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The scene opens up just outside of the Tropicana Ballroom in Laughlin, Nevada on a brisk January afternoon. There are a few clouds in the sky, but the sun peeks out from behind them every now and then. There is a camera set up just outside of the door, where a cameraman waits impatiently. While he taps his foot, it is no match for the pacing of resident interviewer Pussy Willow. She is wearing a pair of furry ear muffs, and a jacket that shines underneath the light of the wavering sun. She shivers at the cold temperatures as she looks over to the cameraman.
Pussy: Jonathan, I think we should just pack up and go home. I don’t think she’s showing.
Jonathan: It’s probably a safe bet, considering she was supposed to be here two hours ago, and not a single call or text to either of us. Talk about unprofessional.
Pussy: After the treatment from the Mean Girls, I can’t say that I’m all that surprised, though. Oh well, she wouldn’t be the first one to half ass work around here. If she just shows up, she’ll be doing better than half the talent that comes through here.
Jonathan shuffles around the bag for his camera, getting it ready for the soon-to-be dismantled pieces of the camera and tripod. Pussy walks over toward the SCW logo van where she opens the door to take a sip of hot chocolate. She turns the engine on to start warming up the vehicle. She shivers in the cold of what should soon be the heat blasting from the vents. She steps outside, holding her hot chocolate tightly in her hand as she closes the door. Suddenly, her phone rings. She looks down at it and then holds it out for Jonathan to see. The name of the incoming call reads “Celeste North”, so Jonathan halts the dismantling of the camera, leaning on it out of frustration. Pussy answers the call and brings the phone to her ears.
Pussy: Hello? Pussy Willow speaking…
She pauses for a moment, trying her best to change her tone to a much less annoyed one, despite the shivers running throughout her entire body. She nods her head as she places her free ear against her shoulder to block out the wind.
Pussy: Yes, Celeste. I’m standing outside of the Tropicana right now… Well, I have been for the last two hours now. Where are you?
Pussy nods her head as she listens to Celeste speak. Seconds into it, she opens her mouth and gives Jonathan a look of sheer disbelief. Once this fades, she can no longer hide her annoyance as she throws her hot chocolate to the ground.
Pussy: Wait, did you say Beverly Hills?! Obviously you didn’t forget that you had an interview set up, so… No, I won’t put you on speaker phone! The camera isn’t even rolling.
Jonathan: Um, actually it is. I figured I could work on a time lapse video in the time that we were left waiting.
Pussy: This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard…
Pussy pulls her phone away from her ear as she presses the speaker button, and holds it a reasonable distance from her ear, resting her elbow against the inner side of the other elbow, rolling her eyes in a grumpy display that is unusual for her, but very much warranted.
Celeste: … but it’s called making a statement, Pussy. Just press the fucking button and let's get this over with.
Pussy: Alright, you’re on the air. Say your peace.
Celeste: Talk about unprofessional. It’s like the kettle calling the cauldron black. No proper introduction? How typical.
Pussy sighs as she shakes her head, looking over toward the camera.
Pussy: This is Pussy Willow, your resident SCW Punching Bag… er, Interviewer. I’m here with Celeste North, who couldn’t be bothered to show up for her scheduled interview, so she’s coming to you from the comfort of her own home in Beverly Hills, California. How’s that for an introduction?
Celeste: Salty, but I kind of like this side of you, Pussy… And that is the only time I will ever say that about pussy…
Pussy should be used to this by now, given her choice in stage name, but it still causes an annoyed sigh to escape her lips, which brings about a chuckle from Celeste on the other end.
Celeste: Let me start off by saying that it is a pleasure to not be there in chilly Laughlin, Nevada. Ten degrees makes a world of difference. I thank you for taking time away from your schedule to help me with making this point. Your patience is very much appreciated, and in a moment, you will see why I’ve done things the way that I have.
Pussy: It’s going to take a lot of convincing, I assure you.
