Tunneling.  Everything comes rushing in at you all at once.  The sunshine blinds you like a deer in headlights.  The weight of reality is standing on your chest, refusing to move an inch.  The smell is like salt.  Wait, salt?  Is that even a smell?  Now you know that it is.  Your breaths are shallow and each one is a battle all on its own.  And that squawking just adds to the confusion.  Once your eyes adjust to the bright sun, you let out a groan.  You look up from the ground, and the mess of blankets surrounding serve to assure you that you haven’t gotten a concussion despite the lightly throbbing pain in the back of your head.  You reach back and rub the back of your head before sitting up.  It feels like you have a hangover from hell, but unfortunately you know better than that.  You wrestle your way to your feet and stumble over toward the port hole, crawling over the mess of Barbie dolls, strange clothes, and a couple of half naked men.

“What the hell happened?”

It is a natural question to ask yourself in such a situation as this.  You look down to see an overgrown Cinderella gown adorning your body, white gloves and glass slippers to complete the ensemble.  You hear the sleepy sigh of one of the men lying on the ground, but you can’t even get yourself to look back at them.  Instead, you look out of the port hole and instantly your body is taken over by a nearly paralyzing fear.  Water… As far as the eye can see.  Water, seagulls, and passerby’s  on the deck.  You feel ridiculous judging the women on their outlandish sun hats because you look like a five year old girl who just visited Disneyland.  And so many people wearing speedos that really REALLY shouldn’t.

“It’s like the Coney Island Polar Bear Club has decided to go on a summer vacation out there.”

You shudder, and deep inside, you take comfort in the fact that the crippling anxiety is starting to slowly subside as it always does.  You turn your head away from the port hole and glance around the room for a sign, any sign at all, of where you have been for the last few weeks.  You pray that the men in this room are the only ones that you have been soiled by, but the dirty feeling that makes your own skin crawl lets you know that it is not the case.  You walk through the cabin and into the bathroom where you gently close the door.  You rest against it, avoiding looking at the mess that is surely standing there in the mirror.  You sink down to the ground, and every ounce of you wants to throw your head in your hands and cry.  You would trade anything to shed a tear for your state of mind, and it depresses you even further that you can’t.  Instead, your jaw clinches, and your fists ball up and you can’t control the angry scream that escapes your lips.

“GRRRRRRRAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”

It doesn’t make you feel much better, but any improvement is better than none.  That feeling of being used eats away at you so badly that you must crawl over to the shower.  You crank on the water and allow it to run to the perfect temperature as you stand up.  Your face stings as you pull off the white gloves, one by one, ever so slowly.  You drop them to the ground before sliding out of the glass slippers.  Reaching a hand up to the zipper on your back, you undo the purple gown and start to drop your shoulders to rid yourself of it when you stop.  You step into the shower, and you simply lie down in it.  The warm water seems to scour the weeks of filth off of you as you enjoy a short-lived moment of silence.

”You’re getting my dress all wet!  Doo-doo head!”

”You said you would always protect me, Sam.  You said you would never let them get me, but you lied…”

”I tried to protect you but they wanna get rid of me.  They said I’m a pain in the you-know-what.  I can’t die, then I can’t never ever protect you.”

”But you aren’t protecting me at all.  I’m being used in every sense of the word, even by you.  How am I supposed to be a champion when I don’t even know what is going on half of the fucking time?!?”

”I’m sorry… I tried to help you win your match at Lord of Rings but those guys were so big and strong.  Drew kept trying to feel their swimsuit areas so I told him ‘No!’ but I lost…”

Your face twists into disappointment.  All of the preparation for that match, and all of the promises that your demons made amounted to nothing but a rainbow tattoo and a few interesting pictures on your phone.  It is just another item on the list of shitty things that happens when you lose weeks at a time.  You sigh and open your eyes briefly as the water obscures your vision.

”Just leave me alone.  You are all the same.  You get what you want out of me, and then leave me to clean up the mess.  No amount of medicine can change that, and I am done trying.”

The voices all move in at once, and the arguing is so overwhelming that you reach up to cover your ears.  They continue on crowding your head as you move your lips, trying to drown them out.  Your eyes are clinched tightly as you feel them pounding on your temples in an attempt to break free, and all you can do is continue talking.  The voices don’t even seem to notice your own as you raise your voice even louder.

”No… No… NO… NO… NO!! NO!! NO!!! NO!!! NOOOOOOO!!!!!!”

All that happens is that you fade into the darkness.  Soon, you don’t even feel the warm water pressing against your face and your gown.  Nothingness, which has become the only beacon of hope as of late.  Numbness, which you have taken solace in.  Serenity.  Your breaths flow freely, and if you could feel your face, you would feel a smile.  But it doesn’t last.  It never does.

”Life is like a dream I can’t wake up from.”

Your eyes open up to catch a glimpse at the nightclub within the Royal Monarch.  You can’t tell if your vision is blurry because of coming back to control of your body, or if it is simply the beer goggles.  The dead soldiers surrounding you at the table quickly answer your question.  You look around, feeling a bit woozy as you spot Gabriel off in the corner of the bar, surrounded by some die-hard fans, where he pulls a few pretzels from the nearby bowl.  You watch as he moves his other hand over the one containing the pretzels, and then he quickly opens them up as a few monarch butterflies spring forward.  Your eyes move over to catch Shane and Fantasia sitting at the far end of the bar, next to a mirror (what a shocker).  Rage is about ready to pound a drunken rowdy fan who is getting a little too big headed.  It seems like a typical Friday night until you look back over across the table to see Jamie Staggs sitting there.

”So, then I was like… How the hell does someone beat me when they were phoning in the entire match.  Like I wasn’t even fucking there, dude…”

You reach over and before you know what has overtaken you, the palm of your hand is stinging from colliding with Jamie’s face.  Jamie picks up a bottle and flings it across the bar before shouting out an obscenity.

”What the hell kind of right do you think you have, talking to me after you embarrassed me for the whole world to see?  Get fucked, Jamie!”

Jamie rubs his cheek as he pounds his fist on the table.  Your cheeks are burning as you restrain yourself from hitting him even further.  It doesn’t help that “Get Up!” by Korn is playing on the jukebox.  That fierce bitch, Odette knows how you feel about it, but she couldn’t resist putting in that fifty cents.

”You psychotic… GRRRRRR!  Make up your damned mind, would you?  I’m not your emotional ragdoll anymore.  I might be a dumbass but I’m not gonna play games with you.  All of you said that you wanted me back here, and we were having a good night and now this?”

”All of you?”

As the song starts going, you really do feel that creeping inside, and the anger builds up.  You pick up a bottle and throw it against the wall, causing the fans sitting there to shield themselves from the shattered glass.

”Yeah… Do I need to spill it out for you? A-L-T-A-R-Z…”

”Please don’t try to spell again.  It makes me feel sorry for you.  It’s like the only reason I married you.”

”No, you married me for my name, and to make Misty jealous.  You wanted Spike’s nuts… Do I gotta repeat your wedding vows?  It was all in there.  Real emotional stuff, I almost cried.”

What a smartass… You can’t help but chuckle at him, even though he is telling the truth about the vows.  You need more to drink if you are going to have this talk with Jamie. You put the bottle of beer up to your lips as he polishes off his beer.  As you set yours down on the table, Jamie reaches over and pulls you in for a kiss.  It feels just like the first time, but it is short lived.  Are you blacking out again?  Really?  Not yet…  Jamie hands you a thick manila envelope and you stare at it, confusedly.

”I was thinking about throwing them into the ocean, but things will never change.  Goodbye my love.  Keep the last name; it’s all in there between all the lawyer speak.”

You choke on your words as Jamie gets up and walks out.  You keep trying to say something, but nothing comes out as there is a sinking feeling in your stomach.  You want to throw up and cry all at once, but neither relieving act of mercy is afforded to you as you stand up.  You knock over the table and let out an ear-piercing scream.  It is the only thing you can think to do with the sudden surges of different emotions simultaneously.  The music doesn’t help either, as you shove the nearest person to the ground.  All of the Seven Deadly Sins crowd toward you as you attack the poor girl.  This is when the security team makes their way over to you.  They yank you off of her.  This is at this point where everything fades to black.  Emptiness; caught in a daze for what seems like only a few seconds.  Who knows how long it really has been at this point.  When you wake up, you are staring into a camera lens.  Your lips are moving, but you stop making any noise.  What were you saying?

You look over to your left, hoping that Ms. Rocky Mountains has got an answer for you, but in fact, she just stares at you like you are an escaped mental patient.  She slowly withdrawls the microphone from your lips and brings it back to her own.

”And how do you plan on going about that?  The fans on the Royal Monarch are all curious to know…”

You would kill to know what you were saying before, so that you didn’t have to wing it.  It is bad enough coming to right in the middle of a conversation, but then you add a camera with live feed to the mix, and you just can’t seem to organize your thoughts quick enough.  It is almost as painful as watching an interview with Avril Lavigne.  You finally connect the dots and drag the microphone back over to your lips.

”Do I even need a plan?  I have already beaten this bitch.  What else do I have to do to prove that I am the true champion?  If I beat her, she is just going to blame the stipulation.  She cannot accept the fact that I am the better competitor.  She is trying to rip off my crazy crown.  She probably has a secret crush on me!  Do you NOT see her trying to become me?  Jesus H Christ, this woman doesn’t require a plan, she requires a can of Lysol applied to her disease infested body before we step in the ring…  That’s good, I’m going to tweet that one.”

You pull out your phone and quickly scroll through to see Ms Newborn has already gotten a dig into you, so you return the favor to her.  You slide the phone back into your pocket, and return your gaze to Ms Rocky Mountains.

”Excuses don’t belong in the ring, Trish.  You can sling all of the shit you want about me, and call me useless, but the fact of the matter is that I’ve established this belt by being the first title holder.  I established it by being the best of ten women who competed for it, including yourself.  No matter what happens in the ring, come Sunday, you will never break me.  You will never erase the things I’ve accomplished in this company, and in my career.”

You look more directly into the camera as if speaking face to face with Trish personally.  Feeling the heat radiating from your face, you know that your anger cannot be quelled.  It is a very satisfying feeling to you.

”You can continue thinking that attacking me from behind after a match got under my skin.  As a matter of fact…?  I want you to think that.  I want you to think that I will be distracted by what you did.  Through everything else going on in my head, my disgust by the pure mentioning of your name will triumph all as I defeat you.  I will shut you up and walk out with the Bombshell Roulette Championship still in my possession.  Here is a little tip, Trish… You can’t play mind games with someone who has lost their mind.  You can walk around playing the brooding little wench who lost their child, and play to the sympathy that no one has for you.  You can pretend to be crazy, but the truth is that you are a self-centered, arrogant, vain person who is blatantly jealous of everyone who doesn’t buy your act.”

You inhale through your flared nostrils, taking a minute to calm down just a bit.  This speech is yours, and you know it.  You offer a slight giggle before allowing a wicked smile to spread across your face.  You can feel the light of the deck gleaming in your eye as you proudly fly your freak flag.

”Be prepared for Sunday, Trish… because you will find out what it is really like inside of my head.  I will let you pick my brain apart, dissect every bit of me, just so I can watch your fake ass cringe and cry over the monster that you’ve found.  You will get to see how it feels in the asylum, and you will wish that you never tried to take my place.  There is only one Kittie, and you could never measure up to me, try as you might.”

You are now done.  You push the microphone out of your face and you walk out of that cameras view.  You grab onto the side of your head, because of that splitting headache.  You close your eyes as you fade to the blackness once again.  It never lasts, but this time seems much calmer.  As you wake up, you are sitting in front of a computer screen.  Your vision is quite blurry, but it quickly clears up.  You watch as the cursor blinks on an empty page.  You sigh as you place your fingers on the keyboard.

”<3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<>

Dear SCW (Fans, wrestlers, an personnel),

I know that you sometimes think I am a bitch. I know that sometimes you think that I’m scary, or plagued with Chronic PMS.  Sometimes you also think that I am that fun little party girl who is still standing while others are passing out at the bar.  I am loyal, loving, deceitful, conniving, relentless, calculated, precise, sloppy, pleasant, horrible, angry, happy, immature, sexy, ugly, crazy, and about a million other contradictions.  In all of your assumptions, you are right.

The one thing that I am constantly is unpredictable.  Hell, half the time, I never even know what I am going to do next.  I have been a bad person, and I have done bad things.  I have betrayed a friend, and taken everything from her.  I can try to justify it all I want, but in this single lucid moment, I want to apologize for being exactly what she turned out to be.  Even though I cannot stand the sight of the bitch, I am very sorry that I betrayed you, Misty. You would have done it to me in a heartbeat, but what I did makes me no better than you.

Under that same logic, I should apologize to Trish Newborn for attacking her from behind like a coward after she lost to Odette Ryder.  By doing so, I proved that I am no better than her… Wait a minute, I actually did when I left her high and dry at Into the Void, and won the belt that we are competing for in two days time.  But, on a moral level, I am no better.  You are a coward, and everybody knows it.  You are sneaky and underhanded.  Where you stick a knife in someone’s back, I prefer to put it right in their gut.  But I proved that I am not any better than you when I retaliated last month on Climax Control.

Win, lose, or draw, I plan to take the higher road when we meet up on Sunday.  I plan to regain some of my integrity when I prove to the world exactly why I inaugurated this belt instead of you.  I am not the worthless competitor that you go on and on about on Twitter and in your promos.  If I were, then you wouldn’t be trying to become me.  I am not sure if you see it, but that is exactly what everyone else sees.  I am certifiable, and it is no secret.  I am a former Bombshell Champion, after two months of being here.  Four months in for you, and where is your SCW Championship belt?

That must be your thinking when you first targeted me, and decide that you want to pretend to be crazy.  You came in here a mouthy bitch, just like Angelica.  Once you realized that she was nothing, you aimed for someone who actually mattered in this company.  You picked a good target, but unfortunately, I will not bow to you.  I will not be brought down by the likes of Trish Newborn, and I certainly will NOT be ended by you either.  So many women have claimed they could do so, but they never did.  And that won’t change at Summer XXXTreme either.

Now, to the rest of Sin City Wrestling… I wanted to give you all an idea of what makes Kittie tick.  I wanted you all to understand me a little bit better by showing you what I go through as a person with Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID).  You all get the opportunity to see some of the strange things that my alters do when I am in the back seat, but you don’t ever get to see what I go through, and even when I am lucid, why I do the things I do.  I know that I am impossible to deal with at times, but it is hard when you suddenly wake up in the middle of an interview, or dinner, or a crowded bar, already blitzed out of your mind.  Giving you my eyes might give my opponent the upper hand on me, but that won’t matter when I get in that ring and make her see that she messed with the wrong bitch.  This is for those who I have wronged, so that you might see the logic (or lack thereof) behind it.

I am the Sin of Envy, that truly is who I am, love me or hate me.  I have put in my time, I have done the work, so now it is time that I am paid up for it.  But, to those that I have hurt during my time of making my name and gaining the glory that is rightfully mine, I do apologize.  There are many.  To those who got exactly what they deserved, I feel no pity for you.  The only thing I can do now is hold my head up high as I become the best champion I can be, and fight valiantly to uphold the virtues that a true champion should possess.

Sincerely yours,

-Kittie

P.S. CONGRATULATIONS TO THE NEW NWA WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION… SPIKE STAGGS! Love you, brother from another!”

<3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<>

You smirk as you move your mouse over to the “Send” button, posting your open letter to the Sin City Wrestling site.  You nod your head in satisfaction, when once again… you feel yourself fading… TO BLACK!

 Drew


”What the hell was that?”

Kittie is seen sitting down at a bar stool at the nearest strip club to the MVP Sports Unlimited where Climax Control is still going on.  She has a martini in her hand as she wears a smile across her face.  The red neon sign reading “Juggs” glows off of her face, causing an almost eerie glaze to form over her eyes.  She clears it with a quick wink as she takes a sip from her glass.  She straightens out her black tank top as she stands up, allowing the chains and blue straps to dangle from her pants.  She opens her arms for a hug.  Instead, her red-headed cohort passes her up and walks over to the bar.  She mutters and order to the bartender, and then leans back, just staring at Kittie.  This causes Kittie’s face to twist into a bit of anger.  She chokes on her words for a moment, sputtering and spitting before she lands a hard slap across her own face to clear things up.

Kittie:  Bitch… Don’t even come up in here actin’ like you got nothin’ to say to me, when obvi’s you does… Kay?

Roxanne rolls her eyes as she accepts her drink.  She slides a bill across the bar and sips at her drink.  As Kittie approaches Roxanne, she receives a cold hand held gently in her face.  Kittie returns the gesture, her face twisting into plain annoyance.  She turns to the side and then snaps in Roxanne’s face before starting to walk away.

Roxanne:  I came here to talk to Kittie, Drew…  I am not interested in speaking to you, or any of her other alters for that matter.

Kittie:  Bitch be trippin’ hellas lately, and if she gonna act a fool, then so am I… hello look at them buns.   Girl, the things I could do with those… and that… Mmm!

Roxanne winces for a moment, almost appearing as if she has virgin ears (HA!) and she shakes her head.  However, the tight jeans on this particular douche bag catch her attention.  Their eyes are glued to his backside as Kittie begins smacking the air in front of her, back and forth at the hips while gyrating.  Roxanne slowly nods her head but then breaks back to her point.

Roxanne:  So, do I need to make an appointment to speak with my friend, or do I just have to try my luck?  I ask because I really wanted to congratulate her on having brains and using them.  Everything I had to say to her seems to have finally sunk in…

Kittie turns and raises an eyebrow at Roxanne before taking a sip from her glass and setting it down.  She gives a very pompous chuckle before sauntering a few steps up to Roxanne.  She looks up into her eyes as Roxanne puffs out her chest to show her dominance.  This time, Kittie does not back down and she stands on the tips of her toes to get into Roxanne’s face.

Kittie:  It’s survival of the fittest, and I assure you that yo girl… does NOT fit into that category anymore.

Kittie’s head swivels back and forth as she wags a finger in Roxanne’s face.  She picks the glass back up and takes a big drink.  Roxanne has had enough at this point and she grabs onto Kittie’s finger and bends it with just enough pressure not to break it.  She leans off of the bar and looks down into Kittie’s eyes with an almost evil glare.  She gets nose to nose with Kittie as a small crowd starts to form around them.  They are mistaking it for PDA at first.

Roxanne:  Are we going to have a problem here, you and I?  Because I will gladly bend just a little harder until this finger snaps.  And then I will go on to the next one… and the next one, until you can’t piddle your imaginary pudd without remembering this look.  Are we clear here “girlfriend”?

Kittie suddenly takes a deep breath and looks around with confusion.  Panic has overtaken her face as she looks up at Roxanne who has now softened her expression drastically.  She lets go of Kittie’s finger.  Kittie looks down to the martini glass and then she chucks it at a wall.

Kittie:  I FUCKING HATE MARTINI’S!  What the hell is going on here, Roxie?

Roxanne takes a step back as the crowd disappointedly disburses and walks back to their tables.  She picks her drink back up and then places the thin red straw between her cherry lips and takes a gentle sip.  She delightedly exhales and then her emerald eyes wander back over to Kittie.

Roxanne:  I was just having a nice little conversation with Drew.  Sweet kid.

As Roxanne nods assuredly, Kittie lets out a nervous laugh, mixed with a nice dose of sarcasm.  She wipes at the sweat on her forehead as she takes a seat in the stool next to Roxanne.  Her eyes ask Roxanne if she had done anything embarrassing, to which Roxanne gently rubs her back and shakes her head negatively with a slight, sweet smirk.  Kittie sighs in relief as she leans over the bar and orders a drink of her own.  She looks back to see a woman removing her top, from the back and she shields her eyes.

Kittie:  What the hell am I even doing here?  As Drew, on top of that… Shouldn’t he be at “Boy Toys R’ Us” or something like that?  Fuck, I’m really losing it, Roxie.

Roxanne:  Well, think about it.  A man trapped in a woman’s body is probably going to strike out around a bunch of horny gay men, so a bunch of horny straight men seems appropriate, don’t you think, Kitten?

Kittie nods and then looks over at the stage in disgust.  She does her best to hide her face with her hand before turning her back toward the poles.  She looks at the many bottles in view and Roxanne leans against the bar, studying Kittie.  She waits for Kittie to say something, but when she stays silent, Roxanne decides to echo her sentiments.

