Post by Jana Rikar on Jun 25, 2018 17:15:02 GMT
“Things happen for a reason.”
Standing in a snug flight suit on the deck of the RoRo supply ship USNS Watson as it cruises offshore from the Norfolk Naval Station, Jana Rikar appears on camera, her hair flowing backwards in the view.
“And sometimes you just have to suck it up and accept it. Less than 10 days ago, I thought I had reached the pinnacle of my brief career, standing on the top of the ladder and taking down the WWH Wildcard title. I was wrong. I should have known better, seeing that I’ve been an owner of a fed and always put the fed above myself, and let the wrestlers handle their business, not me pushing agendas or results. I guess my naivety got the better of me thinking that others did the same.”
“I was wrong again. To go from a squash loss to two non-televised matches to a Pay-Per-View show for a title, I should have known better. Then to win the title? Yeah. Uncle Vince use to tell me whenever we visited his ranch in Wichita Falls, ‘Just because you wrap up horse poop in a pretty little package and call it 100% all-natural lawn fertilizer, it doesn’t change that it’s still horse poop.’ Well I bought the 100% all-natural lawn fertilizer sales pitch.”
A sailor walks up behind her, tapping her on the shoulder. He points off into the distance and Jana nods, smiling. She has the cameraman turn the camera to show a derelict ship off in the distance then turns it back towards her.
“I got burned this time but I won’t next time. Sometimes you just have to distance yourself from the horse poop. Sometimes you just have to give it back to the seller. And other times you just have to bury the problem and blow that poop up. I played the ‘who I know’ card at the Naval Base to handle just such a problem so now, I won’t be bothered with this any longer.”
The camera turns just to the port side of the Watson, showing the periscope of a submarine. A loud ‘whoosh’ is heard and the telltale sign of a torpedo heads towards the derelict ship, the wake visible in the ocean. A few seconds later, a loud explosion rips through the derelict ship, setting it on fire, the starboard side agape with a hole. Water pours in and fire burns along the deck.
“So with that, I’m officially done with WWH and looking to see where the Time Bomb is gonna pop up next.”
Jana taps her phone and shows it to the camera. A room is visible filling with water from the side and flames along the ceiling. Strapped to a 20 pound weight, is the WWH WildCard Title, partially ablaze, partially submerged.
“Be Well.”
She takes away her phone and a crowd of sailors are standing behind her. They all throw up the ‘Two Fingers Victory’ sign on their right hand then the camera flickers to black.