Pop a Molly
Posted: Mon Mar 23, 2015 7:32 pm
It had been one month and one day since Sasha Banks: HBIC became women’s champion. Not like she was counting. It had also been one month and one day since Sasha Banks set foot in a wrestling ring. All this time she was busy promoting her latest merchandise, mainly the very shiny, very new “#Legit BOSS” t-shirt, which was now on EBWF’s online store for only $29.99. However, the women’s champion wanted to “form a bond” with her fans. If she had any. Today was muggy in St. Louis, which disappointed Sasha because she did her hair and now it was slightly frizzy, but nothing would stop her from meeting the people that supported her. She had found a nice open spot in Memorial Plaza, minutes away from the Scottrade Center where Warfare would show live in only hours. The BOSS was inside a makeshift wooden booth which was covered in many of her latest t-shirts in black, white, red and gold. Even Sasha herself was wearing one. It appeared that she was enjoying herself. She was smiling, and clapping her hands together as her first potential customer walked up to the booth.
Man #1: What are these shirts for?
He was a grandpa. Not someone who should be the walking advertisement for her gear! A voice just to the left was heard talking to Sasha.
???: Umm, no. This guy is a total hag. Tell him Buck & Buck is over that way.
Sasha Banks: Shhh! You can’t scare him away. What if he has money? The more people that wear my stuff the better. Now hushurp.
The HBIC turned away from the voice and looked to the old man, who was eyeballing her over the rims of his bifocals. He was an african-american male who had on a faded green golf cap, some really baggy khaki trousers held up by leather suspenders, and a plaid polo that stretched unrealistically over his large beer belly. He was balancing his weight on a cane. Totally a disaster, but still, maybe he was going to buy one of her shirts. And that would be BOSS.
Sasha Banks: I’m sorry. These shirts are for me.
Man #1: For you? You already got one on there.
Sasha Banks: Well there for me, but I mean… Like, not really. The company I work for, EBWF, has them made for me. It’s my merchandise!
The old man squinted a long while at her. Sasha just stood there awkwardly continuing to smile, not sure what to do. She would never work a day in retail as long as she was alive. But the BOSS anything for her fans.
Man #1: Anyone ever tell you you look like Beyoncé?
Sasha Banks: Umm, no.. They usually tell me I look like Sasha.
Man #1: Sasha? Who’s Sasha?
Sasha Banks: Me! I’m Sasha, duh! Sasha Banks? The BOSS. The HBIC. EBWF Women’s Champion?
???: Also one of three of EBWF’s resident Fashion Police?
???: And a Mean Girl.
Sasha turned to her side again and shushed what now seemed to be two voices before turning politely back to the old man.
Man #1: Nope. That name don’t ring a bell.
Sasha Banks: Bell? What bell?
Man #1: Nevermind, how much money for that red one? My granddaughter will like it I bet. She goin’ to that EBWF show tonight.
Sasha Banks: Really?! Oh my gee! I’m gonna be there, in a match! I have one! And the shirt is 29.99.
Man #1: You sell'em for 29.99. Why not 30 dollars? Either way it ain’t too bad. So if you’re gonna be there who are you and who are you fighting? My grandbaby likes this Natasha Hanks or somethin’, I forget her name.
The man handed her exactly 30 dollars and Sasha pulled a t-shirt from behind her and handed it to the man.
???: How does he not know who you are, Sasha?!
???: He wears diapers, duh. He’s too focused on that to watch wrestling.
Sasha put a finger up to the man and excused herself before picking something up and moving it to the back, scowling at it.
Sasha Banks: Ok baes, I know it’s difficult to witness such a messterpiece this close, but he is the only person to walk up to this booth and buy something! You can’t scare him off. Even if he would scare you two off since he kind of looks like that purple Grimace from McRonald’s.
The old man moved over slightly to see what all the fuss was about.
Man #1: Young lady are you talkin’ to yourself? You ain’t old enough for that just yet.
Sasha Banks: Oh no! Just trying to make some important bussinessal decisions you know. Bills and accountants and stuff.
They both nodded. He caught a peek at what Sasha was speaking to. It was an iPad. On the screen were two women, a blonde and firetruck redhead.
Summer Rae: If you say so.
Eva Marie: We believe in you. Go serve justice!
On the tiny screen Summer turned to look at Eva, a bit confused. Sasha returned to the front of the booth to the man with the same smile still plastered on her face.
