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.
Showing posts with label mary sue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mary sue. Show all posts
Friday, August 15, 2008
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!
----------------------------------------------
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Goodbye - Middle Names, Continued
(just joining us? hello! please check out the introduction)
Well, that was quite a cliffhanger yesterday, wasn't it? I mean, Brutus hadn't seen Marty in at least 5 hours. Where could he have gone? And what will Anjel do without his compelling presence? All your questions will be answered today in ...
GOODBYE - MIDDLE NAMES, CONTINUED
It has been 2 weeks since Anjel has read that note. In a split second decision she knew what she had to do. She couldn’t live without Marty. So she is trekking the universe, searching for him. The friends of the now seperated inseperable duo are greatly saddened by this development. Anjel sends regular post cards. So far she has covered ½ of Georgia without any luck. But then one day, -- 2 months later
Anjel stopped into a café for some coffee. As she found a seat, she saw a familiar back of a head [surely he didn’t have the only mullet in Georgia.]
“It can’t be!” she said to herself
But it was. Marty was sitting in a booth.
2 seats away from Anjel.
“Marty!” she screamed across the café [I thought he was only 2 seats away?]
Marty looked up and saw Anjel! They ran to each other. Anjel began to cry
“I thought I’d never see you again” said Anjel through her tears.
“Hey don’t cry Dr. Theodosia?”
Anjel looked up.
“Doctor?”
And with that they knew something was screwy.
It took them 2 hours, but they finally figured it out. They walked out beneath the peach trees and dendrohn bushes, hand in hand.
“My gosh it’s beautiful in Georgia.”
“Yeah, I love it here.”
“I know why.”
“Know what else I love?”
“What” asked Angel.
“I love you”
“I love you, too.”
They kissed each other. [I had the word “deeply” crossed out here. Too risqué.]
“Anjel, will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
[And here’s the telegram I had Anjel send home. Yes, a telegram.]
Dear Brutus + Mr. P + Sherry
I found him! STOP
GETTING MARRIED STOP
LOVE ANJEL
[then I wrote a guest list for the wedding. I’ll spare you, because it’s basically just a list of my favorite wrestlers, although I did color code them to indicate whether they were friends of the bride or friends of the groom]
[here’s the invitation. It is remarkably devoid of swirlies]
A WEDDING
Time – 12:00 PM
Day – May 1st, 92
AT – St. John’s Cathedral
For Marty Jannetty + Charlotte (Anjel) Theodosia
Note: this wedding is a goodbye to the couple, they are moving to Georgia
~~~After the wedding~~~
Brutus came up to Anjel – Mrs. Charlotte Theodosia Jannetty.
“Congrats Anjel” he said and hugged her. Anjel noticed some moisture in Brutuses’ eyes. [FOR THE LOVE OF PETE, DO YOU EVER STOP CRYING?]
“Do you always cry at weddings?” she asked with a few tears of her own forming.
“Naw, it’s just … Aw to heck with it I don’t want to see you two go!” the tears spilled over his cheeks. Anjel hugged him warmly.
“I don’t want to see you go either, Brutus, but we’ll write letters, O.K.?” [yes, but how can you be sure they won’t be forged??]
“Yeah, O.K.” Brutus sniffled and smiled he went over to Marty.
“You’re beautiful.” said Mr. Perfect smiling at Anjel. “Marty is very lucky.” [what, no tears?]
“Thank you, Mr. Perfect.”
“I … I … I’m really going to miss you.” said Mr. P. fighting the tears back and trying to force the lump in his throat down. He didn’t succeed, they streamed down his face. [about time. sheesh] She hugged him.
“Hey, don’t cry over me,” she said.
“Too late” he managed to smile
“Oops, looks like I’m crying over you, I am going to miss you too.” said a teary-eyed Anjel.
-------------------
There were more tear filled goodbyes until, it was time to go
-------------------
“Goodbye everyone, we’ll write! We’ll miss you all!” said Mr. + Mrs. Jannetty
-------------------
They both moved to Georgia and had a wonderful life together. They always wrote to Mr. P, Brutus, and Sherri and visited and called often.
So, you ask is this the end? There are so many unanswered questions.
THE END
Notes
1) I know I expressed disbelief about this when I typed it, but it’s worth mentioning again. A telegram? Seriously? Why does no one use a phone?
2) Anjel treks across Georgia in search of Marty? WTF is she doing, knocking on random folks’ doors? I assume Marty went to stay with his family … why didn’t she check there first?
3) So after I finished this story, I realized that I had written myself into a hole. They got married, they’re happy … uhh … now what? I thought that tag about unanswered questions would help, but then I realized that there really weren’t any. I tried continuing by just writing about Mr. Perfect (that story is coming up next), but that just didn’t cut it for me. I missed my Mary Sue.
