Friday January 8, 2010
Thompson Residence- Front Lawn
Indianapolis, Indiana
12:21 PM Local Time
“Well, that’s that,” I muttered, as I looked up at my suddenly barren house. Another year, another season, come and gone.
I always hated taking down Christmas lights. To watch your house go from being awash in the glow of thousands of twinkling bulbs back to normal was unsettling, as if someone had sucked all the joy right out of your existence. Of course, I guess that if we kept our house lit all year round, it would lose the magic it had during the Holiday Season.
Besides, it was in the nieghborhood charter that all Christmas decorations had to be down by January tenth, and I had promised Wendy that I would keep the charter violations to a minimum this year.
I had just began to put the last of the light strands away when an emerald green Ford Focus pulled up into the driveway. I smiled, and turned to greet my wife as she climbed out of her car, home on her lunch break from the theater. We quickly embraced, and kissed.
After we broke apart, Wendy looked up at the house. “Almost done?”
I nodded, and squeezed her on the shoulder. “Yup. Just have to put everything away for another year. I’ll be done in a couple minutes. How was your morning?”
“It went alright,” Wendy replied, her breath clouding in the air in the chilly morning, as I returned to putting away the lights. “I spent most of the morning getting the tickets printed. We’re less than a month til the weekend of the show, so I wanted to get ticket sales started as soon as possible. Everything is shaping up so nicely- I think Annie Get Your Gun will be my best production yet.”
I looked up, just in time to see a shadow cross my wife’s face. “Something wrong?” I asked, suddenly concerned.
Wendy shrugged in response, then made a brave attempt at a reassuring smile. “They’re talking about budget cuts again. But they do every year. I’m sure we’ll be alright.”
I hoped so. Outside of Theresa and I, that theater was Wendy’s life. I couldn’t imagine what would happen to her if she ever lost it. “Oh, you’re gonna love this,” I said, remembering something I had seen on the television this morning. “Remember Daniel Pollaski, our old manager? He signed with the WFWA this morning as a columnist.”
Wendy shook her head in amazement. “Last I heard, he was trying to start his own promotion, but things didn’t work out too well. You’d have thought that after five years, he’d had realized the gig was up, grown up, and moved on.”
I looked up again, as I was rolling up a strand of lights. “You never thought about getting back in?”
Wendy laughed, and shook her head. “Why? I have a good job and a great family. And its been nice not waking up in the morning sore because someone tried to beat you up the night before. It was a chapter of our lives. An enjoyable one, but one that’s closed.” She paused. “Why, do you miss it?”
I shrugged. “A little. But like you said, that’s over for us now. I’m happy running the garage, and with my race team. And besides, I wouldn’t want to do it without you. We were too good a team.” I tossed the last of the lights into the box. “Okay, done. Lets go have lunch.
Wendy smiled softly at me, but then immediately frowned. “Shouldn’t you separate the lights into grocery bags so they don’t get tangled?”
I shook my head, and scoffed. “Nah. They’re just going to sit in the box like that for a year. How could they possibly get tangled?”
“If you say so.” Wendy replied, shrugging. She leaned over, and kissed me again. “Come on, its freezing out here, and I only have thirty-five minutes left in my lunch hour.”
With one more look at our now bland house, I bent down, picked up the box, and followed my wife into the house.
=============================================
Friday November 26, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
9:05 AM Local Time
“Hanging lights today?” Wendy asked me as I emerged from the basement, holding a giant box in my hands. Grunting in affirmation, I carried the box past her, into the living room, finally setting it down.
“Weather’s nice, and we don’t have the ring at the gym until the afternoon.” Now that I wasn’t carrying a massive container of highly fragile light bulbs, I was much more at liberty to talk.
“You need any help?” she asked as I grabbed my pocketknife out of my jeans, and began cutting the masking tape-covered box open.
“I’m okay,” I said as I finished cutting the box open. I looked up just in time to see Wendy’s face fall just a bit. “Then again, four hands are always better than two.”
“Great!” Wendy said, beaming, although she suddenly paused, frowning at the box. It suddenly occoured to me that she had never helped me with the lights before. “What do I do?”
