Post by Charmaine DaGawd™️ on Aug 8, 2019 16:17:17 GMT -5
AUGUST 5TH - The scene whisks us away to the slums of Brooklyn, NY; where the destinies of its unfortunate occupants are inscribed from the moment they’re plucked from the womb (i.e. limited education, low paying jobs, poor living conditions, crime, jail, stress, drugs, poor diet, hypertension, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and ultimately death). We focus on the outside of a local diner, ironically known as ‘Pops’ considering how much of a Father figure the owner was to the neighborhood kids who grew up without, every letter barring the ‘O’ burned over the establishment in red hot monospace font. Don’t be duped by its shack-like appearance, as they advertised and more often than not provided a family-friendly atmosphere, and above all else (at risk of sounding like a commercial) provided high quality food at reasonable prices. Their home style juicy burgers were their specialty.
A woman that just so happened to be jogging by - her wireless earplugs dangled from the canal of her ears, raven hair pulled into a high rise bun, clad in a highlighter pink Under Armor hoodie with a faint ‘UA’ stretched across the bosom, dark gray leggings which hugged her entire lower body, and Nike Air Max - came to a slow halt along the sidewalk. She doubled over, hands on bent knees, to catch her breath as another woman in similar wear slothily jogged behind her, completely worn out; her hoodie was secured around her waist and she sported a white sports bra.
Mo’Nique (nicknamed “Nique”): Woo! *huff, huff* Oh...God, *huff, huff* bitch, I’m ‘bout to fucking *huff, huff* die...but before I do...I’m gonna kill *huff, huff* your ass...for talking me into this shit.
She put a palm on the tile brick wall of the establishment, leaning against it with all of her weight, totally exhausted. Noticing her friend’s lack of a response, she taps her on the shoulder.
Mo’Nique: Bitch *huff, huff* Charmaine, do you hear me talking to you?
Charmaine turns to face her friend, standing fully upright, removing her earbuds from her ears and placing them safely in the pouch of her hoodie.
Charmaine (nicknamed “The God” by herself and “Char” by close friends, “Bitch” on occasion, jokingly of course): You say something?
Mo’Nique: Oh, no, not at all. Too busy dying back here, oh, sweet baby Jesus.
Charmaine: As usual, you’re being extra.
A spot-on observation that was without bias from Charmaine, her childhood friend, but it wasn’t her fault. Such was in her blood. It should come as no shock to anyone that she comes from a long line of talented performers, who alas, wouldn’t see stages no bigger than local talent shows or small stints on the Apollo. Even years prior to her glow up as the beautiful ebony queen she stands as today, she was a ‘drama geek’ throughout grade school.
Charmaine: Besides, I don’t think I would’ve been capable of hearing you anyways with my dust clogging up your esophagus and all.
Charmaine on the other hand was the sporty one. She was always busy with some time-consuming, physically-grueling, after school athletics; but it was on the track where she truly shined. Normally, a jock and drama geek’s paths wouldn’t cross as they didn’t traffic in the same social circle, but being from the same neighborhood helped build a bridge that united their worlds.
The ladies would move their conversation on the inside of the diner; Charmaine taking the lead in pushing her way through the glassy door, Mo’Nique tailing her.
Mo’Nique: Well, we can’t all be sporty like you. Some of us ain’t manufactured for the track and field crowd, SOME of us are more reserved for the stage. Acting, singing, and things of that sort. Hashtag Gifted! Hashtag Blessed! Hashtag --
Charmaine: Hashtag Delusional. Your ass is just lazy. And considering that fat gene you got in your family, you might want to make more of an effort in keeping up with me.
Mo’Nique: You were always a shady little bitch; best put your claws away because this ain’t what you want. Not today, boo. You may be on your way to slamming bitches in the ring, but that don’t mean you can’t get dropped here and now.
Charmaine: I’m just having some fun with you, girl, you know you’ve got the most talented voice in Brooklyn.
Mo’Nique: I know these to be facts, sis. But still it’s nice to hear them every now and again.
That was their relationship. In between the light-hearted shading was pure love. Sister to sister. Or as they preferred it, ‘sistah to sistah’. Business wasn’t jumping like it used to, but it appears that Pops was far from the grave; what with patrons dotted throughout dining on his mouth-watering-so-good-it’ll-make-you-wanna-slap-your-momma culinary. The two took their usual seats in a booth on the far east of the establishment by a window that displayed the main two-way street. It wouldn’t take long before the owner picked them out and approached them, eager to take their orders with a smile that spoke of his pride in them stretching his features.
