Post by leborddedieu on Sept 6, 2023 21:14:13 GMT -5
DING!
From: Ashley Anderson <double_a@email.pathofthelightchurch.org>
Date: September 1st, 2023 12:00 PM
To: Gerald Giles <thegwiththebigd@ocw.com>
Subject: Second Interview
Mr Giles
Le Bord de Dieu, the Queen Mother, wishes for you to attend her this evening for her second promotional interview. Attendance is, of course, mandatory. Location to follow soon.
Have a sunny day as you walk in the Light.
Ashley
Assistant to the Queen Mother
Sent from my Windows Phone
Giles blinked in confusion several times as he re-read the email. He almost didn’t click on it when he saw the address…the last time he clicked on a “church” link at work it led to some weirdo softcore porn movie about some naked black angel…who had small tits and wasn’t a good actor…fighting off a bunch of super villains, or monsters, or something. It was weird.
From: Gerald Giles <thegwiththebigd@ocw.com>
Date: September 1st, 2023 12:30 PM
To: Ashley Anderson <double_a@email.pathofthelightchurch.org>
Subject: Re: Second Interview
wut
Gerald Giles
Syracuse University’s Favorite Graduate
He sat back and grimaced as he looked at the email again. Sent from my Windows Phone? Do they even make them any-
DING!
From: Ashley Anderson <double_a@email.pathofthelightchurch.org>
Date: September 1st, 2023 12:31 PM
To: Gerald Giles <thegwiththebigd@ocw.com>
Subject: Re: Re: Second Interview
Mr Giles
The Queen Mother expects you to be available for her second interview/promotional video/promo content for her upcoming match in OCW against Naddie the Baddie. Location to follow.
Have a sunny day as you walk in the Light.
Ashley
Assistant to the Queen Mother
Sent from my Windows Phone
Giles grimaced again as he looked over the quick reply. He was continually annoyed by these “on location” interviews and recordings. He SHOULD be the lead announcer for Anarchy…fuck Rise, though; that shit sucks…and this kind of stuff should be left to that “sleep to the top” halfwit Lindy...and don’t EVEN get him started on that suckup Taylor. THAT little know-it-all was-
DING!
From: Ashley Anderson <double_a@email.pathofthelightchurch.org>
Date: September 1st, 2023 12:40 PM
To: Gerald Giles <thegwiththebigd@ocw.com>
Subject: Second Interview Location
Giles’ grimace slowly turned to a mask of astonished surprise. He didn’t just know where this was…he REALLY knew where this was. He was a bit of an expert…some would say a connoisseur…of this type of location. The astonishment turned upward into a smile and he chuckled. Perhaps this wouldn't be a bad experience, after all.
Giles smiled as he closed the door of his car…he could only afford Infiniti’s Q50 instead of the Q60 because of people like freakin’ Eric Drake holding him down in favor of butt-kissers like Blaze and Highmore…and let his eyes roam the parking lot of the Gushing Clam. The Clam…which is how experts like him referred to the place…wasn’t exactly the greatest club out there, but the girls were skanky, the drinks not too expensive, and the bouncers relatively soft-handed. In fact, this one time, he was barely bruised when he was tossed out after having tried a triple grope and-
“Mr Giles?”
Gerald turned his head at the call of his name from an unfamiliar voice and felt his mouth go dry. Walking towards him, wearing a long-sleeved sweater with a turtleneck, and a hijab around her head that matched the one he saw Le Bord de Dieu wearing several days prior, was perhaps the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Short, somewhere in that “sweet spot” he liked of 5’4”-5’7”, she was light-skinned with chocolate brown eyes. And, as his eyes darted two as she walked his way, a set of knockers bouncing underneath the sweater so large that he could likely suffocate in them. Which was his third favorite way to die, of course.
“Mr Giles? I’m Ashley Anderson.”
He stared at her stupidly for a moment, not noticing the outstretched hand, instead doing his best to not blatantly stare at her chest while his mind wildly went through fantasies of how it might look beneath the wool. After far too long of a moment, he shook his head roughly and cleared his throat and took her hand.
“Yes, nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, ayuh.”
