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Dolly Waters · (01-08-2023)

Just let me die, Dolly.

I’ve lived long enough, haven’t I?

...fuck… here we go…

I’ve already lost so much blood, why not just let it all flow out?

I’ve lived off the rage and the misery for years, why not just let it all flow out?

Dolly Waters, more tense than the bite one her cigarette-filter, side eyes Charlie from the driver seat of her pickup truck. Her hand is firmly planted on the stick shift as she makes great use of her truck’s four-wheel drive to blast down the snowy road with no problems at all. On the other hand, Charlie seems to be supplying enough problems for the both of them. The Nickleman’s wrists are freshly cut, the scent of blood seeps through the stained bandages on his forearms. A few drops of his scarlet mess drip down onto the seat.

Yer’ acting like a big pussy, Charlie.

A man can only feed off hatred and anger for so long before it no longer masks his own pitiful self-loathing. Is the world really the problem, or is it just The Nickleman that’s the problem?

Questions, questions. Decisions, decisions.

Thankfully, I let my blade make all the decisions for me. I mean….incisisions. Hey Dolly, let’s ask the critics if this one’s deep enough!

Charlie pulls a rusty razor blade out of his pocket and begins toying with it in the passenger’s seat as the truck blazes down the highway to hell.

QUIT IT!

She screeches, but it’s too late. Charlie begins taking the razor for another ride down his mutilated wrist, ripping through bandages and flesh alike.

That blade is dullar than an Angie Vaughn promo!

There’s no need to hate a woman for being beautiful…I’ve been hating beautiful women all my life, and what’s that gotten me?

The fucks happened to you Cap’n? You sound more pathetic than this Linkin Park shit yer’ blasting.

Linkin Park’s: Crawling pierces into her eardrums compliments of Charlie’s sudden existential flip flop. Given that Dolly thought this new alliance with The Nickleman would be completely different, she’s finding the situation more dire than the verbiage of dread slipping from his tongue- and the scarlet ichor spewing out of his wrists onto the dash.

Life’s gone on too long, eventually every bridge has been burned and a man has no place left to go but down. We quit, don’t you remember, Dolly? I wasn’t just quitting the company…I think I’m quitting life. There’s nothing left in this world for a soulless bastard like me.

Quitting was a part of the plan, remember? We knew that the XWF booking committee would be so confused, that they’d just sling a hot wad of doody against the wall, hoping to make it stick. Just like they did when they paired Maddy Jr. and Angie Vaughn in the first place. And here we are, after leaving it up to those inattentive doofuses in the XWF Headquarters, we’re getting a Tag Title shot!

Sounds like a hard sell.

Dolly’s brow bends with frustration, grabbing the razor out of Charlie’s hands and throwing it out of the window. Charlie throws his hands up in a rage.

WELL WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!

Because I need you to live long to help me steal these goddamn championships back from that phony tag team, just like they were stolen from me!

Charlie crosses his arms and looks out the window as they drive down the road. He pictures himself hanging from every tree they pass by, because he knows he’ll never be truly appreciated for who he is: he’ll always be reduced to the violence.

You need to remember somethin’ Charlie; yer’ only good for one thing, and that's being a violent, sneaky, offensive little waste of life.

Charlie looks over at Dolly with a completely blank expression on his face. He feels nothing but emptiness in this moment.

Yeah…

So fucking lean into it, pansy!

That’s been my problem for years, ya know?

So ride or die for some moralistic yearning to show loyalty for those I “loved”. Always a sure friend. Always the person willing to step back and let her friends shine. As long as Thad, and Corey, and Dawk, and ALIAS and Vinnie were happy, I felt fulfilled. But what did any of that ever get me? A stupid feature in a vignette? A dead-end commissioner gig on Anarchy? What did spurts of genuine dedication and hard work in the XWF ever get me? Fed to the fucking lions week in and week out? Yet I always shouldered it all, right? Bad things just happen to good people, right? “Let’s book Dolly, the new head coach of the NY Pride, against her own Offensive Coordinator!”

They never gave a fuck about me, Charlie, and yet all I ever did was care about them. Well no more! I’m tired of caring about other people. After all these years, I deserve to finally be the selfish, self-serving bitch they’ve always said I was… and once you’ve dug yer’ head out of your vagina, yer’ gonna’ be thanking me like you should-

As Dolly continues to rant, sounding increasingly aggressive, Charlie drowns her out and rolls his eyes. He looks back over to the side of the road, where he spots something quite out of the ordinary on such a cold day.

Wait…are those..hitchhikers over there? Maybe we should pick them up and give them a ride, they’re probably cold out there…I’ve already left too many people out in the cold…I hope my bleeding wrists don’t make them uncomfortable.

Pull over, Dolly.

Dolly Waters has been the type of person who gladly helps a stranger in need. She’s probably picked up more hitchhikers than Angie Vaughn has picked up unwarranted championship opportunities. Where we’d once have seen a quirky glow come over her at the thought of picking up these helpless vagabonds, a scowl of disgust molds her face into a truly frightful sight. She can’t believe what Charlie is suggesting. Where had the disgusting scumbag known as The Nickleman retreated to? Losing a match to Ned Kaye does sound like a horrible tower-moment, but this situation seems even more dire. Drastic times call for drastic measures.