Roxanne:  So, while I’ve got you on the phone… Can I ask what changed out there?  You seemed so collected, and you acted… well, like me.  What gives, Kitten?

Kittie takes her new drink and brings the straw to her mouth.  As she takes in a long, slow drink as she gazes off into the distance.  Roxanne patiently waits for an answer as Kittie slowly turns to look at Roxanne.  She stares on silently for almost a minute before finally speaking.

Kittie:  The one place I’ve always been safe from the alters has been the wrestling ring.  When I am there, I don’t have them whispering in my ear.  I don’t have them clawing to get out.  It is just me and my rage, right?  Well, not tonight… Tamara got out.  She got what she wanted, and she is growing stronger inside of me.  I guess you know how I feel about Brooklyn Carter, but I can’t even fight the urge to work with her.  I just don’t get it.

Roxanne:  Why?  What is the appeal of a space case?  She has done fuck all since she has been here, Kittie.  What is there to respect?  I have been watching SCW since the very first show when you defeated both Fantasia and Misty with ease.  Ever since then, you have been a force to be reckoned with.  Since Brooklyn entered, she has knocked out a porn star and has been on her back more than said erotic actress, Kandi Washington.  If your alter wanted to be smart, she would have the common sense to get with the likes of myself, or the third best thing, Misty…  But, Brooklyn Carter?

Just then, Kittie lunges forward, wrapping a lone hand around Roxanne’s throat, causing her to cough unexpectedly.  Kittie tilts her head to the side with an amused smile on her face.  As Roxanne reaches up to smack her, Kittie blocks it.  In one fluid motion, she removes her hand from Roxanne’s throat, and quickly plants the other right into Roxanne’s wind pipe, causing her to fall back against the bar, coughing.  Kittie leans down to Roxanne’s level, and gently removes a couple loose strands of red hair from her face with a sympathetic smile.

Kittie:  Kittie might be your little bitch, but don’t you dare try second guessing me ever again.  If I wanted to dwell in the past, I would have tracked you down at the Vegas strip club you came waltzing out of, you filthy redheaded slut, and I would have asked for your help.  Unfortunately, I am looking toward the future, which does not include you or Misty.  My God, you have everyone fooled; even Katalya, but I know EVERYTHING about you, Roxanne.

Kittie smirks as Roxanne gasps, slowly getting the air back in her lungs.  She has a grimace on her face as she listens to Kittie belittle her, and she puffs out her chest while rubbing at her throat.  Kittie simply finishes the last drink from her glass, sliding it down toward the bartender.  She smacks her lips and lets out a delightful sigh as she returns her gaze back to Roxanne.

Kittie:  I know the truth, Roxie.  You shit on everyone that you ever cared about, and now you wonder why none of those people has had a damn thing to do with you since your return.  You are just a sad, sad person.  Kittie might enjoy your friendship, but I’m not as convinced.  Brooklyn Carter is the new face of SCW’s Bombshell Division, and I plan on being right there at the top to welcome her.

Kittie gently pats Roxanne’s cheek, watching on with a gleeful smile as Roxanne purses her lips.  She is about to say something when Kittie simply walks off.  Roxanne fumes as she returns to her drink, waving Kittie off as she disappears out of the door.

<3<><3<><3<><3<>~{Scene 2: Battle Royale Inside My Head}~<><3<><3<><3<><3


”I wanna play with the dolls, ooooh can I can I can I PLEEEEEASE?!”

The eerily childish voice pleads with an echoing noise as Kittie sits there in the corner of her shower.  The water quickly rushes down her face as she lowers her head so that the water gently massages her head.  She simply wraps her arms around her knees, as her black Tripp pants cling to the form of her leg.  She rocks back and forth slowly, her own protest echoing inside of her head.

”Please go away.  Just leave me alone.  Won’t you just leave me the FUCK ALONE?!”

The laughter shakes her to her very foundation.  She shivers visibly for a moment as the wide array of pitches almost start to squeak in her ears.  She tilts her head back, allowing the water to spray her face.  She opens her mouth, allowing the water to fill her mouth, slowly pouring out.

”You got your crazy crown now.  It’s what you wanted isn’t it, lovely?”

Her mind tries to protest but the mind numbing assault from all the chatter in her head causes her to say nothing.  Her hand slowly reaches up, her index finger is outstretched as she begins drawing a circle around the crown of her head.  As much as she tries to stop it, her finger just keeps circling around and around before moving down to her temple.  She begins circling there for a while as the voices continue to argue with each other.

”Oooh girl, I wanna go hit up that one club wit all them cute lil emo boys.  Low self esteem and loose sexual identification is what I’m talkin’ bout!”

“You are sick, Drew.  I need this body in shape for Sunday.  I can’t have her walking funny, so I vote your appeal gets overturned…”

“Dayum girl!  How you gonna just veto my ass like that?  Harshness!”

“Oh, suddenly you are worried about your ass…   I thought you let anything happen to that orifice…”

Kittie clutches her hands over her ears, which only seems to do more damage as the bickering gets louder.  Voices she hasn’t heard in years have resurfaced, using her body up like a storage shed.  She rocks back and forth, a whining sound coming from her mouth as she does so.

Kittie:  WHAT ABOUT WHAT I WANT?!?

Kittie screeches out loud as she ceases her rocking.  Her eyes shoot open as a fit of rage takes over her face.  She looks at the shower head, squinting her eyes as the water cools her off.  That fucking laughter!  GRRRRRRRRRAWR!

”Kittie… We’ve  been over this a thousand times.  People laugh at you.  They don’t take you serious because you don’t take yourself serious.  It doesn’t matter how many titles you cheaply win…”

Kittie:  Cheap?  Are you freaking kidding me?!  I have never won any title in a manner that was less than honorable…

”I suppose beating a woman with an injured back whom you attacked countless times before the title match doesn’t constitute as unfair?  Or smacking someone who is seconds away from unlocking a briefcase with the briefcase?  Does that count as cheap?  I think it does, sweetness…”

“Hey!  You be nice to Kittie!  You are a big meanie buttface, Tamara!”

“Kat, this is adult business.  Go run around in circles or whatever children do to annoy adults…”

The sound of a very loud raspberry is heard being blown in Kittie’s head.  It brings a momentary relief from the anger and anxiety, a shimmer of a smile flashes upon her face, but is gone just as quick as it had appeared.

”Listen, I only want what is best for all of us.  If we let you go into this match all by yourself, you will screw up so hard against Karina Koji.  You might even lose your title.  Making nice with most of the bombshells isn’t going to cover your ass any longer, now that you are a champion.  Karina is a warrior who is not afraid of anything.”

Kittie:  I’m not fucking afraid of anything!  I have faced just about everything that could scare the average person, and I don’t fear a damned thing.

”Did I say that you didn’t?  I was about to say that the fearlessness is her weakness.  That lack of a real grip on reality is where she is at a disadvantage.  And it is exactly why I will be taking over again on Sunday…”

“Gurl please… It’s time they got to see me havin’ some fun out there.  I am not afraid to get dirty neither, ladies.  That title won’t go anywhere…”

“Men can’t compete for a Bombshell Championship, so it wouldn’t be fair…”

“Do I gotta pull a Gaga and drop my drawls?  When I’m in Kittie’s body, there ain’t no ha ha, so it’s all good baby.”

Kittie shakes her head, withdrawing from the argument.  She slowly stands up, her clothes soaking wet.  She stands there in the cool embrace of the water.  She shivers with a smile as the others begin to slowly complain.  Their voices start to fade as she turns around slowly, allowing every part of her body to cool off.  As if forcing the others into a dormant state, Kittie feels the relief washing over her.  All except the one…

”Ummmm… Can we play with the dolls right now?  There is a new one coming for you.  Ooooh a present!”

Kittie:  What are you talking about, Kat?  There is no present for us.  All there is waiting for us is a match on Sunday where you get to watch me beat the bloody fuck out of Karina Koji to retain my title.  Roulette Rules means that we can expect anything, but the one certainty is that I will walk out with my championship…

”Uh huh!  You can do it, Kittie.  I can’t wait to watch it too.  Maybe I’ll pull her hair for you.  Would that be okay?  I just wanna help you, not like that mean old grumpy…”

Kittie turns off the faucet, and lets the water drip from her body.  She closes her eyes as she runs her hands over her hair, wringing it out slowly.  The droplets of water sprinkle down from her pale skin, illuminated by the lights as she opens the shower curtain.  Kittie smiles and slowly nods her head as she walks out, getting water everywhere in her new (or new to her) bathroom.  She looks in the mirror, seeing a little girl standing next to her.  The little girl reaches up and holds onto Kittie’s hand, soaking as well.  She doesn’t seem to mind as she slowly tugs on Kittie’s arm, pulling her out into the bedroom where a package sits.  It is wrapped in black and a neatly tied purple bow.  The little girl bounces up and down on the bed excitedly as Kittie looks down at it.  She pulls the bow, and then tears at the wrapping paper cautiously.  After all, presents have always had a catch since a masked Roxanne started appearing.  As she pulls the top off of the box, she finds a charred Barbie Doll sitting there and she scoffs at it.  The little girl picks it up excitedly and begins bouncing up and down screaming “TOLD YA! TOLD YA! TOLD YA!”

Kittie:  That… stupid… BITCH!  GAH!  I’m going to fucking kill her on SUNDAY!  Murder her, I swear.  She has the nerve to try something “cute”?  We will see exactly how cute she thinks it is when I string her up and hang her out to dry in front of the entire crowd. I will FUCKING RUIN KARINA KOJI!!!

Kittie is seen kicking at the air furiously, picking up a lamp and throwing it across the room in a fit of anger.  She starts kicking at the walls, trying to rip the door off of it’s hinges…

Suddenly, we switch over to the bed, to see her calmly sitting with the doll in her hand, humming.  She makes it dance around happily.  Looking around the room, everything is in perfect order as Kittie starts to hum a nursery rhyme.  She slowly looks up at the camera with a sheepish sort of smile.

Kittie:  Karina… On Sunday, we are gonna has a play date.  I can’t wait to play with you.  Bring your doll, and I’ll bring mine.  Ummm, just be careful, coz sometimes I play rough.  Just ackz the camera guy from last week when he tried to leave… Hee hee!

Kittie waves at the camera as she returns to humming and dancing the doll around on the bed merrily.  A soft chiming sound can be heard, much like that of a mobile as we slowly pan out.  The scene fades out… TO BLACK!

 <3<><3<><3<><3<><3<>~{Scene One: Facing the Truth}~<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3

”I really, REALLY just want to wake up dammit…”

Kittie is seen sitting down in the smoldering ashes of the once beautiful rose garden of her own personal Wonderland.  She is seen sitting on top of a wild blue rose pedestal, in her long, flowing blue rose gown.  Her eyes are clinched tightly as the once lush garden is full of mostly ash with the occasional wild roses of various colors spread throughout.  She is taking in deep breaths, full of anxiety even though everything around her seems rather calm and uneventful.  As soon as her eyes open, her pupils dilate.  She is staring right into the single eye of her alter ego, Tamara.  They look as if they could be twins, except Tamara is easily ten times Kittie’s size at the moment.  A rumbling chuckle can be heard as the sparkling eyes of the devious one stares at the silver tiara resting on Kittie’s head.

Kittie:  Please, just let me wake up already.  I’ve had enough crap to deal with lately, and I’d rather just go back to my mundane reality.

Tamara:  Oh, but Kittie, darling… I do miss our lovely little chats.  It’s refreshing to know that I have you all to myself…

Tamara’s voice echoes off of the dark marble dome surrounding the garden.  She reaches her thumb and index finger together in a pinch as she gently tries to pull the crown off of Kittie’s head.  Kittie protects it with a pouty sort of demeanor.

Kittie:  Suck it!  I don’t need you.  I’ve already defeated you, and it is by my own good graces that you are even around.  So how about we cut to the chase already.  I’m so tired of this bullshit.  You know, I used to come here as a child to relax, but lately it’s worse than real life…

Tamara:  You are just a saucy little tart, aren’t you?  It must come from hanging out with that Sinful bunch that you now call a family.

Kittie purses her lips and folds her arms across her chest.  She refuses to look at the giant that is blatantly staring right at her.  Instead, she looks off into the serene brook that she nearly drowned in just a few short weeks ago.  Still, the bottomless body of water seems so relaxing to stare at.

Kittie:  Perhaps.  If there isn’t a point to this, then I’m going to move along until I find a way back home.

Tamara:  Okay, okay.  Aren’t you just a tough nut?  See, since you can’t find a true friend in this world, you have to rely on me.  I figured we needed some time alone, just us girls.  You might think I am a raging bitch with no heart, but what I am about to say is really the most genuine expression of love.  You need to wake the hell up and smell the roses.

Kittie:  Was that pun intended?  Because, if so, that was the cheapest attempt as a cheap pop I have ever heard,,,

Tamara gets a bit gruff with her expression as her eye narrows at Kittie.  Kittie seems satisfied with herself as she leans back, enjoying the comforting feeling of the lush rose.  Tamara takes in a deep breath and blows at Kittie, causing her to fly backward.  She has a hold of one of the rose pedals, and she uses it to slowly parachute down to the ground below her.  Tamara looks impatiently toward Kittie as she dusts herself off and stomps her foot in a childish fit of anger.

Tamara:  I have been saying this for a while now.  You are a fool.  Since the day you entered a wrestling ring, every single person has made you out to be a fool.  Every woman in GCW, GXW, and 3WL made you a joke.  Then, when you got here, Misty made you a joke.  You retaliated and you made her pay dearly.  It was exactly what you needed, but when you lost the Bombshell Championship, you reverted right back to what you were before.   You’re a sad, sad person right now and it’s showing with your drinking problem and your involuntary losses of consciousness.

Kittie puts her fingers in her ears and almost seems to do a childish “la-la-la” chant.  Tamara stops and smiles as she stares at the infantile Kittie.  She lets loose with a bit of laugher.  Kittie gets louder with her chant, but her alter ego’s laughter just bellows out that much harder.  Kittie begins screeching it, as Tamara’s laughter fades out.

Tamara:  You just let everybody make a fool out of you.  Hell, even I made a fool out of you just because I could.  But it’s just not funny anymore, honey.  The conversations I had with Jamie during the days leading up to the wedding were priceless.  He said he needed to get back into the wrestling world, and I thought he was a cute dumbass, so we gave them something to talk about.  He was supposed to let you in on the plan, but I guess he felt like riding the Katalya Express a little longer

Kittie:  You SHUT UP right now!  I’ve had enough of your lies!  Whatever you are REALLY trying to do… It won’t work.  I’m onto your game, bitch.

Kittie waves off the giant “queen” version of herself, and she begins walking away.  She ascends the black marble stairs toward a giant door.  As she gets closer, the door gets smaller and smaller until is is about the size of a mouse hole.  She looks back at the giant who is laughing at her.  Kittie frowns as she looks at the moon as it smiles back at her.  The sun approaches him and taps his shoulder.  The sun takes the place of the moon and Kittie sighs.

Tamara:  Awww, honey… You are mistaken, I assure you.  Think about everything I’ve told you here tonight.  What can you really argue with?  You and Jamie are playing couple even though he hasn’t slept in your bed in over a month now.  The only girls that have any ounce of respect for you consume massive amounts of alcohol.  You are just an afterthought with the bosses.  To them, you had your fifteen minutes of fame, and now it’s time for them to look to the next rambunctious bombshell that will bring in all the dollars by flashing her tits to all the boys.  You are a novelty that is being taken for granted, and you know damn well what I am talking about.

Kittie kicks her foot through the little door in frustration, but it barely allows the tip of her foot to pass through.  She almost seems to pout, but it is clearly a cover for her getting extremely agitated.  She crosses her arms over her chest and glares back at the giant, who from this distance is just as tall as her it seems.

Tamara:  You even gave into the idea of being T&A when you waltzed out to that ring two weeks ago in a swimsuit.  You would have never done that in a million years, and everything Misty said about it was true.

Kittie uncrosses her arms and her eyes grow wide with rage.  She begins walking down the stairs in a huff, pointing her finger in the direction of Tamara.  She bares her teeth as she immediately begins screaming.

Kittie:  Don’t you FUCKING DARE mention that… that… THING’S name in my presence EVER again!  That cur is a disgusting example of another thing that is wrong with the Bombshell Division.  She is a coward, she is overly arrogant for what she is, she is just flat out mean for the sake of being a bad person, and that is just the tip of the iceberg, woman!  That is why it is so important for me to win this match, because I want a chance to show her that my beating her wasn’t a fluke.  It was a fluke that she beat ME to be crowned the first Bombshell Champion.  They all say that no one can beat Misty, but I have done it a handful of times…  So I have to go through a bunch of whores that mean absolutely nothing to me.

Tamara listens as Kittie continues to scream, and she gets a smile of purely sadistic joy.  She begins kicking her feet up behind her as she lay there almost daydreaming of the times that Kittie has beaten the “Top Bitch” of SCW.  Kittie just keeps on going like she doesn’t even notice this.

Kittie:  I have no friends in this match, and the only one who gets an ounce of my respect is Brooklyn Carter.  Every competitor in this match is nothing but roadblocks on my way to my goal.  But guess what?  I’m a steamroller, and I will mow over each and every one of these wastes of space to make my way to where I rightfully deserve to be.  And it is not because I am supposedly a joke.

Roxanne:  That is exactly what it is, sweetness.  I always told you that you are better than that, but you never wanted to listen.

Kittie looks around before resting her eyes on Roxanne who is lying down in a patch of purple roses; however she is the same size as Kittie.  Kittie looks down at the new presence in her mind with a bit of suspicion.

Kittie:  What the hell are YOU doing here?  Invading Spike’s mind wasn’t enough for you or something?  If you want to prove to the world that I’m a crazy nut, then you are about five years too late…

Roxanne rolls over onto her back, spreading out amongst the purple roses.  As she sprawls out, the color spreads to each rose that she touches.  She closes her eyes, taking in the fragrance, letting out a joyful moan before slowly allowing her eyes to flutter open.

Roxanne:  Ohhh such hostility toward the one person who always had faith in you, even when even you didn’t.  And the person who saved your life just a few weeks ago…  Oh, you simply must come down here and join me.  These roses smell so sweet.

Kittie:  I would mention the thorn in my ass, but since that’s you, it would almost be redundant…  I don’t know what you want, or what you are doing in my head, but I won’t let another thing cloud my mind.  Any more distractions and I will go into self destruct, and since you are only residing in minds, that might make it a problem for you to continue existing, so…

Roxanne:  I am not even kidding, Kit.  It’s like lying down on a fluffy cloud of pedals.  You should try it.

Kittie stomps her foot in aggravation and then she marches back down toward the ground level where Roxanne is.  She is biting her cheek, trying to remain calm.

Kittie:  Are you even hearing a damn thing I’m saying, Roxie?  I’m not giving into whatever game you alters are trying to play with me.  You keep saying that you are just trying to help me, but all you are doing is driving me bat shit!  I would love to embrace you all, but the only thing that happens is that I lose a day to a week.  I just need to wake up already, I swear.

Roxanne:  That is exactly it.  You need to wake up and concentrate on being the Sin of Envy.  While everyone is so sure that you are a nothing, you can capitalize on their ignorance.  Go out and take what is rightfully yours, darling.  Seize the opportunity you have been given, and prove why you should have been the first Bombshell Champion instead of that wretched cur of a woman, Misty.  Wake up… Wake up…

<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3”Hmmmm?”

“Kittie, you need to wake up.  It’s time.”

“My time?”

“Yes, darling…”<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3


Kittie’s eyes gently flutter open and she looks around at her surroundings.  While they are not quite as beautiful, they are much more peaceful.  As the blinding filter of light fades away, Kittie sees her niece, Eden, and nephew, Timmy playing Alice: Return to Madness on the big screen television.  She rubs at her eyes to double check what she is seeing, and then she rolls her eyes as she stretches out.  She comes to a sitting position on the couch and continues to look around.  Eden has the controller in her hand, frantically pushing buttons before handing the controller over to Timmy.  She lets out a bit of an excited squeal as she charges at her.

Eden:  Aunt Kittie’s awake now, daddy!  Can we make her some chocolate chip pancakes with chocolate syrup?

Kittie grabs her stomach as the thought of that much chocolate at what she assumes is an early hour makes her feel a bit sick.  She wraps her arms around Eden, who turns to watch her brother spray the bolterflies.  Kittie strokes her hair gently before hearing someone come down the basement steps.

