Post by turdferguson on Aug 1, 2017 21:34:32 GMT
Off Camera
Almost having her career ended actually wasn't that scary.
Sure, it was for a moment, but it was just a slightly worse version of other events Frisky had experienced. She was young after all, it's not like she had never gotten black out drunk and woken up confused, not knowing where she was. It wasn't like she had never ended up in the hospital before. It was just a bit more jarring because she didn't just have to try and figure out what was going on, she also had to figure out why she couldn't say anything. But the actual even in of itself wasn't that bad; it was everything after that which really got to her. You never know how much you'll miss complete use of your throat and vocal chords until you need them, you know?
It wasn't like she could bartend to pay the bills that were piling up while she couldn't wrestle, she kind of needed to be able to talk for that. Instead, she wa cooped up until she was medically cleared, left along with all the thoughts that had been eating away at her leading up to her would-be-match with Mason Daniels. Doubts over whether this was the right career for her, whether she was good enough, how she would pay off all her travel expenses from giving this wrestling thing a try if she didn't pull it off. They were present enough in her mind as is, but even more so now that she was unable to hold a conversation with anyone. All she had was her own voice beating against the walls of her head, asking her what the hell she was doing with herself.
The worst part of it?
The worst part was that she couldn't just curse up a storm to get it all out of her system when she wanted to. It hit her hardest knowing Anastasia Starling lost the Rising Phoenix Championship to Elena. The one bit of solace she'd been able to take from her failure was that at least she lost to someone that only the elite of the elite were able to knock off. She at least knew that Starling would hold that title for a long, long time and that she would be the one to dethrone her-- until she wasn't. Sure, Anastasia won it right back, but that just made it worse. It drove home that anyone could get the job done on a given night and she just didn't. Maybe she wasn't mature enough, maybe she wasn't skilled enough, maybe she was just unlucky. All she knew was that she wanted to swear up a storm and maybe flip a lawn chair over for shits and giggles, but she couldn't.
And she hated this, she really did.
Not just the self-doubt, but feeling so bitter over someone else getting done what she couldn't. If she could just make a scene and get it all out of her system, she might feel a bit better. She could take a deep breath and tell herself that everyone feels a bit petty sometimes, but that's fine as long as you don't hold onto it. That was the problem, Frisky was doing nothing but holding onto all the bitterness, the self-loathing, throwing herself a pity party. It got to the point where that feeling seemed to overcome her entire existence, even once she could talk again. Eventually, she blew a gasket and for some reason called the Chinese delivery guy a 'stupid wop dago', which she profusely apologized for after the fact.
Once she got close to feeling back like herself, she was tempted to blame Mason Daniels for this, she really was. But she realized that was the path to more blame, loathing and generally ending up as the kind of slimy douche he was. She wasn't going to blame him for feeling bad for herself, she did that to herself and she was the one who needed to take charge of her career. But what she would blame him for was trying to take her out. That much was inexcusable and if she was going to take charge of her life? If she was going to start being a dang adult and taking care of herself?
The first step had to be showing him and everyone else out there not to fuck with her livelihood.
Off Camera
7.27.17
Frisky squinted as she held the letter up to her face. She didn't even know why she was bothering to read it, the envelope looked pretty clearly like junk mail, but maybe she needed something to take her mind off of-- well, the mohawked elephant in the room.
'Dear Ms. Johnson,
I hope this correspondence finds you well. My name is Chad Carbone and I have decades of executive experience in the sporst and entertainment industries, before I turned my focus towards making dreams come true. I've seen your work and think you have all the tools to make it big in wrestling, or any branch of the entertainment business, so long as you receive the proper guidance to open the right doors for you. Please contact me at the e-mail listed below if you would like your career to reach the next level thanks to The Carb Dog Experience™.'
Unable to to suppress her laughter, she crinkled the paper up and tossed it towards her trash bin, missing badly, "Almost had me going for a second there," she mumbled to herself. Maybe she was a wee bit tipsy still, or maybe she was just desperate for a sign of light at the end of the tunnel, but she almost believed that was a letter from a real person until she read that ridiculous 'Carb Dog Experience' line. She had to be getting pranked by Landlord Paul; either that or Nigerian scammers wanted her credit card info. Either way, this had been a much needed relaxing break from the nonstop mental grind of wishing horrible death upon Mason Daniels.
