Heart Attack (MDE #2)

INT. THE DISNEY STORE- MORNING

Our scene opens inside the seventh circle of hell-- otherwise known as the mall on the day after Thanksgiving. It's an absolute madhouse-- consumers packed in like sardines, pushing and racing for the ultimate deal on the "item of the season," engaged in a scavenger hunt designed by Satan himself. 

Only a madman would expose himself to such circumstances.

Or a mad woman.

We pick up inside of The Disney Store, a particularly heinous culprit in the capitalist competition for the consumer's dollar. While Disney may be the happiest place on earth, the faces and actions of those inhabiting this store tell a different story. People shove, curse and outmaneuver one another to grab hold of the last Elsa t-shirt or Big Hero 6 action figure.

All except one woman.

Her name is NANCY WALSH, mid-30's. She sits in the book section of the store, finishing off a fairy tale with her young daughter HALEY. Nancy reads in a soft, nurturing, motherly tone, tuning out the hustle and bustle around her.

Suddenly, Nancy's demeanor completely changes. Her eyes narrow, lips snarl, hands clench into two balled-up ffsts. Something in the store has grabbed her attention.

Something-- or someone.

Poor little Haley is scared by this drastic change in her mother. Nancy shoots to her feet and makes a straight line-- fuck whoever is in her path-- toward the source of her rage.

And there she is, minding her own business, MetroPRO's "Metropolitan  Mistress," PRISCILLA PRICE.

Priscilla doesn't even notice her at first; and fortunately for the former IWA Woman's Champ, the ravenous Nancy is intercepted by mall security just before she could get within striking distance.

Nancy struggles with security as they lead her to the exit-- her little girl following behind in a panic.

After watching this woman she's never met get escorted to the exit, Priscilla turns to the camera:

*    *    *    


They lived happily ever after. What a crock of shit. The "happily ever after" myth is as troubling a concept as the concept of turning the day after the national holiday for giving thanks for what you have into the national holiday for stepping over people to purchase what you don't. Anyone who believes in "happily ever after"-- that after the close of the final chapter, Cinderella and Prince Charming, in the face of mortgage payments, dirty diapers, in-laws, deferred dreams, wandering eyes and mutual resentment, lived perfectly blissful lives until their dying days-- is fucking delusional.

Take Alice St. James, who, along with her sexy, equally-deluded boyfriend Kaiden Hawke, has the unfortunate task of taking on me and Angel Bellini this Sunday. Alice, in two days, I am going to give that glass jaw of your a chin check; but for now, let me give you a different kind of check.

A reality check.

Alice, you seem to be under the delusion that you and Prince Charming have a prayer of winning Sunday night because you have...heart? Really? Please tell me you are not that naive. If I had a dime for every wrestler who fell short against me after preaching about their heart or their passion or their desire, I'd be--- well, I'd be as well off as I am. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, princess, but I have made a name for myself as the heart breaker of wrestling since I first set foot in a ring. 

So let me do you and Ken Doll a favor and hold your hand as we take a journey out of the land of make believe and into far away land you may have never heard of-- called reality-- where we rely upon logic and practical, real world skills. Allow me to dispense some advice.

Instead of placing all of your chips on your "heart," perhaps you should be talking about how you will use your strength and technique to take me to the ground. Wait-- strike that-- that wont work, because I am the last person in the world with whom you or your submission defense deficient boy toy want to engage in a ground battle.

Perhaps you should be talking about how you'll use your superior striking power-- damn, that won't work either, as I own you in the striking game, and while your better half may be able to keep up with me in the punching, he can't keep up with my speed.

Perhaps you should be emphasizing your speed advantage? No. Your aerial advantage? Nope. Your stamina? Oh boy, this is more difficult for you than I thought.

On second thought, there's always your "heart."