------[please allow me to introduce myself, i'm a man of wealth and taste]------

"I think I need more wine," Adora slurred, sounding perfectly clear in her mind, "I...I need more wine," she confirmed, nodding her head solemnly. "Don't you think so?"

"Mmmmaybe, yes, I think so," Morgy agreed. She smiled stupidly at her friend, her eyes pink and cheeks flushed.

"Okhay, 'cause I brought an extra bottle!" Adora proclaimed proudly. She looked around in all directions to check for potential spies or wine thieves or general thwarters of fun, before pulling a bottle of Shiraz out of her coat like a hobo, releasing it from her discreet (or so she thought) clutches.

"W...what about a screw? You know, a screwer..no no, a screwdriver. Yeah, thass the one?" Morgy asked, making a twisting motion with her hands, terrified that they'd have to crack it open on the sidewalk and suck it off the ground.

"Oh wifey, don't underestimate me so!~" Adora cried, emphasizing her R consonants deep in her chest, and reaching down her shirt to pull a small, two-stage waiter style corkscrew from her cleavage. They had long since left Quebec but refused to abandon their offensively stereotypical, though not all that inaccurate French accents; if anything, they would just become Acadian now. "Izz anybody watchinggg?" she asked, her eyes shifting loopily from side to side.

"They best not be!~!" Morgy exclaimed. "They best be steering clear o' my pot o' gold," she muttered, more to herself than to Adora, as her body swayed in circles. If she were a pencil and the air was her paper, there surely would have been sloppy, Spirograph-like patterns to show for her impeccable balance.

The two women had travelled to Nova Scotia early, at Adora's insistence, to see Guns n' Roses on the Canadian leg of their North American tour. In fact, if it hadn't been for her new Sin Wrestling schedule, chances were that Adora would have followed them around the world in an attempt to make an honest man out of Axl Rose.

"No no, if anyone understands the sancstitty of booze, it's the French and maritime folk...imagine how much maritime French understand it!" she marvelled before pausing for a moment to focus on a stationary object in the distance. Oh mah gawd, we haven't been drunk in so long," Adora wailed, dizzied by her concentration, "I've forgotten how to drink right."

"Me too," Morgy agreed. "Don't hog all of that there waaahn!" she she shook her fist angrily. "MAH CHEELDREN NEED WAAAHN!~!" she screeched dramatically, trying half-assedly to make her accent Acadian, though she wasn't sure what an Acadian accent sounded like. Adora handed the bottle to Morgy and they took turns chugging, each using their down time to gag violently. A small amount as left that neither woman was willing to drink, as the line between drunk and t-rashed-slash-vomiting was very thin.

"We'll leave this for the hobos," Adora decided, feeling that her humanitarian efforts for the year had been fulfilled. "Hobos in the niiiight, being so rancid," she sang to the tune of 'Strangers in the Night.'

"Fuck that," Morgy interrupted, "needs more Bohemian Rhapsody...remember when Axl sang Bohemian Rhapsody?!~" she nudged Adora, trying to get her even more riled up for the night ahead, if that was at all possible.

"Is this the real life?" she immediately began--no one had to ask her twice to sing that song. "I prefer fantasy, where Axl isn't chunkyyy," she sang, changing the lyrics off the top of her head. "Need to escape from reality, take a long driiiink, and skinny again he'll beeeee!" The song quickly took shape as a lament of Axl's long gone youthful beauty. "Axlll, just ate a ham," she tipsily skipped a verse and a half to the chorus, "put a fork into its ass, added the flesh onto his mass. Axlll, you were soo skinnyyyy, but you had to go and eat it all awaaaay!" she cried, crescendoing as emphatically as her small body would allow.

"Axlll," Morgy joined in, "oooooh!~! Why did you get fruity braids? If your hair's not straight this time tomorrow there's no hope in this world, and nothing really matters."

"Too late, he's old and round; sends shivers down my spine, but i still want to bang him all the time!~!" Adora took over again, singing the last line with such intensity that she lost track of what she was doing entirely. "Where was I?" she turned to Morgy, a sloppy grin plastered across her lips.

"Uhhh...walk an' think," she said, tugging Adora towards the arena's entrance. "The chorus?"

"I see a little silhouetto of a fat man; Axl Rose, Axl Rose, where did your eyebrows go?" Adora jumped back into the song, forgetting yet another large chunk of it. "Crack, smack, sex and booze kept him very thin! Too much jello, too much jello, too much jello, too much jello," she tried to sing the high and low parts clearly, but slid clumsily from chest to head voice and back instead. "Too much jello, for this fellow, he's getting faaaaat--"

"Dorita, shaddap! They won't let us in if you don't settle down!~" Morgy hissed, clamping a hand over her friend's mouth.

