Post by Fiona McFly on Feb 26, 2016 21:26:50 GMT
Most people in the Imperial world, if not all of them, would continue to brood after constantly losing a match week after week to the point of near insanity.
But not me.
Despite the rather awkward way my last match Avery came to pass, it hasn't killed my sense of optimism. After all, I'll just keep on plugging away until I finally get that elusive thing I've been searching for ever since I got started in the sporting world—a chance of success. Whilst I fully understand that some might criticise me as being “handed” shot after shot at the Diamonds Championship, I will simply tell them exactly what I've been saying for the past few months:
That I've EARNED those shots not on wins or losses, but because I've kept the faith in myself and spread that message of hope and prosperity to the rest of the division.
I made a vow that I would make competing as a Diamond fun for myself and for everyone else. That will NOT change—not now, not in the future.
Even Spike Kane manhandling me the way he did last week won't change my tune. In fact, I'm going to do something that might shock most of the establishment in the Imperial landscape. I'm forgiving him for his actions—merely because he has forgotten the tenets that made his twenty years of service worthwile. He was impulsive, lacked mental stability and humility, and he hid behind his own wounded pride like a coward.
Yet he is his own man—and I respect him for that.
Patience, levelheadedness, humility, and the ability to do your duty without showing cowardice—those are the four facets which have made my IWF career into what it is today—and the things that will lead me to become your new Diamonds Champion over four other women inside a steel cage.
To be the Diamonds Champion...you have to learn patience.
At twenty years of age Eliza, you seem very fit to be the subject of some major Hollywood biography. You've never had a lucky break, striving to make it on your own whilst never being afraid to getting your hands dirty. You've kept plugging away despite people calling you a sham, a fraud, a hooligan with a bad reputation. With that being said, logic and conventional wisdom might dictate that you are the next "big thing" in IWF.
But there's a reason why I chose to eschew logic in favour of optimism.
For I see through that little facade you've created for yourself as nothing more than a mere pile of rubbish.
Your impulsive nature has caused you to enter into a world that you never expected to find yourself in, playing the role of the hunted--not the hunter. You perceive people like myself as having an easy life, yet you don't fully comprehend what I've had to go through my entire life to get to this point in time. I've had to suffer through a civil war in my homeland, watching as my father was brutally emasculated by a liberal mob. I've had to scavenge through the muck and the grime, finding ways in which to support my FAMILY and the people I respected, and despite protests from some who've constantly whined or moaned that I was merely complacent, I've kept at it--waiting patiently for my turn to take the limelight.
It's my turn now, darling.
Unlike you Eliza, I've never acted as if I was entitled to something just because I held a grudge against the civilised world. Unlike you, I never called ANYONE "fake" just because they've fared better in life than you—after all, you've never won the Diamonds Championship, the Shileldmaiden, or its Ruby Championship predecessor. Likewise I've never won anything myself, but regardless of how you spin it, I earned everything that I've ever gotten in the Imperial world--including respect from people like, say, Jessica Reed and Kayla Richards--the one woman who you DESTROYED emotionally in favour of Austin. The exact nature of “how” you could do such a thing is well beyond my own purview...but not the question of “why.”
The answer's as simple as the wrinkles on your twenty-something head. You only wanted acceptance for yourself whilst stepping on other people's toes to get your way in life.
I can't stand for that—nor will I ever do so.
Now you'll understand why I have more respect for Kayla or Ana than I do you. If you don't...then too bad, 'cause I'm out there in this match to prove just how downtrodden you really are.
Judging from your experiences with Eternity, you will never be a master manipulator like Ana Valentine--another woman who, despite our professional differences at times, I have a HUGE sense of respect for, moreso than you. You will always be the manipulated, with someone pulling your strings just to make an audience laugh at you and your failures. You're nothing more than a mere puppet, a pawn in somebody else's twisted game of attrition that you will never survive without blessings from the ones you've scorned--and the sad part about it is that you brought your own misery upon yourself. Now you will pay a price greater than you've ever paid before in your twenty years of existence on this Earth.
All because you had a simple beef with humanity--because you lacked the patience to do the right thing and help others instead of satisfying your own personal demons by selling your very soul to the devil incarnate.
