Monday, November 1, 2010
The Nest- Master Bedroom
Indianapolis, Indiana
12:09 AM Local Tiime
“Well,” Terrence chuckled as he slipped a plain white T-shirt over his head. “You can never say our Halloweens are boring.”
He grinned at his wife, a rather sheepish gesture, made especially more so that Wendy didn’t even acknowledge him. Dressed in a pink satin nightgown, Wendy sat in their bed, the covers up to her lap, leaning back against the headboard. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and was staring at the television with a stony expression on her face. Terrence looked over at the television, his grin widening. “Ah, the Attack of the Giant Gila Monster! This one’s a classic.”
Wendy’s expression still didn’t change, she just continued to stare at the television, where the title character had just ran a car off the road, and was preparing to feast on the poor, screaming human trapped inside. Terrence shook his head and chuckled at the horrible acting in the movie, then climbed into the bed, next to his wife. Sitting upright, and leaning against the headboard himself, he looked over at Wendy.
“I’m glad you decided to stay in wrestling, although I’m sorry that’s what made you realize not to listen to her.”
No response. Terrence grimaced. “It’s not the end of the world, you know. You don’t need to be so pissed.”
For a few seconds, the only movement Wendy made were her eyelids blinking. Finally, but without turning towards her husband, she spoke. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Terrence rolled his eyes, and stifled a yawn. “I really hate it when you play that card. I mean, its not like they were actually...”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Wendy said, her voice taking on a sharper edge. “I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Fine, okay.” Terrence said, holding up his hands to remind Wendy that he was unarmed. “Didn’t you just give a huge lecture to Ashley Graves about not being angry?”
For the first time since she had gotten into bed, something other than Wendy’s lips or eyelids moved, as she turned her head just enough to deliver her now-famous death glare to her husband. “I think I have every right to be angry right now, Terrence. And I never said that anger is wrong. I just said it was unwise to lose control over it.”
“Oh, so you don’t call what happened down there losing control?”
“Good night, Terrence.” Wendy snapped, and she slid away from the headboard, giving her enough room to lie down. Pointedly lying down facing away from him, Wendy reached up, and turned off her bedside lamp, the room going dark, save for the black and white flickering of the television.
=====================================
Sunday October 31, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
7:13 PM Local Time
[So just in case you haven’t been looking at the time stamps, this actually takes place BEFORE the prior section. Just to aviod a bit of confusion here, mmkay?]
[Anyways, its pretty obvious right from the fade in that Terrence Thompson thinks that his match with John Ojeda is a big deal. After all, normally Terrence appears in his promos decked out in a t-shirt and jeans, occasionally sporting a nice button down collared shirt when he really wants to look nice (or Wendy makes him, take your pick).]
[But never before in his life has Terrence worn... this]
[Either its Halloween, or Terrence just got made Grand Duke of Poofyland, He’s wearing a brown pair of slacks, and a old-style white military jacket, with gold epaulets (those are the frilly thingies on the shoulders), Over the coat is a belt, and over the belt is a wide gold and silver sash, running from his right shoulder to his left hip. Completeing the ensemble. is a large red white and blue medal, fastened to his jacket over his left breast. For just $100, its a pretty damned debonair looking costume.]
[Nontheless, Terrence is slightly red around the neck as he gestures to his attire.]
“Sorry about the clothes. As you can guess, it’s Halloween, and we’re just about to leave for a party. I’m going as Prince Charming. We’re kinda doing a theme this year.”
[Terrence looks over his costume, and shrugs]
“I actually kinda look good in this...”
[With another shrug, Terrence turns his attention back to the camera]
“Well, unfortunately, our match with Gloabal Revolution didn't exactly go the way we planned it. It was just getting good too, and then John Ojeda, for third time in the past five weeks, thought it necessary to come out and whack me over the head with a metallic object.”
[Terrence chuckles, although there’s really not that much humor in it.]
“Nevertheless, Wendy and I are still the tag team champions. We survived two tough consecutive weeks against two very talented teams, and we eagerly await to see which team emerges from the next match victorious.”
