Post by Admin on Jul 21, 2022 5:38:17 GMT
“I hate this place. The smell. The death. Everything.”
Tamika Strader sat in the waiting room of the Oncology Department in London, Ontario’s Cancer Research Clinic at Victoria Hospital, located at the corner of Wellington Street and Commissioners Road. She always felt sick to her stomach in this position. She was so grateful Meghan had agreed to try immunotherapy finally. Tamika figured it had a lot to do with the revelation of Victoria Strader returning from the alternate dimension and watching the little ones starting to have conversations with each other.
“You have always been a fighter, and I’m glad you are fighting this, but it reminds me of mom….”
Tamika closes her eyes, leaning her head back, and before she knows it, she has fallen asleep.
A pretty little 15-year-old strawberry-blonde girl sits under her favourite Sakura Tree (Cherry Blossom) with the afternoon sun shining through the branches as she reads “Little Women.” Her solitude is interrupted as a handsome, dirty-blonde haired 15-year-old boy tosses a ball in her lap.
“Come play catch with me, Meeks.”
“But I am reading Johnny, isn’t Yori around?”
The young twins had recently found out their mom, Lisa Hayes, had been diagnosed in the early stages of breast cancer and had their own ways of dealing with it. They were young and didn’t fully grasp what was happening to their little family. Tamika retreated into her books and was reading one of her mom’s favourites. John usually had his best friend, Yorinobu, a boy from a neighbouring farm outside of Tokyo, that he got into boy trouble with. The twins were also extremely close as they were homeschooled and, most of the time only had one another.
“No, his parents found out we were hunting Macaque Monkeys and grounded him.”
“Why would you do that? They are so cute!” Tamika’s nose scrunches up.
“We were just catching them and releasing them.”
“Still, mom wouldn’t be happy, you know.”
John sighs as he sits down beside her under the Sakura tree. He looks down at the grass and back up towards the pink blossoms growing from the branches.
“You think she’ll be ok?”
“Of course! She’s tough! Toughest person I know.”
“That’s not hard; we don’t really know anyone….”
Tamika had always been the optimist of the family and appreciated what she had. At the same time, John was restless, always looking for more out of life. Their mother had talked about going home to Canada, and it wasn’t for any other reason than to let Scott Nash Strader into their lives. However, if Lisa had known what that was going to do to them, she may have never done it. Realizing that reading was going to be a futile task, she closed her book, placing it on the ground and shifting towards her brother. Her emerald green eyes shine from the sunlight that peaks through into his icy blue eyes.
“Johnny, we need to be strong for mom. We are all she has, and she is all we have.”
“That isn’t true, Meeka. We have our father who doesn’t know we exist, and we have a big sister.”
Her eyes squint and look down.
“We have a sister?” she said, looking back up at John.
“Yeah, Yori and I found them on the internet. Our dad is a biker and a pretty famous wrestler. Scott Nash Strader. Our sister is Meghan. She’s four years older than us. I guess her mom died when Meghan was born.”
Tamika leans back against the Sakura tree and ponders what he has revealed to her. Tamika had always wanted a sister; she loved her brother, and they were as thick as thieves, but she craved a bond of femininity that John just didn’t offer. While she had always been curious about the family they had never met back in North America, she always had just appreciated having her mom, her twin brother, and their friend Yori.
“What does she look like? Like us?”
John reached into the pocket of his black shorts and pulled out a printed picture of Meghan Strader. The first thing she noticed was that she had John’s icy blue eyes, or was it John having her icy blue eyes? He follows it up with a roster picture from High Impact Competition of their father holding what was the Trash’N’Thrash Championship belt over the big man’s shoulder and sees those same icy blue eyes. John definitely resembled their dad, she had thought to herself.
“She’s pretty. You look like him. You all have the same eyes….”
“Right? I don’t know about you, Meeks, but… I want to know them. Mom lied to us, though… from everything we found, they don’t know about us.”
“But why would mom lie to us?”
“Because your father isn’t a good man.”
The twins turn their heads at the same time and look up to see their beautiful long blonde-haired mother in a white and blue kimono, her gentle emerald green eyes looking at her children. She slowly sat down as the chemotherapy had been taking its toll on her, but she was thankful she wasn’t losing her hair.
“You sleeping?”
“Hmm…?”
Tamika’s eyes slowly opened, and she couldn’t help but look right into Meghan’s eyes, taking her back a moment into her dream. Her smile could light up a room seeing somewhat of relief on Meghan’s face.
“I guess so… how are you feeling?” she inquired, standing up and stretching. She slings her black handbag over her shoulder. Meghan wraps her right forearm around her baby sister's left, leaning her raven-haired head on Tamika’s shoulder.
