Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker (Cornellverse)

[SirFozzie]

Good stuff NordVolf. You've placated the Mob for a bit longer. (note only a BIT longer :D)

[MiddleGA]

[QUOTE=SirFozzie;577148]Good stuff NordVolf. You've placated the Mob for a bit longer. [B](note only a BIT longer :D)[/B][/QUOTE] + 1

[SirFozzie]

[QUOTE=MiddleGA;579858]+ 1[/QUOTE] Hey MiddleGa.. you got an extra torch I can borrow for the upcoming mob action? I made the mistake of tossing my last torch into the bonfire at our last action, and haven't had a chance to head back to Rent-A-Mob (TM) HQ.. (besides, I'm not looking forward to the paperwork they require to get a replacement torch)...

[NordVolf]

[CENTER]((OOC Segment))[/CENTER] [QUOTE=SirFozzie;591750]Hey MiddleGa.. you got an extra torch I can borrow for the upcoming mob action? I made the mistake of tossing my last torch into the bonfire at our last action, and haven't had a chance to head back to Rent-A-Mob (TM) HQ.. (besides, I'm not looking forward to the paperwork they require to get a replacement torch)...[/QUOTE] *chuckles* Ok, ok. Thanks, guys. Here's some more. Wouldn't want you guys to be responsible for something badly... flammable... *smiles* [CENTER] [SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE] [U]Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker[/U] [/CENTER] "Now, damnit, Cat! What in the hell you got to be carryin' on like 'at for?!" That from Dan, finally, when he apparently couldn't take it any more. It'd been who-knows-how-long after I'd started my tale of woe. Didn't take me all that long to tell my week, but it didn't take just five minutes, either. And I didn't start with Owen at the grocery store this time. Of course, by the time I was winding down Clem was earnestly listening and Dan had been taking it all in, alternating between interested sympathy and frowning in serious concern. And, of course, Cat was back with her giggle-fits again. Hence, Dan's reprimand. Cat got control of herself at that, while I tried to cover. "Dan, we've been drinking, alright?" And I had to admit, when all is said and done; I could see Cat's point. In retrospect, it was kind of funny. Still, Dan couldn't see it. How could he? He didn't know me. "Well that ain't no way f'r a friend to act when y'r tellin' what'all happened to yuh," Dan countered. I looked helplessly to Cat, and she responded, suppressing mirth. "You guys don' know Lorna like Ah do!" she crowed. And before Dan or even Clem, who sat up straight with objection on his face and in his opening mouth, could reply, she explained. "Lorna's always been, long as Ah know'd her anyway, to be a hard-core, tough-as-nails [I]Rassler[/I]. Sure, when she first started out with Angel Athletic she was perty green, but still serious an' hard [I]to the core[/I]. Especially with her MMA sh**," she added with a grin to me. "That's her Mixed Martial Arts style," she clarified to Clem and Dan's befuddled looks. "So here's this tough, tough rassler, all set to beat any body an' ever'body, in or [I]out[/I] o' the ring! Takes beat-downs like she loves the feelin', some o' the [I]most[/I] punishing stuff like you ain't [B]never[/B] seen. And there she is, bein' told off in public in some grocery store in front o' ever'body by this [B]kid[/B]. An' lettin' him do it to boot! Ah mean, Ah know for [I]shore[/I] Ah could'a sold tickets f'r [I]double[/I] the price of admission to Triple-A's best show in the Portland Center, first Tuesday o' ever month, an' the whole o' Triple A's roster'd'a showed to see it!" Hearing it put like that brought a smile even to my lips. And seeing that, Clem and Dan relented, though Clem had yet to actually say anything. Still, Clem's face is as expressive as anyone's actual words so he comes across clearly, if not loud, just the same. And with their smiles, as well as mine, the mood relaxed. "Well, Lorna was just prob'bly givin' the kid his due." Dan added. "You know; thought he had somethin' important to say an' so let him say it." He looked at me with what looked like a sense of pride, and sat up straight. "Would'a liked to'a been there to seen that." Cat then surprised me, giving me more than I would have hoped for in feeling that night. She reached over, put her hand firmly on mine and said quietly with a genuine smile, "Would'a liked to'a seen that my own self." She gave my hand a squeeze, I gripped her fingers curled around my hand in a squeeze back, and right there in that one simple exchange, I got all the sympathy, camaraderie and respect I could have wanted. And I remember thinking; How the hell had I even doubted Cat for being my friend? "Well now," Dan said, tipping his hat back and settling in for more serious discussion, "All in all, Lorna, yo're week don't sound so bad. Why, alla that's just passin' stuff, and Ah'm shore that in no time a'tall you'll find somethin'..." I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, which brought Dan up short. "Dan... I got a job." That brought fresh surprise all around the table, from the boys [I]and[/I] Cat. "Whull hot damn!" Dan crowed, first to shake the astonishment off. "Well there ya go...!" Was as far as I let his sudden joy get. "Dan... they want me to start Saturday." That again brought a startled pause, and to cap it off I put it to bed. "Saturday Night." That killed the mood for Cat, who went sullen with a quiet, "Oh..." At Dan and Clem's befuddled looks, she explained, as if exasperated at children. "Saturday Naht?! Saturday Spectacular?" At continued uncomprehending looks from the boys, Cat explained. "Angel Athletic holds weekly shows now. Saturday Spectacular. They go on Saturday [I]night[/I]." The explanation of which not only brought dawning understanding but also killed the budding good mood around the rest of the table. "Ah take it yo're girls 'r' gonna be to the show..." Dan said, both question and statement of assumed fact. I assured him with a quiet nod. "Uh huh..." he said, thinking a moment. "Well... Cain't you beg off 'r' somethin'?" "Can't," I told him, and by extension Cat and Clem as well. "At my new job they have some fancy, premier trainer coming in, and since the weekend is booked otherwise with something or other, that's the only time they've got to have him get me going." "Whull... Damn..." was Dan's only reply as he mulled that over. "How good of a job could it be?" Clem offered, the forced grin on his face suggesting the idea, without saying it, that I could just not go. "It's a good job," I explained. "Sales of athletic gear and equipment to gyms and the like. Same company that sold Triple-A it's gear, in fact. Pay is a bit more than Angel paid, and they're willing to pay a downside on commissions. That means that should my sales not net me commissions up to a pre-set amount, they'll pay the difference." "Lordy!" Cat breathed. "Ah ain't never heard o' no downside bein' paid outside'o rasslin' before." To explain to Dan and Clem before they could even get befuddled looks she continued. "That's where a rassler is signed to a PPA, or Pay-per-Appearance contract. They only get paid f'r the shows they appear at. But with a downside agreement, if they have a show they don't git called in for, they get paid some agreed on amount to make up f'r it. Us'ally only done f'r the best rasslers." Then she smirked and pushed at my arm, a mock "get away you pest" look on her face. "How do [I]you[/I] rate?!" Cat teased the question at me with a grin. "Apparently perty highly," Clem replied with an shy smile of his own. "Whull... Damn..." Dan breathed, and all attention was back on him. He took a thoughtful sip of beer and addressed me directly. "Whull damn! So... whut? That right there leaves you to decide where you're gonna be at, don' it? Whether y're gonna go to work, or go an' see your girls at the show. Don' it." That last was as much a statement as a question -- we all knew that what he'd stated was exactly the case. "Yeah..." I droned thoughtfully, even then seeking a way out in my mind and finding none. "Whull damn, Lorna...!" Dan breathed, in apparent awe of the conundrum I'd gotten myself into. "Whull... damn... What're you gon' do?!" In preamble to my reply I reached out and picked up a shot glass from the ring of them in the middle of the table. It'd been explained to me as the barkeep had poured them that it was somewhat of a tradition. That circle of shot glasses was to remain untouched until the last drink of the evening, when someone decided they'd had enough and it was time to go. It was getting late, though early for Dan and Clem as I imagined, but I had daughters to think about at home. As I reached for that shot glass the bartender nodded stern acceptance, so I took it. And in reply, Dan, Clem, Cat, and even the barkeep, who was still seated with us and listening quietly yet intently, took one up each. That shot glass paused at my lips as I formulated my reply. But the bucket from that well came up dry, so I said the only thing that I could think of. "I don't know, Dan. I just don't know." Shortly thereafter five empty shot glasses hit the table in unison. Simultaneous camaraderie in the face of adversity.

[NordVolf]

[CENTER][U]Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker[/U] [/CENTER] The rest of the night went by in a sort of alcohol-fueled haze. But a few things stood out for me. [CENTER] [SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE] [/CENTER] One of them was as we left Snerdy's. That last round of shots pretty much ended the evening for even Dan and Clem. So we walked out of the bar together, though the four-some was broken up right there on the sidewalk, we saying our good-byes almost like friends. They promised Cat very earnestly to come see a Triple-A show, then they heading one way and Cat and I heading the other. Bound for we-knew-not-where at that point. As we cleared out of earshot range of Dan and Clem, Cat did the unexpected. She pulled me into a very warm, sideways hug. "Thank you [I][B]so[/B][/I] much!" That got a chuckle out of me, and I turned a glance to her. "Sure," I said. "For whatever for." She answered by turning me by the shoulders and pulling me into a full hug. "I mean it!" she crowed quietly. "Thanks!" She giggled then, the way she does when she's not only feeling her liquor but genuinely giddy with happiness, something that wasn't rare but was still very special. Even so, I was a little embarrassed. "Look," I said, hugging back but feeling awkward, "you're drunk and I have no idea what you're talking about. But you're welcome anyway." Cat pushed me out to arms length and looked me dreamily in the eye. "You didn't get us throwd out the bar this tahm!" she said. And just like that it came clear to me. This was, indeed, the first time Cat had taken me to a country bar and I hadn't gotten the two of us thrown out. "Well," I said, feeling a little sheepish. "Wasn't for my lack of trying..." "You silly goose!" she crowed, and giggled. "Well, shore, it was a near thang, but you managed to let me pull our fats outa the fahr without no fuss, so it's all good." She smiled a genuinely happy and even grateful smile, and my chagrin grew. She then turned to continue our walk down the street. "Finally! A place Ah can go back to!" I was set to follow her, but that last caught me dead in my tracks. "Yeah," I chuckled after a moment. "Sure. Now who's being silly. You can go back into any bar you like whenever you feel like, so don't give me that." She looked at me over her shoulder, expecting me to have followed, and when she found I wasn't she stopped. "Like hell I caint!" she said, as if explaining something to someone dense. And then what she said, and the way she probably meant it sunk in. "Now I [I]know[/I] you don't mean to tell me you never went back into any of those other bars..." I started, though my words faltered at the incredulity I felt at that possibility. Cat clarified it for me. "Like hell I did!" she said, giving me a look like I should have known better. "Ain't never been back to a one of 'em," she continued, hands on her hips and looking at me sidewise with a mock scowl on her face. I was dumbfounded. I couldn't believe it. After all, we'd been out off-and-on for a little less than five years, Cat and I having hit it off almost immediately after I'd joined Triple-A. And every now and again she'd try and 'sneak' me into a country bar. With what became, inexplicably to me, the usual results. "You're kidding..." I said with a half smirk on. Half, because I was half amused at the improbability of it and half horrified that she was serious. Horror won out. But only briefly. "Like hell Ah am!" she replied, turning sour. Her look softened then, and she explained. "Look, Ah ain't been in a one o' them places since, an' that's the gospel truth." "The Lone Star," I said, folding my arms, still scarcely able to believe it. "Aw, that place?" Cat asked, then frowned in mock anger. "First place I ever took you to. An' the first place where someone act'ally started somethin'. An' [I]we[/I] got throwd out f'r it! Prob'ly where you picked up y'r feelin's on country folk from." She shook her head then. "Nope. Ain't been back." "Cat, it's been, what, nearly five years?! And you have never been back..." "Lorna," Cat countered, hands once again on hips, "don't matter how long it's been. A place throws you out, even without me, ain't no place Ah'll ever set foot in again!" "What the hell for?!" I asked, incredulous, yet just as much curious. Cat giggled again. "Ok," she started in. "Lookie here. She sidled back over to me and almost cuddled in close, though standing tall. Appropriate intimate, it turns out. "An' don't get y'r hackles up afore you heard me out," she said with a grin. At my nod, she continued. "See, when it comes down to country folk, you got to admit it. Yo're prejudiced." I took and deep breath at that, but it made me think. So I nodded. And she carried on. "Well a'raht then. Now. The upshot of it all is, yo're also willin' to give it a shot. Ah mean, ever tahm Ah drag you into a place, you kick an' moan, shore, but yuh go in anyway. You give 'em at least half a chance. But then whut happens? Somethin' does, at any rate, an' then whut? [I]They[/I] throw [I]us[/I] out! An' don't matter to me whut for. Fact is, it's because they're just as prejudiced as you, but they don' wanna ever give you even [I]half[/I] a chance! So out into the street we go. An' before you get all a-feared of it, Ah ain't holdin' it against you. It's jus' y'r way, is all. Now, Ah don't like you f'r the way Ah want you to be. Hell, Lorna, we're [B]friends[/B]! Ah like you f'r just the way yuh are." And with that she gave me a very warm smile, and bumped my shoulder with hers. And there it was. She said the thing that'd never been said between us. We were friends. As Cat would say, that right there made me smile. And made me think. And made me feel. And made me start to admit some things about myself. "Even when I'm a sh**...?" I asked. That got a giggle out of her. "Well shore! [I][B]Especially[/B][/I] when yo're a sh**! Lorna, Ah know better'n anybody you got a lot on yo're plate, an' yo're the kinda girl who takes y'r work home with you. Hell, yo're the kind who takes y'r Rasslin' and makes it live inside ya. It's why y're so good at it. Even though it makes you a whole lot more hard core than you really gotta be. But Ah also know that deep down, y're a perty good person, an'll do perty much anythang f'r any body. Especially if it's the raht thang t' do." She smiled at that, then went on. "Now, ever'body deserves a friend when they're all nice an' dignified." Her smile turned into a seriousness, though her eyes still smiled. "But it's when someone's at their worse is when they [I]need[/I] a friend, more'n any other tahm. An' Ah guess that right there's whut makes me yo'rs. It's the You Ah see underneath alla that's whut really needs me. So Ah'm there f'r ya." I got a warm feeling, then. My horror at her having done something silly, or even stupid, on my account faded into the warmth of such friendship. It's the kind of thing that sets you free, knowing that someone else outside your immediate family feels such love for you. Not that it instantly changes you into someone else, that person you're supposed to be. That kind of change takes a while. Sometimes a very long time. But it's a start. At the very least, it changes your perceptions of people, including yourself. And sometimes starts that journey of soul searching that leads to new things. But for now, right then, it was just a warm feeling of having such a good friend. And the realization of the kind of person I tended to be, especially since I'd started in with Triple-A. "Cat... I don't deserve you." That got a big smile out of her. "Well, you got me anyway, so y're just gonna hafta learn tuh live with it." So I did something uncharacteristic for me, except when it was with my girls. [I]I[/I] pulled [I]Cat[/I] into a hug. "Thanks," I breathed. Cat giggled and hugged right back. "Shore," she replied. And after a moment, we parted a little to looking at one another. "So, then," Cat said with a big grin. "The boys all quit on us on account they gotta work tomorruh. An' before you even start, yo're girls're old enough to sit tight f'r a good long while on their own, so don't you even [I]start[/I] t' fret. So, then," she continued with a budding, silly grin. "What're [I]we[/I] gone do with the rest of the naht?"

[ShadowedFlames]

What [i]are[/i] they gonna do with the rest of the night, hmmm? The story continues to be just as good as we have come to expect; looking forward to the next part. I'll leave the "rent-a-mob" jokes to those more qualified. :p

[NordVolf]

