Post by Bonnie Blue on Feb 13, 2018 20:45:30 GMT -5
On the set of Martha & Snoop's Potluck Dinner Party, the hosts of the show stand at their respective kitchen islands, each wearing matching aprons shaped like hearts, in lurid shades of red and pink, trimmed with white lace. Snoop Dogg grins at the camera.
Snoop Dogg: Ayy, yo! Thanks for joining us for a very special Valentine's Day webisizzle -- and I do mean SIZZLE as we welcome our first celebrity guest! She's a professional wrestling superstar, an advocate for gender equality, a cannabis activist, and has just signed an endorsement deal with Arctic Fox Hair Color; as the Commodores would say, she's a brick house, she mighty-mighty. So put yo' hands together for the one, the only.... BONNIE BLUE!
Rihanna's "Same Ol' Mistakes" hits the speakers as Bonnie Blue saunters out from the back and crosses the stage, first to trade an air kiss with Martha Stewart; then to engage Snoop in a complicated, multi-stage handshake that ends with a fist bump and a quick, friendly hug.
Martha Stewart: Welcome, Bonnie! We know you've got a busy schedule, so thanks for joining us.
Bonnie beams at Martha, then turns the full force of that smile on the camera.
Bonnie Blue: Happy to be here, Martha! I gotta say, I been lookin' forward to this for months now, it was so hard not to say a word to anyone. Y'all fixin' to teach me how to make some of them special brownies?
The young woman winks, and everybody shares a polite laugh.
Bonnie Blue: Real talk, though, I might need 'em. I oughta have somethin' to give Mr. Hayze as a sorta consolation prize -- for when I take that Hardcore Title he's so damn proud of off his waist!
Snoop Dogg: OH! Right out the gate with the fire! Tell me 'bout it, girl!
Bonnie Blue: Aw, that ain't the fire, yet. That's just the spark gonna light the flame. But yeah, man, I got word about this week's card an' it was like deja vu all over again, ya know what I'm sayin'? Bonnie Blue versus Leon "Purple" Hayze -- only this time with that belt on the line, ya dig?
Snoop Dogg: I feel ya.
Bonnie Blue: Yeah. So this guy, Hayze, right? Condescenin'-ass motherfucker. Tellin' me that beatin' his ass somehow elevates me, like I'm some green rookie off the streets, an' not a multiple time champion. Then tryin' to spin some nonsense about viewin' me as on a par with the Odin Balfores of the world, an' it's like -- make up your mind, bruh. I know you stoned, but Jam Willy, you can't even follow a single train of thought! This nilla be tellin' me the same shit everybody else do, I shouldn't be upset that I lost to Odin Balfore -- an' that, by itself, outta context -- that's true enough. He don't seem to get the implication beyond that. I was up on that pedestal. I was under consideration for World Title contention.
Now, though? Well, now ya girl got real work to do. I gotta take this title ain't nobody got respect for, this joke of a fuckin' hardcore belt, this strap Leon Hayze clings to like it's a big deal when he ain't done shit to promote it -- an' I gotta make it worth somethin'. Worth winnin'.
An' along the way, this young goddess right here gonna teach a mortal man some Ar-Ee-Ess-Pee-Ee-SEA-Tee -- RESPECT, brother!
Martha Stewart: Preach it, girl!
Bonnie Blue: Yes. Oh, YES -- Bonnie Blue comin' for that Hardcore belt, an' my man, I am gonna make that gold SHINE! Y'all feel me?
Snoop Dogg: DAMN right!
Bonnie Blue: Damn right, indeed! An' lemme tell y'all somethin' else -- I hope you listenin' to me right now, Leon Hayze! You do NOT get to talk to me like my best days are behind me! I ain't the one who's forty an' still lookin' for that "one last shot" at the Big Time! I done told you, but I'll say it again, since you was too stoned to pay attention. I built an' carried a whole company on my own two shoulders for a year an' a half! I was the one puttin' in all the hard work. First to the gym every mornin', last out at night; puttin' the ring together before shows, stayin' until it was on the truck at night. I have paid my goddamn dues, so don't dare talk down to me like I'm some arrogant little shit demandin' things I ain't earned!