You can't have that kind of attitude when you're trapped in that cage against the likes of myself, when the stakes are at its highest—or you WILL lose royally.
------------
But not me.
Despite the rather awkward way my last match Avery came to pass, it hasn't killed my sense of optimism. After all, I'll just keep on plugging away until I finally get that elusive thing I've been searching for ever since I got started in the sporting world—a chance of success. Whilst I fully understand that some might criticise me as being “handed” shot after shot at the Diamonds Championship, I will simply tell them exactly what I've been saying for the past few months:
That I've EARNED those shots not on wins or losses, but because I've kept the faith in myself and spread that message of hope and prosperity to the rest of the division.
I made a vow that I would make competing as a Diamond fun for myself and for everyone else. That will NOT change—not now, not in the future.
Even Spike Kane manhandling me the way he did last week won't change my tune. In fact, I'm going to do something that might shock most of the establishment in the Imperial landscape. I'm forgiving him for his actions—merely because he has forgotten the tenets that made his twenty years of service worthwile. He was impulsive, lacked mental stability and humility, and he hid behind his own wounded pride like a coward.
Yet he is his own man—and I respect him for that.
Patience, levelheadedness, humility, and the ability to do your duty without showing cowardice—those are the four facets which have made my IWF career into what it is today—and the things that will lead me to become your new Diamonds Champion over four other women inside a steel cage.
To be the Diamonds Champion...you have to learn patience.
At twenty years of age Eliza, you seem very fit to be the subject of some major Hollywood biography. You've never had a lucky break, striving to make it on your own whilst never being afraid to getting your hands dirty. You've kept plugging away despite people calling you a sham, a fraud, a hooligan with a bad reputation. With that being said, logic and conventional wisdom might dictate that you are the next "big thing" in IWF.
But there's a reason why I chose to eschew logic in favour of optimism.
For I see through that little facade you've created for yourself as nothing more than a mere pile of rubbish.
Your impulsive nature has caused you to enter into a world that you never expected to find yourself in, playing the role of the hunted--not the hunter. You perceive people like myself as having an easy life, yet you don't fully comprehend what I've had to go through my entire life to get to this point in time. I've had to suffer through a civil war in my homeland, watching as my father was brutally emasculated by a liberal mob. I've had to scavenge through the muck and the grime, finding ways in which to support my FAMILY and the people I respected, and despite protests from some who've constantly whined or moaned that I was merely complacent, I've kept at it--waiting patiently for my turn to take the limelight.
It's my turn now, darling.
Unlike you Eliza, I've never acted as if I was entitled to something just because I held a grudge against the civilised world. Unlike you, I never called ANYONE "fake" just because they've fared better in life than you—after all, you've never won the Diamonds Championship, the Shileldmaiden, or its Ruby Championship predecessor. Likewise I've never won anything myself, but regardless of how you spin it, I earned everything that I've ever gotten in the Imperial world--including respect from people like, say, Jessica Reed and Kayla Richards--the one woman who you DESTROYED emotionally in favour of Austin. The exact nature of “how” you could do such a thing is well beyond my own purview...but not the question of “why.”
The answer's as simple as the wrinkles on your twenty-something head. You only wanted acceptance for yourself whilst stepping on other people's toes to get your way in life.
I can't stand for that—nor will I ever do so.
Now you'll understand why I have more respect for Kayla or Ana than I do you. If you don't...then too bad, 'cause I'm out there in this match to prove just how downtrodden you really are.
Judging from your experiences with Eternity, you will never be a master manipulator like Ana Valentine--another woman who, despite our professional differences at times, I have a HUGE sense of respect for, moreso than you. You will always be the manipulated, with someone pulling your strings just to make an audience laugh at you and your failures. You're nothing more than a mere puppet, a pawn in somebody else's twisted game of attrition that you will never survive without blessings from the ones you've scorned--and the sad part about it is that you brought your own misery upon yourself. Now you will pay a price greater than you've ever paid before in your twenty years of existence on this Earth.
All because you had a simple beef with humanity--because you lacked the patience to do the right thing and help others instead of satisfying your own personal demons by selling your very soul to the devil incarnate.