Sasha Banks: Sorry mister, there won’t be any more interruptions! But I think you meant Sasha Banks, not Nastasha Janks or whatever you said before. I’m Sasha Banks. Your granddaughter will get to see me tonight! And she’ll be wearing that beautimous red shirt of mine.
Man #1: Okay then. Must be good business for you. Who are you fightin’ against?
Sasha Banks: Her name is Mighty Molly. And sir, I have a secret to tell you.
She waved her hand for him to walk in closer to the booth. She even put her hands cupped around her mouth when she whispered.
Sasha Banks: Mighty Molly is a code name for drugs.
The man grumbled and took a step away, completely taken aback.
Man #1: Excuse me?
Sasha Banks: Mhmm. That’s what they call drugs on the streets these days. Mighty Molly. You haven’t heard the song? It goes “Popped a mighty molly, I’m sweatin’.” It’s by that rapper Crawdad James.
Man #1: You mean to tell me that the people you work for hire druggies?
Sasha Banks: Oh no! The EBWF doesn’t do that. I don’t think they do. I wouldn’t know. But Mighty Molly isn’t a druggy. Word on the street is she HAS the druggies. Apparently whenever we have to do drug tests, whoever she hates she sneaks into the drug labs after and puts drugs in the pee cups! That’s how why Fandango couldn’t join EBWF I think. My friend Summer told me he failed a drug test but they didn’t know how.
The BOSS shrugged and put the cash she was handed earlier in a little shoebox just to the side of her.
Man #1: Oooooh lord, that ain’t right. Can’t have my grandbaby cheerin’ for no druggy.
Sasha Banks: Yup! That’s totally the story. I hope when I have a daughter she’s a girl.
Man #1: What?
Sasha Banks: I said I hope my daughter is a girl.
Man #1: But… That’s what a daughter is. A girl.
Sasha looked at the grandpa and scratched her head, adjusting her shutter shades that were perched on top.
Sasha Banks: Umm, yes I know. I hope she’s a girl. I wouldn’t want her to be a boy. Tuh.
The old man looked at her and shook his head. He started to turn around to walk away while mumbling under his breath.
Man #1: Guess I’d rather let my grandchild like a dummy than a druggy. Hmph.
When he started to walk away, another man on a bicycle yelled out frantically, trying to swerve out of the way. Unfortunately he couldn’t do it in time and crashed into the old man, who then fell into the booth. The bicycle had wheeled away on its on into a few other people. The booth started creaking and shaking. Sasha grabbed her box of money, an extra t-shirt, and her iPod in one quick scoop before evacuating the tiny wooden thing. A few seconds later, everything fell to the ground. The old man was under a large pile of shirts, and was approached by the man who had been riding the bike.
Man #2: Sir, are you okay?
Man #1: Help me. I can’t get up.
The HBIC walked over to him and sighed loudly. The shirt she grabbed was draped over her shoulder, and she held the shoebox in one arm and the iPad in the other. Summer and Eva could be seen holding a hand to their mouth in shock. They stayed silent.
Sasha Banks: That’s what the cane is for old man. Tuh. People these days. They have no sense.
Then she walked off as if nothing had happened, heading towards the Scottrade Arena.
******************************
Later that day, Matt Striker and a lone cameraman were found waiting outside the door of Sasha Banks’ locker room. The interviewer knocked on the door.
Matt Striker: Sasha? It’s me, Matt Striker. I’m here with--
The door opened promptly, and out stepped the women’s champion, much to Matt’s surprise. Normally any other diva would slam the door in his face or shoo him away.
Sasha Banks: Oh my gee, thank goodness you’re finally here. I’ve been waiting for my food for over an hour.
She was wearing her title around her waist, already decked out in her ring attire, complete with her new t-shirt. Sasha put her hand out, expecting her order.
Matt Striker: I’m not sure I follow…
Sasha Banks: You’re here with my jello cup, right? I ordered from room service forever ago! Don’t tell me you got the order wrong.
Matt Striker: I’m afraid I don’t--
Sasha Banks: Great, you don't have it? Tuh, I can’t do this right now. That sign right there said I could order room service if I called that number!
Matt Striker: But this isn’t a hotel, there can’t be room service.
Sasha huffed and rolled her eyes as she began to twirl a strand of hair between her fingers.
