The scene opens to the back of a cab, the camera on one side and our subject on the other of the backseat. The subject is – of course – Sally Talfourd. And oh-my, does she look stunning. Donning that white and black polka spotted dress, her hair looks as though it’s been meticulously crafted strand-by-strand. The make-up is flawless too.

“That’s three items off the ‘to do list’,” Sally rolls her head from side to side, her eyes closed, a tinge of exhaustion in amongst the picture perfection.

“Press conference: Done,” Shayne replies from behind the camera.

“TV spot: Done,” Sally’s eyebrows rise up, though her eyes remain closed.

“And photo shoot: Done,” Again, Shayne behind the camera. Out the window over Sally’s shoulder the evening dark is starting to roll in, the sun starting to dip below the horizon. The whole scene gives a sense of a very long day.

“Want to head straight out for dinner?” Sally’s eye open as she sits up slowly, a bit of the pep and zip missing from our last encounter with her, “It would be a waste of that poor make-up girl’s time if I just go home, shower down and order in.”

“Did you bring a coat? A jacket? It’ll get cool.”

“I’ll be right. Just make sure we eat inside,” She rubs her ups up and down a few times, warming herself up already, “Hey – quick question.”

“Ask away,” Shayne adjusts himself, sitting upright to frame Sally with the window, zooming in just a touch.

“At the press conference – what was with those questions about Jason Cashe?” Sally furrows her brow, confused, “I mean, I know he’s at XWF but…why is anyone putting us in the same sentence?”

“Ah!” Shayne seems to be prepared for this, “I think we can chalk that up to Mark.”

“Mark?” Sally’s now visibly confused before suddenly snapping to – out of the malaise of a long day, “Right, Wright?”

“Right right?” Now Shayne’s confused.

“No, I mean,” Sally pinches the bridge of the nose, “Mark Wright, yes?”

“Oh! Yes! Mark Wright – blame him. He was talking about the match through the week. Dropped your and Cashe’s name.”

“Why?” Sally is, once again, confused, “He’s not in the match. I didn’t even mention his name. And I’m not likely to anyway. The further he stays away from what I’m trying to do…”

Shayne lets out a noise that indicated he’s not privy to the answer, “Maybe your history is more well known that you realised?”

“I haven’t shared a ring with him since some throw-away tag match in 2013,” Sally looks away from the camera, dead ahead with all the seriousness you would expect of a woman focused on bigger things, “And I would like to keep it that way. I mean, he’s not even in the tournament, not even on the horizon.”

“Well, anyway. That’s how he came up,” Shayne looks to pivot away.

There’s a silence, a real awkward one. The driver has no clue what to do other than, you know, drive. Shayne’s efforts have clearly fallen flat. Any return to entertainment is in Sally’s hand. She draws it out long enough before she suddenly turns herself and all her charms to the camera once again.

“Sorry there, friends” A wide smile, bright beaming eyes, “Let’s get back to the show. Welcome back! And what a day we’ve had. You’ll get to see the fruits of it all probably after this episode streams out? We got a lot of work done: Press conference, photo shoot, TV commercials – we’re locked and loaded in for XWF, I tell you now!”

She pulls a hand through her hair over her shoulder then pulls the loose strands behind both ears. She flattens out her dress, pulls the hem down to her knees and folds her hands into her lap, “You know, through all this preparation and busy work for XWF, it’s easy to get caught up in the flow and be carried rapidly towards this first round of March Madness with a mindset of, well, madness rather than clear and acute focus. That with all the dizzying excitement of the lead-up, one could easily lose their mind and lose grasp on what it takes to win a tournament like this.”

“And what does that take, Sally?” Shayne asks the most leading question of all time, just a real softball? “With twenty years in the ring, surely the Last Magician knows what tricks its takes?”

Sally face is slightly flush, embarrassed for even herself in having the chance to go on like this, “Well, Shayne – I would suggest that having been in this business as long as I have, I think I have a bit of an insight into what is needed to knock off Mr. Mad Dog himself. First, you treat him like he has rabies and then, second, you put him down with no remorse and no sympathy. It’s like when I was growing up…”

Shayne interjects, “You had a dog?”

The car hits a bump, the two in the back seat are jolted. Sally looks around with the kind as though she was driving in Fallujah rather than Houston, “What was that!?”

“Pothole? Pedestrian?”

“I hope it’s only one of those.”

Shayne chuckles, “Which?”

“You can figure that out,” Sally smirks, then settles herself, “No, I did not have a dog.”

“Then how is this like when you were growing up?” Shayne is even more confused than before.

“I knew a family that had a dog, Shayne. And it was nuts man – absolutely nuts!” Sally is wide-eyed, memories and horrors coming to mind, “It would attack absolutely anything that wasn’t part of that family. I would go and visit and bang! It would go off! Run at you, barking, trying to bite you.”

