[Frankie Holliday]

Well now, would you look at that. I’m a big winner in my debut match against not one, but two, opponents. The only opening round triple threat match and now, I am on to the semi-finals.

As I said, change takes a while. Fortunately for all of you, I have a LOT of time.

Now, I don’t have a plan at the moment. I’m still working on it. I find it best to just let whatever happens, happen. I know what I have to do, and that’s all I’m worried about. There’s all these things going on and people trying to get other people to come back and run divisions and people talking about the good old days and oh, there’s so many happy couples.

So there’s a lot to account for and an actual plan is really hard to formulate at this point. I didn’t know who I was even facing this week for a day or so. I couldn’t plan on it being Julianna, it could have been Samantha, or Laura Jackson, or Mikah, or Alicia Lukas. But… it’s Julianna, and I’ll get to her in due time.

But I haven’t even really started to tell my story, so we have another fun time recollecting about the past.

It’s funny, the past is a running theme around here. If you stop and think about it, I am pretty much the only new crop of talent that is in this tournament still. We have Alicia, Julianna, and Mikah, trying to reclaim recent past glories. And Samantha and Laura have even further past glories. It’s like the fresh, young talent has all but dried up.

And that just won’t do.

The past is supposed to help shape the future, not block it out. The future is inevitable.

I am it.

But I’ll tell you about my past, so that you understand what the future of Sin City Wrestling is going to look like.

Let's introduce a little chaos. It will make it all clear.

Join me. Believe me. Trust me.

The school year wore on and I felt more and more comfortable there and it led to research more things. I developed an interest in animals, but more importantly, anatomy. I was now curious how it all worked. For the first time in my short life, I was shown how open the world was and all the things in it. I was curious about everything. This continued for pretty much my whole life.

But more importantly, I found that Sheila was just as curious. We talked almost daily and shared food and toys at recess. We swung on the swings and did all the little kid stuff you probably remember. This is when kids still went outside, but I mean, this is 2006 we’re talking about, that time was coming to an end. But when I was smaller, I didn’t really have friends that were my age. Our neighbors didn’t have children. Charlie knew a bunch of people and they came to the house frequently, so most of the people I talked to were adults.

Sheila was the first who just talked to me, sounded like me, and had interests similar to mine. I found more things to look up and to talk with Sheila about, as I forged this relationship with her. We spent the first 3 years of school in the same class. Sheila and I were I guess… friends. We said “hi” and “bye” to each other everyday if that qualifies us as such.

Until there was this one time where we took a test in 2nd grade.

I believed that Sheila and I were the two smartest kids in our classes. We always got the highest grades, and it always got to the point that Mrs. Myers, Ms. Prescott, our 1st grade teacher, and Mr. Price, our 2nd grade teacher, would tell us we couldn’t answer questions to give the other children a chance.

This of course fed into my superiority complex. In addition, in my head, I believed I was smarter than Sheila. A little egotistical, I’ll grant that the notion is ridiculous to have in elementary school, but this is how children are wired sometimes. It was also my way of standing out in school because I still wanted to be seen as someone who was worth something. I wasn’t tall, or some beauty pageant material girl. I didn’t dress in expensive clothing, but it wasn’t like I was shopping at the thrift store for clothes.

Anyway, that whole feeling was shattered when we took that Social Studies test on U.S. States and their capitals. I was certain I had gotten them all, but my test came back with a 98% instead of 100%. And Sheila had gotten them all. This had to be a mistake. Could Sheila actually be smarter than me? I couldn’t rationalize this in my brain.

I missed Georgia. For some reason, I was so sure that Augusta was the capital, instead of Atlanta. Augusta is actually the capital of Maine. For some reason I marked Augusta twice.

I wouldn’t live this down in my own head for a long time. It’s preposterous when you think about it, but I held onto this. Sheila was able to match me in everything else, I wasn’t able to get a higher grade than her on anything. This… this would not do.

My mother didn’t set play dates or anything, so the only time Sheila and I ever got together was at school. And then, one day, Sheila came up to me with a big grin on her face.

“Hey, do you wanna come play at my house after school?” She asked, grinning and hoping I would say yes.

