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Post by The BombTrax on Sept 3, 2016 22:39:20 GMT
One (1) Role Play Max
Final Role Play Deadline: Tuesday September 13th, 2016 @ 10:59 PM CST
Segment/Match Deadline: Tuesday, September 13th, 2016 @ 11:59 PM CST
Singles Match Kelsey Spencer versus Summer |
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Post by Kelsey Spencer on Sept 12, 2016 21:17:34 GMT
"It's Kelsey Time"
Becky’s gone for the weekend; she’s off to Toronto to meet with a specialist about her condition. I don't think she'd be too happy with me talking about it in detail, so let's just say she has something preventing her from wrestling and leave it at that.
We’re pretty much in the same boat as each other financially right now - she recently lost her inherited fortune to her spoiled brat of an adopted daughter, who took over Saint City in her absence. She got released from the only promotion she was working for, and has decided to take a break from wrestling to give her body a chance to recover from those nagging injuries. And me? I'm trying my best to make ends meet for myself and my mum on the small wage I get from PAW, and the even-smaller paycheck I receive from my other job; delivering Papa John’s pizzas around my area.
When you're delivering pizzas all over the place, there's not a whole lotta time to train; so when I do, it's usually just the basics to keep myself at an acceptable level of athleticism. I don't have a lotta time or money, but somehow, I can make the most basic of training work. But this weekend, I’m trying something different. I'm training with a friend who has faced and defeated my opponent this upcoming week on Addiction. I'm hoping he can help me learn more about myself, and how to break down these walls of limitation I've set for myself recently.
I pace back and forth in my apartment, waiting for him to arrive. I'm nervous, as I usually am - I'm not so good at interacting with people in person. Social media? Yeah, no problem; I'm behind a screen, I don't need to speak or express myself in real time. I can take it slow, think out my responses if I need to. It's much harder in person - awkward silence is awkward, I dunno how else to put it. I don't want the people I work with to think I'm weird, so I've gotta try stay on my toes when it comes to social interaction.
My mind starts racing as I start to get anxious - what if he hates the sight of my apartment so much that he can't stand to be here? The plan was for him to stay in Becky’s bed while she's out of town, but again, I don't think the condition of the place is going to be very appealing. I mean, Becky’s still trying to get used to it, and she's lived here for weeks!
There’s a knock at the door that makes me jump four feet. Running my sweaty palms over my dirty, torn-up jeans, I open the door to greet my guest. Cross is wearing a white shirt which tries to hide a designer logo but the two letters sewn onto the chest don’t hide it as much as he might think it does. He expected me to not be so prepared as I caught him place his cell into the pocket of his jeans.
“Hey!” I’m putting on a facade, not letting him see that I’m actually incredibly sick. When people find out you’re sick, they start to worry, and I don’t wanna put anybody through that. “Did you find the place okay?”
“It wasn’t too hard, GPS solves everything,” he responds, leaning up against the door frame. A few moments pass where no words are spoken, until he asks, “You going to invite me in?”
“Oh, of course! Come on in!” You tend to miss social cues when you don't have a lot of visitors over. I step aside to give him access to the apartment - he takes little more than three steps in before he’s inspecting the ceiling of the room, gazing directly up at the mould spores.
“You live here?” he questions in a disgusted tone, slightly turning his head toward me. I step into the apartment and stand by his side, gazing up at the ceiling with my nose scrunched in a repulsed way.
“I don’t have much of a choice,” I try to validate my lifestyle, using the age-old excuse that it’s a cheaper alternative to everything else out there. I know it’s damaging to my health, but it’s the best option for my mum’s sake - at least for the time being. If I can keep clothes on her back and food in her belly, that’s all that matters right now.
“I’m sure you could find somewhere livable, at the very least,” he comments, his eyes making contact with mine. He buries his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Shall we go?”
Oh, training! I almost forgot! I don’t know if I’ve got it in me to go train right now - my head feels like it’s melting inside, my throat’s dry and scratchy - not only that, but I have no energy for some reason. I dunno what’s happening to me…
“Are you alright there?” I hear him ask. Guess I spaced out for a moment.
“Oh, yeah, I’m cool.”
I’m not. In fact, I can’t think of a time where I’ve felt worse than I do right now. But I can't let him know that; I've gotta be strong! That's how I want people to see me, not as some sick, weak as a kitten girl who isn't half the athlete she once was.
“Come on, I get paid to see through lies,” he states, leaning against the edge of my couch. He sees right through me like I'm an open window. “Talk to me.”
