Prankster’s Log – 2018.04.26

2018.04.26
The Coming of the Prankster

“A-hem-hem-hem,” comes the sound of a female clearing her throat as cheerful music begins to play. Images appear on the screen of a wee little girl – images of her playing in a park, going to school and posing in front of a trailer at a small trailer park as the obviously fake British accent is voiced over the snapshots.

Fake British Voice: Once upon a time, in a small town in rural Idaho lived a little lass and her name was Lara Bratton. She was a good little girl, doing all the right things at all the right times and was never a cause for concern to anyone, including her large overbearing professional wrestler of a mother.

Pictures appear of professional wrestling “Tattle Tail” Candi Bratton in the ring for Grand Dragon Wrestling Alliance and Wildcat Wrestling, as well as a final shot of her holding high the Battling Ring Angels World Championship.

Fake British Voice: Candi Bratton spoke her mind whether you wanted her to or not. What you saw on television and in the arenas, that was not a façade or a persona. That was the real Candi Bratton and she was the same way at home. Candi Bratton was not one to hold back. The mouth of a sailor and the shape of King Kong Bundy, the mother of little Lara Bratton bulldozed her way to the #23 spot in the top 150 Women of Wrestling in her debut year.

More pictures of Lara play across the screen, this time of her in high school. Cheerleading, doing school work, presenting science projects.

Fake British Voice: Lara Bratton was what you might consider a white sheep in a family of black sheep. Her three older sisters were pregnant by 17, quit school by the time the children were born and continue to live in that small rural town to this day. However, Lara aspired to be better, to do better. To make something of herself. Lara Bratton wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps and become a professional wrestler.

The slideshow changes to Lara training in the ring as well as donning a referee’s outfit for some matches.

Fake British Voice: An injury sidelined her mother, who was brought into Battling Ring Angels as a troubleshooting referee with the condition that they employ her only daughter who amounted to anything, Lara Bratton. So while training to wrestle, Lara Bratton donned the stripes and became a referee for BRA until the federation closed down.

Shots changed of Lara now wrestling, different arenas against different opponents. Some with championships, some where she lost and looked dejected.

Fake British Voice: Lara went on to compete in the world of professional wrestling, traveling all around the world as the proverbial babyface for every organization she worked for. She was far too nice for her own good and many took advantage of her kindness, but she persevered and was prime for a shot at greatness. In line for a chance to become the champion of the world.

Duh duh duh duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh!

Fake British Voice: And then HE came along.

The music changes to something a bit darker now as the scenes of Lara and a man are shown, holding hands, kissing, hugging.

Fake British Voice: He walked into her life. Turned it upside down. She fell for his bullshit hook like and sinker. I can say bullshit on this program, can’t I? Oh, it doesn’t matter. She was head over heels in love and as nauseating as it sounds, it was a hundred times worse. I’m getting sick almost thinking about it.

Pictures appear of the proposal. He’s down on one knee, offering her a ring and she’s got her hands up over her face as if in shock and surprise, with tears streaming down her cheek.

Fake British Voice: Do we really have to look at this? Oh, very well. So, the proposal came. Professional wrestling seemed to be in Lara Bratton’s rear view as she quickly, perhaps desperately said yes and the wedding was set.

Duh duh duh duh duuuuuuuuuh!

Heavy metal guitar begins to play as background music as the tone changes yet again. That fake British accent is beginning to fade and perhaps some would recognize this voice is that of “Prankster” Lara Bratton as she steps in front of the pictures being presented on the green screen. “Then came the day the sun refused to shine. This asshole ran off with someone from work, took all my money and broke my teeny weenie heart into a thousand millions pieces! How can it be?! But don’t you dare shed a tear for little Lara Bratton because you see, a Bratton is a Bratton for sure. My mother always says, you don’t fuck with a Bratton. No way, no how.”

Bratton is dressed in her typical wrestling attire which consists of an oversized “Ramones” branded t-shirt, a shredded leather jacket, ripped and torn jean shorts, long tube socks of different colors tucked into her large steel toed boots. Her hair looks a mess as if she had just woken up from a week’s worth of sleep and her face is painted white, with mascara tears parading down her cheeks. Despite all of that, she wears a ominous smile on her face that might make her look a tad bit insane. “You see, the Brattons have a way of dealing with turds like this. While I personally can’t vouch for any of this next information, I did hear that his car was stolen and eventually found – well, I should say pieces of it were found, his house caught on fire and that pesky little slut who he ran off with, well I wouldn’t know anything about the compromising photographs that suddenly appeared all over her social media accounts. Nope, wouldn’t know a damn thing!”

Bratton crosses her heart and gives a little pout. “I promise!” She steps from in front of the screen and the camera follows her as she walks through a set, “So what’s a good little girl like me gonna do when she finally realizes that a Bratton is a Bratton through and through? She’s gonna go back to what she loved most! Professonal wrestling! My

one

true

love!”

As she walks, she brings her cane up and smacks against a poster for Fight Union, “And here I am, Fight Union fans. Bringing my talent and my crazy to a place that’s just a little different – just like me! I’m coming to make friends and have some play dates and drink a little tea, perhaps. All those things that coworkers do together!”

“And what’s that other thing we do?” She asks as she reaches up and scratches her chin, looking up as if pondering the questions. “Oh, that’s right. We fight. And who’s my first opponent?”

A long awkward pause as she begins to hum the theme to Jeopardy, when she finally stops she begins to sing to the tune of “Lola”

“No-no-no-no-NOVA! N-O-V-A Nova!” She slaps her knee and laughs as if she just made a funny.

“I hear this girl, Nova is gonna be my first competition. And I also hear she’s pretty good at this fighting thing. Well, I hope that you are, dear Nova because I am looking for some competition. But don’t take me lightly, cause I most certainly want to advance in this lovely tournament that “F-U” is putting on. Haha, get it? “F-U.” She leans back against the wall. “And Nova-dear, promise me that you’ll play by the rules because one thing I certainly hate is someone who breaks the rules. I mean, I would never ever ever break any of the rules to win a match,” the insincerity is most certainly dripping from the voice of the Prankster.

“Oh, and you wanna know why they call me the Prankster?”

She pushes herself off the wall and begins to wander off again, “Well, for one, I thought it sounded really really cool. And for two, well—you’ll just have to come meet me at Violent Behavior Numero Uno and find out. And when it’s all said and done, I can only hope one things, sweet Nova…”

She walks in and looks really close into the camera so all that is seen is her face.

“I just hope we can

still

be

friends.”

An evil grin spreads across her face as the scene fades out as the sound of her laughing also fades.