[CENTER]((OOC Segment))[/CENTER] Hey there everyone. I know it's been a while, but life has kept me busy. Still, with the "downturn" (dare I say recession?) and all, it's made me mindful of things that I enjoy doing that cost me nothing. And this is one of them. So I'm back in the saddle, and the words once again flow. I present now some of those words for your enjoyment... [CENTER] [SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE] [U]Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker[/U] [/CENTER] The blur comes then to my recollection, though I do distinctly remember Cat telling me she wanted me to take her to my kind of place. So we hailed a cab. Snerdy, or that's what I call him since to this day I don't know what the barkeep's real name is, had Cat's truck keys. As we piled in, I instructed the cabby to take us to the Down Town Seattle Veterans' Club. Of course, Cat was very surprised. I can see how she would be. Even though it made perfect sense that Rick and I, in the times we were in Seattle, would stop by a local Vet's Club, I hadn't been back there since after Rick had died. And I had joined Triple-A long after that, so Cat had never had any exposure to that side of me. [CENTER] [SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE] [/CENTER] When we got there the first person we met was right at the door. Or near enough that it seemed he was keeping an eye on it when nothing else in the Club grabbed his attention. That's where my recollection becomes clear again. He was an older gent, longish graying hair flowing in a wavy mane down to his shoulders. His craggy face spoke of long days and nights out in the weather, either the mountains or the desert or some such environ. His skin was dark with age and the weathering of it, his eyebrows bushy as if just blown in from the storm, and his gray more-salt-than-pepper moustache draped thickly over his ever-present, lop-sided smile, a humor that was mirrored by his bright, dark eyes. An ensemble of typically western clothing rounded out the look; jeans and flannel shirt both neatly pressed yet worn into relaxed fit, accented by a thick belt with a large pewter buckle, a western cord tie, and blunt-toed western boots. We walked in, and we immediately had his attention. "Well, well." You could almost [I]feel[/I] the western drawl oozing from his tone. "Now this here's a sight for sore eyes if there ever was one." And he was looking dead at me. I couldn't help it. A big smile lit my face, and I stepped right over to him. "Bob," I said, looking him happily in the eye and taking his hands in mine. And my smile became a smirk, because I was teasing him. He almost laughed, but instead kept it in behind a growing smirk of his own. "Now, now. You know I don't like bein' called 'at." His smirk begged me to correct myself. So I relented and did. "Skip. You're a sight for sore eyes yourself," I added, and I pulled him by his hands in close, a sort of hug without being huggy about it. "Lorna! I thought you didn' like country folk!" That from behind me. I'd forgotten for a moment Cat was there, and at her comment both Skip and I looked at her. She had on this amazed look, grinning like an idiot, and stepped over to us. Skip reminded me of what I'd known about him all those years ago. He laughed out loud, a gentle yet delighted look on his face. "Well, now," he said good naturedly. "That all depends on your definition of country folk." He glanced at me with a smirk before continuing. "And as I recall, way back in the day, you'd swear to heaven that Lorna here'd grown up in a trailer park some place." "Ah," I said, looking ruefully from Skip to Cat. "Skip, this is Cat. Cat," I said, smirk growing again. "This is Bob." And Cat was Cat. She turned, sidestepped, and was instantly at Skip's side, twining her arm around his as if he'd offered it to her. He in turn smirked wryly at me but left my calling him Bob uncommented on for the moment. He then glanced at Cat with a sidelong grin. "Thing about country folk is, they sure are friendly." He grinned at her, she looked up at him adoringly, and the two of them hit it off as if they'd known each other since they were children. Then, as we three stood close and comfortable, Skip got a serious look. And though his eyes never lost their good humor, the rest of his face fell into a somberness that made a sudden look of concern cross Cat's face, though the two of them remained arm in arm. Almost as if they'd forgotten they were standing like that for the moment. Hell, they probably had. And then Skip hit me with it. As I knew he would. "How's Richard doin' these days?" I knew what was coming, so I'd emotionally braced for it. Cat, however, was taken by surprise, and she looked as if she would swallow her tongue. Still, it hit me a bit. And yes, Skip knew all about Rick, and how he'd died all those years ago. But Skip also believed in things greater than himself, and had a faith that, while not religious, still held that there was a here-after. And knowing that, as well as being in the company of such a good friend to Rick and I all those years ago, I couldn't fall into an immediate malaise at the reminder. Even though those dark feeling threatened. Besides. Skip genuinely wanted to know. So I took a deep breath to both clear my head and to keep from crying, and replied. "He's doing about as well as can be expected." And in teasing Skip, he and I both knowing it, he and I both broke into wry smirks. Cat was both appalled and curious, and she looked questioning at me and then Skip, as if wanting to inform Skip of Rick's passing, and not wanting to. How was she to know that Skip was no stranger to what had happened those long years ago? I'd never really talked to Cat about the circle of friends I'd left behind after Rick had died. Skip noticed, and before I could even think of something to say to Cat, he defused the awkwardness before it could even think of moving in. "I've known Lorna and Rick for a lot of lawng years," he said to Cat, his drawl dripping over the word "long" as thick as syrup. "I even served with Rick a time or three over yonder in Asia. Damn shame when Rick up an' left us all those many years ago," he continued. "Lot of sadness to go around, that's for sure. Still," he added, turning to me with the most gentle smile I'd seen in many a year, "nice to know he's still looking in on you an' those pretty li'l babies o' yours every now an' again." That made me chuckle. "They're not little babies any more. All grown up and almost out of their teens." "Well, well," Skip said with a chuckle. "Might be a nice thing to meet 'em some day." And at that, Cat found her nerve. No, that's not right. She's got plenty of nerve. No, she discovered that Skip did, in fact know about Rick's passing, and he and I were ok with it, even talking about it a little. So Cat, being Cat, spoke up. "You mean to tell me," she said to Skip, "that you've been friends with Lorna all this time and never once met her girls?!" "Oh, now don't get it all wrong," Skip said, beating me to the punch. "I knew Rick an' Lorna when Rick was in the service. He an' I'd served together over-seas. I seen pictures, an' after Rick passed, Lorna wrote me a time or three and even sent some more pictures. Besides which," he concluded, "I live way out of town. Nevada. So it's not like I'm in the neighborhood very often." He cast a wry smirk to me that apologized for living so far away. I was about to tell him it wasn't his fault, that it was more mine for having lost touch. And it looked like Cat was going to say something as well, perhaps there was no time like the present to see my girls or something to that effect. We never got the chance to speak, and as a result, I never did find out what Cat was about to say. "Oh, Lord Almighty!" an old woman's voice carried to us from further into the club. "Is that little Lorna?!" As the three of us looked to see who it was an old, old woman, looking 100 if she was a day and not more than five feet tall even taking her stooped posture into account, threaded her way adroitly through the thin crowd toward us. "Li'l?!" Cat asked me, delighted. I smirked back at Cat. "Height's not the issue. Everyone who's younger than 60 is 'little'," I confirmed. And on she came. "Old Bett", as everyone called her. Features wrinkled as if she'd been soaking far too long in the bath, face framed by glorious, short white hair done up in a bygone style. A typical frumpy dress, also from a bygone era, draped her stooped yet energetic frame, swaying in her approach. She came over and gave me a big hug. Which I gladly returned. "Ol' Bett. You haven't changed a day," I said into her ear, gentle yet close over the quiet noise of the club. Ol' Bett pulled back from me. "Been that long, has it?" she teased, her eyes glinting with mischief. She then quickly turned from the hug to gesture to the rest of the club with one hand while taking my hand in the other, yelling out her discovery loud as she could. "Look what [I][B]I[/B][/I] found, everybody! It's Little Lorna Leigtner!" [CENTER] [SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE] [/CENTER] Things again get a little blurred for me, partly because I'd drank a bit more, but also due to the small whirlwind that enveloped us. Though the club was quiet, it was a sizable place that could hold a good number of people. And while the Vets Club never would vie for crowds like a jazz or dance club in town, it was always fairly busy. Tonight was no exception. As Ol' Bett ushered me further into the club, Cat and Skip followed, still arm in arm. As if they'd arrived tonight on a date. Don't get Cat wrong. She loves Carvill dearly, and is a one-man woman. But she's also a bit of a romantic, and more importantly a hopelessly shameless flirt. Put her in a room with any guy she might like, and it's close and cozy from the get-go. True, that sometimes gives a guy the wrong idea, but Cat is also straight forward when it comes to that. She tells it like it is, lets the guy down as easy as possible while letting him know exactly what's what. Thing is, Cat is also extremely likable. So over the years I've known her there were only two "crash and burn" events; one due to excessive alcohol and a pathetic personality, the other due to him turning out to be somewhat of a minor whack job who, it turns out, had to be shown he couldn't fight near as well as Cat could. Real country bar evening that turned out to be, too. At any rate, the whirlwind of that part of the evening was all about me. Embarrassing. I say that because of the gush of welcome I received from people that I hadn't seen in a lot of years. The General and his wife Ol' Bett, two veterans in life as well as the military that were so aged no one knew exactly how old they really were; Jack-Tom and Lorelei; Sergeant Bob; "Admiral" Benbow, called such because he never advanced in the navy beyond the lowest pay grade through all of both the Korean and Vietnam Wars. The list goes on and on. And the stories. Which is where the embarrassment comes in. You see, stay away from friends for a long time, then bring in a friend who's never heard of them before, and you have a recipe for fond remembrances and embarrassing stories. All about you. Funny how you come to understand how much people like you after you've been gone for a while. And yet, the embarrassing stories, while all in fun and well-meant, still left me moody and in bleak humor. That knowledge that I'd been missed reminded me that I'd been gone from people who liked me for too long, and also reminded me of the reason why; Rick and I, whenever we were in Seattle, had been regulars here at the Seattle Veterans' Club. Made it painful for me to come back after Rick had died, and in later times not going back became something of a habit. Of course, Cat loved the stories. Not embarrassing to her. Not even a little bit. She soaked in them. Ate them up. And as if the ones she heard from that crowd of veterans weren't enough, she occasionally broke in to offer a few stories of her own, something the growing crowd at our table were very pleased to hear. Mentally adding them to their repertoire, no doubt. So eventually, enough was enough, and I made my way to the bar after seeing Cat yet again laugh in open-mouthed, "I don't believe it!" wonder. And then start in on yet another story of her own. So I cozied on up to the bar under the pretense of getting another drink, and wasn't so fast to return to the table when I got it. Apparently, my absence from the table was soon noted. "Looks like somebody's tryin' to find some peace and quiet," Skip commented, leaning on the bar right next to me, his ever-present smirk very present and directed at me. I sigh, turned to him and was about to make rebuke, but I caught the look in his eyes just in time. It was the "tired oldster" look, the one where he's seen bad or sad things plenty of times before, and was looking at yet another one. In other words, he felt for me. "Skip..." I said, turning back to my drink. Didn't know what else to say just then. He sighed in kind, not mimicking me but taking a genuine moment to consolidate his thoughts. Skip is nothing if not occasionally very measured. "Well, it occurs to me y're feelin' a might tetchy about all the attention. That I can see clear enough. But hell, Lorna," he added in a quiet yet arresting vehemence, "these folk miss you, is all. Ain't seen you in a lot o' long years," he finished gently, his drawl accenting the 'long years' part. So I glanced at him, seeing him earnest as I knew he would be because Skip's nothing if not earnest, and so turned to glance at the table. Cat was roaring in laughter, almost falling out of her chair as Ol' Bett had a hand laid on her knee, laughing too and nodding as if to affirm something Cat couldn't believe. Everyone else was smiling, or chuckling, or laughing as well. Not only the people sitting at the table but a good crowd standing around it by now as well. And my chair was still empty like I'd left it. To distract myself from that scene, and because the incredulity of it hit me just then, I said as an aside, "What are you doing in town, anyway, Skip?" I mulled it over in my mind. A lot of vets living in Seattle had been stationed in Asia at one time or other, so it became somewhat of a magnet for others who'd served with them in holiday times. But Memorial day, Veterans Day, or any of the other such holidays where nowhere near. "Something I don't know about?" "Naw, nothin' special like 'at," Skip replied, leaning sideways on the bar to survey the crowd at the table we'd so recently vacated. "Just for some odd reason I felt like bein' in town is all. Nothin' special." He smiled at me then, and I had an inkling that he might have come into town just to see if he could bump into me. But I had no proof of that, and knowing Skip none would ever be forthcoming. Besides which, he drifted around a lot, visiting places on a random whim. Very drop-of-a-hat kind of guy. So all I could do in reply was smile back wryly. "Pretty coincidental, us bumping into each other like this." "Well, you know me," Skip replied. "For all we know, the good Lord himself gave me an urge to travel up yonder to far off Seattle because you needed to see a friendly face." I turned to him and found him smiling at me. "Everything all right?" he asked. I sighed. "Nothing that I can't handle. Just a bad week is all. I don't want to bore you with stories you may not want to hear." Skip laughed, then indicated the table we'd left. "Oh, I don' know. They seem to be having an awful good time with stories, near as I can tell." He smirked teasingly at me. "But do they have to go [I]on[/I] like that!?" I asked, this time with earnestness of my own. Skip chuckled and shook his head slightly. "Lorna, these folk have missed you, and you've been gone from them a long while. Now you're back, and brought a new friend along to boot. I think they're just trying to make Miss Quine welcome. Help her ease into things, become part of the party, things like 'at." Skip then leaned back against the bar, elbows to it, and smiled warmly. "And you got to admit. Cat sure does fit in easy." His smile became a smirk. And at that moment, right on cue, Cat looked over at me with an expression that fairly shouted, 'You won't believe what I just heard about [I]you[/I]!' I couldn't help myself. I smiled back, not because everyone was making fun of me, but because they all missed me and were sharing what they remembered with my friend, and I raised my shot glass to Cat. She raised her beer glass to me in turn. Silent, distanced toast, filled with camaraderie just the same. " 'At a girl," Skip said, sounding pleased as he gave my shoulder a fatherly squeeze and proceeded toward the table. He turned a couple steps away and added, "Don't fret none on it. And don't be a stranger any more, neither." As he went back to the table, I saw Ol' Bett talking quietly with Cat, both of them with serious expressions on. Cat then nodded and patted Ol' Bett on the knee, which made both of them smile. At which point Cat got up and proceeded to the bar, empty glass in hand. On arrival, she leaned her elbows on the bar, tipped her hat back on her head, and didn't make a move to order her beer refilled. "How're y'all doin' over here?" she asked, as if to no one in particular. But we both knew who she was addressing. I sighed in reply, downed the last of my shot -- ok, so I'm not a huge drinker, so after a while I nurse shots like mini-drinks -- and set the glass down. "We're doin' all right," I replied, though my version of a western accent was a good bit less than convincing. It got a smile out of Cat, though, and she adjusted her stance to lean against the bar with one elbow and regard me. She adjusted her hat back forward, and without further adieu said, "Let's git outa here." Color me surprised. "I thought you were having a great time over there." And no, I didn't say it wryly. I was genuinely surprised. "Eh," she intoned with a shrug. "They're a great bunch o' folks, sure! And them stories... Ah'm gonna hafta come back here more often, that's f'r shore!" she added with a grin. But then the humor left her face to be replaced by seriousness. "Let's git, and go find us a place f'r the both of us." I glanced at her with a raised eyebrow, and she continued, this time with all traces of accent gone, as if she and I'd grown up in the same neighborhood. "Let's be clear here. Admit it. You get irritable in my kind of places, and moody and sullen in yours. So let's find a place we can both have a good time." Her smile, that winning one that just about makes you happy just seeing it, broke over her face and shone directly on me. "Deal," I replied, and reached out to shake on it. Cat grabbed my hand all right, but pulled me into a brief hug, which I returned. Sure, it was brief, but it was also touched with the warmth of friendship, and so I basked in it for a second. Now, it might have been my imagination, but I could have sworn a couple of the older folks in the background quietly went "Awww..." And if they did, it might have been something else entirely they were gushing quietly over. But I have to admit; if I would have seen that hug and witnessed the warming of my feelings from almost depression to warmth and happiness, I probably would have made the same sound. Not out loud, mind you. But I would have taken note, and [I]thought[/I] it, at least. Cat then promptly grabbed her hat firmly to the top of her head, as if pushing it down securely, and with her other arm still around me waved high in the air. "That's it, folks. We gots t' git!" Everyone called out goodbyes to us, and a few came over to say it personally. Of course Skip came over, gave Cat the sweetest, most gentlemanly kiss on the cheek I've ever seen, and Cat just about gushed to receive it. I could tell it made her night. Skip and I grab-hand hugged again, cheek to cheek, and he promised he'd call, be in touch, that sort of thing. I promised the same. Jessup was there, which surprised me, he was always so quiet and reserved. But he smiled at me, said it was great to see me again, and chided himself for not talking more tonight. That really touched me, and so I told him it was great to see him again as well -- which it was -- and that just seeing him was a pleasure. After a couple others, last up was Ol' Bett. "Now," she said, taking my hands in hers and squeezing them affectionately, "there's a lot of folk here like you a lot, Lil' Lorna, Myself included, so please don't forget that." She said it so earnestly that it threatened to cause tears, for I liked her just as much, and I said so. "Good," she said with a smile, and then her eyes took on mischief. "You know," she continued, "if I recall rightly, the Leigtners are a family that stands on their word..." She let it trail off invitingly. I grinned. "We are." "Wonderful!" she yelped. "Then I hope you don't mind if I go ahead and extract a promise from you to come see us all here from time to time. The General and I aren't getting any younger, you know!" I glanced past her to that very person, and there sat The General, cane in hand, giving me a fond wave farewell. I returned my gaze to Ol' Bett. "I promise," I said solemnly. "I'll be by every now and again. And," I said in a stage whisper, "I might even bring my daughters to see you." "OOOooo!" she crooned loudly, looking around with an expression of 'look what [I]I[/I] got!' "Night everyone!" I called as Cat ushered me out, pausing only long enough for me to grab my jacket from the coat hook where I'd parked it. [CENTER] [SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE] [/CENTER] Once back into the sureal, decent-for-winter weather, Cat and I looked at one another. And smiled. A few minutes after that saw us piling into a cab, both giggling and carrying on like we hadn't done in a long, long time. It felt good. "So," Cat said, drawl back on. "Where we goin' at?" "How the hell should I know? Can't go to your places, [I]or[/I] mine." "Yeah, but I got a leg up on ya," Cat said with a mean grin. "[I]You[/I] called [I]me[/I] to go out, 'member? So it's all you." "Great. Thanks a lot," I mock-groused, and thought for a moment. "Ok, meter's about to run, ladies," the cabbie interruped my reverie. "Where to?" That gave me an idea. "Hey, you know your way around, right? Know all kinds of places people go." "Sure," the cabbie replied, looking at me in the rear view mirror. "Ok," I said, warming to the idea. "Take us to a club. Someplace nice, where we can have a good time without being hastled or hustled. A place with maybe some dancing..." "Yeah, dancin'!" Cat crowed. "... yes," I finished, then as an afterthought, "and a band! No hardcore metal or sorry sappy stuff..." "Yeah, [I]definitely[/I] a band!" Cat crowed. I chuckled. "Yeah. A band. Maybe jazz. Or maybe some lively folk stuff." The cabbie nodded sagely, and started driving, tripping the lever on the meter. "Ladies, I got just the place."

[MiddleGA]

Always an enjoyable experience to spend time with these characters. Thanks for bringing them back to us.

[NordVolf]

[CENTER]((OOC Segment))[/CENTER] In the past several months life, for me, has been increasingly busy. Between various jobs, the difficult, downward spiraling economy, and all the things those conditions entail, I've become mindful that some things one can do require very little, if any, money. Virtually free. At the same time, they are quite entertaining and fulfilling. Writing is one of those things. Still, it took me this long to finish a "complete thought". Life's business, as many of you well know. I could have posted it in pieces, but didn't want it to come across as teasers. Wouldn't be fair. So I've waited to post for the time when these parts would finally be finished. The "thought", as it were, would be complete. That time has arrived. [CENTER] [SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE] [U]Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker[/U] [/CENTER] "This is a club..." Cat said incredulously, turning from the window before getting out of the cab. "We're not those kind o' girls!" she exclaimed, all traces of accent gone and face full of surprise that anyone should think of us that way. I know what she meant. It wasn't exactly a run-down neighborhood, and there weren't any girls hanging out on the street corner. In fact, the area seemed nice enough. There were even tracks imbedded into the road, curving from along the waterfront to turn up the street, for the street car that made its way along here during earlier hours of the day. But the old red-brick buildings coupled with almost no traffic or people, and closed-up, dark-windowed spaces fronting the street suggested that anyone here at this hour of the night was after something... else. I leaned an elbow over the front seat-back towards the cabby. "I thought I said we didn't want to get hustled." I stated flatly and evenly. My menacing tone. "Hey, relax ladies!" the cabby objected. "It's ok. This is the club. Just go on in right there," he said, indicating a doorway 30 feet up the street from the near corner of the building. The cabby had parked to drop us off at the corner of Alaskan Way & South Main Street, pretty much at the exit of a one-way street/parking lot at the side of a building near the waterfront. Oh, but this wasn't just any street-corner. And not [I]on[/I] the waterfront, either. Oh no. This place was tucked right up against the east side of the Alaskan Way Viaduct. Now, if you don't know what the Viaduct is, then you're not a Seattlite. But let me cue you in, just in case. See, along the waterfront on the west side of Seattle there's a highway. A while back, mid-nineteen hundreds or there-about, the city and state Fathers decided that a highway or thruway was needed for traffic that wanted to basically go through downtown without really stopping there, to access the southern and northern suburbs. But how to do it in as little an impactful way as possible? There was already a sort of citified highway there, four-lane low-speed, and some railroad tracks. But what to do? Their solution was the Viaduct. An elevated, double-decker full-speed highway. Picture if you will a bridge beside downtown along the Elliot Bay waterfront. One that goes for about 3 or 4 miles north-south. Set on concrete piers, it rests about twenty or so feet up, to accommodate trucks and such beneath. Three lanes, all going south. Now stack on top of that another bridge, that much higher yet. Three lanes, all going north. Now throw in the occasional 'turn-off'; sharp-cornered exit ramps after a widening of the viaduct to accommodate acceleration/deceleration lanes, that slowly slope down over side-streets right in town till they hit street level. And don't think the space below is wasted. No, beneath the Viaduct are small one-way street/parking lots for the buildings and neighborhoods nearby. Park-like planted areas complete with trees divide the underside space from the actual Alaskan Way road that parallels the Viaduct on the west. And as I noted earlier, the Beson Waterfront Streetcar Line turns under the Viaduct, following Alaskan Way from the north and then onto Main, heading east right up the road. That's the Viaduct. Huge controversy surrounding that, too, what with the Nisqually Earthquake having damaged it years back. Oh sure, it's still serviceable, and they close it down every now and again on non-busy weekends for inspections and maintenance, to be sure. But they don't want it to come down in the next big quake like the one in LA did years back. No one wants that. But what to do? With over a hundred-thousand vehicles on it every day, ripping it down and letting the 'surface streets' pick up the slack doesn't seem to be an option. Repairing and reinforcing it seems like such a huge job it'd cost as much as replacing it. With the noise, the arguably unsightliness of it, as well as it visually "cutting off" the city from the waterfront despite the fact it can readily be driven under, many people favor a tunnel. But do we really want to risk duplicating the farce of Boston's "Big Dig", say detractors? What to do? The debate's been raging since the earthquake in '01. And that's 2001. One would hope something like that gets done inside of a century. Anyway. Even with the debating of years, doesn't seem to be any much closer to an answer. The city, state, even the federal government are involved. Mayor's been regularly going up to see the Governor and the State Legislature to see which would get done, since everyone in government has their own ideas too, it seems. And with it being a State Highway, don't you think the Washington State DOT doesn't want to put their two cents worth in. There. History lesson over. You probably didn't much care to hear all that. Like Cat and I were thinking about it at the time. No, we were wondering at the old, red-brick building tucked up against the Viaduct that could, somewhere within its depths, house a club. And when I say tucked up against, I mean it. Back in the day, they looked to have been so careful putting that Viaduct up, it was right next to the buildings. Not touching, no, but you can imagine as you're driving along on the western-most lanes that you can put a stick out the car window and rattle it along the buildings' sides like a kid on a bike does to a fence. Sure, through the years, buildings north of Yesler Way got torn down and their replacements were raised well back from the Viaduct. But the buildings south are, today, pretty much as they were when built. And this was one of the southern buildings. Old red brick, though the facade of the first floor-and-a-half was nicely trimmed in deep green wood and full of windows that looked into darkened shops, offices, what-ever. The occasional brick columns acting as accent, blending the first floor-and-a-half nicely into the second floor. And yes, I said floor-and-a-half because the first floor reached up that high. In cities, as you know, most buildings were made with first floors that were higher than single-floor height, to give deep space to those areas. Very high ceilings. But here in Seattle especially, the city is built on hills. And east-west oriented South Main Street is sloped gradually down from such a hill. Not steeply, but the slope still made the buildings run stair-step fashion down the sidewalk. The second floors, however, ran straight and level, resulting in this corner's first floor being a taller, down-hill side of the lot. Cat had been in the process of getting out, giving the place the once-over. She poked her head back in the doorway of the cab, where I was paused in the middle of the back bench seat with my wallet half out. "What kind of club would be in [I]here[/I]?!" she demanded. "Hey, relax already," the cabby replied. "Wha'd'you expect from a place called the [I]Velvet Underground[/I]?!" He carefully enunciated the name as if that would explain everything. Which in some ways, it did. I glared at him, though with half a smirk. "What?!" he asked, incredulous. "You suddenly sound very New York," I offered. "Oh, dat," he said, sounding even more New York. "What can I say? I'm a cabby. It's a thing, ya know? I also noticed dat y're friend sounds like some kinda cowgirl hick when she's drunk, but now she just sounds like she grew up in Ohio. No offense to Ohio," he added with a hand gesture to Cat, who frowned at him but nodded, still trying to sort out what kind of club would be in an old brick building cuddled up to the Alaskan Viaduct. "Look," the cabby started as I sceptically fished bills out of my wallet. "Just go in dat set o' double doors up the way, first on y'r right after da corner here. Can't miss it. Once inside, cross da lobby and go upstairs..." "[I]Up[/I] the stairs?! I thought this was some kind of 'Underground'," Cat protested, sounding more dubious than ever. "Thirty bucks," the cabby said to me as an aside without missing a beat. As if he'd just noticed I had my wallet out. "Thirty?!" It was my turn to protest. "Yeah," he replied matter-or-factly. "Fifteen bucks a piece. Look, I drove you ladies down here all da way from South-Lake. Give a body a break eh?" he finished, looking indignant that I should question it. And on second thought, it didn't seem unreasonable... "So you go up da stairs," he continued. "Down da hall and take y'r first right. Go past da doors, looks like apartments..." "A club right dead next to apartments..." Cat stated sarcastically. "Past da doors dat [I]look[/I] like apartments," he went on. 'Wha'd'ya want from me?!" "Ok, ok," I interrupted to mollify him, casting a glance at Cat. "What-ever," she replied, waving me off and turning to give the building another once-over. "So," the cabby continued, "down dat hall you'll see large red doors on da left. Sign next to it reads "Da Velvet Underground", like a notice board, glass case kinda thing. Can't miss it." "Right," I said as I handed him two twenties. Fare plus tip. "Upstairs. Red doors. Velvet Underground. I get it," I finished wryly. "Upstairs..." Cat echoed with sarcasm-laced dubiousness. I smirked at her. She's not from Seattle. "We Seattlites have a strange sense of humor, Cat." "Yeah, an' Ah'm laughin' hard..." she grumped in reply. For his part, the cabby looked put-out that we were still doubting him. "Look," he said, fishing under his jacket into his shirt pocket. "Look here," he finished, handing me a couple of cards. So I looked. One was, I kid you not, a business card. "Daniel Falcone. Cab driver extraordinaire..." I stated flatly as I read, and looked at the other card. Turned out to be his drivers' license. I took a good look, and took a good look at him as well. Average guy, weight-wise. Some sharp features to his face, like his nose and jaw-line, contrasted with the soft roll of his chin and cheeks. Most of what looked to be his close-cropped, brown hair hidden beneath, you guessed it, a typical "cabby" or "newsboy" hat. The collar of a white shirt with lines of blue and red in a cross-check pattern poked above the collar of his tan jacket, folded over it as if the jacket were a suit coat. Clean shaven, except for the five-o'clock-shadow, which made sense since it was so late in the day. "Ok," he said, taking his license back and returning it to his shirt pocket. "Now you know who I am, and got my card. Friends call me Danny, by the way." "Danny Falcone..." I gave him my best tip-headed look of, 'you've got to be kidding'. At my dubious look, he grabbed his hat by the brim and the top material which was folded over the bill, and adjusted it. "Hey, man's gotta live da cliche', right?" Then he got a look as if he's just realized something. "Hey, you got any gum?" I gave him my best, 'yeah, right' look, though it was tinged with a smirk I couldn't hide. The guy was proving likable, to me anyway. And then, I gave him back as good as he'd given me. "Lorna," I told him. "Leigtner." "Ok," he said, smiling. "Miss...Mizz...?" "Missus," I corrected. He smiled genuinely, as if he'd been warming up to me. "Ok, den," he said. "Missus L. it is." He smiled a winning smile, and I got to admit, I was warming to him as well. "Ok," he went on, fishing in his lower jacket pocket. "I got my cell on me," he said, holding it up to show me he did, in fact, have a cell phone, "and [I]you[/I] gots my cell numba, right there," he added, poke-pointing at the card I held. I looked and there was, indeed, a cell number there, as well as the cab company's business phone. "Ok," he went on. "Now, you keep dat, and if dat club in there," -- he punctuated that by pointing to the door he'd indicated earlier -- "isn't up to your expectations, den you just call me an' give me an earful. [I]And[/I], you can call da company and complain a blue streak like nobody's business, get me in trouble but good, ok? I am [I]dat[/I] confident you ladies'll have a good time." I thought about it for a couple seconds, glancing at Cat. She looked as if she would call and complain right now, without waiting. Then, something occurred to me. I waggled the card at him. "There's always two sides to these kind of things," I stated. "Right der is," he said, chipper. "Now," he went on, pointing a finger at the card, "you hang on ta dat card. And if you ladies, in fact, have a good time in der, den f'r the next [I]month[/I], when you need a cab, you call on ol' Danny Boy, here. Exclusive like." He stopped as I thought about it, glancing at the card. When I looked back up at him, a growing smile on my face I couldn't help, he added, "Deal?" I smiled outright. "Deal." I replied, flicking the card with a finger so it made a snapping sound, then folding it into my wallet and putting the wallet away. "I'll hold you to it," I added, getting out of the cab. "I bet'cha will!" he crowed, leaning over to shout out the door. "I look forward to a month o' cab calls!" He gave me a thumbs-up as I closed the door; I shook my head at him as if in disbelief at his antics. But also with a smirk. As he drove off, Cat nudged me with her elbow. "Should we call now?" That made me chuckle. "Nah. Let's give the place a look. How bad can it be?" "Huh," Cat chuckled back. "Quiet back-street like this, no idea what could happen to a body if you went in the wrong door..." "Then we won't go in the wrong door," I quipped, pointing to the double doors Danny had pointed out. We walked up and, sure enough, there was one of those glass-enclosed placards that announced what businesses lay within. And in nondescript, smallish letters, just like any of the rest of the places within like the News & Tobacco Stand or the Gift Card Shop, was listed "The Velvet Underground". "Looks like the place," I said, tracing a finger across the glass over the words. "Shore," Cat stated flatly. "Least he got one thing raht..." she added in a western-drawl mumble. "Hey, if you're not up for some adventure, just let me know and we can go home." I half expected Cat to scoff at there being 'adventure within' or some such. "Aw, hell, I'm in!" she stated instead, shucking her coat and pulling one of the doors open. "Between you an' me, t'ain't nothin' we cain't handle." And she held the door open with an evil grin. Stood there, holding it. Figures. Me in first. Great...

