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Jenny Myst · (07-17-2022)

The period to end the sentence, though it felt like more of an exclamation point. She was finally done.

She had completed her first roleplay! It was an exhilarating feeling. A rush. It made her hair stand up on end. She felt free.

She could literally be anyone she wanted, in any magical world she created, and come up with any scenario she saw fit. She could be funny, they seemed to love that. She could tell a dark story, and that was a niche some enjoyed. She could talk smack without worrying about upsetting someone in real life because, well, hey, its all just a game right?

She adored games.

She could stay in character, too. At all times. She could BE whoever she wanted and there was nothing they could say about it, because, well, hey, it was all a game, right?

This game can hide mental illness. It can bury it, heal it, or make it flourish. It can be the breeding grounds for something beautiful and creative, or the breeding grounds for a literal nightmare. It was a game, and she was in control of how she played it.

She adored games.

Shutting her laptop she smiled. That was a load off of her shoulders. There were other e-fedders in the Red Square that day, and she was certain they all felt the same sense of relief she did. It was deadline day, after all!

Pulling back the blanket to check on Goldi, she was spooked when a voice broke her rhythmic trance.

"So.....uh....how do you feel about your promo?" he asked in a nasally yet deep voice, like an uncomfortable cross between Bevis and Butthead.

"Fine" she managed to get out, going to get up.

"Who is your character?" he asked, "what are they like? Are they pretty like you?"

Was this nerd really shooting his shot in an internet café? In broad day light. In front of her child?!

The urge to grab this dudes neck and make his eyes look at the back wall without moving his torso was almost overwhelming, sticking to the back of her throat like bile she was forcing back down.

Woooo saaaaaaa

A deep breath and a fake smile.

"My characters name is Jenny Myst. Her real name is Jennifer Sambuca--and before you say it, yes like the alcohol--and she is 5'0, blonde, from Las Vegas....."

McLovin' over here was soaking this all in like Dawn on a Scrub Daddy.

Clearing her throat, she continues.

"She's super pretty. Like, super duper pretty. But she's broken. She has had a rough past, one she doesn't often like to talk about, yet, always seems to end up talking about it. She is talented, but inexperienced. She is passionate, sometimes too much so, and has a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. She comes off as confident but she's really self conscious..always wondering what others think of her when she doesn't even know how to feel about herself......."

She cut herself off.

Did she care? Did she care about what people thought of her? She sure used to.

"......She sounds very beautiful and like quite the deep---"

".......she's me."

He smiled at her.

"She's me in every way, and that's okay. Back at the club, they told us to never use you're real name for your own safety......but here, they want you to use a fake name for theirs......"

She put her laptop into her Target bag, which has become her makeshift purse.

"I have a big event to get ready for....some big collab thing....."

"Ahh, Pay Per View, love those!"

The fuck does he know about Pay Per View?!

She nodded, smiling sheepishly.

She really did have one to get ready for. She was captain of a War Games team and had a lot of great talent she needed to be there for. She pushed the stroller out the door, almost shaking as she got outside, heading towards the hotel.

Before that, she needed to beat Bobby Bourbon. Her number one prospect who she swerved on, deciding to go in a different direction because she saw a brighter future in Raion and quite frankly....didn't trust Bobby.

She didn't trust anyone, but there was something about Bobby.

It was just her and Goldi, until the end of time. Nobody was going to take her away.

NOBODY!

As she looked ahead of her, the broken up clouds in the sky, she couldn't help but chuckle. She was so desperate to be herself, to get away from the fake and phony life she created for herself, but on the internet she was expected to create a fake and phony life and portray it as herself. It wasn't her, but that's what they accepted. She was her, but struggled to accept it.

She had been living in an e-fed this entire time, it seemed like. Going over and above to be someone she wasn't for the like approval, the entertainment of others.

What a whacky world this was.

She gets back to the hotel, and gets Goldi to her room. Poor thing was exhausted, couldn't keep her eyes open. Kissing Goldi on the forehead, she sand her a lullaby as she rocked her slowly. It wasn't long until she was asleep.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++=

[i]A dark room, Jenny sits Indian style. She has Artie around her neck, and her head is down, shoulders moving. She appears to cutting something though her hands can't be seen.

