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Jenny Myst · (06-23-2023)

Goddamn it was hot out.

Wearing black was a bad idea.

Entering a carnival was like a sensory overload. The rides were always lit up at night reminding her of elaborate Christmas decorations. Then, of course, there was the different music coming from the various rides, a mix of foxtrot and the familiar melody of the carousel. The game booths practically called to you, with those gigantic stuffed animals you wished you could win. And the smells of the delicious fare wafting through the park prompted your stomach to rumble with hunger.

Jenny had always been fascinated by carnival rides. It amazed her that average, ordinary people eagerly trade in the serenity of the ground for the chance to be tossed through the air like vegetables in a food processor. It amazed her that at some time in history someone thought that people would enjoy this, and that person invented what must have been the first of these terrifying machines. For her, it is precisely the thrill and excitement of having survived the ride that keeps her coming back for more.

Ever since that initial impression became fossilized in her imagination many years ago, these rides have reminded her of mythical beasts, amazing dinosaurs carrying off their screaming passengers like sacrificial virgins. Even the droning sound of their engines brings to mind the great roar of a fire-breathing dragon with smoke spewing from its exhaust-pipe nostrils.

Survival had become her thing, as of late. She wandered around the large field, meandering through the sweaty masses of human flesh, sipping on her 64oz. Doctor Thunder and munching on cotton candy like sugar was a lifeblood. This soda was catching up to her, though, and she shuddered to think what the bathrooms looked like. Or smelled like, for that matter. She turned the corner from the clowns making balloon animals and ticket booths to waste hard earned money on trinkets, when she saw it. Right in front of her, clear as the sky was.

The grand-daddy of 'em all, the King of the Carnival. The Ferris Wheel.

It reminded her of her hastilyy thrown together "team" robot at War-Games (the one that got its ass kicked by green jello-demon thing, but hey, it was TK's idea so did anyone expect it to be good?).

She couldn't help but think of TK's stupid robot.......and how this all came full circle.

Her first experience with a carnival ride was a Ferris wheel when she was a young girl. Looking at that looming monstrosity spinning the life out of its sardine-caged occupants, she was dumbstruck. It was huge, smoky, noisy and not a little intimidating.

She slurped her soda now, her straw having reached the bottom of the too-large cup, and she tossed it in a receptacle nearby. Her eyes never left the majestic Ferris Wheel. It was like it was pulling her in, begging her to sit in the cart, to fly high in the sky overlooking the entire town around her……..almost, heavenly……..

“Boring.”

She was looking for a little thrill, a little speed, a little danger.

Her lower stomach began to contort a bit, she was going to need to find a bathroom soon. Her eyes scanned the fair grounds for anything resembling a toilet, and prayed to god it wasn’t a port-a-potty (they are different for girls than guys, ya know!)

Finally, she found something suitable. A BATHROOM sign at a food pavilion about a hundred yards away. She made her way over.

She got into the line just before a group of teenagers got there. Good! Fuck them, and she was already starting to close her legs together and do the uh-oh dance.

A sound cut through the air next to her, roaring by her like a jet liner. Her head snapped to her right. Her eyes lit up and she couldn’t help but smile.

The Scrambler!

One of her favorites, for sure. But no way could she conquer the scrambler like this, there would for sure be a mess. She only had a couple more people in front of her, and as she battled to stay dry her thoughts couldn’t help but wander back to that fucking Ferris Wheel……

The first ride on one of these fantastic beasts gave her an instant rush of adrenaline. As the death-defying ride started, a lump in her throat pulsed like a dislodged heart ready to walk the plank. As the ride gained speed, the resistance to gravity built up against her body until she was unable to move. An almost imperceptible pause as the wheel reached the top of its climb allowed her body to relax in a brief state of normalcy. Then there was an assault of stomach-turning weightlessness as the machine continued its rotation and she descended back toward the earth. A cymbal-like crash vibrated through the air as the wheel reached bottom, and much to her surprise she began to rise again.

Each new rotation gave her more confidence in the churning machine. Every ascent left her elated that she had survived the previous death-defying fall. When another nerve-wracking climb failed to follow the last exhilarating descent and the ride was over, she knew she was hooked.

Maybe that is why she kept coming back, maybe that is why she was so enthralled with this place. Why she couldn't let it go. The ebbs and flows, the ups and downs. The thrill of excitement, the breathless exhilaration of failure.

