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Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Climax Control Archives => Topic started by: Celeste on November 20, 2015, 02:15:19 PM
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Sisters of the Solstace
The Story of Crystalline North, a Child of the Earth...
The screen is overtaken by a silenced clip of an old Crystalline North concert where the young sensation twirls around in a black shawl with gold print, matching feather earrings, a wrap skirt, and a black top, her permed blonde hair that floats gracefully along with her body. She looks like a ray of sunshine in human form as she radiates on the stage. We fast forward a few decades to a concert from just a few years back, where she dons the same outfit, with a much more conservative hair style. However, as many years have gone by, she has not lost any bit of that radiance as she gracefully spins until she reaches the microphone stand. She catches her breath as the audience screams at an almost deafening volume. She gives a light chuckle of appreciation as she looks off to the side stage, where we catch a glimpse of a tattooed man with salt and pepper hair that is slicked back greaser style. He is dressed in a white muscle shirt, black slacks with suspenders hanging loosely at his sides, and more wallet chains than Spike Staggs. Crystalline maintains a gaze with him as the band begins to play a light acoustic riff that causes the audience to cheer even more loudly. She takes in a deep breath, closing her eyes in a dramatic pause.
Crystalline: This is for you, fatty...
The man looks down at his slight imperfection of a stomach, finding her assertion to be a bit crass, but before he can object, she turns her gaze back to the audience as her slightly raspy, yet angelic voice pierces through the cheers of the crowd.
Crystalline: I took our love, and I took it down. I climb skyscrapers, but I'll turn around. And I saw our reflection... in the... coke covered mirror, as the mudslide washed me down. Ohhhh, mirror of your eyes, what is love? Can the innocence I have, rise abo-o-ove? Can I... handle your mood swings, changing your mind. Can I see through the riddles, and all the lie-ie-ie-ie-ie-ie-ies? Mmm-mmm... I don't know... Mmm mmm, mmm mmm...
Crystalline sings such cutting words with such a finesse, that even the gentleman on the stage, who is openly being cut to pieces by her words, can't help but wipe a tear from his eyes, clapping his hands before turning to the audience and pointing to himself.
Man: Me! SHE MEAN'S... ME!
He continues to clap his hands as Crystalline gives the audience another infamous twirl during the short solo, her eyes open just as she begins singing again, looking up to the lights... or the rafters of her sold out stadium concert venue.
Crystalline: Well I been, 'fraid of payin'... Alimony to a lazy alcoholic. But your eyes get colder, our child's gettin' older, and you're gettin' older too... So...
A much longer guitar solo comes up, and Crystalline takes the oppontunity to dance across the stage gracefully, like a dark rose pedal floating through the wind. Her shawl wafts dramatically, despite her very slow and calculated movements. She works her way around the stage and finally up to the rockabilly fuck up she's singing about, and she gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek before handing him a manila envelope, which catches the man by surprise, but he has no time to react as she makes her way back to the microphone stand, taking the microphone into her hand as she gently dances across to the edge of the stage.
Crystalline: I been, 'fraid of payin'... Alimony to a lazy alcoholic. But your eyes get colder, our child's gettin' older, and you're gettin' older too... You're getting wrinkly balls, too... Sooo... take this love, shove it down. Ohhhhhhh if you climb a skyscraper, and you turn arou-ou-ound. If you see my reflection... in a COOOO-OOO-OOO-OOO-OOO-OOOOOOOOOOO-OKE... co-o-o-o-ove-er-er-er-er-ed...... mirro-o-o-o-o-o-o-r... well maybeeeee... the mudslide will wash you down. Well WELL, the mudslide with wash you... doooooooown...
The crowd cheers, but the man holding the papers looks inside, seeing something very much not to his liking as he begins to storm up toward Crystalline. She looks at him with a bit of a hidden fire in her eye, one that scorches him.
Man: A freakin' divorce?! Like this? You stone cold BITCH!
Crystalline: Thank you, thank you very much. I really appreciate it. This is my soon to be ex-husband... Jared O'Keefe, everybody. Give him a big round of applause, because I dedicated a song to serving him divorce papers! How cool is that? Original, no doubt!
She smiles as the crowd cheers in massive support as Jared shakes his head, confused. She reaches over and raises his hand high in the air as the crowd cheers even louder. A young girl comes running onto the stage, crying as she tugs on the man's black pants, looking up at him with tears rapidly falling from her eyes.
