did.
 
So, what is this really about?  Is this me having to prove once again that I’m not full of hot air?  Is this about me having to shed my black hooded jacket with the Nobodies logo on it once again, in order to prove that I’m worthy of being a champion?
 
Or is this about handing Crystal Millar her revenge against me?  Is this about making the champion look like she’s worth a damn?  Am I being fed to the champion to prove that she’s not one of the worst wrestlers SCW has on its roster right now?  Am I part of the Polly Playtime cover up conspiracy?
 
I can’t honestly say which, but one thing is for certain.  No matter how hard I work.  No matter who I beat around here.  No matter what I invest into SCW, I will forever get nothing in return.  So this brings me to my last point.  What do I have to gain from my match against Crystal Millar this Sunday in the Gold Coast Casino?
 
Nothing.
 
Plainly put.  Simply stated.  Nothing.  There is not a damn thing that I have left to prove at this point.  If I win, I’m still going to the back of the line for a World Bombshell Championship shot.  I’ll be told I don’t deserve it, and with all logic defied, they’ll try to justify it.  It is like I am Dib from Invader Zim, and my wrestling abilities are the alien.  I’m just staring and pointing at it like “ZOMG WTF it’s a fucking blinding wrestling resume” and everyone is like “meh”.  So, quite literally, I give up.  I’ll write a check to buy out the rest of my contract and this bitch be gone.  I’m tired of having to fight stupid at every turn.  I’m tired of having to prove myself over and over again while people whine and cry and pass me by to getting what I FUCKING DESERVE.  I’m done. You can call me a crybaby.  You can call me a quitter.  You can call me Alexis Edwards… wait that’s too redundant… You can call me the star who burned out too quickly.  Just do me a favor, and don’t fucking call me… like, ever.  After Sunday, I’m finished.  I’m pulling a Sean Jackson. Deuces.

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<marquee>Crystal Visions - Rock Goddess Crystalline North</marquee>


The scene opens up inside of the green room of a studio.  The cameras and lighting are in full view as Crystalline North sits in a comfortable leather chair with a glass of water in her hand.  She is wearing a black shawl over a long black dress, with her blonde hair feathered slightly, just as she had done in the olden days.  She takes a sip from her water as she prepares to speak once more.

Crystalline:  People keep asking me about my daughter.  This is a true change from what I’m used to, I’m afraid.  I’m guessing that she caused some waves over in the Sin City Wrestling organization, because everyone is calling her these awful names.  I gotta admit that the names have crossed my mind a time or two, but I’m not really sure what caused all of this.  I don’t approve of violence, unless it is a last resort.

Off-screen Interviewer:  I might be able to shed a bit of light on the subject matter.  Celeste has recently joined up with the most hated faction in wrestling history, The Mean Girls.

Crystalline:  Ohhhh!  Her two new beautiful friends?  And the other one, Angelica?  Mercedes is such a beauty, and every time she talks, I feel like I’m about to order margaritas from Tortilla Republic Weho… And Veronica Taylor, the gorgeous supermodel who danced in one of my many platinum selling single’s music video.  I just don’t understand why people hate them so much.  They are true American treasures.  Even Angelica, who just kinda sits there.  I mean, I don’t have one mean thing to say about the Mean Girls except I wish they wore more black.

Crystalline smiles as she takes another sip of her water before sitting the glass back down on the nearby end table.

Interviewer:  How about the rumor of one Daxton Oliver Beckett taking root in your home?

Crystalline:  Why, there were many a night where I had to sleep on someone’s couch.  Granted, I didn’t sleep in their daughter’s bed, keeping mama awake with loud sex noises at all hours of the night, but I understand the gypsy lifestyle.  I almost once wrote a song about it, until a certain “Prima-Belladonna” beat me to the punch.  I can admire and respect a man who has seen just as much of the world as I have.  Plus, can you imagine if I did disapprove of the boy?  Celeste would only jump further into his arms.  Much like I did with her daddy.  It wasn’t until my parents finally accepted the fact that I was in love with a tattooed pig-man that I started to realize that the constant odor surrounding him was, in fact, not the dog…  My point is that she could do a lot worse.  At least this one seems driven to make something of himself, unlike the last one.  Goddess only knows that I couldn’t take on another grandchild when I don’t even look old enough to be a mom…

Crystalline chuckles as she places her hand to her chest much like a true southern belle.  She blushes slightly at her own flattery as she removes a strand of hair from her face.  After taking up her glass of water for one more sip, she allows it to rest ornamentally in her hand as she addresses the camera once more.

Crystalline:  All I can say is that, I’m not so innocent myself.  I’ve had some wild times.  I’ve been a real bitch in my day.  As surprising as it might be to hear, I used to be a real mean girl, so I’m not too surprised that Peaches has taken up with these treats.  I mean, Mercedes Vargas is possibly the sweetest person ever.  A little known fact, back in the mid-nineties, she attended one of my concerts in Argentina, and I picked her to come on stage to sing “Successions of Ideas, Images, Emotions, and Senses”, and she passed out on stage.  Poor things… Anyway, my point is that I don’t see these ladies as bad people.  I see them as driven women in a society that screams for gender equality, yet cries out against truly equal treatment.  Mama Crystalline approves of the Mean Girls, and not just because my daughter is a member, but because these girls are as rock star to wrestling as I am to being a rock star.  As they say these days, all the *air quotes* thirsty haters, can *air quotes* suck it... Mean Girls ain’t going nowhere, pumpkin…  No time soon.

Crystalline smirks and lets the audience know that she knows the plight of the Mean Girl, and she supports them to the end, which is going to be a long, long way away……….



******************************************************************************



<img src=https://media.giphy.com/media/nCV7ixKkWLNiU/giphy.gif>


The Arrival
#NP "MANiCURE” by Lady Gaga
Mean Girls Clubhouse; Beverly Hills, California


Well that was fun.  The whole making people think that I was actually going to get my ass kicked by the Mean Girls, AGAIN, when actually I talked the Mean Girls into turning on Delia FUCKING Darling, taking her place on SCW’s throne of Queen Bitch, thing… I mean, to be honest, I wasn’t sure if they were going to play me, but what was the worst that they could have done?  Knocked me out again?  Yawn!  Boring!  The trick was to let them get bored with me, and then refuse to let them leave me alone, which left them only one choice… to hear me out.  They had to eventually see that Delia was only riding on their meager successes, and then yelling at them for not pulling their own weight.  She was a hypocrite, which is no surprise to the rest of the world, because duh, we already fucking knew that.  But they were so blinded by what she’s done in 2015, and not what she’s doing, or not doing, in 2017.  So, I helped them along a bit, and still wasn’t sure they were biting.  But, people don’t give these ladies credit.  They aren’t nearly as stupid as people try to make them out to be.

So anyway, We had this whole idea to do a huge in ring promo about why I turned my back on people, or how it was actually the fact that everyone had turned their back on me, but due to extenuating circumstances, we weren’t all able to be in Chicago… boring, yawn… So after Climax Control, we made our way back to Beverly Hills, where Veronica Taylor, Mercedes Vargas, and Angelica… whatever her last name is… blindfolded me and took me to an undisclosed location.  My guard was up and on full blast the entire time, because there was a good chance I was going to get beat down, but I took a chance and went for the ride.  My fears are put to ease when I hear the sound of a doorman, followed by the ding of an elevator.  Apparently wherever we were going required two different elevators, but we went with it, and soon after, we walk down a long hallway.  This place is super undisclosed, and super private.  Yeah, I’m getting beat down for real.  So we get to the door, and they unlock it, leading me inside, and I smell glue and Juniper Breeze, but unfortunately more of the first than the latter.

Me:  Are we sniffing glue?  I gotta tell you ladies, I definitely had the wrong impression of you.

Angelica:  Like, shut up already.  You’re ruining the surprise.

Me:  The last time I heard that, I wound up at the police station a few hours later, filing an assault report against my old dealer and his cousin…

Veronica:  Ughhhhuhhhh…

A few steps into the building, and I feel them grab onto my arms.  I grit my teeth and then I let out a very loud, and weird sounding “Ki-AW!” sound as I cross chop Angie right in the face.  I rip the mask off as she holds onto her jaw, whimpering slightly.  I look around as Mercedes and Veronica just blink wildly.  There are two men standing on a ladder, holding onto a piece of paper, but their eyes are trained on me.

Me:  There will be no party tonight, fellas!  But these girls are about to get their asses kicked right here in… the Mean Girls Clubhouse?  Wait, that’s a real thing?

Veronica:  Um, yeah, and you’re welcome…

Mercedes:  We come here when we need to unwind a little.  It’s nice and relaxing.  And if you go through that door there, we have an actual telethon broadcasting on meangirlsbutnotthegirlongirlpornsitemeangirls.net.  Also a real thing.

Angelica:  And through that other door, there is a makeup artist standing by in case someone accidentally gets punched, or chopped, in the face.  So, I’m definitely going there now…

I nod my head, acting like such a thing is actually normal, even though I’m pretty sure they know it’s not, and they know that I know it’s not.  Instead, I turn my head to look at the “art wall” which literally has a sign above it that labels it as such.  There are pictures of Mercedes, Angelica, Veronica, and Holly Wood, looking pretty and popular, with Mad Maxxine in tow.  Don’t feel bad for not remembering the latter, because most people don’t.  I just might have to change that.  Then, we have my picture, which almost actually offends me, because it says “Homeschooled Jungle Freak” crossed out with vigorous strokes of a sharpie.  Then, there are defiled pictures of Tessa Flannigan, and Liz Smalls, but Delia’s picture sits at the end… un-defiled.  I scoff until Mercedes hands me a sharpie.

Me:  Awww… you guys are so sweet.

Mercedes:  Let it out, honey.  Put it in the book… or the wall, as the case may be.

Me:  Gretchen… Hang on, does that make you Karen, Veronica?

Veronica:  Who is Karen?  That name is so basic.

Me:  Yeah…. I think…

However, I tuck the marker into my purse, because now just isn’t the time.  Just like the rest of the wrestling world, I’m ready to push Delia Darling out of my mind.  Oh, that’s a good one.  I should say that out loud so they chuckle.

Me:  Now just isn’t the time… Just like the rest of the wrestling world, I’m ready to push Delia Darling out of my mind.

And they chuckle.  Mercedes even gives me a high five.  Her and Veronica carry me over toward another room which is apparently labeled “Ready Room”, and they drag me through the door.  I cry out at them.

Me:  What am I getting ready for?  The two painters?

I ask with such urgency.  However, they laugh because they think it’s a joke, but I’m legit scared for a minute.  They shove me into a chair and put on the radio to play “MANiCURE” by Lady Gaga.  In fact, we go into a montage as they smear lipstick on my lips in tune with the music,  then they spray perfume on my neck.  Then they slip my Louboutin heels on my feet and lean me back in the chair and rinse my hair, before curling it.  They lift me up with curlers in my hair as we dance along to the music as we pick out a new dress to wear while effectively loosening my hips.  As they peel the current rags from me, they then slip the slinky dress on and throw on a set of pearls, and earrings that fit the look.  Then they walk me to the door once again, clicking the stereo off as I look at them strangely.

Me:  What the actual fuck was that?

Veronica:  That was a standard getting ready for a promo montage video.  Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it eventually.

Me:  God, I hope not.

As we walk out to the living area, I’m surprised to see Mz. Holly Wood seated with a cameraman ready to record.  I smirk, because this is the part that I have been sincerely looking forward to since I found out who I was facing this week.  She motions for me to take the fuzzy pink seat adjacent to her.  While I normally like to defy any and everybody, any chance I get, I give in and take my seat.  Holly adjusts her LaFawnduh chestnut brown wig and her gold and black dress.

Me:  What are you wearing?  Is this 2003 Throwback Thursday?  No, sweetie.  This is 2017!

Holly:  Excuse the hell outta me, gorrrrrlllll, but Detroit theme only leaves a Queen with the choice of LaFawnduh, Gene Simmons, and a gunshot crack whore victim.  Cut me some slack.  But I like the attitude.  She gonna do just fine, y’all…

Holly nods her head and then turns to the camera.

Holly:  Hey SCW Universe, it’s ya girl Holly, Mz. Wood if you nasty.  I’m joined here with the latest addition to my old alma mater, Mean Girls, Celeste North.

Me:  South if you nasty, am I right?!

Holly:  Errrrkayrmmmm?  So the SCW Universe wanna know… Why you done that?

Me:  Can I just shit talk Crystal already?  I mean, I got so much to say, and I gotta admit, I’m about to explohhhh-Crystal looks like she’s always smelling rotten cheese!  Like, what the fuck is up with that?!

Holly again nods her head, but this time, much slower like she’s not sure what’s happening.  I cover my mouth like it was an accident, but it definitely was not an accident.  She does look like someone farted right in her face, though…

Holly:  Well, usually, the former Queen B of the Mean Girls liked to let her thoughts be known on everybody.  Like, a quick rundown of some of the top names of the Bombshell Division.  Like, for instance, what about the Bombshell Roulette Champion?

Me:  Jessie… what is there to say about her.  She’s like an annoying gnat that, no matter how hard you try to swat her away, she just sticks around.  I mean, she’s not a threat.  She’s not a great talent, but I give her an A for effort, because no matter how badly she fucking sucks, she just doesn’t throw in the towel.  It’s admirable in a way.

Holly:  What about Mikah?  Pretty impressive win at Blaze of Glory, right?

I shrug my shoulders.  I’m already bored of talking about the other ladies, but I figure I’ll go ahead and keep up the game, all while waiting to drop the bombshell, as if I were a child anxiously awaiting Santa Claus on December 24th.

Me:  I mean, outside of the ladies in this room right now?  Mikah could actually be the greatest threat.  And by greatest threat, I mean because she’s the bland version of a certain former leader.  Her performance was decent, but by SCW standards, it seemed amazing.  I gotta tell you though, I would have been impressed if Polly wasn’t such a pushover.

Holly:  Arrogance sure ain’t lost on this one, hun-tee!  Moving up the line.  How about Melo…

I put my hand in her face and shake my head.  There is a little bit of a fire in my eyes, but not in the way one might think.  I continue to shake my head slowly as Veronica and Mercedes look at me curiously.

Me:  I’m going to say this one time, and one time only.  The fact that I’m saying it is a gift, because it is something that is so obvious that it really doesn’t need to be said.  Our Bombshell Champion, is not even on my radar.  She’s not on anybodies radar, because she’s going to be, quite frankly, an even more boring version of Mikah, that no one is going to care about or even attempt to target.  Considering Mikah is just a bland version of Delia Darling, it’s like watering down a watered down version of something that already existed.  She’s boring and she’s trifled.  There are only two people who don’t realize that, and it’s her husband, and her.  Nobody gives an actual fuck about “She-who-shall-not-be-named”.  She’ll keep that belt for a very long time, but it will be meaningless, because the longer she holds it, the more trifled that belt becomes.  No one will want to try against someone who says one thing, does another, and then says something else entirely.  Call it a mind game, but I call it total confusion on her part, and that translates to a poor business move on SCW’s part.  But hey… she earned it, right?  By tricking our then-World Heavyweight Champion into marrying her?  Right.  I, much like most of the Bombshell Roster, do not have our sights set on her.  It might sound cruel, but it’s a cold, hard, plastic fact.

Holly:  But, what about the fact that she…

Me:  No comment…

Holly sucks her teeth, making a loud popping noise that echoes throughout the entire living room area.  She bobs her head in surprise as she raises an eyebrow at me.  Not because of my disrespect to her, but because of my outright disrespect to our… heh… “champion”...

Holly:  Okay, so how about Mrs. Millar?  Y’all used to be friends, right?

Me:  Some might have seen it that way.  As a matter of fact, I was one of the people who did, up until I outlived my usefulness.  See, I’m a woman of action.  I do things, instead of suggesting things.  I see them through instead of bitching until things magically go away.  I nearly got Mikah to get fired until she got her drinking problem under control.  Crystal just sees opportunities to snake her way around.  She slithered up mine and Natalie’s backs as she worked her way up to being a champion, and then she dropped us both like a bad habit.  I didn’t see or hear from her for the months that I was gone from the company, assisting another former friend through some hard times.  Then, I come back, and I win a title, and then suddenly I’m good enough to talk to again, because I’m starting to become a “Somebody”.  I bought it for a minute.  I did.  But, that was until I needed a friend, and everyone that I turned to, turned me down.  My supposed friends, who I would have killed for, didn’t have time to help me.  Three people struck me down, and Crystal was one of them.

I snap my fingers, because I’m getting pissed off, and I need something to drink, because this is going to be a neverending bitch fest, I can already tell.

Me:  Crystal told me, if I ever needed anything, she would help me.  I’m a proud woman.  I don’t want, nor do I need help, like ever.  Well, when Delia turned on me, I needed someone.  I tried to reach out to her, but all I got was radio silence.  I wasn’t important enough.  I truly thought that I was a “Nobody” all over again, except this time, I was a Nobody by myself.  And Crystal made me feel that way.  But, since she’s on one of her bi-polar kicks right now, where she’s kissing the asses of the fans, we’re all going to choose to ignore it.  But, whatever.  It’s no skin off my back.  I’m used to watching the blind lead the blind, and laughing my ass off as they all walk off a cliff to their impending doom.  Alexis and Tim Staggs have already seen the demise of their careers.  Crystal will get hers eventually.  But, I want to savor it.  I want to see her go through all of the pain of being alone, reaching out for anyone who will listen, only to never find it.  I want her to see how it feels, and then I want her to feel it even more.  I want her to see what I went through, and why I chose the path that I chose, to end up where I’m at, so that she can see how she practically shoved me right into the Queen B throne in this swank Mean Girls Clubhouse.  I’m ruling an empire, now, all while she’s chasing the supposed dream.

