..|//the following roleplay is politically incorrect and should not be viewed by anyone. ever. it will contain racism, sexism, crude humour, midgets, girl on girl, girl on jew, guy on jew, girl on midget with a jew filming, and possibly even some sex. i am outspoken and could give a fuck less what you think of me, or my work, because i already know it sucks. so go lick a socket and let me suck in peace.
./scene 1\. __false hope and scrambled eggs
Jalie was jerked back to the moment when the secretary stopped her typing. The sudden silence made her increasingly nervous about what was to come. Damned court ordered therapy sessions. “These things never go well…” She thought with a sigh. Seth was waiting in his black Cadillac Escalade in the parking lot. For all her tough exterior, it was times like these that made her fully realize how much she really did depend on him. The fact frightened her. Her therapist was new. The last woman had needed to ‘lighten her clientele’, which meant passing Jalie’s case to someone with less preconceptions of Jalie’s situation. In other words, someone blissfully ignorant.
“Julie? Julie Thomas?” The psychotherapist called softly from the door to her office. Jalie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and plastered a smile on her face.
“Sure, lets go with that…” She muttered as she stood. The doctor led her inside and motioned for her to take a seat. No cliché couches here. It looked more like the office of an elementary school counselor. Brightly colored pencils sat in a mug on the desk that read “Bad Hare Day”, with a photo print of a fuzzy rabbit. The walls were covered with inspirational posters of all shapes and sizes, all bearing the universal message of love and acceptance, and the power to better yourself. Fake flowers were placed in terra cotta pots on nearly every surface. “Bad feng shui…” Jalie noted. She took a seat in a blue padded chair, the wooden arms bare and uncomfortable. To her right was the age-old poster of a kitten, with the words “Hang in there!” printed above it. Jalie cringed. She couldn’t help but notice that the kitten looked like it would love nothing more than to suffer a quick but immediate death. The pleading in it’s black little eyes was unnerving.
“I must admit your file is most unusual. I am very sorry, of course… I mean, to have suffered so much… And you’re so young. I think, however, that the key to helping you cope is to remember. Now I know, that’s what you’ve been trying not to do for the past several years, but I do think it’s necessary. Grief is only human. What happened to you after your hospitalization is another story, and we’ll get to that in time. First off, why don’t you tell me how you met Robert?”
Silence followed, though not awkward. Jalie was remembering, choosing her words… As a therapist it was her job to recognize and respect this. With a deep breath Jalie forced herself to look away from the poster and focus her attention on the mug while she spoke.
“Uhm, he delivered pizza. To my dads shop, I mean. My dad had a radiator shop for years until he finally retired and turned it over to my uncle. I had worked there since I was little, cleaning parts, doing tune-ups and minor stuff. The guys said I was their little elf, since my hands were so small I could fit just about anywhere. When I got older I was doing everything that they did. We ordered pizza for lunch a few times a week, until the place we got it from went out of business. So we tried uhm… Allegretti’s Pies and Calzones. The calzones were their specialty. I was about fifteen then, but mature for my age. Anyway, Robert was the only delivery guy his dad’s business had, but he didn’t have his drivers license yet because he couldn’t pass the test. So he delivered pizzas on his bike, and they never got cold. Nobody knew how he did it. He was seventeen then. He had the softest dark brown hair… Brown eyes… He was about six foot even. No matter how often he shaved he had a permanent five o’clock shadow. We liked each other, of course… My dad thought that if I went with Robert that he might get free pizza. Everything was perfect. My parents loved him, especially my mom. About a month after we met he was living with me at my parents. We shared the basement. Those were probably some of the happiest times of my life. I rarely think about them now…”
Jalie trailed off. She had a faint smile on her face with the rush of memory.
“These are the times you should remember when you think of Robert. So tell me Julie, how did you come to be engaged?”
“Well, I had just turned sixteen. I was working late at the shop. Gods, I remember it like it was yesterday. Robert came to the office door in his delivery jacket, hat, and carrying a pizza. When I opened the door he said he had a delivery for a ‘Mrs. Allegretti’. He flipped open the pizza box and by now I was totally confused. But in the middle of the pizza, among all my favorite toppings, was a cheap little engagement ring. It all just sort of clicks once you see the ring, you know… It was a head rush. I was hot, cold… I could see everything and nothing all at the same time.”
