Thanks for the Memories

[Mercedes Vargas]

Sunday Night Collision
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Allen County WM Coliseum
Fort Wayne, Indiana

:::No Need to Thank Me:::

(We open backstage where Jason Dunn is standing by with a Texas-size grin on his face. Microphone in hand, he waits for his cue from the camera crew, and when it comes, clears his throat and begins).

Jason Dunn: Jason Dunn here with the Collision post-show, and I’m backstage hoping to get an interview…

(Jason doesn't have to wait long as Mercedes Vargas comes out of the lockerroom area, dressed casually and in no mood for conversation. That doesn't stop him from trying, though.)

Jason Dunn: Mercedes. Mercedes, hold on for a minute. Another rough outing for you tonight. I’m sure you and Jennifer Williams were planning on leaving tonight with a victory, but things didn’t go as planned. You mind telling us what happened out there?

(She meets his gaze with raised eyebrows at the question.)

Mercedes: Really? That has got to be one of the dumbest questions I’ve ever heard. That’s your question, “what happened out there”? I thought you were a journalist! What school did you go to?

(Jason is about to answer, but Mercedes puts a hand in his face, cutting him off.)

Mercedes: Rhetorical question. It’s obvious it took you long enough to get your degree in “Stupid Questions”.

Jason Dunn: I just wanted your reaction -

Mercedes: No, no, no! “My reaction”? Ayla pinned me, alright? I beat her in singles competition, she pinned me in a tag team match, and she and Alysson celebrate their victory the best way they know how. No need to thank me. What more do you want to know? You want my reaction?

(Mercedes mockingly gives a golf clap.)

Mercedes: How is THAT for a reaction!? Now, if you’ll excuse me, unlike you, I have a life!

(Mercedes shoves the microphone into Jason Dunn and storms off as our scene fades.)

_______≈₪≈______

And now for the good news, bad news scenario. The bad news? Jenny’s little winning streak came to an end, and that’s too bad, because I was hoping she could pull of another upset victory, but who are we kidding? She had no chance. Oh, alright, it was mostly my fault why she lost, but that’s nothing compared to what she’s in for in her first, and hopefully last, title match.

Picture Perfect is around the corner, Jenny, and before you know it, you’re going to find out why dreams sometimes don’t come true. Doesn't mean I think you won't stand a fighting chance, though. After all, Crystal taught you everything she knows, like, you know, how to be an ass-kisser, the 12 Step Program to talking to mirrors, and how to be overrated. But most of all, this Sunday, the world will witness the one thing ALL Williams are known for...

being choke artists.

And now for the good news. I just received my MRI today and lucky for me, X-rays turned out negative. So, I was able to walk away from said match, but barely. It wasn’t the thought that my ribs would be broken in half after that Crimson Spear from Alysson, but that I was this close to needing facial reconstruction surgery thanks to Ayla and her finisher. I’m still trying to recover from dizziness and vertigo.

I guess it was all worth it if it was all for the sake of ratings. That reminds me – I’ll have to ask Ayla, our latest statistician as of late, about how our match did, because we’re all dying to know.

The way I see it, all’s well that ends well. I’m on the card for this Sunday’s pay-per-view, and Ayla is not.

_______≈₪≈______

:::Objects in Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear:::

(Hillside Avenue. Queens, New York. Mercedes drives home in her white convertible, flooring the gas pedal as the speedometer climbs steadily, suddenly the sound of sirens is heard in the distance and she sees the flashing lights of two police cars through her rearview mirror.)

Great, just great. I should have known this was going to happen. It's early Saturday, and it's cold. So, so, cold. Can you blame me for trying to get home before I freeze to death?

(She slows down and activitates her turn signal before she pulls over on the wide shoulder of the road. The cop cars pulls up behind her, and a male and female cop get out, both approaching the car.)

This wasn't where I wanted to be right now.

Time to put my acting skills to good use. What will it be today? The waterworks? No, too dramatic. The pregenacy card? No, too bloated, though the hormones thing usually is a winner. I'm going to have to rely on my natural charm.

(The male cop, behind a pair of sunglasses, is the first to reach Mercedes's door. He raises his sunglasses over his head and looks down at Mercedes, who offers a sly smile.)

Male Officer: Hey, how’s it going?

Friendly. Friendly is good, but I didn't see that coming. Maybe I'll get out of this one after all. Let's keep praying, huh?

Mercedes: Oh, it's going. What seems to be the problem, officer?

The female officer turns from her car and joins her partner. I was really in trouble now. As long as I don't do anything stupid, I'll be just fine.

Female Officer: License and registration?

(Under her watchful gaze, Mercedes slowly reaches towards the glove compartment and hands over her license and registration to the female cop, and then puts her hands back on the steering wheel as the officer returns to her patrol car).

Male Officer: So, it's 1:15. Where were you coming from this early?

Mercedes: Wouldn't you like to know?

Male Officer: Yes, I would, that's why I asked.

Mercedes: ...

Male Officer: Do you know why I stopped you? I'll give you three guesses, and the first two don't count.

Um, wouldn't that make it five guesses, then? Just so we're clear.

Mercedes: No.

He had a stern look on his face. So much for friendly. I looked at his badge number and name. The female officer was Emerson, the male, McElroy. Emerson and McElroy. Their names would be perfect for a law firm.