He recognized the Maine accent right away…he’d seen Pet Cemetery back in the day, of course…while he took too long to let go of her hand. The only visible skin on her beyond her face, it was smooth and silky and-
“The Queen Mother will join us in a moment.”
She pulled her hand away and gestured behind him. Gerald turned around and again took in the strip club before them.
“Weird location, if I can say so. I only got a few minutes with…um…Le Bord de Dieu…”
It was a weird name to say.
“...but she didn’t seem the type to be here.”
Ashley giggled beside him and his knees nearly turned to jelly.
“You have no idea, Sir. When she got this idea, she had to ask her daughter about a location, as she honestly didn’t know.”
Gerald raised his eyebrow and looked back at her.
“Her daughter?”
Ashley nodded and Gerald noticed a slight turn of pink in her cheeks.
“She’s…well…a-”
“Une lesbienne. Zey are zee worst, n’est-ce pas?”
Gerald turned at the sound of the French accent and saw the woman he had met in that alley days before, Le Bord de Dieu, walking their way. This night, along with the black hijab covering her head, she wore a long-sleeved matching jacket with a flowing dress underneath. A small amount of purple scrollwork…he knew what that was, thanks to Grammy Nichel’s knitting and sewing when he was little…he missed Grammy Nichel…caught his eye whenever her black boots pushed past the hem of the coat. As before, the paleness of her face shone like a beacon from within the black hijab, and the dark of night made her thin skin look even more like a skeleton than it had in the relative brightness of that cardboard city.
“I had no clue where to find such a place as zis, zis warren of debauchery and zee sin, oui? But my daughter, zee living blood of my husband, Il est ressuscité-
“Il est ressuscité.”
Gerald raised his eyebrow a touch as Ashley said the French phrase at the same time.
“-I knew she would know of a place. I asked 'er…she tried to deny zee knowledge…but I persisted, as God asks us to persist-”
“Praise His Light!”
“-and she gave up zee location. Zey are ever zee worst!”
The woman turned away from him suddenly, with a spin on the thick heels of her boots, and gestured towards the Clam. With her back safely turned, Gerald slipped Ashley his raised eyebrow, to which she rolled her eyes and waved a hand.
“It’s a long story, you’re better off not asking, yet. The relationship between the Queen Mother and the Blood Princess is…let’s go with ‘complicated.’”
Gerald held back the raising of yet another questioning eyebrow…blood what to who now?...and instead joined Ashley in following behind the gesturing woman in black.
“Zis establishment, zis warren. Is no better zan zee Sodom, oui? Is but zee ashes of Ghamorah, n’est-ce pas? We drive into zee sin, mon enfant, drive into it with zee blade of God, with His hammer and will. We BECOME His hammer and will on zee Earth! We show zee way!”
Gerald could only shrug his shoulders and follow her with Ashley by his side. Which was fine by him, since he couldn’t wait to get into the Clam! Last time he was here, it was during a tour of the Zamboli Twins who played a special game of ping pong and-
He stopped dead in his tracks as he entered the room. While the lights were dim, as would be expected in any worthwhile strip club, there was no music in the air. There was no frivolous adventure. Instead, the room was filled with…well…hobos. Stinking, unwashed men and women. Men and women…he was pretty sure he recognized the guy with the oiled feet from earlier…who were standing like a wall in front of half a dozen strippers. Homeless standing in front of tables filled with the customers of the Clam.
Apparently, the Clam was being held hostage.
“Zis filth is zee home of zee Nadea woman. Zee place of ‘er birth. Zee place she rose from, if for but zee moment. Zis is a place where God refuses to shed His light for fear of even He getting stained with zee mud.”
Gerald backed against a wall, hoping to keep out of sight, as Le Bord de Dieu walked to the front of the room and onto the stage.
“God sent Raphael, Michael, and Gabriel to burn Sodom and Gomorrah to zee ground for zeir sins, for zere refusal to rise and be counted. And so He ‘as sent me, His blade and edge, to burn zee past of zee Nadea woman. To show zee world zat, not matter how 'ard she tries now, no matter 'ow many racist and mundane statements she makes about moi, she iz still nothing of note without being strong enough to rise further.
