Post by Tamika Strader on Mar 2, 2022 22:29:44 GMT -5
Strader Estate
Meghan’s Ranch
February 28th, 2022
(Off camera)
Meghan wasn’t expecting to walk into Carpe Noctem and win the whole, but she was more than happy in the showing she and Tamika had. Meghan was pleased to be home on the Strader Estate and was awaiting the arrival of her husband and her children, the two-and-a-half-year-old twins, Clay and Lizzie. The visit would be nice because they (CFH) will be flying out to Ireland on Saturday, and while FaceTime is great and all, she really did crave contact with her babies. She didn’t get that chance with Victoria and Cara, and while she was making up for that now since they came into her life, she knew she didn’t want history to repeat itself.
She stood in the barn of her ranch, searching through her tools for a 12mm wrench as she was looking to unbolt her fuel tank. “The Killing Moon” comes to her Bluetooth speaker via her Spotify and doesn’t hear the barn door open, or at least she gives no indication that she has. She quickly turned around as the steps were getting closer, and they stopped in their tracks as they looked down the business end of what looked to be a customized silver-plated Desert Eagle.
Cara smiles widely, holding her hands up.
“Easy Mamabear, I come in peace!” She says, baring her pearly whites with her hands in the air.
“Carebear, don’t sneak up on me like that,” she says somewhat sternly, placing her weapon on the top of her toolbox. She sits on the stool beside Road King with a twelve-millimetre wrench in her hand. “Come over here, baby girl and tell mama what's up.”
Cara walks over, admiring the work of art at the Cowgirls Road King Harley Davidson. She whistles when she sees the new teardrop tank that has been airbrushed with the CFH logo on the sides and the OCW red letters on the top of it. The sound of the ratchet wrench mixes with the music in Cara’s ears and finds it hypnotic.
“That’s gonna look great, ma!” Cara pulls up a stool from nearby, sits beside her mother and lights up a joint. She looks around curiously. “Where’s Auntie Teebag?”
“Off scissoring with Samantha,” she replies with a smile, successfully removing the fuel tank. She picks up the new one. “Be a doll and hold this in place, baby,” she says, pointing at the top of the tank. Cara stands and walks around to the other side and fulfills the request. Meghan starts fastening the bolts back on, and the ratchet sound fills the air again. “So, what’s up, baby?”
“Where are we with Victoria?”
Mamabear sighs slightly, lowering her head and tilting it to the left, making sure her nut is straight and that she didn't strip the bolt.
“We are… bonding. You were right, baby; Veronica craves parental love.”
“Ya, and she certainly blames me for taking it away when we were kids,” Cara is quick with her reply. She pulls a joint out from behind her right ear and lights it with a lucky lighter nestled in her bra. She takes a haul and holds it out to her mom, who shakes her head in declination.
“Victoria is also showing herself. She saved Kelson Hewitt’s hide. There is a battle going on inside her pretty blonde head. I don’t think she needs me, your Auntie Meeks or anyone... she’s going to break free by herself.”
“But?” Cara stands and moves the lit joint away from the tank as Meghan fills it up with petrol (just preparing for Ireland).
“We need to be there to keep her strong,” she says before turning the key in the ignition, flicking the switch beside the throttle and the Road King comes to life; the Screaming Eagle tailpipes piercing all and any eardrums in the vicinity. Meghan cranks the throttle a few times; the family sneer creeps across her face. “Don’t worry, Carebear. Your sister is going to come home.”
Later the following day and evening…
The Strader Family’s Matriarch is back in her master bedroom now that Cara has recovered from the mighty fall from the roof of the OCW Arena, and she looks down at her phone ringing. The image of her sister fills the screen, and with a swipe, she is put on speaker.
“Yo hoe, what’s the word?’
“Packing for Ireland, please tell me you are ready?”
“You know what I meant.”
Meghan looks at the screen, thankfully not on facetime by the looks of her glare.
“Meeka. I’m not saying it.”
The line goes quiet as this is some sort of typical standoff.
“Whateva! You suck. Oh, a new Avril album dropped. Link ya when you get to the plane. Veronica informed me earlier she’s staying back here, helping a friend and will meet us on Saturday.”
Yeah, that probably doesn’t work, but she can do nothing.
“Huh, what did the announcers say Vee would do if I got my hands on TLS first?”
“She's going for a ride because Outcast has a hell of a moustache to ride like ya stole it?”
Bitch.
“Don’t think it was that colourful.”
“You are just upset that my niece is off to reward the OCW Champion and rub his sore shoulders.”
“Shut your whore mouth.”
“I have only ever been with Simon and Samantha in my whole life. Boys hated me in school for not putting out.”
“Yeah, yeah, St. Mother Tamika. I’m leaving in ten, be ready.”
"I'm already at the plane. You are late. Now what's the damn word?!
And before she hangs up.
“Bird is the word.”
"You're goddamn right".
The Metropole Hotel & Spa
Cork, Ireland
March 2nd, 2022
(On Camera)
It had been well over a decade since the Cowgirls From Hell had been in Ireland, twelve years to be exact for an event titled Revolutions Per Minute, a massive two-day event. There they faced off against two future hall of fame members in Jethro Hayes and Bubba J as well as Joshua Danielson and that rapist shitbag Lucious Starr. The sisters had put their bags away, grabbed their favourite leather jackets, comfortable black and white Adidas runners, jeans (Black for Meghan, and blue stone-washed for Tamika, and they both hide their eyes behind aviators and let their long hair flow gently in the gentle wind running through their hair. They stand on a bridge that bridges the gap created by the canal of water that divides the city of Cork.