“I dunno what to say.” That an honest answer; I have no idea what to say right now. I've never been in this situation, nor have I even thought of the way I'd react if I ever found myself in this mess. In my experiences, worrying about myself just leads to trouble for me and the people around me, so I’ve just trained myself not to do it. It's a sickness, I admit it, but it's for everyone’s benefit.
“Just start with what's bothering you and go from there.” He's so calm and collected about it, almost like it’s his job to listen to my issues. I can't explain it, but I feel a sense of...safety speaking to him.
“I’m worried that everything I do is never gonna be enough,” I confess. “I wanna be the best wrestler I can be, but every time I get close, I fall flat on my face. I'm worried that if it keeps happening, people aren't gonna take me seriously... Half of them already don't.” He folds his arms and listens intently as I pour my heart out; everything from past failures to future aspirations - you name it, I cover it. The whole time I'm talking, he's making direct eye contact with me, like he's staring into my soul; it's a little off-putting at first, making me feel anxious and uneasy. But as I spill my guts, I feel somewhat fulfilled - happy, even - and soon enough, without initially realising it, I can make total eye contact with him and not feel awkward.
Man, this has gotta be a first.
“...and that's just about it,” I announce, taking a deep, cleansing sigh to eradicate any lingering stress. It feels good to talk about what's been bugging me.
“You want to know what I would do if I were you?”
“Yeah, please.”
“Be yourself,” he instructs me, rising back to his feet. “It sounds like you're worrying about what everyone else thinks too much. What matters is how you feel about you. The rest, fuck them...they don’t matter...” He places his hands on my shoulders and flashes a toothy grin - then, something really weird happens.
I start getting butterflies. They're kinda like the ones I get before a huge match, or when I eat way too much fairy floss - but it's different at the same time. Almost as if my skeleton’s trying to leap outta my skin. When he brushes my newly-blue hair from my face, I feel chills shoot down my neck and spine.
Is this what it feels like to love someone? Are these the changing feelings I missed in high school because I was so anti-social? Why is everything so confusing?
“I don't feel very good about myself,” I whisper, with a hint of nervous stuttering in my voice and tears forming in my eyes. I guess he has picked up on it, because he's slowly inching closer without the intention of being intimidating.
“You should,” he assures me, hands clasping either side of my face. “I think you're great.”
He leans in slowly - oh my gosh, this could be it - my first kiss. I really don't know this guy all that well, but I know him well enough to know that I could do worse… Look at me, saying “know” a lot… Is it hot in here..?
...Oh, right! Here - as in the Moldy Apartment of Total Doom - isn't exactly the most romantic spot in the world.
Almost like a sign from God that it's not meant to be, I get a text message on my phone that interrupts the moment. He pulls back as if nothing was about to transpire - which, honestly, makes me a little uneasy - while I'm checking my phone.
“Oh, shoot!”
“What's up?”
“I forgot, I promised I was gonna meet up with AJ this afternoon! He needs me to shoot some promotional stuff for my match this week.” I look to him and deeply sigh. “I guess we’re gonna have to reschedule…”
He's totally cool with it. It’s rare to meet someone so laid back about stuff that others would find a constant nuisance. He’s patient and understanding that my life’s an absolute mess right now, which is cool - kinda makes me feel a little better about myself, that I’m not a total failure.
We make plans to train the following evening before he’s gotta leave - hopefully by then I’ll be feeling a little better.
I race across town to meet AJ at the amusement park, where I find him setting up his equipment.
“Are you sure you wanna do this right now?” AJ asks as I’m in the throes of a coughing fit.
“Just...gimme a minute…” I plead with him, standing hunched over with my hands placed on my knees to hold myself up. It feels like there's something stuck in my throat, but it won't come out. My condition’s getting worse, I can feel it. I’m feeling absolutely drained; like all of the energy has been sucked out of me by some kind of giant vacuum. This apartment’s killing me; the mould is shutting down my body, all the while I’m pushing it well beyond its limits to wrestle on a fortnightly basis. My friends are right - if I keep going like this, I’m going to crash and burn.
But, if I just hang on a little longer, I can turn this thing around. I can become a champion; I can earn more money, help my mum, get outta that filthy box I call a home. Just a little longer.
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I’m pacing back and forth in the hall, AJ making sure to capture my movements with his camera. Thank goodness Austin agreed to do this stuff for me without expecting to be paid; I can’t afford to pay him, to be completely honest. He’s a great friend.
