Dear Santa,
I have been a very, very good girl this year, unless you count my actions one month ago against Misty. Otherwise, I poured a lot into being good, playing nice with all the dirty skanks and sluts for as long as I did. I kissed the asses of the fans with autograph signings, and photo ops, and special interviews… shaking hands and kissing babies kinda crap. I did it because that is the duty of a respected champion. That is what a true champion does for their respective company. They fight with back pains to put on a show that is twice as good as usual, just to make sure their ailment isn’t apparent. They tell the doctor to go screw themselves, and they fight with a bandage wrapped around their skull, because it makes them twice as badass. These ungrateful fucking fans expect that, and there I was… ready to give it to them.
Do you know what I did, Santa? I teamed with Misty and gave her the first mark in her Win-Loss record. I showed everyone in one night exactly why I should have been the obvious winner of the Bombshell Championship. The first match in Bombshell history, I beat Fantasia and Misty. Second match, I carried two lazy ass bitches on my back, Allison Summers and Misty, to defeat three women. One, a hardened ring veteran in Fantasia, and another a former operative shrouded in secrecy, but pretty deadly in the ring. A true femme fatale. Then, I entered smack dab in the middle of the Bombshell Championship Gauntlet match, where the greatest threat was Angelica. So I might as well have been first. I went through all of that, fighting my way through every woman involved in the damned match, when Ms. Everybody Loves Me enters LAST! Of course the numbers worked in her favor, and after a long fight, she got lucky and got the three count on me.
In short, I have beaten her twice and carried her to her first victory, while she only pinned me once, under very unfair circumstances. Through all of that, I remained a very, very good girl. I tried to play nice, even though I wanted to claw her eyes out, yank her hair out, stomp on her poor little hurt back, and give her a concussion instead of the guard rail. I fought those urges pretty heavily when we were in the ring together, even after I attacked her. We put on a fair match with our partners, and I proved why I deserve the belt. My record speaks for itself as to why I should have had this belt all along. Is it really a shock that I couldn’t resist the urge to take it?
As I walk around town, and I see the crappy, all white lights lining the roofs, and I see the broken ornaments strewn about the ground from the shit heads who buy into your comsumer-driven mockery of a truly holy day, I think to myself, “Don’t people know that this is wrong? Mocking the birth of our lord with poorly drawn pine tree wrapping paper, Xbox games, toys that will only be played with for a month, tons of alcohol, gross displays of overeating, forcing one man to rob another because he can’t afford the consumerist portrayal of happiness?” I tried to think about how anyone could justify it, for days I tried! I watched videos of people being trampled in department stores on Black Friday. I read stories of people shot and robbed, and I was even mugged for $14 and a candy cane by a guy in a Santa hat.
It was then that I connected the dots… You are a fat bitch, Santa Claus. You are disgustingly overweight from your massive gluttonous addiction to cookies and dairy products. You are the reason why parents feel bad when they wake up on Christmas morning with their children to find not a single present under the tree, and they watch their children’s eyes sink in disappointment. You are the reason parents avoid such a situation by shooting another man for his money. You are what perpetuates greed, gluttony, hate, fear, financial debt, depression, suicide, and crime at this time of year. You are the poster boy of Americans these days. Your fat, glowing cheeks… Your empty jolly smile… Your extravagant, finely crafted, over-the-top red suit… And it’s all to hide that you are the fucking Anti-Christ.
Since you are an old, disgusting pervert who sneaks into people’s homes to tempt children with toys and candy, and you have a God complex… Don’t think I didn’t know that. “He sees you when you’re sleeping… He knows when you’re awake… He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.” Your secret is out you filthy old man. But, that is not why I am writing you this letter. I’m writing this letter to you today because I am willing to forgive you for your transgressions, invading my privacy and all. I will extend to you an olive branch if you can grant me this one Christmas wish. Forgive me of my one act of malice and envy by allowing me a reward for my many kind acts this year.
I don’t need clothes. I don’t need jewelry. I don’t need furs, or cars, or deeds, or yachts, because that really is a lot. And, before you jump to conclusions, and think I want the Bombshell Championship belt, save it, because I already have it. Might not be legit, but I have it. My one, simple Christmas wish is that you give me three. You don’t get it? Let me map out all the details of this gift. I want twelve thousand screaming fans, eleven shouting vendors, ten camera angles, nine event banners, eight waves of booing, seven chants for Misty, six ring posts, five spotlight! Four lips commentating, three counts a tappin’, two Misty shoulders pinned, and a legitimate championship reign!
