Sorry for the long delay between chapters. I was visiting the family for the holidays. I never have a problem with overeating during the holiday season. This is not necessarily by choice. My parents are a strange breed of folk who only eat one meal a day (dinner). Thus, there is no food available for either breakfast or lunch. The fridge and pantry only contain dinner ingredients. So unless I want to chow down on raw beef, onions, or cornstarch, I pretty much just starve.
But I digress. We now return to the trials and tribulations of Angel n' friends. This one’s gonna take us back, folks. Don’t worry if you’re not completely familiar with the pre-WCW portion of Angel’s saga … she rehashes it for you. But if you’re a new reader and are interested in the older stuff, it’s all waiting for you in the archives.
So … what better way to start off the new year than with A SURPRISE? What’s the surprise, you ask? Oh, I’m not spoiling it for you. It spoils itself by being so sucktacular.
Chapter 21: A Surprise
The telephone rang. Angel screamed. She was reading Pet Sematary (for the 3rd time) in a hotel in Michigan. She put down the book and answered the phone.
“Ang! What’s wrong?” [wait … didn’t we all laugh at this “hilarious” scenario a mere two chapters ago?]
“Nothing. I was just reading Pet Sematary. How are you, Scotty?”
“Fine, thanks. How’d you know it was me?” [maybe she could hear your muscles bulging over the phone.]
“You’re the only man who calls me Ang. What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you were free today.”
“Yeah, why?”
“I’d like you to meet Marie.”
“Oh! I’d love to! Only I don’t have much in the way of transportation.” [? How did she get to her hotel? How is she planning on leaving her hotel? ]
“No prob! I can pick you up. You’re staying in the Silver Lake Hotel, right?”
“How’d you know?”
“WCW always stayed there in Michigan. Don’t ask me why.”
“Ok. I’ll wait in the lobby.”
“How about 1:00?”
“Sounds great.”
(Scotty and Angel are in Scott’s car, driving to Marie’s house) [seamless transition! Seamless!]
“So, Scotty, what’s Marie like?”
“Oh, she’s really nice, and she’s so smart. She also happens to be beautiful.” [wait … did someone clone Angel?]
“Sounds perfect. What’s she look like?”
“She’s got shoulder-length black hair and these really bright green eyes. They’re incredible.”
They spent the rest of the drive chatting casually about just about everything.
They arrived at Marie’s home. It was fairly large, with a stucco finish.
Scott used a key to open the door. The interior was lovely, the floors were covered in thick cream colored carpeting and the rest of the room was a light coffee color.
“Marie, hon, we’re back. Come meet Angelica.”
An attractive woman stopped into the room. She looked incredibly familiar to Angel. Then it hit her.
Marie also immediately recognized Angel. No one spoke. The two women stared at each other with a mixture of hate and shock in their eyes.
“Nightshade.” whispered Angel.
“Angel” Marie whispered back [I’ll bet she pronounced it with a “j”]
“You two know each other?” Scott asked tentatively.
“Oh, we know each other all too well,” said Marie.
“Wait a minute. What’s going on? Who’s Nightshade?”
“So how many other names have you got, Sunny?”
“You little bi--.”
“Stop it!” Scott interrupted. “Now you two just cool down and tell me what’s going on.”
Since Marie remained silent, Angel began.
“This is Sunny Tyler, AKA Nightshade, AKA Marie Haven. She was a manager in the WWF where I used to work. She, Bobby Heenan, and my then best friend, Mr. Perfect Curt Hennig all worked for Ric Flair. Mr. P fell in love with her, and after a time [6 hours], she fell in love with him. Then one day, Ric Flair and Marty Jannetty, whom I managed, had a match. At the end of the match, as I was helping Marty onto a stretcher, she whomped me on the back of the head with a pair of brass knuckles. From what Mr. P told me, he and Nightshade here got into a huge fight, and she left him heartbroken. Later, she sent him a letter sprayed with a perfume he was terribly allergic to. If I hadn’t heard him sneezing and thrown away the letter, who knows what would have happened to him.”
Scott was in a state of utter disbelief. “Marie?”
“Curt told you half of it, my dear, he must’ve left out the fact that I was only doing my job and that he broke my heart. Up until then he was the only man I had ever loved, and then I found out that he was running around with you!”
“Running around with me? We were best friends, we never did so much as hold hands!! And anyway, what gave you the right to send him that note? God knows what you could have done to him!”
“I would take that back if I could, but I can’t.”
“Look, Marie, or Sunny, or whatever, we’ve had our problems in the past, and don’t think that I’m about to forgive you right now, but let’s put this fight on hold for Scotty’s sake, OK?”
“Deal.”
“Scotty, are you allright?” Angel would have liked to clasp his hand or squeeze his shoulder, but she did not for fear of angering Marie.
“What happened to you after you left the WWF, Marie?” he asked, eyes shut tightly.
“I was heartbroken. I changed my lifestyle, moved to Michigan, and changed my name – legally.” She eyed Angel. “After a while, I met you, Scott, and I fell in love again.”
Scotty opened his eyes – there were tears forming in the corners. [huzzah!] “You told me I was the first.”
“You were.”
“You never … ”
“No.”
He sighed, almost a sigh of relief. “I don’t believe this.” He whispered.
“Believe it, Scott,” said Marie. “And you believe this, Angel. I may not seem to be the most likeable person in the world, but obviously I can’t be all that bad if two of your best friends fell in love with me.”
Angel made no reply.
“Have you ever been in love, Angel?” she asked with an edge to her voice.
“Yes.” Angel responded quietly.
“I’m surprised. You’ve got the looks to have just about anyone. Why waste your time on love?”
Angel narrowed her eyes. “Do you honestly think I’m like that?” Angel’s voice was low and dangerous.
“You don’t want to know what I honestly think of you.”
“I don’t’ have to take this. Especially not from you.” She turned to Scott. “I’ll be in the car, Scott. I’m sorry you had to be a part of this.” A tear slid down her cheek, and she ran out of Marie’s house to Scotty’s car.
About ten minutes later, Scott opened the driver side of his car door [huh?] and started the engine.
“There are tissues in the glove compartment.” He said.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“Are you OK?”
She nodded. “Are you?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m still kind of shocked, I guess. How long were you and Marie in the WWF together?”
“About 6 months. Scott, I hope you don’t mind, but I really don’t want to talk about this anymore, allright?”
“Sure, Ang.”
They spent the rest of the drive home in silence. Scott pulled up to Angel’s hotel.
“Thanks for the ride, Scott. I’m so sorry about what happened tonight. I hope you two work things out.”
Scott kissed Angel on the cheek. “Don’t blame yourself, Angel. This ain’t noone’s fault, and Marie and I will be OK.”
“I hope so.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll try.”
“Ang?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t cry anymore, huh?”
“Okay.” She managed a little smile to ease his concern. “Keep in touch.”
“You got it.”
------
NOTES:
1) What the heck did Marie do that was all that bad? She punched Angel in the head during a freaking wrestling match and then pulled what basically amounted to a practical joke on Mr. P. I don’t really see why she had to quit her job and change her name. Also … I don’t really blame her for thinking that he and Ang were more than “best friends.” If my husband had a female friend who was as free with the hugs and “light kisses” as Angel, I might be a little suspicious. Then again, if my husband cried as often and as easily as any of my characters, we probably wouldn’t have made it to the altar in the first place.
2) Notice how Marie swears to Scott that he’s been her one and only between the sheets. If we revisit this chapter, we will find that she proclaims herself to be a Jezebel. Was she lying then or is she lying now? Or is this simply further evidence of my ineptitude as a writer? Hmmm. At any rate, any character who hates Angel is a winner in my book. Keep on keepin’ on, Nightshade.
3) The Delgado Hotel? The Cascade Inn? Silver Lake Hotel? Why didn’t anyone ever stay in a Super 8?
COMING UP NEXT …
Angel shares all of her recent troubles with Chris in a sickeningly sweet letter and then confronts Marcus about that crap he pulled in chapter 20. Intrigued? Then join us next time for … Chapter 22: Forgive, but don’t forget.