“Well, first we got to test the strands, and make sure they work.” I said, pulling the flaps of the box open, and reaching down to pull out the first strand. My face fell as I felt a lot more resistance than one single strand of lights would give me.
“Son... of... a... bitch,” I muttered sourly as I looked down at the rats nest of wires and bulbs that awaited me. This was going to take forever.
Wendy grimaced as well as she saw the tangled mess. “Maybe you should put them in seperate grocery bags when you put them away,” she suggested.
I felt a sudden stab of irritation at the suggestion. If she had said something while I was putting the damned things away... nonetheless, I knew Wendy was only trying to help, so I put on my most diplomatic smile. “That’s a good idea, hon, but it ain’t gonna help us now. First thing we’re going to have to do is separate all these strands. So just find one, and start untangling.
Wendy attacked the unexpected chore with gusto, grimacing with determination as she worked to untangle the lights, while I started extracting a strand of my own. “Almost forgot, to tell you,” Wendy said. “Pollaski called to say he won’t be at our training session this afternoon.”
I nodded absently, then broke into a grin as I realized why. “Oh yeah. His annual Black Friday Samuel L. Jackson movie marathon.”
The scowl on Wendy’s face was almost comical. “You know, some people would find that offensive.” she snapped at me.
“Hey, it ain’t my idea,” I replied, raising my hands defensively. “I’m just remembering why he’s not coming.”
Wendy shook her head in irriation, then turned back to her strands, and we worked in silence for a few more moments, before Wendy broke it again. “So, what do you want for Christmas this year?”
“Jacob Wright’s head on a plate,” I growled, trying to unwrap a wire from around one of the bulbs.
Wendy smiled softly at me, obviously amused. “Still upset about the bumper sticker?”
Considering that I had spent the better part of Thanksgiving morning scrubbing all the residue off from that damned sticker, I wasn’t anywhere close to sharing the amusement my wife felt. Wendy seemed to sense my irritation, and her smile faded slightly in consolation. “I’m sorry, Terry. I didn’t mean to laugh.”
I finished extracting the strand I was working on, and tossed it to the side, immediately grabbing another one, and going to work on it. Finally, I shrugged. “I’m sure on someone else’s car it would have been hillarious. But you know how much time I spent working on that Charger.”
Wendy nodded sympathetically, and tossed another strand aside. I was amazed that she had already managed to extract four, while I was still on my second. “How are you so much quicker?”
“I’ve spent the last four years untangling Theresa’s shoelaces. This is nothing.” Wendy grinned at me, then paused, for just a second.
“What is it, hon?”
“I got a letter the other day,” Wendy began quietly. “From Auntie Margaret. About Christmas.”
“They’re coming here?” I asked in astonishment.
“Don’t be silly, Terrence,” Wendy said abruptly. “They want us to visit them.”
I supposed that was only reasonable. Wendy’s aunt had married into an Amish community in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Considering the utlraconservative sect eschewed most modern technology, especially cars, it was going to be a long buggy ride in December to get here.
I paused for just a second, chewing on my lower lip. “You wanna go?”
Wendy shrugged, and tossed another strand of lights aside (damn she was fast!). “I thought it was worth suggesting to you. I know it’d be... different out there. But after the year we’ve had, I want to do something really special for Christmas.”
I nodded. Twenty-ten had been a hell of a year for us, with us losing our jobs, returning to wrestling, dealing with Mandrake again, the closure of our alliance, and all the goings on in PWX. Maybe getting away for Christmas would be a good thing.
“Okay, let’s do it,” I said, breaking into a grin.
My response caught Wendy completely off guard, and her smile would have outshone all the lights in the room combined. “Great, I’ll write Auntie Margaret and tell her we’re coming! She’s going to be so excited!”
I nodded in return, then looked down at the lights in my hand. “I guess since we’re not going to be home for Christmas, there’s no sense in putting these up anymore.”
The disappointment on Wendy’s face was unmistakable. “Really? Because I really wanted to do this with you...”