[NordVolf]

[CENTER][U]Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker[/U] [/CENTER] So far, so good. Inside was a lobby with another "directory" type glass-cased sign. Among other entries, there it was. "The Velvet Underground". Second Floor. So up a rickety set of stairs we went. Well, ok. They weren't rickety, so much as just plain [I]old[/I]. Hell, the entire building was old. Well maintained, to be sure, but in buildings that old, they exude so much age in just the feel and aura of them that they, well... they [I]feel[/I] rickety. Spotty lighting from a bulb in the stairwell being out didn't help. Upstairs. Down a short section of hall to the first right. More spotty lighting -- someone should really talk to the landlord about that -- and past several doors that were numbered like apartments but who-knew-what was behind them. To a large door, painted with shiny red enamel. Glass-enclosed placard that read "The Velvet Underground -- featuring The Down Under." That last sounded like a name of a band, with some sort of Aussie feel. Or maybe it was in keeping with the whole Underground motif. Could be anything, which I felt more than a little intrigued by. And we could hear the faintest strains of music. Cat looked around, as if to see if anyone else were nearby. "Well, if these [I]are[/I] apartments, the club is a damn sight shore considerate. Perty quiet..." she added, almost looking nervous as she continued to glance around. No one else in the hall but us. "Well, it's a little late. Midweek. Wouldn't be surprised if the place closed on us as we enter..." I smirked saying that last. "Very funny," she quipped, again holding the door open for me. It wasn't that Cat was scared of going in first. Oh no. This was my punishment for insisting on listening to a cabby we didn't know about a neighborhood neither of us had been to, concerning a club neither of us had heard of. So, as the music got louder with the open door, I took a deep breath and went in. [CENTER] [SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE] [/CENTER] The small hall was set up like a sort of air-lock, with a far door some 12 or so feet away, which would account for the music being so quiet. On the right wall was a window-cage, the sort you see in movie theaters. And yeah, there was a ticket girl within, and a bouncer seated in a chair beside the inside door, partially blocking a thick window looking within. And before you make the assumption, the bouncer wasn't in tee-shirt and jeans. In point of fact, he was in decent slacks with a button-down shirt. Though I could still tell he was a bouncer on account of the muscles beneath his mighty girth, almost no neck under his clean-shaven chin, and equally clean-shaven head. "Hey! A [I]BAND![/I]" Cat exclaimed, and I glanced through the window past the bouncer to see there was, in fact, a couple people playing instruments. The window wasn't large, and people lounging in front of it blocked a more detailed view. "Huh," I mumbled, and stepped up to the ticket window. "Two," I said. "Fifteen bucks," came the flat reply. "Fifteen how?" I asked, dubious, money half out. "Ten bucks for the first person. We give group discounts." I chuckled. "What group? There's two of us?" "Don't mahnd her none," Cat interjected to the ticket girl. "We been elsewhere t'naht, and Lorna here gets a lil' stupid when she's had to drink earlier. An' it's late." She smiled at the girl, then gave me a scowl. "She's probably jus' bein' nice on account it's so late," Cat said to me. "Now stop makin' a fuss an' jus' pay up!" she finished, dropping a five on the counter. The girl said nothing further, quickly snatching the five, though she smiled after. A genuine smile. So I ponied up a ten-spot and in we went. Hell, the bouncer even opened the door for us. "I just wanted you to pay your fair share," I objected to Cat, though with a slight, teasing smile. "Don' mahnd her," Cat said to the bouncer as we passed. "You get to know her, you find out she likes to make a fuss. Nothin' serious, though." Cat added before the bouncer could even think to comment. "Ah'll keep her in line," Cat finished, patting the guy on his massive chest in a friendly, "I got this" manner. And that's as far as any conversation got. [CENTER] [SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE] [/CENTER] We both stood there in the entrance doorway next to that bouncer/doorman. Stunned. I don't even know where to start. So let's start where any talk of a place [I]should[/I] start. With the place itself. It was actually pretty nice. It was dimly lit and very open, a very large 'L' shape, going in both ahead of us and off to our right. The door we came in being very near the point of the 'L'. A low knee-wall separated the main part of the club ahead of us in two, with several openings in it to allow passage. That wall was in tasteful, dark wood, accented with deep red cushioning, looking like velvet. That red velvet 'paneling' extended around the whole place on the walls as well, giving a nice, unified impression. The upper portions of the walls were interspersed with either stretches of dark wooden paneling or very large mirrors, giving the illusion of huge space. The area on the left side of that knee-wall, the side the entry door was on, was mainly booths, tables down the center. All done up in wood. The bench seating was in wood trim with red cushions, while the chairs at the tables were the small, round, club-style chairs of wood with, you guessed it, red cushions. The tables of the booths and the freestanding round tables were all done over with tablecloths, which struck me as unusual in a club where spilling drinks would be the order of the night. But the occasional remains of food plates we could see here and there meant this was, at least in part, a dinner club or some such. Interesting. On the other side of that knee wall from us was an open space, probably for dancing, bordered around the outside by more of the round tables and chairs. The far right side of that portion of the 'L' ahead of us held the stage, where a large band played, complete with what looked like an endless variety of stands for many, many instruments. The floor on that side of the wall was lower by a step, and the ceiling over that area was also higher so one could dance with arms overhead and not hit anything. Of course, over the stage was a jumbled hodgepodge of lighting rigs to lend effect for the band. In contrast, the main ceiling over the dance floor was largely open. With the exception of the obligatory large 'disco ball'. The multi-colored spotlights shining on it were dim, however, giving a soft tone to the particulate lighting thrown around the room, and it shone mostly to the floor. Very tastefully done, not garish like an actual disco joint. The other leg of the 'L', off to our right, was filled with more tables, booths wrapped around, with the far wall sporting windows to the outside. And on the same wall as the door stretching all the way down to the windows was the bar, done up in nice, dark wood, the thick top looking like someone had hacked down a whole tree, split it thickly, and laid it down here for the convenience of the bar crowd. And the smell! Ah, that heavenly scent of good food, with the scent of drink hovering like an aftertaste. Not like the gross spilled-and-rotting-liquor odor in a lot of places. No, this place was kept immaculately clean, and I imagined it was for the benefit of the patrons and staff both. But all those things aren't what gripped our attention. What held us mesmerized for the few moments when we first entered. That honor was reserved for the band. Cat had even opened her mouth as if to comment on something, but the thought of saying something was as far as she got. At the moment there were no fewer than ten people, a roughly even mix of women and men on-stage, though only six were actually playing. A drummer/percussionist, a keyboard, electric and acoustic guitar, and base guitar. And a saxophone. The rest were sitting back as if to listen and watch, for their turn would come in later pieces. Ah, but that piece they were playing! We walked in at the beginning of it, as if someone had queued the band just for our arrival. And it was stirring! I recognized it immediately as a tune from an artist named Candy Dulfer. "Lily Was Here" it's called. I [I]know[/I] you've heard it before. I know it so well because we have the album at home. And before you think CD, I'm here to tell you we actually have a [I]record[/I]. But if you aren't familiar with it, Candy Dulfer is a great saxophonist. Played and even headlined for Prince and the Revolution, a few other bands, and her own solo work. And yeah, I've seen her in concert. She has so much fun with it, her joy at performing is a real show in itself, let alone her talented play. At any rate... This particular piece starts with a drum beat, slow and steady. Then comes in with keyboard overtones and base guitar, smooth and deep as melted butter. Then comes the main part, where the acoustic guitar plays, the sax following the guitar's lead by playing what it had played and embellishing it. What was so arresting for Cat and I wasn't the tune, but the [I]way[/I] they played! What captivated our attention was the guy on the acoustic and the girl on the sax. They played with such feeling! Especially the sax. Yeah, sure, the guitarist was great. Very talented, crisp, feeling it more than playing it, with fast technical riffs and heartfelt slides. Ah, but the Sax! She was sultry. Hair of a brown so dark it was almost black cascaded over shoulders draped with a long, dark jean coat. A ruby red v-neck knit top peeked out from beneath, while skinny dark jeans dove into knee-length, urban black boots with modest heels. A black double-wrapped belt and large hoop earrings finished off her look. And if you think [I]that[/I] was something, I'm here to tell you; her sax play was as sultry as her look. She played it so smooth and soulful, embellished with a beautiful sensuality till it damn near made you want to cry for the joy of hearing it. Very well played. Just like Candy Dulfer herself would have played it. It was amazing, and Cat and I [I]both[/I] stood rooted to the spot throughout the whole piece. As if neither of us had heard music before. "Pretty good, aren't they?" That from the bouncer when the song had finished. Of course, he had to say it rather loud. The place went nuts, the patrons all pouring out their praise in applause and cheers and whistles. "Oh. My. Gawd!" Cat replied, hand partly over he mouth. Then she looked full on at the bouncer. "They are [I]AMAZING[/I]!" He chuckled as Cat looked for my affirmation, which I gave as a, "Damn... Yeah." Yes, there it is. I didn't know what else to say. "They play here often?!" Cat asked all of a sudden. As if she would come back in the future if they did. Surprised me since Cat's a country bar girl, as you know, and my startled glance conveyed that to her. Of course, she just looked at me and grinned. "Sure," the bouncer said. "Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. And no, doesn't get stale. They play all kinds of stuff, and we usually get musical guests from time to time, shifts things up a bit. As for the band, that there," he said, pointing out the sax player, "is Sadie. Owner's daughter, and that's her band. So they're kind of... tied to this place at the hip so to speak. They like it that way, though, and they get paid good money, just like the rest of the staff, so it works out for everybody. You ladies should find a seat, make yourselves at home." "Huh." Yeah. Impressive as this place was proving, it was my only reply to that. I can be quite articulate, if you recall. Yeah. Sure I can. And as if on cue to what the Bouncer had been saying, the sax player spoke her thanks to the crowd, and then started in. "Thanks you! But don't spend your good will on just us, because tonight we have another special guest musician. Our very own bouncer and doorman, Petey Downes!" she finished, a wide arm-sweep to indicate him. "Petey's been working on a piece and would like to try it out on you tonight, so give him a warm, welcoming hand!" Which the crowd promptly did with cheers and applause as if he'd already performed something great. Cat and I stood a little flabbergasted as Petey smiled and started for the stage, the ticket girl coming from her little booth to stand in his place. We looked at her, shocked, and she misinterpreted. "Hey, door's closed, ok?" she said. "We only got an hour or so left, so he can go up and do his thing" she added with a shrug and a smile, indicating Pete with a thumb. "That late?!" Cat asked, surprised glance in my direction. "Yeah," the girl replied. "Hey, Kitchen's about to close too. You should hurry on over and get something. Seriously," she said, with a tone that both warned us of the impending event as well as implied we really should try the fare. So as Pete sauntered to the stage, Cat and I hurried around the knee wall and rushed the bar. We managed to get to the bar just as Pete hit the stage, and the acoustic player handed his guitar to Petey. Cat and I were so intrigued that we took places on a couple convenient bar stools and sat watching, suggestion of food forgotten for the moment. One of the barkeeps promptly reminded us, though. "Kitchen's about to close, ladies. Something we can get for you?" Cat held up a finger for the man without turning around and asked distractedly, "Can it wait a minute or three?" He chuckled. "Sure," he replied, leaning comfortably on the bartop to listen himself. "You're gonna love this," he added with a smile. "Petey's been working on this for a month." A surprised glance was all I had time to give him.

[NordVolf]

[CENTER][U]Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker[/U] [/CENTER] "Thanks, folks," Pete started. "Now, as all of you know, I'm not the best musician around..." His pause was greeted with jeers, whistles, and one guy from who-knows-where yelling, "You're the best!" Pete chuckled good naturedly and a bit embarrassed, and continued. "Well, I'm not as good as to know everything I'd need to play with the band here. But I did find something pretty cool recently. Saw it a while back. The most unusual way to play that I've ever seen. So I learned it, and have been practicing it, and I'd like to play it for you now, if you'd like." He finished as if he were half hoping and half unsure. I'd seen that kind of look before. It's usually from people who have something amazing to share, and yet they're humble and genuinely don't think they're as good as all that. "I think we're in for something special..." I murmured to no one in particular, barely heard above the hoots and whistles and cat-calls of encouragement the crowd gave Pete. "Well, ok," Pete said, and everyone applauded. Cat and myself included. As Pete got ready, he added, "This is something I saw a man named Andy McKee do a while back. It's called '[I]Drifting[/I]'." And true to his build-up, Pete started in with guitar as I've never seen it played before. To start, he didn't strum with his right hand and hold the strings with his left. No, he started in with a base line using his left hand, in a manner electric guitarists use called tapping. I'm sure there's other names for it, but the idea seems to be that if you tap on the strings rather than just lay your finger over it, the note plays as if you'd strummed or plucked it, freeing your other hand up for other things. And he held his hand [I]over[/I] the neck, not under it, which was unusual in it's own right. But what was more amazing yet, with his right hand he drummed the body of the guitar with his fingers, sounding like percussion accompaniment, his left hand swooping over to slap the body of the guitar between base notes. I kid you not, the actual percussionist or drummer never touched anything, nor did the rest of the band. That sound was all Pete. And occasionally, he'd reach over with his right hand and not strum the strings, but [I]slapped[/I] them so they all sounded at once. It was a singularly impressive start. After an intro of that the piece started in earnest, and he played with both hands, tapping on the neck, and still alternating slapping or strumming fingers on the body of the guitar for percussion effects. He also occasionally strummed the strings as he went, though as often if not more so slapping the strings to get the sound. In the middle of the song, he switched his left hand to the usual position, and played a crescendo strumming like a normal player, though interspersing it with a right-hand slap to the strings for effect. And as it wove it's course through the tune and wound down, he went back to the neck-tapping. The song ended with his going back to the base line and percussion, like in the beginning of the song, as if he'd played to the crescendo center of the piece, the end being the reverse of the beginning. And it was beautiful. Just when I'd thought I'd seen it all in music, I up and go to an out of the way club I'd never head of before and see something like this... Seriously. If you'd not seen the like, I highly recommend you go out and do so. [CENTER][SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE][/CENTER] When he finished, the crowd went crazy, Cat and I included as we screamed and howled and otherwise sounded our approval. And Pete, true to what proved to be his nature, humbly bowed, handing the guitar back to the usual player of it and took another bow, looking pleased yet embarrassed. He then returned to his place at the door amidst the continuing cheers and applause, which seemed to embarrass him further. "Ok, ladies," the barkeep interrupted our amazement, bringing us back to the here-and-now. "Last call. What'll it be?" "Last call?!" Cat fairly yowled. "Already!?!" The barkeep pointed with a thumb over his shoulder at the menu and grinned. "Kitchen's closing." "Oh, right!" Cat and I exclaimed almost simultaneously. A glance at the menu placard over the bar spoke of hot dogs and burgers on fresh, home made rolls, as well as chicken, soups, stuffed peppers, and other main fare too numerous to remember, let alone recount. Fries and chips served as the usual sides, but were themselves accompanied by Jalapeño Poppers, pepper-jack cheese poppers, "tater tots", and cheese balls... The list went on and on so you could hardly make up your mind unless you'd been there before. All the really good, tavern style foods you could want, all touted to be home-made fresh. While I sat making up my mind, Cat got right down to it. "This is a really nice place ya'll got here," she started in to no one in general, but leaned onto the bar towards the barman. "Nice place. Open dance floor, nice decor, live music with a [I]great[/I] lookin' menu..." she trailed off while glancing up at that menu nonchalantly. "If'n ya'll'd have Gravy Fries, it'd be damn near perfect." The barman chuckled at that and started writing on his pad. "What, y're gonna make fun of a girl?" Cat asked, amazed. The barman chuckled again. "No. Just that we haven't had a call for one of [I]my[/I] favorites in a long time. Duster!" he called over his shoulder into the back, presumably the kitchen. "Got a call for Gravy Fries." "Eeee haw!" came an anonymous call from the back in apparent reply The bar man leaned on the bar to smirk at Cat. "Don't mind Duster. We haven't had a call for that in quite a while, and Duster's a bit of a kick. So he pops off a joke when he can. Forgive the cliche." "Hey," Cat said, thumbing the brim of her hat up a bit, "I'm as cliche as they come, darlin'!" "Anything else?" the barman asked with a growing smile. Cat turned to grin at me. "They got Gravy Fries!" she exclaimed, almost beside herself. "Gravy fries," I replied, deadpan. "Yeah! Good-ol' fries with gravy slathered all over 'em!" She turned to smile at the barkeep. "Oh, an' a burger!" The barman smiled. "And just what'll you have on that?" he asked with a sly smile. Cat leaned on the bar toward him and got all coozy. "Everything," she replied, sultry. "I see," he crooned. He proceeded to speak slowly, evenly, smooth as the jazz saxophone we'd heard earlier. "Cheese. Lettuce. Onion. Mayonnaise. And topped off with Duster's special house spicy mustard." He slipped through the list of things, saying each as if he were reciting a list of things he was going to do to her. "Oh, and let's not forget pickle on the side..." "Oh, baby..." Cat crooned. "Don't you [I]never[/I] f'rgit the pickle on th' sahd." She leaned even more heavily on the bar, gazing at him dreamily while he continued to smile slyly at her, with a hint of shyness in his eyes. Almost coy. Made me chuckle despite myself. There she goes again. "Ok, why don't you two get a room or something while I place my order with Duster." I had to admit, though. The barman [I]was[/I] kind of cute. Youngish, late twenties or so, dark unkempt hair almost down to his shoulders, nice white almost-dress shirt over dark jeans. He wore that as if it were the dress code in a classy place. Really carried the look like someone else I know... Cat turned to lean on the bar with one elbow and regard me with a grin. "Aw hell, I don't think Carve'll lahk 'at too well." She grinned and winked at me. "Carve?" the barman asked, looking hesitant, as if he'd stepped on the wrong bus and just now found out the destination. Cat confirmed the question he hadn't really come out and asked. "Yeah," she replied. "Damian Carvill. Mah boyfriend." She said it with such a pang of regret, such wistful apology in her eyes. How could someone not forgive her? For his part, the barman nodded with an "Oh...", a profound look of disappointment he quickly tried to recover from. "Well... anything else?" he asked with a glance at me. "Aw," Cat started. "I'm sorry. Di'n' mean to come on like 'at," she said to him. "You jus' seem like a real nice guy, and I'm perty flattered that you don' even know me but a lil bit, an' got all disappointed I got a boyfriend an' all. That's real sweet." She smiled at him, a genuine, sympathetic smile. And he forgave her. "It's ok," he said with a shy smile, as if he'd gotten caught with his hands in the cookie jar. "I should have known better. So," he said, changing the subject and brightening while he turned to regard me. "Anything for you, ma'am?" "Say...!" Cat interjected before he could truly focus on me. "What's your name?" He chuckled dryly. "Joey." Cat grinned. "Joey. Now there's a real nahs name if ever they was one." She leaned on the bar top again, "You got a girlfriend Joey?" "Actually, no," he replied, becoming somewhat uncomfortable. "Awww," Cat crooned in sympathy. "How long since you had a girlfriend, then... Ow!" That last was a yelp with a look at me half of hurt and half of laughter. Because I'd slapped her on the shoulder. "That's a hell of a question to ask someone you just met, Cat," I remonstrated. "Aw hell, ain't lahk I asked when the last tahm he'd got [I]busy[/I] wuz," she replied in her own defense, "Jus' makin' conversation's'all. "No, it's ok," Joey said, rising to the occasion. He turned a touch shy again and added, "Been a long time..." Cat grinned hugely, reaching out towards my wrist for some odd reason... Her grin increased as she spoke. "Joey, meet Lorna. She here's been single f'r quite a spell her own self!" And Cat successfully fended off another slap, since she was ready for it. "Might be that you two'd hit it off real nice..." "Cat, knock it off," I droned, though I wasn't [I]really[/I] offended, and it carried in my tone. I mean, Joey [I]was[/I] kind of cute. And with a name like Joey, too... "I'll have a burger and... some [I]normal[/I] fries," I blurted in an attempt to change the subject. "Everything on it," I added as Joey opened his mouth to ask. "And two pitchers of beer and two glasses." Joey said, "All right," as he wrote it all down, then looked me in the eye. And I mean dead in the eye, head tilted down, half shy and half suggestive. I turned on Cat before she could even start. "Don't even start," I scolded her. "Don't mahnd her none," Cat said like an intimate secret to Joey, fending off another slap since I had an idea the kind of thing that was coming next. And Cat didn't disappoint. "Don't mahnd Lorna a'tall. She just gets a might techy on account it's been a long tahm f'r her as well, an' I know shore's hen's teeth Lorna here thinks y're cute... OW!" Hey, I'm from a mixed martial arts background. Despite Cat's best defense, I can sneak in a hard slap to the shoulder when ever I feel like it. Well, that and when Cat's laughing so hard she can't concentrate on her own defense...

