"Thinking outside of the box is not insanity. Insanity is doing the same thing, over... and over... and over... and over again, and expecting different results." -Delia, darling if you must...
S.C.E.N.E. O.N.E. -- Step It Up Bitches
LOCALE: La Rollerie, Madrid, Spain
The streets of Madrid are alive in the very mild weather, the sun shines down upon the many tourists as they walk along the Calle de Atocha, taking in the beautiful spring day. There is one man wearing a khaki colored floppy hat along with dark shades that reflect the brightness of the sun. He is slender in build, but tall in stature. He is extra clean shaven, almost unbelievably smooth appearing from the gleam on his face. He is wearing a plain skyblue t-shirt and khaki shorts with black shell toe ADIDAS shoes. No matter what time he is from, he is one giant fashion faux pas. His black leather man bag doesn't do him any justice, but he looks no worse than many of those surrounding him. He has his cell phone in his hand, looking down at it as he looks across the street. He sees a white table with matching chairs in front of a large glass window that says "La Rollerie" in cute cursive lettering. He double checks his phone, and then shrugs his shoulders as he jogs across the street at his earliest convenience. He walks past the table, checking out a couple of women in sun hats. They glance up at him, and share a friendly laugh as they admire him, despite his choice in clothing. They speak in their native tongue, which practically goes over his head. He places two fingers against his forehead, saluting them with a half smile before he walks into the door... literally. He crashes against the glass, thudding backward. This causes the girls to laugh a little louder as they return to their own conversation as if he'd disappeared into thin air. The man rubs his forehead, shaking it off as he lifts the shades up to reveal a pair of snarky looking glasses. He opens the door and enters inside of the bright, naturally lit cafe. He looks around for a second before walking up to the counter. He looks inside of the pastry display, debating for a moment. A woman walks up to him on the other side of the counter, with a high pitched voice, she speaks with a light Spanish accent.
Woman: Welcome to La Rollerie. What can I get for you this morning?
Man: I...
Delia: He'll take z'e lemon cupcake... and a ham and cheese toasted bagel.
Delia wraps around in front of him, looking him up and down to make sure she's made the right call. Without even letting him respond, she turns to the woman and pulls out her wallet from her silver handbag. She slides a few euros across the counter and the woman puts a smile on her face.
Man: How...?
Delia: What can I say? I am so good wi's people...
The man snorts a bit with a light laugh, which causes Delia to sour immediately. She grabs the cupcake from in front of him, and she takes a bite from it before placing it back down. She licks at her lips to emphasize how delicious it is before rolls her eyes and spitting it into a napkin.
Man: Well, that's just... rude? It definitely wasn't nice.
Delia shrugs her shoulders as she disposes of the napkin in a waste basket before walking toward a set up steps with black wrought iron railing. The man picks up his sandwich, leaving the partial cupcake in his wake. He slowly follows after Delia who is seated at a small table next to the balcony area, with a bottle of Fiji water in front of her. He pulls out the chair opposite of her and takes a seat, silent at first, waiting for Delia to speak. When she doesn't, he sighs and places his bag on the table next to his sandwich. He takes a second to drink in her beauty, her hair like deep, rich gold strands that seem to bob in a non-existent breeze, almost taking the attention away from her white half mask that covers her forehead and the left side of her face. Her simple white sundress and pearls give a calming effect, despite this Bombshell's reputation. Once he is able to break his trance, he clears his throat.
Man: So, you are staying in Madrid? Isn't the Sin City Wrestling show in Malaga?
Delia scoffs at this, as if to say she shouldn't even need to answer such a question with words. For a second, she even wonders if he is being rhetorical, but ultimately settles on the fact that he is serious. She doesn't peel her eyes off of the sidewalks outside, busy with pedestrians.
Man: I certainly do hope you don't respond to all of my questions this way, otherwise it might make for a boring interview.
Delia: Yes, well we get what we give, no?
Man: Then give me something. Make it so I don't regret ditching one of the biggest stories of my career to come to some small cafe in Madrid to talk to a condescending bitch.
Delia winks, forcing a sweet smile onto her face, but anyone who truly knows her, knows that wickedness is bubbling underneath her. We hear a chair scoot heavily across the floor, and the man turns to the direction of the noise to see Mad Maxxine getting up from her seat. She is in no mood for warnings today, but Delia waves her down as she turns to face the man for the first time since they've seated.
Delia: Yes, z'e woman up front did not sound convincing when asking what you would like, was she...? Look, z'ere is no story bigger z'an Delia Darling Candid. You are like Doros'y Gale, getting a peek behind z'e curtain at z'e wizard.