Oh, what a Merry Christmas it would be. Cozied up next to a warm television with a picture of a Yule Log burning for two hours, with the rightful championship on my lap, a warm hot chocolate loaded with lots of peppermint schnapps in it, and an idiot husband with a tag team championship around his waist. I guess you could say I have been dreaming of a Golden Christmas, Santa. That would make me one happy girl. Just thinking of it now gives me goosebumps, accompanied by the warm fuzzies!
Not that I feel the likelihood of me losing is very high, but be warned… I will be angry if I do, and I WILL come after you, Santa. If I choke one more time, I am going to be steaming pissed, and you would be the fucking catalyst for my anger. I will come to the North Pole, and I will pummel through your army of cheap labor you call elves. I will snap Dasher and Dancer’s necks. I will shove my boot up Prancer and Vixen’s respective asses. I will lay out Comet and Cupid. I will slaughter Donner and Blitzen. And I will rip off Rudolph’s damn head, and I will use it to smother your equally disgusting Mrs. Claus, just to get to you. And you don’t want to know what I will do to you once I get a hold of you. So, if you know what is good for you, you will keep that in mind, capiche?
Oh Santa! I’m really glad we had this wonderful talk. I know you can’t help, but I don’t think that you will have to. But that won’t stop me from hunting your perverted ass down I know you understand. I’m sure with Misty’s constant injuries and constant bitching, you will be safe.
You know what? I know Misty is too proud to write a letter to you, Santa. It’s the holiday season, and I’m starting to feel just a little bit more generous than usual. You should give Misty one of those helmets that babies wear so that their fragile skulls aren’t broken, in an adult size, of course. Oh, and once I am finished with her, she will probably need a full body cast. Oh, and a good explanation of what happened to her for that precious niece of mine, Eden. We don’t want her to think that Aunt Kittie is a monster, now do we?
Sincerely,
-Kittie
P.S. I know where you live you nasty bastard… LOVE YA! XOXO
************
You have… SIX… unheard messages. To play your messages, please press one… To…
*The obnoxiously loud sound of the number one being pressed hard, and a bit longer than necessary, causes the voicemail system to switch its course of dialogue.*
New voice message… Sunday, November 20th, 11:42 PM from 314-3*BEEEEEP*
”If it was anyone else but Misty, I would go home and bone that bit… Hey baby, it’s Jamie. Yeah, ummm. Where are you? The locker room is empty, and I just put Misty into the ambulance since Spike is apparently in jail. I was hoping we could, like, hang out tonight, talk about stuff coz I already haven’t seen much of you for a week now, and certain… things need to be tended to. Ha ha, no seriously, I want to make sure you are okay. Even though things are weird right now, I can be there for you if you will let me… Call me back so I know if I should get someone to watch Tim and Eden, or if I will be staying there. Let me know. Ummm…. *lower toned voice* I love you, babe. *higher voice, but muffled* Shut up, I love your mom, Nate! *click*”
To play your message again, press 1. To save this message and move onto the next, press 7…
*The button tone prompts the voice to continue on to other messages*
New voice message… Monday, November 21st, 3:54 PM from 314-3*BEEEEEEP*
”Yeah, hey it’s Jamie again. I’ve tried calling a ton of times. Christian Underwood said he’s been trying to contact you about appearing at Climax Control, and says he keeps getting your voicemail too. He wants you to talk about what you did with stealing the belt, if it was an accident or not, so on and blah blah blah. Besides that, I just want to know how you are feeling. You haven’t returned my calls or texts, you are haven’t been home. Where are you? It’s kinda shitty that you are crapping on the one person who is still trying to be there for you… But hey, call me back.