7.30.17
8:35 P.M. Pacific
Frisky's Apartment
Vancouver, BC
On Camera
The picture is somewhat shaky as Frisky D plops down in a chair at her kitchen table, scuffing the floor a bit while turning the chair to face the camera. She takes the beer resting on a coaster, taking a drink before letting out a long sigh.
"Sooooo ... not gonna lie here. I had a video I already recorded, that was pretty awesome, pretty poignant if I do say so myself, I poured my heart out to the PW fans and ran down this match, and the state of my career. Unfortunately that recording is resting in peace and it really wouldn't do justice to try and remember all I said, it would just seem too off to be remembering lines or whatever."
She shrugs.
"It is what it is, so you're stuck with take two here instead and it probably won't be as good. But can't complain, the public needs to hear my voice! Hear me uh, flesh out a few things I said, so here we go."
A beat skips.
"Man, Mason Daniels; me and him kinda got off to a crappy start, huh? He hit me in the throat with a barbed wire bat, which uh, really sucks I don't recommend it. Then I said he absolutely sucks, which I need to clarify isn't a statement on him as a wrestler. That's not me saying he isn't dangerous, the time I spent in the hospital is plenty proof he is. It's just like man, this guy is absolutely the worst on every level. Like, I know some people try to say like 'man, he used to be such a great guy! He's like this tragic tale who went all twisted and kuh-raaazay!'--"
She waves her hands around for dramatic effect. a few drops of beer spilling from the bottle.
"--but I dunno man, I saw the old PW shows on SPIKE and I thought he always seemed like kinda trash. Like, he just seemed kinda fake to me and I don't just mean the whole hardcore mohawk rebel badass thing. Just even when people cheered the dude, he was super arrogant and oblivious to stuff that wasn't directly related to him and how he could advance himself. Like, he'd always try to discredit his opposition when he could, he'd just make sure it was someone the fans didn't like so he wouldn't get called on it. He'd play to the people all rah rah and choose the right people to act sorta decent to so he could keep up his whole ... deal he had going. And the douchey side of him would show up more and more the more time that went by. Like, he was pretty solid his first run, then he had a pretty crappy run when you could see more of what he was about and then in his time away from PW once he done using dudes like Rowyn to help himself be popular, he tied himself to them to get noticed as the LUNATIC FRINGE WARHOUND or whatever the hell he calls himself."
A swig and a belch.
"By the way, I'm totally coherent right now, I burp when I drink soda too so read nothing into that just now-- I own everything I say. Anyways the point is, I gave you all that whole psychoanalysis because like I thought that about him but I wasn't about to call him on it out of nowhere. I just got here and was doing my thing, trying to make a name for myself, he was doing his. Like, I didn't even say a thing before we were supposed to face the first time. Again, I'm not trying to put people randomly on blast outta nowhere and start shit. But really, I made a mistake then. Because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself about losing to Ana and what I'd do next, bills piling up, whether this was the right career choice, blah blah blah and I took my eye off the ball."
The blonde sticks her drink back down on the coaster.
"But then, in a moment I admit I totally left myself open for, Mason decided to make sure all his douche burst all over my face and that it was my problem. So I've got noooo problem speaking my mind now and like, the whole lesson about turning a blind eye to a dude that was just absolutely worthless as a performer? Dangerous again, don't misunderstand me, but worthless in what he brings to the table-- just trying to take people out and make everyone else as miserable as him. Y'know, I'm not even sure I buy into the whole unhinged thing, which makes him even more freaky than if he's crazy. Like, if he's really just trying to end careers for attention and his own relevance? Like holy shit man --"
Her voice trails off a bit.
"-- I uh, was getting off track again though. My point is, people say I took a risk by doing a loser leaves town match here and no, no, I did not. Because if I just stood by passive? If I didn't stand up for both myself and what I pretty obviously know is the right thing? I'd be a dead Dingo walking. Like, just look at all the names that came, then washed out because they didn't take their career by the balls and show some real backbone in the short time I've been here. If I didn't do that, I might as well put my name on that list along with some dude and that other guy. It might not be Mason Daniels that takes me out, it might not even be someone taking me out, I might just crap the bed, but I need to bet on myself and be a go getter and all that. So yeah, it's not a mistake, it's something I had to do. Speaking of things, I had to do, agreeing to make this a hardcore match--"
She lets a pause hang in the air.
"--Really? This was supposed to be a mistake, or a concession by me or some shit? What? Like that was Mason's big ace up his sleeve? Are you frickin' kidding me? Like I'm not a master strategist, but let me try to break this down for everyone. HE. HIT. ME. IN. THE. THROAT. WITH. A. BARBED. WIRE. BAT. BEFORE. OUR. LAST. MATCH. "
Frisky drums her fingers against her knee.
