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Don't Act Like You Care
The Story of Anti-Social Superstar, Jared O'Keefe Motherfuck the rules. That's the attitude that I like to have. No, it's the attitude that I gotta have in this life.
I'm no better than you. You're no better than me. The difference is that I don't pretend to be better than you. I got a ninth grade education cause my pops thought it was a wicked cool idea to make me pay rent at fourteen years old. Fuckin' cool, right? Yeah, so I ain't as smart as some people. I don't talk like a fuckin' poet, and I ain't as smooth as some people. Ma left us cause my dad was a fuckin' asshole. That's probably why I ain't such a great dad to my kids. Hell, I don't know how many kids I got, but the ones I do know about, I ain't been the best to.
My oldest is from the love of my life. I will never get over Crystalline North. How she used to treat me like some Northern gentleman, no matter how many fucks I dropped in any given sentence. How we used to sit back, her resting on my shoulder, while I got the old Gibson in my hand, strumming some simple chords, while she made up some nice sounding words. Even if none of it made sense, we understood...We cut in to see the image of a much younger Crystalline North, and Jared O'Keefe, sitting down in front of an old video recorder, with a fire burning in the fireplace behind them. Jared strums away at the guitar, and despite his well known presence in the punk rock scene, the soft rock sound is almost mesmerizing, and only outdone by the angelic voice of Crystalline rings in.
Crystalline: Will she come, or will she go? It's this feeling, I don't know-oh. Is it wrong or is it right? By your bong's early... light...
Jared: Good one, babe.
Crystalline: Breathe her in, and breathe her out. Is this what love is all about? Eyes as bright as the big blue sky. By your bong's early... light...
Without missing a beat, Jared leans in and kisses Crystalline. Though it would seem that it would only last a few seconds, the two lovebirds continue to kiss, as he strums softly on his guitar.
I never wanted to be a dick like my old man was, so I tried to be a good dad to my daughter. I wasn't, but I tried. I never made her give up her education. I never told her not to hang out with her fairy friends. If she was gonna get fucked up on something, her old man was gonna get fucked up on it too. Looking back, I failed even worse than pops did with me. If I had to name my biggest failure, it would be parenthood. The rest of my kids are better off not knowing me. Celeste could have been a somebody in this world, but instead, she's following in her father's footsteps in being a real nobody. Instead of giving her freedom, I gave her an addiction that took years to get over for her, and one that I'm still not over all the way. I gave her abandonment issues when I was so heartbroken by what he ma did to me and I couldn't look at her for years. I gave her an easy way out of workin' hard, cause I never worked hard after I moved out from under the old man's roof. The fact that her pansy ass boyfriend is ten years older than her tells me that I gave her some pretty messed up daddy issues cause I didn't hug her enough er somethin'.With the same video recorder, twenty years later, we come inside of a dilapidated apartment. The smoke stained wallpaper looks like it is slightly peeling from the walls as it curls outward. The hardwood floor is covered in dirt and ashes. Everything looks to be a mess, except a somewhat clean looking Celeste, in her late teens. Celeste is wearing a Deftone's t-shirt, and skinny jeans with a wallet chain hanging from her belt look. Her hair is dyed black, and her make up is much more harsh than it is today. She glares up at the camera, as Jared speaks from behind it.
Jared: Hey hunny bunny. You excited to spend the weekend with ya pops in his home town?
Celeste: When I arrived in Boston? The whole city smelled like beer pisses and reuben sandwiches. So, no. No, I'm not looking forward to spending an entire fourty-eight hours here. Give me drugs, like ten minutes ago...
Jared: You know daddy is in recovery, princess.
Celeste laughs like he's just told her a joke. She rolls her eyes as she waits for the punchline, only it never comes. She sighs as she reaches into her pocket, pulling out a toothpick to chew on as she stims.
Celeste: For, what? The ninety-ninth time? Please... We're not all that stupid. You've got to have something lying around here. It looks like a crack dealers apartment, except with many more pizza box decorations everywhere.
Jared Gee, thanks for having faith in ya old man. Startin' to sound just like ya ma, if I'm being honest.
Celeste: Shut up, you Mick bastard! I do not sound like that crazy Wiccan bag lady! I believe in God, now. But not your Catholic God, the one where people speak like retards, and flop up and down on their stomachs like fish in the aisles, and cry. Yeah, that God...
Even Jared can't help but laugh out loud, despite having just been hurt by his daughter, even in the same sentence. His laughter quickly fades.
Celeste: I don't know much about the Bible, but that's not going to stop me from spouting off the three passages I do know to fit my current agenda. That's right, I'm a real Christian!
Jared: I got some emergency green in the top drawer of the dresser... knock ya'self out. I guess I'll go set up the fouton er somethin'.
Celeste: No, that won't be necessary. I'll set up hotel accomodations later, because not even I could stay the night here, and I've slept in dumpsters outside of bars after shows...
