EPISODE 34: Twitterpated

Saturday August 7, 2010
The RV- Cockpit
Interstate 65- Indianapolis, Indiana
9:11 AM Local Time

Wendy Briese adjusted her seatbelt and smiled as the RV accelerated up the incline, the forty-five foot Newman King Aire smoothly gaining speed in preparation to merge onto Interstate 65.

Saturday morning had arrived at last, and the WhirlyBirdz, with daughter, manager, and babysitter in tow, had finally managed to set out when they had intended to, rolling out the driveway at nine o’ clock sharp. The trip to Louisville would only take about three hours, so the WhirlyBirdz were looking forward to spending the afternoon, camping on the banks of the Ohio River, resting up for the final push towards the Respect is Earned pay-per-view and their match against the Cartel.

Looking in the passenger side window at the receding Indianapolis skyline, Wendy waited until the buildings of downtown disappeared behind an overpass, then turned her attention to the three people riding back in the main cabin. “Everything okay back there?”

She was greeted with affirmative mumbles from Pollaski and Cassie, and a small cheer from the four-year old Theresa, who, to Wendy’s immense relief, still seemed to view every single excursion by the family to a show as a new adventure. How many nights had she lain awake, fretting over how Theresa would react to this new life? She was relieved that those worries turned out to be for naught. Now if only she and Terrence could continue to avoid serious injury.

It wouldn’t be an easy task this week.

Even though Wendy hadn’t had any fretting spells since the night of the last Adrenaline, the implications of her match continued to weigh heavily on her mind. The entire cartel was eligible to participate in the match, while only Terrence would accompany her into the ring. Of course, Pollaski would be on the outside, but Pollaski’s main objective was to prevent outside interference. When every single member of the opposing stable was allowed to participate, there technically WAS no outside interference.

But there remained a glimmer of hope- Wendy’s win over Wild the previous week. Like this weeks match, the contest had been tailor-made by the Cartel to ensure her defeat. But last week, she had won the match. And despite what anyone in the Cartel had claimed, Terrence hadn’t technically interfered in the match, only ran Pariah off after he had decided to abuse his officiating powers and become directly involved. If they could win last week, they could win this week.

She turned slightly as she heard the heavy sound of footsteps approaching, and smiled as Daniel Pollaski, swaying with the motion of the RV, sat down on the floor between her and Terrence, looking out the windshield at the passing scenery.

”How's she handling?" Pollaski asked, more to make conversation than anything.

"Pretty good," Terrence responded, as he switched lanes to maneuver around a slower moving semi-truck. "We'll be to Louisville in no time."

"Ah, Louisville," Pollaski said, breaking out into a smile. "Home of the Cardinals. Isn't it fitting for us to be defending our titles there?"

"Why?" Wendy asked, arching an eyebrow at her manager. "Because Cardinals are birds, and we're the WhirlyBirdz?"

"Yeah," the rotund manager said, then broke into a grin. "Almost makes as much sense as an ex-auto racing wrestler winning the Grand Prix Title at an event called Full Throttle."

"Shut. Up." Terrence growled, not amused in the least by the comment, and even Wendy winced at the barb. Pollaski snickered quietly, but merely yawned, and watched the road.

Wendy looked back over her shoulder again, smiling as Theresa was watching the Little Mermaid, while Cassie DeSlair, the Birdz travel-along nanny, had laid down for a nap. Theresa looked over at her mother, and broke into a wave, and Wendy waved back. Reaching down, she began to unbuckle her belt, to climb into the back to watch the movie with her, but...


BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP!

Pollaski nearly jumped out of his skin at the noise, and Terrence nearly ran the RV off the road at the sudden beeping coming from somewhere on Wendy's body. Both men turned towards the redhead, their mouth's open.

"What in the blue firey hell of Detroit was THAT?" the Mechanical Mayhem demanded.

"My Twitter," Wendy answered, as she rooted through her purse for the phone.

Pollaski regarded Wendy with a mixture of shock and horror, and even Terrence had once again taken his eyes off the road, albeit briefly, to regard his wife. "You're Twittering?"

"Tweeting," Wendy corrected.

Terrence rolled his eyes, and turned his attention back to the road, while Pollaski shook his head in disgust, mumbling something about 'holy water to get the stupid demons out'.