“I’m ok. Let’s just get home so I can see my babies. Is Veronica home?”
“No, the stubborn girl ran off with Christian. As long as she takes it easy with that fracture, it should heal on its own, but one wrong bump or whatever… game over. She may never get back in the ring.”
The sister-duo walks out into the large hospital that feels like a mall with benches and potted trees, making their way home to the East End.
Tamika sits at her desk, looking at an old fucking computer that probably is running DOS (the OS before Windows, you Generation Z fucks). She starts to type away as the voice of Neil Patrick Harris narrates the white typed words on the blue background of what looks to be a Toshiba with a rollerball mouse. Badass, we know.
Oh, journal, what a day it was. Megz has decided to accept treatment. It won’t cure her cancer, but it could add on months, maybe even years, and she can watch her kids grow up a little bit. At least, that is the hope. But I just have this sickening feeling that something terrible is going to happen to this family. Will it be because of me sitting at the Head Table? Will it be Veronica’s choice and the return of her lover, old enough to be her father? Or will it be John falling to some bullshit RICO sting? I don’t know. Maybe OCW will be our downfall. Everything we’ve given it, and all it’s done is push us out. It feels like I am a broken record, constantly repeating if it wasn’t for us, this company wouldn’t be where it is. Pumping money into the big red and black machine to take it globally once more, paying off the fines for the absolute debauchery the roster would get itself into, and the PR disaster of having a World Champion as a suspect in the mass murdering of major city homeless populations being turned into quality “chicken” sandwiches. Honestly, sounds like something dad would have invested in. Let’s all thank the good lord above, or maybe the dark prince below that union never happened.
On top of all of that, this industry is changing, and I don’t think it’s for the better. Everyone has to be so extra these days. I know, I know, how hypocritical for me to say that when I can be pretty extra myself. Although my extra is yelling, “I shit with the door open… don’t like it? Go to a different Jack in The Box,” not spilling money into Hollywood productions to make myself appear relevant in a promo. My relevancy? Being the Craze Champion for over 100 days, defending it whenever I am told to defend it. If they didn’t? I would just put it up. That’s relevancy. That’s talent. That’s what it takes to make it in this business today.
Breaking into homes, which, if it was real, people would be in jail, or mystical kingdoms coming to life with a budget bigger than the wrestler’s contract isn't what this industry should be about. It should be what happens in the ring.
She stops, and magically a pair of smart-looking thick black-rimmed glasses are on by the tip of her nose as she strokes her chin and goes back to typing away as NPH fills our ears again.
Speaking of extra, that bloody wanker Lou Pohl. Crash, I like him. I think he’s a good kid. A tremendous amount of talent in him, but he’s being guided by a man who doesn’t have his best interests at heart. I mean, that silly bastard had himself beat up so Crash would attack me, causing dissension when all I have tried to do is just show #TamikaCares. Do you know how many hands I had to grease to get that baby formula? How many handjobs Cara had to give?
Just kidding, she didn’t give any handies.
But still.
I guess it had to happen, a rematch. I mean, I got him on a roll-up, and what were they gonna do? Give Sahara a shot without earning one?
Who am I kidding? It was probably considered, but common sense usually (hopefully) prevails. Still, even if it was her, I would do what I have done since I stepped foot in to save this place… and that’s win.
That’s all I have done since I have shown up. I could care about my win streak as much as I care about a cheap Purge ripoff promo against Dylan Thomas if I was so inclined.
You see, dear journal, this is wrestling. Wrasslin’ for us southern-based dynasties. But if it takes me doing a bloody Hollywood production to give me that Karma The Big Bifford referred to, then so be it. Auntie Teebag Entertainment will put together a big money production promo because who am I to deny progress? Unlike a few of the newer roster signings, I don’t believe I am above anyone or anything.
I will do whatever it is I need to do for this company and myself. I’m not a selfish bitch only looking out for me. Will I beat Crash? History says yes, but in that process, it’ll only elevate him. I will take him to a level he’s never been before, and people will notice.
So the next time people see me promoting our match for Truth or Consequences, it’ll be in some big fancy production, and even though that’s not my thing, no one can say I am not a team player.
So just in case CYPH3R hacks this and puts this out there, I just want Crash to know a few things. One, I didn’t attack Lou, and I will track down that footage, or you’ll get Tolson and me in the shower. Two, I am not your enemy; I just happen to have something you want, but not as much as I want to keep it. And three, if Baby Bash ever needs anything, just remember…
#TamikaCares
Tamika leans back, removing her glasses as she turns off her computer.