Spike:  Did aunt Kittie request that breakfast, because that sounds like something right out of Ms. Eden’s mouth…

Kittie turns around to look at Spike who is shirtless, brandishing taped up ribs from the pipe shot by Jason Burnside a few weeks ago.  He winces a bit before seeing the two curled up on the couch.  He smiles as Kittie turns around, shrugging her shoulders questioningly.  Spike holds up a finger at her.

Spike:  Breakfast is ready on the table, kids.  Why don’t you go on upstairs, and I will be there in a minute.

Eden excitedly jumps from Kittie’s arms and then tries to pull her upstairs with her.  Kittie gives her a kiss on the top of her head and then lifts her up, allowing her feet to dangle just a few inches from the floor.

Kittie:  I’ll come upstairs and eat with you guys in a minute.  I just need to ask your daddy a few questions about how I got here.

Eden shrugs her shoulders and then jumps onto her brothers back excitedly.  As he bucks around with her, she laughs.  Spike and Kittie watch with a smile as the kids make their way to the bottom of the stairs.  Eden tries to whisper politely, however it doesn’t work.

Eden:  Aunt Kittie musta caught stupid from Uncle Jamie.  She doesn’t even know that she got here in a car…

Spike looks at Kittie whose eyes flare up just a bit.  He covers his mouth to stifle his laughter.  Kittie walks up to him and punches him on his arm.  She is half way playing around and half way proving a point as she waves at the kids to get up the steps.  Timmy slams the door behind him and Kittie looks to Spike, yanking on his arm to bring him down to her level.  She speaks to him through gritted teeth.

Kittie:  How the hell did I get here?  The last thing I knew, I was laying in my bed at home, and then I wake up on your basement couch?

Spike looks at his friend with a bit of a strange look.  He opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a string of “uhhhhh” and “ummmmm”s.  She takes a step back, but holds onto his arms as he looks at her.  She sinks a bit with a sickened feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Kittie:  Nuh uh… Did we…?  Oh no, no, no, no… No… No way.

Spike:  I’d like to think that I’m not as disgusting of a person as Misty is making me out to be, but to answer your question… No.  “Oh no, no, no… No way”  I refuse to be a segment on Jerry Springer, Kittie.  You called me up to party, I declined, and you came over… Are you sure you don’t remember any of this?  The call from the alarm company and the police about my gym… Any of that sound familiar at all?

Kittie shrugs her shoulders, trying to hide her sigh of relief.  She punches herself upside her head a couple of times as if that would magically cause her to remember what she’d done.  Spike grabs onto her wrist to prevent her from doing it a fourth time.

Spike:  You’ve been stressing out too much lately, and hitting your head isn’t going to do a damn thing… Don’t freak out with my kids around, because it’s the last thing I need Misty to bring up.

Kittie:  Oh FUCK Misty!  If she has something to say to me, she is more than welcomed to come to my face and tell me her damned self!  But like every other “bombshell”, she is a coward.  She isn’t worth the hype that everyone is putting into her and I wish her a slow, painful rotting in the eternal flames of hell, Spike…

Spike:  To be honest, that makes two of us.  Well, three, because which ever alter-ego I was talking to last night sure as hell didn’t have a nice word to say about her.  But let’s be adults, and try not screaming defamatory comments about one’s mother when they are just a few feet above our head.  As she grows up, she will learn that her mother is a self-absorbed, ego-maniacal, man-eating devil whore.

Kittie:  I hope that cur crashes on her way to the arena.  I would bring the champagne, and you are welcome…

Kittie has lowered her voice as she listens for any sign of the kids coming their way.  She looks back up to Spike with a sadistic smile that almost seems to match his.  He quickly shakes it off, but Kittie refuses to.

Kittie:  Go ahead.  Let it out because you have held it in for way too long, Spikey boy… But I respect your way of dealing.  Just respect my way of hating that you are dealing with it in such a peaceful way.

Kittie looks down at her feet and she sees a rubber ducky.  She closes her eyes, as if a headache were coming on.



”WOOOOOOOOOO!”

Kittie remembers taking one last shot as someone bumps into her.  She slams the shot glass down on the bar and swivels around, rather drunk at this point.  She stares right into the young brunette’s eyes.  Kittie gently removes the girl’s glasses and tosses them behind her.  The girl looks at Kittie with a bit of shock.  She waves her hand apologetically, when Kittie sees the stuffed pink flamingo in her hands.

Maggie:  I’m so sorry about that.  My asshole of a friend was trying to wrestle Chrissy away from me.

Just then, the guy comes up, holding a Corona in one hand, and his leather jacket in the other.  His hair is a dark brown Mohawk, and he boasts a couple of facial piercings.  He snatches the stuffed animal from Maggie’s hands and then he smiles and points at Kittie.

Erik:  No way!  I write for you!

Kittie:  What the hell are you talking about?

Erik:  I don’t know… I’m pretty wasted right now.

Kittie:  Well that makes four of us, right Rage?

Kittie looks around at Rage, who is almost nodding off.  The three laugh at him before he opens one eye.  He looks back at them and then growls.  Erik walks over to Rage and pats his shoulder gently.

Erik:  Ha!  Somebody needs to get laid… I should hash tag that.

Kittie:  You wouldn’t be the first… or the tenth to do that.

Rage wraps his arm around Erik’s throat and then lifts him up into the air.  Erik’s eyes bulge out and he drops his bottle on the floor.  He can’t think of anything else to do besides lift the flamingo up to his face.  He waves it around there for a moment until Rage even cracks a bit of a laugh.  He quickly snaps out of it and then lowers Erik to his feet.  Just then the bartender comes up to them with the bouncers behind him.

Bartender:  You guys gotta get outta here.  You been causing too much trouble ‘round here.



Kittie blinks her eyes and then the headache is gone.  Spike glances at her softly with concern, but Kittie waves it off.  She mumbles to herself about a bear suit, and Spike leans in to listen.

Kittie:  I’m fine, Spike.  I was just thinking about how things would have been if you would have just left that hag to burn in that dumpster along with the rest of the trash.  And her ever so faithful friend is the one to blame for that, and she repaid you with…

“Shhhhhh…”

Spike places  finger over her mouth as he shushes her.  Instinctively she lunges forward, biting onto his finger, but she stops before she puts too much pressure onto it.  She pulls away as Spike nods his head, mouthing that he knows.  Kittie folds her arms across her chest and stomps her foot in her own form of protest.

Kittie:  How about we call her “Jane”.  So, after I barrel through all of these pathetic excuses for competition, and I get that briefcase, I will bring it to the back, and I will get that key.  And once I pull out that contract, I promise I will make sure JANE winds up in a flaming dumpster along with her little nutty bitch.  Then we will see who the real “One True Bombshell in SCW” is…

Spike: … Am I the only one singing “Jane Says” in the back of my mind?

Kittie:  No, I definitely am too… heh.  Anyway, you won’t have a damn thing to worry about if I win this Free For All.  If I get the chance, I will be sure to take that Bombshell Championship from her.  Not only that, but I will make sure that she has atoned for her sins once and for all.

Spike pause for a moment, staring at Kittie as she prepares to walk up the steps.  He shakes his head in a bit of disbelief, thinking something over very carefully. Kittie pauses and then looks back to Spike as he is staring at her.  She looks at him questioningly before motioning with her head to follow her.

Kittie:  Ummm, are you coming or not?  I think I am hearing a lot of laughing that can only be caused by the making of mischief…

Spike:  Oh, yeah… I just thought I heard… something.  It was probably nothing though.  We’d better see what kind of catastrophic condition the kitchen is in now.  I may need to pick up that Mr. Mom apron again.

Kittie shrugs her shoulders and chuckles with Spike as she begins jogging up the stairs.  Spike follows her slowly, eyeballing her the entire way up the stairs with that suspicious feeling gnawing at him.  As they come into the kitchen, Eden has pulled out a bottle of chocolate syrup and has a mess made on the table.  Spike sighs as Kittie walks over, making a smiley face on the remainder of Eden’s non-chocolate chip pancakes.  Timmy shrugs as he shovels eggs into his mouth and the scene fades.


<3<><3<><3<><3<><3<>~{Note To Self…}~<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3

Dear Kittie,

You have been beaten down and broken into pieces.  You have begun to collect those pieces and rebuild yourself. Everybody thinks that you will be weakened by doing this, but those people can suck it and choke on it.  It is nothing but wishful thinking on their part.  It’s something that they are telling themselves so that they can sleep peacefully at night.  They have no idea what awaits them at Into The Void.  Can you imagine the looks on their faces as you deliver consecutive Kat’s Cradle’s to them?  The thought of it is simply priceless, darling.

That hopeless piece of garbage, Trish Newborn was the first to publicly bash you and your past.  While she may not have realized it, she opened up a huge can of worms with her words.  She is simply a tiny maggot that has crawled out of her lovers crusty unmentionables.  She is jealous of the talent that you possess, Katalya.  She wishes she had a fraction of that talent, because all she has is her career.  Not even her own half sister wants anything to do with her.  Her own flesh and blood has disowned her, so the only thing she has is her venomous tongue.  I know that your first instinct is to want to bash her brains in for ever daring to bring about the controversy that was your 3WL career.  It truly is funny what people try to grasp at when they truly have nothing.  It is just unfortunate for her that she brought up the wrong thing, isn’t it?

And her friend… Her little bitch of a friend who I will address later, says she respects Trish Newborn?  What does she respect?  Is it respectable that the girl opens her fucking mouth to talk a lot of crap on people like Brooklyn Carter, and you?  She has the gall to say that Brooklyn is a never was in this company when she, herself, is a never was, and a never will be!  Is that all that these women can say about Brooklyn?  She’s a pothead that didn’t accomplish anything?  You were the first one to say any of that stuff, and it’s old news.  Whatever drugs the girl is on, she’s got some serious skill.  She was here for two months when real life kicked her ass.  Who can blame her for that?  She may not be your favorite person in the world, but she could school any of these pathetic excuses in this match without batting an eyelash.  Regardless of what you’ve said about her Kittie, she is a threat now more than ever.  Do not take her lightly, because it is a mistake that just might cost them the match.

Trish’s little friend also mentioned that you brag about championships from the past?  Is less than six months ago too far in the past to where it is no longer relevant?  It is more relevant than Trish’s “legendary” title reigns in places no one give a fuck about.  This isn’t Barbie Doll Wrestling,..  It’s Sin City Wrestling where we have top notch talent, even though Trish was allowed to sign here…  She says she can hold a title for more than a couple of months, but I don’t give two little shits about those reigns?  Let’s see about that, shall we, Kitten?  When I beat her ass in this match, what will that say about her precious titles?  I will tell you right now.  It says that those belts aren’t worth the fucking copper they were molded on.  Of course, beating the ever-living hell out of her won’t be to make any federation look bad.  It will simply be to make Trish look like the arrogant fool that she truly is…

And oh how she loves to brag about things that absolutely no body gives a shit about here in Sin City Wrestling.  So she wrestled for a so-called quality organization that couldn’t keep it’s doors opened long enough to honor a shot at their top title to a woman who worked her way through an entire roster to get that shot.  Let’s not mention that she won their last tag team tournament to capture their tag gold alongside her lover, Nyako right before shutting their doors.  This woman was a beast, and the time for complaining about being screwed over is done and past.  One could point out to that ignorant piece of trash, Trish Newborn, that one who is champion so many times must lose an awful fucking lot, or else she could bring a collection of her belts down to the ring.  The only problem is that every person in the audience and every soul watching from home would just laugh at the stupid bitch.  They already do just from hearing her talk about all of these places that we are supposed to believe exist.

But let’s not forget that Ms. Trish owns this SCW ring, even though she couldn’t be bothered to concentrate on her tag team match, and got her ass kicked.  So you and Bianca beat Angelica and Veronica Taylor.  Who the hell hasn’t done that?  I have.  Misty has.  Fantasia has.  Raynin has.  Anyone who matters has.  Let me clarify before Trish begins to think that she holds any sort of importance to the wrestling world.  The people of SCW that matter, such as former champions, have defeated Mean Girls.  Also, some who don’t, such as yourself and your partner, have defeated them.  It doesn’t make a competitor special, and it doesn’t prove a damn thing to anyone.  It’s almost sad to think of it as a viable accomplishment.  Unfortunately, she does.

Let’s move on back to her content of character, or lack thereof.  She tries to invoke sympathy from us by talking about a dead child.  That child is better off not having been subjected to a mother as horrible as you.  That was God’s gift to her child, and her punishment for being the wretched, disgusting woman that she is.  And they call you emo for a lot less than the crap this woman pulls.  And they call Angelica stupid for judging a person by their outer appearance, yet that is what they do.  Trish says that you whine and cry all the time, but listing pure facts is apparently wrong.  She would rather invent a different federation that she holds a championship in than to bother listing or listening to pure, unadulterated facts.  For shame, because it just makes her that much more of a pathetic fucking idiot.

An Italian fool, that is!  Because those ignorant Jersey Shore dipshits prove that everyone who is Italian is a genius, right?  Wrong.  The only thing that they prove time and time again is that they are good at drinking and causing drama with their saddening low intelligence.  Should I bring up that I am Irish?  Should I list everything that my heritage makes me good at?  Eating potatoes.  Wearing green. Riverdance.  Bagpipes, corned beef, cabbage, and bagged pipes?  We high tolerance for alcohol and a low tolerance for ignorant dumb fucks who try to come up into our territory and act big and bad.  This is one of those times with Trish, Kittie.  She needs to be put into her place.  She needs it now more than ever, when she hopes to threaten your rise back to the top.  So give her exactly what she needs, because no other Bombshells wants to call her out of being the unintelligent, arrogant piece of crap that she truly is.  They all think she’s cutesy with her generic comebacks of calling people whores and c**ts and saying that they suck.  Well, I’m tired of it, and you should be as well babycakes. Make sure that she feels the wrath of your brand of justice most out of anyone in this match…

How fun would it be to invite the egotistical piece of shit’s own sister to watch you beat her ass.  If you did that, then you might have a new number one fan.  Maybe you should drop her a ticket at the Will Call window.  How thoughtful you are, darling. Wouldn’t Trish just love that surprise?  Oh it would be a sight to see… Do it my precious!  Do it!

While there are a million and one other things that I could bring up about the lack of character and class that Trish Newborn possesses, the most clear message will be kicking in her teeth through her rectal cavity.  Moving on!  So we have Karina Koji.  She is the one girl in this match that would make sense as an ally.  She is new here, but she is so much like you.  She enjoys the sadistic torture that she can hand out in the wrestling ring.  She thinks that your anger is a prison that holds you down, when in fact, it is you that holds yourself, and the anger, down.  She has made the mistake of generalizing you, or thinking that she has you figured out.  There is not one single person in this world has you figured out, not even yourself.  Every new person deserves a proper chance to shine like the star that they are.  It is just a shame that this one has been written in as an opponent of yours.  She has chosen to label you, and she has burned any chance that she had of being a friend with you when she burned a doll that was supposed to symbolize you.  For someone who knows the world of wrestling so well, she just lost the one person who would consider bonding with her and helping her.  She did have one fraction of a part right when she said that you would be seeing red.  However, after you are seeing red, you will be seeing gold… a golden opportunity.

Oh, how funny… What’s that?  Oh, I just thought of Bianca Solderini’s comments about slitting of wrists and whining.  Isn’t she the one crying on Twitter about wanting a boyfriend?  It almost seems like these other girls took the same classes in trash talk, because all they can do is call you emo.  The only person who seems to be able to call you a flat out psychopath is Misty.  Is she really the one with the most common sense around here?  What a sad thought…

Back to Bianca.  On the streets, the Bianca means a whiney, self centered bitch.  I would try to argue, but that about sums it up.  She is nothing.  She is jealous of your potential, and her lack thereof.  She and Trish belong together, and maybe when you bury their careers, you can make their plot a double? That sounds fun, doesn’t it Kittie Kat?  Bianca wrestles as good as she trash talks, which should guarantee that you don’t have to worry about her one bit.  Her only claim to fame is that she and Trish beat Angelica and Veronica Taylor.  Who the fuck hasn’t?  Seriously, and they want to talk to you about being a nobody who brags about what you have done in THIS FEDERATION???  Pass… Scratch those whores off of the list of threats, and put them in the same category as the Mean Girls.  Perhaps they could even join forces?

Speaking of the Mean Girls… How funny is it that Veronica Taylor is pissing her panties thinking about facing you.  She hasn’t even said a single word about the match.  Angelica said a little bit, but the worry in her face shined through.  She can say that she will win, but it is just like the rest of these prostitutes running their mouths.  Idle threats make you laugh, don’t they?  Oh, that’s right.  They piss you off even more.  The Mean Girls have suddenly become the vice of reason in this division, and it’s sad to see what Misty has done as “Queen of the Bombshells”.  Everyone has decided that since Angelica’s mouth is only good for running on about things and sucking ON things, that her insults are funny or true?  This is such a sad time when the only thing people can do is recycle the material of other’s.

At least the Freakette’s know they are outmatched here.  That is why they have kept their mouths closed.  They must share a brain cell with Veronica Taylor.  Even though they belong in the opening of the show, they have a future because they don’t want to piss you off.  But there is somebody that does… Can you imagine me saying that with a devious pause?  Delightful…

There is someone who thinks that the world feels they have to prove a damn thing to her.  Do you think you owe anyone an explanation of the rhyme and reason to your madness?  Hell no you don’t.  At least she didn’t call you an emo, though… Doesn’t that count for something?  Maybe just a little?  No?  Well, even if it had, the words that she had to say about you would probably have knocked that right down the drain.  Gothika was part of that attack on you that came right after you lost the Bombshell Championship.  She seems to think that putting words in your mouth is as useful a tactic as stealing gimmick ideas.  Who was it that yanked on your foot when you were inches away from breaking up Raynin’s pin on Brooklyn Carter.  That is a fact.  It has nothing to do with the fact of how good you are.  It is stating a simple fact.  If she wishes to underestimate you, it shall be the dead bitch’s second funeral.  And even if it were a Wonka Bar in that briefcase, it would be yours because you will be the one to get it.  Don’t let anyone tell you differently.

And speaking of the Fallen and the travesty… I mean bullshit of the night you lost the crown…  Brooklyn Carter.  As strange of a relationship (or lack thereof) that you two have shared, she is truly the biggest competition in this match thus far.  She has proven consistencies that counteract her tendencies to lack previously.  She is still a pothead, of course.  Hopefully the lack of clarity in her mind will be your window for winning this thing.  Don’t worry about it too much, because there is a woman that could take the cake.

That woman is a former Bombshell Champion.  The funny thing is that people want to bash such an accomplishment, but there are only three worthy competitors that have honestly held that belt.  I just can’t get over how bragging about an accomplishment in your current company is considered pathetic or “emo”.  That is neither here nor there, dollface.  This woman is a tough competitor with a mean streak in her.  She has taken time away from the chase, and she is now getting back into the swing of things.  People want to trash her for it, but they will see what a big mistake that is when they meet up with her in that ring.  When I look into her eyes, I can see the determination that burns.  I can see it, and it’s chilling.  Anybody with half a brain that looks into her eyes would know better than to talk trash on her.  The sad part of it all is that she stands a great chance of winning this thing.  That woman is you, Kittie.  You needed to hear it because I’m not so sure that you would believe these FACTS if they weren’t presented to you.  So you go on and win whatever it is in that briefcase, and you prove to the world why you DESERVE it.  And prove to them exactly why they DON’T…

Love ya Bitch,
-Your own damn self!


<3<><3<><3<><3<><3<>~{Fade to… THE END}~<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3

 ”Dear Odette,

I am not sure if you’ve seen this whole letter writing thing from me, but it is where I usually tear apart any opponent or person who stands in my way as a threat.  I usually like to use this as a euphemism for the physical assault that is awaiting them once they step inside of the ring with me… You know, get into their head a little bit.  Hopefully make them cry a little even?  Wow, stating my reasoning makes me sound like somewhat of a bitch, doesn’t it?  I mean a real, ruthless, bloodthirsty pitbull of a bitch!  Awe, who are we kidding?  That describes my quite aptly, doesn’t it?  I mean, you saw me last week when I faced off against Misty and Vixen to move onto the next round.  Misty can say what she wants, but I was tearing them apart well before Vixen abandoned her.  That, mixed with the facepalm to Angelica made that night truly epic, am I right?

