You ever think about where you are on someone’s list of importance? Like if they wrote an autobiography would you be a footnote? A chapter? A few pages? Or not even noteworthy. Reflecting on that as one faces their own mortality as we tend to do. Did I matter? Did I make a difference? Was I worth it? In the younger years I would have said without a doubt. But now I realize much of that was hubris and pride with ego…
Maybe I’m not as great as I thought. Maybe all I deserve is to be a footnote. Maybe just maybe the claims to fame that I’ve spent years doting over aren’t as important as I once deemed them. Maybe I manifested this grandiose sense of entitlement inaccurately. I won war games…. But everyone loved Shane Reynolds… I knew how good he was that’s why I had him on my team. They never talk about how he chose to go onto my side. He agreed to be on my team. I did what anyone else would do but you fuckers won’t let it go. Aren’t Wrestling fans supposed to have a short memory? Over a decade fucking later and that’s thrown in my face. Just like let it fucking go.
But no one can let a damn thing go ever. Nope! If you all did then it wouldn’t be Carey vs Mario the 1000 fucking time! For some reason it’s so loved. Why? Cause you all are so obsessed with a man doing what you legally can’t get away with.
You look at this and feel better about yourselves because you didn’t put your hands on a woman. I’m sure that you make some excuse, some reason behind your deranged enjoyment. You have it in your delusional minds that I deserve it. Right? If not for what I’ve said; then for betraying Scooter right? Because that is only something a bitch would do. Ah there it is “bitch” because it’s supposed to hurt my feelings.
Make no mistake When I’m being honest I’m an honest bitch; when I’m being kind I’m a kind bitch; when I’m being funny I’m a funny bitch. But I am in fact and always have been THE that bitch. And I’m only called a bitch when I’m asserting boundaries against people that feel entitled to my energy.
That is the thing you all fail to realize. That word doesn’t offend me. I can answer my own question, I am no footnote I am a whole damn chapter in everyone’s book. It isn’t ego it is that I have had that much of an impact on everyone I encounter. You, however you all feel a sense of entitlement and privilege to attempt to tell me who you think I am, like it’s going to change my opinion of myself? You think you are more important to me over my own sense of self? Ha! Here’s an idea. Get over yourself…
How about you worry about yourself? No, everyone’s always in my business. Mario didn’t worry about himself. Even worse, he didn’t worry about his son. He is more than aware of what people are capable of. But he’s been getting himself in my business since 08. Him and his awful goons came in and who did they go after? Me. And team epic… so this whole thing has been Mario since day one.
This whole thing was because he was threatened by a woman. Because a woman being superior, a woman being at the top of a man’s sport is so insane; that your only goal in life is to want to stop this woman. This woman who has proven superiority but no he wouldn’t even say equal ever. Because the notion of having to admit that the ‘weaker’ sex is on the same level as him, is the same issue most of you face. I shattered the glass ceiling. But still toxic men with their hyper masculinity could never give the credit that’s due. If I got the credit I deserved I’d be paid what the other hall of fame wrestlers are. But no the gender wage gap! Proof!
This toxicity is everywhere in wrestling. You all have supported this feud for over ten years! What’s worse is the sick enjoyment you all get. Like some sort of fetishized torture porn. How fucked up are you people? This the shit you look forward to seeing this guy attempt to manhandle me and barely walks out with his dignity if he is walking out at all. He didn’t walk out last time did he? The buried alive match when he was dead, or should have been.
Leave it to wrestling: the only place that “cancel culture” doesn’t exist. Even if it did exist with cancel culture, no one’s ever fully canceled at least not really. And who’s the one who suffers that? The victims! Sure the person is punished with a slap on the wrist and public outcry wanting them to be removed from movies or fired from a position.. but they all eventually come back like the roaches they are.
The victims? Their voices slowly fade with the lack of support and the canceled people pleading that they have changed. The act of manipulation they are masters of. And the rest of us? Puppets. But here in HOW they are rewarded. They get tag team events named after them! I never got anything named after me….