“I didn’t come all the way from Australia to be second best, you know,” I indirectly address the camera. “After this previous Addiction, though, that’s exactly what I became; second best. I had that championship in my fingertips! It was so darn close, and what do you know? I blew it...again. I mean, I try my hardest night in and night out, but I just keep smacking my cranium on that glass ceiling - and it’s starting to give me a headache.
There’s a silver-lining, though; Anna and I proved all of our doubters wrong for the third time. We main evented the first Addiction as 50% of a Fatal 4 Way, and even when so many of our peers said we couldn’t do it, we made it to the final two - not only that, but we put on one heck of a match! It’s something I can be proud of, even if I wasn’t the one leaving as the Crank Champion…”
I pause, my pacing ceases, and I stand side-on to the camera. I’m still a little upset that things didn’t go my way, which I’m sure translates well to the recording.
“But, you know, the hungriest hyena’s also the most desperate, and not winning that championship just motivates me to push myself even harder. I need to keep plowing forward, because PAW has a ton of talent that’s constantly improving, and I don’t want to get lost in the shuffle. I kinda feel like I do get forgotten about at times - I mean, when you look at the names on this roster and what they bring to the table, it’s easy to see why - and I don’t enjoy feeling that way.”
I finally turn to gaze into the camera, feeling a soft expression on my face.
“Earlier this week, I logged onto my Twitter and saw I had a link sent to me by a fan in my DMs. Curious, I decided to click it and take a look - it was the official PAW Power Rankings. After my loss on Addiction, I’d slipped from #9 down to #11.” I raise my open palms for a moment. “I know what you’re thinking - I slipped down two spots, so what? It may not mean a whole lot to anybody else, but to me, it means a great deal. I’m upset with myself. I promised myself that I would be the absolute best, and look at me - I’m going backward, not forward - I’m not even part of PAW’s Elite 10 anymore.
Now, I dunno how much - if anything - these Rankings mean to my opponent this week, Summer, and I’m not even gonna pretend I do. All I know is what I’ve seen, and that includes her match last week. I was there live to see it in person, as a matter of fact, and I literally jumped out of my chair when I saw her collide with the concrete floor. Yes, concrete! It’s no surprise she couldn’t defend herself after that.”
I pause to reflect on the mistakes I’ve made in my career, brought on by the desperation moves I’d attempted. I find myself glancing at my shoulder instinctively, seeing the faded scar where I had surgery all those years ago staring back at me.
“Summer, I know what it’s like to work as hard as you can, only to be left feeling deflated when things don’t go your way; that’s pretty much my entire PAW career right there. Deflation can turn into desperation very easily, and we start to take risks that we really shouldn’t; I’m guilty of that myself, don’t worry - my shoulder injury stemmed from throwing caution into the wind many times - but that cross body attempt that ended with you landing on the arena floor was among one of the most reckless things I’ve ever seen.
I don’t want you to think you’ve gotta resort to that in our match this week. I’d hate to see you get injured, if you haven’t already following that fall. Summer, I’m not someone who likes to wrestle an opponent that isn’t at 100% because it makes me feel like I’m not accomplishing anything if I don’t win. But, I’m gonna have to make an exception this time. You see, Summer… I’ve been to the main event here, I’ve seen what it’s like to compete for championship opportunities… And believe me when I tell you, I wanna go back there. I wanna make it back there because it’s a feeling like no other I’ve ever experienced; and to get there as quickly as possible, I need to defeat you.
I know you understand where I’m coming from; you’ve been wrestling almost as long as I have. And if you’re anything like me, you wanna continue to wrestle as long as possible - and that’s not gonna happen if you keep putting your body through huge amounts of punishment like that. I know that probably sounds like a preachy lecture, but I’m just trying to help you - I want you to understand that I can’t afford to let you win this match. Now, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna take risks or put myself in a dangerous position, because I’ve learned from that. It’s been a long journey for me to get here, and I love performing in PAW… I wanna do it for years to come.”
I instinctively raise my fists into a semi-fighting stance - AJ often refers to it as my “fired-up position”, and I can see a proud smile form on his face from behind the camera. It's infectious; I feel a smirk creep up on my face.
“Summer, what I’m saying here is when you step into The Pure Arena this Thursday night, you’re stepping into the ring with someone who isn’t fighting for herself. Like you, I do this for the love of wrestling and don’t get me wrong, I would love nothing more than to be the champion - but, I’m fighting for my friend Becky who lost everything she had when she was kicked out of her own home. I’m fighting for my mum back in Baltimore, who relies on my income to get her through another week because she’s too sick to do it on her own. I’m fighting for every little boy and girl in that crowd who, like me, was always told they can’t do this.”