Showing posts with label Nightshade. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nightshade. Show all posts
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Friday, August 15, 2008
Bitter Words, Part II
Bitter Words, Part II
So I basically have two main tropes so far: allergies and crying. I have no idea why. At any rate, I present to you a thrilling sequel that features both!
Bitter Words, Part II:
3 days later
As Mr. Perfect sat in his room opening his mail he started to sneeze. He could hardly stop to take a breath. Fourtunately he sneezed very loudly and Anjel could hear him 2 doors down. She entered his room through his open door.
“My Gosh, I’ve never heard anyone sneeze so much! Are you OK?” she asked
He couldn’t say much. He just kept sneezing. She noticed a trace of perfume in the air and recognized it as her favorite, Tropical Mist. Wait a minute! It was coming from a note on the table. She picked it up and ran into the hall with it. She heard him stop sneezing and tore open the letter. A thought crossed her mind. She was reading someone else’s mail!
She dismissed the thought and read the letter.
“God Bless You” – Hatefully Yours, Nightshade [I drew a crescent moon next to her signature]
She entered Mr. P’s room.
“Are you allright?” she asked. He nodded and she washed her hands.
“It was from Nightshade, wasn’t it?” he asked. She sat down next to him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. P.” said Anjel sympathetically.
He drew in a deep breath and sighed. There was an akward moment of silence. Anjel studied his face for his feeling, but he didn’t show them.
“How’s Marty?” he asked her. “He’s out of the hospital, but he has been acting very, very strange even before the match. He’s never home, he never tells me where he’s going, and comes back exausted and sometimes angry. More than once I’ve noticed some bruises or cuts. When I ask him about it he goes nuts on me!” she told Mr. Perfect [gee, did I drop enough anvils there?] “I just don’t get it anymore” she said
Mr. P. sneezed again. He looked sadder than ever. Poor thing. He’ll never be able to sneeze without thinking of Nightshade. She touched his shoulder. “You can talk to me if you want. It’s probably better for you not to bottle up your feelings. It’s been almost a month. I know how I get when I can’t talk to someone.” she said.
“Well, I’m not you!” he snapped. “I’m sorry Anjel, you know my temper.”
“It’s allright.” she said.
“No, it’s not, I can’t let Nightshade do this to me. After all we meant to each other, she ended our relationship. But it was my fault, too. (He sighs) I never should have said some of those things. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I’d never signed that match. (pause) But wishing won’t get us together. Nothing will. We are through. I loved her, Anjel.” He brushed away his tears, but more came. He stood, ending the touch of Anjel’s comforting arm around his shoulder.
“Are you going to be O.K.?” she asked.
“Yes, Thank you, Anjel.” he said and kissed her cheek.
NOTES
1) Anjel’s head injury must’ve been nearly fatal considering all the hospitalization. My dad had a wicked concussion once from trying to ice skate down our driveway … he spent like 6 hours at the hospital.
2) Don’t worry. You didn’t see the last of that evil vixen, Nightshade. She’s not going to forget about our poor little Mary Sue.
COMING UP NEXT: Chapter 14: A Turn of Events, in which all those Marty anvils hit the floor in a completely ridiculous fashion.
So I basically have two main tropes so far: allergies and crying. I have no idea why. At any rate, I present to you a thrilling sequel that features both!
Bitter Words, Part II:
3 days later
As Mr. Perfect sat in his room opening his mail he started to sneeze. He could hardly stop to take a breath. Fourtunately he sneezed very loudly and Anjel could hear him 2 doors down. She entered his room through his open door.
“My Gosh, I’ve never heard anyone sneeze so much! Are you OK?” she asked
He couldn’t say much. He just kept sneezing. She noticed a trace of perfume in the air and recognized it as her favorite, Tropical Mist. Wait a minute! It was coming from a note on the table. She picked it up and ran into the hall with it. She heard him stop sneezing and tore open the letter. A thought crossed her mind. She was reading someone else’s mail!
She dismissed the thought and read the letter.
“God Bless You” – Hatefully Yours, Nightshade [I drew a crescent moon next to her signature]
She entered Mr. P’s room.
“Are you allright?” she asked. He nodded and she washed her hands.
“It was from Nightshade, wasn’t it?” he asked. She sat down next to him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. P.” said Anjel sympathetically.
He drew in a deep breath and sighed. There was an akward moment of silence. Anjel studied his face for his feeling, but he didn’t show them.
“How’s Marty?” he asked her. “He’s out of the hospital, but he has been acting very, very strange even before the match. He’s never home, he never tells me where he’s going, and comes back exausted and sometimes angry. More than once I’ve noticed some bruises or cuts. When I ask him about it he goes nuts on me!” she told Mr. Perfect [gee, did I drop enough anvils there?] “I just don’t get it anymore” she said
Mr. P. sneezed again. He looked sadder than ever. Poor thing. He’ll never be able to sneeze without thinking of Nightshade. She touched his shoulder. “You can talk to me if you want. It’s probably better for you not to bottle up your feelings. It’s been almost a month. I know how I get when I can’t talk to someone.” she said.
“Well, I’m not you!” he snapped. “I’m sorry Anjel, you know my temper.”
“It’s allright.” she said.
“No, it’s not, I can’t let Nightshade do this to me. After all we meant to each other, she ended our relationship. But it was my fault, too. (He sighs) I never should have said some of those things. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I’d never signed that match. (pause) But wishing won’t get us together. Nothing will. We are through. I loved her, Anjel.” He brushed away his tears, but more came. He stood, ending the touch of Anjel’s comforting arm around his shoulder.
“Are you going to be O.K.?” she asked.
“Yes, Thank you, Anjel.” he said and kissed her cheek.
NOTES
1) Anjel’s head injury must’ve been nearly fatal considering all the hospitalization. My dad had a wicked concussion once from trying to ice skate down our driveway … he spent like 6 hours at the hospital.
2) Don’t worry. You didn’t see the last of that evil vixen, Nightshade. She’s not going to forget about our poor little Mary Sue.
COMING UP NEXT: Chapter 14: A Turn of Events, in which all those Marty anvils hit the floor in a completely ridiculous fashion.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Chapter 14: "Bitter Words"
(new here? Howdy! Please read the introduction first!)
This is the first one to feature any actual in-ring action. Not very much in-ring action, but at least it doesn’t take place entirely within someone’s “dressing room.” Actually, this wasn’t that bad in terms of an actually plausible wrestling angle. In terms of a well-written piece of literature, of course, it fails miserably. Enjoy!
Chapter 14: Bitter Words [these chapter titles are seriously starting to sound like titles of Sweet Valley High books]
The phone rang in Anjel’s room.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Ms. Theodosia, this is President Jack Tunney.”
“Hello Mr. President. What can I do for you?”
“I need your OK on a match pitting Marty Jannetty against Ric Flair.”
“When is it to be held?”
“7:15 PM at the Chyenne Civic Center.”
“Yes sir. What date sir?” (what a ditz!) [actually, that was me covering for me there. I wrote this story in pen and decided it was easier to have him ask a follow-up question than self-edit. Sucks to be you, Tunney.]
“May 23”
“Yes sir. I believe we are free sir. Thank you, Mr. President.”
“Good, see you in Wisconsin. Goodbye”
CLICK!
What an idiot! Cheyanne is in Wyoming! Oh well [see above]
Anjel walked into the hall and was about to relay the news to Marty when a thought hit her. OH NO! Mr. Perfect manages Ric Flair! What am I going to do?
She went and told her protégé. [Marty is her protégé?] the info about the match. Marty noticed something odd about her – he could sense it but he didn’t bring it up [probably because that would require him to have lines]. She left his room and went into her own. She dialed Mr. P’s phone number. Busy. It must be Jack Tunney. 20 minutes later Mr. Perfect knocked on her door.
“Come in.” she said.
He entered, his face looking grim. He heard the news.
“Hi.” Anjel said.
“Funny Jack Tunney?”
“Yeah.”
“Anjel, I’m paid to be an aid for Ric Flair. I’m paid to win matches.”
“Me too.” she admitted.
“It means that I might have to resort to cheating, or hurting Marty. I’ve got to do anything to win.” he said.
“I understand.”
“But I promise you, I won’t do anything to hurt you.”
