Post by Brooklyn on Aug 14, 2017 1:43:04 GMT
OPEN FIGHT NIGHT SINGLES MATCH
Brooklyn Madrox vs Crystal Meth Miller What's-her-face
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“You stupid, little bitch.” There was a breathless, almost exasperated tone to her voice. Breathing in shallow, sharp draws – every other punctuated by a drag of the cigarette that seemed to dangle precariously from the edge of her lip – the woman called Diane to her friends, and mom to Brooklyn, continued her tirade.
“Didn’t think we’d find out ‘bout this shit did you missy? You,” she says, waving a finger in her daughters face, “you make me sick. Disappearing for weeks on end; not even a phone call to say you’re alive …”
It isn’t so much a question as a statement. Brooklyn, looking like a wilting flower, just sat there on the faded floral sofa with her eyes downcast. Her mother, took a long drag of the cigarette, the smoke exhaling from her nose making her look a little too close to a dragon.
“Your brother told me what you’re doing.” There was no missing the disappointed tone in her voice. “What the fuck are you thinking about, you stupid girl?” she asks rhetorically, waving a hand towards her daughter with a small laugh. “Wrestling.”
Brooklyn looks up at her mother, meeting her eyes for the first time since walking through the door of the double wide. “Mom,” she begins, her mother cutting her off with a flip of the hand. “No, fuck whatever excuses you’re gonna give me. Wrestling … what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I’m not going to get hurt, mom” she says meekly.
Her mother laughs, pencil thin eyebrows arched manically, “Get hurt? I don’t care if you get hurt; I want to know how the fuck you even got this ‘job’,” she asks, lazy air quotations thrown around the word job.
“I … I went to a wrestling school,” she stammers.
“WRESTING SCHOOL?” She’s almost beside herself with disbelief. “How could a dumb ass like you; a stupid, little bitch who don’t even got her high school diploma, how could you go to wrestling school? We ain’t got the money for that shit – so what,” her eyes narrow, “you whoring yourself out? Turnin’ tricks to learn this stupid shit?”
Brooklyn opens her mouth but her mother continues to spiral. “FUCK THAT, no daughter of mine is gonna be a fuckin’ whore.”
“Mom …” she tries as her mother turns her back and storms across the room, her hand wrapping around one of the commemorative plates hanging on the wall. “Everything I did for you brats growin’ up,” she says to herself, but loud enough for Brooklyn to hear. “All that shit for nothin’,” she adds, wiping the plate on her shirt and putting it back on the wall. “I don’t even know who the fuck you are, Brooke. Your brother tells me you ain’t even using the name your daddy and me gave you. You embarrassed of with your past, you little bitch?”
Brooklyn says nothing, just shakes her head and refuses to meet her mothers gaze.
“Don’t know who the fuck this bitch in front of me thinks she is, but she better make damn sure she don’t forget where she came from. So tell me, missy,” her mother advances on her daughter and grabs a fistful of hair, “tell me who you are.”
Brooklyn whimpers, fighting back the tears as she croaks out, “Brooke …”
“Brooke WHAT?” her mother asks again, wrenching the fistful of hair back, straining her daughters head back with it.
“R … r ... ram … Ramsey; Brooke Ramsey … mom, please,” she begged, “your … your hurting me.”
Her mother roughly let go, snapping Brooklyn’s head to the side before standing back up and shaking her head.
“Little girl, you ain’t begun to see me hurt you; fuck outta here until you really remember who you are.”
Brooklyn sits there, staring up at her mom for a moment before sighing.
“You say somethin’?”
Brooklyn shook her head vigorously, getting to her feet and quickly heading toward her small room at the back of the trailer.
“Goddamn right you didn’t; uppity little bitch thinks she gonna come back in my house with that attitude.”
Brooklyn could hear the commentary, as she closed her door and fell onto her bed, buried her head in her pillow and cried like she was twelve again.