Holly goes to speak, but I shake my head, letting her know that I’m nowhere near finished.  I take a sip of the mineral water placed before me, before putting the cap back on and setting it at my side.  I clasp my hands in front of me as I look straight into the camera.

Me:  Crystal… you and I were friends, inside and out of this company.  I know things about you that you wouldn’t dare me to speak out loud.  I also know what kind of a person you are.  You crave validation from others.  You rely on them to tell you that you’re as good as you think you are.  The sad part is that you are good.  But, you’re a waste.  Instead of fighting for the fans, you should be fighting for yourself.  You had the hearts of the fans, and then you said “Fuck you” to them all.  Then, you recanted, and said it was all a mistake.  You are making me dizzy, and I’m not the only one.  While you make up your mind on where you stand, just know… you don’t have to fight for their adoration.  We all know that you don’t actually want it.  You just feel like you have to have it, because that’s what determines your worth.  The sooner you forget that, the sooner you might be able to sit at the big girl’s table, where the party really is.  I mean, as much as I hate to admit it… you were kind of always meant to be a Mean Girl.

Holly:  Whoa, wait… are you inviting Crystal into the Mean Girls?  After you just trashed her so heavily?

I smirk and nod my head, letting Holly know that she’s on the right track here.

Holly:  So, are you saying that you don’t want to fight Crystal?

Me:  Oh, Goddess, no… I want to obliterate her ass inside of that ring.  I want to take out every moment of torment that she put me through.  I want to put her in her place, and make her realize that, while she’s got the potential to actually be great, even in the new rising of the Mean Girls 2017, she’s got to respect me… us.  I might take it easy on Crystal if she bows down to me and pledges herself to Mean Girls.  And, by take it easy, I mean I might call off my girls at ringside when they come to swarm her for all of the nasty things she’s said and done to them.  I’m not going to take it easy on Crystal on Sunday, but her answer to my call will determine a lot when it comes to her future in SCW.  As a matter of fact, any and all Bombshells should heed my warning.  Stay on our good side, because unlike the former “leader” of Mean Girls… I’m relentless, and I don’t give a flying fuck about manners and etiquette.  I’m a thirsty bitch, and I’ll fuck anybody up who gets in our way.  Crystal will just be an example of that, come Sunday.

Holly:  Now them’s fightin’ words right there, Celeste.  You and Crystal get to open up the show as this long-awaited rivalry comes to a head.  Tune in on Sunday, April 9th, 2017, to see the action live from Detroit!

Me:  Thank you…

I unfold my hands as I stand up from my chair.  I look over to Mercedes, Veronica, and Angelica, as they all stare intensely at me.  I slowly shrug my shoulders as I stare at them, waiting for some kind of a negative response.  However, they clap and squeal in approval as they welcome me inf or a hug.  Holly even joins in as they tell me how great I was.  It’s all good, because just as it will be in the ring on Sunday, I know how great I am.  All I have to do is prove it...

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The scene opens up just outside of the Tropicana Ballroom in Laughlin, Nevada on a brisk January afternoon.  There are a few clouds in the sky, but the sun peeks out from behind them every now and then.  There is a camera set up just outside of the door, where a cameraman waits impatiently.  While he taps his foot, it is no match for the pacing of resident interviewer Pussy Willow.  She is wearing a pair of furry ear muffs, and a jacket that shines underneath the light of the wavering sun.  She shivers at the cold temperatures as she looks over to the cameraman.

Pussy:  Jonathan, I think we should just pack up and go home.  I don’t think she’s showing.

Jonathan:  It’s probably a safe bet, considering she was supposed to be here two hours ago, and not a single call or text to either of us.  Talk about unprofessional.

Pussy:  After the treatment from the Mean Girls, I can’t say that I’m all that surprised, though.  Oh well, she wouldn’t be the first one to half ass work around here.  If she just shows up, she’ll be doing better than half the talent that comes through here.

Jonathan shuffles around the bag for his camera, getting it ready for the soon-to-be dismantled pieces of the camera and tripod.  Pussy walks over toward the SCW logo van where she opens the door to take a sip of hot chocolate.  She turns the engine on to start warming up the vehicle.  She shivers in the cold of what should soon be the heat blasting from the vents.  She steps outside, holding her hot chocolate tightly in her hand as she closes the door.  Suddenly, her phone rings.  She looks down at it and then holds it out for Jonathan to see.  The name of the incoming call reads “Celeste North”, so Jonathan halts the dismantling of the camera, leaning on it out of frustration.  Pussy answers the call and brings the phone to her ears.

Pussy:  Hello?  Pussy Willow speaking…

She pauses for a moment, trying her best to change her tone to a much less annoyed one, despite the shivers running throughout her entire body.  She nods her head as she places her free ear against her shoulder to block out the wind.

Pussy:  Yes, Celeste.  I’m standing outside of the Tropicana right now…  Well, I have been for the last two hours now.  Where are you?

Pussy nods her head as she listens to Celeste speak.  Seconds into it, she opens her mouth and gives Jonathan a look of sheer disbelief.  Once this fades, she can no longer hide her annoyance as she throws her hot chocolate to the ground.

Pussy:  Wait, did you say Beverly Hills?!  Obviously you didn’t forget that you had an interview set up, so… No, I won’t put you on speaker phone!  The camera isn’t even rolling.

Jonathan:  Um, actually it is.  I figured I could work on a time lapse video in the time that we were left waiting.

Pussy:  This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard…

Pussy pulls her phone away from her ear as she presses the speaker button, and holds it a reasonable distance from her ear, resting her elbow against the inner side of the other elbow, rolling her eyes in a grumpy display that is unusual for her, but very much warranted.

Celeste:  … but it’s called making a statement, Pussy.  Just press the fucking button and let's get this over with.

Pussy:  Alright, you’re on the air.  Say your peace.

Celeste:  Talk about unprofessional.  It’s like the kettle calling the cauldron black.  No proper introduction?  How typical.

Pussy sighs as she shakes her head, looking over toward the camera.

Pussy:  This is Pussy Willow, your resident SCW Punching Bag… er, Interviewer.  I’m here with Celeste North, who couldn’t be bothered to show up for her scheduled interview, so she’s coming to you from the comfort of her own home in Beverly Hills, California.  How’s that for an introduction?

Celeste:  Salty, but I kind of like this side of you, Pussy… And that is the only time I will ever say that about pussy…

Pussy should be used to this by now, given her choice in stage name, but it still causes an annoyed sigh to escape her lips, which brings about a chuckle from Celeste on the other end.

Celeste:  Let me start off by saying that it is a pleasure to not be there in chilly Laughlin, Nevada.  Ten degrees makes a world of difference.  I thank you for taking time away from your schedule to help me with making this point.  Your patience is very much appreciated, and in a moment, you will see why I’ve done things the way that I have.

Pussy:  It’s going to take a lot of convincing, I assure you.

Celeste:  Hey, I’ve got nothing but time, baby.  I don’t have anywhere to be today.

Celeste chuckles once again, but Pussy doesn’t find the same humor in it.

Celeste:  I really enjoy showing the world every aspect of my life.  I’ve enjoyed allowing them to witness the craziness of going from a Nobody to… well, a former champion who got screwed out of her title, and then denied her rematch clause… Okay, I gave up my rematch against Veronica, because there is no way in Hades that I’m going to open myself up to that kind of shit again.  But, there were two options.  Option one, I could go back to being a bottom feeder, a curtain jerker with a few solid wins to legitimize all of the assholes who pass through the revolving roster of Sin City Wrestling.  Option two, I can step it up and go after bigger and better things.  Wait, I’m sorry.  There was only ever one option, and that’s the easy one.

Pussy:  Which option are you referring to, because I’m kind of confused here.

Celeste:  I worked my ass off when I first got here.  I gave the fans something they don’t see every day.  I gave them one hundred percent transparency into my life.  I showed them my faith.  I showed them my family.  I gave them some laughs, and I gave them a good cry now and then.  I gave everything.  And what happened?  I got nothing, but some pretty fucking impressive wins.  Sure, I lost to Jessie Salco, but everyone has an off week now and then, and I proved it when I beat her ass after the fact.  I defeated Mercedes Vargas, a Grand Slam Champion, and a fucking legend in her own right, as much as it pains me to say it.  I still got overlooked, except when it came to feeding us to motherfucking Team Hero, as another cog in the machine.  When I had to take personal time away from SCW, I did get that.  I came back and I took out every person that they put in front of me.  I wasn’t supposed to win the Bombshell Roulette Championship, and I wasn’t supposed to keep it.  I took what I wanted, what I deserved, and the higher ups just couldn’t fucking stand it…

Pussy goes to speak as Celeste’s voice takes a grim turn.  However, Celeste doesn’t allow her to speak.

Celeste:  I beat Veronica, and I would have beaten her without Delia sticking her fucking busted ass nose in my face.  It was clear that I had it won, but one of the higher ups decides that he needs people to believe that he’s an asshole now that he Superkicked Ward in the face, so guess who he chooses to lash out at?  Any guesses.

Pussy:  Um… you?

Celeste:  Veh-hery good, Puss.  Me.  Not Little Miss Sunshine who shits rainbows and blows the World Heavyweight Champion.  Not Mr. Self Help and the talking Teddy.  Not anyone who had established themselves, and actually stood a chance at rebounding.  No, he chose me, and not only did it cost me my career.  Not only did it cost me my Bombshell Roulette Championship.  Not only did it cost me the ability to give a shit anymore, but it also cost me the last piece of sanity that I had been clinging on to for dear life.  No… if you thought Twisted Sister was unstable, you haven’t seen a Goddamn thing yet, sister.  Twisted Sister is unpredictable, but so am I.  The only difference is that I haven’t lost my ability to calculate the fucked up shit I’m going to do.

Pussy:  Um, Celeste, would you mind talking a little about this Sunday?  It’s pretty cold out here, and…

Celeste:  Yes!  Let’s talk about this Sunday.  We have a pretty “darn wacky” card ahead of us, don’t we?  Some real exciting stuff.  Real edge of your seat shit.  Title matches, and oh, let’s not forget about that stellar Main Event quality Ten Man Battle Royal to figure out who's going to be fed to J2H next…  Hey, at least all ten men earned their place in that match.  James Tuscini has had a bit of an impressive run in SCW.  I suppose he could be rationalized for this opportunity.  Blade Alexander made some huge waves in SCW… back in 2012.  Five years ago now?  Yeah, he definitely deserves to be in that match.  Steve Ramone just lost last week to Ryan Keys, losing his Roulette Championship, and suddenly he’s put in the running for the World Heavy?  Who’s dick is he sucking?  And let's talk about Jeremiah Hardin.  The wild card of this match.  He’s the wild card, because who the fuck knows if he’s even going to show up?  He disappears in and out of here like his contract if a fucking hot potato.  Let’s give him a chance to get in on this when he literally just fucking got back.  Joshua Acquin just lost to the champ two weeks ago or whatever.  Samuel Devereux, because… well, I can’t even try to rationalize this one.  Xander Bishop… yeah, I don’t understand that one either.  Right place, right time?  What the actual fuck has Jamie Dean done since the tag titles where he rode Ben Jordan’s coattails?  Samuel McPherson blows a former champion, so by proxy, he paid his dues… or collected them straight down his throat.  And don’t even get me started on Calvin Harris.  True, he has a couple wins under his belt, one of which is over one of the men in this match.  But one man who has done more recently than pretty much anyone in this match, isn’t included?  The only person in SCW to give a loss to Calvin Harris, isn’t included?  Yeah… this match was meant to be a load of horse shit, and it’s shaping up to be just that.  I hope Tuscini wins, because he’s the only somewhat deserving person in this match.

Pussy:  That’s not exactly what I was talking ab…

Celeste:  No?  How about the actual Main Event?  My friend Crystal Millar, the most dominant force in SCW, so dominant that the fans can’t even try to hate her anymore.  So unstoppable that not even fucking Mikah could knock her off of her pedestal.  Up against the only person who seems to stand a chance of derailing her, Melody Grace.  The woman who loves unicorns, rainbows, and blow pops, but blows the pop of the biggest heel in SCW, and surrounds herself with the likes of Mikah, Rage, and J2H, but also loves kittens, and sweet, soft, cuddly feely stuff.  Basically, the biggest confusing wreck in SCW next to myself.  Melody deserves her shot.  She is one of the few who shows up to work, even if I don’t see eye to eye with her techniques.  Crystal is a true Goddess in wrestling, but so it is written in the stars, so it shall be done.  No one beats Melody.  It just doesn’t happen.  So, unless Melody misses her flight, or gets distracted by the shiny unicorn I’ll be waving around from the front row, in every effort to help prove my own self wrong… Crystal will find her reign coming to an end.  Not because she didn’t fight hard enough, but because the powers that be see Melody as more marketable.  And, who knows… maybe those powers that be will associate Crystal with the company she keeps, and stack the odds against her.  I can’t keep quiet any longer, and I just hope that I’m Snowden paranoid.

Pussy just blinks in confusion.  Not that she doesn’t understand what is being said, but she doesn’t understand where all of this is coming from.

Pussy:  What I was trying to say before, is that you have a match, which is supposed to be the focus of this interview…

Celeste:  I know.  And, no offense to Chelsea Payne, but I don’t really care about my match.  It doesn’t matter if I beat Chels, or if Chels beats me.  It doesn’t matter how well we wrestle, or how well we work the crowd.  I don’t have any real feelings toward Chelsea, one way or the other, so there is no reason to do what she’s likely to do, and tear me apart.  Whoever wins is irrelevant, just like my career.  The higher powers will pick who they think is more marketable to the fans, and that’s who they will push forward.  Chelsea is a second generation star with huge knockers and a big, round ass, that she’s not afraid to show off.  She’s the more obvious choice.  Besides, she’s facing off with Sam Marlowe, who is far more relevant than I am.  Apparently, a blase attitude and lack of a work ethic is what gets you places around here, so… meh.

Pussy:  Jonathan, please cut the camera.  I don’t think Celeste wants to air this to the fans, because…

Celeste:  Because the truth will get out, and there will be backlash?  What the fuck else do I have to lose, besides my contract?  I’m not going to spend my family money to buy out my contract.  I’ll show up, put someone over, and go home for a few extra bucks until my six months are up in March.  Maybe I’ll even ask Azz n’ Class how they do it.  Or Justice League.  Anyway, Pussy, it’s been nice to do this little thing we’re doing, but I’m bored now.  I’ll see you for two minutes on Sunday…

There is a clicking sound that comes over the phone before Celeste’s picture fades from the phone.  Pussy stares at it for a second, and then sighs as she puts her phone back into her coat pocket.  Jonathan does a slow clap as the camera slowly fades out.

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This Is What Makes Us Girls
#NP "Heartbeat Song” by Kelly Clarkson
Four Seasons Resort; Santa Barbara, California




Tonight was… amazing.  I couldn’t have planned a better evening.  The moon is in full view as we are walking along the beach, hand in hand.  My heart skips a beat as Dax pulls me in closer, wrapped up in his jacket.  For such a Twitter douchebag, he’s actually very thoughtful.  His arms envelope me as we walk toward the Spanish style resort, our feet leaving prints in the cold sand, but we don’t care.  He pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it, taking a drag before gently sliding it between my lips.  I can taste him all over it as I take a drag.  We approach the poolside area of the resort as we hear the cackling of geese… or Delia Darling  and Fabianna Lopez coming from the outdoors bar area.  I close my eyes and sigh before turning to look up into Dax’s eyes.  The specks of green pop from his hazel eyes as he looks back down at me with a smile.  He senses something wrong with me and he lifts my chin up.


Dax:  What’s wrong, bae?


Me:  First off, don’t call me “bae”.  Secondly, I really… really don’t want to scare you off by introducing you to my friends.


Dax:  I met Delia already.  How bad could it actually be?


I blink a few times, distress written across my face as I let my look do the talking for me.  He chuckles from deep within his chest as he leans down and kisses me quickly.  The smile he is sporting makes me blush, and no one has ever made me do that, so it’s a real accomplishment.


Dax:  If it means that I get to spend more time with you, then I can deal with whatever they got to throw at me, boo.


Me:  That’s still not okay, but it’s better.  Call me “baby” like men have for at least the last twenty years.


Dax:  Nah, I’ll stick with Peaches…


I tried to get rid of him, but it’s too late.  We’ve been seen.  Delia and Fabi gather up their glasses of pinot grigio, laughing and threatening to ruin my Cinderella night like they are my two evil stepsisters.  Their eyes trace over Dax’s bare chest, studying his tattoos, or perhaps they are dissecting his very soul, looking for the best way to chase him off.  I give one last effort to push him back toward the beach, whispering “Go, go, go…”, but Delia and Fabi begin circling him like a couple of sharks that smell blood.  I fold my arms across my chest, annoyed by the intrusion.  Fabi giggles as she looks at me, her doe-like eyes lit up brightly as she nods her head.  Delia, however, sniffs at the air and purses her lips together as she glares at me.


Delia:  Celeste, darling?  Might I have just one moment of your time to speak candidly wi’s you?  Fabi will keep your… suitor… company, yes?


Fabi:  Oh, I’ll do my best…


Fabi makes googly eyes at Dax, which makes me roll my eyes in return.  Before I have time to say one way or the other, Delia grabs onto my arm with her free hand and drags me to the other side of the pool.  For not having wrestled in over a year, I’m quite honestly surprised at the strength she still possesses.  She turns around to face me as I keep my eyes on Fabi and Dax.


Delia:  What happened tonight?  I need all of z’e details… Dish, henny!