To play your message again, press 1. To save this message and move onto the next, press 7…
*BEEEP*
New voice message… Thursday, November 24th, 1:16 AM from 314-8*BEEEEEP*
”Kittie. It’s Spike. Look, I don’t know what the hell kind of ideas Mark put in your head, but you are pissing off your true friends. I can only smooth this situation over so much before I start to think that you are too far gone. You and I have been through thick and thin. We’ve seen so much together. You really are like my little sister, and it breaks my heart to see you going through this, and alone at that. I really think that if you just give the belt back, and fight for it like the champion you want to be, then we can get passed this. You know I don’t ask anyone for anything, but I really want to make things better. Please bring the belt to the next show, even if you don’t want to say anything to the cameras. Hell, drop it in our mailbox since you are so good at leaving things in there anyway. Ha ha ha… Too soon? Okay. Call me, or even text me. Beyond all of this, I truly am worried about you. *click*
To play your message again, press 1. To save this message and move onto the next, press 7…
*BEEEP*
New voice message… Sunday, December 11th, 9:47 PM from 314-8*BEEEEEP*
”Look, I’ve tried to be patient, but that patience is wearing thin, Kittie. I can’t tell you how many times I have called and texted you since my last message, and you can’t even give me the fucking courtesy of returning a text? Jamie told me you are okay, but I really don’t think you are. You are fucked in the head, and you need a real therapist. You gave me a speech about being a true friend over a month ago, and I have been a damned good friend. Misty even tried until that shit with you attacking her backstage. Do you want us to feel sorry for you because you had a fucked up childhood? Do you want us to pity you because you want to play the crazy girl who makes herself a lonely, delusional bitch who stabs her friends in the back? Well, I don’t. You wanna know why? Because every one of us grew up that way. We’re all a little screwed, and have done things we regretted later. But I am telling you right now, if I don’t hear back from you soon, I will take it upon myself to get that belt back to Misty, and I will have nothing for you. I will wash my hands of you and your hypocrisy. And I will come down to the ring to cheer Misty on as she attempts to knock some sense into you… Don’t shit on the people who care for you, okay? Call me back…””There is Chinese in the fridge! Love you…”
************
A loud screeching can be heard, followed by the breaking of glass in rapid succession. The camera hurries into the brightly lit white hotel room white a white couch sitting in front of a large glass window looking out over Las Angeles. It pans in to see Kittie standing there with another unlit candle in a glass casing. She roars once mores before slamming it through the television hanging on her wall. She looks down at the phone in her hand through her blonde hair shrouding her enraged face like a veil. Her rapid, shallow breaths cause pieces to fly up and around before falling back down for the next round. Kittie tosses the phone down on the ground and she screeches once more as she stomps on the phone until it is no longer recognized as a phone.
”FUUUUCK YOU SPIKE! F… Wait, there is Chinese in the fridge? It should still be good, right?”
Kittie brushes her hair out of her face, leaving a few stragglers clinging to her face as she smiles. As if nothing were wrong, Kittie turns around toward the kitchen. She sees the camera there and her face transforms once more, to a blank sort of stare. She sputters on her hair before wiping it away nonchalantly. The corner of her lip raises in an attempt to smile through her mild embarrassment.
”Oh, I didn’t know you were set up already. I um… Had voice… Hey, you didn’t record that did you? Did you?!”
Kittie’s face flashes many emotions before returning blank once again. She shudders, trying to hold in a sigh, before she grabs onto the cameraman’s shirt. The camera falls down, looking up at Kittie as she has her nose firmly pressed against the cameraman’s. Her eyes widen as she lightly sniffs.
”That smells like Happy China’s Hot Braised Chicken and Veggie Lo Mein… Do you want me to kick your ass, pal? Because I will. Just ask Misty. I’m a little… Unhinged at the moment.”
”Uhh, it is? But, I ummm, I suh-suh-stopped th there on the way. The they have grrreat, great food.”
”Yeah… They really do, don’t they? I like you, Phil. But I think you just pissed yourself.”
Kittie sniffs again, and then she backs off. Phil looks down to the wet spot on his pants and then he mutters to himself as he quickly picks the camera up, trying to play it cool. He adjusts the camera to take a look at Kittie who is now carrying a small white box with two sticks coming out of it. She gently grabs a few noodles and brings them to her lips, sucking them in.
”I guess you are going to edit the tape down so not to include anything before I tell you to start? Because… that would just be embarrassing for the both of us, now wouldn’t it? I mean, I thought up a lot of good material, and it would be a shame if we both wound up embarrassed, wouldn’t it? Because, I mean, if you know… If you were to air it without your embarrassing moment, just mine, I would hunt you down and rip your balls off, Phil. Do you like your balls?”