Jalie paused, inwardly laughing at how corny she sounded. But for once, it felt good to talk about it.
“I said yes of course. We had a uh, intimate moment in a Cadillac deVille that was in the shop… That was when I got pregnant.”
She blinked, pushing the rush of thoughts back and focusing on where she was at.
“Everything happened really fast. We got married in a little non-denominational church in Palm Springs. My parents gave us all kinds of baby things as wedding presents. My dad was hoping for a grandson along with Robert and his dad… My mom and I wanted a girl. His mom was so ecstatic she didn’t have a preference. We went home with bags full of beautiful baby clothes and blankets… Some handmade that had been passed down generation to generation. I felt like my life didn’t exist before I met Robert; before I got pregnant. Nothing from my past mattered anymore. I’d never known happiness like this. Pure happiness… An acceptance that hardships would inevitably come, but with my husband, and my baby, you know… We’d get through it. Together. Always.”
“That’s beautiful, Julie. You are very blessed to have had them in your life, you know that?” The doctor looked at Jalie inquisitively.
“Hmm, yes…” Jalie smiled. “…Or cursed.”
“Let’s keep going for right now. You came home, blissful and full of hope for the future. Let’s hear what this adorable Robert followed up with, hmm?”
“False hope is the three-fold dark side to faith, doctor.” Jalie said softly. The doctor remained passive, smiling. Jalie supposed this was her cue to continue.
“Rob had family in New York City. I’d always wanted to go there. His uncle owned a restaurant in the Bronx. It wasn’t fancy by any means, or health department certified… Or clean. But supposedly he made the best spaghetti in the family, which I guess was highly debated and often challenged. Anyway, both our families pitched in and got us a bus ticket to New York. Rob had money saved up and booked us a motel room for the week we were gonna be there. It was a big deal to us then, even though it seems silly now. We shared our first night of our honeymoon on a lumpy mattress in a mediocre motel room, and it was amazing. Robert could have made our bed in a dumpster and made it look five star. We ordered pizza, which wasn’t as good as his dads, but that was only another bragging point for him. Cheap wine topped off the night. We shared a bubble bath, which was nice because my parents house never had a tub. We settled into bed… And, I can remember everything. The stubble on his cheek, the faint smell of his aftershave, the soft flannel pajama set he wore every night… Running my fingers through his hair while he rested his head on my stomach. I wasn’t far along, but he swore he could hear the baby’s heartbeat along with mine. We were both tired from the trip. After a while he laid beside me, wrapping his arms around me. I’d never felt safer. As I fell asleep I could hear him singing to me. ‘Goodnight Irene’ was our little nightly routine. Robert always had a terrible singing voice, but that night he sang beautifully. Or at least it seemed that way. He kissed my forehead… And, that’s the last thing I remember. I remember it all, because that was the last night that Robert sang me and our child to sleep.”
More silence. A simple, understated silence. Softly broken by the quiet sobs of our dear doctor.
“I’m assuming, that from my case file you’ve determined what happened following that last night… The series of events that led to these sessions?” Jalie assumed.
The therapist nodded, pulling a Kleenex from the box on her desk. She moved to offer Jalie one, only to find there wasn’t a tear in her eyes.
“Time’s up, Doc. I doubt I’ll be seeing you. I think you know now that no amount of psychobabble is going to change what happened to my family. You go on, cure the molested kids and the emo kids with daddy issues. Help the depressed husband get through his divorce and his social anxiety. You do that. And I hope that you do make a difference. But not here. Not with me. You cannot help me.“
Jalie stood and left the office quietly. Once outside the secretary’s typing returned in full force.
“Would you like to go ahead and schedule next months appointment Miss Dumas?” The secretary looked up at her, sounding far more cheery than was necessary. A tearing sound and frustrated shouts were now coming from the office. The secretary peeked inside to see the therapist ripping down the multitude of inspirational posters. She was currently tearing the kitten in half.
“What the hell is she doing?!”
Jalie smirked. “Let’s call it re-decorating.”