After trying out a couple of different things (a few more torn-out pages are evidence of this), I had a brilliant idea. All I had to do was add these words to the end of the story: “This is the WWF’s explanation of why Marty and Anjel left the federation. But wouldn’t you love to hear THE REAL STORY?”
Ta-da! See … wrestling is fake. I knew that. I wrote like it wasn’t, but I exploited the fact that it was when I needed to.
Coming up next: “A Perfect Point of View” – I wrote this before I came up with the aforementioned brilliant way to rewrite history. I tried writing a story without Anjel in it. I failed. Mr. Perfect can’t help but contact her. Oh well. At least we meet some new characters. And, as a bonus, no allergies and no crying! Super bonus: kissing!
Well, that was quite a cliffhanger yesterday, wasn't it? I mean, Brutus hadn't seen Marty in at least 5 hours. Where could he have gone? And what will Anjel do without his compelling presence? All your questions will be answered today in ...
GOODBYE - MIDDLE NAMES, CONTINUED
It has been 2 weeks since Anjel has read that note. In a split second decision she knew what she had to do. She couldn’t live without Marty. So she is trekking the universe, searching for him. The friends of the now seperated inseperable duo are greatly saddened by this development. Anjel sends regular post cards. So far she has covered ½ of Georgia without any luck. But then one day, -- 2 months later
Anjel stopped into a café for some coffee. As she found a seat, she saw a familiar back of a head [surely he didn’t have the only mullet in Georgia.]
“It can’t be!” she said to herself
But it was. Marty was sitting in a booth.
2 seats away from Anjel.
“Marty!” she screamed across the café [I thought he was only 2 seats away?]
Marty looked up and saw Anjel! They ran to each other. Anjel began to cry
“I thought I’d never see you again” said Anjel through her tears.
“Hey don’t cry Dr. Theodosia?”
Anjel looked up.
“Doctor?”
And with that they knew something was screwy.
It took them 2 hours, but they finally figured it out. They walked out beneath the peach trees and dendrohn bushes, hand in hand.
“My gosh it’s beautiful in Georgia.”
“Yeah, I love it here.”
“I know why.”
“Know what else I love?”
“What” asked Angel.
“I love you”
“I love you, too.”
They kissed each other. [I had the word “deeply” crossed out here. Too risqué.]
“Anjel, will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
[And here’s the telegram I had Anjel send home. Yes, a telegram.]
Dear Brutus + Mr. P + Sherry
I found him! STOP
GETTING MARRIED STOP
LOVE ANJEL
[then I wrote a guest list for the wedding. I’ll spare you, because it’s basically just a list of my favorite wrestlers, although I did color code them to indicate whether they were friends of the bride or friends of the groom]
[here’s the invitation. It is remarkably devoid of swirlies]
A WEDDING
Time – 12:00 PM
Day – May 1st, 92
AT – St. John’s Cathedral
For Marty Jannetty + Charlotte (Anjel) Theodosia
Note: this wedding is a goodbye to the couple, they are moving to Georgia
~~~After the wedding~~~
Brutus came up to Anjel – Mrs. Charlotte Theodosia Jannetty.
“Congrats Anjel” he said and hugged her. Anjel noticed some moisture in Brutuses’ eyes. [FOR THE LOVE OF PETE, DO YOU EVER STOP CRYING?]
“Do you always cry at weddings?” she asked with a few tears of her own forming.
“Naw, it’s just … Aw to heck with it I don’t want to see you two go!” the tears spilled over his cheeks. Anjel hugged him warmly.
“I don’t want to see you go either, Brutus, but we’ll write letters, O.K.?” [yes, but how can you be sure they won’t be forged??]
“Yeah, O.K.” Brutus sniffled and smiled he went over to Marty.
“You’re beautiful.” said Mr. Perfect smiling at Anjel. “Marty is very lucky.” [what, no tears?]
“Thank you, Mr. Perfect.”
“I … I … I’m really going to miss you.” said Mr. P. fighting the tears back and trying to force the lump in his throat down. He didn’t succeed, they streamed down his face. [about time. sheesh] She hugged him.
“Hey, don’t cry over me,” she said.
“Too late” he managed to smile
“Oops, looks like I’m crying over you, I am going to miss you too.” said a teary-eyed Anjel.
-------------------
There were more tear filled goodbyes until, it was time to go
-------------------
“Goodbye everyone, we’ll write! We’ll miss you all!” said Mr. + Mrs. Jannetty
-------------------
They both moved to Georgia and had a wonderful life together. They always wrote to Mr. P, Brutus, and Sherri and visited and called often.