You can't have that kind of attitude when you're trapped in that cage against the likes of myself, when the stakes are at its highest—or you WILL lose royally.
------------
Episode V
“FIONA MEETS MISS KIMBLE”
“FIONA MEETS MISS KIMBLE”
July 12, 1994 - 1:45 PM
We find young Fiona McFly in the old boneyard near Fredericksburg, TX, where she tries to pull herself up from the dusty old ground, still shocked that an older boy would punch her squarely on the face. Now sporting a bloody lip, she stands up and shakes the dust off of her blouse before walking slowly towards her go-kart, not looking forward to the ride back home and her mother's wrath. But just as she enters her vehicle, a mysterious female voice, speaking with a thick British accent, causes her to stop in her tracks.
WOMAN: 'Ello there!
Still frightened after her attack, Fiona goes over and picks up her trusty bullwhip, getting it at the ready. The stranger, aged 32 with flowing blonde hair and sporting a tight, lime-green and silver racing suit, inches closer.
WOMAN: It's alright, young darling...don't be afraid. I'm not here to hurt you.
The Irishgirl prepares to utilize her weapon, causing the older woman to step back.
WOMAN: Take it easy sweetheart...you've had yourself quite a wacky day. You should be fortunate that the town bully didn't do anything worse to you than simply giving you a cracked tooth and a bloody lip.
YOUNG FIONA MCFLY: Right...now stay away from me!
The stranger keeps calm despite Fiona's icy, cold vocal inflection.
WOMAN: Listen dearest, I'm here to help you, not hurt you...but first, you must put that whip down and trust me, 'kay?
The 12-year-old closes her eyes for a moment, unsure of what to do this complete stranger at first; yet she begins to understand the woman's calming nature and slowly places her whip back into the bed of her red wagon.
WOMAN: Tell me...what brings you out here on this horridly hot summer day?
YOUNG FIONA: Scavenging.
The stranger chuckles softly.
YOUNG FIONA: I merely run around here in my go-kart, looking for anything salvageable that I can take over to Mr. Luke's shop in town.
The older woman perks up both brows, recognizing the name drop.
WOMAN: Mr. Luke...? Don't you mean Luke Digiglio?
YOUNG FIONA: You know Mr. Luke?
WOMAN: Of course I do lassie—he's my paternal grandfather.
"That can't be right," Fiona thought to herself as she gazed her eyes upon a photograph that the stranger pulled from her front pocket. The black-and-white picture features her and her family, including her grandfather Luke.
WOMAN: If you're interested in knowing, my mother was British and my father was Texan.
Knowing the truth, the Irishgirl nods her head before wiping the traces of sweat on her brow stemming from the 100-plus degree heat that has settled in. The older stranger pats Fiona on the back before heading toward her white motorcyle, an imported BMW complete with sidecar.
WOMAN: I think we'd better get indoors—it's too hot to be out here.
The woman starts her motorbike and pulls away, leaving Fiona to follow her in her go-kart.
------------
To be the Diamonds Champion...you have to have a clear, singular mind.
The sad part about you, Eternity, is that you don't know who you really want to be. One fleeting moment, you're a happy-go-lucky person that can charm others with a wink and a humble nod. The next, you'll be a jealous little tart who does nothing except hide behind the curtain of self-pity. You don't have the mental capacity to fully comprehend that you can't eliminate the chaos in your brain by finding the one voice that will propel you to fame and stardom in IWF.
Simply put, it's no wonder why you're the shortest-reigning Diamonds Champion ever.
You're merely a little girl trapped inside the body of an older woman, but how you're even in an IWF ring—much less this match—is beyond my scope of rational thinking. You should be put in an asylum, never to be set free for as long as you're on God's green Earth.
I know what it's like to be locked up in a room with doctors poking and prodding your every move, and quite frankly, my dear, it's not a very pleasant experience. Yet unlike you, I was very blessed to have friends that supported me throughout my ordeal, and as a result, my mind is much clearer and stronger than it has ever been in my life. Never in my lifetime have I treated another human being as a mere puppet in some delusional schematic, but you...you thrive on that. You treat other people as your own personal playthings simply because you have no one that's willing to support you through the darkest of hours, comfort you in sickness and in health, and treasure you until death.
