”A little to the left… Yeah, just like that.  Now give the camera some sass…”

The white backdrop is set off by two gorgeous bombshells standing directly in the center.  The Nevada sun beats down on Angelica and Veronica Taylor as the camera takes one perfect shot after another.  They are dressed in nicely fit togas with golden accented olive branch crowns.  On each side is a worn ornate pillar.  The lovely ladies stare off in different directions as the flashes pop more.  Angelica rolls her eyes, stopping half way for another shot.  She puts her hand on her hip, and then holds her hand up, as if she is picking at her nails.  Veronica puts her hands on her hips and gives the camera as much sass as she can muster.  The photographer shouts out words of encouragement as the ladies turn toward each other.  In Mean Girls style, both ladies hold hands and lean in as if getting ready to kiss each other’s cheeks.  The photographer snaps a few more pictures and claps his hands together.

Photographer:  Brilliant ladies!  Brilliant.  Take five while we do a slight set change.

As the photographer steps away and the set crew steps in, Angelica and Veronica seem to tense up more, likely due to the lack of attention.  Angelica sighs as Veronica looks over at her with a sort of underwhelmed look.

Veronica:  Like, I thought we were supposed to look like Greek Goddesses, like gorgeous powerful women, but we just look like we came from a dirty frat party.  Eww, it’s so effin’ disgusting.

Angelica sighs and nods her head as she continues to preen her nails carefully.  She rolls her eyes and then looks over to Veronica.

Angelica:  Ugh, right?  Such a travesty.

Veronica: Such… a travesty.  I am a first class model, and you are gorgeous enough to be one soon enough, so what gives?

Angelica:  Most def, girlie… At least we make these horrid outfits look good.  We could make a brown bag look fashionable though.

The two walk off of the set as the stagehands begin carrying props and pieces by them.  Angelica scoffs at them as she walks past, and the two continue on to the refreshment table.  They pick up blue glass bottles of Saratoga waters, and they untwist the caps.  Angelica takes a sip and her eyes light up.  Veronica drinks it as if it were nothing more than tap water.

Veronica:  I can NOT’ wait until we win those Bombshell Tag Team Championships.  You know it’s going to happen.  There isn’t a team out there that can beat us.  Definitely not that geezer and that busted ass tomboy we’re fighting in the opening round.  Either they are still disrespecting us, or they want us to look good in the first round…

Angelica:  So true...  It’s okay though, because, I don’t have an outfit that it could go with, but having all of those bitches being even more jealous of us would be so priceless.  I mean, Finesse Levon tries to act like she isn’t, but you know she is.  They all wish they were as hot as us.  Even Chrissy Underwood is jealous of our hotness.  Did you see the way he came out shaking his finger at us?  He was all like “I’m ashamed of you for pulling in the ratings…” Puh-lease!

Angelica makes a bubble-headed blonde impression before she takes another sip from her bottle of water and then screws the cap on.  Veronica laughs and nods her head at Angelica’s impression as the two look over to the wondrous set up forming.  Angelica takes notices as the replica Bombshell Tag titles are brought out and set down on red pillows with golden stitched trim. She smirks and motions for Veronica to follow her.  Veronica curiously obeys as they walk over to the set, consisting of four more ornate pillars, all six connected with three strands of ropes covered in flowers.  As the stagehands continues putting the set together, Angelica steps through the ropes.  The crew stops their work and one man bravely steps up to the Mean Girls.

Stagehand 1:  Excuse me ladies, the set’s not finished yet and…

Angelica’s emerald green eyes flare up as she refuses to even look at the man.  Instead, she holds a hand out to the side, in his general direction.  Veronica covers her mouth in shock and then looks over to the photographer whose face has become just a bit sullen.  Angelica scoffs, and then slowly shakes her head from side to side.

Angelica:  Oh I KNOW he didn’t just address me as if I were someone aside from myself…  Did he?  Did he really just go there, because…

Veronica steps aside as Angelica finally turns to acknowledge the man’s existence, although he probably wishes that she didn’t.  She turns her look of daggers to the man and takes three prominent steps forward.  She flips her long dark hair over her shoulders before pointing a finger at the stagehand.

Angelica:  NO BODY addresses me as such.  I am not “Miss”… I am not “Ma’am”, “madam”, “girl”, “chick” or anything other than Angelica.  I am THAT bitch known around the world as the next hot model next to the WORLD CLASS MODEL, Veronica Taylor.  I am so effing tired of getting no respect from the beauty challenged such as yourself.  Get out of me face lard ass and go back to being meaningless!

Stagehand:  Get the fuck over yourself no-tits and let me do my j…

Angelica:  Oh no you didn’t just… Veronica, tell me that this guy didn’t just…  For his own sake, PLEASE tell me he didn’t just. Because he is about to be read like a goddamn library book!  You sure did hog the “tit” department you grossly obese slob.  Your grill… is jacked.  You’re old, your flabby, you’re disgusting, and your glasses are straight from the insurance rack.  I bet your work clothes are nicer than anything else in your Wal-Mart wardrobe, your triple chin is freaking me out so I’m going to stop looking at you now, but rest assured that just seeing me here today is going to be the closest thing to achieving intimacy to a good-looking human being that you will ever get. And that’s me being nice, porky.  Now get the fuck out of my face, kay thanks and BYE!

