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Tula Kealiʻi · **12-11-2020, 07:02 PM**

Step one: complete

I went into Anarchy and I secured another shot at the Anarchy Title. No matter what happens from this moment forward, I know I have at least one title shot in my back pocket. It’s a handy backup.

But I want more.

I’m not content on just being a contender for one title. I need to make my mark in as many places as possible, so if Vinnie and those who worship him continue to try and screw me over, I at least have other alternatives. Which is why my match with Ash Quinn is so important.

On our way out of Delaware, Boris and I decided to stop at a Chic-fil-A somewhere in Eastern Pennsylvania. Sure, it’s owned by horrible fucking people who want to stop gays from getting married or whatever those psychos believe, but they do have good chicken, and with Pennsylvania in a state of lockdown, all we can do is order fast food and eat near our car.

So that’s what we’re doing. In 40 degree weather, Boris and I are standing outside of the car in the parking lot, enjoying our meal. Boris is consuming his sandwich like he has never eaten before in his life. Sure, it’s good, but it’s not so good that you’re going to end up consuming that weird paper thing it comes it.

“Take a breath, Boris.”

“Blin, it is good. This taste like chicken flew straight down from Heaven and into Babushka’s pot.”

“Yeah, well these folks are like, radical Christian extremists, so there’s a decent chance they might actually get their chickens from Heaven.”

As I sip a bit of my iced tea, I notice that it tastes a little…off. Like it’s flat. Or missing an ingredient. I open the door to the car and pull out a bottle of vodka. I take the lid off of my tea and pour a bit of vodka inside. As soon as I do, Boris gives me the old “grabby hands”.

“Good idea. Pass here blin.”

I oblige, and Boris does the same – he takes the lid off of his drink and pours some vodka into it. As the two of us continue to enjoy our meals, I can’t help but think of Anarchy. I am still steaming mad with what happened. With all that has happened to me in this company for the past several weeks, for Centurion to come out and lecture me on what is and is not appropriate in a wrestling ring is absolutely absurd. The only reason he did it is because of Ruby. I’m sure he didn’t like that I beat his girlfriend, but hey, I told him I would do it.

“Do you think I did a bad thing back there, Boris?”

Boris looks at me the same way a cow looks at an oncoming train. I am not sure if that is the look of “no, you did the wrong thing, but you’ll hurt me if I say so”, or if that’s the look of “I’m half drunk and I have no idea what you just said.”

“Boris is sure you did right thing, Tulip.”

Ah, it’s the latter.

“I can always count on your to have my back, Boris. That’s what I like about you. You don’t ask questions. You don’t make assumptions. You just hear what I have to say, and believe me. I wish more people were like you. I wish Centurion was like you, honestly.”

“Not many people can be Boris. Is strong, Slav upbringing. And, Boris was told to trust anyone who is not Western spy, and you are clearly not Western spy.”

Whatever the hell that means.

“Will you have my back on Saturday? There might be some pretty tough people out there looking to take me down.”

“What, the Hands? They no big deal! All Tulip has to worry about is Ashes Quill. Rest of these debils stand no chance.”

I appreciate the attitude Boris has, but I highly doubt he would be able to take on every member of the Left Hand on his own. Still, I get this strange feeling they won’t be a problem. Ash Quinn is not like Kenzi Grey. She has a lot more fighting spirit and honor. She doesn’t use her friends to make sure she gets the upper hand. My guess is her Left Hand buddies are just going to make sure she does well.

Which, unfortunately for her, isn’t going to happen.

But hopefully Ash Quinn will see the benefits in the situation. Losing is not always a bad thing. I’ve done my fair share of losing. I needed to do it in order to get myself on the right track. Perhaps that is what is going on with Ash. She started this journey as just another person. Just another woman trying to break into the professional wrestling industry. And now, she’s different. She’s learned how broken this world is. She’s learned that continuing down the same path leads to failure.

Which is why I asked her to join me last week. Of course, this was before I knew anything about this “Left Hand” group. Had no idea they existed, to be honest. Can’t blame me for that – they’ve only been around for six minutes. But I can why she would join them, and why she would seem like the perfect candidate to join their ranks.

Still, Left Hand or no, I have a job to do. I have a destination in mind. And Ash Quinn stands directly in front of that.

As we continue to enjoy our quick meal, the anti-fun police, otherwise known as a member of the Chic-fil-A staff, walks up to us with a stern look in her eyes. She’s about 45 to 50 years old – way too old to still be working at Chic-fil-A, and she has a headset on her head, looking ready to escalate this all the way up to the district manager if need be.

“Excuse me. I saw you pour alcohol in those drinks. You can not drink on the premises. That’s illegal.”

“Cyka blyat! снова этим! What is it with Americans and these laws? If this was Slovakia, store would serve vodka! And some ice cold Kvass!”

“Well, this isn’t Slovakia, and I’m going to have to ask you two to leave.”

“You’re asking us, eh? Well, then we politely decline the offer. Thank you, though.”

“Ok, fine. Now I’m ordering you to leave, or else I’m going to call the police.”

“You ever wonder why there are so many police shootings in this country? Maybe it’s because the police are called for every little situation on the planet. Barbeque? Call the cops. Black kid holding a toy? Call the cops. A Hawaiian and a Slav enjoying life in a parking lot? Call the cops. It’s the absolutely epitome of white privilege to be able to just summon law enforcement whenever you desire, knowing full well the consequences won’t be on you.”

The woman just stares at me. I may have gotten through to her. They say you’re never going to change the minds of people, but I don’t think that’s true. The lady presses the button on her headset and reach back to her employees.

“Tom…call the police.”

“Fine, we’re going!”

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