“I have to ask my mom.”

Once the day ended, my mother was there to pick me up and I approached her, with Sheila by my side.

“Mom, can I play at Sheila’s house after school?” I asked, not wanting to launch into the puppy dog eyes, just yet.

My mother seemed rather surprised and intrigued that this was happening. She looked around as Sheila’s mother wasn’t there just yet.

“Let’s see if her mom is okay with it.”

“She is.” Sheila replied with a big grin.

Finally, Sheila’s mom appeared and she and my mother had a small conversation and my mother nodded to me.

“Okay, you can go. Sheila’s mom is going to bring you back home at 7.”

“Thanks, mom.” I said, smiling and excited that this was happening.

We arrived at Sheila’s house and it was huge. I had never seen a house as big as hers. She even had a swing set in her backyard. I was so jealous of this. Her mom and dad talked and seemed to have a happy relationship, something else I didn’t have. Why couldn’t I be here? I wanted this for me, but I didn’t have it.

We played with dolls for a little while, then played some games on the internet before heading outside and swinging on her swing set.

“Take it easy, Sheila!” Her mom shouted from the window. I understood that Sheila didn’t have the lung capacity to exert a lot of energy.

Sheila and I played and laughed and giggled and then, out of nowhere, The same labored breathing began in Sheila. She was having an asthma attack. I knew exactly what to do and sat her upright. I reached and felt around her outfit and found her inhaler. I looked at it and then a sudden strange thought crossed my mind.

“What if I don’t give this to her?”

Depending on severity, asthma can be fatal. I don’t know why I thought this was a viable option, but I did. Perhaps this was a little bit of revenge for that test. It had to be. Even though she had nothing to do with it, and it was my mistake. I blamed her. I was still jealous, angry and bitter.

I looked at her face, desperate for the inhaler and I hesitated for a moment, only a brief one, but it felt like forever. There was this feeling of now having Sheila’s life in my hands, and I very much enjoyed it. I looked her dead in the eyes, holding the inhaler and that feeling finally shook from my head. I gave her the inhaler just as her mother rushed outside. I used the technique and her mother stopped, observing me doing this, before her maternal instincts came back and she rushed over. She continued what I started and soon enough, Sheila was her normal self again. Sheila’s mom turned to me, a sigh of relief escaping her as she rubbed my shoulder.

“Thank you, Franchesca.”

I shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

In my head, I had won some kind of battle. Sheila may or may not have been smarter than me, but I had full use of my lungs. And that made me superior.

We went inside, had dinner and we got to play a little longer, just talking about animals and things we found on the internet. I honestly don’t think that Sheila knew what went on in my head and why I hesitated at that moment. I believe that she thought that maybe I didn’t know what to do. Maybe. I’m not sure.

Sheila never really said anything other than “Thank you” to me after that and she and her mother dropped me off at my house. 7pm, right on time. I explained to my mother about all the things I saw at Sheila’s house and how it made me feel. I never told her about the asthma attack thing though.

Charlie had very little interest, he just was concerned that I didn’t get into trouble, because then he would have to come down to the school and have to deal with it. And for the most part, I didn’t get into trouble. I never did much of anything besides my work. I really only talked to Sheila, but occasionally I had to work with Mark on things, or we would be grouped together.

I didn’t really have much to talk about with Mark, but he made it a point to speak to me every day. Mark would talk to me, but it was mostly about stuff he liked, like cartoons or TV shows and stuff like that. He would occasionally be aware of what Sheila and I would talk about seeing on the internet.

And then, one day, out of the blue, he wrote me a love letter and hid it in my desk. I found it, but he hadn’t put his name on it. I knew it was his based on his handwriting, but he also was very curious from then on about how I was feeling and whether or not I liked anybody. Mark really liked me, and thought I was cool. He wanted to hang out with me. A schoolboy crush by the time we hit 2nd grade.

I was clearly too young for dating or even a remote interest in boys or girls, much less romantically. I was interested in Sheila because I spent the most time with her. Mark was… okay I guess?