Man: So, what you're saying is that the big head you carry around is just an illusion, put up as a front to cover up the fact that you are a powerless coward with just a smidge more intelligence than most others?
Delia: Ohhhh... Z'at is one trait I never would have expected from you. Usually z'e gays are better dressed, especially in Europe.
He looks confused and insulted at the same time as he looks up at Delia, while messing around with a tape recorder. He sets it on the center of the table, recording their conversation.
Man: Sin City Wrestling, Delia Darling Interview, April 15th, 2015... No, I am not gay. I think my last girlfriend can atest to that.
Delia: How long ago was z'at? Z'e second grade? I don't s'ink your knowledge of cinema is a real panty dropper, darling.
Man: Hey, hey, hey... I ask the questions here. Just sit there and look like a cunt faced witch monster.
Delia's jaw drops open. I mean, how could someone who looked like that talk to her this way? She was used to it from the trailer trash in SCW, but this man was supposed to be a professional. He had 300,000 plus followers on Twitter for his Independent Wrestling e-zine article alone.
Man: Ha, I got you there. You're really pretty.
Delia snaps out of her anger spell and smiles lightly as she looks over at him in appreciation.
Delia: S'anks... I...
Man: So you agree? You think you're really pretty?
Delia: No, I...
The man lets out a growling sort of laugh to enforce his sarcasm. Delia thinks on it for a second before her face lightens up. She points at him and nods her head to let him know she's picked up on his witty quote. She reaches down and picks up her water bottle, taking a sip. She purses her lips as she stares at this awkward, nerdy guy sitting across from her, trying to maintain the illusion, but it cracks just slightly as she smiles. But, that could be from the very obvious spot of mayonaise and ham hanging from the corner of his mouth.
Delia: Well, um... I have chosen to stay in Madrid for z'e week, because I have close friends who live here, back from my modeling days. Wi's z'e mask, I... I don't do z'is any longer. Luckily not all models are, as you elegantly put it, *air qotes* cunt faced witch monsters like myself... Some of z'em are just as beautiful on z'e inside as z'ey are on z'e outside. Plus, it... it's only a two and a half hour ride on z'e train to Malaga, so it still works.
The man reaches down and picks up a napkin, wiping at the corner of his mouth. He rids himself of the mayonaise, but somehow doesn't notice the large piece of ham still dangling there. Delia licks at her lip to stop herself from saying anything.
Man: Mmm, so your mask brings up a plethora of obvious questions. How did it feel to see the end of your main source of income, your modeling gig? How are you going to get revenge...
Delia: We got revenge already. I ruined her face pretty good. You just can't tell because she was already like totally busted... El oh el.
Man: See, if someone were to break my hands, ending my beloved career, I don't think I would be happy with just breaking their hands. I would want to make their life a living hell. Maybe I'm just a sadistic prick like that, but I would. I would do everything in my power to bring them down to my level of misery. I would let the flames of my vengeance flicker against their skin slowly. I mean, I know you called her out last week, right? But that seemed more like you were doing it to prove a point to the other Bombshells than it was to exact revenge.
Delia takes a breath to respond, but she can't really deny this, as much as she would like to. She simply forces a momentary half smile onto her face before looking down to the condensation dripping from her bottled water.
Man: Speaking of, you've got a match against Twisted Sister and her old tag team partner, Iron Maiden. Give us the deets.
Delia: Ugh, nobody says z'is anymore. "Deets" makes me s'ink of cheap bug repellant. As far as Dee Snider and Bruce Dickinson here, z'ey don't stand a chance. I could choose any Mean Girl, and we would be victorious, even wi's one hand tied behind our backs. I could take Angelica, and we could beat z'ese losers. I mean, even Jessie Failed-Abortion Salco defeated her. Jessie is like...
Delia leans in to whisper so that the recorder might not pick up what she's about to say, even though she knows it will.
Delia: ... half retarded. No, not like "just kind of stupid" retarded, but like... "retarded" retarded. I s'ink it had somes'ing to do wi's her bir's mos'ers attempt at trying to abort her wi's z'e saline solution. I mean, yeah, it's quick and more humane, and much less scary z'an a coat hanger, but... obviously not as fail proof. Not to be mean, but Jessie Salco is like z'e worst wrestler in history. I was scared of her at first, but z'en Angelica told me z'at I was reading her win-loss record wrong. I had it backwards... Z'en I understood why everyone else laughed at her, and I felt bad for her, you know? I mean, she's retarded, right? Z'at is not right to make fun of z'e retarded. I took a different approach, and I tried to be nice to her, but because I'm pretty and stuff? She assumes I'm an airhead generic Barbie doll. I mean, she's retarded right? I tried to spell it out for her, because she's z'e kind of retarded who doesn't realize it. She was a paycheck to her foster family, so she did not receive help to be less retarded. Looking back, I do feel sorry for not making her understand in a nicer way, but...
