Alicia Goon 039: Cheers

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Descriptions of blood and violence

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"I'm going to take one more look around to make sure I'm not forgetting anything," Robert wheezed, his hair sweaty and no doubt rapidly cooling in the night air.

Packing for the move had gone well. What her former housemate lacked in upper-body strength, he at least made up for in enthusiasm. Within a matter of a few evenings, they had managed to pack Robert’s whole life into boxes. It felt final. The two former housemates hugged each other beneath the untamed canopy of cedar.

"We're still hanging out all the time," Alicia said matter-of-factly. "And if you ever just want to talk, you've got my number. About anything. Like we're teenagers."

Robert lifted a sleeve to his forehead and wiped away the sweat. With one sharp laugh, he replied, "I haven't done that since I was a teenager. But yeah, I would love to."

"Seriously, even if it's n-" Movement in Alicia’s peripheral vision seized her attention. Her smile vanished as a seven-and-three-quarter-legged wolf spider, big as her palm, skittered across the carpet a few feet away. "Robert," she gasped. Alicia reached back with one hand expectantly as she watched her remaining housemate gallop down the hall. "Give me anything to hit it with. What do you have?"

"Nothing, but," Robert stammered. "Um... Alicia? Don't be mad."

Alicia turned from the scampering visitor to her visibly nervous best friend in wide-eyed horror. "Oh, Robert. Tell me you didn't," she begged. But he did. Robert had been harboring a fugitive.

"I swear I didn't bring Ralph in," Robert insisted. "I just didn't kick him out. It's cold out there, you know? He's missing part of his leg. Who's he hurting? Can you please not kill him?”

"Robert, those things can bite you!" Alicia retorted.

“Yeah, if you mess with them! They're not your enemy or out to get you. That's just how they react when provoked." Robert licked his lips as he tried to arrange the next sentence, "And I guess he was kind of," he trailed off. No, Robert. Please no. "Sort of like a roommate?" 

Begrudgingly, Alicia had to concede Robert at least held the high ground, "That's really nice of you, I think? I'm sorry! They really scare me. I can't stand them. I'm already on edge enough as it is."

"I'm not saying you have to, but would you please at least think about it?” Robert pleaded.

If it were anyone else asking, Alicia would have stood her ground. "If he stays on his side of the house, he's the next tenant's problem, but my side belongs to me. Okay?"

Robert sighed, not fully satisfied with the answer but unwilling to press the issue. "Alright, I'm going to have one more look around, then you can follow me in your car to the new place?" His eyes met hers as his face lifted in gratitude. "I really appreciate all your help. I know it's a long drive."

"It's 40 minutes. And anyway, you helped clean up after the break-in, and you took care of the, um... the burial. Thank you." She gave Robert a one-armed hug. "So if you ever move again, don't bother with the amateurs. Give me a call."

"You're welcome," answered Robert. "And thank you. I mean it. I couldn't have done this without you."

They enjoyed a moment of contented silence in each other's company. Alicia nodded back in agreement "Same."

* * * * *

Sabrina half-jokingly grumbled over the mild but constant sound of cordless phone static, "I hope you appreciate me doing this. If I end up with broken fingers, I'm gonna return the favor."

Alicia held the handset between her left cheek and shoulder as she scrubbed her plastic lunch containers in the break room sink. "I do. Really, really I do. Just please make sure it's in place by the timekeeper's table, okay?"

"You're crazy and this plan is stupid," chuckled Sabrina. "And if anyone asks, I'm taking credit." 

"49%," Alicia corrected. "Alright, it's nearly 5:00. I need to say some goodbyes. See you in gorilla?"

"Yeah, see you there." Beep.

She finished drying her silverware on a threadbare blue hand towel and set the transient wireless phone on the countertop. A somberness hung in the air of the Friday-at-quitting-time bustle as Shirley and Maxine waited for Alicia by the reception door for one last “have a nice weekend.” 

The time had come to leave her work-nana’s nest. Maxine threw her arms around Alicia, who hugged her friend back just as tight. "Goodbye, Miss Alicia. And I'm sure I’ll see you around," said Maxine, shooting her a wink.