Celeste: Hey, I’ve got nothing but time, baby. I don’t have anywhere to be today.
Celeste chuckles once again, but Pussy doesn’t find the same humor in it.
Celeste: I really enjoy showing the world every aspect of my life. I’ve enjoyed allowing them to witness the craziness of going from a Nobody to… well, a former champion who got screwed out of her title, and then denied her rematch clause… Okay, I gave up my rematch against Veronica, because there is no way in Hades that I’m going to open myself up to that kind of shit again. But, there were two options. Option one, I could go back to being a bottom feeder, a curtain jerker with a few solid wins to legitimize all of the assholes who pass through the revolving roster of Sin City Wrestling. Option two, I can step it up and go after bigger and better things. Wait, I’m sorry. There was only ever one option, and that’s the easy one.
Pussy: Which option are you referring to, because I’m kind of confused here.
Celeste: I worked my ass off when I first got here. I gave the fans something they don’t see every day. I gave them one hundred percent transparency into my life. I showed them my faith. I showed them my family. I gave them some laughs, and I gave them a good cry now and then. I gave everything. And what happened? I got nothing, but some pretty fucking impressive wins. Sure, I lost to Jessie Salco, but everyone has an off week now and then, and I proved it when I beat her ass after the fact. I defeated Mercedes Vargas, a Grand Slam Champion, and a fucking legend in her own right, as much as it pains me to say it. I still got overlooked, except when it came to feeding us to motherfucking Team Hero, as another cog in the machine. When I had to take personal time away from SCW, I did get that. I came back and I took out every person that they put in front of me. I wasn’t supposed to win the Bombshell Roulette Championship, and I wasn’t supposed to keep it. I took what I wanted, what I deserved, and the higher ups just couldn’t fucking stand it…
Pussy goes to speak as Celeste’s voice takes a grim turn. However, Celeste doesn’t allow her to speak.
Celeste: I beat Veronica, and I would have beaten her without Delia sticking her fucking busted ass nose in my face. It was clear that I had it won, but one of the higher ups decides that he needs people to believe that he’s an asshole now that he Superkicked Ward in the face, so guess who he chooses to lash out at? Any guesses.
Pussy: Um… you?
Celeste: Veh-hery good, Puss. Me. Not Little Miss Sunshine who shits rainbows and blows the World Heavyweight Champion. Not Mr. Self Help and the talking Teddy. Not anyone who had established themselves, and actually stood a chance at rebounding. No, he chose me, and not only did it cost me my career. Not only did it cost me my Bombshell Roulette Championship. Not only did it cost me the ability to give a shit anymore, but it also cost me the last piece of sanity that I had been clinging on to for dear life. No… if you thought Twisted Sister was unstable, you haven’t seen a Goddamn thing yet, sister. Twisted Sister is unpredictable, but so am I. The only difference is that I haven’t lost my ability to calculate the fucked up shit I’m going to do.
Pussy: Um, Celeste, would you mind talking a little about this Sunday? It’s pretty cold out here, and…
Celeste: Yes! Let’s talk about this Sunday. We have a pretty “darn wacky” card ahead of us, don’t we? Some real exciting stuff. Real edge of your seat shit. Title matches, and oh, let’s not forget about that stellar Main Event quality Ten Man Battle Royal to figure out who's going to be fed to J2H next… Hey, at least all ten men earned their place in that match. James Tuscini has had a bit of an impressive run in SCW. I suppose he could be rationalized for this opportunity. Blade Alexander made some huge waves in SCW… back in 2012. Five years ago now? Yeah, he definitely deserves to be in that match. Steve Ramone just lost last week to Ryan Keys, losing his Roulette Championship, and suddenly he’s put in the running for the World Heavy? Who’s dick is he sucking? And let's talk about Jeremiah Hardin. The wild card of this match. He’s the wild card, because who the fuck knows if he’s even going to show up? He disappears in and out of here like his contract if a fucking hot potato. Let’s give him a chance to get in on this when he literally just fucking got back. Joshua Acquin just lost to the champ two weeks ago or whatever. Samuel Devereux, because… well, I can’t even try to rationalize this one. Xander Bishop… yeah, I don’t understand that one either. Right place, right time? What the actual fuck has Jamie Dean done since the tag titles where he rode Ben Jordan’s coattails? Samuel McPherson blows a former champion, so by proxy, he paid his dues… or collected them straight down his throat. And don’t even get me started on Calvin Harris. True, he has a couple wins under his belt, one of which is over one of the men in this match. But one man who has done more recently than pretty much anyone in this match, isn’t included? The only person in SCW to give a loss to Calvin Harris, isn’t included? Yeah… this match was meant to be a load of horse shit, and it’s shaping up to be just that. I hope Tuscini wins, because he’s the only somewhat deserving person in this match.