Sasha Banks: So if you’s not room service what do you want?
Matt Striker: Tonight on Warfare you square off with Mighty Molly.
Sasha Banks: I think you mean square up, because this will be a true fight, Max.
Matt Striker: My name is Matt.
Sasha Banks: If you were wearing a name tag like a true employee then I’d know. Duh.
Matt Striker: Okay then… Why will this be a true fight Sasha?
Sasha Banks: Because Mighty Molly is a bad influence! She has the same name as a drug, Max! It’s not a good depicture of what a woman should grow up to be. So tonight, I want to bring out my alter eagle. Sasha Banks: Crimestopper.
Matt Striker: That doesn’t really seem like an alter ego though. It just sounds like a new title you’re giving yourself.
Sasha Banks: That’s because it’s my alter EAGLE, Tom, not ego.
Matt Striker: That doesn’t make any bit of sense, and my name isn’t Tom, it’s Matt.
Sasha Banks: Whatever. Mighty Molly thinks she’ll get off scotch-free! Dealing drugs is not right, ok? It’s like, the worst possible thing you could do on this earth besides wearing plaid with polka dots. I am going to beat her up and beat her good. Not just like any old match. I wanna put her out for good and get her off the streets AND tv! Then she’ll wish she NEVER started illegibly dealing drugs.
Matt Striker: Sasha, I think you’ve completely misread Mighty Molly. She wears a pink cape. She’s basically a superhero, like Hurricane Helms.
Sasha Banks: That’s how she lures in kids to give them the stuff. Matt, you are so clueless. You have no idea! She is a thief and probably a druggy too if she’s selling stuff. Out there stealing hopeless people’s money. She should be helping others. Like me. I help out the homeless because they can’t help dressing all nasty and being poor. So I always lend them a hand when I can. That’s what my other alter eagle is. Sasha Banks: Hobo Helper.
Matt nodded and looked on at the HBIC strangely.
Matt Striker: So no further comment on Mighty Molly?
Sasha Banks: Actually, I have a couple more things. So slow your rolls, boo boo. I know what some of you are thinking. Since I said Mighty Molly is on drugs, that must mean she’s so hopped up on them right now and that I’m in danger going into this match. That is NOT true. That’s because the molly drugs she deals will make her slow and stupid! So she’ll be straight trippin’ whenever she tries to come at me. I can beat her easily because all I have to do is use my high fragility techniques to take her down and lock her down so she’s Bankrupt. All that drug money she used to get a match again will have all been a waste Mats. And guess what?
Matt Striker: …what?
Sasha Banks: You can Bank On That! BYEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Sasha snapped a finger in Matt’s face before walking off in the other direction.
Man #1: What are these shirts for?
He was a grandpa. Not someone who should be the walking advertisement for her gear! A voice just to the left was heard talking to Sasha.
???: Umm, no. This guy is a total hag. Tell him Buck & Buck is over that way.
Sasha Banks: Shhh! You can’t scare him away. What if he has money? The more people that wear my stuff the better. Now hushurp.
The HBIC turned away from the voice and looked to the old man, who was eyeballing her over the rims of his bifocals. He was an african-american male who had on a faded green golf cap, some really baggy khaki trousers held up by leather suspenders, and a plaid polo that stretched unrealistically over his large beer belly. He was balancing his weight on a cane. Totally a disaster, but still, maybe he was going to buy one of her shirts. And that would be BOSS.
Sasha Banks: I’m sorry. These shirts are for me.
Man #1: For you? You already got one on there.
Sasha Banks: Well there for me, but I mean… Like, not really. The company I work for, EBWF, has them made for me. It’s my merchandise!
The old man squinted a long while at her. Sasha just stood there awkwardly continuing to smile, not sure what to do. She would never work a day in retail as long as she was alive. But the BOSS anything for her fans.
Man #1: Anyone ever tell you you look like Beyoncé?
Sasha Banks: Umm, no.. They usually tell me I look like Sasha.
Man #1: Sasha? Who’s Sasha?
Sasha Banks: Me! I’m Sasha, duh! Sasha Banks? The BOSS. The HBIC. EBWF Women’s Champion?
???: Also one of three of EBWF’s resident Fashion Police?
???: And a Mean Girl.
Sasha turned to her side again and shushed what now seemed to be two voices before turning politely back to the old man.
