Thursday July 22, 2010
The Nest- Kitchen
Indianapolis, Indiana
3:21 PM Local Time
“Great,” Terrence muttered as he reviewed their upcoming trip itenerary. Three hours on the ground in Salt Lake City on the way out, and three hours in Minneapolis on the way back.
Goddamn, he hated flying.
Smirking quietly to himself, Terrence quickly flipped over to the Delta Airlines website, and hit the upgrade button. Five first class tickets weren’t going to come cheap, but he wasn’t about spend the weekend trapped in the sardine section of the tin can.
He looked up from his laptop as Wendy walked into the kitchen, carrying a small stack of envelopes in her hands. She smiled at her husband, then set herself to sorting out the newly arrived mail.
“Cable bill... water bill... electric bill...” Wendy muttered as she sorted through the envelopes, tossing each one on the table as if it were a dead animal. “What’s this?” she asked, coming to a strange looking envelope.
“Lemme see,” Terrence requested, and Wendy obliged, tossing the envelope onto his laptop’s keyboard. Terrence looked at it, puzzled. The return address for some nightclub in downtown Indy... a place he’d never even heard of.
“Probably an advertisement of some sort,” he said, ripping open the envelope nonetheless. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered.
“What?” Wendy asked, her curiosity piqued as Terrence surveyed the contents of the envelope.
“It’s a voucher for free admittance and half-price drinks at Club Midnight,” Terrence murmured, still eyeing the coupons.
“Club Midnight?” Wendy asked, puzzled.
“Boston Bancroft’s nightclub, apparently,” Terrence murmured as he read the attached note. “He’s personally inviting us to check the club out.”
“Really?” Wendy asked sarcastically. “Is business doing that badly?”
Terrence shrugged. “It looks like he’s just trying to bury the hatchet,” he said, handing Wendy the note. “Besides, it’d be a fun night out. We could have Cassie babysit and..”
“Neither of us even drink alcohol, Terrence!” Wendy responded fiercely, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Yeah,” Terrence shrugged, “But there’s other things to do in a nightclub as well. There’s food, and music, and dancing.” As he said the last, Terrence did a horrible seated version of the rumba, which at least illicited a giggle from Wendy. But within seconds, she had returned to irritably staring at the letter. Terrence quickly placed her hand on hers.
“I’m not proposing we go tonight,” he said amiably. “We’ve got to get ready for our trip to Spokane. But after we got back, we can pick a free evening and go. What’s the worst that can happen?
Wendy nodded, accepting Terrence’s offer to table the issue. “Fine, we’ll discuss this when we get back.”
“Fine by me.” Terrence agreed. “But there’s another issue... what are you going to do at Defiance?”
Wendy paused, not expecting the question. “I... I don’t know.” Wendy said quietly. “I guess I was just going to sit in the locker room and watch the show. I did want to talk to Jake Donovan, but considering he’s being trained by your opponent-”
“I want you to come down with me.” Terrence said, cutting her off.
Wendy eyed Terrence curiously. She and Terrence rarely stood ringside for each other’s matches out of fear that the presence of the other might be too distracting. “Why?” she finally asked.
Terrence shrugged again, “Why not?” he asked. “I said before Summer Games that we oughta do more together. If you don’t want to wrestle for Dane, that’s fine. But there’s no reason you can’t be my...” Terrence cut himself off.
But Wendy finished for him. “Valet,” she sighed in exasperation.
Terrence grinned sheepishly at his wife. “I’m not asking you to cheat on my behalf or anything. Hell, if anything, you could help keep Pollaski in line. And if things DO get ugly, well, I’d rather have you around than anyone else.”
Wendy thought for just a second, then broke into a smile. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Great!” Terrence said, giving his wife a quick hug. “This should be fun.”
Wendy didn’t quite share Terrence’s enthusiasm, but she nodded nonetheless. “I should probably go pack,” she quickly said, standing up.
“Yeah, me too,” Terrence said, and together, they left the kitchen.
=======================================================================
Thursday July 22, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
9:13 PM Local Time
[So, the bags are packed, The cat’s been fed. Everything is ready to go as the Birdz prepare for their weekend journey to Spokane, Washington.]