[NordVolf]

[CENTER][U]Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker[/U] [/CENTER] We sat and drank beer as we waited for the food that eventually arrived. At first, it seemed to take overly long to get to us, but we soon found out why. Burgers and fries, as promised; fast-style food yet done up in good portion, very nice presentation like in a real restaurant, and good home-cooked style. [I]Real[/I] diced-potato fries like you never find any more. Large burger on a large bun, with crisp [I]romaine[/I] lettuce, unlike the tasteless leaf lettuce everyone else uses. Thick slices of tomato, onion, cheese... I kid you not; it's the way I'd make it at home if I were doing it for my girls. Even Cat's Gravy Fries were good. Ok, so I relented when she insisted I try them. Had to admit to her. They were tasty. For the band's part, they played on in sweet style, playing a set of songs and then taking an intermission in order to hang with friends and fans at certain tables. They were, after all, as regular as any of the other regular patrons, and everyone seemed to know them well. Cat and I even had occasion to say hello to Sadie when I'd gotten the brass up to wave her over, despite we being new here. Or perhaps she came over to say hello [I]because[/I] we were new here. At any rate, her brief hello and hoping we were having a great time was very cool, and we told her so. She smiled and thanked us when we complimented her band, and though her chat with us was brief as they were hitting the stage soon, she corrected us in short order. "My band?" She giggled. "Well, I guess you could call it that." And she proceeded to point members out. "That's my brother Steve, the bassist. My other brother Jim, drums, and my sister Sammy on guitar. Cousin Mike you've seen on the horn... You get the idea." And she was all smiles. It turned out to be a real family thing, though with so many on the band, they weren't [I]all[/I] family. Near enough, though. And while I at first thought the band was overly large, they played so many different kinds of instruments and in so many styles, you'd have to be a freak to be able to play even half of them all. Guitars, both electric and acoustic; base guitar and actual orchestral base; drums enough you could call them a rhythm section, with one guy even playing the drum set with no drum sticks -- no lie, he played with his [I]bare hands[/I]; brass including a couple trumpets and a slide trombone; violin; banjo; piano and keyboards; accordion... it seemed, like the menu in this place, that the list went on and on. Nearly everyone sang, too, at one point or other. Especially Sadie, when she wasn't crooning her Saxophone. And the things they played! As varied in character and style as their collection of instruments and voices, such that it was as if we'd happened on a concert featuring many bands. Mostly jazz like Luther Vandross, Dave Koz, Bobby Womack and Keni Burke, Kim Waters, Candy Dulfer, Ramsey Lewis, and the Marcus Miller Band. Mixed in were folk tunes from local, regional and national artists whom I'm not familiar with as I don't normally go in for folk stuff, and the occasional pop or rock to liven things up, all to the delight of the crowd. But no matter what they played, they loved doing it, and as a result they were amazing. Yeah. That coming from me. You [I]should[/I] be impressed. Cat and I sure were. And, of course, Cat and I chatted. Nothing earth shattering, but some of it was a touch deep. Like finally admitting to Cat that I missed Rick. And not just implying it, or saying part of it and leaving the rest unspoken yet understood. I mean coming out and actually saying it. And damn it, made me cry. But it wasn't the same sort of thing like at the Vets club. Not a tragic feeling of sadness, no depressed moodiness. It was... oddly enough, it was a sort of spiritual cleansing or something. To have finally come out and said it. To Cat. Seems so simple, but at the same time it was a huge relief to the soul. So while I cried, it was a good cry, and a short one. Not lacking in comfort from Cat, either. Of course, it went both ways. Cat admitted to me that she missed Damian something fierce as well, and felt badly about their not getting together more often. She also admitted to feeling somehow jealous about his constant traveling which kept them apart, at the same time realizing that her schedule with Triple-A was keeping her in Seattle so she couldn't go to him either. But in true Cat style, she was more wistful and amused by life's circumstance rather than depressed by it. And she had a good little cry as well. Yeah. Both of us having a cry to each other. Cat articulated it best. Must have been something in the beer... But it still felt good. That camaraderie. With that in mind I determined to do something nice for Cat. Right then and there. So after a time, when it seemed like the last hour of the place had been used up, and the band was taking a short break on-stage between songs of what was probably their last set, I excused myself from Cat and went up and talked to Sadie. Re-introduced myself, and after she smiled and let me know she remembered me I asked her if they took requests. In retrospect that alone seems sappy and unlike me, but like I said, I wanted to do something for Cat. For Sadie's part, she got this crafty look, saying that no, they didn't normally do requests, but she wanted to hear what I had in mind anyway. So I laid it out. Said that my friend, Cat, was a country girl and really liked country music, yet I generally didn't. And at the same time, she was my friend and I wanted to do something special for her. Sadie smiled. "And you have a particular song in mind." My turn to smile. "Yeah. It's sort of country, but maybe more folk. Can't remember the name, but it's something like "Harvest Time" or something. Kind of funny, like a joke, about gardening..." I faltered at that. Then I added, "Heard it on NPR once, a while back." Yeah. As if that would help. "You listen to National Public Radio too?" Sadie's smile remained, she being genuinely entertained by my admission. "Yeah, I replied. "You know the song? Sung by a woman..." Sadie's smile grew to outright delight, and light in her eyes fairly shone. "And you think us such an eclectic band that we might know a tune like that." "Well..." I said, thinking. Then, I couldn't help but smile brightly back. Sadie's smile was that contagious. "Yeah. You listen to NPR. Seems like the kind of song you might like." Sadie laughed. "Jimmy. Steve. Sammy!" They turned to her with full attention. They'd been half listening. "'Sup?" Sammy asked. "You guys remember a tune called [I]Talkin' 'Bout Harvest Time Blues[/I]? Stephanie Davis?" Sammy laughed, then grinned at me. "Nice!" she said, and promptly sat in a handy stool, laying her guitar in her lap and pulling a metal slide thing from her pocket. You know, the kind country steel-guitar players use. "Looks like we know it," Sadie said with a wink and a nod, while Steve went to explain quietly to the rest of the band. I nodded to Sadie. "Thanks," I said, going back to the bar. "Wha'd you do?!" Cat asked when I'd returned to my seat. I'd gone up to talk to Sadie, only telling Cat I'd be right back. But from the way I'd moved or something, maybe even gesturing back toward Cat as I talked, she knew I was up to something. So I 'poked at her'. Picked up my drink. "Nothin'," I replied, taking a sip. Ok, so maybe I've been hanging around Cat too long.

[NordVolf]

[CENTER][U]Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker[/U] [/CENTER] "Ok, people," Sadie began when the band had set up to do what proved to be their last, short set. The crowd quieted to listen, and Sadie smiled. "Got a little something new for you tonight." She paused then, looking down, as if thinking of what to say. She looked up, then, smiling. Decided. "As you know, we don't take many requests..." Sadie's comment was broken up by jeers from the crowd. Done in good spirit, of course. As if Sadie's band did, in fact, do things like this. Maybe even often. "All right, all right," Sadie continued with a bright smile, calming the crowd. "So we do these every now and again. But sometimes something comes up that's special. And one just like that's come up tonight." Cat looked at me. "What...?" she started. Sadie cut off any further questions from Cat. "This is a request in the name of friendship. A very close and dear friend to someone. And sometimes, well, you just can't put something like that into words. Describe it. But you know it when you see it." "Well," Sadie continued, starting to pace a bit, searching for words, "such a friendship is in this room with us tonight. And one of them just [I]might[/I] be a bit uncomfortable." And she looked right over at Cat and smiled. "What'n th' Sam Hill'd ya'll do?!" Cat hissed, starting to get embarrassed, hand idly swaying as if she wanted to pull the brim of her hat down and hide. And seeing that made Sadie smile. "Yeah. Uncomfortable, but just a touch," Sadie said with glee, and most of the crowd turned to look and see who it was. Of course, Cat's not in Triple-A because she's shy, so she dutifully put her hand up in the air and waved to everyone. As if to say, 'Yeah. It's me.' And Sadie took the heat off as the band got ready, Sadie's sister taking a place with her guitar in her lap, and the steel slide at the ready. "Now," Sadie continued, "the reason for this discomfort is, there's a genuine country girl with us here tonight, and she might be feeling a little out of place here in our Folk/Jazz/Rock tavern." Sadie sat down on her stool before the microphone as she spoke that last, pulling a guitar off it's stand and into her lap. "So we've been asked to do a [I]lil' somethin'[/I]," Sadie said in faux-country twang with a grin, twang every bit as good as Cat's. "To help make her feel to home. This here's a lil' tune called 'Talkin’ Harvest Time Blues'. By Stephanie Davis..." Sadie readied to play then, and a hush fell over the room. And in that silence, Sadie paused, then looked over at us with a smile. "Cat, this'n's f'r ya'll." And at that, the band started in... [QUOTE] [I]The band begins to play, a soft yet moderately paced rock sound. The drummer plays with bare hands, no drumsticks, though playing easy as if having done it this way all his life. Despite the rock beat and tone, the way the guitars are played lends a country-rock feel to the piece. As the song progresses, strains of steel slide guitar and hints of banjo cement the country feel. The Lead Singer begins, fast lyrics gotten out quickly as if to try and get it all out in one breath.[/I] "Well, it starts with a catalog that comes in the mail In the middle of the winter, when you’ve had it with those pale Thick-skinned, store-bought, sorry, hard-as-rock Excuses for tomatoes with the flavor of a sock And there on the cover sits THE juicy, ripe and red Homegrown tomato you’ve had dancing in your head Never mind you said last August that you’d had it up to here With the hoeing and the weeding -- that’s what you say every year! So, you fix a cup of cocoa, sink into your favorite chair Put your feet up and you thumb through the pictures and compare Big Boys, Better Boys, Early Girls, Romas The new disease and drought-resistant hybrid from Sonoma! Then it’s on to peas and carrots, Lima beans and beets and kale And you’ve never tried kohlrabi -- say, the lettuce is on sale! What’s a garden without sweet corn -- better plant some marigolds And you just read in [I]Prevention[/I] ‘bout how garlic’s good for colds! So, you phone an order in that nearly melts your Visa card Then stare out at the foot of snow that blankets your backyard And visualize your garden, oh, so peaceful and serene Until at last you close your eyes and slip into a dream about: CHORUS Harvest time (Bushels of red, ripe tomatoes!) Harvest time (Sweet corn that melts in your mouth!) Well, the days turn to weeks and the next thing you know There’s a robin at the feeder and the last patch of snow Disappears ‘bout the time that a UPS truck Backs up to your house and you stand there, awestruck As Forty-seven "Perishable--Plant Right Away" Marked boxes are unloaded on your porch as you say, "Are you sure?" "Yes, ma’am, need your signature here -- Looks like someone’s gonna have ‘em quite a garden this year!" Well, you watch him drive away, then you sink to your knees ‘Cause you feel a little woozy; Forty-seven boxes -- Please! God, I know I’ve got a problem and we’ve had this talk before But help me this one last time -- I won’t order anymore! Just then, as if in answer to your prayer, your sister’s van Pulls up into the driveway with Aunt Martha, Uncle Stan, Two nephews and a cousin, who just stopped to say hello But soon are sporting calluses as up and down each row You, their warden, push ‘em; it’s a scene from '[I]Cool Hand Luke[/I]': "Over there -- those clods need breakin'! Leave more space around that cuke! See those bags of steer manure? Bring a dozen over -- fast! Yes, I know you have lumbago, but you’ll thank me when at last it’s..." CHORUS Harvest time (Show you what a real strawberry tastes like!) Harvest time (Might even let you help me dig potatoes!) Well, that night it starts to sprinkle and you can’t help feeling smug ‘Cause your garden’s in the ground and getting watered while you’re snug Underneath the covers, or at least until midnight When the temperature starts dropping and in no time you’re smack right In the middle of your garden, in your jammies, on your knees With a headlamp and a hammer and some tarps and jeez Louise It’s cold! but you keep working ‘till the last plant’s safe from harm And there’s holes in your new jammies and bursitis in your arm Cause by gosh, you’re a gardener right down to your muddy clogs And even when the rabbits take your lettuce and stray dogs Pee on your zucchini and a fungus coats your kale Cause it’s rained for two weeks’ solid -- do you falter? Do you fail? Yep! You throw your hoe down, stamp your feet and call it quits -- Declare to all the neighborhood that gardening's the pits And you’ll never plant another and this one can bloody rot Then suddenly the sun breaks through the clouds and, like as not You see a couple weeds you must have missed the last go-round And shake your head and meekly pick your hoe up off the ground And hoe and keep on hoeing ‘till your Romas dangle red, Ripe and juicy on the vine, sweet corn towers overhead, Beans hang from their trellis, big orange pumpkins sprawl about And you get that satisfying feeling once more when you shout: CHORUS It's Harvest Time! (Break out the canning jars!) Harvest time (Man the pressure cooker!) Harvest time (You have to take zucchini -- we’re related!) Harvest time (Now THIS is a tomato...!)" [/QUOTE] Cat was embarrassed for all of two seconds after the song had started, but she calmed as the country-rock settled into her bones. And with the first couple verses, she'd burst out in giggles. By the first chorus, she'd laughed outright in glee. By the middle of the song, she was laughing hard yet quietly to hear the rest, grip with one hand on my arm and the other hand on that same shoulder. As if to hold herself up. By the end of the song she was happy and completely relaxed, tears in her eyes she'd laughed so hard. And as the band's play came to it's conclusion, she looked at me with those big, blue, happily tear-filled eyes of hers and smiled. But it wasn't quite finished yet. As the crowd roared showing they'd been entertained and humored just as much as we had, Sadie set her guitar on it's stand and stood up, taking the microphone in hand. "Ladies and gentlemen," she started simply, "that song was for Cat. From Lorna. Friends like that deserve a big hand, don't you think?!" And as the crowd roared the louder, just for us, Cat sniffled and "took her bows", waving to the crowd yet holding her head slightly down, as if unable to look them in the eye and show she'd been crying. And then, to the delight of the crowd, she hugged me. Yeah. Ok. I admit it. It was a warm hug. Full of gratitude at the thing I'd done for her, and joy in the fact that we were such good friends. And yeah. For the same reasons, I hugged her right back.

[NordVolf]

[CENTER][U]Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker[/U] [/CENTER] Of course, after all that, the band played some quiet, jazzy pieces. Was great, though I only half listened, as Cat and I had gotten into more soulful discussion. Again, nothing heavy. But it was about my having left Triple-A. Surprisingly though, I bore it up well, not being irritated at all. In fact, I poured my soul out in explanation to Cat. Yeah, the same things I'd said before, and Cat had heard before. But I talked, and she listened. Really listened this time, and understood how I felt. She even said so, sympathized, and even told me she had no idea how she would cope if [I]she[/I] were in my shoes. And even though I knew she still disagreed with the way I'd handled it, just knowing she understood and accepted it made me feel better. And then, since I was feeling in a non-angry, and even amicable mood over the whole thing, of course the inevitable happened. I'd gotten to hear how others felt about it. And well... With us feeling all warm and fuzzy due to more drinking, as well as basking in the warmth of our friendship, I relaxed instead of getting up-tight or angry. And listened. Masterson, of course, had been aloof about the whole thing, but in times she thought she was alone, Cat'd seen her moping around. I had the feeling she'd be that way, since I knew her so well and she'd had it out with me in the Judge. Others missed me too, and in fact the Kids -- you know, Anderson, York, Tracy Brendon and Goodlooks -- were pretty blown away by my quitting. Very disturbed and not knowing quite how to take it. Several of the "veterans" took it in stride to varying degrees, though Cat said she was getting an idea of who really missed me and who was actually glad I was gone. The usual, and about what I expected. What surprised me were, well, the surprises. Nightfall, for one. Down right angry that I'd left, though Raven kept exactly why she was mad under her hat. Harper had been particularly disappointed by me leaving, though she'd only told Cat quietly after a Booking Team meeting. One of the topics of that meeting having been, of course, what to do with the holes I'd left in the roster and in building storylines. And as for Stardust? She'd stayed completely non-committal on the subject. I thought for sure she would either tell people that I would be missed and fondly remembered -- though I in no way expected that -- or roundly criticize me as an extreme disappointment. But Stardust hadn't voiced anything one way or another. Stayed completely neutral on it, brushing off all requests for comment even from the staff and wrestlers, tabling such talk "for another time". Then there was Sorely. She was, in fact, rather bitterly disappointed at my departure, as well as quite saddened. Seems that Sorely had also taken it as a personal failing on her own part that I'd left, though Cat was at a loss to explain exactly why. Still, though I was surprised, in the back of my mind I guess I expected that. For some reason or other, Sorely had banked heavily on me as some sort of personal project, and when I mentioned it to Cat she readily agreed. Though again, couldn't explain why. Even in the Booking Team meetings, Sorely had been a bit moody and distracted, though she never revealed what she'd been planning, or expecting, or hoping for long-term. But it was there just the same. Lastly, Cat told me how [I]she[/I] felt about it. And yeah, she said the same things she's said before: about how she saw how much it meant to my daughters, and so came to mean so much to her, liking them as she did; how she had hired them not to snub me, but as a favor to them; and how she'd watched them grow into being real wrestlers, young and inexperienced as they were; how the fire of their eagerness and excitement reminded Cat of herself when she'd started, and how she was happy to help my girls get to feel that way too; and how it had really been as a favor to me too, since she'd thought that it would be very sweet to have the girls working with their mom, me able to show them the ropes, teach them how to wrestle properly and safe, and how we could become closer for sharing that. And as I listened, [I]really[/I] listened, I found I still didn't agree fully with her assessment of the whole thing. But I also came to understand just how she felt about it. I came to really appreciate just what it was she'd tried to do for us. And, surprisingly, came to feel that much closer to her for all she'd risked to try and do that for us. So sure. As a wrestler, I'm quite hard-core and very tough. Rough reputation and all that. But as the evening wore to an end, the band played their last, the place wound down to a close, and even Cat and I decided to call it a night, we were all sappy and warm and fuzzy. As friends. And as the band closed the place with the seemingly obligatory tune, they sang us right out of that club. Cat and I, leaving arm-in-arm to the strains of that last song. Sure, it was partly to hold each other up on account of a lot of drink. But it was also because we were feeling [I]that[/I] close. [QUOTE] [CENTER]Semisonic - Closing Time Closing time. Open all the doors and let you out into the world. Closing time. Turn all of the lights on over ev'ry boy and every girl. Closing time. One last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer. Closing time. You don't have to go home but you can't stay here. I know who I want to take me home. I know who I want to take me home. I know who I want to take me home. Take me home. Closing time. Time for you to go out to the places you will be from. Closing time. This room won't be open till your brothers or your sisters come. So gather up your jackets; move it to the exits. I hope you have found a friend. Closing time. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. Yeah. I know who I want to take me home. I know who I want to take me home. I know who I want to take me home. Take me home. Closing time. Time for you to go out to the places you will be from... I know who I want to take me home. I know who I want to take me home. I know who I want to take me home. Take me home. {repeat} Closing time, Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end... [/CENTER] [/QUOTE]

[NordVolf]

Next time, on [U][I]Days in the Life[/I][/U]... What a night Lorna and Cat had, eh? By just about anyone's standards. But what will the next morning bring? Will Lorna hate herself in the throws of the morning-after? Will some other thing or things from Triple-A rear potentially ugly heads? And will the coming Saturday Spectacular [I][B]EVER[/B][/I] arrive[B]?![/B] Stay tuned as these and other unasked questions are answered in the next installment of... [CENTER] [U][B]Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker[/B][/U] [/CENTER]

[NordVolf]

