Post by Fiona McFly on Sept 11, 2017 4:15:43 GMT
"Will the sun rise? When it's over.
Will the sun rise? Will there be a sky?
Will the sun rise? Another day..."
-"Will The Sun Rise" from Dokken's 1985 album Under Lock and Key
~~
Chapter 1 ~ "In Which Fiona Has A Breakdown..."
We find Fiona McFly standing alongside her broken-down grey Aston-Martin DB5, along with her husband Jack Gaither, who continuously shakes his left foot in an attempt to dull the pain after stumping it on the nightstand when Fiona's screaming voice on the phone woke him up.
And the vibes were as fluid as they could get.
Clad in his Dallas Cowboys-themed PJs, Gaither--still quite groggy and very much in a grumpy mood, shakes his head as he took his place behind the rear of the vintage British import. Together, with the vehicle in second gear, they pushed with all their might, inching along the pavement until they got next to a driveway before stopping.
For Fiona, pushing a car around was the LAST thing on her mind.
And it made her even angrier than before.
JACK GAITHER:
Ya know Fi...I hate it when you're pushy--pun intended.
As if having her beloved vehicle go kaput weren't bad enough, Fiona also had to deal with the usual pitfalls of being a public figure that goes above and beyond the scope of her "usual" job description, that being as a wrestler. She shrugged her shoulder scoffed, not in the mood for anything that could be considered amusing.
FIONA:
Well if YOUR banana-Vega was the one that was broken down...or if people within your own JOB community were calling you evil just 'cos you wanted to work on something you've always dreamed about that goes above and beyond that job's parameters, would you be that way?
JACK:
Whoa there, pilgrim...who's callin' you bad for wantin' to do an off-shop album?
Jack immediately winced, taking a couple of steps backward as he watched his wife's eyes widen like saucers and her face turn into an incredibly Satanic-looking crimson.
She couldn't take it anymore.
She lashed out.
FIONA:
EVERY-FUCKING-BODY! BULLIES! TROLLS!! EVERY LAST FUCKING SOUL THAT FUNS IMPERIAL, A'RIGHT!?! I FUCKING HATE THEM ALL!!!
Fiona's husband was left speechless--at least for a few moments.
Her scream, in her very distinctive Gaelic flair, could be heard throughout the entire neighbourhood on Wolf Creek Drive.
Breathing heavily, with sweat and tears raining down upon her once brightly-coloured visage, she plunked herself down on the curb, bowed her head, and tried to close her eyes. She was left to ponder what she had done, and whether or not anyone else aside from Jack would have noticed the outburst. Jack, to his credit, kept a level head throughout the ordeal, all the while solemnly sitting on the curb next to his wife yet trying not to touch her in any way, shape, or form.
All Fiona McFly ever wanted to do was learn how to take care of herself when she was not within the arena's confines. Deep down in her soul, she never hated anyone within the Imperial organisation; in fact...she respected them, for they had helped her throughout her career. Yet she had let her heart be filled with all that negativity that had been thrown at her by the general public, by those she had perceived as bullies and/or trolls who only cared about themselves.
So...her heart dictated she respond in kind. Her husband didn't need to give her any pep talks whatsoever, but on this day she began to realise just how wrong she really was.
Dead wrong.
Fiona slowly inched over and embraced Jack, leaning her head on his shoulder. She was extremely apologetic, embarrassed that she had allowed herself to hide so much unwanted stress in her heart. But the quiet moment in the brisk, late-summer's breeze was interrupted as a man leaned out the front door of his white-bricked home and cocked his shotgun, his tone of voice being deathly serious as he stared headlong at the "intruders."
"'Scuse me! Y'all are parked in front of my dad-gum driveway!"
Fiona and Jack stood up shit-faced, staring at one of their down-the-road neighbours, who was brandishing his trusty 12-gauge buckshot.
FIONA:
Oh dear...I'm sorry for the intrusion, but me car's broken down and won't start. We live ninety yards down the road from your house.
The stranger gasped, then nodded his head as he noted the reason for their misfortune.
"Holy sheep-dip, that ain't good. Lemme give y'all a helpin' hand...if y'all don't mind."
Jack and Fiona gazed at each other for a second, then happily approved the man's help.
~~
FIONA'S JOURNAL
10 September 2017
Dear Rayne...
In a society rife with fluidity, dangers, and chaos on all fronts, if there's one thing that symbolises who we are within the landscape of a larger word, it's this one simple concept: Freedom.