Young Celeste: Mommy and daddy gettin' a DIVORCE?!?!
The crowd gets even louder, causing young Celeste to cry even harder as she hugs onto her dad's leg. He runs his hands through her dark brown hair to comfort her as he looks Crystalline dead in the eyes.
Jared: I'm keepin' the brat. Kid's a fuckin' cash cow and I ain't givin' it up neither.
The footage slowly fades out with the audience cheering in delight as Crystalline waves a goodnight to the audience, garnering whistles that fade back into the interview room where Jared O'Keefe sits on one side of a shiny black table, taking a huge wiff off of the space between his thumb and index finger, leaving a light powdery residue on his nose. To the right of the table is Crystalline North, who leans over gently and wipes the residue from his nose, and then on to his dirty white muscle shirt, like a mother babying her child.
Off Screen Interviewer: Wow, it's been fourteen years since that fateful night, but it looks like you two haven't lost that loving feeling.
Crystalline waves off the comment in a cute, playful manner as she leans over toward a scowling Jared. She keeps her eyes focused on the center of the camera like a true professional as she offers a half smirk that screams proper southern belle.
Crystalline: Please... I never stopped loving Jared. I just didn't want to be in a monogomous relationship with a man child who wasn't half my age anymore. I was feeling... a little less Jared O'Keefe, and a little more Jared Leto, if you know what I mean.
Crystalline laughs at this as Jared rolls his eyes, reaching into his pocket to withdrawl something, but before he can, Crystalline smacks his hand, stopping him as she scolds him silently from the corner of her eye.
Jared: She wanted to punish me for gainin' fifteen pounds, even though I did it cause I lost a lot of energy playin' by her rules.
Crystalline: Snorting that much cocaine can NOT be healthy, Jared!!! I mean... I had to give up some pretty... bad habits when I got pregnant, and I thought it was only fair that you cut down a little, too. Maybe if you would have cut it out completely like I did, then you could have gotten custody of Celeste, hm?
Jared: Meh...
Jared shrugs his shoulders as he pulls his fedora hat down over his eyes to hide the fact that they are twitching a bit from his... extra cirricular activities. Crystalline shakes her head, and juts her thumb at her ex-husband as if asking the viewer if they see what a character he is, though not fully grasping the entire picture at hand.
Interviewer: So, there is still a love there?
Jared/Crystaline: Yes.../No...
They answer simultaneously as they look over at one another, cracking smirks and sharing a bit of a laugh at their differing answers. They exchange playful nudges before they both turn back to the camera.
Jared: Crystalline is a stone cold bitch. Everyone thinks she's some wholesome Wiccan, Vegan version of Mother Theresa, but she will cut ya... I, I, I... mean literally. She cut me 'bout fourty-seven times in our ten years of bein' together.
Interviewer: After, say... the first five... ten... even twenty times... you never thought to yourself, "I shouldn't marry a woman who assaults me with sharp objects at all, let alone fourty-seven times"?
Jared: Nah, I'm from Boston, like the rough part of Boston, so a woman that don't kill ya... that's wicked awesome. Boston boys fuckin' ring that kinda girl. The worst cut was the papercut she gave me.
Crystalline looks over at him with a hint of regret and sorrow in her eyes, but a twinkle that appreciates the clever wit he's just expressed. He gets a grim look on his face as he leans forward and digs his finger into his chest as he states the next sentence with authority.
Jared: ... To... my... heart! To my heart... with those divorce papers.
Crystalline: Wasn't this supposed to be something about me? Like the child you stuffed deep inside me, that I shat out into this world? I swore that's why you were here, Jared...
Jared: Oh right. I love that kid just as much as any kids I may or may not know about. Maybe even more, cause I actually met her, and raised her like she was my own... and not just cause she is my own, but because that kid's a fuckin' cash cow. Not only that, but I bonded with the kid. We both tried E together for the first time and spent five hours rubbing our faces on the cats.
Crystalline looks shocked and appalled as she stares daggers at Jared. She gasps and slaps his arm angrily.
Crystalline: YOU shared drugs with our baby girl?! It's no wonder the cats hide every time they see a human face! Plus, she was just a child!
Jared: Relax, Crys... I waited until she was older for that. I ain't no monster, she was twelve. If Juliet was allowed to lose her cherry to Romeo at twelve, our little girl could drop Ex in the safety of our own home...
Crystalline: Well, it's no wonder that girl is so messed up in the head. Gaia, bless her little heart...
