I've been staying with Johnny's parents since winning my match, but it was time for me to go back home. Home is the last place I want to be, but it's where I'm needed. My furniture finally came in from Africa, and Garbanzo had been staying with Tiff and George for the last week. Banzy needed his mummy. Urg, going home seems to be a terrible idea. I don't want to go home. Johnny's mom packed me a lunch to take on the train, but I'm hungry now. I should eat it. No, Ginger must be strong. There's still 30 minutes before my train arrives. Ok, new plan, there's a cafe right by the station. I'll go get something from there while I wait. Fine, Scrambled eggs it is.

I go sit in the cafe, and order scrambled eggs. Some guy comes over with my plate, and smiles at me. I force a smile, and take my eggs. Please go away, dude. I don't know you, and I don't want to. I just want to eat my eggs in peace. Ok, maybe I want to get drunk as well. No. He sits down across me and smiles. Well, ok, it is a cute smile. He has curly blonde hair, and blue eyes. I might not mind the company on a normal day, but today I do.

Hi, can I help you?

Just wanna say hey.

Oh, great a yank. I don't want to deal with this today.

We did that already. You succeeded. Do you need something else?

Damn, girl, why you so cold?

Because I prefer my eggs warm, and you're not letting me eat.

Ok, whatever. Just a fan of yours and wanted to say hi.

He gets up and walks away. Good, I pull out my bottle of Vodka and take a chug. Delicious way to start the morning. A horn blares, and I look out the window. It's the train. Crap, I have to run to make it. This is terrible. Why would you do this egg boy? You rude Americans. There's a scramble to get into the train, and I hate it. Scrambles make me think of my eggs, and I'm hungry. Ginger needs food now. Or more booze. Ginger needs food, or more alcohol. I haven't decided which is a better idea right now. Whatever, I push through the crowd and find a seat. It's a window seat. Yay, I can see all the landscapes pass by as I regret my decision to go home. Find a nice empty house, no Johnny, no baby, no Georgie, and then collapse. In the morning I'll be able to go collect Garbanzo and head back to my house to cry on the couch while missing Johnny. That sounds like the best idea ever.

Until, someone sits down across from me. It's the Yank. Well, bugger. I wanted to run home in peace, and quiet. I swear, I will punch this bloke if he speaks to me.

You forgot your eggs.

No, I will not punch him, he's handing me a plate of eggs. I decide to take a bite, and these eggs are delicious. Cold, but delicious. It almost makes me feel better. You know what does make me feel better? Shoving forkfuls of eggs into my mouth in rapid succession while this yank tries to talk to me. He's cute, and brought me eggs, but that's not enough to get me to stop eating. Ginger is hungry, and angry, one of those needs to be met. He talks, and I'm half listening. I don't want to be rude, but I haven't eaten since last night, and I'm already so tiny.

Feeling better, Ginger?

I swallow hard. How did he know my name?

I'm sorry for earlier. Yes, the eggs are yummy. But, how did you know my name?

The yank chuckles, and I shovel more eggs in my mouth.

You're Ginger Snaps, the XWF Intercontinental Champion.

Dùbhghlas

He cocks his head to the side, and gives me a look.

Eh?

My name is Ginger Dùbhghlas. Snaps is a stage name because my favourite biscuit is a Ginger Snap, and my brother would tell me I was the best, like them.

Oh, ok. Well, my name is Mike. I'm here for a vacation.

Then what were you doing bringing me food in a cafe?

Oh, I needed money, so I waited tables there for a little bit to make tip money. You Brits don't tip well.

Eh, you get paid from the cafe. Why am I paying you more money for doing your job? Fans don't throw money at me for knocking Tush out.

Has that happened yet?

It will. Trust me.

I take a massive swig of my bottle and it's now nearly half empty. I need a new one.

You might wanna slow down there, Ginger.

I give him a look. Who is this dude to tell me that I need to slow down? It's not like I'm Maverick, pooping on everything in sight, or Tush calling everyone gay because he's secretly ashamed of his lack of manhood and own possible homosexuality.

Why?

I'm confused, so I do the only thing that makes sense. I take another massive swig. This bottle is nearly empty, but it's ok, I think I have another one somewhere. Time to dig around in my purse for it. I find a lot of things, but not my bottle. I'm getting upset. Almost as upset as Tush is when there's not someone for him to insult so that he can finally feel like a man. That surgery didn't do him any favours, apparently he's still not really a man. Mike looks at me like I did something.

It's not good for you. And what are you doing?

I'm looking for my other bottle of Vodka. I need it.

Mike holds it up and shakes it so I can see it.

You left it at the cafe. I took it.

Can I have it back? I need it.

Why do you need it, though?

I start to cry, no one's asked me this before. I didn't think anyone ever cared before.

Johnny.

I can't muster the words to finish telling him about it, but I don't think he needs me to finish. He comes over and puts his arms around me and holds me. I cry into him and he just holds me and rubs my back. This is nice, but it doesn't compare to the feeling of Johnny being back. I'm wiping my eyes on his shirt, and sobbing, when I feel his hand move up to my hair, he's stroking it, and trying to make me feel better. Instinctively I lift my head up, tears down my face and snot running down my nose. I kiss him. He kisses me back, and I immediately pull back. I shouldn't have done that.

I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I really shouldn't have done that.

He laughs, a little. That makes me feel nervous. Why am I nervous?

Did it make you feel better?

I blush a little.

