It’s night, and I’m standing on the floor of a ballroom. I’m in a gold and silver dress, with a sparkly tiara in my hair. Johnny is standing across from me in a silver tuxedo, with his hair brushed to the side, and a yellow flower pinned to his lapel. He moves to stand directly in front of me, and I wrap my arm around him, while intertwining my fingers with his. We move together in rhythm of the band's song. He lifts our hands into the air, and twirls me. The spinning causes my dress to flow in the air, and I feel like a gorgeous pinwheel. I let out a giggle and a squeal. Johnny brings me back in close, then dips me. I feel my hair fall down, and rub against the floor. I am a princess. Princess Pinwheel.

Before I raise back up, I feel Johnny's lips press against mine. Our mouths become one as we kneel over on the dance floor. I hear people in the distance let out an aww. And then I hear a clap form. Johnny brings me to my feet, and his hand rests on the small of my back as we continue our dance. The people watching are in awe of me. I am the Princess they came to see. We finish the dance, and I look around the room. I see people crying, and covering their mouths. Tiffany is wiping her eyes. I walk over to her.

God, Ginger, you look absolutely gorgeous. And Johnny is the picture of Gentleman Etiquette. Did you know he even thanked your father for giving you away today.

Daddy's here? He told me he had to leave after the ceremony.

Tiffany wipes her eyes and points me to my daddy talking to the preacher. I rush over and hug him from behind. I growl like a bear as I do.

Hey, Princess. I wanted to surprise you by sticking around. I got you something.

He twists around faces me. I've got the best daddy in the entire world. He kisses me on the forehead, and wipes the tears that started to form at the base of my eyes. He pushes me back, and pulls something out of his suit jacket. It's the rolling pin he used when he was the wrestler that one time. He brushes my hair out from over my eye. This is the happiest day of my life, and I am so very happy that my daddy is here to share it with me. Daddy starts laughing, and turns to point out Johnny dancing with mums. Johnny's chubby frame moving so elegantly while mum's think frame, and bright red hair dance around, her yellow dress and flaming hair, make her look as if she were a candle dancing in the wind. I hope I age as well as she did.

And then I wake up to the darkness, and blink three times before looking around. The room is dark, and Johnny is laying next to me, his hairy chest raises and lowers as he slumbers. I want to blow a raspberry on his tummy. I don't, but I do decide to get up and go pee. I don't bother putting on the light, don't want to wake up Johnny. The toilet seat is cold, and I feel like this was a mistake. I finish peeing, get to my feet, and shuffle back to the bed. Something catches my foot, and I fall. There's a thud, and Johnny sits up right.

I'd like a table for four please.

He collapses back to the bed, and rolls over as if he hadn't woken up at all. I pull myself to my feet, and move slowly back to the bed. I climb in and curl up under my blankets. The warmth rocks me back to sleep.

Johnny and I are standing in our living room, our fingers tangled sweetly. George is standing in the hallway, supporting himself with a cane. He looks angry. I don't see why at first, so I survey the room, taking every inch of it in. The couch has been chewed, and springs are showing. The carpet is all eaten up, the windows are broken out. So far nothing to anger Georgie, and then I see it. The telly screen is shattered. His Xbox is sparking, and smoking. I realise why George is mad. I go over and hug him, leaving Johnny standing alone, looking at the damage. The only thing that is undamaged is a picture from Johnny and my wedding. I'm wearing a Pink and Blue dress with a Tiara, and Johnny is wearing a blue Tuxedo with a pink vest. Georgie is standing beside me, and Tiffany on his other side. They're wearing a matching green outfits.

I'm sorry, Georgie. I'll get you a new Xbox.

He shakes his head.

It's not the Xbox, sis. Look at the chair.

In the middle of the chair is my Hart Title, but it's all chewed up. There are dents all over the brass, and the leather is almost unusable. I feel bad for Shane having to pay for it to get fixed. Unless he decides to fine me for it. I hope he dies it. I release my grip on Georgie, and I bring my hands up to my mouth and begin to chew on my nails. Not only is the house ruined, the belt is ruined, and King Henry has gone off and run away. I have to find my Henry. I look down at my feet, they're naked, and I feel as if they should be cold, but they're not. I put on boots, and prepare to open the door and go searching for my baby Llama. Johnny, grabs my shoulder and stops me.

You can't go out in this weather, and pregnant. You'll get sick.

I look down, and I see my tummy. I'm showing. I forgot I was pregnant.

