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Dolly Waters · (10-26-2016)

(OOC: This RP is a continuation of Dolly’s backstory from 2015 when her father abandoned her and she set out on a long journey to Morbid Angel’s home. Now that she’s finally gotten there, and Morbid has taken her in, she’s prepared to ask Morbid to teach her how to wrestle; she wants to restore the Waters name that he father pissed away in XWF.)

Wednesday, May 27th, 2015
Inside of Morbid Angel’s Mansion
Morbidonia, Maine, USA

“NO, DOLLY! ABSOLUTELY NOT!”

Welp… That went about as expected, I mean what in the hell was I thinking anyway? Morbid may be a bit unhinged, but hindsight being what it is, I’m fairly certain even the most irrational, Charles Manson-esque minds would find it a tad impractical for an eleven yearold girl to train to be a professional wrestler; but it sucks, because I feel this yearning in my bones, this call to wrestling grandeur that I cannot simply just shake off per being shut down upon my initial inquiry.

My father, being the decent wrestler that he was with all of the required talent in the world, pissed on our family’s namesake by letting the pressures of the business I had quickly learned while by his side mount on him too heavily. I cannot, no I WILL NOT let it end that way… if he’s too childish to carry the torch of the Waters name, then I’ll be the one to do so… A bit ironic huh?

So I had decided to turn up the heat on my fiery friend!

…Later that day…

“Ohhh! What do we have here?”

Morbid entered his dining chambers to find a beautiful arrangement of mutilated lamb limbs tied together like a bouquet inside of a gothic looking goblet with a note reading:

To the best adopted Dad of all time…

Love,
Dolly XoXo

p.s. I can’t wait to be a great wrestler like you one day!

While hiding behind the banister above the room, I could see Morbid initially blushing, inhaling deeply while holding the card and daintily touching his other hand against his chest… that was until he recognized the subliminal undertones and my conditional intent,

“DOLLY!!! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME! I AM NOT TEACHING YOU HOW TO WRESTLE, YOU’RE TOO YOUNG AND TOO PURE FOR A PLACE LIKE THE XWF!”

“Damnit…”

I whispered while turning around to hide and slumping down onto my bottom. But I couldn’t give up, I had to try harder!

…Later that day, again…

Standing outside of Morbid’s master bathroom I could hear him reading aloud the note I left for him on his toilet paper:

“I wouldn’t shit you… you’re my favorite turd… I promise to be safe… please teach me how to wrestle.”

There’s a pause for a moment,

“Well she’s a persistent little shit, I’ll give her that… but not a persistent as this.”

I could hear the bubbling splatters of diarrhea raining down from Morbid’s tail end like a hail storm in the Artic, and he was right, it was persistent, it lasted at least five minutes before I finally started to gag and was forced to leave the door side.

…Later that night…

Hope seemed all but lost as this bleak sense of failure began to encompass my spirit, but I figured:

“What the hell? I’ll make one last ditch effort to try and reason with Morby.”

I began trotting down the stairs, my arms crossed in dissatisfaction, kinda’ snooty of me right? I mean this man didn’t have to take me into his home, hell I should feel fortunate enough that he decided to even spare my life for trespassing, and here I have all I could have ever wanted: wholesome food, a warm cozy bed and a sober father figure who obviously takes my well being into consideration before making decisions… I was high on the hog, but I wanted to be higher!

As I got downstairs I could hear Morbid talking, but I couldn’t quite make out the words. The voice was coming from his study, so I slide my way inside the door which was ajar. There he was, standing with his hands up against his wrestling trophy case; head slumped downward and shaking back and forth…

“Morbid, you can trust me…”

My voice startled him as he jumped around to see me,

“I have to restore the name that my father tarnished in front of the entire world, the Waters name. I can’t let his failure be the final capture of my legacy, there’s this enigmatic gnawing inside of my gut, and I know I am destined for this!”

“Dolly… I must protect you, the moment you’re out there amongst those wolves there will be no one to safeguard you, and you will be too frail, too vulnerable, and even from the likes of me! The XWF is a dog slaughter dog world.”

“Then who better to help me prepare for my calling than a former two-time Universal Champion? You’re a man who knows no boundaries, a man who can do whatever it takes to win, with your training, and a bit of luck, I could be the most dominate force the XWF has ever seen.”

He continues shaking his head as he rubs the glass of his trophy case, perhaps looking back on his past accolades,

“Morby, we were both destined to do this… I am the one destined to pass along the teachings of one of the greatest champions who ever lived.”

“No.”

He unequivocally spat while walking past me and toward the door,

“What!?! That’s it then!?! What would you have told the eleven year old Morbid Angel, as he looked you in the eye and asked you the same thing? Would you too deny even him of his own birth right!?! Look into my eyes and ask yourself that!”

Morbid turned back for a moment, shaking his as he slammed the door, literally and figuratively on my chances of becoming an XWF Superstar. I look over into the trophy case, seeing a photo of Morbid’s first Universal Title win against Azrael Erebus, I wondered what he must have been feeling in the moment. Maybe as if a lifetime’s worth of nothingness disappointment had finally been lifted perhaps? That was the dragon I was chasing.

