Post by Regan Voorhees on Oct 23, 2022 10:43:34 GMT -5
Sorry, didn't have a ton of time this week, but I didn't want to no-show. Apologies to Sam Kidsgrove.
Following the Tara Fenix Charity Cruise, a commercial plane torpedoed its way over the Pacific, bound from Honolulu to Phoenix, a nonstop flight packed with travelers uneager to return to the doldrums of working life after an excursion to paradise.
But for Regan Voorhees, the voyage was from one professional obligation to another. Defending the honor of herself, her team, and theoretically the company she worked for. A thankless task that would not see her recognized as the Action Wrestling heroine that she was. But such was life. Be your best self and try to uphold your own moral standards, while everyone else tries their best to cast you as the villain.
Regan examined her in-flight snack and snapped her fingers at the flight attendant. “I asked for saltless pretzels,” she said.
“We… don’t have those,” the flight attendant explained.
“Incorrect,” said Regan, holding up her bag of Snyder’s. “Clearly you have pretzels with salt. Thus, de-salt them.”
Too befuddled to argue, the flight attendant took the bag and disappeared back up the aisle.
Regan debated on donning a sleep mask and drinking her way to blissful unconsciousness, but it would not do to show up at Clash with both jetlag and a hangover. The chatter and stink of the other passengers only soured her mood further, but she could always find some small measure of solace in the embrace of art and entertainment. She silenced the world around her with the magic of noise-canceling headphones and scrolled through the selection of in-flight movies.
As always, the options were meager and uninspiring. Not so much as a crust of bread for her starving cinematic sensibilities. A familiar face stared at her from one of the poster images, and Regan wanted to drink. Miles above the Pacific, Sam Kidsgrove smiled at her. She snapped at the flight attendant again. The woman returned, her face a mask of dread.
Regan tried to make her tone most pleasant this time. She failed. “Excuse me, could you tell the pilot to crash the plane, please?”
Following the Tara Fenix Charity Cruise, a commercial plane torpedoed its way over the Pacific, bound from Honolulu to Phoenix, a nonstop flight packed with travelers uneager to return to the doldrums of working life after an excursion to paradise.
But for Regan Voorhees, the voyage was from one professional obligation to another. Defending the honor of herself, her team, and theoretically the company she worked for. A thankless task that would not see her recognized as the Action Wrestling heroine that she was. But such was life. Be your best self and try to uphold your own moral standards, while everyone else tries their best to cast you as the villain.
Regan examined her in-flight snack and snapped her fingers at the flight attendant. “I asked for saltless pretzels,” she said.
“We… don’t have those,” the flight attendant explained.
“Incorrect,” said Regan, holding up her bag of Snyder’s. “Clearly you have pretzels with salt. Thus, de-salt them.”
Too befuddled to argue, the flight attendant took the bag and disappeared back up the aisle.
Regan debated on donning a sleep mask and drinking her way to blissful unconsciousness, but it would not do to show up at Clash with both jetlag and a hangover. The chatter and stink of the other passengers only soured her mood further, but she could always find some small measure of solace in the embrace of art and entertainment. She silenced the world around her with the magic of noise-canceling headphones and scrolled through the selection of in-flight movies.
As always, the options were meager and uninspiring. Not so much as a crust of bread for her starving cinematic sensibilities. A familiar face stared at her from one of the poster images, and Regan wanted to drink. Miles above the Pacific, Sam Kidsgrove smiled at her. She snapped at the flight attendant again. The woman returned, her face a mask of dread.
Regan tried to make her tone most pleasant this time. She failed. “Excuse me, could you tell the pilot to crash the plane, please?”