I won't let you manipulate me like you did Eliza—for I'm more levelheaded than you.
------------
To be the Diamonds Champion...you have to have a clear, singular mind.
The sad part about you, Eternity, is that you don't know who you really want to be. One fleeting moment, you're a happy-go-lucky person that can charm others with a wink and a humble nod. The next, you'll be a jealous little tart who does nothing except hide behind the curtain of self-pity. You don't have the mental capacity to fully comprehend that you can't eliminate the chaos in your brain by finding the one voice that will propel you to fame and stardom in IWF.
Simply put, it's no wonder why you're the shortest-reigning Diamonds Champion ever.
You're merely a little girl trapped inside the body of an older woman, but how you're even in an IWF ring—much less this match—is beyond my scope of rational thinking. You should be put in an asylum, never to be set free for as long as you're on God's green Earth.
I know what it's like to be locked up in a room with doctors poking and prodding your every move, and quite frankly, my dear, it's not a very pleasant experience. Yet unlike you, I was very blessed to have friends that supported me throughout my ordeal, and as a result, my mind is much clearer and stronger than it has ever been in my life. Never in my lifetime have I treated another human being as a mere puppet in some delusional schematic, but you...you thrive on that. You treat other people as your own personal playthings simply because you have no one that's willing to support you through the darkest of hours, comfort you in sickness and in health, and treasure you until death.
I won't let you manipulate me like you did Eliza—for I'm more levelheaded than you.
------------
2:00 PM - Inside the stranger's home...
We find Fiona McFly sitting in a contemporary-styled living room inside the woman's house. The white paint on the walls in the fifty-plus year old living space are starting to chip, and dust practically covers a large trophy case that proudly displays the awards the older woman won in her lifetime, including racing trophies and other plaques from different ventures. A white racing helmet rests on the coffee table as the stranger brings in a white coffee mug and sets it before the young Irishgirl, now sporting a bandage on her lip.
WOMAN: How do you like your tea hunny-boo?
YOUNG FIONA: Tea? Earl Grey, hot please.
The woman laughs out loud.
WOMAN: Silly gander, of course it's hot! What would you like in it?
YOUG FIONA: Nothing, madam.
The woman, now clad in a pair of blue cutoff jean shorts and a white Dallas Cowboys T-shirt that shows off her curvaceous figure, nods warmly over Fiona's politeness. She walks into the kitchen and brings back a small, gray tea kettle; she pours some Earl Grey into Fiona's mug as the Irishgirl properly thanks her.
YOUNG FIONA: Excellent tea madam. I've loved Earl Grey ever since I was a small girl in Belfast.
The woman sits down next to Fiona on the beige couch, gazing upon her trophy case.
“MISS KIMBLE”: Nothing brightens your day more than a piping hot cup of tea. My name's Kimble...Regina Kimble. I'm a stock car driver who's competed in the local Saturday races for the past three years; whilst not behind the wheel, I help run the till in Grandpa Luke's salvage shop in town.
The Irishgirl politely shakes the racer's right hand.
YOUNG FIONA: It's an honour to meet you, Miss Kimble. I'm—
“MISS KIMBLE”: Fiona--I've heard some interesting stories about you from him.
Fiona nods her head warmly, sighing to herself as she takes a sip from her tea mug.
FIONA: It's nothing, really.
Regina pats her guest warmly on the right shoulder.
“MISS KIMBLE”: You're quite humble...now that's a trait you share with your father.
Fiona perks up her left brow.
YOUNG FIONA: You know my father?!
In response, Regina stands up from her recliner and heads toward her bookshelf; she takes a small framed picture and blows the dust off of it. She walks toward her guest and hands her the picture, which dates back to around 1985 and features her and a slightly younger-looking William Sean McFly, fully clad in his Royal Navy service uniform.
“MISS KIMBLE”: Yes. I met him years ago whilst on holiday, at a pub near Liverpool. He raced go-karts with his Royal Navy unit for charity.