"And, no, I'm not 'tweeting'," Wendy continued, ignoring her husband and manager's reaction, and taking her droid out of her purse. "But some of the wrestlers like Valerie Belmont give updates on it, so I figured it would be a good way to keep up to date with our colleagues."

"Valerie Belmont twitters?" Terrence asked, adamantly refusing to use the proper term. "What's that say? 'Just drank a pint of type O negative? Tastes like kool-aid?'"

Pollaski snorted in laughter, but Wendy rolled her eyes. "No, nothing like that. She pressed the touch screen on her phone a couple times. "This one is from John Pariah!" she exclaimed. Wendy quickly read the tweet. "Looks like he beat us to Louisville."

"Oh, well THAT'S vital info," Pollaski quipped sarcastically. "Although its nice to see that a member of the Cartel is able to beat you at SOMETHING."

Wendy smiled, and Terrence laughed, which was promptly cut short in a gnashing of teeth as Wendy's phone beeped again. Wendy quickly read the tweet.

"Stopping by the gym at OVW to do some training though. Can never be in awesome enough condition."

"Yeah, this is gripping," Terrence said. "A bunch of annoying beeping noises followed by a special message from John Pariah. I can totally see the appeal in this."

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP!

"I'm going to break your goddamn phone," Terrence promised his wife with a feral growl.

Wendy ignored him, and read the next message.

"Not like i'll need it. My opponents are shmucks."

Terrence burst into laughter so hard that he had to jerk the steering wheel to keep the RV on course. "Shmucks?"

"There's the appeal, right there," Pollaski informed the male half of the Birdz. "Now we can be insulted in one-hundred forty character bursts."

"Heh, suppose it's better than the blogs he writes," Terrence countered. "A thousand words of self-promoting bullshit."

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP!

"Wendy... I swear to God if I hear that noise one more time..."

Wendy quickly checked the tweet. "oh, and Edward says hi" she said, rolling her eyes. "I've had enough," the young woman said, as she deactivated the Twitter application, and stuffed the phone back into her purse.

For several long seconds, no one spoke, and Wendy debated with herself over telling Terrence what was on her mind. Finally, she decided that it wouldn't hurt to breach the subject.

"I've been thinking about our match," Wendy said quietly although it definitely grabbed the attention of both men.

"And?" Terrence prompted.

"You and I both know that this is a tough situation for us," Wendy began, "there's no telling how many members of the Cartel could be involved. I think even if we wrestle the best match of our lives, things might get pretty desperate in there."

Terrence nodded. "That's pretty much what I'm figuring too. But you and I do well when it's gut-check time."

"Yeah, well." Wendy paused. "You remember that idea for a move I came up with? The one where-"

"Hell no." Terrence interrupted, glancing at his wife incredulously. "I'm not doing that."

"Terrence, please" Wendy pressed, "Just consider it. If this match gets as messy as I think, it might be our best chance."

"To what, get my wife killed?" Terrence demanded, shaking his head angrily. "Wendy, you were just telling me that you were afraid of getting injured in this match-"

"You honestly think that it would hurt more than what those thugs could do to me?" Wendy countered. "I know the risks, Terry. But if we hit it at the right time, I think victory will be pretty much guaranteed. I'm not saying we do it, no matter what. I'm just asking you to keep an open mind about it."

Terrence didn't say a word, but stared straight ahead, biting his lower lip. Wendy sighed, and looked out the window. She knew her idea was a testy subject for the both of them, but she felt it needed to be brought up.

Finally, she undid her seatbelt. "I'm going to the back to watch TV with Theresa. Just promise me you'll think about it."

Terrence managed to jerk his head up and down, his jaw still clenched. Wendy leaned forward, and gave her husband a kiss on the cheek, then walked back to be with her daughter. Pollaski, grateful to no longer be sitting on the floor, perched himself into the passenger seat looking out the window.

They drove in silence for a long time, both men apprehensive about Wendy's request. Terrence knew his wife was right. If connected, they would probably be able to win the match easily. But if they missed...

He didn't want to think of the consequences.



===================================================
Sunday August 7, 2010
Riverside Park RV & Camping
Prospect, Kentucky
11:31 AM Local Time


[It's been a couple years since the WhirlyBirdz last visited the lovely city of Louisville, located in northern Kentucky on the banks of the Ohio River. The last time, was just a couple years ago, when they came for the Kentucky Derby. They left with Wendy in tears, although she was hardly the only one who had been deeply affected by the death of poor Eight Belles, who broke her leg just yards after the finish line, and was put down on the spot.]

