Who's Laughing Now?
‘Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit"...Jacky mutters as she hurries her way through the backstage area. The looks she gets as she frantically squirrels her way through the crowd tells quite the tale.
You betray one federation...
"Where the fuck is that clown?" Catalina can be heard yelling in the hallway behind her.
Catalina didn't sound too happy: not many people are when you stomp their head into the ground. People are saying that Ragdoll "ruined" the show.
"What an asshole."
She couldn't think of a single person happy with her. The word villain was being murmured; that meant the Masked Avenger no doubt would want to bring her to justice sooner rather than later.
To top it off? She also broke a nail.
She needed a vacation.
Everyone has questions: why, how? She ignores this and barrels her way through the crew, barely breaking pace to grab her pistol. Sometimes you have to not think of the why but the why not?
After all: follow the signs.
She looks up and spots the exit. Was that becoming her mantra? How far do you follow the rabbit? She glances behind herself to make sure the furious champion hasn't located her yet.
"No need to cause a scene, after all," she thinks grinning proudly.
A graceful pirouette to double check her six and she shoves the door wide with a bump of her hip and melds her way into the crowd exiting the arena. Normally a woman in full clown face paint would stand out like a fish out of water, but some unfortunate Carnage fans had taken a shine to her and tried to mirror her clown face paint.
"Cool makeup," says a man wearing what looks like a knockoff Lord Raab shirt sarcastically as she makes her way rapidly to the back of the parking lot. She beams widely and responds with a cheery, "Thanks!"
Jacky slows her pace as she passes by a stand set up with a man is selling UGWC victory shirts at a deep discount. She thinks about buying one, after all the irony was not lost on her.
Damned if you do, damned if you don't. There's always a winner and always a loser, so what's the big deal anyway? So what? Who hasn't stomped a World Champion's face into the canvas in the middle of an international wrestling main event?
The night air is cool and refreshing as she reaches the outskirts of the parking lot. She did it; she made it. The crowd has thinned out and she can finally get her bearings.
Her eyes look up to the moon. From rags to riches, she would be a champion in two weeks, come hell or high water.
"What a year," she mumbles.
Jacky's gaze drops down from her lunar lookings and she smiles sweetly, pulling her weapon from her waistband. Her golden eyes lock with with beady stare of a heavy set middle aged man wearing a Tempest shirt. He is standing outside of a black El Camino with a purple pinstripe and powder blue seats.
She levels the revolver in the direction of the man\"s face.
Once upon a time about a month ago,
there raced a flat footed cop and our dear miss Pierrot.
"Go faster," she cried, her voice full of glee.
For signs she saw, so signs she followed as they raced unto the scene.
"Jacky, you fool! Say not more a word!"
Knuckles white, his horn he honked as he whipped onto the curb.
The traffic thick was as blood, the car could barely move.
She licked her lips and crossed her arms; her silence she could prove.
"What's that?" he yelled as began to regret her drove her.
She pointed forward and he did evade so people didn't get run over.
He swerved and turned once more to his jester pal.
Her hand held a match pre-lit, ready to burn it all.
"Fight fire with fire" she said but he stared right through her head.
Where she got the match from would plague his mind instead...
"I've already got it lit," she squealed, her eyes filled with delight.
He shook his head and now he said, "That's not going to be alright."
Her smile did fade just a bit as she put out the flame.
Twas sweet, twas fatal, and his dullness was to blame.
Twas sweet, twas fatal, and his dullness was to blame.
She pouted, !"You never let me have any fun!"
She dug her fist into her back, hoisting out her gun.
"Not that either!" he shouted hand reaching for her toy.
She pushed him away once more, "Nothing can take my joy."
Somewhere between Columbus and Baltimore
She smashes down on the gas pedal of the El Camino, leaning into the steering wheel as she cuts the wheel sharply back into her lane, the car narrowly missing an oncoming vehicle. There is the sound of tires squealing and the horn of the car she passes briefly as the headlights fade into the night behind her.
"A vacation Ed, just you and me," she exclaims cheerfully lifting the half-empty fifth labeled, "High Water" she has been chasing in the floorboards high into the air in celebration.
She turns to the body of Ed who is now wrapped up in a loose fitting Hawaiian shirt with a pair of khakis. His empty eternal gaze is set somewhere over the front right part of the car. She smiles lovingly at side of his decaying face, her car drifting into the oncoming lane once again. An urgent honking brings her back around to see a car barreling in their direction. She swerves back into her lane, Ed smashing against the door.
"Take it easy, Ed! Its a rental and I didn't get the insurance."
It wasn't a rental: it was stolen.
This wasn't a vacation either; it was an escape. More people than she expected were angry about her antics and some of those people knew her address so she was headed to the one place she knew where someone could disappear: the Jersey Shore.
