Post by Rachel on May 25, 2007 18:03:10 GMT -5
The sun is bright and warm, hanging in the corner of the sky, shedding light on a happy day; A happy day for one young lady in particular. A little girl, who looks to be about the age of 12, is standing outside of a large, corporate building. Her hair is blonde, hanging in cute pigtails. She’s wearing a black shirt that says ‘XVI VIP’ in white lettering across the front. Standing next to her is a man with a microphone, some mindless XVI interviewer.
Mindless XVI Interviewer: I’m standing here today with Tiffany Lewis. Tiffany has just won the XVI.com Online Shadow Challenge. She had to answer a series of timed questions. The participant with the most correct answers and the fastest time would have the opportunity to spend the day shadowing an XVI mystery wrestler. Tiffany, how are you feeling about this exciting opportunity?
Tiffany smiles sweetly at the nameless man.
Tiffany: I’m so excited! This is going to be so much fun. Everyone at school will be wicked jealous!
The interviewer smiles; taking in the radiance of the little girl.
Mindless XVI Interviewer: Are there any XVI wrestlers that you would like to meet today?
Tiffany: Well, I’d like to meet Szaban because he’s really cute. And I like Prozac because he’s funny and he is an awesome wrestler. Oh, and Jihad, because then I could make Tim, at school, really jealous.
Tiffany speaks so fast that she has to take a very deep breath at the end of her last statement. It’s nothing short of obvious that she is incredibly nervous and energized. As they stand there, a long, black limousine pulls up. Tiffany squeals with delight…
…And then the door opens. Tiffany’s face drops from a bright smile to a look of disbelief. No, she is not in awe because her favorite wrestler steps out. She is in shock, because one of the very last people that she wanted to be her ‘Mystery Wrestler’ climbs out of the limousine. Rachel, wearing a pair of black slacks, black pumps and a brown halter top steps out of the limo. Her eyes are covered with a pair of large, black sunglasses. She pushes them up into her hair and her eyes reveal a bored and irritated expression.
Rachel: All right, all right. Let’s get this show on the road. Hop in, kid.
Rachel gets back in and Tiffany looks back at the interviewer. He gives her a sympathetic look. The kid musters a bold expression and slides in next to Rachel. The car door shuts and the driver takes off.
Rachel: So…
Tiffany quickly starts up a conversation.
Tiffany: Hi, I’m Tiffany. I am 12 years old. I go to Morgan Fitzgerald Middle School.
Rachel raises an eyebrow as if to say, “Okay…When do I start caring?” She remains quiet and Tiffany makes another desperate attempt at a conversation.
Tiffany: Um…So…Good luck in your match with Calaz…
Rachel smirks haughtily.
Rachel: Luck? I don’t need it. I’ve got skill and talent. Calaz is a dreamer if he thinks that he has any chance against me! Stupid bestiality jokes. Just what I would expect from an immature, uneducated, ill-bred little man like him!
Tiffany stares quietly out the window.
Tiffany: So…what…what will we be doing today?
Her question is asked with slight hesitation. Rachel frowns slightly and inspects her nails.
Rachel: Whatever my publicist tells me I’m supposed to do.
Tiffany’s eyes widen.
Tiffany: Your publicist?
Rachel: Yes, child, my publicist. Aren’t you listening? The one who answers my fan mail, books my appearances, schedules autograph signings and all those ‘Save the Rainforest’ type campaigns. The lady who makes me look good.
Tiffany appears bewildered.
Tiffany: You get fan mail?
Rachel’s eyes narrow and she shoots Tiffany a deploring look.
Tiffany: I mean…uh…that’s so cool! I wish that I got fan mail.
Rachel: Yes well –
Rachel laughs to herself.
Rachel: - if you ever as beautiful as I am –
Rachel looks Tiffany up and down and wears an expression that says ‘Its hardly likely’ –
Rachel: - I suppose you will.