“Is zere not one here who would do so? Not even ONE who would rise and be counted, as zee Nadea woman must do? Abraham asked for fifty to be 'is number, for fifty to prove zat zere be righteous along with zee sinners. And while God stood resolute, He showed His mercy by granting zee boon of ten. TEN! Only TEN needed to spare zee cities of zee plain. But no…NON! Not even ten could stand and be counted, not even ten could raise zeir hands towards God and be showered in His light. And for such abomination, zee cities burned in His fires of righteousness. Can not even ONE be as Nadea and-”
Le Bord de Dieu cut off as a woman raised her hand. Even in the tenseness of the situation, Giles couldn’t help but notice the giggling flesh of the stripper in her outfit of both too tight and too little. With emerald eyes blazing, Le Bord de Dieu crooked a finger toward her and motioned her forward. The stripper pulled away from the wall of the exalted homeless and made her way on shaky feet toward the wrestler. Once there, Le Bord de Dieu took the stripper by the the shoulders and offered her a wide smile.
“Bonsoir, mon enfant. You wish to rise above your station, oui? To be like zee Nadea woman and leave behind zis life of zee flesh and zee sex?”
The stripper nodded emphatically, the large hoop earrings in her ears clinking together like a set of chimes.
“Zen turn! Face zee life you 'ave lived!”
Le Bord de Dieu turned the woman around so as to face all of the captive strippers, their clientele, and the horde of hobos.
“Let you feel zee Embrace of God…”
Giles’ breath caught as Le Bord de Dieu began to remove her coat. Her right arm, as pale as her face, was surprisingly muscled for her seemingly small frame, but what caught his eyes, and his breath, the most was a line of scars running from her shoulder to her wrist, all neatly done, as if from a scalpel.
“...let His light and warmth…”
She removed the other side of her coat to reveal a matching bare arm, and while this one was also covered in scars, these were jagged and mismatched, as if done with a rusty steak knife.
“...see if you are worthy of His love…”
Le Bord de Dieu reached up and pulled back her hijab, and a gasp rushed out from the crowd of strippers and Johns, a gasp that Gerald found himself issuing. Where he had expected a proper head of hair, what Le Bord de Dieu revealed was a bald scalp filled with scars, a hairless palette of angry reds and purples that, in this light, looked like flames. After throwing back her scarf, she tenderly took the stripper’s head in her hands, the left hand on the her temple and the right on her chin, almost as if she was about to apply one of those sleeperholds or rear naked chokes Gerald had seen become popular in wrestling. And as Le Bord de Dieu pushed the stripper’s head to the side, the girl’s eyes went wide, as if just realizing she might be in danger.
“........”
Gerald saw Le Bord de Dieu whisper something into the top of the stripper’s head, but couldn’t make it out. Then, with sudden violence, Le Bord de Dieu pulled her arms in separate directions, snapping the girl’s neck.
The sound nearly made Gerald lose his lunch.
“RISE!”
Le Bord de Dieu screamed at the girl as she fell to the floor at her feet. Shries from the terrified strippers filled the air, as well as a few weak bellows from the men, but Gerald could see that the army of homeless kept them in place.
“RISE! RISE AND BE COUNTED!”
But the girl did not move. Several moments passed as the crowd died down and Le Bord de Dieu rose her head away from the downed girl and back to them all.
“Zis girl is not worthy of zee love of God. She was unable to even rise from zee muck and mire of ‘er sin. She will not rise and be counted. And while zee Nadea woman was able to rise further, I have zee feeling that she, too, will not find ‘erself in zee count. Zis Nadea woman shall not be able to rise above ‘er station any further, shall not be able to ascend zee ladder of zee Outcast Championship Wrestling. NON! Zis woman is too basic, too bland, to understand zee power of God’s vision for our glorious sport. She would rather see it pulled down into zis pool of cess zat is ‘er past, would rather see it be no more zan zis collection of sinful flesh. She would rather our entire sport be populated by a sea of salopes! I shall make 'er face zee Embrace of God, L'étreinte de Dieu, and in zee end, when zee is down on zee ground, wallowing in zee muck of 'er sins and failures, unable to rise and be counted..."
She looked down at the stripper on the floor, and then back up to the crowd.
"...she shall thank me for it."
Two interviews in, Gerald Giles didn't know what to think.