“What happened?” Shayne – like the viewers – are hooked.

“Well, it never really settled into, like, the village. It didn’t even settle into the street! It would see us regularly, and it hated us all the time. I guess it never found its place?” Sally looks down to her hands in her lap again, a solemn look on her face.

“And then?”

Sally looks straight to the camera, right down the lens, “It got out and someone shot it. No one wanted to take the risk. Bang, right in the head. It went down and never got up.”

“Woah,” Shayne sounds like he’s been punched in the gut, “Heavy.”

“I don’t know, I never picked the body up. I just saw the family come out and get it,” Sally looks away from the camera, out the window both trying to remember but not remember too much, “That’s what we have here. We have a mad dog. Someone needs to do the job. This Mad Dog doesn’t fit in like that one from many years ago. There’s something not right, is there. Winless, friendless, aimless. It’s not working, so it’s time for someone to line you up and …”

“Sally,” Shayne’s voice carries a degree of consternation, “Are suggesting that you are going to murder Mark?”

“What!?” She bolts upright, “Of course not. Remember: Mark is the murderer. He killed people on live TV! It’s a metaphor, Shayne – his time in the tournament is coming to an end. It’s ending before it really got started.”

“And I’m not just doing it to progress, Shayne,” Sally shakes her head, a hand over her heart, “I’m doing it for everyone else. What will happen to all the poor souls that he might face next? He goes to the Sweet Sixteen and he’s got another victim. Final eight then final four? Two more. He’s in the finals? There’s another. No, it’s my responsibility. My burden to deal with. It’s like Harry whatsy and that ring and whatever?”

For a tiny flash of a moment there’s a smirk on Sally’s face. From Shayne, there’s a deep breath, “Sally, Harry Potter did not have a ring. That was Frodo and it was in Lord of the Rings.”

“That would make a good gimmick for a wrestler – wouldn’t it?” Sally trails her hand in the space between herself and the camera, “Sally Talfourd: The Lord of the Ring.”

“Would also be a good name for an adult film star,” Shayne’s turn to smirk.

“Ugh, you’re gross.”

“Now, back to Frodo. He had the ring …”

Sally snaps her fingers, “No. Not ever. Never. Let’s get back to the real fantasy: The one where Mark Wright thinks he can win. There’s a fairy-tale for you – where Mark is standing in the ring, hand raised in the air. No no no. That’s just dream stuff, fiction, and all that. We all know what’s going to happen. He’s going to get tied up, outwrestled, busted up and then pinned 1-2-3. My friends, we’ve seen it many times before.”

The cab comes to a stop, sudden enough that Sally and Shayne to have to reach out to the seats in front to stop from going over. Sally looks to Shayne, clearly annoyed. She shakes her head in disbelief, fixing her hair again, “Mad Dog won’t even rough me up as much as this cab ride.”

“Cab probably has more wins,” Shayne sits back to his position.

“Tisk tisk, Shayne,” She wags a finger at him, “That’s just mean.”

“Oh!?” Shayne is offended, “And pretty much calling him a rabid dog that needs to be executed is reaaal friendly.”

“I am friendly, Shayne!” Sally’s indignation starts to show, “I hate that part of this business. I would love to go around and be friends with everyone. But wrestling and XWF and all these places: They are a microcosm of real life. Why do you think people watch us?”

“Watch you? Or watch wrestlers in general?”

Sally glares at Shayne, her eyes narrowing, “What are you trying to say Shayne? You want to talk more about what was it you said? Adult films?”

Silence, and then, “I apologise.”

After her own wait, Sally snaps to, “Anyway, as I was saying: Just like we can’t all be friends. Wrestling is like life. Some people are friends, some aren’t. Sometimes we fight, sometimes we all work together. This? With me and Mark?”

Sally bounces a finger between herself and the camera.

“This isn’t two friends. It’s a fight, pure and simple. Two people trying to stake out a place for themselves. Mark’s had a few turns at it, and he’s come up short. He’s going to be hungry – the Hungry Dog. Me? This is my first chance. And you know what they say about first impressions? So, who will scrap more? Who will claw more? Who will fight more for their place? There’s only one spot, and two of us. My fight? No gimmicks, no schtick. Just wrestling, from bell to bell." 

Sally settles back into the seat, crossing her legs and getting comfortable for the ride.

“The Mad Dog might think he’s a suit for March Madness but we all know that the mad mind gets lost in itself,” Sally taps her temple, “It’s the Magician’s mind you want to see through mayhem and chaos.”

And with that the scene starts to fade out, the shot of Sally riding comfortable, settled, calm and focused. The cab continues on, the occasional bump but nothing like before. But before it can all come to a close …

“Sally, we never finished talking about Harry Potter.”

“Oh God … let me out!”

> XWF record: 0-0-0
> Career record: 277-85-21