[CENTER][U]Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker[/U] [/CENTER] I woke up. And immediately regretted it. And before you think it, I wasn't ill. Well... not that ill... Ok, fine. So I was beginning to regret last night. Just a little. Waking up found me on the couch. I know, I know. Very cliche. Go out, have a good time, get drunk, get home and pass out on the couch. Fully dressed, no less. My boots somehow having come off my feet, though. Ok, so make fun of me all you want. But you and I both know, you've probably done the same. And maybe even more than once. Admit it. And before you get all incensed about my being a horrible, irresponsible drunk, no. Cat and I didn't drive home. At any rate, what woke me was goings-on in the house. Someone was in the kitchen. Doing something unreasonably loud with utensils or something. Being on the couch, it's not that I couldn't immediately see who it was. But the fact I had my head on a pillow and my face tucked up against the couch's back cushion made sure that kind of thing wasn't easy. So I rolled over and opened my eyes. And instantly, just like that, my regret over last night increased. I lay there, fairly bleary-eyed and wincing for a while. Not sure how long. Just trying to focus. What I finally focused on was a sweetheart of an angel, coming at me from the direction of the kitchen, carrying a small tray containing a glass and a large mug with dark, steaming goodness. She put it gently on the coffee table, though looked at me somewhat askance. She was less than impressed, and I assumed it was with me. "Here you go, Mom," Jen muttered sourly. Yep. Decidedly less than thrilled. "Thanks, Honey," I replied, struggling to a sitting position. Jen, bless her, helped me up. She handed me the glass. Of course, I preferred the coffee to our '[I]Leigtner Home Remedy[/I]', but Jen pushed that glass into my hand. "Medicine before coffee," she stated simply. "Since when did you become the mom?" I asked. That made her smile. Just a little. "Since you need looking after," she replied. Tried to make it a flat statement, but then grinned. I grinned back. "Thanks, Honey," I repeated, pulling her into a hug. Then took a sip of the '[I]Leigtner Home Remedy[/I]'. "Ahhhh," I crooned, glad for the soothing of parched lips and throat. And at that point, I noticed another sudden, urgent desire. For something hot, bitter-sweet, almost tangy... "Ah ah AH!" she admonished as she blocked my reach for the steaming coffee. "Remedy first." I sighed and finished the contents of the glass. And at that moment, reaching out to put the glass down and take up the coffee, I felt the blanket that had fallen from me when I'd sat up and which now lay partially draped across my legs. Hadn't even noticed that. I'd had other things I'd been noticing till that point. Topsy-turvy stomach on its way to becoming once again quietly placid and hopefully obedient. Scratchy, parched throat and mouth full of desert-dry sand, now somewhat soothed. Pounding headache, nowhere near soothed yet. "Blanket and everything, huh?" I stated, pulling it into and across my lap. Snugging my legs in. "Yeah," Jen said. "Stephie got it for me from your room." She took the glass from me and replaced it with the coffee mug, smirking a little. I sighed into that first sip of coffee. Like I said, coffee is a religious experience for me, more so that morning. I murmured a soothing sound that made Jen smile a little more. I then sighed and patted my daughter's knee. "You know," I said, "one day you're going to make some kid a hell of a good mom." I know. Out of nowhere. But it doesn't matter where it came from. I meant every word. Jen stared at me a moment, eyes and mouth partially agape. When the surprise wore off, it was replaced by a grin and a kiss on my cheek. "Thanks, mom." I chuckled into another sip of coffee. Then considered. I looked at her askance. "Just don't make it any time soon, ok?" Jen laughed. "No worries of that!" We both smiled at one another. "What time is it, anyway," I asked. And I got suddenly disoriented. It was light out. I could see it through the drawn window curtains. I was usually up well before sunrise. Jen turned and looked at the clock over the couch. "Little after nine o'clock," she stated flatly. "Oh God," I said trying to rise despite Jen holding me in place. "Stephie! She's late..." "Relax, Mom," Jen said, looking sour. "Stephie wasn't late for school.' "Then who..." Before I could even finish the question, Jen said, once again unimpressed with me, "Relax, Mom. I called Missy so we could let you sleep. She drove Stephie to school. Besides, she'd said last night she was going to come over anyway." At my dumb, questioning look, she elaborated. "Mom, Claire was here last night when you called Cat to go out. She left after you came home. Said she'd figured you were going to get wasted." "I did not get wasted!" I protested. At Jen's 'Yeah, right' look, I ammended, "... much... Besides, it was your idea for me to go out!" "Well yeah!" Jen defiantly retorted. "I figured you could go out, have a drink or three, relax a little. Not go out and get... well, [I]soaked[/I] in it!" That last made me chuckle, then wince as my head reminded me I wasn't quite whole yet. And right then, at that point, my head exploded. Well, ok, so it just felt like that. The phone ringing its modern, high-pitched electronic warble when you're not expecting it can wreak havoc with a headache. Ok, fine. I'll admit it. A hangover headache. Mild hangover. Mild. Jen, ruefully grinning at my wincing, got up to answer it. "Hello?" Pause, as if for dramatic effect. But probably more likely to hear the other person greet her in kind, or at least saying who it was. "Hey!" she said, suddenly excited, and mouthed me the 'universal sign' for "Triple-A". The sign being universal to me and my girls of course, since we'd come to do that kind of thing since they were little. You know. Talking while trying to be silent so the person on the other end of the phone can't hear we're talking about them. For my part, I groaned, rolled my eyes -- though it hurt to do so I found out -- and gave her the universal low sign. Mom's not in. Jen's look once again devolved into being very unimpressed with me. "Sure. She's right here. Hang on." That moment, Jen approaching me holding the phone out and saying, "It's for you," was one of the few times I really, [I]really[/I] wanted to swear at one of my daughters. Here Jen knew I wasn't feeling well, someone from Angel was calling that I figured I really didn't want to deal with right now, and she blatantly disregarded my desire to just sit quietly with my coffee until I felt human again. I could always call back, you know. But no. Jen walked over and handed me the phone with a tight little smile. Then again, as I took the phone and thought about it, it [I]was[/I] my own fault. I'd gone out to drink. Quite a bit, it turned out. I had no one to blame for my feeling lousy but myself. So I took the phone from Jen, smiled a genuine, if a bit pain-filled, smile at her, and mouthed "Thank you". Jen smiled wordlessly back, though looking cheered for some reason, then turned to head back into the kitchen. To continue with what-ever it was that she'd been doing, no doubt. "Hello," I deadpanned into the phone. "I do not like you, Lorna-san." came the flat reply. "Hey, Suze!" I greeted her, feeling for some reason cheered. Wasn't expecting a call from her. Then it occurred to me what she'd said. "Yeah," I continued, "the way I feel this morning, I don't like myself much either right about now." I prepared to chuckle, but my mirth was greeted by the silence of stones. I sighed, inwardly a groan, as the silence stretched. "Ok. Sorry. What is it?" "I do not like you, Lorna-san." she repeated sternly, almost urgently. I was tempted to reply, "Yeah, we covered that." But something told me that would bring the angry sound of the dial tone, so instead I said, "Yeah. I know. I'm sorry. Really." Silence again threatened to stretch. At that moment, I [I]knew[/I] it was something serious. "What's the problem, Suzue?" "I do not speak good, Lorna-san." Which, of course, brought another inward groan out of me. This again. "Problem with Tsuki?" "Yes. No. There are girls here from Japan." Damn, but Suzue was being clipped, even for her. Still, I was curious, as my girls hadn't mentioned anyone coming over from Japan... And then it hit me. "This about Karube-san?" "Hai," Suzue answered formally. Yes. "Karube-san, and Kawamata, and Huntress Makiko and Ikuko Temko." That got my attention. "Hole sh..." I started. The Huntress and Temko were from 5SSW, just like DEVIL Karube. "Hai," she stated gruffly. "Suze..." I faltered as my mind fuzzed for a second. "What the hell are they doing here in the States? I assume this is at Triple-A." "Hai," she affirmed. "Sorely-san." "Ah. Talent trade." "Hai." Good lord. Sorely was going overboard with the talent trades, sounded like. For what ever reasons she felt she needed to 'import' large amounts of workers. Must be something big going on. After all, talent trade or not, they'd have to be paid just the same. Still. Not my business any more. "Oh hell, Suze. You speak English well enough to translate for them. You'll be fine." "This is not about translate!" Suzue said, sounding almost angry. "Well then what the hell is the problem?" I was beginning to get a little miffed myself. Silence stretched. "Ok, Suze. Sorry. What's the problem?" I rubbed the bridge of my nose, waiting for reply. None came. I sighed. "Look, Suzue-san... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. Please." The silence was broken by a small sound, then silence returned. I knew Suzue Katayama well enough to know that sound. She was opening and closing her mouth, trying to say something that needed to be said, and feeling she couldn't find the right words. "Ok," I said into the silence before it could even think about stretching. "Take a deep breath. Relax. And just say the words that come. Tell me." "Sorely wants me to speak for them." That threw me a touch. This wasn't about translating, and yet... "I'm not sure I understand, Suze." "Sorely-san wants me to speak for them. To the people." Took me a moment, but then it hit me what she meant. "Holy... Suze, Sorely wants you to be their [I]manager[/I]?!" "Hai!" she said, the word sounding as if lightning had struck. And I finally recognized her emotion. Sure, she didn't like me much, and I was beginning to understand why. But she was also feeling desperate. It occurred to me then. Suzue knew exactly what a manager was. Knew the English word for it, too, like a lot of the language she knew. But when she got flustered or angry or something, her mind blanked. Sure, you and I don't do that. We grew up on English. But she didn't. Not only was English a second language to Suzue, it was a distant second. And that was exactly the problem. As a manager, you had to be cool under fire. The lights, the fans, the action. It wasn't about match interference. That was secondary, really. It was all about the [B]interviews[/B]. I head-desked the coffee table. Had to bend way over to do it, too. And, of course, instantly regretted it. But I now understood Suzue's dilemma. Here she was, a large, stoic, quiet Japanese woman who knew English poorly, and Karen had asked her to be a manager for some visiting Joshi wrestlers. And she being the only bi-lingual, Japanese-English speaking worker at Triple-A besides... "And let me guess. You'd rather it be me." "Hai," came the formal reply. Mission accomplished. She'd communicated to me what she'd intended. I sighed, genuinely feeling for her. And knew exactly what she meant. She really, really preferred me to take that off her. She viewed it as an awesome responsibility, speaking for those who couldn't speak for themselves, and having to do it extremely well so they would look better then they maybe really were. Not worse because you blew it. "Suze, how can you say that? I'm not there any more, remember?" "I do not like you, Lorna-san." And that, inexplicably, made me laugh. Sure, I winced due to my headache, but laughed just the same. "It not funny!" I calmed, sighed, smiling but sympathizing. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry." The silence stretched. "Look, Suze. What do you expect me to do?" Silence. "Suze, you [I]know[/I] I can't come back." "Why, Lorna-san?" I groaned out loud that time. "Suze... It's complicated. But the bottom line is, I quit. Right at a show. And I [I]know[/I] Stardust or Sorely won't just welcome me back with open arms after that. So just what do you expect me to be [I]able[/I] to do?" Silence. Then, before I could break that silence, Suzue broke it. "I... do not know, Lorna-san." And my heart wrenched. "Oh, Suzue-san..." Silence again stretched. "Ok. Listen. Maybe I can help." With continued silence, I could only assume she was listening. And I knew her well enough to know that she actually was. Hell, she did the same thing talking about serious matters with you face-to-face. "Look, maybe I can... Ok, how about this. We get together some time. Soon. And we go over some things. I can coach you, work out some things, get you some practice so you feel more comfortable. We can make an evening of it. Maybe some sushi place, talk, get you going on some common things, so you'll know what you're going to say, and how to say it. How's that sound?" "You speak better." "Yeah, but I'm not that good, Suze. Not on the mike. I'm not manager material anyway. You know that." "You are good manager, Lorna-san! You are!" I sighed. Where the hell was [I]that[/I] coming from? But I knew Suze didn't have it in her to explain it to me. Not something complex and nebulous like that. So I told her so. "Look, Suze, I don't know where you got that from, and I know you'd never be able to explain it to me. So let's just say I don't believe you. Ok? So let's just get together, and I can help you as best I can. Ok?" Silence, but brief this time. Yet still ominous and unhappy. Like Suzue was. "Ok." I smiled. "Thanks. Ok, good. How does tomorrow night sound?" Again, brief silence. "Ok." "Great. I'll call you tomorrow and we can figure then what time. But early. We'll make an evening of it." Silence. "Ok. I'll buy. That make it better?" Pause. "Hai." "Good," I said with a chuckle. "See you then." "I do not like you, Lorna-san." "I know, Suze. I'm sorry." She hung up. And that, as they say, was that.

[Yuu Onuki]

That is a pretty impressive talent trade. The DEVIL herself leading in Seek & Destroy? I run. I hide with the sharp things. I come back to the never again.

[ShadowedFlames]

Hey, glad to see you've come back! Sorry to hear about real life keeping you down and all--I'm sure most people are feeling that way recently. Just dropping a line here to let you know you've still got one reader from before still keeping up, and I like this sudden twist in the plot. Should be interesting to see where it goes from here.

[NordVolf]

[CENTER][U]Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker[/U] [/CENTER] Friday. I know, I know. Saturday comes. But there was one more noteworthy event that took place that Friday morning, after Stephie had gone to school and Jen and I were kicking around the house. Yeah. I was relaxing. Shocking, I know. Oh sure, I was contemplating going to the gym later for a long overdue workout. And no, not Triple-A's gym. The 'new' one. Well... new to me. At WCSS. My new job. Riley had, in fact, said employees could use it any time we wanted. I remember that distinctly. But for that morning, I was taking it easy. Sipping coffee, reading the paper. Secure in the knowledge that I didn't need to find work any more, that I had a good job pending, and... Well, I'd put the thought of Saturday Spectacular out of my head. For a couple minutes anyway, as I buried myself in my chair and in the Friday Edition of the Seattle Times. Shortly after I'd settled in, I noticed someone pull over a section of the couch to sit right in front of me. Jen, of course, was the only other one in the house. Uh oh. "Hello, Honey," I stated over the top of the paper. Pretending to myself that this wasn't actually a burn-down-the-house important conversation coming up. "Hey, Mom," Jen replied. Looking both a little forlorn and determined. I sighed, folding the paper neatly in my lap. So much for pretending, and for lounging quietly in a Zen state with the Times. Jen, seeing I made ready for it, started in. "Mom. Stephie and I've been talking." That made me chuckle. "Sorry, Honey," I said, a bit mollified. Jen had given me this horrendous look. She knew it was serious, she knew I knew it too, yet I'd laughed. But since I'd left AAA, the "we've been talking" start to conversations had been more than just a little usual. Jen got a mollified look of her own at my apology. And then it hit me. This was both serious... and Jen had brought it up when Stephie couldn't be there. Which meant it bothered Stephie to talk about with me. Crap. Jen opened her mouth while still looking like she was undecided on what to say first. So I took the thought out of the process for her. "This about tomorrow?" I asked. "Moooom..." Jen drawled. "No." "Honey, Stephie's not here to join in this, and you know it. Is it that bad?" Jen sighed, looking down at the floor and saying nothing. Good God. It [I]was[/I] that bad. But I waited it out, and sure enough, just like I do, Jen took a deep, slow breath and started in. "Mom, Stephie and I've noticed that you've been really upset lately." I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic, and Jen waited for it. But then it occurred to me; that may have been one of the reasons Stephie'd not wanted to be in on this. So I closed my mouth and just nodded. I kid you not, that took a load off Jen. Seeing I was listening and not blowing my top -- yeah, like I had any inkling so far why it was I was expected to blow my top -- Jen even smiled a little. "Mom, we love you, ok? And I'm not saying that because I'm going to reveal anything trouble or dire or anything. I'm just saying." I nodded. "I know, Honey. I love you too." Jen nodded, then tensed herself for the hard part. What ever that was. "Mom, it occurred to us that maybe you don't really have anyone to talk to about stuff. I mean," she added, cutting me off before I could start, "we know you talk to Cat, but it's not the same. Dad's been gone a [I]long[/I] time, and we figure that even though you talk to us about stuff, and Cat, there's no one that you feel you can really bare your soul to. You know, talk things out, think things out together." I blinked, thinking. The topic of conversation certainly wasn't what I'd suspected. Hell, I hadn't known [I]what[/I] to suspect. But certainly not this. "So, Honey. You think that I'm upset with you and Stephie about wrestling, and don't have anyone to talk to about it?" Y... yeah," Jen said, thinking about what I'd said for a second and then nodding, all surety and confidence. "But it's not just us wrestling, mom! It's everything. You having to provide for us all this time, you got stress we probably, Stephie and me, know [I]nothing[/I] about. Let alone be able to understand! So..." She faltered then. "Are you offering to be that someone?" I asked. This was beginning to impress me. It was deep, insightful, and very thought provoking. After all, she was right. And my daughters had come up with this. On their own or not, it was a very grown-up insight. And I know, they're 19 and 17, sure. And they should be expected to have such deep thoughts running around in their heads. Hell, [I]I[/I] expect it of them, and in retrospect, how can they [I]not[/I] come up with things like this?! But still. To a mother's mind, her little girls will always be little girls, so it comes as a surprise when they come up with something very adult and insightful. "Mom, we can't." That raised my eyebrows, and Jen noted it, nodding. "See... we're inside looking out. Stephie and I live together with you every day, so it's hard to have an objective viewpoint. And Cat is your work buddy and friend, so she's inside too. We figured you need somebody who can be outside looking in. Maybe see stuff we don't. Or even can't." Got to admit. That floored me. Very impressive. I know I took a second to stare at her, mouth open and everything. "That's... very impressive, Honey. Really." Was all I could think to say. And what the hell, right? If you don't know what to say but feel the need to say something, start in by telling something truthful. And then a thought came to me. "Honey... did you have someone in mind?" Jen both smiled at the compliment, and then tensed at the follow-up question. And she reached inside a jeans pocket, fishing out a small card. Handed it to me like she was handing off a snake, afraid it might bite me or her. I looked at that card. Business card. Read it. Then stared at it. And frowned. Jen saw that and her face fell. "Mom..." she started, defensively. "A Psychiatrist?" I countered. "She's a [I]therapist[/I], mom!" I scowled outright. "Honey, despite you girls not liking my being upset at you wrestling, that is no reason to think I'm some kind of nut case." I reached out to hand her the card back. And I admit. I got angry about it. But Jen can be a little toughy when she's of a mind to be. She didn't take the card back, in fact pushing my hand back toward me. "That is a lie, and you [I]so[/I] know that! We do NOT think you're a nut case, mom!" She actually scowled at me. Probably for my audacity in even [I]thinking[/I] they could feel that way about me. "Then what do you call this?" I asked, holding up the card to show her the obvious case-in-point. Still angry, but not the burning heat I'd had a second before. "Mom," Jen started in, looking betrayed. "What had I [I]just[/I] said to you?! You can [I]talk[/I] to her!" Then, more quietly and more emotional than I've ever seen her, she went on, cutting off comment from me. Determined in her eyes and torn in her heart. Which gave me immediate pause. "Mom, when I say we love you, it's not to cover up some bad thing we want to push you into. It's because we really do love you, and want to see if we can [I]maybe[/I] help." I looked at the card. "Honey, all good intentions aside. Call it what you like. Therapy. Counseling. It's still a shrink, and I'm not some unstable nut-case who needs psycho help." "Mom, Therapy and counseling are [I]so[/I] different than psychiatry or institutional stuff. Stop being so old fashioned!" That got a rise out of my eyebrows. "Honey, I am not old fashioned!" "Mom, there you go! You hear me say "old fashioned" and think I mean old and decrepid, which is so not true! But you're thinking and feeling from when you grew up, back when the only reason you'd have to see someone was when you [I]were[/I] a 'nut case'. Which is [I]so[/I] a bad way to put that!" she added in scolding tones to me. "People in genuine trouble should get more respect than that." Ok. I admit, I actually felt scolded, and she had a point. But I felt I did too. "Honey, like I said. I'm not in some sort of genuine trouble." "I know, Mom. Seriously. And we don't want to [I]get[/I] in trouble either. And no," she said, cutting off objection she knew was coming, "we're not sucking into some conspiracy for some therapist to bilk people out of money when they really don't need anything. And we're not blindly buying into some... how would you say it... 'Psycho babble' bull when there's really nothing to it either!" "Honey, if there's nothing to it, then what is this about?" "I meant 'as if', mom. Look," she said, calming to explain. And yeah, that had a calming effect on me as well, hard as that is to imagine. Just seeing her go calm and zone in on her thoughts to explain herself despite our sudden argument got to me. "This is the reason Stephie didn't think this was such a great idea, despite the both of us thinking of this, researching it, and deciding to actually follow through with you. You're just all... [I]mad[/I] at me about it." That about killed me. "Honey!" I said, suddenly shocked. "Stephie has no reason to be afraid of me! We've argued before, fought before! And I still love you, both of you!" "Mom," Jen said at me, deadpan look as if I were a dullard. "Stephie isn't afraid of you. But she [I]would[/I] get all depressed and upset because we both know you. And we [I]knew[/I] you'd see it as some kind of attack, wouldn't get it, and so instead of doing something to help, we'd actually be doing something to get everyone upset. We [I]so[/I] don't need that. Stephie [I]so[/I] doesn't need to feel bad about trying to help. And you [I][B]so[/B][/I] don't need to be made to feel like we think you're some loony who needs to be locked up! None of us deserve to have any of that!" That brought me to a screeching halt, and Jen took advantage. "Look, Mom. When I say 'Old Fashioned', I meant like looking at something without the modern, better understanding that we have about stuff. And no, I'm not saying kids know better then their parents. Far from it! But people in general know better, have a better understanding of deep stuff that goes on and how to better look at it, how to handle it." "New-age kind of thing, is it?" I asked, sceptical. "Exactly, Mom!" She even grinned. I sighed, looking at the card. "Honey, new-age what-ever, however you look at it. If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and waddles like a duck, it's a duck. Even if New-age 'wisdom' decides to start calling it a cow." Jen thought for a moment, face all screwed up and looking a little frustrated. But she bore up anyway, and thought about what she would say next. What her next argument would be. She came up with a doozy. "Mom... Sure, what you're calling a duck is really a duck, sure! And what I'm calling a cow is a cow, but they are [I]so[/I] different things. It's like... It's a journey and a destination, mom!" she said, practically crowing in triumph. She had it, now. "Mom, it's like walking down the street. You're feeling in trouble, and know you got to go someplace to feel bad, and you're walking all depressed and stumping along and upset. Or, it's like seeing some place you have to go, even though you're feeling ok, because you want to feel better, so you walk happy and knowing that when you get there you'll be even better! Those are two completely different walks to completely different destinations from some completely different starting places. Totally different! Just like therapy or counseling is so totally different from being institutionalized or something. And yeah those are extremes, and there are all kinds of shades of gray in between. But it's so totally true!" Warming to it, she continued. "Mom, I know you talk to people about stuff. Cat, me and Stephie, who-ever. But that doesn't really help! You talk about stuff, but maybe Cat supports you anyway because she's a friend, even though she might think you're wrong. Or I can talk to Stephie, but she says something to bug me on account of an argument we had that morning, which doesn't help at [I]ALL[/I]. A councilor, a therapist, doesn't have those 'hang-ups'. And before you get all offended, in light of clear thinking they [I]are[/I] hang-ups, that keep you from being objective. Even though they're based on family, friendship, love, what-ever. Like I said," she finished, pointing to the card. "Sometimes, you need someone who's outside looking in, and can tell in total honesty that the reason your view is messed up is not because you need glasses but because the windows of your house are [I]really[/I] dirty." That got a chuckle out of me despite myself. I sobered by looking at the card again. "Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder?" I read. "Crisis/Trauma? Impulse control disorders? These the kind of things you think I have, honey?" She looked dead at me, rock solid and serious. "Life Transitions," she quoted from the card from memory. I know because I looked at the card, and there it was, in the list of problems the 'therapist' could handle. Sorry. Help with. And she had a point. Leaving wrestling with AAA and going to work in sales for WCSS was a Life Transition if ever three was one. That still got a frown out of me, though. "Ok," I said, warming to an apparent challenge. "Self Esteem issues? OCD? Oh, here's a good one. Eating Disorders." Still with the serious look, Jen countered. "Family Counseling. Stress management." "Oh really?" "Mom, yeah really!" Jen said. "Well... maybe. I don't know, I'm not you. But yeah, I bet you got at least [I]some[/I] stress, if not about Stephie and me wrestling then something other about life or something. And it never hurts to talk it out with someone who can really help you figure out what's really what, so it doesn't spiral around in your heard and eat your guts out. And maybe we as a family [I]do[/I] all got issues, maybe we need that. Hell, I'll go first and be the first to admit if I'm off base with that, or just keep going if [I]I[/I] am the one with a problem." I took a deep breath, thinking. Then went back to the card. "Parenting Issues." Jen shrugged. "I'm not in your head, mom, so maybe. And besides, you're intentionally ignoring half of that," she said, leaning in to point at the card. I looked. "Parent-child issues. Ok, fine," I said. Grumped, more like. Maybe I was, in fact, hanging around Masterson too much. "All right then," I said, scanning down the list. "Here's a good one. Anxiety Disorders/Phobias." "Mom!" Jen exclaimed. "You [I]so[/I] have anxiety over Stephie and me wrestling! And tell me you don't have some kind of phobia attack every time we climb into the ring at a show!" That got a frown out of me too. But I also knew I had no wiggle room to object what-so-ever. I was beginning to think that she might be right. "I'm not crazy, and I don't like the idea some 'therapist' would imply it..." "Grief/Loss," Jen interrupted. That caught me up short, because she said it with a quaver in her voice. And when I looked at her, her eyes were wet. That provoked me into suddenly having to wipe [I]my[/I] eyes. I knew exactly where that was coming from. And she was right. "Mom," Jen said, calmly though with a very thick voice, "I don't remember Dad much. Stephie doesn't remember him at all, she was too little. But you lived with him, Mom! You were the loves of each others' lives, and something stupid took him from you. And I can tell it still bothers you a lot. A lot, Mom! And I can't blame you for that. But maybe she," Jen said, pointing to the card, "can help you feel less bad and more love and good memories over it." What got me was, Jen had said that exactly right. Measured what she said precisely. Didn't say "smooth things over" thus implying some feelings weren't important. And didn't say "make the pain go away," because if you believe pain over something like that goes away, even after long periods of time, you're believing a lie. So I sighed, looking at the card. "Well, we can rule out Suicidal Ideation and Self Harm." "Mom," Jen said, giving me that tip-headed 'you dolt' look. "You wrestled for a living." And she had half a smirk on. Ok, so that got a chuckle out of me. Then I sobered somewhat. "Maybe the same could be said about you two." Jen shrugged. "You might be right, Mom," she said very earnestly. "If that's the case, or if it's that big of a problem fixed by us getting out, then we would [I]so[/I] quit wrestling. Mom, our family is more important than wrestling." I looked at Jen then. Sizing her up. "You've been thinking about this a lot. Stephie didn't ask you to talk to me about this without her, did she?" "No," Jen admitted. "That I came up with myself. I didn't want Stephie to get all dejected, and I didn't want you to feel like we're ganging up on you or something." "So..." I mused, "this isn't some 'Intervention' or something." "Mom." Jen gave me that 'you dolt' look again. "If this was an Intervention, Cat and Masterson would so be here to help rassle you out the door and into a straight jacket. Hell, Missy'd [I]pay[/I] to help with that." That got a chuckle out of me. And then I sobered again. "So what makes this the perfect person for me?" "Nothin'," Jen said, standing up and digging deep into her jeans pocket. She came up with a stack of cards. "I just like Dr. Kaslow personally, is all." She handed me the stack. There were a dozen cards there. Therapists, councilors, the lot of them. I looked at Jen then. "Personally?" "Yeah, Mom. Go ahead. Ask why we got business cards. I'll tell you. Internet research only tells a little bit, gives you an idea. But Stephie and me decided that we'd go see if we could talk to them a little, just to get to know them as people, see if they're not... 'nut cases' themselves. See if we'd think you'd be comfortable with them or something. So every one that would talk to us a minute and we felt comfortable with, or figured you'd be comfortable with, we got cards for. Hell, on the idea we might see them right along side you, we decided we'd have to feel good about them too, you know?" I considered. Seriously. It made a frightening amount of sense. I guess I overcame the stereotype at that moment, seeing Jen so earnest, hearing her state her case so clearly, thoughtfully, and with every good intention carried through with insight and careful consideration. No road to hell paved with those good intentions. "And you're doing this just for me." I asked deadpan, as if unconvinced. Because, let's face it. Sometimes we know the answer, but want to hear it said anyway. "Yeah. Because we love you, Mom." Some things get to a body, despite preconceptions and misgivings. So I stood and hugged my daughter. "I love you too, Honey," I whispered into her hair. "I'm sorry." Jen hugged me tight, and I could [I]feel[/I] her smile. And then she pushed me back to arms length and looked me in the eye. "I know," she said with half a smile. "You'll think about it." I looked her dead in the eye in return. "I will," I promised. Ok. Sure. So the rough, hard-core Lorna Leigtner stood there looking at her daughter with eyes threatening to spill tears, and the two toughest Leigtners this side of the Mississippi River gathered each other into an emotional hug. So sue us.