From: Ashley Anderson <double_a@email.pathofthelightchurch.org>
Date: September 1st, 2023 12:00 PM
To: Gerald Giles <thegwiththebigd@ocw.com>
Subject: Second Interview
Mr Giles
Le Bord de Dieu, the Queen Mother, wishes for you to attend her this evening for her second promotional interview. Attendance is, of course, mandatory. Location to follow soon.
Have a sunny day as you walk in the Light.
Ashley
Assistant to the Queen Mother
Sent from my Windows Phone
Giles blinked in confusion several times as he re-read the email. He almost didn’t click on it when he saw the address…the last time he clicked on a “church” link at work it led to some weirdo softcore porn movie about some naked black angel…who had small tits and wasn’t a good actor…fighting off a bunch of super villains, or monsters, or something. It was weird.
From: Gerald Giles <thegwiththebigd@ocw.com>
Date: September 1st, 2023 12:30 PM
To: Ashley Anderson <double_a@email.pathofthelightchurch.org>
Subject: Re: Second Interview
wut
Gerald Giles
Syracuse University’s Favorite Graduate
He sat back and grimaced as he looked at the email again. Sent from my Windows Phone? Do they even make them any-
DING!
From: Ashley Anderson <double_a@email.pathofthelightchurch.org>
Date: September 1st, 2023 12:31 PM
To: Gerald Giles <thegwiththebigd@ocw.com>
Subject: Re: Re: Second Interview
Mr Giles
The Queen Mother expects you to be available for her second interview/promotional video/promo content for her upcoming match in OCW against Naddie the Baddie. Location to follow.
Have a sunny day as you walk in the Light.
Ashley
Assistant to the Queen Mother
Sent from my Windows Phone
Giles grimaced again as he looked over the quick reply. He was continually annoyed by these “on location” interviews and recordings. He SHOULD be the lead announcer for Anarchy…fuck Rise, though; that shit sucks…and this kind of stuff should be left to that “sleep to the top” halfwit Lindy...and don’t EVEN get him started on that suckup Taylor. THAT little know-it-all was-
DING!
From: Ashley Anderson <double_a@email.pathofthelightchurch.org>
Date: September 1st, 2023 12:40 PM
To: Gerald Giles <thegwiththebigd@ocw.com>
Subject: Second Interview Location
Giles’ grimace slowly turned to a mask of astonished surprise. He didn’t just know where this was…he REALLY knew where this was. He was a bit of an expert…some would say a connoisseur…of this type of location. The astonishment turned upward into a smile and he chuckled. Perhaps this wouldn't be a bad experience, after all.
THE GUSHING CLAM STRIP CLUB
Giles smiled as he closed the door of his car…he could only afford Infiniti’s Q50 instead of the Q60 because of people like freakin’ Eric Drake holding him down in favor of butt-kissers like Blaze and Highmore…and let his eyes roam the parking lot of the Gushing Clam. The Clam…which is how experts like him referred to the place…wasn’t exactly the greatest club out there, but the girls were skanky, the drinks not too expensive, and the bouncers relatively soft-handed. In fact, this one time, he was barely bruised when he was tossed out after having tried a triple grope and-
“Mr Giles?”
Gerald turned his head at the call of his name from an unfamiliar voice and felt his mouth go dry. Walking towards him, wearing a long-sleeved sweater with a turtleneck, and a hijab around her head that matched the one he saw Le Bord de Dieu wearing several days prior, was perhaps the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Short, somewhere in that “sweet spot” he liked of 5’4”-5’7”, she was light-skinned with chocolate brown eyes. And, as his eyes darted two as she walked his way, a set of knockers bouncing underneath the sweater so large that he could likely suffocate in them. Which was his third favorite way to die, of course.
“Mr Giles? I’m Ashley Anderson.”
He stared at her stupidly for a moment, not noticing the outstretched hand, instead doing his best to not blatantly stare at her chest while his mind wildly went through fantasies of how it might look beneath the wool. After far too long of a moment, he shook his head roughly and cleared his throat and took her hand.
“Yes, nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, ayuh.”