Cleveland Burke lakefront airport in the v.i.p. lounge we see Bobbinette Carey. Her hair is pulled back in to two braided pigtail buns. She is wearing a green cardigan with silk red button up blouse tucked into a black maxi skirt. She has on a pair of black ballet flats looking prepped for her flight. She has a thick book in her hands as she is seated near the window with a cocktail next to her. A middle aged guy walks past then walks backwards doing a double take to confirm it is indeed who he thought. The man looked to be a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair above his shoulder with matching facial hair. He appeared to be tan and toned in a custom fitted suit.
“Bobbie… wow.” he says walking in with a smile as he leaned against the doorframe. He ran his hands through his hair and looked over at her she shook her head her eyes in shock.
“Leave she.” Bobbinette said plainly as she downed her cocktail in one swig.
“Oh come on…” he protested as he walked in she rolled her eyes closing her book in front of her, her eyes turning onto a glare.
“You’re about 25 years too late,” she said firmly he tilted his head to his left side as he looked at her. His eyes seemed to be taking in everything in front of him.
“You were My queen first.” He said mayt t of factly. She shuddered and crossed her arms tightly, shaking her head.
“No, leave. You need to leave. Now!” She reiterated her eyebrows narrowing at the man. He shook his head taking a step into the empty v.i.p. room.
“I made you,” he says with pride.
“No, no you didn’t, you don’t have the right to say that. you had nothing to do, you were just the first promotion I wrestled in.” She says matter of factly.
“You think you would be anywhere like you are now if it wasn’t for me?” He laughs wryly, his hands folded together in a relaxed stance.
“I got everywhere in spite of what you tried to do.” Her voice sounds firm as she stands up now clearly defensive.
“Come on Bobbie, It’s water under the bridge; now why are you acting like this?” He smiles as he walks closer to her.
“You know what you did!” She said to him with venom he sighed and looked at her stopping his pace towards her.
“I thought you would have grown up, but you’re still that little girl aren’t you?” Her nostrils flared as she took a few deep breaths
“Get the fuck out. I’m grown enough to know what you’re trying to pull. I know your games.” She said as her cheeks burned red with anger.
“My games? No one forced you to do it. You kept coming back.” He said as he looked at her Taking a step towards her he looked her up and down. “You played games. You knew what you were doing.” He said putting his thumb at the side of his cheek, his face observing her as he took a few steps close to her.
“I was sixteen. You let me stay with you and I was training. I was grateful.” Her voice sounded smaller.
“Yes you were grateful. And very good at showing me how grateful you were.” He said putting his hand on her shoulder. She jumped and shook her head, swatting his hand away.
“You groomed me. You used your position to take advantage of my situation.” She said as her fist balled up.
“Oh! You didn’t use your married boss to further your career? You didn’t have sex with me in my home office, while my wife was asleep in our bed room? You can’t unfuck a dick.” He said as he looked her up and down. She shook her head no as he put his hand on her shoulder firmly. “You remember, don’t you? You’d come into my office hours after the show was over to ‘watch your match’.” He said with air quotes as she tried to remove his hand from her shoulder as her eyes took her back mentally. She fought his words.
“I was eager to learn. I did want to go over my matches! I was proud…” She said quietly. “I trusted you…” her voice gets caught in her throat.
“And you fucked me, then made me the bad guy in your little story.” He whispered in her ear.
“That’s not true.” She said in a hushed whisper shaking her head from side to side.
“You do it to all the men in your life. You find some way to turn them into the big bad. You have such bad trust issues you manifest issues instead of just living life. You won your lawsuit against me.” He admitted with his face looking plain. “I just wanted you to know, no hard feelings.” He said with a smile.
She took a step back crossing her arms in front of her tightly. Her body appearing rigid and stoic. “Twenty five years later…” she looks cautiously.
“Yeah I’m scouting new talent. The one girl I’m looking at reminds me of you. Maj-” Bobbinette’s eyes lit up with rage as she threw a fist to his face knocking him clean out.
