Thursday July 1, 2010
The Nest- Driveway
Indianapolis, Indiana
11:51 AM Local Time
*RATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATA!!!!*
The sound of firecrackers shattered the relatively quiet late morning air over the WhirlyBirdz neighborhood. Terrence, Pollaski and Theresa had arrived home Tuesday evening with no less than a dozen bags, each packed full of fireworks in preparation for the upcoming Independence Day Weekend. With so many explosives, Terrence had known that there was no way possible for them to set them all off on Sunday Night. So, of course, why not start early?
Already the Thompson family driveway resembled something of a warzone. Saturn Missile batteries lay devoid of all ammo, tanks lay overturned where they had exploded, and the shells of exploded firecrackers dotted the landscape. Standing over the carnage were Terrence Thompson and Daniel Pollaski, who were each carrying a lighting wand. A short distance away (too short, her mother had griped) stood Theresa, who had cheered with abandon at every explosion. Wendy had reluctantly agreed to let her daughter watch the daytime show, although Terrence had caught her more than once staring out the front bay window, a disapproving expression on her face.
Bah, he loved his wife, but she needed to let her hair down more, and have some fun.
"Aw, man!" Pollaski griped behind Terrence, and the Mechanical Mayhem turned around. Pollaski was holding up a decent sized rocket, but one of the tail fins had been torn in half. "I was looking forward to doing this one."
Terrence shrugged. "Give it here," he said, and his manager obliged. Terrence walked to the side of the driveway, sticking the rocket into the ground. "Get on the other side of the driveway, Theresa," he commanded, as he pulled out the lighter wand.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" the suddenly cautious Pollaski asked, edging towards Theresa, who was now a good fifty feet from the unlit rocket.
"Why not?" Terrence said mildly. "What's the worst that can happen? We'll stand a good ways away. Besides, those tail fins are probably just for aesthetic purposes."
"Well, when you put it that way, all my fears evaporate," Pollaski said sarcastically, backing even further away.
Terrence looked over at his retreating manager. "Wuss," he muttered under his breath, then lit the fuse, quickly backing away.
WHOOOOSH!!!!
The rocket took off, and Terrence smiled, knowing he was right- for about a quarter of a second. Then the rocket banked sharply to the right making a beeline for the house...
CRASH!!!!!!
Terrence's jaw dropped as the rocket crashed through the bay window overlooking the front lawn. He heard the tinkling of the shards of glass, and a terror filled feminine scream emanating from inside the house. He froze, standing and staring at the broken living room window. He was dimly aware that Dan Pollaski was walking up from behind, and clapping a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
"When you said 'aesthetic purposes', did you mean to the rocket, or to the house?" Pollaski asked, then roared in laughter.
Some dark corner of Terrence's mind told him that he really should punch his manager, but the vast majority of him was too numb to do anything but stare at the broken window in slack-jawed disbelief.
Then the front door opened, and Terrence knew that the hour of his death was nigh.
Wendy Briese-Thompson's flame-red hair was a mess, loose strands flying about the dark green scrunchy that held what was left of her customary ponytail. Her clothes were similarly rumpled, giving the impression that the young woman had dove to the ground the moment the rocket burst through the window. She had gone completely white, and was trembling, although whether that was from fright or rage Terrence couldn't immediately tell. In her hands were a pair of tongs, clamped around the smoldering remains of the rocket, which were embedded with several shards of glass. Terrence grinned sheepishly as his wife approached him, her emerald eyes glaring into his as she thrust the rocket towards him.
"I believe you're missing something," Wendy said, the mild tone in her voice belying the fire that had crept into her emerald eyes.
Terrence gingerly grabbed the rocket, taking care to avoid the shards of glass sticking out from the shell. It was no longer smoldering, but it was still quite warm to the touch. "Want me to call the window repair company?" He asked.
"No," Wendy said with an aura of false-pleasantry. "I'll do that. You're going to be busy with OTHER things," she continued, beckoning to the garbage can lying on the side of the house. Her face suddenly turned hard, and she glared at her husband. "EVERYTHING, Terrence. Oh, by the way, we have the ring for training at two."
Terrence deflated as he caught her meaning, and realized that his plans for the greatest Fourth of July weekend ever had just come crashing down. Still, he supposed he couldn't blame his wife's anger- he did almost just burn down the house with a firework, after all.
Wendy silently wheeled around, and headed back into the house, no doubt to find and call a window repair company. Theresa, deciding that whatever mommy might be doing would be more interesting, ran after in pursuit, leaving a very dejected Terrence and Pollaski standing in the driveway.
"We could put them in the trunk of your car." Pollaski reasoned, but Terrence shook his head.
"Nah, she'll probably check the can tonight anyways. Now grab a broom, and start sweeping the shells," Terrence commanded, sulking over to the garbage can, and tossing the rocket inside. He then walked over to the eleven remaining bags of fireworks, and began dropping them into the can one by one.
"When did you become so pussy-whipped?" Pollaski grumbled as he began to sweep the driveway into a nice little pile.
"Sometimes, you've gotta sacrifice something for the sake of peace," Terrence said with a small smile. "I don't have to get my way all the time."
"Yeah, but FIREWORKS, man!"
Terrence shrugged. "Just the way it is sometimes."
Thursday July 1, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
8:32 PM Local Time
Twister- "A blog? Are you fucking kidding me? One of my opponents just cut a BLOG on me? Now I know I've seen everything."
[Alright, we are opening up in the WhirlyBirdz living room, with Terrence sitting in his recliner chair, but things are obviously different than normal. Namely, the window is gone. In its place is a blue tarp, which pretty much kills the view of the WhirlyBirdz scenic front lawn. Guess the window guys couldn't make the repair until tomorrow.]
