The EBWF cameras were rolling when Alicia Fox came strutting down the hallway toward the locker room area. She was wearing her in-ring attire, and ignoring the cameraman as she stopped in front of a marked door. A “Trish Stratus” name placard was prominently affixed to the door, and Alicia eyed it for a moment, before huffing and then knocking. After a moment, the door tentatively pulled open to reveal one of the wardrobe assistants.
Alicia Fox: I’d like to see Trish.
Wardrobe Assistant: I’m sorry, Ms. Stratus isn’t taking visitors at the moment. I’d be happy to…
Alicia had raised her hand and quickly snapped it closed as if mimicking that she wanted the attendant’s mouth to close.
Alicia Fox: I would like. To see. Trish.
She let the words linger, clipping the statement sharply.
Wardrobe Assistant: One moment.
The door closed and Alicia looked increasingly inpatient. A few minutes passed before the assistant peeked her head out again.
Wardrobe Assistant: I’m sorry, Trish isn’t taking visitors. If you’d like to leave your…
Alicia screamed and the assistant’s eyes went wide as she stomped her foot.
Alicia Fox: I demand to see TRISH STRATUS! This minute! Not later. Not tomorrow. NOW!
The door opened wider, and the attendant quickly stepped aside as Trish Stratus came into the frame, looking to Alicia incredulously.
Trish Stratus: That is really no way to speak to the hard working seamstresses of EBWF. Is there something I can help you with? Do you want an autograph or something?
Alicia stared at her blankly.
Alicia Fox: An autograph? Do I look like I’m here for an autograph?!
Trish Stratus: I can’t imagine why else you’d be here.
Alicia Fox: I am your opponent. Tonight.
Trish Stratus: You are?
Alicia Fox: Yes!
Trish Stratus: Tonight? In the Queen of the Ring tournament?
Alicia Fox: Yes!
Trish Stratus: How is that possible? Who are you?
Alicia Fox: Who…
She stomped her foot again, clenching her fists in a tantrum.
Alicia Fox: WHO AM I?!
She screamed out loud and turned to stomp up the hallway.
Alicia Fox: WHO AM I?!
The camera followed her as she moved a little ways down the hallway, furiously slapping some napkins and plastic cutlery off of a table. Trish jumped back a little it as Alicia started toward her again, kicking the fluttering paper napkins in her wake.
Alicia Fox: WHO AM I?! Who are you?
Trish chuckled and shook her head.
Trish Stratus: Oh, you know exactly who I am, and you’ve also just proven how easily one can get into your head. I’m not sure why you wanted to see me, but good luck tonight, Alicia. You’re obviously going to need it.
Trish faded back into her locker room, closing the door in Alicia’s face. Alicia looked at the nameplate on the door and let out another feral scream as the scene faded.
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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