Ready to Wreck *RP vs Billie Parris*

[Dixie Wrecks]

All of the media were there. Small and great. Known and unknown. For what they did not know. Money had been spent to make their bosses send them to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma’s city hall, but the “who” was left unanswered.

Until “Boot, Scoot, Boogie” by Brooks and Dunn was heard in the distance. Heads and eyes turned that way, seeing a long, stylish pink limousine pulling up. When it came to a stop, the driver hurriedly went to the door and opened it, while the multitude of media surrounded them, bulbs flashing and cameras recording.

“TA-DA!” Squealed the woman stepping out of the limo. She was tall and strong-framed and bore a fur coat made from the finest clubbed baby seals. Her legs were fitted with skin-tight denim jeans adorned with pretty rhinestones laced around the pockets.

“I’m here, y’all! Feast don’t famine! Gobble me up, mmmhhhmmm!” She quipped in a sugary sweet southern accent while shifting her stylish dollar-sign-themed sunshades from her eyes to the top of her head. The lady made a rally on me gesture and pointed toward the podium atop the steps of city hall. The assembly of media followed her, doing their duty with snapshots plenty despite not knowing who the hell she was.

Once at the podium, the previous murmuring among the throng ceased and they prepared their equipment again and produced notepads for note-taking.

“My fellow Americans.” She started, then giggled. “Sorry, I always wanted to say that.” She flashed a cute little smile then shuffled some paper on the podium - her speech she’d prepped. The masses gave her a chuckle in reply.

“Let’s get to the meat-and-taters here. My name is Dixie Wrecks. Say it real fast, y’all. Ha. It’s not my real name, well, partly it is cause Dixie is my real name, but the other part isn’t. I threw that ring name together for shits-n-giggles but also cause I’m gonna make all the dicks erect when I trot down to that there ring and open a good ole fashioned passionate ass whoopin’ on someone.”

Hands flew up. They already had questions.

“Now, now. Hold y’all asses for a spell. I ain’t finished. I’m Dixie. I loved watchin’ rasslin’ on mah TV but I knew I never was gonna be a rassler 'cause I grew up poor in De Queen, Arkansas. I ain’t got but a 7th-grade education too, so there’s that. But, bout a year ago give or take, I won the lottery. Yes siree bob, sure did. One of the biggest in history. I used it to take care of my kin and put all my friends up in better conditions, but I had plenty left over for a hunnid lifetimes. So I said fuck it, yolo, and went all-in learning to become a rassler. The folks that learnt me how to rassle put me in touch with the kind folks at Imperial Wrestling Federation, and now here I am.”

The rich Country Cutie stretched her arms out, soaking up the flood of flashbulbs.

“Now, I signed up for the Sacrifice brand since it’s fitting. They gonna be sacrificing fools to me every show. But the powers-that-be were so impressed by the work I did in development that they done went and booked me for the Odessy show right down yonder at the Paycom arena place. Me and Jason Hathaway gonna be makin’ our TV debuts there. He’s gonna put a beatdown on El Grande Something-or-another, and I’m gonna be throwing down with a stud named Billie Parris.”

She paused a beat and scratched her chin.

“I ain’t know they were gonna throw me in there with a guy, but imma make good on it anyway. It’ll be tough for sure, but I got brudders and we used to fight all the time. I even dropped a few fellas on their asses growing up when they got too wordy with me or my folks. So, Billie, if you’re hearing this, don’t think just ‘cause you’re a guy you can just roll over me. I ain’t that bitch.” She said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Dixie flipped the page and continued reading.

“Billie, brudder, I like the name but ya gotta do better. I ain’t never heard of anyone growin up in rassling their entire life and then becoming one only only to lose all the time. How the hell was your mom a legend in rasslin’ but you been put on curtain-jerkin’ duty all the time? Did your mom have a feud with a voodoo witch woman who cursed all her offspring? Inquiring minds want to know.”

The Rhinestone Cowgirl shook her head.

“It’s a shame. You and I got the same kinda thing going. It was a dream for you to become a rassler like it was mine. The difference is, that you had an easy in and fumbled it. I ain’t have shit except a winning lotto ticket - just pure damn luck. And that is what’s gonna separate us when the bell rings. You have family in this business to fall back on no matter how far you fall. I don’t. It’s sink or swim for me, sugar. You want to win. I HAVE to win. And I ain’t planning on drowning.”

She shuffled the papers again and shrugged.

“Well, damn. Felt like I had a lot more on here but I guess I sped through that. I ain’t never held a presser before so I guess I’m supposed to answer questions now. So, fire away.”

Hands galore shot up. Many voices. Many shouts. It made Dixie lean back a moment before collecting herself. From there she began answering questions.

End of RP -