So, you ask is this the end? There are so many unanswered questions.
THE END
Notes
1) I know I expressed disbelief about this when I typed it, but it’s worth mentioning again. A telegram? Seriously? Why does no one use a phone?
2) Anjel treks across Georgia in search of Marty? WTF is she doing, knocking on random folks’ doors? I assume Marty went to stay with his family … why didn’t she check there first?
3) So after I finished this story, I realized that I had written myself into a hole. They got married, they’re happy … uhh … now what? I thought that tag about unanswered questions would help, but then I realized that there really weren’t any. I tried continuing by just writing about Mr. Perfect (that story is coming up next), but that just didn’t cut it for me. I missed my Mary Sue.
After trying out a couple of different things (a few more torn-out pages are evidence of this), I had a brilliant idea. All I had to do was add these words to the end of the story: “This is the WWF’s explanation of why Marty and Anjel left the federation. But wouldn’t you love to hear THE REAL STORY?”
Ta-da! See … wrestling is fake. I knew that. I wrote like it wasn’t, but I exploited the fact that it was when I needed to.
Coming up next: “A Perfect Point of View” – I wrote this before I came up with the aforementioned brilliant way to rewrite history. I tried writing a story without Anjel in it. I failed. Mr. Perfect can’t help but contact her. Oh well. At least we meet some new characters. And, as a bonus, no allergies and no crying! Super bonus: kissing!
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Introduction
Hi there.
So when I was younger, pretty much my favorite thing in the world was professional wrestling. It was my life. Actually, I'm not quite sure I'm adequately conveying my feelings here ... professional wrestling was my life. I watched every second of every match on TV. I went to live shows and cheered my little lungs out. I made signs for these events. I made big, glitter-covered signs. I even made one in French for the wrestlers from Quebec, because I was certain they would appreciate my effort. I subscribed to magazines. I wrote in to magazines, sometimes under pseudonyms so that I could get more than one letter printed per issue (which did happen). And this was, like, 1992, when wrestling wasn't even particularly good. This was way before John Cena, Stone Cold, The Rock ... this was the era of Berzerker vs. Bret Hart being an acceptable main event on TV. Ask me if I cared. No. No I didn't. I was obsessed. The only problem was that the storylines on TV were never as detailed as I wanted them to be. And they always ended before things were explained or explored to my liking. So I made up extra bits to the stories in my head.
Where am I going with all of this? Well ... my other favorite thing when I was younger was creative writing. Less embarassing than my other main interest, no? Oh, just you wait. Anyhoo, when I was in sixth grade, one of my teachers said: "Writers write about what they know" ... when he said this, a little championship belt-shaped lightbulb went on above my head. I could write these stories down.
Oh man, did I ever.
Here is what I have only come to realize in the past few years: I was writing fan-fiction. If the internet had been around back in the day, I surely would have found out that I was not alone; as it happened, however, I thought that I was the only one who had a compulsion to continue, flesh out, and create stories based on professional wrestling. I now know that I had (and have) thousands of compadres all across the globe. I have since come to understand that what I wrote featured one of the Mary-Sueiest Mary Sues ever to sparkle across a page (her name was Angel, for the love of Pete) and some of the least realistic dialogue ever written.
Aaaaaaaaaanyhoo ... why am I telling all of you this? Because recently I moved into a new house and in the process of unpacking, I decided to peruse my archives. Wow. Wow. WOW. There really aren't words to describe my writing. Wait. There are two: unabashedly bad (hence the name of this blog). As I read through it again, I laughed until my eyes watered. "Too bad," I said to myself, "I can't show this to anyone, because even though this is hilarious and should be shared with the world, I am way too embarassed to actually let people know I wrote it."
Hello, internet!!!
So here you go, world. Here are some preliminary notes before I start posting the "chapters"
1) I'm transcribing everything in its original form. All the spelling mistakes, abuse of exclamation points, and ridiculously overwrought chapter titles are authentic. Any editorial comments will be added in brackets [like this].
2) The first couple of pages are missing because I traded them to my best friend in exchange for pages from her seventh-grade journal. (It's not my place to post any of that, but boy, you wish I could.) So I'll fill you in on the extensive "backstory" I created: The main character is named Anjelica Charlotte Theodosia, but she goes by "Anjel". (and we're just getting started here, folks). She's a nurse (or something ... I didn't really have a good idea of what that actually meant) by training, and found her way into the WWF right after the Rockers split up, because I was seriously crushing on Marty Jennety at that point in my life. She is 22, with blonde hair and blue eyes (of course) and she's pretty much the nicest, friendliest, most wonderful person EVER. I think that's all you really need to know.