I decide I'll be fine, I step outside and it's pouring rain. The water is cold. I wonder how my feet weren't, but the rain was. Until I see a light, and look up. Tiffany is sitting on my lap, holding a glass of water. She's slowly dripping it on me. She's grinning.

Hey, sweetie. Sleep well? Johnny went out to get something. I figured you'd let me watch you record a video for your opponent, Shitterick. Then you and I can go chill here and talk about Georgie.

I blink a few times. I'm still groggy. I reach up and take the glass of water from her. I drink it, and blink some more.

Huh?

Your opponent, Maverick, he uploaded a promo where he admitted to shitting on the Xtreme title.

Oh, ok. Bring me the laptop. I need to watch it.

She brings over the laptop and sits right down next to me. We watch the video, and Tiffany can't help but laugh at how boring and predictable Maverick is.

This guy sounds like he's taken lines out of every generic tough guy book ever. And he looks like he doesn't understand how to turn on a shower.

I know I shouldn't, but I laugh.

Yeah, he's not the first person I've seen here who doesn't like showering. Oh well. I'm going to go shower, and get ready to talk to this guy.

I get to my feet and go shower. I dress myself in a pretty black dress with red piping, and sit at the chair in the corner. Tiffany sets the laptop and I begin to record my video response.

Hi, Maverick! I do hope you pay close attention to what I'm about to say, because it's very important. I beat Vinnie Lane, even if you say he wasn't at 100 percent, I still did something you'd never be able to do. Do you know why? Because I see through you and your act. You're not a tough guy, not really. And that's ok. You don't need to be tough. You just need to be honest with yourself. You're just not yourself now. You're trying to pretend to be tough and ready for this match, but you're not. You're kind of a let down. I thought your big return might have you actually show up with something that makes me feel special, but you didn't. And do you know why?

Because you're too obsessed with Peter Gilmour. There is something odd about how everyone here seems to be obsessed with Peter, and constantly trying to put Peter down. It's sad how little self confidence you have that you have to boost it by making Peter feel bad. The problem is, Maverick, that Peter won't feel sad because at the end of the day, Peter is a much better person and competitor than you are. Peter isn't one to be cut down by your constant jabs about his weight, or whatever other trivial insults you feel like throwing up about his weight, or him not being as smart as other people. It's like this is the only thing people can possibly say about him. I'm sorry, but from your angry introduction to me, I thought you'd talk about something that might hurt my feelings.

You defended the Captain keeping me on? I was asked by name, you on the other hand, were not invited at all. My place in the pirate crew was not in question. Yours was. My friend, Robbie Bourbon, his employees mentioned me being not a pirate because he was trying to do what he thought was best for me. You, were doing it because you're petty and jealous. You wanted to put me out so that you could shine like I shined for a minute. Now, I'm not here to tell you how awesome I am, but I am here to tell you that your jealousy is shining through. It doesn't look good on you being jealous of a little girl.

Now, you think I defended Hitler? No, what he did was terrible, but the question was whether he was beyond help. And the answer was no. Hitler was not beyond help. Osama Bin Laden was not beyond help either. In fact, most of the things you know about Bin Laden you probably don't know. You just know that he was a tall muslim in a time when it was acceptable to hate Muslims. So, I'm sorry that I don't believe the man we know almost nothing about is beyond help. Kim Jong Un hasn't done anything, except make threats because he's getting bullied. So, that's not beyond help, either. You're just trying to find ways to prove me to be fake, even though there's no reason for it.

You want to call me a Hatriot Sympathiser because I'm not a fan of everyone picking on Dim and Peter for no reason? Or because I don't believe that Trax was attacked as innocently as he wants you to believe? Did you not see when Trax attacked the men marching to the ring when Trax attacked them before they did anything, then claimed victim? No, in your blind hatred for Dim and Peter, you decided that they had to immediately be in the wrong. Because you're obsessed with Peter and Dim. And I'm sure you'll start to go on about me over and over again. Because, despite me not being the smartest, I noticed something about you and people like you here. The kids wanting to fit in with the big names. You want to ride the same bus to school. You think stealing their jokes makes you cool. Maverick, it just makes you their next joke. So, as a friend, just stop it.

I close my laptop, and look at Tiffany.

Was that everything you ever hoped it was?

Eh, you went all lecturing mom on him. I thought you'd go more badass. Rip off your dress and start screaming like a savage Scot.

I'm not a savage Scot, and I like this dress. Daddy bought me this dress when I moved to England. Besides, Maverick just needs a friend, and to get lectured sometimes. He's just a lonely boy.

Tiffany starts laughing so hard she falls off of my bed.

<3 Gator <3