Me:  Hmmm, how about no?  That part is none of your business honestly.  I’m not even sure what’s going on between him and I yet, and I don’t need you sticking your nose into it.


Delia:  Well, considering we were going to have a slumber party to discuss strategy for your title match wi’s Veronica Taylor… it is my business.  Delia Darling does not invest anys’ing into a cause she does not believe in.  I need to know where your head is right now.


She’s seriously trying to justify butting into my personal business like this?  Apparently.  But, I have to admit, I’ve never had a female friend who asks me about what is going on.  Fabi is cool and all, but she isn’t exactly the sharpest tool, and she’s kind of self-centered.  Delia is actually interested, and it feels kind of good.  I blush a little with a smile as I bring my eyes to hers.


Me:  I think I like him, Delia.  He’s definitely an asshole, which is totally my type, but he’s also sweet and caring underneath all of that macho bullshit.  I yelled at him for not paying attention to me when I was giving him his last chance to convince me that he wasn’t a complete douchebag, and he yelled back, but it was telling me that I’m blindingly beautiful, and that he can’t pay attention to what I’m saying because everything about me distracts him.


Delia:  No, seriously… what did he say?


She stares at me as if I’m telling a lie, waiting for me to end the supposed joke and tell her what was really said.  It kind of offends me as I raise my eyebrow at her and continue.


Me:  He ran off from dinner, refusing to let me pay, which is a first.  He couldn’t stand to hear me doubt myself so much, and I chased him down.


Delia:  It sounds like you had a real Cinderella kind of evening… He ran off, didn’t listen to a word you had to say, discounted everys’ing about you besides your looks, and then what?  You fucked him on z’e beach?


Me:  I never said that, but twice…


Delia:  Ugh-uhhhh!


Delia shakes her head as she pulls me even further away from them, stepping onto the sand of the beach.  She actually slaps me.  I don’t mean like a little tap.  I mean like she hauls off and smacks the taste out of my mouth.  I chuckle a little as I reach back and smack her.  She takes it like a champ, and then she repeats the process, slapping me.  It pisses me off how little emotion she has in it, taking a second to sip from her wine before I slap her back.  She slaps me, and I slap her once more.  It felt like a scene out of Dynasty, minus the name calling.  After one more round of slapping, he grabs onto my wrist and twists it, causing me to wince a little.


Delia:  If you want to be a champion, you have got to stop seeing him.  You are going to get hurt, because he’s obviously going to move on to z’e next available gigi, if not after tonight, z’en soon.  He’s a rude boy, and z’at is what rude boys do.  You need to choose between him and me.


Me:  Sorry, D, but I don’t swing that way.  There are plenty of women in this business who do, so it should be no trouble at all for you to find someone.


Delia:  Your sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Celeste.  I see potential in you, and I would hate to see some hairy, tattooed ape take z’at away from you.  Veronica Taylor has made your life a living hell, and what have you done in return?  Hm?  Tell me, how are you going to make it s’rough Veronica when your head is stuck in the clouds?


Me:  Unlike Veronica, or even you for that matter, I don’t get wrapped up in other people.  I don’t let others dictate how I perform my fucking job.  If Dax does run off and leave me, I still had a good time, because he’s hung like a fucking horse, and he knows what he’s doing.  But, I’ll be alright.  I’ll still go out there and kick the living shit out of Veronica, inside of the ring, because that’s where it all matters.  I made my intentions known when I nearly set her on fire.  She might have hit me over the head with a mirror, but I got her back ten times worse when I crushed her hopes of getting back the Bombshell Roulette Championship.  I made her eat every fucking word that she spoke about me, and that’s not going to change, whether I’ve got a guy in my life or not.


Delia finally lets go of my wrist as she looks at me, finally taking me seriously.  She stares at me, clearly still hurting from the comparison to Veronica Taylor.  She tries to read what is truly going on in my head for a moment before she finally lets a bit of a smile break.


Delia:  You actually mean it.  But, you don’t realize how much he’s on your mind.  He’s in your every s’ought.  You can count on me being z’ere when he leaves, telling you z’at I told you so.


Me:  Gee, thanks for your vote of confidence.  I’m not in love with him, though.  For fuck’s sake, I just met him.


Delia:  From my experience, love is instantaneous.  You will know right away if you love someone.  Z’eir touch will make your heart skip a beat.  Z’eir presence is enough to take your brea’s away.  Everys’ing z’ey say captivates you, and you find z’em irresistible.  You love him, even if you are too afraid to admit it.


No way… right?  If I had already started to develop feelings for him, that would be crazy.  I have to admit though, everything she just said is true, and even when I thought he was a douchebag, it was still true.  He’s dangerous, but he’s gorgeous.  I haven’t ever fallen for someone like this, like ever.


Me:  It doesn’t matter.  I’ve always got something going on in my life, and besides, Dax helps me work on my cardio.  He’s really inventive with his technique.  I will still go out there in Los Angeles in two weeks, and I will show you that I’ve got what it takes to knock Veronica down for the three count, again.  If you don’t trust me, then maybe we should dissolve this partnership right now, because I’ve put all kinds of trust in you…


Delia: You must not have heard… you simply do not trust Delia Darling.  I’m glad you did, z’ough, because you’re going to become familiar wi’s z’e headlines.  Z’at much, I do trust.  If you are in love wi’s him, z’en I suppose I should get familiar wi’s him, learn to trust him, and z’en we can move forward.  I’m ever so glad z’at you trust me. It’s new to me, so it might take a moment to get used to it.


Delia pulls me in for a hug, which I am completely not expecting.  I nearly trip, and she nearly drops her drink, but I soon fall into the hug, feeling that friendship connection I’ve looked for my entire life.  It almost brings me to tears as it ends, because in that very moment, I actually see Delia Darling as a person, and not a business entity.  As we came this way, we also leave.  She drags me by my arm, and we meet back up with Fabianna and Daxton on the patio.  It was a great evening, because Dax and Delia actually got along much better than I expected.  They spent a lot of the evening laughing with one another and sharing stories of being on the road, all while we sipped on Hennessy Black Cognac, wrapped up in his arms.  The whole night is a bit of a blur, but what I do know is that I’ve never felt this good about life, and the people I’m surrounding myself with.  Things couldn’t possibly get any better.











Prosperity and Blessed Be
#NP "Black Is the Soul” by Korn
The North Estate; Beverly Hills, California




The moon peeks in from behind my curtains, right into my eyes.  I had fallen asleep in Dax’s arms again.  He seems to really have that effect on me.  I open my eyes slightly, feeling the energy of the moon as it draws me from his arms.  The soft fur on his chest and stomach makes it hard for me to leave.  I lean in and kiss his lips, hoping to break the spell on me, but it only seems to make it worse.  However, I hear the Goddess calling to me, and when I get this impulse, I know I must try to open myself up.  He moans softly as I stand up, and he turns his head into my pillow as if my scent lulls him back into a deep sleep.  I wrap myself up in a black satin robe, tying it together closely as I walk across the room that is bigger than most apartments.  I pass the spiral staircase leading to my “closet” room, and I walk to the large window.  My altar is already set up for my ritual prayer before any match that I compete in, but this can’t wait.  I reach over to the tripod across the table so that I can document this for my promotional video package.  Once it is recording, I reach to my satchel and I bring a long match stick from the side pocket.  I strike it on the edge of the table as I begin to light the candles.  Alder, almond, acacia, and mace are my herbs tonight, for protection, prosperity, luck, and concentration.  They are placed around me, as I hold my energy crystals in front of me.  I pull my tarot cards from my satchel and I begin to shuffle them as I close my eyes.


Me:  Gaia, Goddess of the moon, bringing light into the darkness, I ask for your guidance.  In just a few short days, I will be defending my SCW Bombshell Championship against a very unworthy opponent in Veronica Taylor.  However, I feel as though you have given me this opportunity in order to work out the rage that I’ve been holding in for so long now.  I’ve had a hard enough time keeping it to myself, but then she takes it a step further and busts a mirror over my head.  I’m finding it very hard not to drag her by her hair that is probably insured for a million dollars, bring her to the ring, so that the fans of Sin City Wrestling can enjoy watching me beat her within an inch of her life.


I take a deep breath, because this is most likely not the best way to pray, and to summon inner peace and serenity.  I try to breathe out all of the negative energy within me, but it takes me quite a while.  The only thing that helps me to find peace is by picturing Dax’s hazel eyes looking at me, and I find a bit of it.


Me:  This match is the biggest one of my career to date.  This is the fight that will prove that I’m either a fluke champion, just like Veronica Taylor, or that I belong in the championship spot.  I know that I’m very much in my head about this, and the only distraction that I find from it all is lying in my bed right now.  I don’t feel like I can focus on this, because the pressure is just so new to me.  Please, give me a sign if I’m just overreacting?


I wait a moment, but nothing happens.  I take a deep breath, looking to beckon the spirit of Mother Earth.  I feel a light breeze wash over me as I open my eyes.  I look out across the table to see the flames of the candles dancing in the breeze, even though no windows are open.  It doesn’t feel negative.  It feels infinitely good.


Me:  I don’t want to be hateful any longer.  I don’t want to be fueled by anger and rage.  I don’t want to feel as if I am constantly warring with myself.  The only way that I can see this happening is to push Veronica Taylor out of my head.  I need to rid myself of the toxicity that she brings into my world.  She’s like a retarded dog who doesn’t understand the concept of pain and humiliation.  It’s like she got hit so hard upside the head that she’s stuck in a one-sided fantasy world where she rules like a queen.  She thinks that she’s the prettiest thing walking this planet.  She thinks that her wrestling skills are impeccable.  In fact, she’s fucking ugly on the inside.  She’s not all that on the outside.  Everyone laughs at her.  She’s the joke of the Bombshell division, which is pretty sad when you’ve got people like Azz n’ Class and Justice League in our midst.  Her wrestling skills are abysmal at best.  The world would be so much happier if she just died.


Oops, it’s happening again.  The vengeful and angry side of me is coming through.  I purse my lips together to try finding my peace of mind.  My eyes wander over to Dax, and I stop.


Me:  I just can’t, in good conscience, stand by and let her continue this charade.  I can’t stand to see her walk around like she owns the place.  But, is it more important for me to retain my championship, and work to find my own serenity?  Is it better to sacrifice myself for the greater good, or to maintain my spirituality, by nurturing and growing it?  Great Goddess, I need to know the answer to this.


I wait, but of course, I don’t hear anything.  I usually don’t, but I feel a strong connection tonight.  I’m beginning to feel a little overwhelmed, as a matter of fact.  I lean back in my seat as I try to regain my composure.


Me:  Goddess, please allow me to be open to your suggestion and your guidance.  If I’m left to my own devices, my old habits, I will destroy her.  I’m not afraid of losing to Veronica, because that’s nearly impossible.  I’ve already beaten her, and I’ve beaten more worthy opponents than her.  Literally, the only reason she has this title match is because she is the former champion, and she attacked me in typical SCW fashion.  Attack a champion and you get a title shot.  However, in this case, she attacked me before I won the title.  Since then, she hasn’t done shit.  At least I showed up to the next venue and made my presence felt.  What has she done, besides sit on her throne, being waited on hand and foot by some kiss ass billionaire who is only looking to get his old dust-filled balls licked.  She hasn’t done a single thing.  Yet, here she is, getting a shot at my title.


I lean forward in my seat as I pick up the tarot cards once more.  As I’m flipping through, I feel compelled to pull the card that is slightly sticking out.  I place it down on the table face up.  The tower card is what I’m faced with.  People falling, lightning striking at it, flames bursting from within.


Me:  Upheaval?  Disaster?  Sudden change and revelation?  What does this mean?  Will Veronica upset the balance by winning my title, and rubbing it in my face?  Or, does that mean that I will continue with my rise from being a Nobody to a Somebody?


I draw another card and place it on the table, next to the tower card.  I look down to see the star card in front of me.  I look at it for a second, studying the bright star above a pool of water with a naked blonde woman dipping her hands into it.


Me:  Hope and inspiration mixed with spirituality, serenity, and renewal?  This is an excellent card that I’m so grateful to see.  This means that, no matter what happens, I’m going to continue on this path of rebirth.  I’m happy to hear this.


Lastly, I draw another card.  This one only seems to confuse me.  It is the three of swords, which means separation, sorrow, and grief.  It depicts a heart with three swords impaling it.  I rub my lips together as I look behind me to Dax, who is stretched out half naked in my bed.  I shake my head, because this feels too obvious to me.  I glance to the other side of my room to see the SCW Bombshell Roulette Championship sitting there.  The wind blows inside of the room, this time a little bit on the cold and unnerving side of things.


Me:  I’m choosing to believe that I am meant to defeat Veronica Taylor.  I’m fully capable of defeating her.  Perhaps my reign won’t last as long as I’d hoped.  I guess that means that I need to make the most of it after I beat Veronica on Sunday.  I’ll just have to take on as many people as I can to leave my mark on the Roulette Championship.  Either way, I will not lose on Sunday.  This much I feel confident in.  I’ll just take it one match at a time.  One thing is for certain, though.  Veronica is getting her ass handed to her on Sunday.  Blessed Be…


With that, I reach over to the camera and turn it off.  I gently blow out the candles on the table, though I scoop up my energy crystals.  I take them with me as I walk across the room and back to my bed, finding myself melting right back into Dax’s body.  However, uncertainty creeps through my entire body as I struggle to fall back asleep.

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Even the Not-So-Mighty Can Fall
Through the eyes of Celeste North...

It’s been quite a while since I’ve been heard from in SCW.  It isn’t from a lack of wanting, but sometimes, there are things that are just so much more important.  The rumors flew around SCW about the exploits of Tim Staggs.  He and his family helped me to find something to channel my unbridled rage and anger so that I could find my peace of mind.  It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows and all of that nonsense, but friendship usually isn’t.  A true friend is there during the good times to share in the laughs and smiles, but they are also there for all of the fights and the tears.  I found it in me to forgive Tim for what he had done to me, being a teenager who is still trying to figure everything out.

Blah, blah, blah, who cares, right?  There’s a story to be told, but it isn’t only mine…

Tommy Knocks shocked the world after Blaze of Glory had aired by informing everyone that the barely eighteen year old Staggs Junior had been hauled out of the locker rooms by his uncle… and a whooooooolllleeeeee lot of security.  Absurd, right?  This kid wasn’t an addict.  He struggled with some demons (by the names of Brother Grimm and Baba Yaga) along with trying to balance out his medications.  Common knowledge, right?  Something that not even I knew, was that he had turned to an all too familiar escape; one that hit just a little too close to home for me.  When Tommy Knocks said that the kid had paraphernalia and drugs on him… he was putting it lightly.  This kid was getting ready for a party, or one hell of a suicide attempt.  To this day, I’m still not sure.  What Tommy Knocks didn’t tell anyone is that I was the one who found it, and I was the one who turned him in.

A few names I heard from my fellow Nobodies, and the few who knew that I had gave him up were “bitch”, “snitch”, “hypocrite”, and “backstabber”.  The one that felt the most appropriate to me was “ damn good friend”.  Good old Erik Staggs gave me that one.  After about a week, Tim did too.  Alexis took a minute to come around, but at the end of the day, those two were the only ones that mattered anyway.

But, let’s rewind a little bit, back to the moment Tim was being escorted through the backstage area, cuffed and angry.

Tim:  I can’t believe that you would turn me in for something like that!

Alexis is frantically trying to figure out what is going on, and it just doesn’t feel like it’s my place to tell her.  I stare into Tim’s angry eyes, not really sure what to say to him right now.  He just shakes his head as his uncle pushes him along.

Erik:  We’re going to get you the best help that we can, but I have to do my job.  I hope that you understand that.

Tim:  Bullshit!  All of you just want to see me get locked away for good so that you don’t have to face the reality that you’re all self-absorbed assholes who think that you’re better than everyone!

Me:  We want to see you get better, Tim!  You can’t get better like this.  Believe me, I know from experience!

Alexis stopped and looked at me.  She wasn’t quite sure what to make of my statement.  There was a bit of surprise, and a moment of speechlessness, followed by an angry growl and a fist to my face.  Everyone knows that I love to fight.  The bloodier the battle, the better in my book.  But, this time, I let her get away with it.  That will probably be the only time I do that outside of the ring, but yeah…

Alexis:  You’re getting my boyfriend high?!  What the fuck are you thinking, bitch?!

Me:  Hey!  I had nothing to do with that.  Who knows how badly this might have turned out if I hadn’t…

Alexis:  Wait… you didn’t.  No, you couldn’t have, because then I’d have to fucking kill you.

I looked down at the ground.  What I did was in Tim’s best interest, but it still fucking sucked.  I’ve been there myself, and it took me a long time to forgive my mother for turning me into the police.  But, just like what she did was the right thing to do, so was this.

Mee:  And what would you do if you walked into the locker room and found him laying on the floor with a needle sticking out of his arm?  Hm?  And then when you found out I knew about his dirty little secret, you’d want to kill me then, too, right?!

Alexis:  That’s not the point!

Me:  It is exactly the fucking point, Alexis!  You guys can hate me today.  You can hate me tomorrow… but when your boyfriend gets out of rehab, and gets a new lease on life, you will thank me.  Outta rehab sex is by far the best sex…

Yeah, I said that… and I meant it :-/  But the sentiment was spot on.  Either Tim knew it at that point, or he was too pissed off to say anything to me.  Alexis still didn’t get it.  She was only thinking of the short term consequences of my actions.  She wasn’t looking at the big picture.  Instead of screaming at me, she simply brushed past me to walk with Tim for as long as she could before he found his way out to the parking lot to find the police car that was waiting for him.  I started to follow, but Alexis turned around and shook her head at me.  She did that thing she does when she’s pissed, or as some used to call it, her regular face, where her nostrils flared out, the left one bigger than the right, and her green eyes narrowed.  She laughed almost right in my face.