"That's not a reason to be scared of a hardcore match or whatever, it's a reason to want revenge. And if he did that once? Guess what? He'll probably try it again! If I beat him in just a normal wrestling match to send him packing, he'd probably try to jump me after it and put me back in the hospital like he's done with a million other people! He's fired anyways at that point, might as well go out with a bang, right? But nah, apparently that makes me some kind of moron for giving myself a chance to legally do everything he'd try to do to me. And yeah, yeah, I know he's experienced in hardcore matches, I know I'm not the most experienced person in general. But he's more experienced than me in any environment, a little ridiculous to be playing that card. And guess what, I know Mason might not have thought of this because he likes to cut the same rinse and repeat speech to every opponent without actually doing his homework? But I'm not really a color inside the lines kinda girl! I did a backflip off a tree in the first ever video I cut for this place, I listen to rap with just obscene unconscionable lyrics, listen to my entrance music! I'm a little bit disorganized! Chaos is kinda how I live my life, because I'm a frickin' young person who's trying figure life out while it keeps trying to punt me in the vag!"
She stands up, continuing to rant as she gets more excitable.
"So Under The Coliseum Lights, biggest show this company has, this isn't a case of me pushing back. It's a case of me tearing your asshole up like a hot knife through buttaaaah Mason, because you just couldn't mind your own fucking business and worry about like--actually wrestling well again. You had to keep looking for people to test, well guess what, you tested the wrong motherfucking Frisky Dingo. So I'm going to kick you out the door, because it's about time someone did and it's about time I take control of my care--nah, my life. Fuck you Mason, you won't be missed, but also thank you for snapping me out of my funk. I needed to figure out what I was made of and you helped me realize that I'm made of the shit that can handle what this business and this world dishes out. Feel free to try and prove me wrong, but you will find out that you should have made it count if you were gonna take a shot at me, and once I'm done rearranging your ballsack 'till you blow it out your nostrils like bubbles? You'll wake up, you might be wondering what the hell just happened. And someone's gonna tell you--"
After finishing off her beer, Frisky slams it down on the coaster.
"--Maybe the Dingo ate ya career."
Fin.
Almost having her career ended actually wasn't that scary.
Sure, it was for a moment, but it was just a slightly worse version of other events Frisky had experienced. She was young after all, it's not like she had never gotten black out drunk and woken up confused, not knowing where she was. It wasn't like she had never ended up in the hospital before. It was just a bit more jarring because she didn't just have to try and figure out what was going on, she also had to figure out why she couldn't say anything. But the actual even in of itself wasn't that bad; it was everything after that which really got to her. You never know how much you'll miss complete use of your throat and vocal chords until you need them, you know?
It wasn't like she could bartend to pay the bills that were piling up while she couldn't wrestle, she kind of needed to be able to talk for that. Instead, she wa cooped up until she was medically cleared, left along with all the thoughts that had been eating away at her leading up to her would-be-match with Mason Daniels. Doubts over whether this was the right career for her, whether she was good enough, how she would pay off all her travel expenses from giving this wrestling thing a try if she didn't pull it off. They were present enough in her mind as is, but even more so now that she was unable to hold a conversation with anyone. All she had was her own voice beating against the walls of her head, asking her what the hell she was doing with herself.
The worst part of it?
The worst part was that she couldn't just curse up a storm to get it all out of her system when she wanted to. It hit her hardest knowing Anastasia Starling lost the Rising Phoenix Championship to Elena. The one bit of solace she'd been able to take from her failure was that at least she lost to someone that only the elite of the elite were able to knock off. She at least knew that Starling would hold that title for a long, long time and that she would be the one to dethrone her-- until she wasn't. Sure, Anastasia won it right back, but that just made it worse. It drove home that anyone could get the job done on a given night and she just didn't. Maybe she wasn't mature enough, maybe she wasn't skilled enough, maybe she was just unlucky. All she knew was that she wanted to swear up a storm and maybe flip a lawn chair over for shits and giggles, but she couldn't.
And she hated this, she really did.
Not just the self-doubt, but feeling so bitter over someone else getting done what she couldn't. If she could just make a scene and get it all out of her system, she might feel a bit better. She could take a deep breath and tell herself that everyone feels a bit petty sometimes, but that's fine as long as you don't hold onto it. That was the problem, Frisky was doing nothing but holding onto all the bitterness, the self-loathing, throwing herself a pity party. It got to the point where that feeling seemed to overcome her entire existence, even once she could talk again. Eventually, she blew a gasket and for some reason called the Chinese delivery guy a 'stupid wop dago', which she profusely apologized for after the fact.
