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”Trust is something not given lightly, just the same as a slap from a real bitch. I can promise one over the other. Can you guess which one?” –Delia, darling if you must
Relief…. Joy… satisfaction? ALL OF THE ABOVE! Delia felt it all, and ohhh so much more tonight. After all, she made it to the second round of the Blast From the Past Tournament, all on her own! Well, at least she thinks so… She practically runs around the ring, screaming in satisfaction. Another step closer to the Sin City Wrestling Bombshell Championship, and a step away from having to kiss Erik Staggs’ ass cheeks! It was certainly a magical night for her. Of course, she pissed off more than a few people. Miss Rocky Mountains was off the show because of a little bruised back like a whiny bitch. Christian Underwood had gotten his panties in a twist over Delia and she refused to back down in his presence. With all of this combined, she was nearly indestructible…
She soaks in the boos as she steps to the edge of the ring, slipping her shoes back on in the process. She raises her fists in the air as she brushes past her tag team partner who is on his way to the back for a celebration of his own. Without so much as a second glance, she does a sort of victory screech as she runs up the ramp, holding her dress up as she goes. The fans raining trash down on her does nothing to her as she simply kicks it to the side. She rushes through the curtains, expecting to see Holly Wood and Angelica waiting to congratulate her. She blinks in confusion as she looks straight ahead without feeling anybody rushing her with hugs and giddy screeches. She licks at her bottom lip before turning to her right. Who should she see standing there? No one, that’s who! But, it’s okay, they are probably to her left, waiting to surprise her. Her lips curl into a half smile as she slowly turns her head to the left…
Stagehand: Move your ass, lady! Can’t you see we’re trying to…?
Delia: I beg your pardon? Did you just address moi in such a way as z’is?
Stagehand: Well, I didn’t fuckin’ stutter, did i?
Delia reels her hand back, ready to slap the taste out of the balding, overweight, sweaty, disgusting man pig who dares to impose himself in her personal space. She narrows her eyes and snubs her nose as she wonders if it is worth getting his disgusting slime on her hand, but she decides to proceed. With her hand just inches from his face, he bursts out into laughter.
Stagehand: Go on ahead, sweetheart. Nobody would miss your ass when Christian personally fires you. Go ahead… put a little love tap right here…
The man turns his head to the left and pats his right cheek. Delia’s hand nearly comes into contact with his face when she growls in frustration, allowing her hand to shake. She takes in a deep breath through her nose as she closes her eyes, before widening her hand in his face as if to say “Talk to the hand”. He nods his head as she simply walks off. Looking like a lost little girl, Delia quickly looks from side to side, keeping the hem line of her skirt off of the ground. She prances through the halls as if she were Cinderella, trying to make it home before midnight. She has played this game once before, and she immediately makes her way through the halls and toward the make up table. She turns a corner, coming to the table with high hopes, only to wind up disappointed.
Delia: Fils de salope! You girls are always predictable…
Delia shakes her head as she sighs. She finds her make up bag exactly where she had left it, but Holly and Angelica’s are missing. She shakes her head as she unzips the bag, reaching in for a pad to straighten up her make up. Instead, she feels something that feels very foreign to her. The crumpling noise intrigues her a bit as she pulls it out. There is a folded piece of paper between her fingers and written in Sharpie is her name in plain, dull lettering. She drops it, feeling offended that someone would take it upon themselves to get into her bag, and the lady that she paid one whole dollar to watch after it certainly did not earn the money. Delia looks around for some sort of clue as to who it could be from, but she was the only one at this end of the corridor. She unfolds the note impatiently, scanning it slowly.
”That was just embarrassing, ‘darling’. It looks like you could use a few pointers. If you are interested, please contact me at (blurred for confidentiality). After what we just saw, it seems like you could use it…”
Delia: What is z’e meaning of z’is? I was z’e best wrestler of z’e night!
Delia balls up the note and tosses it into the waste basket nearby. She shakes her head in frustration once more and simply zips her bag, tucking it under her arms as she heads toward the parking garage. All the while, she mumbles under her breath in French, disgusted at the appalling words that this mystery person dared to aim at her. She works her way quickly to the exit, shoving the big blue double doors open. As she does, she sees Holly and Angelica standing there with their arms folded across their chests, tapping their feet impatiently. Delia just growls under her breath and pulls a set of keys out of her make up bag, pressing a remote button, causing a loud recurring beep to echo through the garage. Angelica and Holly look concerned as Delia simply passes them up.
