From 1,000 Character Prompts.
Sitting across from the bar you can’t help but recognize the muscular woman looking back at you. As you approach her, it becomes clear that she is one of the buxom, buff women from the popular TV wrestling league. You’ve seen her kick butt on multiple occasions and she’s portrayed as one of the toughest women alive. When you get to talking to her, you realize it’s not just a persona. She tells you stories of brawls she’s had off camera. That being said, she also talks kindly of her parents and sisters. How did she get into this line of work and what is her drink of choice?
30 Minutes.
The bar played AC/DC at a loud decibel, as it should be. Across from me stood a woman, tall and muscular, broad and not very feminine, even though she was in a short dress and heels.
Not my type of woman – then I realized who she was. Linda-Lou “Widowmaker” Gates, the famous American wrestler. She didn’t look like Linda-Lou, to tell you the truth; she looked like she was trying to be a woman in a bar.
She had a wide of empty space around her. She scowled at anyone who got too close. Her persona, her character, was a tough ass broad, single and proud of it, an ass-kicking woman who could hold her own against the men on the show.
Now, I’m a different kind of guy. The kind of girl I like isn’t found in a bar, especially in the city; I find her mostly in colleges typing away at their homework. But I had gotten too old for that shit now – I could be rocking the cradle now-a-days. So, to the bar I went, looking for women, not girls, because, well, that’s expected of men my age.
We kept looking at each other over the bar, as if saying “Do we need to stay here?” Finally, I slipped away from my spot and headed toward her. She watched me, turning her entire body to keep an eye on me.
I got next to her. “Well?” she demanded of me. “I don’t give out autographs or pictures.”
“I’m not asking for that,” I said.
“Then why are you staring?”
“I’m trying to figure out if you’re really a guy underneath that skirt.”
She glared at me and gripped her glass tight. “That is the worst fucking pickup line I’ve ever heard.” She turned away from me.
“Look, I’m sorry. You are Widowmaker, aren’t you?”
“I said no autographs, no pictures.”
“You have a very nice dress.”
She turned back to me. “Are you just dense or stupid?”
“Maybe a little of both?”
She took a sip of a clear drink on the rocks. “At least you’re honest.”
“Want to go over there? We can talk.”
“As long as you don’t try any shit. I’ll break your fucking legs. All three of them.”
“I promise.”
She took her drink and she actually followed me to a quieter corner. The black mini-skirt rode up as she walked, but she didn’t care to pull it down, not caring what she was showing off.
“This town’s like home.”
“It’s a city,” I said, correcting her.
“New York is a city. St. Louis is a city. This place is the end of a cowpath.”
“Portsmouth, New Hampshire is the city. Kerry is the town.”
“Maybe to you hicks.” She raised her glass. “My point.”
I bowed my head. “I deserve that, I suppose.”
“A lesser man would have called me out.” She sipped again. “You’re obviously not a fighter. Are you used to the abuse?”
“I don’t have anyplace else to go, and you’re the first woman who’s talked to me since I started coming here a month ago.”
“Desperate.”
“No, curious.”
“Still think I’m a guy?”
“Curious as to how you got into wrestling.”
She chuckled. “You grow up in a house with eleven siblings and six brothers, you learn to climb your way to the top or you get trampled on.”
“No shit, really?”
“I shit you not. I have four sisters. I was the biggest tomboy in the crowd. My sisters, though, they came after me, so they were all girly-girls. I was too young, too stupid to know that I could be a girly-girl and still be noticed in the family. I beat the shit out of my three older brothers and two of my younger ones.”
“Not all three?”
“He was born with Down’s. It would have been too cruel.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
She shrugged. “I send them money. He’s getting good care. He’s even got a job.”
“So you got into wrestling because you did it at home?”
“Yep. But wrestling isn’t just brawling. Shit, I can kick anyone’s ass with my eyes closed. Professional wrestling is like ballet.”
((time’s up!)).