As the rest of the crew, photographer, and Veronica Taylor point and laugh, the lonely stagehand grits his teeth.  He looks down at the ground muttering at Angelica as she returns to holding a hand out at him.  She looks back to the photographer, as if talking to him.

Angelica: Preston, where do they find these guys?  Seriously, if any of them dare treat me like I am some piece of shit, meaningless, ugly Bombshell, I will walk right off of this set.  You know Mean Girls give the best photo ops, so don’t let that get away from you…

Veronica Taylor nods her head as if Angelica were speaking pure fact rather than mere opinion.  She looks back to the stagehand and then points over to Angelica and Preston.

Veronica:  Excuse me Shamu, I think you owe Angelica an apology for treating her so rudely.  Otherwise, neither of us will be taking another picture today, and there will be a letter written to the company.  This is the most unprofessional crew I’ve ever seen, I swear.

Angelica:  Right?  I swear to GOD that’s the truth.  Ungrateful losers think that it’s a right to be exposed to our beauty, but it’s really by our own kindness that you get to see us. A real privilege…  Just like those disgusting hoes we have to face, whatever the hell their names are, they don’t realize how privileged they are to face this caliber of talent.  They are taking it for granted.  Losing to us won’t be so bad, because it will be the beginning of an era.

The stagehand scoffs at them and turns around when Veronica grabs onto his belt loop and yanks him back.  As he stumbles, he falls onto the flower covered ropes, and it starts a toppling effect.  She rolls him over onto his stomach and sits on his back.  She yanks his hair back and he shouts out in agony as she turns it into a sort of modified Camel Clutch.  Angelica looks down with a smile on her face.  She gets down on her knees and smiles right in his face.

Angelica:  Are you sorry, tubby?  Hm?  I can’t hear you when you are screaming like a little bitch boy.  What? What’s that?

Stagehand:  I’M SORRY!  Oh God, I’m sorry!

Veronica shoves his head down, and she crawls off of his back.  She rubs his hair from between her fingers, and then she acts as if she is cleaning herself up from having touched him in the first place.  Angelica kicks his shoulder for good measure and then she looks back around at the mess with a smile.

Angelica: Roll him out of here, and let’s take pictures this way.  It sooo looks like the destructive chaos we will leave in the ring when we advance to the next round for the Bombshell Tag Team Championships.  It’s perfect, don’t you think, Veronica?

Veronica:  I don’t know… It seems a little too artsy, kind of like something the emo bitch or vampire would look at… Ewwwww

Angelica and Veronica both shudder together at the thought of Misty or Kittie.  Angelica shrugs her shoulders at Veronica’s suggestive response.  Angelica takes a few steps back, making a square with her fingers as if she were suddenly a professional photographer.  She clicks her jaw as if snapping the picture and then returns her look to Veronica.

Angelica:  I think it’s perfect.  I mean, our beauty will liven things up.  Besides, what we’re going to do to Bianca WhoGivesADamn and Trish Newports, it’s not going to be pretty.  See, it’s like irony or foreboding or some literary term.  Because, of course we are going to win.  That’s like a given.  But wouldn’t it be cool if we left them like in awe of us?  Imagine that, good looking Bombshells holding gold.  It’s so… Perfect!

Veronica:  Oh my gawd, Angelica… That is so smart.

Angelica:  Sooo smart.  Who said looks don’t really kill?  We have got to make an example of these bitches so they know that Mean Girls are the be all and end all of SCW.  It doesn’t matter what an old hag and a gross tomboy have to say on the topic, those are just the facts.

Veronica:  Those girls are so stupid and Trish?

Veronica acts as if she s gagging herself with her finger as she rolls her eyes.  She mutters “gross” as she looks over to Angelica who is nodding her head in full agreement.  They lean in together with their hands on their hips as Preston snaps a picture.  Angelica’s expression lightens up a bit as she looks back to Veronica.

Angelica:  It’s like I almost feel bad for them because they don’t know any better.  They should have done their homework and learned that the Mean Girls are the It Girls here.  They think that because you are a hair puller and eye raker that automatically we both are… You’re learning honey…

Angelica nods her head very reassuringly at a frowning Veronica.  Angelica gives her a quick hug and then they look off into the distance as if staring at the respective championships that were almost made for them.  They reach a hungry hand up to the sky as the flash goes off again.

Angelica:  But wrestling is in my blood almost as much as hotness is.  I mean, I truly am blessed with that gift.  Just because I’m not afraid to pull a bitches weave right out of her head doesn’t mean I don’t have a killer Moonsault or Plancha.  I mean, I truly wonder how I haven’t been the Bombshell Champion yet, unless they are afraid a pretty champion will make the company look weak?  It’s the only reason I can think of honestly…

They turns forward, one hand on their hips, and another hand reaching out toward the camera.  Their eyes show their hunger and determination as they work it.  The camera flashes again at exactly the right moment to capture their true beauty (duh!)