My arms fall by my side as I chuckle slightly, feeling that sense of confidence that seems to come and go as it pleases. I dunno what it is - something about having my biggest rival as my best friend, maybe having Cross believe in me this much, having something to fight for… Something is pushing me, making me feel like I can do pretty much anything right now.
“In case you missed the memo, it's September - that means the time for Summer is over.” I slap my left shoulder, and raise the Sign of the Horns with my right hand. I give a confident smirk as I close with, “Now, it’s Kelsey Time.” |
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Summer
PAW Cub
Spazzy McSpazzerson
Posts: 14 
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Post by Summer on Sept 13, 2016 1:52:10 GMT
Tunica, Mississippi || Friday, September 2, 2016, 10:45 PM (OFF CAMERA)
Her ears were still ringing. Even with the knee-pads and her taped-up wrists, she'd felt the vibration of that tooth-rattling impact from her hair to the soles of her feet. The former was soaking wet. The latter were in a bucket of ice water and she knew eventually Vinny Jarrett was going to come back and join her. She'd made sure he had an all-access pass before parting ways with him just moments before her match and now she was trying to replay those last few moments in her mind.
Had she missed something?
She'd been sure Recoba was down.
She'd been sure she had the time and now she could hear Ak's voice in the back of her mind, that stern reprimand he'd given her in that Boston gym: "all I hear are excuses but excuses aren't welcome. Here we don't give reasons for our failures. Instead, we work with our shortcomings and we forge weakness into strength. Do you understand me?"
Part of her wanted to pick that apart because to forge something you needed heat. You needed to hammer on it relentlessly when it was soft to get the metal just right. And maybe that metaphor was apt. Maybe she was soft. Maybe she'd burned so much that she was bending every way, like every blow, every last impact was warping her into something unrecognizable. He'd told her as much. Told her that she was all talk and maybe it had been a little dig to light her fire, to get her to come at him with everything she had but it still had a ring of truth.
"You talk tough...but underneath it all, you're soft. You're innocent and weak."
Weak. Absolutely and without a doubt. Heart on her sleeve. No off switch for her mouth. She wanted so bad to be like Larry Gowan, like Lex Collins - all heart and passion, as fierce as they come but nobody had ever taken her seriously when she tried her best to emulate them both. She'd tried to be like Ak, to be cold and scary and unyielding. She'd tried to be honest and had it thrown back at her by Recoba, mocked as though she was some gormless rookie fresh off the turnip truck.
"I can't do this," she closed her eyes against the burn of tears, putting her head in her hands, "what the hell am I even doing here?"
Biting her lip, she fell silent just as a soft knock came on the door. She looked up to see Vinny standing there with a smile on his handsome face. Waving him over, she didn't say a word, not trusting herself to keep the bitterness and poison from lashing out at him. He didn't deserve that. She bowed her head, exhaling slowly and then he was sitting next to her, his fingers rubbing her neck.
"Soon as my feet are ready, we'll get outta here," her voice came out soft, the tone forcefully cheery, "and find..."
"An all-night ice cream place?" He supplied as though he completely understood what she needed.
"Yeah." She couldn't help the smile at the warmth in his voice, at that compassion she felt in the gentle pressure of his hand, "that's exactly what I was thinking." One more match, she thought, nodding as best she could when he was still working the kinks from her tense muscles. One more. And if that was a failure too?
Maybe she'd pull a page from Ak's book and just disappear too.
[REC.]
"Well...so that was a thing." The screen was pitch black, the only thing remarkable was the huge amount of bitter scorn in the voice of Summer. "Lost another match. Yeppers, sure did. And you know, if you were expecting me to make a bunch of stupid excuses about it? I could. I could piss and moan and say the floors in the place Ak found for us," her voice cracked, faltered and she cleared her throat, "are gross and slippery and threw off my game. I could say that someone stealing my best sports bra kinda ruined my lucky gear. I could say a lot..."
She made a disgusted sound.
"Shit. Okay. No. No, no, no... this is not going to happen again."
She sighed and then the unmistakable sound of the striker wheel on a lighter filled the silence. A spark turned into a flame and for a moment Kasey was visible. Leaning forward, she brought the flame to a few scrunched up pieces of newspaper, watching as they caught, in turn igniting a pile of sticks. "Okay, does anyone even remember this show? Are You Afraid Of The Dark, it was called and I think Robot Chicken referenced it last season. Am I getting too old, or do people still remember that hokey shit? Those kids around the campfire - the Midnight Society - telling their spoopy tales?"