"I thought about writin' a song about how I failed my children, but I'm not ready to go Southern Punk yet. I still feel like I got a couple years in the limelight before I flush my career down the shitter. I just sit back and think to myself... how did it all come to this? How did I wind up becoming a Punk Rock sensation? How did I wind up married to the most famous female vocalist of all time, with a kid that I actually spent time with? How did my life get so good, and then get so bad? I brought that shit on myself, I know... but how? I could blame the drugs, or blame it on bein' a man, or bein' under too much pressure, or havin' a middle school education, or a hundred other things, but the truth is that there's somethin' inside of me that wrecks everything and everyone around me. It all comes down to me, and I gotta fix it. But, until then, my new album comes out April 18th, and you better believe I'm gonna be playin' every dive bar and shit club across the country, all the way up to CBGB's in Manhattan. Maybe in that time away, I'll be able to figure it all out. I might come back stronger and more determined than ever. Or, I might come back, havin' fathered a kid in every state. Either one would be wicked cool, bro..."~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~<img src=https://media.giphy.com/media/12e3D2RM0DXXZS/giphy.gif>
Clear My Mind
#NP "Wings of a Butterfly" by H.I.M.
Long Beach, California... or Long Island, New York?!?Things have been so crazy lately. Our petition has really taken off for the Bombshells, but it's been made crystal fucking clear that no one cares about the Bombshells anymore. The fans get up for piss breaks during anything Bombshell, unless it has Mikah being a bitch, or having a kind hearted playful moment with that little scamp, Despayre. Yeah, in case you can't hear the sarcasm dripping from my tongue, that was meant to sound bitchy, not endearing. Who does that? Walking around on their high horse, waving their blonde hair around, and their pretty clothes, making snide comments to everyone, and then melts at the sight of a mentally unstable man child hugging on to a teddy bear? Huh? What's that? No one? So this hasn't been done before? Hm? Hm? Oh, right, Delia Darling wore that suit over a year ago, ha ha... silly me. I guess every Ice Queen has one soft spot guaranteed to melt their hearts. Mine is... like I'm going to tell you...
Even Delia signed our petition. Even Jessie Salco and I put aside our differences for a minute so that we could fight the many injustices going on. Erik Staggs turned white as a ghost tonight during our little sit down. Shit is serious! But, since it doesn't involve us berating the crowd, or one another, no one cares. No one cares that all but five current Bombshell roster members are ready to walk out that door, and picket the shit out of Sin City Wrestling as soon as My Bloody Valentine 2 starts! Again, it's serious, but nobody cares. At first, I took it personally that no one paid attention to me, but this is about way more than me. Every big name on our roster signed on for this. The Bombshell Tag Champions, and most of the Bombshell Roulette challengers in the six pack challenge have signed on. Again, all but five Bombshells are signed on for this. And still, no one cares! Sad. Fucking sad...
Of course, Alexis Edwards is the talk of the Bombshell Division. She's off picking up on former Nobodies, and whining on Twitter about literally anything and everything. But, she's got a presence that, I admit, I can be jealous of at times. It would have helped to get our message out, if she would have signed on. But, for whatever reason, she's too fucking good for me, or she likes to oppose anything and everything I'm involved with. Whatever the case is, she refused to sign on, even to show some kind of solidarity for once. She can say whatever she wants, but I've tried to be close to her. I've tried to work professionally with her. I've done everything that I can think of to make things right with her, but the moment I saw my best friend in the entire world cry because this bitch is too self absorbed to pay attention to what is going on with her? I was done. Finished. The only reason I included her in this whole thing is because she is a Bombshell, and her involvement might actually make people pay attention to what is going on. And... I guess a little part of me was hoping for a second chance with Alexis. Well, more like a twelth chance, but let's not split hairs here. If Jessie and I can call a temporary truce, then Alexis should be able to sign a fucking piece of paper. Just saying.
And to top this all off, Chad and I have been on some weird sort of disconnect lately. I mean, I was basically done with him, but I had him by the balls. I thought it would be so fun to mess with him, but lately, even that's been boring. He doesn't fight it anymore, and I can tell that his head just isn't in it anymore. It's almost like he's got someone else on his mind. He never goes out, so I can't think of who that could be. He just sits at home, being a lazy bastard, so unless it's the butch Domino's girl, I can't see him having any kind of contact with anyone. It's just weird.
And then, there's the whole thing going on with Tim. He's trying to go at it without the Xanax, and I have to give him credit for that. It's not easy, but he's doing it. He even talked to Alexis earlier tonight. She probably assumed he was still on the drugs, but he was just so distant to her to show her how it feels. But, I can tell that this thing with Grimm has been bothering him. Now that he knows Grimm isn't done with him, and this Belladonna chick is coming after him since Grimm can't touch him, he's just been edgy. I told him that me and mama have him protected, and the nightmares he's been having aren't because of Grimm, but because of the damage done to his psyche.
Yeah, there's just so much going on. and I've been so out of it lately, I didn't even notice that Chad booked the wrong fucking flight. His middle name is Einstein, obviously, because I was supposed to fly out to Long Beach from my mom's family reunion in Arkansas, because I've been so fucking sick of driving, but I wound up on the other side of the damned country! Yeah... But, can I really claim to be that much more with it, when I got on the plane without checking my ticket? I was so consumed with what was going on in my own head that I didn't pay attention. That world tour really got to me, I guess, where city names just blur together, and become nothing more than a number.