Angelica:  I mean, Trish should know if she is this big and bad hundred time World Women’s Champion who has wrestled all over the world.  If she knew a true Bombshell when she saw one, I wouldn’t be able to blame her.  I mean, anyone who thought Mean Girls was a bad movie is clearly not thinking straight, but still…  I can’t believe the girl still thinks that they stand a chance at beating Mean Girls.  It’s kind of cute actually…

Veronica and Angelica share the most fake, and abruptly ended laugh ever.  Once it is out of their system, they are handed a single red apple each.  They take a small nibble from the juicy piece of fruit, gently closing their eyes as if enjoying a true taste of the heavens.  The camera flashes a few quick times as they open their eyes in sync.  Angelica chews on it for a second before turning back to Veronica.

Angelica:  You know, I really just feel bad for Bianca.  I mean, she is hot enough to be a Mean Girl, but she is stuck with that grotesque geriatric… thing!  I mean, it’s not fair that we have to be this hot, and she just has to stand next to her grandmother.  By comparison, she looks hotter.  With us, we just are that hot and we can stand next to each other and people don’t have to decide who is the ugly one because neither of us are… Though it would be you if we had to split hairs…

Veronica:  Bitch, it would sooo be you.  Remember who was the First Class Model…

Angelica:  I just said if we were splitting hairs.  We’re both some hot bitches, aren’t we Preston?

Preston nods his head and gives a thumb up as both girls now look satisfied.  They turn back to the camera and give them real fish as they each lift their feet onto one of the fallen pillars.  They make different poses as the flashes go off in a frenzy.  Once they finally stop, Preston raises a hand in the air.

Preston:  Lovely, ladies!  That’s a wrap!  Beautiful as ever.

DUH!

In unison they shout, and then high five each other.  As they step over the wreckage of the fallen set, Ms. Holly Wood comes marching up to them, out of the usual female drag attire.  He scurries over to them and gives them each a big hug, ending with Angelica.

Holly:  Oh my gawd girls!  Sickening as I don’t know what… Standard with Mean Girls, but still… You guys rocked it so hard, I’m jealous.

Angelica waves at her face as she is thirsty.  Holly hands her one of the blue glass bottles of Saratoga from before.  She daintily sips on it, nodding her head as if to say thank you.  She wraps one arm around him as Veronica does the same.

Angelica:  Why couldn’t you have picked out our outfits… These sheets are so ugly.  Such a travesty…

Veronica:  SUCH a travesty.  Your fashion sense is so much better than these avant-garde, Lady Gaga-esque idiots.  But like Angelica said, we could make a potato sack look hot.

Holly:  Damn straight!  You wouldn’t be my hags if you couldn’t.  Now let’s get you ladies presentable for public again.  Like I told Darrell last night, let’s see you outta those sheets!

He acts as if he is going to tug them off as they laugh and scurry away.  Angelica rounds about and grabs her big purse.  She comes back around and shoves as many of the glass bottles of water into her purse as will fit.  Holly and Veronica stop their playful laughter and simply raise an eyebrow at Angelica.  She slings her bag over her shoulder and sashays toward the exit with them.

Veronica:  Oh… my gawd… Angelica, girls like Finesse, Kittie, and Brandi do those sort of low rent things….

Angelica:  What?  It was, like, the best water I’ve ever tasted… Don’t judge me, either of you ladies…

They open the door to the rooftop entry, and they disappear one by one through the door.  As it slams closed, the scene fades out…



The Burn Book:
The Beginning

The scene opens up inside of an undisclosed bedroom.  It is large in size, and decked out in pink everything.  It is surprising that the windows aren’t tinted pink… Or are they?  Either way, Angelica, Veronica, and Holly (dressed in pajama party-style women’s clothing) and sprawled out on the king size bed with a scrap book in front of them. Contrary to what you might expect, the book is black, with ransom-style lettering across the front that reads “Bombshell Burn Book” with X’s and O’s spread out around the front.  They chatter amongst themselves as they test to make sure the cover isn’t still wet from the glue.  Once they are satisfied, Veronica holds up a picture of Trish Newborn.  Angelica looks over at it and rolls her eyes.  As she returns her gaze back to the camera, an ornery smile creeps onto her face.

Angelica:  So, Trish Newborn… So funny because, unlike us with our baby fresh skin… you are old.  At least, you look like you’ve been around to see the dinosaurs die.  You look like you’ve seen the dawn of civilization, the rise and fall of Caeser, who makes a great salad by the way…

Veronica:  Right?  To die for…

Angelica:  You are disgustingly wrinkled, and if it weren’t for Clairol, you would surely be grey, and look even more like the nasty witch that you really are.  You are the first inductee to the Bombshell Burn Book.  No one deserves such an honor, but since you want to try taking MY place as the meanest bitch in Sin City Wrestling, I figure I will give you a blessing in trying.