[Terrence cracks his knuckles, and cricks his neck, then leans forward just a bit, his eyebrows arching slightly]
“And on to this week we go. John Ojeda”
[Smirk]
“I’m sorry I didn’t go running around screaming about how you were going to pay for those sneak attacks, but truth be told, I’ve been a bit busy. You see, I’m also one-half of the the tag team champions, and I owe it to my partner and wife to give as much attention to defending those belts as I do the Grand Prix Championship. I’m sure you don’t understand- even sticking that jackbooted skank you run around with into the ring with you hasn’t made you any competent in a tag match. But trust me when I say that I fully intend to hang on to both my championships for a very, very, long time.”
[Another short chuckle, and the smirk widens.]
“But, unfortunately for you, John, you now have my full, undivided attention.”
[Which, considering Terrence, is saying something]
“I think it’s pretty safe to say that I’m more than a bit annoyed with you and your bullshit over the past few weeks. After all, this whole running down and attacking from behind thing- it’s almost like the Cartel’s still around. I thought you were trying to put that whole fiasco behind you.”
[Small shrug]
“But this week, that’s all going to end. This week, you and I are getting into that cage together, and you’re going to learn that just because you can thwack me over the head a couple of times, that doesn’t mean you’re capable of becoming champion of this company.”
[Terrence pauses, and thinks for just a second]
“Of course, thwacking people over the head with a chair is how you got this match in the first place, I guess. After all, John, you ARE the King of the Death Match, and all bow to you in your amazement. Well, those who actually watched, because last I checked, ratings for that tournament were so low that they didn’t even bother airing the final round.”
[Terrence smirks, and shrugs]
“I’m sure you have an excuse for that, the way you manage to come up with an excuse for all your failures. And there are a LOT of failures where you’re concerned, John. A lot.”
[Short pause]
“In fact, what have you even attempted in PWX that hasn’t ended in a colossal failure? Obviously, the fact that you tried bullying Szatkowski around, only for it to blow up in your face, has been well documented. But going beyond that, Ojeda, what exactly have you accomplished around here, other than winning a tournament that everyone lost interest in halfway through?”
[Smirk]
“The best part is, my wife is the main reason your ventures have collapsed. After all, she was the one who broke your hold over JPO. With a simple phone call, your blackmail over him was swept aside like a twig that had fallen into a raging river. From there the dominoes began to fall, and it ended with you lying in a bed of barbed wire, pissing your pants as electricity coursed through your body.”
[Well, of course Terrence is guessing here. But in fairness, that much juice would probably make someone lose control over their bladder functions]
“But don’t think for a second that I’m underestimating you, John. I know you can beat me, and I’m sure as hell not about to let that happen. After all, as the PWX champion, it’s my duty to uphold the honor and integrity of the company and it’s top belt. You being champion would pretty much put our reputation into the toilet.”
[Pretty big words, coming from a guy who’s cutting a promo dressed like Prince Charming.]
“So this week, Ojeda, we’re going to settle it. A ‘vanilla’ cage match, as you call it. And I know, I could have done anything I wanted with this match. But the thing is, John, I don’t NEED to be in a Seventh Circle Death match to put on a good show. I could have made this a standard match, if I had wanted to, and don’t think that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. But when my manager pointed out that a standard cage match had never been done in the year-plus of PWX history, I figured why the hell not? After all, the Grand Prix Championship has yet to be successfully defended by the champion, so why not make the second of November a night of firsts?”
[It’s also election day in America. Just sayin’]
“And no, I’m not entirely concerned about you smuggling a weapon into the cage. I’m not exactly a dummy, John, if you want to get something into that cage, you’re going to get it in there. I mentioned ‘no weapons’ because I know how PWX management works, and I kinda figured that if I didn’t mention it, they’d probably have started looking for weapons to chain to the walls the moment Adrenaline went off the air. Considering that it’s because of my wife that I got to pick the match in the first place, it only seemed fair that I picked a type of match that she didn’t completely detest.”