So, I'm standing in front of the window of the fairly small airport, looking out at what appears to be a fucking field, with the New York skyline visible off in the very far distance. I can't believe it. No joke. This... actually happened. Once the disbelief wears off, anger hits me like a freight train, and I shriek. Part of me wants to grab my cheeks and go at it Kevin McAllister style, but it's the wrong airport, so I settle for stomping around like an angry child. I fling my duffel bag to the ground as I kick it across the lobby, causing a woman and her young child to gasp in shock. I'm seeing red, so I literally walk over to the kid and rip his sucker from his mouth and throw it to the ground, crushing it with my heel. I look to his mother and growl at her.
Me: Don't you know that high fructose corn syrup is the number one most deadly food? Why don't you just open up one of his veins and shoot him up with some beef lard? Oh, of just sucker punch him as hard as you can in his chest? You're shit! Shit, lady! SHIT!
Once I've made someone feel bad, my mission is complete and I storm back over to the window, staring out at the abysmal view. I see my own reflection in the window, and as I kneel down on the chair, resting one arm on the back of the chair, I can see how red my face is. I dial up Chad's number, and place the phone to my ear. I shake with anger as I wait for him to answer.
Chad: Hey, honey. How was your flight?
I am so ready to tear him a new asshole right about now. Oh, get ready for it.
Me: Ohhh... you know. It was a flight. I slept a lot, ate some crappy food, watched part of some movie with a chick and a guy who love each other, but are too afraid to admit it...
Chad: That's... good?
Me: Yeah, it was. It gave me time to think, and unwind, and... YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!! Goddess, you're such a dumbass!
Chad's voice comes out as a quick, light squeak as he tries to adjust to that mindfuck. He doesn't know what to say, or where this change in attitude comes from.
Me: So, I'm eating my soy "chicken" a la king, watching the lame chick flick, when I notice New York... FUCKING NEW YORK... is right underneath me! Yeah, not WeHo, not Venice Beach... NEW... YORK! New York.
Chad: Um... aren't you booked this show? I thought you wanted to get there early, and.
Me: Uh, yeah! I did want to get there early, but guess what? I'm on the other side of the country. Guess what, Sherlock? I don't compete outside of the Pacific or Mountain time zone unless I'm on a tour. So, what would confuse you to the point that you would send me to New York?
There is another pause, followed by whispers of "Not now." and a light shushing sound that he hopes I won't notice.
Chad: In my defense, Long Beach, and Long Island are pretty easy to get mixed up.
Me: How?! They are on totally different sides of the country! Not to mention, by fundamental English definitions, a beach and an island are not the same thing!
Chad: An island has a beach! Watch Gilligan's Island before you come at me with your bullshit logic!
I'm literally gobsmacked. I don't even know how to come back to that one as I slap my forehead. I look around me, seeing the woman I yelled at moments ago, talking with a security guard and pointing at me. I walk across the lobby quickly, picking up my bag as I walk out of the terminal.
Chad: Instead of having me book your flights, why don't you do it yourself? I'm not your slave, and it's about time that you realize that.
Me: That's it! Pack your bags and go back to whatever project you crawled out of before I picked your sorry ass up. We... are done. Understood?
I don't even give him the chance to answer as I hang the phone up. Beyond finished at this point. I look around at everything, and all I see is a few cars sitting outside in the lot, and a taxi driver standing outside of his cab. He's like Indian or whatever. Foreign, stereotypical New York taxi driver, and as I approach him, I swear, he's wearing a name badge that says his name is Mohinder. I'd have made a Heroes reference, but I'm far too man. He opens the door for me and I jump inside, slamming it behind me as I put my bag in my lap. He climbs inside the drivers door, and closes it behind him as the snow falls all around us. The lonely light above us reflects off of the melting snowflakes in the dark curls of his hair as he looks back at me.
Driver:Where to, miss?
I think long and hard about it. Do I want to go back home to my infuriating boyfriend? Fuck no! I look right at him as a half smile comes across my face. I lean forward and mutter just one word...
Me: Boston...
Like, to go see my dad. I gently toss my bag to the side as I lean back in my seat, ready to enjoy the ride. I lace my fingers together behind my head, already daydreaming about what it will be like when I get there, seeing my dad after being away for so long. I take a deep breath and sigh it out slowly, waiting for the car to set itself in motion, when the driver clears his throat.
Driver: I don't go that far, miss.
Me: Oh...
I purse my lips together as I think about it. I usually just tell someone where I want to go, and they take me, so... I'm not really sure what to do here.
Me: Okay... So, how far do you go?
Driver: Any part of New York City, the suburbs... New Jersey if you tip well enough.
Me: Take me to the edge of New York City, where I can find a way to Boston...
I lean back in my seat with a look of satisfaction. Yeah, the whole fingers laced behind the head, and sighing bit as well. This time, the driver begins driving, though he looks kind of annoyed. This is going to be one long fucking drive across New York City...
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Even The Odds
Never Saw This Coming... Did Ya? There is a screen of silky smoke waving throughout the limousine, as laughter rings from within. Crystalline North is seen sitting along the back row, with three other women around her, with glasses of red wine in their hands. One woman appears to be older than Crystalline, long locks of gray hair, wavy and wild as it cascades down her shoulders. The other two are younger, a raven haired woman who looks to be only a few years younger, and a ginger woman who looks to be half her age, at most. They are all dressed in black, looking toward what appears to be an altar, adorned with crystals of various types, candles, and a pentagram drawn in a red chalky material, most likely brick. The smoke comes from a bowl of sage burning in the center. Crystalline takes a deep breath as the others continue to laugh almost uncontrollably.
