Post by Tiffany White on Jan 31, 2016 16:16:30 GMT -5
PROMO #5 - bORN tHIS wAY (PART II)
I was dumbfounded. Sitting in the leather chair across from me, this man wore a wig a black wig, lipstick, eyeliner and all other type of makeup you could think of. A rather elegant dress, something you'd probably see at a formal gathering. The shock was probably plastered all over my face.
Mama Louise: Oh go on, you can say it. Everyone is shocked the first time they see me, you're not the first darling.
Words failed me despite his encouragement. As I tried to find SOMETHING to say, he merely smiled. A warm smile.
Mama Louise: Oh hun, surely you can say SOMETHING. Talk to me, I don't bite.
Tiffany: Who...who ARE you?
Mama Louise: Who am I? WHO AM I? AAAAAAAAAAAH, what a beautiful question, wouldn't you say? The question that allows you to fully introduce yourself to a plucky little stranger such as yourself! I...AM MAMA LOUISE, and this place that you've been lodging in the past few days is Mama Louise's Orphanage...run by myself, of course! And now I turn the same question to you. Who, exactly...are you?
Tiffany: I'm...Tiffany.
Mama Louise: Ahhh, Tiffany! What a lovely name.
Tiffany: I know, those two guys Jason and Kenny already told me.
Mama Louise: Well Tiffany, you know I have to ask you...just what were you doing out there in the desert so far away from home?
Tiffany: Why should I tell you?
Mama Louise: Baby bab-eh, no need for all the hostilities. I'm tryin to help you out here, honey.
Tiffany: Why? Why should I accept the help of some strange crossdressing man? Huh?
Louise closed his eyes and laughed, standing up from his seat and slowly making his way to the bookshelf, browsing his large collection of tomes.
Mama Louise: Why indeed. Y'know honey, I could ask you the same thing. Why. Why are you running away from home? Don't you have a family that cares about you? Aren't they concerned at all.
Tiffany: No. My family hates me. In fact they're probably glad I'm gone, now that they don't have some...some QUEER girl living under their roof.
Tears slowly streamed down my face, but even through them I could still see Louise shake his head.
Mama Louise: Oh dear, oh dear. "Queer." What an ugly word, wouldn't you say? Even so, you surely would have friends you could confide in, correct?
Tiffany: Friends? Every one I considered a friend turned their back on me. I don't have anyone right now. No one.
After enough searching, Louise seemed to finally find the book he had been looking for.
Mama Louise: Come dear, won't you? I want to show you something.
I cautiously walked to where he stood. He reached into the pocket of his dress and pulled out a small handkerchief.
Mama Louise: Take this. This book has had enough of my own tears stain its pages, I don't need any more joining them.
I accepted his gift, and wiped my face, cleaning the tears and clearing up my vision. The book he held in his hand was an old scrapbook, it looked to be many years old, probably older then I was, even. He opened to the first page, containing what appeared to be a photo copy of a birth certificate, along with a rather old Polaroid of a smiling, playful child.
Mama Louise: I was quite the looker as a lil' baby, wasn't I. Hehe.
A quick look at the birth certificate listed the name of the child "Louis Simpson...Sex: Male." Louise turned the page, now revealing, amongst a bevy of other photos, a picker of the same child in the previous photo, now a little older, wearing what looks like a dress made for a small child, as His (presumable) parents look on, laughing with the child.
Mama Louise: I knew from a very early age that this wasn't the body I was meant to have. It always just felt...wrong, yknow? Like I was a circle trying to fit into a square hole. I had started trying on my sister's clothes, at first for fun, but as soon as I did, all those feelings of being wrong...they suddenly went away. I actually felt complete. My folks thought I was just dicking around by dressing up like this, and went with it for a while. I could tell, though. I knew I couldn't keep this up in front of them.
More page turning. Among the pictures here, the child, now grown to a teenager, is seen with two friends, one male one female, out at a skating rink, and otherwise perfectly normal picture. Directly to the side of it, that same boy is depicted walking across the runway, dressed in full drag.
Mama Louise: I started keeping secrets. From family, from friends, from everybody. That picture of me, at the skate rink? I was wearing a full lingerie set underneath my clothes. And not a soul knew. I started leaving home to do the local drag shows, telling my parents I was going to a friends house. I knew they wanted a normal child, and I tried my best to seem normal to them.
Tiffany: That didn't work though, did it?
Mama Louise: Does it ever, hun?
Tiffany: What happened?
Mama Louise: My sister had gone to one of the shows without telling me, said she was doing a report for the school paper on it, and spotted me on the runway. She eventually told our parents. There were tears. Mostly from my mom. My dad just kind of....shook his head, his face buried his palm. I could feel the shame he felt towards me, and knew I couldn't stay home. So I did what you did. I ran away.
Another page turn. This picture depicts a much older Louis, now presumably fully becoming Louise, striking a dramatic pose along with some other drag queens.
