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X-treme Wrestling Federation BOARDS » Anarchy Boards » Anarchy RP Board
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Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now
Author Message
MollyBarnes Offline
Salford Supernova



XWF FanBase:
The IWC

(gets varying reactions in the arenas, but will be worshiped like a god and defended until the end by internet fans; literally has thousands of online dorks logging on to complain anytime they lose a match or don't get pushed right)


#1
03-08-2023, 02:38 PM

Proper chuffed, she was. Molly’s body was still coursing with adrenaline after her bout with Mastermind. She hadn’t won a match for ages, and the taste of victory was better than that of an oversized Cadbury Creme Egg on Easter Monday. Deciding to walk it off backstage, she eventually bumped into her boss, Vincent Lane.

Vincent: "Molly!"

Molly: "Alrite, mate?"

Lane walked up to her and presented her with a cheque. Looking rather confused, she accepted it.

Molly: "What’s this, then?"

Vincent: "Your very first winning bonus, Molly! I think you deserve it."

Molly sneaked a peek at the number on the piece of paper and her eyes widened.

Molly: "Bloody hell. That’s better than nowt, innit?"

She put the cheque between her teeth to check for authenticity, causing Vinnie to frown, and then nodded approvingly.

Molly: "Feels real enough to me. Cheers, mate! I can always use a bit of extra cash."

Vincent: "I thought so. Don’t spend it all in one place."

Molly: "’Course not! Who do you take me for?"



After an appalling flight back to Blighty, Molly burst through the doors of the Old Pint Pot, her favourite pub. Everybody looked up as she enthusiastically waved her cheque about.

Molly: "Alrite, lads?? Drinks on me!!"

And everybody raised their pints of Stella, Carling and Guinness.

“MOLLLYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!”



The next day, a bit before noon, Molly was queueing up at the nearest Boots. Her head was pounding after the piss-up at the Old Pint Pot and she’d woken up in the back of some bloke’s van with no recollection of how she’d ended up there. The mattress that was stuffed in the car reeked of motor oil and Lynx deodorant. She’d woken up in worse places, to be sure, but at least the back of the van wasn’t locked so she could get out without any kind of awkward morning-after kerfuffle while the lad was still snoring the day away in the buff.

“Alrite, love? How are we feeling?”

The apothecary knew Molly all too well. Around these parts, everyone knew everyone.

Molly: "Alrite? Right as rain, but not really."

“Rough night? I’ll get you some codeine, love.”

Molly: "Cheers."

Molly looked up at the Boots sign, and was reminded of her next match against Tommy Wish. It wasn’t the weirdest stipulation she’d been involved in, but it was up there. And against an intimidating opponent too. Tommy had gone toe to toe with Anarchy’s most legendary champion and had come out on top. And he’d even nearly defeated Sidney Grey, the current one. Although the snogging part after the match had been weird. Nevertheless, his was the kind of scalp Molly needed to advance herself in the power rankings. Right now she felt like dying a thousand deaths, but hopefully she would feel better soon.

As the apothecary popped the pills onto the counter, Molly dumped her last bit of change next to it. She stepped back out onto the street and made her way over to her parents’ old place. She washed the pills down with some SuperValu Orange Juice and a cheese and onion pasty she’d picked up from Gregg’s earlier, and quickly felt reinvigorated. British cuisine had a lot of critics, but they probably just didn’t know proper food.

The estate she grew up in had seemingly been unchanged for the past two decades, although Molly could see worrying signs. The old newspaper shop where she used to do her paper rounds as a kid and nicked more Snicker’s than she could remember had been sold and turned into a betting office. The cobbler around the corner was all boarded up. The toffee shop was empty and up for sale. Things had definitely been better pre-Brexit, but good luck telling a Leave voter that… Molly had always been a staunch Remainer, not in the least because her wrestling gigs required  more travel abroad than she cared for, but also because it made sense to Remain. But there was no going back now…

Molly turned up at her parents’ and let herself in with the key. She turned her nose up at the smell.

Molly: "Mum? Dad? It’s Molly! Did you spill special brew on the carpet again??"

Molly went into the living room to find her dad passed out, a can of beer still clutched firmly in his hand. She sighed and woke him up by loudly closing the still open fridge door.

“WHUUU--??”

Molly: "Dad! Where’s mum?"

Molly’s dad didn’t seem too pleased with his rude awakening. He drank the remainder of his can and shrugged.

“Probably went to feed the spider in the garden.”

Molly: "I told you last time, spiders can find their own food. They’re not pets!"

“Yeah, yeah.”

Molly’s dad got up from his chair and stumbled over to the fridge, opening it up again, only to find it empty.

“Bloody empty. Gotta go out to get some booze. Oi, Moll, lend us a tenner, would you?”

He extended his hand, but Molly shook her head.

Molly: "What makes you think I even have one?"

“You won your match, didn’t you? Got all that cash now.”

Molly: "Spent it all at the pub last night."

“And I wasn’t invited? There’s ungrateful…”

Molly: "Ungrateful? Look at the state of you! You’re lucky I still come by. I have me own flat and worries to take care of, innit? Got me career to think of too. Didn’t even congratulate me on winning me last match against Mastermind, and now I gotta face Tommy Wish, a bloke with a foot fetish and a title reign that was shorter than Lizz Truss’ time as the PM. Proper div, he is. Now, you can have the last bit of me pasty, but you need to take better care of yourselves."

During Molly’s monologue, her dad had already stumbled back to his chair and fallen asleep. Molly shook her head. She had to find a solution. Financially. Socially. Mentally.

Time for Anarchy.
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