(The female officer returns, pointing a pinpoint flashlight at Mercedes's face.).

Female Officer: Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle. Keep your hands where I can see them, please.

Even with a flashlight pointed at my face, how can I say no to that? So polite!

Male Officer: Would you mind if we take a quick look inside?

Mercedes: I know you're trying to do your job and all that jazz, but I don't consent to any searches. Look, it's late and I have a flight to catch.

Female Officer: Where are you going? Someplace nice?

Mercedes: If you weren't police officers, the two of you would make pretty good authors. Are you writing a book?

(The officers exchanged surprised looks before they let Mercedes return to her car.)

Female Officer: No, but I can write you a ticket. Here you go.

(She promptly tears out the citation and Mercedes extends her hand to accept it..)

Mercedes: Thanks. Am I free to go now, Ramona?

Female Officer: Enjoy your trip, Mercedes. I’ll be rooting for you at the pay-per-view.

(Mercedes starts up her car and then drives off as the officers wave, watching her leave.)

That night, I learned two things: Speed kills. And sometimes knowing a cop can really get you out of a ticket.

_______≈₪≈______

Well, well, well. Look who finds herself wrestling at Picture Perfect yet again. That would be me, of course. And this Sunday, sure, we have the main event for the World Title between Trent Helms and Ricky Johnson, the National Championship with Kanyon, Jackhammer and Adam Knite. And yes, Alysson Gardner defends her title against Jennifer Williams, but what about me?

What about Mercedes?

Should I count my blessings that I’m not featured on the preshow or that I’m not opening the pay-per-view? Maybe. That doesn’t mean my match will have significant importance. Oh, believe me, it does. Because of the matches I just named earlier, they all pale in comparison.

The card says it right there, of how important this match is. This match between myself and Amy Marshall is being touted as “the end of an era for the Starlets Division.” Oh, really? “The end of an era.” I thought the end of an era was when Sydney Knite walked away from NCW, vowing never to return? Little did we know, she did return. Only to be banished from the company a second time. But like a bad check, she keeps coming back. Now, why she hasn’t figured out her mind games will end in failure is beyond me, but this isn’t about Sydney, this is about me...and the adult film star turned wrestler formerly known as…

“Roxxxie.”

Let me first say that I am truly honored that the booking team choose me as your opponent, Amy. Really, I am. A lot of girls on the roster wish they were in my position right now instead of sitting at home. Believe me, never in my wildest dreams did I think we would meet under these circumstances, but then again...

maybe it's meant to be.

There comes a time in one's career where they have no choice but to call it a career, step away, and move on. For you, Amy, I guess you're now at the crossroads. Now, granted, you're still young, as am I, and you haven't even begun to reach your prime. You've been in this business for, what, three, four years now? You have a lot to look forward to. I know this match really isn’t anything to fawn over, because let’s face it, if it were up to you, you probably would sell your own sister for another shot at Alysson for the Women's Championship. Or maybe, maybe, you would have like to face Trish Newborn if she was still around.

Sibling rivalries always seems to draw ratings for some reason.

I never thought I’d say this, but I’m going to miss you terribly. You know what I’m going to miss the most about you? Trick question, I’m going to miss everything about you: The tattoos, the crazy make-up, the way you had your hair in different colors, especially with the Mohawk, you turned heads, alright. You wanted attention, you certainly got it. I mean, why else would you revert back to 90’s counter culture unless it was just for kicks? I’ll even miss the laundry list of generic insults that has become, well, your trademark. I have to admit, I found it kind of adorable the way you strung them together to form coherent sentences. But you won’t hear me repeat those words. Oh, no, not I.

Calling someone a slut, whore, skank, bitch, sychophant, etc, is not only demoralizing, you know it's a bad day when Amy Marshall disapproves of you. You are the standard.

OK, not really. You’re more like the double standard. Should we be surprised that what comes out of your mouth is dirtier than the things you put in it?

In all seriousness, Amy, for more than a year and a half, you’ve cemented your name as one of the Starlets greatest talents. You’ve accomplished something I have yet to do, win the World Championship; you’re one of the very few to have held both women’s titles in the company. Hell, you’re the first and only female in company history to enter the Riot match, though you and Stephie did lose the Tag Team Titles the same night.

Yeah, I know that was a sore point for you, but I just wanted to mention it anyway.

But, Amy, for all your accomplishments, for the 80 plus matches you’ve been a part of, for all the opponents you’ve beaten, there is one person you haven’t beaten, there is one thing you have not done – and that’s beat me. No, not in a tag team match…

In singles competition. One-on-one.

Amy, do you remember the last two times you and I met in that ring? Ah, the memories.

You were at the height of your greatness, the World Champion; I was the mere newcomer. For you, it was just another match. For me...it was the night I beat you. And when you were no longer champion, when your Cinderella reign ended, I beat you again. That’s right, Amy. I beat you not once, but twice.

This Sunday, you’re going to walk into Picture Perfect with your head held high and newfound confidence. I saw your match last week on Trauma. Tough loss to the newcomer, but that’s OK, you’ll only as good as your last match.

The thing is, being “good” just isn’t going to cut it, sweetheart.

And your last match, apparently, happens to be against me.

I still don’t understand what’s so special about this match, other than the hype this match has gotten is nothing but lies and propaganda.

Amy, this isn’t the end of an era…

…just the end of yours.

Thanks for the memories.