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**Dolly Waters** · (10-15-2016)

OOC: this RP is a continuation of The Curious Case of Sawyier McGahee PT.1, where we last saw Dolly hitching a ride from a man to get her to Morbidonia.

Monday, May 25th, 2015
In a Ford Bronco driven by a lunatic (Not named OJ Simpson) on Highway 24
…30 Miles from the Brunswick Train Station…

So was this it? Was this all I had to offer this world in eleven years; winding up slaughtered, my skin used for a lamp shade in this freak show’s mother’s basement? I knew better, I knew damn well not to get in this guy’s truck, and as I look over and notice Sawyier’s odometer is nearing ninety miles per hour, I know now that my chances of jumping from this truck and surviving are about as good as me trying my chances and taking this psychopath out myself.

The stereo was blaring out some depressing song, and Sawyier was driving so fucking fast I was damn near lifting out of my seat, reaching for an “Oh-Shit-Bar” that wasn’t there, damn archaic hunk of junk. I tried kicking my backpack out of the way to get a good look at the floorboard while Sawyier was caught up in the moment of the song:“BLUE DAYS! BLACK NIGHTS! DO-WA DO-WAYYYY AYE!” this was literally insane, I started to try and hum along nonchalantly, and peeking from the corner of my eye to make sure I hadn’t been noticed yet. But suddenly, he stopped singing and turned toward me, taking his eyes completely off of the road… death for the both of us was a near certainty now.

“You know what’s a curious case, Dolly?”

I wasn’t answering, fuck this guy.

“DO YOU?!?”

But he was relentless.

“WHAT, SAWYIER!?! GODDAMN”

“Bullying.”

Oh great… I’m going to pay the price for some not nosed asshole who said mean things to Sawyier as a kid.

My voice drug out the words: “Yeah… I hate… bullies!” as I tightly closed my eyes, gripping on the dashboard, as I braced for the inevitable disaster on the horizon.

“LOOK AT ME!!!”

Uneasily, I do as he commands,

“Bullies are fucking pathetic…”

Sawyier began droning on about some shit about how a kid glued his ass cheeks together in a locker room and posted the pictures all over Facebook, but I couldn’t even pay attention; all that was running through my mind was the screaming thought of what a wasted life I’d led. It made me question the power of God’s will, where here I was with all of these fancy-assed plans of going to train to become a professional wrestler, be the best wrestler of all time, defy the odds, yadda yadda and Gods’ like: “Not so fast bitch! Not in my house!” swatting my ass down and waving his fucking finger like that Dikembe Mutombo commercial.

“I knew the moment I looked at you, Dolly, I could see into your soul and knew that you were another one of them… another pathetic, hurtful bully… not caring…”

I started zoning out again, I couldn’t focus, but yeah, he was probably right… I sometimes built my friendships in school based on fear rather than people actually liking me, I mean it was a respect thing! If your friends don’t respect you enough to be scared shitless of you, then it’s only a matter of time before they stabbed you in the back. That’s what little inhaler using, four eyed dweebs like Sawyier didn’t understand; we bullies NEED our victim’s unadulterated fear to make so that we can keep them relevant! How fucking selfish of him!

I turned around and in the seat behind us, there was a clown costume. That’s right a clown costume. This guy was one of those freaks who dressed up like a clown to scare little kids and per the main stream media, rape them and converge with their other clown rapist friends to take over the world! Fuck I’m becoming hysterical now! At my feet I’d struck pay dirt. I felt a tire iron up near the nose of the floor board and rolled it closer to my seat.

Sawyier began wailing out the lyrics to this emotionally gripping song again: “I LOOK INTO THE SKY, AND I WONDER WHY, THE LOVE YOU NEED AINT GUNNA’ SEE YA’ THROUGH!”, but now he’s produced from inside of his jacket a pistol and slowly cocks it back. This is bad, really bad. The guy is laughing hysterically first pointing the gun at his own head, then looks directly at me and points the barrel to my face. It’s now or never.

Quickly I grab the steering wheel and yank it to my right as the pistol goes off; I couldn’t hear anything but a loud ringing sound as the Bronco barreled from the highway and into the woods. I guess I didn’t think to strap my seat belt because I bounced out of my damn seat, my head smashing against the roof right before falling back down somewhere in the vicinity of crazy asses’ lap. There was an abrupt slamming of sorts that sent my head flying into the lower section of the dash.

I was dazed, blood leaking from my forehead, my leg and ribs feeling like they’ve been beaten by a goddamned sledge hammer. I look up through the windshield to see a mowed down tree and a caved in front end of the Bronco. I am assuming the force from collision of hitting the tree so hard bounced the vehicle as we were now in a clear path to the river.