“Me neither.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Temporary enemies.” They shook hands, smiled, and Anjel left.
7:15, Cheyanne W.Y.
With Nightshade leading the way and Mr. Perfect and Ric Flair following behind.
Anjel gave Marty a last minute pep-talk and left the ring.
The match raged on using foreign objects often Ric Flair was eventually disqualified for being seen with a steel chair. Marty was nearly unconscious and Anjel was close to tears. She stepped into the ring and helped him onto a stretcher. She was about to go with him when a strong hand grasped her wrist. “Ow!” she whirled to see Ric Flair holding her.
“Whoo!” He screamed in her face. He slapped her. She slapped him back quickly. He raised his hand to punch her but Mr. P. held him back. He spoke softly to him. Mr. Perfect finally convinced his boss to stop.
Meanwhile Night shade had snuck up to Anjel and slipped on Brass knucks. She reared up behind her and WHAM! Right on the back of the head!
-ANJEL- [shifting perspectives again! Just like the pilot episode!]
He was going to hit me – but Mr. P. stopped him. How wonderful of him! I Want to … OW!”
-GORILLA- [as in Monsoon. One of the best commentators ever!]
I don’t believe it! This whole thing was set up by that rat Mr. Perfect. He distratcted Anjel by stopping Ric Flair so Nightshade could hit her. How Horrible.
----------------
Mr. Perfect didn’t notice what happened until he saw Anjel out cold on the mat. Then he saw N.S. blowing off her brass knuckled hand. Ric Flair left and N.S. followed. Mr. P knelt over her limp body.
-GORILLA-
Now what? He’s going to punch her with lead-filled gloves?
-------------------------------
Mr. Perfect touched the bump on the back of her head very lightly. She was bleeding. He removed his jacket and held it beneath her head. He lifted her up tenderly and placed her on the stretcher.
--------------------
-GORILLA-
… I don’t understand!
-------------------------------
Anjel was wheeled to Cheyanne Medical center – the hospital where Marty was being treated. Mr. Perfect walked back to Ric Flair’s room with a mixture of feelings. Concern for Anjel’s health, and anger because Nightshade would do something like that.
N.S. had watched the whole ordeal of Mr. Perfect -the man she loved- actually HELP that little blonde bimbo – what’s her name—Anjel! What the hell is he doing?
--10 min later—
Mr. Perfect enters room … N.S. flew into a rage “How could you! You little traitor!! You fink! What do you think you were doing out there?”
“Me! Me! You were the one who hit her on the back of the head with brass knucks!”
“So?”
“So? So?” he repeated.
“You’re upset.”
“How can you tell?” He asked sarcastically.
“You’re repeating yourself.”
“Repeating myself! Repeating myself! No way!” [rotflolllllll!1!1!!]
“What are you so mad about? That’s my job.” She told him.
“You’re not paid to Pearl Harbor people!”
“Well you do it sometimes.”
“That’s only when Ric Flair is in trouble. Anjel posed no threat to his career.”
“Oh, now I’m totally confused. Which side are you on? Why are you sticking up for that bimbo?” [Nightshade is totally my favorite character so far, btw]
“I am not sticking up for her, and don’t call her a bimbo!”
“Ha Ha Ha! Now I see it. You two timer! How could you! You’ve got a relationship with that dumb blonde!”
“Her name is Anjel, and she is one of the greatest friends I’ve ever had. Not that that would’ve made a difference.”
“Oh, and what does that mean?”
“It means that even if you knew we were friends you would’ve hit her anyway.”
“Maybe.” she said frostily “What’s so great about her, anyway. What’s she got that I don’t?” [dangerous question to ask about a Mary Sue, Shady.]
“She’s nice and kind and most of all she cares about my feelings. That’s more than I can ever say for you. The only person you can feel for is Night Shade. I don’t understand what I ever saw in you – Sunny Tyler.”
Noone spoke. They both looked at each other with anger in their eyes.
“I hate you, Curt Hennig.” she said and slammed the door behind her.
“Sheesh!” said The Mountie as N.S. flew by him, nearly ramming into him. He saw his friend on the bed. His face was in his hands.
“Hey, what’s the problem, buddy?”
“Long story.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Sorry, Jaques.” He shook his head.
“It’s ok I understand” he said and patting him on the back and closed the door behind him softly.
--------------------
Every day Mr. Perfect came in to visit Anjel in the hospital. She needed 29 stitches for her head. She had a concussions and some bruises, but she was recovering beautifully. [can Anjel do anything in any way besides beautifully?]
-----------
1 ½ weeks later
Anjel was finally able to get out of her hospital bed and walk around. She was moved into her dressing room. Her head still ached terribly, though. Mr. Perfect was still depressed, Nightshade’s words hurt him so deeply not even Anjel could help him. Anjel felt terrible about Mr. Perfect. His heart had been broken because he had helped her. She had spent so many hours trying to comfort him and make him feel better, but it just wasn’t helping.
Nightshade quit her job as the Executive Consultette to go back to being a sales representive. She remembered the way Mr. Perfect hurt her and planned her revenge (little did she know that the last 3 words she spoke to Mr. P. was the best revenge in the world). She quickly wrote something on a piece of paper and sprayed it with something. Mr. Perfect had made the mistake of telling her something long ago.
--------------------------------------
Notes:
1) I loved The Mountie. I think he might have been in a lost story somewhere, but I can’t remember. Personally, I’m glad I can’t remember … I’d rather not tarnish his character. Anyone remember when he sung his own theme song? “I’m the Mountie! I’m handsome, I’m brave, and I’m strong! I’m the Mountie! And I enforce the law! You can try to run, but you can never hide! The Mountieeeee always gets his man!” Good stuff!!
2) Aw, I miss Gorilla Monsoon. And Mr. Perfect. RIP, fellas.
COMING UP NEXT: Bitter Words, Part II, in which we see the devastating repercussions of crossing Nightshade. What’s that you say? You want more debilitating allergy stories? Coming right up!
----------------------------------------------
This is the first one to feature any actual in-ring action. Not very much in-ring action, but at least it doesn’t take place entirely within someone’s “dressing room.” Actually, this wasn’t that bad in terms of an actually plausible wrestling angle. In terms of a well-written piece of literature, of course, it fails miserably. Enjoy!
Chapter 14: Bitter Words [these chapter titles are seriously starting to sound like titles of Sweet Valley High books]
The phone rang in Anjel’s room.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Ms. Theodosia, this is President Jack Tunney.”
“Hello Mr. President. What can I do for you?”
“I need your OK on a match pitting Marty Jannetty against Ric Flair.”
“When is it to be held?”
“7:15 PM at the Chyenne Civic Center.”
“Yes sir. What date sir?” (what a ditz!) [actually, that was me covering for me there. I wrote this story in pen and decided it was easier to have him ask a follow-up question than self-edit. Sucks to be you, Tunney.]
“May 23”
“Yes sir. I believe we are free sir. Thank you, Mr. President.”
“Good, see you in Wisconsin. Goodbye”
CLICK!
What an idiot! Cheyanne is in Wyoming! Oh well [see above]
Anjel walked into the hall and was about to relay the news to Marty when a thought hit her. OH NO! Mr. Perfect manages Ric Flair! What am I going to do?
She went and told her protégé. [Marty is her protégé?] the info about the match. Marty noticed something odd about her – he could sense it but he didn’t bring it up [probably because that would require him to have lines]. She left his room and went into her own. She dialed Mr. P’s phone number. Busy. It must be Jack Tunney. 20 minutes later Mr. Perfect knocked on her door.
“Come in.” she said.
He entered, his face looking grim. He heard the news.
“Hi.” Anjel said.
“Funny Jack Tunney?”
“Yeah.”
“Anjel, I’m paid to be an aid for Ric Flair. I’m paid to win matches.”
“Me too.” she admitted.
“It means that I might have to resort to cheating, or hurting Marty. I’ve got to do anything to win.” he said.
“I understand.”
“But I promise you, I won’t do anything to hurt you.”
“Me neither.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Temporary enemies.” They shook hands, smiled, and Anjel left.
7:15, Cheyanne W.Y.