Pull over? You’ve got it, Cap’n Chuck!

She pulls over, alright. Slamming on the gas and pulling the wheel of the truck right onto the shoulder of the highway. Charlie screams as the bodies of the hitchhikers thrash and crumble under the massive weight of the truck.

CRAWWWWWLLLLING IN MY SKIIIIIIIIIN!!!!!!!

Dolly mockingly screams along with the lyrics of the nu-metal song still blaring through the speakers.

THESE HITCHHIKER'S WILL NOT HEEEE-OOOOLLLLLL!!!!!!

NOOOOOOO DOLLY! YOU’VE KILLED THEM! YOU’VE FUCKING KILLED THEM!

That’s the idea, Cap’n Chuck! I need to get that bloodthirst of yours rolling again, big boy!

But it’s not working. Instead Charlie is dismayed, looking as if he’s ready to start weeping into his hands. Dolly slugs him in the arm with a laugh, and nonchalantly hops out of the truck.

Wanna help me load em’ up in the bed? I’m thinking we can ground them up into some sort of human hamburger patties and market them to Arby's, you know those freaks will put any type of meat on their menus. You’ll pose as Maddy Jr., and I’ll be Angie Vaughn- not like anyone really knows what those two look like anyway. We’ll call it the Jr. Maddy Vaughn Burger. A sandwich so thoughtless, so bland, so vile that those two, and the XWF, will be-

WILL BE WHAT?! HAUNTING OUR DREAMS FOREVER?!

The Nickleman jumps out of the truck in complete shock, his face whiter than the ghosts he expects to see after this atrocity. His hands are shaking and his heart’s beating fast. Dolly smirks before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a bottle of prescription pills. She pops off the top before offering a handful to Charlie.

C’mon Charlie… I KNOW you can’t resist a solid barbiturate overdose. Just chew a barely non-lethal dose of these bad boys up, and let’s have some fun. Wudduya say?

The bloodied bodies of the nameless travelers rest silently beneath the bed of the truck. The screen freezes on the frame of Dolly’s outstretched palm next to Charlie’s horrified face.

TO BE CONTINUED…

We cut to a shot of Dolly Waters and Charlie Nickles standing in front of an XWF-branded black tarp. The pair of Bastards have devious grins on their faces and fresh blood on their hands. The Nickleman rubs his grimey mitts together with sinister intent as Dolly Waters clears her throat to catch your attention.

I know you XWF fans are too stupid to realize the favor I’ve done for each and everyone of you recently- so please allow me to do the XWF’s job, once again, in explaining to you idiots what you can come to expect on the first ever episode of Weekend Warfare.

There will be seven matches that no one on this earth cares about. Matches that are poorly booked, poorly hyped, featuring some of the poorest, Dollar General off-brand professional wrestling the world has ever seen.

But in the midst of that soup-kitchen menu of a wrestling program will be the dawning of a new era in XWF Tag Team wrestling. When Charlie Nickles and Dolly Waters STEAL the tag team championships back from this disgrace that has befallen them. It’s going to be one helluva’ heist.

No longer will you have champions so unimportant, so lackluster that not even James Raven can get motivated to hype a match against them. WITH HIS WIFE AS HIS PARTNER NO-LESS!

No longer will you have some gobble-mouthed, silver spoon bimbo, wanting so desperately to be Sarah Lacklan, that she makes you cringe with every: TOTES and AMAZEBALLS as she murders your desire for originality- being yer’ tag champion.

No more XWF tag champions stumbling to the ring because they have to- nuh uh- Dolly and Charlie are TAKING these belts because we actually want them, better yet, we fucking NEED them.

We need these belts so we can exploit the tag team division the way it deserves to be exploited. Like the cheap, malnourished laborers these tag team wrestlers are- Charlie and I are going to take these belts and take them straight up to the mountain top. Stepping on every pitiful “pillar” of the tag ranks along the way. Profit. Prestige. Power.

That’s what’s at stake here. Tell em’ Cap’n Chuck.

The Nickleman steps forward with the crooked posture of a battered man, but one who’s still standing despite it all. He grins like the mangy mutt he is before licking some scarlet sweetness out of the palm of his hand. He laps it up gleefully before looking back to the camera with a smirk.

That’s when he starts laying into his opposition, and Dolly can’t help but smirk as she stands back and watches.

It feels weird coming into this tag match as the only man on the card, but I spose’ it’s to be expected when lil’ Junior just can’t manage to grow up. Swear on my ex-wife’s impending grave, this bitch-made brat wouldn’t be anywhere near a championship belt if his daddy wasn’t a certified man in this business. Taken on his own, blinded to his namesake, nothing Junior has ever done has been worth a shit. He shouldn’t even be in this company, let alone in this match. He’s just a boy that acts like a whiny bitch, like one of them transgenders everyone on Twitter is always simping for. He expects everything to be handed to him while doing no work whatsoever, like a classic fucking snowflake.

