Post by Awesome Stick Labor on Apr 5, 2015 21:20:46 GMT
So I'm into my fourth match after having a bit of a baptism by fire, yet I still feel great about my chances going forward.
I was eternally humbled by Jessica Reed's respect for me and the lessons she gave me on getting to know the entire lot of the Diamonds Division. And...well, Jack was right: in this sadistic sport where anything goes and being a tart is good for business—no matter how logical it might seem—there are no friends, only wolves waiting to eat me for breakfast. As I sit down and enjoy a nice spot of iced green tea—'tis healthier than Jack's pop, by the way—I'm left to wonder how I'm going to fare against the likes of Mercedes Vargas and Sara Garcia. This is the very first time I've headlined a card; so I'm going to try my best to make it all work out.
And you can bet your arse on that.
Mercedes, my darling, you've committed yourself to WAY too much banter instead of backing it up in that ring these days. You can sit there and ramble on YouTube about how much your Ruby Championship reign meant to you after losing it nearly nine months ago. You can chit-chat all you want to about the notion of Crystal Hilton and Firenze Everett splitting said title being nothing more than a bunch of shite. You can complain all you want to about not getting slotted on a docket somewhere, but none of it really matters now.
What DOES matter, however, is your performance of late.
On a week you WERE scheduled to compete, you couldn't beat Miss Wolverina, and you really want to talk about bringing prestige back to the Ruby trophy? I'm very sorry, my love...but I find that highly illogical. As a bit of a punishment on your end, you're stuck in a three-way with myself and Ms. Garcia, but if I have to go through her in order to shut your disgustingly smug mouth up, then so be it. I will give you something to mope about on social media when I prove that, behind all the glitz and glamour you might have had as an ex-Ruby Champion, you're nothing more than an arrogant talker whose biggest successes have been ruined by fits of jealousy and rage.
After all, logic dictates that I do nothing less.
***********
I was eternally humbled by Jessica Reed's respect for me and the lessons she gave me on getting to know the entire lot of the Diamonds Division. And...well, Jack was right: in this sadistic sport where anything goes and being a tart is good for business—no matter how logical it might seem—there are no friends, only wolves waiting to eat me for breakfast. As I sit down and enjoy a nice spot of iced green tea—'tis healthier than Jack's pop, by the way—I'm left to wonder how I'm going to fare against the likes of Mercedes Vargas and Sara Garcia. This is the very first time I've headlined a card; so I'm going to try my best to make it all work out.
And you can bet your arse on that.
Mercedes, my darling, you've committed yourself to WAY too much banter instead of backing it up in that ring these days. You can sit there and ramble on YouTube about how much your Ruby Championship reign meant to you after losing it nearly nine months ago. You can chit-chat all you want to about the notion of Crystal Hilton and Firenze Everett splitting said title being nothing more than a bunch of shite. You can complain all you want to about not getting slotted on a docket somewhere, but none of it really matters now.
What DOES matter, however, is your performance of late.
On a week you WERE scheduled to compete, you couldn't beat Miss Wolverina, and you really want to talk about bringing prestige back to the Ruby trophy? I'm very sorry, my love...but I find that highly illogical. As a bit of a punishment on your end, you're stuck in a three-way with myself and Ms. Garcia, but if I have to go through her in order to shut your disgustingly smug mouth up, then so be it. I will give you something to mope about on social media when I prove that, behind all the glitz and glamour you might have had as an ex-Ruby Champion, you're nothing more than an arrogant talker whose biggest successes have been ruined by fits of jealousy and rage.
After all, logic dictates that I do nothing less.
***********
Episode III
"CRIMSON AND CLOVER"
November 11, 2000 – 8:30 PM
LAKE MONONA (Outside Madison, WI)
[We find ourselves tucked away outside a private cabin on the shores of Lake Monona as Fiona McFly and Angie Johnson are sitting in small, white chairs on a large balcony, stargazing on a cool, but comfortable, late autumn night. The two ladies have been roommates in Lakeshore Hall for three months now, but they've seemed to be closer together with each day and week that's gone by.]
ANGIE JOHNSON: You OK, hun?
FIONA MCFLY: Yeah.
[The Irish woman smiles as she peers at a shooting star overhead.]
ANGIE: Nice night.
FIONA: Sure is.
ANGIE: I hope the pizza guy gets here on time—otherwise, it's three bucks off.
[Fiona chuckles for a moment before slowly shaking her head. The volleyball player notices her friend's sad expression and turns her chair so she's facing her.]
ANGIE: What'cha thinkin' about?
FIONA: Jack...he just hasn't been the same person since October last year.
ANGIE: What's up?
FIONA: He tore the ACL and MCL in his knee in a gridiron match against rival Martin; an opposing player tackled him low--'twas a rather unsportingly cheap shot. Within a matter of seconds, his career—his livelihood—was over.
[Fiona turns her chair towards Angie's.]
FIONA: I did all I could to comfort him, but even I couldn't help him. He's played the game since he was four years old, and having it all taken away was truly heartbreaking.
ANGIE: I bet. Anyways, it's gettin' a bit nippy out here; let's head back in.
FIONA: Sure.
[Fiona and Angie step off the balcony, close the sliding glass door behind them, and enter a posh bedroom decked out in paintings from the mid-18th and 19th centuries and solid oak furnishings. They sit next to one another on the foot of a queen-sized bed as an oldies radio station plays softly in the background.]
