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Dolly Waters · (03-19-2023)

Doing Time

News of Dolly Waters winning the XWF Television Championship has yet to reach this cramped and dusty jailhouse where Patel Gagendeep is being held.

Patel, Dolly’s confidant, her highly-compensated assistant, was taken into custody following a most bizarre series of events. Events that led him to be charged with, among other things, kidnapping.

“So… I heard you like tying up the ladies-” a burly inmate sharing the holding cell with Patel claims, while striking up some uncomfortable small talk.

Patel’s back is pressed firmly against the concrete wall near the steel door, his head collapsing into his neck while he buries his trembling wrists into his chest, doing everything he can not to be touched. But the large inmate is getting closer. He plants his meaty palm into the wall next to Patel’s head, giving the scrawny, Indian-American book-keeper a line-eye view of his sweaty armpit.

“-you don’t really seem like the type, ya know? So small. So frail.” Patel’s eyes squeeze shut, his head shaking back and forth like a fit of tremors.

”Th-there-there was a misunderstanding…” the words stammer out, trembling, while the sides of his skinny kneecaps clack together under a burnt orange jumpsuit. Patel’s frightened cadence brings a smile to the ogrish inmate’s face, as he peels his glare up from the fresh-meat’s… fresh meat.

“Oh don’t you worry, baby boy-” a chuckling tone of reassurance while he brushes Patel’s bangs from his eyes “-I’m innocent too! They’re gonna’ let us go any moment now. It’s only a matter of time. So we might as well get comfortable… enjoy ourselves, right?”

‘Only a matter of time…’ Patel thinks to himself.

In just a matter of time he’ll be eloped to a burly burglar named Butch, whisked away on a most intimate honey-moon. Twenty-five seemed like an awfully young age to settle down, especially with someone he barely knew, but the freedom of choices in life had been wretched away, and now all Patel had was time.

Time to sit and wonder exactly how he wound up in this position to begin with…

When we last saw Patel, he was watching in awe as his employer, XWF Superstar Dolly Waters, was making an abrupt exit from the local they’d been commondering. A quaint little gypsy shop called: Madame Maluna’s Metaphysical Manor. Making the exit along with Dolly, was a latex sex-doll named jeNNy.

Using the powers of black magic and alchemy, Dolly had channeled the essences of Jenny Myst’s soul into the doll, using it for an experiment prior to facing Myst for the Television Championship on Weekend Warfare. Of all the black magic Dolly had been tinkering with recently as a means to gain an edge in the wrestling ring, this was by far the most bizarre manifestation. The doll sprung to life, and immediately began to embody the worst elements of Jenny Myst. The elements that Dolly could easily exploit in a match up. Namely, the doll’s desire to be reassured by the masses that she was on the right track, rather than just trusting her intuition.

”bUt cHaOs iS tHe oNe tHaT pEoPlE rEaLlY lOvE, mAyBe i sHoUlD lEt hIm tAkE tHe lEaD!”

I don’t fuckin’ know, jeNNy… just do whatever you want!

Patel recalled a bit of the tense back and forth between Dolly and the doll.

But the doll took Dolly’s advice, and ventured out into the town surrounding the Metaphysical Manor. It didn’t take long before the townspeople became enraged with the doll, as she went door-to-door asking the elderly, young children, really anyone who would listen, if she should reunite with her ex lover… a plastic vibrator named Clit Chaos.

The townspeople formed an angry mob, and surrounded the metaphysical shop, demanding the doll be turned over, but by the time they broke inside, Dolly and the sex-doll had fled. Leaving behind only Patel… and the rightful owner of the shop, Madame Maluna. Held captive against her will, and tied to a chair. Maluna was set free, and a citizen’s arrest was made on…

“GAGGING - - - DEEP?!” The confused tone in jailer’s voice echoes into the holding cell as he mispronounces Patel’s surname, but just in the nick of time. Patel springs up from his bunk bed, where big burly Butch was sitting next to him, resting a hand on his thigh.

”I’M GAGENDEEP!” Patel shouts with tears in his eyes, raising his hand and waving it wildly. This proclamation makes his fellow inmates' eyes widen with ravenous intent. “Ooohhh… ARE YOU, NOW?” Butch damn slobbers out the words,

But the jailer’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect, as the metal locking mechanism turns on the steel door before it slides open. ”Get your shit, kid. You’re free to go.”

I- I… I am?

Patel couldn’t believe it. After having long feared that his employment with Dolly Waters, and her scheming to hex any and all who stood in her way of conquering the XWF, would surely land him in prison, Patel was certain that he was in the big house for good.

But taking another look at the cell, and most noticeably his sexually frustrated, three-hundred pound bunkie, Patel was happy to be wrong.