Alicia let go of Maxine, except for her hands. “I’ll call you as soon as things settle down at my new job,” she promised, finally letting her former coworker’s fingers to slip through hers as Maxine turned and headed for the door.

The only part of Sherry that turned was her expression. “Okay, Alicia, I didn’t want to have to ask, but I’d like that explanation you promised.”

Right. It wasn’t that the wrestler/almost-former office assistant wanted to keep Sherry in the dark so much as she had hoped to keep her two lives separate, but that line had long ago been crossed and crossed again many more times since. Perhaps Robert was right: there was only ever one life. How best to explain it? The truth, probably.

Alicia cleared her throat and confessed, “I’m a pro wrestler. That's why my face is all,” she said, holding up her hands to her visible bruises and cuts. "Like this."

The hygienist's eyes popped wide open for a moment before pleasant surprise lifted her stern expression. “Ohhhh! I was so worried! Why didn't you say anything?”

“I don't know. I guess I was scared what people would think,” Alicia mumbled, plugging the silence while she waited for the other shoe to drop. Another beat came and went. Nothing. “Don’t tell Dr. Pupe?”

With a nod, a shrug, and a little smirk, Sherry answered, “Sure.” Oh, thought Alicia, somehow disappointed by the anti-climax. “Good luck on your next,” Sherry whispered, “match,” before returning to full volume, “whenever it is!”

“Tonight.”

“Oh!” replied Sherry with a small chuckle, “Hope you win!”

“Me too,” said Alicia and waved one final goodbye to her now-former coworkers as the door swung shut. 

She sat back at her desk to pass the idle minutes in silence with her butterflies, but the sound of the break room door opening triggered the look-busy reflex. Alicia cut the screensaver frog’s trek across the lily pads short as she grabbed the mouse and clicked open a spreadsheet. 

“Alicia,” called Dr. Pupe. “If all your work’s done, you’re free to go. I’ll clock you out.”

Alicia took a moment to recover before asking, “You sure?” Dr. Pupe nodded in response, clearly making an effort to be a nice guy at the last possible opportunity, when it mattered the least. Still, at this final moment, she felt like appreciating it. “Thanks. And seriously, thank you for keeping me on the past two-and-a-half years. I know I gave you a few reasons not to.”

“Except for those times, it was nice having you aboard,” her now-former boss replied.

Alicia rose from her desk and grabbed the box of Mondoz Robert left on the kitchen counter. "Something to remember me by. -R" read the note scribbled on the box in permanent marker. She couldn't help but share it at the office to a series of horrified reactions. Three steps from the main entrance, she stopped. Alicia reached into her pocket and withdrew the key to the reception door. The back of her head heated up as she slowly turned to find a smirk veiled beneath an ashen mustache. 

She groaned, “I promised myself all day I would surprise you by remembering to lock the door.”

“You’ve surprised me enough, Alicia. It was nice to see you go out playing the hits. Let’s just agree we’re both better off this way. Best of luck in your future endeavors.” 

It wasn't the nicest goodbye and good luck. As good as it might have felt to get in one last dig, it wasn’t worth a chance to end what had been a mostly unpleasant experience on mostly pleasant terms.

 “Thanks,” Alicia replied. Polite little wave. 

Out the door and into the car. She turned the key, cranked the heat, and checked her mobile. 4:42 PM, battery at three of four bars, 1 text message.

Fri Feb 13, 2004

4:11 PM PARTY GIRL (370)167-5770
we need 2 talk b4 ur match i dont want u to go out there 2nite wo tellin u sry plz meet @ my dressin room just nock on the door

Hopefully, she meant it. Alicia fully expected the reconciliation, if for no other reason than she doubted anyone else would willingly tag with the Party Girl brand’s self-appointed mascot. Time to face whatever life had for her next, and the fishhook body bag it had prepared for her. Breathe in, breathe out. Drive.

* * * * *

“Way to go, bestie! Main event! Wooo!” cried Party Girl, her excitement noncontagious. "I wish I had seen your promo." She looked at the can of Cinnamon with X-tra Hold clutched in her hand, then back at Alicia. "Do you know anyone who would be interested in buying a quarter-million or so units of Party Perm?" she asked with sincere curiosity.