Crystalline shakes her head slowly as she refuses to even look at Jared. Jared clearly doesn't see the big deal as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a small black glass container. He begins to unscrew the cap as the image fades out. The last thing we hear is an obnoxious sniffing sound.
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Sisterhood of the Traveling Hoods
#NP "Little Sister" by Queens of the Stone Age
Wyndham Hotel and Convention Center; San Jose, Costa Rica
Never use Expedia unless you're a poor person who can't afford an actually nice hotel suite. I mean, I guess it's not so bad, right? They're trying to look fancy with their lit up ponds lining the walk way to the lobby entrance, but some greenery could have definitely improved my first impression. It's just kind of funny that Alexis seems to think it's like the Plaza or something. Ugh, right? So we're walking up to this crappy looking steel structure that's supposed to make this place look like it has some sort of class while Alexis looks all wide eyed. If I knew it was this easy to impress her, I would have done this a long time ago. Then, maybe she wouldn't be such a menstrual monster bitchcake. We've got Tessa and Connor walking close behind us, but this is like mine and Lexi's rock star moment, and they're letting us have it... or their planning the quickest escape to their room. I shrug at my own silent thought, causing Lex to look at me like I'm a little crazy, but I don't care. I swear I can almost see paparazzi snapping photos of us as they doorman opens the doors for us. He mutters something to me in Spanish, but I never paid attention in that class. Correction. I paid attention to Mr. Alvarez and that little trail of hair from his five o'clock shadow, down into his Polo shirts... Anyway, I digress. I smile and nod at the guy, and then look to Lex, shrugging my shoulders because I just don't get why they can't learn to speak English.
So, we walk up to the concierge desk, and I impatiently tap on the bell a few times as I fling my purse onto the desk and turn around to face Lexi, who is displaying her Internet Championship like she owns the place. I reach over and pull a piece of hair from out of her face and sigh.
Me: Were you giving blumpkins to the cab driver or something? You look as wrecked as Tessa does.
Lexi: Yeah... bite me junkie. At least I'm not walking around here having a mental conversation with myself like I was Kiera Fisher or something.
Really bitch? Whatever. I hold a hand up in her general direction... or right in her face, as I can feel her hot breath on my palm. This doesn't go over well, but I don't care. She won't say anything, for whatever reason.
Me: Look, do we really have to fight? Again? It gets so old with you sometimes. Tim couldn't... or wouldn't... be here for the show, but that doesn't mean we can't take some time to get over whatever this is we got going on. I even brought an extra bottle of Midol for you.
Lexi: Yeah, it's so hard to figure out why we fight all the time.
Me: Right? You're a total bitch sometimes, but that's besides the point. This week is about us working together as a unit. I figured we could get facials together or something.
That's what girls do, right? I mean, I never was Ms. Popular. It's what happens when you go to school with other kids of the rich and famous. So, I mean, you can see that I'm actually trying here, right? Well, she doesn't think so as she takes a step back, putting her hand in my face, probably being a bitch as usual by making fun of me. She even laughs like a cunt...
Lexi: If you want to take a shot to the face, that's on you, bitch, but don't involve me.
Me: Uh, no? Mud and cucumbers.
Lexi: I don't care what you call it. I'm not getting double teamed by two smelly, hairy dudes. Sorry.
Blink. Blink.... and yeah, another blink because this is serious. I'm trying here! I really am, but how do you work with this chick? This is exactly why I never had chick friends.
Me: I'm talking about full body massages, inside of a spa, with a mask, and some mojitos in hand while Asians work our nail beds. Wait, do they even have Asians here?
Great, now she's staring at me. Say what you want, but complimenting a race of people for being fucking bomb at doing nails, electronics, and karate is not racist. Those are like three of the best things in the world besides sex.
Me: Never mind. We're definitely getting that hair touched up. It looks like you stuck your head in the dirt and rolled it around. Oooooh, or like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill, where she's buried alive, but she punches through the wooden box and...
Lexi: I got it, C! What do I look like to you? Some Barbie bimbo? If I cared what my hair looked like at all times, I would have joined The Mean Girls last year.
Me: If I couldn't make it in there, then I know for a fact that you wouldn't have. My point is that, if you want to bury T's bone in your front yard, you might wanna...
Okay, probably too far. She growled. Like, actually growled. Eek.
Lexi: What?! No, what did you just say? I do NOT want to "bury T's BONE in my front yard"!