Yes, goddamnit! The owner of that gypsy shop decided not to press any charges-

Madame Maluna… Patel smiled, quietly thanking the heavens for her kindness and understanding. Afterall, it was Dolly who held her captive and ran amok of her shop, not Patel. Perhaps she considered all of this, Maluna is a self proclaimed “light-worker” after all.

Get the hell out of here before I convince her to change her mind. Patel has already moved past the jailer and exited the holding cell before he can finish his sentence.

Outside of the jail, Patel squints into the brightness of the pale, cloudy skies. The climate, much like the holding cell, is cold and damp, but at least here he’s a free man, and in no immediate danger of being used up by some dangerous lunatic… that is until the sound of horse hooves clicking against the paved road in front of the jail stirs Patel up from his knees, where he is down praising the Divine for his release from incarceration.

A covered wagon appears, one like a traveling apothecary would’ve used in centuries past…. Or even a gypsy. It’s being pulled by a pair of horses, one white, one black. An image eerily similar to that of The Chariot tarot card. The card that has been the guiding energy for

Gag!

Dolly Waters opens a small set of french windows on the side of the wagon, and sticks her head out.

Fuck, fuck, fuck… he mutters to himself,

What are you waiting for? Get in! I don’t have all the time in the world, ya know?

What’s Patel to do?

Take off running?

And where?

Back inside to the jail?

Into the loving arms of his cellmate Butch?

Dolly is still his employer, and for what it’s worth, she’s obviously played some role in having him released from jail. Though Patel is certain it must involve another layer of illegal activity, all he really knows is that Dolly’s timing, time and again, seems to be impeccable. In and out of the wrestling ring, she seems to ride the tumultuous tides of the universe’s energy like a torpedo darting down stream, wiping out the simple salmon who can’t help but fight against the current. And this is further confirmed once he steps inside of the covered wagon and spots what's lying next to Dolly on the little sofa she’s occupying…

Funny, it’s much lighter than I remembered it…

…The XWF Television Championship.

Well, you were what? Thirteen the last time you held it?

Dolly smirks and motions for Patel to join her on the sofa. The inside of the wagon is decked out with different types of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, and quirky little trinkets and tapestries scattered about. To Dolly’s right, sitting on a wooden end-table, is an old tea kettle.
She pours a cup and hands it over to Patel, then pours herself one.

What’s this? he sniffs, and coughs while breathing in the steam of the drink… It smells rancid.

Well, it ain’t no cheap ass chardonnay, that’s fer’ certain. This drink actually serves a purpose rather than being here one day, getting you drunk with promises, and then gone the next.

...and what purpose is that? he asks while watching as Dolly takes a slurping swallow of her hot tea.

It’s a brand new recipe that Maluna helped me conjure- feeling a sense of ease in hearing that Dolly and Madame Maluna must be working together, rather than Maluna being upset over the kidnapping events that transpired, Patel takes a drink of his own tea, and to his surprise, it doesn’t taste half bad, -it’s manifested with the intentions of letting one see into the plans of Divine Timing.

But the pleasant taste is short lived as Patel feels a grimy substance getting stuck between his teeth. What is this? he spits the substance back into the cup,

Pfft, after all this time don’t you know anything about metaphysics, Gag? Those are tea leaves! We’re gonna’ read them to predict the future… Suddenly, the inside of the wagon simultaneously feels really small and really big. Patel’s pupils dilate as he looks into the tea cup, seeing bevy of different symbols being illustrated by the wet tea leaves. -and once we prove it’s unbridled success rate, by way of me defending the Television Championship at March Madness, we’re gonna’ market the fuck out of it.

Madame Maluna is on board with this?

[Oh she’s more than on board… She's on the payroll.[/dolly] Dolly grins and then turns her attention to the front of the wagon, Driver? Can we get a fuckin’ move on it already? I've got a wrestling promo against some bland rookie to film!

The curtain to the front of the wagon pulls back,

yOu sHoUlD cAlL iT dIvInE tImInG!

It’s the living latex sex-doll, JeNNy.

That sounds like a stupid, horrible idea…

Divine Timing

We see the inside of Dolly’s gypsy wagon. There’s a teacup rattling on a table, and sitting next to the teacup is the XWF Television Championship.

The camera zooms in, and moves overtop of the teacup. Inside we see tea leaves spelling out a message for the XWF audiences, and more specifically, a message for Dionysus.

Everything's about timing, ain’t it rookie?

Walking into the picture and lifting the teacup with a smile is Dolly Waters. She’s wearing dark robes, her hair draped down over her shoulders. A band of beads and stones warped around her forehead.

Right place.

Right time.

That’s how you and I ended up in this contest at March Madness.

From the time you signed the dotted line on an XWF contract, to the time when I decided I’d had enough of adhering to the nonsense in my contract. When I decided I was going to start taking matters into my own hands fer’ once.