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The following is a transcript of the live podcast of Brooklyn Madrox as recorded on Saturday, August 12, 2017
“So, show of hands, who was ‘shocked’ by the outcome of my last match?
Anyone?
Anyone?
Well, be that as it may, I guess I was a little taken aback. I mean, shit, when you look at the laws of averages – after so many losses, ya gotta think a win’ll be mixed in there too.
Maybe I’m just settin’ my sights too high. Goin’ up against a Garcia is bad enough – but mixing in those other two and, sure, I bit off more than I could chew and got caught writin’ checks that my ass couldn’t cash.
After calling those bitches out all week it just went to show who the real bitch was.
Fuck it, though, ‘cause that was then and this is now. I gotta put my damn head down and keep pushing forward and just trust that all this … all a’this shit is just gonna come out in the wash eventually.
So Open Fight Night’s come along at long last. I think this is my first one, ‘cause why the fuck else would I want to volunteer myself to lose; I do that enough when I’m actually booked. Anywho, when ol’ Crystal Millar threw down the challenge I figured it was time to step up to the plate. People ain’t gonna take me seriously unless I start actin’ like I belong here.
Shit, I’m no Rowan, no Helena, I’m sure as shit not like Astrid or the Garcia’s; hell, I ain’t even on the same level as Fiona McFruit-cake. Like, seriously. This is the bitch that’s gotten how many title shots and keeps comin’ up empty?
Fuck – and even she’s outta my league.
So why-oh-why would I bother sticking my neck out there against someone like Crystal? Part of me feels like I gotta legit shot here, but the other part of me is just sick and tired of looking up at those fucking lights all the damn time.
They used to say to not worry about things like wins and losses; they always balance each other out. Worry about doin’ your job and doing it well.
I got news for ya, it’s probably a whole hell of a lot easier to not worry about losses when you never fucking lose. You think Eternity sweats the small shit?
Fuck no.
Ya know why? Bitch never fuckin’ losses. She’s the goddamn measuring stick the rest of these cunts measure themselves against whether they’ll admit it or not.
Me? Shit, I’m so damn low on this totem pole I gotta look up to see down – Rowan was right when she said I was nothing to worry about. When have I ever given anyone in this company reason to think otherwise?
Time and time again I’ve come up short … no, fuck that, ‘coming up short’ makes it sound like I even ever had a chance to win.
I’m doin’ everything in my power here; everythin’ I’ve learned – all that shit that the trainers taught me … and it’s just not enough.
Makes you wonder if all the sacrifices, all the shit I did to get to this point was worth it. Diamond in the Rough was supposed to be my break – a chance to finally make good on the promises I made to myself.
Turns out I’m just a big fuckin’ liar … even to myself.
So here I am, set to take on a chick who used to be somethin’ around here. Ruby champ or something like that. Big name Diamond that’s lost her shine over the years and is lookin’ to make a comeback.
As much as it probably kills y’all to hear it; I’m not about to lie down and let this bitch make her name off me.
I sure as hell may end up layin’ on my back staring at those damn lights again, but I’ll be damned if I don’t put up a fight.
Crystal, you had a match last week and, same as me, things didn’t go your way. You could make excuses, whine about the fairness of it all, or use that shit to train harder for this week.
I’m hoping that I’m getting a pissed off Crystal Millar, ‘cause if I win this shit – I want to know that my first IWF victory isn’t coming at the hands of some sad-sack giving me a half-assed performance.
You’re a bitch from back in the day, you know what I’m talkin’ about here, Crys!
So why don’t we do this; put up or shut up time. One of us is going to be walking outta that ring with their head held high; one of us is going to be takin’ that first step towards out goals – you and your fuckin’ throne shit, whatever that’s all about, and me … I’m gonna be one step closer to being somebody here in Imperial.
So while one of us is gonna be flippin’ the script, the other … well, she’s just gonna be getting more of what she’s used to I guess; just another loss … another failure in a long line of fuck ups.
So what’s it gonna be, Crys? You gonna be the one taking that step forward, or are you gonna be the one staring up at the lights?”