[And believe us, Wendy wasn’t all that happy about the cage match, either]
“And if you think about it, John, that match being in a cage actually helps you. Considering that you lost our first encounter in part because you were an idiot, and went after my pepper spray wielding manager and my fully-trained wrestler wife for the heinous crime of cheering me on from ringside, at least this time you won’t get distracted by anyone else. Unless, of course, the bars are really shiny, and you start attacking your own reflection..”
[Terrence smiles, then suddenly looks away from the camera, his jaw dropping in astonishment]
“Yowza...”
[From off-camera, we can hear Wendy’s voice.]
Wendy: “You about done?”
[Terrence nods]
Terrence: “Yeah, give me a sec.”
[Terrence turns back to the camera]
Terrence: “Don’t think for a second I’m done with you, Ojeda, but for now I have to get going. After all, I’m not dressed up in this outfit for my own health. All of you have a happy and safe Halloween, and I’ll see you all soon.”
[Terrence nods, and suddenly, the feed cuts out]
=================================
Sunday October 31, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis Indiana
7:21 PM Local Time
“How did you do?” Wendy Briese-Thompson asked as she watched the digital camera power off.
“I’m happy with it.” Terrence said. “But not as happy as I am with you right now...”
Wendy Briese blushed. Like Terrence, Wendy was dressed in her costume for the evening- that of a mermaid. The one-piece costume had a shiny pink sleveless top, which abruptly changed to a dark green scale-like fabric at her hips, extending in a tight skirt down to her ankles. From her knees down, however, were a series of ruffles, an attempt to simulate fins. Wendy had placed a lily in her flame-colored hair, which she wore loosely, and had even slightly curled it.
She squealed as Terrence swept forward and picked her up in his arms. “Oh, I got me a big one!” he proclaimed.
“Put me down!” Wendy protested, lightly slapping her husband on the arm. “And watch who you’re calling big!”
“Sorry,” Terrence said, grinning as he let his wife back to her feet. “You are after all, The Little Mermaid. And I’m your Prince Charming.”
“Eric,” Wendy corrected, although she giggled and kissed him as she did. “You should know that- you’ve seen the movie enough.”
Terrence shot Wendy a mock-sour look, then both husband and wife turned their attention to the stairs as Theresa bounded them. Theresa was in a small, but elegant, golden dress, and her brown hair had been tied up in a formal fashion, with a plait running down the side of her head.
“Well, there’s our little Beauty!” Terrence exclaimed as Theresa hopped into the living room. “Nice job on the hair,” he remarked to his wife.
“Thanks,” Wendy said, puffing. “It would have been easier if she had been able to hold still for more than thirty seconds. She’s so fidgety like that.”
“You look great, Daddy!” Theresa chirped as she saw her father in his full costume.
“Thanks Theresa,” Terrence responded, just as the doorbell rang.
“That must be Cassie and Pollaski,” Wendy muttered. “Come in!” she called, hoping that she hadn’t just invited in an early group of trick or treaters.
Her fears were alleviated when Cassie walked into the room. Cassie was wearing a simple pink medieval style dress, and a small crown, which had been tucked into her loose flowing blonde hair.
Terrence nodded in welcome. “Cinderella?”
Cassie smiled and shook her head. “Aurora from Sleeping Beauty,” she said, holding up her hand, where her index finger had a bandage with a small spot of fake blood on it.
“Clever,” Terrence grinned.
“Where’s Pollaski?” Wendy asked.
Cassie stifled a giggle. “He’s coming,” she said. “You should see his...”
At that moment, the door burst open, and the four turned to look at the newcomer, everyone but Cassie’s jaw dropping instantly. Pollaski was wearing a wig of the purest white, but that was hardly the worst of it. His portly frame had been wedged into a black strapless dress, which ended at the waist in several octopus like tentacles that bent downward like a skirt, with a pair of black sweatpants covering his legs. Undaunted by the stares, he strode into the living room.
“Ursula!” Theresa guessed quickly for all three of them, although with considerably more enthusiasm than either Terrence or Wendy felt.
“Oh, us poor unfortunate souls,” Terrence muttered under his breath. Next to him, Wendy, the only one in the room who had heard him, nodded in awestruck agreement.