Where else can you get wasted, throw back a half-dozen corn dogs and vomit right into the ocean? Well, Myrtle Beach. And Daytona. She wonders for a moment how many corn dogs she\"s thrown up in her years.
"Are hot dog sandwiches?" she thinks.
No that's stupid, they're tacos.
She stares off into space: Does that make corn dogs burritos?
Burritos. She licks her lips and turns her attention to the bottle which is once again rolling around her passenger floor board.
"Little help Ed?"
As she digs for the bottle, her car plows through a road sign causing her to sit upright and she turns the wheel to pull the small car back onto the road. She is able to get the car leveled out but only on the wrong side of the road where she is met with two large white horses and two startled men with beards.
She grips the steering wheel and throws all her bodyweight once again against it to narrowly avoid the carriage. Her car, however, is unable to take the sudden rotation as it pulls off the road, and it rolls over and over, finally settling on its roof top.
The bearded men stop the carriage and rush over towards the overturned car. A bloodied Jacky pulls herself through the shattered windshield.
"Are you okay miss?"
"How's my car?"
The two men exchange a look. The El Camino is clearly totaled and on fire. She smiles widely and looks up at them.
"I didn't get...the insurance," she offers before her head slumps unconsciously to the ground.
Waffles sits opposite of Ariel, cross legged as opposed to her who sits on her heels with her eyes closed. Waffles is conducting a thorough search of his cargo pants.
Waffles: What if we tried something different?
Ariel: Such as?
Waffles: Well, we've defined ourselves as the comedy right, but the thing is, we're not funny.
Ariel: I'm funny.
Waffles stares a hole straight through her head.
Waffles: I hate you.
Ariel: I hate you.
She replies calmly.
Waffles: We're supposed to have a purpose!
Ariel: So tell a joke!
He continues to glare at her Her eyes are now open, defiant, and blazing and look right back into his. She sets her jaw for a showdown.
Jaclyn’s eyes blink open to meet an ice blue stare. An Amish man in his mid-20s sits in the chair through a doorway in what looks to be some sort of primitive kitchen. She doesn't recognize the place and she does not recognize him. There was something gentle about his smile, though.
He stands cautiously, his hat in his hand as he walks to the doorway, standing tall over the prone clown, his broad shoulders taking up most of the width of the door. He gently raps on the open door.
"How are you feeling? You were in a nasty accident." he says, his deep voice drawing her in. She looked him over once more. Jaclyn pushes herself up onto one hand, the blankets dangling off her frame like a cotton mermaid and she bats her eyes at the beautiful Amish man in plain clothing.
"I'm glad you're okay," he offers, his eyes darting to the floor. Suddenly the car wreck was a distant memory. For a hulking brute of a man, he sure was shy she thought.
The Shore could wait, Me-Yow.
"You're a doll," she giggles happily, her body flowing from underneath the sheets as she steps out from the covers and stands before him. The man's face becomes almost beet red and he moves quickly to avert her gaze even further. Someone has helped Jaclyn out of her dress and boots and she stands barefoot in her Spongebob Squarepants underwear.
Jaclyn does a quick scan of her surrounding. Her gun sits on the counter beside her but her dress and boots are nowhere to be seen.
"Cut to the chase, am I right?" her almost honking laughter fills the room and she flourish her arms out across her body in presentation fashion.
"Please miss, cover yourself."
Her smile turns to a pout and she throws one hand on her hip, cocking it to the side.
She turns to the nearby closet and tosses it wide, the doors banging on the items around it. It contains more drab clothing in the same fashion that the young man wears. She flicks absently through.
"So what's your story, kid?"
"I apologize. My name is Samuel, Sam if you will. My father and brother came across you in a wreck. It\"s a miracle you survived. They're out now to town to get supplies and sell the remaining harvest. I\"ve stayed behind to help with some yard work: we need to do to prepare the fields."
"Thrilling," Jacky replies dismissively. She begins to flip dresses over her shoulder and onto the floor. Samuel recognizes this and is quick to begin retrieving them while trying to prevent looking in her direction.
"Careful, those are my sisters things!"
She had terrible taste.
She looks around the room. A splash of color would do wonders. A small electrical fire...well, that would take some work
"Ed?" he returns.
"My friend, he was in the car with me."
The mans brow furrows.
"There was nobody in the car with you."
"Oh," she says and goes back to flipping clothing around the room as Sam chases to retrieve it, his arms now filled with outfits
"Wait," she pauses as she thinks to herself, black dress in hand "why would he lie?"
Unless...she looks him over again. Tall, chiseled jaw, broad shoulders.
You fool Jacky, you let your guard down: a honeypot.
Follow the signs.
The dress drops from Jacky's hands and he kneels down to retrieve it. Sam stops gathering the outfit as there is a familiar click from Jaclyn's pistol. He tilts his head to look up to her and her golden gaze narrows, the magnum's tip only inches away from his forehead. His eye cross to try to focus on the barrel and her jester smile widens.
