Junkie - Printable Version

Junkie - Printable Version

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Junkie - Jenny Myst - 01-23-2021

I'm not afraid of the Boogieman
Instead I look at him like he's a friend
There's not a monster out there in the world
That's scarier than the one that's within

Stepping off the plane, the first thing Jenny noticed was that it was fucking cold outside. Like, ridiculously cold. Too cold to be wearing what she was wearing, but coming back from the fashion capital of the world, she HAD to look the part. She was heading back to the states from the XWF Warfare European tour and landed in Milwaukee. If Tommy Romeo did his job correctly, there should be a limo waiting for her to take her to Green Bay.

As she grabbed her bag off the conveyor belt, she turned towards the exit doors. It was even cold INSIDE the airport. How could anyone live here?

As shiver-walked her way towards the exit doors, praying Tommy was as least half way competent, she began to think about what would happen if she had to take an--ew--taxi. Or a bus?! Oh god, the horror.

Her MYSTique heels clicked on the tile flooring of General Mitchell International Airport and her eyes scanned the landscape around her. The people looked different here than they did back home in Vegas, and certainly different than Italy. The Midwest was a cess pool anyway, and everyone knew it. As she got closer to the door, she looked at the phone in her hand. She was gonna rip Romeo a new ass, this can't be happening!

Just as she was about to hit the send button, she gave one more glance to her surroundings. She saw a man standing there, in a black suit and sunglasses, holding a sign that said "MYST". Jenny smiled. It was about time. She walked over and dumped her bag in front of him.

"Took ya long enough" she said. The man tucked the white board under his arm and grabbed the handle of her bag, wheeling it behind him.

Walking outside, the cold hit her like a freight train. She knew being outside for Snow Job, in a place they referred to as "The Frozen Tundra of Lambeau Field", that it was about to be very, very cold and she was going to have to get used to it. "Cold open" crossed her mind and she chuckled to herself. She hated the cold. Taking punches and hitting the mat always felt worse in the cold. She could taste the metallic taste of blood in her mouth already. She liked it, and that disgusted her.

Her fingers were numb as she opened the back door of the stretch limo, and as she pulled open the door her eyes went wide.

Sitting inside the limo, stretched out over the leather bucket seat with a mimosa in hand was Sarina Hazard.

"What?! What are you doing here?!" Jenny climbed into the limo, planting herself next to her bestie. "This is an RMI ordered limo, and last I checked.....Tommy Romeo doesn't even know who you are."

Sarina smiles, taking a sip of her mimosa.

"We're Hells Bells, Jen, remember? We do what we want."

Jenny smiled, picking up a glass.

"Why do you think the driver was so late?" She winks.

"You're a monster."

"I learned from the best."

The driver shut the door and Sarina filled Jenny's glass as the driver put the limo in gear.

There's a creature in my closet
I can hear him rumbling 'round
The demons screaming in the distance
Creates such a humbling sound
The monster that's outside my window
He's like family to me now
The things that people are afraid of
Never let me down

Several mimosa's deep, the two best friends looked out the deeply tinted windows at the grey skied, bleak Wisconsin landscape. God, this state sucked.

Sarina chimes in after a few moments of silence.

"So we know about Geri. I was there, I saw what happened....."

Jenny shoots her a look.

"Sorry.....but, yeah, we know her. I am just getting back into the swing of things here....tell me a little about this Betsy Granger?"

Jenny took another sip of her mimosa and looked out the window as the grey rolled by.

"They tried to clone Gwyneth Paltrow and failed....And instead we got this cardboard cutout."

"Why the fuck would anybody want to clone Gwyneth Paltrow?"

"I thought the same thing, but here we are. She's dangerous, too. You saw High Stakes. Bitch is willing to get down and dirty."

"And since when have you not been?"

"That's my problem....I had grown soft. I need to hit Betsy where it hurts at Snow Job..."

"The Penis?"

"I didn't realize 'blonde bombshell' and 'post op tranny' were interchangeable terms."

"They can be."

Jenny tries to smile, but was unable.

"Future 3 time divorcee with 2 kids that hate her.....That face has more whiteheads than a white Proud Boys meeting."

"It's not resting bitch face if you're legitimately a bitch. It's just....your face."

Just as they pulled into Green Bay, the landscape seemed to change. The houses got smaller, and closer together. The first house--if you can even call it that--was decrepit. Old, run down, with a porch that was falling off. Christmas lights that looked like they were on all year round.

