"May The Bridges I Burn Light The Way"
Oct 13, 2022 3:00:31 GMT
Ernie, C̸̣̠̑̊ŗ̸̙̔͠u̵̗̾̾Z̴̗̺̿̀e̷̛͓͕̕, and 2 more like this
Post by Amelia Winston on Oct 13, 2022 3:00:31 GMT
“So, here’s the thing.”
We open on a dark, clear, chilly night, the middle of nowhere, some random dirt road in the backwoods of southern Ontario, the kind of place that, in this spooky season, one might expect to see an axe-wielding maniac or the like. Instead we have ‘Wildheart’ Amelia Winston, clad in a warm flannel jacket over a yellow ‘Wild Things’ t-shirt (available now on WrestleVerse.com!) and black leggings, work boots on her feet, her Parallel championship belt around her waist. One hand is tucked in her pocket, the other is carrying something, though in the dark it’s tough to tell exactly what. It has a handle at the top and seems to have some weight to it, though Amelia handles it easily enough. Her breath steams as she speaks, walking towards the camera along the dirt road.
“WrestleVerse is fucked, right? I’m not saying that in a bad way, just… look at it. Kangaroos. Cat-boys. Naked chicks on eagles. The XBI. I could go on and on. The point is, I don’t fit in here. I don’t have wild spaceman powers or anthromorphic tendencies, I don’t roll with animal pals, I just… wrestle. I get in the ring and I do headlocks and suplexes and ranas and I do it really fucking well. But let’s be real, as awesome as WrestleVerse is, it’s a fucking freakshow. It’s a circus. And as fun as it’s been, I just wanna get back to being a wrestler.”
THUNK. THUNK. Heavy boots on wood. Amelia steps onto a wooden bridge, barely wide enough for two lanes of traffic. She takes something from her pocket, a flash of steel in the moonlight, and plunges the small knife into the bottom of the object she’s been carrying in her other hand, the softer thud of metal penetrating plastic. Liquid begins to run in a small stream from the hole as Amelia pockets the knife and continues to walk, taking her time, each footstep making that solid thunk.
“Now normally, knowing I’m going into my final show someplace, I’m gonna roll in with smiles and handshakes and hugs, thank the boss for the opportunities, give the fans one last great match and take my final bow. But… I’ve got this.”
She taps the front plate of her championship belt with two knuckles.
“And I’ve got Kyle, and since I’m sure as hell not making him forfeit his belt just because I’m moving on, that means we gotta crush some bitches on my way out the door. In this case, Bonnie and Roo. Roo, the poster child for how much of a goddamn shitshow this place is. I mean, a talking kangaroo. An abomination against nature and Danny decides it needs to be in a ring. Whatever. I’ve never been one for hitting animals, but if I gotta choke out a giant spring-loaded rat then so be it.”
Amelia reaches the other side of the bridge, boots touching dirt again, Amelia turning and tossing the object in her hand back towards the middle of the bridge before looking back to the camera, letting it land with a hollow thump.
“And Bonnie. If Roo’s the freakshow of this particular circus then Bonnie’s the fucking clown, right down to the paint. Sis, what is going on with you? Is your whole shtick that you don’t need to have any substance to you if you’ve got your tits out? Hell, you think I couldn’t wrestle naked if I wanted to? You think Kyle and I couldn’t be the nudie champs?”
She pauses a moment.
“Actually Kyle might not be able to. Y’all don’t realize but I’ve been sharing a locker room with him for a minute, dude’s packing so much meat it might actually get in his way if he didn’t have tights holding it in. I’m getting off track though. Point is Bonnie might almost be less of a human being than Roo. Girl, you’re like some nerdy twelve year old boy’s fantasy woman. ‘She’s super hot and she’s always naked and she smokes weed and she flies on one of those giant eagles from Lord of the Rings and sometimes it shits on cop cars!’”
She laughs ruefully, shaking her head.
“You’re a pizza cutter, all edge and no point. You’re a joke, sis. All flash - or ass, in this case. All the depth of a mud puddle. Just dragging women in wrestling back to existing purely as sex objects. Look at the rest of us on this roster. KPN might be as bland as plain oatmeal and got a title shot without ever winning a match, but at least she’s real. Addy might not be able to complete a sentence without calling someone a cunt, but again, at least when I walk into the building and look at her I see an actual person.”
Amelia shrugs.
“I’d say I hate you, but honestly you’re so one-dimensional that there’s not enough to hate. The XBI? Hate those guys. Wolfslair? Fuck ‘em. You? Best I can do is just say I hate the concept of you. And at Fatal? I’m gonna smack the joke outta you and I’m gonna make sure that when I leave WrestleVerse my boy Kyle is holding both of those belts while I take my final bow.”
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a book of matches, taking one and striking a flame with it, then setting the rest of the book aflame. She holds it for a second and then tosses it back onto the bridge, catching the liquid, bursting into flame, silhouetting her before the camera.
“‘May the bridges I burn light the way’. Bit cliche, but if feels appropriate. And if you think this is overdramatic?”