3) I started writing this when I was 11 or 12. I'm not quite sure when I really stopped. To be brutally honest, I still add a couple pages here and there on occasion. It was really amusing for me to see how everything evolved as I got older ... the writing got better, the characters got more interesting, the plots got thicker, the dialogue got more realistic, and it got a heck of a lot raunchier.
4) I'm not posting this because I think it's good or because I want any kind of constructive criticism. I'm posting this because it's unabashedly bad and I hope it will entertain anyone who stumbles across it.
5) I wrote all of this in pencil in marble notebooks. I may occasionally also post amusing things I scrawled in the margins and on the front/back covers. Sorry I can't reproduce doodles.
Okay ... I think that's it for now ... I'm totally psyched about this. Hope there's someone out there who is also psyched!!!
Whee!
So when I was younger, pretty much my favorite thing in the world was professional wrestling. It was my life. Actually, I'm not quite sure I'm adequately conveying my feelings here ... professional wrestling was my life. I watched every second of every match on TV. I went to live shows and cheered my little lungs out. I made signs for these events. I made big, glitter-covered signs. I even made one in French for the wrestlers from Quebec, because I was certain they would appreciate my effort. I subscribed to magazines. I wrote in to magazines, sometimes under pseudonyms so that I could get more than one letter printed per issue (which did happen). And this was, like, 1992, when wrestling wasn't even particularly good. This was way before John Cena, Stone Cold, The Rock ... this was the era of Berzerker vs. Bret Hart being an acceptable main event on TV. Ask me if I cared. No. No I didn't. I was obsessed. The only problem was that the storylines on TV were never as detailed as I wanted them to be. And they always ended before things were explained or explored to my liking. So I made up extra bits to the stories in my head.
Where am I going with all of this? Well ... my other favorite thing when I was younger was creative writing. Less embarassing than my other main interest, no? Oh, just you wait. Anyhoo, when I was in sixth grade, one of my teachers said: "Writers write about what they know" ... when he said this, a little championship belt-shaped lightbulb went on above my head. I could write these stories down.
Oh man, did I ever.
Here is what I have only come to realize in the past few years: I was writing fan-fiction. If the internet had been around back in the day, I surely would have found out that I was not alone; as it happened, however, I thought that I was the only one who had a compulsion to continue, flesh out, and create stories based on professional wrestling. I now know that I had (and have) thousands of compadres all across the globe. I have since come to understand that what I wrote featured one of the Mary-Sueiest Mary Sues ever to sparkle across a page (her name was Angel, for the love of Pete) and some of the least realistic dialogue ever written.
Aaaaaaaaaanyhoo ... why am I telling all of you this? Because recently I moved into a new house and in the process of unpacking, I decided to peruse my archives. Wow. Wow. WOW. There really aren't words to describe my writing. Wait. There are two: unabashedly bad (hence the name of this blog). As I read through it again, I laughed until my eyes watered. "Too bad," I said to myself, "I can't show this to anyone, because even though this is hilarious and should be shared with the world, I am way too embarassed to actually let people know I wrote it."
Hello, internet!!!
So here you go, world. Here are some preliminary notes before I start posting the "chapters"
1) I'm transcribing everything in its original form. All the spelling mistakes, abuse of exclamation points, and ridiculously overwrought chapter titles are authentic. Any editorial comments will be added in brackets [like this].
2) The first couple of pages are missing because I traded them to my best friend in exchange for pages from her seventh-grade journal. (It's not my place to post any of that, but boy, you wish I could.) So I'll fill you in on the extensive "backstory" I created: The main character is named Anjelica Charlotte Theodosia, but she goes by "Anjel". (and we're just getting started here, folks). She's a nurse (or something ... I didn't really have a good idea of what that actually meant) by training, and found her way into the WWF right after the Rockers split up, because I was seriously crushing on Marty Jennety at that point in my life. She is 22, with blonde hair and blue eyes (of course) and she's pretty much the nicest, friendliest, most wonderful person EVER. I think that's all you really need to know.
3) I started writing this when I was 11 or 12. I'm not quite sure when I really stopped. To be brutally honest, I still add a couple pages here and there on occasion. It was really amusing for me to see how everything evolved as I got older ... the writing got better, the characters got more interesting, the plots got thicker, the dialogue got more realistic, and it got a heck of a lot raunchier.
4) I'm not posting this because I think it's good or because I want any kind of constructive criticism. I'm posting this because it's unabashedly bad and I hope it will entertain anyone who stumbles across it.
5) I wrote all of this in pencil in marble notebooks. I may occasionally also post amusing things I scrawled in the margins and on the front/back covers. Sorry I can't reproduce doodles.
Okay ... I think that's it for now ... I'm totally psyched about this. Hope there's someone out there who is also psyched!!!
Whee!
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