Once she got close to feeling back like herself, she was tempted to blame Mason Daniels for this, she really was. But she realized that was the path to more blame, loathing and generally ending up as the kind of slimy douche he was. She wasn't going to blame him for feeling bad for herself, she did that to herself and she was the one who needed to take charge of her career. But what she would blame him for was trying to take her out. That much was inexcusable and if she was going to take charge of her life? If she was going to start being a dang adult and taking care of herself?
The first step had to be showing him and everyone else out there not to fuck with her livelihood.
Off Camera
7.27.17
Frisky squinted as she held the letter up to her face. She didn't even know why she was bothering to read it, the envelope looked pretty clearly like junk mail, but maybe she needed something to take her mind off of-- well, the mohawked elephant in the room.
'Dear Ms. Johnson,
I hope this correspondence finds you well. My name is Chad Carbone and I have decades of executive experience in the sporst and entertainment industries, before I turned my focus towards making dreams come true. I've seen your work and think you have all the tools to make it big in wrestling, or any branch of the entertainment business, so long as you receive the proper guidance to open the right doors for you. Please contact me at the e-mail listed below if you would like your career to reach the next level thanks to The Carb Dog Experience™.'
Unable to to suppress her laughter, she crinkled the paper up and tossed it towards her trash bin, missing badly, "Almost had me going for a second there," she mumbled to herself. Maybe she was a wee bit tipsy still, or maybe she was just desperate for a sign of light at the end of the tunnel, but she almost believed that was a letter from a real person until she read that ridiculous 'Carb Dog Experience' line. She had to be getting pranked by Landlord Paul; either that or Nigerian scammers wanted her credit card info. Either way, this had been a much needed relaxing break from the nonstop mental grind of wishing horrible death upon Mason Daniels.
7.30.17
8:35 P.M. Pacific
Frisky's Apartment
Vancouver, BC
On Camera
The picture is somewhat shaky as Frisky D plops down in a chair at her kitchen table, scuffing the floor a bit while turning the chair to face the camera. She takes the beer resting on a coaster, taking a drink before letting out a long sigh.
"Sooooo ... not gonna lie here. I had a video I already recorded, that was pretty awesome, pretty poignant if I do say so myself, I poured my heart out to the PW fans and ran down this match, and the state of my career. Unfortunately that recording is resting in peace and it really wouldn't do justice to try and remember all I said, it would just seem too off to be remembering lines or whatever."
She shrugs.
"It is what it is, so you're stuck with take two here instead and it probably won't be as good. But can't complain, the public needs to hear my voice! Hear me uh, flesh out a few things I said, so here we go."
A beat skips.
"Man, Mason Daniels; me and him kinda got off to a crappy start, huh? He hit me in the throat with a barbed wire bat, which uh, really sucks I don't recommend it. Then I said he absolutely sucks, which I need to clarify isn't a statement on him as a wrestler. That's not me saying he isn't dangerous, the time I spent in the hospital is plenty proof he is. It's just like man, this guy is absolutely the worst on every level. Like, I know some people try to say like 'man, he used to be such a great guy! He's like this tragic tale who went all twisted and kuh-raaazay!'--"
She waves her hands around for dramatic effect. a few drops of beer spilling from the bottle.
"--but I dunno man, I saw the old PW shows on SPIKE and I thought he always seemed like kinda trash. Like, he just seemed kinda fake to me and I don't just mean the whole hardcore mohawk rebel badass thing. Just even when people cheered the dude, he was super arrogant and oblivious to stuff that wasn't directly related to him and how he could advance himself. Like, he'd always try to discredit his opposition when he could, he'd just make sure it was someone the fans didn't like so he wouldn't get called on it. He'd play to the people all rah rah and choose the right people to act sorta decent to so he could keep up his whole ... deal he had going. And the douchey side of him would show up more and more the more time that went by. Like, he was pretty solid his first run, then he had a pretty crappy run when you could see more of what he was about and then in his time away from PW once he done using dudes like Rowyn to help himself be popular, he tied himself to them to get noticed as the LUNATIC FRINGE WARHOUND or whatever the hell he calls himself."
A swig and a belch.