My point in this rambling is that I don’t take it easy on anyone inside of that ring, regardless of who you are.  I’m out for gold, and if gold isn’t an option, then I will collect a bitches blood!  I’m a little bit of a nut, but we’ve already established that, haven’t we?  I guess what I am trying to get at is that I’ve sat down, and I’ve tried writing so many letters about how I want to mutilate you in the ring, or how I want to make you pay for something, but the truth is that none of that is true.  You have been a true friend the last few weeks, along with Brandi and Cookie and even Carly to a certain extent.  Hell, I never thought I would be wearing a bathing suit, but just the other day, we all picked ours up…  But something really does need to be said about how we are both going to get through each other to get what we want, and I kinda have to tear you apart a little bit, now don’t I?

No, I don’t.  I love being different no matter how often people have told me that I’m a psycho, I’m ugly, I deserve to be covered in kitty litter, or otherwise hazed by these poor excuses of women wrestlers running around here.  But us few real women here… We have to stick together.  You can pass that along to Carly as well.  I won’t be out to quench my blood lust.  I have no intentions of ripping you two, limb from limb.  I want what you two want, and that is where we have a… little bit of a problem.

You see, I still won’t take it easy on you two in the ring.  This isn’t an admission of weakness here.  It is simply me saying that the better team will emerge victorious, and even if it isn’t us Ladies of Sin, then I would gladly root you and Carly on.  But that doesn’t mean I won’t go out there and hustle to make sure we put on the best damn show possible.  I don’t plan on letting you get some kind of easy victory over me and Fantasia.  We are very driven, and we have a reputation to uphold for the Sins.  See, we have an opportunity to be an elite class of Sins where we can inaugurate an SCW championship belt.  This has been done by Gabriel first, who was the first Heavyweight Champion.  Next, Rage, along with my husband Jamie Staggs, went on to become the first Tag Team Champions here in SCW.  Well, you get the picture of why this is so important.

Just rest assured that whatever the outcome is, I will gladly go out and have a drink with you and Carly.

Hugs
-Kittie


<3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<>~Waking Up Is Hard To Do~<3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<><3<>

Spinning, and spinning, and spinning and spinning, and spinning and spinning, and spinning and spinning, and spinning…

Round, and round, and round and round, and round and round, and round and round, and round and round, and round and round…

A close up of Kittie laying down on a bed, one which is not her own yet a very familiar one lately.  It appears much like a princess bed in black and blue, with the blue forming a large rose shape against the black.  Her greenish blue eyes sparkle as her pupils dilate.  She takes a deep breath as a white light flashes over her face, nearly blinding.  She shields her face, clinching her eyelids closed in the process.

Kittie:  Oh no… No, I don’t want to go back there!  I’m not ready!

She shivers in a panic as she covers her face, wishing it weren’t true.  Her blonde hair swirls around in a fit as she feels herself being pulled of the edge of the bed.  She whimpers a bit, trying her best to clutch onto the headboard as if clawing to save her life.

Kittie:  Everything’s a fucking riddle, and I’m too hung over for that right now!!

”Help me… Help me… Won’t somebody help me?”

Kittie willfully persists as this force threatens to take her from her slumber into the twisted world inside of her own head.  She lets out an almost blood curdling scream as she breaks a nail on the headboard, losing the grip of one hand.

”Kittie, you have to come with me… You have to…”

The eerie soft echoing of a feminine voice all but makes her willing to go along with it’s commands.  Suddenly,  large hand covers her mouth and inserts something into it all in one solid motion.  Her muffled screams go on for a good thirty seconds before she looses some of her fight.  She opens her eyes to see Fantasia clutching one end of the comforter, and notices herself draped over Rage’s shoulders.  She clubs at his back a few times before surrendering.

Fantasia:  What is her prob… Nevermind even asking that question.  You need to get up and get ready to train Kittie Kat.

Kittie is mostly embarrassed, but she refuses to show it as Rage carries her down the stairs and into the kitchen where Theresa has spread out a plate of breakfast foods before retiring to the living room.  Rage drops her down in the chair in front where she sits, still adorned in the clothes she was wearing last night, minus the shoes.  She groggily picks at the plate, snagging up a piece of bacon, taking her time with it.  Kittie shakes her head from side to side slowly.  She can feel the eyes on her, but she chooses to ignore them, and focus on keeping down the noise.

Kittie:  If this is Odette Ryder’s way of trying to put me at a disadvantage for our match… it’s working… Underhanded bitch she is… heh heh heh…

Kittie chuckles to herself at her own brand of sarcasm and ironic misery.  She had gone through some rather interesting adventures with Brandi, Cookie, and Odette, even on an occasion with Odette’s partner, Carly Athens.  She wouldn’t trade those memories for any amount of ibuprofen though, even though her memories are but a mere fraction.

Fantasia:  You know you could be right about Odette trying to soften you up, because right now you are about tough as melted butter.  These late nights and breakfasts at three in the afternoon aren’t very good for our aspirations of being the third and fourth Sins to inaugurate a Sin City Wrestling Championship belt.

Kittie lets out a groan, as if she were a teen getting lectured about under aged drinking.  She drops the piece of bacon and goes to work on the scrambled eggs without giving it a second thought.  She tries to ignore it, but she knows it needs to be addressed.

Kittie:  Yeah, it’s called a joke.  If she were really trying to be sneaky, she could have Tanya Harding’ed me instead of partying for days with me.  It isn’t even like that.  We just went extra hard the last couple of days.

Fantasia:  Just make sure that, whatever you do, you stay focused on the match.  I know you’ve had your fair share of… issues lately.  Just don’t let your judgment become clouded by friendship.

Kittie chews at the last bit of bacon, and as Fantasia says this, Kittie slowly spins around in her chair.  Her eyes flutter as she looks toward Fantasia and a nearby window.  She squints a bit, partially from the light, and partially from aggrevation.

Kittie:  It’s funny, because I would swear you have been in the ring a few times where I didn’t take it so easy on a friend.  Do you remember that I broke a friend’s back, and gave her a concussion? Do you remember how I took championship gold from a friend?  Do not mistake my lack of animosity toward Odette and Carly as showing weakness to them, because I assure you that isn’t the case…

Fantasia:  You had better not.  I came out of retirement to help you, and I expect you to take it as seriously as I am.  Take it easy on the partying until after we beat those two.

Kittie chews away at her food as she nods her head, much like a teenage girl would with her mother.  Fantasia bats her doe-like eyes at Kittie, at least hoping that the message got through.

Fantasia:  Just be ready in half an hour so we can get down to the gym to train with Synn.

Kittie continues nodding her head, never having stopped from before.  She finishes the last bit of her food before bringing her dishes to the sink.  She slowly drags herself back up the steps, disappearing as Fantasia takes a deep breath, sighing.  The scene fades out to Black.

 Sin: An immoral act considered to be a transgression against divine law.
Synonyms:  trespass - guilt - offense - transgression - offence -  transgress - err - trespass – offend

That is the definition of sin as per Merriam-Webster Dictionary , but that isn’t what it truly means to be a sin, to truly embody and live your life without shame or guilt.  We all slip up by thinking about or acting on sexual desires… We all think about or act upon the primal rage that we are born with thanks to Original Sin.  We all want to feel proud of ourselves, and hear a never ending stream of praise.  We all would sit around and rot if we didn’t have to work, and when we are off, what do we do many times when there are other things that could be done?  We all wish we could sit back and consume obscene amounts of lavish junk, and to overindulge in our favorite foods and activities.  We all want the world in the palm of our hand, and everything that it possesses.  And sometimes, we only want it because we don’t have it and someone else does.

Lust – Wrath – Pride – Sloth – Gluttony – Greed – Envy…

These are the Seven Deadly Sins, as professed by the Roman Catholic Church.  Purgatory awaits anyone who commits any combination of these sins, if they are not confessed and absolved by a priest of the church.  Sin is not only looked down upon by the Catholic, or any other Christian church, but all around the world, in every single culture, in every single community.  People are persecuted for these sins, but that doesn’t stop them from spreading, and taking over.

There are two cities known the world over for thriving on sin, and I have been in both over the last month and a half.  I have watched the people walk around the streets of Las Vegas with the prostitutes, the ramblers, the gamblers, and the drunken idiots fighting.  From my hometown where I was literally born into sin, we travelled to Amsterdam where sex, drugs, and the violence of rock n’ roll are sold on every street corner, in every café full of “other” brownies, where the baristas serve you your vice on a plate, whether it be uppers, downers, or both.  Unless your vice is not sloth or gluttony, then they have many prostitutes in the windows for you to pick.

What do we think of when we think of Las Vegas and Amsterdam?  Do we think about sin, or do we think about fun?  Do we see the dark cloud of impending judgment hanging over our heads, or do we see a damn good time?

Envy: A feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualities, or luck.

While we all possess a certain tendency to all of the Seven Deadly Sins, we all lean toward one or the other mostly.  For me, I embody the Sin of Envy perfectly.  I can’t help but want what other people have.  It started off in GXW when I wanted to be noticed as a serious wrestler.  I wanted the spotlight, and I never got it because of the blonde bombshell, Michelle Andretti, or the pyromaniac, Electra Blaze, or the gothic beauty, Misty…  I hated them all for it, but I tried to overcome the envy of Misty.

Years went on, and Misty and I were out of wrestling for a while, and it became easier and easier to forget, but as soon as we inked our contracts with SCW, the feelings came rushing back, festering inside of me.  We got along, teamed a time or two, and then the Bombshell Championship came along.  I wanted it so bad.  I deserved to be the first!  I worked harder than anyone and…  Okay, I have already given this speech a million times.  Allow me to move on.

She went on and won a male championship, and I swear at that moment I wanted a male championship for the first time in my career.  It was then and there that I saw the opportunity dangling right in front of me… The HarKore Warriors issuing an open challenge.  I knew Gabriel and Despayre were going to answer the call, since we have no intergender tag teams in SCW.  I figured if a Sin were to do it, they would.  It was as if Synn had read my mind and asked me to see him alone.  He pulled me aside and spoke to me about teaming with a Sin to shut the NWA World Tag Team Champions up.  Immediately I said Despayre.  We went on to put ourselves in the running for the NWA Tag Team Championships by defeating the top dogs.

I want those belts, and I will do whatever I can to get them.  Even if it means going out there and proving to the world that it is no fluke that I defeated Viper…


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

”Hello?”

”I thought you never wanted to speak to us again…”

”GIRL!  It’s been forever since we sat down for a chat.  Come give ya girl a hug!

”I would!  But you are in my head, little boy.  I missed you so much, Drew, you really showed me how to…”

”No need to go on there, Kittie… We all know what he taught you to do, and I don’t even want to think about it.”

”Bitch JEALOUS!”

”Uh, no, I just think there are more useful ways to spend our time rather than talking about the things a gay guy can teach a girl.  How about her match against Viper?  NWA has it’s eyes on you now, Kittie.  It is time to step it up…”

”Uhhh and shut a bitch up!  That girl needs some serious styling tips, like yesterday, and the way she runs her mouth… Gawd!”

”Yeah, that kind of pissed me off too.  Her off base comments and her asinine theories that Despayre needs to be saved from us.  If anything, we need to be saved from him.  None of us are safe from his and Angel’s pranks anymore!  Rage got hotsauced, and who knows what I’m in for next…” *chuckle*

”Here’s an idea to try out.  How about thinking about your fucking match!  Hm?  How about focusing on showing that bitch just who you are?  How about trying to make something of yourself?  Try proving that you weren’t just a flash in the pan who lost her only singles title ever, in two months.  Go out there and defeat a world class athlete. Stop being consumed by your envy, and use it to further your career.  Harness it.”

Somebody needs to get LAID!

”Yeah, we all do…”

”Why the hell do I even bother…?”


Ashburn Hotel, London, England
April 25th, 2012 7:42pm

Inside of the rather posh room, clothes are strewn about in a mess that just seems to clash with the class of the décor.  As we follow the trail of clothes, we find ourselves facing the bathroom door as it is wide open.  Inside, Kittie stands in her undergarments as Fantasia holds up another outfit for Kittie.  Like an oversized child, Kittie shakes her head from side to side and offers a “nuh uh” as she folds her arms across her chest.  Fantasia shrugs her shoulders and tosses the outfit into the pile.  She sighs and then looks Kittie up and down with a smirk spreading across her face.

Fantasia:  You could just go like that, then.  The colors bring out the green in your eyes, amidst the plethora of pale skin.

Kittie sticks her tongue out and turns around.  Her almost angry eyes soften up a bit as she poses in front of the mirror, flipping her hair around like a pop punk princess starring in an underwear commercial.  She shares a laugh with Fantasia.

Kittie:  I think I pull it off quite nicely.  Strap on some boots and we are good to go.  Hell, it beats any of this other crap you talked me into buying…

Fantasia offers up another option as she pulls a hanger from behind the door.  Kittie inspects it, and looks up to Fantasia’s hopeful smile.  She taps her chin for a moment, closing one eye as she hums.

Kittie:  Hmmmmmm…. Okay, why not.  But if I am going to look like a pretty little princess, then I better have a damned tiara…

Fantasia points to the counter and Kittie rolls her eyes.  She sees the tiara sitting there and she shakes her head at it.  Fantasia hands Kittie the hanger, and she leans against the door, causing it to close.  A bit of shuffling can be heard as Kittie grunts.  A bang followed by an echo indicates Kittie just stubbed her toe on the bath tub.  She screams out in pain, many muffled words that are likely to be of an obscene nature.  Just then, a knock can be heard at the door before it swings open.  Jamie Staggs walks through the doorway, wearing a tuxedo t-shirt and jeans, with his hair neatly slicked back and his usually scraggily beard and goatee neatly trimmed up.  In his hand, he carries a single white tulip.  He looks around the room, and then he sees the bathroom door closed.  He walks over and prepares to knock on it when he hears Kittie groaning within.

Kittie:  Damn, that hurt.  I wasn’t expecting that.

He puts his hand on the door handle when the groaning continues.  The groaning goes to grunting as the sound of a zipper is heard.  A sly grin appears on his face as he starts to turn the knob.  Just then he hears Kittie’s voice once more.

Kittie:  Great now my toe hurts.  I can’t believe you stepped on my toe, who does that?

He puts his ear up to the door, mouthing “what the…” and he listens in as the grunting continues.  Kittie can be heard mumbling to herself and then she stomps her foot.

Kittie:  It’s too damned tight!  You’re going to have to help get me into this, since it was your idea!

Jamie’s eyes widen and he thinks about throwing open the door, but he is afraid of what he might see.  He clinches his jaw and his fists, crushing the stem of the flower he is holding.  He puts his hand up to his forehead and thoughts of the other night at the show when Gabriel was getting awfully handsy with his wife start filling his head.

Kittie:  It’s nice to know that I can trust a fellow Sin.  I would only let you talk me into doing this, you know.  The only other person who helps me is Jamie, but he would likely rip this trying to get it on this way.

Jamie drops the flower on the ground and he marches over to the door.  He looks back and messes up his hair to make it look like normal, as if it were a negative gesture toward his wife.  He swings the door open, and sees Shane standing there.  He grits his teeth as he looks at Shane.

Jamie:  She’s a little BUSY right now!

And he storms passed Shane, leaving him to scratch his chin.  He peaks inside and then back to Jamie storming down the hallway and he shrugs his shoulders.  He walks inside of the room and shuts the door.  Spotting the chair close to the bed, he takes a seat and waits for a few moments.

As Kittie emerges from the bathroom with Fantasia, she looks down at the floor, bewildered by the flower that she accidentally stepped on.  She shrugs her shoulders, and looks up to see Shane Boswell, the Sin of Pride, eyeballing her like a hot piece of cherry pie.  She pretends not to notice, and walks out with a bit of influence from Fantasia in her walk.  Shane whistles at her and offers a wink to Fantasia who comes out next.

Shane:  Look at you, Kittie. Lookin’ rather fit tonight, aren’t ya?

Kittie nods her head as she does a spin to show off her pink and black plaid skirt, a single dainty chain attached to her thin silver belt.  As it waves out, the curves of her legs are shown off with the nice stockings and black pumps.  She wears the matching pink and black plaid print halter top, and then flips her hair out to show the red streaks are now pink.

Kittie:  Woot!

And suddenly, Shane’s gaze sinks to the ground and he places his hand on his forehead as he shakes it back and forth.  Fantasia grins as she steps toward Shane to comfort him, or rather just to run her hands over his perfectly chiseled body.

Shane:  I… I can’t even look at you now, Kit.  You ruined the image just the way whoever came up with that bloody fuckin’ word, that travesty to the proud English language helped with the decline of it.

Kittie:  Oh come the fuck on, Shane!  It’s a simple expression of joy.  Lighten up you dopey bastard!  Almost as bad as Rage, I swear!

Shane:  Ay!  Next time you compare me to Rage, I might have to sick Despy on ya with one of his pranks.

Kittie sticks her tongue out at Shane and then comes over and ruffles his hair in a surprisingly playful gesture.  She sits on the edge of her bed as Shane eyes her down a bit.  He takes a breath and then he tosses a folder on the bed next to her.

Shane:  You got homework to do “little lady’.  Freshen up on your HarKore Warrior knowledge so you can take out that Viper chick whose been trying to cause trouble for us.

Kittie acts as if she is interested in the contents of the folder, but she only fools herself as she thumbs through it in under 5 seconds.

Kittie:  Big deal.  I already went over this stuff a month ago.  I heard her and Weapon X babble on with their bullshit about fairness and cheating and all that crap.  We respect tradition here, and our Bombshells don’t mind competing separately.  Not all of us are six fucking feet tall and ripped like “Monstrous” Ann Mau.  If I was, maybe I would go off and fight men on a weekly basis.  Could I fight in a “man’s world”?  Yeah, I could.  Do I enjoy beating up on stupid fucking Barbie bitches more?  Of course I do.  That point is moot.  Just like the point about how I rolled her up into a pin, or how she was distracted, and how we use Despayre… All of it is moot, and Honestly, I’m ready to just go out there and shut her up once and for all.

Kittie tosses the folder behind her, allowing the fact sheets to flutter down slowly to the ground.  Her face shows a bit of annoyance as Shane and Fantasia share a look.  Kittie stands up from the bed and walks over to turn the television off.

Kittie:  Since Spike is being all sober and shit, and Jamie isn’t here yet, I am ready to go out and have some drinks.  I don’t want to be out too much later than 4:30 because I want to get up and train tomorrow…

Shane:  Damn, how late was Spike keepin’ her out…?

Shane whispers to Fantasia as they get up and follow Kittie out of the door.  They walk out, and the scene fades out as the door slowly clicks after coming to a close.

 I can’t stand the thought of Misty being the first to do yet another thing.  She is always the first, so she thinks she is the best.  Being the first Bombshell Champion… Bringing home the first piece of NWA gold.  Being the first woman to hold an NWA male World Championship, blah blah freakin’ blah!  She always gets the glory, as if it just comes naturally to her.  I want to hate her for it, I really do.  It is in my nature to want that which I cannot have.  I have worked so hard for recognition, busting my ass in every promotion I have been involved with, whether it was as a valet or a wrestling position.  Every last fiber of my being wants what she has, because I have worked twice as hard to get a second glance from anyone as a serious competitor.  If it weren’t for Misty, I wouldn’t be one of the Seven Deadly Sins, because I would never have allowed myself to succumb to Envy.  If I had never done that, then I would never have held a singles championship to this day. So, instead of continuing to hate your guts, dwelling on our past, I give you a friendly congratulation.  Well done, Misty.