Angelica: Ohhh, honey… it’s okay. You will get them next time.
Delia stops dead in her tracks turning her head to stare right at Angelica, her jaw clinched. Angelica practically freezes in place as Holly raises an eyebrow, sucking on a lollipop and looking off to the side. Delia’s lip curls into a smile momentarily.
Delia: Yes I will, just as I did tonight… We won…
Holly: Oh my gawwwd gurrrrl! No way!
Holly’s face lights up as Angelica opens her mouth in total surprise. She squeals as she bounces in excitement before quickly clapping her hands together. Holly does a sort of celebration dance as Delia’s face sours once more.
Delia: You both act surprised, no? Of course I shouldn’t have won after all. S’ank you for z’e vote of confidence, bitches…
Delia breezes past them, shaking her head as she walks closer to the pink corvette she arrived at ringside in. She flings the drivers side door open and climbs in, slamming the door behind her, looking in the back seat as Holly and Angelica approach the vehicle.
Delia: Z’e garments better be in z’e trunk, or you ladies will be walking to Krave!
Holly: Calm down gurl… You act like we your bitches or something, and that’s not cool. I would tell you to untwist your panties, but we heard you wasn’t wearin’ any, mmkay?
Delia: You are my bitches, darling… Did you get z’e clothes, or no?
Holly’s mouth opens in a mix of shock and disgust as she slowly nods her head, rolling her eyes as she sticks the lollipop back in her mouth. Angelica opens the passenger’s side door and pulls the seat down, getting in the back seat.
Angelica: Kay, Holly? You get to ride up front with your majesty of Cunt-oria… I’ve already had my fill.
Holly: Get that fine ass up front. I rode here with her, so it’s your turn.
Delia: Merde! Merde, merde, merde, merde, MERDE! Get in z’e FUCKING car now, please!
Holly blinks for a moment, her mouth opening again as the lollipop comes falling out of her mouth and shattering on the ground. Angelica bobs her head from side to side as she looks at Holly as if she had won the battle. Holly pulls her wig and stocking cap off and throws it at Angelica as she comes around to the passenger’s side door. She slams the seat up into Angelica’s knees and plops down in the seat. She pulls her seatbelt on as Delia revs the engine. She throws it into reverse and then breaks as she skids out, pulling off toward the exit of the garage. She flies through, coming out without looking either way, making a left turns which causes four cars to come to a screeching halt, honking and screaming at her as she waves them the bird. Her wig comes flying off as she speeds away from the venue, allowing her long brunette hair to wave behind her. Angelica sucks on her upper lip for a second before leaning forward toward Delia’s ear.
Angelica: What could be wrong with Miss Thing tonight? It sounds like you won your match, and really stuck it to Christia….
Delia flings her hand back, silencing Angelica immediately. Holly looks interested in this development as she turns the radio down to get a good listen.
Delia: We will NOT speak his name right now, darling… I need at least two seconds wis’out talking about that.
Angelica: Well, we’ve gotta talk about it at some point, honey, because Alex and I almost got canned because you decided to mouth off to the boss.
Delia: Ohhh, so it’s my fault? S’ank you for making z’is clear to me, darling… For a moment I s’ought I was defending my friends, not mous’ing off to z’e boss. I was defending your right to do what I pay you to do and be a manager. Do you know how to do z’is wis’out blowing someone?
Holly nearly passes out at how nonchalant Delia is with her last comment. Angelica balls up her fists before losing control and punching Delia in the back of the head. The car screeches to a stop, causing Angelica to bang her head on the back of Holly’s seat.
Angelica: FUCK!
Angelica screeches at the top of her lungs before unbuckling her seatbelt. Delia looks as if she is ready to rip Angelica’s head off, but she sits there patiently. Angelica climbs out of the car, not even waiting for Holly to let her out. She nearly trips on her long dress, but walks it off as if she hadn’t missed a step. She looks around the crowded street honking and swerving around the pink convertible. She simply starts to walk off, looking back to see Holly sitting in the seat still. She snubs her nose at the two and walks off as Delia looks over to Holly.
Delia: Would you like to contribute to z’e conversation?
