FREJA AND ARIZONA ARE FUCKING

   “For the record I don’t appreciate you two being sneaky tricksters.”

   “Did Wixson just call us sneaky tricksters? Please tell me she was talking to us,” Arizona said, pulling Freja over to the obviously angry Wixson.

    “I found out that the entire show wasn’t going to blow up like the Speed bus if I stopped pretending to be a Grape-Orange tree,” Wixson said, angry.

    “I’m sorry,” Arizona apologized, “for being such a sneaky trickster.”

    As soon as Arizona finished her statement both Freja and Arizona collapsed on each other laughing.

    “What are you laughing at F-R-E-J-A?” Wixson asked with an attempted edge in her voice, “You shouldn’t laugh because… because… this is you.”

    Wixson takes a deep breath and then, in a mix of a Chinese and Jamacian accent she says, “Oh look at me! I am Freja. I look mean all the time. I think I’m a rock person. I think I’m an edgy rock star like…” Wixson paused and stood there, mouth agape, trying to think of a name of a rock star. The only music Wixson had in her collection were songs from icarly that she VHS taped off the TV, then held a tape player up to the speaker on her TV. “I’m Freja and I think I’m Billy Joel,” Wixson said in her strange Freja inspired accent, “I’m Freja and I like kissing other ladies in their personal zones.”

    “Did Wixson just use the term personal zones?” Arizona asks and then holds on to Freja as she bursts into laughter again.

    “Please stop, I think my spleen is going to burst,” Freja begged Wixson in between fits of laugher.

    “Whatever Arizona. I’ll be you now,” Wixson said, then went into her next impression, “I’m Arizona, no one knows where I came from, but I’m named after a state where Wixson’s grandparents live and they smell weird and so many grandparents live in that state that probably smells like medicine and decomposition.”

    Wixson was sad that she had been pranked by two sneaky tricksters, but Freja and Arizona’s infectious laugh eventually won her over and Wixson’s chubby cheeks cracked a smile.

****NOTE: This is a work of FICTION*****

   Freja had noticed a lot of new faces at the recent shows. Arizona was very rational about it and said that the girls weren’t competition because, “no one can out-Frej, Freja.”

   Freja had no idea what this meant, but it made her feel better.

   Arizona had suggested that while she was walking in the show, Freja could distract herself by getting to know the new girls. A little shy, Freja got some props from food services; a glass of OJ and some grapes. She would share them with one of the new girls and make her feel at home. Arizona would like this plan, Freja thought to herself.

   Then Freja saw Wixson and the plan went out the window.

   “Hi Wixson,” Freja said, approaching Wixson with her food and drink in hand.

   “Hi Freja!” Wixson said, excited to meet one of the biggest names in the business, “I like how mean you looked on the runway,” Wixson said. Freja decided to take this statement as a compliment.

   “I have a question,” Freja said, coy, “Have you ever seen Speed?”

   Wixson stared off into space a moment and then said, “Once at a party Charlotte showed me a bag with-“

   “-no. The movie. Have you seen “Speed” the movie?” Freja clarified.

   “Oh. No. Momma said there was too much violence in it,” Wixson responded.

   “Okay, that’s weird, but whatever, the point is, in Speed, the bus had to keep up a certain speed or it would explode.”

   “Why?” Wixson asked.

   Freja paused. “Becau- well. They- um. Whatever, because that’s how things are.”

   “Oh,” Wixson said, regretting her monthly metro card.

   “And someone did that same thing at this show! Like in Speed,” Freja said, acting dramatic,” We’re all in trouble here!”

   “Oh no. We’re in trouble? Like the time I ate that Christmas poinsettia?” Wixson asked.

   “Worse! If someone doesn’t hold this OJ and these grapes and pretend to be a statue for the rest of the day, we’re all going to blow up.”

   Wixson’s eyes went wide.

   “I wish someone here was brave enough to do it,” Freja said.

   “Probably Arizona,” Wixson suggested.

   “No!” Freja yelped. She would never betray her desert queen.

   “Okay, I think I will do it,” Wixson said, taking the glass of OJ and the grapes.

                               +++

   Arizona bounced backstage and before next her dress change. She stopped and looked at Wixson, then looked at Freja. “Oh no. Why is Wixson pretending to be a grape tree?” Arizona asked.

   “Because Speed,” Wixson responded, deadly serious.

***Note: This is a work of fiction***

   “Shooting with Terry is so awkward, why does he have to take off all of his clothes again?” 

   “Shh, my desert queen,” whispered Freja, stroking Arizona’s chesnut hair. “It’s just part of his creative process, I guess. And preferbly with a male or female’s mouth touching his genitals. It’s okay, even Wixsen has shot with Terry.”

   “Yeah, but it seems really easy to trick Wixson,” Arizona responded.

   “Oh, totally. He probably told her it was a carrot she had to be gentle with,” Freja says giggling, but her smile soon falls.

   There’s an awkward silence then both lovers echo “Ew.”