[Despite the obvious disappointment over the Thompson family matriarch's sudden ban on fireworks, the Mechanical Mayhem seems to be in a good mood. After all, any argument he and his wife have had about pyrotechnics safety pales in comparison to the opportunity both have on Monday, when they get their first shot at the PWX Tag Team Championships.]
Twister- "Oh well, I suppose its for the better. If I had to listen to that bit of crap, I probably would have been forced to put an axe through one of my televisions. At least by reading it I didn't have to listen to John Pariah's voice, and John was even nice enough to put the really important parts in bold. It's those little things that make those Internet posts feel so special, you know. Although a bit of spell-check wouldn't have hurt. Adrenaine? Definantly? How the hell are you gonna beat Wendy and I when Mavis Beacon would kick your ass?"
[Terrence shrugs, although a slight shudder, probably from nightmares about eighth grade keyboarding class.]
Twister- "But you're throwing a lot of stones in that post, John. The problem is, you seem to be living in a glass house. You falsely claim that Wendy and I are better singles wrestlers who have slunk to the tag division because we weren't making any progress on our own. What the fuck are you and Norcia? You get your ass handed to you by John Ojeda, and suddenly, you're turning to every former enemy you have on speed-dial, begging them to put aside your differences so you can find some success. You got Tyler Graves to play along with you for a week, that didn't work out, so now you've brought in the so-called "Hand of God". So if this incarnation doesn't work out, is Danny Szatkowski next on the desperation partner depth chart? You could call yourselves The Brit and the Twit."
[Oh yeah, absolutely awful lame joke, but Terrence chuckles nonetheless.]
Twister- "It's obvious that you have no clue about the success Wendy and I garnered during our first run as a tag team, and I won't bore you with tales of glory against tag teams that you likely have never heard of. But I will say that there's a damn good reason my wife and I are in the WfWA Hall of Fame as a team, and not as singles. We've beaten the best the WfWA had to offer, and we will beat the best the PWX has to offer, whether its the Kings Among Men, the Belmonts, the Fallen, whoever the hell JPO decides to put in our way."
[Small shrug]
Twister- "And I'll be the first to admit that we haven't exactly faced the fiercest competition during our march through the PWX Tag Ranks. I'm fully aware that beating Punch and Pie is hardly any form of achievement. But there you go throwing your stones again, Johnny. Who exactly have you defended against, again? The Fallen? Yeah, we beat them too. And come to think of it, considering you were James Silkk's mentor, their lack of ability doesn't exactly speak positive things for you. And of course, your so-called 'epic' three-on-two beat-down of Cash Money and Mikal Grayson. After those two insane challenges, I'd be ready to declare my supremacy too."
[/sarcasm]
Twister- "Let's just lay it all out in the open. Each team is going to be the toughest test the other has had in their PWX tenure. So let's not get all into this crap about who beat who, because we've both faced fairly shitty opponents in the tag division. In reality, besides the Kings and the Birdz, there's really only one other credible tag team remaining in Pro-Wrestling X, and if I recall, the one time you took on the Belmont's, it didn't really end well for you."
[Ah, there's the infamous cocky grin from the Twister. Although he apparently does feel secure enough to leave out that he's 3-0 against said Belmonts in singles competition. Just sayin'.]
Twister- "But we can both name-drop and give history lessons until the cows come home and the fans fall asleep. Because that's all in the past. Let's talk about the future for a second, Pariah. The future of the PWX Tag Team Division resides in Indianapolis, not Crown Point. You boys may be bigger and stronger, but I can guarantee you that my wife and I are faster, more technically sound, and we will have greater chemistry in that ring than you could ever hope to achieve. It's one of the perks of being married to your tag partner."
[There's other perks, too. However, due to the risk of pissing off said wife/tag partner, Terrence won't be mentioning them on camera.]
Twister- "Now, as far as you go, Michael, you seem an interesting sort. When you came back to the PWX for your match at Full Throttle, you gave such an interesting story about how you had been away from the PWX for YEARS, and how those letters had NEVER crossed your mind until that fateful day when John Pariah rang you up with a proposal to bail his ass out in Razor Wire Warfare? It's a good tale, but it makes me wonder... if you had been away from the PWX for YEARS... who the hell was that at the very first Adrenaline following PWX's return last September?"
[Twister appears to be thinking for just a second. It's actually the same expression he carries when he's constipated.]
Twister- "Then again, if I lost to Jackson, I'd probably want to forget about showing up too."
[BURN!]
Twister- "Michael, you seem to me to be a victim of your own success. You're the King of the Death Match, which you insist on telling us every time you open your mouth. Now, don't get me wrong. I don't have a problem with "Extreme Rules" in wrestling, at least not to the extent that my wife does. Hell, whacking someone over the head with a chair is an efficient way to get a win, and the funny noise you get is somewhat of a bonus. Not to mention it's a GREAT way of relieving stress. But here's the question- how one-dimensional are you? Are you another John Ojeda, so quick to proclaim dominance in a death match, but then folds like a paper fan the moment all the toys are taken away?"
[Terrence shakes his head and snorts in derision.]
Twister- "This isn't King of the Death Match or Razor Wire Warfare. This is true tag team wrestling, and if you want to walk around proclaiming yourselves the dominant tag team in the WORLD, you better know how to win a straight up wrestling match. Other than your own ability, and your partners, there isn't a damn thing in this world that can save you from the Mechanical Mayhem and his wife."
[Could have saved by a firework mishap, but that already got the kibosh. Time to wrap it up.]
Twister- "Over and over again, all I hear is that the Kings reign supreme. Well, it's time to prove it. A wise man once said, to be the best, you've got to beat the best."
[Terrence spreads his arms wide, in a clear challenge and invitation.]
Twister- "Take your best shot, Your Highnesses"
[Fade]
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