You know about it, and so do I. It is something we hold near and dear to our hearts yet sometimes, we take it for granted.
As American citizens, either through birth or naturalisation, we ALL cherish the freedoms we get on a daily basis. We have the right to say the things we want to say or do the things we want to do in your lives, and NOBODY can ever take that away from us. Our sense of freedom is the country's backbone, an essential part of a culture that has withstood the rigors of time and history.
Yet that institution doesn't come for free. It comes with a price.
A very STEEP price, I might add.
Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of hard-working men and woman have died on the battlefield or whilst responding to others in need in times of crises. Deep in our souls, we take freedom for granted simply 'cos we THINK that we're invincible, that everything we do is nothing more but routine. What we DON'T understand, however, is that no day is ever routine, that we are NOT invincible.
Come to reflect upon it further...wrestling does echo a lot of the freedoms we have OUTSIDE the ring.
We are, indeed, free to enjoy our careers in the manner we want to, choosing whatever persona best satisfies our natural abilities and emotions. We have the full capability to go out to that rena and utilise whatever form or style that you're wonderful. But like our freedom outside the ring, on the inside...we take it for granted 'cos we THINK we're bigger than everybody else, 'cos we THINK we know everything about the competition, 'cos...to be perfectly blunt, we think we're fucking invincible and feel the need to cry out for respect every time we show up.
That is where you come in, Rayne.
I saw your challenge to Eternity, and believe me when I say that understand what you want to accomplish. You want to go into IWF for one last run, that you want to prove to the masses that you still got what it takes. You want to see yourself, on the Yankee Stadium baseball field no less, as being front and centre on the proverbial proving ground, going on a journey towards something that's eluded you throughout your IWF career...the right to be called Champion.
Ironic, isn't it...that you talk about earning respect and all that jazz.
And you know what? You're right. Respect IS earned, that is the truth.
And the truth is something that NOBODY can deny.
But it goes above and beyond anything you might say or do on a simple Twitter feed. To earn respect, you've got to keep plugging away even if nothing seems to go right. To earn respect, you've got to learn about how we TREAT other people and, most importantly, how you treat yourself as a living, breathing person. To earn respect, you've got to learn to stand your ground, ignoring all the bullies and the trolls that might tell you "oh hunny, you can't do this or that"...and above ALL else, NEVER, EVER give up.
Yet here's newsflash: coming back to IWF after being gone for several years doesn't give you the right to demand respect--ESPECIALLY when it comes to thinking Eternity is scared of you.
That only creates problems for yourself. You have to RE-EARN it too--after all, the Diamonds division has had quite the turnover these days. The Richards sisters? Avery Barnes or Joanna Tarzanna? They're all gone now, replaced by newer and bigger challengers that pass through the doors just as quickly as the ones that have left.
And I've SEEN that transition happen firsthand--yet me approach to this craft has NEVER changed.
Whilst you were gone, I had to start out by toiling away and believing that I could get this far in me career! I had to learn things like patience in spite of the fact that I have a terrible temperament; yet the rewards I've gotten have blessed me in ways you can't even begin to describe.
I was out there headlining major pay-per-view and Sacrifice cards. I've been blessed with the 2016 Iron Maiden, and have found myself in the hunt for the right to call myself "Champion." Yet through every singular setback, through every point in time in which I've thought of giving up, I've stood me ground and kept on plugging away. And I WILL keep doing so 'til I get things juuuuuust right--even as the malcontents of the world laugh and snicker at me, treating me as a FAKE woman of Irish descent.
I've EARNED that respect...no matter the results. 'Cos I firmly believed that I COULD hang with anyone that has ever graced an IWF ring.
I've been called horrible racial names, but I survived. I've been bullied and teased through me entire life, and through time...I've learned to ignore them, even if I haven't the courage to do so.
All without holding ANYTHING back.
After all...as someone near and dear to me once said, wrestling is a part of our lives, in AND out of a ring. It lives in what we put down with paper and pen, it lives in how we scavenge and toil through the muck and grime in order to make ends meet! It guides us, makes us BELIEVE that we can accomplish anything we want to, no matter where you might be in life! And without that belief in things like personal growth and reflection, than you'll nothing more than a relic of a time long since passed...
...afraid to come out of your own shadow.
And that won't be a pleasant experience at all.
Cheerio!
