"Any idiot can face a crisis, it's day to day living that wears you out." - Anton Chekhov

I slink down to a sitting position, back rested against the wall of whatever gas station I was just in. Opening the pack, I pull out a single cigarette and light it up. Pressing it to my lips, I take a deep inhale and breathe it out. Damn, it feels really good to be doing this again, why did I ever stop?

As I begin to cough uncontrollably, I remember why. I don't even care at this point, and take another drag. Everything's peaceful now, my heart isn't racing, I'm calm for the first time in a few hours. I take another drag, but this time I see someone walking up to me. He's not an employee I don't think, and the smile on his face puts me at ease.

He approaches me, a look of surprise on his face.

"Excuse me miss, are you Jessie Diaz?"

Okay, now I'm concerned. How does this guy know my name? It's not like I have a damn name tag, do I?

"Depends, who's asking?"

He smirks douchebaggily, what I wouldn't give to just slap that smile right off his face.

"I'm Jason Glencross, I run a pro wrestling related podcast. I mainly focus on the XWF, because it's the best."

I be he says that about every federation when he wants someone to appear on it. It's not like any one he'll interviews actually watches it in the first place.

"Oh, that's cool. What do you want with me?"

He looks kinda annoyed at that, newsflash buddy; I just wanna smoke and you're kinda intruding. It's like 4 in the morning or something and you're trying to find someone to interview? Plan your shit better.

"I would like to have you on my show, Ms. Diaz. If you want to be on it that is."

There's about five hundred other things I'd rather do, but I don't want to come off as a bitch yet. I guess I could do this little spot for publicity, despite my feelings on the last wrestling podcast I saw.

"Oh, sure! I'd love to!"

Yeah! Acting excited! His face is one of absolute excitement, as if he's never had a guest on the show.

"That's great! I'll give you the address where I film it, and it's on Friday at 5:00 PM."

He pulls out a small notepad and pencil. Come on man, pencils suck. Pens are what it's all about. Nevertheless, he jots down the address and hands the small piece of paper to me.

"Well, seeya on Friday."

Whatever. He walks off, a spring in his step as I slink even further down. At this point I'm basically laying down, my shoulders the only thing pressed against the wall and therefore keeping me up. I could spend the whole damn night out here.

I stand up however, assuring myself that I won't.


Arriving at the filming location, a house which I assume belongs to the host of this podcast, a weird sensation of dread comes over me. This is going to fucking suck, I keep thinking as I walk up to the door and knock.

He opens the door, childlike smile placed firmly on his lips. Boy is he going to be disappointed. I step inside and see his set up. A single video camera pointed at his couch. Is it too late to just walk out?

Apparently so, as he walks toward the couch. My muscles tighten up and refuse to move. It isn't so much that I have a natural disposition to avoid social interaction, as much as I really don't want to be here. Oh well, a deal's a deal.

I follow behind him, taking a seat on the couch. He turns on the camera and sits beside me. I can feel the douchiness just radiating off of him, this is not going to be a fun interview. Not at all.

"Hello once again faithful fans! I'm Jason Glencross and this is the X-Treme Wrestling Podcast!"

Oh sweet Mother Mary what an awful name! What did I just get myself into?

"And today, I'm joined with a special guest. Give it up for XWF newcomer Jessie Diaz!"

He claps like a fucking for me as I just sit there, awkwardly looking into the camera lens. Maybe if I throat punch him now, I can get out of this thing without complete and utter embarrassment. Then again, I don't need a run in with the law so soon after the incident.

"So Ms. Diaz, before we get down to the meat of this discussion, is there anything in the media you're looking forward to? Movies, anything."

"RWBY."

I smile as he looks utterly confused. Being a fan of rather obscure things sometimes brings along benefits. Oh well, it was likely the best way to get him moving forward and not playing 20 fucking questions.

"Well then. You've been on the receiving end of some vicious shots from Hunter Payne this week."

"Vicious isn't quite the word I'd use. It seems more catty than anything."

Speaking without thinking already? Dammit! Oh well, at least it was a decent point. Glencross is starting to look at me funny though, probably not taking to kindly to my responses thus far.

"Why do you say that?"

Fuck yeah! Easy question! I leans back into the couch a bit before speaking.

"Easy. It sounds like he's just echoing the pointless, insult filled rants of his girlfriend or whatever she is. If he were being vicious, he would be tearing me down, not mocking the city I was born in, not calling me ugly or a slut like a middle school valley girl cunt. Irony intended."

He starts to smile, did I do something right? Kick ass!

"I see your point, how do you think he'll respond to your claims?"

I feel a smirk on my face. This might not be so bad after all...

"Easy. He's already used ugly and slut comments in his last attempt at verbally attacking me, so he'll spend an entire podcast taking shots at the city of Seattle. Because those comments totally affect me. Hell, I'd like to stoop to his level for a bit if I may."

The man's eyes light up and he nods.

"Sure, go right ahead!"

That smirk becomes a full blown grin. My blood starts pumping, I remember this feeling. I love this feeling.

"You know what? I'm just going to prove a point instead. Hey Hunter! Remember that I pinned you in the middle of the ring last week. All of this shit you talk has been proven and will continue to be proven to be just that. Shit. Unimportant, unintelligible garbage that spews from your mouth that can't be backed up.

Let's go to the hypothetical world where I'm this ugly, STD infected, whiny emo whore, shall we?

Because even if I was all those things, I beat you. You lost to that. Are you so blind that you can't see how fucking idiotic you sound? Oh wait, you'll pull the old Luca Arzegotti card and say you don't give a fuck, right?

That's all I get when I hear you speak.

A watered down, uninteresting version of Luca fucking Arzegotti. Y'know, the man who hates the city you live for. The man who does drugs on camera and can actually beat his opponents. What can you do?

Imitate his style very poorly, and actually attempt at covering your failures instead of flaunting them around. I swear, all you do is watch one of his promos and say to yourself; 'hey, I can do that!' and then proceed to fail at it.

The thing that makes him so compelling?

He's actually witty.

He thinks of new things to say.

His female companion isn't an airhead.

So keep riding his coattails, oblivious to what he's stated he thinks of you.

See how far that gets you."

Maybe I should just stop going on rants. The man looks at me, jaw damn near on the floor. I stand up and bow for the camera before walking out of the house and going on with my day, smiling at the ludicrous comments Hunter Payne likes to make and then think are actually hurtful.

He couldn't be hurtful if he had knives for fingers.