”Uh, yes I do. I like having them a lot. But, you want to save all of your anger, rage, and crazy for Misty, right?”
Kittie taps her chin gently, upon taking in another mouthful of noodles. She shakes her head negatively, before switching back to an affirmative nod. She shrugs her shoulders as she chews with a smile upon her face. Upon swallowing, she slowly walks toward Phil.
”There is plenty to go around. But, I think it’s worth it if the audience gets to see my little outburst, so long as they get to see that massive piss spot on your pants. Besides, Misty can’t handle one hundred percent of what I have in the way of anger and rage, and sure as hell not my crazy. Anyway, I brought you here for the words I refused to give at Climax Control, and to answer the questions everyone has been asking. Would you like to take a seat, Phil… Rather, I will take a seat since you pissed yourself.”
Kittie sits down on the couch in front of the camera, chuckling to herself. She looks down to Phil’s pants once more and she claps her hands together wildly, pointing at them, all while maintaining a genuine, gleeful smile.
”That means a lot that you would do that for me. I mean, no one has peed their pants just to cheer me up in a while. Well, since Jamie did it to cheer me up after I lost the gauntlet match.”
Kittie sighs, trying to regain her composure once more. Grabbing the Bombshell championship belt from the couch cushion, she folds it across her waist. She clasps her hands on her left knee as she looks to the camera.
”I’ve had a lot of e-mails and tweets, asking if I realized that the match with Gabriel, versus JT Underwood and Misty was, in fact, a non-title match. They asked me how I could be so stupid or out of touch with reality. They tell me I am a bad friend for turning on Misty. There were hundreds, but most of them amounted to those basic inquiries. I thank each and every fan for voicing their opinions, and asking their questions. However, opinions are like assholes. Everyone has them. And it seems that most people talk out of them these days.”
Kittie’s face drains of any pleasantness that might have inhabited her soft features. She unclasps her hands, brings her foot down firmly to the ground, and her legs spread apart in a very frank display of unprofessional posturing. She plants both hands firmly on her knees, still leaving the Bombshell Championship in plain view.
”Of course I’m not stupid enough to think that this match was for the championship. It would have been an ingenious idea for this Supercard, but it wasn’t meant to be. I want to make it clear as crystal that I knew better. For every dim witted asshole tuning in… Me taking this championship belt was not a mistake. It was a statement to the fans. It was a statement to the higher ups. It was a statement to the concussed Misty. This belt… is mine! It was always meant to be mine. I am the face of the Bombshell Division. I am the new era. The only blemish on my record was a pure fluke. My one loss is shrouded in foul play. My three victories, two of which are over Misty, outshine that one tainted loss. Since the debut of Climax Control, I have shown nothing but greatness and deservedness. Now that I have made my statement, it’s time that I go in and back it up, eh?”
Kittie’s eyes almost seem to glaze over as she takes one deep breath. Her eyelashes flutter as she looks over to her left to see her new bear, Snowflake holding a piece of paper. She smiles before taking the paper, unfolding it. She chuckles to herself as she turns the piece of paper around, pieces of white falling off of it, but the crude concept comes across clearly.
<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/KittieChampfake.png>
”I made this as an omen. I’ve placed a copy of it in Misty’s mailbox so that she knows I’m not going to be screwed out of another championship. I’m not. I’m not, I won’t let that happen. I will do what a true champion should do! I will put two hundred percent of myself on the line for this match, and every match that follows. I will be a fighting champion, not a whining champion. I will take on the world if I have to, just to prove myself.”
Kittie flings the piece of paper at the camera, only it flies back toward the couch before landing on the floor. Kittie picks up the blue ballerina bear and she tucks her head under her chin. As she does so, her hair falls over their faces,
”Misty… What have I not already said about you? How many times have we done this? My actions against you were meant for one simple thing. It was a tangible expression of what you have done to me. The shit storm you talked about me behind my back, telling everyone that I was not a threat? You weren’t afraid of me? Well be VERY afraid, bitch! Don’t be stupid, because you now know what I am capable of. As if our time as friends, where you stood watching me take out your competition in GXW. Same with my stints in GCW. You should not have been so blind, you stupid girl… Had you been a real friend, I would have been content fighting your battles for you, carrying you on my back, all at the cost of a simple apology? You couldn’t afford me that.”
