Post by Deleted on Mar 21, 2022 0:16:22 GMT
Pitch black is all we see for a few seconds as a familiar Scottish-accented woman’s voice is heard.
“For years I did what I thought others wanted of me thinking it’d get me somewhere, but I’d always make tha’ wrong choice and fuck up.”
With the spark of a zippo lighter, a flame bursts to life to reveal the freckled face of a very intense Molly Hatchet staring back into the camera lens.
“It’s been that way for most of me life, thinkin’ that I’m a good soul that maybe just donnae’ have it all figured out, yeah?”
She smirks.
“Then I realized that worryin’ about what others think of me, like so many of the precious images out there, is as fake as the press on nails like one once accused me of being.”
A hint of sadness appears on her face briefly, only to harden back into a glare.
“I entered this sport because fightin’ was all I was e’er good fer. I dinnae’ wanna’ be another drone doin’ nine ta’ five work at tha’ supermarket, pushin’ carts and playin’ nice with people that’d just as soon spit in the face of a nobody makin’ minimum wage.”
Molly sneers at the thought.
“No, I wanted ta’ do somethin’ excitin’ that people would know me name far n’ wide fer. I wanted tha’ world ta’ know I fuckin’ existed and here I am, twelve years later beggin’ fer matches and fightin’ just ta’ have a spot in tha’ card.”
The Hatchet Girl spits at the floor in disgust.
“It’s bloody infuriatin’ to be reduced ta’ this, not even made part of the fuckin’ match graphic on the bloody card, and after thought as always.”
Her lip quivers with unbridled rage.
“No, after this match… what I do to seven other men and women on national television will ne’er be forgiven or forgotten. I wonnae’ be doin’ this fer love or fans, but because I fuckin’ deserve me place at the table.”
Molly grits her teeth and yells out, “I’M FUCKIN’ TIRED OF BEING A BLOODY AFTERTHOUGHT, DAMN IT ALL!!!!”
There is a momentary fight to calm herself with many deep breaths taken.
“No. You will respect me name when ya’ say it, each and e’ery person in that ring, arena, and watchin’ in tha’ back and at home.”
She brings the lighter before her, now looking into the fire as it dances before her eyes.
“Some enter as friends, but they’ll leave with hatred in their hearts fer me. Love ne’er won me gold, only pain and submission has.”
Those eyes look briefly back to the camera through the flame now.
“One by one, I’ll snuff their fire out until I’m tha’ only one burnin’ bright in the ring. See ye’ soon, ‘friends’ and may whatever god ye’ worship have mercy on yer soul.”
With a loud clack, the lighter shuts and the flame dies out.
“A reign in blood is better than no reign at all.”
Fade to black.
“For years I did what I thought others wanted of me thinking it’d get me somewhere, but I’d always make tha’ wrong choice and fuck up.”
With the spark of a zippo lighter, a flame bursts to life to reveal the freckled face of a very intense Molly Hatchet staring back into the camera lens.
“It’s been that way for most of me life, thinkin’ that I’m a good soul that maybe just donnae’ have it all figured out, yeah?”
She smirks.
“Then I realized that worryin’ about what others think of me, like so many of the precious images out there, is as fake as the press on nails like one once accused me of being.”
A hint of sadness appears on her face briefly, only to harden back into a glare.
“I entered this sport because fightin’ was all I was e’er good fer. I dinnae’ wanna’ be another drone doin’ nine ta’ five work at tha’ supermarket, pushin’ carts and playin’ nice with people that’d just as soon spit in the face of a nobody makin’ minimum wage.”
Molly sneers at the thought.
“No, I wanted ta’ do somethin’ excitin’ that people would know me name far n’ wide fer. I wanted tha’ world ta’ know I fuckin’ existed and here I am, twelve years later beggin’ fer matches and fightin’ just ta’ have a spot in tha’ card.”
The Hatchet Girl spits at the floor in disgust.
“It’s bloody infuriatin’ to be reduced ta’ this, not even made part of the fuckin’ match graphic on the bloody card, and after thought as always.”
Her lip quivers with unbridled rage.
“No, after this match… what I do to seven other men and women on national television will ne’er be forgiven or forgotten. I wonnae’ be doin’ this fer love or fans, but because I fuckin’ deserve me place at the table.”
Molly grits her teeth and yells out, “I’M FUCKIN’ TIRED OF BEING A BLOODY AFTERTHOUGHT, DAMN IT ALL!!!!”
There is a momentary fight to calm herself with many deep breaths taken.
“No. You will respect me name when ya’ say it, each and e’ery person in that ring, arena, and watchin’ in tha’ back and at home.”
She brings the lighter before her, now looking into the fire as it dances before her eyes.
“Some enter as friends, but they’ll leave with hatred in their hearts fer me. Love ne’er won me gold, only pain and submission has.”
Those eyes look briefly back to the camera through the flame now.
“One by one, I’ll snuff their fire out until I’m tha’ only one burnin’ bright in the ring. See ye’ soon, ‘friends’ and may whatever god ye’ worship have mercy on yer soul.”
With a loud clack, the lighter shuts and the flame dies out.
“A reign in blood is better than no reign at all.”
Fade to black.