[Hopefully Wendy's one filly that can cross the finish line in one piece on Monday night. Although calling Wendy a 'filly' would likely get one slapped. Or at least a REALLY nasty glare from the woman.]

[Anyways, we're not in the RV today, but rather a lovely grass field situated on the banks of the Ohio River. Wendy sits in a lawn chair, about six feet or so from the bank, the camera mounted on its usual tripod about seven feet away. Wendy's wearing a pale yellow knee-legnth sundress, and a pair of sandals. She sits with a small glass of water in a cupholder on the chair, staring directly into the camera with those piercing emerald eyes. Wendy, as usual, sits fairly rigidly, and while there is a soft smile across her face, the intesnsity and apprehension she is feeling is clear.]

Wendy: “Respect.”

[Pause]

Wendy: “Respect is is a commodity that is universally desired. We want the respect of our superiors, our peers, and our subordinates. It makes our lives easier when we are well-regarded by other people. A boss who respects you will listen to your opinion, because he feels it matters. A subordinate who respects you will follow your instructions, because he believes following you will lead to a better end. It’s a basic fundamental of human nature to crave this.”

[Wendy is speaking with the air of a college professor beginning a lecture on ethics.]

Wendy: “I don’t believe there is any occupation in the world where the word gets misused more than in professional wrestling. On a constant basis, we hear wrestlers speak of beating respect into their opponents. This is, and always will be, a physically impossible task. Respect is not earned through repeated blows to the head. by breaking bones, or dislocating limbs. This instills fear, not respect, and while the two are so often confused, they are very different.”

[Wendy pauses, and blinks for just a second, before continuing.]

Wendy: “The difference between fear and respect is that respecting something is strictly voluntary, while fearing is strictly involuntary. When opponents respect each other in a wrestling match, we get hard fought, clean contests. Take last week, when my husband faced Dorling. Both men left everything they had out in that ring, trying to beat each other. Yet, there was no animosity. each man held the other in high regard, so they knew that achieving the victory in and of itself would mean something. ”

[Wendy sighs, and for a second, looks away into the distance, remembering the few times in her career she was in such matches. But she recomposes herself, and turns her glare back to the camera.]

Wendy: “Fear is more prevalent in this industry than anyone would ever be willing to admit. Every wrestler, from Jeremiah Belmont to Sami Jacobs, fears something. We can fear losing, or injury, or humiliation, and in extention, we fear those that we know are capable of inflicting those things upon us. It’s obviously possible to fear and respect someone at the same time, but when there is fear, but no respect...”

[Wendy swallows hard, and takes a deep breath.]

Wendy: “That’s when very bad things tend to happen.”

[Like it was said earlier, Wendy was at the last Defiance show in Spokane, Washington, where Eric Dane shattered his leg, Justin Brooks had his head rammed into a grate until he was comatose, and Evan Hurley permanently paralyzed after being powerbombed headfirst into an exposed turnbuckle. Needless to say, the effect of watching such things has had a profound effect on her, especially considering her upoming match.]

Wendy: “Between the WhirlyBirdz and the Cartel, there is much fear, but very little respect. I fear the Cartel because they are a threat to my well-being. While they haven’t shown themselves capable of defeating me, they certainly are capable of injuring me, or my husband, and I hardly desire that. On the contrast, The Cartel fears us because we are a threat to their reputation. They haven’t been able to beat us in a clean, fair competition. Heck, they haven’t even been able to beat us when the deck is stacked in their favor! Its hard to declare yourself ‘dominance defined’ when you keep losing to people.”

[Even the normally even-tempered Wendy can't help but roll her eyes at the comments various members of the cartel have made.]

Wendy: “Perhaps nobody in the world is more incapable of grasping this concept than John Pariah. John claims he and his cronies crave respect, but he goes about attaining it in the most ineffective, even counterproductive, ways imaginable. Respect is earned by facing your opponents on a level playing field, or even when you are at a disadvantage, which is something John refuses to do. What does John stand to prove with this match? That six people are better in a fight than two? That he and Edward Burden are incapable of winning anything on their own merit?”

[Wendy shrugs]

Wendy: “Respect is also earned by taking personal accountability for your shortcomings, another thing John refuses to do. John now claims that he intentionally lost at Do Or Die, because somehow me pinning Michael Norcia proves what a great wrestler he is.”