Crystalline: I hate to be a real stick in the mud, sisters, but... do you really think it's wise to use our powers for a laugh? Seems kinda, I don't know... wrong.
The gray haired woman leans forward, still laughing as she rests the stem of her wine glass on her knee. She stops laughing only long enough to respond, but her voice still shows off her jovial mood.
Agatha: Crys, baby... when are you gonna let go of that Pentacostal outlook on religion? Gaia wouldn't give us a sense of humor if she didn't 'spect us to use it once in a while. It's not all fire and brimstone punishment, so why must you be so serious all the time?
Raven: The only punishment comes from our own actions. Besides, what's the use of having the power we have if we can't cut loose?
The raven haired woman cracks a smile at Crystalline as she leans over with a golden spoon, stirring a small bowl in the center of the altar, closing her eyes as she tries thinking of something. A hush comes over the circle as they look at Raven. She opens her grey eyes and looks around at her sisters, an almost grim look on her face as she taps the edge of the spoon against the bowl, and places it face down next to it. Everyone takes a deep breath as Thistle grabs onto her mother's hand, smiling gently as if having a quick and silent conversation with her.
Raven: Will my baby ever learn to perfect a love spell that will help Johnny Depp fall in love with her, and give me a grandbaby...? Just so I can steal him away after?
Thistle's pale jaw falls open as she gently slaps her mother's arm, as the four ladies crack up into laughter once more. Crystalline's laughter doesn't last very long as she downs the rest of the wine in her glass, before pouring another. Raven picks up a candle and holds it gently above the bowl of liquid. Her hand shakes, while the true intention of her question remains pure. Her daughter's wolf-like eyes almost seem to glow in the light as she stares intently at the bowl. Finally, a wind comes from nowhere, blowing the flame almost completely out. Once the wind ceases, the women look down into the bowl to see a perfectly sculpted wax image depicting a swaddled baby held tightly against a mother's bosom. As the image floats to the side, the reflection on the water shows Thistle, holding the baby close to her, as an unknown man with a beard and neatly styled hair walks up to them, wrapping his arm around her, and the laughter turns to a warm hearted reception. Raven hugs her daughter closely before picking the small wax piece from the water, and holding onto it firmly.
Thistle: Okay, my turn now... This is gonna be real good.
Thistle holds the candle with both hands, firmly, as she looks right at Crystalline. She concentrates hard on her question, as her bright red lips part into a half smirk.
Thistle: Will Celeste get her act together, so we can raise kids together?
Raven: Thistle?!
Thistle: Oh come on, mom. We was all thinking it. Come on y'all, back me up her.
Crystalline: Goddess knows I was, sweety!
Another roar of laughter comes across the four ladies, before a sharp breeze blows through the limo, blowing every candle out in the process. Embers of burning sage whirl around in an eerily slow manner, as the water begins to glow. The image coming through is simply. Celeste is lying on the cold ground, a blue aura around her dissipating as she gasps for breath. Fear is written across her face as she crawls across the snowy ground, gripping onto it with everything she has. One of her fingernails snaps off as we can hear her cry off in the distance.
Baba Yaga: Your daughter's undoing is only a matter of time. She will find herself on death's doorstep, sooner rather than later. Not that I owe a kindness to a menial hedge witch such as yourself, but consider this a favor...
Baba Yaga's image comes across the liquid in the bowl, and she is hunched over Celeste. Her fingers tangle in the back of Celeste's hair, and she is quickly dragged across the ground as Celeste's scream rings through the circle's ears, freezing them all in place. Celeste's blood stains the snow, and the pieces of her fingernails stick out before the bowl tips itself over, turning to blood as it crawls toward Crystalline as she shrieks. Like a hand, it threatens to choke the life out of her as Thistle crawls back in her mom's arms, much like a small child, shrieking loudest of them all as she points.
Thistle: What the Holy FUCK is that?!
Raven Water? Or blood? We need to get out of here, DRIVER!!!
Crystalline watches as the blood evaporates, but not after leaving an ash covered print on her bare ankle. She takes a deep breath, a bit of sweat coming from her brow as she looks over to Agatha. Agatha's boney face drains of all color, as she gives a simple nod of her head.
Crystalline: How is that possible? She's couldn't possibly still be alive, for real...
Raven: Who? Because that looked pretty fucking alive to me!
Thistle: Was there something in that sage, because I can't even...
Agatha: Baba Yaga transcends the deepest depths of the craft, so deep that she is the pit of black sourcery. Any dark craft was perfected by Baba Yaga, and all that is dark since, comes from the witch of the Black Woods.
Crystalline looks down at the broken pentagram on the table, having been dissolved by the spilled water. Her breaths pick up as she tries to figure out why her daughter is the target of the most powerful witch to ever walk the earth. She picks up a handset phone to her side, and pressed a single button.
Crystalline: Jackson? I need you to make the next possible legal U-Turn, and take me back to the airport. Thanks.
