All of 'em got a ritual to wind 'em down after a match, an' I ain't no exception. S'just that mine's a little dif'ernt is all. I'm tired of all this hidin' 'hind closed doors just to relax a little, but what the hell else am I s'posed ta do? I gotta have a way ta center myslef, an' I damn sure don't want the cam'ra pickin' this up!
So here I am, lookin' this way an' lookin' that 'fore I lock the door ta the outside world.
"Why the hell I can't go out there barefoot, or 'least in my fav'rit fuzzy slippers is be'ond me, but--"
"'Cause they're pink, ya dummy"
"--I'm damn sure tireda these boots... Ah, who asked ya, ya fruitcake?"
Mark jus' looks at me with that 'pot callin' the kettle black' look at the 'fruitcake' bit, an' I just smile at 'im. Damn, if the cam'ras could see him with that boa wrapped 'round his purty little head, the world would die laughin', but I think it's cute. Looks better on 'im than it ever did me, an' that's damn near imposs'ble.
"Why we gotta listen to this shit anyhow, Dumplin'?" he asks while lightin' up one of those damned cig'rettes he has ta smoke after a match.
"Same damn reason ya gotta smoke those things, ya ass."
He watches me over the top of his Vogue as I start stretchin' to the soothin' sound of Helen Reddy, and with an agg'tated snuff of the Moore he's smokin', he gets up and yanks the cord outta the wall.
"Look, I can deal with a lotta shit, Puddin', but I'll be damned if I gotta listen ta that bitch roarin' 'bout bein' a woman nomore, nor'll I hafta hear it from yer mouth again t'night!" He starts lookin' through his bag fer somethin'. When he's done he plugs the player back in an' throws Helen across the room, whare it crashes 'gainst the wall in a thousand pieces.
"That was Princess' fav'rit CD, ya fucker! What th' hell ya puttin' in my radio? An' what the hell's wrong wit my singin'? Not fem'nin 'nough for ya?" That gets me another chuckle as the most awful shit I ever heard blares inta the air an' he starts singin'.
Take this pink ribbon off my eyes-
I'm exposed and it's no big suprise.
Don't you think I know exactly where I stand?
This world is forcing me to hold your hand.
"What the fuck is that shit, Mark?"
"Jus' lis'en t' th' words" he answers quickly 'fore singin' again- if ya can call what he does singin', I mean.
'Cause I'm just a girl- little ol' me
Well, don't let me out of your sight.
Oh I'm just a girl, all pretty and petite
So don't let me have any rights.
Ooooh...I've had it up to here!
"A'ight, I can see whare the joy in th' song is, but ya know, the rest of it jus' sounds like shit." I go back to my ritual stretchin' anyhow.
The moment that I step outside,
So many reasons for me to run and hide.
I can't do the little things I hold so dear;
It's all those little things that I fear
"What was that?" I holler an' he turns down the radio.
KNOCK KNOCK... KNOCK... KNOCK KNOCK.
We both sigh as total relief washes over us, an' Mark caref'ly opens th' door to let Princess in.
"Any cam'ras foller ya?"
"No. I almost thought I had the wrong room with the music and all. Where's my CD?"
Mark turns the radio back up, and I hafta yell a bit over it ta answer him.
"Nah, it's th' right room, but ya CD is no more." Speakin' a Moore's, he pulls a pack outa his pocket an' lights one 'fore ploppin' down on the make-shift couch and pullin' a Cosmo from 'is bag and singin' along with that god-awful shit.
Oh I'm just a girl livin' in captivity
Your rule of thumb makes me worry some.
Oh I'm just a girl- that's my destiny.
What I've succumbed to is making me numb.
"You know" he says as he looks up at us and sighs "The Rock is damn tired of running across arena's to get away from the people so he can relax after a match."