The young girl proudly gazes at the picture.
YOUNG FIONA: Mum always told me was nothing more than an adventurous fool.
“MISS KIMBLE”: That's your mum talking...and frankly, my dear, she's one of those sheltered types that only tells a partial truth but hides the rest of it on her own personal whim.
Fiona chuckles slightly, taking another sip from her drink.
“MISS KIMBLE”: On the surface, your father was quite the outgoing gentleman, looking for that extra thrill or amusement—that's how he got into racing like I did. On the inside...he was a humble human being, a patient man who never forgot his sense of duty to Her Majesty the Queen and his fellow countrymen. What a terrific friend he was...
Kimble sighs as her voice trails off, fondly remember the good times she shared with her old friend. Quickly breaking the silence, she claps her hands twice before motioning Fiona to accompany her. The Irishgirl stands her and places her tea gently on the rustic, wooden coffee table before following the racecar driver.
“MISS KIMBLE”: Oh, that reminds me. Follow me to my garage—I have something for you.
The two ladies head toward the house's parking garage.
“MISS KIMBLE”: Your father wanted you to have this when you were old enough, but your mum wouldn't allow it. After all...she only fears that you might follow a strange woman like myself on some damned dramatic adventure for the mere purpose of getting your hands dirty.
Upon entering the carpark, Fiona is shocked to discover a new go-kart unlike the one she currently has. Sporting a larger 150cc-class motor, this racing machine looks like a real-life Formula One car built to a smaller scale; yet it appears to have seen better days and, as a consequence, it's red, white, and blue paint job has rusted away--something that takes even the polite 12-year-old aback.
YOUNG FIONA: What a pile of rubbish!
Giggling, Kimble grins from ear to ear.
“MISS KIMBLE”: Are ya outta your Vulcan mind, ya silly gander?! This is your new go-kart, called the “Mach Five” after some old television programme—designed by your father, built to race at the Fredericksburg summer festival.
Fiona shakes her head at the abomination beofre her.
YOUNG FIONA: With great respect Miss Kimble...I already have a go-kart.
Regina sticks out her tongue and gives a raspberry before laughing out loud.
“MISS KIMBLE”: That puny little thing you pull that red wagon with?! That only has a 50cc motor--it belongs in a Putt-Putt Golf and Games, not a stadium racecourse. Besides, the standard motor class for the local kart racing events is 150cc.
Despite her reservations over its visual appearance, Fiona slowly walks around her new "ride," taking some time to admire its sleek contour and its attention to detail.
YOUNG FIONA: How did you—of all people—build this thing? It must've taken you, like, several years.
“MISS KIMBLE”: Six years, two months, forty-seven days to be exact.
Miss Kimble reaches into her the sidecar of her motorcycle and pulls out a blueprint; she unrolls the paper, revealing the design that Fiona's father had in mind.
“MISS KIMBLE”: Prior to my moving to Texas in 1987, he gave me the blueprint—knowing that, someday, you would want to try your hand at kart racing. Building it became one of my biggest hobbies.
Fiona quietly nods her head, gazing lovingly at her father's design.
YOUNG FIONA: What did you do when you weren't working on it?
“MISS KIMBLE”: I taught kindergarten at Beckham Elementary School in Arlington--a city due north of here near Dallas and Fort Worth. There, I met this charming little boy with a heart of gold and a wild imagination.
Fiona gasped slightly, remembering the moment where she found that stuffed animal named "Dumbo" from the glove box in that wrecked 1973 Chevy Vega, before slowly turning her head towards Regina.
YOUNG FIONA: Was it...him...by any chance?
The former teacher-turned-racecar driver stood silently, closing her eyes while trying to come up with the right answer to her guest's query. Yet the young McFly, to her credit, already had a working theory in mind. "Miss Kimble didn't move to Fredericksburg just so she could help her grandfather's business," Fiona thought to herself. "She's merely trying to repress a memory from her past."
Instantly knowing what her young friend was thinking, Kimble could only nod warmly.
For Fiona's theory was right--the little boy the female racer was alluding to was, indeed, Jack.
------------
To be the Diamonds Champion...you have to be humble in all things.