Me: Then... you wouldn't mind if I did? Cool, thanks. I always found innocent virgin guys to be hot.
Lexi: You fucked Johnny Tsunami, the biggest D-bag. Ever. No, really, the biggest douche ever seen by man. I'm not kidding. Custom built for Pamela Anderson. So, excuse me if I don't find your opinion of what makes a guy hot to mean fucking shit, C.
I think I'm actually blushing. Not that I would ever admit it, but that douchebag was bigger than your average bear.
Me: Well, once you actually get laid by someone packing more than a tic tac, then you can share your opinion, and cast your judgment. And is this bitch going to TAKE ANY LONGER?!?
I begin laying on that bell. There must be some sort of issue with customer service in third world countries, because we've been here for five minutes. She finally comes out, speaking frantically in Spanish, which, again, I don't understand... I fold my hands together neatly as I listen to her apologize, and give her a smile so real looking, even I'd buy it.
Me: El check-o para el room-o. Celeste NORRRRTH! Senorita NORTH. Si, si...
She looks at me as if I had just said the sky was purple, but she types on her keyboard of squiggly letters and stuff that reminds me of El Pollo Loco's menu.
Concierge: Tarjeta de identificación?
It's a good thing she points to her gold name badge, or I'd have no idea what she was talking about. I reach into my purse and pull out my I.D. card and hand it to her. Her eyes light up as she nods her head. She reaches into her drawer and pulls out two room key cards. She says something else, but I definitely don't get it, so I bid farewell.
Me: Gracias, gracias. Let's go, because that mini bar is calling my name...
I snatch my purse up as I look back to Tessa and Connor... or where they were moments ago, but I guess they couldn't wait to go number three, so whatever. Lex looks at me with her hand stretched out, and I'm like, okay?
Me: Yyyyessss?
Lexi: Um, room key?
Me: I paid for our room, so I get the key.
Her jaw hangs open for a second, and I think I know exactly what she's thinking. "OUR room?"
Lexi: OUR room?
Damn, I'm fucking good!
Me: Yeah...? That's kinda what I meant when I mentioned a "sisters" getaway. If you had your own room, we wouldn't spend any time together.
Lexi: Yeah! We wouldn't! And do you want to know why? Because we have almost nothing in fucking common. I can barely tolerate a flight with you, or ten minutes in a locker room, so I damn sure can't stand an entire week in a room with you!
Ouch... I always thought she just played a bitch because she didn't want to admit she liked me... or because she wanted to pretend she was better than me, even though we both know that's not true. I proved that two weeks ago.
Me: Well then, you're welcome to pay for your own room, or bunk up with Connor and Tessa.
This bitch was actually thinking about the latter option! At least Tessa is a screamer, and she chimes in before Lex can say anything. Loud sex noises coming from the bathroom, with those acoustics... Lex walks over to the desk, I guess trying to order another room, but the lady at the desk shakes her head as she rattles off in Spanish some more. Judging by the long string of obscenities that come from Lexi's mouth, in just about every language heard on this world tour, I'm guessing they don't have any rooms available. I smile at her and wave the key as she grunts and brushes past me with our bags in her hand.
Me: Aww, Lex... you didn't have to get mine too.
And then she shoves it into my chest. Bitchy, she is... but she's pretty enthusiastic about our girls trip. She stomps over to the elevators like a grumpy bitch, and smashes the button repeatedly for a minute. She hugs onto her bag as I come up on her. So do two dudes in business suits, smelling like cheap cocktails and Drakar Noir. They look at me for a second, and then they look over to Lex, who is totally oblivious to them being there.
Man 1: Hey there, sexy. You need a ride?
Lex turns to them, fuming, but it goes straight over her head as she scoffs at him.
Lexi: No! I'm already here you fucking idiots!
Man 2: Naw, baby. He means on the D-TRAAAAAAAIN!
I snort, but keep it to myself for a minute until I see Lex getting red in the face. She's about to wind up in a Costa Rican jail cell, and then my tanking that match two weeks ago would be pointless, and she's wind up being bitch du jour to some woman named Esmerelda or something.
Me: Train? Somebody's a bit generous there...
Man 2: Wasn't nobody talking to you stink faced bitch.
The men turn to themselves, rolling their eyes. Like, fuck the both of you! I'm hot shit too, even if I don't have that lost runaway sixteen year old girl vibe going on! Shit is about to get real in three... two...