Pussy: That’s not exactly what I was talking ab…
Celeste: No? How about the actual Main Event? My friend Crystal Millar, the most dominant force in SCW, so dominant that the fans can’t even try to hate her anymore. So unstoppable that not even fucking Mikah could knock her off of her pedestal. Up against the only person who seems to stand a chance of derailing her, Melody Grace. The woman who loves unicorns, rainbows, and blow pops, but blows the pop of the biggest heel in SCW, and surrounds herself with the likes of Mikah, Rage, and J2H, but also loves kittens, and sweet, soft, cuddly feely stuff. Basically, the biggest confusing wreck in SCW next to myself. Melody deserves her shot. She is one of the few who shows up to work, even if I don’t see eye to eye with her techniques. Crystal is a true Goddess in wrestling, but so it is written in the stars, so it shall be done. No one beats Melody. It just doesn’t happen. So, unless Melody misses her flight, or gets distracted by the shiny unicorn I’ll be waving around from the front row, in every effort to help prove my own self wrong… Crystal will find her reign coming to an end. Not because she didn’t fight hard enough, but because the powers that be see Melody as more marketable. And, who knows… maybe those powers that be will associate Crystal with the company she keeps, and stack the odds against her. I can’t keep quiet any longer, and I just hope that I’m Snowden paranoid.
Pussy just blinks in confusion. Not that she doesn’t understand what is being said, but she doesn’t understand where all of this is coming from.
Pussy: What I was trying to say before, is that you have a match, which is supposed to be the focus of this interview…
Celeste: I know. And, no offense to Chelsea Payne, but I don’t really care about my match. It doesn’t matter if I beat Chels, or if Chels beats me. It doesn’t matter how well we wrestle, or how well we work the crowd. I don’t have any real feelings toward Chelsea, one way or the other, so there is no reason to do what she’s likely to do, and tear me apart. Whoever wins is irrelevant, just like my career. The higher powers will pick who they think is more marketable to the fans, and that’s who they will push forward. Chelsea is a second generation star with huge knockers and a big, round ass, that she’s not afraid to show off. She’s the more obvious choice. Besides, she’s facing off with Sam Marlowe, who is far more relevant than I am. Apparently, a blase attitude and lack of a work ethic is what gets you places around here, so… meh.
Pussy: Jonathan, please cut the camera. I don’t think Celeste wants to air this to the fans, because…
Celeste: Because the truth will get out, and there will be backlash? What the fuck else do I have to lose, besides my contract? I’m not going to spend my family money to buy out my contract. I’ll show up, put someone over, and go home for a few extra bucks until my six months are up in March. Maybe I’ll even ask Azz n’ Class how they do it. Or Justice League. Anyway, Pussy, it’s been nice to do this little thing we’re doing, but I’m bored now. I’ll see you for two minutes on Sunday…
There is a clicking sound that comes over the phone before Celeste’s picture fades from the phone. Pussy stares at it for a second, and then sighs as she puts her phone back into her coat pocket. Jonathan does a slow clap as the camera slowly fades out.