Tamika Strader sat in the waiting room of the Oncology Department in London, Ontario’s Cancer Research Clinic at Victoria Hospital, located at the corner of Wellington Street and Commissioners Road. She always felt sick to her stomach in this position. She was so grateful Meghan had agreed to try immunotherapy finally. Tamika figured it had a lot to do with the revelation of Victoria Strader returning from the alternate dimension and watching the little ones starting to have conversations with each other.
“You have always been a fighter, and I’m glad you are fighting this, but it reminds me of mom….”
Tamika closes her eyes, leaning her head back, and before she knows it, she has fallen asleep.
A pretty little 15-year-old strawberry-blonde girl sits under her favourite Sakura Tree (Cherry Blossom) with the afternoon sun shining through the branches as she reads “Little Women.” Her solitude is interrupted as a handsome, dirty-blonde haired 15-year-old boy tosses a ball in her lap.
“Come play catch with me, Meeks.”
“But I am reading Johnny, isn’t Yori around?”
The young twins had recently found out their mom, Lisa Hayes, had been diagnosed in the early stages of breast cancer and had their own ways of dealing with it. They were young and didn’t fully grasp what was happening to their little family. Tamika retreated into her books and was reading one of her mom’s favourites. John usually had his best friend, Yorinobu, a boy from a neighbouring farm outside of Tokyo, that he got into boy trouble with. The twins were also extremely close as they were homeschooled and, most of the time only had one another.
“No, his parents found out we were hunting Macaque Monkeys and grounded him.”
“Why would you do that? They are so cute!” Tamika’s nose scrunches up.
“We were just catching them and releasing them.”
“Still, mom wouldn’t be happy, you know.”
John sighs as he sits down beside her under the Sakura tree. He looks down at the grass and back up towards the pink blossoms growing from the branches.
“You think she’ll be ok?”
“Of course! She’s tough! Toughest person I know.”
“That’s not hard; we don’t really know anyone….”
Tamika had always been the optimist of the family and appreciated what she had. At the same time, John was restless, always looking for more out of life. Their mother had talked about going home to Canada, and it wasn’t for any other reason than to let Scott Nash Strader into their lives. However, if Lisa had known what that was going to do to them, she may have never done it. Realizing that reading was going to be a futile task, she closed her book, placing it on the ground and shifting towards her brother. Her emerald green eyes shine from the sunlight that peaks through into his icy blue eyes.
“Johnny, we need to be strong for mom. We are all she has, and she is all we have.”
“That isn’t true, Meeka. We have our father who doesn’t know we exist, and we have a big sister.”
Her eyes squint and look down.
“We have a sister?” she said, looking back up at John.
“Yeah, Yori and I found them on the internet. Our dad is a biker and a pretty famous wrestler. Scott Nash Strader. Our sister is Meghan. She’s four years older than us. I guess her mom died when Meghan was born.”
Tamika leans back against the Sakura tree and ponders what he has revealed to her. Tamika had always wanted a sister; she loved her brother, and they were as thick as thieves, but she craved a bond of femininity that John just didn’t offer. While she had always been curious about the family they had never met back in North America, she always had just appreciated having her mom, her twin brother, and their friend Yori.
“What does she look like? Like us?”
John reached into the pocket of his black shorts and pulled out a printed picture of Meghan Strader. The first thing she noticed was that she had John’s icy blue eyes, or was it John having her icy blue eyes? He follows it up with a roster picture from High Impact Competition of their father holding what was the Trash’N’Thrash Championship belt over the big man’s shoulder and sees those same icy blue eyes. John definitely resembled their dad, she had thought to herself.
“She’s pretty. You look like him. You all have the same eyes….”
“Right? I don’t know about you, Meeks, but… I want to know them. Mom lied to us, though… from everything we found, they don’t know about us.”
“But why would mom lie to us?”
“Because your father isn’t a good man.”
The twins turn their heads at the same time and look up to see their beautiful long blonde-haired mother in a white and blue kimono, her gentle emerald green eyes looking at her children. She slowly sat down as the chemotherapy had been taking its toll on her, but she was thankful she wasn’t losing her hair.
“You sleeping?”
“Hmm…?”
Tamika’s eyes slowly opened, and she couldn’t help but look right into Meghan’s eyes, taking her back a moment into her dream. Her smile could light up a room seeing somewhat of relief on Meghan’s face.
“I guess so… how are you feeling?” she inquired, standing up and stretching. She slings her black handbag over her shoulder. Meghan wraps her right forearm around her baby sister's left, leaning her raven-haired head on Tamika’s shoulder.