Kittie flings her hair back from her face once more, showing the tears in her eyes. Her mascara running down her face in a very noticeable stream. She grits her teeth as if she doesn’t realize how visible her tears are, acting angry as she sputters and gasps for air.
”You and Spike were the closest thing to real friends I had. You took that from me. I still can’t believe you would treat me like that. You should have known that I was a ticking fucking time bomb. It’s your fault I did what I did. Your fault! Not mine, you did it! You… You are the monster here, not me. I have been loyal to you up until I took this belt. You will try to point the finger back at me, but you are the one who finally got what she deserved. And now that I have this belt, and in just a few short days it will be legitimate, I will have what I deserve.”
Kittie wipes at her eyes as she chokes back any further tears. She sighs as she clutches the bear, rubbing her head as she slowly rocks back and forth on the couch.
“I’m not the villain, despite what you are preaching, Misty. I’m not a traitor. I’m just collecting the pieces of me from the ground after you shattered me emotionally. I’m getting stronger, Misty. Driven by the sin of envy, I will outshine you in that ring at December 2 Dismember… Heh, how fitting? I don’t need to go on and on about what I’m going to do to you, because I’m just going to cut to the chase. I won’t have to give this belt back, because I will be standing over you victoriously. I will. And the funny thing is… we both know it. You can say all you want about how you will beat me, but at our last encounter; I saw the doubt in your eyes. You doubt your abilities to overcome me. The cocky bitch, Misty. Three time GXW Women’s Champion, Misty… She won’t admit it, but she saw my darkness, and I saw her shudder at the sight. But she can go ahead and pretend. We all pretend sometimes. Just as long as we both know where this is going to stay.”
Kittie holds up the Bombshell Championship above her head, an empty smile on her face as she lowers it to her knees. She looks around for a moment, as if confused. Her lips move, whispering, but then she nods her head and looks back to the camera, her eyes and cheeks still moist as a look of pure anger fills her wide eyes. She clutches the Bombshell Championship tightly in her hands as she looks back to the camera.
“Hot Stuff Mark Ward… You chummy bastard. As much as I hate to admit that anything you said had an impact on me, it did. The truth of the matter is that you succeeded. You are one sick sonuvabitch. Twisted… Demented… Effective! You really played with me like I was a damned Barbie Doll, twisting me to benefit your own selfish desires. I was a pawn in your game of mental chess with Spike Staggs. The funny thing is, I knew it from the second you stepped through the Women’s Locker Room door, and it was confirmed when I saw that tramp, Angelica peeking around the corner. Maybe she couldn’t help it? Maybe she has a magnet in her lips that is attracted to your crotch? Either way, it is beside the point. I am not going to insult her since she did a pretty damned good job of that herself in her Parking Lot Brawl against Raynin. But anyway, that isn’t why I decided to address you personally. I wanted to let you know a few things…”
Kittie lays the Bombshell Championship across her lap. She fumbles around with a few strands of her blonde hair, pulling out a few, smiling to herself.
”First off, a well learned lesson, which I should thank you for. Friends! Who the fuck needs them? They promise you the world, and they give you a knife in the back. I’ve gone through friends like underwear, and it all ends the same way. They screw me over! They turn their back on me. Sometimes I sit here and wonder, how did I ever survive in a world like this? How did I make it to thirty with people like that? They use me to build up their spirits, their careers, their self esteem. Once I have done that, they drop me. The only way I can get people to listen to me is to pay them two hundred bucks an hour. Human bonds mean nothing these days. Misty showed me that when she talked all kinds of shit behind my back. For that, she will pay.”
Kittie continues to twirl her fingers in her hair, mesmerized by the few she pulls out upon unwinding them. She flings them to the hotel room floor. As if she no longer realizes that there is a camera there, her eyes glaze over.
”Secondly… You used me. You toyed with my fragile mind, and I wanted to take a moment to let you know that doing such a thing is very dangerous, and does not come without consequences. You see, I will hold you personally responsible for each and every fucked up thing I do to Misty at December to Dismember. When they arrest me for giving her way more than a stupid concussion, I promise I will let them know that you arranged this whole thing. And the funny part of it all? The threat you made against Spike, pointing out that you have video evidence of his misdeeds? Well, you have incriminated yourself by the same means. That little conversation we had wound up on the air a month ago on Climax Control. I just thought you should be made aware of that. Actions do have consequences, and I think you bit off a little more than you intended to chew. Do you hear me, Mark?!”
