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Jenny Myst · (03-04-2023)

It was hard to read headstones in the dark. The rain and wind didn’t help either, but how many WATERS are there in Kentucky?

Dumb question. They are probably all related in some way shape or form.

Jenny couldn’t even feel the light drizzle as it mixed with her sweat. Dressed in just a beater and overalls, mud oozed through the holes in her purple crocs like soapy water through a sponge. The shovel hit the dirt again, and her small grunts of effort were audible even over the pitter patter of the chilling rain. Her body was bruised, beaten, and quite frankly, worn out. The X-title run took a lot out of her mentally, emotionally, and physically. She was extremely upset when she lost the title to Jason Cashe at Anarchy, though. So upset that she even cost herself her shot at the March Madness tournament by getting intentionally disqualified. She had one croc out the door, as far as she was concerned. She needed a break. Her frazzled state was dangerous, not just to the roster but to herself.

Chris Page had put a stipulation in place where if she had lost, she couldn’t compete for a title for 90 days. For her, as hard as she had worked and as far as she had come, that wasn’t going to be acceptable. If she lost, she would rather sit on her couch and watch Warfare for three months. If she lost? Hell, it was Chris Page—she had already booked her flight back to Vegas.

Then, as if a lightning bolt from the wrestling gods hit her body, she found the inner strength to do what she has made a habit of in the last year–beating legends. She took out Centurion when nobody thought she could, and now Chris Page had fallen by her sword. Here she was again, Television Champion and in the Main Event.

“Damnit, how far down is he!”

The shovel hit the mud again, and she grunted it over her shoulder.

Here she was again, with a chance to prove everyone wrong. She had been given Dolly Waters, finally, and the dirt sheets and rumor mills already had her losing. Why did everyone like her so much?

The shovel hit something hard. “Ugh, finally!”

She dropped the shovel and hopped into the slop. She brushed off the rest of the brown goop from the cheap pine box that sat below the surface, and a wet smile came across her face.

“Gotcha”

“After years of being kept away from me for her own career safety, the booking department has finally put me up against Dolly Waters. The polarizing teeny bopper who was the feel good story of the decade when she debuted, and the now legal-to-have-a-mar-tini bopper who has become the disappointment of the entire Waters legacy. I know, Dolly, you’ve been X-Treme champion three times from 2017-as recently as 2021 (though, having the title for less than 24 hours really shouldn’t count should it?). I know, Dolly, you held this title back in 2016 when it didn’t mean a quarter of what it means now. I knowwwwwww Dolly that you were the Hart Champion twice, but that belt wasn’t even important enough to keep around and they took its white frame and made it the basis for MY ‘women’s division’ title. And I know, Dolly, before you start to get all defensive, you’ve been a 2 time tag champ, too. But was that really successful? You held them for a month before Vita dumped you on your ass and left you scrambling to scrape up whatever residue was left behind. So you choose Charlie Nickels. Literally the Cleveland Browns of the XWF and try another run at glory but against real competition, you–yet again–failed to get the job done.

When does it stop, Dolly? When do you realize that maybe this entire wrestling thing just isn’t your cup of tea? Or, a better question, when are you actually going to put the work in to make it that? While you were passing notes with heart eyes with Thaddeus Duke, I was soaking in the very essence of the industry and learning from the very best. Honing my skills, training for a solo career of my own. While you were meandering around the mid card, I was anchoring a women’s division that was, at the time, the hottest thing in wrestling. Why were you never considered for the Bombshell Title? The Shooting Star? Why wasn’t there a Pay Per View with the marquee:

JENNY MYST vs. DOLLY WATERS

Was it because you were too busy with short, insignificant, “real” title runs? Not quite. Was it because you were too busy telling the story of a jaded young girl from Kentucky, painting the underdog narrative with a feel good story the fans can relate to? Not a dry eye in the room, bravo, Dolly. Or, was your time consumed with one of those hiatuses you love taking so much? Truth is, your priorities aren’t where they should be. You aren’t where you want to be, not because of talent, but because of your own passive, lackluster and complacent attitude. You made it to the dance, but then you stopped dancing. You could have had the world, but you chose Kentucky.

Go ahead, tell us that you’ve been star of the month more than me, you have had more promos featured on the promo of the month board, tell us all that you have more gold stars on the refrigerator than I have. All factual, sure. But I retort with….where has it gotten you? What have you done with the modicum of success you HAVE had? I don’t even need to burn you on that, I’ll just let you look in the mirror and see it for yourself.”

The headstone that she had cast aside like the useless rock it was, read MUDDY WATERS. Jenny could do whatever she wanted to this box, as it was buried in the middle of nowhere. Destroy it. Spraypaint it, piss on it. But she had bigger plans for this hole.

She laid down on it, back to the sky and blinked a few times as the rain drops splashed her face. Maybe she would make a mud angel! That would be so fun! She did have to pee, though. Damn rain. Pissing on it wouldn’t do it justice, though. Dolly had already done enough to piss on the Waters name, Jenny dropping trow here would just be overkill.