“I’m ok. Let’s just get home so I can see my babies. Is Veronica home?”
“No, the stubborn girl ran off with Christian. As long as she takes it easy with that fracture, it should heal on its own, but one wrong bump or whatever… game over. She may never get back in the ring.”
The sister-duo walks out into the large hospital that feels like a mall with benches and potted trees, making their way home to the East End.
Tamika sits at her desk, looking at an old fucking computer that probably is running DOS (the OS before Windows, you Generation Z fucks). She starts to type away as the voice of Neil Patrick Harris narrates the white typed words on the blue background of what looks to be a Toshiba with a rollerball mouse. Badass, we know.
Oh, journal, what a day it was. Megz has decided to accept treatment. It won’t cure her cancer, but it could add on months, maybe even years, and she can watch her kids grow up a little bit. At least, that is the hope. But I just have this sickening feeling that something terrible is going to happen to this family. Will it be because of me sitting at the Head Table? Will it be Veronica’s choice and the return of her lover, old enough to be her father? Or will it be John falling to some bullshit RICO sting? I don’t know. Maybe OCW will be our downfall. Everything we’ve given it, and all it’s done is push us out. It feels like I am a broken record, constantly repeating if it wasn’t for us, this company wouldn’t be where it is. Pumping money into the big red and black machine to take it globally once more, paying off the fines for the absolute debauchery the roster would get itself into, and the PR disaster of having a World Champion as a suspect in the mass murdering of major city homeless populations being turned into quality “chicken” sandwiches. Honestly, sounds like something dad would have invested in. Let’s all thank the good lord above, or maybe the dark prince below that union never happened.
On top of all of that, this industry is changing, and I don’t think it’s for the better. Everyone has to be so extra these days. I know, I know, how hypocritical for me to say that when I can be pretty extra myself. Although my extra is yelling, “I shit with the door open… don’t like it? Go to a different Jack in The Box,” not spilling money into Hollywood productions to make myself appear relevant in a promo. My relevancy? Being the Craze Champion for over 100 days, defending it whenever I am told to defend it. If they didn’t? I would just put it up. That’s relevancy. That’s talent. That’s what it takes to make it in this business today.
Breaking into homes, which, if it was real, people would be in jail, or mystical kingdoms coming to life with a budget bigger than the wrestler’s contract isn't what this industry should be about. It should be what happens in the ring.
She stops, and magically a pair of smart-looking thick black-rimmed glasses are on by the tip of her nose as she strokes her chin and goes back to typing away as NPH fills our ears again.
Speaking of extra, that bloody wanker Lou Pohl. Crash, I like him. I think he’s a good kid. A tremendous amount of talent in him, but he’s being guided by a man who doesn’t have his best interests at heart. I mean, that silly bastard had himself beat up so Crash would attack me, causing dissension when all I have tried to do is just show #TamikaCares. Do you know how many hands I had to grease to get that baby formula? How many handjobs Cara had to give?
Just kidding, she didn’t give any handies.
But still.
I guess it had to happen, a rematch. I mean, I got him on a roll-up, and what were they gonna do? Give Sahara a shot without earning one?
Who am I kidding? It was probably considered, but common sense usually (hopefully) prevails. Still, even if it was her, I would do what I have done since I stepped foot in to save this place… and that’s win.
That’s all I have done since I have shown up. I could care about my win streak as much as I care about a cheap Purge ripoff promo against Dylan Thomas if I was so inclined.
You see, dear journal, this is wrestling. Wrasslin’ for us southern-based dynasties. But if it takes me doing a bloody Hollywood production to give me that Karma The Big Bifford referred to, then so be it. Auntie Teebag Entertainment will put together a big money production promo because who am I to deny progress? Unlike a few of the newer roster signings, I don’t believe I am above anyone or anything.
I will do whatever it is I need to do for this company and myself. I’m not a selfish bitch only looking out for me. Will I beat Crash? History says yes, but in that process, it’ll only elevate him. I will take him to a level he’s never been before, and people will notice.
So the next time people see me promoting our match for Truth or Consequences, it’ll be in some big fancy production, and even though that’s not my thing, no one can say I am not a team player.
So just in case CYPH3R hacks this and puts this out there, I just want Crash to know a few things. One, I didn’t attack Lou, and I will track down that footage, or you’ll get Tolson and me in the shower. Two, I am not your enemy; I just happen to have something you want, but not as much as I want to keep it. And three, if Baby Bash ever needs anything, just remember…
#TamikaCares
Tamika leans back, removing her glasses as she turns off her computer.
