In the driveway in front of the Thomas’ household, Jalie’s El Camino was parked. A grease-covered tool box was placed on the cement beside it. Jalie’s legs could be seen sticking out from underneath. The camera zoomed in and lowered until her face was clearly visible. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and she had a few smudges of grease on her forehead. Not to mention several spots on her once-white t-shirt. She had an old black stereo placed beside her toolbox that was playing Type O Negative’s October Rust album. Jalie fumbled beside her for her ¾ wrench when Seth rolled up beside her beneath the car. She blinked, looking at him in confusion.
“Can I help you?” She asked.
“Possibly. Have you seen my satin boxers with the Captain Morgan logo?” He asked.
Jalie nodded. “I’m wearing them.” She said simply.
“Ah. Well then…” Seth mumbled. He slid back out from under the car and went back inside. Mere minutes later Jay slid in beside her. Her hand slipped and smacked the under-carriage. Transmission fluid started leaking onto Jay’s face, making him groan.
“God fucking damn it!” Jalie cursed. Jay had obviously forgotten what he came for in his haste to slip out from beneath her vehicle. Remembering Seth’s complaints of oil leaking onto the driveway, Jalie grabbed her iced tea glass and placed it beneath the leak. When Hobo Nick took Jay’s place by rolling up beside her, Jalie was on the very edge of her temper. Although to be honest, that really doesn’t take much effort.
“What’re you doing?” Nick asked curiously.
“I was fixing a rattle… But now I’m leaking transmission fluid.”
Nick’s eyes widened. “How can you be leaking transmission fluid?” He asked.
“Not me, dumbass, the car.”
“Right. I knew that.” Nick trailed off. When he finally realized she wasn’t in a mood for conversation, he slid out from under the car. Before leaving her grabbed her iced tea and took a drink. Jalie started to stop him but decided he rather deserved it. He coughed, sputtered, and gulped. “That’s some good shit…“ He noted. He hadn’t been gone thirty seconds when the creeper was rolled under the El Camino yet again, but this time, it was Shane Adams lying on top of it and holding a small tape recorder. Once he was within reach Jalie smacked him on the top of the head with her wrench.
“WHAT IS IT NOW?!” She demanded. When she saw it was Adams this only infuriated her further.
“Well,” he began, rubbing the sore spot on his head, “it occurred to me that you’ve only ever had one live interview, and it only lasted like two minutes. So I thought I would take the, er, liberty of coming to meet you myself.”
“No one else would come, would they?”
“…No.” Shane admitted.
“Pedophile.” Jalie muttered.
“…What?” Shane asked, bewildered.
“I didn’t say anything.”
Jalie looked at him as if he was mad.
“Right… Well, it’s no secret that you aren’t interested in championships but-”
“Necrophiliac.”
“……Huh?”
“I didn’t say anything, dude.” Jalie told him, again giving him the impression that his hearing as off.
“Okay. Eh, anyway I was saying since you’re not interested in titles, how are you feeling about being booked for the Chaosweight championship? Any thoughts as to-”
“Skankmuffin.”
“Okay what the fuck, man?!” Shane demanded. Jalie’s eyes widened as she looked affronted.
“You can’t even ask me a full question, and then you start cussing at me? What the hell is your problem? I’m only trying to help you get your interview…” Jalie pouted.
“I’m sorry, really.. I don’t know what happened there.” Shane apologized, feeling like a piece of shit when her eyes glistened with tears.
“I’ll leave this at one question so I can let you get back to work. Uhm, if you were to win the title what do you plan on doing with it? You could always forfeit it.”
“Or I could burn it. Or throw it into the Pacific ocean. Or… Hmm… Pawn it.” Jalie appeared to be carefully considering this last option.
“But don’t you think Max Williams would be a little upset about the loss of one of his championship belts?”
“Oh don’t be such a pussy, Shane. He can afford to have a new one made. Besides, I doubt anyone will even notice it’s gone.”
“I suppose, if you say so. Well, thanks Jalie for giving me your time and-”
“Pehhhhh-doooooohhhh-fiiiiiiile.” Jalie whispered.
Shane yelled in frustration and forced himself out from under the car, muttering under his breath. Jalie smiled, happy with the fact that she had successfully ruined Adams’ day. But it could have been worse. She’s been known to run certain reporters down with her car. All in all, she was satisfied for the day.
That’s right, nothing. Not a damn thing.
I play by my own rules, and I am a motherfucking goddess.
This kid is just like any other scrawny bastard that has delusions of grandeur for this business. They wanna be a legend… They grew up idolizing Hulk Hogan, for fuck sakes. That is not a champion. You know what happens to people like that? They end up working nine to five at Wal-Mart. The closest they’ll ever come to legendary status is employee of the month.
Every time I see this kid I think of a midget with a college degree. Why? Because, sure, he may have one or two decent accomplishments under his belt, but that doesn’t make him worth shit. He talks big, likes to make himself seem important. But when it comes down to it, some bitch like me is still gonna turn up one day and punt him through a fucking windshield. Why exactly would I kick a midget through a windshield?
Because midgets talk shit.
And that’s all there is to it.