"Take me to Ed."
Waffles and Ariel continue to stare at one another before Waffles scoffs and continues to explore his pants.
Waffles: What about a game of cards?
Waffles pulls out a deck of tarot cards from one of his cargo pockets.
Ariel: Let me guess, you draw for me...The Fool?
Waffles looks down to the card deck and back up to Ariel as she continues.
Ariel: Are you going to prattle on with your viewpoint of the meaning of that card and give the ultimate Boom roasted?
Waffles: Boom roasted?
Waffles appears to be sincerely confused.
Ariel: Like in the Office? Michael Scott gets roasted and then reads notecards in the office on his views of his coworkers. After each insult he says, "Boom roasted'?
Waffles: I'm more of a Chuck Lorre guy.
Waffles pulls the cards loose from the pack and begins to shuffle them in his hand. Ariel goes on.
Ariel: So what is it? Something about madness? Focus? Queue the training montage! What?
Waffles: I was gonna say Go Fish?
Waffles laughs wildly as Ariel stares on with her arms crossed across her chest.
Jacky jerks her dress down from the clothesline as she stomps angrily behind Samuel. She places the dress against her nose and breaths deeply: it smelled fantastic.
Was that sandalwood?
Jaclyn pokes the barrel of the gun into the small of Sam's back.
"Hey, what the hell is sandalwood?" she questions, slinging her dress over he shoulder.
"I'm not sure, miss."
The grass was still damp and clung to her bare feet. The term frolic leaps to mind but she pushes it down: she had bigger concerns. Ed was missing and she wrecked her car. She needs to find Ed and get the hell out of here.
The two make their way through the fields and out towards the road where the remains of the El Camino are located. It has since been turned upright, though the flames have overtaken most of the frame. A group of Mennonite men who have been working to move the vehicle stop and turn to the unexpected pair. She frowns as she looks to the destroyed vehicle.
Who knows how long she's been out and without a car, who knows how long it would take her to get to Baltimore. And even more interesting question was, "How the hell did she get to Amish country?"
Must have taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque.
Another shove of the barrel into Sam’s spine cause him to bolt forward to join his friends. Jacky levels the gun at the group.
"What's up, Doc?"
The men stoically raise their hands.
"Ed?" one of the men responds confused.
"She said she was traveling with someone," offers Samuel, a hand rubbing gently on the place Jacky just prodded at him with the gun.
The group exchange glances and one of the shorter men of the group with a square beard and reddish nose turns to a form nearby covered in a blanket.
"I think she's talking about this."
He pulls the sheet back to reveal the corpse known as Ed. Jacky's face lights up momentarily before determination sets in.
"Get away from him!"
"He needs to be buried," pleads the man.
"You can't bury my friend!" she screams, firing a round into the air. The red-nosed man scurries away towards the safety of the rest of the group away from the furious woman in Spongebob underwear. What kind of maniac would want to bury her friend? The startled group watches as the small clown drops to her knees and pulls the corpse onto her lap.
"Oh Ed, you're alive!"
He was not. Ed was very much still dead but none of the Amish men wanted to cross the unhinged clown. She begins to pull up the body and shove the corpse onto the back of the horse, slumped in an awkward seated position. Once he is settled into position, she drapes her dress across his lap. Jaclyn retrieves a bottle she finds and the group continues to watch as Jacky clamors barefoot and in only her underwear onto the back of the horse.
She finally pulls herself upright on the saddle and turns to Samuel, her bright smile once again plastered on her face as she uncorks the half empty bottle labeled "High Water" and drains it, tossing the bottle back down.
"Call me!" she exclaims to the bewildered Samuel and his clan, her heels digging in to the horses sides and it begins to gallop away with the clown and body bouncing on its back.
The flames did not go down, though try and try they might.
Despite all of their efforts, the flames did not unlight.
Novelty shirt now donned, Jacky rejoined her friend.
It looks like the trail they following had come to a fiery end.
"He got away," said the cop, his head hanging with a sigh.
"Who," replied Jacky, pointing to the crowd, "You mean that guy?"
Sure enough she was right: he came back to view his work.
‘Enough standing around,’ yells Jacky, ‘Let's go get this jerk!’
Panic sets in and he runs, as he knows not what to do.
For what seems like miles, Jacky does pursue.
She continued to close in and he turned around the bend.
It looked like the chase was over: they had reached a dead end
"Freeze!" she cried, a finger gun held at the end of her arm.
She and he both recognized she could do no harm.
"FBI!" she lied and he looked upon her shirt.
It claimed that she was some sort of breast expert!
"Detective, you mean," and he aims his gun at her.
Nothing stood in his way of taking her from this Earth.
She gulped, she knew the truth of every word he spoke.