He recognized the Maine accent right away…he’d seen Pet Cemetery back in the day, of course…while he took too long to let go of her hand. The only visible skin on her beyond her face, it was smooth and silky and-
“The Queen Mother will join us in a moment.”
She pulled her hand away and gestured behind him. Gerald turned around and again took in the strip club before them.
“Weird location, if I can say so. I only got a few minutes with…um…Le Bord de Dieu…”
It was a weird name to say.
“...but she didn’t seem the type to be here.”
Ashley giggled beside him and his knees nearly turned to jelly.
“You have no idea, Sir. When she got this idea, she had to ask her daughter about a location, as she honestly didn’t know.”
Gerald raised his eyebrow and looked back at her.
“Her daughter?”
Ashley nodded and Gerald noticed a slight turn of pink in her cheeks.
“She’s…well…a-”
“Une lesbienne. Zey are zee worst, n’est-ce pas?”
Gerald turned at the sound of the French accent and saw the woman he had met in that alley days before, Le Bord de Dieu, walking their way. This night, along with the black hijab covering her head, she wore a long-sleeved matching jacket with a flowing dress underneath. A small amount of purple scrollwork…he knew what that was, thanks to Grammy Nichel’s knitting and sewing when he was little…he missed Grammy Nichel…caught his eye whenever her black boots pushed past the hem of the coat. As before, the paleness of her face shone like a beacon from within the black hijab, and the dark of night made her thin skin look even more like a skeleton than it had in the relative brightness of that cardboard city.
“I had no clue where to find such a place as zis, zis warren of debauchery and zee sin, oui? But my daughter, zee living blood of my husband, Il est ressuscité-
“Il est ressuscité.”
Gerald raised his eyebrow a touch as Ashley said the French phrase at the same time.
“-I knew she would know of a place. I asked 'er…she tried to deny zee knowledge…but I persisted, as God asks us to persist-”
“Praise His Light!”
“-and she gave up zee location. Zey are ever zee worst!”
The woman turned away from him suddenly, with a spin on the thick heels of her boots, and gestured towards the Clam. With her back safely turned, Gerald slipped Ashley his raised eyebrow, to which she rolled her eyes and waved a hand.
“It’s a long story, you’re better off not asking, yet. The relationship between the Queen Mother and the Blood Princess is…let’s go with ‘complicated.’”
Gerald held back the raising of yet another questioning eyebrow…blood what to who now?...and instead joined Ashley in following behind the gesturing woman in black.
“Zis establishment, zis warren. Is no better zan zee Sodom, oui? Is but zee ashes of Ghamorah, n’est-ce pas? We drive into zee sin, mon enfant, drive into it with zee blade of God, with His hammer and will. We BECOME His hammer and will on zee Earth! We show zee way!”
Gerald could only shrug his shoulders and follow her with Ashley by his side. Which was fine by him, since he couldn’t wait to get into the Clam! Last time he was here, it was during a tour of the Zamboli Twins who played a special game of ping pong and-
He stopped dead in his tracks as he entered the room. While the lights were dim, as would be expected in any worthwhile strip club, there was no music in the air. There was no frivolous adventure. Instead, the room was filled with…well…hobos. Stinking, unwashed men and women. Men and women…he was pretty sure he recognized the guy with the oiled feet from earlier…who were standing like a wall in front of half a dozen strippers. Homeless standing in front of tables filled with the customers of the Clam.
Apparently, the Clam was being held hostage.
“Zis filth is zee home of zee Nadea woman. Zee place of ‘er birth. Zee place she rose from, if for but zee moment. Zis is a place where God refuses to shed His light for fear of even He getting stained with zee mud.”
Gerald backed against a wall, hoping to keep out of sight, as Le Bord de Dieu walked to the front of the room and onto the stage.
“God sent Raphael, Michael, and Gabriel to burn Sodom and Gomorrah to zee ground for zeir sins, for zere refusal to rise and be counted. And so He ‘as sent me, His blade and edge, to burn zee past of zee Nadea woman. To show zee world zat, not matter how 'ard she tries now, no matter 'ow many racist and mundane statements she makes about moi, she iz still nothing of note without being strong enough to rise further.