In the span of two hours, the young mogul's mood had shifted from maudlin to vengeful and then back to the baseline level of manic. The upcoming match seemed to have Party Girl on edge, as well. Dealing with nerves presented enough of a challenge without the distraction of a room saturated in eye-biting pink. In fairness to the decorator, the main cause of Alicia's headache actually sat four feet away in a pink bean bag chair. 

"What? No. Sorry. Why?" asked the preoccupied main-eventer.

Party Girl opened her mouth to give an explanation. A few false starts later, she tried her luck again with a revised answer. "It's selling so well that I have a huge inventory I need to offload extremely quickly because I have another massive shipment on the way." Alicia saw a whole lot of vacant nothing behind the faraway look in Party Girl's eyes. More so than usual. But the Look returned to dissolve the appearance of tension. "And my accountant keeps calling to say 'great job, keep it up!'" 

A knock at the door interrupted the pep rally. Alicia bounded to the door in two strides and threw it open. "You're up, Goon. Ready?" asked the woman with the headset.

Alicia double-checked to ensure she had all her carry-on items with her. "Got my gym bag. Got my hockey stick. Yes. Let's go." Breathe in, breathe out. This was it. To Alicia's surprise, Party Girl trotted alongside her. "You following me to gorilla?"

"I'm not going to let her ambush you on the way to the ring," answered Party Girl with a purpose in her voice Alicia hadn't heard since the night Party Girl first proposed going for tag team gold. 

Alicia instinctively glanced over both shoulders as she followed the crew member through the door to production, past the threshold, and into the void. For the first time, the crew and backstage staff took notice as the challenger made her way to gorilla. 

"Why's it called gorilla position, anyway?" asked Party Girl.

"It's- I'll tell you later. I need to focus," Alicia replied with a voice full of nerves. She strained in the dark to find Sabrina. 

Sabrina found her first. She rose from the showrunner’s desk and trotted over, her arm still in a cast. "I know I said we couldn't talk, but tonight's the exception. How do you feel?"

"Better, but still not good. Is everything in place?" If the plan failed or misfired or, heaven forbid, backfired at the do-or-die moment, the cost would be dear. Win or lose, Black Violet's favorite chew toy expected the night to end in an ambulance. Alicia wondered how much of it she'd remember.

"I nearly took my fingers off three different times," said Sabrina, holding up as many digits. "But it's ready to go. Not sure why you glued them to the underside."

Genuine giddiness washed over Party Girl's expression. "Oh my God, it's gonna be hilarious if she falls for it. Can you imagine her face?" The former teacher and student exchanged concerned glances.

"It better. I don't have a backup plan if it doesn't," Alicia confessed with a loud sigh. Her eyes darted to the can of Party Perm. "I could use a drink." 

As if on cue, a pristinely manicured hand extended a pink and dark red spray can towards her. She pretended not to notice Party Girl's proud smile as she took the can, shook it thoroughly, and brought the nozzle to her lips for a generous spray. Tears poured from Alicia's eyes as a literally intoxicating deluge of artificial, so-sweet-it-burns cinnamon overpowered her senses.

Guy Brody's voice over the speakers made the inevitable official, "Your main event for tonight is a Last Woman Standing match scheduled for one fall-"

"One fall!" the crowd called back.

"-With no time limit. There are no rules, no count-outs, no rope breaks, and anything goes. The match can only end when one competitor is unable to stand and answer the referee's ten-count."

"You're up, Goon," called Allen from his desk, making no effort to hide his irritation at yet another backstage reunion.

"You've got lots of ways to get her into a Figure Four Leglock," said Sabrina. She slapped her former student on the shoulder as she wiped the Party Perm tears from her eyes. "Look for a good opportunity, not the first opportunity. Like you said, you have one shot. I'll see you after."

The sound of skates carving a path across the ice played over the sound system, followed by the crack of a slapshot and the blast of an air horn. A revolving red lamp bathed the crowd in its glow.

Allen shouted, "Goon, you're on!"

Through the curtain. Roaring crowd. Four-thousand screaming faces, but in a good way. The challenger raised her hockey stick and held it there, allowing the anticipation to build.

Bang. 

Alicia slammed the butt of the wooden stick down again and again on the steel stage platform while the rhythmic stomps and claps of a unified audience built until they echoed from the rafters. The crowd response crescendoed as the beat picked up. She twirled the weapon overhead, then drove the hockey stick blade down onto stage and fired an unseen slapshot. 