Anyone?
Anyone?
Well, be that as it may, I guess I was a little taken aback. I mean, shit, when you look at the laws of averages – after so many losses, ya gotta think a win’ll be mixed in there too.
Maybe I’m just settin’ my sights too high. Goin’ up against a Garcia is bad enough – but mixing in those other two and, sure, I bit off more than I could chew and got caught writin’ checks that my ass couldn’t cash.
After calling those bitches out all week it just went to show who the real bitch was.
Fuck it, though, ‘cause that was then and this is now. I gotta put my damn head down and keep pushing forward and just trust that all this … all a’this shit is just gonna come out in the wash eventually.
So Open Fight Night’s come along at long last. I think this is my first one, ‘cause why the fuck else would I want to volunteer myself to lose; I do that enough when I’m actually booked. Anywho, when ol’ Crystal Millar threw down the challenge I figured it was time to step up to the plate. People ain’t gonna take me seriously unless I start actin’ like I belong here.
Shit, I’m no Rowan, no Helena, I’m sure as shit not like Astrid or the Garcia’s; hell, I ain’t even on the same level as Fiona McFruit-cake. Like, seriously. This is the bitch that’s gotten how many title shots and keeps comin’ up empty?
Fuck – and even she’s outta my league.
So why-oh-why would I bother sticking my neck out there against someone like Crystal? Part of me feels like I gotta legit shot here, but the other part of me is just sick and tired of looking up at those fucking lights all the damn time.
They used to say to not worry about things like wins and losses; they always balance each other out. Worry about doin’ your job and doing it well.
I got news for ya, it’s probably a whole hell of a lot easier to not worry about losses when you never fucking lose. You think Eternity sweats the small shit?
Fuck no.
Ya know why? Bitch never fuckin’ losses. She’s the goddamn measuring stick the rest of these cunts measure themselves against whether they’ll admit it or not.
Me? Shit, I’m so damn low on this totem pole I gotta look up to see down – Rowan was right when she said I was nothing to worry about. When have I ever given anyone in this company reason to think otherwise?
Time and time again I’ve come up short … no, fuck that, ‘coming up short’ makes it sound like I even ever had a chance to win.
I’m doin’ everything in my power here; everythin’ I’ve learned – all that shit that the trainers taught me … and it’s just not enough.
Makes you wonder if all the sacrifices, all the shit I did to get to this point was worth it. Diamond in the Rough was supposed to be my break – a chance to finally make good on the promises I made to myself.
Turns out I’m just a big fuckin’ liar … even to myself.
So here I am, set to take on a chick who used to be somethin’ around here. Ruby champ or something like that. Big name Diamond that’s lost her shine over the years and is lookin’ to make a comeback.
As much as it probably kills y’all to hear it; I’m not about to lie down and let this bitch make her name off me.
I sure as hell may end up layin’ on my back staring at those damn lights again, but I’ll be damned if I don’t put up a fight.
Crystal, you had a match last week and, same as me, things didn’t go your way. You could make excuses, whine about the fairness of it all, or use that shit to train harder for this week.
I’m hoping that I’m getting a pissed off Crystal Millar, ‘cause if I win this shit – I want to know that my first IWF victory isn’t coming at the hands of some sad-sack giving me a half-assed performance.
You’re a bitch from back in the day, you know what I’m talkin’ about here, Crys!
So why don’t we do this; put up or shut up time. One of us is going to be walking outta that ring with their head held high; one of us is going to be takin’ that first step towards out goals – you and your fuckin’ throne shit, whatever that’s all about, and me … I’m gonna be one step closer to being somebody here in Imperial.
So while one of us is gonna be flippin’ the script, the other … well, she’s just gonna be getting more of what she’s used to I guess; just another loss … another failure in a long line of fuck ups.
So what’s it gonna be, Crys? You gonna be the one taking that step forward, or are you gonna be the one staring up at the lights?”
Well howdy there pardner.