[NordVolf]

[CENTER][U]Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker[/U][/CENTER] Saturday morning. Late. Yeah. So maybe I've been getting a late start these days. Or maybe for some reason I was dreading that day, with all it's potentially nasty details and their implications, so putting it off. Which-ever the case, there was an odd feeling about that day. It was a warm-for-winter day. Dry with no chance of precipitation. Sunny out; not a cloud in the sky. Ordinarily, it would be the cause for a good mood. You know. The perfect warm, sunny, cloudless day. But I considered it very odd, the weather. Weird for Seattle, you know? Almost like a bad omen. Something in the air... Maybe, as I stopped for coffee on a drive-to-nowhere I was taking, using the excuse of going out and getting something at Dunkin Donuts, it was the way The Judge rolled. Smooth and slow, yet growly. As if she were not awake yet either. Or maybe the day struck her weird too. Roads too dry for this time of year, for her taste and the tastes of her Kumho All-season tires. Or maybe, as I sat in the small parking lot with a cinnamon roll and a large coffee, it was the Metroline Bus that went by. I say went by, but it stopped at the intersection for the red light. Right dead in front of me. Giving me plenty of time to read... [QUOTE] [CENTER] [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA_BannerMini.jpg[/IMG] [I][B][SIZE="7"][FONT="Book Antiqua"]Angel Athletic Association[/FONT][/SIZE][/B][/I] [SIZE="1"]in conjunction with Washington State's Northwest Athletic Conference and the Seattle Athletic Sports Association[/SIZE] [I]presents[/I] [SIZE="4"][U]Angel Athletic Association's[/U][/SIZE] [SIZE="5"][I][B]SATURDAY SPECTACULAR![/B][/I][/SIZE] [I]January, Week 3[/I] [B][I]LIVE[/I][/B] at the [B][I]Portland Center in Seattle Washington[/I][/B] [SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE] [U]Our Preshow[/U] It's [B][I]East Meets West[/I][/B] as AAA's own [B][I]Norse Warrior[/I][/B] battles the [B][I]Oriental Warrior[/I][/B], [B][SIZE="2"]Karen Sørrenson[/SIZE] [SIZE="1"]v/s[/SIZE] [SIZE="2"]Ginko Kuroda![/SIZE][/B] - - - - - [SIZE="3"][U]Our Main Show Opener[/U][/SIZE] AAA's [B][I]Young Gun[/I][/B] takes on The [B][I]High-flying Angel[/I][/B] from the Far East, [B][SIZE="3"]Kristabel Plum[/SIZE] v/s [SIZE="3"]Tsuki Kawamata![/SIZE][/B] In a [B][I]Wild Time[/I][/B] Sure to rock the [B][I]Old Town[/I][/B] tonight, A [B][I]Veteran Tag Team[/I][/B] seeks to put a couple of hot, new [B][I]Young Guns[/I][/B] in Their Place [B][SIZE="3"]Wild Times (Devil's Daugher & Vixxen)[/SIZE] v/s [SIZE="3"]A Surprise Tag Team![/SIZE][/B] [SIZE="3"]Our [U]Feature Presentation[/U][/SIZE] [B][I]West Meets East[/I][/B] as [B][I]The Misfit[/I][/B] gives [B][I]The DEVIL[/I][/B] her due, [B][SIZE="3"]Claire Masterson[/SIZE] v/s [SIZE="3"]DEVIL Karube![/SIZE][/B] [SIZE="3"][B][U]And in the Main Event[/U][/B][/SIZE] in Part Three of the Three-Part [B][I]Femme Fatale Contenders Feud[/I][/B] [B][SIZE="4"]Suzue Katayama[/SIZE] v/s [SIZE="4"]Black Widow![/SIZE][/B] [B][I][U][SIZE="4"]Be There![/SIZE][/U][/I][/B] [SIZE="1"]Tickets on sale now at: [B]Ticket-tron[/B] the [B]Master Outlet[/B] ([I]featuring all your wrestling apparel and accessory needs[/I]) the [B]Portland Center Box Office[/B] and your local sporting event ticket outlet.[/SIZE] [/CENTER] [/QUOTE]

[ShadowedFlames]

Wait...you mean there's an actual wrestling card in here? What else is next?! :p * I'm picking Kuroda in a match designed to make her look good. * Going with Plum in a decent match. * The surprise tag team/wrestler usually wins, but not in this case. I'm picking Wild Times over the Midnight Sisters (my guess at the mystery team) * DEVIL Karube in what I'm picking as the highest rated match of the night. * Main Event: Black Widow goes over as I think she may be a better fit in the title hunt.

[NordVolf]

[CENTER]((OOC Segment))[/CENTER] Hey there, people. Yeah. It's me. Haven't died and gone to leave-a-story-hanging hell. Maybe I should have, but I didn't. Anyway. I've been thinking about this story again, yet hadn't been able to write, or so I thought, due to a thorough computer hard-drive crash. Lost everything. Including all the art, writing, outlines, ideas, everything I'd ever done for "Confessions", as well as everything I'd ever done with many other projects. It'd left me quite dejected. True, there had been some few notes I'd copied onto my laptop, but it was woefully inadequate compared to what I'd had before. At least I still had the save-game from TEW, which lived on another drive on my main computer. But the save-game told me almost nothing about my [I]story[/I]. Well... at least I still had something. At least I had that laptop data. So I started in, writing again. Doing everything from scratch. From what little was saved on that laptop. From memory. Recreating the wheel, as it were. Well... Then my laptop crashed. In that fell stroke I lost what little I felt I'd had left. What I'd recreated so painstakingly. As well as lost what little "incentive" I'd had to write further. Sure, I still had it all in my head. But the many, many details I'd planned were growing fuzzy, and I had depended on my copious notes and other resources to keep it all straight, so I could write them as I'd intended. If I were going to write once again, I'd have precious little to go on; what was saved at these forums, and what I had in my head. I'd have to recreate the wheel [I][B]again[/B][/I]. Start from scratch, using only what I'd done before, saved here. But I'm nothing if not determined. And I really do love this story. So after getting a new laptop, with an attendant external hard drive for backups (I like to think I can learn if I make enough mistakes, right?) I started in yet again. I'd gotten quite a bit done, actually. Things were falling into place, and I'd managed to get enough that I was once again writing new material instead of simply re-creating lost data. Lost resources. Finding resources on the net I'd need. But that was behind me now. I was [I][B]writing[/B][/I] again! Enter a computer virus. Yeah, I know. I know. I was trying to get a simple little program I'd used before for some background material, and downloaded it again from my trusted resource site. However, seems someone had uploaded a virus-riddled version, and I had the unfortunate happenstance of downloading my "utility" before my trusted resource site'd discovered it. And while up-to-date, my full version of AVG failed to catch it. Infected both my computer [B]and[/B] back-up drive, since it was an insidious enough virus to not be detectable till after I'd made my latest backup. Virus removal necessitated formatting, both my laptop and external backup. Great. Now I'd have to start [I]all[/I] over again. Unless I could somehow have my original crashed hard drive fixed... It seemed too daunting a task. So I waited. I'd have to build up enough money to send my hard drive away and have it recovered, if possible. Would take a long time to save up that kind of scratch. In the mean time, no use in doing anything, right? I'd just have to wait. I also considered that it was getting longer and longer since I'd last posted. Several things occurred to me. First off, would anyone give a damn? Wouldn't blame anyone if no one did. Whom ever of you are reading this probably thought this story's long dead and gone. Don't blame you for that. I would too. But it nagged at me. "No one's going to see this." And since a lot of the reason I wrote this in the first place was for my own enjoyment of you peoples' entertainment, there we are. I'd also doubted I could get right back on the horse, as it were. Might it have been too long? Would I have lost Lorna's voice? Would I have forgotten all the things I wanted to do? The things I'd set up? The feel of the game, and the story? Sure, I still have what mental notes I had. And I still have the game, with the attendant Confessions save-game intact. But a million missing, nagging things just picked at me. Sure, I went back and re-read what I'd written before, and you guys' posts as well. But one question remained. When would I just get serious and start writing again in earnest? Would I ever? I was, I'll admit, [I]Putting It Off[/I]. [CENTER] [SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE] [/CENTER] Enter a dream I had a few months ago. Had nothing to do with TEW or anything. You know how dreams go. Disjointed at best, and this was one of the more chaotic ones I've had in a long time. Part alien invasion, post-nuclear-holocaust, back in high school and back in the Military type stuff. Yeah, I know. Been watching a few movies and reading books again. Anyway. At one point in the dream, I ran out of a bombed-out building onto a bombed-out street in some bombed-out city, and decided I had an important place to go, with critical things to do and say to people once I got there. So I looked around in vain at all the ruined vehicles and buildings and all, and realized it was hopeless. I'd never be able to get where I had to go, do the things I needed to do and say the things I needed to say, unaided. Until I heard a rumble out of my left ear... Turning to look, I saw The Car driving serenely down the road at a stately pace toward me. Full-throated engine rumbling like the well-tuned, full-blooded muscle car that she was. And as I watched, the driver turned slightly and eased right into the parking space in front of me. With the passenger door handle [I][B]right[/B][/I] in front of my hand! "Oh my GOD!" I thought. "Someone's going to help me get where I need to go, so I can say and do the things I [I][B]have[/B][/I] to do!" At that point the driver, a woman, got out of the driver's side, leaning an elbow rakishly across the roof of the car to peer at me. She was all in black; long coat, black shirt (what little I could see under the open coat), and black hair too. She looked at me over the top of the car, bemused for a moment. Now, she never spoke, but that look said, 'Well, well. We finally meet', as if she'd shouted it. Great! She was going to give me a ride! I bent to open the door... and discovered the handle wouldn't open the door. It was locked. I looked back up in surprise, and the look on the woman's face had changed. She frowned, but I knew she wasn't mad at me; I got the distinct feeling she was [I][B]very[/B][/I] disappointed in me. Silence stretched in that moment as I stared uncomprehendingly at her, and she stared, disappointed, at me. Then her look turned to one of disgust. She got back in the car. And drove away. I couldn't believe it! Here I desperately needed help, I had no way to get where I was going, to do the things I needed to do, and I had no way to get there without her help. And she damn well knew it, I was positive. And the b**** just leaves me there by the side of the road. Just left me standing there like an idiot! I was, needless to say, indignant. But then the dream continued, other things came up, and crazy-chaotic, disjointed events continued. You know how dreams are. That little bit about the car and the woman was so short I didn't even think about it when I woke up and recalled other parts of the dream after. [CENTER] [SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE] [/CENTER] Wasn't till a couple days later that, thinking for some reason about that dream, I recalled what I thought was the otherwise unnoteworthy segment of it. And it hit me. That had been Lorna! I know it as sure as if she'd introduced herself. She'd just left me there when I'd needed to get someplace. Just left me stranded. Why on earth would she do that?! And thinking about it, I thought I knew why. And decided it'd served me right, she doing that to me. Just like I'd done to her. As a character in my story, she's definitely not real. So she can't very well pick up pen and paper (Lorna's old school, remember) and pick up where I'd left the story off, and then post it here for you all to read. She absolutely needed me to write the story. To take her where she needed to go, and say the things she needed to say. To tell the things she needs to tell. Now, I'm not really religious, but I have faith. And long, spiritual discussion aside, I firmly believe certain things. One of which is, we are all defined by how we treat others. People, animals, even imaginary people. Because deep down, we are all about our [I][B]intentions[/B][/I]. How we feel inside that no one else ever hears, and what we think about doing to others. And to my mind, Lorna is as much an "other" as anyone else. In important ways. Sure, we think not-so-good things about others all the time, in humor or irritation. But this, for me, is another level altogether. Here is Lorna, someone I respect, even admire, and I'll admit it; love like family. And yet I [I][B]abandoned[/B][/I] her. Think about it. From Lorna's perspective, it doesn't matter whether something is inconvenient, expensive, or down right difficult. You just don't abandon a body. At the very least, you are required to bring a close to things, to end them as reasonably as possible. Especially if a person needs your help. Which is what kills me. I'd just left Lorna there. Abandoned her. And I know for a fact she'd [I][B]never[/B][/I] have done that to me. So I started in once again. Finding and bookmarking online resources, jotting down notes as I remembered them, hunting down resources I thought might still exist. And I found that I'd had more preserved in my head, as well as on Photobucket, than I'd realized. Remembered notes, even outlines. Actual graphics. Everything I'd ever written of "Confessions", and things remembered I'd written and had yet to post. Even screen shots on Photobucket of show results I'd taken, since TEW2007 didn't preserve such nitty-gritty details. I started in once again, recreating the wheel. Also, a short time ago I began watching a vlog by a gentleman that... well, captivated me. The conversational tone, the intelligence and whit, and a sarcastic humor like mine, all were very appealing. He also does a motivational theme once a week, and it's that which has affected this story-recreation process so profoundly. See, his motivational 'episodes' aren't just some gimmicky thing; they're sincere and heart-felt. He genuinely wants to inspire and motivate and [I]help[/I] people. Even people he's never met who might be watching. This I find to be something special and rare indeed, and serves as even more of an inspiration to me than his "never say die", "never give up, never surrender", "you can, and SHOULD, do it!" themes. Those very themes, including perseverance in the face of adversity or disaster, is what helps spur me to look beyond my prior (and future) writing tragedies, and see the enjoyment and purpose I get out of writing. And the enjoyment I get out of sharing it with you. So to that vlogger I say: Thank you so much, Trendane! Your vlog is, indeed, inspiring and motivational, and at least in my case your "Motivational Mondays" are every bit the help you wish them to be. I've been writing ever since. So. Lorna. Here's to me opening the door for you. Hop in. You got places to go. And I'm going to take you there. And to whom-ever reads this; Please. Hop in too. Join us for the ride.