Veronica begins cutting at the picture as Holly runs the glue stick over the back of the picture.  Angelica purses her lips as she looks directly into the camera.  Her green eyes are almost on fire as she slowly parts her lips with a sort of purr.  A sparkle enters her eyes as she readies her pink sharpie.

Angelica:  Since you aren’t used to the real pecking order around here, allow me to tell you that we are the Mean Girls, not because of the brilliant masterpiece of a movie, but because we really are the meanest here.  I have been since day one, and you will never dethrone me as the Queen.  You can try, but you will fail just like all of these other dirty curs running around in my back yard.  In your old age, you should be wiser than to make such a horrible mistake…

Holly slaps the cut out of Trish Newborn into the book.  She smoothes over the edges, making sure there are no bubbles.  Once it is in securely, Veronica grabs the purple sharpie pen, and Holly grabs the red one.  Veronica writes “Fugly Bitch”, and Holly writes “Mean Girls First Victim 5-20-12”.  Angelica patiently waits, her smile never leaving her face.  She gently presses the tip against the paper as she begins to inscribe her identifier for Trish.  Her lips curl into an almost Cheshire grin as she dots her last “i” and crosses her last “t” so to speak.  As the camera looks down at it, “Trish Newborn has more wrinkles than a raisin.  She’s so old, rainbows used to be black and white when she was a kid.”  Angelica then drops her pen down as if she were done, but that is far from the truth.  The camera looks back up to see Veronica holding a picture of Bianca Solderini.  Holly giggles as she readies her glue stick.  Angelica studies the picture for a moment before continuing.

Angelica:  Bianca… What a fitting name.  Not because you are that sassy, but because you THINK you are that sassy.  If you look right at us, you see Sass and Class…   I make no bones about being without class.  Stevie Wonder can see that I lack it, so for you to point that out is like me saying you are a less hot version of me.  It’s common sense, duh…  You can deny it all you want, but it’s so obvious.  Aside from wishing you were a boy, you would be so perfect on this side.

Angelica looks over to the picture and nods her head for Veronica to start cutting.  She does, and then Holly gets the back of the picture nice and ready for the book.  She presses it in and thoroughly makes sure it is in place.  Angelica smirks as she looks back to the camera.

Angelica:  You could be our “Karen”, because obviously you think stating the obvious makes you a genius.  It’s okay, because we would love you and laugh at you behind your back like normal people…  I am “Sleazy”, I know how to turn out a stripper pole, and Dior and Gucci anything.  Don’t be jealous, girl.  Learn from the best.  But, since you want to follow suit with the rest of these haters in the Bombshell Division, you deserve to go right next to Trishasauraus Rex.  Just like when Mean Girls defeat you, and you are laying lifeless on the ground next to her, wishing you would have came at us as a friend instead of an enemy… Go ahead ladies… Let it out.

Angelica leans back as Veronica writes “Busted Tomboy” and Holly writes “Mean Girl Wannabe”.  Angelica smirks and winks at the camera.  She taps the end of the pen against the book as she tries to think of the perfect thing to write about.  The Cheshire grin returns as she jots it down quickly, but neatly.  The others laugh as Angelica underlines the first word.  She holds the book up to show the world the Burn Book entry.  In bright pink, it reads “Hypocrite… Daddy’s Poor Little Rich Girl”

Angelica:  See, I don’t care who you were calling a daddy’s girl, but unless you are referring to the roleplaying Mark and I enjoy from time to time, no one in this room is a daddy’s girl, unless you count your picture as a person.  I hardly count you as a person, but whatever… You have the nerve to call anyone else that when you are exactly that.  Daddy’s CD’s and trust funds and stock dividends, and other kinds of fancy money terms… You have all of that, and you want to talk shit about that which you don’t know… Girl puh-lease!  Consider yourself burned, betch…

Angelica slams the book closed and dusts her hands off.  After a round of “Oh my gawd”’s going around the room, Angelica seems pretty pleased with herself.  Angelica picks up the book and sashays toward the camera.  As she does, she slowly lifts the book up to her eye level.  She holds it next to her face and smirks as she point with her free hand to the camera.

Angelica:  You stupid hoes… One by one, this war on ugly will eat you all up, and then spit you out.  Watch what we do to the new blood, and let that be your warning.  We WILL be on top.  If you don’t like them disses, give my ass some kisses…

Angelica laughs lightly as she raises the book up in front of the camera.  The cover is soon the only thing that is visible to the camera’s view.  The laughter within the room as Nicki Minaj’s “Stupid Hoe” begins playing is soon cut off as the scene fades out to black.

 The club is on fire tonight.  The music pumps through each and every club goers’ body, as if causing them to dance uncontrollably to its infectious beat.  They sway with their fancy cosmos and appletini’s in their hands, careful not to spill a drop of their sixteen dollar drinks.  The guys are mostly dressed in fine tailored suits, or untucked dress shirts with the cuffs rolled up.  The lights flash across the floor in a swirling mixture of pink, yellow, and blue.  Each color illuminates the sweat pouring from their coursing bodies as they grind up on each other.