"By the way, I'm totally coherent right now, I burp when I drink soda too so read nothing into that just now-- I own everything I say. Anyways the point is, I gave you all that whole psychoanalysis because like I thought that about him but I wasn't about to call him on it out of nowhere. I just got here and was doing my thing, trying to make a name for myself, he was doing his. Like, I didn't even say a thing before we were supposed to face the first time. Again, I'm not trying to put people randomly on blast outta nowhere and start shit. But really, I made a mistake then. Because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself about losing to Ana and what I'd do next, bills piling up, whether this was the right career choice, blah blah blah and I took my eye off the ball."
The blonde sticks her drink back down on the coaster.
"But then, in a moment I admit I totally left myself open for, Mason decided to make sure all his douche burst all over my face and that it was my problem. So I've got noooo problem speaking my mind now and like, the whole lesson about turning a blind eye to a dude that was just absolutely worthless as a performer? Dangerous again, don't misunderstand me, but worthless in what he brings to the table-- just trying to take people out and make everyone else as miserable as him. Y'know, I'm not even sure I buy into the whole unhinged thing, which makes him even more freaky than if he's crazy. Like, if he's really just trying to end careers for attention and his own relevance? Like holy shit man --"
Her voice trails off a bit.
"-- I uh, was getting off track again though. My point is, people say I took a risk by doing a loser leaves town match here and no, no, I did not. Because if I just stood by passive? If I didn't stand up for both myself and what I pretty obviously know is the right thing? I'd be a dead Dingo walking. Like, just look at all the names that came, then washed out because they didn't take their career by the balls and show some real backbone in the short time I've been here. If I didn't do that, I might as well put my name on that list along with some dude and that other guy. It might not be Mason Daniels that takes me out, it might not even be someone taking me out, I might just crap the bed, but I need to bet on myself and be a go getter and all that. So yeah, it's not a mistake, it's something I had to do. Speaking of things, I had to do, agreeing to make this a hardcore match--"
She lets a pause hang in the air.
"--Really? This was supposed to be a mistake, or a concession by me or some shit? What? Like that was Mason's big ace up his sleeve? Are you frickin' kidding me? Like I'm not a master strategist, but let me try to break this down for everyone. HE. HIT. ME. IN. THE. THROAT. WITH. A. BARBED. WIRE. BAT. BEFORE. OUR. LAST. MATCH. "
Frisky drums her fingers against her knee.
"That's not a reason to be scared of a hardcore match or whatever, it's a reason to want revenge. And if he did that once? Guess what? He'll probably try it again! If I beat him in just a normal wrestling match to send him packing, he'd probably try to jump me after it and put me back in the hospital like he's done with a million other people! He's fired anyways at that point, might as well go out with a bang, right? But nah, apparently that makes me some kind of moron for giving myself a chance to legally do everything he'd try to do to me. And yeah, yeah, I know he's experienced in hardcore matches, I know I'm not the most experienced person in general. But he's more experienced than me in any environment, a little ridiculous to be playing that card. And guess what, I know Mason might not have thought of this because he likes to cut the same rinse and repeat speech to every opponent without actually doing his homework? But I'm not really a color inside the lines kinda girl! I did a backflip off a tree in the first ever video I cut for this place, I listen to rap with just obscene unconscionable lyrics, listen to my entrance music! I'm a little bit disorganized! Chaos is kinda how I live my life, because I'm a frickin' young person who's trying figure life out while it keeps trying to punt me in the vag!"
She stands up, continuing to rant as she gets more excitable.
"So Under The Coliseum Lights, biggest show this company has, this isn't a case of me pushing back. It's a case of me tearing your asshole up like a hot knife through buttaaaah Mason, because you just couldn't mind your own fucking business and worry about like--actually wrestling well again. You had to keep looking for people to test, well guess what, you tested the wrong motherfucking Frisky Dingo. So I'm going to kick you out the door, because it's about time someone did and it's about time I take control of my care--nah, my life. Fuck you Mason, you won't be missed, but also thank you for snapping me out of my funk. I needed to figure out what I was made of and you helped me realize that I'm made of the shit that can handle what this business and this world dishes out. Feel free to try and prove me wrong, but you will find out that you should have made it count if you were gonna take a shot at me, and once I'm done rearranging your ballsack 'till you blow it out your nostrils like bubbles? You'll wake up, you might be wondering what the hell just happened. And someone's gonna tell you--"
After finishing off her beer, Frisky slams it down on the coaster.
"--Maybe the Dingo ate ya career."
Fin.