Me: Sorry if your Macy's cologne makes me think of alcohol, pedophile, and lollipops. Maybe you should try spending more than fifty bucks, or else you might as well go full douche and just spray yourself with Axe... My little sister is clearly not interested in either of you, or your itty bitty teenie weenies. So, buh-bye...
Man 1: I haven't put a bitch in her place in a while, but don't sound like she likes you very much anyway. She might get off on watching me get some.
Me: While she might like to see my teeth getting knocked down my throat, neither of you is packing anything, including the balls to lay a finger on me.
Big mistake on my part... She turns to both of them with a smile on her face, dropping her bag to the ground as she holds her arms out for them to each take one. Stupid little girl...
Lexi: Why don't you two show me to the bar and buy me a couple drinks?
They latch onto her arms happily, but it is the high five behind their backs that makes me mad. I mean, she's a big girl who can clearly make her own decisions, but this just spells disaster. Especially when I see one of them pull a cellaphane cigarette wrapper with a couple white pills in them from his pocket. That's it...
Me: Hey, dick bags?
They turn around, obviously annoyed in their little skinny ties, a couple of travelling insurance salesmen trying to play big and tag team some unconscious idiot girl. Well, that girl won't be Lexi. They aren't even ready as I grab onto their ties, and pull on them as hard as I can, knocking their heads together pretty hard. They don't pass out, but they should know better than to mess with me now... but apparently they don't. I kick the first one in the sack as hard as I can, and his face turns almost purple as he sinks to the ground. Lexi is totally pissed until she sees the baggy on the ground. The second one grabs onto the back of my head, pulling on my hair like a bitch, when Lexi bashes him over the back of the head with her belt. For that moment, nothing else mattered as we share a sick chuckle and a smile of admiration. We would hug, but that might kill the moment. The elevator door clicks open, finally, because apparently American time is like American money here... ten times the size. We step over the limp dicked guys as we snatch up our bags, and we get onto the elevator, ready to go get our party on!
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Sister, Sister
#NP "The Nobodies" by Marilyn Manson
San Jose, Costa Rica (Undisclosed Set)
Is this thing even on? I mean I knew I couldn't trust He-She, Big Tits, Cheech, or Bigger Tits to conduct this interview without getting cut off every other five seconds with some stupid question about my feelings on World Peace, or rainbow lollipop bullshit. Or how I feel about the Main Event this week, because I'm pretty sure I made that clear on Twitter for all of my one follower who actually pays attention. Thanks mom! Anyway, I should probably actually speak in case the camera is on.
Me: Welcome to... my promo... thing...
The red light flashing means it's on, right? Or is the battery dying? Couldn't I have at least gotten a cameraman? Fuck! Anyway, I pull the manual out of the camera bag and start reading it as I talk, just so I don't look like a total dumbass.
Me: I'm not going to sit here all night and talk about the two lip licking superhero wives all night, even though it would probably spike my viewing rate for the week. Breaking single digits would be awesome, but I'm not very optimistic.
I flip the page. Blah, blah, blah, more boring technical lingo. Goddess, why couldn't Tim be here? He's good with all of the techno babble, and he's used to getting totally ignored, even with an audience in front of him.
Me: If I seem uninterested, it's because I am. You see, nothing about Sin City Wrestling excites me, except how much I can piss Alexis off without actually crossing the line. Hey, it's what big sisters do. I mean, for a little over a year now, we've been doing that to each other. We have a sisterhood, her, Tessa, and myself, along with the other masked females. We may not like each other very often, but we've got each other's backs, for real. If anyone wants to mess with either of these skanky bitches, they have to get through me first. It's what big sisters do.
Great, I'm babbling again... At least there's a fifty-fifty chance that this thing isn't even rolling right now, and I'll have saved myself the embarrassment of looking like half of the dumb bitches on this roster.
Me: I'm a good sister, and not because I lacked a sibling growing up as an only child, but because I'm ride or die. I might be a lot of things, but a traitor is not one of them. I mean, I'm a great asset to have in any stable. Sure, I got bested in my masked debut, but I proved just how little of a fuck I give about belts when I gave Alexis the win two weeks ago. And to be clear, it was not as selfish as it looked. She is a champion. How embarrassing would it have been if I would have won? I mean, it took her months to get a championship, and I wasn't about to shit all over her progress by coming in and defeating her in my second professional match, ever. THAT would have been selfish.
