Monday, October 31st, 2016
Dolly Waters’ House
Frankfort, Kentucky, USA

The scene opens to young Dolly Waters’ bedroom in her Kentucky home. She is standing behind one of those folding screens Europeans use change clothes; and much to the delight of the sicko pederast freaks, we see Dolly’s regular attire being thrown up onto the edge of the folding screen, one by one. Our heroine is whistling a familiar, spooky tune as she continues to undress.

Suddenly, her iPhone7 begins to ring the standardized ringtone of that particular phone… Dolly is an introvert; she’s not one of your typical dumbass kids who have to have some gay personalized ringtone; that type of thing is reserved for dumb fat fucks like Barney Green.

“Hello?”

“Dolly, its Paul, what are you doing?”

“Well Paul, if you must know, right now I’m stark naked and looking at my little woman parts and… lemme’ check, lemme’ check… NOPE! No period yet!”

“Shut up Waters! I don’t wanna’ hear that shit!”

“Awe C’mon, Paul! Yer’ my manager, who else am I supposed to divulge this information to, yer’ concerned about my health remember? Remember, you didn’t think I should’ve fought McPeckerLips and Gaykob on Saturday! I’ve gotta’ keep you updated on all things Dolly Waters.”

“Yeah, yeah… hardy, har-har! I will give you credit, Dolly, you knocked it out of the fucking park on Saturday and at this rate if you keep winning titles, you’ll be the youngest XWF GrandSlam winner in history. But outside of that, how are the ribs holding up?”

Fuck the ribs! What's this GrandSlam shit? Is that a real thing?

As intriguing of a thought as it was, she wasn't going to comment on it right now; it's obvious enough that the Universal Championship picture is in absolute disarray, but she didn't need to knock off some stupid fuck like Scully to win unlike the other baboons bitching and moaning for their guaranteed shot at immortatlity. In Dolly's mind she wanted her inevitable shanghai of the XWF throne to be more memorable than defeating a who could have his ass kicked by even Peter Gilmour. She looks down at her stomach, smacking her ribs a few times.“Ehhh… not too bad, a little sore I guess, but this kinesio tape is really doing the trick.”

“Yes, that stuff really works wonders. But please, try and take it easy will you? You’ve got a hell of a week or two ahead of you… and quite literally at that.”

“Yeah, the XTreme Championship match in Hell… well as you know I’ve got friends in low places to help out there; but is it bad that I feel a bit disillusioned with that entire ordeal?”

“Nah it’s natural. I mean you’re at the top of your game right now, and these Shove-It things aren’t really imperative to career-building; more of a place for lazy ass part timers to come back and try and flex their tiny cock muscles.”

“Yeah you’re right, and not to mention your standard slew of worthless card stuffers, many of whom will have mysteriously vanished from the XWF in a few weeks.”

“Exactly… and as great as it would be for you to win the Xtreme title, it’s not really something you need right now anyway. I mean two weeks from now you’ll likely be getting Tag Title shots with Luca, wouldn’t be fair for you to carry practically carry every single championship. But anyhow, what are your plans for tonight?”

“I’m dressing up right now, man; and feeling giddier than Barney Green at a Rocky Horror Picture Show themed buffet!”

“Great! I already have the perfect ‘Trunk or Treat’ location lined up for you, we’ll be able to integrate some good char..”

“Trunk or Treat?!? Um how about no? This is my last Halloween that I can legally partake in; you think I’m going to waste it doing some lame ass Trunk or Treat? Nice try, but I’m going door to door.”

“Door to door? Dolly you’ll be holding mini autograph sessions at every bumpkin’s pumpkin filled trailer stoop. I’m calling the audible on this one sweet heart! I’ve already got this thing scheduled with a church just down the road from you; we’re going to help raise money for Breast Cancer Awareness month… I have a driver on his way to pick you up now. Plus if you do this for me tonight, I have something really special planned for your birthday tomorrow.”

“Wow Paul… Can you say lame? I mean why in the hell do people even host these stupid ass things anyhow? Do parents really feel safer getting candy from some bloodsucking church? Just think of all the little boys who’ve been raped in the name of Jesus.”

“Dolly, you know I love you right? But you can be such a little bitch sometimes, even worse than my second wife.”

“Awe! That’s sweet, Paul. Just send the fucking driver so I can make you some money your Jew fuck! By the way, is this Trunk or Treat at a synagogue?”

“Bye, Dolly.”

One Hour Later
…Some Arena Looking Church’s Parking Lot…

Dolly steps out of a black sedan as the sweaty looking, hairy knuckled driver, who’s wearing a standard driver get-up, opens the door for her. The parking lot is filled with cars, all with their trunks open, being manned by the saved sinners stuffing their sweet stuff inside of little kid’s mouths, or bags, fuck it, who cares?

Our heroine approaches some old wobbly arthritic woman suffering from the Parkinson’s shakes who’d obviously seen better days; she was the person running this holy shindig.

“Well! Aren’t you adorable?!? You must be are special guest, Dolly Parton! You’ve sure aged well my dear! What’s this costume you’re wearing?”


“Are you Cyndi Lauper?”

She whispered for no apparent reason,

“No, but thank you! I’m actually Unknown Soldier.”

“Oh? Is that like the D.C. monument?”

“Awe…”

Dolly is being a patronizing little cunt,

“No mam, Unknown Soldier is a satanic demon meth addict who’s obsessed with penis.”