[The confused expression on Wendy’s face is almost comical. She can’t quite figure out how that works.]

Wendy: “It’s no secret that John Pariah is an arrogant man. You can tell in the way how he talks about how the Cartel has ‘forty world titles’, and how they are ‘wrestling gods’. But Pariah and the Cartel’s track record speaks for itself. Including Do Or Die, members of the Cartel have had 10 wins, 9 losses, one draw, and one no-contest over the past month. That’s hardly a win-loss record I would expect a group of ‘wrestling gods’ to carry.”

[At least its a winning record!]

Wendy: “But where Pariah falls the shortest in his quest for respect, is his own values. The one honorable thing John Pariah has done this year was at Vendetta, when he fought John Ojeda to defend his brother’s honor. And Ojeda hurt him so badly, it was thought his career would be over. John has gone from that noble act of self-sacrifice to allying himself with the very man who nearly ruined his career, and running his brother out of the company.”

[Wendy's eyes narrow in anger, at the thought of a man treating his own flesh and blood that way.]

Wendy: “Like every other cowardly bully in the world, John Pariah gravitates to stronger forces for protection and shared glory. Protection he may find, but there is no glory to be had in the Cartel. Even should the Cartel manage to swarm us and win this match, there will be none. All they will inherit are two leather straps that will lose their value the moment we are pinned.”

[Wendy pauses for just a second, then decides its time to change tack.]

Wendy: “Edward Burden is another man who has deluded himself with illusions of his own grandeur. I watched his interview this morning, and never have I heard a man say nothing in so many words. I understand he is upset with the attack my husband and Mandrake inflicted on him, but I had nothing to do with it, nor do I approve of it.”

[It’s true. You shoulda heard the lecture she gave her husband when she found out.]

Wendy: “The contradictions in Edward’s interview are astounding. I am incapable of accomplishing anything without my husband’s help, but Edward sat at ringside when I pinned Brian Hollywood. Edward claims he will destroy me without Terry there to help, but Terrence is involved in this match. He claims we have taken it easy since winning our titles, and yet I faced HIM last week! And Edward’s never made a mistake in the ring, and yet he’s already lost TWICE since his return.”

[Yes, twice. Although to be fair, its easy to not make a mistake when you have zero offense the entire match...]

Wendy: “Honestly, the amount of inaccuracies and inconsistencies in Edward’s rambling incoherent diatribe are so numerous, it would take me until bell time just to go through them all. But the gist of it- at least from what I could understand- was that Terrence and I are undeserving champions. On Monday night, the world will see just how wrong he is.”

[Once again, Wendy is refusing to refer to Wild by his ring name. It would be interesting if she ever explained why.]

Wendy: “Last week, I walked into a match with Edward, fully expecting to lose. I’m not particularily proud of how it happened, but I ended up walking out the winner. Regardless of whatever decisions were made after that match, what happened in that ring showed me one thing- whatever odds the Cartel throws at us, Terrence and I CAN overcome them.”

[Wendy shifts ever so slightly in her seat, and the intensity in her eyes increases noticably as she now directly addresses her opponents]

Wendy: “John, Edward, and whoever else decides to get involved- do whatever you think you need to do to win, because Terrence and I can handle it. We won’t need weapons, or Pollaski, or anything else. Between the three hundred and seventy-two pounds in our bodies, there is more than enough heart and skill to take on all seven, or eight, or however many there are of you!”

[As Wendy talks, the intensity of her voice rises in a kind of crescendo, so that while she's not exactly yelling at the end, its probably the most fierce we've ever seen Wendy in a promo]

Wendy: “I’ve already said that I fear the cartel, and what they can do to my husband and I. This is nothing new to me... when you’re a one hundred thirty pound girl taking on men twice your weight, fear tends to go with the territory. But I do not let that fear rule me. Instead, I take that fear, that knowledge that I could be crippled or worse at every turn, has always given me a strength of will that allows me to overcome the toughest of obstacles. And so it will be on Monday. As for the Cartel, YOUR fears, the fears that you will soon be rendered irrelevant, your reputations destroyed...”

[Wendy pauses, and breaks into a small smile. The sinister expression on her face is almost unsettling, considering her normally pleasant demeanor.]

Wendy: “Those are about to become reality.”

[Fade]