With that said, I was robbed at Blaze of Glory.  While many expected me to be angry at Misty for stopping me from breaking up the pin… actually, I was very angry.  But I realized that she didn’t walk off with my championship.  Raynin did, and then her and her posse of manly skanks attacked Brooklyn, Misty, and myself.  They knew that I was the one to watch out for because it took a six foot woman, and a masked p*ssy to beat me down.  I’m sorry that I am built like a woman, and not a prison guard.  It was the moment that I watched the stage lights turn red, only to realize that it was my own blood pouring into my eyes, that I realized Misty isn’t shit anymore.  She isn’t a threat.  She isn’t focused on the Bombshell Championship anymore, and frankly, now that the name has been sullied by a woman who had two chicks that looked like chain gang zombies try to take out the competition, not even I want the damned thing!  When you look at the two previous champions, you see Misty, and you see Kittie.  Those two names have spelled out Main Event since day one in SCW.  To follow it up with a coward, that just erased any credibility, and I wouldn’t touch the fucking piece of garbage with a ten foot pole.  Next thing you know, those two twits who made a clique named after a Lindsay Lohan movie will become champions.  No, wait, that would still be an improvement, sadly…

And then!  Then, did anyone catch the Underworld reject try to justify their actions against the two names that make the damned Bombshell roster?  I felt like I was watching the scene from Spiderman 3 where Eddie Brock is praying to God, only it was even more lackluster.  Unless, of course, I fell asleep during the interesting parts, because I know I dozed a few times.  I just wish someone would have told me that it was a cliché vampire in a bell tower Twilight bullshit kind of thing, and it would have saved me twenty minutes to fast forward to the damned point where she claimed that she was saving the credibility of the Bombshell Division.  Saving it from what exactly?  Saving it from good competition?  You used dirty tactics to attack three women from behind with your buddies.  Brood over how big of a hypocrite you are on your own fucking time, and talk facts in your promos.

Now that I have caught you up to speed on the past, let us fast forward to what actually matters anymore, as it isn’t the Bombshell Championship.   I have my sights set on the NWA, and it starts with facing the NWA World Tag Team Champions, the HarKore Warriors.  I couldn’t stand to sit there week, after week, hearing them challenge every team in the back, knowing full well that men and women can’t fight each other.  It was like they expected to embarrass us and make our teams, and our organization as a whole, look like cowards.  They want to look all high and mighty in front of the NWA, so they come here and act like tough shit.  They wanted to talk about rankings… Don’t make me laugh. The tag rankings are almost a joke by themselves.  And look at the clowns leading the parade as the champions of a dying division.  I… Just… Could… NOT stand to hear it anymore.  Our Bombshells are some of the best all over the world, so facing one of us in a team is a real honor!

No other SCW male/female team wanted to step up, so I talked to Synn about Despayre and I going out there to end this travesty of a sideshow.  Say what you will about us Sinners, a band of misfits, but we bring the spotlight to us where ever we go, so naturally Synn brought Despayre in to team with me.  Now that we have accepted the challenge, everything seemed to be in order, and we would prove why SCW deserves to be all over the rankings…  But it didn’t stop there, after a smartass “press release” transcript landed in front of me.  I was “screwed” by that twit Angelica getting a shot at Misty, but I don’t give two shits about a Cruiserweight Championship.  I was offered the chance to challenge Misty for it, but I turned it down.  The point of it is to jump around the ring and do acrobatics, but I actually wrestle, hand to hand, in the middle of the ring, in REAL wrestling matches.  Let Misty enjoy her fluffed up little joke of a championship.  I will wait for a real NWA championship to come my way, and I will snatch it up in a heartbeat.  Maybe once Despayre and I restore REAL honor to the NWA Tag Team Championships, then maybe they will be worth being around out waists…

At least we make an attempt to be original in our promos instead of waiting for someone to say something.  Just saying...  As for the rest of the ramblings of Weapon-X and Viper, not all of us females are built like a man, I know I’m not.  Some women take steroids, but I enjoy being a girl.  If we didn’t like it, we would never have signed on the dotted line, we would have gone somewhere else.  Now, what baffles me is the fact that you guys think even for a second that Despayre and I won’t win, and further, if we do win, it would be a fluke… Keep thinking that way, because it will make it a whole hell of a lot easier for us to beat your asses in this SCW ring.  So, instead, you want us to “work for it”, which sounds to me like you don’t want us to embarrass the NWA by defeating you, since we are unranked.  It’s okay, call it a fluke.  It will be a fluke the first time we destroy you… and the second… and the third… and the forth, fifth, six, seventh, and motherfucking fiftieth time we beat you.  And everyone says I am the delusional one…


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


Location: Hilton Garden Inn – Fontana, California
Date:  March 16th, 2012 (13:35 PT)

The hardcore fans of Sin City Wrestling’s Seven Deadly Sins stable is getting a special opportunity that rarely comes around.  Every single member is present in the conference room of the venue that is hosting Climax Control in just a few short days.  Synn himself stands in front of the group prior to the opening of the floodgates.  Sxxxy Shane Boswell, Fantasia, Gabriel, Despayre (and Angel of course), Rage, and Kittie are all spread out across the room, and each has a following that is just dying to come in for the meet and greet session.  Synn steps back and gives a nod to the security team.  While the hustle over to inspect the ever growing crowd, Kittie leans against the far wall that sports the Sin City Wrestling banner.  She can’t help but let out a yawn, because she has been here before, and that was when people sort of liked her as a face.  She knew that it would be even less lackluster for her than her first time since almost every SCW fan hated her guts.  Even the small bit of exposure to the National Wrestling Alliance fans was not going to change the fact

Kittie looks down to the blonde baby doll sitting in the child safety seat and she reaches down to stroke it’s head, hearing the soft cooing and a smile comes to her face.  She watches as the baby seems to come to life, hugging onto the blue bear known as Snowflake, giving her loving kisses on the snowflake printed on the bear’s nose.  Kittie gently rocks the seat back and forth with her foot as the first of the fans start to walk into the room.

She takes a deep breath and braces herself for an hour of watching everyone else sign autographs, shake hands, kiss babies, and all of that.  What better way to distract ones self from this entire thing than to have a conversation with herself. Such a conversation usually consisted of two or more answers, and they are never dull.

”Girl, shit, why are you even here?  You know we are the only ones that got love for you!”

”Drew, shut up.  She got exactly what she wanted.  You know she doesn’t know how to control herself enough to allow one fan to enjoy watching her.  She’s an angry, envious bitch.”

”Both of you, shut it!  I’ve been a bitch for a long time.  Suddenly it seems to be the cool thing to do, so everyone is jumping on it, screwing each other over, and then calling others out for doing exactly that.  In comparison, at least I stay true to who I am.  I might get one fan who has half of a working brain cell that recognizes it.”

”You do have a point there.  I’m not used to that…  Wait, what is this…?”

Kittie’s glazed eyes come to focus as her eyes dart around rapidly, searching for whatever her alter was trying to alert her.  She has to take a second glance as she watches the line of people who want pictures with Angel.  As cool as the bear is, people are ridiculous.  He has the longest crowd, and Despayre is just eating up the attention like a kid in a candy store.  Between the two of them, he definitely was the sociable one…

”Hello?”

Kittie snaps back to and looks directly in front of her to see a little bit of a line standing there.  To her surprise, they wore different Kittie shirts. She saw the one flipping you off with a smug look. Then of course, there was the one that made her realize just how disturbing she can look when in a rage, screened over in green with “Sin of ENVY” etched behind her, image. There were even a few vintage style shirts from her days in GXW and 3WL.  Each and every one of them seemed to be a misfit in their own right, but they were her people… the pierced freaks that have an addiction to Tripp pants and leather accessories, or those who just flat out don’t fit in.  They started to slowly form a half circle around her.

Kittie:  Um, hi… I mean, what the hell are you all looking at?

Kittie snarls at the group, and they all react with rowdy cheers and a hearty showing of support for her, as if it were a sort of beloved trademark of hers.  Kittie never knew that she had a possible adoring public out there. The fans gather around for a picture opportunity with the former Bombshell Champion.  Each one shaking hands with her as they pass on.  Some come and go to get their picture with each of the Sins, but others stick around, talking with Kittie.  There actually were cool fans out there, and Kittie never would have realized that before had it not been for this meet and greet.

Just then, a young woman comes up to Kittie, dressed in a black mini skirt with black and green striped leggings, and the “Sin of ENVY” shirt, her hair almost seeming to match the stockings as it cascades down her back.  Her face is covered in piercings that would give a metal detector a real fit, but Kittie nods her head as she approaches.

Fan1:  I am so glad that you sold out to the corporate masses of the NWA, because your art in the ring has really nosedived, babe.  It showed at Blaze of Glory… But, you’re going to get your gold, aren’t you?

Kittie: And who the bloody fuck are you, trying to tell me something about my job.  If you are so appalled, then why are you wearing one of my shirts?

The girl pushes her way up to face Kittie, snarling at the group who tries to object to her.  The venom in this girl’s eyes seems to sting each and every one of them as they back up just a few steps.  She turns back to Kittie, her narrow eyes reading her up and down.  Kittie cracks her back, standing up straight, coming a few inches above her.

Fan1:  I was your biggest fan until I realized that you are worthless, so much wasted potential.  Now, you just make me laugh.  Ever since you sold your soul for the Bombshell Championship, you joined this group, and by comparison, you are the laughing stock of the bunch.  Envy drove you, but now you just suck…

There is a chorus of booing coming from behind the girl, as she gets shoved into Kittie.  Kittie’s adrenaline rushes through her body, and she wants to bloody up this snobby girl as she grips onto her shirt. She swings her around and pins her against the wall, gritting her teeth.

Kittie:  Oh, wonderful.  Another know-it-all who has never stepped foot into a wrestling ring, unless you count Smackdown Vs Raw on your douchey PS3.  Get fucked if you think you can come at me and tell me what I can and cannot do!  And do me a favor, and don’t disgrace my shirt with your face just inches above mine, because you are below me!

Security comes over to check on the situation, as does Rage.  The seven foot monster of a man only has to fold his arms across his chest and give that look that says “You’re dead” and the girl holds her hands up in surrender.

Fan1:  That’s exactly what I was looking for.  That fight.  That anger, and that envy.  If you go out there half cocked, you aren’t going to be ready to face a real team like HarKore Warriors.  I know I’m no expert, but if you only knew what you’ve looked like lately… a real joke… then you would understand why I did what I did.  Good luck against them, because you are going to need it… And by the way, Jamie Staggs?  Really?

Fan2:*Shouts from the back*  Yeah, you and Rage would make a way better couple!  Angry sex for the win!

The crowd laughs and Rage gets an unusual grin on his face.  Kittie blushes, but remains calm, avoiding eye contact with Rage..  A few more fans come up and get their autographs as well as a handshake.  Kittie greets them kindly, which is very surprisingly humanitarian of her.  Just then, Despayre comes up to Kittie, tapping her on her shoulder very politely.  Kittie turns around, having a good idea of who is behind her, and instantly she looks down a tad at the shorter Despayre.

Despayre:  Angel said that you were sick so I wanted to come over and make sure that you were okay.  I want you healthy so we can fight those Hardcore Warriors.

Kittie’s eyes scrunch up a bit in confusion.  She bites her bottom lip, as if trying to stop herself from asking, but it is inevitable.

Kittie:  What do you mean?  I’m not sick.  We’re going to be fine against these jacka… these jokers.  Don’t worry.

Despayre stops and thinks about it for a second, almost seeming as if he is about to tap his chin to deliberate it.  He leans down as if to listen to Angel.

Despayre:  Are you sure?  Angel says that you are suffering from a chronic case of PMS, and…

Kittie grits her teeth, but forces a bit of a smile across her face.  She pats his shoulder gently, shaking her head as the extra large crowd gathered around them laughs.  She can’t help but give into a little bit of laughter herself as she looks around at the many faces enjoying their antics.

Kittie:  That bear sure is a wise ass.  Maybe a little too accurate at times… but always a wise ass.  Luckily for us, my chronic PMS is actually a real strength.  That is the reason we are going to be ranked number eight in the rankings, because I’ve got my sights set on beating the living hell out of the HarKore Warriors.  I am no stranger to tag teaming, just like you.  And with our strong friendship, and all of the training we’ve done over the last several months, I know we will make an excellent pair of Tag Team Champions in the very near future.  HarKore Warriors better be prepared to get P*ssy Whipped!

The fans cheer again, and Kittie actually relishes in it.  While she is enjoying it for the briefest of moments, her thoughts are focused entirely on the HarKore Warriors and proving that Sin City Wrestling has exactly what it takes to outmatch the NWA  Tag Team Champions.  She signs a few more autographs, and poses for a picture with Despayre, and their two teddy bears as the scene fades out.

 "That FUCKING BITCH!”

The lights flash wildly and the fans are at their feet, cheering on Brooklyn in her glorious display of defiance to the Bombshell Champion, hoping that maybe she has put Kittie in her place.  Synn is at her side as they head up the entryway to get to the curtains before Kittie changes her mind to dash back down the ramp.  Oh, how the urge to do so has nearly taken over about seven times since she has left the ring.  She watches as Brooklyn points at her, causing the fans to erupt into a whole new frenzy.  Kittie grits her teeth, and she prepares herself to give in and dash back down to the ring.  As she turns around to do so, Synn grabs onto her arm.

Synn:  Do you want to be stripped of that belt you worked so hard to get, over this rookie?

Kittie:  I want to wipe that fucking smile off of her fucking face right now is what I want to do.  She is trying to punk me out in my town, in my own back yard!  BITCH!

Kittie grits her teeth and mutters many more unflattering terms toward Brooklyn as she raises up her middle finger in Brooklyn’s direction.  She takes a deep breath as Synn’s hard, emerald eyes flash so many silent warnings at her that she has no choice but to drop her hand back to her side.  She flashes her belt at Brooklyn, who is gesturing that the belt will soon be around her waist.  Kittie simply shakes her head in a show of defiance and lowers the belt to her own waist.

Kittie:  See where this belt is?  It’s around my waist, you dirty junkie.  It’s gonna stay there too…

Synn:  And if we get you calmed down soon, we will know for sure.  Come on, let’s go check on Gabriel.

Kittie slowly drapes the belt over her shoulders and pats it on the back.  Synn holds the curtain back for Kittie, and she obliges his request by disappearing from the fans’ sight, into the back.  The hallways of the school are darkened as the Climax Control cameras stop rolling.  Kittie stops, and leans against the wall, taking a deep breath, the sweat dripping down her face as the adrenaline rush slowly subsides.  She wipes at her face with her bare hands.  Just then, she is startled by the sound of a deep voice booming from behind the curtains.

Security Guard: We need to get this one out of here.  She might have reversed my vasectomy with that kick…

Kittie prepares to stand her ground, refusing to leave the arena without checking on her fallen friend, Gabriel.  As she slowly turns toward the curtains, several security guards come marching through, crowded around someone, who soon becomes apparent as one of the other Bombshells from the Main Event match.  The feminine grunting and growling is no match for this group as they maintain a firm grip on her.  Kittie clinches her fists and Synn readies himself to have to intervene once more.  In the few seconds of passing, Kittie felt like it had been minutes.  She watches as the feisty raven haired Misty struggles just a little less.  The guards slowly disband, and Synn loosens his tense posture just a bit.  Misty sees Kittie standing there, and their eyes flare up for just an instant  Kittie’s lips slowly curl into a smile, and her eyes lighten up.  Misty gets a prideful smile as they start to round the corner.  She winks at Kittie, and the two begin to laugh, at first a light chuckle, but it soon turns into a full out, pack of hyena’s style laughter.

As if for just one second, Misty and Kittie’s problems had disappeared, and they had an entire conversation that neither would remember in an hour.  Their war had been brutal, and while it is nowhere near over, they had shared a moment of completely selfish of one another.  Kittie turns her smiling face to Synn, who extends his hand to her to lead her down the hallway before the other two Bombshells come back.

As they twist through the hallways, Kittie is approached by Ms. Rocky Mountains.  She smiles politely as she holds the microphone in her hand, ready to get a few words with her.

Ms. Rocky Mountains:  Kittie, can I get a few words from you regarding the events we just saw take place after Climax Control?

Kittie looks over to Synn, taking a deep breath.  He looks up at the clock hanging just underneath the Convention Center trophy case.  He looks to her and nods as he walks off, watching Kittie’s seemingly calm demeanor.  She pats her championship belt, lulling it to sleep.

Kittie:  Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to ask the burning questions on everyone’s mind?

Kittie snaps, ending her inquiry with a snappy, sarcastic tone.  She rolls her eyes as she looks down, shushing the Bombshell Championship as she bops up and down with it.  Ms. Rocky Mountains clears her throat as she looks over to the camera.  She puts her infamous smile on as she turns between Kittie and the cameraman.  She awaits the cue, and then she begins.

Ms. Rocky Mountains:  Hello fans of Sin City Wrestling.  I am standing here with Bombshell Champion, the feisty Kittie Staggs, following the Blaze of Glory preview match where Kittie is challenged by Raynin, Misty, and Brooklyn Carter.  The action exploded inside of the ring tonight, but what has the community really talking are the events that followed this match up.

She turns her look from the camera over to Kittie, who is mimicking Ms. Mountains’ bubbly personality with exaggerated facial expressions of joy and a dance that is meant to do the same, but instead has her looking like she is going through an epileptic seizure.  Ms. Mountains tries to maintain her composure as she continues.

Ms. Rocky Mountains:  You were teamed with the hot up and comer, Brooklyn Carter to face off against Raynin and your friend Misty…

Kittie’s eyes widen and she holds up her hand, just an inch from her interviewer’s face.  Her jaw drops down, and she gasps at the audacity.  Ms. Mountains puts the microphone toward Kittie.  Kittie leans down slowly, as if she were in pure shock.

Kittie:  Okay, so… I’m not even going to expand upon the fact that you think Brooklyn is an “up and comer”.  She is more like “crash and burner”.  What I just… CANNOT get over is the fact that everyone thinks Misty and I are friends.  Everyone keeps talking like Misty and I are the bestest of friends, but that could not even be further from the truth!

Ms. Rocky Mountains:  You both looked pretty friendly out there tonight, teaming up against your opponents.

Kittie:  Are you fucking retarded, lady?  I mean, you are supposed to be this ground breaking journalist around here, and you don’t have your facts straight when you come at me.  Facts… It’s more like common knowledge.  I mean, did you even watch the damned show over the last four months?  Come on, seriously.  Answer my question.

Kittie rips the microphone from Ms. Mountains’ hand and she almost pokes her lips with it, trying to get a serious answer from her.  She sputters and attempts to answer the question, but as soon as she makes a peep, Kittie puts her hand in Ms. Mountain’s face, quieting her.

Kittie:  You obviously have not.  I, Kittie, have messed up Misty’s back, stolen the Bombshell Championship from her, officially beaten her in a grueling battle for the belt, talked all kinds of trash on the selfish bitch, and all but said I can’t stand her fucking, lying guts.  Wait, I even did that.  So, where do you get off even thinking in that little head of yours that we are friends?  Sure, we had a fleeting moment of mutual respect for each other for shutting up those other two loudmouthed bitches so that these two loudmouthed bitches could show the little girls why we rule the Bombshell Division.  I am first, and she is second.  That’s how it has been since the day this place opened, and that is how it is going to be until I decide that I don’t want to be the top bitch anymore.  That’s going to be a lonnnnnng time!

Kittie sputters into the microphone as she hands it back over to Ms. Mountains.  She looks over to Kittie and makes sure she has a moment to speak.  Kittie shakes her head in disbelief.

Ms. Rocky Mountains:  Right, so after you and Brooklyn won the match…

Kittie:  That’s right… ME… and Brooklyn…  As in, I carried her ass through that entire freaking match!

Ms. Rocky Mountains: … she came up to confront you about cheating her out of the pinfall victory.

Kittie:  I don’t know what match you were watching, but Brooklyn was about to ruin it for us.  Who climbs the top rope when you got the match in the bag already?  That is like asking them to move out of the way and there goes our victory.  See, I am a veteran of the ring, and I know what is best.  I know how to win matches, because I have been doing it since I got here, save a fluke loss for the Bombshell Championship.  She should have came up to me to THANK me for not kicking her ass and leaving her to get pinned by those dumbass broads, Misty or Raynin.  She should have gotten down on her knees and kissed my ASS!

Kittie turns around and gives her butt a slap, pointing at it to emphasize her point.  She puckers her lips and kissing the air before she chuckles.

Ms. Rocky Mountains:  From the way it looked, she was just going to ask why you stole her thunder.  Why did you steal her thunder?

Kittie:  I did nothing of the kind.  I already explained she was going to choke.  I had enough of playing her little girl games.  I tried to be nice for just a few minutes so that she could see that she chose the wrong profession, and then I wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with another chick that has no idea what she’s doing in the ring.  She should be happy to ride my coattails for a night, because I showed her what it’s like to beat a real threat.  And I do mean I showed her how it is done, as you saw.

Kittie nods her head as she rubs the front of the title belt, caressing it as she would a baby’s back.  She leans back, rocking it gently as she begins muttering things to herself in rapid succession.  Her facial expressions change rapidly as she does so.

