Alicia Goon 039: Cheers

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Descriptions of blood and violence

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"I'm going to go take one more look around to make sure I'm not forgetting anything," gasped Robert, his hair sweaty and no doubt rapidly cooling in the winter night air. What her former housemate lacked in upper body strength, he made up for in enthusiasm. Within a matter of a few evenings, they had managed to pack Robert's whole life into boxes, all in preparation for this. It felt final. The two former housemates stood beneath the untamed canopy of oak and hugged each other--one much tighter than the other.

"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." With a smile and a quick nod, he added, "But yeah. Yeah, I would love to."

Alicia replied with genuine relief in her voice, "Seriously, even if it's n-" Movement stole away her attention and smile as something skittered across the carpet a few feet away: a seven-and-three-quarter-legged wolf spider, big as her palm. "Robert," gasped Alicia in horror as it galloped past them down the hall. Eyes still locked on the retreating arachnid, Alicia reached back with one hand expectantly. "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," begged Alicia. 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," Robert trailed off. "Sort of like a roommate?" No, Robert. Please no.

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've 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?" Alicia nodded. His eyes met hers as his face lifted in gratitude. "I really appreciate all your help despite the long drive."

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

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

They enjoyed a moment of contented silence. Alicia nodded back in agreement, "Same."

* * * * *

"I hope you appreciate me doing this," Sabrina half-jokingly grumbled over the mild but constant sound of wireless telephone static. "But 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 under the break room sink. "I do. Really, really I do. Just please make sure they're in place by the timekeeper's table, okay?"

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

"49%," corrected Alicia, dabbing her silverware dry on a threadbare blue hand towel. "Alright, it's nearly 5:00, so I need to say some goodbyes. See you in gorilla?"

"Yeah, see you there." Beep.

Alicia returned the transient wireless phone to the countertop next to the microwave and returned to the office. A somberness hung in the air of the Friday-at-quitting-time bustle. Shirley and Maxine stood side-by-side at the reception door, purse straps over their shoulders, sharing their last “have a nice weekend.” The time had come to leave her work-nana’s nest. Maxine threw her thick arms around Alicia for one last, “Goodbye, Miss Alicia. And I’ll see you around.” Alicia embraced her friend back just as tight.

Alicia let go of Maxine, except for her hands. “I’ll call to set up a date as soon as things settle down at my new job,” promised Alicia, allowing her former coworker’s fingers to slip through hers. Maxine threw her moonlighting colleague a wink and turned to 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/office assistant wanted to keep her other coworkers in the dark so much as a desire to keep her two lives separate. Admittedly, that line had long ago been crossed and crossed again many times since. Perhaps Robert had been right; there was only ever one life. How best to explain it? With the truth, probably. Alicia cleared her throat and confessed, “I’m a pro wrestler. That's why my face is all,” she held up her hands to her visible bruises and cuts. "Like this."

The dental assistant’s eyes popped wide open for a moment before a slight smile lifted her previously quite stern expression before turning to one of pleasant surprise. “OHHHH! I was so worried! Why didn't you say anything?”

“I don't know. I was worried what people would think,” mumbled Alicia, plugging up 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 an indifferent 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,” the wrestler agreed and waved one final goodbye to her now-former coworkers. Alicia sat back at her desk to pass the idle minutes in silence with her butterflies. 

The sound of the break room door opening and the reflexive urge to look busy interrupted the screensaver frog’s trek across the lily pads. Alicia 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 moment, when it mattered the least. Still, at this final moment, she felt like appreciating it. “Thanks. And thank you, seriously, for keeping me on the past two-and-a-half or so years. I know I gave you a few reasons not to,” said Alicia, shutting down her computer a final time.

“Except for those times, it was nice to have you aboard,” replied the doctor.

Alicia rose from her desk and grabbed the box of Mondoz Robert left in the shared kitchen. "Something to remember me by. -R" read the note scribbled on half a sheet of printer paper. She couldn't help but share it at the office to a series of horrified reactions. Three steps from the main entrance, she froze. 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 morning 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 good bye 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. “Deal,” agreed Alicia. Polite little wave. 

First thing out the door, Alicia checked her mobile. 5:17 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

The rookie hoped Party Girl 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 uncontagious. "I wish I had seen your promo." She looked at the can of Cinnamon with X-tra Hold clutched in her pink manicured fingers before looking Alicia in the eye and asking with sincere curiosity, "Do you know anyone who would be interested in buying a quarter-million or so units of Party Perm?" In the span of two hours, the young mogul's mood had shifted from sorrow 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, unrelenting pink. Although to be fair to the decorator, Alicia's headache actually sat four feet to the right in a pink bean bag chair. "What?" asked the preoccupied main eventer. "No. Sorry. Why are you asking?"

Party Girl's mouth opened to give an explanation, but thought better of it. A few false starts later, she tried her luck again with a revised answer, "It's selling so well that I have a very large inventory I need to offload extremely quickly because I have another massive shipment on the way." A whole lot of vacant nothing behind the faraway look behind 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!'" Alicia answered with a shake of her head.

