”These shitheads need to learn that I’m NOT the lady to fuck with…”
The sun shines through the window of Gingham’s Diner in the Greater St. Louis area, just across the Missouri River. The theme of the inside is very much like that of a truck stop meets a family restaurant, with wooden beams and wooden booths featuring dark red padding. The theme is complete with a large colorfully written out specials board. The crowd is an interesting mix of elderly, parents, and children. As we move through, someone stands out amongst the typical American family crowd. Back in the corner booth, Roxanne sits alone, which is an extremely rare occasion. She is dressed in a more casual attire than usual, replacing the corset with a Necromantix band tee. Her red hair loosely falls down her back and shoulders, and her make up seems a little less detailed than normal. She looks as if she still had not slept despite the dawning of the sun casting an orange glow upon her skin. She props the phone against her ear and shoulder as she eyes the menu carefully. The waitress comes by the table, but before she can inquire about an order, Roxanne shoots her a deadly glare that lets the middle aged woman know that she is not ready. The waitress holds her hands up as she silently moves along. Roxanne sighs as she listens to the voice on the other end. She hears something that doesn’t set well, and she lets it be known.
Roxanne: Fuck that! I signed that contract under false pretenses, but I’m not about to give up on this… No! When I signed that joke of an exclusive deal with Sin City Wrestling, I wasn’t told that I would be under extra scrutiny. It’s utter bullshit, and you know it, Erik… Oh, you can cut out the ass kissing because it is only going to piss me off even further.
Her firm and elevated voice carries around the restaurant, making little children giggle, and outraging the parents and the elderly clientele. Everyone turns to look at her and she simply sneers at them with her tongue stuck out and a middle finger up for emphasis. She rolls her eyes and returns to her phone conversation.
Roxanne: BULLSHIT! I only wrestled once during this whole *overly exaggerated air quotes* Team Wars… and it wasn’t even a big deal because I was teamed with those little twits Amy Marshall and Necra Octavian Kane against Jessie Fuckin’ Salco, Karina Koji, and some other dumb bitch who I can’t even remember the name of because she meant that little to me or the company, and considering I remembered the names of the other four worthless piles of dog shit in that match, that really says something…
Roxanne raises her eyes from the menu to notice the waitress is standing there, almost afraid to approach her. Roxanne stares at her silently for a moment, taking time only to blink briefly as if to silently ask for an explanation. When that fails, Roxanne says in a very annoyed tone…
Roxanne: What…?
Waitress: Yes, um… well see… We, um…
Roxanne: Would you like me to start over for you to save you the embarrassment of rambling on like an idiot for another minute, or are you okay with looking like a dumbass in front of the people whose food you are entrusted with the care of…?
The waitress seems as if she has a lump in her throat as she tries to clear it, and then she swallows in an attempt to seem more assertive. Instead she only feeds into Roxanne’s foul mood, getting the same blinking reaction as when she approached her.
Waitress: Well, see… we have been getting complaints about the language you have been using on your, um… your phone call?
Roxanne: That’s right… it is known as a phone call when you are talking to someone over the phone. And it is a rather important phone call which you are taking time from. So, would you like me to change my language from English to, say… German… or Spanish? Your pick.
Waitress: Oh, ha… no, I meant the kinda foul potty mouth language you have been using. It is bothering some of our other customers because we have a reputation for being a family restaurant, and there are children present…
Roxanne blinks again as she calmly and gently sets the phone down on top of the menu and she folds her hands in front of her. Leaning down, getting to business she stares up at the waitress in an almost sinister manner. She takes in a deep breath.
Roxanne: First off… fuck the children. I’m sure once they step outside of this little slice of Americana Paradise, the loud, slobbery, booger infested little shits probably hear and say far worse than anything I have said thus far in my conversation. I could complain about the bitch three booths down to your left whose child won’t stop crying and aggravating my headache, but I do this one thing… I don’t know if you have heard of it, but it’s called minding your own fucking business! Try it, you might find when you worry about your own, you aren’t as bothered by what others do. It’s quite liberating… Now if you don’t mind, I have a business call to resume…
Roxanne stares at her for another moment as she slowly walks off, unsure of how to react. Roxanne rolls her eyes and then loosens her posture back up. She picks the phone up from the table after taking a quick sip of water to clear her throat and to calm her down.
Roxanne: Erik, darling… I know you missed me. So, as I was saying… This whole thing is exactly what we were fighting against all along. Because I refuse to get down on my knees and suck my way to the top for title shots and other meaningless HORSE HOCKEY, I am being penalized. Just because I gave that bi-sexual trollop what she deserved, twice, I am being forced to fight two pieces of ghetto gutter garbage. It’s like I’m fighting some disgusting cliché, times two. No offense to Misty, but you don’t see her being forced into a Handicap match, and she did far worse than I ever did to Team SCW.
Roxanne props the phone against her shoulder and she rubs at her temples as much as she can. She takes another, much bigger, sip of her water to calm her nerves down. She entwines her fingers through her hair, fluttering her eyelids as she catches her breath.
Roxanne: I will go along with this, but I’m telling you one thing… If this continues, I am going to be peeved, and when I’m really peeved, limbs get broken. You know I’m not lying because you saw exactly what I did to Misty when we were feuding. I nearly ended her life… You are absolutely right, Erik. When I get to that point, I go a little crazy, and I can already tell I am on my way there as we speak. These two moronic stereotypes perpetuated by the media will be my forth AND fifth examples. I will add both of their names to the Bitch List right next to your lovely little Michelle, Pussy Willow, and Angelica. Nobody even takes them seriously, but when I singlehandedly become the first Bombshell to compete in and win a Handicap Match, people will take notice of me. Even if I have to strip to my bra and panties, or knock them around with pillows in the name of charity, I will be remembered for the carnage I cause. Maybe putting asses in seats for this ridiculous showcase of tits and ass will prove I’m not this heartless bitch everyone thinks I am…
Roxanne rolls her eyes, knowing the likelihood of this is extremely low. She leans back against the red padded booth, letting out a long sigh as she taps her chin, thinking. She stares out of the window at the large Highway 94 sign that sits in front of her and a slight smile creeps over her face.
Roxanne: Let me call you back. I have an old friend I need to get in touch with from my Gateway Championship Wrestling days… No, not Spike. What makes you think I would ever ask him for anything after he has made it clear he wants nothing to do with me? Besides, he is all dried up now. I am talking about one of the best to step foot in that place… Yes, you got it… I wish I could say it has been a pleasure, but I have never been able to say that… Oh, my thrill levels are through the roof. I can’t wait to talk with you again. Bye…
With that, Roxanne hangs up the phone in some sort of disgust. She fumbles through her phone, digging in the deepest, darkest crevices of her contacts. She takes another sip of her water before bringing the phone to her ear. As it begins ringing, she hears it going off around the entrance of the restaurant, playing “Nightmare” by Avenged Sevenfold. Her eyes run over to the front of the restaurant, and she locks eyes with the raven haired man standing there. Her smile creeps across her face as he nonchalantly walks over to her.
Roxanne: Speak of the Devil… I need your help with a rather pressing matter, Jeremy…
He grins sadistically at her as he sits down at the table, folding his hands in front of him as he gently slides her menu over in his direction. He pops it open as he eyes gently rise back to Roxanne as the scene fades… TO BLACK!
OOC: I apologize for this not being up to my usual standard, but it has been a hectic week work-wise.