ANGIE: You wanna know what I do when dealin' with pain and heartache? I don't worry about it; after all...guys will be guys with big egos without a care for the world around them.
[Fiona warmly grins as Angie gets just a tad closer, but before anything can happen, we hear the sound of a doorbell—the Westminster chimes. Angie stands up and heads toward the bedroom door.]
FIONA: I believe our pizza's here.
ANGIE: I'll be back in a minute.
[Fiona sighs to herself as she gazes at the centuries-old artifacts that adorn the space around her. Within a minute or so, Angie walks back in carrying two large pizzas that are marked “IAN'S PIZZA.” She sets the grub down on top of a large oak desk before heading towards a doorway leading to a private bathroom.]
ANGIE: Lemme do one more thing; gimme another minute or so.
[The Colt alumnus nods her head as she watches Angie walk into the bathroom. Soon afterward, Tommy James and The Shondells' 1968 hit “Crimson and Clover” begins to play.]
Oh, now I don't hardly know her,
but I think I could love her.
Crimson and clover.
Well, if she comes walkin' over,
I've been watin' to show her,
crimson and clover—over and over.
but I think I could love her.
Crimson and clover.
Well, if she comes walkin' over,
I've been watin' to show her,
crimson and clover—over and over.
[As if on cue with the song, Angie steps out of the bathroom, sporting a very sensual-looking silk robe. The very sight of this bit of attire causes Fiona's jaw to instantly drop and her brows to perk up in sheer awe. The Madison native sits next to Fiona on the foot of the bed.]
ANGIE: My dad used to play this song to death when I was little. Nowadays...I see it as a reminder that we should pump the brakes and slow down, allowin' nature to run its course. That's why I love it too.
FIONA: 'Tis a good song.
[The two ladies turn towards each other, locking their eyes and grinning. Fiona ekes out a slight giggle.]
FIONA: I find this situation to be...highly illogical.
ANGIE: No...it's highly romantic.
[Fiona and Angie inch closer and closer towards each other during the first brief instrumental portion of the classic oldie, and just as the song segues into its third verse...]
Yeah, my mind's such a sweet thing,
I wanna do everything;
what a beautiful feeling,
crimson and clover—over and over...
I wanna do everything;
what a beautiful feeling,
crimson and clover—over and over...
[...the two women lock lips in an awkward manner at first, but as the tune reaches its long guitar portion, the kiss becomes more in sync. We see the sight of two tongues clashing with one another as Angie slowly disrobes, revealing a slender, athletic physique. The song continues playing as Fiona lies back on the bed and Angie gets on top; the two continue to slowly undress and make out as their pizza sits there, ready to eat yet getting slightly colder by the minute.]
************
Sara, my love, where did you go wrong last we met?
Oh yes...now I remember; in fact, it only seems like 'twas yesterday when you and I crossed paths. You decided that it would be a cute idea to thumb your nose into my business during my match against your sister a few weeks back. I still remember what you did—tripping me up before I could get a fair chance to react—and it truly stings me in knowing that your meddling cost a sweet Irish girl like me the opportunity of getting that win, but guess what darling? You're dealing with me now—not Paige—and unlike Domi Natrix, I shall pay you back in kind when get my hands on you and make you grovel at my feet.
'Tis only fair and logical, after all.
The family shall share in the accomplishments--or crimes--of its members.
If I have to endure any form of unsporting punishment by Ms. Vargas so I can teach you a lesson in humility, then quite frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. This is about me and you, hun, and I shall thoroughly enjoy knocking you arse over tit and chopping you down to size. You brought your own demise upon yourself, and now you must live with it until the day you cease to exist. I shall make you submit faster than you can say “quidditch,” and that, darling, isn't just a blanket statement. It is a promise. I WILL break your spirit until you're too emotionally drained to continue the fight, and I will be the one to prove that NO ONE thumbs their noses into my business without suffering dire consequences.
I bloody guarantee it.
Sara, my love, where did you go wrong last we met?
Oh yes...now I remember; in fact, it only seems like 'twas yesterday when you and I crossed paths. You decided that it would be a cute idea to thumb your nose into my business during my match against your sister a few weeks back. I still remember what you did—tripping me up before I could get a fair chance to react—and it truly stings me in knowing that your meddling cost a sweet Irish girl like me the opportunity of getting that win, but guess what darling? You're dealing with me now—not Paige—and unlike Domi Natrix, I shall pay you back in kind when get my hands on you and make you grovel at my feet.
'Tis only fair and logical, after all.
The family shall share in the accomplishments--or crimes--of its members.
If I have to endure any form of unsporting punishment by Ms. Vargas so I can teach you a lesson in humility, then quite frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. This is about me and you, hun, and I shall thoroughly enjoy knocking you arse over tit and chopping you down to size. You brought your own demise upon yourself, and now you must live with it until the day you cease to exist. I shall make you submit faster than you can say “quidditch,” and that, darling, isn't just a blanket statement. It is a promise. I WILL break your spirit until you're too emotionally drained to continue the fight, and I will be the one to prove that NO ONE thumbs their noses into my business without suffering dire consequences.
I bloody guarantee it.
Well howdy there pardner.