~~
Fiona and Jack's eyes gazed upon the black doorway to the white-bricked hom as it swung open, and out stepped a muscular man wearing a white Stetson cowboy hat, red polo shirt, blue denim jeans with leather belt, and snakeskin boots. Indeed, their neighbour was a true Texan in every sense of the word--complete with twang and shotgun to match.
She stood and approached the stranger, who was in his mid-40s, shaking the man's hand firmly as she introduced herself.
FIONA:
I appreciate your offer to help. Really, I do. I'm Fiona, me husband's leaning behind the car. What's your name, sir?
SAM DAWKINS:
Name's Dawkins, Sam Dawkins. I own a car dealership just down the road on New York Avenue--Dawkins Motors, "with Sammy-D., y'all KNOW it's a guarantee."
Jack followed Fiona's lead, shaking Mr. Dawkins' hand.
JACK:
Good to meet ya, sir. We don't get much interaction with much of our neighborin' folks to begin with outside of what Miss Kimble used to do over at Beckham, so it's good to meet one.
MR. DAWKINS:
Pleasure's all mine...and while we're out here, if y'all want, I can have your car towed to the dealership free of charge. We got a full-service shop, so we can tell ya what's wrong with it.
The offer made Fiona smile--she needed to after her emotional outburst. She warmly nodded her head, accepting the offer.
FIONA:
That's very generous of you, lovely...and I must apologise for screaming out loud earlier.
MR. DAWKINS:
(chuckling)
Take heart, l'il lady...my ex did the same thing. Eventually I ignored her; then she slapped me with a divorce. Left me with a 14-year-old daughter named Sarah and the dealership, but I wouldn't have wanted it no other way.
Fiona smiled as she took her place next to the left-handed passenger door, leaving Jack and Mr. Dawkins to position themselves at the rear, ready to roll. She knew damn well that simply pushing a car down a street was a boring thing to do, and so she decided to make it a way to help keep morale on the up and up.
FIONA:
What we need...is a pushing song. Something like this...
She cleared her throat before belting out the first strains of the 1985 heavy metal tune, "Will the Sun Rise."
FIONA:
(singing)
"In name of Liberty, we set off to the sea;
in the name of Glory, fighting to be free.
But one mistake can set it all to rest;
No one sees and no one wins the game of chance.
I need to know..."
A big fan of 80s hair metal bands, Jack laughed, ekeing out a sly smirk.
JACK:
PFFFFT...you've been listenin' to some of my Dokken tunes, huh?
Sam piped in, admiring her perfect rhythm and pitch.
SAM:
You a singer or somethin' like that?
FIONA:
Hobby of mine. I also write...helps me try to forget about the stresses of what I do for a living.
Jack, noting the donuts in the passenger seat, feigned impatience whilst reminding the group that there's a task to be accomplished.
JACK:
Are we ready? Like ya said Fi, them donuts are callin' my name...
Fiona giggled, for she always admired her husband's playful nature.
FIONA:
I know, and Jack? I...I'm sorry for screaming at you like that. I've been working really hard to try and control me temperament, and...
Jack grinned, lovingly cutting her off.
JACK:
Babe...it's okay. Besides, I didn't marry ya for your temper.
FIONA:
Then why'd you want to marry me then?
Jack closed his eyes, taken aback slightly by Fiona's question. In truth, he couldn't give her a straight answer; "after all, life's got more questions than answers," he thought to himself as he prepared himself to get the car rolling.
JACK:
You're gonna have to figure that out for yourself. After all...life's like a roller coaster. Ya never know what elements you're gonna get durin' the ride...all ya can do is enjoy that ride.
Fiona paused for a moment, closing her eyes and reminding herself that the journey life brings will never end.
FIONA:
A'right...one, two, three--annnnnd PUUUUUSH!!!
On cue, Jack and Sam used their collective might to begin the task at hand; slowly but surely, the two gentlemen grunted with each step as they kept pushing the Aston-Martin down the road, yard by yard.
All the while...Fiona found herself belting out the famous Dokken tune's second verse. On the inside, Fiona couldn't help but laugh herself silly. After all, she had learned that the best advice for dealing the bullies and trolls of the world was to simply ignore them.
Even if they were nothing more than Negative Nannies.
FIONA:
(singing)
"A simple answer, that all of us should see;
Let things be what they may be.
Open your eyes, do you think that you're the best?