Holly: Yes I would, but don’t think I plan on walking up the Broadway in these heels, bitch… Keep on driving, hunty…
Delia looks at Holly who stays put in her seat, refusing to move an inch. Delia rolls her eyes and begins driving once more. She cranks the radio back up, blasting what everyone is surprised to hear from her, Type O Negative’s “(We Were) Electrocute”. She focuses on the road, paying no mind to the silent treatment from Holly, until Holly finally breaks the short silence.
Holly: You do know that girl worships the ground you walk on, right? Before she got to attend the show she met you at in New York, all she could talk about was how brilliant you were. She was inspired by you to be a better woman and not just some booty call for the boss.
Delia: She should know better z’an to put people on a pedestal. Z’ey are never what you s’ink z’ey will be. If I taught her nos’ing else, I hoped z’at would be z’e lesson to stick. It’s not my fault.
Holly: Oh, honey… your tone seems rather pointed, and I’m not Angelica. I respect your art, but when I look at you off the runway, I’m always thinking “Oooh, that’s a cunt, honey…” And right now is no different. I am, and have been, Angelica’s friend for many, many, many years, and even though I’m sure she’s thinking I dumped her to hang with you at the gay clubs tonight, I intend to give you an earful.
Delia’s lip curls into a smirk as she finally softens up a bit. She turns her head, seeming to pay no attention to the road as Holly flips the radio off on Delia.
Delia: I would say z’at you have some balls to talk to me like z’at, but it’s not a question.
Holly: Get cute with some re-recycled Amy Marshall material all you want, baby, coz I’ve got attitude for miles. The point is that you helped make my friend a better person somehow, even though you’ve got a soul that is more black than Misty’s Loreal hair dye. I was able to look past your ugly personality for her. Instead, you treat her like a fucking dog, and I’m done biting my tongue.
Delia: Oh, I’m sure. Cut z’e shit and admit z’at you are sore because you can’t believe z’at what I did tonight comes from being a good friend, and not from my own selfish desire to be as abrasive as possible.
Holly rolls her deep brown eyes as she takes her earrings out, placing them in the cup holder between them. She rubs her lips together in frustration before turning to Delia once more.
Holly: That’s because it wasn’t! Even Angelica wasn’t blinded enough by your bullshit to believe that you wouldn’t have thrown us under the bus just to cause a stink. If I was her, I would have made sure your eyes stayed shadowed for a week, and your cheeks, and those lips would have been botoxed for a month.
Delia: I like you when you talk, you know z’is? You should do it more often, because z’e Karen Smi’s routine is old.
Holly: Like your Regina image isn’t? You know? Bitch doesn’t suit you very well off the runway, at least when we’re amongst girlfriends…
Delia pulls to the outside of a club with a pink neon sign casting a glow onto the dampened streets. Holly opens the door as soon as she finished talking and rips off her Barbie gown to reveal a pair of skinny jeans and a black sleeveless shirt. She pulls out her breast plate and slaps it down on the back seat.
Holly: Find another fag to hag tonight, honey… Shouldn’t be too hard in this pretentious club afterall…
Still in full drag make up, Holly/Alex turns around and walks past the crowded line and up to the bouncer who immediately recognizes him and lets him through. Delia sits in the drivers seat, stunned at the confrontations from both of her friends as the car goes idle. She purses her lips, taking in a deep breath.
[ *Fade* ]
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”I like to see myself as a Queen… a queen in a world full of discord and anarchy. Don’t mistake this as calling myself useless, though. I could seize control of the simple-minded as quickly as I wish, but I like discord and anarchy…” –Delia, Darling if you must
The cover of the burn book is in clear focus for a moment before it pans out a little bit. The afternoon sun glares down on the book as it rests at a 45 degree angle amidst a table set up with fabulous breakfast foods spread out around it. The foods range from cream cheese krepes with various fruit toppings to Eggs Benedict, to the simplest of foods such as bagels. To the left of the table is a man dressed in nothing but a low cut apron to show off his hairy, almost flabby chest, and while the camera doesn’t see it, his backside is completely exposed. No doubt, it is a commentary on the varying forms of the male body and sexuality… that, or Delia has a serious daddy fetish. He is standing in front of a small omlette pan. Delia walks into view of the camera on this wide open balcony overlooking Miami Beach. She takes in the fresh scent of the salty air, seeming to be in a much better mood than previously… or ever before. Her Monroe-esque hair is protected from the sea breeze by a floppy white hat with dead white roses dried to the color of ashes. Her eyes are covered in Jackie O style sunglasses. Her grey lips go with the black and white motif she is aiming for, and they seem to be stuck in a smile, with no signs of changing. She straightens out her black dress as she takes a seat at the table. She looks at the spread set out before her, and she licks her lips in anticipation.
