Post by Mercedes Vargas on Feb 23, 2013 23:52:24 GMT -6
TRAUMA
2/16/13
BOSSIER CITY ARENA
BOSSIER, LOUISIANA
2/16/13
BOSSIER CITY ARENA
BOSSIER, LOUISIANA
Another weekend, another match, another loss on Saturday Night Trauma.
And another defeat to Emily Danielson.
Wait. That's Emma Danielson.
(As our scene opens, we find Mercedes Vargas backstage. Even though her match was on the early part of the show, she stayed until the main event ended and the wrestlers left the arena. She takes another shower before she shoulders her overnight bag and pulls her rolling tote bag behind her.)
If there was any doubt about me becoming her punching bag the way she was to Syd – er, Zelda, tonight certainly proved it. Then again, that seems to be the case with, well, everybody. At least things couldn't possibly get any worse.
(Mercedes exits the lockerroom, walks down the orphaned hallways, and steps through the double doors of the arena and into the cool night air. She fishes through her purse and comes up with the car keys. As she is walking, she aims her car remote as two brief flashes from the headlights comes from her car.)
Voice: Hey, Vargas!
OK, even I have to admit I set myself up for that one. Don't let this happen to you. Remember, kids, never, ever, tempt fate.
(Mercedes turns to see Jimmy Turner standing there smiling at her at the foot of the venue's steps. The sanitation specialist had just finished dumping the last of what remained of the leftovers from catering. Mercedes responds with a low tone.)
Mercedes: Oh, hey, Jimmy.
Jimmy: You want to see something cool?
You mean even cooler than that time you put Gatorade in a Windex bottle and drank it in public?
Mercedes: My mother told me not to talk to people like you.
(She walks off hoping to get away, but Jimmy doesn't give up though.)
Jimmy: I found a harmonica in the trash.
Mercedes: You don't say.
Jimmy: Works just like new. I can't understand why someone would throw this away.
Mercedes: I've heard of one person's trash being another's treasure, but there's a fine line when it comes to sanitation.
Jimmy: Wanna hear me play?
Mercedes: I'd love to, but it's getting late and I have things to do this week.
Jimmy: Suit yourself.
(By the time Mercedes reaches her car, the could already hear him playing away as the shrill sound fill the air. Jimmy couldn't play a tune, but he was trying. She opens the door, climbs in and starts the engine. Adjusting her rear view mirror, she backs out of the parking space and drives off.
Mercedes doesn't even bother driving back to the airport, instead driving the 200 miles or so to the next city. Reaching for the radio to drown out the silence, the dial glows with an eerily orange light. Rap. Classical. Rock. Her hand draws back as she settles on the tail end of a Gloria Estefan number, before the next song starts up. Nancy Sinatra. Perfect.)
_______≈₪≈______
OK, Rose, let's hear it out: What did you do to upset Kathleen Conway THIS time? Were you back talking her again? Did you walk into her office when she was in a bad mood? No, wait, I got it: She's probably still hasn't gotten over the fact that she tapped out to you a few weeks ago. Oh, and that you're still on the roster. Hey, don't let it worry you none. If it's any consolation, I'm still living my own jail sentence here in the Starlets Division and in NCW, so I feel your pain.
As you may have seen, I most recently was turned inside out by Emma's Brooklyn Hangover, which, according to my doctors, has several side affects including nausea, head induced trauma – totally wasn't going for the pun there – and vertigo. I'm listed as day-to-day, but, then, aren't we all?
Pause. Let that sink in.
I know you're angry. I know you're fed up. I'll go as far to say that you're mad as hell and you're not gonna take it anymore. It took you awhile, Rosemary, but I'm starting to see that fire in your eyes and I hope you bring that same attitude in our match. You had better, or you're going to find yourself already fighting a losing battle.
Though you could win this one, you could. But the question I pose to you is what is it that you're going to do to me to stop me from beating you again? What, are you going to powerbomb me through a flaming table? Are you going to bodyslam or suplex me off the top rope? You're a few fries short of a Happy Meal, mentally unstable, I get it. You're an evil, sick, twisted, demented heartless bitch, if I may.
You think you're going through hell now? Try once losing seven matches – in a row. Or how about suffering a concussion that could have nearly ended your career? How about losing the only other friend you had in the lockerroom because of a stupid mistake and now paying dividends for it? Being labeled as a backpack or as mediocre; delusional, pretentious, or worse, a tramp. You lost to EMF in a handicap match? Aww, you poor baby. I lost to EMF and I got screwed over twice, most recently by – yup, you guessed it – the Personal Assistant to the Head of the Starlets Division. Whoo, that's a mouthful for a title, don't you think?
I guess what I'm trying to say is...I'VE BEEN THROUGH THE DANGER ZONE! You don't know what that's like, Rose. No, not at all. The last person who took me for their martyr found out that I'm not willing to go away quietly. So, tonight, on Collision, I beg you, I implore you to bring everything you've got.
Because you can't hurt me.