Whatever diff'rences of opinion I may have with management an' staff, Dubya-SEA-Eff is an' always will be my home! What are you, Leon, but another drifter? Hangin' around while it's convenient, passin' through soon as ya get bored. Short term prospect, at best. Novelty act.
But you wanna say that beatin' you is somethin' that would elevate my status? Nilla, please! I been wreckin' cucks like you since I was barely out of a trainin' bra. This rematch? I bet you reckon this so you can reclaim the balls I took when I put your dank ass down for the one-two-three, but sugar, you better be rethinkin' that. This is an oversight bein' corrected. I'll be takin' that shiny thing I shoulda walked out with after I bodied you on Sunday night, ya dig?
Just as the Daughter of Time pauses to gather her thoughts, Snoop Dogg holds up a hand.
Snoop Dogg: Hold up, girl -- man, we ain't even started cookin' yet, an' this kitchen already full of heat! Anyway, we gotta take a commercial break real fast, yo. When we come back, musical guest George Clinton joins us for canapes and cannabis! Stay right there, y'all!
The cast and crew filed out of Paramount's Stage 26, some milling around the backlot, some rushing on to the next stage, while still others climbed aboard golf carts and were driven to destinations unknown. It didn't take long for the lot to clear out, leaving Bonnie Blue alone with Snoop Dogg and George Clinton. She fished a blunt out of her pocket and handed it to Snoop.
"You wanna do the honors, man?" she asked.
He shook his head, then deferentially passed the blunt to Clinton, who took it and examined it thoroughly. He sniffed the pungent aroma, felt the tack of resin, and smile approvingly as he put it between his lips and struck a lighter. The end glowed bright, momentarily outshining even the red-orange of the setting sun.
Snoop took it next, inhaling long and with an appreciative expression on his face. Then, with a nod, he passed it back to Bonnie.
"That was one of the best tapings we've done all season," he said. "I never seen nobody shoot on a cooking show before, damn!"
The young woman hit the blunt and eyed him for a moment, then nodded.
"I try to keep it fresh, y'know?" she said.
"You be doin' that," Snoop told her. "Girl you about the realest, uh, nilla there is in the Dub to the SEA to the Eff!"
"Aw, yeah, you know that's right Dee-Oh-Double-Gee! I'm 'bout it -- whether that means I'm up in that main event picture, or down in that midcard; fightin' for the right to claim the big shiny, or murkin' a scrub for the fun of it; or anything in between -- you know the #DeepBlueSea gonna rise up an' drown a bitch!"
"Damn, girl. You ain't got no chill."
"Not when I'm on the hunt for gold, I ain't. It may not be the World Title shot I was hopin' for, but it's more'n what I had; an' in my hands -- around my waist -- that Hardcore Title gonna be the next best thing. All I gotta do is get past Leon Hayze again. I know, I know: it's hardcore rules, there's gonna be weapons, an' poor ol' Leon just realize yet, that's where I shine. Then again, Hayze ain't what you'd call the brightest bulb in the drawer. He's one of them stoners makes the rest of us look like morons just 'cause he likes to get high an' act a fool. I mean, what d'ya expect from a dude who calls his fans... 'Hayze Crazers', I shit y'all not."
Briefly forgotten by Snoop and Bonnie as they got their conversation on, the bedreaded George Clinton quietly puffed on the blunt and observed the interplay, smiling to himself enigmatically.
"That's, uh... "
"Well, I wasn't gonna criticise," Snoop replied, shrugging.
"I dunno. Maybe if I grew up smokin' weed at Haight-Ashbury durin' the Summer of Love it would be funnier. Maybe... what I need is a catchy name for Bonnie Blue fans! Hang on, I think I got it! We'll call 'em -- "
Everyone present saw it coming, but couldn't do a damn thing to stop the terrible pun.
" -- Blue Ballers!" Bonnie finished, grinning proudly.
Snoop shook his head, while George Clinton chuckled softly.
"I dig it," he said. "It indicates that a Bonnie Blue fan can't quite get enough, that you always leave them wanting more. And isn't that the truth of it?"
Bonnie accepted the neglected blunt and relit it, brow furrowed in thought.
"Huh. Y'know, I could kinda see it on a T-shirt," she speculated, passing the blunt.
"Me, too," Snoop agreed. "Make it like a baseball or basketball jersey, though!"