I look up at Sawyier whose face was pale and lifeless, and was bleeding out from the front of his throat; I’m not sure what happened, but I sure as fuck knew after feeling up by my ear that the moron had shot a chunk of it off at the top. Maybe God’s will was in my favor after all… Falling to my knees out onto the ground, I stagger up from the vehicle and walk over to the driver’s side, reaching in the window and popping the transmission down into neutral and began rolling the Bronco towards the river which sat down off of a small embankment.

“Maaraawraaaa” Are you fucking kidding me? This asshole was still alive and started to come to, looking up at me but unable to mutter anything intelligent: “Holdsss pulp gawk ka helpssss saw her” I did what any rational person would do in my position… I bashed him in his fucking nose with my palm knocking him back out. That creepy fucking song is still blaring through the speakers as the Bronco nose dives from the embankment and plunges into the river:

“TELEPHONE LIIIINE GIVE ME A SIIIIGN! I’M LIVING IN TWIIIILIGHT!”

I collapse to my knees as the vehicle is slowly swallowed whole by the majesty of the river; sitting there for a moment I inhale and exhale deeply trying to catch my breath and gander up toward the road where I see a sign reading:

Morbidonia City Limits

Emotionally shell shocked and with a cumbersome limp, I began dragging myself toward my destination.

To be continued…

Well, well… look who decided to stop being such a little bitch, by instead being a little

bitch acting like he got his man-milk money hijacked! Kitt Kennedy ladies and germs! Kitt fucking Kennedy finally grew a pair of balls and decided to say mean things about Dolly Waters.

Oooohhhh, she’s shaking in her boots! Mr. Rogers said something not nice! But it really equated to a fourteen-hundred second long squander of a promo where you did what you do best: look like a total fool while dropping your stock to a new low!

Kitt don’t sound so broken hearted, and though I know times must be tough for you knowing the staggering climb up, and inventible fall from Mt. Everest that awaits you; at least you’ll have the opportunity to tell your children one day that you got a chance to wrestle in a main event for a XWF Television Title. Or maybe you won’t, because the probability of you leaving Savage on your own strength let alone not in a body bag is diminishing by the day, kid.

Guess what happened today while you were dreaming away about ponies and princesses in your cozy little stage-set mansion, Kitt? My client agreed to pay for a structure, not just any structure, a hellish structure, to be lowered around the ring… and if you think there will be anything but hell to pay for you, then you’re sadly mistaken. But isn’t this what you wanted? You were so worried, so concerned about my involvement, about Da Qlub’s involvement that you made it the highlight of your little dumpster fire promo for Warfare… So we took the liberty of making sure that you don’t have to worry that pretty little head of yours anymore.

Can you feel your confidence rising now Kitt? Do you feel better now knowing that you’ll be all alone locked inside the Devil’s proverbial Play Pin with Dolly fuckin’ Waters? OF COURSE YOU DON’T! AND IF YOU DO, THEN YOU’RE TOO STUPID TO EVEN DESERVE CONTINUING YOUR MISERABLE LIFE!

You dumbass, you’ve sat around groaning and moaning like a Kitty Cat in heat, gushing on and on about how my clients wins are somehow not validated, how? Because she didn’t do anything? Because you and Chaos pinned each other? Do you know what that means? That means you two were too goddamn dumb, thus leaving you fucktards in a bracket beneath shit, something you know well about, and you never deserved to be in the ring with my client begin with. Dolly Waters sat back watching near and miss cancel one another out with that crash landing like the oxyMORONS you two are, but somehow that makes her less of a competitor? That makes her cunning you cunt.

Wednesday Warfare Results Said:Kitt's face turns blue and he quivers, clutching his poor gonads as Dolly Waters hits the ropes and flies at him at full speed!

RUNNING WATERS!!!!!!! THIS IS IT!!!!!!!!!

Kennedy is flat on his back and Waters leaps on top of him for a cover!

I’m curious Kitt, how did the knee to the fucking mouth feel? Are you tribbling? Shuttering at the absolute fact that you’re going to feel it once more? Of course you are, only this time there won’t be some big bulbous pig like Robbie Bourbon swooping in like a thief in the night to steal the cover.

It’s going to be Dolly Waters covering you for the 1,2,3

Maybe not thought, maybe the match will end with Vinnie forcing stoppage when Dolly has manhandled you, beating you into an unconscious bloody pulp.

I’ll admit at least this Kitt; you’ve got courage, you’ve got guts… but it’s a moot point pal, because by the end of the night your guts are going to be torn from your stomach and used as a noose to hang your lifeless body from the stop of Cell…. You’re right, you will be the Highlight of Night, and it’s not going to be pretty.

Even at twelve years old, Dolly Waters is better than you at every aspect of this bloodsport. You say this is no environment for a kid? No you poor fucker. This is no environment for cigar smoking aristocrats who cuddle up with their transgender love interests in front of their cozy little mansion fireplaces.

Dolly’s Play House is no environment for you, and you’re going to reminded of that on Saturday, once and for all.

See you in hell Kitt.

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