On the upper deck, a slick guy, no different in dress from the other arrogant jerks cruising the club, runs his fingers through his dark brown feathered hair, watching the many jiggling female body parts.  He waits to find that one girl who will fill all of his desires for the night, but none has appealed to his rather picky eyes to fulfill everything he is looking for tonight.  He ponders in his mind, “Do I want the fine touch of silky smooth milk chocolate skin, or is tonight going to be Asian?  Nah, I will just want more an hour later…”  He chuckles to himself as he continues to think.  “Fiery redhead, or bombshell blonde?”

He turns around from viewing the lower deck toward a group causing a vast amount of ruckus just left of the black marble bar.  Three girls, and only two guys? “What’s the count boys?”  He has the right mind to storm over to the girls, and demand that he has something to shut them up, but one in particular captures his attention.  The brunette with the legs that seem to go on forever, refusing to quit!  Her white Sketchers accent her tanned legs, covered in small specks of glitter that trace up to her daisy dukes, frayed at the ends, and unbuttoned to show off a pair of pink hotpants, and a white lace shirt dangling down to the bottoms of her acid washed demin shorts.  Only the top button is buttoned, showing off a pink tube top with glitter spread across her upper check, neck, and lightly over her face.  Her eyelashes flutter with each soft bat, allowing the light and glitter covering them to accent her almost glowing emerald eyes.

The man has to take a deep breath as he strokes his five o’clock shadow, casually walking up to the group.  He licks his thumb as he runs it through his medium length hair, brushing it back from his tactically unshaven face so to impress any female member of this group… Except the blonde who “might” be a ladyboy.  He walks right up to Angelica, eying the redhead behind her, then scoffing at the less properly dressed guys, chuckling to himself.

 “You must be tired, coz you’ve been…”

Angelica downs a shot of Jack, setting the shot glass down on the table as she seductively takes one step past him, rubbing her hands through his hair as she does. She circles around him, getting one step closer before she moves her lips toward his ear, as they curl into a sweet smile.  As if she were going to whisper, but the volume of her voice is much louder than a whisper.

“I’ve been running through your mind all day?  Well, baby, I can go for miles, if you know what I mean.  But, sadly, the only thing tired around here are your 1980’s pick up lines, and your douche bag five o’clock shadow.  I’ve got a boyfriend, and contrary to popular belief, one is enough for me.  So, move along to the next slut where your money might actually get you somewhere.  There are plenty of hos around here…”

She pats him on his butt as if to move him along.  She high fives her blonde buddy, and they go on about their conversation, but the man has not had his fill yet.

“I don’t know the word “no”, honey.  You see, I’ve picked you to come home with me tonight.  I got money.  I got booze.  I got blow if you want.”

Angelica stops dead in her tracks,  she slowly turns around to face the guy, but much quicker than he thought, Angelica’s hand crashes across his face, not just once, not twice, or even three times.  After the forth one, she grabs onto his shirt, pulling him in to face her.

“I have been called a slut, a whore, a cum rag, and any other thing you can think of over the last two weeks.  I can take that.  Hell, I’m used to it.  But for you to even IMPLY that I am some sort of coke whore is another story.  I like to have fun, dance, and do private things WITH MY BOYFRIEND and sometimes a female friend, but I am not a whore!  Comprende chico?  Get lost fuck wad!”

She shoves him away from her, watching him as he stands there in shock.  She shrugs her shoulders at him, shaking her head from side to side as if to ask why he hasn’t left yet.  Instead of taking the hint, he takes another step toward her.  The guys behind Angelica threaten to step up, but Angelica slides both hands out to block them.

“What part of the latter statement did you not get?  If you don’t get the FUCK away from me, right now, I’m going to knock you to the ground, tee off on your nuts, and Rhonda Tiggs here is going to skull fuck the shit out of you!  Got it?”

The guy is about to surrender, until club bouncers walk up to the group.  They look between Angelica’s group, and the guy.

“I heard there was a violent altercation here, miss?”

“Yeah, I had to slap this guy because he was trying to get nasty with me.  I…”

“I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.  It’s club policy.”

“Wait, what?  I was defending myself!”

She says with a chuckle.  The bouncer simply crosses his arms in front of his chest and takes an intimidating step closer.  Angelica shakes her head, as if she doesn’t understand.  The guys in her group dart over to the bar, leaping behind it, grabbing a few bottles before the busy bartender has a chance to stop them, and they dart off.  The girls soon follow as Angelica turns around and blows her tongue out at them, flipping them off in the process.  The group laughs together as they do their best to dodge the rest of security on their way through the door.  The guard and the man simply stare in shock as they disappear into the night.


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The basement door flies open as six people fly down the steps, laughing to themselves.  The blonde guy jumps over the couch, crashing down as he pulls out one of the bottles of Patrón from his jacket and takes a swig of it.  The rest come crashing down on the two couches around him.  Angelica snatches the bottle from him and takes a swig to herself before laying across the guy.