Ms. Rocky Mountains:  Whether or not things went down the way you saw them, all three of your challengers, as well as yourself, made a major impression on the fans.  They are all anxiously awaiting your match in three weeks at Blaze of Glory.  Have we seen the dynamics of this match in the aftermath of this evening’s match?

Kittie:  What the hell do you mean by that?  Do you mean to ask if I’m going to beat the hell out of Brooklyn?  If so, then the answer is yes.  If you are asking if that will be the extent of it, then the answer is no.  I’m going to rip her disgusting two dollar weave from her nappy ass head, and send her home crying into her Christian Dior handbag.  But I will not stay focused solely on her, even though she pissed me off.

Ms Rocky Mountains:  I was getting at a possible alliance between you and Misty.  You have stated that you are not friends, but there is no denying that you are both familiar with each other from countless battles, some working with each other, and the rest working against each other.  Will we see this play into the Four Corners match?

Kittie:  Not intentionally, no.  Misty and I have a deep seeded hatred for each other, which is why I don’t understand why anyone would think we are still friends.  She is a backstabber, and I will not, at any point, completely trust her.  Not only that, but we are still opponents, no matter how you slice it.  There are no teams in this Four Corners match.  You obviously saw how it worked out when they tried to put us in teams.  It didn’t.

Ms Rocky Mountains:  Now, Kittie.  We know your… opinions of Misty and Brooklyn.  You have left no room for misinterpretation.  You have surprisingly neglected to mention your opponent from just a few weeks ago, Raynin.  You two battled it out in an amazing display of athleticism.  Many are touting it as one of the best Bombshell matches that defines the talent of the division.  You cannot deny that.

Kittie nods her head in a sort of modesty.  She shrugs her shoulders gently before she brings the Bombshell Championship down into her arms, coddling it against her bosom.  She takes a deep breath and then she cracks a smile as she exhales.

Kittie:  Yeah, I really did put on quite the show.  I was amazing.  She tried, but in the end, she fell flat on her back, for the 1… 2… 3!  I mean, I can understand that people want to bring her up, because she trained with the luchas and she is super secretive.  She’s kinda hot too, because she reminds me of a dude.  But the fact is that she takes herself too serious for what she is.  A bland, existential butch.  I saw thousands of her standing in line for the Lilith Fair back in the 90’s.  Just because she hawks loogies like a dude, grabs at her crotch like a dude, and dresses like a dude in a sports bra, doesn’t mean that she is as tough as she likes people to think.  The only reason that match was so great was because I was in it.  Plain and simple.

Kittie turns away from the camera, as she whispers more.  It is unclear is the whispering is to her “baby” or to herself.  She nods her head furiously as the pitch of her low voice fluctuates pitches.  Ms Mountains is hesitant to continue, but she decides to proceed anyway.

Ms. Rocky Mountains:  So, the world really wants to know about the match, but everyone is dying to hear about your involvement with The Seven Deadly Sins.  Would you care to comment on this?

Kittie:  Not that is it any of their business, or yours for that matter, but I have learned many things from them already, and I have just gotten started.  We have a world renowned Women’s Champion who can wrestle half of these bimbos into the ground in her sleep, but even that would be a waste of her time.  Not to…

Ms Rocky Mountains:  This is the woman who you have mentioned several times, around the beginning of Sin City Wrestling’s days, as being a tramp, and an “old talentless hag” among many other defamatory comments.

Kittie turns around toward Ms. Mountains and her face is twisted into a snarl as she digs points a finger at Ms. Mountain’s ample bosom.  She hisses in an angry manner to cover up the fact that she has been busted.

Kittie:  SHUT UP!

Kittie lowers her head, allowing her long blonde locks to cover up her face.  She growls words to herself as she bangs herself against the side of her head, even grabbing a chunk of her hair.  As she pulls her fingers away, she wiggles her fingers to rid them of the loose strands of golden and red hair.

Kittie:  She is a legend.  You’re stupid, Ms Lumpy Silicon.  Every member of the Seven Deadly Sins is a decorated champion.  We are the elite, the be-all and end-all.  Screw those idiotic New X-Treme’s and the constant nonsense coming from Misty’s mouth about being the “Golden Standard”.  Bullshit!  I am growing as a wrestler just being around them.  Does that answer suffice?

She lifts her head up to show off her sparkling eyes from under the mesh of messy hair.  Her shallow breaths blow the pieces around as her chest heaves.  She clutches the belt close to her now, hunching over it, despite the fact that her head in still tilted back.

Ms Rocky Mountains:  It certainly does.  I thank you for your time tonight, and send my wishes for a speedy recovery to Gabriel.

Kittie:  You can’t have my baby… I’m not going to let you.

Ms. Mountains nods her head toward the camera as Kittie takes a defensive step backward.  She leans against the wall.

Kittie:  Everyone is trying to take her away from me.  They alllllll want her, but I’m her mommy.  I’m going to protect her with my life.  They won’t get her.  You won’t Ms. Mountains.  Misty can’t take her.  She says she will, but she won’t.  Brooklyn can’t have her.  Raynin can’t have her.  No one can.  Only me.

Kittie laughs as Ms. Mountains does her best to appear nonchalant as she quickly makes her way from Kittie.  Kittie slides down the wall, wrapping her arms around the belt, hugging it tightly as she sways side to side with it.  She makes strange sounds as she guards the belt with everything she has.  The camera fades…

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


February 13th, 2012

Dear Synn,

I wanted to write you to tell you how grateful I am that you have opened up your arms to welcome me into the Seven Deadly Sins.  You opened up your home to me in the most gracious of ways, and I am very, very grateful for that.  Words cannot even express how happy it makes me feel, knowing that there is somewhere I finally belong.  One day, I could be another one of the lost souls, who wandered around, trying to find my niche in the world of professional wrestling.

I am sure you don’t remember the days when I was just a lowly valet, picking up the mess my boys left.  Those were the days of lifting up a leg onto the bottom rope to break up a pin attempt.  It was a time when I would climb up onto the ring apron, and flash my pretty eyes, and my lovely tastykakes, to their opponents so that they could sneak a schoolboy pin.  I would distract the referee with those same tactics so that he didn’t see me kicking a chair under the bottom rope so that my man could clobber his opponent and pick up another cheap win.  You were there, but I was a nothing then.

Ohhh, but I was something.  If it weren’t for me, and a nasty case of drugged sodomy, Spike Staggs would still be a nothing, because he was one of the men that I helped put over, along with Apocalypse.  But those days of making shit wrestlers look better by bulking up their otherwise abysmal Win/Loss records had gone on for way too long.  Cheating one man out of a hard fought victory, just so that another could pick up a win started to seem self defeating.  I should have been the one in that ring cheating others out of their rightful victories so that I could get ahead.  But they made me feel like I belonged.

I honestly thought I belonged with them, because they needed me around.  Feeling needed made everything feel better.  I am sure you understand what it is like to be needed, don’t you?  That IS the motivation behind your relationship with Sean Williams, isn’t it?  He is a drug abuser who would be a total junkie loser if he didn’t have you to clean up his messes… Pay a few bills… Sweet kid, that Sean.  Oh, when you see him, ask him how my bubbies belt is doing.  Is he keeping it warm at night and feeding him properly?  He better, if you enjoy his genitalia…

What?  Oh yeah, there was a point.  You know what it is like to be needed.  Just like I am sure, between us, you know what it is like to need someone.  It is okay, it is just between us.  That feeling of vulnerability and insignificance eats you up inside, especially when you don’t have the money to buy acquaintances and luxuries.  There was a time when I felt distracted from all of that, by the arena lights, and the cheering fans who loved seeing that little 19 year old naïve girl shaking her shit down by the ring with that airhead hair bob thing.  But it was not enough for me.

Allow me to move forward just a little bit when I decided I was going to start doing a little something for myself.  I trained a little bit, and went after the first spandex clad broad that got in my way.  I had my cute schoolgirl plaid skirts and my punk rock ties, and that pretty little bad girl thing going on, all while strutting down to the ring to “One Hand In My Pocket”.  I lost, and lost, and lost… and lost.  Each time I lost, I felt more and more alone.  And one day, I just tried to assert myself at a make up table, because I was there first dammit!  I WAS THERE FIRST!!!  DO YOU HEAR ME BITCH?  FIRRRRRST!

So, you probably wonder where I am going with this story of mine, don’t you?  Well, when she put my pretty little face through the mirror, and I went back home, I needed someone to be there for me.  Instead, I got cheated on, and made to feel like your typical eye candy skank.  I felt like a cheap gimmick who didn’t even have her good looks to rely on anymore, because I had two hundred and eighteen stitches in my fucking face!  Looks mater when you are trying to be a sex kitten.

That is when there was no denying that I was envious of all the other girls, with their pretty hair, and their pretty manicured nails, and their PRETTY OUTFITS!  And their PRETTY CHAMPIONSHIP BELTS!  I tried so hard to deny it.  I cancelled my breast augmentation appointment, and I ripped out my pretty pink weaved streaks.  I cut up my skirts, and I learned to sew dammit!  I was going to be everything these bitches weren’t, and I was going to prove to them that I was better than them by taking everything away from them.

I took away their pretty hair by ripping it from their skulls.  I took away their pretty nails by breaking their fingers and cracking their nails.  I ripped off their pretty outfits to expose their grotesque man arms and hideous rolls.  I was not envious of them, though.  Ohhh what a lie that was.  They still had their pretty little championship belts.  But every time I tried to take it away from them, they eluded me.  They proved to the world that I was still irrelevant, and it pissed me off more and more and more each and every day.

I came here to Sin City Wrestling to get what was coming to me for all of my hard work, and I was going to do it as a changed woman.  I was still going to be the ruthless bitch I always was, even as a valet to a two-bit hack like Surge.  I was going to do it with finesse.  Misty and I were going to dominate anyone and everyone who got in our way, even each other.  But we were going to have the fans behind us, and we were going to do it right.  Nothing ever happens the way you plan, does it?

So, Misty and I shook hands, and we went on our separate ways, not speaking, or seeing each other until we met in the ring at High Stakes.  When we saw each other, we knew we were going to take out all these other bitches (and Fantasia), and be the last two standing.  This was the one thing that went according to plan.  But, instead of me walking out as Sin City Wrestling’s first ever Bombshell Champion, Misty did instead.  I tried to be happy for her, and wish her well, but I just couldn’t.  Seeing her with the belt and the glory just made me feel like a total heel… And while I hated the fact that she had my belt, I loved the feeling of taking out my frustrations on her and having the fans hate me for it.

That is when the envy came rushing back like a Freight Train (not the little Casey that could…) and it knocked me back about five years.  Only, instead of denying it, I’ve embraced it.  I went out and I took what should have been mine in the first place, and I made it official at December 2 Dismember.  I decimated Misty, and it felt sooooo damn goooooood, Synn.  Every second of it.  I took your bit of advice the night I took that belt, and I used it to officially capture it, and then I went on to make you proud by retaining it against Raynin.  I’m sure that she is a bit sore about it, but she can take it up with me at Blaze of Glory if she is still raw.

I really should thank you for helping me to find my limit though.  I was seconds away from ripping out that pretty cherry red hair from Brooklyn’s pretty little head and choking her with that cheap plastic.  If it weren’t for you grabbing me up and carrying me to the back, I would have done something I would have regretted… Actually, no I still intend on ending that miserable little trash heap.  I will just do it to prove to the world that I can take on the top three women at once, and still retain my title.  I just might double Misty’s pathetic reign.  Had you not pulled me off of Brooklyn, then she wouldn’t have seen the next day, and my glorious defense would be cheapened by the fact that I will have beaten two women that I have already defeated multiple times.  With Brooklyn in the mix, it adds a certain sense of… poetic justice, don’t you think?

I have you to thank, Synn.  You are the one who told me that I had it in me, and that I was the only one truly stopping me from achieving my dream of being a true Champion.  I believed in myself, but I liked the chase.  I knew I could have a championship belt any time I wanted to have one, but I didn’t know that I could be a real, honorable, fighting champion.  I am more than just a pretty face, Synn.  I am more than just another hot piece shaking her stuff like a stripper for title shots.  I am a ruthless fighter, and I have proved that, more than ever, since I stepped foot into Sin City Wrestling.  I owe a lot to you, because now, I am a ruthless fighter who holds the championship belt.  It is all thanks to one piece of advice that you gave me.  You know what I’m talking about, right?  Sure you do.

You are great, and The Seven Deadly Sins are great.  Pure greatness.  Not just in the sense of skilled, decorated former champions and fierce contenders, but as people.  Each one, a unique fighter, like myself, who will put everything on the line to maintain honor and respect.  But, sadly, that is the only piece that we have in common.  Everyone who was there before me, they actually belong there, and they have earned their spot in your family.  I have never really traveled with a pack before, and I don’t know that I can start now.  I am a lone wolf, and I learned that over the last few weeks, especially after the January twenty-ninth edition of Climax Control.

I just don’t belong anywhere, and I never have.  That is why, respectfully, I have to back out now.  It breaks my heart, but I just… can’t.  I can’t do it.  One thing that I have always learned is that those who you trust, and let into your heart, they rip it out and stomp all over it.  I really enjoy having this picture perfect idea of The Sins as rough, dark, beautiful, glamorous, open-minded, welcoming, warm, psychotic, sociopathic, friendly, loving, caring, honest, vicious, ruthless, loyal… great people.  It is the one and only beacon of hope that I have, and I can’t bare the thought of changing that when you realize that I am too much to handle.  Then you will kick me out, because you realize it was a mistake, and that I don’t belong.  I don’t react well to situations like that, as you might have noticed by Misty’s brain scans and x-rays.

I am writing you this in the deepest of sincerity.  I know you think I’m a little bit unhinged, and that I might just be imagining things.  What opened my eyes to this was the night we spent in the hospital with Gabriel.  While we were in the waiting room, I felt like the black sheep of the black sheep.  After my interview with Ms. Mountains, I entered, and saw everyone partnered up… Despy with Angel, you with Rage, and Shane with Fantasia… I just felt that same loneliness.  I felt like a piece of the puzzle that just didn’t fit.  I felt it like any other group I have tried to co-exist with.  No matter how much you try to push that piece into the empty place, it just doesn’t fit.  I think it might be just another tragic case…

I want to let you know that I will take every piece of advice you and Fantasia have given me, and I will make you proud against these silly tricks.  I feel more confident now, and I hope that maybe one day, I will be ready to enter your ranks for real.

Ever so sincerely,

-Kittie



”Bollocks!”

Kittie yawns as she rubs at her eyes.  Her hair is a mess, and she attempts to act like she cares by running her fingers through it, brushing it off to the side.  She stretches out as she steps aside from the door.  She waves in the visitor as she attempts to wake up still.  She walks over and plops down onto the white plush couch, running her fingers over her fleece pajama bottoms scattered in skulls with pink bows and crossbones.  She looks back over to the tall, tan, and perfectly toned body of “Sxxxy” Shane Boswell, who almost refuses to enter the apartment.  Kittie turns her head to the television.

Shane:  What in the bloody hell are you trying to pull with this letter?  Make him feel guilty cause you’re antisocial?  Oh, and ungrateful?  Because I know you ain’t serious.

Kittie yawns once again, fluttering her eyes as she slowly turns her attention back to the door.  She stares at him for a moment, watching his jaw clinch.  She growls at him

Kittie:  If you’re not going to come in, then leave.  It’s rude and inconsiderate.  Some of us struggle to pay our bills, and you think we can heat the outside?  ONE… or the OTHER!

A jolt of adrenaline courses through her veins, waking her up enough for her to become herself again.  Shane swallows his pride just enough to allow him to enter the apartment, but not without slamming the door shut.  In his hand, he holds the letter that Kittie had written to Synn, and he lays it down on the coffee table gently.

Shane:  Letter… explain.

Kittie:  Dammit, what do you want me to say?  I fit the bill of Envy, but I don’t fit in with the family.  If you committed mail fraud by opening up the letter, then I assume you read it.  In that case, you should know all about it.

Shane looks over to the spot on the couch next to Kittie, and he is offput by the fact that a pizza box had been there before Kittie kicked it off to the floor.  He opts to remain standing, but not without firmly planting his hands on the table in front of Kittie.  He hunches over so to be within a reasonable distance from her face so that he gets his point across.

Shane:  Let’s get one thing straight.  I didn’t come here to beg ya to stay.  I could give two shits really.  What we got to get straight is that Synn put his nads on the line offering you a spot with the Sins.  Do you want him to know that ya just going to smash them?  Not a smart move.  I know you got two properly working brain cells in that pretty little head of yours.  Use them.

Kittie grits her teeth, and she shoot up from her seat, standing up to Shane.  He chuckles as he slowly stands up in his Adonis-like pose.  Kittie’s features soften just a bit, but her words do not, as usual.

Kittie:  Listen up, you cocky prick!  I meant no disrespect at all.  I meant that I don’t think I fit in.

Shane:  Do you think any of us make sense together?  Just look at us.  We are all mashed up puzzle pieces, but we fit together to make the perfect picture.  Every one of us made ourselves fit.  If you really want to, you will do the same.

Kittie takes a deep breath, her eyes still on fire, but she slowly nods her head.  Shane winks at her and then he picks up the letter and hands it back to Kittie.  He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out three folders.  He slaps them down on her coffee table.

Shane:  Like I said, I didn’t come over here to make you change ya mind.  I came here to make you use it.  If you still feel this way, I suggest you take the letter to Synn yourself.  If not, then no harm done.  This will be the last time we have this conversation.

Kittie nods her head again.  She takes a look down at the letter, glancing over the pages.  She stares at it for just a moment before tearing it in half.  Shane watches as she does so, and then he lets out a genuine smile that is as brief as this moment of Kittie’s sanity.  She tosses the torn paper down to the ground, and she walks over to Shane and gives him a hug.  She whispers into his chest “thank you” as he pats her back.

Shane:  Now study up on these broads.  They’re tough, but nothing a Sin can’t handle.

Kittie:  I’ve already murdered Misty and Raynin several times, and Brooklyn got just a taste of what she is in for at Blaze of Glory.

Shane:  I saw that.  I counted eight security guards to pull you two apart.  I was impressed.  For a little thing, you got a lot of fight in you.  Piss and vinegar.

Kittie:  Brooklyn wanted to run her mouth, and she wanted to showboat, so I had to put the rookie back in her place.  I wasn’t about to let her put a second loss on my nearly perfect record.  She put her hands on me, and I lost it.  I smacked the bitch up!  Come Blaze of Glory, she will know her place is at the bottom with the other rookies.

Shane:  Don’t say it.  Do it. What am I saying, I know you will.  Still a Sin?

Kittie:  Still a sin!

Kittie smirks as Shane stands there, slowly applauding her.  Kittie walks over to the couch and picks up her Bombshell Championship.  The camera gets a close up on her face as she looks down at the belt.

Kittie:  You’re not going anywhere baby girl…

{{FaDE}}

 Dear Raynin,

Pretty impressive, huh?  How I won the Bombshell Championship, I mean.  I went through every bit of fire and brimstone that the Bombshell Division could throw at me.  First, it was a legend in Fantasia, and a soon-to-be legend, in Misty.  I defeated them in a triple threat Belle of the Brawl match.  That was before you signed.  It was pure madness.  Did you see that match?  Did you study your competition before you signed that contract?  I would figure you did, but then you went ahead and signed the contract anyway.  Either you didn’t do your homework, or you have some balls.  Just don’t let the higher ups know you do, or they won’t let you compete in the Bombshell Division.

Either way, you signed that contract, and we had our first encounter together.  There were four other women in that Graveyard Match, but the names that drew the crowd in that Main Event were Kittie and Misty.  No one gave fuck all about Rebecca Blade or Blades, whatever her name was.  No one cared about that wishy washy skank, Allison Summers.  No one thought Fantasia could put on a good show after I massacred her the week before, so they didn’t give a damn.  And when the Sin City Wrestling fans saw Raynin, they really didn’t care.  I’m sure they thought, who the hell is this broad and why is she in our Main Event?  That is what I thought.  Don’t feel bad, I thought that about everyone else in that match short of Misty and myself.

Your team was soooooooo easy to beat!  SO easy! Our team mate Allison was eliminated almost immediately, and we still won against three chicks.  Rebecca went down without a fight, really.  Fantasia held up for a minute, but in the end, she was out.  Then it came down to you.  This rookie who stays locked away from the world, no one has ever heard of.  You single handedly fought both Misty and me, and did a pretty impressive job.  You took her out, and that is when the dust settled.