With Nightshade leading the way and Mr. Perfect and Ric Flair following behind.
Anjel gave Marty a last minute pep-talk and left the ring.
The match raged on using foreign objects often Ric Flair was eventually disqualified for being seen with a steel chair. Marty was nearly unconscious and Anjel was close to tears. She stepped into the ring and helped him onto a stretcher. She was about to go with him when a strong hand grasped her wrist. “Ow!” she whirled to see Ric Flair holding her.
“Whoo!” He screamed in her face. He slapped her. She slapped him back quickly. He raised his hand to punch her but Mr. P. held him back. He spoke softly to him. Mr. Perfect finally convinced his boss to stop.
Meanwhile Night shade had snuck up to Anjel and slipped on Brass knucks. She reared up behind her and WHAM! Right on the back of the head!
-ANJEL- [shifting perspectives again! Just like the pilot episode!]
He was going to hit me – but Mr. P. stopped him. How wonderful of him! I Want to … OW!”
-GORILLA- [as in Monsoon. One of the best commentators ever!]
I don’t believe it! This whole thing was set up by that rat Mr. Perfect. He distratcted Anjel by stopping Ric Flair so Nightshade could hit her. How Horrible.
----------------
Mr. Perfect didn’t notice what happened until he saw Anjel out cold on the mat. Then he saw N.S. blowing off her brass knuckled hand. Ric Flair left and N.S. followed. Mr. P knelt over her limp body.
-GORILLA-
Now what? He’s going to punch her with lead-filled gloves?
-------------------------------
Mr. Perfect touched the bump on the back of her head very lightly. She was bleeding. He removed his jacket and held it beneath her head. He lifted her up tenderly and placed her on the stretcher.
--------------------
-GORILLA-
… I don’t understand!
-------------------------------
Anjel was wheeled to Cheyanne Medical center – the hospital where Marty was being treated. Mr. Perfect walked back to Ric Flair’s room with a mixture of feelings. Concern for Anjel’s health, and anger because Nightshade would do something like that.
N.S. had watched the whole ordeal of Mr. Perfect -the man she loved- actually HELP that little blonde bimbo – what’s her name—Anjel! What the hell is he doing?
--10 min later—
Mr. Perfect enters room … N.S. flew into a rage “How could you! You little traitor!! You fink! What do you think you were doing out there?”
“Me! Me! You were the one who hit her on the back of the head with brass knucks!”
“So?”
“So? So?” he repeated.
“You’re upset.”
“How can you tell?” He asked sarcastically.
“You’re repeating yourself.”
“Repeating myself! Repeating myself! No way!” [rotflolllllll!1!1!!]
“What are you so mad about? That’s my job.” She told him.
“You’re not paid to Pearl Harbor people!”
“Well you do it sometimes.”
“That’s only when Ric Flair is in trouble. Anjel posed no threat to his career.”
“Oh, now I’m totally confused. Which side are you on? Why are you sticking up for that bimbo?” [Nightshade is totally my favorite character so far, btw]
“I am not sticking up for her, and don’t call her a bimbo!”
“Ha Ha Ha! Now I see it. You two timer! How could you! You’ve got a relationship with that dumb blonde!”
“Her name is Anjel, and she is one of the greatest friends I’ve ever had. Not that that would’ve made a difference.”
“Oh, and what does that mean?”
“It means that even if you knew we were friends you would’ve hit her anyway.”
“Maybe.” she said frostily “What’s so great about her, anyway. What’s she got that I don’t?” [dangerous question to ask about a Mary Sue, Shady.]
“She’s nice and kind and most of all she cares about my feelings. That’s more than I can ever say for you. The only person you can feel for is Night Shade. I don’t understand what I ever saw in you – Sunny Tyler.”
Noone spoke. They both looked at each other with anger in their eyes.
“I hate you, Curt Hennig.” she said and slammed the door behind her.
“Sheesh!” said The Mountie as N.S. flew by him, nearly ramming into him. He saw his friend on the bed. His face was in his hands.
“Hey, what’s the problem, buddy?”
“Long story.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Sorry, Jaques.” He shook his head.
“It’s ok I understand” he said and patting him on the back and closed the door behind him softly.
--------------------
Every day Mr. Perfect came in to visit Anjel in the hospital. She needed 29 stitches for her head. She had a concussions and some bruises, but she was recovering beautifully. [can Anjel do anything in any way besides beautifully?]
-----------
1 ½ weeks later
Anjel was finally able to get out of her hospital bed and walk around. She was moved into her dressing room. Her head still ached terribly, though. Mr. Perfect was still depressed, Nightshade’s words hurt him so deeply not even Anjel could help him. Anjel felt terrible about Mr. Perfect. His heart had been broken because he had helped her. She had spent so many hours trying to comfort him and make him feel better, but it just wasn’t helping.
Nightshade quit her job as the Executive Consultette to go back to being a sales representive. She remembered the way Mr. Perfect hurt her and planned her revenge (little did she know that the last 3 words she spoke to Mr. P. was the best revenge in the world). She quickly wrote something on a piece of paper and sprayed it with something. Mr. Perfect had made the mistake of telling her something long ago.
--------------------------------------
Notes:
1) I loved The Mountie. I think he might have been in a lost story somewhere, but I can’t remember. Personally, I’m glad I can’t remember … I’d rather not tarnish his character. Anyone remember when he sung his own theme song? “I’m the Mountie! I’m handsome, I’m brave, and I’m strong! I’m the Mountie! And I enforce the law! You can try to run, but you can never hide! The Mountieeeee always gets his man!” Good stuff!!
2) Aw, I miss Gorilla Monsoon. And Mr. Perfect. RIP, fellas.
COMING UP NEXT: Bitter Words, Part II, in which we see the devastating repercussions of crossing Nightshade. What’s that you say? You want more debilitating allergy stories? Coming right up!
----------------------------------------------
Monday, August 11, 2008
"A Perfect Part of View" Part III
(just tuning in? Hello! Please read the introduction first!)
And now, the exciting conclusion we have all been waiting for ...
“A Perfect Point of View” Part III
[Mr. Perfect has just telephoned Anjel, the font of all wisdom and miraculous advice]
2 rings
Marty: Hello [hooray! Marty has lines!]
Mr. P: Hello, this is Mr. Perfect I need to talk to Anjel.
Marty: Just a sec … [nice while it lasted. Seeya, MJ]
Anjel: Hello
Mr. P: Hi Anjel
Anjel: oh, its great ot hear your voice!
Mr. P: Yeah, you too.
Anjel: Hey, are you OK? You sound really sad. How’s Nightshade?
Mr. P. (voice cracking) She’s just fine.
Anjel: What’s wrong?
Mr. P: I told her, it just slipped out.
Anjel: Told her what?
Mr. P: (shouting) I LOVED HER
Anjel: Sorry.
Mr. P: No, I’m sorry, my short temper got the best of me again.
Anjel: What happened?
Mr. P: She laughed at me.
Anjel: (pause) I guess you’re a little shaken up.
Mr. P: Yeah, that’s an understatement.
Anjel: Take a deep breath (he does) let it out slowly (he does) Feel better?
Mr. P: Yeah, thanks.
Anjel: Ok. Do you know why she laughed?
Mr. P: no, I threw her out before I could explain.
Anjel: oh. Did she seem like she was trying to explain when she left?
Mr. P: I’m not sure (pause) yeah, I think so. I was too mad to let her.
Anjel: I think you should let her come to you.
Mr. P: What if she doesn’t?
Anjel: Give her 2 weeks, if she doesn’t by then, then you should forget about her.
Mr. P: Impossible.
Anjel: Think about it. Will you still loverher [?] in 2 weeks knowing that she could care less that she hurt you?
Mr. P: Probably not. You are always right, Anjel.
Anjel: Aw. Anytime to help a friend. You still sound sad.
Mr. P: (pause) I know.
Anjel: If it helps Mr. P., I love you. [hurl!]
Mr. P: Thanks, Anjel, it does help, and I love you too.
[ugg, this drags on and on .. in an effort to cheer him up, Anjel reminds Mr. P. of that hilarious perfume incident. They laugh like ninnies and he falls over himself to shower her with compliments and then they both hang up. And yes, I actually wrote “CLICK!”]