Man #1: Nope. That name don’t ring a bell.
Sasha Banks: Bell? What bell?
Man #1: Nevermind, how much money for that red one? My granddaughter will like it I bet. She goin’ to that EBWF show tonight.
Sasha Banks: Really?! Oh my gee! I’m gonna be there, in a match! I have one! And the shirt is 29.99.
Man #1: You sell'em for 29.99. Why not 30 dollars? Either way it ain’t too bad. So if you’re gonna be there who are you and who are you fighting? My grandbaby likes this Natasha Hanks or somethin’, I forget her name.
The man handed her exactly 30 dollars and Sasha pulled a t-shirt from behind her and handed it to the man.
???: How does he not know who you are, Sasha?!
???: He wears diapers, duh. He’s too focused on that to watch wrestling.
Sasha put a finger up to the man and excused herself before picking something up and moving it to the back, scowling at it.
Sasha Banks: Ok baes, I know it’s difficult to witness such a messterpiece this close, but he is the only person to walk up to this booth and buy something! You can’t scare him off. Even if he would scare you two off since he kind of looks like that purple Grimace from McRonald’s.
The old man moved over slightly to see what all the fuss was about.
Man #1: Young lady are you talkin’ to yourself? You ain’t old enough for that just yet.
Sasha Banks: Oh no! Just trying to make some important bussinessal decisions you know. Bills and accountants and stuff.
They both nodded. He caught a peek at what Sasha was speaking to. It was an iPad. On the screen were two women, a blonde and firetruck redhead.
Summer Rae: If you say so.
Eva Marie: We believe in you. Go serve justice!
On the tiny screen Summer turned to look at Eva, a bit confused. Sasha returned to the front of the booth to the man with the same smile still plastered on her face.
Sasha Banks: Sorry mister, there won’t be any more interruptions! But I think you meant Sasha Banks, not Nastasha Janks or whatever you said before. I’m Sasha Banks. Your granddaughter will get to see me tonight! And she’ll be wearing that beautimous red shirt of mine.
Man #1: Okay then. Must be good business for you. Who are you fightin’ against?
Sasha Banks: Her name is Mighty Molly. And sir, I have a secret to tell you.
She waved her hand for him to walk in closer to the booth. She even put her hands cupped around her mouth when she whispered.
Sasha Banks: Mighty Molly is a code name for drugs.
The man grumbled and took a step away, completely taken aback.
Man #1: Excuse me?
Sasha Banks: Mhmm. That’s what they call drugs on the streets these days. Mighty Molly. You haven’t heard the song? It goes “Popped a mighty molly, I’m sweatin’.” It’s by that rapper Crawdad James.
Man #1: You mean to tell me that the people you work for hire druggies?
Sasha Banks: Oh no! The EBWF doesn’t do that. I don’t think they do. I wouldn’t know. But Mighty Molly isn’t a druggy. Word on the street is she HAS the druggies. Apparently whenever we have to do drug tests, whoever she hates she sneaks into the drug labs after and puts drugs in the pee cups! That’s how why Fandango couldn’t join EBWF I think. My friend Summer told me he failed a drug test but they didn’t know how.
The BOSS shrugged and put the cash she was handed earlier in a little shoebox just to the side of her.
Man #1: Oooooh lord, that ain’t right. Can’t have my grandbaby cheerin’ for no druggy.
Sasha Banks: Yup! That’s totally the story. I hope when I have a daughter she’s a girl.
Man #1: What?
Sasha Banks: I said I hope my daughter is a girl.
Man #1: But… That’s what a daughter is. A girl.
Sasha looked at the grandpa and scratched her head, adjusting her shutter shades that were perched on top.
Sasha Banks: Umm, yes I know. I hope she’s a girl. I wouldn’t want her to be a boy. Tuh.
The old man looked at her and shook his head. He started to turn around to walk away while mumbling under his breath.
Man #1: Guess I’d rather let my grandchild like a dummy than a druggy. Hmph.
When he started to walk away, another man on a bicycle yelled out frantically, trying to swerve out of the way. Unfortunately he couldn’t do it in time and crashed into the old man, who then fell into the booth. The bicycle had wheeled away on its on into a few other people. The booth started creaking and shaking. Sasha grabbed her box of money, an extra t-shirt, and her iPod in one quick scoop before evacuating the tiny wooden thing. A few seconds later, everything fell to the ground. The old man was under a large pile of shirts, and was approached by the man who had been riding the bike.