[NordVolf]

[CENTER] [U]Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker[/U] [/CENTER] So there we were. The Saturday Night I'd been dreading. Well... Saturday evening, anyway. Early. I'd made ready for work by then. Last-minute calls to and from WCSS settled on my showing up at 9:30. For now, Saturday Spectacular was a couple hours away. Main show, anyway. Bus to the Center in around an hour. But... I wasn't ready for Triple-A. I was ready for work at WCSS. So. Just as I was relaxing into my paper, some light reading post-dressing, the girls decided to get themselves ready too. Was it a cheap shot toward me, that just after I'd gotten ready, they started in too? Oh sure, they had to get ready [I]some[/I] time. No, I say that because it wasn't some quiet, every-day get-ready-for-something. They made it seem like it was going to be a party. And they were rambunctious about it too. Noisy, grab-ass tussles interspersed with loud conversation and speculations about the evening. Which I did my best to patently ignore. But a body can only take so much. "Will you two tone it down a notch or three, please?" I finally grumped. "Mom," Jen dead-panned at me, leaning to look from around the corner. I was looking at the paper, agitated, in my usual chair. They were at their 'gear closet' in the entry hall. "We're just getting ready, ok? Nothing that hasn't been done before to get ready for a show." I sighed. "Well, you girls don't even look to be on the card." "How would [I]you[/I] know?" Stephie chirped from her unseen location. "I saw the advert on a bus this morning." Stephie poked her head around the corner, shocked. "You took a [I]bus[/I] someplace today?!" That got a chuckle out of me, and I stood and went to her. "No, silly you. I saw it on the side of the bus as it went by." By rote, I adjusted the collar of her outfit jacket, folding it down smooth since it'd ridden up in the back. "Mom," Jen dead-panned again. "You never know. Besides, Sorely wants everyone at Triple-A before a show anyway, remember?" I leaned to see her around the corner. "Honey, if you don't appear [I]in the show[/I], you don't get paid." "Mom," Stephie said quietly, putting both her hands on my shoulders. "We know what you're trying to do, and we forgive you anyway. We're going." She kissed me on the cheek and smiled. That got a smirk out of me. "You forgive me, huh?" "Of course!" Jen said with a frown. As if it were wrong that I should think they wouldn't. I sighed and walked to Jen. "Thanks, hun," I said, kissing her on the head. "Sure, Mom." She looked at me then, and her expression was odd. Almost implacable. As if both happy and sad, resigned yet hopeful. My figuring that look out was interrupted by the doorbell. "CAT!" Stephie yelped with glee and raced for the door. Jen and I barely got out of the way before being run over. The door flew open, a bit to Cat's surprise, and Stephie tackle-hugged her. That got a laugh out of Cat as she hugged back. "Now there's a greetin' Ah ain't had in a while!" Stephie let go, Cat re-adjusted her hat and came inside, and Cat and I went into the living room while the girls put the finishing touches on make-up and outfits and who-knows-what-all. I sighed, hands on my hips, and looked at Cat. "Yep," she said, adjusting her hat with a thumb. "Hey," she said then, all traces of hick accent gone. "You going to be alright?" She looked at me so earnestly it brought a smile to my face, despite my pensive mood. "Sure," I said, though somehow I felt that was a lie, looking from Cat to the girls getting ready and back to Cat. "What's not to be ok over." Cat smirked. "Ok," I ammended. "What's to be not ok over?" Cat gave me a what-the-hell look, leaning back as if to get a better look at me. "Your first one was correct enough. You're flustered, aren't you?" She started to smile. "I am not," I said with as determined a tone as I could. Cat's smile widened. "Yeah. You [I]are[/I] flustered, aren't'cha?!" "I am not!" I insisted, growing irritated. Cat grinned, yet relented. "Hey, lookie here. Relax," she said, giving my shoulders a friendly, reassuring squeeze. Her drawl returned in full. "They'll be fahn. Look at 'em. So excited an' all. Kinda remahnds a body of when we were their age, don' it?" "I didn't start wrestling till I was far older," I reminded Cat. And yeah. I suppose I had worry in my tone. "Relax, Ah said," Cat continued, still grinning. "Even at that, when you started out, I 'member you back then. All green an' excited an' itchy to get started. Wonderin' what ever' show would bring, how you'd do. Kinda makes you wish we weren't such jaded oldsters, don' it?" I sighed again. "Yeah," I admitted. The girls came out into the living room then, standing with serious poses. "How do we look?" Stephie asked in mock-serious, tough tones. It could have been construed as a moot question. They were in their usual get-ups. Same make-up and hair, same outfits. Same as always, for a Triple-A show. But it wasn't a moot question, I knew. So I went over to them, appraised them. Fiddled with Stephie's collar again, and brushed a stray lock of hair back into place for Jen. "You two look amazing." "You're not just saying that?" Stephie asked, that hopeful look firmly in place. "No," I affirmed. "If you can be honest with the way I feel, and forgive me for it, then I can be honest with you. And you two look great. I really mean that." I gathered them into a hug, and it's debatable who clung tighter. Them or me. "I love you two." I coo'd to them. "My girls." "We love you right back, mom!" Stephie said, settling in to the hug. "Wish you could be there," Jen said in hushed tones, doing her best to control her emotions. "I know, honey," I whispered back. After a pause, maybe trying to figure out how I felt, or maybe delaying admitting something I'd felt all along, I added, "I do too." "All right!" Cat piped in, moving to break us up. "That's enough o' the sappy stuff. Besides smearing y'r mascara 'fore you even get there, y're gonna make y'r mom late for her first day o' work. An' we all know how important those days are t' bosses." Cat winked at me with a grin, and ushered the girls to the door. As the girls grabbed their bags, I took Cat by the arm. She looked back at me, expectant. Not sure where it came from, but there was a note of anxiety in my gut, and it came out in my voice. "Take care of them for me, huh?" I said, all I could do not to choke. Cat took me by the arm in kind, reassuring. "You know I will, girl! They'll be fahn. I'll keep close eye out. Promise." "I know you will," I said to her, and a warm feeling for her came over me inexplicably. Because I knew she would take care of them as if they were her own daughters. Didn't make it any easier to see them out the door, though Cat did her best to usher them out with a minimum of fuss. I think she knew how I felt deep down, so tried to make it as quick and painless as possible. "Don't you worry none," Cat said as they hit the hall and I stood by the door. "I'll have 'em back a'fore bedtahm on a school naht." The girls gaped in outrage, but before they could reply, Cat 'reconsidered'. "Oh, wait," she said, a grin coming to her lips. "Ain't a school naht." Turning thoughtful she brightened then. "Hey, let's go out f'r drinks after!" The girls startled-yet-hopeful looks got me going more than what Cat had said. "Cat...!" She laughed. "All right, all right. No reason t' get growly, Lorna. I wuz jus' funnin'." She grinned and winked at me, and with that she shepherded my girls down the hall. I stood there for a minute, reluctant to actually close the door. Jen glanced back, noticed, and so started in, hiding a smirk with a turned head. "Cat, if we're [I]really[/I] going out for drinks after, you can't drive back." "I'll drive!" Stephie chimed in gleefully. "Oh really?" Cat intoned in joyful disbelief. "Think a lil' thang lahk you c'n handle a Cat-sized truck?" "You betcha!" Stephie yowled. "I may not look all that tough, but I'm a Rassler!" Cat laughed, putting an arm around Stephie's shoulders and pulling her into a side-wise hug. "Damn straight, y'are," Cat said in smug satisfaction, and Stephie snaked her arm around Cat's waist and grinned up at her. They hit the stairs about then, and any further exchange was cut off by their descent and my closing the door. I sighed. Seemed to be doing that a lot lately, sighing. And walked slowly into the living room. I stood there, thinking. Feeling the place having somehow gone suddenly lonely. And had a bad moment as I realized why it felt that way. Because the place felt like the girls had just moved out. [CENTER] [SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE] [/CENTER] I spent the next couple hours getting ready for work. Yeah, I know. I said that I'd already gotten ready for work. But a few things occurred to me that made me double-back. Those were some very tough minutes after the girls left. Me standing in the living room, then sinking to the couch, and feeling overwhelmed with a grief so profound it's hard to describe. Or even explain where it came from. The biggest thing was the feeling that the girls were gone for good. Not sure where that came from. Maybe a realization they weren't babies any more, and so could, and would, do damn well what they wanted regardless of what [I]I[/I] wanted. Maybe a realization that my attempts to make them stop wrestling was driving us all apart, at least to my sudden point of view. And with that going on, maybe things would come to a head and the girls really would move out. That train of thought got me going, and it devolved from there. I won't bore you with the details. Suffice to say I wallowed in some pretty bad moments for a while. And Cat's prophecy came true. Ruined my mascara. So I went and got ready again. Partly to re-do my makeup, and partly to force myself to do something constructive, to shake myself out of wallowing in bad feelings. So I started [I]all[/I] over again, beginning with a shower. As I was starting to get dressed again, pulling on dark-gray slacks and buttoning a beige blouse, my cell warbled. I briefly wondered whether it was work calling for some reason. I wasn't due in for another hour or so. A quick glance at the number coming into my cell stopped me dead, though. It was Cat. "Hey," I said, trying to be nonchalant. "Hey!" she said, sounding chipper. "You gonna listen in 'r whut?" That startled me. "What?" Yeah. Leigtner witty repartee to the rescue. "Oh, raht," Cat drawled. "You weren't to the meeting we had on that. We're broadcastin' lahv!" Cat couldn't see it, but I blinked in surprise. Well, shock more like. "What?! [I]Live[/I]!?!" Cat laughed. "Naw, ain't nothin' fancy. Sorely worked somethin' out with Femme Fatale-dot-com 'r somethin'. That an' somethin' [I]they[/I] worked out with Public Radio or somethin'. Give it a listen, they're jus' about to start. 92.9 on y'r FM dahl!" "Damnit..." I murmured as I nearly dropped the phone racing for the radio. "Why am I the last to hear about these things." "Hey," Cat crooned, "best you feel grateful you know about it a'tall, raht?" "Right," I replied. I juggled then, glancing at my watch while fiddling with the radio tuner of my bedroom's stereo while trying not to drop the cell from my ear. "Cat, preshow's not for another, what, 15 minutes yet..." Cat giggled. "Yeah. Reals' doin' some sorta Preshow-preshow or somethin'. I only met her just tonaht, but I think she's really gonna be somethin'. Ah like 'er!" "Cat..." I faltered, fiddling with the radio tuner of my bedroom's stereo. Cat must have heard the lingering anxiety in my voice just then, because she laughed. "Relax, Lorna. I'm keepin' an eye on 'em for ya, jus' lahk I promised." I found the station then, and stood there for a quiet moment listening to the station identification. "Cat... Thanks. For everything. And for letting me know about the radio thing." "Shore!" Cat said with a laugh. "Wouldn' want'cha to feel left out [I]entire[/I], now would Ah?" At that, she hung up. And I proceeded to listen to the radio. All pretense of getting ready for work forgotten. [CENTER] [SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE] [/CENTER] [QUOTE] {[I]Male Announcer Voice-over above the typical NPR theme music[/I]} "This is NPR. National Public Radio." {[I]Female Announcer Voice-over[/I]} "You're listening to KQOW, Puget Sound Public Radio. 92.9 FM, serving communities in the Puget Sound, Western Washington and Southern British Columbia areas. KQOW operates in conjunction with Seattle's University of Washington and is broadcast from our transmitter at Seattle's Capital Hill with a power of 100-thousand watts. KQOW is also transmitted from our FM translators, KQEW in Bellingham, Washington, KQAW Tacoma, Washington, and KQIW in Richmond, British Columbia. KQOW FM is simulcast on KQRW 1020 AM, serving communities in Thurston, Pierce, Kitsap and King Counties from our AM transmitter in Enumclaw, Washington." {[I]Male Announcer[/I]} "This is David Souffet, and you're about to listen to 'Souffet's Cabaret', where we bring you every Saturday Night all the progressive and [I]unusual[/I] entertainment you can stand. And on this Saturday evening, this [I]particular[/I] Saturday evening, we've prepared something [I]especially[/I] unusual for you. "Now, as you all know, we're broadcast in cooperation with the University of Washington's Seattle Campus. And we work quite closely with that campus' telecommunications department, where the students there frequently donate their time and talent to aid us in bringing you the kind of quality, as well as [I]unusual[/I], programming you've come to expect. A telecom department for which our gratitude holds no bounds." {[I]David Souffet continues[/I]} "What you may [I]not[/I] know is that another program, self-published entirely on the internet as podcasts and called 'Women In Sports', is also supported, and mainly produced, at the [I]same[/I] telecom facilities on the University of Washington's Seattle Campus! Right alongside KQOW. "Run as a sort of division of a web site called 'Femme Fatale Dot Com', this program seeks to bring it's listeners news and entertainment featuring, you guessed it, Women in Sports, [I]particularly[/I] in the US, and frequently in the US's Great Northwest. They have covered such things as women's basketball, track-and-field, collegiate and professional sports such as golf, tennis and gymnastics. They also [I]particularly[/I] pride themselves in reporting on less mainstream things such as high school sports programs for girls, as well as Seattle's Inner City Athletics programs which focus as much on Seattle's inner city troubled young women as young men. But pride of place for Femme Fatale Dot Com in general, and the 'Women in Sports' podcasts in particular, are the [I]unusual[/I] things you seldom hear about. Indeed, often times such things would receive [I]no[/I] media attention and almost no public support, where it not for Femme Fatale Dot Com and its Women In Sports podcast. Such little-known things as women's international table tennis, Seattle's own women's roller derby league 'The Rat City Rollergirls', women's drag racing... and [I]women's[/I] professional wrestling." {[I]David continues[/I]} "Now, with us this evening is none other than Jessica Reals. She is featured at Femme Fatale Dot Com, not only for her tirelessly seeking women's sports to report on, but most notably for her appearances as the chief executive producer, writer, and the very [I]voice[/I] on the Women In Sports Podcast! Brought to you from an as-yet undisclosed location, Jessica Reals, welcome to 'Souffet's Cabaret'." {[I]Jessica Reals, laughing, crowd noise in the background[/I]} "Thanks, David. It's a tremendous pleasure to be on your show tonight!" {[I]David[/I]} "Now Jessica, as producer, writer, reporter and the broadcast voice of your 'Women In Sports' podcast, that's an awful lot of hats to wear!" {[I]Jessica, crowd noise in the background[/I]} "Well, David, I can proudly say that it's a labor of love. As a woman, I've come to see that I have a vested interest in hearing about and promoting women's sports and athletics that you almost never hear about. I mean, women are doing such amazing things these days, and I firmly believe that a greater level of inclusion in modern mainstream society is needed. And there's no better way to do that than a podcast these days. And like is so often said of things you believe passionately in, if you want something done right, you should do it yourself. And me being the [I]total[/I] geek that I am, I'm the perfect one to produce and run a podcast!" {[I]David[/I]} "Now, Jessica, forgive me, but there must be something wrong with our connection or something. I hope the students at the university there haven't dropped the ball or something, but there seems to be some sort of background noise or interference or something..." {[I]Jessica, laughing[/I]} "David, contrary to what you may think, the students of the University of Washington's Telecom Department have done just the opposite of drop the ball! They've really given it their all tonight, using all of their technological savy and a wide variety of equipment, including gear hooked up to generously donated students' [I]cell phones[/I] if you can believe that, to allow me to broadcast live this evening. And what you're hearing are the litterally [I]hundreds[/I] of fans who have come out to see Angel Athletic Association's Saturday Spectacular show in the Portland Center in downtown Seattle Washington!" {[I]David[/I]} "Angel Athletic Association? I don't think I'm familiar with that one, Jessica." {[I]Jessica[/I]} "Well David, Angel Athletic is [I]the[/I] premier women's wrestling federation in the whole of North America. And while there are a handful of women's wrestling promotions in the US, none are as large, successful or long-lived as Triple-A, as they're often called, which is based right here in Seattle! {[I]David[/I]} "My goodness, Jessica. And you're at one of their shows? How did that come about?" {[I]Jessica[/I]} "Well, David, a little while ago, I interviewed Triple-A's new head booker Karen Sørrenson, and in that interview she promised me seats at their next show. Little did I know how seriously she took such a promise! Because not only did she get me to this show, she worked closely with me on the idea I could do a podcast on it! Now, as things took shape and we worked on it, Karen astutely came to realize that I had some connections with the producers of KQOW, and so working tirelessly for the past few days, she and I put together a cooperative effort between Angel, KQOW, Femme Fatale Dot Com and Washington State University to allow me to broadcast this show live for everyone tonight on National Public Radio!" {[I]David[/I]} "Well Jessica, that sounds like quite the coup there. And not only that, but in having listened to some of your podcasts recently, I find you to be quite the competant and even entertaining interviewer and commentator. So, in the tradition of the truely [I]unusual[/I] here on Souffet's Cabaret, I'm going to take a backseat and let you have the show." {[I]Jessica, after a short pause[/I]} "Really?! You're joking David..." {[I]David, chuckling[/I]} "Not at all, Jessica. Take it away." {[I]Jessica, heard quickly and muted in the background[/I]} "Oh my God! He's letting me take the show!!!" {[I]Jessica, recovering quickly and at full, normal volume[/I]} "Ladies and gentlemen... Oh my God! I can't believe this...! Um... You're listening to the Souffet's Cabaret, where David Souffet has just given me the show! In no small part because I'm broadcasting to you, LIVE, from the Portland Center in Seattle Washington, where North America's premier women's wrestling federation, Angel Athletic Association, is just about to kick off their pre-show for tonights event, Saturday Spectacular! {[I]Jessica, muted in the background[/I]} "Um... we got a feed from the announcer's table? Can you set that up?!" {[I]Jessica[/I]} "Um, David, you'll have to let me know when we have to pause for station identification or something." {[I]David, good natured[/I]} "No worries, Jessica. We'll keep you posted." {[I]Jessica, sounding thrilled[/I]} "Fan-[I]tastic[/I], David! Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, you'll be hearing tonight, besides myself, Angel Athletic's main announcer, Jim Lou Freebush, as well as their color commentator Farrah Hesketh, herself a former wrestler and prior main event title belt holder! "And speaking of whom, Jim and Farrah look just about set to start... and yes, I'm getting the high-sign from some of Angel's staff... Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the preshow of Angel Athletic Association's Saturday Spectacular! I'm Jessica Reals, on behalf of David Souffet of Souffet's Cabaret, and this is KQOW. Puget Sound Public Radio." {[I]Jessica, muted in the background and very excited[/I]} "OhmyGod! I can't believe they're letting me [B]do[/B] this!!!" [/QUOTE]

[TC Dale]

Congratulations on surviving a whole mess of things! And that you could ensnare us with just the story of how you and Lorna made your way back. Glad to see you back, and I will be watching and enjoying your adventure. I know I always have. :)

[NordVolf]