“Those pricks deserved it, but I’m glad they kicked us out of that boojie club anyway.  Every guy looked the same as the next, and all of those girls were just airheads.  I just need to blow off steam after High Stakes.  The only reason Raynin eliminated me was because she snuck up on me.  If I knew that she was already in the ring, it would have been a different story.  Everyone can say what they want, but I stayed in there from the beginning, and survived three eliminations.  I clocked the most time in that ring before the bell for Misty and Kittie.”

The guy she is laying across begins playing with her hair, braiding the ends as he begins conversing with her.

“I heard Kittie went insane and trashed the women’s locker room after the match was over.”

Angelica takes another sip from the bottle before screwing the cap back on and setting it on the table next to the rest of the stolen top shelf alcohol.  She sighs, shaking her head from side to side.

“She just punched out the mirror at the make up table.  She kept talking to herself, poor thing.  I actually feel really bad for her.  Her whole sense of being, taken away from her by that greedy bitch, Misty.  That just goes to show you that friends only turn their back on you, all while putting a knife in your back.  Its why I never hang out with the same group of people more than once.  Its why I am who I am.  The only person you can trust is yourself.  But… I assume Kittie found that out.  Spike is probably kissing her ass right now, telling her what a good job she’s done, all while that little rugrat is running around with that belt like it’s a toy.  But, between you and me, she won’t be on that high horse for too long.  Not only are all the bombshells gunning for her, but someone else has her in their crosshairs.  All while I sit back and watch.  Its for my amusement, mostly.”

“But, wait.  Didn’t you two have a falling out at an autograph signing?  I figured you guys would hate each other.”

“Actually, I adore the little nut case.  She is TOO CUTE!  She is no better than I am, yet she walks around, treating any championship as if it were some unattainable piece of her sanity.  We have both accomplished about the same in our careers.  I’m down a women’s tag team championship reign that lasted a week, but she has almost a decade of experience over me, so I ain’t mad at her.  What happened at the autograph signing was a publicity stunt, and she really should be thanking me for it.  Because of us, our match was hyped that much more, and the bosses noticed that when they named her a number one contender… But, this week, it’s all about Raynin.  She had a lot to say about me in her promos, but it was so close to the deadline that I had to rush through most of it.  Apparently, I’m a copycat of that hideous amazon, Darknyss from GXW that was boned by my boyfriend’s cousin. I’m not too sure about all of that. I just remember her grotesque man chest in a hot tub scene, and I went blind for a week.  She says that I am no Angel?  No, really?  The only things angelic about me are my innocent looks, and my name.  I am heaven sent, the name of her stable I vaguely heard about, but it isn’t a stable.  It’s my way of life.  God graced me with my long, beautiful legs.  He graced me with the long, full-bodied hair of an angel, and looks that make men weak at the knee, and just below the belt.  I am in fact, heaven sent, but I am also hell bent.  That last part is the part to worry about.”

“You showed everyone just what you are capable of in that gauntlet match, though.  Maybe Raynin won’t take you so lightly now?”

“No, we are alike in one way, and one way only.  We both have egos that make it hard to admit that someone else is better than we are.  It was probably my only downfall in the gauntlet.  If I took the time to study Raynin as an actual threat, instead of some chick who decided to become a wrestler one day, I would have known she would be there with the kick.  But, I didn’t, or else I would be the Bombshell Champion instead of Misty.    But, I won’t make that mistake again.  This time, I will be ready for Raynin.  She won’t know what hit her, then I will hit the Bitch Bomb on her, and I will show her exactly what she showed me.  Underestimating an opponent is the worst thing you can do.  Come Climax Control, I’m going to show her again, just why I am one of the most lethal Bombshells in SCW!”

-:{FaDE}:-

 The scene opens up inside of a quaint bar, just outside of Vegas.  The décor is very drab, lacking the glamour of the average bar in this general vicinity, but it has its own quaint charm.  A single box television hangs just above the bar, casting more light over it than the actual lights, half of which don’t work, the other half takes turns flickering on and off from time to time.

Standing at the edge of the bar is a sweet young piece dressed in cut off jean shorts and a black babydoll tee, tied just above the stomach, and black cowboy boots.  She leans against the bar with one foot is behind her on the foot rest of the bar, and the other planted firmly on the ground.  She stands with her cell phone pressed firmly against her ear.

”It is good to hear your voice, Mark… Nothing, I’m sitting in this shitty bar…  No, I am supposed to be meeting with a LeathalWOW writer looking to publish an interview with the brassiest, sassiest mouth in Sin City Wrestling…  Yeah, not Kittie, you jerk!  Me…”

Angelica leans off of the bar, brushing her long dark waves behind her ear.  She props the phone against her ear, making sure to grab her Budweiser longneck on her way from the bar.  She takes a long, deep sip from the bottle, gently wiping her lips as she moves closer to a pool table.

”Yeah, he was supposed to be here like an hour ago.  I’m getting tired of waiting around in this redneck bar.  I feel like I should be hanging from my cousins arm in this place…  No, I need this exposure…  Because getting caught under your desk doesn’t count as exposure, Mark!  As much as you would like to think it does, it just doesn’t.  Seriously…  I know it’s not the popular opinion, but these women think they are the tits, but they just aren’t…  Okay, they are T & A, but they aren’t even that good at that.  Come on!  Kittie and Misty together couldn’t fit my bras.  Rebecca Blades doesn’t even show up for scheduled promos, Fantasia needs to lift hers, and Raynin doesn’t hold a candle to these puppies!  The only one who is even kind of attractive is Allison Summers.”

