MAY 26, 2010
THE NEST- LIVING ROOM
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
5:34 PM LOCAL TIME
"Six... seven... eight... nine... ten!"
Daniel Pollaski looked down at his stopwatch, and shook his head. "Eleven point two."
Wendy Briese shook her head in frustration, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Like pretty much everything else in her life, Wendy had taken her appointment as the referee in the Hollywood/Price match seriously. She had spent several days pouring over the PWX honor code, and every rulebook she could find, trying to memorize every last detail so she could officiate a fair and just match. At least until Pollaski had pointed out that the match was to be contested under Last Man Standing Rules. Or, rather rule, as the only one was "beat the shit out of the other guy long enough so that he lies on the ground while the referee counts to ten."
So, after watching her hopes of spending an evening demandng rope breaks and administering five-counts get dashed, Wendy had decided that she better do the one thing a ref does in a last man standing match extremely well.
Unfortunately, so far her attempts at counting to ten in exactly ten seconds had not been turning out well.
Wendy began another count as her daughter bounded into the room, looking at her mother with a quizzical expression her face.
"Eight... nine... ten!" Wendy finished.
"What are you doing, mommy?"
Pollaski chuckled, "Your mother's learning how to count to ten, Theresa."
"That easy!" Theresa boasted, looking at her mother with as smug an expression as a three year old could muster. "I can do dat!"
"I know, Terr-Bear," Wendy said, chuckling softly to herself. "But mommy has to be the referee in a match, and she wants to do a good job. I don't have years of experience and training that's required to be a wrestling referee, but I want to be able to at least not embarrass myself."
"Are you kidding me?" Pollaski countered. "Have you seen our refs? JPO probably wants you officiating this because none of the regular refs can even remember what somes after six. Heck, I'm surprised some of them can even make it to three!"
"What was my time?" Wendy demanded, pointedly ignoring Pollaski's commentary.
Pollaski looked down, and stopped the stop watch. "One minute, sixteen point three seconds." He replied sheepishly.
"Great, let's do it AGAIN," Wendy huffed, rolling her eyes. Again, she started counting. As she passed four, Terrence walked into the room, scooping his daughter up as she squealed and ran at him.
"How's counting practice going?" he asked, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice for the sake of his own health.
"Great," Pollaski replied, grinning as he stopped the timer. "Hopefully in a couple hours, she'll be able to make it to eleven."
"My time, please?" Wendy demanded, shooting her manager her now-trademark death glare.
"Nine point three. Too fast."
"Maybe you should try saying 'Mississippi'," Terrence offered as Wendy again closed her eyes in frustration
"Or maybe we should take a break." Pollaski quickly suggested as Wendy bit her lip and clenched her fists, a sure sign her temper was being tested.
"That's a good idea," Terrence said. "Because I have a surprise for everyone."
"Turn four this year?" Pollaski deadpanned. The Indianapolis 500 was only three days away, and the entire city was abuzz with excitement over the upcoming race. Terrence Thompson, auto enthusiast to the end, would of course sooner die than miss the event, so it was a fairly good guess that the news had something to do with the race.
"Not quite," Terrence replied with a smirk, unable to quite keep the giddiness out of his voice. "You know that BP oil rig that's leaking? Well, company execs decided it would put on a bad public face if all their brass were cavorting in a private box at the greatest race in the world. So... well, let's just say that Uncle Steve needs to check out ebay more often!"
Wendy's jaw dropped. "You got us a luxury suite to the Indianapolis 500?"
"Kinda," Terrence said with a laugh. "Thompson Auto has reserved a luxury suite for its employees and their families. And since I'm co-owner, that means us! And at firesale prices too!"
"No pun intended," Pollaski muttered under his breath, considering the incident that led to the suite being vacated.
"Terrence... that's wonderful!" Wendy beamed, thankful that for once she wouldn't have to sit in the baking sun for five hours.
"Yeah," Pollaski scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Unless of course, you know, you're NOT an employee of Thompson Auto."
"Dude," Terrence said, arching his eyebrows. "You ARE an employee. So's Cassie."
"What?" Pollaski blinked, stunned.
"Its for tax purposes," Terrence explained with a shrug.
"Nice," Pollaski chuckled, happy he was going to get to see the Greatest Spectacle in racing after all. "Just, can I be the one to tell Cassie the news?"
Terrence shrugged. "Sure," he said, while Wendy, unnoticed, hid a knowing smile behind her hand.
"I think I'll do that now," Pollaski said happily, quickly getting up, and running out the front door. In just a few seconds, Terrence and Wendy heard a car revving, as Dan's Saturn peeled off.
"Wow... he seems excited," Terrence deadpanned.
Wendy giggled, drawing a surprised stare from her husband. "What's so funny?" Terrence asked.
"Nothing," Wendy said innocently as she stood up. "I supoose I should go figure out what we're wearing to the race."
"We?"
Wendy looked over at her husband, and scoffed. "Terrence, its a special honor to get to sit in a luxury suite. It's not something you'd wear jeans and a t-shirt to."
With that, Wendy quickly ascended the stairs, little Theresa running after her, leaving Terrence Thompson standing alone downstairs.