From the time you tried convincing the world that you could make Chardonnay out of sharts-and-spit with yer’ buddy Blondie, to the time I ended Blondie’s XWF career with a single chair shot when I wasn’t even trying.

It’s all about timing.

A second round exit parlayed into a championship victory by moi…

…and a third round exit parlayed into a failed championship opportunity fer’ you.

The timing couldn’t be more perfect fer’ someone like yer’self, Dionysus. Especially for a man who so clearly tries to keep his time occupied. Vineyard moguling, pro wrestling, delving into the personal lives of yer’ therapists. It’s a wonder how you can keep up with everything. But you know what they say about the workaholic?

They keep themselves occupied to avoid reality, and that seems fitting for a man who walks to the ring holding a shield and battle-staff like this were ancient Greece. CLOWN!

A bitter scowl overcomes Dolly’s features as she spits on the floor of her wagon,

Fuck a gimmick.

You might find some value in dressing up like a child playin’ make believe fer’ those idiotic fans in the audience, but not me.

Those thankless pricks act like we owe them something, and right now they’re just frothing from the mouth, waiting for me to make their wishes come true…

Waiting for me to name some ridiculous stipulation that validates the hyper-inflated price they were stupid enough to pay for March Madness tickets and streaming services…

Well, I’ve got a stipulation alright… and it ain’t no Mini Golf, Buried Alive, Choose Yer’ Own Rock Climbing Adventure BULLSHIT-

Dolly looks back at the teacup and grins,

Ya’ see, time is of the essence when I put the Television Championship on the line at March Madness. You’ve got nasty wine to distill. People to put to sleep. I’ve got more plotting my way to the top of XWF to focus on, so why on earth would I waste yours or my time with some convoluted stipulation? For the sake of the fans? For the sake of the XWF shareholders? So that Theo Pryce’s dividend can move up a quarter of a point?

What everyone has failed to realize about this change I’m injecting into professional wrestling. What they fail to realize about The Chariot I’m voguing toward the top of the mountain… is that fer’ once in my life, this is about ME. About Dolly fuckin’ Waters. I gave, and gave, and gave, and it got me NOTHING.

Eight Championship opportunities in seven fucking years, and ya know what? Two of those have come in the last three months… when I decided to take my power back. And as you can see… Dolly motions a hand toward the Television Championship, ...the proof about who I am, and what I’m actually capable of has been in the pudding all along. I don’t have anything to prove to these people, or to you Dionysus. All I’ve gotta do is sustain.

Fact of the matter is, yer’ the one knocking on my door, when frankly I could give two-shits about who you are, or why you want to achieve success in the XWF. You’ve got a name to make fer’ yer’self, and lemme make something clear: picking up random wins against fellow XWF rookies like Mark Wright, or perpetual losing machines like Barney Green and Mr. Oz ain’t how you make a name.

Losing to Ned Kaye DAMN sure ain’t how you make a name.

Being dryer than a box of Chardonnay, ain't it either, buddy.

But you know how you could make a name fer’ yer’self?

Beating Dolly Waters for the Television Championship at March Madness would be one helluva start. Especially if you were to do it in some riveting, epic battle with a grandiose build, one that the fans were anticipating might just steal the entire show… only you ain’t gettin’ that out of me.

Because when it comes to what Dolly Waters can gain from beating Dionysus, the scales just don’t balance out, the timing of the whole thing is off… I’m ascending to the mountain, buddy. Yer’ just now making it to the base of the foothills. I’ve reached back in time, and taken back a championship that I won in my very first match just to use it as collateral fer’ whats to come in my near future.

When I held this championship all those years ago, it truly was a title of opportunity. The champion didn’t pick their own stipulation, no, one that might end up burying themselves, just like Jenny Myst did against me on Warfare. It was incumbent upon the challenger to prove themselves worthy. Holding the Television Title back then gave a TRUE Champion’s advantage.

And that’s what I’m invoking for our match at March Madness.

A Classic TV Title Defense…

Fifteen Minute Time Limit.

If Dionysus can't pin me, or make me submit by the time the clock reaches zero, the match is over, and I retain.

It’s not that I can’t beat you. It’s that I don’t need to beat you. You need to beat me.

That’s not to say that I won’t give you a fight, but that fight will be on my terms.

After I’ve made yer’ big goofy ass run laps around the ring, chasing down one of the most nimble, athletically skilled, and cagey competitors the XWF has ever seen, I might just take my opening when it presents itself.

Once yer’ so gassed can’t even see straight, I might just flip you on yer’ neck and tap you out. Or crack you in the skull with my knee.

But it's all about timing, rookie.... and March Madness Five, against Dolly Waters?

It ain't the time or the place for Dionysus.

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