Mama Louise: I started making a name for myself, as best I could. money was tight, as you could imagine, and so I did the best with what I had. Spent some amount of months on the street because of it. Almost died because of it. I lived a tough life those few years, and didn't want anyone in my position to do what I did and suffer because of it. So when I had the money...
One final page turn, this page contains only one picture, Louise standing proudly at the front of her new home, with a brand new sign out front..."Mama Louise's Orphanage."
Mama Louise: I made this place for all of the freaks and geeks of the world, and here we are now. Quite a journey, wouldn't you say?
Louise closed the book and carefully placed it back on the shelf.
Mama Louise: So that just leaves you, babygirl. I know you aid you wanted to be done with this place, and if that's still how you feel, then quite frankly I can't do anything about it, and I'll let you be on your way. But...
She put her hand on my shoulder, like a father imparting advice to a young son.
Mama Louise: If you choose to stay, you'll be surrounded by people just like you, people rejected from society because of this that and the other, and I can guaran-TEE you, you'll be shown nothing but love and acceptance until you feel you're ready to conquer the world. I've already said all I can say, it's up to you to decide. So young Tiffany, I say to you...choose.
To be honest, I didn't know what to say. I had goals in the outside world, that was for sure, but to finally be shown unconditional acceptance for who I was? It was a hard offer to pass down. Finally, after what felt like an eternity trying to make up my mind...
Tiffany: Okay. I'll stay.
Louise smiled from ear to ear, a proud look in her eye.
Mama Louise: That's my girl!
Annie: And how did that turn out?
Tiffany: Honestly? It was the best decision I ever made in life. That house, and that woman, shaped me into the badass chick I am today. It's crazy to even think I had wanted to leave it all behind at one point.
She smiled, and laid another wet kiss on my lips.
Annie: I'm starting to taste the wine on your breath.
Tiffany: Speaking of that.
For the last time, I drank from the nearly-empty bottle, making sure every last drop was gone. I dropped the bottle on the floor and used my now free hand to grab Annie in a full-embrace, keeping her close to me.
Tiffany: Y'know, I'm glad I got this all out of my system. I feel...oddly refreshed. Like I haven't taken a bath in three months...and tripped in like, the mud, and finally got around to showering and getting all the mud off of me.
Annie: IS that the wine talking? Your metaphors are getting...weird.
Tiffany: Perhapppppppps.
We both giggled like school girls, and for a moment I felt something I've only rarely felt in my life...bliss.
Tiffany: Thanks...for everything.
Annie: It was my pleasure babe. Let's get to bed now. After all, you're gonna need all your strength for Saturday.
And so now all that's left of this is you, Chance. I asked for this match for a number of reasons. First off, I knew you would never deny the opportunity to take me down a peg, to prove that my first victory against you was dumb luck, and to write me down as just another little footnote in the so called "Von Crank Legacy" you seem to so desperately want to build.
It's too bad that no such legacy exists, little man. It never has, and it never will. What little legacy you had, that of Harlan Championship Wrestling, you destroyed yourself in a moment of pure greed and hysteria. Not like it mattered or anything, the only place those tapes mattered were in Harlan anyway? No on in the country gave a shit about Harlan, and now that all the evidence is gone, now they never will. Good job.
Every time people speak of kings...of dictators...of tyrants, one of the most common things brought up is the topic of heirs to the throne, someone to continue your work after you've left this Earth. But you're different, aren't you Chance? Instead of accepting that you'll soon have a young heir to inherit your life's work, you've gone on a one man rampage to try and murder a young girl or boy who hasn't even been born yet. Really, how pathetic is that? That you're scared to death of a fetus. Chance von Crank, Trailer Park Prodigy, scared to bits by a tiny glob of tissue. What a pussy, amirite guys?
No, you don't want to leave a "Von Crank" legacy, you want to leave a "Chance von Crank" legacy. Singular. Just you. And funnily enough, this so called "Chance von Crank" legacy, begins the same way my "Tiffany White" legacy will begin.
With me...dashing across the ring...and breaking your goddamned nose with my elbow.
For me, this will just be the begging, the start to something much, much greater! For you, this will be the moment people will have realized just how fucked you really were.
Cause let's just face it Chance, I'm miles ahead of you in this game. Period. You weren't even BOOKED last week on Slam, you should thank me for making you even a smidgen bit of relevant. It's only cause of me that the WCF Galaxy tunes into your matches, just to see if I come out to kick your ass or not! AND ANOTHER THING...I don't get where your pulling these statistics from, but after hearing you claim your merch is selling out on WCF.com, I just have to think to myself...does he really think he's that over? GAWD DAMN his mentally challenged NEPHEW is more over then this fuckface. Is he making all this shit up to make himself feel good or what, cause no one in their right mind would support such a hateful, blatantly misogynistic pig like him.
*suddenly thinks of Donald Trump*
I stand corrected.
Still, I'm trying my hardest to imagine what a Chance von Crank would even look like on paper. Here's what I'm coming up with.
1. Hate women.
2. Get demolished by a woman.
3. A LESBIAN at that.
4. Cry over broken nose.
5. Die alone with no one to comfort you as you slip away into the nothingness.
6. ??