“Is zere not one here who would do so? Not even ONE who would rise and be counted, as zee Nadea woman must do? Abraham asked for fifty to be 'is number, for fifty to prove zat zere be righteous along with zee sinners. And while God stood resolute, He showed His mercy by granting zee boon of ten. TEN! Only TEN needed to spare zee cities of zee plain. But no…NON! Not even ten could stand and be counted, not even ten could raise zeir hands towards God and be showered in His light. And for such abomination, zee cities burned in His fires of righteousness. Can not even ONE be as Nadea and-”
Le Bord de Dieu cut off as a woman raised her hand. Even in the tenseness of the situation, Giles couldn’t help but notice the giggling flesh of the stripper in her outfit of both too tight and too little. With emerald eyes blazing, Le Bord de Dieu crooked a finger toward her and motioned her forward. The stripper pulled away from the wall of the exalted homeless and made her way on shaky feet toward the wrestler. Once there, Le Bord de Dieu took the stripper by the the shoulders and offered her a wide smile.
“Bonsoir, mon enfant. You wish to rise above your station, oui? To be like zee Nadea woman and leave behind zis life of zee flesh and zee sex?”
The stripper nodded emphatically, the large hoop earrings in her ears clinking together like a set of chimes.
“Zen turn! Face zee life you 'ave lived!”
Le Bord de Dieu turned the woman around so as to face all of the captive strippers, their clientele, and the horde of hobos.
“Let you feel zee Embrace of God…”
Giles’ breath caught as Le Bord de Dieu began to remove her coat. Her right arm, as pale as her face, was surprisingly muscled for her seemingly small frame, but what caught his eyes, and his breath, the most was a line of scars running from her shoulder to her wrist, all neatly done, as if from a scalpel.
“...let His light and warmth…”
She removed the other side of her coat to reveal a matching bare arm, and while this one was also covered in scars, these were jagged and mismatched, as if done with a rusty steak knife.
“...see if you are worthy of His love…”
Le Bord de Dieu reached up and pulled back her hijab, and a gasp rushed out from the crowd of strippers and Johns, a gasp that Gerald found himself issuing. Where he had expected a proper head of hair, what Le Bord de Dieu revealed was a bald scalp filled with scars, a hairless palette of angry reds and purples that, in this light, looked like flames. After throwing back her scarf, she tenderly took the stripper’s head in her hands, the left hand on the her temple and the right on her chin, almost as if she was about to apply one of those sleeperholds or rear naked chokes Gerald had seen become popular in wrestling. And as Le Bord de Dieu pushed the stripper’s head to the side, the girl’s eyes went wide, as if just realizing she might be in danger.
“........”
Gerald saw Le Bord de Dieu whisper something into the top of the stripper’s head, but couldn’t make it out. Then, with sudden violence, Le Bord de Dieu pulled her arms in separate directions, snapping the girl’s neck.
The sound nearly made Gerald lose his lunch.
“RISE!”
Le Bord de Dieu screamed at the girl as she fell to the floor at her feet. Shries from the terrified strippers filled the air, as well as a few weak bellows from the men, but Gerald could see that the army of homeless kept them in place.
“RISE! RISE AND BE COUNTED!”
But the girl did not move. Several moments passed as the crowd died down and Le Bord de Dieu rose her head away from the downed girl and back to them all.
“Zis girl is not worthy of zee love of God. She was unable to even rise from zee muck and mire of ‘er sin. She will not rise and be counted. And while zee Nadea woman was able to rise further, I have zee feeling that she, too, will not find ‘erself in zee count. Zis Nadea woman shall not be able to rise above ‘er station any further, shall not be able to ascend zee ladder of zee Outcast Championship Wrestling. NON! Zis woman is too basic, too bland, to understand zee power of God’s vision for our glorious sport. She would rather see it pulled down into zis pool of cess zat is ‘er past, would rather see it be no more zan zis collection of sinful flesh. She would rather our entire sport be populated by a sea of salopes! I shall make 'er face zee Embrace of God, L'étreinte de Dieu, and in zee end, when zee is down on zee ground, wallowing in zee muck of 'er sins and failures, unable to rise and be counted..."
She looked down at the stripper on the floor, and then back up to the crowd.
"...she shall thank me for it."
Two interviews in, Gerald Giles didn't know what to think.