It turns out that I didn’t have to wait 2 weeks for an apology.
Getting through the Quadfecta meeting was hard. Since my seat was next to N.S.’s. [you have assigned seats?]
“Now Mr. Perfect if anything goes wrong, you have your brass knuckles, right?” asked Slick Ric
“Right, Champ.” I said my voice must have sounded a little miserable because Bobby elbowed me.
“You O.K.?” he whispered
“Female Trouble, I’ll get over it” I whispered back
“And Nightshade, you have your perfume?” asked Ric
“Yes, sir.” she answered
“What scent?” I had to ask
“Palm Springs” she replied, quite surprised I had spoken to her.
“Why” she asked
“I’m allergic to 1 – Tropical Mist” I said with no emotion [ooh, you’ll regret telling her that, Mr. P. Something tells me she comes from the Shawn Michaels school of nefaroiusness]
“Okay, Everybody ready? Let’s go” said Ric Everyone filed out.
NEXT DAY
I was sitting in my room when a knock came on my door. “Who is it?” I asked
“Nightshade.”
“Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.” I told her.
“Please let me in, I … I want to apologize.” she said.
“Allright, come in.”
She walked in wearing a beautiful smile which I did not return.
“Come on now, cheer up!” she said brightly.
“If you came here to do that you can leave.” I told her coldly. Her face became very serious. “Mr. Perfect, I care for you deeply, I don’t’ like to see you this way.” she said.
“You made me this way” I said.
“Oh, I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to make you so sad. It was a mistake, I don’t know why I laughed at you … I’m sorry, not only for that, bur for not loving you. I wish I could, but I can’t, I care about you, and you are a wonderful person, but I’m a jezebel, and I can’t devote myself to you. God, I wish I could.” She said and a tear spilled down her cheek [actually, that sounds a lot like the way I broke up with several boyfriends. Also, I can’t believe I knew the word “jezebel” in 6th grade]
“Aw, come on now, don’t cry. I forgive you.” I told her and gave her my handkerchief [who uses handkerchiefs?]
“Thank you.” She said. She kissed me on my cheek. “I wish I could.” She said before she left.”
[then Mr. P. writes another blasted letter to Anjel. This one is GOLD]
Dear Anjel,
You were right! (as usual) Nightshade apologized to me, although she still doesn’t love me. She said that she was a jezebbel and could never limit herself to 1 man. I just want to thank you again for the phone conversation we had, I think that I would probably would still be depressed 1 year from now if it weren’t for you. And I meant it when I said I love you. I really did. Love means Hates nothing about. And I could never hate anything about you, Anjel. Thank you. [here I wrote and later crossed out “How is Marty?” … poor Marty … ] I miss you. Love, Mr. Perfect.
-------
NEXT DAY
I decided to swing by Nightshade’s to make sure everything was O.K. between us. I knocked on her door but there was no answer.
“Nightshade!” I called, no answer.
I used my spare set of keys to open her door. I saw her lying down, head on the pillow, at first I thought she was unconcious or worse, but then I heard sobbing so I knew she was O.K. – physically that is. [about time we had some egregious crying]
“Nightshade, what’s wrong? Please look at me.” She kept crying. She was getting me worried. “Please I care about you.”
This made her cry harder.
“Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? Just look at me!” I was getting nowhere.
“Wait.”
“At least now you’re speaking to me.”
“Let’s try again.” I said and sat on her bed.
She lifted her head from the soggy pillow and dabbed her eyes with my handkerchief. Even with her red and puffy eyes and tear-streaked face she was beautiful. I pushed away the black hair sticking to her face. Her lower lip quivered.
“Take a deep breath.” She did. “Let it out slowly.” She did. “Feel Better?” she nodded. (ah, the magic of Anjel!) [HURL!]
“I’ve never loved anybody before. My reputation has seen to that. Date ‘em and forget about them. So when you said that you loved me, well, I thought that you were joking. And It wasn’t until this morning that I realized I loved you too. And now, the only man I’ve ever loved, doesn’t love me any more” she began to cry again.
“Hey, hey, hey. Who said I don’t love you anymore?” I asked her. She looked at me.
“After the way I hurt you?” she asked.
“I forgave you.” I pointed out.
“I know, but …… I couldn’t forgive myself.”
“Please forgive yourself. I love you, Nightshade.”
“I love you, too Mr. P.”
I kissed her – on the lips, mind you.
Notes:
1) Shout out to Marty! Welcome back, man!
2) With all this communication going on, I can’t believe no one sent a telegram in this story.
3) Hey, y’all: Love means Hates nothing about. I actually told my fiancé that last night. Then I kissed him on the lips. He’s a lucky guy.
COMING UP NEXT: “Bitter Words” – in which Ric Flair has a match against Marty Jannetty. Uh Oh! Mr. Perfect manages Ric Flair! Anjel manages Marty! What will happen???
And now, the exciting conclusion we have all been waiting for ...
“A Perfect Point of View” Part III
[Mr. Perfect has just telephoned Anjel, the font of all wisdom and miraculous advice]
2 rings
Marty: Hello [hooray! Marty has lines!]
Mr. P: Hello, this is Mr. Perfect I need to talk to Anjel.
Marty: Just a sec … [nice while it lasted. Seeya, MJ]
Anjel: Hello
Mr. P: Hi Anjel
Anjel: oh, its great ot hear your voice!
Mr. P: Yeah, you too.
Anjel: Hey, are you OK? You sound really sad. How’s Nightshade?
Mr. P. (voice cracking) She’s just fine.
Anjel: What’s wrong?
Mr. P: I told her, it just slipped out.
Anjel: Told her what?
Mr. P: (shouting) I LOVED HER
Anjel: Sorry.
Mr. P: No, I’m sorry, my short temper got the best of me again.
Anjel: What happened?
Mr. P: She laughed at me.
Anjel: (pause) I guess you’re a little shaken up.
Mr. P: Yeah, that’s an understatement.
Anjel: Take a deep breath (he does) let it out slowly (he does) Feel better?
Mr. P: Yeah, thanks.
Anjel: Ok. Do you know why she laughed?
Mr. P: no, I threw her out before I could explain.
Anjel: oh. Did she seem like she was trying to explain when she left?
Mr. P: I’m not sure (pause) yeah, I think so. I was too mad to let her.
Anjel: I think you should let her come to you.
Mr. P: What if she doesn’t?
Anjel: Give her 2 weeks, if she doesn’t by then, then you should forget about her.
Mr. P: Impossible.
Anjel: Think about it. Will you still loverher [?] in 2 weeks knowing that she could care less that she hurt you?
Mr. P: Probably not. You are always right, Anjel.
Anjel: Aw. Anytime to help a friend. You still sound sad.
Mr. P: (pause) I know.
Anjel: If it helps Mr. P., I love you. [hurl!]
Mr. P: Thanks, Anjel, it does help, and I love you too.
[ugg, this drags on and on .. in an effort to cheer him up, Anjel reminds Mr. P. of that hilarious perfume incident. They laugh like ninnies and he falls over himself to shower her with compliments and then they both hang up. And yes, I actually wrote “CLICK!”]
It turns out that I didn’t have to wait 2 weeks for an apology.
Getting through the Quadfecta meeting was hard. Since my seat was next to N.S.’s. [you have assigned seats?]
“Now Mr. Perfect if anything goes wrong, you have your brass knuckles, right?” asked Slick Ric
“Right, Champ.” I said my voice must have sounded a little miserable because Bobby elbowed me.
“You O.K.?” he whispered
“Female Trouble, I’ll get over it” I whispered back
“And Nightshade, you have your perfume?” asked Ric
“Yes, sir.” she answered
“What scent?” I had to ask
“Palm Springs” she replied, quite surprised I had spoken to her.
“Why” she asked
“I’m allergic to 1 – Tropical Mist” I said with no emotion [ooh, you’ll regret telling her that, Mr. P. Something tells me she comes from the Shawn Michaels school of nefaroiusness]
“Okay, Everybody ready? Let’s go” said Ric Everyone filed out.
NEXT DAY
I was sitting in my room when a knock came on my door. “Who is it?” I asked
“Nightshade.”
“Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.” I told her.
“Please let me in, I … I want to apologize.” she said.
“Allright, come in.”
She walked in wearing a beautiful smile which I did not return.
“Come on now, cheer up!” she said brightly.
“If you came here to do that you can leave.” I told her coldly. Her face became very serious. “Mr. Perfect, I care for you deeply, I don’t’ like to see you this way.” she said.
“You made me this way” I said.
“Oh, I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to make you so sad. It was a mistake, I don’t know why I laughed at you … I’m sorry, not only for that, bur for not loving you. I wish I could, but I can’t, I care about you, and you are a wonderful person, but I’m a jezebel, and I can’t devote myself to you. God, I wish I could.” She said and a tear spilled down her cheek [actually, that sounds a lot like the way I broke up with several boyfriends. Also, I can’t believe I knew the word “jezebel” in 6th grade]
“Aw, come on now, don’t cry. I forgive you.” I told her and gave her my handkerchief [who uses handkerchiefs?]
“Thank you.” She said. She kissed me on my cheek. “I wish I could.” She said before she left.”
[then Mr. P. writes another blasted letter to Anjel. This one is GOLD]
Dear Anjel,
You were right! (as usual) Nightshade apologized to me, although she still doesn’t love me. She said that she was a jezebbel and could never limit herself to 1 man. I just want to thank you again for the phone conversation we had, I think that I would probably would still be depressed 1 year from now if it weren’t for you. And I meant it when I said I love you. I really did. Love means Hates nothing about. And I could never hate anything about you, Anjel. Thank you. [here I wrote and later crossed out “How is Marty?” … poor Marty … ] I miss you. Love, Mr. Perfect.
-------
NEXT DAY
I decided to swing by Nightshade’s to make sure everything was O.K. between us. I knocked on her door but there was no answer.
“Nightshade!” I called, no answer.
I used my spare set of keys to open her door. I saw her lying down, head on the pillow, at first I thought she was unconcious or worse, but then I heard sobbing so I knew she was O.K. – physically that is. [about time we had some egregious crying]
“Nightshade, what’s wrong? Please look at me.” She kept crying. She was getting me worried. “Please I care about you.”
This made her cry harder.
“Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? Just look at me!” I was getting nowhere.
“Wait.”
“At least now you’re speaking to me.”
“Let’s try again.” I said and sat on her bed.
She lifted her head from the soggy pillow and dabbed her eyes with my handkerchief. Even with her red and puffy eyes and tear-streaked face she was beautiful. I pushed away the black hair sticking to her face. Her lower lip quivered.
“Take a deep breath.” She did. “Let it out slowly.” She did. “Feel Better?” she nodded. (ah, the magic of Anjel!) [HURL!]
“I’ve never loved anybody before. My reputation has seen to that. Date ‘em and forget about them. So when you said that you loved me, well, I thought that you were joking. And It wasn’t until this morning that I realized I loved you too. And now, the only man I’ve ever loved, doesn’t love me any more” she began to cry again.
“Hey, hey, hey. Who said I don’t love you anymore?” I asked her. She looked at me.
“After the way I hurt you?” she asked.
“I forgave you.” I pointed out.
“I know, but …… I couldn’t forgive myself.”
“Please forgive yourself. I love you, Nightshade.”
“I love you, too Mr. P.”
I kissed her – on the lips, mind you.
Notes:
1) Shout out to Marty! Welcome back, man!
2) With all this communication going on, I can’t believe no one sent a telegram in this story.
3) Hey, y’all: Love means Hates nothing about. I actually told my fiancé that last night. Then I kissed him on the lips. He’s a lucky guy.
COMING UP NEXT: “Bitter Words” – in which Ric Flair has a match against Marty Jannetty. Uh Oh! Mr. Perfect manages Ric Flair! Anjel manages Marty! What will happen???
Friday, August 8, 2008
A Perfect Point of View: Part II
(just tuning in? Hello! Please read the introduction first!)
I'm sure y'all are just on the edge of your seats wondering what's going to happen next. Never fear ... for now I bring to you: “A Perfect Point of View” part II ... and yes, Anjel finds her little blonde way into this .... good golly.
“A Perfect Point of View” part II:
**~~The Next Day~~**
The Flair Trifecta—I mean Quadfecta meeting was called early because Slick Ric was taping an interview for Superstars which I was not invited to. We had the afternoon off.
“Oh, Damn!” [gasp! A swear word! Look out, Mr. P!] said N.S.
“What?” I asked
“My old boss, Riely is supposed to call soon to discuss the finality of my resignation.”
“What were you?”
“Sales Rep. I’ve got 15 minutes.” she replied.
I walked her to her door when we got there she invited me in. There were 5 minutes to spare.
“Nice place” I said
“Thanks.”
The way she said that was amazing. It wasn’t like she was just saying it to be polite. She said it like—well, I can’t describe it. Oh great, now she’s got me analyzing thank yous. Am I in love or what? It wasn’t until I actually thought it that I realized it. I was I love with this woman. But did she fell even a little like himself about him? She did kiss me but I’ll bet she does that to hundreds of men. That’s part of her charm, she’s so ….. mysterious.
While I was in deep thought, she kissed me again. Even better than the last time because 1. it lasted longer 2. she had her arms around my neck and 3. this time we were kissing each other instead of just her kissing me. Man oh man do I love her.
<><><>
Oh god! He is an incredible kisser. The best I’ve ever had … no … the best was Tommy … no I mean George … or Roger. Well he’s one of the best. And he’s nice, and funny, and he seems to like me, plus he is good looking. All this and a terrific kisser. Wow! He’s perfect he even wears black. But do I need him. I’m not sure. You can’t tell much person in 2 days. Can you?
<><><>
The telephone rang.
“Oh Damn. It’s Riely!” she said.
I kissed her on the cheek and said good bye while she picked up the phone. I started to wash off the purple lipstick [classy!] smeared on my face. When I had finsied, I wrote a letter to Anjel.
Dear Anjel,
Hello! How is Marty? You know the WWF’s policy of if a wrestler leaves, a replacement must be found, well … you should see the new replacement! Her name is Nightshade, and, well I think I’m in love with her. Let me tell you about her. She’s got long black hair, green eyes and wears purple lipstick. She is very mysterious I don’t know much about her except that she’s from New York City and likes Bobby Darin. She’s impulsive and we’ve kissed each other 2 times* so far. She has to date at least 20 times a week. She’s nice when she wants to be, she kinds of reminds me of the way I’m supposed to be, only a little nicer. Anyway, even though we’ve kissed, I’m not sure of how she feels about me. Should I tell her I love her? I miss you very much. Things just aren’t the same without you.
* actually she kissed me first, then we both kissed.
Love, Mr. P
PS – have the peach trees blossomed yet?
PPS – Bobby says Hello! And the Mountie wants me to tell you that he misses you <3
Here’s the letter I got back
Dear Mr. P,
Hi! Boy it’s good to hear from you! I miss you so much! Marty is fine [what? No flu?] and yes! The Peach Trees have bloomed! Well the woman you love sounds very intriging! By what you tell me I would thing that she is not the kind of person who would want to make a commitment just yet [but … they’ve kissed]. Since she kissed you first, I think that she will tell you how she feels when she’s ready, But if you believe—truly believe—that she loves you back, go ahead and tell her! Let me know how things go! I’m only a letter or a phone call away! All the best. Love, Anjel
PS – say hi! To Bobby and tell the mountie I miss him too!
--
I can always get good advice from Anjel. I really do love her, not like I love Nightshade, I mean she’s absolutely beautiful, but still, I love her like a sister. She’s my best friend. I’m not absolutely sure N.S. loves me, in fact, I doubt it, so I’ll have to wait until she tells me.
Someone knocked on my door.
“Come in!” I said
It was Nightshade she stepped into my room.
“Oh, air conditioning!” said N.S. as she sampled the temperature in my room.
“Do you want me to turn it off or something? This heat in Florida can make me pass out.” I asked.
“No, leave it on, I like it.” she continued “I was wondering, what does Ric Flair want us to do?”
“Nothing until 6:00 tonight, he’s got a match and we need to plan it.” I informed her.