"Merrr," she pouted, even though Morgy was in front of her and not about to indulge any complaints. According to the venue, they had four minutes before the band was supposed to hit the stage, so Morgy took it upon herself to expertly navigate them through the maze of people, food, beer and merch stands that littered the container lobby for those lucky enough to have general admission tickets. Finally, they emerged from the lounge and found themselves standing on what was normally the Halifax Metro Centre's ice rink.

"Axl!~!" Adora shrieked, her tone crazed and frantic. "Where are you?! Come to me, my love!!" She and Morgy moved speedily through the people milling about and chatting mindlessly, pushing, shoving, ramming and sweet talking their way to the front of the crowd. The first three rows of people were impermeable; a solid wall of Guns n' Roses fans acted as a dam for the thousands of fans behind them who were desperate to rush the stage. "AXL!~!" she wailed again, maniacally, as if possessed by a horny banshee, or afflicted with severe, horny Tourette's.

"Why are all these cahcksuckers lookin' at us?" Morgy demanded angrily as she noticed people starting to send annoyed glances their way.

It was getting to be nearly two hours after what was supposed to be the beginning of GnR's set; Sebastian Bach and The Suicide Girls and whatever band opened the night had long since finished their own sets, and the massive crowd had been left to its own devices. Panic periodically rippled through the audience: Would Axl show? Would he cancel the concert because of something trivial, like not being allowed to drink onstage? Would the night end in a legendary Guns n' Roses riot? No one knew, but to pass the time, Morgy and Adora coached each other through various vocal warm ups to prepare for the fanatical screaming that would ensue. One acted as piano, singing the notes and scales that the other needed to mimic through either hums, trills and staccato or arpeggio exercises. Perhaps they weren't in key, or their pitch was horribly compromised due to both alcohol and noise in the arena, but that did nothing to ruin their good time. It was rare that the two women were allowed peace and anonymity in public gatherings--more so Morgana than Adora, who for the time being still maintained a relatively low profile--usually they'd be swarmed with their own fans.

Finally, just before 1am, the lights were dimmed just enough to indirectly let the crowd know that it was a matter of mere moments before the band would take the stage. Electric anticipation coursed wildly from one person to another, until the whole floor section was cheering madly and jumping to the music that had yet to be heard.

"FROM HOLLYWOOD..." boomed a deep male voice, "GUNS AND ROSES!" The arena went totally dark and crowd absolutely erupted in hearing the familiar line.

"Do you know where the fuck you are?!~?!" came Axl Rose's roaring, screechy voice as GnR's guitarist, Ron Thal, kicked into Welcome to the Jungle. "You're in the jungle, baby!" he informed the his adoring fans. "WAKE UP, TIME TO DIIIIIE!~!" Adora turned to Morgy, as if in slow motion, and opened her mouth to scream. Her eyes were wide, eyebrows pointed upwards emphatically like boomerangs, her red lips literally a large red hoop. Morgy stared at her friend's soft palate dangling at the back of her throat, her gleaming white teeth and her tongue, arched to accomodate the monstrous sound that would surely follow. Moments later, a squeal came tearing out of Adora's lungs, so shrill that Morgy wasn't sure if she'd been shrieking all along a note too high for human ears to register.

"AXAAAAAAAAAAAAAL!~#@~!#~!" she howled so loudly that Morgy had little doubt in her mind that she'd already blown her voice entirely. The two locked arms and began thrashing about, bumping violently into people even though they were far from the mosh pit. Most people around them welcomed the rowdy behaviour, but one woman in particular cast dirty glances periodically.

"Ugh, can you please stop that?" she demanded more than she asked. Clearly in her mid to late thirties, the woman was a cougar--perhaps once a successful groupie--who may or may not have ever had 'it,' but apparently thought quite highly of herself. One could easily tell that her blonde hair had been recently flat-ironed, but years of bleaching and abuse had thoroughly stripped her head of any smoothness and healthy shine. Her wide, flat ass was clad in jeans that probably fit her better before the bunch of illegitimate children she'd likely had, and her huge breasts were her only slimming features. A spineless little blob of a man accompanied her and it was hard to tell who got the shitty end of the stick in the situation.