Try to see the light before the final test,
I need to know..."
Will the sun rise? Will there be a sky?
Will the sun rise? Another day..."
-"Will The Sun Rise" from Dokken's 1985 album Under Lock and Key
~~
Chapter 1 ~ "In Which Fiona Has A Breakdown..."
We find Fiona McFly standing alongside her broken-down grey Aston-Martin DB5, along with her husband Jack Gaither, who continuously shakes his left foot in an attempt to dull the pain after stumping it on the nightstand when Fiona's screaming voice on the phone woke him up.
And the vibes were as fluid as they could get.
Clad in his Dallas Cowboys-themed PJs, Gaither--still quite groggy and very much in a grumpy mood, shakes his head as he took his place behind the rear of the vintage British import. Together, with the vehicle in second gear, they pushed with all their might, inching along the pavement until they got next to a driveway before stopping.
For Fiona, pushing a car around was the LAST thing on her mind.
And it made her even angrier than before.
JACK GAITHER:
Ya know Fi...I hate it when you're pushy--pun intended.
As if having her beloved vehicle go kaput weren't bad enough, Fiona also had to deal with the usual pitfalls of being a public figure that goes above and beyond the scope of her "usual" job description, that being as a wrestler. She shrugged her shoulder scoffed, not in the mood for anything that could be considered amusing.
FIONA:
Well if YOUR banana-Vega was the one that was broken down...or if people within your own JOB community were calling you evil just 'cos you wanted to work on something you've always dreamed about that goes above and beyond that job's parameters, would you be that way?
JACK:
Whoa there, pilgrim...who's callin' you bad for wantin' to do an off-shop album?
Jack immediately winced, taking a couple of steps backward as he watched his wife's eyes widen like saucers and her face turn into an incredibly Satanic-looking crimson.
She couldn't take it anymore.
She lashed out.
FIONA:
EVERY-FUCKING-BODY! BULLIES! TROLLS!! EVERY LAST FUCKING SOUL THAT FUNS IMPERIAL, A'RIGHT!?! I FUCKING HATE THEM ALL!!!
Fiona's husband was left speechless--at least for a few moments.
Her scream, in her very distinctive Gaelic flair, could be heard throughout the entire neighbourhood on Wolf Creek Drive.
Breathing heavily, with sweat and tears raining down upon her once brightly-coloured visage, she plunked herself down on the curb, bowed her head, and tried to close her eyes. She was left to ponder what she had done, and whether or not anyone else aside from Jack would have noticed the outburst. Jack, to his credit, kept a level head throughout the ordeal, all the while solemnly sitting on the curb next to his wife yet trying not to touch her in any way, shape, or form.
All Fiona McFly ever wanted to do was learn how to take care of herself when she was not within the arena's confines. Deep down in her soul, she never hated anyone within the Imperial organisation; in fact...she respected them, for they had helped her throughout her career. Yet she had let her heart be filled with all that negativity that had been thrown at her by the general public, by those she had perceived as bullies and/or trolls who only cared about themselves.
So...her heart dictated she respond in kind. Her husband didn't need to give her any pep talks whatsoever, but on this day she began to realise just how wrong she really was.
Dead wrong.
Fiona slowly inched over and embraced Jack, leaning her head on his shoulder. She was extremely apologetic, embarrassed that she had allowed herself to hide so much unwanted stress in her heart. But the quiet moment in the brisk, late-summer's breeze was interrupted as a man leaned out the front door of his white-bricked home and cocked his shotgun, his tone of voice being deathly serious as he stared headlong at the "intruders."
"'Scuse me! Y'all are parked in front of my dad-gum driveway!"
Fiona and Jack stood up shit-faced, staring at one of their down-the-road neighbours, who was brandishing his trusty 12-gauge buckshot.
FIONA:
Oh dear...I'm sorry for the intrusion, but me car's broken down and won't start. We live ninety yards down the road from your house.
The stranger gasped, then nodded his head as he noted the reason for their misfortune.
"Holy sheep-dip, that ain't good. Lemme give y'all a helpin' hand...if y'all don't mind."
Jack and Fiona gazed at each other for a second, then happily approved the man's help.
~~
FIONA'S JOURNAL
10 September 2017
Dear Rayne...
In a society rife with fluidity, dangers, and chaos on all fronts, if there's one thing that symbolises who we are within the landscape of a larger word, it's this one simple concept: Freedom.