[Except for maybe one final promo]
[So we are in the WhirlyBirdz’ living room, Terrence Thompson sitting alone on the couch, He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt, and a pair of cargo shorts, and of course the ever-present sardonic smirk on his face. Could he be ready to rip the Angel of Death a new one?]
Twister: “I...”
[Terrence pauses, and that smirk disappears as his face goes completely blank. Terrence blinks, once, twice, before trying his hand at talking again.]
Twister: “I’m sure you all got to this part of the podcast hoping to hear some final words from me about my opponent. Some eloquent speech rebutting all that the Angel of Death said... or something.”
[Terrence shrugs, almost apologetically, and gives a bit of a lopsided smile.]
Twister: “Regretfully, that’s not going to happen.”
[According to some, he never does, but bummer.]
Twister: “See, after watching Angel of Death’s inaccurate, idiotic, diatribe, my brain has more or less... I can’t even explain it. There’s no way I could possibly put into words the pain and suffering my intelligence has gone through after listening to the Angel of Death talk.”
[You heard it here first, folks. The Angel of Death made Terrence Thompson’s brain hurt.]
Twister: “Maybe this is his new strategy. Maybe the Angel of Death is so washed up, that he has to resort to mind crippling stupidity to make his opponent submit in order to never be forced to listen to the sound of his voice again. Because after that, God knows I’m pretty damn close to tapping out.”
[Obviously, he’s being sarcastic. Althought that would be a hell of a way to end a match.]
Twister: “I don’t even know where to begin. I’m now facing a man whose greatest taunt he could think of was to compare me to a bathrobe. I’ve heard better insults during my fourth grade recesses.”
[Or in High Octane promos, for that matter... Terrence shakes his head, almost cringing as he remembers AOD’s words]
Twister: “And the inaccuracies. My God! Like how I’ve never won a World Title? Is there anybody else around who was not paying attention on December Thirtieth, Two Thousand Four, when I pinned Victor Mandrake to win the WWA World Title in front of sixty thousand screaming fans in the Louisiana Superdome?”
[Terrence almost looks incredulous about this. He very well should, considering that AOD was in the AWA when Terrence ascended the mountain.]
Twister: “Angel of Death, you need to learn how to pay attention. There are many regrets I have about my career, and what I was unable to accomplish, choking in the first round at the final Summer Games being one of the more bitter moments. But if you think I’ve accomplished nothing... obviously you haven’t been paying as close attention as you think. We both wrestled in the World Wrestling Alliance for years. I had FIVE alliance-wide title reigns to my name, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. How many had you gotten?”
[Terrence palms his forehead, as if he just suddenly remembered something]
Twister: “Sorry, I forgot. You were focusing on Hudson River and Appalachian Wrestling because you felt that by staying strictly to the regional shows, the fans would come running to the arenas to see you compete. That business strategy obviously worked out extremely well.”
[Considering HRW and AW are now very, very, out-of-business. Terrence now looks slightly pissed off, considering that AOD just essentially called his wife a coward.]
Twister: “As for my wife’s ‘sabattical,’ once again, you reveal your ignorance. Wendy continues to compete, but not in Defiance. While I wish she felt otherwise, I respect her decision to not put herself on Eric Dane’s payroll. It’s just another instance of you talking shit about something you couldn’t even begin to understand. You see, unlike the painted up hag you parade around with, my wife has morals.”
[Terrence shrugs, as if it was obvious]
Twister: “There’s really nothing more to say, is there? It’s obvious to me that I’m now facing a person who knows absolutely nothing about me, and hasn’t even bothered to a do a shitsquirts worth of research. I am not some concussion ravaged Ripper Longshanks, staggering down to the ring. I’m Terrence Thompson. I”m a former World Champion, in case that hasn’t quite registered in your head yet. I’ve already made my impact in Defiance, And Sunday Night, in Spokane Washington, I’m going to make another one.”
[Smirking grin.]
Twister: “Aye-Oh-Dee, let’s just say it involves you, the Last Lap, and a small crater in the wrestling ring. I’ll leave the rest up to your imagination.”
[Pause]
Twister: “Because you seem to be pretty good at imagining things.”