Morgy and Adora glanced at each other, right eyebrows irritably and identically raised. Even if it wasn't too loud to exchange words, none would have been necessary. Through their wifetastic ESP powers, they had already established quite simply: this butterfaced bitch was going down. It wasn't very often that wrestlers were given the opportunity to utilize their professional skills outside of the ring, but what better time to act like rude, immature teenagers who push people around than at a Guns n' Roses concert? And who more deserving than silly broads who obviously spent hours primping for a show that they would have been better off bringing knee and elbow pads to?

"And you're a very sexy girl, very hard to please," Axl sang, prompting Adora out of her furious plotting long enough to howl passionately and possibly wet her panties a little. The woman shot yet another cunty look back in their direction, further bewildering Morgy and Adora--what in the blue hell was she doing there if she planned only to stand around and try to look hot for a bunch of rock stars who would NEVER pick her out of the 13, 000 other people there?

"We have to think of something to do to her," Morgy screamed into Adora's ear.

"Okay, we'll calm down for the rest of the song, but next song, BAM!~!" Adora yelled back. "We start thrashing and moshing like psychos...and then w'ell put our gum in her hair!~!~"

"Heeheheeh, yessss!~!" Morgy exclaimed, a Beavis-esque quiver of excitement in her voice. "And we'll spit on her too! Hehehe, yeah!~!" The band finished 'Welcome to the Jungle' and kicked immediately into 'It's So Easy,' one of Adora's favourite songs.

"Yyyyyyessss!~!" she cackled as she began to fling her body and limbs haphazardly in any and all directions.

Look at you standing there, you think you're sooo cool... why don't you just FUCK OFF!~!" Morgy and Adora sang along with Axl, strategically projecting their sound straight into each of the woman's ears. "You get nothing for nothing if that's what you do, turn around, bitch, I've got a use for you! Besides, you ain't got nothin' better to do and I'm bored!~!"

"IT'S SO EASY!!~!" the entire audience squealed in varying degrees of ridiculous falsetto. Morgy and Adora gave each other confirmation glances before preparing to launch a wad of bubblegum and globs of saliva at the back of the woman's head. A large hand clamped itself firmly on Adora's shoulder as she inhaled deeply and rolled her gum into a ball with her tongue, freezing her in place. She turned slowly and cautiously to see who stood behind her, more curiosity than fear apparent in her eyes.

"Miss Reed, Miss Draganova," greeted an enormous black man clad in a security uniform, his booming voice carrying easily over the noise, "I have instructions to--"

"I wasn't actually gonna do it!~!" Adora swore, swallowing her gum as quickly as possible. "I was only screwing around, I swear!~!" He paused momentarily, eyeing both women suspiciously before continuing.

"I have instructions to take you backstage; the Trailer Park Boys are unavailable to join Mr. Rose onstage like they usually do, and he feels that two wrestlers could do the trick and fill their shoes." Not waiting for a response, he turned and began walking away; in his world, people didn't ask questions about such opportunities, they simply complied one thousand percent and grovelled later. Adora's mouth gaped open theatrically. For all she knew, the man was a decoy being used to lure her and Morgy into some sort of abduction trap, but it was a risk she was willing to take. She tapped her bitch of a nemesis on the shoulder and stuck out her tongue childishly, before grabbing Morgy's hand and ploughing their way through the masses and after the security man. He led them out of the floor section and back into the empty container lounge, before heading down one long, non-descript hallway after another. Neither Adora nor Morgy spoke a word, for fear of saying something damning, so the two focused on maintaining composure and walking as straight as they could. Finally, they reached a cream-coloured double door devoid of any markings or signs indicative to what lay on the other side. The guard swiped at the alarm pad the armed the doors with his FOB--that's 'for opening barriers,' not 'fresh off the boat >:o--key and politely stepped aside, allowing the women to enter first.

Before them lay the sprawling backstage area, comprised of anti-climactic cement floors, steel support beams and empty road cases stacked everywhere. Both women appeared to be disappointed, despite the fact they were both wel acquainted with backstage areas in arenas. They were not glamorous or particulalrly interesting, and were it not for the audible moan of the audience just over yonder, they would be downright depressing.

"Stay here. Mr. Rose will come get you when he needs to to appear onstage," the guard instructed, before wander off to sit on a road case a chat on his cell phone. Dozens of other crew memebers wandered about, none of them paying Morgy or Adora any attention--they were accustomed to keeping to themselves and not bother performers.

"Oh mah gawd, we've been summoned for an impromptu publicity stunt!" Adora clapped her hands together gleefully. "This is like when Madonna and Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera kissed all slutlike!~!"

"I don't think he's going to kiss you, Dorita," Morgy said, trying to prevent Adora from getting her hopes too far up. "On the other hand, Corey Page should be loving us for plugging SW at a sold out concert!~! You just can't buy that kind of publicity."