Angelica rests against a pool table, gently picking up a pool stick.  She runs her hands up and down, getting a good feel for it before she leans over the table.  A man with a handlebar mustache and a cowboy hat comes up behind her, slowing down to take a look at what she has going on.  He licks his thumb, and brushes his mustache with it before backing up and walking to the other side of the table to stare down at Angelica.

”Hey there sweet thang.  You lookin’ to shoot stick?”

Angelica rolls her eyes, resting the stick gently against the table as she lifts up her designer shades to glare at the man with her emerald eyes.  She scoffs at his advances.

”LOOK redneck!  I told you an hour ago that I will break a bottle against your toothless face if you tried talking to me again.  If you think I’m playing, then you are in for the biggest surprise of your LIFE!”

In a look of confusion, the man backs away from the table.  He holds his hands up in surrender, shaking his head in disbelief.

”Little lady, I… I just got here ’bout ten minutes ago.  That wasn’t m…”

”Whatever, you all look the same to me with your unkept mustaches, cowboy hats and shitkicker jeans.  Just back off.  I’m not here to get knocked up…  No, just some redneck that keeps hitting on me…  Wait, what am I hearing in the background?  She wants you to WHAT?  Not cool, Mark!  Not even cool…  Yeah, I am a little upset that you have another girl over there doing GAWD knows what, and… and you didn’t invite me over.  I’m a little hurt, but that just means I’m going to have to pull out the bull whip…  I know, me too…”

Angelica bites her bottom lip as she flinches at the man still standing across the table from her.  He slowly backs off, fading into the background.  Angelica stomps her feet in frustration of her long wait.

”I will come over after this interview is over.  Why can’t they just do it through phone or e-mail like normal press?”

Another man walks up and puts his hand on Angelica’s shoulder, causing her to fume with anger.  She turns around, stomping the heel of her boot into his black, shiny loafers.  She grabs onto him by his shirt and tie and brings him up just a few inches to meet her face.

”Look short shit!  I’ve had enough of being oogled, fondled, and hit on by guys who smell like Stetson and Natural Light all night, and… You’re the interviewer aren’t you?”

”Uhhh, yes.  Yes I am.  Phillip, we spoke on the phone earlier.  Traffic coming in from the city was a nightmare.”

Angelica gently releases the man, but her hand swings around to land on her hip in a bit of frustration still.  She waves her hair back behind one shoulder once more before even addressing the man.

”You mean, you were staying in the city, where I was, and had me travel out here to wait for an hour for you to get here?  Seems ridiculous to me.  But, whatever.  I have had people begging me for an interview since my introduction statement at Climax Control.  Everyone wants to know what I have to say.  I picked you to say it to.  So, lets sit down with a drink, and you can get your interview.”

Angelica smiles as she looks down at the man, patting his chest.  She turns and walks to a table, setting her beer down on a coaster.  The man adjusts his tie as he approaches to take the seat right across from Angelica.  He places a small device down on the table, and then pulls a notepad out from his briefcase.  Thumbing through a few pages, he quickly finds his mark, and nods his head before looking over to a smiling Angelica.

”Well, it seems you made quite the statement at Climax Control.  You basically called out the entire women’s locker room, demoralizing them to nearly nothing.  Would you say that you were just trying to make an impact?”

”No, I would say that I was simply saying what most of the world was thinking.  I was tired of being kept in the back while these chicks went on with Days of our Lives re enactments.  I felt that the bombshell division needed a reality check, and I couldn’t bite my tongue for another minute.  The fact that two of the participants of a Main Event in a male dominated company couldn’t even put out good publicity for this company just made me angry.  They got to be in the spotlight for no reason!  I don’t claim to be the best, but at least I would have shown my appreciation being put in a Main Event match.  So, no.  It wasn’t to make an impact, it was to express an honest opinion.”

”But, even the ones who did put in the promotional work, you belittled to the best of your abilities.  Fantasia, for instance.”

”Fantasia cut a promo where she had less lines than her manager.  I don’t have anyone talking for me.  If I say I’m going to go out there and kick some ass, I mean I am going out there to kick some ass.  I don’t need Mark to tell the world I’m going to kick ass, because I feel it’s weak.  And she went out there, and she just made a liar of her manager.  Why?  Because she is more concerned with a pair of balls hanging in her face than wrestling in a wrestling match.  I’m here on my own behalf, speaking about my actions, my words, and how they affect my upcoming match.  When I am not doing that, I am then concerned with the pair of balls dangling in my face.  Plain and simple, Phillip.”

Caught off guard, Phillip double checks his notes before going on.

”And how about Kittie and Raynin?”