In fact, Mark was the one gave me the name “Frankie”

Mark had an interdental lisp. So he could never say “Franchesca.” It always came out “FranchTHca” So, one day after many, many times of being unable to say it, he just asked.

“Can I call you Frankie?”

“Frankie is a boy’s name.”  I replied, correcting his despite the fact he probably knew this.

“I know, but it’s really hard for me to say FrancheTHca”

I cringed at hearing my name mispronounced. I hated it, and he was the only one who couldn’t. I know he couldn’t help it, but it just bugged me. But heaven forbid I let the kid struggle. Oh my god, let's make it easier for this kid. So…I just conceded this to make it easier for him.

“You can call me Frankie.” I answered.

Relief washed over Mark’s face as from then on, he called me Frankie whenever he needed to talk to me or ask me something. Soon Sheila started doing it too. It didn’t really bother me as much as I thought it would. It wasn’t any easier to hear Mark talk, but I dealt with it. I just went with it and at the end, almost every person I encountered during my formative years called me “Frankie” instead of “Franchesca”. 

Once we hit 4th grade, Mark just sort of dropped his schoolboy crush and I just became a girl he knew and talked to. I suppose it also was helped that once we hit 4th grade, Mark was no longer in my class.  He would see me in
the hall, smile, wave and occasionally talk to me.

And… for some reason, I felt almost offended. Like… am I not good enough now? Not that I was actually interested in him or even the concept of dating at the age of 10, but the idea that I could be dropped like that was kind of insulting.

Nonetheless, I let it go. I now had more important things to worry about.

Because this was around the time my mother started taking pills to help her get through the day.  So I had to grow and mature a lot faster than most 10 year olds. It felt like working two jobs and not getting paid for either of them, and basically getting no help. Charlie did the bare minimum, if that. Charlie worked at his job, came home and that was the end. So outside of occasionally buying dinner on his way home, or running to the store, he didn’t do much of anything. I was mowing the grass, the dishes, and the laundry as my mother would often forget in her stupor.

But I could take solace in the fact that at school, I had Sheila. I always hate Sheila.

Until I didn’t.

5th grade.

She wasn’t in my class.

My best friend was now not in the same class as me. I was devastated. How did this happen? We were inseparable for 5 years and now she wasn’t there. I was more upset about that than pretty much anything else. Sheila was my escape. My one true friend. Even though years earlier I irrationally hated her for a stupid test, but now, she was gone. In some other class.

I had to find her. Talk to her. Get to the bottom of this situation.

I eventually ran into Sheila in the hallway when I was coming back from lunch and Sheila was going to take hers.

“Hi Sheila!” I announced excitedly.

“Hi Frankie!” She said, with a smile on her face as well. At least she was happy to see me.

“What class are you in now?” I asked, eager to know what happened to my friend.

“I have Mr. Bates now. He’s really fun. What about you?" She replied.

“I have Mr. Rendell now.” I answered. “He’s okay.”

“That’s good. Do you want to talk after school?” She asked.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I have to go now.” I said, hurrying to catch up with my classmates.

“See you later!” She shouted as I was walking away.

Crisis. Averted.

It did feel strange to not have my friend around. She helped me feel normal. I missed my friend. But it did make me hands down the smartest person in my class. So that was a plus, and my sense of superiority returned yet again. I was a born leader and this was just more evidence I was the future.

I aced everything, but by this point, it wasn’t fun anymore. School was now just a thing that I did and I was good at. There was no competition for me. Without a real rival in Sheila, everything just felt half as important. I made the honor roll time and time again. I got awards and plaques and ribbons for 1st place all the time. They are probably in a box somewhere in my former home.

Yeah, life was looking pretty great the first 5 years.

But… as it has a habit of doing, life changes things.

The last conversation I had with Sheila, was over the summer. And that's when I found out she was moving away. Her dad was in the Marines as a reservist, but had gotten promoted and was actually in line to command his own unit in Washington state.

She was moving. And then... she was gone.

She never even said good-bye. She just left me.

Just when I needed her most.


I have to say I am intrigued.