The old woman grabs at her chest and starts to stumble back as she struggles to breathe,

“Wrestling is neat mam! You really should watch; there’s even an obese, pre-op transvestite bisexual named Barney Green who loves little kids! I get to fight him next week.”

The old woman’s eyes widen,

“Well you listen here young lady… you beat him, and you beat him good! In the name of JESUS!”

“Ah-haww…”

Dolly chuckles and pats the woman on her wooly haired head,

“I will beat him mam, don’t you worry, but Jesus has nothing to do with it; see if Jesus were ever really real, there’s no way he’d allow scum like Barney Green to ever exist. Now who’s innocent child do I gotta’ sacrafice to get some candy around here? I’m starting to feel antsy.”

“Why hold your bag open dear, I have just the thing…”

Dolly opens her bag as the old woman’s shaking hand gyrates toward her, dropping several pieces of what’s possibly the worst candy in the world into her bag… and several pieces onto the ground,



“Gee… thanks lady.”

Oh you’re welcome dear. Oh and please don’t tell anyone else what your costume is, I wouldn’t want the congregation getting in a hissy!”

“Cyndi Lauper it is then…”

Dolly smiles and skips off toward the festivities… she’s totally going to tell everyone what she’s dressed as; maybe this Trunk or Treat is going to be more fun than she expected.

---

Hiya Barney, you stinking pile of horse shit! We’ve yet to be properly introduced, so let me save you the burden before you try and start making creepy passes toward me; my name is Dolly fuckin’ Waters and this unfortunate fate of yours has landed you right in my crosshairs.

Now, while yer' sitting there drooling, licking yer' chops, dreaming about smothering me with peanut butter for a mid-midnight snack let me save you the trouble of sounding like an even bigger dumbass then you'll inevitably prove to everyone that you are: yes, I am a little girl, twelve years old, no I'm not romantically available, that's fucking sick by the way, yes my father is a deadbeat who abandoned me, he-he daddy issues ha-ha, and yes I am a callous little cunt who doesn't give a fuck whether you live or succumb to juvenile diabetes.

Okay, now that we've gotten past the formalities, let me tell you what a displeasure it is that I'll be forced to work with you this week. I mean seriously, what are you like nine-hundred pounds? Obviously I'm not going to be able to lift you, but I guess that's a plus because the thought of me having to reach down near yer' fupa to scoop slam you is fucking repulsive. What a goddamned disgusting pig you are, man... I mean how does one let himself go to such an extent? Do you just fucking deep-fry baby pigs, inject them with mayonnaise and swallow them whole?

Yuck!

I'm going to move on from the weight thing, because it's really more sad rather than funny. I mean don't you remember when that fat whore from England, Georgia Davis, had to have her fucking house sawed open and lifted out with a crane? Why would you want to put your family through that type of embarrassment, dude? You obese people are worse than fucking drug addicts, I swear to God, sitting around hammering your pie-hole full of ice cream while sobbing watching the beautiful people on your television. Get off of your fat ass and find a treadmill! At least the heroin junkies are out there in the streets scavenging and being productive, learning how to hustle so that they can get their fix, you're just drawing a disability check because you can't stand for longer than two minuets and piling your motorized grocery cart at Walmart full of junk food you're paying for in foodstamps.

Ugh!!! I keep trying to change the subject, but I can't! I mean are you not filled with shame and despair everyday that you wake up, amazingly still alive, and see your Ms. Piggy looking face starring back at you in the mirror?

Let me be frank here, Mr. Fatty Frank; I am going annihilate you. Just thinking about you enrages me to the point where I just want to chainsaw your stupid fucking no neck head from your big titty having chest, and slice off those inhuman jelly-rolls from your back and feed them to a pack of starving Vietnamese children.

Why in the fuck are you even a wrestler? Where do you find the time between being a chronic anime porn connoisseur and the biggest cum-guzzling queer on earth to hook up your oxygen machine long enough to somehow wrestle? Remember that time you lost a match to something called Thumper? Goddamn, that was fucking impressive. How much did you enjoy having Soldier's pale cock wrapped around your throat? How fitting that was, I mean you of all people WOULD be the only person in the world who wouldn't instantly tap out to something so gay and vile.

Shaking-My-Damn-Head.

Listen up, Porky. Wednesday Warfare, I'm going to humiliate you even more than you humiliate yourself on a daily basis, and that's a tall task, but I'm up for the challenge. What if I were to strip piggly-wiggly down from his size 6X garments after I knock you unconscious? Would the world find you to be a pre, or post-op tranny? Ah fuck it, I'm going beat you to a bloody pulp bitch, grab yer' chicken-skin greased gizzard and make you squeal like the pig you are, and in the process try and not lose my hand.

I just only hope that after I'm done with you, you'll come to your sense and never show your face around my ring again. Too bad it's no McBride this week, huh? You might of had a chance against that pussy...

Instead you get Dolly fuckin' Waters

...sigh...

Sucks to be you.

2x KWA Unified Southern Glory Champion
6x KWA Middleweight Champion
4x KWA Tag Team Champion
1x XWF XTreme Champion


-Dumb Dolly records that no one cares about-

3x XTreme Champion
2x Tag Team Champion (w/ Vita Valenteen, w/ Charlie Nickles)
2x Hart Champion
3x Television Champion

3x Star Of The Month
August ‘21, May ‘17, October ‘16

3x RP Of The Month
What light through sonder... my perception breaks.
Tranquility: For Old Times Sake
Manifest Victory