"This is true," Adora agreed. "Assuming we don't make asses of ourselves. Like we trip and fall and I accidentally grab at Axl's weenis to regain balance. And I'd be like, 'I'm soooo sorry, I honestly didn't mean to grab at your peen, Axl, but you can grab at my boobies so we're eve--'"

"Hi ladies," interrupted a familiar low, nasal voice, "I'm glad you could help me out tonight." Adora was frozen in her place, terrified he'd heard her chattering away about his penis. How had he managed to leave the stage and appear behind her without her even noticing? Wailing guitar licks could be heard, though muffled, drifiting over from the stage; it was obvious that Ron Thal was indulging the audience in an extended solo. "My Canadian lawyer suggested this when I was having lunch with him in Toronto last week. You're a new client of his?"

"Brian told you we'd be here?~" Adora exclaimed, whipping herself around to face her beloved in person for the first time. There he stood, clad in a black jersey and loose jeans, his hair held in place by a red bandana. He was covered in sweat and tried to dry himself off as much as possible with a white towel as he spoke, panting between words.

"Yeah, he wanted to surprise you with this to affirm his dedication to you account," he replied calmly. How was Axl Rose chatting so calmy with her, while thousands cheered for him just metres away? Was she acting stupid or making herself seem foolish to him, she wondered, soberingly star-struck.

There was no time to find out.

"So here's the drill," he began, "I'll go back out there and talk to the audience, get some buzz going for the next song, then I'll introduce some surprise guests. You guys know the drill, get the audience going and we'll just improv it from there. Are we good?" he gestured with his hands, giving the two women two questioning thumbs up.

"We've got it," Morgy assured him, putting an arm around Adora and guiding her towards the stage entrance. Axl simply smiled and dashed back out to rejoin his band--now was not the time to gingerly ease a fan out of stunned reverie. "Here wifey," Morgy said, noticing a case of beer on a table, "get yourself some liquid courage!" She took a bottle--Alexander Keith's--and held it to Adora's welcoming lips. "You're going to go out there and pretend he's just some regular dude and act like your normal sassy self, mmkay?" she cooed.

"Give it up for Ron fucking Thal!" they heard Axl prompt, "giving Slash a run for his money one show at a time! Alright, you know we're always full of surprises, so for those of you lucky enough to be going to tomorrow night's Eternity taping for Sin Wrestling," he paused to allow some crazed cheering--people were ready to cheer for just about anything they were told to, "two former NEW World Champions and one current SW Lust champion: Adora and Morgana!"

Like most performers and entertainers, Adora shed her mortal skin as soon as she set one foot on a stage or ramp; she was no longer a mere human with faults and fears and insecurities, she was a superstar, larger than life. In the eyes of many admirers she became what Axl was to her--a fantasy to aspire to be like or live like or have for themselves, without ever truly working toward it.

"What's up Nova Scotia?" Morgy and Adora asked the audience in unison. "We're Morgana and Adora from SIn Wrestling," they introduced one another, "but you already knew that, didn't you?" they laughed and winked coyly at the audience, their faces enlarged monstrously on the stage's backdrop screen. Cheers exploded from the crowd, and it wasn't difficult to realize they were mostly male voices.

"We're competing for positions in February's Over the Top Rope Pay-Per-View tomorrow night," Morgana informed everyone, "And the wife and I have both got some pretty retarded matches."

"Against Johnnyboy and Dan Black--a guy who can't count and a guy who is deluded enough to think he's every teenage girl's fantasy," Adora said disdainfully as a round of boos filled the Metro Centre. "I think my opponent was trying to establish some sort of physical handicap pre-match, so it doesn't seem quite as shameful when I beat his ass silly!" I cackled.

"I think I speak for most guys here when I say that either of you ladies could beat me up anytime," Axl joked, wiggling his eyebrows seedily. "This next song's dedicated to those bunch of losers, Dan Black and Johnnyboy!" Axl shouted as the band kicked in to 'My Michelle.' He tossed spare cordless mics to Morgy and Adora, beckoning them to join in for the choruses. "Your daddy works in porno..."

To most, like Dan Black, few spectacular things happened, and they would continue to happen rarely. People like Adora and Morgana were the spectacular things that happened to people, and that's what set them apart. There would soon be little room in SW for said boring, directionless people. There would be even less room for those at the top who got there out of sheer luck and lack of competition; they, too, would soon be ousted from their cushy spots and replaced by true stars. Soon, a force would descend upon Sin Wrestling and shake it from the very axis from which it spun: Team Wifey.

The wrestling world would never be the same.