Saturday September 11, 2010
The RV- Main Cabin
South Bend, Indiana
2:17 PM Local Time
“How in the fuck is Minnesota losing to SOUTH DAKOTA!” Pollaski grumbled as the box score flashed on the RV’s television.
“Sorry, man,” Terrence said, struggling to keep a straight face as his manager glowered at him.
“Fuggin’ Gophers,” Pollaski huffed again, flipping off the television. Considering that they were in the stadium parking lot, awaiting the kickoff of the Michigan-Notre Dame game, he was probably going to get all the football he wanted this afternoon. “So,” he said, changing the subject. “See Pariah’s promo yet?”
Terrence nodded, his jaw clenched angrily. “That fucking son of a bitch,” he growled. “Using September 11th for shock value?”
“Yeah, well, no one ever accused Pariah of being tasteful, that’s for sure,” Pollaski said, hopping out of the chair. “Ah well, fucker’s gonna get what’s coming to him soon enough.”
Terrence nodded, then turned to Pollaski. “Speaking of which... is Wendy really going to go through with the Civil War match?”
Pollaski shot an incredulous look at Terrence. “Of course she is. Why wouldn’t she?”
Terrence grimaced. “You know what kind of match it is...” he said darkly.
Pollaski paused, thinking. Terrence spoke the truth- the match was a Seventh Circle Death Match, a type of match that Wendy detested... and feared. Pollaski almost shuddered as he thought back to what had happened when Ojeda and Szatkowski went through the last one, several months ago at High Stakes. Finally, he turned to Terrence. “She’ll be okay, dude.”
Terrence nodded, although he remained unconvinced. “I just want my wife to remain in one piece.”
Before Pollaski could respond, the door opened, and out stepped the ladies of the WhirlyBirdz entourage. Wendy had pulled out all the stops for the Michigan game, dressing herself up in a dark green dress that ended just above her knees. Her flaming red hair was tied back, pinned by clip that was adorned with a large green shamrock. In addition, Wendy had managed to convince Cassie to paint another shamrock on her left cheek. While Theresa didn’t quite wear her mother’s garb, she too had a shamrock painted on her cheek, Cassie, being sensible, had settled for borrowing one of Wendy’s old Notre Dame T-Shirts.
“Well, how do I look?” Wendy asked, holding her arms out and giving a quick twirl. Theresa, seeing her mother, twirled around twice herself for good measure, drawing a chuckle from Pollaski.
Terrence grinned. “You look positively Irish,” he said, reaching out and hugging her in close, kissing her on the lips. “Makes me wish EVERY day was Saint Patrick’s day.”
Wendy giggled, then broke away from her husband. “We should get going, the game’s in less than forty minutes,” she said. “What were you talking about?”
Terrence shrugged. “Just PWX stuff. John Pariah’s promo in particular.”
Wendy paused, then scowled. “I saw that,” she said darkly. “I was planning on cutting mine after the game. I’ve got a lot on my mind about him..”
“I can imagine,” Terrence said, grabbing a small bag that contained sunscreen, bottles of water, and other odds and ends to help his family survive four hours in a stadium.
“Alright, let’s go,” Terrence said, taking a quick glance around to make sure he had everything. “Theresa, you gonna walk or ride?”
“Walk!” the little four-year old proclaimed.
“Alright,” Terrence said, smiling, reaching his hand out, which Theresa eagerly grabbbed. “Don’t let go, Terr-Bear, I’d hate to lose you, and you spend the rest of your life living in the stadium.”
“Terrence!” Wendy scolded, although she remained smiling, as she, Cassie, and Pollaski followed her husband out the door.
==========================================
Sunday September 12, 2010
The RV- Main Cabin
Crown Point, Indiana
11:31 AM Local Time
[Well, if football games were fifty-nine minutes, thirty seconds long, the Irish would still be undefeated]
[But alas, Michigan scored with 27 seconds left to go, thus breaking Notre Dame’s (and Wendy’s) heart with a 28-24 victory. Needless to say, the normally even-tempered redhead was rather disappointed by the loss. Figuring she was in too bad a mood to cut a promo that night, Wendy elected to wait until the next morning, when she would have gotten over the game, and been in a much better mood]
[Eh... not so much.]
[Scene opens in, as usual, the main cabin of the WhirlyBirdz RV. Wendy is sitting alone in the cabin, on the hideabed, sitting as rigid as normal. Actually, probably even more rigid than normal, and Wendy’s emerald eyes glare at the camera.]
“Its been said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results.”
[pause]
“I can’t think of a better word to describe John Pariah.”
[Wendy shakes her head in disgust, almost looking as if saying John Pariah’s very name has instilled in her a sudden urge to vomit.]
“For the third time, John Pariah, and a partner of his choosing, will step into the ring to do battle against the WhirlyBirdz with the tag team titles on the line. And for the third time, John Pariah approaches the match with the exact same mentality.”
[Eye-roll]
“We get it, John. You’re awesome. You’re dominant. You’re the greatest thing to ever happen to Pro Wrestling X. You’re the grand puppetmaster, the mastermind of every thing. All bow down to the great Pariah!”
[Needless to say, Wendy’s voice is fairly sarcastic. Just as sarcastic is her pose, as she looks as if she’s trying hard to recollect something.]
“What is it again that you’ve done? What has made so great?”
[Shrug]
“Because, I’m sorry. I must have blinked and missed it.”
[Yeah, it goes without saying that Wendy’s definitely not in the best of moods this morning.]