Yeah, somewhat. But, I shouldn'ta done it. Now you're all snotty.

He leans in and kisses me again. I don't fight back, but I feel guilty. This kiss goes on for a few seconds, and I know my mouth tastes like eggs and booze. I need to say something. I pull back, and look around the cabin of the train. We're alone. Hmmm.

I taste terrible. I'm sorry.

He laughs. Why is he laughing? That's not cool. Am I that repulsive? Am I about as attractive as Tush's chances of winning the title at Warfare? No. I am way prettier than this. WHY IS HE LAUGHING?

You taste fine. Come here.

He starts kissing me again, and his hands move to my waist. I don't know what's going on. No, yes I do. He's playing with my belt. I don't know what to do. I don't want this, but I don't think I can tell him to stop. It's making me feel good, but I know I shouldn't do this. Fuck. I pull back and manage to get a word in.

What are you doing?

My belt is undone.

You know what I'm doing. Are you telling me you don't want this?

I shake my head. I don't want this. Not at all. I don't know him, and sure it was fun to kiss him, but that doesn't mean I want this.

No, I don't want this. Please, don't do this.

He's angry, I can feel it. His hand comes away from my waist, and I see it. It's a fist. And it's getting closer. Owie. He punched me in the eye. I fall back into my chair, and hold my eye. It hurts really bad. Another fist comes up and hits me in the face. I don't like this. I try and fight back, but he punches me in the gut and spits in my face. I'm sobbing so loudly, and trying my hardest to fight him off of me. I kick, and I scream, and I'm alone with him as he beats me. I start blacking out from this, when something cold and wet hits my face. I hope it's not pee.


I open my eye as best as I can, and I see he threw the Vodka bottle in my face. He's screaming at me, and kicking me in the legs, as I try and curl up into a ball and die.

Fucking cocktease. You know that? YOU FUCKING SKANK. FUCK YOU. I WILL FUCK YOU IN THE ASS, BITCH! FUCK YOU. TEASING ME LIKE THAT?! WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO TURN ME DOWN?! I TURN BITCHES DOWN! NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND!!

I hear a door open and feel another fist, this time it's to my stomach, and I throw up. I hear someone pulling him off of me and the screams of it all. And then a shoe hits my face, and everything goes black. I don't dream, I just lay in blackness for a while. I'm not sure how long it's been, time doesn't seem to pass in the darkness. I wake up though, and I'm in a bed somewhere. George is sitting by my side, and Tiffany too.

Hi.

I can't hear their answers. Or, I pass out again. I'm not sure which.




Oh, hey, I'm back fighting for a belt I was never sure if I wanted. Ok, fine. Who am I fighting? Tush? What kind of name is Tush? I really don't know, is it foreign, or something? Are you a lizard person? Is that why you shed your skin or whatever it is you did to be able to walk again? Great, you can walk. You're still not on my level, though. It's kind of sad, though. You won't ever be on my level, and yet you really wish you could be. I haven't wanted any of the titles I've won here, and I haven't asked for shots at them ever. And yet, here we have Ginger, Former Hart Champion, current Intercontinental Champion, and once a contender to the Universal Title. Let that sink in, Tush. I did what you would never be able to do. I beat Vinnie Lane, and I was able o win a championship. I'll let you look at my belt from a distance, though. How are you going to raise the prestige of the belt? Last month you were essentially a carrot. Do you plan on laying back in the soil and hoping the sunlight will make you better? Can't be making the title better, coz you won't be taking it.

Besides the origin of your name, I want to know what your obsession with everyone being gay is? You went on about how gay Christoper Isles is, about how gay everyone was in the gauntlet, that you lost by the way, how gay Vinnie Lane is, and how I'm a lesbian. You need all of us to be gay to make you feel better about your small penis and nonfunctional testicles? I also really need to know where you get your insults? Because they're terrible. You sound like you threw a bunch of Scrabble letters at a wall and decided to use whatever words came out to make you sound tougher. It doesn't impress or scare me. I actually pity you. Maybe you can get your cheesy paedostash out of Christopher's shorts long enough for you to see the top of the arena when I toss your unconscious body from the scaffold. Three times better than me? Adorable. You're a carrot boy trying to be a man.

You're meanest man in the federation? Really now? And you lost the Federweight title in your first defense. You lost it to who? Exactly. You lost to Peter Gilmour, and yet you want to put him down? Why? Because you're jealous that you'll never be as good as he is? Because you're not even good enough to hold a real title in this federation, and he currently has one, and I'm on my second. In less than 7 months. That's way more than you can say. Heck, you can't even say you mattered at any point until this warfare when you stepped into the ring with Ginger Snaps. The closest you can get to success, followed closely by your poor attempt at stealing Dim's routine by "talking to God." Nice, you're going to steal my spotlight so you think you matter, as well as stealing Dim's routine. You're such an awesome competitor that everyone will always take you serious. Wait. No. That's me. People will keep taking me seriously, and never you. Go get paralysed again, it's the only way anyone will ever touch you.

Actually, while we're on the subject of things that you can't do well, how did you manage to get out of that Triad car? I mean, you were trapped pretty solidly, and then you managed to escape with a little boy, because that doesn't seem odd when mixed with that mustache. You had him read to you, though. That part confuses me, because like, Christopher's things were recorded, you could hear Christopher ask the stuff. You didn't need it read. Did you do that just so you can spend time with a little kid? Because that makes sense for you.

<3 Gator <3