Alexis:  Don’t bother coming.  You’ve done enough already…

She was cold to me right there.  Normally, I would knock a bitch straight out on the floor for that level of disrespect, but I just nod my head.  I knew she would come around eventually… at least I had hoped she would…

I went home feeling like shit, and had a few drinks.  I kicked Chad out, like I always had done before. Only this time, it was for good.  I sat in my room with the lights out, and a single candle lit on the desk that I had designated as my altar.  I closed my eyes, and thought about everything I had done.  I felt like shit.  I thought that I had made a terrible mistake.  I haven’t cried since the band Asking Alexandria became a “thing”, but I cried that night.  I asked the Mother to forgive me for my actions.  I asked her to help me find a way to forgive myself.  I asked her to numb the pain of the damage that I had caused, when a light breeze came through my room.  Somehow, my satchel fell open, and my tarot cards spread out in front of me.  One of them had somehow turned itself face up, so I pulled it from the deck.  “Death”...

Oh, calm down you monotheistic idiots.  The death card is a good thing, and anyone who truly knows the art of divination through tarot knows that it stands for mostly positive things, such as endings of a bad chapter, new beginnings, transformation, and transition.  I stared at it for a while.  I found a bit of peace in that moment, and I fell asleep at my altar.  It must not have been too deep of a sleep, because my Twitter notification went off.  It never does that, so I assumed there was an update on Tim.  I opened my phone and looked at the screen to see Delia Darling in my DM’s.  Bahahaha!  We all know how that turns out, but then?  I didn’t even read her message.  I went to delete it, when my phone rang.  It was Erik Staggs.  Usually, it was Christian Underwood who would reach out to me when I had a booking, so I knew it was about Tim.  When I answered my phone, he asked me to come to Hotel California By the Sea… No shit, it’s a real place, and it’s expensive, too.

I was a little surprised that I was being called here, because I figured I was the last person that Tim, or anyone, would want to see.  I drove there to find Tim standing outside of the facility, his hands tucked into his pockets as he shivers.  Of course, it’s not cold outside, but it doesn’t have to be when going through withdrawls.  He is clearly nervous as he paces back and forth.  Erik and Spike are standing by with him, but he’s not saying a single word to either of them.  Instead, he spotted me, and marched over to me as if he was going to beat the holy shit out of me.  I braced myself for a fight, but he wrapped his arms around me and sobbed into my shoulder.

Tim:  Thank you… thank you… thank you so much, Celeste…

I held onto him as he sobbed.  I let him get it all out, because once he signed the paperwork, he won’t get to see anyone for at least a few days.  No phone calls, no visitors, nothing.  He needed to get it all out, and let me know how he felt before he was forced to wrap the honesty up and tie it off with a fancy little bow of brainwashed confusion.  This was the most honest he had ever been with me, and I couldn’t understand half of the muffled words coming out of his mouth.

Me:  Hey… you’re going to be just fine.  I’ve been here before… literally, here.  I never got the chance to say anything to anyone, because I was so consumed by anger and hatred for everything.

Tim:  I just couldn’t get cut off from everyone without letting you know that I don’t hate you.  I’m not even mad at you.  I am mad at myself for being stupid enough to get caught up in this.  If I ever found dope in your bag, I would do the same thing.  I know that I would beat myself up for it, especially if you had said some of the things that I had said to you.  I couldn’t let you do that, and I couldn’t be trapped in here knowing that you were doing just that.

I nodded my head, a single tear forming in the corner of my eye.  I hugged onto him as he cleared his face of the tears.  The redness and heat of the tears remained, but he was trying to pull himself together.

Me:  Where is Alexis?  Why isn’t she here for this?

Tim:  I didn’t want her to see me like this.  She can’t trust me after I lied to her about this.  Every time she asked me if I was okay, I told her a lie.

I lifted Tim’s chin up as I looked into his eyes.  I didn’t say anything until I watched his eyes center in on mine, and even then, I still couldn’t get the words right.  Somehow, that stare said a lot to him as he nodded his head.  He wasn’t ready for Alexis to see him like this, and I had to respect that.

Me:  You weren’t lying to her when you said that you loved her.  Every time you lit up when she walked into the room.  Every time that your cheeks turned bright red when she treated you like a man, instead of an awkward child.  Every time you comforted her, even if you weren’t comfortable yourself, you were telling her that you loved her

Tim:  I just don’t want her to see me like this.  She’s got enough going on without me piling my shit on top of it all.  Besides, she hasn’t talked to me since Sunday night.

Me:  Give her time.

Tim nodded his head as Spike walked up behind him.  He placed his hand on Tim’s shoulder, and Tim looked back to his father.  He nodded his head as he turned to walk away.  Despite everything that this kid has been through, there is still this innocence in him.  He walked to the steps, and as he walked up them, he turned around and waved to me.  I waved back as I watched him enter the next phase of his life.

Of course, that chapter ended, but a new one was just beginning.  I visited with Tim as soon as he was allowed visitors.  I knew that I wouldn’t be able to maintain the schedule of Sin City Wrestling, and I was quite honestly aimless.  I had no idea where to go from there.  I was a Nobody, without my merry band of Nobodies to back me up.  I hadn’t gone over too well with the fans, so I turned my resignation in, and focused all of my energy on Tim, and helping him through the struggles that I knew all too well.  I would show up to Hotel California, and we would talk, watch television, eat a bunch of sugary candy.  I would hold the vomit bucket for him, and not look at him funny when he would shit himself.  Detox is not a pretty thing folks.  Don’t do drugs, m’kay…

Once he completed his thirty days, he returned home, and I basically moved in.  Sobriety in a facility is one thing, but you don’t leave that monkey on your back at the door when you leave.  I helped to keep him centered in his recovery.  I gave him all of the support that he needed, with the exception of the romantic stuff.  I allowed conjugal visits with Alexis.  I found out that Alexis had gone through a bit of a similar situation, herself.  Eventually, I was able to back away, and allow them their much needed space.  They are really a good pair.  The things that they learned had benefitted them greatly in being there for one another.

Of course, I still came to Vegas to hit Staggs Dungeon with Tim.  Fitness and training had become a big part of his recovery, despite the fact that he would likely never return to SCW again.  One day, I was with him at the gym, after we had just sparred for the millionth time this week, and Twitter sparked off again.  Yep, Ms. Darling can’t be deterred by two months of silence.  I looked at the message from Delia, and she had proposed the most preposterous thing I had ever heard.  I couldn’t help but laugh and look at Tim.

Tim:  I could use a good laugh too.  What’s so funny, C?

I almost didn’t want to answer him.  I looked back down at my phone, and thought it the silliest thing in the world, so I went ahead and shared the absurdity with Tim, ready to get a good laugh out of the deal.

Me:  Delia Darling says that I could easily become a Somebody if I ever decided to return to SCW, and that she would be willing to promote, manage, mentor, and train me.  That bitch must have slipped back on the sauce!

I was actually kind of surprised when Tim didn’t laugh.  Instead, he nodded his head, and stared at me.  I thought he was pulling my leg for a minute there, but he kept a straight face for long enough that I realized he wasn’t joking.  I rolled my eyes as I slid my phone back into my pocket.

Me:  Oh mighty King of the Nobodies, the one who spouts off about the voice of the voiceless, the dying and the damned…

Tim:  I’m also the one who formed a heroin habit, so that Tim was probably not the best person to take advice from.  You beat a few pretty big names.  You could easily go back there and be taken seriously, especially if someone as experienced as Delia were to take you under her wing.

Me: … but it’s Delia…

My mouth hangs slightly opened as I questioned his logic.  Seriously, though!  Delia Darling.  SCW’s own version of cancer!

Tim:  She has her… quirks… but you can’t deny that she’s an accomplished Bombshell who probably has a lot of wisdom to share with you.

I knew he wasn’t joking this time, but I still laughed.  Like, really hard.  In his face.  Hard…

Me:  But, it’s Delia!  She isn’t known for her wisdom.  I’m trying to think of a funny way to tell her no, but I’m going to do just that.

Tim:  She was just another one of those model types that came off of the runway, and into the ring without a clue.  In just a few months, she was turning down title shots, and a couple more months, she was on her way to becoming the longest reigning World Bombshell Champion in SCW history, and still is to this day.

Me:  Mikah will beat her out, and Mikah is an even bigger airhead than Delia!  Should I go to Mikah and ask her for tips on how to coddle Ward’s ballsack to get a title shot?

Tim:  I’m trying to be serious here.  Delia is not only a pretty decent wrestler, but she is a marketing genius.  If she actually believes that you are worth her time, then you could be the best Bombshell of all time… aside from Alexis of course.

Tim shot me a goofy, toothy sort of grin as I just roll my eyes.  Alexis is superior to me in the business, but that’s only because I gave up.  I called it quits and I dedicated my life to helping my friend.  I’m not saying that I’m better than her, because comparing a wrestler to a non-wrestler is like comparing apples to ducks.  It just doesn’t make sense.

Me:  I’m not going back there.  I didn’t really do much when I was there anyway.  It would be like starting from scratch, with the exception that people would call me what I truly am… a Nobody.

Tim:  Damn it, Celeste!  If I had applied myself, I know I could have been a real champion, and not just a footnote to the SCW Despayre and Friends Championships.  Alexis already proved that she is a Somebody by winning the Bombshell Internet Championship.  Connor challenged for the World Heavyweight Championship.  You beat Jenny Tuck, who has a pretty good reputation in the ring.  You beat Mercedes Freakin’ Vargas!  That’s not something to laugh at, man!  I damaged your career, and I’m sorry for that.  Delia can fix it.  You never know until you try, right?

I shrugged my shoulders as I thought about it for a second.

Me:  In the very least, I could laugh about it later, and tell you all about the stupid shit that she says, right?

Tim:  I guess… but know that you deserve better than The Nobodies.  Look at how many of them even have anything to do with me right now.  It’s always been you, me, and Alexis, and we’re still going to be friends, even when we stop telling ourselves that we deserve less than we actually do.

Aaaaand he got me.  The rest is a story for another time, but we all know that Delia led me to Violent Conduct III where I nearly set Veronica Taylor on fire.  So now that I’ve caught you up to speed, we can focus on my present, and begin to build my future…



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Rising From the Ashes of Defeat
#NP "The Fighter” by In This Moment
San Manuel Indian Casino; San Bernardino, California


The lights are bright, and I’m feeling alllright!  I have to admit that I’m finding it strange to do a promotional take somewhere that isn’t surrounded by shadows and a whole lot of depressing undertones.  Delia told me that it’s a new chapter in my life, and I should totally leave that behind.

Delia:  Darling!  Z’is is a new chapter in your life, and you should totally leave z’at behind…

I told you.  Almost verbatim.  I shrug my shoulders because I don’t quite believe that I’m ready for this, but as a fast rising star in the ranks of the Sin City Wrestling Bombshell’s division, she would know better than me.  It’s the only reason I’m wearing a black cocktail dress with stockings and high heels that have red on the bottom.  She told me that the red on the bottom of any shoe is a must.  She stops me and grabs onto my shoulders as she checks on my make up, almost like a pageant mother preparing me to prostitute myself to the archaic standards of beauty on a stage in front of hundreds of strangers.  Literally.  Petroleum jelly on my teeth, and pounds… yes POUNDS of make up.  This is the most uncomfortable I’ve been since joining Sin City Wrestling about a year ago.  Say what you want about Delia, but she has a very unique ability to know anything and everything about your state of mind with just one look.

Delia:  Celeste?  You look as if you aren’t sure about z’is.  If you are not ready to cut a memorable promo, for z’e first time in your life, we can find a dark corner z’at hides your crooked nose better…

Yeah, she actually said that…

Me:  If you aren’t worried about a bird beak for a nose, then I’m not worried about my nose.  Let’s just get this over with so that I can chisel this shit off of my face.

Delia:  My nose is perfect, but since you’re new, and you have such potential, I’m going to let it slide.  Oh, I’m such a nice girl…

Me:  Hashtag…

I raise my hand for a high five, but Delia only raises her eyebrow in response.  She walks past me as we approach the front doors to the casino.  There are two men in suits, clearly there with dates, as Delia stops so abruptly that I walk right into her, nearly causing us both to trip.  Seriously, these heels are like ten feet high!  Poised as ever, Delia simply smooths out her blue cocktail dress, flipping her long platinum locks over her shoulders as she clears her throat.  The men look over their shoulders at her as they puff on their oversized “gentlemen’s cigars” like a couple of pussies, and then continue their totally lame attempts at seducing women who are clearly hookers.  Delia clears her throat once more, this time much more loudly as she places her hands on her hips, as if advertising for Coach handbags.

Delia:  Excuse me, but z’ere are two ladies who would find it very chivalrous if you would open z’e door for us, like we should even have to ask…

Me:  They seem too busy trying to haggle the price down on their dates.  Who needs men, anyway?  We can open our own doors instead of waiting for douchebags to do it for us.

I reach for the door handle, but Delia slaps my hand away.  I draw it back as the older of the two men turns around, looking at us.  Apparently he really likes what he sees as he rubs at his chin with this thumb, blowing a cloud of cheap tobacco smoke that reminds me of my father, right in my face.

Dude:  Sure thing, blondie…

He opens the door for Delia, who shows absolutely no sign of appreciation as she enters.  I walk up to the door, and he quickly closes it as he leans into it, looking me up and down.  I roll my eyes as he reaches out for my arm.  He “accidentally” grabs my tit, and I’m already over it.  I use the pointed tip of my shoe to perform a seven-ten split on his shrunken testicles.  I spit down on him as I fling the door open, smacking hard into his side.  He’s already a distant memory as I rejoin Delia in the lobby.  We walk through the halls until we reach the actual casino, where Delia uses her connections to bypass the rather long line.  No identification required, because that’s how Ms. Darling rolls.

We walk past all of the senior citizens who are spending their social security checks at the penny and nickel slots, and the high rollers at the poker tables, as we go to the bar in the far corner.  That’s where we see Mz. Holly Wood, dressed in a sequin dress depicting the various Queen cards, along with a sparkling golden wig.  She is sipping on a Cosmo from a bar stool, and the cameras are sitting there, waiting on us to get started.  Holly walks right past me as she gives Delia a ginger hug, kissing at the sides of her face as they laugh about only Goddess knows what.  I look off into the distance uncomfortably as they start to calm down.

Holly:  Gurl, it is so good to see you again!

Delia:  Likewise, I assure…

Holly:  It has been so long since you have cut deep into a bitch, so this should be good!

Ummm… I turn my attention back to Holly and Delia as Delia nods her head.  This is when I step in between them, looking right into Holly’s eyes as I cross my arms over my chest, showing that I mean business.

Me:  I’ll be speaking for myself, Holly.

Delia:  Oh, sweetheart, I don’t s’ink you are ready for z’is just yet.  I mean, I know it’s only Amy Marshall, and not like Mercedes Vargas or somes’ing, but…

Me:  Yeah, I held my own against Mercedes, twice, and I did it just fine.  Besides, didn’t your career go into ruins after you lost to Amy Marshall?

Ha!  I hit a nerve, and it shows as her dark brown eyes narrow at me.  She is fighting every instinct that she has to strangle me, and I’m loving every fucking minute of it.  I smile and bat my twelve pounds of mascara coated lashes at her.  Instead of doing what she clearly wants to do, she smiles back at me and chuckles.

Delia:  I got a little arrogant against Amy after I beat her like twenty times, but my career never went into “ruins” as you say.  I just took a step back to reassess s’ings.

Me:  Well, I’m a big girl, and preparing for a match isn’t something I struggle with.  But I thank you for your concern.

Holly:  So… Celeste is going to talk?

I nod my head with a proud smile on my face as Holly stares back at Delia.  Delia shrugs her shoulders and grunts, obviously very unhappy with this decision.  Holly yawns and sits back down on the bar stool.  She picks up a microphone, and rolls her fingers at the camera crew.  I’m fighting old impulses as I want to grab onto the back of her Lady Luck wig, and smash her face into the granite top of the bar.  I take a seat and point to Holly’s drink as the bartender nods his head, going to make me the same.

Holly:  Hello fans of Sin City Wrestling!  I’m here with Celeste North, and I hope that you don’t just skip over this interview, because we are also being joined by her manager, Delia F’ing Darling!

The fans that have gathered around the bar cheer loudly at the mention of Delia’s name.  She does a Princess Diana wave, morose taking over the once gleeful shine of her smile.  I glare at Holly who leans in to tell me something off of the camera.

Holly:  This is how you get noticed in this business, instead of being the one whose videos get skipped over.  Just roll with it.

Holly smiles once more as she looks back to the camera.  I decide that it’s time to play the game, and I do the same.

Holly:  I was surprised that you haven’t been booked sooner, because when you carried out Delia’s wonderfully orchestrated gasoline bomb attack on Veronica Taylor… I was living.  That gave me life, and I couldn’t help but stand up and scream “YAAAASSSSS!”

Me:  You know, Holly, there’s a funny little thing about that.  See, Delia actually told me that I shouldn’t do that, because it wasn’t very lady like.  She suggested I ruin her make up by splashing water in her face, but lighting a bitch on fire is just so much better, isn’t it?!

Delia:  Maybe if you had actually set her on fire, instead of ruining a cute outfit wi’s gasoline…

Delia lets her voice trail off as she rolls her eyes… at least I assume she rolled her eyes at me, because she’s a real cunt.  I sigh as I turn to her, only to get the innocent act from her.  I shake my head as I turned back to Holly.