Delia shrugs. The man in front of her has his jaw gaped open, finally allowing the piece of ham to fall down to the plate. His fingers are outstretched, and a light funk causes Delia to look underneath the table to see his shoe and sock off, and all of his toes curled up except for his big toe.
Man: Wow, I've never heard someone call another person retarded so many times in one entire conversation, let alone like three minutes, as you just did. What does that have to do with...
Delia: Oh, right... You see, if someone as handicapped as Jessie Salco can defeat Twisted Sister, z'en I will have no trouble handling z'e pair of z'em. Because she must be full retarded. It's z'e only explanation how Half-Retarded Jessie Failed-Abortion Salco... her legal name by z's way... beat someone wi'sout a tag team partner to carry her on z'eir back, no? Sometimes z'e simplest explanations are z'e only explanation, and Twisted Sister is as simple as z'ey come. I can only assume her partner is no different.
Man: Well, the last time you assumed something, you wound up on your back for a three count, and you lost your Wolrd Bombshell Championship to Amy Marshall.
Delia: Yes, a fluke proven when Raynin unseated her immediately. Not to mention, she got by wi's a little help from my old friend, Holly Wood. You certainly cannot be snowed like z'e rest of z'ese ladies. If SCW knows what is best for z'em, Holly Wood will not be allowed near z'e ring for z'is match.
The man picks up the stray piece of ham, nibbling on it in a manner that almost makes Delia's stomach churn. He swallows and then points out to her for emphasis.
Man: Holly Wood. Great topic. Is she single?
Delia chuckles in a confused manner as the man stares at her curiously. She tries to think of how to respond to this, but stumbles on her words. The man looks a little disappointed as he lowers his eyes, and his finger.
Man: Kidding. If i was going to go for a drag queen, I'd go for one with a vagina such as yourself.
Delia: Oh, in your dreams, darling!
Man: The deepest, darkest, wettest ones... I assure.
He winks, having used one of Delia's catchphrases against her. There is a blush tone to her cheek, but the coldness battles it bitterly. Before she can retort, he lifts his gaze through those awful nerdy glasses.
Man: Now, before I go too far off topic, fans of Sin City Wrestling are wondering about your match. Iron Maiden is confirmed to be teaming with Twisted Sister, but people are flinging so many different theories around the web about who your partner will be. Any official word on who you will be teaming with?
Delia: Yes. I will have a partner, even z'ough I feel I do not need one. Mark Ward has been very kind to me lately, and he seems to s'ink z'at I need back up, so I will humor him z'is week wi's one.
Man: Ohhhh-kay?
Delia stares at him as if she is waiting for him to ask the next question. For obvious reasons, he stalls. Delia reads his body language, seeing he wants more, and she simply rolls her eyes.
Delia: Must you journalist types always ruin z'e surprise of everys'ing? I really wanted to shock everyone, but I've talked wi's Jessie Salco, and she will be by my side...
Man: ...
A series of dumbfounded noises escape his throat as Delia sighs, lowering her gaze. He tries to find the words to express his utter shock and confusion, but the series of sounds continues to diversify. Delia looks up and winks with a hearty, deep chuckle.
Delia: Ohhhh, get serious man! I am kidding. If I wanted a handicap, I would have agreed to tie my hands behind my back or somesing... She's mentally challenged for crying out loud! I assure you z'at my partner will not hold me down. All I will say is z'at she hyas proven her wor's to me, and we're close as sisters.
Man: So, it's a Mean Girl?
Delia shrugs her shoulders, smirking as if to say such a thing goes without saying.
Man: Is it Mercedes? You two have a brief history of teaming together, and a successful one at that. Or could it be Amanda Cortez? Veronica Taylor? Oh! Will we be seeing the in-ring return of Angelica?
Delia: You will have to wait and see just like everyone else, darling... Rest assure z'at we will not disappoint.
Man: That's not fair. I travelled all the way to Spain to sit down with you, and you can't give me even just a little more than that?
Delia winks and shakes her head from side to side, pursing her lips. She runs her fingers across her lip as if she were zipping them, locking them, and then throwing away the key. The man sighs in frustration and then looks down to his notes.
Man: Well, that's all I have for you today. Is there anything else you would like to say?
Delia: As a matter of fact, yes. I enjoy giving people their fifteen minutes every now and z'en. Just a few days ago, we heard yet anos'er declaration of war on z'e Mean Girls. Ugh, yawn bitches... How many times must we prove z'at we are better z'an any girl on z'e roster? Shy of a single hiccup at Blaze of Glory, we have proven it over and over again. We've proven we are z'e hardest working ladies in z'e business.