The calm in her voice is very deceiving as she places the receiver back on the hook. She takes a few very deep breaths as she looks around to her sisters, who all have a look that screams "Oh hell no, girl!" She sighs and shakes her head as she feels the vehicle cut quickly to the left as it makes a sharp U-Turn.
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Witchy Woman
#NP "Cupid Carries a Gun" by Marilyn Manson
Salem, MassachusettsSo I got this match coming up against Jenny Tuck. Alexis, of all people texted me to tell me about it. I told her I was on my way back a little early, and that we could have some kind of talk. It's probably some kind of break up talk, like "We're never going to be best friends ever, C. You're such a bitch and I hate you. You always blame me for (insert cunty, condescending situation she's made up in her head here) and I'm so innocent, so it couldn't possibly be my fault I'm so miserable all the time." Had that talk like twenty times, but if it gives her some kind of closure, and gets her off my nutsack, then I guess we'll have it again. But, in the meantime, I decided it might be kinda cool to stop off in Salem. It might be why some visit the Lincoln Memorial, or a Holocaust museum. A reminder that I am of a persecuted people, because in this day in age, everyone is a victim. But if I'm going to be a victim, I'm going to be an educated victim.
I'm actually kind of disappointed to see that it's basically just some shitty, semi modern town. It looks like any other New England small town, run down, and kinda dilapidated. But there is a charm to it, and no, I'm not talking about the fact that literally, I'm looking at a woman who looks just like Elliot's mom from E.T. and expecting Sheri Moon Zombie to come around the corner looking like the Antichrist Mother Mary... Haven't seen Lords of Salem? You suck... Anyway, it looks a lot like it does in the movie. I think the people are kind of stuck back in the 70's, and there's lots of Pagan shops spread around. The West Coast in me wants to complain about the lack of, well, anything hip and trendy to make fun of, but it actually is kind of nice. Oh! There's a Starbucks. Perfect place to make fun of people. I start to walk toward it when I feel like something is pulling me away. I turn slightly, and I can see an old woman, in black haggard style clothes, standing next to a corroded brick building. I walk toward her, hearing in my head a voice. The voice is old and feminine, but it calls to me, beckoning me closer. Soon enough, I can't hear anything but that. The scarf over my head, keeping me warm in the frosty evening, blows softly in the wind as the woman hums in a deep tone. I step out into the street, just in time to hear the sound of tires squealing to a halt. A horn blares at me as I slowly step back onto the sidewalk, staring at the man, who is clearly from Boston.
Man: Ey ya cunt bag! Watch where ya goin'! Whatcha got a death wish er somethin'?
I flip him the bird in a calm, California bitch manner. He continues to spew vulgarities at me as he rolls his window back up and speeds off. I look back over to the haggard woman, but she's not there anymore. I place my earbud back into my ear and crank my music as I look both ways. Crossing the street, I walk over to the Starbucks that the woman was standing in front of, and I walk inside. Hipsters, hipsters, everywhere. So much flannel and beard and skull caps, I can't even take it. I walk right up to the register, and realize there's so many different ways to mask the shitty dirt taste of coffee that I never took the time to appreciate. As I read over my options, an overly perky bald girl walks up to the register, and talks, but I don't hear her thanks to Marilyn Manson blaring in my ears.
Me: Venti soy mocha latte with extra mocha sauce.
I don't even wait for a total, because I can't hear her anyway, and I pull out my credit card. I swipe it, and step to the side as I look around. I feel like I'm in a sea of pseudo sexuality and angst fueled by caffeine and Adele singles as I stare a piece of cheesecake in the raspberry white chocolate chip face. My mouth salivates, but being vegan makes it impossible to give in. Like, I'll be sick for days, so I turn away and look out of the window to see the sun setting behind the woman. She has a hood over her head, and people pass her as if she weren't even there. Am I going insane? Am I? Oh shit, I can feel someone poking me in my back. I turn around to ease my mind, when I'm met with the creepy bald chick again. She mouths something, but I just take my coffee, and put a few bills into the tip jar. I take a sip and walk outside where I look to see the woman is gone again. Yeah, I must be going crazy. I pull my scarf tighter as I walk down the street, not sure where I'm going, but it has to be better than where I'm at now.
After walking for a while, I find my way to the Salem Willows park. It's getting dark, and the yuppies walking their ridiculously small or large dogs with coats that look like they cost more than my entire outfit, slowly begin to thin out, and the shadier characters begin to file in. I guess that's why I feel like I fit in better. The junkies, thieves, homeless, and general ruffians walk around, in search of their next fix. Neo Nazi punks walk around with baseball bats, running into the Neo Skinheads with pink laces on their boots. One wouldn't be able to tell the difference between them, aside from their shoe laces, yet they are far from the same. They beat the shit out of each other, but no one in the park pays any kind of attention. I figure it's best I don't either, and I walk along the path, going deeper into the park. The willow trees offer a calm solace as I move along the path. I remove my headphones, and the sound of the pinks versus the swats seems to fade out, as the humming picks back up again. It seems like it's coming from all around me.
"Celeste?"
"... Celeste..."