Me:  I wanted to make a statement, in a way that lets people know that I mean business.  Ruining someone’s make up might work on a runway, but in a wrestling ring, you have to be a little more creative.  I could have come back and attacked Roxi Johnson to stake my claim at the Bombshell Roulette Championship.  I could have smacked Melody Grace over the head with a steel chair, and made some stupid speech about how I’m the rightful heir to the Bombshell Internet Championship.  I could have broken Crystal Millar’s leg inside of the ring, but where the fuck is the creativity in that?  I didn’t come back to meet the standards of Sin City Wrestling.  I came back to exceed them.

Holly:  That’s interesting coming from somebody who is a hashtag Nobody.

Me:  Was.  I’ve got the full blessing from both Tim Staggs and Alexis Edwards to fully apply myself, with no hard feelings.

Holly holds a finger up to stop me from proceeding.  I know exactly where this is going…

Holly:  It’s funny that you bring up Tim Staggs, because…

Me:  … because I’m not talking about him right now.  I’m not talking about Delia Darling.  I’m talking about me, and my plans for Sin City Wrestling, and the active Bombshells who are affected by it.  If you want to talk about Tim Staggs, why don’t you act like you care, and go interview him at home.  He has nothing to do with what is going on right now.

Holly:  Good gawd gurl, getta grip… damn…

I stare at her, and this time it’s much harder not to slam her face into the bar.  I find it in me to resist once again, forcing a happy smile onto my face, just the way that Delia taught me to do.  I blink a couple of times before continuing.

Me:  Nothing about me is generic.  Nothing about me is cliche.  I am the daughter of a rock goddess and a punk superstar.  I am a practicing witch.  I’m more comfortable in a mosh pit than a formal dinner party.  I don’t confine my thoughts inside of a small box.  I believe that the matriarchs of women’s wrestling would be saddened by what they see today.  Models.  People who are only in the sport to get boyfriends, and to have a presence on social media.  Twitter is for the times when you’re bored on a layover, or you can’t sleep, and you feel like stirring up a little shit.  It’s not for a play-by-play of your life.  No one cares who you slept with last night, or how big of a shit you took.

Holly:  That seems to be a popular trend, but you can’t argue with the results.

Me: Oh, but I can, actually.  Take my opponent for this week, Amy Marshall, as an example.  I know I’m facing her, and I’ve given her a bit of trouble in the past, but I respect the hell out of her.  Even if the feeling isn’t returned, She is, and will always be, a role model for me.

Delia:  Ugh!

Holly:  Eww…

Me:  She is not inhibited by defined roles of sexuality imposed upon women by patriarchal society.  She is constantly a victim for “slut shaming” because she performs and distributes adult films that those who shame her, are first in line to purchase.  She’s fucking punk rock, because she flips off those who hate on her.  That is what we need in this industry.  She doesn’t spend time on Twitter, responding to every hateful statement that bitches like you make to her.  Instead, she’s busy snatching honors, wearing titles, and making sure that you know exactly who the fuck Amy Marshall is.

Holly and Delia both look stunned by this as they stare at me.  I shouldn’t feel so happy that I got them to shut the fuck up, but I am.  However, Holly does have a question that I’m not really prepared for.

Holly:  What about her affiliation with Jessie Salco?

Me:  Jessie is a finicky person.  She is inconsistent in her beliefs.  I cannot get behind that, but at the same time, I’m not going to fault Amy for finding common ground with Jessie.  For all intensive purposes, Jessie and I should be friends.  Those inconsistencies happened to affect a dear friend of mine.  I will say that she’d better leave her fucking nose out of this match, because there will be problems if not.  That goes for anybody who ever decides to stick their tits in my business.

I’m not very good at holding back and maintaining my composure, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that the surrounding fans gasp at my comment.  I turn around, because they’re in a fucking casino.  It’s not exactly the most moral place in San Bernardino...

Holly:  I’m sorry, but I do have one last question for you.  Usually when people are facing someone, they tear them to shreds.  You’ve only defended your opponent.

Me:  And that’s my right.  I respect Amy.  I like her.  I’m a fan of her work, in both industries.  I bought the Amy Marshall t-shirt and poster set from the merch shop when it first came out.  I even did a pink mohawk once.  I’m a fan, and I always will be.  But I have to say… my personal feelings won’t play a part in our match.  I am not going to fangirl out and let her kick my ass.  I came back for a reason, and if I have to go through my favorite SCW Bombshell of all time, then so be it.  It only goes to show that I mean business.  I’m not here to put people over.  I’m not here to feel sorry for myself, and call myself a Nobody.  I’m here to break the mold of the standard, or “basic” Bombshell.  Title or no title, I’m going to go out there and make the greats proud of what they’ve helped to create.  Every match will get my one hundred percent.  Whether I like you, or whether I hate you, I’m going to bring everything I’ve got to the ring.  Legend or rookie, you will see my best.

Delia groans as she looks down at her watch.  Holly looks over to Delia, who shows the time, and Holly clears her throat.

Holly:  We’re just about out of time, because girl can talk!  Is there anything else you want to say to Amy?

Me:  Good luck.  May the best woman win, Amy.  Sunday can’t come soon enough, and as much as I’d like to return and beat the fuck out of someone like Veronica Taylor, I’m happy to be back, and I’m honored that my return match is against you.

Holly:  You heard it here, first.  Climax Control is coming at you live from Coussoulis Arena, right here in San Bernardino, California!

Holly waves to the camera, and I do the same.  The camera’s shut off, and the party gets turned up inside of the casino…  As in, that’s the end… Stop staring now.  You’re making this awkward…    

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Don't Act Like You Care
The Story of Anti-Social Superstar, Jared O'Keefe

Motherfuck the rules.  That's the attitude that I like to have.  No, it's the attitude that I gotta have in this life.

I'm no better than you.  You're no better than me.  The difference is that I don't pretend to be better than you.  I got a ninth grade education cause my pops thought it was a wicked cool idea to make me pay rent at fourteen years old.  Fuckin' cool, right?  Yeah, so I ain't as smart as some people.  I don't talk like a fuckin' poet, and I ain't as smooth as some people.  Ma left us cause my dad was a fuckin' asshole.  That's probably why I ain't such a great dad to my kids.  Hell, I don't know how many kids I got, but the ones I do know about, I ain't been the best to.

My oldest is from the love of my life.  I will never get over Crystalline North.  How she used to treat me like some Northern gentleman, no matter how many fucks I dropped in any given sentence.  How we used to sit back, her resting on my shoulder, while I got the old Gibson in my hand, strumming some simple chords, while she made up some nice sounding words.  Even if none of it made sense, we understood...

We cut in to see the image of a much younger Crystalline North, and Jared O'Keefe, sitting down in front of an old video recorder, with a fire burning in the fireplace behind them.  Jared strums away at the guitar, and despite his well known presence in the punk rock scene, the soft rock sound is almost mesmerizing, and only outdone by the angelic voice of Crystalline rings in.

Crystalline:  Will she come, or will she go?  It's this feeling, I don't know-oh.  Is it wrong or is it right?  By your bong's early... light...

Jared:  Good one, babe.

Crystalline:  Breathe her in, and breathe her out.  Is this what love is all about?  Eyes as bright as the big blue sky.  By your bong's early... light...

Without missing a beat, Jared leans in and kisses Crystalline.  Though it would seem that it would only last a few seconds, the two lovebirds continue to kiss, as he strums softly on his guitar.

I never wanted to be a dick like my old man was, so I tried to be a good dad to my daughter.  I wasn't, but I tried.  I never made her give up her education.  I never told her not to hang out with her fairy friends.  If she was gonna get fucked up on something, her old man was gonna get fucked up on it too.  Looking back, I failed even worse than pops did with me.  If I had to name my biggest failure, it would be parenthood.  The rest of my kids are better off not knowing me.  Celeste could have been a somebody in this world, but instead, she's following in her father's footsteps in being a real nobody.  Instead of giving her freedom, I gave her an addiction that took years to get over for her, and one that I'm still not over all the way.  I gave her abandonment issues when I was so heartbroken by what he ma did to me and I couldn't look at her for years.  I gave her an easy way out of workin' hard, cause I never worked hard after I moved out from under the old man's roof.  The fact that her pansy ass boyfriend is ten years older than her tells me that I gave her some pretty messed up daddy issues cause I didn't hug her enough er somethin'.

With the same video recorder, twenty years later, we come inside of a dilapidated apartment.  The smoke stained wallpaper looks like it is slightly peeling from the walls as it curls outward.  The hardwood floor is covered in dirt and ashes.  Everything looks to be a mess, except a somewhat clean looking Celeste, in her late teens.  Celeste is wearing a Deftone's t-shirt, and skinny jeans with a wallet chain hanging from her belt look.  Her hair is dyed black, and her make up is much more harsh than it is today.  She glares up at the camera, as Jared speaks from behind it.

Jared:  Hey hunny bunny.  You excited to spend the weekend with ya pops in his home town?

Celeste:  When I arrived in Boston?  The whole city smelled like beer pisses and reuben sandwiches.  So, no.  No, I'm not looking forward to spending an entire fourty-eight hours here.  Give me drugs, like ten minutes ago...

Jared:  You know daddy is in recovery, princess.

Celeste laughs like he's just told her a joke.  She rolls her eyes as she waits for the punchline, only it never comes.  She sighs as she reaches into her pocket, pulling out a toothpick to chew on as she stims.

Celeste:  For, what?  The ninety-ninth time?  Please...  We're not all that stupid.  You've got to have something lying around here.  It looks like a crack dealers apartment, except with many more pizza box decorations everywhere.

Jared  Gee, thanks for having faith in ya old man.  Startin' to sound just like ya ma, if I'm being honest.

Celeste:  Shut up, you Mick bastard!  I do not sound like that crazy Wiccan bag lady!  I believe in God, now.  But not your Catholic God, the one where people speak like retards, and flop up and down on their stomachs like fish in the aisles, and cry.  Yeah, that God...

Even Jared can't help but laugh out loud, despite having just been hurt by his daughter, even in the same sentence.  His laughter quickly fades.

Celeste: I don't know much about the Bible, but that's not going to stop me from spouting off the three passages I do know to fit my current agenda.  That's right, I'm a real Christian!

Jared:  I got some emergency green in the top drawer of the dresser... knock ya'self out.  I guess I'll go set up the fouton er somethin'.

Celeste:  No, that won't be necessary.  I'll set up hotel accomodations later, because not even I could stay the night here, and I've slept in dumpsters outside of bars after shows...

"I thought about writin' a song about how I failed my children, but I'm not ready to go Southern Punk yet.  I still feel like I got a couple years in the limelight before I flush my career down the shitter.  I just sit back and think to myself... how did it all come to this?  How did I wind up becoming a Punk Rock sensation?  How did I wind up married to the most famous female vocalist of all time, with a kid that I actually spent time with?  How did my life get so good, and then get so bad?  I brought that shit on myself, I know... but how?  I could blame the drugs, or blame it on bein' a man, or bein' under too much pressure, or havin' a middle school education, or a hundred other things, but the truth is that there's somethin' inside of me that wrecks everything and everyone around me.  It all comes down to me, and I gotta fix it.  But, until then, my new album comes out April 18th, and you better believe I'm gonna be playin' every dive bar and shit club across the country, all the way up to CBGB's in Manhattan.  Maybe in that time away, I'll be able to figure it all out.  I might come back stronger and more determined than ever.  Or, I might come back, havin' fathered a kid in every state.  Either one would be wicked cool, bro..."



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Clear My Mind
#NP "Wings of a Butterfly" by H.I.M.
Long Beach, California... or Long Island, New York?!?


Things have been so crazy lately.  Our petition has really taken off for the Bombshells, but it's been made crystal fucking clear that no one cares about the Bombshells anymore.  The fans get up for piss breaks during anything Bombshell, unless it has Mikah being a bitch, or having a kind hearted playful moment with that little scamp, Despayre.  Yeah, in case you can't hear the sarcasm dripping from my tongue, that was meant to sound bitchy, not endearing.  Who does that?  Walking around on their high horse, waving their blonde hair around, and their pretty clothes, making snide comments to everyone, and then melts at the sight of a mentally unstable man child hugging on to a teddy bear?  Huh?  What's that?  No one?  So this hasn't been done before?  Hm?  Hm?  Oh, right, Delia Darling wore that suit over a year ago, ha ha... silly me.  I guess every Ice Queen has one soft spot guaranteed to melt their hearts.  Mine is... like I'm going to tell you...

Even Delia signed our petition.  Even Jessie Salco and I put aside our differences for a minute so that we could fight the many injustices going on.  Erik Staggs turned white as a ghost tonight during our little sit down.  Shit is serious!  But, since it doesn't involve us berating the crowd, or one another, no one cares.  No one cares that all but five current Bombshell roster members are ready to walk out that door, and picket the shit out of Sin City Wrestling as soon as My Bloody Valentine 2 starts!  Again, it's serious, but nobody cares.  At first, I took it personally that no one paid attention to me, but this is about way more than me.  Every big name on our roster signed on for this.  The Bombshell Tag Champions, and most of the Bombshell Roulette challengers in the six pack challenge have signed on.  Again, all but five Bombshells are signed on for this.  And still, no one cares!  Sad.  Fucking sad...

Of course, Alexis Edwards is the talk of the Bombshell Division.  She's off picking up on former Nobodies, and whining on Twitter about literally anything and everything.  But, she's got a presence that, I admit, I can be jealous of at times.  It would have helped to get our message out, if she would have signed on.  But, for whatever reason, she's too fucking good for me, or she likes to oppose anything and everything I'm involved with.  Whatever the case is, she refused to sign on, even to show some kind of solidarity for once.  She can say whatever she wants, but I've tried to be close to her.  I've tried to work professionally with her.  I've done everything that I can think of to make things right with her, but the moment I saw my best friend in the entire world cry because this bitch is too self absorbed to pay attention to what is going on with her?  I was done.  Finished.  The only reason I included her in this whole thing is because she is a Bombshell, and her involvement might actually make people pay attention to what is going on.  And... I guess a little part of me was hoping for a second chance with Alexis.  Well, more like a twelth chance, but let's not split hairs here.  If Jessie and I can call a temporary truce, then Alexis should be able to sign a fucking piece of paper.  Just saying.

And to top this all off, Chad and I have been on some weird sort of disconnect lately.  I mean, I was basically done with him, but I had him by the balls.  I thought it would be so fun to mess with him, but lately, even that's been boring.  He doesn't fight it anymore, and I can tell that his head just isn't in it anymore.  It's almost like he's got someone else on his mind.  He never goes out, so I can't think of who that could be.  He just sits at home, being a lazy bastard, so unless it's the butch Domino's girl, I can't see him having any kind of contact with anyone.  It's just weird.

And then, there's the whole thing going on with Tim.  He's trying to go at it without the Xanax, and I have to give him credit for that.  It's not easy, but he's doing it.  He even talked to Alexis earlier tonight.  She probably assumed he was still on the drugs, but he was just so distant to her to show her how it feels.  But, I can tell that this thing with Grimm has been bothering him.  Now that he knows Grimm isn't done with him, and this Belladonna chick is coming after him since Grimm can't touch him, he's just been edgy.  I told him that me and mama have him protected, and the nightmares he's been having aren't because of Grimm, but because of the damage done to his psyche.

Yeah, there's just so much going on. and I've been so out of it lately, I didn't even notice that Chad booked the wrong fucking flight.  His middle name is Einstein, obviously, because I was supposed to fly out to Long Beach from my mom's family reunion in Arkansas, because I've been so fucking sick of driving, but I wound up on the other side of the damned country!  Yeah... But, can I really claim to be that much more with it, when I got on the plane without checking my ticket?  I was so consumed with what was going on in my own head that I didn't pay attention.  That world tour really got to me, I guess, where city names just blur together, and become nothing more than a number.

So, I'm standing in front of the window of the fairly small airport, looking out at what appears to be a fucking field, with the New York skyline visible off in the very far distance.  I can't believe it.  No joke.  This... actually happened.  Once the disbelief wears off, anger hits me like a freight train, and I shriek.  Part of me wants to grab my cheeks and go at it Kevin McAllister style, but it's the wrong airport, so I settle for stomping around like an angry child.  I fling my duffel bag to the ground as I kick it across the lobby, causing a woman and her young child to gasp in shock.  I'm seeing red, so I literally walk over to the kid and rip his sucker from his mouth and throw it to the ground, crushing it with my heel.  I look to his mother and growl at her.

Me:  Don't you know that high fructose corn syrup is the number one most deadly food?  Why don't you just open up one of his veins and shoot him up with some beef lard?  Oh, of just sucker punch him as hard as you can in his chest?  You're shit!  Shit, lady!  SHIT!

Once I've made someone feel bad, my mission is complete and I storm back over to the window, staring out at the abysmal view.  I see my own reflection in the window, and as I kneel down on the chair, resting one arm on the back of the chair, I can see how red my face is.  I dial up Chad's number, and place the phone to my ear.  I shake with anger as I wait for him to answer.

Chad:  Hey, honey.  How was your flight?

I am so ready to tear him a new asshole right about now.  Oh, get ready for it.

Me:  Ohhh... you know.  It was a flight.  I slept a lot, ate some crappy food, watched part of some movie with a chick and a guy who love each other, but are too afraid to admit it...

Chad:  That's... good?

Me:  Yeah, it was.  It gave me time to think, and unwind, and... YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!  Goddess, you're such a dumbass!

Chad's voice comes out as a quick, light squeak as he tries to adjust to that mindfuck.  He doesn't know what to say, or where this change in attitude comes from.