She made her way back to the Ferris Wheel. To her XWF. To the only thing she's ever truly loved.....

“So here we are again, the classic XWF ‘win this and we’ll give you this’ scenario. It’s like a carnival game! Except, those are kinda tough. Games of chance, ‘n such. Games that are rigged, designed for the house to win so that when you do break the mold and win something, it’s not only a shocker but kind of a big deal. Everybody claps for you, and they give you a giant stuffed prize. There are some easier games with more chances to win, but if you wanna go for the really big prize, you gotta shoot the basketball into the hoop with the small, oval-shaped rim that sits 20 feet in the air, or throw the ring that is jussssst a hair wider than the bottle top and made of hard plastic to make it bounce. You gotta go up against nearly impossible odds against a house that wants to see you fail at every step for their own benefit, you know—for fun. For fun and because the more you lose, the more you want to win. The more it drives you, and you keep shoveling those toothless hacks your hard earned dollars to do the dance all over again, maybe stopping for cotton candy or fried dough in between.

Rigged or not, I am going home with that big pink bear!

I think I have spent enough time with TK to know that he doesn’t give a shit either way, and Reggie Estrada can’t wrestle his way out of a paper bag. So, that just leaves me and the dinosaur man. The Greek freak, the weakest Television Champion we’ve had in a decade. Another one of these deity types. I thought that all died when Atara spread her legs and flew away. Dionysus, the god of wine making, orchards and fruit. The god of fertility, festivity, insanity, ritual madness, religious ecstasy and theater. Sounds like like the god of being a fa–

”

Patented lip snarl turned into a psychotic smile.

“......This is the guy you have the misfortune of being named after? (Yes folks, that's his REAL name…..oyi ve!) A man who didn’t even know what he wanted to be, and here you are just as discombobulated and confused. You don’t know who you are either, do ya Dio? One thing you’re not, is a champion anymore. Ooooo, sick burn, right? Well, I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again…..the X-division has been a joke since I left and the TV division has been its punchline. I anchored those belts for the better part of the last year. I gave them purpose again. I came to the ring and did what I do best……kicked ass and took names……..and you come to the ring with a shield and a stick and don’t even have the wherewithal to realize that DIONYSUS WASN’T A SPARTAN YOU DUMB MOTHERFU—-”

(deep breaths)

“.......and don’t call it “paying homage.” The Athenians and the Spartans HATED each other, and spilled centuries of each other's blood. You use their suffering as a fashion accessory. You aren’t a god, you’re a mere mortal capable of feeling pain and Your Highness of Violence is going to make damn certain that you get the humbling moment you deserve. (as if being a abject failure at every juncture since his arrival isn’t humbling enough)

But it will be fun to step in the ring with TK again! I got to know him and Jimmy pretty well during War Games (well, I got to know Jimmy pretty well, as TK was too busy sucking off Doctor D’ville the entire time), and I think it’s safe to say I know his strengths, and I know his weaknesses. Apparently so does the Doc.

I digress.

I step into the ring with three mid-carders who hate me with a chance to be guaranteed a spot in the company’s premier match at their premier event. Quite frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I made a career off of being hated, and my last X-title run shows what I can do when I am the one who shows up to the party uninvited.

Want a hint?

I burn the house down with everyone still inside it.

I relish in their screams.

It gets me off.

Reggie Estrada is a certified nobody. Diabetes is nothing more than a simp with identity issues, and TK has made a living off being just below the “good enough to matter” bar. Hell, if it wasn’t for Bobby Bourbon and Charlie Nickels keeping us entertained, TK would probably be back in Lima, Ohio getting high on mushrooms and prolapsing Jimmy’s asshole. I am the only one in this match who has a chance to go on to Leap of Faith and make an impact, the only wildcard who could shake that very event to its core.

The other three? A waste of time, pure and simple.”

She set the money on the counter.

"Dr. Thunder, please!"

She pointed at the large one, the big mamba jamba, the 64ozer.

"And a cotton candy."

"Where are you gonna put all that, little lady?" He chuckled as he filled her obnoxious plastic cup.

"I'm going on the Ferris Wheel!" she exclaimed, like a kid about to ride it for the first time all over again.

He slid the cup to her and she brought the straw to her black lips.

Ahh.....she'd missed this.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Jenny va au Carnaval!
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