"But I LIKE jeans and a t-shirt!" Terrence whined to the empty room.
MAY 29, 2010
THE NEST
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
2:01 PM LOCAL TIME
(MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND!)
(The unofficial start of summer has finally arrived, and what a busy weekend it is turning out to be for the Thompsons. Getting ready for both the Indianapolis 500 and Full Throttle, the neighborhood barbecue, UFC fights, parades... just so much going on.)
(And of course, the Chicago Blackhawks in the Stanley Cup Finals! If the Cubbies get their heads out of their asses, its gonna be a good sports year for Terrence Thompson.)
(So with all the hustle and bustle of Memorial Day weekend, ya oughta feel damned lucky Terrence Thompson's taking some time to cut a promo. But, there he is, on the back deck of The Nest, kicking back in a lawn chair, a cool glass of iced tea sitting on the table beside him. The camera is set up on a tripod in front of him facing so that the house can be seen behind him. It appears that he's the only one aound, save for Chaunticleer, the Thompson family cat, who can be seen through the sliding glass back door on the table, going to town on the blueberry pie Wendy bought for the block party. Bad kitty!)
(But enough of that- promo time.)
Twister- "And then, there was one."
"Me."
(Of course, Terrence is wearing an Indianapolis Motor Speedway t-shirt, and a pair of faded and tattered blue jeans. He also, of course, has that sardonic smirk on his face.)
Twister- "And that, kids, is how you do it. I came, I saw, I won May Madness, and there wasn't a damned thing anyone in this company could do to stop me. I showed the world that when it came to my ambition, not even my own wife can stand in my way. I literally ran a lap around Jeremiah Belmont, and I gave his wife a firsthand experience what terminal velocity feels like. And then, I stood on top of the world. Kinda makes me wonder why I even tried retiring in the frst place"
(Small snort of amusement from Terrence. After all, when you go from being a lucky-if-you-make-the-top-15 auto racer to THE MAN in pro wrestling, its a bit of an ego rush.)
Twister- "But, alas, my journey is not quite over. For now I face Jacob Wright, for all the marbles. Our champion, such as it is. And is there a better moment for me to get my first shot at the PWX Championship? A show called 'Full Throttle'. A new belt called the Grand Prix Championship. A former auto racer going in the challenger. Do you believe everything happens for a reason, Jacob?"
(Ya see, cause that's the first line of Jacob's entrance song. What a clever guy.)
Twister- "Jacob, you seem like a good guy. You're a bit on the idealistic side, but hey, so's my wife. And I really wish I could say I had all the respect in the world for you but unfortunately... I don't."
"How did you win the title, Jacob? Beating Thor to keep a cute little briefcase, then beating Darin Zion after he just finished a monster of a match with his former best friend. If you had cashed in that briefcase on your own volition, I'd praise your opportunism. If you had waited until Zion had recovered, I'd praise your sense of fair play. But you did neither. You waffled in your uncertainty, and made Zion have to make that decision for you."
(Terrence shakes his head in disgust, his eyes never leaving the camera.)
Twister- "Jacob, when it comes to the top belt in a promotion, there can be no uncertainty."
(Another snort, this one of derision)
Twister- "Had that been your only sin, I might have let it slide, but unfortunately, since you've won at High Stakes, you have only devalued the title even further. See, a true champion needs to take on and defeat all comers, whether the title is on the line or not. And he ESPECIALLY needs to defend the honor of is title. What the hell do the fans think when the supposed top guy in the company loses to the secondary champion? At the last pay-per-view, the PWX Championship was devalued by Brian Hollywood to the point it was a MIDCARD match. The fact of the matter is, the fans buy John Ojeda as more of a champion than Hollywood, than Zion, than you."
(And now, that sardonic smirk is back in full force)
Twister- "But not me."
(Grin)
Twister- "See, Jacob, I AM the reason this is the main event. While Ojeda was planting you face first with the Viking Sledgehammer, I was throwing Valerie Belmont off a ladder. While you were defending your title against that emo-fruit James Silkk, I was overcoming my wife and her gargantuan idiot of a tag partner. When you were losing curtain-jerkers to Randy Treehugger, I was in the gym, training for my comeback. Preparing for the moment my name was called, and it came time for me to take my rightful place at the top."
"That moment is now. Given your antics, Jacob, I don't think you quite realize who you're facing. See, I'm as much a goofball as the next guy, but I'm smart enough to know that when the top honor is on the line, its time to get serious. This is the main event of a show people are going to pay forty dollars to see. They don't want to see our champion playing 'Spy Kids' in the hallway, shoving IHOP menus under doors. And they sure as hell don't want to see him bellyflopping through a table, grinning like a retarded six year old all the while. No, Jacob, the fans want blood."
(Terrence leans forward in his chair, all semblance of a smirk is gone now, replaced by a gaze of pure intensity.)
Twister- "Yours."
(Thems be fightin' words! )
Twister- "And on Monday, I'm going to give them what they want. I'm going to give them a champion they can be proud of. Someone who will represent the PWX with pride, and honor, not juvenile pranks and shenanigans. And there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me, Wright."
(And once more with the smirk)
Twister- "Haven't I already proved that enough?"
(Fade)
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