Post by Fiona McFly on Aug 29, 2018 3:06:57 GMT
About thirty minutes after Legacy went off the air, we finda rather fit-looking elderly woman with flowing gray hair strolling onto the Saddledome grounds, looking spiffy in her authentic Western ‘cowgirl’ garb, a la Lauren Bacall from all of her films with legendary actor John Wayne. We see that her face is fully entrenched in makeup to hide her battle scars as she’s stopped by a junior Redshirt munching on some donuts.
Redshirt: Excuse me ma’am, but the show’s already over. You’ll need a VIP pass to see the wrestlers backstage.
The woman does as she’s told, pulling out her pass along with her driver’s licence.
Redshirt: Hrmm…’Debbie Fisher,’ of Fredericksburg, Texas. Neat-o! How can I help you?
Debbie responded using a thick Texas twang to conceal her true self.
Debbie Fisher: I’m lookin’ for Fiona McFly, sugar. Have y’all seen her?!
The lowly guard just shakes his head, taking a deep breath whilst sipping from a bottle of Pepsi.
Redshirt: Haven’t got a clue where she’s at, I’m afraid. Ever since that demon woman got a free pass for takin’ the life out of her, she’s...she’s really considering retirement. Yet I don’t know for sure, that’s just the rumor. Then, of course, ya got people comin’ in from the future, becoming overnight successes, and dickin’ up the timeline as it is! What more can I say, huh?!
‘Debbie’ nodded as she took a sip from her own mug of coffee.
Debbie Fisher: There’s so much goin’ on here, but...I’m sorry for botherin’ y’all. I reckon I’ll see her sometime.
Redshirt: No biggie, Missus Fisher. Enjoy the after-party; perhaps you might find someone that DOES know her...
She nodded, then whispered something into the Redshirt’s ear that got him all jazzed up. Then ‘Missus Fisher’ steppedinto the Saddledome’s employee parking garage, just in time to see one James Gilmore skipping his way out of the building, where his taxi awaited him, loudly singing an old Elvis Presley tune for great comedic laughs.
James Gilmore: (singing off-key) “You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog, cryin’ all the time. You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog, cryin’ all the time. Well, you ain’t never caught a rabbit and you ain’t no friend of mine…”
James paused, noting how intently ‘Debbie’ was staring at him--as if he was very familiar to her in some capacity.
James Gilmore: Why’re ya lookin’ at me like that? You’re totally givin’ me the creepies...
Debbie Fisher: Mr. President!
Gilmore’s eyes widened in shock at the response.
James Gilmore: Whoaaaa…’SCUSE ME, COWGAL!?!
Debbie Fisher: Is it really you…President James Gilmore!?!
The Islander alum’s jaw is on the floor at this stage over the ‘president’ comment, but he nodded his head warmly, trying to play along with her.
James Gilmore: Yeppers, but...I think ya got your presidents confused.
Debbie Fisher: Where is Fiona McFly?! Do ya know her!?!
James Gilmore: Fi...yeah, I know Fi. She ain’t here; she hasn’t even been seen in an IWF venue in several months, still dealin’ with personal problems.
Debbie Fisher: In that case, do ya know where she lives?
James held up his hand, suspecting that something wasn’t right with the old woman.
James Gilmore: Now-now, hold up a sec old-timer...are ya from the future or somethin’!?!
Debbie Fisher: Darlin’, let’s just say...Fiona and I are related. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less.
James facepalmed for a second before giving an answer.
James Gilmore: She lives on Wolf Creek Drive in Arlington. With Fi outta the ring for a while, she might be keepin’ a low profile.
‘Debbie’ looked down at her personal tablet, raising an eyebrow upon spotting a certain date on her calendar, August 31, 2018.
Debbie Fisher: Great Scott! I’ve got four days to track her down, but...thank you, Mr. President James Gilmore.
James Gilmore: Wh-wh-wh-why the hell do ya keep callin’ me--!?!