Kittie slams her fist against the glass top of the coffee table, causing it to rattle the trash strewn about it. She points to the left of the camera as she stands up and walks over toward the empty spot. Kittie pokes her finger as she pulls out a chunk of her hair, dropping it in front of her. She shoves at the air and then a slight smile spreads across her face as she extends a friendly hand forward.
”Third, congratulations on getting under Spike’s skin. He is the most headstrong person I know, next to Jamie. Once he has his mind set to something, there is no changing it. You did everything that needed to be done. Even though Misty had him trained like a damned house broken puppy dog, you were able to talk to him on a primal level. You tempted him, and then you forced your hand. Spike might not think I am much of a friend anymore, but I know he is where he needs to be. Maybe his head will clear in that ring, because he has been blowing up my phone with texts and phone calls, asking and demanding that I return the Bombshell Championship to Misty. Five years ago, he would have congratulated me on doing something like hijacking a championship, but he has been pussywhipped by her. A little bit of artistic violence might do him some good. For that, I have to thank you, even though he is a selfish fuckhead.”
Kittie nods her head as her smile turns to a genuinely euphoric look. She takes a deep sigh of relief as she takes a few steps backward. She slowly begins to spin around in a circle, letting her hair fly freely as she does.
”You have set me free. You brought out the monster in me, and you used me like a weapon of mass destruction. Unfortunately, you don’t know a damned thing about me. You only know that I’m a bit unstable, tad crazy, and nothing else. Well, let me inform you of exactly who I am, the facts that Erik Staggs didn’t tell you when he recommended me. Even though I only have one claim of gold, officially as of now, I am not someone who forgives and forgets very easily. I am a hungry competitor. I have a lot to prove even though I have nearly a decade of wrestling experience. I only have one piece of gold to claim. That is about to change!”
Kittie spins over to the couch once more, picking up the Bombshell Championship again and walking back over to the spot she was standing once again. She holds it with a sense of accomplishment, petting it.
”What you have done, with the help of Gabriel, as well as the rest of the Sins, is you have given me a catalyst for the rampage that I am about to go on. You tried to punk me out on a televised program, and I just will not have it. Even though it played into your little game at first, the results will cost you a hefty penny. Anyone I see that gets in the way of making what I already have official, and keeping it that way, will wind up in a hospital bed. You will not have a single fucking Bombshell left in the division. I will rip out all their pretty hair, and I will kick their pretty, firm, botoxed asses, and I WILL break their damned necks! And it all starts with your glorious golden goose, Misty.”
Kittie nods her head as if to approve of her own words. She smiles a wide, toothy grin as she tilts her head back, letting out a loud cackle. She leans over to slap her own knee before choking on her laughter. She coughs a bit, taking a deep breath before she comes back to the camera. However, she focuses in on it like a person, coming closer to it.
”Lastly, and most importantly, you taught me one last lesson. When I signed with Sin City Wrestling, I played Misty’s game. I kissed the asses of the fans instead of focusing on the ever so important goal of becoming the first bombshell champion. Even my own mind tried to tell me that I was my own worst enemy, but I didn’t listen to the voices in my head. I never do. I kept everything bottled up inside. I kept that passion, drive, and unrequited anger caged up inside, instead of bringing it out in the ring. I let all of the autograph signings, all of the photo ops, all of the t-shirt and action figure sales cloud who I really am. I about sold out until you pointed out that I was nothing but another dud of a bombshell to these fans, and how quickly they forgot about me when Misty pinned me. It just felt nice to hear the fans cheer for me for once. But, I guess I was just hearing the cheers for Misty. I promise to put on a show that makes all these gimmick matches look the crap they are. I will show you why I have headlined so many of the shows here with the beating I unleash on Misty. I don’t care what she thinks, or what Spike thinks, or what you think, or what the fans think. I will go out there and I will prove why I walked away with the Bombshell Championship, which, by the way, was clearly not an accident! But you probably already knew that, now didn’t you?”
She smiles as she presses her eye against the lens, causing the scene to fade to black.
