Post by Sahara on Sept 15, 2020 15:58:22 GMT -5
“The things that really change the world, according to Chaos Theory, are the tiny things. A butterfly flaps its wings in the Amazonian jungle, and subsequently, a storm ravages half of Europe.”
-Nail Gaiman
~~~~~
Blair Buchannan-Stylez.
It all started when you wouldn’t look a fellow actress and former wrestling champion in the eye and give her two seconds of your precious fucking time. That’s all it would have taken.
Two.
TINY.
Seconds.
“Hello, nice to meet you … goodbye!”
Instead, you decided to change your world when you handed me your empty champagne glass and asked for a refill with that typical dismissive Blair quality you’ve come to embody. That was on you. Giving you the benefit of the doubt? That was on me. I stood there like an idiot and tried to explain to you I wasn’t a waitress but a fellow actress and former wrestler, but you doubled down and scolded me in front of numerous Netflix executives, friends, and industry peers and then dismissed me like I was nothing.
That was the tiny thing you did that would change everything between you and I.
You’re the butterfly, Blair.
And subsequently, I’m the fucking storm that’s about to to ravage your stuck up bitch ass at Stairway-2-Heaven.
Let’s get something crystal clear, you fucking bitch...
Reality television isn’t acting. It’s acting a fool. It’s making an idiot out of yourself and everyone involved to draw eyes much like a train wreck draws eyes. Behind the scenes, the producers of reality shows laugh at the stupid shit people will watch. The sheep don’t want to look away or they might miss the next vapidly insane thing you do or say … but eventually, they’ll move onto the next idiot that’s doing the exact same shit, only with a different twist, and they’ll watch that train wreck instead as you fade away into reality TV history.
It's either that, or you somehow become the President.
And people think things are bad now...
The sad part about it is, I wanted to like you, Blair. People want to like you, but you make it so fucking hard. You’re the definition of getting propped up by others, only to take credit for everything in the end. For the sake of it, let’s call it “Blair Privilege”. Like when you’re given a simple scene, and you can’t recite one fucking line correctly, so they cut and reshoot that scene thirty-five times before the director gives up and simply changes the line to something du-duh-dumb enough for you to repeat without a teleprompter. You don’t thank the director, the makeup department, the countless workers that put in thirteen plus hours so you could get fucking one line right … you thank yourself for being sooooo amazing, and blame the entire crew because you can’t read.
That’s Blair Privilege in a nutshell.
I know, because I witnessed it on the set of your show, where you’re basically paid to transform from this absolutely beautiful woman into Elastigirl the Plastigirl.
Well, at Stairway, your “Blair Privilege” card gets permanently revoked when you face me … one on one … in a last woman standing match where NOBODY can interfere on anyone's behalf. It’s gonna be me versus you … and for the first time in your life, you’re gonna be on your own.
And you’re gonna get owned.
It’s basically why you’ve started to go radio silent these past few weeks, because you know your expiration date is approaching and suddenly this is all a lot less exciting for Blair the Queen Bitch of the OPW. Your mouth got you in over your head, and now your big dumb ass is gonna be what gets kicked around the Coliseum at Stairway.
This started out about revenge.
Revenge for treating me and countless others like shit.
At the start of this, I set out to teach a colossal bitch a little lesson in humility.
But at some point in my dealings with you, I realized I was dealing with the person I once was. And it wasn’t until someone very special to me opened my eyes and made me realize what I’d become without even knowing it...and I just couldn't live with myself if I didn’t pay it forward...
This is no longer about revenge.
Make no mistake.
This is a fucking reckoning.
~~~~~
Sahara held her breath momentarily before releasing it, letting out a resounding moan as her entire body trembled with ecstasy. Left heaving for breath, the blonde rolled off an unknown male companion as she wiped the back of her forearm across her sweat covered brow.
“Fuck yesssss”, she hissed with an elated satisfaction, unable to contain her smile.
Her rather proud looking companion turned toward her, propping himself up with an elbow against the bed. “You realize how insane a last man, err, woman standing match is at this stage of your career?”
This particular question caused the blonde’s brow to furrow and the confusion in her voice was evident.
“Umm, what?!”
“You know, your upcoming match with Blair?!”
“Dude, I literally just came, and that’s your post sex pillowtalk?! My fucking match with Blair?!”
Sahara suddenly sat bolt upright.
“Wait, were you thinking about Blair while I was fucking you?!”