Me:  So, I'm eating my soy "chicken" a la king, watching the lame chick flick, when I notice New York... FUCKING NEW YORK... is right underneath me!  Yeah, not WeHo, not Venice Beach... NEW... YORK!  New York.

Chad:  Um... aren't you booked this show?  I thought you wanted to get there early, and.

Me:  Uh, yeah!  I did want to get there early, but guess what?  I'm on the other side of the country.  Guess what, Sherlock?  I don't compete outside of the Pacific or Mountain time zone unless I'm on a tour.  So, what would confuse you to the point that you would send me to New York?

There is another pause, followed by whispers of "Not now." and a light shushing sound that he hopes I won't notice.

Chad:  In my defense, Long Beach, and Long Island are pretty easy to get mixed up.

Me:  How?!  They are on totally different sides of the country!  Not to mention, by fundamental English definitions, a beach and an island are not the same thing!

Chad:  An island has a beach!  Watch Gilligan's Island before you come at me with your bullshit logic!  

I'm literally gobsmacked.  I don't even know how to come back to that one as I slap my forehead.  I look around me, seeing the woman I yelled at moments ago, talking with a security guard and pointing at me.  I walk across the lobby quickly, picking up my bag as I walk out of the terminal.

Chad:  Instead of having me book your flights, why don't you do it yourself?  I'm not your slave, and it's about time that you realize that.

Me:  That's it!  Pack your bags and go back to whatever project you crawled out of before I picked your sorry ass up.  We... are done.  Understood?

I don't even give him the chance to answer as I hang the phone up.  Beyond finished at this point.  I look around at everything, and all I see is a few cars sitting outside in the lot, and a taxi driver standing outside of his cab.  He's like Indian or whatever.  Foreign, stereotypical New York taxi driver, and as I approach him, I swear, he's wearing a name badge that says his name is Mohinder.  I'd have made a Heroes reference, but I'm far too man.  He opens the door for me and I jump inside, slamming it behind me as I put my bag in my lap.  He climbs inside the drivers door, and closes it behind him as the snow falls all around us.  The lonely light above us reflects off of the melting snowflakes in the dark curls of his hair as he looks back at me.

Driver:Where to, miss?

I think long and hard about it.  Do I want to go back home to my infuriating boyfriend?  Fuck no!  I look right at him as a half smile comes across my face.  I lean forward and mutter just one word...

Me:  Boston...

Like, to go see my dad.  I gently toss my bag to the side as I lean back in my seat, ready to enjoy the ride.  I lace my fingers together behind my head, already daydreaming about what it will be like when I get there, seeing my dad after being away for so long.  I take a deep breath and sigh it out slowly, waiting for the car to set itself in motion, when the driver clears his throat.

Driver:  I don't go that far, miss.

Me:  Oh...

I purse my lips together as I think about it.  I usually just tell someone where I want to go, and they take me, so... I'm not really sure what to do here.

Me:  Okay... So, how far do you go?

Driver:  Any part of New York City, the suburbs... New Jersey if you tip well enough.

Me:  Take me to the edge of New York City, where I can find a way to Boston...

I lean back in my seat with a look of satisfaction.  Yeah, the whole fingers laced behind the head, and sighing bit as well.  This time, the driver begins driving, though he looks kind of annoyed.  This is going to be one long fucking drive across New York City...



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Even The Odds
Never Saw This Coming... Did Ya?


There is a screen of silky smoke waving throughout the limousine, as laughter rings from within.  Crystalline North is seen sitting along the back row, with three other women around her, with glasses of red wine in their hands.  One woman appears to be older than Crystalline, long locks of gray hair, wavy and wild as it cascades down her shoulders.  The other two are younger, a raven haired woman who looks to be only a few years younger, and a ginger woman who looks to be half her age, at most.  They are all dressed in black, looking toward what appears to be an altar, adorned with crystals of various types, candles, and a pentagram drawn in a red chalky material, most likely brick.  The smoke comes from a bowl of sage burning in the center.  Crystalline takes a deep breath as the others continue to laugh almost uncontrollably.

Crystalline:  I hate to be a real stick in the mud, sisters, but... do you really think it's wise to use our powers for a laugh?  Seems kinda, I don't know... wrong.

The gray haired woman leans forward, still laughing as she rests the stem of her wine glass on her knee.  She stops laughing only long enough to respond, but her voice still shows off her jovial mood.

Agatha:  Crys, baby... when are you gonna let go of that Pentacostal outlook on religion?  Gaia wouldn't give us a sense of humor if she didn't 'spect us to use it once in a while.  It's not all fire and brimstone punishment, so why must you be so serious all the time?

Raven:  The only punishment comes from our own actions.  Besides, what's the use of having the power we have if we can't cut loose?

The raven haired woman cracks a smile at Crystalline as she leans over with a golden spoon, stirring a small bowl in the center of the altar, closing her eyes as she tries thinking of something.  A hush comes over the circle as they look at Raven.  She opens her grey eyes and looks around at her sisters, an almost grim look on her face as she taps the edge of the spoon against the bowl, and places it face down next to it.  Everyone takes a deep breath as Thistle grabs onto her mother's hand, smiling gently as if having a quick and silent conversation with her.

Raven:  Will my baby ever learn to perfect a love spell that will help Johnny Depp fall in love with her, and give me a grandbaby...?  Just so I can steal him away after?

Thistle's pale jaw falls open as she gently slaps her mother's arm, as the four ladies crack up into laughter once more.  Crystalline's laughter doesn't last very long as she downs the rest of the wine in her glass, before pouring another.  Raven picks up a candle and holds it gently above the bowl of liquid.  Her hand shakes, while the true intention of her question remains pure.  Her daughter's wolf-like eyes almost seem to glow in the light as she stares intently at the bowl.  Finally, a wind comes from nowhere, blowing the flame almost completely out.  Once the wind ceases, the women look down into the bowl to see a perfectly sculpted wax image depicting a swaddled baby held tightly against a mother's bosom.  As the image floats to the side, the reflection on the water shows Thistle, holding the baby close to her, as an unknown man with a beard and neatly styled hair walks up to them, wrapping his arm around her, and the laughter turns to a warm hearted reception.  Raven hugs her daughter closely before picking the small wax piece from the water, and holding onto it firmly.

Thistle:  Okay, my turn now... This is gonna be real good.

Thistle holds the candle with both hands, firmly, as she looks right at Crystalline.  She concentrates hard on her question, as her bright red lips part into a half smirk.

Thistle:  Will Celeste get her act together, so we can raise kids together?

Raven: Thistle?!

Thistle:  Oh come on, mom.  We was all thinking it.  Come on y'all, back me up her.

Crystalline:  Goddess knows I was, sweety!

Another roar of laughter comes across the four ladies, before a sharp breeze blows through the limo, blowing every candle out in the process.  Embers of burning sage whirl around in an eerily slow manner, as the water begins to glow.  The image coming through is simply.  Celeste is lying on the cold ground, a blue aura around her dissipating as she gasps for breath.  Fear is written across her face as she crawls across the snowy ground, gripping onto it with everything she has.  One of her fingernails snaps off as we can hear her cry off in the distance.

Baba Yaga:  Your daughter's undoing is only a matter of time.  She will find herself on death's doorstep, sooner rather than later.  Not that I owe a kindness to a menial hedge witch such as yourself, but consider this a favor...

Baba Yaga's image comes across the liquid in the bowl, and she is hunched over Celeste.  Her fingers tangle in the back of Celeste's hair, and she is quickly dragged across the ground as Celeste's scream rings through the circle's ears, freezing them all in place.  Celeste's blood stains the snow, and the pieces of her fingernails stick out before the bowl tips itself over, turning to blood as it crawls toward Crystalline as she shrieks.  Like a hand, it threatens to choke the life out of her as Thistle crawls back in her mom's arms, much like a small child, shrieking loudest of them all as she points.

Thistle:  What the Holy FUCK is that?!

Raven  Water?  Or blood?  We need to get out of here, DRIVER!!!

Crystalline watches as the blood evaporates, but not after leaving an ash covered print on her bare ankle.  She takes a deep breath, a bit of sweat coming from her brow as she looks over to Agatha.  Agatha's boney face drains of all color, as she gives a simple nod of her head.

Crystalline:  How is that possible?  She's couldn't possibly still be alive, for real...

Raven:  Who?  Because that looked pretty fucking alive to me!

Thistle:  Was there something in that sage, because I can't even...

Agatha:  Baba Yaga transcends the deepest depths of the craft, so deep that she is the pit of black sourcery.  Any dark craft was perfected by Baba Yaga, and all that is dark since, comes from the witch of the Black Woods.

Crystalline looks down at the broken pentagram on the table, having been dissolved by the spilled water.  Her breaths pick up as she tries to figure out why her daughter is the target of the most powerful witch to ever walk the earth.  She picks up a handset phone to her side, and pressed a single button.

Crystalline:  Jackson?  I need you to make the next possible legal U-Turn, and take me back to the airport.  Thanks.

The calm in her voice is very deceiving as she places the receiver back on the hook.  She takes a few very deep breaths as she looks around to her sisters, who all have a look that screams "Oh hell no, girl!"  She sighs and shakes her head as she feels the vehicle cut quickly to the left as it makes a sharp U-Turn.


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Witchy Woman
#NP "Cupid Carries a Gun" by Marilyn Manson
Salem, Massachusetts



So I got this match coming up against Jenny Tuck.  Alexis, of all people texted me to tell me about it.  I told her I was on my way back a little early, and that we could have some kind of talk.  It's probably some kind of break up talk, like "We're never going to be best friends ever, C.  You're such a bitch and I hate you.  You always blame me for (insert cunty, condescending situation she's made up in her head here) and I'm so innocent, so it couldn't possibly be my fault I'm so miserable all the time."  Had that talk like twenty times, but if it gives her some kind of closure, and gets her off my nutsack, then I guess we'll have it again.  But, in the meantime, I decided it might be kinda cool to stop off in Salem.  It might be why some visit the Lincoln Memorial, or a Holocaust museum.  A reminder that I am of a persecuted people, because in this day in age, everyone is a victim.  But if I'm going to be a victim, I'm going to be an educated victim.

I'm actually kind of disappointed to see that it's basically just some shitty, semi modern town.  It looks like any other New England small town, run down, and kinda dilapidated.  But there is a charm to it, and no, I'm not talking about the fact that literally, I'm looking at a woman who looks just like Elliot's mom from E.T. and expecting Sheri Moon Zombie to come around the corner looking like the Antichrist Mother Mary... Haven't seen Lords of Salem?  You suck... Anyway, it looks a lot like it does in the movie.  I think the people are kind of stuck back in the 70's, and there's lots of Pagan shops spread around.  The West Coast in me wants to complain about the lack of, well, anything hip and trendy to make fun of, but it actually is kind of nice.  Oh!  There's a Starbucks.  Perfect place to make fun of people.  I start to walk toward it when I feel like something is pulling me away.  I turn slightly, and I can see an old woman, in black haggard style clothes, standing next to a corroded brick building.  I walk toward her, hearing in my head a voice.  The voice is old and feminine, but it calls to me, beckoning me closer. Soon enough, I can't hear anything but that.  The scarf over my head, keeping me warm in the frosty evening, blows softly in the wind as the woman hums in a deep tone.  I step out into the street, just in time to hear the sound of tires squealing to a halt.  A horn blares at me as I slowly step back onto the sidewalk, staring at the man, who is clearly from Boston.

Man:  Ey ya cunt bag!  Watch where ya goin'!  Whatcha got a death wish er somethin'?

I flip him the bird in a calm, California bitch manner.  He continues to spew vulgarities at me as he rolls his window back up and speeds off.  I look back over to the haggard woman, but she's not there anymore.  I place my earbud back into my ear and crank my music as I look both ways.  Crossing the street, I walk over to the Starbucks that the woman was standing in front of, and I walk inside.  Hipsters, hipsters, everywhere.  So much flannel and beard and skull caps, I can't even take it.  I walk right up to the register, and realize there's so many different ways to mask the shitty dirt taste of coffee that I never took the time to appreciate.  As I read over my options, an overly perky bald girl walks up to the register, and talks, but I don't hear her thanks to Marilyn Manson blaring in my ears.

Me:  Venti soy mocha latte with extra mocha sauce.

I don't even wait for a total, because I can't hear her anyway, and I pull out my credit card.  I swipe it, and step to the side as I look around.  I feel like I'm in a sea of pseudo sexuality and angst fueled by caffeine and Adele singles as I stare a piece of cheesecake in the raspberry white chocolate chip face.  My mouth salivates, but being vegan makes it impossible to give in.  Like, I'll be sick for days, so I turn away and look out of the window to see the sun setting behind the woman.  She has a hood over her head, and people pass her as if she weren't even there.  Am I going insane?  Am I?  Oh shit, I can feel someone poking me in my back.  I turn around to ease my mind, when I'm met with the creepy bald chick again.  She mouths something, but I just take my coffee, and put a few bills into the tip jar.  I take a sip and walk outside where I look to see the woman is gone again.  Yeah, I must be going crazy.  I pull my scarf tighter as I walk down the street, not sure where I'm going, but it has to be better than where I'm at now.

After walking for a while, I find my way to the Salem Willows park.  It's getting dark, and the yuppies walking their ridiculously small or large dogs with coats that look like they cost more than my entire outfit, slowly begin to thin out, and the shadier characters begin to file in.  I guess that's why I feel like I fit in better.  The junkies, thieves, homeless, and general ruffians walk around, in search of their next fix.  Neo Nazi punks walk around with baseball bats, running into the Neo Skinheads with pink laces on their boots.  One wouldn't be able to tell the difference between them, aside from their shoe laces, yet they are far from the same.  They beat the shit out of each other, but no one in the park pays any kind of attention.  I figure it's best I don't either, and I walk along the path, going deeper into the park.  The willow trees offer a calm solace as I move along the path.  I remove my headphones, and the sound of the pinks versus the swats seems to fade out, as the humming picks back up again.  It seems like it's coming from all around me.

"Celeste?"

"... Celeste..."

......Celeste..."

My name is whispered from all around me, and it sounds like Ursula from Little Mermaid almost.  I look around, and I see nothing. As I walk along the path, I begin to see the beach, and the gravel on the bank.  at the edge of the water, I see her again.  The darkness seems to creep upon us, covering her in even more mystery.  I walk closer, even as the wind blows hard, trying to keep me back.  I try to swim through it, but to no avail.

Teen Girl:  Death awaits you.  Walking along the gallows, the daughter of Mary Johnson, you will meet the same fate!

The girl pulls out a Tarot death card and tucks it in my front pocket, patting my boob before whispering in my ear.

Teen Girl:  Don't go to her, for she is death.

Me:  For fucks sake, lady... the Death card represents new beginnings.  It's a good thing.  Why don't you read that manual that comes with the starter deck you got from Spencer's?

I pull the card out and shove it back into her chest.  I shake my head, expecting to see nothing once more, but this time I'm wrong.  There she stands.  I take a step closer to her, and the wind blows the scarf off of my head, and my hair waves behind me as the teen girl laughs behind me.

Teen Girl:  I told you...  She's the beginning, and the end.  She's way more powerful than you could ever know.  You would be best to do whatever she says.

I'm so generous with the bird tonight, as I throw it back at her, double time.  She laughs as I walk along.  As I get closer, I see the water bubbling around her as if it were the black fires of Christian Hell itself.  The smell of rotting meat should turn me away, but the lullaby lures me closer.  As I get close to her, I see that she has a staff in her hand with the skull of a large bird on top of it.  She reaches into her cloak, and she pulls out the shiniest red apple I've ever seen in my life.

Woman:  I've come with a peace offering, young North.

Me:  Peace offering?  For what?  Do I know you?

Woman: I'm afraid if anyone is at a loss of information, it would be me.  You've heard all about me, but I know very little of you.

I'm pretty sure I've never met the witch from Brave before, so I'm at a real loss here.  I scratch my head as I'm overcome by the warmth coming from the boiling tar beneath her.  I look down to see a snake dart out from the water, whipping its body around as it passes me.  It is followed by another, and another, and they just keep coming.

Me:  You're a dark witch, and a very powerful one at that.  Tell me why I should trust anything you have to say.

Woman:  Trust me, or don't trust me.  It's irrelevant to me.  I've come in peace, to ask but a simple favor.  In return, you and your mother will be safe.

Me:  Yeah, you clearly don't know me, because threatening me and or my mother is not the way to get me to cooperate.

I reach into my pocket to pull out a small satchel.  Rosemary, dill, sage, and clove, ground together into a dust, and I throw it at her as I open my mouth to speak, however, the wind simply blows it back into my face.  I close my eyes and turn to the side, sputtering as she simply chuckles.

Woman:  You have the nerve to speak of threats, as if you even knew what a threat were?  Child, I do hate to repeat myself, and that is why I will not do it again.  Take the peace offering, and give him the child.

She hands me the apple... which is now a fig.  She reaches forward, and her ice cold hand lifts the fruit to my mouth.  I look down at the juicy fruit, as I see the serpents crawling up my body, their tongues flicking, and their eyes glowing yellow.

Serpents:  Eat of the true fruit of knowledge.  Do it.  Do not shame the hag.  Eat it, and know the truth.

Me:  I feel like Eve in the Garden of Evil.  Bitch, tell me who you are, and what child are you talking about?  Mine?  Have her, I didn't even want it to begin with...

Woman:  EAT!