She looked up at the black sky. She began to picture what it would be like to be buried in one of these. Hers, of course, would be much nicer than this piece of shit. She felt her makeup starting to run off her face with the rain. Somehow, it was refreshing.

Truth is, she hadn’t been truly happy here in a while. She knew the front office didn’t like her, but what stung more was that she felt like they didn’t respect her. One of the greatest competitors both in decoration and longevity they’ve ever had, and she was being booked by Vinnie Lane in Bra & Panties matches against enhancement talent on an enhancement show. How many Universal Title matches has she had? How many times has she even been considered for it? Surely, she had earned it by now. She was so close to getting that briefcase, to cashing in, to doing it the cheap and easy way.

Wasn’t her style.

As her wife beater stuck to her and was becoming see-thru, she smiled to herself. It felt good to feel free, for once. To be in control of her own destiny. She got to pick the stipulation this week and it felt so official. She had a chance to either solidify herself as the champion she tells everyone she is, or go out with a bang. There was a certain finality to it.

She could see the glow of the headlights from her rental car that was parked about 100 yards away. A faint glimmer, but perhaps a sign? Some positivity through all the darkness she was feeling inside. Hell, a year ago, this would have been a dream match. She would have been excited to face Dolly Waters even if for nothing else but pride. Now, all she wants to do is hurt the poor girl. To disfigure that little peach-fuzz laden face, and to make her just as ugly on the outside as she is on the inside.

Sorry, but she is not what the Red Hot Chili Peppers meant when they sang about a Young Tough Girl in a Push Up Bra. Does she always look like you just smelled a fart, or is it from the fetal alcohol syndrome?

She pats the cheap pine box under her, which was doing no favors for her back.

“Whattya think, old man? You wanna see your precious Dolly again? Must get pretty lonely down here.”

She chuckled to herself.

She had done all this work–as usual–and here the focus was on Dolly Waters–as usual. She was down here in this mudhole, she may as well cut a promo?

Her eyes listed to the side, and she was the Muddy Water rising. It wouldn’t be long before she either had to shit or get off the pot. She would die down here otherwise.

……………Something about that calmed her.

“This match, Dolly, this match is to separate the little girls from the grown women. There is room for only ONE dominant female on this roster, and if you have a set of eyes and an IQ above 85 you’ll see that it's me. I mean, who else would it be? LSM is a joke. Gerri is part time at best. Sarah Lacklan only cares about herself and her own bottom line, and Angie has peaked at her ceiling. Sidney Grey? Please. One of these other no names that is booked on Anarchy? There is only one who has survived through the women’s wrestling hay-day, and one who has come out of the massive exodus of female talent here. There is only one, Dolly, and you’re looking at her. I am the Television Champion and fresh off of one of the most entertaining and dominant X-treme title runs in recent history. Your last solo title run that lasted more than a day was a half of a decade ago. You are an accessory, Dolly, a sidecar to the real engine. You NEED to leech off someone else for your success because you’ve never been able to get over the hump on your own.

It’s a shame, you know. I reached out. I texted you, slid in the social media DM’s, even went as far as to write you a letter, asking if you wanted to finally have that title run of substance you’ve been chasing for years. You never responded. You chose Charlie instead, and when the Sarah Sisters (because, let's be honest, Sarah IS that team), decided they actually gave a shit, they exposed the two of you for what you are.

All hot air.

So what I am going to do for you, Dolly, is give you the chance to be something. To live up to the standard that your father had for you. To avenge what we did to him all those years ago (remember, when you were still relevant?), and we lit his dusty old ass on fire and left him for dead. What I am going to do for you Dolly is give you the chance to actually be something besides a midcard afterthought. To have the biggest match of your career, with a stipulation that could put your name on the headlines forever.

A chance to finally shut me up.

You’ve been the drizzling shits for far too long, and I am going to put an end to it at Warfare.

This is the end of an era, Dolly. The two lone survivors from an era long since dead and buried (you know, like your daddy-o). Are you picking up what I am putting down here?

Just so you don’t have to work your brain too hard because we know that Kentucky Public School education is just so strong, let me lay it out for you. You can finally be on that marquee, Dolly, and finally in a Main Event that means something so much more than a simple win-loss record. You have a chance to shut me up, take the Television Title, and refurbish this thing you call a wrestling career……..or a chance to do what you always do and come up just short.”

She noticed something out of the corner of her eye. It was the doll that had been accompanying her on this epic run. The doll that “looked like her”--yeah, if she had been in a catastrophic accident–and had given her a darker, edgier vibe that she used to keep pushing forward.

Survive and adapt. The key word, survive.

The doll was about waist deep in the muck, bobbing around and staring at her. It blinked, though, it could have been the rain. The water was rising rapidly, almost swallowing the poor doll.

“This match,” she groaned as she got off the casket. She would ride the muck to the top like she always did while the the Water’s stayed muddy.

“BURIED ALIVE.”

A cackling laughter in the night sky accompanied the lightning.

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