You know about it, and so do I. It is something we hold near and dear to our hearts yet sometimes, we take it for granted.
As American citizens, either through birth or naturalisation, we ALL cherish the freedoms we get on a daily basis. We have the right to say the things we want to say or do the things we want to do in your lives, and NOBODY can ever take that away from us. Our sense of freedom is the country's backbone, an essential part of a culture that has withstood the rigors of time and history.
Yet that institution doesn't come for free. It comes with a price.
A very STEEP price, I might add.
Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of hard-working men and woman have died on the battlefield or whilst responding to others in need in times of crises. Deep in our souls, we take freedom for granted simply 'cos we THINK that we're invincible, that everything we do is nothing more but routine. What we DON'T understand, however, is that no day is ever routine, that we are NOT invincible.
Come to reflect upon it further...wrestling does echo a lot of the freedoms we have OUTSIDE the ring.
We are, indeed, free to enjoy our careers in the manner we want to, choosing whatever persona best satisfies our natural abilities and emotions. We have the full capability to go out to that rena and utilise whatever form or style that you're wonderful. But like our freedom outside the ring, on the inside...we take it for granted 'cos we THINK we're bigger than everybody else, 'cos we THINK we know everything about the competition, 'cos...to be perfectly blunt, we think we're fucking invincible and feel the need to cry out for respect every time we show up.
That is where you come in, Rayne.
I saw your challenge to Eternity, and believe me when I say that understand what you want to accomplish. You want to go into IWF for one last run, that you want to prove to the masses that you still got what it takes. You want to see yourself, on the Yankee Stadium baseball field no less, as being front and centre on the proverbial proving ground, going on a journey towards something that's eluded you throughout your IWF career...the right to be called Champion.
Ironic, isn't it...that you talk about earning respect and all that jazz.
And you know what? You're right. Respect IS earned, that is the truth.
And the truth is something that NOBODY can deny.
But it goes above and beyond anything you might say or do on a simple Twitter feed. To earn respect, you've got to keep plugging away even if nothing seems to go right. To earn respect, you've got to learn about how we TREAT other people and, most importantly, how you treat yourself as a living, breathing person. To earn respect, you've got to learn to stand your ground, ignoring all the bullies and the trolls that might tell you "oh hunny, you can't do this or that"...and above ALL else, NEVER, EVER give up.
Yet here's newsflash: coming back to IWF after being gone for several years doesn't give you the right to demand respect--ESPECIALLY when it comes to thinking Eternity is scared of you.
That only creates problems for yourself. You have to RE-EARN it too--after all, the Diamonds division has had quite the turnover these days. The Richards sisters? Avery Barnes or Joanna Tarzanna? They're all gone now, replaced by newer and bigger challengers that pass through the doors just as quickly as the ones that have left.
And I've SEEN that transition happen firsthand--yet me approach to this craft has NEVER changed.
Whilst you were gone, I had to start out by toiling away and believing that I could get this far in me career! I had to learn things like patience in spite of the fact that I have a terrible temperament; yet the rewards I've gotten have blessed me in ways you can't even begin to describe.
I was out there headlining major pay-per-view and Sacrifice cards. I've been blessed with the 2016 Iron Maiden, and have found myself in the hunt for the right to call myself "Champion." Yet through every singular setback, through every point in time in which I've thought of giving up, I've stood me ground and kept on plugging away. And I WILL keep doing so 'til I get things juuuuuust right--even as the malcontents of the world laugh and snicker at me, treating me as a FAKE woman of Irish descent.
I've EARNED that respect...no matter the results. 'Cos I firmly believed that I COULD hang with anyone that has ever graced an IWF ring.
I've been called horrible racial names, but I survived. I've been bullied and teased through me entire life, and through time...I've learned to ignore them, even if I haven't the courage to do so.
All without holding ANYTHING back.
After all...as someone near and dear to me once said, wrestling is a part of our lives, in AND out of a ring. It lives in what we put down with paper and pen, it lives in how we scavenge and toil through the muck and grime in order to make ends meet! It guides us, makes us BELIEVE that we can accomplish anything we want to, no matter where you might be in life! And without that belief in things like personal growth and reflection, than you'll nothing more than a relic of a time long since passed...
...afraid to come out of your own shadow.
And that won't be a pleasant experience at all.
Cheerio!