She picked up her bag from the waiting room chair and slung it over her shoulder. Outside the building, Seth had pulled up in front of the door in the Escalade. “You Sexy Thing” by Hot Chocolate was booming funky beats out of the sub system in the back. Seth knew these sessions never boded well for her mood, so he did his best. He got out and went around to the passenger side, opening the door for her and singing along.
“I believe in miracles!… Where ya from? You sexy thing, sexy thing you…”
Jalie climbed in with a smile. Seth got in and continued his karaoke. They left the parking lot and he turned the volume down.
“Well? Everything go alright? Nobody left in a body bag? Broken property I’m gonna have to pay for?”
Jalie smiled. “No, nothing like that. She wasn’t as presumptuous as the ones in the past. I think we understood each other pretty well.”
“Well that’s good. Quite an improvement. I’m proud of you, babe. When’s your next appointment?”
“There isn’t one.” Jalie said simply.
“…Oh. Well then. Hey, how ‘bout a pizza, babe?”
“No thanks. No one here makes pizza like they used to.” Flatly, Jalie sighed.
“Alright, well we’ll head home and I’ll make some genuine Canadian cuisine, how’s that sound? You know, scrambled eggs with cheese. Maybe some toast and a glass of fruit punch.”
Jalie smirked, batting her eyes away.
“Come onnnn. I’ll even put the fruit punch in your my little pony cup. The one you usually make your screwdrivers in. In fact… I’ll even add a little vodka.” Seth winked at her with the finish of his sentence.
“You had me at scrambled eggs…” Jalie informed him, grinning. Seth reached over and put his free arm around her shoulders. Jalie noted the stubble on his cheeks… The smell of his Irish spring deodorant… His soft blonde hair. His crystal blue eyes and the affection shining in them. Ye gods, she loved him. So much, sometimes it frightened her.
..|//dos. : What do you get when you combine bi-polarity, eccentricity, and a huge dose of sex appeal? Why, the ladies of Wicked Intentions of course. Our scene opens up to the familiar Circle K in Yucca Valley, California. Jalie Thomas was stretched out long ways across the open tailgate of her El Camino. Her white ‘deVille’ t-shirt ended just below her navel, baring skin scandalously low to where her boxers peeked out above the waist-line of her jeans. A white and black bandana to match her shirt was wrapped around her head and tied in a tri-knot at the back. She looked like a token cholo hottie. Cyprus was drawing on the parking lot asphalt with sidewalk chalk. Jalie thought it was a row of babies on spikes. Or maybe it was just because her view was upside down. Cy adjusted, lifting her short purple skirt to plant her ass on the ground. She adjusted her breasts in her low-cut black halter top and leaned back over to continue drawing. Someone was barely visible in the drivers seat of the el Camino, fiddling with the radio dials. She finally figured it out and the sub woofers kicked into thumping action. NWA’s cover of ‘Express Yourself’ was vibrating the rims on the car. The mystery DJ stepped out of the car and shut the door. She was none other than the sister of Jalie and Cyprus, AWA’s own Brandi James. Compared to the other two she looked like she just stepped out of a department store catalog. Whereas most of what Cy and Lie owned was from a secondhand store, everything Brandi had on was designer brand name. It sickened Jalie, of course. But that was the only thing that set Brandi apart from her two friends. Each of them had a slushie placed nearby. Brandi was sipping on hers intently until she cringed with an obvious brain freeze.
“Hey, where’s the tyke?” Jalie questioned, noticing the absence of incoherent gurgling noises.
“Jamie has him.” Brandi answered, rubbing her temples. A lesson not so well earned as she went straight back for the straw.
“Funny, we benefit from you having a lackey too in the fact that we don’t have to baby-sit.” Cyprus noted.
Brandi cringed again, though not at her brain freeze. “No, you don’t. And that is because I don’t want him introduced to hookers as a toddler. Or used as a demonstration on the different effects JD and Yukon will have on a baby, respectively… Jalie…“
“Oh for fuck sakes, it was ONE time! You should be proud the little bastard can hold his liquor. He must get that from Josh, cause I know Rick sure as hell can’t.”
This derived a round of giggles from all three.