“Stay the fuck away from my daughter!” She screams down at him. “I’m doing what I’m doing now because of manipulative pieces of shit like you!” She says as she kicks him in the balls. She quickly grabs her carry-on and her book and exits the v.i.p. and hastily as the man is on the ground in pain. She walked through the airport and quickly briskly made it to her jet they still seemed to be prepping. As she got on the jet she set her bag down and sighed heavily.
“Fucking ghost of Christmas past. If only ghosts stayed dead. When you think about the people of the past who are still there years later you normally get a warm fuzzy feeling… Normally it’s filled with the nostalgia and appreciation that these people have stayed and been around this long. Unfortunately there are people that cause opposite feelings.” Without seeing her flight attendants she goes to her mini fridge and pull out a bottle of vodka. “Nope I cannot be sober for that.” She said in matter of fact tone. She looks around, unable to find a cup she gives up and unscrews the top and drinks straight from the bottle. After a few chugs she sets it down gasping as she shakes her head. She turns on the tv in her jet to HOTv and sees Mario’s cooking promo.
“What the fuck… nope.” She takes another gulp of her vodka.
“Some people won’t just stop, they won’t go away. Mario only fades into obscurity when I leave. Then there’s whispers of my name and then he plagues HOW just to try to thwart me like I’m the bad guy here!” She lifts the bottle to take another sip, this time not as long. “I mean hello I am the hero not him. Mario is the bad guy always has been always will be! But it matters who the toxic fans cheer for at the end of the day doesn’t it? I gave everything blood, sweat, tears, my youth, for wrestling! “She shakes her head feeling a bit disappointed as she takes another sip collecting her thoughts.
“Because I use my voice, I’m the bad guy. Because I point out behaviors and patterns they’ve exhibited over the years I’m still the villain. How does this work?! Why? I mean honestly! Is anyone really looking at this and thinking maybe she’s not wrong? No you’re too entertained by me getting hit in the head or abused in some fashion for your kicks. You people are sick and disgust me.” The flight staff gets on the jet as Bobbinette is talking. They pause as they see her talking to no one. They cautiously walk past her as she nods to them acknowledging she sees them before returning to her thoughts.
“And they cheer for one of the most vile and inappropriate men I have ever met in my entire existence. They act like he is their god. What type of sick religion do they follow a man that is this obscene? This is some cult.” She snaps her fingers as If she connected the dots.
“When I say anything it’s shushed and quietly ushered away but the facts don’t change the facts and that all of them seriously have some mental problems in order to cheer for a man this depraved it makes me worry for their children for their wives for any female in their lives that they find this entertaining because then what is the possibility that they could do this to them?” She shudders at the thought of the horrible monsters the HOW fandom has. The flight attendant finally approaches Bobbinette. Bobbinette takes another sip out of the bottle and sighs looking at the flight attendant.
“If they could enjoy watching violence to me, there’s a possibility that somewhere they’re going to snap one day and that females around then won’t be safe.” Bobbinette says pointing a finger at her. The flight attendant slowly nods her head not speaking because she has seen Bobbinette on tangents but she notices Bobbinette’s hand is shaking as her eyes start watering.
“Ma’am?” She says with worry on her face.
“That is why I am trying to show them the dangers in their arrogance and following something so toxic to try to save any other female from being like me.” Tears are streaming now. Bobbinette doesn’t wipe her eyes. “I don’t want anyone else to end up like me.” Those words echo to her. She saw a man who made her feel small and did nothing till the chance of him hurting someone else became reality. The adrenaline wearing off, and now the realization of how triggering the experience was.
“Men, these men. They can’t be allowed to get away with their behaviors. Mario is the start of my goals. He is THE example to be made.” The bottle of vodka empty her nose red and eyes swelling from the crying she didn’t realize she was doing. She says finishing the bottle then standing up to walk away. Her legs give out from under her forcing her to stay at her seat the flight attendant looks worried as she brings tissues to Bobbinette who graciously accepts to dab the tears.
“I’ll be okay, it’s Mario who won’t.” She says grabbing an eye mask and putting it over her eyes ending her thoughts quieting her mind.