Before he could finish asking the question, Debbie runs off and heads toward the nearest exit. James is left standing, incredulous over the notion that, perhaps, she could be from the future. He couldn’t help but muster a sheepish smirk on his mug as he took a sip from a bottle of green tea.
James Gilmore: President James Gilmore...I like the sound of that!
Redshirt: Excuse me ma’am, but the show’s already over. You’ll need a VIP pass to see the wrestlers backstage.
The woman does as she’s told, pulling out her pass along with her driver’s licence.
Redshirt: Hrmm…’Debbie Fisher,’ of Fredericksburg, Texas. Neat-o! How can I help you?
Debbie responded using a thick Texas twang to conceal her true self.
Debbie Fisher: I’m lookin’ for Fiona McFly, sugar. Have y’all seen her?!
The lowly guard just shakes his head, taking a deep breath whilst sipping from a bottle of Pepsi.
Redshirt: Haven’t got a clue where she’s at, I’m afraid. Ever since that demon woman got a free pass for takin’ the life out of her, she’s...she’s really considering retirement. Yet I don’t know for sure, that’s just the rumor. Then, of course, ya got people comin’ in from the future, becoming overnight successes, and dickin’ up the timeline as it is! What more can I say, huh?!
‘Debbie’ nodded as she took a sip from her own mug of coffee.
Debbie Fisher: There’s so much goin’ on here, but...I’m sorry for botherin’ y’all. I reckon I’ll see her sometime.
Redshirt: No biggie, Missus Fisher. Enjoy the after-party; perhaps you might find someone that DOES know her...
She nodded, then whispered something into the Redshirt’s ear that got him all jazzed up. Then ‘Missus Fisher’ steppedinto the Saddledome’s employee parking garage, just in time to see one James Gilmore skipping his way out of the building, where his taxi awaited him, loudly singing an old Elvis Presley tune for great comedic laughs.
James Gilmore: (singing off-key) “You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog, cryin’ all the time. You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog, cryin’ all the time. Well, you ain’t never caught a rabbit and you ain’t no friend of mine…”
James paused, noting how intently ‘Debbie’ was staring at him--as if he was very familiar to her in some capacity.
James Gilmore: Why’re ya lookin’ at me like that? You’re totally givin’ me the creepies...
Debbie Fisher: Mr. President!
Gilmore’s eyes widened in shock at the response.
James Gilmore: Whoaaaa…’SCUSE ME, COWGAL!?!
Debbie Fisher: Is it really you…President James Gilmore!?!
The Islander alum’s jaw is on the floor at this stage over the ‘president’ comment, but he nodded his head warmly, trying to play along with her.
James Gilmore: Yeppers, but...I think ya got your presidents confused.
Debbie Fisher: Where is Fiona McFly?! Do ya know her!?!
James Gilmore: Fi...yeah, I know Fi. She ain’t here; she hasn’t even been seen in an IWF venue in several months, still dealin’ with personal problems.
Debbie Fisher: In that case, do ya know where she lives?
James held up his hand, suspecting that something wasn’t right with the old woman.
James Gilmore: Now-now, hold up a sec old-timer...are ya from the future or somethin’!?!
Debbie Fisher: Darlin’, let’s just say...Fiona and I are related. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less.
James facepalmed for a second before giving an answer.
James Gilmore: She lives on Wolf Creek Drive in Arlington. With Fi outta the ring for a while, she might be keepin’ a low profile.
‘Debbie’ looked down at her personal tablet, raising an eyebrow upon spotting a certain date on her calendar, August 31, 2018.
Debbie Fisher: Great Scott! I’ve got four days to track her down, but...thank you, Mr. President James Gilmore.
James Gilmore: Wh-wh-wh-why the hell do ya keep callin’ me--!?!
Before he could finish asking the question, Debbie runs off and heads toward the nearest exit. James is left standing, incredulous over the notion that, perhaps, she could be from the future. He couldn’t help but muster a sheepish smirk on his mug as he took a sip from a bottle of green tea.
James Gilmore: President James Gilmore...I like the sound of that!