~~
Fiona and Jack's eyes gazed upon the black doorway to the white-bricked hom as it swung open, and out stepped a muscular man wearing a white Stetson cowboy hat, red polo shirt, blue denim jeans with leather belt, and snakeskin boots. Indeed, their neighbour was a true Texan in every sense of the word--complete with twang and shotgun to match.
She stood and approached the stranger, who was in his mid-40s, shaking the man's hand firmly as she introduced herself.
FIONA:
I appreciate your offer to help. Really, I do. I'm Fiona, me husband's leaning behind the car. What's your name, sir?
SAM DAWKINS:
Name's Dawkins, Sam Dawkins. I own a car dealership just down the road on New York Avenue--Dawkins Motors, "with Sammy-D., y'all KNOW it's a guarantee."
Jack followed Fiona's lead, shaking Mr. Dawkins' hand.
JACK:
Good to meet ya, sir. We don't get much interaction with much of our neighborin' folks to begin with outside of what Miss Kimble used to do over at Beckham, so it's good to meet one.
MR. DAWKINS:
Pleasure's all mine...and while we're out here, if y'all want, I can have your car towed to the dealership free of charge. We got a full-service shop, so we can tell ya what's wrong with it.
The offer made Fiona smile--she needed to after her emotional outburst. She warmly nodded her head, accepting the offer.
FIONA:
That's very generous of you, lovely...and I must apologise for screaming out loud earlier.
MR. DAWKINS:
(chuckling)
Take heart, l'il lady...my ex did the same thing. Eventually I ignored her; then she slapped me with a divorce. Left me with a 14-year-old daughter named Sarah and the dealership, but I wouldn't have wanted it no other way.
Fiona smiled as she took her place next to the left-handed passenger door, leaving Jack and Mr. Dawkins to position themselves at the rear, ready to roll. She knew damn well that simply pushing a car down a street was a boring thing to do, and so she decided to make it a way to help keep morale on the up and up.
FIONA:
What we need...is a pushing song. Something like this...
She cleared her throat before belting out the first strains of the 1985 heavy metal tune, "Will the Sun Rise."
FIONA:
(singing)
"In name of Liberty, we set off to the sea;
in the name of Glory, fighting to be free.
But one mistake can set it all to rest;
No one sees and no one wins the game of chance.
I need to know..."
A big fan of 80s hair metal bands, Jack laughed, ekeing out a sly smirk.
JACK:
PFFFFT...you've been listenin' to some of my Dokken tunes, huh?
Sam piped in, admiring her perfect rhythm and pitch.
SAM:
You a singer or somethin' like that?
FIONA:
Hobby of mine. I also write...helps me try to forget about the stresses of what I do for a living.
Jack, noting the donuts in the passenger seat, feigned impatience whilst reminding the group that there's a task to be accomplished.
JACK:
Are we ready? Like ya said Fi, them donuts are callin' my name...
Fiona giggled, for she always admired her husband's playful nature.
FIONA:
I know, and Jack? I...I'm sorry for screaming at you like that. I've been working really hard to try and control me temperament, and...
Jack grinned, lovingly cutting her off.
JACK:
Babe...it's okay. Besides, I didn't marry ya for your temper.
FIONA:
Then why'd you want to marry me then?
Jack closed his eyes, taken aback slightly by Fiona's question. In truth, he couldn't give her a straight answer; "after all, life's got more questions than answers," he thought to himself as he prepared himself to get the car rolling.
JACK:
You're gonna have to figure that out for yourself. After all...life's like a roller coaster. Ya never know what elements you're gonna get durin' the ride...all ya can do is enjoy that ride.
Fiona paused for a moment, closing her eyes and reminding herself that the journey life brings will never end.
FIONA:
A'right...one, two, three--annnnnd PUUUUUSH!!!
On cue, Jack and Sam used their collective might to begin the task at hand; slowly but surely, the two gentlemen grunted with each step as they kept pushing the Aston-Martin down the road, yard by yard.
All the while...Fiona found herself belting out the famous Dokken tune's second verse. On the inside, Fiona couldn't help but laugh herself silly. After all, she had learned that the best advice for dealing the bullies and trolls of the world was to simply ignore them.
Even if they were nothing more than Negative Nannies.
FIONA:
(singing)
"A simple answer, that all of us should see;
Let things be what they may be.
Open your eyes, do you think that you're the best?
Try to see the light before the final test,
I need to know..."
Well howdy there pardner.