(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!
----------------------------------------------
Showing posts with label Ric Flair. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ric Flair. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
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???
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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