That was good. I hope the camera is recording because that needs to go on tape, even if only for Lexi to see. Flip the page, more babble that may or may not even be in English...
Me: The truth is that we are both fighting for the same cause. We both have the same goal. We want to flip the sports entertainment world on it's head. We want to make people pay attention to the sport, and not the theatrics. I mean, yeah, I'm rich. My mom is a rock goddess, not just in her own right, but in every right. She's legendary, and it's not because she got knocked up by some hot guy who grew a gut and turned grey before he was fourty. It's not because she protested Vietnam. It's not because she looks pretty in pictures. All of that is true, but it's not what makes her a legend. I want to do the same in wrestling. Unfortunately, today's generations don't know any music that came out before "Waterfalls" by TLC, so I can't exactly rely on my name to break into an actual promotion like Pride Wrestling. I have to start near the bottom. I have to start out as a little guppy in a small pond, and transform into a shark so I actually stand a chance in the big leagues. That's where SCW comes into play. That's why I have to deal with a bunch of primedonnas running around acting like their shit doesn't stink, flashing their 2015 Benz, and their Hollywood accomplishments instead of, I don't know, actually being worth a fucking damn inside of the ring. I mean, fucking MIKAH is your unstoppable champion?! Before her, it was Delia Fucking Darling?! I mean, how FUCKED UP is that?!
I can't. I seriously can't right now. I mean, I'm about to throw up in my mouth, because the thought of this sport degenerating so badly that two fuck wads who are basically clones of one another, are the only actual force to be reckoned with shy of The Nobodies? A group who prides themselves on being lackadasical and uninteresting? Ew, I am re-tasting my Casado from lunch...
Me: The fact that, on paper, The Nobodies are an actual threat to bigger champions, is really pathetic. I mean, I don't get why we haven't come in and taken over this bitch already. Maybe, because if we did, it would prove just how pathetic and overrated this place is. And then, by taking it over, it would prove nothing? Either way, Misty's career is turning over in it's grave right this very second, because what she sacrificed her life to build, has turned to pure shit.
Oh! Here it is. Flashing red light. If it flashes in a sequence of two, and then a two second pause, it means the battery is dead. One with a two second pause means it's charging. Three flashes, with a one second pause means the batter is charged, but it... really? All of that wasn't even recording? I hit the red button, but I don't even care. I'm not repeating any of that, because these assholes aren't even worth the time to repeat myself.
Me: Welcome to my promo, dick faces. I'm Celeste North. I'm sure you don't know me, even though I've wrestled two matches, and I've tweeted like five times in the last two weeks. I'm that Nobody who is set to face Mercedes Vargas this week...
I smile widely, because I want to rub my obvious insincerity in the faces of the fans.
Me: Yeah... that Mercedes Vargas. The former Mean Girl, who was known for her mean streak long before she became a Mean Girl. The Argentine Assassin. Black Rose Overdrive. The one who didn't even have to actually knock Alexis Edwards out to defeat her, because... well, we all saw how that went, right?
I'm sorry, Lexi, but I still think that was fucking hilarious. Not even I could do something like that! After a few seconds, I catch my breath, and I feel a seriousness wash over my face as I look back to the camera.
Me: I'm allowed to laugh at that, because I'm her sister. Sisterhood, you know all about that, don't you Mercedes? You were a part of the illustrious Mean Girls. The group of pretty girls... plus you... who came in and singlehandedly turned this somewhat respectable underground wrestling promotion, into a mainstream... pile of horse shit. Don't get me wrong, it was already on its way with the large number of idiots who actually spent money, instead of making it, by travelling with SCW, throwing cash around like they don't have a care in the world, getting by on their pretty looks, and their sordid lives. But, you magnified it, with the help of Delia Darling, Liz Smalls, Veronica Taylor, Angelica, and Amanda Cortez. At first, I respected it, because it was so over the top that it was almost like a parody of everything. It was like you were putting on bitch face, and rubbing your money in everyone's faces, and I loved it, like playing a role to show everyone what a joke they were.
I smile, like a real smile, because I fucking loved that about them.
Me: I even got in touch with Tessa, you know, the one you made think was good enough to hang out with you guys, when really you were just using her as a free servant? Yeah, and she booked me to come to those auditions. Casey Jones, or better known as "Casey with the orange tan because you cunts wouldn't let me even say my last name." Yeah, that one. I looked as ridiculous as you guys, and you painted up Barbie's had the fucking nerve to tell me I wasn't good enough to "sit" with you. I mean, not you specifically, because you weren't a member yet. You just interrupted me from telling them what the hell was up, Mercy V.