Amelia grins.
“Wait til I say goodbye for real.”
With that she turns back to watch the fire consume the wooden structure, chunks of flaming lumber falling into the small river below as we fade to black.
We open on a dark, clear, chilly night, the middle of nowhere, some random dirt road in the backwoods of southern Ontario, the kind of place that, in this spooky season, one might expect to see an axe-wielding maniac or the like. Instead we have ‘Wildheart’ Amelia Winston, clad in a warm flannel jacket over a yellow ‘Wild Things’ t-shirt (available now on WrestleVerse.com!) and black leggings, work boots on her feet, her Parallel championship belt around her waist. One hand is tucked in her pocket, the other is carrying something, though in the dark it’s tough to tell exactly what. It has a handle at the top and seems to have some weight to it, though Amelia handles it easily enough. Her breath steams as she speaks, walking towards the camera along the dirt road.
“WrestleVerse is fucked, right? I’m not saying that in a bad way, just… look at it. Kangaroos. Cat-boys. Naked chicks on eagles. The XBI. I could go on and on. The point is, I don’t fit in here. I don’t have wild spaceman powers or anthromorphic tendencies, I don’t roll with animal pals, I just… wrestle. I get in the ring and I do headlocks and suplexes and ranas and I do it really fucking well. But let’s be real, as awesome as WrestleVerse is, it’s a fucking freakshow. It’s a circus. And as fun as it’s been, I just wanna get back to being a wrestler.”
THUNK. THUNK. Heavy boots on wood. Amelia steps onto a wooden bridge, barely wide enough for two lanes of traffic. She takes something from her pocket, a flash of steel in the moonlight, and plunges the small knife into the bottom of the object she’s been carrying in her other hand, the softer thud of metal penetrating plastic. Liquid begins to run in a small stream from the hole as Amelia pockets the knife and continues to walk, taking her time, each footstep making that solid thunk.
“Now normally, knowing I’m going into my final show someplace, I’m gonna roll in with smiles and handshakes and hugs, thank the boss for the opportunities, give the fans one last great match and take my final bow. But… I’ve got this.”
She taps the front plate of her championship belt with two knuckles.
“And I’ve got Kyle, and since I’m sure as hell not making him forfeit his belt just because I’m moving on, that means we gotta crush some bitches on my way out the door. In this case, Bonnie and Roo. Roo, the poster child for how much of a goddamn shitshow this place is. I mean, a talking kangaroo. An abomination against nature and Danny decides it needs to be in a ring. Whatever. I’ve never been one for hitting animals, but if I gotta choke out a giant spring-loaded rat then so be it.”
Amelia reaches the other side of the bridge, boots touching dirt again, Amelia turning and tossing the object in her hand back towards the middle of the bridge before looking back to the camera, letting it land with a hollow thump.
“And Bonnie. If Roo’s the freakshow of this particular circus then Bonnie’s the fucking clown, right down to the paint. Sis, what is going on with you? Is your whole shtick that you don’t need to have any substance to you if you’ve got your tits out? Hell, you think I couldn’t wrestle naked if I wanted to? You think Kyle and I couldn’t be the nudie champs?”
She pauses a moment.
“Actually Kyle might not be able to. Y’all don’t realize but I’ve been sharing a locker room with him for a minute, dude’s packing so much meat it might actually get in his way if he didn’t have tights holding it in. I’m getting off track though. Point is Bonnie might almost be less of a human being than Roo. Girl, you’re like some nerdy twelve year old boy’s fantasy woman. ‘She’s super hot and she’s always naked and she smokes weed and she flies on one of those giant eagles from Lord of the Rings and sometimes it shits on cop cars!’”
She laughs ruefully, shaking her head.
“You’re a pizza cutter, all edge and no point. You’re a joke, sis. All flash - or ass, in this case. All the depth of a mud puddle. Just dragging women in wrestling back to existing purely as sex objects. Look at the rest of us on this roster. KPN might be as bland as plain oatmeal and got a title shot without ever winning a match, but at least she’s real. Addy might not be able to complete a sentence without calling someone a cunt, but again, at least when I walk into the building and look at her I see an actual person.”
Amelia shrugs.
“I’d say I hate you, but honestly you’re so one-dimensional that there’s not enough to hate. The XBI? Hate those guys. Wolfslair? Fuck ‘em. You? Best I can do is just say I hate the concept of you. And at Fatal? I’m gonna smack the joke outta you and I’m gonna make sure that when I leave WrestleVerse my boy Kyle is holding both of those belts while I take my final bow.”
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a book of matches, taking one and striking a flame with it, then setting the rest of the book aflame. She holds it for a second and then tosses it back onto the bridge, catching the liquid, bursting into flame, silhouetting her before the camera.
“‘May the bridges I burn light the way’. Bit cliche, but if feels appropriate. And if you think this is overdramatic?”
Amelia grins.
“Wait til I say goodbye for real.”
With that she turns back to watch the fire consume the wooden structure, chunks of flaming lumber falling into the small river below as we fade to black.