Humming a tune to herself, she slowly rocks back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A door is propped open ever so slightly behind her. This door would be her escape of reality, her own little e-fed, where she could be who she wanted, when she wanted, how she wanted.

To be herself, finally.

But sometimes the door that leads you to yourself is the hardest door to enter.

Getting up, she walks slowly over to the door. Cards fell out of her pockets, scattering on the floor. ACE, QUEEN, KING, JACK, 10.

Straight.

She opened the door with a shaky hand, and reached blindly for a lightbulb, clicking it on.

Skin Suits. All of them, with the most recent being GaRRy's. That would explain what the smell was.

Skin suits, all laid out, one by one, with their assigned MEAT CLOWN tee shirt.

WHAT THE FUCK DOES SHE KNOW ABOUT REALITY?

She unfolded two hangers that she also had in her overalls pocket, and put it on the rack next to all the others. Two that were going to be forever kept in her closet, forever a reminder. One would be her e-fed, a memoire of a fake life she tried to hide behind....the other would be her.

Post it notes.

BOBBY BOURBON

JENNY MYST

She smiled, shutting the door. She gripped Artie tight in one hand. It was deadline day, and she had gotten what she needed to done. Now, it was time for real life, and she would do the same. Bobby Bourbon would fall before her, and she would be one step closer to---

"See You Soon"

"Same old tired cliche's, bobby. Same old jokes. Boy, do they get old? Jenny is a whore. Jenny turns tricks. Jenny is dirty. Literally open up a thesaurus and look at all the words that can be used for trashy whore and apply them. Apply them. All that rage just comes pouring out, doesn't it Bobby? All the years of being bullied in high school, crying in your room just hoping someone will love you come flooding out like the Mississippi during a rainstorm. All of that aggressive, over the top, compensating talk of yours, and all you did was prove me unequivocally correct. You're an entertainer, Bobby. That is it. You're funny, we get chuckles from your promos. We pop some of my man Orville and grab a soda, and we watch. We watch, we laugh, we're entertained. It's good for us, we need it. But it comes from a place of sadness, doesn't Bobby? It comes from a place of hurt and disdain, a place where not many crawl back from. I can sense it like a dog on a hunt. You're a sad dude, and it's so obvious!

The saddest people make the best clowns.

The funniest people on the planet are the deadest inside. You're scrambling now, that's obvious. So lost in your ball of hate that you failed to even mention the type of match you're in. How you have to dress like me. How you have to put all that pride aside and do what you love the most, but also what tortures you the most. Entertain us . Macho brooding, chest pumping, talk of "destroying". Your insults didn't even make sense, you were just saying them as fast as possible. Get everything out, then take a deep breath.

Whoooosaaaa.

Then back at it again. Like a train with the brakes missing, Roberto. It isn't my fault you've been silent this long, that everyone is picking you to lose, that the momentum is all in my court and that you are stuck on a War Games team you hate, and who picked you on clearance. It isn't my fault you COULD be one of the greats but we can't rely on you in the biggest moments. Boom or bust, Bob.

B.o.B!

Holy shit, it all makes sense now!

You're gonna dress like me, Robinson. You're gonna dress like the " Hot Topic discount bin bitch", like the "pile of goopy half-goth bullshit." You're gonna have to BE what you despise the most, at least for one night. Didn't even factor that in, did ya? Didn't even take the time to process that tidbit in all your red-faced rage. Didn't take the time to sit down and analyze and realize that re-hashing is the furthest thing from the truth, when in fact I have been going above and beyond to denounce that old fake plastic re-creation and just be the best thing I can be, me.

But of course you overlooked that, because you overlook everything, and everyone.

You have no respect, and that is why you fail. That is why your name COULD be etched in stone among the elites, among the best to ever do this, but instead you're stuck in a revolving door of what could have been. Sheer and utter disappointment. Hell, you may even be a bigger disappointment than Centurion turned out to be. At least he has respect, at least he has class. What do you have? Self-hatred and a sense of humor.

I understand that you're upset at me, but your anger and malice is misplaced. You throw Garry's lucky victory in my face like that's supposed to mean something. It is about who is taking care of Goldi now, and that would be me. What happened then is in the past, and she sits in her rightful place. You wouldn't treat her well, anyway. She didn't like Kentucky much, I doubt she'd like D.C. She's very particular. Who you should be mat at is Garrbear, not me. You could be facing him and both of you could be throwing your same tired insults around at each other. Hell, it would be like a Jerry marathon. You even resorted to rapping, or, something, in there. I don't know. Then got some one liners from a reddit Roast thread or something, I don't know.