"Even better! All right, Blue Ballers jerseys. I'll see if I can get that past the suits. Anyway... what were we talkin' about?"
"Your imminent triumph over the Hardcore Champion," the musician said. "And the lengths to which you will go to secure it."
"That's my cue to make like a banana," said Snoop, handing the blunt back to Bonnie. "And leaf. Catch you on the flipside, Double-B. Peace, y'all!"
With a hasty peace sign gesture, Snoop quits the scene. Bonnie drags long and thoughtfully on the blunt, then hands it over to Clinton.
"That was subtle," she observed wryly.
"Hush, child," chided the musician. "You can turn off the smart-assery for now."
"A'ight, bruh. We cool. What's up?"
"How far are you willing to go to obtain that WCF Hardcore belt, Bonnie?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I mean... It's right in the name. HARDcore."
Clinton raised a meaningful eyebrow. "Horrorkore?"
It was all she could do to suppress a shiver. Not like that. Never like that. But, then again... Images flashed through her mind in a confusing tangle of things half-remembered, a dream glimpsed through another's eyes; passion -- fingernails digging in to tear long gashes in flesh neither dead nor truly alive; a heartbeat, a pulse, heavy breathing -- whose? Eyes; narrowed, yellow eyes boring into hers. A gasp, a sensation -- pain or pleasure? No, not her own. Ruby...
In the shock of realization, Bonnie Blue glanced up at George Clinton, who recoiled -- ever-so-slightly. Then, he leaned forward, expectation written all over his face.
"Horrorkore?" Bonnie repeated. She shook her head. "No. Not that far."
"Mmm," murmured the musician, leaning back as he took another puff from the blunt. "Tsk, tsk. Just too bad."
"What d'ya mean?"
"You think you've pushed boundaries, Miss Bonnie, and you have -- it's true. But there are limits yet to discover and exceed. However... if you are unwilling to do what it takes to get where you want to go, then I cannot help you."
"I just dunno if that's the way to go about -- "
"I mean, even if I could tap into that well, do I want to? That's a force of nature; it can't be controlled," Bonnie protested.
"Neither can Creeping Death, and yet..." he trailed off, giving Bonnie another pointed look.
It was true, then. She'd heard the rumors. Seen the reports her artificial intelligence -- R-Seven -- had shown her. But Bonnie Blue hadn't believed, didn't want to believe. Why would anybody set that abomination loose again?
"What're ya gettin' at, Mr. C?" Bonnie whispered, afraid already that she knew what direction the conversation would turn.
"You have to contain it, Bonnie," George Clinton told her. "Other Parlaiment assets are otherwise committed. None of them are nearly powerful enough to handle it. Our mutual contact might have been, but he's gone completely off the grid."
"Whoa, wait. Since when am I a Parlaiment... asset?" Bonnie demanded, suddenly suspicious.
Of course, being from the future, Bonnie knew all about the Parlaiment Funkadelic and their stated purpose in the Universe. They were a sort of intergalactic judiciary body, largely responsible for preventing advanced species from taking advantage of less developed planets. Earth had lately fallen between the metaphorical cracks, but at least nobody had decided to build a hyperspace bypass in the meantime.
"Ever since you arrived in this timeline, actually. We've been keeping an eye on you. Strictly surveillance, no interference. You seemed to have things well in hand most of the time," he replied; casual, like a pothead Nick Fury.
Bonnie frowned; there was a lot wrong with that statement, but now didn't seem the time to argue about it.
"So, you want me to... what, exactly? Ask Zombie McMorris to teach me kung fu?"
George Clinton favored her with a soft chuckle and an indulgent smile.
"Not exactly. Thanks to the connection you share with your sister -- "
"Clone," Bonnie corrected, unironically.
" -- you, also, possess innately the same abilities she developed through... close association. You can tap into that same limitless source of adrenaline-fueled rage and channel it to your will. But you must be willing to embrace it; only then can you master it."
"Seems like a lot of trouble over a hardcore belt," Bonnie said.
"Not for the belt alone, child," Clinton replied, a slight edge to his voice. She was testing his patience. "The belt is a benchmark. Succeed there, and you will be able to stand against the darker things to come."
After several moments of silent consideration, the Daughter of Time nodded.
"Ok. What do I have to do?" she asked.
"First, seek out Rza of the Wu Tang...."