Crystal, I fully understand where you're coming from. You and I wound getting the wrong end of the bargain whenever those Garcia tarts decided to make a mess of things, and under the normalest of circumstances, we would essentially lose our judgment and scream insults at the enemy. After all, we Northern Irish girls share a little something in common with Latinas like yourself in that...welp, we have a tendency to become quite volatile against those who make us angry.
Unfortunately for you hunny-bear, that is where the similarities end.
I could've sat there and screamed at Kathleen Conway over how I got fucked over on that last go-around, but...I chose not to. I chose to control my temperament and allow my actions in the ring to do that talking—regardless of wins or losses—because I wanted to take a more optimistic approach, knowing full well that I was going to have another shot at glory at another point in time. By taking the requisite amount of time to quietly think about the future instead of moaning about the past, I allowed myself to grow and to evolve—not just as a competitor, but as a civilised human being.
You were reckless!
Instead of looking forward to the next challenge, you backed yourself into a hole that you could never truly back yourself out of. You goaded yourself into a three-on-one without fully understanding the consequences of the words you've spoken. In a five-way match like the one you're in now with me, your status as a movie star-turned-drama queen isn't going to help you. You need to learn some humility, some respect for the game and for those around you.
I can teach you that concept—that is, if you're ready and willing to accept being on the receiving end of my favourite toy, the Cat O' Nine Tails.
------------
To be the Diamonds Champion...you have to be humble in all things.
Crystal, I fully understand where you're coming from. You and I wound getting the wrong end of the bargain whenever those Garcia tarts decided to make a mess of things, and under the normalest of circumstances, we would essentially lose our judgment and scream insults at the enemy. After all, we Northern Irish girls share a little something in common with Latinas like yourself in that...welp, we have a tendency to become quite volatile against those who make us angry.
Unfortunately for you hunny-bear, that is where the similarities end.
I could've sat there and screamed at Kathleen Conway over how I got fucked over on that last go-around, but...I chose not to. I chose to control my temperament and allow my actions in the ring to do that talking—regardless of wins or losses—because I wanted to take a more optimistic approach, knowing full well that I was going to have another shot at glory at another point in time. By taking the requisite amount of time to quietly think about the future instead of moaning about the past, I allowed myself to grow and to evolve—not just as a competitor, but as a civilised human being.
You were reckless!
Instead of looking forward to the next challenge, you backed yourself into a hole that you could never truly back yourself out of. You goaded yourself into a three-on-one without fully understanding the consequences of the words you've spoken. In a five-way match like the one you're in now with me, your status as a movie star-turned-drama queen isn't going to help you. You need to learn some humility, some respect for the game and for those around you.
I can teach you that concept—that is, if you're ready and willing to accept being on the receiving end of my favourite toy, the Cat O' Nine Tails.
------------
Sighing to herself, Regina Kimble walked back to her living room, followed closely by Fiona. She opens her large trophy case and pulled out an oak-framed photograph with a nameplate that read "MISS KIMBLE'S KINDERGARTEN CLASS / BECKHAM ELEMENTARY SCHOOL / 1987-1988 SCHOOL YEAR" and presents it to her younger charge. Fiona takes a few minutes to study the photo of the older lady's class up close, eventually peering her eyes upon Kimble's ultra-conservative blue blouse, a stark contrast to the more liberal figure she sports on this day.
"I can't believe this," the scavenger could only mutter to herself as her eyes fixed upon a small boy, who sported a dark blue Danny White Dallas Cowboys T-shirt and a shy-looking, innocent smile, before handing the keepsake back to Regina. The former teacher, who had tried so hard to suppress memories from her past, plunked herself down on the couch as Fiona sat in the beige recliner, patiently waiting as Kimble told the story.
“MISS KIMBLE”: Jack was a student in the first kindergarten class I taught back in '87. He was such a sweet little chap, but shy and often scared of being far away from his parents—especially his mother Linda. With the help of my other students...well, I kept him at ease, teaching him that whilst it was alright to be scared of being away from the ones you love, it wasn't alright to go into hiding and let the fears consume him.
Fiona warmly nodded her head as she resumed drinking her tea, which had cooled down slightly.