Emanuel Hearns (nicknamed Pops): Charmaine and Mo’Nique, why, ain’t you two just a sight for sore eyes? Does my heart good to see two soon-to-be successful young black women going off into the world to build careers for themselves.
Referring to Mo’Nique getting into a Performance Art School in New York and Charmaine gaining acceptance into Alpha Pro Wrestling, which was all abuzz in the neighborhood. Pops, and the hood included, couldn’t be more proud of their spiritual daughters.
Mo’Nique: Good to be seen and not viewed.
Pops: Amen to that. By the way, Charmaine, I am deeply sorry to hear about what happened to Rasheed. He was a good boy, it’s just trouble had a way of finding him and making a mess of things. How’re you and your Mom holding up?
Charmaine: We’re doing better...I’ll just be happier when this case is settled and we can put this entire thing behind us.
Pops: Yes. Well, I’ll keep you all in my prayers.
Charmaine: Thanks, Pops.
He placed silver utensils engorged in napkins, before them both; prior to pulling out his pad from the pocket of his apron and pencil from behind his left ear.
Pops: What can I get you girls?
Mo’Nique: I’ll have one of your famous --
As Mo’Nique would continue with her order, Charmaine would begin to unknowingly zone out; her gaze drifting to the cars that drove by. For a split second, she could’ve swore she saw her brother, Rasheed, standing on the opposite corner of the street; in the forest green windbreaker, dark tank top, navy jeans, and white sneakers she’d last saw him alive wearing. It had been a little over a year since his passing, but it was still fresh on her mind. All she could recount were the mistakes she’d made. Had she known that would be the final day she’d seen her brother alive, she would’ve reached out to him for a hug instead of striking him and told him how much he’d meant to her rather than curse him out. But that was the thing about death, it can come swiftly and unexpectedly, so we must cherish every breath we take because no matter how hard it can be at times, life is precious. She knew that now.
Pops: Charmaine?
Pops’ voice broke her out of her latest trance. She blinked back into reality and refocuses her gaze onto the smoky haired and pencil-thin goateed man before her.
Charmaine: I’m sorry, Pops, what were you saying?
Pops: I was asking what I could get for you?
Charmaine: Yeah, let me get a three piece chicken tenders, a side of french fries, and a water.
Pops: Okay. I’ll have that up for you in about fifteen minutes, ladies.
Mo’Nique: Thank you.
Pops scribbled along his notepad and departed from their table, once Mo’Nique saw that he was at a safe distance, she leaned forward to inquire her friend about her constant zoning out that rounded out to a good five or six times today. She was beginning to get concerned.
Mo’Nique: Okay girl, spill it. What’s gotten into you, you’ve been on a whole ‘nother planet all day; is it the case?
Charmaine: Yeah. But it’s nothing. This always happens on the week of.
Mo’Nique: It’s not nothing. It’s fucked. I’m telling you, whatever that pig gets tomorrow is too good for him. Rasheed deserves justice, and he’s going to get it.
The delicate but firm touch of Mo’Nique’s hand on hers supplied a welcomed comfort. Though she appeared to have it all together on the outside, inside Charmaine was boiling -- likely because she already knew the verdict. It had been discontinued for over a year now. How much longer was the police going to get away with cold blooded murder? She shuddered at the mere thought alone. It was like they were being hunted; open season on black men, and her brother was just one to add to the toll, a statistic but worse. A pair of deer antlers to be displayed over a fireplace. When would black lives finally matter?
***
AUGUST 6TH - Even the soul-crushing sound of the gavel, echoing in her ears could succeed in drowning out the emotional response that followed the verdict: ’NOT GUILTY’. The courtroom was in an uproar, as was the rest of the neighborhood. Protests and riots ran amok, nearly shaking the Big Apple to its rotten core. Granted it wasn’t the city of New York, but close enough. She was numb to the entire situation. A year of wasted waiting, them prolonging the inevitable, and there was nothing she could do to ensure her brother did not die in vain...well, there was one thing…
It was rather late to be out for a run, but Charmaine was a natural sprinter; she always figured if there were issues she wasn’t strong enough to face at the time, she could create some distance with a good run. Albeit, it wasn’t the ideal life lesson, but it kept her in great shape. Charmaine would kneel before a granite headstone, grazing her fingers over the inscription which spelled out her brother’s name, date of birth, and date of deliverance. Fighting back tears, he jaw began to tremble; pain and rage pressured her dark brown eyes until a single stream fled from her eyelids.