[CENTER]((OOC Segment))[/CENTER] [QUOTE=TC Dale;1989854]Congratulations on surviving a whole mess of things! And that you could ensnare us with just the story of how you and Lorna made your way back. Glad to see you back, and I will be watching and enjoying your adventure. I know I always have. :)[/QUOTE] Thanks, TC. It's great to be back, and absolutely wonderful to have you coming back to read and enjoy this! Thank you so much! Seeing as it's Sunday, I've got the day off, and I've been writing a lot, it's time to get this show on the road. No pun intended of course... ;) [CENTER] [SIZE="4"]__________________________________________________[/SIZE] [U]Days in the Life - Confessions of a Triple 'A' Worker[/U][/CENTER] I got to hand it to her. Jessica Reals was very excited. And at the same time, very collected and comfortable, if not cool. And competent on the mic. Not only did she pick up very nicely, she made it sound as if she did live shows like this every week. Not that her Podcasts are unprofessional, or that she's not easy to listen to. But her Podcasts aren't done live very often, and they're heavily produced post-show. Not to mention there aren't 800+ wrestling fans sitting in the studio with her... [QUOTE] {[I]Radio Voice-over, sounding excited[/I]} "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Jessica Reals, and I'm here broadcasting live to you from the Portland Center, where the preshow of Angel Athletic Association's premier wrestling event, Saturday Spectacular, is about to kick off. So here now at Center Ring is their announcer, Jim Lou Freebush, and their commentator, ever the colorful personality, Farrah Hesketh!" [/QUOTE] [QUOTE] [CENTER] [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA_BannerMini.jpg[/IMG] [I][B][SIZE="7"][FONT="Book Antiqua"]Angel Athletic Association[/FONT][/SIZE][/B][/I] [B]Week 3; January 2007[/B] [B][I]Saturday Spectacular Preshow[/I][/B] [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA/Characters/100x100s/JimLouFreebush_alt2.jpg[/IMG] [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA/Characters/100x100s/FarrahHesketh_alt2.jpg[/IMG] . [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA/Characters/100x100s/LoisHudson.jpg[/IMG] [/CENTER] {[I]Jim Lou Freebush, from center ring[/I]} "Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm Jim Lou Freebush, and [I]welcome[/I] to Angel Athletic Association's Saturday Spectacular, being held once again in beautiful, downtown Seattle, Washington's own Portland Center. And with me here tonight, herself a former Triple-A wrestler, is my co-host and commentator, Farrah Hesketh!" ***crowd pops, forcing Farrah to pause a moment with a grin on her face*** {[I]Farrah Hesketh[/I]} "Thanks Jim. And a near capacity crowd it is, nearly [I]one [B]thousand[/B][/I] strong here tonight to witness the awesome wrestling talent brought to the fans here every weekend!" {[I]Jim[/I]} "Right you are, Farrah, and we are [I]raring[/I] to go, here at the Saturday Spectacular's preshow..." {[I]Farrah[/I]} "That's not all who's raring to go, Jim." {[I]Jim[/I]} "You don't say, Farrah..." {[I]Farrah[/I]} "That's right, Jim, because we have a special guest tonight in the front row, and pretty near to our announcing table. Ladies and Gentlemen, with us tonight is none other than Femme Fatale Dot Com's [I]Women In Sports[/I] Podcast host, Jessica Reals. And in a special turn of events, she'll be broadcasting this show, live, out to KQOW Public Radio. So let's let Jessica, and the people listening live on the radio, hear how raring to go you [I]fans[/I] really are!" ***crowd pops, apparently wanting to be heard on live radio*** {[I]Jim[/I]} "And we'll have to let that be the final introductory word, as our referee tonight, Lois Hudson, is signaling me that the first match is ready to start!" {[I]Ownership of the ring changes hands, as Jim and Farrah vacate and Lois Hudson takes posession of the ring...[/I]} [/QUOTE] Interesting. I'm sure it presented well visually. But from a purely audio standpoint, listening to it on the radio, it was 'so far so good'. But as I continued to dress, getting ready for my other... no, my [I]new[/I] job, I got a little caught up. That match, after all, was to feature Karen, aka 'Sørely', and Ginko Kuroda. So I listened. And my getting dressed continued to fall further into the back seat, while my mind's eye tried to visualize that match. How it would look. How it was. It wasn't like I'd expected, that's for sure. [QUOTE] [CENTER] [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA/Characters/100x100s/Srely.jpg[/IMG] . [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA/Characters/100x100s/GinkoKuroda.jpg[/IMG] [B][SIZE="3"]Sørely[/SIZE] v/s [SIZE="3"]Ginko Kuroda[/SIZE][/B][/CENTER] {[I]As the lights dim slightly, music starts. Anyone familiar with early 70's martial arts movies would recognize it immediately...[/I]} {[I] Bruce Lee's "Enter The Dragon" theme [/I]} {[I]Kuroda strides down the ramp from the stage, looking regal in a simple long robe. She makes a slow show of disrobing down to her wrestling gear - a simple fighting uni, matching armbands, and wrestling boots. Then, just as regally, she enters the ring.[/I]} {[I]Jim Lou Freebush[/I]} "And there she is, ladies and gentlemen. Triple-A's newest member, all the way from Japan, Ginko Kuroda." {[I]Farrah Hesketh[/I]} "And quit the entrance, Jim! Did you recognize that tune?!" {[I]Jim[/I]} "Unless I'm mistaken, Farrah, isn't that from Bruce Lee or something?" {[I]Farrah, dryly[/I]} "You're [B]so[/B] not a connoisseur, Jim. That's the theme from Bruce Lee's 'Enter The Dragon'! Hey, I wonder if that means Kuroda has studdied Bruce Lee's martial arts or something..." {[I]Jim[/I]} "It's entirely possible, Farrah. And we may yet find out this evening..." {[I]Suddenly and without warning a horn sounds, warbling throughout the Portland Center's 'C' hall. Mournful and longing.[/I]} {[I]Farrah[/I]} "Whoah...!" {[I]Jim[/I]} "Whoah is right, Farrah. What the heck was THAT?!" {[I]The Portland Center falls quiet, as if the Center itself were wondering where the sound came from. The horn sounds again, a brief crying melody, followed by simple drum and haunting Norse vocals filling the Center...[/I]} {[I] Wardruna - "Dagr" [/I]} {[I]Through silent "pyrotechnics" made up of mist-like smoke, Sørely makes her entrance. A bit more flamboyant than Kuroda, though in an apparent lesson learned from her previous experience in a prior show, not over-the-top crazy.[/I]} [CENTER] [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/Sorrenson.png[/IMG] [/CENTER] {[I]Jim[/I]} "My, what an entrance! As... {[I]Jim looks at a 3x5 card, figuring something and mouthing words for a second[/I]} "...'Soorly', our own Nordic Warrior, prances down the ramp in what looks to be authentic Norse warrior's regalia..." {[I]Farrah[/I]} "Prances is right, Jim. Like a Royal Lipizzaner or something." {[I]Jim[/I]} "Well, Farrah, I believe the Lipizzaners were Spanish horses..." {[I]Farrah, with a grin[/I]} "They were also bred by the Danish, Jim, so it still fits." {[I]Jim, chuckling[/I]} "That it does, Farrah, and with that Soorly has cast off her cape to a waiting ring technician in, I must say, a most extraordinary fashion. And now Soorly enters the ring to square off with Kuroda for our first bout of the show... And Referee Hudson gives last-minute instructions... the two of them shake hands... AND SOORLY [I]IMEDIATELY[/I] takes Kuroda into an armbar from that handshake!" {[I]Farrah, shouting[/I]} "Welcome to Triple-A, Kuroda!" {[I]Jim[/I]} "Welcome indeed, Farrah, and with that and the bell, we're off!" [/QUOTE] Full Norse warrior garb, huh? Real Viking-type stuff. Figures I wasn't there any more, and Karen would pull [I]that[/I] one out. It'd been something Karen had been quietly threatening to do for a while, before I'd left. Well... not 'threatening' exactly. Someone or other would catch her at talking to herself about it, or looking over online medieval clothing catalogs, or Karen would ask someone what they thought of this or that piece of 'gear'. You know. Like she was feeling us out to see if [I]we'd[/I] like it. As if the workers of Triple-A's view of her image in the ring were more important to her than the fans. Go figure. But "Soo-relly" -- as I'd been corrected, and Jim had too after that show -- can be a bit tough to figure out sometimes. And it's not just about the accent. She gives the feeling she's trying hard to be two or more steps ahead of everyone, and at the same time being really unsure and quite concerned how it would go over with [I]us[/I]. Hell of a boss, huh? Anyway. That match. Hard to put into words, really. And I'd only listened to it. But Jim and Farrah's banter kept everyone appraised of the action, and in glorious detail. Good job for them. Not so good job for Kuroda and Sørely. In short? They sucked. Karen was way off, and it apparently showed. Don't get me wrong. I don't draw that conclusion from some video I saw of it later. I've heard Jim and Farrah announce and comment on matches for a long time. You get a feel for how things go, seeing how it is and hearing how they talk about it. And Jim's good, make no mistake. But an almost undetectable strain comes into his voice when it sucks. As if he's trying really hard to make something better than he damn well knows it is. Which happened to be just what he was doing. And Farrah? She gets a sort of sarcastic tone that can be pretty hard to miss. Still, Farrah's sarcastic commentary damn near stole the show, breaking Jim up on several occasions, and it really gave that match a leg up. Anyway, Karen blew a lot of spots, both giving and receiving. Kuroda wasn't much better, seemed like. After all, this was her first fight with AAA, and since I hadn't seen her before I'd left, that meant less than a week of training and sparring to get her up to our speed. Or us up to hers. Whatever. The sum total? It sucked. But not as bad as it could have. It had its moments. Like when the crowd, and even Jim and Farrah, were wow'ed by the appearance of none other than Anne Stardust. I know. My jaw dropped too when Jim and Farrah talked that one up. And not only did Anne make an appearance mid-match, [I]she started in managing Sørely[/I]! I kid you not. Anne got right into it, too. The heel manager, looking out for her charge, tripping up Kuroda sometimes literally, and even tripping up Hudson once. That bit actually made me laugh, as apparently Hudson got all indignant and was about to throw Anne out for it, and Anne yells so even the area mikes could hear, "What are you going to do, Ref? Throw me out of my own show?!" Of course, that bit got the fans a little rowdy, and as a result more into the ring action. Got to hand it to her. Anne knows how to play things. Yet despite all Stardust's efforts, Karen still lost. Go figure. Probably to try and give Kuroda a leg up. Would be just like Karen to play it like that. So. The match sucked. Not as bad as it could have, to be sure. And for a rough-around-the-edges Sørely, battling a green-to-Triple-A Kuroda, in the Preshow? Not too bad. Not too bad at all. Found myself wishing I'd been there to see it. No, really. [B][I]Ginko Kuroda defeated Sørely in 6:09 by pinfall.[/I][/B] [B]([COLOR="Red"]E[/COLOR])[/B] Yeah, sure. So this sort of thing can be... I don't know. Addicting? Has to be. Why else would I stop getting ready for my first day of work like an idiot, sit down on my bed, and listen to Triple-A's show? [QUOTE] {[I]Jim Lou Freebush[/I]} "... And what an opening match that was, as these two combatants make their way to the backstage area." {[I]Farrah Hesketh[/I]} "Isn't that the truth, Jim. A match to remember for sure. Say... didn't Sue Danes scoot backstage to get a post-match interview with Ginko Kuroda?" {[I]Jim[/I]} "You know, Farrah, I believe you're right. Let's fire up the Titantron and see if she's set up her camera yet..." {[I]The Titantron comes obediently to life, showing a darkly lit storage area.[/I] {[I]Jim[/I]} "Say... That doesn't look like the backstage..." {[I]Farrah[/I]} "No, it doesn't, Jim. Looks like a storage area off the main lounge or something. See that part of the hall there? Ooooo, and here comes Black Widow!" {[I]Jim[/I]} "Well, that's definitely not the interview we were expecting..." {[I]Farrah, in a conspiratorial tone, rubbing her hands together[/I]} "Oh hush, Jim. Let's listen in anyway!" [/QUOTE] [QUOTE] [CENTER] [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA/Characters/100x100s/BlackWidow.jpg[/IMG] [/CENTER] {[I]The camera pans, tracking Black Widow through the storage area, apparently on her way to somewhere. She is interrupted by a dark figure, hard to make out in the dim light, who steps out from behind some stacks of boxes right in front of Widow.[/I]} {[I]Unknown Worker[/I]} "My my! I spy with my little eye... [B]*giggle*[/B] Is that the illustrious, infamous, deadly and [I]horridly[/I] malevolent Black Widow?!" {[I]Black Widow rolls her eyes, folds her arms, and looks very unimpressed[/I]} "Flattery will get you nowhere. Who the hell are you, anyway?" {[I]Black Widow bends, turns and looks, trying to see.[/I]} {[I]The Unknown Person sexily sashays around and turns so she can be seen in better light.[/I]} [CENTER] [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA/Characters/100x100s/KarenKiller_alt.jpg[/IMG] [/CENTER] {[I]Karen Killer[/I]} "Why my darkest, Blackest Widow. Darling! Surely you've heard of [B]me[/B]?! Karen Killer? And I [I]wasn't[/I] trying to flatter you. That would just be too pompous. Pretentious even! It simply wouldn't do for someone of your stature." {[I]Widow[/I]} "Well what the hell do you want, then?" {[I]Killer[/I]} "Why Widow! If I may call you that... No no, I'm here to make you an offer you simply [I]can't[/I] refuse!" {[I]Widow[/I]} "Don't even [B]think[/B] about threatening me." {[I]Killer, giggling gleefully[/I]} "Why Widow! I wouldn't [I]dream[/I] of it! Of course, now that you mention it, you [I]are[/I] pretty much alone..." {[I]Widow, looking around, suddenly ready for attack[/I]} "Brought your goons along, have you?" {[I]Killer, giggling again[/I]} "So you know about them, do you? Yes. I mean no! I didn't bring them, silly. Of course, all alone you wouldn't be any match for them [I]together[/I]! Though I suspect you would surely give them something to remember you by..." {[I]Widow[/I]} "I thought I told you not to threaten me." {[I]Killer, as if she hadn't been interrupted, and growing thoughtful[/I]} "... Yes. You're all alone. Of course, you don't [I]have[/I] to be alone. Why, with me at your back, who [B]knows[/B] what sort of evil mischief you could get into!" {[I]Widow, angry[/I]} "I said don't thr..." {[I]Widow, turning intrigued[/I]} "Ok... keep talking." {[I]Killer, leaning back to laugh with evil glee[/I]} "Perfect, my dear. I just [I][B]love[/B][/I] you! In any event, I'd figured we could, how should we say, 'Team up', you and I. Oh, and Wild Times, of course! I'd thought of it as a sort of... Axis of Evil, but that just sounds too cliché. Passé. [I]Maudlin[/I], even!" {[I]Killer, taking Widow arm-in-arm[/I]} "Now, here's how it'll work out..." {[I]Widow, stopping, jerking Killer up short[/I]} "I never said yes." {[I]Killer, happily[/I]} "Of course not, my dark lovely! That would mean you're too [I]easy[/I], and thus unworthy of my respect! But you're considering it, which is a good thing. And there is [I][B]so[/B][/I] much more for you to consider!" {[I]Killer leads Widow off to discuss things, the conversation fading immediately into inaudibility.[/I]} [/QUOTE] [B][I]Making An Offer[/I][/B] [B]([COLOR="Red"]E[/COLOR])[/B] [QUOTE] {[I]Jim Lou Freebush[/I]} "Well! That certainly was [I]not[/I] Sure Danes' interview!" {[I]Farrah Hesketh[/I]} "You said it, Jim. And... it looks like the camera is following Killer and Widow now... And the two of them break off and go separate ways..." {[I]Jim[/I]} "Hmmm. Might be the end of that, Farrah. Easy come, easy go I believe the saying goes?" {[I]Farrah[/I]} "Don't count your chickens yet, Jim. Killer's coming up on Raven Nightfall!" {[I]Jim[/I]} "Let me guess... We're listening in again?" {[I]Farrah[/I]} "Of course, Jim. Juicy stuff!" {[I]Jim[/I]} "Farrah, you're incorrigible!" {[I]Farrah, grinning[/I]} "Yeah, Jim. I know..." [/QUOTE] [QUOTE] [CENTER] [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA/Characters/100x100s/KarenKiller_alt.jpg[/IMG] [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA/Characters/100x100s/RavenNightfall.jpg[/IMG] [/CENTER] {[I]The camera tracks Karen Killer into a sitting room backstage, where Raven Nightfall is found. Nightfall is sitting on a bench, looking like she's getting ready for a match. Nightfall looks quite glum.[/I]} {[I]Karen Killer, deeply emotional, like a parent to a child[/I]} "Awww...! What's wrong, Sweetheart?!" {[I]Raven Nightfall, getting irritated[/I]} "None of your business. Not that you care." {[I]Killer, approaching Nightfall, all coo's of motherly sympathy[/I]} "Awww... Of [I]course[/I] I care, Raven. Darling!" {[I]Killer, sitting and cuddling close to Nightfall[/I]} "Now tell mommy [I]aaaall[/I] about it..." {[I]Nightfall, pushing Killer away, disgusted[/I]} "Get away from me!" {[I]Killer, aghast[/I]} "My, [I]my[/I]! Did she offend you [I]THAT[/I] much?!" {[I]Killer, brightening, though still sympathetic[/I]} "But of course she did! And I suppose it's only natural for you to take it out on me, when you should in fact be taking it out on [I]her[/I]!" {[I]Nightfall[/I]} "Who are you talking about?" {[I]Killer, condescendingly sympathetic[/I]} "Now let's not play games, Dearest. Why, I speak of none other than the object of your ire, of course! And you well know it, too. She also being the one who's seeing to your downfall, without she even giving you the dignity of her [I]being[/I] here! Not that we should give her the dignity of speaking her [I]name[/I]. That just wouldn't be... dignified!" {[I]Nightfall, slightly less irritated[/I]} "What the hell are you talking about?!" {[I]Killer[/I]} "Why, your [I]opportunity[/I], of course! I mean, even though she's not here, you can still... oh, how shall we say... 'take care of business'?" {[I]Nightfall, hesitating for a second[/I]} "What opportunity?" {[I]Killer[/I]} "Join with [I][B]us[/B][/I] and find out, my Lovely!" {[I]Nightfall, looking crestfallen[/I]} "I think I've had enough for a while." {[I]Killer, giggling[/I]} "Oh no you [I]haven't[/I], my Darkness Dear! You've only just [I]started[/I]!! Of course, you could strike out on your own, but my girls would be sure to... oh, how does that cliche go...? Oh yes! Run you over like so much grass before the lawn mower!" {[I]Nightfall, chuckling[/I]} "You? And Wild Times? I could handle them..." {[I]Killer, with a dramatic sigh of resignation, looking her blood red fingernails over casually[/I]} "Yes, I'm sure you think you could handle the crowd of us, if we were [I]only[/I] Wild Times. But there's more to us than meets the eye, my Lovely Dark One." {[I]Nightfall, hesitant[/I]} "Now look..." {[I]Killer, with surprising, angry venom[/I]} "No, [I]YOU[/I] look, my Darkest Appetizer! If you're not with us, then we'll have no choice but to consider you a toothsome loose end. You're in this [I]far[/I], far deeper than you know..." {[I]Killer, infuriated and yet quiet, darkly threatening[/I]} "... and if you know what's good for you, you'll get in on the ground floor. Or this elevator to the Great Below will [I]crush[/I] you like so much [I][B]meat paste[/B][/I]." {[I]Killer, looking suddenly bemused[/I]} "For Wild Times and I to lap off the floor, of course." {[I]Killer, licking her lips with a longing sigh[/I]} "Ahhhh... A tasty delicacy I should think!" {[I]Killer calms to a sexy, knowing smile with a giggle[/I]} "Now, your time is short, and it is for [I][B]you[/B][/I] to decide. But decide swiftly! No time to waste, as they say. After all, things are moving quite fast. You wouldn't want to get left behind, would you!" {[I]Killer points meaningfully to a doorway leading out to the backstage, as if something were going on.[/I]} {[I]Killer walks away with a sexy sashay and a creepy, gleeful laugh, leaving a suddenly shocked and hessitant Nightfall in her wake.[/I]} [/QUOTE] [B][I]The Ultimatum[/I][/B] [B]([COLOR="Red"]E[/COLOR])[/B] [QUOTE] {[I]The camera follows an uneasy Raven Nightfall as she heads for the doorway and backstage, as if pulled by some irresistible force. Music hits, and Nightfall goes to the curtain, pulling the edge of it asside to look out to the ring...[/I]} {[I]The Titantron image fades, though not completely to black, as Rob Zombie's "Dragula" signals an entrance...[/I]} [CENTER] [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA/Characters/100x100s/DevilsDaughter.jpg[/IMG] [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA/Characters/100x100s/Vixxen.jpg[/IMG] [/CENTER] {[I]The center of the curtains part and Wild Times struts and preens down the ramp to the ring, taking microphones from waiting ring-side attendants and climbing into the ring.[/I]} {[I]Devil's Daughter, from center ring waving enthusiastically[/I]} "F{[I]bleeped out by NPR[/I]} you, Seattle!" ***crowd boos lustily*** {[I]Vixxen slaps DD in the back of her head, causing DD's hair to fly out.[/I]} {[I]DD, laughing[/I]} "Oh. Sorry. I meant... Good evening, Seattle!" ***crowd boos even more lustily*** {[I]Vixxen, chagrinned[/I]} "I think what my partner means to say is, we have an announcement to make!" {[I]DD, indicating Vixxen with a thumb[/I]} "Oh yeah. What [I]she[/I] said." {[I]Vixxen, smiling coyly[/I]} "Ladies and gentlemen, in a delightful turn of events tonight, we are here to announce a new partnership!" {[I]DD, shocked[/I]} "Wait wait wait! You're getting rid of me?! We just got going!" {[I]Vixxen, glancing at DD ruefully[/I]} "No, you idiot. Wild Times will from this point forward be partnered with yet another wrestler, making us an unstoppable force." {[I]DD, nervously relieved and indicating Vixxen with a thumb[/I]} "Oh. Yeah! What [I]she[/I] said!" {[I]Vixxen, smirking[/I]} "So without further adieu, I present our manager, Karen Killer!" {[I]Pyrotechnics spew dark smoke at the curtains, music hits, and Karen Killer and Black Widow emerge to Killer's entrance music, Rob Zombie - "Living Dead Girl". [/I]} {[I]Killer and Widow parade down the ramp and to the ring. Killer takes a microphone from an attendant and climbs into the ring with Widow. Devil's Daughter, Vixxen and Widow promptly hug and begin to carry on like old friends, though Widow keeps an aloof, dangerous air about her.[/I]} {[I]Karen Killer, gleeful as a teen-aged cheerleader[/I]} "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my [I]greatest[/I] pleasure -- and I [I]sincerely[/I] mean that(!) -- to give to you the newest stable of Triple-A... [I]The [B]Heart of Darkness[/B][/I]!!!" {[I]As people in the crowd alternately cheer and boo with enthusiasm, the Heart of Darkness celebrates their happy union. Behind them, Karen Killer leans over backwards so far it's a wonder she doesn't fall over, laughing with maniacal glee.[/I]} [CENTER] [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA/Characters/100x100s/DevilsDaughter.jpg[/IMG] [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA/Characters/100x100s/Vixxen.jpg[/IMG] . [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA/Characters/100x100s/BlackWidow.jpg[/IMG] [SIZE="1"].[/SIZE] [IMG]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f212/NordVolf/TEW%202007/AAA/Characters/100x100s/KarenKiller_alt.jpg[/IMG] [/CENTER] {[I]As the Heart of Darkness celebrates, the Titantron comes back to life, Raven Nightfall still watching the proceedings from the curtain's edge.[/I]} {[I]Raven Nightfall[/I]} "Oh [B]sh[/B]{[I]bleeped out by NPR[/I]}!" [/QUOTE] [B][I]Dark Alliance[/I][/B] [B]([COLOR="Orange"]D[/COLOR])[/B] Should have seen that one coming. The three of them, DD, Vixxen and Widow. Did the alliance thing before, long time ago, in one form or another. But with Killer in the mix... Ok. Weird development. So I pretty much lost Jim and Farrah's going on about how this was a disturbing turn of events, and how it was a turn for the worse for Triple-A. That's because it was pretty disturbing for me too, though I couldn't really say why. Something at the back of my mind just [I]bothered[/I] me. That spot with Raven and Killer. Just who the hell had they been... About then my cell went off, cutting my musings short. "Hey," Cat said as I clicked my cell to life. "You still listenin'?" "Yeah," I replied. Must have seemed a dry reply, since I was still trying to pull up thoughts on how I felt, and why. "Well, nothin' like starting off with the creep-show, huh?" Cat said. She sounded hesitant, as if something were bothering her too. I came to myself, then. "Who were they talking about?" "Huh?" The question flummoxed Cat. "The girl who pissed Nightfall off." "Oh!" Cat replied. "Yeah, got no idea on that one. Got me thinkin' too. But it's somebody who's here tonaht, yet not billed f'r it on the card, that's f'r shore." Cat had her Western on, which meant that at least on the surface she was keeping things cool and collected. That bothered me as well. Because Cat only puts that on as an act when something's bothering her. And she wants to cover it up. "So what is it, Cat?" "Oh, everthang's fahn," Cat replied in full drawl, and I could even 'hear' the smile in her voice. "It's jus' 't Killer gives me th' willies sometahmes, is all. We're all good. An' your girls're [I]fahn[/I]! Ah'm keeping' an eye on 'em. They're gettin' ready f'r their spot later in th' show." "Thanks, Cat," I replied. "Unfortunately, I've got to get ready for work or I'm going to start off being late." "Would'n want that, huh?" Cat said, and I could 'feel' her wicked grin. "But Ah thought you'd already [I]got[/I] ready by th' tahm I'd picked y'r girls up earlier." "Yeah, well..." I hesitated for a second. "I got a little sidetracked." Cat laughed. "Mah fault, Ah'm shore." Her laugh turned to a chuckle. "Listen, y'all have a good one, hear? We're [I]fahn[/I]! No need t' fret." "Thanks, Cat," I replied gratefully. Clicked my cell off as Jim and Farrah signed off with the Preshow's end, and the 'commercial break' for main-show prep filled the radio air with future NPR show announcements and Station Identification. Couldn't help but think, while I returned once again to getting ready for work... This wasn't a TV broadcast like Triple-A would die for. But for radio, limited as it was to Seattle Public Radio, it was turning into quite the production. And despite the fact I wasn't there any more, that fact kind of made me proud. And a little... Well, not homesick. But I found myself missing Triple-A. Just a little. [QUOTE] [U][SIZE="1"]CREDITS:[/SIZE][/U] [U][B]Sørely[/B] - [/U] Picture of Sørely in full Norse regalia rendered by VBigB, done specially for me. "V, I know this debut has been a while in coming, man. But thanks so much. Even after all this time, I'm still extremely grateful!" [/QUOTE]