The limo drove past the deflated Christmas ornaments on the lawn, which were probably also there all year, and rolled by the paint chipped garage. Even the windows were paint chipped. How was that even possible?

Only in Green Bay.

The houses sat atop pothole filled driveways and the rickety front porches. There were tattered Green Bay Packers flags hanging off the plant-pot holders at nearly every residence.

Fuck the Packers.

One thing she noticed, and it horrified her, was the number of zombies out here in the cold. Walking around with dead eyes, sitting on curbs and overused benches, needles sticking out of seemingly every vein. Rolled up Green Packers starter jackets with stains and faded colors were all that were covering what was left of these barely human torsos. Jenny told the driver to stop. To pull over. Here, in the worn out Green Bay slums in a goddamn limo. She knew what this could mean, but Snow Job was all about facing her fears.

Looking at the driver, she nodded, her lips chapped and her breath leaking from her mouth like fresh steam from a tea kettle.

Turning back, she sat down next to one of them.

This pretty girl, in this pretty dress.....this had to be a set up.

A group of them began to form. She was outnumbered. Shivering.

"What is your name?"

"I don't got no name".

Two others were standing in front of her. One was not being subtle about trying to look up her skirt.

"They're pink", she shivered.

The embarrassed junkie looked away quickly. His face was red, but it could have been from the cold.

"You kkknnowwww", it was hard to talk in this temperature, "I ccould have stayed in myy waarmm limoo and left you all to rot...."

She couldn't feel below her waist, how was she gonna walk back to the car?!

"...but I saw a lot of myself in all of you. Nobody is giving you a chance in life. They take, take take....buutttt no--noobody sees who you truly are...."

She tried to cross her legs, they felt as heavy as cinder blocks.

"I see you for wwhhoo yyou all are. Peeople, just likke mee. People who haad something taken frroomm them beecasuee of their addiction....."

She signaled to the driver to bring her bag.

"Any of ya'll evverr been to Lambeau?"

They all shook their heads. The driver dropped the bag. Pulling out money, and tickets to Snow Job, she gave them each a small envelope.

"Come, January 31st. You can be anything you set your mind to. Let me show you what greatness looks like."

She got back to the car, and shut the door. They both looked at her. "What the hell was that?!"

"You know what they're gonna do with that money, right?!"

Jenny, looking straight ahead, simply uttered one word.

"Drive."

Both my feet planted when most people would've panicked
I embraced the storm, I found beauty in what was damaged

"I have to be honest and give credit where credit is due. At Snow Job, the three best women on this roster do battle for the most coveted prize in our sport. The Universal Title of the double X chromosome. Geri Vayden and Betsy Granger have proven themselves enough--Geri for winning the title and Betsy for doing just enough for management to believe she earned this match--but the X factor here? Me. This time around, it is different than it was at High Stakes. I am different than I was then. This entire business is about growth and progress, and I needed to grow and progress. I needed to reflect on who I am and what I had become.

101 days, that is surely a milestone. That is one of those title reigns that forces someone to raise an eyebrow, forces someone to recognize. I gave this belt meaning, purpose, I prevented it from becoming the throw-a-way, 'shut her up' title that that Bombshell had become. I had put the title, and myself, and women's wrestling as a whole, on the map. But I lost my edge. I'll admit it. I became consumed in myself, and I began to get the Chaos syndrome....and no, not downs.....the syndrome that made me feel like I was untouchable but rendered me more vulnerable than ever. I had been sitting on cloud nine, but the truth is I was more human than ever. It was only a matter of time before my wake up call, when someone who can't hold a candlestick to me inside that ring pulled off the upset victory of the decade and dethroned the Queen. That person was Geri Vayden. How many times had she tried and failed before? I don't think she's capable of counting that high. But when you change up your approach, when you adapt to your surroundings, and your opponent stays the same, eventually you will learn their weakness. My weakness was myself. There is a fine line between cockiness and confidence, and I didn't bring my bedazzled rollerblades. I became cocky, but in my heart of hearts, was I confident? I had survived, I had escaped with the W but watch the film. I was dominant when I beat Madison, I was dominant when I defended at Relentless. At High Stakes, I survived. I survived because Betsy made a rookie mistake and Ash Quinn was just dumb enough to give me the opening I needed to exploit it and come away with a win. Sure, I pinned Ash, but Betsy destroyed my leg, made me tap, and really opened my eyes to the fact that at any given moment all of what I worked for could go up in flames.

