Jackie Redmond was backstage, near the entrance, pacing with a microphone in hand. The camera caught her look up as the door opened. Trish Stratus stepped into the arena, wearing high heeled knee higher boots, light washed distressed jeans, and a 100% Stratusfaction t-shirt. Her midriff was showing, and she pulled off her sunglasses as Jackie approached her.
Trish Stratus: I don’t want to disappoint you, Jackie, but if you’re about to ask me about the Women’s Last Survivor…
Jackie Redmond: Trish, it’s your first match back in quite some time, and you enter the women’s rumble at number eight.
Trish sighed, seeing she wasn’t going to be able to avoid the conversation.
Trish Stratus: Number eight. Yes. Number eight. The odds aren’t great. The women in that match have been running roughshod all over EBWF while I’ve been gone. And we all want our opportunity at Britt Baker for the EBWF Women’s Championship. And I understand why Britt isn’t in the match. Champion’s privilege. She who has the gold, just waits for her opponent. But do you want to know the real conspiracy here?
Jackie raised her eyebrow, nodding to ask Trish to continue.
Trish Stratus: The women I want to get my hands on most, both ducking me… as usual! I don’t care how many women are in this match. I’m going to do what I have to do to get my hands on Britt. But I also know that lurking somewhere is Tam Nakano, who still hasn’t gotten her receipts from me. But, that’s not personal. That’s just business. I’ll get my time with Tam, and I’ll wait patiently for it, because good things come to those who wait. Which is probably why Becky Lynch is never going to show up here to face me, because she’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to this business! And she can’t stand the idea of losing. She knows in a fair fight I’ll absolutely end her!
Jackie Redmond: Trish, Becky Lynch is not in this match.
Trish Stratus: I know that! That’s what I’m telling you! She’s a coward. Twenty women in this match and she can’t be bothered to show her face, because as usual she wants to call herself the best. And she can’t be the best if she shows up and actually lets me beat her! So I don’t care! I don’t care about this damn match. I don’t care that to get back on top, I have to take on the whole NJPW women’s locker room! I don’t care that I come in in the first half. I don’t care that this is my first match back in a while. I care that there is an imposter walking around calling herself the best when she hasn’t done anything but run her mouth and NOT BEAT ME. So, if the only way I can get her attention is to win this damn thing and take that title from Britt Baker. Then I guess that’s what I’ll do, Jackie.
She flipped her hair and walked out of the frame, leaving Jackie looking after her as the scene faded.
The Art of Not Caring
The Art of Not Caring
Writers aren't exactly people. They're a whole bunch of people. Trying to be one person.
The only living, breathing, Queen of Efeds in captivity
"You can't blame a writer for what the characters say." - Truman Capote