Delia: Dear Raymond, I do hate when company is not on time. It’s quite rude, no darling?
Raymond, the nearly nude chef, simply nods his head with a polite smile, showing the creases on the outer edges of his eyes. Delia ruffles his salt and pepper hair in a friendly manner before looking toward the opened doors, watching the wind tussle the sheer white curtains. She picks up a champagne glass and pours a bit of orange juice into it, topping it off with a generous portion of champagne, allowing it to bubble up to the top of the glass. She sniffs the glass, allowing the bubbles to tickle her nose before taking a small sip of the mimosa before setting it down in front of her, taking in the delicious smells of the brunch prepared in front of her. Finally, the curtains fly open and Angelica comes out, looking less than pleased as she folds her arms across her chest.
Angelica: Okay, so… you brought her here? That’s got to be the dumbest thing you could do…
Delia: You are my manager, not my moz’er, and since you insist on staying mad at me, you may be dismissed, darling…
Delia waves Angelica away. Angelica rolls her eyes and then “politely” (with a dash of sassy sarcastic face thrown in to let us know she isn’t the type of person who acts politely for anybody) holds the curtain open. Who should emerge from the curtains by Miss Rocky Mountains. She looks very awkward as she walks out onto the upper balcony, seeing the beautiful background shot, and even more awkward at Delia’s smile.
Delia: Ms. Mountains! You’ve made it!
Rocky nods her head politely smiling while keeping her distance from Delia. Delia picks up a strawberry half and dips it into the creamy white sauce in the center of the fruit dish. She raises it up quickly and Rocky flinches, only for Delia to take a nibble off of the edge, licking the cream from her lips as she chuckles.
Delia: Awww… Cherie, please… have a seat. I promise I won’t bite.
Rocky: Forgive me if I seem a bit apprehensive, especially since the last time we had an encounter, you powerbombed me into a turnbuckle. I can imagine a brunch table wouldn’t feel much better.
Delia: We are all prone to mistakes, darling. And I forgive you for z’e mistakes you made s’ree weeks ago, if you will forgive me for mine? As a matter of z’e fact, z’is brunch is an olive branch from me to you, so help yourself. I promise it isn’t poisoned.
Rocky’s eyes shift underneath her glasses as her wavy black hair dances in the wind. She bites at her bottom lip before sitting down across from Delia who pours her guest a mimosa of her own. Rocky nods her head, trying to thank Delia, but only manages to get out a slight squeak. Delia’s eyes sink as she grabs onto Rocky’s hand. Rocky jerks a bit in response, and Delia seems rather respectful of this, nodding her head appropriately.
Delia: It is no surprise z’at you don’t trust me. Why should you? I have done nos’ing to prove z’at I am worz’y of trust. I might have overreacted a bit, and I sincerely apologize for z’is. I tend to do z’is often, but I am working on z’is. Even if you do not grant me forgiveness, I would still like to offer you an official, on camera apology, and as a proper guest, you will not leave my home on an empty stomach.
Rocky: The gesture is very nice, but I’m afraid that I cannot offer you what you seek. I came here for an interview about your upcoming match where you and Ethan Brody are facing Jessie Salco and Ethan’s tag team partner, Landon Axel.
Delia nods her head, seeming a touch disappointment by Rocky’s disregard for her kind actions. Fire burns in her eyes, and one could imagine a million different scenarios where Delia might handle this. Perhaps she might crack the bottle of champagne across Rocky’s head and paint obscenities on her forehead with lipstick? Or maybe she will knock the Burn Book on the ground and deliver Le Bitch Bomb to the interviewer through the table, or worse yet, off the balcony? It would not be above Delia to slam Rocky’s face down into the omelette pan, disfiguring her permanently. What should she do… but give a nod as she picks up a bagel, splitting it in half, gently spreading cream cheese over it, diverting her eyes from Rocky as she speaks.