A knock at the door interrupted the pep rally. The rookie bounded to the door in two strides and threw it open. "You're up, Goon," said the woman with the headset. "Are you ready?"

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

"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. The rookie shot a quick glance over both shoulders. Almost there. Through the door to production, past the threshold, and into the void. The crew and backstage staff paused and took notice of Alicia for the first time on the way to gorilla. "Why's it called gorilla position, anyway?" asked the three-year undefeated* wrestler.

"It's- I'll tell you later. Can you focus?" Alicia answered back, voice full of nerves. There was one face she needed to see before stepping through the curtain. The Hard Times graduate's eyes strained in the dark to find her former trainer. They caught each other's gaze just as Alicia stepped on her mark behind the curtain. Sabrina rose from the showrunner's desk and trotted over. "I know I said we couldn't talk, but tonight's the exception," said the former head trainer. "How do you feel?"

Alicia noticed her friend's cast hadn't come off yet. "Better, but still not good," she said. "Are the mousetraps 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.

Sabrina's lip turned up in a sneer. "I nearly took my fingers off three different times," she said, 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 it works. 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 canister towards her. Alicia pretended not to notice her tag partner's proud smile as the rookie took the can, shook it thoroughly, and brought it to her lips. Tears poured from her eyes as a literally intoxicating deluge of artificial, so-sweet-it-burns cinnamon overpowered her senses.

The voice of Guy Brody 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.

Sabrina offered some final encouragement. "You've got lots of ways to get her into a Figure Four Leglock," Sabrina said, slapping Alicia 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 veteran slapped Alicia on the shoulder a few more times before returning to her position at the showrunner's desk.

The sound of skates carving a path down the ice played over the sound system. The crack of a slapshot and the blast of a horn set off the light of a revolving hockey lamp that bathed half the crowd at a time in its red glow.

"Goon, you're on!"

Through the curtain. Roaring crowd. Four-thousand screaming faces, but in a good way. The QoW newcomer raised her scuffed wooden 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 of her own. 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 in at 193 pounds, she is the tooth collector. She is the one-woman power play. She is THE GOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNN!!!" 

The debuting main eventer reached up for the top rope and pulled herself up onto the ring apron in one giant step, then stepped up and over the top rope before heading to center ring. Alicia clutched her stick in both hands high above her head in response to the crowd's renewed cheers. The adulation turned to gasps and then silence as the lights above a section of bleachers to her right flickered and cut out. 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 gave out as well. Two more sections followed and then the rest, plunging the arena into absolute darkness.

Two more sounds, similar but smaller - ka-chunk, ka-chunk - pierced the eerie silence, and the glow of pair of spotlights teased Alicia's light-starved eyes. One beam stayed focused on 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 found only darkness. A handful of bloodcurdling screams cut through the low din of nervous chatter in the stands. Both searchlights snapped to a section of the front row close to where Alicia had been looking, leaving the challenger once again in darkness. Fans shrieked and shrunk in their seats as a pale figure weeping violet tears and shawled in the stained tatters of a straitjacket slithered at their feet towards the guardrail. With one visibly clammy hand then the other, Black Violet reached for the top and pulled herself over. Behind those craterous eyes, two tiny pinpricks of light peeled away Alicia's defenses, and for the first time in a fight, she felt scared. 

"Her opponent, with no officially recorded weight, hailing from Parts Unknown, she is Hell's ninth layer. She is the eater of light. She is the Mother of Nightmares. She is your reigning and defending Queens of War TV Champion, BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK VIIIIIIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOLEEEEEET!!!!!!" 

With her left hand, the champion dragged behind her long, black vinyl body bag. Around her neck hung the Queens of War TV Championship belt–that coveted black leather strap with the silver faceplate inlaid with gold and lettering in bold, and red steel. The champion crawled to the timekeeper's area. Alicia could see now her opponent wore what looked liked bloodstained white hospital scrubs. Her wrestling shoes looked worn and mismatched, but still sturdy enough. Black Violet 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 shrank away 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 the corner did Black Violet rise to her full stature of well over six feet tall. Alicia slowly backed into her corner and slung an old, tacky neon green gym bag to the canvas.

She hadn't seen it at first, but as Black Violet slunk nearer, the rookie noticed 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 fall to the mat in her corner. She sat crouched in her corner with pale, gaunt hands wrapped tight around the middle ropes. The lights had come back up in the arena, but darkness still somehow clung to her.

Ding!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" shrieked the pro wrestling banshee as she tore across the ring at the object of her torment.

"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 in an effort to clear her vision. Alicia saw her window and smashed it. 

The rookie 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. The former hockey player pressed the advantage. Alicia tightened both hands around her weapon of choice, hauled back with a generous wind-up, and swung the heel of the wooden stick directly into her stalker's left kneecap. The gurgling, ragged gasps and furious shrieking turned to howls 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 sticking to a gameplan.