......Celeste..."My name is whispered from all around me, and it sounds like Ursula from Little Mermaid almost. I look around, and I see nothing. As I walk along the path, I begin to see the beach, and the gravel on the bank. at the edge of the water, I see her again. The darkness seems to creep upon us, covering her in even more mystery. I walk closer, even as the wind blows hard, trying to keep me back. I try to swim through it, but to no avail.
Teen Girl: Death awaits you. Walking along the gallows, the daughter of Mary Johnson, you will meet the same fate!
The girl pulls out a Tarot death card and tucks it in my front pocket, patting my boob before whispering in my ear.
Teen Girl: Don't go to her, for she is death.
Me: For fucks sake, lady... the Death card represents new beginnings. It's a good thing. Why don't you read that manual that comes with the starter deck you got from Spencer's?
I pull the card out and shove it back into her chest. I shake my head, expecting to see nothing once more, but this time I'm wrong. There she stands. I take a step closer to her, and the wind blows the scarf off of my head, and my hair waves behind me as the teen girl laughs behind me.
Teen Girl: I told you... She's the beginning, and the end. She's way more powerful than you could ever know. You would be best to do whatever she says.
I'm so generous with the bird tonight, as I throw it back at her, double time. She laughs as I walk along. As I get closer, I see the water bubbling around her as if it were the black fires of Christian Hell itself. The smell of rotting meat should turn me away, but the lullaby lures me closer. As I get close to her, I see that she has a staff in her hand with the skull of a large bird on top of it. She reaches into her cloak, and she pulls out the shiniest red apple I've ever seen in my life.
Woman: I've come with a peace offering, young North.
Me: Peace offering? For what? Do I know you?
Woman: I'm afraid if anyone is at a loss of information, it would be me. You've heard all about me, but I know very little of you.
I'm pretty sure I've never met the witch from Brave before, so I'm at a real loss here. I scratch my head as I'm overcome by the warmth coming from the boiling tar beneath her. I look down to see a snake dart out from the water, whipping its body around as it passes me. It is followed by another, and another, and they just keep coming.
Me: You're a dark witch, and a very powerful one at that. Tell me why I should trust anything you have to say.
Woman: Trust me, or don't trust me. It's irrelevant to me. I've come in peace, to ask but a simple favor. In return, you and your mother will be safe.
Me: Yeah, you clearly don't know me, because threatening me and or my mother is not the way to get me to cooperate.
I reach into my pocket to pull out a small satchel. Rosemary, dill, sage, and clove, ground together into a dust, and I throw it at her as I open my mouth to speak, however, the wind simply blows it back into my face. I close my eyes and turn to the side, sputtering as she simply chuckles.
Woman: You have the nerve to speak of threats, as if you even knew what a threat were? Child, I do hate to repeat myself, and that is why I will not do it again. Take the peace offering, and give him the child.
She hands me the apple... which is now a fig. She reaches forward, and her ice cold hand lifts the fruit to my mouth. I look down at the juicy fruit, as I see the serpents crawling up my body, their tongues flicking, and their eyes glowing yellow.
Serpents: Eat of the true fruit of knowledge. Do it. Do not shame the hag. Eat it, and know the truth.
Me: I feel like Eve in the Garden of Evil. Bitch, tell me who you are, and what child are you talking about? Mine? Have her, I didn't even want it to begin with...
Woman: EAT!
She slaps the back of my hand, burying my face in the fruit. The taste hits my tongue, and I can't help but chew, lick, and suck like I was Jessie Salco in a @DavesCharacters gangbang. A real hungry bitch. It tastes like fig, ice cold water on a blistering hot day, wine, bourbon shooters, sugar, and unicorn jizz, and I can't stop until I'm gnawing at my own fingers. The moonlight glares off of the white teeth like a Chesshire smile from under her hood. She pulls back her hood, and her long gray, wavy hair blows lightly in the wind. Her face looks like a mummy, and her eyes are as dead as Alexis' happiness. I have never seen this woman a day in my life, but I know her.
Me: The Black Wood Witch, Baba Yaga...
Baba Yaga: In the flesh, hedge witch.
I look to the boiling water, and under the water, I see flashes of so many things, I can barely even begin to grasp them all. They hit me like bolts of lightening, but the serpents hold me in place. The thunder is her voice.
Baba Yaga: I've come as a courtesy to your bloodline, to ask you to lower your shield of protection from the Staggs boy.
I see the candy house, and the lederhosen, but the candy turns to human bones. The lederhosen stays, which is just as scary honestly. The dark haired children relish in delight as they shove the old hag into the fire, and escape the hut. Because, you know, burning witches is acceptable. Dark or not, it doesn't matter, right? But why should I give up Tim for her sake?
Me: Why would I give up one of my best friends?
Baba Yaga: What makes you think he wouldn't be so quick to burn you? A descendant of Hansel, and Cotton Mather? Such is not mere coincidence.
I laugh at the idea, no matter how insensitive it might seem. She's got to be making it up.
Baba Yaga: He's betrayed you, and doesn't deserve your protection.
I see it. Plain as day, on the surface of the water, but my brain just can't seem to process it. I feel the betrayal, but I feel no hatred, or malice, or anger, or sadness. I simply watch the scene unfold before my eyes, and the hag seems to turn to watch it as well, as if it were the first she'd known of this. I slowly shake my head, because I am a white witch. I've made mistakes, and no matter how badly this betrays my trust, I'm not going to give Tim up to her.