Delia: Understood, darling… How selfish of me to expect you to forgive me so easily. So, I expect you wish to have a word wi’s me in regards to my match? I tell you what… I will do so under one condition…
She shoots an evil glare across the table with the butter knife gripped firmly in her balled up fist, shaking a bit as she narrows her eyes, puffing her lips out in pure and utter disdain at Rocky. Rocky gulps and slowly scoots her chair backwards.
Delia: … you simply MUST try one of Raymond’s famous omelettes!
Delia smiles widely, causing Rocky to sigh in relief. Delia sprinkles a bit of red onion and tomato on top of the cream cheese, bringing one half of the bagel to her lips, taking a bite and moaning from the delicious taste. Rocky nods her head as Raymond begins beating the eggs quickly.
Rocky: You are a very opinionated, out-spoken Bombshell, probably more than anyone on the SCW roster, with an ego that rivals “Hot Stuff” Mark Ward’s…
Delia: S’ank you… I will take z’is as a compliment, even z’ough I caught z’e cattiness in your voice.
Rocky: And smart as a fox… Now, you must have some serious doubts as to how this match will go down considering your partner’s partner is his opponent.
Delia smirks in a sarcastic manner, allowing it to fade from her face as quickly as it appeared. She rolls her eyes before setting the bagel down on the small plate in front of her.
Delia: Z’e way I see it, Es’an will spend most of his time on z’e outside, because emotions are a liability to me. I have many s’ings at stake here, between z’e fastest rise to z’e top in SCW history, to a shot at z’e Bombshell Championship, not to mention my deal wi’s Erik Staggs… I will not be embarrassed.
Rocky: After your debut match, many people are expecting you to drop out of the tournament this round. Quite frankly, they are surprised that you made it this far.
Delia: Love me or hate me, I am always good for a surprise. I surprised the fans when I beat Diamond two weeks ago, in what is probably considered to be z’e upset of z’e week. I dazzle z’e audience wi’s my artistic expression every week wis’out fail. What will not be a surprise is when I beat Jessie Salco…
Delia smirks as she brings out a small picture from under the table. She pulls out a glue stick and looks over to Rocky as she is served her omelette. She takes a small bite, feeling it practically melt in her mouth. She is in heaven, and she cannot even comment on Delia’s childish actions. Delia flips the book open to the next blank page before running the glue stick across the back of the picture quickly.
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Delia: Hello Jessie. I suspect you are watching z’is promo from your hotel room, no? I mean, it seems as if you never leave z’e hotel room. But, why would you wi’s z’e constant warm up practices you have z’ere wi’s your boyfriend and any os’er man who is willing to stick his dick inside you? Oh, excuse me… I forgot about Lizzie Short. Not z’at I have a problem wi’s such an act, but you are a wrestler, no? Not a porn star. At least Amy Marshall has z’is as an excuse for being a slut…
As Delia states this, she presses the picture into the book. She makes sure it is in there securely as Rocky has a mouth-gasm from the omelette. Delia pulls out the hot pink sharpie pen and next to the picture, she writes in the school girl manner “Filthy Cumdumpster”. She stares into the camera as if she is talking directly to Jessie, as if she hadn’t been before.
Delia: Jessie Salco… a child of z’e American Foster Care system. I feel bad for you, honestly. Never to know z’e love of a mère (mother) or a père (father). Simply passed along. I am sad for you, Jessie. I would bet money z’at z’is is why z’e fans love you so much. It certainly couldn’t be your win/loss record. It certainly couldn’t be your winning personality; because you remind me of a dear friend of mine from way back when… she’s dead. But, z’e fans aren’t as sentimental as me.
Delia takes a small nibble from her bagel as she looks back to the table. She picks up a pair of tongs and brings a krepe over to her plate. She spoons fresh blackberry jam over it generously, but decides to finish her point before continuing.
Delia: Z’ey probably just enjoy z’e constant slew of simple sexual innuendos you speak of in your promos, or z’e fact z’at American’s seem to respect people who are loose, drug addict, trailer trash. Whatever z’e reason is, I promise z’at you will be no match for me, even wi’s my obvious disadvantage in experience, and leadership. On paper, you should make short work of many people, yet you lose… and lose, and lose and lose, darling!
Delia takes a small sip of her mimosa before folding her hands together on the table, her eyes narrowing in amusement as she cleanses her palat with a small sip of water.