[Fade]
The Nest- Kitchen
Indianapolis, Indiana
3:21 PM Local Time
“Great,” Terrence muttered as he reviewed their upcoming trip itenerary. Three hours on the ground in Salt Lake City on the way out, and three hours in Minneapolis on the way back.
Goddamn, he hated flying.
Smirking quietly to himself, Terrence quickly flipped over to the Delta Airlines website, and hit the upgrade button. Five first class tickets weren’t going to come cheap, but he wasn’t about spend the weekend trapped in the sardine section of the tin can.
He looked up from his laptop as Wendy walked into the kitchen, carrying a small stack of envelopes in her hands. She smiled at her husband, then set herself to sorting out the newly arrived mail.
“Cable bill... water bill... electric bill...” Wendy muttered as she sorted through the envelopes, tossing each one on the table as if it were a dead animal. “What’s this?” she asked, coming to a strange looking envelope.
“Lemme see,” Terrence requested, and Wendy obliged, tossing the envelope onto his laptop’s keyboard. Terrence looked at it, puzzled. The return address for some nightclub in downtown Indy... a place he’d never even heard of.
“Probably an advertisement of some sort,” he said, ripping open the envelope nonetheless. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered.
“What?” Wendy asked, her curiosity piqued as Terrence surveyed the contents of the envelope.
“It’s a voucher for free admittance and half-price drinks at Club Midnight,” Terrence murmured, still eyeing the coupons.
“Club Midnight?” Wendy asked, puzzled.
“Boston Bancroft’s nightclub, apparently,” Terrence murmured as he read the attached note. “He’s personally inviting us to check the club out.”
“Really?” Wendy asked sarcastically. “Is business doing that badly?”
Terrence shrugged. “It looks like he’s just trying to bury the hatchet,” he said, handing Wendy the note. “Besides, it’d be a fun night out. We could have Cassie babysit and..”
“Neither of us even drink alcohol, Terrence!” Wendy responded fiercely, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Yeah,” Terrence shrugged, “But there’s other things to do in a nightclub as well. There’s food, and music, and dancing.” As he said the last, Terrence did a horrible seated version of the rumba, which at least illicited a giggle from Wendy. But within seconds, she had returned to irritably staring at the letter. Terrence quickly placed her hand on hers.
“I’m not proposing we go tonight,” he said amiably. “We’ve got to get ready for our trip to Spokane. But after we got back, we can pick a free evening and go. What’s the worst that can happen?
Wendy nodded, accepting Terrence’s offer to table the issue. “Fine, we’ll discuss this when we get back.”
“Fine by me.” Terrence agreed. “But there’s another issue... what are you going to do at Defiance?”
Wendy paused, not expecting the question. “I... I don’t know.” Wendy said quietly. “I guess I was just going to sit in the locker room and watch the show. I did want to talk to Jake Donovan, but considering he’s being trained by your opponent-”
“I want you to come down with me.” Terrence said, cutting her off.
Wendy eyed Terrence curiously. She and Terrence rarely stood ringside for each other’s matches out of fear that the presence of the other might be too distracting. “Why?” she finally asked.
Terrence shrugged again, “Why not?” he asked. “I said before Summer Games that we oughta do more together. If you don’t want to wrestle for Dane, that’s fine. But there’s no reason you can’t be my...” Terrence cut himself off.
But Wendy finished for him. “Valet,” she sighed in exasperation.
Terrence grinned sheepishly at his wife. “I’m not asking you to cheat on my behalf or anything. Hell, if anything, you could help keep Pollaski in line. And if things DO get ugly, well, I’d rather have you around than anyone else.”
Wendy thought for just a second, then broke into a smile. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Great!” Terrence said, giving his wife a quick hug. “This should be fun.”
Wendy didn’t quite share Terrence’s enthusiasm, but she nodded nonetheless. “I should probably go pack,” she quickly said, standing up.
“Yeah, me too,” Terrence said, and together, they left the kitchen.
=======================================================================
Thursday July 22, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
9:13 PM Local Time
[So, the bags are packed, The cat’s been fed. Everything is ready to go as the Birdz prepare for their weekend journey to Spokane, Washington.]