She stood her ground, fingers aimed, "Want to hear a joke?"
His finger squeezed victory straight into his tool.
But only moments later, his face betrayed this fool.
She turned to see Merkel with smoke rising from his gun.
The pyro drop to his knees, then his face: he was done.
Jacky stared at her hands then over to her pal.
"Did I or you get to be the one who got the final pow?"
His eyes did roll and to his mic he spoke to nearby friends.
I need an ambulance, this one is at The End.
May 3rd, 2021
Deja exits her car, pulling her handbag out behind her in one hand while the other clutches a venti hot Starbucks drink. All the coffee in the world could not prepare her for what she saw next: atop a pure white stallion rides Jaclyn Pierrot, still barefoot with a corpse strapped to the horses back just behind her.
"Hey Dej!" she says cheerily.
Deja finally absorbs the whole rich tapestry of what is in front of her and responds exactly as one would expect.
"Jacky, what the fuck?"
"How's it goin’?’ asks Jaclyn as though she didn\"t just ride into the middle of Baltimore on the back of a white horse with a dead body tied to it.
"Jesus Jacky, you have got to be crazy. What's with the horse?"
"I don't know?!" exclaims Deja, clearly unsure of who Jacky could be referring to.
"He's my horse," she offers.
Deja finds this information less than helpful.
Deja finds this information less than helpful.
"And the body?"
Jaclyn once again offers no further information and Deja decides this route may not be the one worth exploring and turns back down the path.
"Jacky, you stomped on Catalina Cortez two weeks ago: do you have any idea who that is?" she questions
"Ye, she's the person whose head I stomped on right? Give me a hand here," she offers the reigns to Deja who absently accepts them as Jaclyn scurries awkwardly down the side of the horse like a child crawling down stairs.
"Jacky, she's the World champion," Deja continues.
"Does this mean..." the now dismounted Jaclyn's eyed light up and she catches Deja by both shoulders.
"I'm the champion!!!" she shrieks and begins to bounce.
"No, you're not," Deja counters, deflating the escalating clown, "Look, what's your strategy here, Jacky? Catalina wants to kill you. Avenger is out for Justice. Casanova isn't going to let go of his belt easily. Seems like the odds are clearly against you."
As expected, Jaclyn pulls out her magnum and pulls the lever back.
"And there's no guns allowed Jacky."
Jacky tilts the pistol to the air as she contemplates, "Is that in the rules, like is it written down somewhere?"
Deja is stumped. She's actually never thought to check that. Surely someone at some point said that shooting someone mid-match was against the rules.
"I actually do not know, I can imagine it falls under weapons?"
"And what if the match is no rules?" Jacky returns.
"I think laws still apply."
"Aren't rules laws?"
"I think all laws are rules but not all rules are laws?" Deja couldn't help but want to kick herself for letting herself get into this with this clown
"Where do mandates fall into this?"
"Let's not," says Deja, regaining some sense of control of the conversation, "So listen Jacky, I gotta ask: are you ready for Casanova?"
"Casanova?" Jaclyn practically swoons, "He seems dreamy!"
"And you know you\"re challenging him for the championship tonight right? In a match? This isn\"t exactly a dinner date."
Jaclyn places a hand on Deja’s shoulder, smiling knowingly.
"Dej, I don't think you should ever turn a blind eye to love."
With that Jaclyn turns gracefully on her heel and begins to make her way into the arena.
"I think this is going to be more like war," calls Deja after her. Jaclyn stops and turns to look back over her shoulder.
"Well, you know what they say...all's fair in love and war. And if all's fair..."
The pistol raises into the air just over Jaclyn’s shoulder, the sinister smile spreading slowly across her face.
"That must mean there are no rules."
Jacky's continues to grin and looks to the gun as she makes her way into the Arena. Deja realizes that she has somehow inherited the reigns of the horse and is now left to figure out what to do with the unusual pair of Peter and Ed.
Great Clown Detective Agency Office
She followed the signs. She caught the pyromaniac. Another perfect job done by everyone's hero Jaclyn Pierrot. Case closed.
Or at least she thought.
Jaclyn sits at her desk with her feet propped up. She's been making paper airplanes to throw at Ed since he wasn't talking to her again. She is absently folding another in her lap when an envelope is slid underneath the door shattering their peace.
Follow the signs.
She knew what it said before she saw it. She kicked her boots off the desk to check the hallway.
She shrugs over to Ed then moves to retrieve the note. She unfolds the envelope and all the ordinary suspects were there: Note saying to Follow the Signs and a thousand dollars...
...and a flyer for the next Carnage PPV event Incursion complete with an advertisement for Catalina v Sloane.
‘This is new,’ she thinks, ‘a clue.’
What could it mean?
"Champion v Champion," it read. A smirk begins to crawl it's way across her face.
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