I’m not just saying that figuratively either.  The dust settled, and that is when I saw into your eyes.  I saw that fire, that hurt, that anger, that drive to validate yourself in the most twisted way by kicking the living shit out of me.  I saw your passenger, Raynin.  I saw it, and I heard it hiss, because mine did too.  I heard the fluttering of it’s reptilian wings fluttering around in your head, whispering evil messages to you, because mine was doing the same thing.  And we fought hard.  We drew blood.  We both left that arena with bruises and battle scars.  It was great, wasn’t it?  A battle for the times.  If only it had been the two of us, right?

We said the same thing in our second encounter at High Stakes.  Well, I did because if it had been a one-on-one, I would have taken you down no problem, and I would have been the first Bombshell Champion.  But, instead, it was a Gauntlet Match with all of our loser partners, plus that twit Angelica.  Out of all of the women who mattered in that match, I got the raw end of the deal.  I drew fourth, and if we had all started at the same time, I guarantee I would have walked out of there the champion.  You know it, Misty knew it, and everyone knew it.  It was a ploy to keep me away from the championship like every other company I’ve worked for has done.  I made it passed you in that gauntlet, and not because of Misty.

You saw how I made short work of Misty afterward.  Not once, not even twice.  Three times.  I took this Bombshell Championship because I deserved it more than any of you bitches!  I couldn’t stand seeing it around Misty’s waist, and I wasn’t about to wait for my championship rematch to wear that gold!  I have been the hardest working woman in this industry for almost a decade.  Ever since I strapped on wrestling boots when I was twenty. I’m not some chick that just decided, “Like, oh my gawd, I wanna be a wrestler so I can show off my silicone titties!” I am the definition of a Bombshell!  I have been since day one.  You have proven you are a good wrestler, but you have not proven that you deserve to have this belt more than me.  So, you have put in a few months here, and worked some super secret spec ops unit.  Combine those, and you are lucky to get a cookie around this place.  Except when it’s your birthday, then you get a special cuppycake…

Point is, when we step in that ring together on Sunday, I promise you one thing.  I will not let this championship go on my first defense.  You will have to pry it from my cold, dead hands if you want to wear the belt.  Given that I have even an ounce of respect for you is a major thing, but that doesn’t mean I’m prepared to let you win this.  I think you know that, because I’m sure your passenger saw mine when we first locked eyes.  Do you remember when time stopped that night?  We battled so hard, but within a few short minutes, you were sitting in the bottom of that grave, and I unlocked my own personal Wonderland.  Your pain did that for me.  Our pain melded together to form that key.  I found my salvation, thanks to you.  I bet you are reading this, a tear in the corner of your eye.  I have one too.  It’s a very special thing.  I’m grateful for that. 

On the other hand, you are probably still hung up on all that stuff about not deserving the Bombshell Championship the way I do.  I’m sure you believe in some nonsense that amounts to something like, “Bitch, I’ve paid my dues!”  Keep on thinking that sister, because it will make beating your ass so much easier.  Or, maybe you think that I should be scared of you because you are some kind of Jackie Chan mixed with Rey Mysterio, stuffed into that sweet D-Cup of yours?  Well, I’m not.  Oh!  Maybe you think that you are going to walk into Climax Control, lay some flying kickapow shit on me, and then it will be over.  Main Events are my thing, sweetie.  There is a reason why I have Main Evented more than just about anybody here, and it isn’t because of my looks…  I kick ass!  I am THE bitch around here, and don’t you or anybody else forget it!!!!!

Silly bitches like Kandi Washngton.  I bet you think just like her, don’t you?  You think that I’m some stupid girl who cuts herself in the locker rooms, snorting away my own shame from the make up table with a McDonald’s straw.  Just because I’m a little crazy doesn’t mean that you have to say such awful things about me that way.  I will have you
know that I am not some attention starved stripper who sits on old men’s faces, er laps
just to say that I do it because I am the one in control.  Who do you think I am, Kandi?

Why would you say that about me?  Why?  WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?  WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?  WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?  I really thought that we could be friends, but you are just talking mad amounts of shit behind my back.  Just like MISTY!  Did you two put your itty bitty brains together to come up with that idea?  I LOVED YOU LIKE A SISTER!  I cherished our friendly chats while we were wrestling.  I made sure that when I tossed you in that grave that you didn’t land on a rock, or a tree root or something.  I was super considerate of you and your safety.  And when Misty and I were throwing you over the top ropes in the Gauntlet Match, I tried to do it lightly.  It was your new best friend Misty who tried throwing you out on your head.  Keep that in mind you mean, selfish bitch!  Misty will turn on you too, and when she does, I won’t be there to console you.  Just remember that when you two have a sleepover and bake penis cookies together.  She is not a real friend.

You two deserve each other.  Go off and be selfish bitches together.  Have your sleepovers, and wine tasting parties, and annual Dancing With the Bears party at JJ’s Bear Den during Pride Week… Do all of your girlie activities with your new best friend, and I will just keep my Bombshell Championship.  I want the key to my apartment back, too.  Leave it on the make up table before Climax Control so we don’t have to see each other during this awkward time.  Even though it’s screwed up that you dumped our friendship for my ex-best friend, I wish you the best of luck.  I hope that she makes you as happy as I once did, you cheating slut bag!

Please don’t abandon our friendship.  It’s been very special to me,

Love,
Kittie

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

”Just think about what I said.  You need an insurance Policy now.”

San Diego, CA – Tuesday January 10th, 2012

Kittie’s eyes flutter in the headlights as she passes a big semi on the highway.  The radio is playing “Thoughtless” by Korn as she looks down to the lit up display on the console.  She is prepared to change the station, but her fingers just stay on the knob.  Her eyes switch back to the road and to the radio several times in rapid succession as she speeds along.  The echo of the feminine voice rings through her ears as she finally decides to keep the song.  She sighs as she rests her eyes back on the road.

”Mine and Blly’s old theme song…  It’s so ironic to think about where everything has gone since then.  I’ve been fighting so long for the moment that I could boast a championship reign.  I obsessed about it, more and more as the years went on.”

Hey eyes dart up to the rearview mirror where she checks in on her Bombshell Championship, safely tucked into a child’s car seat.  She smiles and then her eyes go back to the road for the briefest of moments.  She looks over to her husband, Jamie Staggs, sitting in the passenger seat.  He is lightly snoring with his mouth wide open.  Kittie rolls her eyes, but the smile only grows.  Quick to get back to the road, her thoughts begin to drift again.

”I have two of the things I’ve always wanted in my life, and I should feel pretty satisfied.  Why don’t I?  Why do I feel like there is something more that will come along and just fix everything?  Since I don’t know what it is, I don’t know what to do to make it happen.”

Kittie snaps back to the vibrations of her tires scratching against the shoulder of the road.  She veers back into her lane and shakes her head.  As she does so, Jamie lets out a loud snort that causes him to yawn and smack his lips, yet he doesn’t wake up.  Kittie looks back to see the championship has fallen from the seat onto its side.  She screeches, which does cause Jamie to snap out of his sleep.

”Huh?  What’d I do?”

He looks over to her and grips her shoulder with a tired look in his eyes.  She waves one arm hysterically, screaming incoherently at him.  He looks at her with a worried expression.

”What?  What is it?”

She continues to scream in a panic, sputtering random words at Jamie.  He looks around to figure out what she means.

”FELL! BABY!  SHE! GET HER!!!”

Jamie cocks an eyebrow at her, and then turns around and sets the belt back in the seat facing upward.  Her panic slowly fades as her voice lowers.  Jamie rubs her shoulder to help ease her.

”It’s okay!  Baby Teagan is alright.”

”Is she alright?!  IS SHE?”

Jamie takes a deep breath and then nods his head.  Kittie’s cries slow down as she wipes at her eyes one at a time.  She sniffles, and then reaches over and smacks Jamie’s arm.

”Dammit Jamie!  We have a child now, and you need to be more aware of issues like that when I’m driving.  You’re such as ass!”

”You like my ass and you know it…  Besides, since we apparently just had a baby tonight, it’s kind of hard to get used to it so fast.  I mean, its weird because we have only been married a few months, and the baby doesn’t even look a thing like me.”

”Are you calling me a HO?!  Tell me right now if you think I’m a ho, because I will not put up with…”

Jamie hushes Kittie, gently placing his finger over her lips and shushes her.  She nips his finger and then returns her angry eyes to the road.  He winces and then sucks on his finger for a second.

”Look, I’m done playing your stupid game.  It’s a championship belt, not a baby.  I have one too, but it’s not in a car seat.”

”Well, one of us needs to be a good parent, hm?  I’m not taking any risks with my baby.  You know what, go back to sleep!  I’ve had enough of your neglect for one night.  Leave me alone.”

She huffs and puffs as she starts to switch highways.  Jamie shrugs his shoulders and then closes his eyes to drift back off to sleep.  Kittie drifts back off into thought, letting her scowl fade back to a smile.

”I might not have the picture perfect family that Misty has, but it is a family that I love with all of my heart.  I’m a champion now.  That’s what she meant when she said that I need an insurance policy.  All of these hungry bitches are chomping at the bit to get at me for that spot.  She said that the bullseye is pretty big, but I told her that I didn’t think it was big enough.  They can throw whatever they want at me, but I promise that I won’t go down without a fight.”

Kittie doesn’t see a large rock in the road until the last second.  She swerves out of the way just in time, only to spin out in the middle of the highway.  Jamie’s eyes shoot open and he screams like a girl as they dodge the only other car on the road.  As their speed decreases, they rebound off of the median. Jamie ducks his head while pulling Kittie down a bit as they careen into a ditch on the side of the road.  Jamie knocks his mouth against the dashboard, while Kittie bangs her forehead on the steering wheel.  The car comes to a stop, and Jamie rubs at his bloodied lip.

Kittie’s eyes roll around a bit from the impact and she lays her head back against the seat.  Jamie looks over at her and puts his hand behind her head.  He leans in close to her face, checking her eyes with a sense of urgency plastered across his face.

”Kittie!  Are you alright?  Hey!  Kittie, look at me, babe.  C’mon, stay with me.”

Kittie blinks her eyes as she reaches around for the door handle.  She opens it, and falls out to her knees.  She grunts as she tries pulling herself up to her feet.  Jamie quickly gets out of the car and rushes over to her, helping her to her feet.  She shoves away from him.

”My baby!  I gotta make sure she is okay, Jamie.  Help her!”

While she goes about ordering him around, it is her that pops open the battered door, leaning down to pick up the Bombshell Championship.  She holds it close to her chest as she falls to her knees.  She whispers to it as she rocks back and forth.  She pats the leather strap as she tries to stifle her tears.

”She’s okay, thank God!  How could I be so stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!  HOW?!”

Jamie kneels down next to her, peeling off his t-shirt to wipe off the crimson mask overtaking her face.  He ties it around her head snuggly, and then holds her against his bare chest in the cold wintery air.  She continues to sob as she leans into him.  He rubs her head gently, putting his chin on the top of her head.

”You are beating yourself up too much.  It’s a belt, not a baby.  You should be more worried about you than it.”

Kittie murmurs as her rocking stops.  She slowly shakes her head as she clutches the belt.  She groans and then raises her voice just a tad.

”No, she’s my baby.  She’s our baby.”

”No it’s not.  It’s an intimate object.  It’s not alive.”

Kittie snorts at Jamie and then shakes her head, disagreeing with him.  She pulls her head back and then looks into his eyes.  He raises his eyebrows to elicit a light chuckle from her.

”You are supposed to be the dumbass between the two of us.  How could I wreck the car this way?”

Jamie frowns in a dramatic, playful manner as he gets nose to nose with Kittie.  He rubs his nose against hers, playing off as angry.

”Hey, I resemble that remark!”

She laughs again as Jamie releases his grip on her, and he pulls his jacket over himself.  Kittie sits back in a strange amazement at the sight of the smoking car.  She sighs as she lightens up her grip on the belt.  She comes to a standing position and looks back to Jamie as he hugs his jacket tightly to warm up.  She lays the belt over her shoulder and grabs each of his hands, raising them up as high as she can.

”Why would you choose me?”

”What do you mean?”

Jamie laughs as he shrugs his shoulders with his arms still raised up.  Kittie brings his arms out as high and far out as she can stretch them as she leans in.

”You always call me a crazy bitch.  I obsess over things too much.  I freak out if I don’t have my chapstick.  I’m loud, moody, I get into car wrecks now…  This is basically a symbol of myself.  I’m like a car wreck, only I’m still moving.  Why would you want someone like that?”

Jamie looks down into her eyes as his lip drips blood down her shirt.  He brings her arms over his shoulders, hugging her as he sways with her to the music of the night.

”I am extreme.  This is like… Extreme Marriage.  I go hard or go home.  Maybe it’s coz I’m a little fucked up too.  I always liked you and stuff.”

”Awe, how fucking romantic, ‘…and stuff.”

”Naw, like… You are totally like this car wreck.  You are my pretty car wreck, and I’m your Seabiscuit.”

Kittie looks up into his eyes and her lip quivers.  She tries to hesitate, but she immediately locks lips with him, a trickle of his blood running down her chin as well as his.  An ambulance siren is heard in the distance as the one headlight illuminates the smoke sifting from under the hood of the wrecked car.  The camera looks up to the bright moon in the clear sky.

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


A slow, soft chiming sound echoes off of what is presumably walls in the stillness of the dark.  Pitch black shadows cast by the cover of the night.  The sweet lullaby hushes the crying of an infant child.  A light clicks on in the soft pink, nearly empty room, occupied only by a crib, a dresser, a changing table, and a rocking chair in the corner.  Kittie walks in wearing her black, low cut, high rise nighty.  She wipes gently at her eyes as a soft smile comes over her eyes.  The crying intensifies at the sight of the light, and Kittie makes her way over to the crib.  She shushes calmly as she reaches down into the crib to pull out a small infant.  She holds it against her chest, cradling it’s head gently as she paces back and forth.

”Shhhh, don’t cry baby girl.  Mommy is here now.  Don’t worry now, it’s gonna be alright.”

She sways gently with the child as she sets her down on the changing table.  She checks the diaper quickly before picking the baby up once more. The baby’s cries don’t cease as she paces back and forth once more, trying to think.

”It’s not your diaper.  Are you hungry baby girl?  You want ba-ba?  Hm?  Let’s go fix it up for you then.  Walks with me, my precious.”

Kittie walks down the hallway with the baby cradled gently so not to absorb the shock of the walk.  Turning on the lights, the kitchen is dimly lit.  She props the infant up on her shoulder as she searches through the cabinets for the formula. Once she finds it, she sets it on the counter and digs out a measuring cup.  She fills it precisely with water, and then she pours it into a small sterile saucepan.  She turns on the burner and then paces back and forth with the baby.

”Mommy doesn’t like to hear her baby cry, no she doesn’t.  We’re gonna wipe these tears away, and fill up your stomach wit warm milk.  Mmmmm, doesn’t that sound nice?  Then we will get you back to bed so you can wake up in the morning bright-eyed.”

Kittie hums as she looks up to the clock.  She is gently bouncing the baby as she turns the burner off and takes the pot from it.  She fumbles around for a bottle and unscrews the top. She slowly pours the water in, leaving but just a few drops inside of the pan.  She places the pan back where it was, and then she scoops some of the formula into the bottle, just about three small scoops.  She shakes it with her free hand.

”Now, let’s get this bad boy cooled down so you can eat.”

She walks back into the pink bedroom and sits down in the rocking chair with the crying child.  Rocking back and forth, the baby slows her sobbing just a bit.  Kittie tests the bottle on her wrist, finding it too warm.  She sets it down next to the chair as she stops humming.

”Mommy is right there with you, pumpkin.  Tired… a little worried too.  I have a pretty big match coming up tomorrow night.  Yes I do.  Yes I do, baby.”

The screen jolts for the briefest of moments to reveal Kittie in a silent room, rocking back and forth with the bombshell championship cradled gently in her arms.  It quickly jolts back to the crying baby in her arms.  Kittie squints her eyes, shaking her head in sudden disbelief.  In the back of her mind, she hears the voices stirring again.

”Crazy bitch.”
”Crazy bitch.”
”Crazy bitch.”
”Crazy bitch!”
”Crazy bit….”
”Crazy biatch!”
”Crazy bitch.  That’s what you are, honey. Ha ha ha ha…  But if it helps you keep that belt around your waist, er, in your arms, then go with it. You didn’t think we would go away just because you won a belt, did you?”

Kittie shakes her head in dismay as she picks the bottle up once more testing it.  Upon approval, she begins feeding the hungry baby who whimpers on the nipple of the bottle before quieting down.  Kittie gently pats the feeding infant as they rock together.

”Ignoring us, are we?”

”Baby girl, don’t you worry.  Mommy isn’t going to let anything happen to you.  I’m going to give you to that nice man, Justin Decent, while I go into that ring and kick Raynin’s ass.  If she thinks she stands a chance of taking you away from me, she had better rethink herself.  The only way it will happen is over my cold, bloodied, lifeless body.  No one takes a baby lion from an angry lioness and gets away with it.”

”You really think you can ignore us, don’t you?  We’re always going to be here, you ungrateful bitch!  You wouldn’t be a champion if we weren’t here watching your back.”

Kittie stops rocking for a moment, taking a deep breath to shake the voices.  She listens to the near silence, short of Jamie’s loud snoring coming fro the other room.  The mobile begins playing again as the infant’s eyes begin fluttering.

”Raynin can say whatever she wants, but when everything is said and done, that backstabber is going to be flat on her back, and I will be holding you high in the air, showing off my beautiful baby girl to the whole arena.  You know I worked so, so hard for you.  I did everything I could to get you, sweetheart.  Even if Raynin is the closest thing to real competition in this division, she doesn’t stand a chance against a pissed off, protective mother.”

Kittie looks down at the infant as she takes her mouth from the nipple of the bottle and begins crying again.  Kittie leans down and kisses the baby on the forehead to sooth her as they continue to rock.  She lifts the baby onto her shoulder and pats her on the back, eliciting a small burp.  She continues to pat and rock.

”You don’t want to go to Raynin, do you?  Huh?  I’m a damn good mommy.  Yes I am.  I fight for my baby.  I’m going to wind my fingers up in her pretty black hair, and then I’m going to pull it out in chunks just so that when she goes to look in a mirror, she will know to stay the fuck away from my baby!”

Kittie hears one last burp as the baby stops crying again.  She cradles her gently once more as she sets the empty bottle down on the floor.  She yawns and looks down into the baby’s bright blue eyes.  She speaks in a gentle, sweet voice.

”And then, she will look down to her pretty black eye, and as she touches it and winces in pain, she will be reminded that I did that to her for trying to get in my way, trying to take you away from me in the process.  I mean, I can’t believe that she actually thinks she can betray our friendship like that.  I would never try taking a child away from her.  What am I, a monster?”

Kittie slowly stands up, straightening her back and stiffening her body in an attempt to stretch.  She walks over to the crib and lays the baby down in it, sliding off the little pink bonnet from her head, and setting it on the nearby dresser.  She leans down and kisses the baby on the cheek before covering her up in a little pink baby blanket.

”No, no monsters here.  Raynin might not believe that when she dresses herself after showering off the shame and humiliation of pure and utter defeat.  She will see all of the bumps and bruises all over her body.  She will see my boot imprinted onto her ass in the mirror, and the imprint of my fists all over the place.  She will feel the pain of my suplexes running through her back and neck.  That splitting headache will be from the Eye of the Kat, and the painful memories of hearing the referee’s hand smack against the mat three times after I connect with the Kat’s Kradle.  It was a nice try, but you will have to do better than that, honey.”

”You already think you won.  How pathetic are you?”

”Uh no!  That is what I am going to say when I do win, because I will.  I have to, because I’m not going to lose my baby when I just got her.  I can’t lose it, I won’t.  I’m not Misty dammit!  I’M NOT MISTY!”

The baby cries again at Kittie’s outburst, but Kittie gives her a pacifier and gently runs her hand over the top of the baby’s head.  With her other hand she spins the mobile to make the music turn back on as the lions and the tigers playfully chase each other in a big circle overhead.  She scowls still, but tries to keep a positive vibe for the baby.