“Oh. 4 whole hours to kill.” she said and I swear I saw a twinkle in her beautiful green eyes. I don’t know why I said it, but right then and there I told her
“N.S., I love you”
And she laughed! That sound I thought was beautiful was now a creul sound. She laughed! How could she? [uhm, maybe because you just met her yesterday?]
<><><>
Ow! Why did I do that? The poor guy! He loved me and I laughed.
<><><>
“Get out now or I’ll pick you up and put you out and I mean it!” I said.
She left looking down. I sat and thought about it. I need to talk to Anjel [of course]. Since Florida and Georgia were close I called her. (don't want to spring for long distance???)
Notes
1) My sixth-grade math teacher was named Mr. Reilly. I apologize for involving him in this story and misspelling his name. Also, I still don’t know what a sales rep does.
2) I think one of my lost stories involves Mr. P. almost passing out in Anjel’s dressing room because she doesn’t have the air conditioning turned on. I’m sure it was exciting; too bad y’all are missing out.
COMING UP NEXT: “A Perfect Point of View”: part III, in which Nightshade apologizes to Mr. P. I smell egregious crying! It also contains one of the best lines I've ever written.
I'm sure y'all are just on the edge of your seats wondering what's going to happen next. Never fear ... for now I bring to you: “A Perfect Point of View” part II ... and yes, Anjel finds her little blonde way into this .... good golly.
“A Perfect Point of View” part II:
**~~The Next Day~~**
The Flair Trifecta—I mean Quadfecta meeting was called early because Slick Ric was taping an interview for Superstars which I was not invited to. We had the afternoon off.
“Oh, Damn!” [gasp! A swear word! Look out, Mr. P!] said N.S.
“What?” I asked
“My old boss, Riely is supposed to call soon to discuss the finality of my resignation.”
“What were you?”
“Sales Rep. I’ve got 15 minutes.” she replied.
I walked her to her door when we got there she invited me in. There were 5 minutes to spare.
“Nice place” I said
“Thanks.”
The way she said that was amazing. It wasn’t like she was just saying it to be polite. She said it like—well, I can’t describe it. Oh great, now she’s got me analyzing thank yous. Am I in love or what? It wasn’t until I actually thought it that I realized it. I was I love with this woman. But did she fell even a little like himself about him? She did kiss me but I’ll bet she does that to hundreds of men. That’s part of her charm, she’s so ….. mysterious.
While I was in deep thought, she kissed me again. Even better than the last time because 1. it lasted longer 2. she had her arms around my neck and 3. this time we were kissing each other instead of just her kissing me. Man oh man do I love her.
<><><>
Oh god! He is an incredible kisser. The best I’ve ever had … no … the best was Tommy … no I mean George … or Roger. Well he’s one of the best. And he’s nice, and funny, and he seems to like me, plus he is good looking. All this and a terrific kisser. Wow! He’s perfect he even wears black. But do I need him. I’m not sure. You can’t tell much person in 2 days. Can you?
<><><>
The telephone rang.
“Oh Damn. It’s Riely!” she said.
I kissed her on the cheek and said good bye while she picked up the phone. I started to wash off the purple lipstick [classy!] smeared on my face. When I had finsied, I wrote a letter to Anjel.
Dear Anjel,
Hello! How is Marty? You know the WWF’s policy of if a wrestler leaves, a replacement must be found, well … you should see the new replacement! Her name is Nightshade, and, well I think I’m in love with her. Let me tell you about her. She’s got long black hair, green eyes and wears purple lipstick. She is very mysterious I don’t know much about her except that she’s from New York City and likes Bobby Darin. She’s impulsive and we’ve kissed each other 2 times* so far. She has to date at least 20 times a week. She’s nice when she wants to be, she kinds of reminds me of the way I’m supposed to be, only a little nicer. Anyway, even though we’ve kissed, I’m not sure of how she feels about me. Should I tell her I love her? I miss you very much. Things just aren’t the same without you.
* actually she kissed me first, then we both kissed.
Love, Mr. P
PS – have the peach trees blossomed yet?
PPS – Bobby says Hello! And the Mountie wants me to tell you that he misses you <3
Here’s the letter I got back
Dear Mr. P,
Hi! Boy it’s good to hear from you! I miss you so much! Marty is fine [what? No flu?] and yes! The Peach Trees have bloomed! Well the woman you love sounds very intriging! By what you tell me I would thing that she is not the kind of person who would want to make a commitment just yet [but … they’ve kissed]. Since she kissed you first, I think that she will tell you how she feels when she’s ready, But if you believe—truly believe—that she loves you back, go ahead and tell her! Let me know how things go! I’m only a letter or a phone call away! All the best. Love, Anjel
PS – say hi! To Bobby and tell the mountie I miss him too!
--
I can always get good advice from Anjel. I really do love her, not like I love Nightshade, I mean she’s absolutely beautiful, but still, I love her like a sister. She’s my best friend. I’m not absolutely sure N.S. loves me, in fact, I doubt it, so I’ll have to wait until she tells me.
Someone knocked on my door.
“Come in!” I said
It was Nightshade she stepped into my room.
“Oh, air conditioning!” said N.S. as she sampled the temperature in my room.
“Do you want me to turn it off or something? This heat in Florida can make me pass out.” I asked.
“No, leave it on, I like it.” she continued “I was wondering, what does Ric Flair want us to do?”
“Nothing until 6:00 tonight, he’s got a match and we need to plan it.” I informed her.
“Oh. 4 whole hours to kill.” she said and I swear I saw a twinkle in her beautiful green eyes. I don’t know why I said it, but right then and there I told her
“N.S., I love you”
And she laughed! That sound I thought was beautiful was now a creul sound. She laughed! How could she? [uhm, maybe because you just met her yesterday?]
<><><>
Ow! Why did I do that? The poor guy! He loved me and I laughed.
<><><>
“Get out now or I’ll pick you up and put you out and I mean it!” I said.
She left looking down. I sat and thought about it. I need to talk to Anjel [of course]. Since Florida and Georgia were close I called her. (don't want to spring for long distance???)
Notes
1) My sixth-grade math teacher was named Mr. Reilly. I apologize for involving him in this story and misspelling his name. Also, I still don’t know what a sales rep does.
2) I think one of my lost stories involves Mr. P. almost passing out in Anjel’s dressing room because she doesn’t have the air conditioning turned on. I’m sure it was exciting; too bad y’all are missing out.
COMING UP NEXT: “A Perfect Point of View”: part III, in which Nightshade apologizes to Mr. P. I smell egregious crying! It also contains one of the best lines I've ever written.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Chapter 13: A Perfect Point of View
(just tuning in? Hello! Please read the introduction first!)
This story marked my first foray into first-person narrative. It also marked my last.
Times I cringed retyping this: 6. Enjoy!
Chapter 13: A Perfect Point of View
“Mr. Perfect, I would like you to meet our lovely new executive consultette, Nightshade.” said Ric Flair to me, Mr. Perfect. In stepped a woman with black, shiny hair that hung down a little above her waist. She had deep, intriging green eyes that caut your attention immediatly. Nightshade … isn’t that a poisonous fungus. If this woman is a poisonous fungus I’ll quit my job and become a monk.
Sunny Marie Tyler meet Curt Hennig.” said Ric
The beautiful stranger cringed at her name.
“Please don’t call me that. Look at me. Do I look Sunny?”
She was wearing a slightly off the shoulder dress with a long skirt. [a dress and a skirt?] it was black and did not fit her first name at all.
“Can’t say that you do, dear Can’t say that you do, look, why don’t you two kids get to know each other I am going to find Bobby.” halfway out the door Ric Flair stopped. “Almost forgot, Nightshade—gimmie a ‘Whoooo!” he said
“Whooo!” replied the consultette in her sultry, silky voice.
Ric Flair praised her “Whoo” and left us alone I smiled at her and she smiled back. Her smile melted my entire inside.
<><><> [I drew weird shapes to signify a perspective shift]
Oh god, he’s smiling at me. I think he likes me – Smile back-good-hey, what’s wrong with him liking me? He’s nice looking. Not as gorgeous as that guy I had last week …. but not bad [look out, Mr. P. she’s no good!]