Man #2: Sir, are you okay?
Man #1: Help me. I can’t get up.
The HBIC walked over to him and sighed loudly. The shirt she grabbed was draped over her shoulder, and she held the shoebox in one arm and the iPad in the other. Summer and Eva could be seen holding a hand to their mouth in shock. They stayed silent.
Sasha Banks: That’s what the cane is for old man. Tuh. People these days. They have no sense.
Then she walked off as if nothing had happened, heading towards the Scottrade Arena.
******************************
Later that day, Matt Striker and a lone cameraman were found waiting outside the door of Sasha Banks’ locker room. The interviewer knocked on the door.
Matt Striker: Sasha? It’s me, Matt Striker. I’m here with--
The door opened promptly, and out stepped the women’s champion, much to Matt’s surprise. Normally any other diva would slam the door in his face or shoo him away.
Sasha Banks: Oh my gee, thank goodness you’re finally here. I’ve been waiting for my food for over an hour.
She was wearing her title around her waist, already decked out in her ring attire, complete with her new t-shirt. Sasha put her hand out, expecting her order.
Matt Striker: I’m not sure I follow…
Sasha Banks: You’re here with my jello cup, right? I ordered from room service forever ago! Don’t tell me you got the order wrong.
Matt Striker: I’m afraid I don’t--
Sasha Banks: Great, you don't have it? Tuh, I can’t do this right now. That sign right there said I could order room service if I called that number!
Matt Striker: But this isn’t a hotel, there can’t be room service.
Sasha huffed and rolled her eyes as she began to twirl a strand of hair between her fingers.
Sasha Banks: So if you’s not room service what do you want?
Matt Striker: Tonight on Warfare you square off with Mighty Molly.
Sasha Banks: I think you mean square up, because this will be a true fight, Max.
Matt Striker: My name is Matt.
Sasha Banks: If you were wearing a name tag like a true employee then I’d know. Duh.
Matt Striker: Okay then… Why will this be a true fight Sasha?
Sasha Banks: Because Mighty Molly is a bad influence! She has the same name as a drug, Max! It’s not a good depicture of what a woman should grow up to be. So tonight, I want to bring out my alter eagle. Sasha Banks: Crimestopper.
Matt Striker: That doesn’t really seem like an alter ego though. It just sounds like a new title you’re giving yourself.
Sasha Banks: That’s because it’s my alter EAGLE, Tom, not ego.
Matt Striker: That doesn’t make any bit of sense, and my name isn’t Tom, it’s Matt.
Sasha Banks: Whatever. Mighty Molly thinks she’ll get off scotch-free! Dealing drugs is not right, ok? It’s like, the worst possible thing you could do on this earth besides wearing plaid with polka dots. I am going to beat her up and beat her good. Not just like any old match. I wanna put her out for good and get her off the streets AND tv! Then she’ll wish she NEVER started illegibly dealing drugs.
Matt Striker: Sasha, I think you’ve completely misread Mighty Molly. She wears a pink cape. She’s basically a superhero, like Hurricane Helms.
Sasha Banks: That’s how she lures in kids to give them the stuff. Matt, you are so clueless. You have no idea! She is a thief and probably a druggy too if she’s selling stuff. Out there stealing hopeless people’s money. She should be helping others. Like me. I help out the homeless because they can’t help dressing all nasty and being poor. So I always lend them a hand when I can. That’s what my other alter eagle is. Sasha Banks: Hobo Helper.
Matt nodded and looked on at the HBIC strangely.
Matt Striker: So no further comment on Mighty Molly?
Sasha Banks: Actually, I have a couple more things. So slow your rolls, boo boo. I know what some of you are thinking. Since I said Mighty Molly is on drugs, that must mean she’s so hopped up on them right now and that I’m in danger going into this match. That is NOT true. That’s because the molly drugs she deals will make her slow and stupid! So she’ll be straight trippin’ whenever she tries to come at me. I can beat her easily because all I have to do is use my high fragility techniques to take her down and lock her down so she’s Bankrupt. All that drug money she used to get a match again will have all been a waste Mats. And guess what?
Matt Striker: …what?
Sasha Banks: You can Bank On That! BYEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Sasha snapped a finger in Matt’s face before walking off in the other direction.