Charmaine: What a shit show, huh...as if you being gone wasn’t hard enough, today I had to practically carry Ma-dukes out of the courtroom, pushing through a horde of messy ass reporters who weren’t concerned about our well-being but just wanting a good spectacle. People have really been drinking the Kool-Aid lately, rioting, I mean what does tearing up our own streets resolve? It’s an attack on our own. But I’m sure there’s a place in Hell for that pig who shot you and that whole sorry ass precinct; guy is a fucking murderer and he gets a pat on the back because he saw what he “thought” was a gun? The smugness, arrogance on his face was disgusting! It took all within me not to smack the fire out of him. Protect and motherfucking-serve, my ass! You didn’t deserve this, Rasheed, you didn’t deserve this at all. Gunned down like some mangy dog behind the shed -- no, you deserved to die after living a long life, in your bed, surrounded by your family.
Amid her grieving, her Mother would appear from behind, walking the same trail she’d just run through the cemetery; still clad in the same navy blue blazer and skirt, Lilly white blouse, and heels.
Shirley (Charmaine’s Ma-dukes): I was hoping I’d find you here, how are you holding up with -- well, everything?
Unsure how to answer her Mother in the moment, she merely shrugs her shoulders. Likely too overwhelmed by the emotion that was clogging the back of her throat, swallowing felt like dry-swallowing a massive pill.
Charmaine: It’s just not fair, Ma.
Shirley: I know it ain’t fair, but baby life is unfair. Sometimes these things just happen and there ain’t a thing we can do about them.
Charmaine: Maybe that’s the problem...incidents like this occur too often, the system fails us too often...I’m actually glad to be leaving this place. This neighborhood is a wasteland of gangs, drugs, and prostitution, no one should have to be forced to endure such a horrific living environment. And when I’ve made enough, I’ll come back to take you away from here.
Shirley: This is my home. And it has been yours and your brother’s too. Besides this place needs us now more than ever.
Charmaine: Really, Ma?! This place took your son from you!
Shirley: Tone, young lady, tone. I understand what you’re going through, considering how you and Rasheed left things when he was alive; I too wish I could go back in time or at the very least make amends but he’s gone. Nothing we do can bring him back; and you running away to do such nonsense as getting in a wrestling ring ain’t going to resolve a thing. You can’t keep running from your problems, there comes a time when we have to stand and fight.
Charmaine: I hear you, Ma, but I ain’t running from anything -- I’m actually running towards the future; a better one. And you should consider doing the same. It’s what Rasheed would have wanted for the both of us.
She made a compelling argument, Miss Shirley would admit in confidence to herself. Was she fighting a fight that was beyond winning? The neighborhood was never the best, but it had certainly been descending at a great rate over the last twenty years. How could she encourage her daughter to do the right thing when she wasn’t even sure what the right thing was anymore? In light of the verdict, it seemed that the lines dividing right and wrong had never been more blurred. Ultimately she would trust her daughter to return to the nest, after all, all they had at the end of the day was each other.
***
PRESENT DAY - It’s about to go down in Austin, Texas -- the fight that is sure to determine who’ll be crowned the ‘next big thing’ was set to kickoff in the coming week at the currently sold out Frank Erwin Center between rookie signees: Noris Cranley and Charmaine the God. When cameras would pan backstage of the event, we’d find her posted up along the brick tile wall of the backstage corridor behind everyone’s favorite strawberry blonde, Dani Applegate; (Charmaine’s) confidence on ten, sporting her signature braided ponytail, black sequin sleeved jacket, crimson top, accessorized with a pair of sunglasses, dark denim jeans belted at the waist, and Timberland boots, very Brooklyn.
Dani Applegate: Good people of the APW Universe, I’m standing here with one of our latest signees who assures me she’ll make a major splash onto the championship scene when she makes her in-ring debut on Monday Night METAL against Noris Cranley. Please help me in welcoming, Charmaine the God.
Charmaine steps forward, pushing herself off the wall, she takes her place beside Miss Applegate to commence the interview process.