[Except for maybe one final promo]
[So we are in the WhirlyBirdz’ living room, Terrence Thompson sitting alone on the couch, He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt, and a pair of cargo shorts, and of course the ever-present sardonic smirk on his face. Could he be ready to rip the Angel of Death a new one?]
Twister: “I...”
[Terrence pauses, and that smirk disappears as his face goes completely blank. Terrence blinks, once, twice, before trying his hand at talking again.]
Twister: “I’m sure you all got to this part of the podcast hoping to hear some final words from me about my opponent. Some eloquent speech rebutting all that the Angel of Death said... or something.”
[Terrence shrugs, almost apologetically, and gives a bit of a lopsided smile.]
Twister: “Regretfully, that’s not going to happen.”
[According to some, he never does, but bummer.]
Twister: “See, after watching Angel of Death’s inaccurate, idiotic, diatribe, my brain has more or less... I can’t even explain it. There’s no way I could possibly put into words the pain and suffering my intelligence has gone through after listening to the Angel of Death talk.”
[You heard it here first, folks. The Angel of Death made Terrence Thompson’s brain hurt.]
Twister: “Maybe this is his new strategy. Maybe the Angel of Death is so washed up, that he has to resort to mind crippling stupidity to make his opponent submit in order to never be forced to listen to the sound of his voice again. Because after that, God knows I’m pretty damn close to tapping out.”
[Obviously, he’s being sarcastic. Althought that would be a hell of a way to end a match.]
Twister: “I don’t even know where to begin. I’m now facing a man whose greatest taunt he could think of was to compare me to a bathrobe. I’ve heard better insults during my fourth grade recesses.”
[Or in High Octane promos, for that matter... Terrence shakes his head, almost cringing as he remembers AOD’s words]
Twister: “And the inaccuracies. My God! Like how I’ve never won a World Title? Is there anybody else around who was not paying attention on December Thirtieth, Two Thousand Four, when I pinned Victor Mandrake to win the WWA World Title in front of sixty thousand screaming fans in the Louisiana Superdome?”
[Terrence almost looks incredulous about this. He very well should, considering that AOD was in the AWA when Terrence ascended the mountain.]
Twister: “Angel of Death, you need to learn how to pay attention. There are many regrets I have about my career, and what I was unable to accomplish, choking in the first round at the final Summer Games being one of the more bitter moments. But if you think I’ve accomplished nothing... obviously you haven’t been paying as close attention as you think. We both wrestled in the World Wrestling Alliance for years. I had FIVE alliance-wide title reigns to my name, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. How many had you gotten?”
[Terrence palms his forehead, as if he just suddenly remembered something]
Twister: “Sorry, I forgot. You were focusing on Hudson River and Appalachian Wrestling because you felt that by staying strictly to the regional shows, the fans would come running to the arenas to see you compete. That business strategy obviously worked out extremely well.”
[Considering HRW and AW are now very, very, out-of-business. Terrence now looks slightly pissed off, considering that AOD just essentially called his wife a coward.]
Twister: “As for my wife’s ‘sabattical,’ once again, you reveal your ignorance. Wendy continues to compete, but not in Defiance. While I wish she felt otherwise, I respect her decision to not put herself on Eric Dane’s payroll. It’s just another instance of you talking shit about something you couldn’t even begin to understand. You see, unlike the painted up hag you parade around with, my wife has morals.”
[Terrence shrugs, as if it was obvious]
Twister: “There’s really nothing more to say, is there? It’s obvious to me that I’m now facing a person who knows absolutely nothing about me, and hasn’t even bothered to a do a shitsquirts worth of research. I am not some concussion ravaged Ripper Longshanks, staggering down to the ring. I’m Terrence Thompson. I”m a former World Champion, in case that hasn’t quite registered in your head yet. I’ve already made my impact in Defiance, And Sunday Night, in Spokane Washington, I’m going to make another one.”
[Smirking grin.]
Twister: “Aye-Oh-Dee, let’s just say it involves you, the Last Lap, and a small crater in the wrestling ring. I’ll leave the rest up to your imagination.”
[Pause]
Twister: “Because you seem to be pretty good at imagining things.”
[Fade]
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