”Honestly, these two put out some okay promos, and they fought it out pretty heavy until the end.  If I had to pick the ones who make me sweat the most, it would be these two.  But, they just can’t seem to pull their heads from their asses.  One wants to go on about her mental problems caused by abandonment, while the other one wants to go on about HER mental problems caused by abandonment.  I just don’t get why it matters in a wrestling ring if you are mentally unhinged.  I think that both of these ladies could snap at any moment.  Does that scare me?  In a general sense, yes.  But, if we are talking about two unbalanced women in an over-the-top elimination match, I just think it makes it easier to eliminate the two biggest threats.  If they snap, knock their asses out, and the rest is a cake walk.  Broadcasting that to the world is about the dumbest idea I have ever heard of, and I’ve eaten sushi in Tijuana.”

”Well, okay.  Now, I understand that you have a more in depth story with Misty.  The two of you go way back to your time in GXW where you were the manager and girlfriend of ‘Hot Stuff’ Mark Ward.  Please explain some of the details.”

Angelica chuckles to herself as she takes a long sip from her beer, emptying in.  She slides it to the side and motions to the bartender to get another.  She folds her hands in front of her on the table, and she slowly nods her head.

”Well, she was a member of the stable, Generation XTreme, GXT.  We were the dominant stable in GXW at the time I entered.  Spike gifted me to Mark on their Christmas special, Season’s Beatings.  Misty and I never really spoke much, but I was a dear friend to Spike, her boyfriend and now fiancée.  That was, until he got a big head on him.  He thought he ruled the world with that title around his neck.  Misty only kept it going by feeding his ego.  Ego is fine, but Mark was supposed to be the one with an ego.  It didn’t fit Spike, because he was new blood.  I thought it would be for the best if Mark gave him a little tough love, because true friends do that.”

”True friends break each others knees instead of hinting that they are being unreasonable?”

”That’s what it took in this situation.  Spike had to go and piss and moan about it, claiming it was unfair, hobbling around backstage, talking about how he was going to get revenge.  He never did.  He went back to being a nobody, but Misty kept treating him like a king, giving him a baby, and domesticating the beast.  The one thing I admired about Misty was her drive, and her determination.  But she just lost it when Spike fell.  I felt bad for her, until I heard she was talking mad shit about me backstage.  And Spike too.  He doesn’t know how to let go of a grudge, and I feel bad for the poor guy.”

”You made comments about Misty’s ‘little brats’ at Climax Control.  Would you care to elaborate?”

”Misty domesticated the wild beast that WAS Spike Staggs.  In the process, she became tamed as well.  She became a mommy, baking cookies with her hubby and kids, doing dishes, making homemade meals from scratch like Betty Crocker.  Then, one day, she decides she misses wrestling, the way Amy Lee decided that she wanted to sing again, because others had taken their spotlight, and they got a bit jealous.  And in the same light, when both returned to their professions, they just sucked.  I mean, they did.  The Open Door was bad enough, but this…?  Just the way Misty picked that terrible song to personify herself, she is also using it as a motto for her career.  House wife, mommy, chef, wrestler on the side.  Your glory passed because you let the fire die.  You should have just left well enough alone.  Instead, you have to drag your family under scrutiny every single week.  It’s not fair to humiliate them through association, Misty.”

”Are you sure you aren’t just jealous of Misty, since she has accomplished so much in a game you are just getting started in?”

”Like bloody hell… Sorry, boyfriend rubbing off on me.  I am not jealous of Misty.  That’s laughable.  Misty just doesn’t have it anymore, the same way Fantasia doesn’t.  They are flavors of the past.  I just want my time to shine, and in ten years, I will have passed along too.  It’s a fact of nature.  Things get old.  They pass their prime.  Some people just don’t realize it.  Misty had just be careful that she doesn’t rub me the wrong way, because I will do to her what my boyfriend did to her boyfriend.  I will end her career, for her children’s sake.  Let her go back home and bake the cookies, and bring that domesticated animal back.  Unleash him to his natural habitat, Misty.  You shouldn’t have been so selfish to sign that contract before him, because if you would have let it go, he would have signed his contract instead.  You can see it in his eyes, but you just can’t admit it.”

”I believe you meant to talk to me, instead of making random comments as if Misty were here…”

”No, moron.  I’m cutting a promo right now.”

”During an interview?”

”Uhhh, yeah.  I’m multitasking.  I can do that, I have a brain, unlike most of the broads I’m fighting at Climax Control: High Stakes.”

”I don’t doubt that, it’s just kind of rude is…”

”Whatever…  Look, my opponents can suck it, coz there is a new bitch in town, and her name is Angelica.  Heaven sent, Hell bent.  I’m going to win that Bombshell Championship at High Stakes, and I’m not going to let Rebecca Blades, Allison Summers, Fantasia, Raynin, Kittie, or Misty stop me.  Put that in your e-zine and smoke it, nerd.  I’m out of here.  I like to keep it sleazy, but this bar even makes my skin crawl.  Peace…”

Angelica quickly shoves the camera out of her way.  It follows her trek to the front door of the bar, and watches as she exits the bar, hooking her leg around the door , before turning around to blow the camera a sensual kiss.

-:{FaDE}:-