I give the camera a look of death, like I was looking right at Mercedes then and there. It was that exact moment that I realized those girls needed to be knocked off of their pedestals.
Me: You see, I might not be known for my high energy charisma, or my ability to give much of a fuck, but when someone crosses me, I make Delia Darling look like Mother Theresa. It was around the time I was ushered out of that room, staring at the back of your head, imagining an ice pick sticking out of it, that I vowed to take you down. Luckily for you, I was talked out of murder by Tim Staggs. Then, I had to open Tessa's eyes to your bullshit promises of fortune and fame. After that, she knew what she had to do, and she broke you ladies down to the point that you tore yourselves apart.
There's that smile again. I mean, thinking about my part in the disintegration of the Mean Girls is like my happy place that I go when I'm stressed out, or craving the brown sugar again. It gives me a Euphoria that makes opiates seem like a joke... well, almost.
Me: It was so easy, Mercedes. Of course, Holly went on a different career path. Liz Smalls got a concussion, broke a nail, and ran off crying. Veronica went back to being irrelevant. Is she even still here? No, I'm not being a bitch. I'm asking a serious question. And then Delia changed her name to Mikah when she married Gavin Stephens. They all moved on with their lives, Mercedes, but you? What have you done? You took down some big names, but not when it actually counted. You got a cheap pin on my loveably clumsy sister. You failed to take down Mikah. I mean, your career as of late can be summed up with one word.
I shrug my shoulders to accompany the following statement.
Me: Meh...
Okay, that was bitchy, but that doesn't make it any less true, right?
Me: I mean, if I had made it into the Mean Girls instead of you, I could be you right now. That's so sad.
I wipe a fake tear from my face, but I don't care that Mercedes is well versed in sarcasm, and knows I'm faking it. I'm actually counting on it.
Me: You've been around this roster more times than Keira and Roxi in their weird sex-capades. You've held the Roulette Championship three times, and as many tag title reigns, but that's the best you're going to get around here. I'm sorry, I really am. Your potential is crazy good, but you just fall...
Mehhhh, I hold my fingers about an inch apart to show a small measurement as I wince in an almost pained kind of way.
Me: ... like this short of doing anything better. I could have defeated the current Bombshell Internet Champion two weeks ago. It's my second match. I don't have Mean Girls drama distracting me and weighing me down from actually doing something. I'm also not in my mid thirties, but that's besides the point. My point is that I should thank you for taking that spot from me. You saved any chance of having a career. And, I can be myself without any apologies. I don't have to act like a prim and proper virgin china doll. I get to be the Sex Metal Barbie, Homocidal Queen. Give me a few months, and I'll be pissing all over any accomplishment you've ever had here.
Wait, I just said I'm not mad, because I feel sorry for her, but I'm being quite the bitch.
Me: I want to sit here and tell you that I'm not going to take this match personal. I want to tell you that I don't care what you did to me that night. I want to tell you that I'm thankful that you saved me from your miserable fate. But, only that last part is actually true. While I am thankful, you shamed me. Being a practitioner of Wicca, I believe that what you do unto the world comes back on you tenfold. Inside of me, I feel that Gaia is telling me that she wants me to be her instrument. Either that, or I just really want to kick your ass and do the one thing Alexis couldn't do because she tripped over her own feet. No, I don't mean walking out of this match without pinning my own fucking self. I mean hitting the Homocidal on you, and then pinning you one, two, three in the center of the ring. Sorry, not sorry, bitch.
Even though I kind of actually am. I mean, she's one of the few people here who can actually wrestle without showing off a flashy lifestyle to compensate for being a suck ass in the ring. But, what can I say? Karma is a bitch...
Me: Kiss, kiss, "hunty". I'll see you Sunday, bitchcakes.
I blow a kiss to her in a mocking kind of way. What can I say, I love throwing salt on wounds. Oh! Idea time.
Me: To everyone who watched this special promotional video, please tweet me @CelesteNobody with "#IWatchedCeleste" for a free, all expense paid cruise to the Bahamas where you will stay in five star luxury, ending with a three hour concert by Crystalline North. I'm not being flashy. I'm just confident that not a single fucking person is paying attention to anything the Nobodies say or do. Prove me wrong. I dare you.
I wink at the camera as I reach over to turn it off. I'm so done with this right now...
END...