Pollaski surveyed the other occupants of the room, stopping on Wendy’s mermaid costume. “No seashells?” he asked, disappointed.
Wendy’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a little cold for seashells,” she replied stiffly.
Pollaski nodded in concession, then turned to Terrence. “Prince Charming?”
“Eric,” Theresa, Wendy, and Cassie all corrected simultaneously.
“Dude... what the...?” Terrence asked, his mouth still hung open in slack jawed amazement.
Pollaski looked down at his attire, and shrugged. “Well, I was gonna go as John Ojeda, but the Sons of Anarchy section was sold out. So I remembered Wendy telling me that Theresa had wanted to do a Disney theme, so I figured why not?”
Terrence nodded, although he wasn’t entirely convinced.
“What is all this racket?” an elderly female voice in a thick Irish brogue demanded, and the five people all turned to acknowledge a sixth that hobbled into the room. Constance looked at the costumed people in front of her, stopping at Pollaski, with an open stare of disgust.
“Lemme guess,” Pollaski replied, stepping forward. “The evil witch from Snow White?”
Constance scowled even more, but Terrence rubbed his mouth, trying to cover a smirk. Wendy for her part, deftly delivered a hard smack to the back of her manager’s head. She then turned to her grandmother. “We’re leaving, Nana.”
“Don’t be too late, Gwendolyn. Tomorrow’s All Saints Day service starts at 7.” Constance reminded her.
“I won’t be,” Wendy promised. “You sure you don’t want to come?”
Pollaski huffed. “She probably finds this stuff Satanic.”
The comment earned him a second smack from Wendy, and Constance’s eyes narrowed. Jabbing her cane at the portly drag-dressed manager, she snapped. “There’s nothing wrong with All Hallow’s Eve- it actually stems from Celtic roots you know. Although nowadays people tend to celebrate it in inappropriate measures,” she added, pointedly glaring at Daniel.
Before Pollaski could respond, the doorbell rang again. “I got it,” Terrence announced, and quickly left the room.
As Constance and Pollaski continued to glare daggers at each other, the other occupants of the room turned their head curiously to see who was at the door. Instead of the expected ‘Trick or Treat’, however, they heard a much different voice.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WEARING, BOY?”
Wendy looked stunned. “What’s Uncle Steve doing here?”
Apparently, Terrence had asked the exact same question, because Uncle Steve responded. “I came over to watch the Sunday Night Game with you, and I come in to see you all dressed up like Prince Charming!”
“Eric!” everyone (except Constance) corrected.
“Yeah, because the name matters.” Steve muttered, as Terrence stepped aside to let him in.
“Sorry Steve. We were just on our way out to a party. You can come with us if you want.”
“Nah. Mind if I stay here and watch, though? Kickoffs in ten, and I’m hoping Rothelesberger gets murdered.” Steve strode in after Terrence into the living room, pausing to stare at Pollaski in utter disgust. “Fruit,” he muttered, as he went to hug his great-niece, and complement her costume.
“You know, I think this is clever,” Pollaski protested.
“Yeah, help yourself,” Terrence responded to his uncle, pointedly ignoring his manager. “Just help pass out candy if some trick or treaters come by, okay?”
“Fine by me.” Steve said, setting Theresa down and smiling at Constance. As she had in the mechanics shop the previous week, Constance nodded stiffly in reply.
“We’re going to be late,” Wendy announced, as she began ushering those in costumes towards the door. “Come on Theresa!”
Theresa turned away from her uncle, and bounded after the four adults towards the door. “We should be home by eleven!” Wendy announced. “Bye Nana, bye Steve!”
With that, she hurried after the rest of her group, out the door. The door close, and house immediately quieted, as the only two occupants remaining in the room were Wendy’s grandmother and Terrence’s uncle.
“So, you like football?” Steve asked mildly as he sat down in Terrence’s easy chair, grabbing the remote from a nearby end table.
Constance sniffed disdainfully. “Keep the Sabbath holy with prayer, not with heathen idols running around a grass pitch!” she responded.
Steve could only roll his eyes. “Right,” he muttered, turning on the television.
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