I am never really faced off against a robot or android or whatever you are, Julianna DiMaria. But that’s how you sound. It’s just weird to me to hear someone so obsessed with facts and figures, to the point that that’s all they talk about. You sound like the human equivalent of Chat GPT when you speak. So much so that it’s hard to really know who you actually are. What do you actually stand for? What are your thoughts on the economy? Does pineapple belong on pizza? These are the burning questions that are being asked and yet, all you can say is a version of when you click the speaker button on google.

“Did you know that Bea Barnheart has lost 87% of her matches? That means she must suck! I have not lost as many, therefore I am superior to her in our upcoming wrestling bout!”

It’s just that. Boring stat after boring stat.

Pardon me for being rude here. I didn’t even introduce myself to you. I’m Frankie, I’m the future of Sin City Wrestling and I need to re-shape it in my image. We are facing each other on Sunday and I am going to kick your ass and then win. It’s nice to meet you.

So Julianna, what happens when the person you are facing has no such stats for you to spew? What happens when you face someone who has a clean record? Does the computer have any sort of answer to that? Because that time is now for you, Julianna.

Well, I will tell you a normal person would speak about themselves and their personality or motives or something along those lines. That’s how wrestling works. But I have seldom heard you speak about these things the entire time you’ve been in Sin City Wrestling. The best you can do is talk about facts and figures because you have no personality to speak of. It is your defining trait.

That and the whole “I don’t care what you think about me” thing that you cling to like a binky. But we both know you do care.

Seriously, until literally last week, the last time anyone saw you, you were streaming for fuck’s sake. And it wasn’t even a titty stream. It was you fighting with internet trolls. Do you know how silly that is? You must. If you are famous in any way, there’s just going to be a section of people who dislike and hate everything you do. And you, like a complete buffoon, chose to engage them. You, the same person who claims to not care what people think, went to your haters for an opinion. These two things seem diametrically opposed, but you do you. Now, hilariously, after you, as you are one to do, “laid out of the facts” because that’s… you know… that’s your thing. Facts and figures. Numbers. Men lie, women lie, but numbers don’t, right? So after you laid those out, those haters, those trolls, you convinced them that you were right. You shut them all down and laid down the law and all of a sudden everybody was on your side.

So, this begs the question: How much did you pay those people to make you look good?

It’s okay, you can tell the truth. Was it like 3 people at like 5-6 laptops all with usernames to make it look legit? Different browsers and everything, right? Wait, I bet it was family members. Brothers and sisters and whatnot? And no, I’m not going to bother fact-checking you having siblings, because it’s not really important enough to me. If it was, I would. But the fact that you just outsmarted, out-witted, and were just so right about things and every single one of those people turned in your favor? It’s highly suspect.

But, let’s roll with the whole idea that those were all very real people. All of them. And you brought them all on side. That is impressive!

So, one can help but wonder how they all felt after you did all that, you talked about all the facts, and then… then you lost anyway.

So is it safe for those people to now feel stupid for supporting you? Can they go and just piss off back to Bella Madison fandom? Do you care? I know, you don’t care about these things, which then begs the question why you bothered to do a stream in the first place? You clearly enjoyed making those people look dumb for supporting Bella, right? But… now you’re not going to give a shit about them still liking you, are you?

Or… was the whole thing a sham? 

I mean, we haven’t seen or heard another meet and greet from you. So, where did you run off too, Julianna?

Did you hit rock bottom? Again?

You’re the only one allowed to do it, right? No one else knows what rock bottom is, do they?

You keep telling people that they don’t know what it is, they have never had it as bad as you. You are aware that not everyone experiences the same rock bottom, correct? There is no standard “rock bottom” so to speak. Just because you’ve had it rough for a period, doesn’t mean other people can’t, you twat.

You really want to play the game of “who has had a shittier life?”  You have no idea what a shitty life is. You just present these things in a sad, pathetic attempt at gaining pity from people you allegedly don’t give two fucks about. “My life is so hard, nobody takes me seriously!” “Respect me because I rose above the self-imposed and self-created problems I have!”

I suppose everyone is the hero of their own story. And every good hero goes through the hero’s journey. Even if they have to invent obstacles.