The ring announcer continued Alicia's introduction as a renewed chorus of cheers accompanied the wrestler high-fiving her way down the ramp, "Introducing first, the challenger, wrestling out of Longstat, Minnesota and weighing 193 pounds, she is the tooth collector. She is the one-woman power play. She is THE GOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNN!!" 

Alicia reached for the top rope and pulled herself up onto the ring apron in one giant step, pushed the top rope down, and stepped over. She clutched her stick in both hands high above her head, drawing more cheers. The adulation turned to gasps and then silence as the lights above a section of bleachers to Alicia’s right flickered and cut out. Ka-CHUNK.

Another ka-CHUNK of what she assumed was a lighting array shutting off dimmed another section behind her. Shadow seeped in now from the left as those lights turned off as well. Two more sections followed and then the rest, turning the arena black as pitch.

Two more sounds, similar but smaller--ka-chunk, ka-chunk--pierced the eerie silence, and the glow of a pair of spotlights teased Alicia's light-starved eyes. One beam found the challenger, while the other pried among the crowd as if searching for something. Someone. Alicia spun in place at the thought of an ambush, but for the moment, she was alone.

A handful of bloodcurdling screams cut through the low din of nervous chatter in the stands. Both spotlights snapped to a section of the front row close to where Alicia had been looking, plunging her once again into darkness. A section of fans shrieked and shrank in their seats as a pale figure weeping violet tears and shawled in the tatters of a straitjacket slithered at their feet towards the guardrail. With one visibly clammy hand and then the other, Black Violet reached for the steel and pulled herself over. Behind those craterous eyes, two tiny pinpricks of light peeled away Alicia's defenses. For the first time in a fight, she felt scared. 

"Her opponent, with no officially recorded weight and hailing from Parts Unknown, she is the eater of light. She is the Mother of Nightmares. She is your reigning and defending Queens of War TV Champion. She is BLAAAAAAAAAACK VIIIIIIIIIIIOOOOLET!!" 

The champion dragged a black vinyl body bag behind her. Alicia could see now her opponent wore what looked liked bloodstained white hospital scrubs, and around her neck hung the championship belt. Her wrestling shoes looked worn and mismatched, but sturdy enough. Black Violet crawled to the timekeeper's area and rose to her feet long enough to bow her head and allow the belt to fall from her shoulders onto the table. The timekeeper wisely retreated from the title belt as Black Violet turned and scampered up the ring steps on her hands and feet. She discarded the body bag on the top step and crawled into the ring. Only when she reached her corner did Black Violet rise to her full stature of over six feet tall. Alicia slowly backed into her corner and slung her old, tacky neon green gym bag to the canvas.

She hadn't noticed it at first, but as Black Violet slunk nearer, she saw something dangling from the champion's mouth. It looked like a white cloth bag about the size of a pillowcase shut tight with a drawstring. Black Violet popped her jaw open and allowed the bag to fall to the mat. The champion crouched in her corner with her gnarled, ivory-white hands wrapped tight around the blood-red middle ropes. Though the lights came back up, darkness still somehow clung to her.

Ding!

The pro wrestling banshee shrieked as she tore across the ring, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" 

"Pfffttt!" spat Alicia, blowing a cloud of 130-proof, sugary-sweet cinnamon hairspray cocktail into those dark, bloodshot eyes. The crowd came alive as Black Violet howled in fury. The straitjacketed competitor stumbled backward, clawing at her face. Alicia saw her window and smashed it. 

She took a step forward, planted her feet, and unloaded a crushing right hook directly into her ravenous opponent's midsection. The Gut Check caught the temporarily blinded Black Violet unprepared, doubling her over and forcing her to suck air. Alicia pressed the advantage, tightening both hands around her weapon of choice. She hauled back for a generous wind-up and swung the heel of the wooden stick directly into her nemesis' left kneecap. The gurgling, ragged gasps and furious shrieking turned to a wail of agony as Black Violet's leg folded beneath her. The barest trace of a smile lifted the right corner of Alicia's lips. Sabrina was right: it really was fun to have a gameplan.