“MISS KIMBLE”: One day at recess, I convinced him to try the monkey bars in order to ease his separation anxiety. Yet as he did so, a second-grader shot a rock at him with a slingshot, knocking him off.
YOUNG FIONA: That's terrible! Who could've done such a thing?
“MISS KIMBLE”: A young fellow by the name of Scott Farkus...one who currently lives in this little town.
Fiona closes her eyes, remembering the cackling fifteen-year-old bully in the old Houston Oilers jersey.
YOUNG FIONA: The teenager in the black go-kart? You've seen him before, when you were teaching school right?
“MISS KIMBLE”: Yes--exactly right.
Fiona sighs to herself, wanting to utilize Biblical principles in hopes of someday forgiving the town bully--only to draw a blank. Instead, she presses on about Jack.
YOUNG FIONA: So what happened next?
“MISS KIMBLE”: Scott made a disparaging remark against Jack's mum...and well, ya know, sometimes children can be very protective of their parents.
"A kindergartner fighting an older second grader?! I find that highly illogical," the 12-year-old could only say to herself as he jaw dropped in awe.
YOUNG FIONA: They fought?
The ex-teacher looked at her class photo before mustering a slight smirk.
“MISS KIMBLE”: To the shock of the entire first recess period, including myself...yes. Afterward, Scott was expelled and Jack became somewhat of a revered legend. Later, I would teach him how to control his anger.
Fiona eked out a sheepish grin, acknowledging her own temperament.
"MISS KIMBLE": Anyhow, it seemed as if the entire school year was going to go smoothly for me, him, and the remainder of my class. Alas, it wasn't meant to be...
Fiona's polite smile turns into a slight frown as she watches Kimble's hazel eyes start to water. Slowly but steadily, the former schoolteacher rises to her feet and goes back to trophy case, where she puts back her class photo and takes out a small, white notebook and opens it up. With great sadness on her face, she opens up the book and pulls out a newspaper clipping from the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, dated March 24, 1988, with a headline reading:
Mother, 33, Dies In Wrong-Way Crash
Child, age 6, in coma
Child, age 6, in coma
YOUNG FIONA: Even though I had to witness my father being savaged when I was younger, I still can't begin to imagine the pain he and you had to endure...
"Jack really must've meant something special to you Miss Kimble," Fiona whispered into her friend's ear as Regina nodded her head. Fiona lets go as Kimble recomposes herself on the couch.
“MISS KIMBLE”: And now, you realise what you must do. You must beat Farkus in the big kart race during the town's summer festival.
Fiona widens her eyes, torn between the life she had been living with her mother and her outward sense of duty to help other people in need.
YOUNG FIONA: I...I can't! My mum would NEVER allow me to indulge in what she would describe as “irrational, illogical madness.” Besides, she's gonna go thermal when she sees I've got a bloody lip.
“MISS KIMBLE”: I need your help, but more importantly, he needs your help. You mustn't hide behind the words of your mum. You were born to help other people--and it is your sworn duty to see it to the very end.
Fiona sighed to herself, remembering Regina's bit about Jack's separation anxiety and how she convinced him to never hide behind that fear, before nodding her head, ekeing out a look of determined resolve. "After all," she thought. "It would be cowardly of me to hide behind a simple excuse."
YOUNG FIONA: Aye...I'll do it.
Kimble eked out a wide grin before presenting Fiona with her racing helmet.
YOUNG FIONA: There's only one minor problem.
"MISS KIMBLE": What's that, darling?
YOUNG FIONA: I know nothing about kart racing.
Regina lovingly blinked her eyes, gently hugging Fiona and thanking her for cheering her up. The two look at the trophy case once more, admiring the racing trophies that the former teacher had earned during her tenure in Fredericksburg. Regina turns her heard toward the budding adolescent with a wide smile and a loving wink.
"MISS KIMBLE": Well then...you've earned yourself a teacher.
{TO BE CONTINUED}
------------
To be the Diamonds Champion, you have to be willing to face your adversaries without hiding behind anyone.
Alexis, we've gone this same route over and over again—but you made want to spell it out for you again.