<><><>
“You can call me N.S. if you’d like.” she told me [yes, that flows off the tongue much nicer]
“Okay.” I said “You can call me Mr. P. If you want.”
“So, Mr. P. where are you from?”
“Minneapolis, Minnesota. And you?”
“New York, New York.”
“Ah, the big apple.” I said searching for something good to say.
“Yeah, I grew up on the sounds of gunshots in the night.”
“Wasn’t that a Frank Sinatra song?”
She laughed. Her laugh was just about the sweetest thing in the world
<><><>
Hey, he’s pretty funny. I could get along with this guy O.K.
<><><>
“Oh, Do you like the Big Band era, I love Bobby Darin!” she told/asked me. “I’m an oldies fan” [what a coincidence, so was I. I obsessively collected Frankie Valli songs. But that’s a whole ‘nother blog]
“Um, not really, I’m an Elton John man myself.” [how is that not oldies?] Why didn’t I lie?
“So, why don’t you show me around?” she asked me
I gave her the grand tour. Passing by Anjel’s old room kind of made a lump in my throat but I pushed it down and moved on [ooh, so close to more egregious crying!]
“And we complete the tour at your room.” which was across the hall from mine –yes!
I handed her the keys and her extra set, which she gave to ME!!!
“Hey, who else do I know?” she explained
<><><>
Oh, what the heck, if you want to know what kind of a guy he was I should go ahead and do it. – Shoop Shoop!
<><><>
Right then she kissed me. WOW! Not just a little baby kiss either, right on the lips. WOW! I hope I returned it effectively.
<><><>
Ooh! Hose me down! Not bad at all! Pretty good actually. OK, OK, Fantastic.
<><><>
She is hot stuff!
Later in the evening, while I was in the dressing room I share with Bobby, I thought about what happened today, and realized that I could not wait for tomorrow.
TO BE CONTINUED …
Notes:
1) Again with the misconception of dressing rooms. It’s like I thought they all lived and worked in one big building instead of traveling around the country and staying in hotel rooms.
2) I wasn’t sure of Mr. Perfect’s exact age, but I do remember thinking that he was about 30. So … I wasn’t trying to pretend he was 14 or anything; I just assumed that this was the way 30-year old men thought. That being said, being close to 30 myself, I wouldn’t mind if I kissed a guy and had him react by thinking “WOW!” in all caps. I would, however, be alarmed if he was amazed that it was on the lips.
3) Re: the oldies. I think I’ve described my obsession with wrestling effectively. I was obsessed to a similar degree with Frankie Valli and the 4 Seasons. I had a ridiculously large collection of their albums. I think I had songs they didn’t even remember recording. Not only did I collect them, I made alphabetical, color-coded lists of their songs. And this was before I had a computer, so any time I got a new song, I would have to redo the list. I then made alphabetic mix tapes and listened to them over and over. But I digress. So because I only listened to oldies, I had no clue what was happening in the world of modern music. Thus, all of my characters only listen to oldies. The “Shoop Shoop” line is a reference to “It’s in His Kiss (The Shoop Shoop Song)” by Betty Everett (later recorded by Cher), to which the lyrics are: “If you wanna know if he loves you so, it’s in his kiss.” Good golly. Just … good golly.
Coming up next: The continuation of “A Perfect Point of View,” in which Nightshade begins to show her true colors. That hussy.
This story marked my first foray into first-person narrative. It also marked my last.
Times I cringed retyping this: 6. Enjoy!
Chapter 13: A Perfect Point of View
“Mr. Perfect, I would like you to meet our lovely new executive consultette, Nightshade.” said Ric Flair to me, Mr. Perfect. In stepped a woman with black, shiny hair that hung down a little above her waist. She had deep, intriging green eyes that caut your attention immediatly. Nightshade … isn’t that a poisonous fungus. If this woman is a poisonous fungus I’ll quit my job and become a monk.
Sunny Marie Tyler meet Curt Hennig.” said Ric
The beautiful stranger cringed at her name.
“Please don’t call me that. Look at me. Do I look Sunny?”
She was wearing a slightly off the shoulder dress with a long skirt. [a dress and a skirt?] it was black and did not fit her first name at all.
“Can’t say that you do, dear Can’t say that you do, look, why don’t you two kids get to know each other I am going to find Bobby.” halfway out the door Ric Flair stopped. “Almost forgot, Nightshade—gimmie a ‘Whoooo!” he said
“Whooo!” replied the consultette in her sultry, silky voice.
Ric Flair praised her “Whoo” and left us alone I smiled at her and she smiled back. Her smile melted my entire inside.
<><><> [I drew weird shapes to signify a perspective shift]
Oh god, he’s smiling at me. I think he likes me – Smile back-good-hey, what’s wrong with him liking me? He’s nice looking. Not as gorgeous as that guy I had last week …. but not bad [look out, Mr. P. she’s no good!]
<><><>
“You can call me N.S. if you’d like.” she told me [yes, that flows off the tongue much nicer]
“Okay.” I said “You can call me Mr. P. If you want.”
“So, Mr. P. where are you from?”
“Minneapolis, Minnesota. And you?”
“New York, New York.”
“Ah, the big apple.” I said searching for something good to say.
“Yeah, I grew up on the sounds of gunshots in the night.”
“Wasn’t that a Frank Sinatra song?”
She laughed. Her laugh was just about the sweetest thing in the world
<><><>
Hey, he’s pretty funny. I could get along with this guy O.K.
<><><>
“Oh, Do you like the Big Band era, I love Bobby Darin!” she told/asked me. “I’m an oldies fan” [what a coincidence, so was I. I obsessively collected Frankie Valli songs. But that’s a whole ‘nother blog]
“Um, not really, I’m an Elton John man myself.” [how is that not oldies?] Why didn’t I lie?
“So, why don’t you show me around?” she asked me
I gave her the grand tour. Passing by Anjel’s old room kind of made a lump in my throat but I pushed it down and moved on [ooh, so close to more egregious crying!]
“And we complete the tour at your room.” which was across the hall from mine –yes!
I handed her the keys and her extra set, which she gave to ME!!!
“Hey, who else do I know?” she explained
<><><>
Oh, what the heck, if you want to know what kind of a guy he was I should go ahead and do it. – Shoop Shoop!
<><><>
Right then she kissed me. WOW! Not just a little baby kiss either, right on the lips. WOW! I hope I returned it effectively.
<><><>
Ooh! Hose me down! Not bad at all! Pretty good actually. OK, OK, Fantastic.
<><><>
She is hot stuff!
Later in the evening, while I was in the dressing room I share with Bobby, I thought about what happened today, and realized that I could not wait for tomorrow.
TO BE CONTINUED …
Notes:
1) Again with the misconception of dressing rooms. It’s like I thought they all lived and worked in one big building instead of traveling around the country and staying in hotel rooms.
2) I wasn’t sure of Mr. Perfect’s exact age, but I do remember thinking that he was about 30. So … I wasn’t trying to pretend he was 14 or anything; I just assumed that this was the way 30-year old men thought. That being said, being close to 30 myself, I wouldn’t mind if I kissed a guy and had him react by thinking “WOW!” in all caps. I would, however, be alarmed if he was amazed that it was on the lips.
3) Re: the oldies. I think I’ve described my obsession with wrestling effectively. I was obsessed to a similar degree with Frankie Valli and the 4 Seasons. I had a ridiculously large collection of their albums. I think I had songs they didn’t even remember recording. Not only did I collect them, I made alphabetical, color-coded lists of their songs. And this was before I had a computer, so any time I got a new song, I would have to redo the list. I then made alphabetic mix tapes and listened to them over and over. But I digress. So because I only listened to oldies, I had no clue what was happening in the world of modern music. Thus, all of my characters only listen to oldies. The “Shoop Shoop” line is a reference to “It’s in His Kiss (The Shoop Shoop Song)” by Betty Everett (later recorded by Cher), to which the lyrics are: “If you wanna know if he loves you so, it’s in his kiss.” Good golly. Just … good golly.
Coming up next: The continuation of “A Perfect Point of View,” in which Nightshade begins to show her true colors. That hussy.
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