Man: That seems a little biased, doesn't it, Ms. Darling?
Delia looks up, disgust in her eyes as she simply stares at him for a moment. She licks her bottom lip for a second before placing her hands on the table. She laces her fingers together and then leans in closer to the tape recorder.
Delia: Does it? Does it really? Let me ask you somes'ing, assuming you pay close attention to Sin City Wrestling programming. Name one Bombshell z'at shows up just about every week, taking little or no breaks. Name one for me who makes z'eir presence felt, even when z'ey are not contractually obligated to show up. Who held championships until, frankly, z'ey got bored of z'em and passed z'em along? Who commands air time every week wi'sout fail?
Man: Well...
Delia: I can name four ladies who go above and beyond, week in, and week out. Amanda Cortez, Veronica Taylor, Mercedes Vargas, and Delia Darling. Some of our mes'ods might not be z'e most honest at times, but we've proven we are more z'an capable of winning cleanly. Mark Ward knows we are money in his pocket. He was quick to back us from z'e very beginning... well, z'e beginning z'at matters, when I relaunched Mean Girls. He did so, because he sees our work es'ic, and any bitch z'at denies we work our asses off is obviously blinded by z'eir own failure to do so. Sorry bout it.
Man: Are you saying you ladies work harder than everyone else?
Delia slowly nods her head with an arrogant smirk on her face.
Delia: It is exactly what I'm saying. Now, you will hear me say z'is once, and only once. Amy Marshall is z'e only current Bombshell who is not a Mean Girl who knows how to make her presence known. It stung a little less knowing someone who is not lazy took my belt from me, albeit as unfair as it was. I'd take z'at loss over a fluke loss to z'e likes of Jessie Salco or Raynin. You see, it is people such as Mean Girls and Amy Marshall who saved a floundering division. Wi's z'e loss of Odette Stevens and Vixen, z'e Bombshell Division was as dead as z'e New X-Tremes stable, and it was being kicked like z'e dead horse it was. We looked around and we waited for people to step up and save it. We went out of our way to spark a fire wi's every bombshell in SCW, and nobody gave a shit! Not one single lady cared. Not a fucking one!
Man: You actually believe your stable saved the Bombshell Division?
Delia: Take a look at z'e ratings. Odette's fairweas'er dedication, and Misty obviously being worked to dea's carrying z'e division for two and a half years, it left only Vixen as z'e crown jewel. She was supposed to lead people, but you can't lead a pack of retarded banshees on z'e rag wi's kindness. We had one spark when Amy Marshall and myself had a feud. She had fight in her. We brought attention to z'e division. When I was done wi's her, I set my sights on z'e top, and in a few short mon's I knocked Vixen off of her pedestal. I led z'e division wi's an iron fist, and still... nos'ing! We showed tough love, and if people weren't going to come after us, we would take it to z'em. Champions who picked on z'e challengers was a refreshing change. We even pulled talents in just because of how fucking fab and fierce we were, men and women. We got SCW ranked on many indy rankings. Girls like to see z'e worst in us, but z'ey should pay respect to z'e only fucking reason z'ey still have a job. Z'ey should show respect to z'e ladies who put Bombshells back on z'e map, and in Main Event matches, instead of being a tits and ass division meant for piss breaks and wet dreams for teenage boys. Deny it all you want ladies, but z'ose are z'e plain and simple facts. Check your SCW history books. Ask your bosses why we have not been fired. It is not blowjobs and bareback bull rides. Z'at is for you whores. We do what we want because we are z'e reason z'e Bombshell Division exists any longer. Instead of declaring pointless wars on us, do somes'ing z'at matters for a change. Sorry, not sorry...
The man nods his head as his tape recorder clicks off. He look shocked and mutters a curse under his breath. Delia licks at the front of her teeth, feeling satisfied enough. The man looks apologetically at Delia.
Man: So sorry, Ms. Darling. I guess I should have put in a fresh tape for this. I forgot how poignantly spoken you are.
Delia: It's a talent... I do hope you don't make me appear to be too big of a bitch when you transfer z'at to writing.
Man: No worse than you deserve, Ms. Darling.
Delia: Ah-ha, touche.
Delia winks as she picks up her bottle of water, pressing it to her lips. She takes a sip, refreshing herself. She seems to catch a different sort of glimpse of the man, and she taps her chin for a moment in contemplation.
Delia: You know... Cal, was it? Have you ever tried pushing your hair back?
Delia reaches across the table, pushing his hat off, and feathering his hair back. She giggles in a bit of a playful manner as the scene comes to an end.
[*Fade*]