She slaps the back of my hand, burying my face in the fruit.  The taste hits my tongue, and I can't help but chew, lick, and suck like I was Jessie Salco in a @DavesCharacters gangbang.  A real hungry bitch.  It tastes like fig, ice cold water on a blistering hot day, wine, bourbon shooters, sugar, and unicorn jizz, and I can't stop until I'm gnawing at my own fingers.  The moonlight glares off of the white teeth like a Chesshire smile from under her hood.  She pulls back her hood, and her long gray, wavy hair blows lightly in the wind.  Her face looks like a mummy, and her eyes are as dead as Alexis' happiness.  I have never seen this woman a day in my life, but I know her.

Me:  The Black Wood Witch, Baba Yaga...

Baba Yaga:  In the flesh, hedge witch.

I look to the boiling water, and under the water, I see flashes of so many things, I can barely even begin to grasp them all.  They hit me like bolts of lightening, but the serpents hold me in place.  The thunder is her voice.

Baba Yaga:  I've come as a courtesy to your bloodline, to ask you to lower your shield of protection from the Staggs boy.

I see the candy house, and the lederhosen, but the candy turns to human bones.  The lederhosen stays, which is just as scary honestly.  The dark haired children relish in delight as they shove the old hag into the fire, and escape the hut.  Because, you know, burning witches is acceptable.  Dark or not, it doesn't matter, right?  But why should I give up Tim for her sake?

Me:  Why would I give up one of my best friends?

Baba Yaga:  What makes you think he wouldn't be so quick to burn you?  A descendant of Hansel, and Cotton Mather?  Such is not mere coincidence.

I laugh at the idea, no matter how insensitive it might seem.  She's got to be making it up.

Baba Yaga:  He's betrayed you, and doesn't deserve your protection.

I see it.  Plain as day, on the surface of the water, but my brain just can't seem to process it.  I feel the betrayal, but I feel no hatred, or malice, or anger, or sadness.  I simply watch the scene unfold before my eyes, and the hag seems to turn to watch it as well, as if it were the first she'd known of this.  I slowly shake my head, because I am a white witch.  I've made mistakes, and no matter how badly this betrays my trust, I'm not going to give Tim up to her.

Me:  That changes nothing, hag.  I would never give Tim up to someone like you.

The hag dares to laugh in my face.  Her breath smells of decayed flesh, burnt hair, and tar.  I cover my face as the humid breath almost feels suffocating.

Baba Yaga:  You think this is a favor to me?  Oh dear, no...  It is a favor to Brother Grimm, but I can't seem to locate the talismen to dismember it.

Me:  Good luck trying.

Baba Yaga:  I don't need luck, you filthy cur!  I didn't come to you out of desperation.  I didn't offer you knowledge because I am incapable of doing it myself.  You are not a threat.  You are simply a rabid dog that is in my way, leaving me with two options.  Throw the dog a bone, and she fetches me what I want, or I can put the flea ridden bitch out of her misery.  You have shown me that the second option is the way to go.

Baba Yaga raises her staff from the ground, and she begins chanting in, like... some other language.  It feels ancient, and grimey.  The serpents surrounding me begin to tighten their grip around me, as I feel fifty different forms of the same haggard laugh coming at me as my veins constrict.  I look down as they raise up my body, to my throat, squeezing the life out of me, literally.  I cough, choking as I try to tug at the snakes, but I'm frozen in place as they cover me.  I look into her dead blue eyes as I feel like my throat is about to give way, and the bones in my neck slowly begin to crackle.  There is a loud ringing in my ears as I can see the veins in my eyes bulging out, and then the lights start to go out as a hard pain throbs in the back of my brain...

Mama:  Nobody calls Peaches a flea ridden bitch but her own loving mama...

Baba's smile goes sour as she turns to see my mom standing there with a stick of burning sage in one hand, and a black powder in one hand.  The ringing takes over as she casts an incantation, just as she blows the dust at me, waving the sage around as a vacuum sucks us up, and I go unconscious.  I thought I was dead, but...



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Business As Usual
#NP "Our Truth" by Lacuna Coil
Homewood Suites; San Bernardino, California


It's one of those days where its cool outside, but only by California standards.  Mid eigthies... you know how it goes.  But, after spending a couple weeks in Boston, and then another couple days with my mom, healing from the attack by Baba Yaga, it's feels kind of warm out.  I put on my swim suit, and head outside to the pool to just relax.  As I'm walking toward the pool, I adjust my black bikini top, and pull up the hood on the back of it, Nobodies style.  I pull my shades down and walk to the gate.  I open it, and set my pool bag down on one of the lounge chairs.  The sun is shining bright this afternoon, and most of the bruising on my skin is gone, so I figure it's a good chance to get just a little bit of sun.  I sit down on the edge of the lounge chair, and pull out a bottle of sun block.  Pouring it into the palms of my hands, I rub them together and then smooth it over my left leg, giving it a delicate shine.  I run it along the right leg next, and then I go to my arms and shoulders.  As I'm looking around at all of the morbidly overweight midwest tourists, I spot an obvious local.  His skin is tattooed and bronzed over despite his big, bold blue eyes.  His goatee is neatly trimmed, not in some sort of hipster way though, and his black hair is slicked back wet.  He's got just the right amount of pudge to his stomach that says "I don't give a fuck, because I'm sexy no matter what" and I'm feeling it.  As a recently single woman on vacation, I look to my back with my bottom lip pushed out.  I grunt a few times as I "try" to reach my back, before I sigh.  He looks over at me and pulls his shades down to block out the sun.  Hook, line, sinker.  He gets out of his lounge chair and starts walking toward me.

Guy:  You need a little help there, sweetheart?

Me:  Why, yes I do... I mean, I'm just not so flexible with my arms, and I can't reach my back.  I'd hate to burn such smooth skin.

Guy:  If you wouldn't mind, I could help you with that.

I give a sweet smile and nod my head as I laugh through my nose.  He grins at me, showing off his silver tooth.  He picks up the bottle of sun block and he steps around me.  He kneels on the lounger, and begins to work it into my skin.

Guy:  I'm Jake, by the way.  I didn't want to be the nameless creep who randomly offers to rub lotion on your skin.

Me:  And I'm Celeste.  I wouldn't want to be the helpless damsel in distress who lets just any guy rub lotion on her back, but we are what we are, right?

He chuckles heartily as he works down my lower back.  There is this very surprisingly unawkward silence between us as he finished up.  Like a true gentleman, he doesn't linger unnecessarily long.  He stands up, and the light hair on his stomach and chest glistens in the sunlight.

Jake:  If you're available, Celeste?  I'd like to take you on a date sometime.  Maybe show you around town while you're here?

Me:  Oh my, do I look like a tourist?  I actually live in Beverly Hills.  

Jake:  Oh, uh... with the tone of your skin, I guess I assumed you were from like Alaska, or somewhere snowy like that.

I look down at my arm, seeing how pale I am, and I can see his point.  By comparison, I look as pale as porcelain.  It is what it is, and I just shrug it off, laughing.

Me:  I'm in town for...

Jake:  The SCW show, no, I know who you are.  Celeste North, the Nobody of the Nobodies.  I just know that you're only in town for a little while, and didn't want to miss my opportunity to take the hottest Bombshell out on a date.

Me:  Hottest?  Do you need your eyes checked?  I'm not the hottest by any means.  I'm pale, possibly the only pair of real breasts in the company, and it shows...  I'm no Jenny Tuck.

Jake looks at me, and a sort of cute blush comes over his cheeks.  He doesn't say anything at first, and I smirk a little from the corner of my lips.

Jake:  Well, that's not really my thing anyway.  I like real women.  Natural women.  The whole stripper model thing just doesn't work for me.  Besides, watching you kick her ass this Sunday is gonna be the best.  I got front row seats to the show.

Me:  First off, who says I'm going to kick her ass?  Don't get me wrong, I'm going to try my very best, but that's not a guarantee.  Secondly, what's wrong with her body?  She paid good money for the boob job, the trainers, the salons, and the boutiques.  I'm not into girls, but she's hot!

Jake looks baffled as I talk nicely about my opponent.  He waits for me to laugh, or give any sign of sarcasm, but I don't.  I just stare back at him over my shoulder as his shades hide the obvious shock in his eyes.  Seriously, if I was a dude, I'd bone her so hard.

Jake:  Aren't you supposed to hate your opponent, and talk all kinds of trash about them?  I'm sure that's exactly what she's going to do to you.

Me:  I'm not good at hating people just because I'm fighting them.  Do I like her?  Meh.  She comes off as stuck up, and conceited, but so does most of the roster.  If I hated stuck up bitches, I'd hate Alexis Edwards.  But I don't.  I love Lexi.  I don't know Jenny.  I hear so much about her, but you can't trust what people say until you've experienced it for yourself.  Could she be a raging cunt wad?  Yeah, she could.  Could she be the nicest person on the planet?  Yeah, she... well, no.  Not from what I've seen.  But no one is perfect.

I stare back as I sigh, and Jake is listening to every word I say, though he's probably put on enough sun screen to last me a year.  I stand up from the lounger and gently nudge my head toward to pool to invite him with me.  He picks up the raft from his seat and meets me at the edge.  Like a true gentleman, he holds onto my hand, while letting me step into the cool water first.

Jake:  I guess I just expected wrestling to be, well... violent.

Me:  Oh, it's going to be violent.  Trust that.  I'm not going to take it easy on my opponent.  But, I'm willing to let it start and end inside of the ring, if she is.  I went to some very heavy extremes with Jessie Salco, but we more or less do hate each other.  I find bullying to be childish, and hazing to be assonine, so I got under her skin to defend someone I thought was my friend.  But, ask Mercedes Vargas just how violent I can get when I beat her twice... Well, that's not a very good example, because I kinda hate her too, but you get where I'm going with this.  It doesn't matter whether I like or hate someone.  I'm still going to be violent in the ring  It's my release, and it's the name of the game.

As we wade further into the pool, the water turns my hair to chocolate colored strings, bobbing in the water.  His bronzed skin presses against mine, as he nods his head.  He helps me into the water, though I'm capable of doing it all on my own.

Me:  I mean, I figure Jenny will underestimate my intelligence by saying stuff like "I bet she's going to call me a whore because I've been a Playboy centerfold" but shit, I'd do the same thing if I had the body.  I'm not bound by some archaic Christian view of sexuality.  If you can get guys to make it rain fifties and hundreds, then get it, girl.  Get it.  I don't see anyone doing that for me, and that's just fine.  I'll dance in the singles at amateur night.  It's not like I need the money anyway.  But I can also see her saying "I bet Celeste is going to say that I'm dumb because I've got big boobs, but I own a huge company."  I don't know what she does, or what kind of company she runs, but she's getting it in more ways than one.  I applaud her.  The only way I will ever call her dumb is if she expects me to be just like these other bitches, dumb and self centered, and unprepared.  Win or lose, I always come correct.  No one will ever say that Celeste North doesn't do her homework.  I once stalked Jessie Salco for a month.  One long, boring fucking month.  But I learned what I needed to about her, and I beat her in the only singles match we've ever had.

Jake is smiling as we sway in the water.  Don't ever say that Celeste North doesn't go above and beyond for the fans.  It's nice as he helps hoist me onto the raft.  The cheap plastic feels weird on my skin, sticking to my wet skin as I slide into place comfortably.  Jake begins gently pulling me around the pool, and for a moment, I feel less like a Nobody, and more like royalty.

Me:  I take my job very seriously, because I need it if I'm ever going to be a Somebody.  A lot of these other girls are established in other companies, but this is it for me.  I don't come with a reputation, in the business.  Do you know what I'm saying?

Jake:  Yeah, I totally get that.  I just never expected this much depth from wrestling.

Me:  Jenny will be in for a fight on Sunday, because we both have something to prove.  She wants to prove that she's worth the hype, and I want to prove why I deserve any hype at all.  I've had a pretty damn good run here so far, and Jenny is the new girl on the block.  The stakes are much higher than we are on the card, and hardly anyone will pay attention, unless they are waiting for one of Jenny's tits to pop out of her top.  But those horny teenage boys, and the sexually curious women in the Bombshell locker room will get an unexpected surprise while waiting for that surprise.  I might even give Keira and Roxi a pair of binoculars to pay close attention.  I've been starting to feel left out with the lack of gold around my waist, and while they're waiting for a free show, they might just get the chance to see how serious I really am about becoming a Somebody.  I'm dead serious...

I nod my head as I look down at Jake.  He's listening as he wades through the pool.  I look toward the camera and wave, letting them know I'm finished with them.  They are probably fading out as I watch the light muscles in Jake's back work as he carries me along the rippling waves of the pool.  I am now in Shangri-La...

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North of Hell
Welcome Home (The Failed Pilot Episode)


Reality TV is the best way to get otherwise unnotable people... noticed.  People who look at least moderately attractive just seem to sizzle under the spotlight.  I should know, because I photograph moderately attractive people for a living.  A little dab of make up, the right lighting, and hours of editing can take any Schmoe and make them look like an A-Lister.  For me?  I'm already damn good looking, so half the work is done for them.  Some guy in Vegas was in talks with Crystalline about a reality show, but she didn't want her chicken bone voodoo displayed on television.  She declined, but I wasn't so easy to break.

Anyway, they decided to shoot things from the perspective of the outsider, and I wasn't about to turn down a promise of millions of dollars and millions of viewers.  If this is done right, I could be on VH1 like Flava Freaking Flav or Bret Michaels.  How rock star would that be?

The cameras are showing up, because they want to see a beautiful reunion between me and Celeste.  The bitch hasn't talked to me for like a month at this point, so I'm god dang struggling to find a way to secure my meal ticket... Alright, I actually love this crazy woman, but if you tell anyone, I'll beat you like a fool.  So, I'm for real with this, and I'm arranging roses by the driveway.  Full on bouquets shaped like hearts, with arrows through them and everything.  They have gay messages and stuff written on them too, so I'm gonna look like a real sweetheart on television.

Everything is coming along nicely as I stand there, waiting for things to get started.  That's when it hits me.  The fountain in the middle of the circular driveway in front of the house needs some rose pedals.  Money shot, baby.  I walk around, gathering up rose pedals from the bouquets as Crystalline comes rushing outside with a smile on her face.  The cameras aim right at her as she comes toward me.

Crystalline:  The limousine is just around the corner.  I can't wait to see the look on her face when she sees all this razzle and dazzle.

She hugs me.  This woman and the hugs.  Everything gets a hug.  One time when I came out of a bout of constipation... she hugged me.  I'm not even joking.  This time, I guess I can understand, so I pat her on the back.  The cameras aim at the gate, and Crystalline steps to the back, letting me stand there all alone.  I look around, and that's when the lump in my throat forms.  Fuck!  She always takes me back, and I always take her back... but what if that doesn't happen this time?  The doubts in my head become my worst enemy as I take a hard gulp, trying to work through it.  The limousine creeps up in what feels like slow motion.  The driver opens the door and steps out, walking like he's got a stick up his ass as he rounds the limo and opens the passanger door.  There it is.  Her hand.  The one with the black iron skull with ruby hearts for eyes.  I take a deep breath, waiting to see the love of my life's face for the first time since she left on the World Tour.  "Pleather and Frills" by Crystalline and some old guy nobody cares about anymore begins playing, or maybe that's just in my head.  I smile weakly, because she is my kryptonite.  The driver helps her out of the car slowly as Crystalline leans in to whisper to me.

Crystalline:  Go get the girl, son.

I take a few steps toward the limo as she turns around.  The wind flutters through her soft wavy locks, and I'm expecting to see that killer smile my girl wears when she looks at me, but...

Me:  Holy FUCK!  What the hell happened to your face, Peaches?

Celeste's face!  It's bruised and cut up like she received a real ass kicking.  But what's worse is that she has that ugly angry look on her face.  The one that makes you sleep with an electric chastity belt at night so that she doesn't castrate you like she did her last boyfriend.  Yeah, that really happened I found out.

Celeste:  What happened to my face?!  Why are you wearing make up like a WeHo prosti-dude?

Me:  You look like shit, babe.  I thought chick wrestlers just ripped each other's clothes off and pulled chunks of hair.  You look like a dude wrestler.

Celeste:  Hey, fuck you, Chad!  What are you even doing here still?  I broke up with you like a month ago.

Me:  No, I broke up with you, but...

Celeste shoves her bag into the driver's chest, and I know I'm going to look like a total pussy whipped bitch on TV, but I'm not about to feel her kick me in  the nuggets.  I cover them and shrink back like a coward.  She points at me as she follows quickly.

Celeste:  Then, you came back at me like "Oh, I screwed some girl while you were away, but I still love you." and I told you to get fucked!  So, maybe you're right, but I denied you, so it's actually worse.

She picks up one of the bouquets and begins bashing me with it.  It's flowers, so it's not that bad, and I smash through it and back pedal a little, but she follows and picks up another one.  Why did I have to get so many of these queer things?!

Celeste:  I want you to go up to MY room, and get YOUR shit and be out of here in an hour!

Me:  Have you seen your house lately?  It will take an hour just to walk to the room.  Can I borrow the golf cart or something?

Celeste:  Hmmm... no!

She knocks me on the ground as I crawl over toward the front door as Crystalline follows after Celeste, talking all calm and sweet like that's going to get through this Banshee's thick skull.

Crystalline:  Now, Peaches... he went through all kinds of trouble to set this up for you.  The flowers, the television show...

Celeste:  Television show?!

Her tone changes completely as she drops the golden colored frame of one of the bouquets, now bare because she's beaten all of the flowers off of it, using my body to do so.  I've got little trickles of blood from the thorns of the roses, but it stings at best.  Celeste catches her breath as a smile comes over her face.  She gently leans down next to me and wraps her arms around me.  This is the point where I feel like I'm the chick in the relationship.  Not cool.

Celeste:  I have low blood sugar.  I'm sorry for overreating, sweetie.