“Hey, go easy on the guy. I mean, his IQ is equal to that of a goldfish. Not to mention he’s balding. And impotent.” Jalie said matter-of-factly.
“Hey, now. Ease up a little bit, alright? I mean there’s no reason to go insulting goldfish. I used to have one.” Cyprus objected.
“Right, right. I apologize…”
By now, Brandi was in a fit of giggles, combined with the searing headache she was getting from her slushie.
“You know, I bet if he was on the juice, he might actually have somewhat of a fucking personality. Thing is, he probably doesn’t have cajones enough for the fucking injection…” Jalie surmised.
Brandi sat down on the asphalt beside Cyprus and grabbed some chalk, not giving a shit about the condition of her designer wear.
“Or he’s nervous about the steroids decreasing what sad excuse he had for a dick in the first place…” Cyprus said, not looking up from her drawing. The girls nodded in silent agreement.
The topic of Rick exhausted, Jalie finally stood up and stretched.
“Beer run. I’ll return.”
Jalie took her cocky stride into the store to be confronted by the angry middle eastern man occupying the cash register.
“I told you, no more come in here!” He rattled off, half of which Jalie understood.
“I know, I know Hasheesh, I come in here more… I get it. You enjoy my company. You don‘t gotta yell about it, man.”
She wandered to the back and pulled three bottles of Corona from a six pack. Returning to the counter, the clerk was fuming. She placed four singles on the counter.
“Keep the change, bro. That’ll like, buy you a condo in your homeland or something, right?”
Angrily, the clerk mashed the button on the register and took the money.
“Go have a burrito, you fucking wetback!” He spat.
“Maybe later, but I appreciate the offer.” Jalie walked out with a smile.
Cyprus and Brandi were now engaged in a fierce session of Hangman. Brandi was on the noose with only two arms left. The word was ridiculously long for a child’s game.
“…Uh… Q?” Brandi guessed through clenched teeth. Cyprus laughed maniacally and drew on another arm, to Brandi’s horror. Jalie set the beers down and whispered in Brandi’s ear.
“What the… Subpoena?” Brandi guess. Cyprus looked dumbfounded, but proceeded to write it out.
“Where the hell did you come up with that?” Brandi asked, taking the beer Jalie handed her.
“I saw it in a pile of Jalie’s old mail.” Cyprus confessed.
Both of them looked at Jalie curiously.
“What? That was from like two months ago!”
Brandi shrugged. Cyprus started drawing out another game of hangman but was interrupted when Seth’s black Escalade pulled into the parking lot beside them. Seth rolled the windows down to holler at the three of them. Jay was buckled into the back seat, looking like a five year old that definitely did not get his way.
“So are you three fine young things accompanying us to this club or are we flying solo?” Seth called out.
The girls jumped up excitedly. Jalie pulled Jay out of the backseat and gave him the keys to the El Camino. He went to go to the car, but she stopped him.
“If you harm my car, AT ALL… You will beg for death before I’m finished with you.” Jalie’s death stare turned into a happy grin. “See ya at the house!”
..tres|// pre-ppv party
“Ohhh fuckin right baby, check this shit out!” Seth was grinning from ear to ear. Scattered about the living room were several of their friends, all prepared to go to the grand opening of a new night club in Palm Springs. It wasn’t usually Jalie’s thing, but she felt more open following her therapy session, however brief it was. Seth licked his lips, watching as Jalie came into the living room. Her attire had changed considerably. Her black knee-high combat boots remained the same. She had on an extremely short black mini skirt over fishnet stockings, bound at the waist with a number of chains and a dangling pair of fully functional handcuffs. Her top was a red Seth Thomas “Satisfaction in Action” t-shirt, pulled tight at her midriff and artfully torn for maximum cleavage. She wore her hair down loose; something she hadn’t done in months. Seth put his arms around her and bit his lower lip.
“Now THAT, is what I call advertising.” He said.
Cyprus and Brandi came in from the kitchen, each of them already changed for the night. Brandi’s was a classy white mini skirt and matching halter. Cyprus didn’t look much different, beyond the fact that she’d painted her face with detailed little stars of every color available.