Delia: Why don’t you step out of the hotel room once in a while and get some fresh air. Experience z’e world. Gain a cultured insight into z’e world around you instead of smoking pot and playing Call of Duty Ghost while listening to obscure metal such as Dying Fetus or whatever shock-rock bullshit you claim as your way of life. Once you’ve cleared your head, z’en maybe you can take tips from z’e former TWO TIME World Heavyweight Champion, Spike Staggs and put z’em to use. Call me a bitch, but I’m just trying to be helpful here. I’m tired of facing basic bitches, and having people say z’at I am no good because I haven’t faced z’e top ladies of SCW. I want you to be better, and I want for you to bring it, honey!
Delia looks over to Rocky who is just finishing up her heavenly omelette, as if begging for more. Delia wastes no time before pulling out a picture of Landon Axel. She runs the glue stick across the back of the small photo, pressing it into the book gently.
<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/LandonBurnBooksm_zps685c2244.png>
Delia: Landon Axel… z’e only person who could fuck z’is match up for Es’an and myself… Because of your presence, Es’an has gone from an asset to a liability. I am not familiar wi’s your working relationship, but I am not one to take a gamble, as z’ey say. I prefer to play it safe, which means I plan to see you in action as little as possible. Which, after your last match wi’s losing z’e Tag Team Championships, your career should s’ank me, honey.
Delia taps the edge of the sharpie pen against the picture of Landon. She looks into the camera once again, apparently thinking over what she is going to write about her partner’s partner.
Delia: You are stuck wi’s an abomination of a partner, Landon. You have nos’ing to gain from progressing in z’e tournament. Your friend… does. He stands a chance at winning, and challenging Simon Jones, or whomever z’e flavor of z’e week might be in s’ree weeks. It is because he is teaming wi’s a winner. Your partner has a chance at winning z’e SCW Heavyweight Championship, somes’ing z’at former Tag Team Champions seem to do quite often. One dies off, and one goes big. No offense to you… well, you know full well I mean offense… but Es’an is z’e one to go big. He is z’e face of Guns For Hire, while you are nos’ing more z’an a…
Delia flips the pen over in her hand and writes in the same manner as before “Bottom Boy”, wrapping a chain of quickly drawn hearts around this. She shrugs her shoulders as if to apologize for it.
Delia: Sorry ‘bout it… But it’s true. People pay attention to Guns For Hire to see Es’an Brody demolish people. You are z’e Robin to his Batman. You might as well be a good friend and stay out of z’is battle, and let your friend reach z’e top, because he never will wi’s you. I know it hurts to hear, Landon, almost as much as it hurts to say… If I must be z’e Yoko who breaks up z’e Beatles to allow Es’an to reach his true potential, z’en so be it…
Rocky: Are you saying you want to get between Guns For Hire, and that it is a completely selfless act?
Delia: You know as well as I do z’at nos’ing I do is completely selfless. I want to win, and when Es’an is held to his own devices, he will cave over friendship, just like Song and Orchid did last week. Landon needs to hear z’is, because he can do z’e right s’ing and let his partner advance, and go on to win. I have no problem being z’e bad guy, I actually enjoy it. But while my words are not completely selfless, z’ey are not completely selfish eis’er. Blame me if you must, but Es’an can go to z’e top wis’out z’e dead weight dragging him down. I will be God Damned if I let it drag me down, z’ough…
Rocky nods her head, seeming to understand Delia’s point, while not completely agreeing. Delia pushes her fork through the krepe that has been waiting for her long enough. She takes a bite, savoring the creamy berry flavor. Rocky pushes her plate away, full as she holds onto her stomach.
Rocky: Well, it seems that you’ve made your point rather clear here, Delia. I… I… I think I need to be excused for a…
Rocky scoots the chair out as she quickly gets up from the table. She turns to dash for the curtains as Delia pulls a small bottle that reads Syrup of Ipecac.
Delia: You should know one s’ing, Rocky… Never fuck wi’s me, darling. I always get what I want, and I wanted you to pay for humiliating me through Christian Underwood… Tah tah, darling…
Delia laughs deeply as she raises her hand, cupping it as she slowly waves adieu to Rocky. She takes one last bite from her krepe as she gets up. Walking behind Raymond, she gives his bottom a hard slap, grabbing on to give it a shake in a show of reverse chauvinism before sashaying over to the curtains, disappearing behind them.
[ *Fade* ]