You throw these things out there all the time like a shield. You just think you know what rock bottom is, because you want your problems to be pitied. This is why you spout the facts and figures, when in your favor. You don’t know what a person goes through to experience their own rock bottom. I’ve had it way worse than you ever could.

Have you been homeless, Julianna?
Have you ever been penniless, Julianna?
Have you had to use your body to survive the night, Julianna?

Fuck. No. You haven’t.

So does this make me the authority on rock bottom? No. Because that’s MY personal low point. You can have yours, but I’m going to mock the shit out of it until you stop using it to judge everyone else. And then, then you’ll actually be able to post about not running away from your problems and actually have it be something other than ironically hilarious.

So, I eagerly await when you have to talk about yourself, instead of me. I mean, you can call me a cheater, and say my win wasn’t impressive. You can, I don’t mind. I did cheat, and well, for the first match, beating two people? Maybe it was a fluke. But outside of that, you… what can you say? I’m forcing you to talk about yourself, the one thing you stink at. You have nothing.

Actually. Yes. Yes you do. You do have something to talk about. I’m telling a lie. I just thought of it.

I spent all this time talking about facts and figures being what you do, and I’ve overlooked the obvious. I’ve actually been talking about your personality. You do have a defining personality trait:

Victim.

Now, before you fly off the handle and curse my name and possibly subtweet me… this is the part where I empathize a small amount with you. As a person who loves science, one of the things I studied was people. How the brain works, how it functions. The brain has this bizarre mechanism where it will choose what is comfortable, over something that is objectively better. I understand that is the case with you, Julianna. Because you are in an abusive relationship.

You are in an abusive relationship with yourself.

It’s why you do what you do. It’s why you jump head-first into the lion’s den with steaks tied to your legs. Metaphorically of course. Because you have copy-pasted your father’s voice in your own head, in your own mind. Because you are subconsciously trying to show him all the good things you have done, all the things that give you pride, all the things that make you feel accomplished, hoping that it will change his opinion.

And in your own head, you can hear the “I don’t care” from your father.

This is also why you constantly spew facts, numbers, statistics. It's why you fight trolls, it’s why you attack and prey on their shortcomings. Because You want to be viewed as better. Because you want the evidence to prove your father’s voice in your head wrong.

“Look dad, there’s someone worse than me!”

I will tell you the same thing that his voice does.

“We don’t care.”

And do you know why we don’t care?

Because you insist on reminding us.

You won two championships in Sin City Wrestling. You have probably won championships elsewhere. Good for you. You should be happy. Celebrate those accomplishments. But reminding everyone every time you’re on our screens is just the most annoying shit ever. And guess what? Your father’s voice, the one in your head, will never care.

You may think I’m destroying you right now, which, yes… I am. But at the same time, I’m telling you what nobody else will.

And that’s about as far as I’m going to go with empathizing with you, it’s not really your fault.

Actually, yes it is.

 Because at this point in your life, if you haven’t dealt with this by therapy, then you never will. I am on the mission to change this entire company, but honestly, I believe you to be a lost cause. I don’t want to change you at all. Because you have accepted the abuse.

You love it. You need it. You crave it. You want to try and make the negativity in your life into positivity, but you fail.  No, I don’t want to change you. I want you just the way you are. In a constant battle you will always lose. Because subconsciously, you want to anyway.

Maybe this will change you anyway. Maybe it won’t. At this point, I don’t really care that much. It was cathartic for me to tell you, more than anything.

The only reason I care this week is because you are my opponent, and beating you ups my stock in Sin City Wrestling. Beating a former Roulette and Internet champion week one, and then beating a former Internet and world champion week 2? That is perfect. That would be perhaps the most impressive start for any wrestler in Sin City Wrestling history.

Which includes you.

I just thought I’d point that out.

Anyway, I hope that you have enjoyed our little chat today. Perhaps you will remember it, you will think long and hard about it and it really opens your eyes. And then you can thank me, after the match is over and I make it to the finals.

Or don’t. I don’t care.

Either way, I’m going to beat you and go to the finals.

See you real, real soon, Julianna. Sweet dreams!