Tiffany gawks at Rachel.
Tiffany: I could be famous?
Rachel: Well, you can’t just be famous can you? You have to do something! There are different levels of famous…Do you want to be famous at school? You know, get all the boys to write you love letters, professing their undying love?
The child just stares blankly.
Rachel: Or do you want millions of people across the world to know who you are?
Tiffany nods slowly.
Rachel: Then not only do you have to be beautiful, you have to do something they won’t forget.
Tiffany: Like marry Szaban?
Rachel: No! Although, I do have to say the press coverage on that was amazing…No, you have to do something like…become the next American Idol, an XVI champion, or a Nascar driver who hits the wall at 500 miles per hour, flips, and cracks their little skull.
Tiffany is stunned silent at these words. She looks nothing short of terrified at the prospect of cracking her little skull. The limousine comes to a slow stop and the driver turns around.
Driver: Here we are, ladies.
Rachel: And where would that be? I never pay attention to anything that Susie says.
Rachel turns to Tiffany.
Rachel: That’s my publicist.
Tiffany gives an ‘oooh’.
Driver: We are at the Fitness Academy, ma’am.
The driver then exits the vehicle and opens the door for Rachel. Tiffany scoots out behind her. They stand outside of a three story, peach colored, stucco building. There are two large glass doors at the front and several windows. The girls climb the steps and a man opens the door for them. Rachel zooms on the past the man, but Tiffany stops to say thank you. She soon realizes that her tour guide of sorts is way ahead of her and rushes to return to her side.
Rachel: Where is that child? Oh, there you are. Okay, I’ve got to do my usual workout. You can either join me, or you can stay in the children’s center.
Tiffany: I want to do it too!
Rachel: Follow Tom then, he will get you the proper shoes and clothes.
The scene fades and is interrupted with a commercial break.
XVI Comes to Your City!
Taco Bell – Eat Late!
Highway to Hell preview.
Amscot – You’re Okay With Us!
We return from a tedious commercial break to find Rachel jogging on the treadmill. Her hair is pulled back with a few stray strands hanging in her face. She is wearing a pair of black Reeboks, a black sports bra, and a pair of black shorts. Next to her on a treadmill is Tiffany. She looks like a carbon copy of Rachel, except for the blond hair. She is jogging a long, huffing and puffing, trying desperately to keep up at Rachel’s pace.
Rachel: C’mon, kid. Step it up a little bit.
Tiffany is dripping sweat. Her eyes close and she blinks a few times.
Tiffany: I think…I need…water.
Rachel tosses her a water bottle from the cup holder. Tiffany lunges for it, but it sails past her, and the girl tumbles off of the treadmill in pursuit of the bottle. Rachel looks over at Tiffany, who is lying on the floor groaning. She shrugs her shoulders and keeps on running. A few people rush over and gather around Tiffany.
Tiffany: I’m okay…I just want water…
A man nearby hands her the bottle and Tiffany takes a long gulp. She stops, pants a few times, and then takes another swig.
Man: Are you okay, honey?
Tiffany: Yeah…I just…I just…
Tiffany bursts into tears.
Tiffany: I want to go hooooome!!!
Rachel slows to a walk and then shuts the machine off. She steps off of the treadmill and stands over the girl shaking her head.
Rachel: Well, you did it, Tiffany. You’re famous.
The girl continues to cry and Rachel looks annoyed.
Rachel: Now everyone will know Tiffany Lewis as the loser who can’t even keep her fat ass on a treadmill. My four year old is in better shape than you!
Rachel gives her a ‘hmph’ and turns back to the treadmill. She lifts her cell phone out of one of the cup holders and tosses it to the man standing next to Tiffany.
Rachel: Here, call her parents. And make sure she brings my cell phone back when she’s done!
Rachel walks away as the little girl sits there crying. The people gathered shake their head in disapproval.
Man: That’s one cold bitch.[/center][/color]