“Aright ladies, lets roll.” Seth ordered, leading Jalie out the front door and to the Cadillac. He opened the door and lifted her in. This was both a loving realization of the difficulties of her short stature, and a cheap excuse to check out her petite black g-string. But hey, that’s what being a husband is all about.
…later that evening.
Indistinguishable club music was thumping through the black-lit party. Hobo Nick had already taken a hit of ecstasy and was wrapped around one of the dancing poles. The stripper he interrupted was placing singles in the waistband of his tightie whities. Seth and company had an upstairs table overlooking the crowd below. The upstairs bar was reasonably more private. Seth sat back, sipping Bacardi and watching the girls giggling. As Cy and Brandi developed a conversation, Jalie leaned forward and looked at Seth with pure adoration.
“So how’s it feel to have the group back together, Mister Thomas?” She asked, her voice barely more than a contented purr.
“It feels like a revolution.” Seth said slyly. “Wicked Intentions is alive and kicking.”
“Hell yeah. Kicking and screaming.” Jalie added.
“And moaning. Moaning’s good too.” Cyprus offered. Jalie giggled.
“We’re well aware you’re an excellent moaner, Cy.”
“First-hand.” Cyprus added, a sly grin crossing her starry features.
Jalie smiled and leaned in for a kiss. The two of them soon became occupied with each other. Brandi smirked.
“You want another drink, Seth? I’m headed up there.”
“Yeah. Jack and Sprite. Thanks B.”
“No problem.”
Brandi made her way to the bar as Seth leaned back in his seat. Jalie’s hand had snaked underneath Cyprus’ skirt, and it appeared Cy was soon to return the favor. Despite the music their moans were heard by several surrounding males. Seth knew that with him there none of them would be stupid enough to bother the girls. Utterly nonchalant, Seth placed his boots on the table and finished his Bacardi. Things were looking good, not only for him, but everyone that mattered to him as well.
“Ohhhh FUCK!”
Truth be told, he was pretty happy. Granted, he had his own personal issues to deal with… But that would always be there. Right now he had his career. Bigger and better things ahead. He had his undeniably desirable wife…
“Unh, harder… Ooh just like that…”
And of course, wealth. Primed for an impact, Wicked’s motley crew was locked and loaded.
………
“Oh for fuck sakes… NICK! Put out that fire RIGHT now!”
The sprinkler system kicked into action, soaking everyone from head to toe. Seth slammed his glass down onto the table.
“Fucking bum.”
Christian likes to think that despite fact proving that I am better than him, in every way imaginable, that somehow things have changed. That he can beat me now. My ass. The kids just looking for excuses not to suck this time. He can’t very well go out there and say, ‘Well, I’m going to get my ass handed to me. Again. See ya next week!’
It doesn’t bode well for merchandise sales. If he had any to begin with. Again, doubtful. His publicist must wanna fucking off himself. The guy didn’t even think before speaking. In this day and age, thought before action is a rare commodity anyway. He wants to try and throw it in me and Cy’s faces that we’re just a team staff threw together. Cyprus and I go together like corona and lime, you fucking assbag. Had you bothered to find out the slightest thing about me, you’d note that she’s been involved in my life for YEARS. The way you talk makes it seem like we haven’t even fucking met each other. Get a clue. Me and Cy are the epitome of tag team. Inside or out of wrestling. What the fuck do you and Calli have? A schoolgirl crush and you wanting to bone her? Dude, even CALLISTO is out of your league, and that is a sad truth indeed.
As for the lady friend, well, it’s unfortunate she had to be involved. You two are unimportant when it comes to the grand scheme of things. The scheme… Sort of a, mad scientist theory of AWA evolution that Wicked Intentions has developed. We’re not taking over. We’re just letting it be known that we are fucking dominant. Period. You and Barrows have held the tag titles for one reason. Cyprus and I did not want them yet. We didn’t care for them. Had we decided to end your reign earlier, it would have been done. Trust me. So instead of getting all bitchy and upset, just remember the good times you had, feeling like you were hot shit. It’s time to take the back burner kids, and just accept it. Step the fuck off, mind your mouth, and let this go down easy. Because, let’s face it…
Hospital food tastes like shit.
Until next time…
This has been one FucKKeD up production.