She paused, pushing her glasses up.
"Yeah. I said SPOOPY. It's a thing, too and I know what you're thinking. Of course I do because I've been here a hundred times before and every one was an 'enry - not Mac, not Buddy or Sam!"
Reaching down, she picked up a large index card, showing the words written on it to the camera.
CAUTION: HERE THERE BE NON SEQUITURS.
"Truthfully? I'm barely treading water. I know that. And maybe I should have stayed gone. Maybe I should have taken the hint and just stayed on the sidelines because it's painfully obvious to me right now that the only thing I get when I'm in this business are aches. Pains and yeah I'm not just talking about wiping out or testing laws of physics or whatever. Like, I mean I'm just seriously... catastrophically jerked around in ways you couldn't even begin to imagine. Lemme bring you up to speed, okay? So, I already had ties in SCW because of working there briefly in the past. I already had this in or whatever at The Luxor and they were running this new developmental academy so I was like 'hey, this is a no-brainer. Go there, shake off the rust, make sure you're good to get back in the ring' and then my very first match this guy was all 'people from Arizona are making Mexicans take all our jobs' and I was like 'what the actual fuck'?"
Frowning, she shrugged.
"So while all this is going on, I've got CWF - have you heard of that place? Well anyhow, I've got them trying to sue me for some breach of contract when I never really signed anything there and then they're all 'well we own your likeness and your signature moves so we're gonna have this tax lawyer chick pretend to be you' and then she's all stealing my display picture on Twitter and junk. So you know... that was another thing and I went to Boston to see about training with Akragth because Twitter said I should follow him and I did and he seemed really nice and then... well... then I'm signing with BFW. So that was nice. I mean, I had two matches and I won them both. And Ak asked me to move in with him. And we went on holiday in the UK - we saw the Tower Bridge and Big Ben and the Queen's Palace and those guards who aren't allowed to smile or fart or anything and then when we got back it was like the whole world went nuts. BFW closed. And... and..."
She tried to catch her breath, holding up another sign: OKAY SO HERE COMES THE PURGE.
"I'm all over the place still, training wheels off and I'm wobbling down the road but hey you know the cool thing about riding a bike? You never really forget how. I mean, sure, you wipe out. You weeble and wobble and maybe you fall down but maybe you don't and you're trying to remember how you used to do it with no hands and now you're hitting the ditch with a death grip on both handlebars - is that what it means to grow up? Like, is that what Peter Pan was so afraid of? Because HOLY SHIT, I do not want to grow up - so like, here I am, in this place I only came to because they were gonna give him a job and I was just like coat-tail riding like crazy. IS that surprising? I mean, come on. Exodus Pro it was Bryan Axel. RMP it was Ryan Mackenzie. FFW it was this manager and interim CEO guy named Kyle Kilmeade and then after a particularly messy breakup because he thought I was boffing my trainer Christian Kincaid-"
A breath.
"I was, but that's another story for another day... can't slut shame me when I'm not ashamed of having a healthy libido... so then after that, it was this awesome guy named Richard Specter... the brother of Adrien Specter - he's a legend. Adrien, I mean. Richard was just his interpreter because Adrien used sign language... long story there. So... then it gets a little muddled. I had a thing with this guy named Jason - his sister was the one CWF used to impersonate me the first time back in 2011."
Another sign: OVER-SHARING IS CARING!
"And then there was this guy named Hunter and then he left and for a while it was just me and the big black hole and my PT at all the hours logged trying to get back on the fucking horse that tried to kill me and I had people talking about me in whispers, asking if I was okay. Asking if I was sure I wanted to try again like I was made of glass... like I was some dainty little fucking dolly on a high shelf and I'm like... what's the point in living if you're not out there doing what makes sense? I mean, what's the point in anything so I pushed and I pushed and I was so freakin' stupid because I thought for a minute that anything I was doing mattered."
Breathing hard, she stopped, staring at the camera for a few seconds before biting her lip.
"Okay. We clear now? I, Kasey Dawn Summers, am an absolutely ginormous idiot. I suck at life choices and this has been your super fun Fall Fair Bi-polar Bear Plunge - that would be a great Kool-Aid flavor, right? Holy shit that was a tangent, wasn't it? Got hugely off track from the meme about some typoed Dollar Store sign and now I'm vying for the next viral trainwreck of the week!"
She shook her head.