“You know, when I found out I was the daughter of Scott Nash, my life felt like it flipped upside down. Then we found out we were Straders, and I didn’t think anything else could surprise me.”
“Surprise!”
“And a surprise you were little sister, but you were the best surprise that happened to me. Not only did I find of my best friend, but just a few years later, when she could legally step into a ring, we formed the Cowgirls From Hell and cemented our legacy as the greatest Tag Team Champions in PWA, holding them over 200 days in our first round with ten successful defences. No one had ever done that there, and while they can’t anymore, it wouldn’t have changed. Matt Stone can say he was the longest-reigning, but he defended them twice in his span, so excuse us if we don’t celebrate him.”
“But what’s really cool is it will be a month shy of exactly twelve years ago, but I am sure Dangy Dan and El Loco Cristobal rather not talk about that with PWA being a hard memory for them. They stood no chance with Lisa Seldon at the helm during those days, plus you had Matty ditching the show names for ‘Booking Bad’ replacement and ridiculous matches that had nothing to do with wrestling.”
“Yeah, Dan seemed to really bring it when he saw you standing across from him. Any idea what you are gonna do with the Craze title shot?"
Tamika pulls out a Canadian quarter from her back pocket. She flips it between her fingers up onto her thumb and flicks it out into the water before looking to her curious big sister.
“Don’t know, weighing my options, homeskillet.”
Meghan raises her right brow with a “un huh, right” kinda look before continuing on.
“Meeks and I have always lived and breathed tag team wrestling. As anyone who saw The Great Illuminatus knows, we can hold our own on our own, a little more for Meeks than myself, but together? Together we are magic.”
The sisters walk across the bridge to the other side and walk along the cobblestone path that follows the canal.
“So, have you noticed what the whole tag team division has in common?”
“We are teams of siblings?”
“Ding ding ding, we have a weiner, Johnny! Tell me sister what she’s won,” she says with a terrible game show host impression and deepens her voice some more. “She’s WON a Quebecois Pizza which is a pop-tart with ketchup!”
“Ew, Meeks, that’s not a real dish.”
Meghan shakes her head, gently letting out a chuckle as Tamika stops placing her arms on her hips with a very serious look on her face.
“Not with that attitude, it isn’t.”
“Nothing would make that even remotely tasty. Anyway, yeah, we are all siblings.”
“Normally, the sibling card gives us an advantage but so much anymore, so we have to rely on the fact we are partners at almost everything. Maybe if we were from Alabama, that be a different story…”
“Ew, Meeks.”
“Well, we aren’t, so it’s fine.”
“That’s where Cara gets it from.”
They laugh as they stop and lean over the brick barrier and look out on the water to the other side of the city.
“Jack and Tim Lockwood. Somehow you have been just granted a tag team title shot against The Danger Boiz, who we have a history with.”
“And I pinned Dangy Dan in the Great Illuminatus! Earning a Craze title shot out of it. Crazy that I, Tag Team Tamika, won a shot at a singles title. Craziness!”
“Don’t get us wrong, we aren’t gonna play the financier card to get a shot but at least give us the same opportunity as the other sibling tag teams in OCW. I know the brass has a hard-on for Grenier and his buddies. We get it; when you have been with a company for the better part of ten years, you are certainly gonna earn some leeway and advantages that other teams don’t have. It’s loyalty being rewarded; we understand how that works, but when you got a team with the calibre of the Cowgirls From Hell, you don’t just pass that by. We held the Revolution1 Tag Team Championships for nine months before we retired with them because they couldn’t find a team with the testicular fortitude to take us on.”
“Who can blame them? You’re gonna get pretty mean in two weeks when Auntie Flow arrives, and I’M A NINJA!” She yells, doing the Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon pose. She winks at Meghan and goes back to leaning against the half-wall like nothing at all happened. “It should be obvious how I feel about you brothers and Grenier being that I am the mother of an African-American son who I adore more than anything. Not a real fan of the whole Klan vibe but it’s not gonna stop us from taking you seriously when that bell rings. Winning, losing, it doesn’t matter to us anymore as it does for the other teams or singles wrestlers out there.”
“We’ve already done it all with nothing left to prove. We are here to make sure OCW keeps rolling forward until their monetary issues are back under control, to watch my daughter make history with the Trans Atlantic Championship, and if we happen to get a shot at the OCW Tag Team titles… I mean, why the fuck not, right?”
“Damn skippy. Who knows, maybe even a singles title or a new candle every now and again!”
Meghan shifts her gaze towards her baby sister, raising her brow at her, which isn’t unusual.
“Lockwood Party… we are Meghan and Tamika Strader. The sisters of one of the greatest wrestling dynasties combined from the great state of Texas and the Great Nation To The North. We are taking over this town.”
Tamika brings her index to her lips to signal a shush.
“Shhh… do you hear that?”
The sounds of hoofbeats fill into the background as the Strader sneer creeps across their faces.
“Yahweh forgives.”
“We don’t.”
Tune in Monday, March 7th, for Monday Night Massacre.
Same Cowgirl Time.
Same Cowgirl Channel.