“You’re a failure, John. You can deny it all you want, but the proof is in the pudding. You failed with the Hierarchy. You failed on your own. You failed as Chicago’s Finest. You failed as the Kings Among Men. And you are nine days away from failing with the Cartel.”
[Pause]
“That’s a lot of failure. Especially for a man with an ego as big as yours.”
[Wendy snorts in derision, and shifts slightly in her chair.]
“The problem is, you don’t learn. Every time I’m set to face you in a match, all I hear, over, and over, and over, is about how great you are. But once that bell rings, all that talk, it doesn’t matter anymore. In the ring, you need to let your ability, your strength, and your skill do the talking.”
[Blink]
“You’ve been pretty quiet in the ring, John.”
[Wendy rolls her eyes, as if Pariah’s an irritating gnat who needs to be swatted.]
“Have you ever even considered that maybe if you pulled your head out of your rear, found some humility, and learned from your mistakes, you wouldn’t keep losing to us?”
[Wendy snorts with derision again, and shakes her head in disgust]
“That’s not the John Pariah way though, is it? Who cares about winning, or losing, or even just putting on a good wrestling match? Worn out catch-phrases, witless snide remarks, and delusions of grandeur are much more self-gratifying, right?”
[Wendy shifts again in her seat, and glares full on into the camera.]
“And every time you talk, it reveals more and more just how little you really know. And I’m not talking about your warped perceptions of tragic events that occurred nine years ago.”
[Wendy pauses for just a second to collect herself, her eyes blazing with fury. Its understandable- Wendy was born on Manhattan Island, and spent much of her childhood in the shadows of the towers. While she no longer considers NYC her home... obviously the comparison of the Cartel to the masterminds has clearly upset her. Fortunately, she mnages to keep her cool, and move on.]
“Like how Terrence and I are outsiders, come to the PWX to steal spots from the real workers of this company? You really should try thinking things through before you open your mouth.”
[Another blaze of anger crosses Wendy’s mind, but again, it’s fleeting. ]
“You might remember, John, that the PWX WILLINGLY entered into an agreement with the WfWA. And when Terrence and I returned to wrestling, we CHOSE the PWX, because it was the best fit for us. It was close to home, and we knew, looking at the talent level in here, that we would find good opponents to put on matches with.”
[Slight pause]
“And for the most part, Terry and I have not been disappointed. Whatever you consider us, John, Terrence and I are PWX wrestlers, just as much as you, the Belmonts, John Ojeda, anyone is. From the moment we signed our contracts in April, we considered Pro-Wrestling X our home, and we will continue to do so, Alliance or no Alliance. And I myself was HONORED to carry the PWX banner at Tag Wars, Summer Games, and CWC’s Infamy, and I will be proud to do so again in just under two weeks, at CWC’s Episode 11.”
[A short, grim smile]
“But let’s flip things around for a second, Pariah. Why is it that you, the apparent epitome of PWX loyalty, can’t go thirty seconds without mentioning another wrestling company?”
[Wendy holds up four fingers, the expression on her face as sour as ever.]
“There were four such references in your last promo alone. What’s your obsession, John? Is PWX not enough for you? Do you secretly wish you belonged to a different promotion? “
[Pause]
“Or are you just trying to be ‘cutting edge’ and ‘cool’?”
[Wendy scoffs, as if the idea of Pariah ever being ‘cool’ is laughable.]
“Because if that’s it, you’re failing miserably. To get into the vernacular, you look more second-rate and lame than anything else.”
[Wendy swings her hand out in a gesture that is akin to someone showing another pesron the exit]
“If you’re so obsessed John, by all means, join them, and leave the PWX to those of us who want to make it the best wrestling company on the planet, regardless of what our geographic influence, fanbase, and marketing potential is.”
[The unblinking gaze is back, as Wendy leans forward.]
“And that’s why you don’t deserve these titles, John. There is no substance about you. You’re little more than a doll with a pullstring that says a couple of phrases that may appear witty at first, but become older, and more stale, with each passing day.”
[Crouton, anyone?”]
“Of course, I would be remiss if I failed to mention Pariah’s partner, Lillith Morgan.”
[Wendy smiles humorlessly, the intensity never leaving her eyes.]
“Lillith, ever since you jumped me from behind, pulled my hair, and fed me to your husband for his Broken Dreams, I’ve been hoping for a match with you. You’ve laid pretty low over the past few months, content to stand on the sideline while watching the rest of the Cartel do all the work”
[Small shrug]
“Ah, but you’re a clever one too, aren’t you? Making insinuations about me and JPO, simply because I felt that he was the rightful owner of the company. You know, that’s the first time in my life I’ve EVER been forced to listen to an outlandish claim of infidelity.”
[Wendy’s voice is absolutely dripping with sarcasm.]
“I don’t think the dedication to my marriage needs to be called into question. After all, not everyone can be as... ‘free spirited’ as you are, Lillith.”
[Another disdainful snort.]
“We are nine days from the biggest night in PWX’s history. Nine days from ending the three month nightmare that is Brian Hollywood’s ownership. John, you have to feel the foundation crumbling under your feet. Everything you’ve done to me and my husband has failed. We’re still standing strong. There is nothing you have done, or can do, that will change that.”
[Wendy gazes one more time into the camera, the expression on her face hard, her eyes still blazing. Finally, she gives a small, grim, determined smile.]
“We will not break.”
[And fade]
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