"Viral... there's something you never wanna be. Exploding online for all the wrong reasons. Or gross and contagious. Either one, not really the best, right? Because Lord knows we all are one huge botch away from the weekly fail list - my spectacular Icarus crash and burn on the friggin' concrete notwithstanding. And you know, head injuries aren't funny. They really aren't."
Sighing, she shook her head. "Honestly, they're a pretty huge hazard - you know when Mike Ditka is all 'I would never let my kid play football' that it's a big deal and it's weird how cavalier some people are about their health in this business."
She nodded sagely, sounding like a public service message, "and at least five-thirds of professional wrestlers suffer from the debilitating after-effects for weeks... even fortnights afterwards!" Shaking her head slowly, she quickly amended that, "I mean three-fifths. Three out of five wrestlers could be suffering from this very horrible and very real condition. They could be changing a bathroom light bulb, clipping their toenails, recording promotional videos or even," she gasped, "rubbing shoulders with you in the locker room. The horror is that some of these people don't even know there's anything wrong with them. They carry on conversations, have brunch, train and even wrestle without knowing the danger. Are you one of these poor statistics? I feel like I'm legitimately on the brink of it so I've kinda made a little checklist. To help. In case you are and you don't know it."
Summer cocked her head, and pulled out a folded piece of paper, studying it intently.
"Do you suffer from any of the following symptoms: overblown ego? Delusions of grandeur? Desires for world domination? Memory problems? Time-space continuum paradoxes? If you've been experiencing any of these problems, maybe you should seek some professional help. Get an X-ray or a CAT scan. Or, y'know... have someone help you out of your misery. Do it for the rest of us. The people who care about the wrestling business. Ask your doctor if a lobotomy is right for you. Some side effects may include: uncontrollable verbal diarrhea, drooling, losing to Cross Recoba..." she frowned, trailing off before she quickly interrupted her previous track, "although I couldn't imagine that... ugh. Okay. I can't do this. I can't be funny and witty and... I just want to win a damn match. Kelsey Spencer couldn't get it done against Annabel Lee."
She coughed, the clearing of her throat sounding like she was saying, 'Poe sucks' over and over.
"She sucks; I'm going to win, and there really isn't much more to be said about that."
Summer laughed, rolling her eyes, "I mean, you know what subtext is, right? You know what a metaphor is, that much is clear, but you missed the mark. See, I'm not sure if you know what day it is today, but summer ends on September 22nd - like friggin' ten days from now. So no. Summer IS NOT over and really, I was expecting something intelligent from you. I was. Instead I got the dumbest retread I've ever heard in my life."
She giggled, smirking, "so at this point I'm assuming wherever you learned your chops in this business was completely populated with the lowest common denominator mouth-breathers of this business because that was the best you had? It's Kelsey Time? Yeah. Okay. And that's what time exactly? Half past 'dumbfuck' and quarter to 'circling the drain'? I have to assume that's what you're accustomed to dealing with, or it's impossible to understand why you would go out of your way to insult my intelligence with that RIDICULOUS junk you were spouting. I'm starting to think that maybe there really is something wrong with you. And that's... kinda sad. Well, either that or you're auditioning to be the next big draw at Uncle Shecky's Chuckle Barn. Either way, it's still borderline pathetic."
Summer laughed.
"I ate concrete against Cross Recoba. Sure did. And somehow this is worse. Oh, man... this week takes the cake. This week I got you, and you're so far out in left field you're ready to catch Babe Ruth's best pop fly. A trial by fire is what they usually call these things, isn't it? A gauntlet or something..." she frowned, "I can't remember what my uncle used to say. He used to tell me that the bigger the challenge, the more faith they have in you. So this, this probably means that I am a SUPERSTAR! I'd better get up on the roof and start crowing like a psycho, telling everyone that I'm the best around."
Despite the words she seemed outwardly calm, even that spark in her eyes seemed dimmed as she cocked her head to the side as though thinking about what she'd just said. She shrugged finally, and resumed speaking.
"Or not. That's not really my thing. I'll leave the lamesauce bragging to someone like you. So..."
She hesitated, staring into the crackling flames.
"For your approval, I submit my story: The Tale of The Arizona Firebird. You know what that means, right? You know that's a play on phoenix, right? You know what they do when they crash and burn?"
She paused, cocking her head to consider her question before nodding to herself.
"They get back up. They spread their wings and they fly again."
She let that hang for a few beats before smiling.
"Caw-caw... bitch."
With that, she grabbed a bucket of sand, dousing the fire with an air of finality as the image winked out along with the flames. |
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