I continue to find myself week in and week out. I continue to know more and more who I truly am, and where my place in this matrix is. You continue to do the same thing over and over. It's always the same Bobby. It got boring.

So this week, yes, you're going to entertain us. You're going to throw on my outfit from the suspenders to the panties, and you're to put on a show! My moves, my clothes, my mannerisms. Ohhh, eeeee, it's going to be fantastic.

Dance little puppet, dance.

What is most disappointing about your temper tantrum? You obviously are oblivious to EVERYTHING. It's like you're stuck in 2018 all over again. It's like you had insults to hurl at me in case we ever crossed paths doodled in a notebook somewhere and practiced them in the mirror before hitting record.

Is THAT where you've been all week?

I have had nothing handed to me, Bobby. That would be you. The administration here does not like me--in fact pretty sure they loath me--and everything I have gotten I have had to earn. Not sure what your problem with Theodore is either, but maybe you want to add that to your next shrink visit? Latest shlub promised me stardom and fame? Pretty sure the only thing I get offered is an ass kicking week in and week out. I have a target on my back the size of Russia right now, and people just looooooove to kick a girl when she's down. What the FUCK have Theo and Vinnie ever given me except a migraine? I think you're delusional, or drunk? And bringing up Chris Chaos to be the set up AND punchline? That's like sooooooo 2020 man. He's gone, he is staying gone, and quite frankly we're all better off without him. You're better off, trust me.

Keep telling us all that you're the king. Keep telling us all you matter anymore. Why don't you go ahead and mention you beat both Raion and I to get there? Why don't you pat your back some more now that you can finally reach it, and tell the entire world I am an afterthought while you continue to show everyone that you are. You were picked FOURTH. Passed up, looked over, shunned. Hell, even MASTERMIND looked beyond you. Ned Kaye, LSM. You landed where you landed Roberto because there was nobody good left in the first round. Who was the next pick? Game Girl?

Exactly.

You continue to show us why nobody has faith in you. You're ranting and raving like a lunatic, not making any sense, saying things for shock value like Howard Stern in the 90's. You're a movie stoners watch when they're bored. You make them chuckle until they come down from their high and take out their frustrations on their mother from the basement, probably using many of the same "insults" you recycled here today. We all love to watch from a distance, letting you get it all out for our entertainment. We all love to listen to you do your thing, but nobody really trusts you to come through for them. Nobody thinks you're anything but a flake....a waste......a disappointment.

It's funny you bring Charlie into this. Charlie, who talked all that shit and blew his load early when the lights were brightest, because I may have a little Charlie sized surprise for you.

Guess you're gonna have to wait and see. Hell, you've waited this long, whats another few hours, hmmm?

You're gonna have to dig deep and realize that for the first time in a long time, we aren't laughing with you. We're laughing at you, and you're only ever going to be truly healed when you can learn to laugh at yourself too. Why so serious?

I love that movie.

But for realz....

I am walking out of Portland with Goldi, taking her back to the hotel and running her a nice, warm bath. Odering some room service and quite possibly a movie, and cuddling until we fall asleep. Then, I am putting her on a plane and we are flying home, where we have a spa day booked and then checking out the clerance rack at JC Penny. They have good deals this time of year.

Keep pushing along, big man, and keep being funny. Keep being that entertainer we know and pretend to love, and keep doing what you do best. You're so great at it. I'll keep being Goldi's keeper, and making sure she had the life she deserves. One day, maybe, you'll realize that Bobby Bourbon, King of Whatever-the-Fuck, was never all that funny or all that entertaining, and will probably end up as a janitor somewhere in Vegas, cleaning up after Goldi and I.

Ohhh the life we're gonna live!

Can you become the one thing you hate the most? You're going to have to be because as much as you masqurade your displeasure of my existence and even more so as a champion, what you truly hate the most is what you've become. An emtpy shell who will say whatever to get a rise, without ever really, truly, believing those words. You've been successful because you're big, but the bigger they are.......you know the phrase.

Will this be another time Bobby steps up and entertains us, or will it be just another Myst Opportunity?"

*she smiles into the camera*

"See what I did there?"

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