Me: That changes nothing, hag. I would never give Tim up to someone like you.
The hag dares to laugh in my face. Her breath smells of decayed flesh, burnt hair, and tar. I cover my face as the humid breath almost feels suffocating.
Baba Yaga: You think this is a favor to me? Oh dear, no... It is a favor to Brother Grimm, but I can't seem to locate the talismen to dismember it.
Me: Good luck trying.
Baba Yaga: I don't need luck, you filthy cur! I didn't come to you out of desperation. I didn't offer you knowledge because I am incapable of doing it myself. You are not a threat. You are simply a rabid dog that is in my way, leaving me with two options. Throw the dog a bone, and she fetches me what I want, or I can put the flea ridden bitch out of her misery. You have shown me that the second option is the way to go.
Baba Yaga raises her staff from the ground, and she begins chanting in, like... some other language. It feels ancient, and grimey. The serpents surrounding me begin to tighten their grip around me, as I feel fifty different forms of the same haggard laugh coming at me as my veins constrict. I look down as they raise up my body, to my throat, squeezing the life out of me, literally. I cough, choking as I try to tug at the snakes, but I'm frozen in place as they cover me. I look into her dead blue eyes as I feel like my throat is about to give way, and the bones in my neck slowly begin to crackle. There is a loud ringing in my ears as I can see the veins in my eyes bulging out, and then the lights start to go out as a hard pain throbs in the back of my brain...
Mama: Nobody calls Peaches a flea ridden bitch but her own loving mama...
Baba's smile goes sour as she turns to see my mom standing there with a stick of burning sage in one hand, and a black powder in one hand. The ringing takes over as she casts an incantation, just as she blows the dust at me, waving the sage around as a vacuum sucks us up, and I go unconscious. I thought I was dead, but...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Business As Usual
#NP "Our Truth" by Lacuna Coil
Homewood Suites; San Bernardino, CaliforniaIt's one of those days where its cool outside, but only by California standards. Mid eigthies... you know how it goes. But, after spending a couple weeks in Boston, and then another couple days with my mom, healing from the attack by Baba Yaga, it's feels kind of warm out. I put on my swim suit, and head outside to the pool to just relax. As I'm walking toward the pool, I adjust my black bikini top, and pull up the hood on the back of it, Nobodies style. I pull my shades down and walk to the gate. I open it, and set my pool bag down on one of the lounge chairs. The sun is shining bright this afternoon, and most of the bruising on my skin is gone, so I figure it's a good chance to get just a little bit of sun. I sit down on the edge of the lounge chair, and pull out a bottle of sun block. Pouring it into the palms of my hands, I rub them together and then smooth it over my left leg, giving it a delicate shine. I run it along the right leg next, and then I go to my arms and shoulders. As I'm looking around at all of the morbidly overweight midwest tourists, I spot an obvious local. His skin is tattooed and bronzed over despite his big, bold blue eyes. His goatee is neatly trimmed, not in some sort of hipster way though, and his black hair is slicked back wet. He's got just the right amount of pudge to his stomach that says "I don't give a fuck, because I'm sexy no matter what" and I'm feeling it. As a recently single woman on vacation, I look to my back with my bottom lip pushed out. I grunt a few times as I "try" to reach my back, before I sigh. He looks over at me and pulls his shades down to block out the sun. Hook, line, sinker. He gets out of his lounge chair and starts walking toward me.
Guy: You need a little help there, sweetheart?
Me: Why, yes I do... I mean, I'm just not so flexible with my arms, and I can't reach my back. I'd hate to burn such smooth skin.
Guy: If you wouldn't mind, I could help you with that.
I give a sweet smile and nod my head as I laugh through my nose. He grins at me, showing off his silver tooth. He picks up the bottle of sun block and he steps around me. He kneels on the lounger, and begins to work it into my skin.
Guy: I'm Jake, by the way. I didn't want to be the nameless creep who randomly offers to rub lotion on your skin.
Me: And I'm Celeste. I wouldn't want to be the helpless damsel in distress who lets just any guy rub lotion on her back, but we are what we are, right?
He chuckles heartily as he works down my lower back. There is this very surprisingly unawkward silence between us as he finished up. Like a true gentleman, he doesn't linger unnecessarily long. He stands up, and the light hair on his stomach and chest glistens in the sunlight.
Jake: If you're available, Celeste? I'd like to take you on a date sometime. Maybe show you around town while you're here?
Me: Oh my, do I look like a tourist? I actually live in Beverly Hills.
Jake: Oh, uh... with the tone of your skin, I guess I assumed you were from like Alaska, or somewhere snowy like that.
I look down at my arm, seeing how pale I am, and I can see his point. By comparison, I look as pale as porcelain. It is what it is, and I just shrug it off, laughing.
Me: I'm in town for...
Jake: The SCW show, no, I know who you are. Celeste North, the Nobody of the Nobodies. I just know that you're only in town for a little while, and didn't want to miss my opportunity to take the hottest Bombshell out on a date.
Me: Hottest? Do you need your eyes checked? I'm not the hottest by any means. I'm pale, possibly the only pair of real breasts in the company, and it shows... I'm no Jenny Tuck.