7. ...profit?
Yeah, I'm drawing blanks here, kiddo. I just see no way this can end well for you other then you just staying on board WCF as a jobber to the stars. What a legacy, boyo.
Your unborn son would be so ashamed of you Chance, being the fuckboy that you are. He or she will never have a cool dad, no they'll just get you and your sad pitiful existence. But you don't care do you? You don't care how people feel. No, you're just caught up in how you feel. This is grade-A sociopathy and after Fifteen it'll just make you look sillier then you already are. I'm gonna make sure that baby is born Chance, I won't let you get to it over my....dead.......BODY. That baby will be born, will grow up to know his dad, and grow up with that shame. You can add that shame to your so-called legacy.
I'm bringing this shit to an end at Fifteen, Chance. The big stage. My legacy continues. While yours...crumbles.
Try me, fucker. See what happens.
It's too bad that no such legacy exists, little man. It never has, and it never will. What little legacy you had, that of Harlan Championship Wrestling, you destroyed yourself in a moment of pure greed and hysteria. Not like it mattered or anything, the only place those tapes mattered were in Harlan anyway? No on in the country gave a shit about Harlan, and now that all the evidence is gone, now they never will. Good job.
Every time people speak of kings...of dictators...of tyrants, one of the most common things brought up is the topic of heirs to the throne, someone to continue your work after you've left this Earth. But you're different, aren't you Chance? Instead of accepting that you'll soon have a young heir to inherit your life's work, you've gone on a one man rampage to try and murder a young girl or boy who hasn't even been born yet. Really, how pathetic is that? That you're scared to death of a fetus. Chance von Crank, Trailer Park Prodigy, scared to bits by a tiny glob of tissue. What a pussy, amirite guys?
No, you don't want to leave a "Von Crank" legacy, you want to leave a "Chance von Crank" legacy. Singular. Just you. And funnily enough, this so called "Chance von Crank" legacy, begins the same way my "Tiffany White" legacy will begin.
With me...dashing across the ring...and breaking your goddamned nose with my elbow.
For me, this will just be the begging, the start to something much, much greater! For you, this will be the moment people will have realized just how fucked you really were.
Cause let's just face it Chance, I'm miles ahead of you in this game. Period. You weren't even BOOKED last week on Slam, you should thank me for making you even a smidgen bit of relevant. It's only cause of me that the WCF Galaxy tunes into your matches, just to see if I come out to kick your ass or not! AND ANOTHER THING...I don't get where your pulling these statistics from, but after hearing you claim your merch is selling out on WCF.com, I just have to think to myself...does he really think he's that over? GAWD DAMN his mentally challenged NEPHEW is more over then this fuckface. Is he making all this shit up to make himself feel good or what, cause no one in their right mind would support such a hateful, blatantly misogynistic pig like him.
*suddenly thinks of Donald Trump*
I stand corrected.
Still, I'm trying my hardest to imagine what a Chance von Crank would even look like on paper. Here's what I'm coming up with.
1. Hate women.
2. Get demolished by a woman.
3. A LESBIAN at that.
4. Cry over broken nose.
5. Die alone with no one to comfort you as you slip away into the nothingness.
6. ??
7. ...profit?
Yeah, I'm drawing blanks here, kiddo. I just see no way this can end well for you other then you just staying on board WCF as a jobber to the stars. What a legacy, boyo.
Your unborn son would be so ashamed of you Chance, being the fuckboy that you are. He or she will never have a cool dad, no they'll just get you and your sad pitiful existence. But you don't care do you? You don't care how people feel. No, you're just caught up in how you feel. This is grade-A sociopathy and after Fifteen it'll just make you look sillier then you already are. I'm gonna make sure that baby is born Chance, I won't let you get to it over my....dead.......BODY. That baby will be born, will grow up to know his dad, and grow up with that shame. You can add that shame to your so-called legacy.
I'm bringing this shit to an end at Fifteen, Chance. The big stage. My legacy continues. While yours...crumbles.
Try me, fucker. See what happens.
Annie had left the hotel room a day ago to go back to living her life. I was sad, she was the closest I had ever gotten someone in many years, although most of it was probably due to the wine. Ooops. I was alone in my room now, roasting coffee, getting ready for the big day. My mind was clear, my body was ready, all that was left was fuck Chance up in the ring. As my coffee finished brewing, I got a phonecall. Glanced at the caller ID, it was Jason. A feeling of excitement sprang through my body. It had been ages since I had spoken with him. I accepted the call.
Tiffany: Jason! So glad to hear from you! I'm SO sorry I couldn't be there a few days ago to see Mama and you guys, I've been super busy with all this WCF business, but I'll make it up to you as soon as I-
Jason interrupted me. There was a small sense of panic in his voice.
Jason: Tiff honey that doesn't matter right now. That girl you sent us, Pixie...
Tiffany: Yeah, what about her?
Jason: She's gone. Just up and left like that. Said she was going to Philadelphia as fast as she could. I think she wants to bargain with that Chance guy you told us about.
TO BE CONCLUDED?