…The next morning…

CRUNCH!

While standing in the kitchen, I crumbled up a handful of Doritos and began sprinkling them over my turkey and mustard sandwich, and just as I went to take a bite, I was interrupted,

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you…”

I look across the room to the table, its Morbid; he’s sat a large glass full of raw egg yolks and a syringe on the table top.

“Why not?”

“If we’re going to make an XWF wrestler out of you, we need to get you in prime physical condition.”

Quickly I discard the sandwich and give the smiling Morbid Angel a giant hug before, swallowing down, with a struggling gag here and there, the entire protein filled glass of raw eggs.

“That ah’ girl… and now for this…”

Morbid holds up the syringe, flicking it a few times as some of the liquid squirts out,

“What’s the needle for?”

“This is Anavar, the leading HGH steroid to help you receive the most optimum gains! WE WILL PUMP YOU UP LITTLE GIRL! VICTORY FOREVER!”

Morbid shoves the needle in my arm, pumping me full of the steroids… the affect was instantaneous, I was ready to rip buildings apart.

“Now come with me…”

Morbid leads me down a hidden stair case, and when we reached what felt to be an emptied black pit at the bottom he clapped his hands.

“CLAP ON!”

Suddenly the room became illuminated, exposing an immaculate, unrivaled training facility, equipped with a full sized wrestling ring in the center of the room…

“Dolly my dear… Welcome to the Thunderdome.”

Where to begin with Mork and Mindy?

Well seeing as how I highly doubt either of you two clowns will be cutting any substantive form of a promo against me I guess I could just simply start out by pointing out the obvious: YOU BOTH SUCK!

I usually don’t say that so abruptly, and in so few words, because I usually enjoy fucking with my opponent’s heads in the week leading up to their certain demise, maybe I’ll twist around those same sentiments with some clever symbolism just to make my opposition think for once. I mean goddamn, it’s not like we have a slew of Good Will Huntings around this joint or anything, just one big dumb oaf after the next.

This week is no different.

Frankly, I’m really getting sick of this. Here it is Wednesday, the card has been released for nearly five days, and neither one of you have a goddamn thing to say. How in the fuck are you even in this match Jakob? Why in God’s green earth are you even still a wrestler? You luck up a score a pin over your “crush” Ginger, who by the way is dead now I believe, and then you go and squander your opportunity by losing to the weakest Hart Champion of all time?!? FUCK THE BOTH OF YOU LOST THAT MATCH! But Jakob that was the last time any of us have heard from you, ooohhh and now of a sudden you’re opting into matches, just so you can waste everyone’s time?

Just for wasting my time, I’m going to make certain that you feel the absolute brunt of my onslaught, you scared little

. There’s nothing that sickens me more than watching dumb mother fuckers get handed opportunities, only to waste them like spoiled child refusing to eat their veggies.

McBride, you’re quite the lazy fucker too now aren’t you? But I’m sure you’re busy having “A Whale of a Time”, prancing around with your colorful cast of cartoon shams that are all more or less as pathetic as you are, or maybe you're just busy getting potatoes shoved up your dainty ass in an IRA Club House; either way, the one thing you’re not doing is putting in any work that resembles that of which a champion should produce.

You should be a mite ashamed of yourself, here you are, running around with the a title named for the greatest wrestling family in history while living out some fantasy of being the less interesting, Irish version of Jason Statham… all the while, Owen Hart is rolling around in his grave while pathetic cum wads like you and Ghost Tank plummet the belt’s reputation to newer and newer lows.

Well fear not sugar, this little charade ends on Saturday, and if you’re still breathing after I’ve beat you within an inch of your stupid little life, you can go back to playing international dick smuggler with your mouth for so long as you see fit. Just please don’t let a brush with whatever pestilence you contract in whatever third-world country you claim to be in next lead you to believe that you should come back state-side and give another crack at wrestling. You’ve failed lad. In fact you’ve long failed at this, sometimes it just takes putting a cubic zirconium up against a raw diamond to realize what a fake piece of shit looks like, and you’ve nailed those characteristics down flawlessly.

I’m going to rip you apart boi, limb from

little limb, until your screaming is concluded with a rainbow bursting from your ass cheeks leading to me’ pot o’ gold, the Hart Title; and as the final chapter of the October of Waters comes to a close, the entire XWF Galaxy will bare witness to what a true superstar looks like, while the feebly crafted jokes like you McBride will be a distant memory...

Hey Mikey-boy, questioning now why you even opted into this show? No one, and I mean NO ONE is going to upstage me in Dolly's Play House, let alone some pathetic fuck who's current title run is credited only to being granted a match against the worst Hart Champion ever. Just think had you kept your mouth shut and gotten to defend your strap against that fat queer Barney Green next week...

Now you and Jakob will be just another squashed during Dolly fuckin Waters' meteoric rise to her throne atop of the XWF.

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