Poof.

I said a few years ago that the secret to victory is defeat. It opened my eyes then and it has opened my eyes now. I was so focused on being on that pedestal that I had forgotten how I had gotten to that point. Some would say underhanded tactics and cheating my way into victories, but I say it was by being the absolute best at this. Finding ways to win when all of the odds said I shouldn't. I had been the most successful in my career when I wanted to win but didn't expect to, and the moment I switched to expecting to win, my want no longer drove me. Greed, selfishness, and arrogance. I had created a character in my own head, and that character was void of weaknesses. I had to battle with the disgruntled Spirit Halloween employees for weeks, almost got burned alive because of it, and had the weight of living up to the character I had created weighing down my beautiful shoulders. This loss to Geri, it has awoken something inside me. It has made me realize that I had gotten soft. Geri, you've awoken a monster, and although you seem to like scary now, this isn't a monster you're ready for. I have changed. You claim you've changed as well, but its not the same. I have reached deep down and channeled a hatred and anger I didn't know I still had. A bitterness. I have become more viscous. You? You look like Gollum gave up on the ring and got a BA in women's studies. Your entire change was superficial, you've changed your appearance but are still the mid-card statue you've always been. I can see you went through the effort of at least brushing and dying your hair. But at this point it's like 22 inch rims on a dust bin. You beat me, and I have no doubt you're going to rub that in my face whenever Baph gives you the index cards with your promo points on it to read off to the camera, but like the old saying goes "even a blind squirrel finds a nut eventually." There is no doubt in anyone's mind that you're the rare occasion where a champion goes into a title defense as the underdog. This match was supposed to be Betsy and I, one on one, from jump street. You were handed a title match out of sympathy and you took advantage of my mistake. What mistake, you ask? Sleeping on you, like everyone else. Never again, Geri, because you've blown your load early and shown your hand. You have succeeded in only one thing: making me realize that I once again need to become what made me great, and now I get to show the world that your win was exactly what everyone has been saying for weeks. A fluke. This is our match, you're just in it.

And Betsy? Well, let's not split hairs here, Betsy has a mean streak. She is a ruthless competitor and has some skill to back up that attitude. But is she me? No. Never has been and never will be. But she's wanted to be. She has wanted to be since her first minute in this company. She joined RMI because she saw the perks I got. She saw the shoe line, she saw the TV ads, she saw the upcoming movie roles. Betsy wants to put her face directly into that spotlight, but Betsy hasn't earned that kind of clout yet. Betsy is trying to piggy back off of my fame, my success, and all that I have earned. Betsy, your teeth are actually more blonde than your hair. You look like a dollar store Lizzie McGuire. You'll never be on my level. Sure you've competed against me, you've pushed me to a level inside that ring that very few others have, but you still have the same thing in common that Ash, Lycana, Scarlett, Melanie all have in common, that big goose egg in the win column vs. Jenny Myst. You're a discount me in every way. You're like if PornHub had a "great value" section. You look like a soccer mom that's dead inside. You surround yourself with mediocrity masked by lore. Your little boy toy, James, you're attracted to his legend and his checking account. You seem to conveniently overlook that fact that he hasn't wrestled here since the last bicentennial and the fact that he, too, has fallen to me in that ring. 1-2-3 smack in the center. Your entire life is a disappointment, and James sees it, too. Why do you think he keeps his distance, lets you fight your own battles? Because he believes in you? Please, he only believes you're gonna spread your legs and all he has to do is whisper about how famous he is. You're going to disappoint every guy that wakes up next to you, it's just a fact of life. "Aw shit, she seemed hot in the dark".

I own you Betsy, I own everything about you. I have worked too hard for too long to be outshined by Edward Scissorhands and Michael Cera's lesbian twin sister. I'm the center of attention, the one the men want to meet and the women want to be. You're the one guys go after at 2am when all of the hot girls have left the party.

We are not the same.

I have never wanted anything more in my life than to regain this title. It means everything to me because it is a symbol of everything I have accomplished here. This belt is personal to me. You want it because it is shiny and you think it'll make your lackluster career look like hall-of-fame gold. You're the female Phillip Rivers, you've never won anything but people always say "damn, Betsy is good, shame she never got to win it all." What is standing in your way to all the fame and glory you want so desperately? The other thing you want so desperately to be.

Me.