Jake looks at me, and a sort of cute blush comes over his cheeks. He doesn't say anything at first, and I smirk a little from the corner of my lips.
Jake: Well, that's not really my thing anyway. I like real women. Natural women. The whole stripper model thing just doesn't work for me. Besides, watching you kick her ass this Sunday is gonna be the best. I got front row seats to the show.
Me: First off, who says I'm going to kick her ass? Don't get me wrong, I'm going to try my very best, but that's not a guarantee. Secondly, what's wrong with her body? She paid good money for the boob job, the trainers, the salons, and the boutiques. I'm not into girls, but she's hot!
Jake looks baffled as I talk nicely about my opponent. He waits for me to laugh, or give any sign of sarcasm, but I don't. I just stare back at him over my shoulder as his shades hide the obvious shock in his eyes. Seriously, if I was a dude, I'd bone her so hard.
Jake: Aren't you supposed to hate your opponent, and talk all kinds of trash about them? I'm sure that's exactly what she's going to do to you.
Me: I'm not good at hating people just because I'm fighting them. Do I like her? Meh. She comes off as stuck up, and conceited, but so does most of the roster. If I hated stuck up bitches, I'd hate Alexis Edwards. But I don't. I love Lexi. I don't know Jenny. I hear so much about her, but you can't trust what people say until you've experienced it for yourself. Could she be a raging cunt wad? Yeah, she could. Could she be the nicest person on the planet? Yeah, she... well, no. Not from what I've seen. But no one is perfect.
I stare back as I sigh, and Jake is listening to every word I say, though he's probably put on enough sun screen to last me a year. I stand up from the lounger and gently nudge my head toward to pool to invite him with me. He picks up the raft from his seat and meets me at the edge. Like a true gentleman, he holds onto my hand, while letting me step into the cool water first.
Jake: I guess I just expected wrestling to be, well... violent.
Me: Oh, it's going to be violent. Trust that. I'm not going to take it easy on my opponent. But, I'm willing to let it start and end inside of the ring, if she is. I went to some very heavy extremes with Jessie Salco, but we more or less do hate each other. I find bullying to be childish, and hazing to be assonine, so I got under her skin to defend someone I thought was my friend. But, ask Mercedes Vargas just how violent I can get when I beat her twice... Well, that's not a very good example, because I kinda hate her too, but you get where I'm going with this. It doesn't matter whether I like or hate someone. I'm still going to be violent in the ring It's my release, and it's the name of the game.
As we wade further into the pool, the water turns my hair to chocolate colored strings, bobbing in the water. His bronzed skin presses against mine, as he nods his head. He helps me into the water, though I'm capable of doing it all on my own.
Me: I mean, I figure Jenny will underestimate my intelligence by saying stuff like "I bet she's going to call me a whore because I've been a Playboy centerfold" but shit, I'd do the same thing if I had the body. I'm not bound by some archaic Christian view of sexuality. If you can get guys to make it rain fifties and hundreds, then get it, girl. Get it. I don't see anyone doing that for me, and that's just fine. I'll dance in the singles at amateur night. It's not like I need the money anyway. But I can also see her saying "I bet Celeste is going to say that I'm dumb because I've got big boobs, but I own a huge company." I don't know what she does, or what kind of company she runs, but she's getting it in more ways than one. I applaud her. The only way I will ever call her dumb is if she expects me to be just like these other bitches, dumb and self centered, and unprepared. Win or lose, I always come correct. No one will ever say that Celeste North doesn't do her homework. I once stalked Jessie Salco for a month. One long, boring fucking month. But I learned what I needed to about her, and I beat her in the only singles match we've ever had.
Jake is smiling as we sway in the water. Don't ever say that Celeste North doesn't go above and beyond for the fans. It's nice as he helps hoist me onto the raft. The cheap plastic feels weird on my skin, sticking to my wet skin as I slide into place comfortably. Jake begins gently pulling me around the pool, and for a moment, I feel less like a Nobody, and more like royalty.
Me: I take my job very seriously, because I need it if I'm ever going to be a Somebody. A lot of these other girls are established in other companies, but this is it for me. I don't come with a reputation, in the business. Do you know what I'm saying?
Jake: Yeah, I totally get that. I just never expected this much depth from wrestling.
Me: Jenny will be in for a fight on Sunday, because we both have something to prove. She wants to prove that she's worth the hype, and I want to prove why I deserve any hype at all. I've had a pretty damn good run here so far, and Jenny is the new girl on the block. The stakes are much higher than we are on the card, and hardly anyone will pay attention, unless they are waiting for one of Jenny's tits to pop out of her top. But those horny teenage boys, and the sexually curious women in the Bombshell locker room will get an unexpected surprise while waiting for that surprise. I might even give Keira and Roxi a pair of binoculars to pay close attention. I've been starting to feel left out with the lack of gold around my waist, and while they're waiting for a free show, they might just get the chance to see how serious I really am about becoming a Somebody. I'm dead serious...
I nod my head as I look down at Jake. He's listening as he wades through the pool. I look toward the camera and wave, letting them know I'm finished with them. They are probably fading out as I watch the light muscles in Jake's back work as he carries me along the rippling waves of the pool. I am now in Shangri-La...