Worst of all, little Junior reminds me a bit of myself as a young man. Not in the ring, of course, but outside it! The way he treats women is disgusting and classless, like he expects them to hold down the fort and do all the housework while he does absolutely nothing for her. The way he talks about Angie like she’s just an object or a toy…I can’t help but hear my own words about my once precious Connie. Maybe after I shatter Junior’s face with the cracks from his own glass ceiling, I’ll be able to shatter the haunting memories of my own past.

But full truth be told the Johnny boy has been striking more than one nerve with The Nickleman lately. He’s constantly hounding me, calling me in the middle of his matches, skipping out on his promotional duties to try and have lunch with me…he’s a certified weirdo and I’m starting to think he’s a stalker to boot. I’ll have to consult with Angie to be sure, but still, behind the scenes this JMJ guy just won’t leave me alone!

He wants to be a Bastard SO BAD, it’s killing him! He thinks he’ll finally make daddy proud if he can join up with the baddest gang in the industry. He thinks he can make a name for himself in our own ranks, with our guiding hands, with our brand.

The only problem for him?

That stupid son of a worn out bitch will NEVER be let into BOB! Not even if his daddy takes turns slobbin’ on all of our knobs at the same time!

Ol’ Maddy’s son is more worthless than Steve fucking Sayors between those ropes. I mean, did anyone watch his tag defense against the Ravens? Angie might as well have been fighting alone, in fact, I think she was at one point during the match! Junior is nothing but the weakest link on the chain, and he’s going to get what’s coming to him next Warfare when I finally break him! We don’t let lazy pieces of shit into BOB, we just let them taste our knuckle sandwiches!

I don’t care how hard his daddy used to beat him, there’s nothing that could’ve prepared this boy for the ass whooping I’m about to give him. John Madison obviously didn’t slap Junior around enough when he was a munchkin, because he’s given the XWF nothing but lip and fucking attitude!

Is that flightless dingleberry even going to open his pussy lips this week? It’s always hard to say with him. Regardless, when that bell rings I’m going to spread that pussy’s lips apart and shove my whole damn fist down his throat! That pussyboy is definitely going to get WET when I start to BUST on him!

You see John Madison Junior, I want you to remember one thing: you’re a boy in a man’s world. And I’m a man who LOVES to play with boys…no no no wait a minute! Wait a minute, that came out wrong! That’s not what I fucking meant!

What I MEANT to say was this: JUNIOR, you’re a boy and I’m a man. And when we finally meet face-to-face on the next Warfare, I’m going to MANHANDLE you all night long!

A shitty little chuckle slides through Dolly’s gritted teeth as she steps up, ushering Charlie to the side with a hand on his shoulder.

Now there’s the Charlie Nickles I know.

There’s the craven lunatic who I’m going to use to help make an example out of Angie Vaughn. And since Maddy Junior has now been properly dealt a dose of some REAL daddy-dong energy, making an example out of YOU, Anige, is exactly what I’m gonna’ do.

Who is Angie Vaughn, really?

Besides a taller, far-less interesting version of her vastly superior CoolKids sisters, who is she?

Her praises were sung to the highest of heavens when she entered the XWF. A wrestling icon in some obscure company we were led to believe. And after I’ve watched her wrestling during some of my bordest of moments, I can understand why that company must have tanked; because the only talented “COOLKID” jumped ship to the XWF years ago, leaving Angie to run that product into the ground.

But what else could you expect from a supposed twenty-three year old, who looks more like she’s thirty, and thinks that a Youtube parody is still TOTES HILARIOUZBAWLSZ? GAR-HAR HAR HAR! Look, I’m Gen-Z too, and I haven’t watched Youtube since the toy unboxing craze when I was like ten.

This is Angie Vaughn, folks. The fake “superstar in the making” who didn’t capture not a single piece of XWF gold for almost an entire year.

I can’t make that claim. Charlie can’t make that claim. Not even yer’ shit-green rookie of a partner can make that claim.

I’m begging you, Angie, I begging you to remind everyone that you and Maddy defeated the Midnight Dolls to win yer’ first championship too, by the way. And I want you to wholeheartedly explain what that means to you. Tell us all why you think it’s an important mark as it pertains to this match.

Because this time, yer’ facing off against a team that’s not pretending to be interested in a match against you. No, I’m really interested in beating you down, homegirl. You, and people like you, are everything I’ve grown to despise about the XWF. Undeserving, uninspiring, unmotivated, un-fucking-believably in over yer’ head.

We’re gonna’ wrest those tag titles away, preferably from yer’ cold, dead hands. And when we’re done, the XWF might learn their lesson. That despite their best efforts, despite the inumerable unwarranted title matches you’ve been given, you can’t turn a super-snore into a superstar.

The Nickleman steps up next to Dolly and places a bloody hand on her shoulder. She turns towards him and the pair exchange a bastardly smirk.

But we can turn these bitches out, run their pockets, and take the only gold they’ll ever know…in fact, we’re fucking gonna do exactly that!

Dolly and Charlie throw their heads back in rambunctious laughter as the scene slowly fades to black.

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