”Your mommy isn’t a monster.  I promise I’m not.  I just want to protect you from all of the mean people who want to take you away from me.  They are out there, but I can handle any of them.  Right now, it’s Raynin.  Next time, it might be Brooklyn Carter, or Misty, or Cookie S’Mores, or even Angelica.  Ewwww.  Hopefully they all watch what I do to Raynin, and then they see that trying to get to you is not recommended due to a fatal reaction to the double dose of ass kicking I will give them.”

Kittie looks down at the slumbering baby and she smiles once again.  She waits for a few moments before tip toeing away from the crib.  She flips the light off, but turns on the night light.  She lightly whispers on her way through the doorway.

”Sweet dreams, princess.  Mommy will make sure you come back home with me tomorrow.”

The soft sound of the mobile echoes off of the shadow-covered walls.  The small beam of light shines onto the crib, casting the shadows of the animals chasing each other on the mobile upon the walls.  The camera pans in slowly, looking down in the crib to see the Bombshell Championship spread out across the length of the crib, covered in the pink blanket, with a pacifier sitting next to it.

::~*{Fade}*~::

 Dear Justin Tyler Underwood,

I am sure I am breaking the competitive code by writing you this letter, but I wanted to let you know that I understand you. I understand those burning desires to prove you are different, or special in any way.  Most of all, I understand your hunger for success more than anyone in this company.  You have craved gold for a few years, where I have craved it for a damn decade.

I noticed that look in your eye after you lost to Gabriel, and I recognized that passenger riding along with you.  Is he telling you that you should have won?  Is he telling you that, if it weren’t for that one mistake, you would have the gold wrapped around your waist?  And, let me guess… He won’t shut the fuck up, will he?  He just nags, and nags, and nags, digging his reptile claws into your brain, refusing to let go?  The only way he will let up, even for a second of relief, is to feed his bloodlust… to cause immense pain and torture to your victim.  He promises that if you give into the temptation of violence and destruction, of yourself and others, he will leave you be.  His promise is empty.  I have been fighting my demons for years and years, and for the longest time, I never gave in.  It wasn’t until one day, I was overcome by him, that I let loose and busted a candy jar against that skank amazon, Firefox’s head.  I watched her tumble over, and I watched the blood trickle from the back of her gorgeous red hair, and I my knees went weak.  The blood soaked the back of her head, and I swear the feeling was better than sex!  I watched her go unconscious, and I felt that rush.  It wasn’t relief, it was intensified.  But, from that very moment, I was forever changed.  I was overcome by envy, coming off in the form or rage.  I was a powerhouse to be reckoned with.  Had I been given any shot at gold before, I would have rolled through those bitches like a bulldozer.

For a minute, your eyes flashed the green envy that I saw in the mirror locker room just before I shattered it.  I heard the fluttering of that reptilian passenger’s scaly wings as he whispered bittersweet nothings to you.  I saw the rage that it sent through your body as you cracked that helmet.  Gabriel thinks it is cheap craftsmanship, but I know that isn’t the case.  He doesn’t have the passenger like we do, JT.  That was adrenaline, pure and simple.  When I saw you crack that helmet, I felt the same feeling as I felt with Firefox in GXW.  I know you felt it too, even if only just a little.  You heard that raspy voice cheering you on, begging for more.  You felt it urging you to go out and just let loose on someone, anyone.  Congratulations, Underwood… You might not be a lost cause after all…

I know exactly how you feel, JT.  As I said last week in my promo, I think it would have been more fitting for us to be teamed together.  We could have had amazing chemistry, as I understand you for the most part.  I know you enjoy staring at Misty’s ass, and I plan on showing it plenty, with the addition of my foot, in the name of competition of course.  See, unlike your situation, I am envious of my best gal pal.  That is where you are out of luck with your latest transformation.  I have a lot of rage to work through in that ring, and I would be surprised if you and Gabriel made it into the ring very often.  It might save you some embarrassment, since you don’t know how to channel your envy on anything besides bike helmets.  But, you see… you don’t have the complication of ruining a long time friendship to bother you.  And yet… you still seem less focused than me when it comes to this match.  I am disappointed in you.  I thought, of all people, that you would be the one focused on revenge.  Instead, you are only focused on your managerial issues, and causing pain to inanimate objects and yourself.  You have a true advantage, but you are running around acting like it’s a handicap.  OWN IT!

I’ve studied you and Misty, and I learned almost every dirty secret of yours.  I will get into that in a minute, though.  I learned a lot about you that intrigued me.  However, at the same time, it made me feel even more disappointed in what you could be.  See, you and I are very much alike, it is almost scary.  I mean, seriously…  Just have a look at the similarities.  For starters, we are both orphans, even though I grew up in “the system”, didn’t really know my parents.  I’m not sure when you lost yours, but I am sure you had time to get to know them.  I’m also sure you weren’t trapped in a dog cage in the same room they were murdered, while it was happening.  Things like that really fuck you up.  Maybe that is another difference.  I’m mental.  I’m bat shit crazy.  I don’t change that, or try to hide it anymore.

Let’s not forget the exes that kicked us to the curb at the very start of our careers, dumb fucks they are.  I was better off in my career without him, or anybody for that matter.  I didn’t have anyone to hold me back.  Every time I made a mad dash for the top, before the company would fold.  I went to three different companies, and SCW seems to be the only place strong enough to handle me.  You could be that way as well if you applied yourself.  But, seriously?  Allison Summers?  You are better off without that trash.  I will tell you that from experience.  She didn’t seem to have much going on upstairs, but must have been one hell of a lay, am I right?

High Stakes could have been a new beginning for the both of us, JT.  Even though we didn’t walk out with the gold, we showed why we truly deserve to be the number one contender to our respective championships.  I guess our Main Event match at Climax Control is to determine which one of us wants it more.  Will you fight through fire and brimstone, hell’s scalding flames, to prove that you belong at the top of the Heavyweight division?  Will I show perseverance by not allowing my career to be determined by a friendship?  Which one of us has more heart, JT?  This match is more than what meets the eye.  It’s just as much a match between the two of us as it is between the champions of our respective divisions.  I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the winning of that match is me.  And let me tell you exactly why I have ten times the heart as you, kiddo.

With all of the similarities, there is one difference.  One massive difference between the two of us.  It is what overshadows the thousands upon thousands of similarities between us.  While you walk around backstage with an undeserved sense of accomplishment, I am busting my ass harder than ever to prove why I am worthy of the chance at any accomplishment.  While you cut promos showing an ever-changing JT, I am cutting promos about the same, screwed up Kittie everyone knows, and loved.  You are a wrestling prodigy, I am a crazy hellcat.  You are a phoenix, I am a crazy hellcat.  You are angry and envious, I am a crazy hellcat.  You are changing associates like underwear, I am a crazy hellcat.  Catch my drift?  You allow people to get into that tiny mind of yours, and you let them make you feel an inch tall, giving you the urge to reinvent yourself.  You let THEM tell YOU who you are.  You are no better than what they say about you. You are about as substantial as a Ken doll  It doesn’t matter who your manager is at this point, JT.  The only thing that can save you is YOU!  Screw that tatted up whore.  Screw Matt Ward.  You are a wrestling drone, no different from any other face out there, except they hang onto their gimmicks for a minimum of a month.  You don’t deserve the opportunities given to you, and that is where I can’t stand looking at your face.  Grow some fucking balls, kiddo.  Let loose.  When people tell you who to be, kick them in the nuts and tell them to piss off.  When Blade Alexander tells you that you are a lame cliché, point out the fact that he is an even more lame cliché of a pussy trying to be an asshole.  Until you grow a pair, or half a brain, you will never garner respect.  Don’t change, just be you.

I’m sorry you got teamed with Misty, otherwise you might have won this one with the advice I gave you.  But, instead, you got teamed up with an injured champ to face a hungry contender and a REAL champion.  Tough break kiddo.  See you at Climax Control...

Sincerely,


Kittie

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

<marquee bgcolor=black>Thursday, November 18th
Las Vegas</marquee>

”Eckstein, Eckstein Welcome to my playtime, Eckstein Eckstein, If you peek, then you’ll die!”

The sound of “Ready Or Not (I’m Coming)” by Oomph! plays and Kittie fumbles around in the pockets of her loose fitting black Tripp pants, sporting several large chains with skull charms hanging from several of the links.  She sighs before checking in the pockets of her tighter fitting black hoodie sporting a few of the same skulls dangling from various spots on the jacket, before pulling out her cell phone.  She doesn’t even have to check who it is, immediately hitting the green panel of her Android powered phone.

”Hey punk, what’s up?”

She chuckles as she turns down the corner of the street, busy with pedestrians and congested traffic.  She dodges the people rushing around on their lunch breaks.  However pleasant and cheery her voice is, the tone that meets her is nothing like she expected.

”Hey, I just wanted to let you know about this fine piece of literature I read today.  Yeah, it was aptly dubbed ‘Dear Misty’…”

Kittie adjusts her purse strap as she maneuvers through the crowd.  Her expression fades to that of bewilderment.  She leaves the steady stream of people to lean against a brick wall, going over in her mind what her friend Spike Staggs might be implying, regarding the letter she had dropped in their mailbox a few days ago.  Once nothing comes to her, she translates her expression into words.

”Yeah?  I thought it was pretty endearing.  What might be taken as bitchy was just me being honest.”

”Honest, you say?  Here is an exerpt that has me feeling quite contrary. *Ahem*’ Spike came over one of the few times I saw Jamie.  We had a few drinks, a few laughs, and a few smokes.  It really livened up my spirits.  We talked for hours and hours, and at one point, I almost had him convinced to sign that SCW contract, but I think it was the shots talking.  He feels for the kids, and doesn’t want to do to them what you are doing right now.  He wants them to feel support from at least one parent.  I think he is nervous this week with you teaming up with JT.  He said your head really has been in the game lately, and not with her family.’  Funny thing is that there is little truth to anything you associated me with.”

Kittie reaches into her purse to pull out a pack of plain label menthol cigarettes and a blue Bic ligther.  While Spike is talking, she lights up a cigarette, pressing it against her unusually crimson colored lips as she takes it in.  She sighs out a cloud of smoke, letting it sift into the gentle breeze.  She waves her hand around, as if to motion Spike to wrap it up.  Once he does, she stops and takes another quick drag, exhaling it as she speaks.

”Not really, Spike.  Why, is Misty right there?  You feel like you gotta protect her from the truth.  The truth, as in, you did say that stuff.”

”Hmmm…  If by that, you mean that I said, ‘It’s strange not having Misty around as much, the kids miss her, and so do I…’ then you would be correct.  The thing is, you made it sound like I thought she was a bad mom looking to cheat on me with her tag partner.  We have a very… VERY healthy relationship and I don’t think she would ever do that to me or our family.”

Kittie taps the end of her cigarette as a man passes by her, waving the smell from his face, scoffing at her.  She flinches her shoulders toward him, and he quickens his pace to move away from her.  She shakes her head and turns the other direction.

”Look, sorry if I took what you said out of context.  I know it’s my catchphrase, but you really have been pussy whipped, Spike.  You have been domesticated, and I think it’s shit.  You were a beast!  You and Billy are the ones that convinced me I could wrestle.  Then, you proved the world wrong when you won the GXW World Championship.  I just think…”

”Well, it doesn’t really matter what you think, now does it?  I spent the first six years of my sons life letting this business consume me.  I’ve got A LOT of making up to do, and I refuse to do that to my daughter. Just let Misty enjoy her moment in the sun, and stop acting this way.  I don’t know you anymore these days, and I’m honestly worried about you.”

Kittie’s eyes squint as she struggles letting out a breath.  She wipes at her eyes, his words leaving her feeling just a bit more than vulnerable.  She turns to face the wall so not to let the passerby’s see this side of her.  She quickly gains control over herself and turns back around.

”How dare you…  HOW DARE YOU come at me talking that shit, Spike!  You are such a broken record.  You get wrapped up in the latest thrill ride, A.K.A. Demona,…Roxanne… Misty… and you act like it’s MY fault you don’t know who I am!  Maybe if I had friends who really cared about me, I would be this big ball of sunshine you expect me to be, but that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.  And for you to say that I should stand by and let Misty enjoy her time in the sun is just ludicrous!  She doesn’t let anyone else have their time in the sun before she gets jealous and knocks them out of it.  She is going to get a reality check on Climax Control, Spike.  I hope you don’t expect me to roll over and play dead after she robbed me of that title.”

”Okay, now I’m getting really pissed, Kittie.  She won that fair and square from you.  She is laid up in bed after fighting such an epic battle against you.”

Kittie immediately cuts him off, spewing venom with her tongue as it lashes at Spike.  He feels it, even through the phone.

”Great!  Now, when I defeat her, she is going to go on, lying to herself that it’s because her poor little back hurts, and you will be there kissing her ass, and cleaning up her messes.  My body aches after that match too, but I’m not going around cutting promos about it.  That is just a weak cop out, and I’m sorry if I don’t buy it.”

”Look, she is still your friend, and you SHOULD be a little more sympathetic about this.  I’m disappointed in you.”

Kittie growls into the phone as she walks up to a nearby trash can.  She kicks it repeatedly before leaning against in, huffing and puffing.  As those passing by stop and stare at her, she sticks her tongue out at them, and flips them the double bird.  Spike starts to question what is going on but she doesn’t even hear him and starts in on her own rant once more.

”No… NO!  I’m disappointed in the both of YOU!  When I needed a friend the most, after I lost, and had all kinds of crazy thoughts going through my warped mind, you were off playing Mr. Nanny to her and her ‘back injury’ and the busted lip I gave her.  She was well enough to run up and flirt with JT Undercock, but she couldn’t come up and just check on her ‘friend’?  So, if you really want to talk about being a good friend, then let’s lay that out on the table, as the entrée.  I’m tired of playing your little sister, and playing Misty’s BITCH.  If you guys can’t treat me like a real f*cking person, then you guys can both go and get f*cked!  And, yes, I really do mean that.  Don’t you dare come at me with this pity bullsh*t.  It’s bad enough that my win with Gabriel is going to be tainted by this back injury crap, and JT’s sad boy routine.  I’ll be f*cking DAMNED if I buy that for a minute.  I lost the same way as JT did, I felt the same emotions he felt.  He shattered a helmet, I shattered a mirror.  He went off and loathed only God knows where.  The gym for another shadow promo?  Or maybe he went crawling back to that worthless skank, Allison Summers to eat cheeseburgers? Or maybe he was trying to think of a new way to change his gimmick once more?  He should be called the chameleon the way he changes his colors.”

Spike stays silent through most of the rant, though teeth grinding can be heard mildly in the background.  That ceases once the topic switches over to JT.  He tries to contain it, but there are a few times where Spike lets a slight chuckle escape his throat.  Kittie hears that, and her tone lightens up a bit, showing all over her face.

”Okay, so I get it.  We haven’t been the best friends we should be.  I just thought your latest escapades with your marriage to Jamie would have been keeping you busy.  But, regardless, you will always be like my little sister.”

”I just wish people would see it that way, instead of thinking I have some school girl crush on you.  We have been through thick and thin.  That’s how we are, but lately it hasn’t seemed that way.  You have your life, and I have mine.  Too bad they don’t weave into each other more often.”

Kittie listens as Spike goes silent.  She takes the last puff of her cigarette, drops it to the ground, and runs her foot over it swiftly.  She adjusts her purse once more, sinking back into the steady stream of pedestrians.  She sighs before hugging her hoodie, tightening it around her upper body.

”I have so much left to do in my career, and not as much time as I would like.  People don’t believe I am capable of anything, the polls online don’t think we stand a chance against Misty and JT… Well they are in for a big surprise, because I am more determined than ever before.”

”Kittie, I can tell that you are.  And, honestly, Misty can too.  With this back injury, she has her doubts about winning this week.  I wouldn’t dare ask you to take it easy on her, because she would smack me upside my head for doing that.  I’m just in a strange spot with all of this.  Family versus family, and I have to do my best to stay impartial to it all.”

Kittie weaves through the crowds as she gets further into the heart of the Las Vegas strip.  If it were night time, the lights would be almost blinding, but its effect isn’t nearly as impressive as the amazing structures and festive noises that ring through this dreary day.  She leans the phone against her ear once more, letting just a few seconds pass in between.

”Look, I’m supposed to meet someone for lunch here in a few minutes, and I’m getting close.  I’m done listening to the pity party for Misty right now.  I’m glad we talked though.  Maybe things will calm down after Climax Control, and Misty and I can go back to being the decent friends we were before.  But, I gotta go. Send the kids hugs from aunt Kittie… Wow, weird to say now that I technically am their aunt for real…”

”Yeah, heh.  Well, talk to you later.”

Kittie turns off her phone and slides it back into her purse as she slings it over her shoulder.  Off in the near distance, she sees the towering Bellagio Hotel, with its signature fountains.  She is supposed to meet Gabriel there shortly, so she quickens her pace to get there.  She bumps shoulders with someone unexpectedly in her hurry.  She offers a quick wave in apology, not even paying attention to the person.  This elicits a shocking response from the young redhead girl.

”Excuse yourself bitch!”

The girl swings her hands on her hips, but her lips are curled into a smile as Kittie turns around, ready for a fight.  Instead her jaw drops and she wraps her arms around the barely twenty year old girl.

”Ashley Jameson, how the hell are you?!  It’s been…”

Ashley embraces Kittie tightly and then with her hands still on Kittie’s shoulders, she takes a minute to stare at Kittie in complete and utter shock as Kittie talks to her.

”Too long?  Sha, no shit!  I heard my mentor was wrestling in Vegas, so I grabbed a flight here right away.  I wanted to check out the town, and was going to hit you up tonight.”

Kittie looks over to the fountains of the hotel, and she grabs onto her hand and walks with her.

”Walk with me, talk with me.  And while we are at it, meet the SCW Heavyweight Champion.  I’m running a bit late for my meeting.”

Ashley obliges as they quickly walk through the streets.  Ashley talks, but Kittie drifts off into thought, taking in bits and pieces of the conversation.  The city passes her by as she daydreams about what it’s going to be like to be back in the ring with Misty.  Of all people to understand this is Kittie.  She trained the young wrestling prodigy with the help of many others, but more importantly, she was her mentor in the wrestling world, as well as a member of her TV wrestling and music talk show.  These two had become like sisters at one point, but when GXW and 3WL closed down, causing the subsequent cancellation of her program, they slowly fell out of touch.

”… So yeah.  How are you and Nyako doing?  I was so happy for you when you realized you were… Ya know…”

Kittie comes to just at this point, and is taken aback by the entire statement.  As they approach the fountain, Kittie stops dead in her tracks and she turns to Ashley.

”I am not a lesbian.  The thing with Nyako was something different, special.  It was her personality I was attracted to.  But, when 3WL closed down, we kind of lost the major bond.  Oh, I’m married now to Jamie Staggs.”

Ashley chuckles to herself, giving Kittie a playful shove that has more of an impact than she had intended.  She waits for Kittie to join her in laughter, but once it doesn’t come, she opens her big, beautiful blue eyes at Kittie in shock.

”Okay, you are starting to scare me.  As in, please tell me you are joking?  Jamie Staggs was the biggest dip shit that I have ever met… and YOU are the one that warned me about him!  He is a skeez, so please… PLEASE tell me you are joking.”

Kittie waves her ring at Ashley who shoves her one more time.  She mouths “Shut up” in a face mixed with humor and disgust.  She is quickly taken off guard when she watches a man walking on water before being quickly taken up by one of the massive jets of water.  Kittie turns around when she hears everyone’s exclamations and their gasps of awe.  She catches the faintest of glimpses, enough to see Gabriel as the flashing lights burst around him, and he is enveloped in the water before a big bang and burst of light causes him to disappear.  She chuckles to herself.

”Effing show off…”

No sooner than she mutters those words, she feels a tap on her shoulder.  When she turns around, Ashley is no longer there, but Gabriel is standing behind her.  He smiles before pulling a black leather wallet from his back pocket.  He fumbles through the wads of cash while keeping an eye on Kittie.

”That, darling, was a spectacle.  This is a show off…”

He lifts out a long stem blue rose from his pocket and presents it to Kittie as if it were nothing at all.  Kittie gawks at it, and takes a sniff of it, finding it to be real.  She looks around, seeing Ashley nowhere to be found, dumbfounded by everything.  She tries to speak but, nothing comes out.

”So, are you really ready to let the sin begin…?”

Kittie just nods her head and Gabriel offers his hand to Kittie with a smirk upon his face as he leads her away from the fountain.  In the midst of the captivated audience, the two disappear as the scene fades… TO BLACK!