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Tula Kealiʻi · (11-05-2020)

“Congratulations, Tula!”

“You did it!”

“Amazing!”

Is it incredible? Is it amazing? What did I truly accomplish two weeks ago?

Yes, I defeated Vita Valenteen. Yes, I became the new Anarchy Champion. But I left a bit of myself out there that night. A bit of my soul. And what’s worse is, I don’t know how I feel about it.

Yes, I know how I’m SUPPOSED to feel. I know I’m supposed to feel remorse for some of the things I have said, and some of the things I have done. But instead, I just feel angrier. I’m angry about the people who made me this way. I’m angry that it took me this long to realize how much I’ve been screwed over. I feel angry…at the world.

After my match, I went back to my hotel room with Boris. I had every wrestler backstage patting me on the back as I walked into the locker room. I had my Uber driver tell me how amazing I was out there. I had the front desk receptionist congratulate me when she looked at my shiny new belt. And now I have Boris with me, bottle of vodka in one hand and bottle of vodka in the other, He wants to celebrate. I’m not in the celebrating mood at the moment.

I toss my belt onto the bed, leaving just my metal bat in my hand. Boris already has the lid off one of the bottles of vodka and is indulging in his vice. I just stare at the hotel room. The sad, depressing hotel room. The TV is an old one. It’s small. For a company like Marriott, they should have no problem replacing some of this old, out of date technology. Maybe they’re just waiting for someone to help them along.

I take my bat and slam it against the TV, causing it to hit the back wall and shatter into pieces.

“Cyka blyat!”

I startled poor Boris. He wasn’t expecting that level of emotion to fly out of me. But I can not help it. My match is over, which means my outlet for releasing my frustrations is also over.

I continue to scan the room, and I notice the telephone on the nightstand next to the bed. A corded telephone? Really? I don’t think they’ve made one of those since the 90’s. I take my bat and give it a whack, as well. Boris, bless his heart, tosses the bottles of vodka onto the TV stand and grabs my arm, making sure I don’t cause any further destruction.

“What are you doing blin?!”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Boris? I’m going fucking crazy.”

“But Friend Tulip is Anchor Champion.”

“And who did I beat for it, Boris? Did I beat Michael Graves? Or Miss Fury? No, I beat Vita. I beat one of the only people on the roster I actually like. I took the title away from someone who deserves it. And it’s all because of my angry, my ego, my need to constantly validate my own existence. All this goodness and happiness – what does it get us? It gets us a civil war between the good guys, while the bad guys sit there laughing their asses off! Aren’t you ever tired of being nice, Boris? Don’t you ever just want to go apeshit?”

“Boris is scared…”

“Those fuckers at the b.O.b got exactly what they wanted. They got me on tilt. They got me really fucking mad, and they had me use that anger against a target I didn’t want to use it against. Now they want me to get complacent. They want me to think things are fine now that I’m champion. No, no, that shit isn’t going to fly with me!”

I take my bat and bash it against a light fixture, causing that to shatter, as well. With every swing, all I can think of it another member of the Brotherhood of Baddies – specifically, I think of crushing their heads like they are watermelons and I’m Gallagher.

Before I can cause any more damage, though, there is a knock on our door. I don’t have to answer it, I already know who it is. It’s either the hotel management coming to kick us out, or it’s the psych ward coming to haul me away. It’s likely that It’s the former, but I kind of hope it’s the latter.

I open the door, and sure enough, there is a man in a Marriott uniform flanked by two security guards.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but we have reports of…what the hell?”

The man scans the room and sees some of the destruction I’ve caused. He jaw is open wide enough that it could catch dragonflies. He does not seem pleased, and I do not know why. Honestly, this place looks better than it did when I first got here.

“…you should really consider putting more coffee in these rooms.”

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