You have a duty—a sworn, solemn duty—to defend your championship against a variety of challengers and to plug away at your craft on a consistent level, but have you performed those duties to the satisfaction of the masses? I don't think so, darling. No matter how much in the way of lies you can possibly spin up, you haven't earned the right to call yourself a “fighting champion” unlike Kayla. You've barely managed to defend said Diamonds Championship.
Quite frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn about what you say--the only reason why you STILL have that precious shoulder ornament on you is because of those meddlesome Garcia tarts. You haven't proven to anyone that you're fully capable of making the Diamonds title as prestigious or alluring as it should be. Lately, you've wasted your precious time doing your husband's bidding, running away from certain danger instead of taking punishment for your actions.
It's no wonder why I have much more respect for, say for example, Kayla, Shea, Jessica, or Ana than I do with you.
To quote Sam Smith, “the writing's on the wall” when it comes to you. You, sweetheart, are a coward. You use other people to do your dirty work, and you hide behind those same people when the pressure cranks up on you. You haven't the mental or the physical capacity to stand on your own two feet and rely on your own principles in order to achieve success in this life. Think about that as you're locked up in that cage with me—for you can't run away, and you certainly can't hide behind those sisters any longer. In order to truly survive and grow as a person, you need to stop crawling under the proverbial rock like a confuzzled hermit crab and show the planet that you're not a “two-hit” wonder.
Otherwise, you're not gonna be having any fun whatsoever.
Crystal, Eternity, Eliza, and Alexis...you can say whatever you want to say about me or call me whatever name you can come up with, but the fact of the matter is that I've worked TOO hard to let this Championship opportunity pass me by. Now, it's MY time to be in the limelight. It's my turn to show the masses just how uch fun I can have out there--regardless of records or how you all perceive of me.
Are you ready for the roller-coaster ride that awaits you?
I hope you four are--just don't vomit when you see me walk out of Omaha, Nebraska as your new Diamonds Champion.
Cheers ladies!
To be the Diamonds Champion, you have to be willing to face your adversaries without hiding behind anyone.
Alexis, we've gone this same route over and over again—but you made want to spell it out for you again.
You have a duty—a sworn, solemn duty—to defend your championship against a variety of challengers and to plug away at your craft on a consistent level, but have you performed those duties to the satisfaction of the masses? I don't think so, darling. No matter how much in the way of lies you can possibly spin up, you haven't earned the right to call yourself a “fighting champion” unlike Kayla. You've barely managed to defend said Diamonds Championship.
Quite frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn about what you say--the only reason why you STILL have that precious shoulder ornament on you is because of those meddlesome Garcia tarts. You haven't proven to anyone that you're fully capable of making the Diamonds title as prestigious or alluring as it should be. Lately, you've wasted your precious time doing your husband's bidding, running away from certain danger instead of taking punishment for your actions.
It's no wonder why I have much more respect for, say for example, Kayla, Shea, Jessica, or Ana than I do with you.
To quote Sam Smith, “the writing's on the wall” when it comes to you. You, sweetheart, are a coward. You use other people to do your dirty work, and you hide behind those same people when the pressure cranks up on you. You haven't the mental or the physical capacity to stand on your own two feet and rely on your own principles in order to achieve success in this life. Think about that as you're locked up in that cage with me—for you can't run away, and you certainly can't hide behind those sisters any longer. In order to truly survive and grow as a person, you need to stop crawling under the proverbial rock like a confuzzled hermit crab and show the planet that you're not a “two-hit” wonder.
Otherwise, you're not gonna be having any fun whatsoever.
Crystal, Eternity, Eliza, and Alexis...you can say whatever you want to say about me or call me whatever name you can come up with, but the fact of the matter is that I've worked TOO hard to let this Championship opportunity pass me by. Now, it's MY time to be in the limelight. It's my turn to show the masses just how uch fun I can have out there--regardless of records or how you all perceive of me.
Are you ready for the roller-coaster ride that awaits you?
I hope you four are--just don't vomit when you see me walk out of Omaha, Nebraska as your new Diamonds Champion.
Cheers ladies!
Well howdy there pardner.