"I've come to believe that all my past failure and frustration were actually laying the foundation for the understandings that have created the new level of living I now enjoy." - Tony Robbins
Failure. That would sum up my entire run in Sin City Wrestling. I let these bitches get inside my head and made me not want to be put my full focus in the match, and now I feel I need to show the real what a real bitch truly is and win this match away from the party. Failure is no longer an option for me; it’s become my drive that I’m going to use to put that final bullet in their head. I am Italian after all.
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Date: Thursday, August 16, 2012
Location: IndoChine Waterfront Restaurant; Singapore
“Is everything okay baby? You seem distracted ever since the cruise ended,” Claire said.
Those words echoed in the frame, which soon fade in to her sweet face looking off-camera. She wore the simplest of dresses that made her appearance seem more like a southern angel amongst the struggling environment that is the Singapore lifestyle of current times. It started to cloud up outside, as birds left suddenly knowing trouble was ahead. Patricia is soon shown; she appeared slightly different like a piece of her humanity also left. She blinked those soft bluish eyes once before looking at Claire.
“I’m fine; I’m just thinking about the match this week and wondering does Party Girls know the level of determination that flows in my veins right at this moment. I had that fucking whore. Me and B have been besties since entering this fucking company, so I trust her with my life. But I can’t say the same for Brandi and Cookie’s life as champions nor competitors in this company, I can’t trust myself enough to want to hold back every fucking submission, every Californian Kiss. This is my decoration of war on SCW.”
Patricia speaks with her eyes fixed on a newspaper laying across the table of the restaurant, where a bunch of the SCW Bombshells are featured in no doubt another trick by the higher ups of the independent company promoting the tour. All that were missing where the two Italian women, and her Gothic step-sister, Newborne knew the coming days would not end well. Smith begin stirring her tea, taking few sips before speaking out. “I blame Karina.”
The Venomous Vixen continued to burn invisible holes through the mini feature. Claire’s shadow is caught going down across the oak finish, as it appears rain suddenly falls. All thought Patricia could think about is that people laughing at her, calling her nothing. It seemed to piss off the Italian more.
“I wonder how many bars that big tit whore has stopped by? That’s all Brandi is, is nothing more than drunk up has-been who would rather soak up in booze than train to better herself. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day we hear that she had been found dead in the hotel room after arriving to an event. Brandi doesn’t give two shits about her body; well I don’t give two shits breaking her in half. Making her witness what the fuck happens when you piss me off to the point of no return. It’s no worse than her fat ass friend Cookie only going with the plan because Brandi said it was a good idea.”
“I bet she found culture here a paradise. Cookie makes me sick, baby. It’s the most mix-matched team in all of Sin City Wrestling. Last time they got lucky.”
“Hell yeah, those two pezzo di merda did get really lucky that my baby got into my mind last time and I couldn’t think straight. But now, her mommy is going out to war against a bunch of puttanas. This is my god damn time to shine; I will not be laughed at again. Cookie might be the strong member in that whole fucking tag team, but once I throw an ice cream sandwich on the mat that big trash basket will go running after it like it’s the world’s biggest donut decided to fall from the sky. What’s Cookie achieved outside this fucking team anyway than be Brandi’s troia? At least I managed to become a contender for championship, have won titles outside this fucking company… grrr… I hate these bitches.”
Claire looks at her lover with a blank stare.
“Speaking of ice cream, do you want any from the bar baby?”
Patricia tilts her head adjusting herself against the chair in a serious manner. She could not fucking believe Claire would ask about ice cream when she got finished talking about Cookie S’Mores. The Italian felt like this were a horror movie, and suddenly her fat ass would come out of the darkest of day for some ice cream, she could almost sense the bitch stomping her way toward their location like that Kool-Aid man. Patricia shook it off.
“No, thank you.”
Our scene ends, as Newborne starts zoning out into her own mind with Rain pouring from the heavens covering their location full of lasting wetness. It would be only a few days until the Italian team would meet their semi-opponents from the tournament, but would it end different...
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They say, when we are at are strongest is in the point of no return. My father once told me stories about men he had encountered during business that were so far gone, they murdered a half of dozen men out of the silent victim of rage before suddenly pulling the trigger on themselves knowing that what had happened would not be an easy return. You don’t mess with an Italian. You don’t mess with a Newborne.