She pulls a tissue from her shirt and begins gently dabbing at the blood on my right cheekbone.  That smile though... I've seen it before, and she's got some serious hell in store for me.  But, as long as we can keep the cameras on us for a while, I might live to see tomorrow.

Crystalline:  Let me go make you bruschetta.  We don't need you tearing up the house because of low blood sugar.

Me:  Normal people don't do that, Crys!  She's...

Before I can go any further, Celeste kisses me so hard that I choke on my words.  Her tongue shoots into my mouth, holding mine down so that I have no chance in communicating at all.  With Crystalline headed inside, and the action hungry cameras surrounding us, I just stop fighting it.  Once she sees I've stopped resisting, she pulls that Slyvester Stallone from Rocky looking face away from mine, and I shudder a little.  She leans in with what the viewers will see as a sweet nothing, but it was a harsh something.

Celeste:  You're going to be bitch du jour, Chadsies.  I say jump, and you don't even ask how high, because you'd better damn well know how high.  Unless you want to go back to your apartment in the projects, of course...

The thing about Celeste is that, once she has even an ounce of power over you, you stand no chance.  And when she makes threats like that, they are anything but empty.  As a matter of fact, there's about fifty thousand unspoken meanings behind that.  She hugs me and gives a girlish squeal before kissing the side of my face as the cameras fade out.

[*Fade*]


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Nobodies and Somebodies
#NP "Never Never" by Korn
Location Undisclosed


So, after spending three weeks with Chad as my own personal bitch, and using lots of mother's witch hazel skin concoctions, I think I look pretty normal again, at least where it's visible.  My back still looks a bit like a motorcyclist tragic accident, but considering the shit I went through at December 2 Dismember last month, I have been doing pretty fucking good.  The hardest part of it all, was going through it without painkillers... like, the good kind I mean.  For a former opiate addict, I figured I should probably stick to over the counter stuff, as sparingly as possible, except the alcohol.  There was plenty of that to get me by.

Things have been so crazy lately, between my injuries, this Brother Grimm bullshit with Tim, and getting humiliated last week on Climax Control by those two brainless twats, Delia and Mercedes.  I would rather have dealt with twice as many injuries, than to deal with the other two.  First off, I've made it no secret that I am Wiccan.  I'm a child of the Earth and moon.  Yes, I cast spells, and dance with other witches in celebration of the different moon cycles, and I believe in Gaia, amongst many other gods and goddesses.  What I have not done up until two weeks ago, is deal with banishing dark forces.  I didn't even think I could do it.  Mama and I came together, and we both did something we never thought possible.  But, with the gift comes responsibility, and even if it didn't, I'll be damned if I'm going to tell Timmy, "Sorry kid, you're on your own."  That's not what friends do.  Hint, hint, Lexi-boo.

The least of my worries, and yet somehow the most angering at the same time, was putting everything I had on the line at December 2 Dismember, being out on a minor leave to be cleared just after Yule... only to not be booked.  I was outraged.  Sure, Lexi was pissing and moaning, but what's new there?  She acts like she's the only one who didn't get any recognition for winning at December 2 Dismember.  Hello, bitch!  I didn't either.  So, I went to Mercedes like a civilized human being... well, mostly.  I told her she should put me in a match, because I was ready.  She couldn't use my injuries as an excuse, because Little Orphan Salco was booked.  She couldn't say that I'm not an established name, because there were others like Sam Marlowe, Traci Patterson, Veronica Taylor, Kate Steele, and Zuri Chastain were all booked, and all five of those examples have done jack shit when you think about it.  Two of them held tag titles, but pft... no one gives a shit about them in either division.  Ask Tim.

So, that left me with one option.  Be forceful.  Yeah, that didn't work either.  I was literally used as a coat rack by a pompous French bitch.  Then, when I tried to fight her, she refused.  I was going to prove that I'm ready to be taken seriously by challenging Delia, but she couldn't be bothered to take me seriously.  I admit, that pissed me off a great deal, and I lost my head.  Every time I tried to attack her out of pure anger, she turned it around on me, slapping me, tripping me through the ropes, and just when I was about to go full on bat shit on her, Mercedes came out and had me escorted from the venue.  It's bullshit.  If I were some other Bombshell, any other Bombshell, I would have been cheered for, admired and praised, not ejected from the arena like a loser.  So, it's safe to say that the past month or so has sucked for me.

But, we're not looking at the past any longer.  None of the Nobodies are.  It's all about the future, baby!  We're sitting in this hotel suite my mom sprung for as a little moral booster, and it's pretty nice.  There's a hot tub with a flat screen television built into the wall, so many couches, like why would anyone need so many?  The softest carpet I've ever walked bare footed on away from home, and not to mention lots of Cristal from room service.  We're having a little party here tonight, with so many masked Nobodies running around.  Lexi was here, but she's probably off in a corner looking up how to be a better Suicide Girl or something.  Connor and Tessa are in the hot tub, with drinks in their hands, yeah, two each... and Tim is sitting on the edge of the hot tub in his swimming trunks, staring out of the window, over the city of Reno.  He just looks so dead inside.  Like, I'm not even joking.  His blue eyes are empty, and I'm not sure if it's from being stalked by fear itself, or if he's too doped up on anxiety meds.  He's always been more observant than he is talkative, but he doesn't seem to be doing either lately.  I walk up to him with a glass of Cristal in my hand, and I gesture toward him to take it.  He does, but he just rests his hands in his lap, holding the glass against his thigh as he nods his head in thanks.  I pull out a pack of cigarettes, and push one out toward him, but he just shakes his head once.  I mouth "Okay?" as I start to turn away, but you know what?  Fuck that.  There is a party going on here, and I'm not going to let my good friend sit there and be miserable while everyone shy of Lexi is having fun around him.  I shed my robe, revealing a black bikini top and torn jean short shorts.  I sit down next to Tim as I take a sip of my own glass, and stare out of the window as I press my shoulder in to Tim's.

Me: Great party, Celeste.  Oh, thanks, I worked really hard on it.  Yeah, I can tell.  Aww, you're so sweet, T-Bone.

Tim:  Hm?  Yeah, it's... fun.  Loads.

Me:  No smart ass comment back?  I'm offended, Timothy.

Tim shrugs his shoulders as he takes in a deep breath, slowly leaning his head against my shoulder.  He reaches up with one hand and rubs the celtic cross around his neck that he'd gotten from his mother.  Even if he hates the bitch, that necklace makes him feel safe.  I lean my head down and rest it on top of his head, ignoring the fact that his hair is kind of going into my mouth.  I try to softly sputter it out, without letting him realize it.  It kind of tastes like coconut... weird.

Tim:  I feel like I'm trapped in a loop, C.  It feels like, just when I think I'm going to be okay, I have a dream, or I feel a cold tickle on the back of my neck, or I hear a deathly whisper, and it all goes back to the beginning.  I don't like these pills, but it's the only thing keeping me from totally losing it.

I want to tell him, in a nice way, to stand up and fight back, but I'm not so good with nice words.  I just nod my head a little as I nuzzle him.  We have a weird chemistry like that, but whatever.  I whisper to him "I know"... and he just closes his eyes, feeling safe for a moment.  My eyes go over to Chad, who is staring daggers at Tim.  Guys are so cute when they get territorial, but it only makes me play it up more, grabbing onto Tim's hand and holding it close to my body.

Tim:  You shouldn't be focusing on me.  You should be having fun at the party.  I'm fine.

Celeste:  Well, I'm not going to just sit there and watch you going through this shit.  You need to get used to having A REAL FRIEND...

I look around as I shout the last part, trying to make sure Alexis heard it.  I'm not even confident that she's in the suite anymore, and many others are looking at me like I'm just a big bitch.  Whatever, if they feel that way, then they must know they're guilty.

Celeste:  Plus, between you and me?  I've been a bit bummed lately, myself.  I don't think I'm going to be table dancing to "Hypnotize" by Biggie Smalls tonight.  I just need to relax for a bit.

Tim:  If you insist...  But, maybe clue your boyfriend in on the fact that we're not screwing, because he either really wants to kill me, or he really wants to fuck me...

LOL!  Hey, it is an intense stare, and I've been confused by it in the same way before.  Though, to be fair, there were times I wasn't sure which one was happening.  I nudge Tim, who softly laughs for the first time in a long time.  This is when I hear a knock at the door.  I look at Chad, but he's too focused on wanting to rip Tim's head off to notice either event.  I scoff as I get up and walk toward the door.  On the way, I lean down and softly speak into Chad's ear.

Me:  If you're not going to get the fucking door, then you're going to go console my friend with cuddle.

Chad:  What the...?  No!

Me:  Bitch, did I stuh-stuh-stuh-stuhhh-s-s-stutter?  Go hold my friend close to your body, and if I don't believe that you're not enjoying it, then you better learn to suck a good dick if you want to get back to Beverly Hills before I burn your shit on my lawn...

I say it so soft and sweet, but he knows I mean every word of it.  He growls as he gets up and walks over toward the hot tub.  He pulls off his black tank top so not to get it wet, like it's a fancy shirt or something.  I watch as he awkardly tries to cuddle Tim, and it's right then that I feel like my bad mood is gone forever.  Then, someone knocks at the door again.  I turn around and fling the door open.

Me:  The music is NOT too loud, because...

Never mind, it's Mz. Holly Wood.  Great... Now, all I need is to bump into Liz Smalls randomly, and then I'll know that the universe is playing a big cosmic joke on me.

Me:  What?

Holly rolls her eyes and pushes past me as she walks right inside.  She sheds her fur trench coat, and flings it over the back of the chair near the door.

Holly:  Hell, if I'm gonna have to deal with this interview, I'm gonna need about three of thooooose, kay?

She points right at the glass in my hand as she walks over toward the ice bucket.  Rather than taking a glass, she just takes the whole bottle.  She wraps her lips around it and tilts her head back as I glare at her almost as wickedly as Chad was staring at Tim.  I'm pretty sure I snarled, because Holly nearly chokes on the champagne.  She leans over, trying to collect herself as she swallows.  She stands back up and wiggles a finger at me.

Holly:  That face, though... Sorry 'bout it.

Me:  I specifically asked for the skeeviest interviewer under employment by SCW.

Holly:  I'm sorry, but Pussy Willow was all booked up.

Holly winks at me, knowing I meant "Stoner" Scott Oliver.  Why... me?  I shake my head as the room seems to come to a stand still, all except for Chad, who is stroking Tim's head, while Tim looks petrified.  It's good for both of them, so I return to the matter at hand.

Me:  No, I probably should have asked for Scott myself, because now I see the error in my words.  Well, I can't get mad at them for actually listening to me for once, now can I?

Holly:  Once?  No, twice.  You bitched about not being booked last week, and King Despy has heard your grievences and shit, and he put you in a big match.  And what you got the nerve to do, hunty?  Cry about it on Twitter, while shaming your sister for doing the exact same thing.

Me:  Oh, bitch... No matter what everyone says about you... you were never the "Nice" Mean Girl, and I'm glad those bitches turned on your fake ass and knocked your front teeth out.  You have got some nerve coming in here, acting like you've ever known a damn thing about me, instead of... oh, I don't know... doing your fucking job?  That's why I wanted the simpleton, because at least he knows to just stand there and hold a microphone in your face while going duhhhhhherrrrrr......

I make the most fucked up, funny retard face I can manage to put on, and it must look pretty ridiculous, because the entire room busts out laughing.

Holly:  Good GAWD girl, getta grip.  No, better yet, let go of the past.  None of us is sweating you, so why are you so obsessed with ripping our heads off?

Me:  Now THERE'S a question I can respect.

I say this very sarcastically, even though I actually kind of mean it.  I pull the bottle out of Holly's hand, and top off my glass before handing it back to her.  I slowly walk off toward a less crowded portion of the room, and sit down on the couch.  I motion for Holly to join me, and she's reluctant.  I can't blame her, of course, because I wouldn't trust me either.  She sits down, keeping a small amount of distance between us as she takes a small sip from the bottle.

Me:  When you ladies denied me joining Mean Girls. I realized just how shallow and narrow minded you guys really were.  I used that negativity to build myself into something.  I found a cause that actually gives me something to care about.  You were all rude to me, and I hate rude people, so I dedicated myself to being everything that you guys are not, while destroying everything that reminds me of you.  That's at the heart of everything for us Nobodies.  To be honest, you bitches inspired us.  You gave us a reason to come together.

Holly:  It's what we do, baby.  Mean Girls, still bringing friends together, almost a year after our implosion.

Me:  Yeah, it's a real shame that you didn't stick around a little bit longer.  You would have had a perfect fit in Mikah.  See, you guys might have inspired us by showing us everything wrong in this company, but it's people like Mikah and Drake Green who keep us going.

Holly starts to say something when she suddenly understands where I'm going with this.  She doesn't like it much, but she at least gives me the courtesy of letting me continue uninterrupted.

Me:  Now, Alexis didn't seem to get that memo when she started being besties with her.  You can't account for intelligence in every member, but we do try to make up for it in violence and bloodshed that somehow always seems to go unnoticed.  I get tired of sounding like a broken fucking record, but I bet we could literally air lift the ring out of the building while blasting "Fuck You" by Cee Lo Green over the speakers, and no one would notice until someone tried to come out to the ring for a match.  Hmmm, I'll have to share that idea with Tim later...

Holly:  You must have a lot of money to take care of those kinds of fines.  How does that make you any different than, say, Mikah or Drake Green?

Me:  Because I don't pull up in fancy cars, wearing fancy clothes, and smelling like fancy baby prostitutes, rubbing my money in everyone's faces.  Truth be told, I'm an heiress to a fortune greater than most of the roster combined, including Drake and Mikah.  But, that doesn't matter in this sport.  At least it shouldn't.  Who cares if you can buy the best trainers and the best bodyguards, and surround yourself with protection.  That only goes to prove how assinine you are.  Have your fame and fortune, but leave it at the curtains, because it doesn't matter inside of the ring.

Holly nods her head, trying to be respectful, but I can tell she wants to ask me something so badly that it's eating her from the inside.  I sigh and nod my head.

Holly:  Mikah has proven to be more than just fame and fortune.  She even beat Delia's longest reign as the World Bombshell Champion.

Me:  That title became worthless when it landed around Delia's waist, regardless of the talent she may or may not have had.  She took a prestigious belt worn by the likes of Misty, Kittie, Raynin, and Vixen, and she wiped her ass with their accomplishments.  She told them exactly how she felt about them, right to their faces.  She paraded around like some kind of celebrity, who just happened to be able to work the ring.  It was never about the title, or the ability.  It was about being famous, and Mikah is a less interesting version of Delia, and yes, somehow that is possible...  So, really, this match is pointless to me.  Ever since Vixen lost the title to Delia, the title has been shit.  No one was worthy of what it was meant to be.  They only try to carry on the legacy of greed and corruption that Delia and the Mean Girls brought to SCW.

Holly:  According to Alexis, you're scared of fighting Mikah.  Is this all just a cover up for that?

Me:  Uh, fuck you.  No, it's not.  Alexis stopped me from bashing Mikah's brains in after costing her a match they had in the bag.  She obviously wanted some sort of immunity for Mikah, so I tried to force her to do it in the Going For the Gold tournament.  She chickened out, because she's afraid of fighting Mikah.  Do I want to fight Mikah?  Hell yes, I do.  I want to bash her face in with any and all blunt objects in existence.  I want to take her down a notch.  Make her fucking choke on a slice of humble pie.  I really want to smother her to death, but my psychiatrist says that's not an option, so I have to do a better job of making it look like an accident.  You see, this whole time, in avoiding facing her, the title has always been in the picture.  For some reason, SCW has a hard on for handing out title shots like Oprah hands out magazine subscriptions and kitchen gadgets.  Seriously, they give them to anyone.  I don't deserve it, and I don't want it.  I have half a mind to throw her over the top rope, and then eliminate myself.

Holly raises her eyesbrows at me in surprise, like she has to ask me if I'm being for real.  She snaps her fingers.

Holly:  You are telling me that you would throw away a chance at the World Bombshell Championship, just like that?

Me:  You're damn straight, I would.  Until that title is around the waist of a real wrestler, I want nothing to do with it.  I'm here to kick asses, and championships are meaningless to me.  So, thanks King Despy.  Thanks for throwing me in the middle of a hen house of bitches crawling from all crevices of the world to get their hands on the Bombshell Championship.  Who knows who will be participating, but according to Twitter, we will be seeing Jessie Salco. Ha!  It's her funeral "hunty".

Holly:  Natalie McKinley also mentioned on Twitter, that she will be taking the opportunity to step over Christian Underwood's ban to participate.

Me:  Yeah... This bitch is going to come in just like the rest of these opportunistic wenches,  She is just another obstacle inside of that ring.  But, don't worry... I think I've got a plan to get through this.

Holly goes to ask what that might be, but I take the bottle of Cristal from her hand, and I put it to my lips, taking the last few gulps down before handing the empty bottle back.  I smile like the true bitch I am, and I walk away from her, mouthing "Enjoy the party..."  I walk back over toward the hot tub, and Tim looks at me desperately.

Tim:  Help me?

I smirk and nod as I crawl along the edge of the enormous hot tub, showing off what I've got in the process.  I snuggle up close to Chad as I slither up his body.  I lean against his ear, and whisper something to him that horrifies him.  I move away, and wrap my hand around a pretend penis, as I jolt the air penis at my mouth, reminding him that he's going to have to get very comfortable with that move unless he obeys every word I say.  He shakes his head before leaning Tim back and kissing him right on the lips.  Everyone in the room cheers and laughs as I take a gracious bow.  Now the party has really started, but you don't want to see how Celeste North and Co party, so...


[*Fade*]