“No! God no!”, he sat upright and lifted a hand to block the pillow that came flying at his face. “Nooooooo! I swear to God I wasn’t...she’s um, let’s just say she’s not my type. I’m realllllly into blondes in case you haven’t noticed…I mean, I lasted what, like twenty-five seconds the first time?!”
Satisfied with his rather quick denial, Sahara rolled her eyes and dropped back against the bed.
“Yeah, you’d better be…”
Cracking a smile, her companion nearly laughed at how quickly she got fired up after simply bringing up Blair Buchannan.
“Jeez. You really hate this chick, don’t ya?”
Sahara was silent for a few moments, seemingly lost in thought before finally responding. “Yes and no. She reminds me of me about five years ago when I was rockin’ and rollin’ in the EWA. I was on top of the world. I had fame. Money. You name it--”
“So what happened?!” There seemed to be genuine wonder in his voice.
The blonde smiled, “Wouldn’t you rather just go on down for some post-sex recovery time dessert so we can make this a three-fer?!” She playfully nodded downward beneath the sheets she was twisted up in.
“God, you really can’t get enough of me, can ya?!”, he asked rather devilishly.
She rolled her eyes again, “Yeah, that’s it … or maybe getting some head is just more interesting than this conversation?!”
“Tell ya what, you tell me what happened and I’ll do it.”
“Promise?!”
“Yeah, fine, I promise.”
“Are you honestly holding out on me to talk about fucking wrestling?!” Sahara sighed, “Good God I’m fucking a mark…”
The blonde heaved a sigh.
“Fine.”
She seemed to pause a few moments, gathering her thoughts. Formulating what she wanted to say or not say...almost getting lost thinking about the past, and those she’d grown distant from.
“What happened is it all went away. One day the EWA up and shut its doors … and it was over. Just like that.”, she snapped her fingers for emphasis.
“Yeah, but didn’t you go on to co-star in that Vampire show?!”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t the same. Besides, those assholes got that show canceled, because ya know, that's what they do to people. I grew up destined to be a wrestler. Performing in front of a live crowd is just … different. It’s like an adrenaline fix you don’t get anywhere else. I just, wish I’d enjoyed it more while it was happening. I was always looking forward to the next thing instead of just enjoying the moment, ya know?! Like, I’d be wrestling in a main event in some jam packed arena, jacked up on adrenaline and rather than just gazing out at that crazy wonderful crowd and taking it all in, I was thinkin’ about where I’d be partying that night...it honestly came and went so fast I hardly remember any of it. I just ... I never thought it would end, ya know?!”
She paused a moment, “I miss it all. I miss the people I got to work with. I miss the fans I never bothered to spend any time with...my friends...”
“So what’s that got to do with Blair?!”
“She’s makin’ the same mistakes I made. So, like I said when you asked why I hated Blair so much, I do and I don’t...I just, I see me when I look at her. She’s gonna look back at this in a few years when it’s all said and done, when it’s gone, and she’s gonna wish she could do it over again. She doesn't know it yet, but she’s gonna regret it...and the only thing that’s gonna make her realize it is the ass-kicking of a lifetime.”
“So that’s what I’m doin’.”
“This is my second act...and quite possibly my final act.”
“So … why a last woman standing match if you’re doing it right this time?!”
Sahara gave a vacant little smile, “It’s not ‘a’ last woman standing match, it’s ‘the’ last woman standing match. Because one way or another, if I ain’t the one that’s left standin’, it’ll be the last match I’m ever in because I’ll never recover from the beating it’s gonna take to keep me down.”
“It took the beating of a lifetime to show me the error of my ways, and ya know the crazy part?! I actually won the match…it was a fluke, but I somehow won. But lemme tell ya, I came out the other end of it and I was never the same. Her name was Jada. Jada Kaine. She was my mentor, my hero, and became one of my best friends in life. So if I have to lose it all, for just the tiniest chance that I can pay it forward and help someone else goin’ down the same path I was on? I’m willin’ to do exactly that...”
“But I don’t plan on losin’ … I plan on becoming the next OPW Southern Champion and raining an ungodly hellfire down on that condescending prick of a bitch to show her the light…”
“Because I know it’s the only thing that’ll get through to her.”
“Ya happy now?!”
Her companion nodded.
He could tell by the deadly earnestness in her voice that she meant what she said about never recovering from the beating it would take to keep her down. Blair Buchannan was a formidable opponent, and it was obvious the half naked blonde laying next to him knew the danger going into this sort of match...but it was gonna take an act of God to stop her.
“Yeah, I’m happy now…”
“Good,” Sahara began wrestling with the sheets to untangle herself before motioning down rather playfully. “Now keep your promise and make me happy again…”