Dani Applegate: Charmaine, now that you’ve had a chance to experience an APW House Show, I would say you have somewhat of an idea of what Monday Night’s will have in store for you; do you think you’ve got what it takes?
Charmaine scoffs, pushing her lenses to the crown of her head; Dani cranes the microphone in her direction to provide her the opportunity for a response.
Charmaine the God: Oh, she’s certain, hun. In fact, she would say it’s safe to assume that management shares the same views, as is evident in her physical presence today; if otherwise she wouldn’t be here. However, she would be remiss not to at the very least acknowledge the high risk nature of the product, she can stand confidently and securely in the light of truth that she’s been in worse environments. You see, where I come from fighting is more than a means of survival, it’s also fun. Here should be no different.
Dani Applegate: Interesting. It’s always good to have another woman among our ranks, it seems the roster is growing more diverse by the week; tell me and the fans watching, what it is you specifically can bring to the APW that no one else can?
Charmaine the God: Everytime my music hits and I come barrelling down that isle, it is with purpose -- and it won’t be something so cliche as to ‘become the greatest to ever live’; no sense in reaching for the stars when you already are one, right? But I digress. Truthfully, I lost somebody who was extremely close to me a year ago, and this was all he talked about. I do this for him. And look for as long or as thorough as you might, you’ll never come across a chick as fierce or fabulous as she.
Dani Applegate: Have you had time to get acquainted with the rest of the roster?
Charmaine the God: Not many, but I have had some verbal exchanges with a few people. One person in particular I thought could at the very least become something of an ally to me, maybe even a mentor, but his actions as of late have proven his inability and incompetence to perform on the extremely high levels that I expect -- no, demand from those in my social circle. What I found to be so disappointing was that he talked a big game via the internet, but when it came time to prove himself capable of his moniker he failed more miserably than the new Lion King movie. Call me what you will, but assaulting someone who is too battered to defend themselves is the work of pussies, and I’m - no offense to anyone who may be into that sort of thing - I am strictly dickly. We have a term for people like that, we call them “bitch-made”. Though it pains me to say this on the air and bring down a ‘brotha’ of all people, that’s just what he is to me at this point.
Though she resisted saying Allen Anderson’s name on the air, there was no question the public at large knew exactly who she was referring to, and there would only be a matter of time before consequences for her speech would come back to bite her in the ass. But Charmaine wasn’t one to bite her tongue, no matter how uncomfortable or unpopular it would be. If there was something that needed to be addressed, she would do so; if nothing else, people would admire her for that.
Dani Applegate: Harsh words, well, let's change gears and discuss your debut match. In four days, you’ll find yourself up against Noris Cranley, what’re your thoughts leading up to this showdown?
Charmaine the God: Noris was among the few that I had a brief interaction with, even though it may have seemed like there was some bad blood between us, mostly on my end, I can assure you there is not. It’s just the fact that I am VERY competitive and psyching out your opponent before a big match is just as important as the match itself. Greatness such as Muhammad Ali and Michael Jordan, Gods of their respective crafts, were masters at trash talk and getting inside the heads of their adversaries. What I do to Noris is no different. As an individual who’s derived from a similar background as myself, I respect the hell out of him; it’s not an easy feat to overcome. Where opportunities were scarce and getting out seemed like the work of fiction, as you had a greater chance of being strung out, incarcerated, or -- shot. For that, I will forever tip my proverbial hat to him; but as a competitor he has yet to receive that same notion from me. Not because I find him untalented, but because I have yet to see what he can really do; which is the fascinating thing about our match. Neither of us know exactly what the other is capable of until it happens, and neither do the fans. It’s going to be one hell of a match..but I’m confident that in the end it’ll be she who towers victorious over the limp body of Noris Cranley, because that’s what happens when you test God. So test her not. But on the other hand, what a “body” it is…
She flexes her brows, quick to place her sunglasses back on her face and flee before the mere image of a certain unstoppable man’s abs caused her to blush on-screen. Dani would refocus her sights on the present camera giving her final address with a pearly smile.
Dani Applegate: That was Charmaine the God with some pretty strong words for the entire APW Universe. I, for one cannot wait until Monday Night METAL, an event that has been reportedly sold out for a few days now. But there is still plenty of room to watch on Netflix for the low price of $8.99. This has been Dani Applegate, back to you all at ringside.
End of scene.