I broke into another grin, letting her know I was joking. “You kidding me? Considering all we’ve done as a team in the ring, if we tag team the house, we’ll win the neighborhood Christmas Light contest for sure!”
Wendy returned my grin, and went back to untangling the last of her strands. Sometimes, even the best of tasks were better when you had a loved one to do it with.
==========================
Sunday November 28, 2010
The RV- Main Cabin
Interstate 55 Near Hayti, Missouri
1:37 PM Local Time
Terrence: “You know, hon. I’ve been thinking.”
[Uh oh... no good has EVER come out of that.]
[Nonetheless, the words are enough to catch his wife’s- and our- attention as we fade into the cockpit of the WhirlyBirdz RV, on the road yet again as the Thompson family heads towards Houston, the site of the next Adrenaline.]
[Terrence is, of course, behind the wheel, both hands guiding the forty-five foot Newmar King Aire down the road, although Terrence does allow his attention to be occasionally diverted with quick glances at the camera. Wendy, on the other hand, is sitting shotgun, and had been working her way through a crossword puzzle. The words of her husband, however, are enough to bring her head up, and she looks over at him, suddenly interested, and more than eager to have a new diversion on this painfully long road trip.]
Wendy: “What about?”
Terrence: “This whole Ashley-Josh divorce thing. You know, how Ashley conked Josh over the head during his match with Ojeda, and now they’re on the outs? Well, it got me thinking.”
[Wendy smiles softly]
Wendy: “About how lucky you are to have a wife who loves you forever, and would never do that to you, especially in public?”
[Terrence snorts in amusement.]
Terrence: “No.”
[About a full second after he says that, a little bell goes off in the Mechanical Mayhem’s head, informing him that he had just done something remarkably stupid. Sure enough, he looks over at Wendy, who suddenly looks quite offended by her husband’s flippant dismissal.]
Terrence: “Well, I meant not JUST about that. Of course I think about how lucky I am to have you. I do that all the time, so I just assumed it went without saying.”
[It was a nice attempt, but Wendy doesn’t exactly buy it. She folds her arms over her chest, continuing to stare hard at Terrence. Despite her stern visage, there is a flicker of amusement in her eyes, as she watches her squirming husband try to crawl his way out of this predicament.]
[Terrence, for his part, grins sheepishly at Wendy.]
Terrence: “I love you...”
[Wendy nods quietly, then unfolds her arms, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face]
Wendy: “Anyways, you were saying something about you thinking?”
[Terrence doesn’t exactly miss the subtle barb, but he wisely realizes that’s his cue to continue. He quickly shoots one more apologetic smile at Wendy, then turns his attention back to the road.]
Terrence: “Okay, this whole thing with Josh and Ashley, something about it just seemed... weird. But not like, Jerry Springer weird. More like... deja vu weird. You know what I’m saying?”
[Brief pause, as Wendy looks over at Terrence, an expression of utmost consternation on her face.]
Wendy: “Not in the least.”
[Terrence pauses, and thinks for a second.]
Terrence: “Okay, let me put it this way. Do you recall another high-profile husband-wife duo who, perhaps back in August, broke up with each other, with no warning, or even a reason, whatsoever?”
[Wendy pauses for just a second, before her face lights up in recognition.]
Wendy: “The Belmonts?”
[Terrence nods, breaking into a grin.]
Terrence: “Bingo. And who did Josh and Ashley start hanging out with just before this whole drama-fest start?”
Wendy: “The Belmonts...”
Terrence: “Bingo again!”
Wendy: [skeptically] “So, by your line of reasoning, Josh and Ashley are taking a page out of the Belmont’s playbook, and faking a breakup out of some pathetic, desperate cry for attention?”
[Terrence shrugs, although the smile he shoots at Wendy suggests she’s not too far off the mark, in his opinion.]
Terrence: “I’ll tell you one thing. If Tyler Graves suddenly shows up and starts fucking Ashley, we’ll know for certain.”
[Terrence grins again, but the revulsion on Wendy’s face is easily apparent. Not entirely clear if she’s revolted over her husbands crude words, or the thought of another Tyler Graves love triangle (especially one involving two people with the exact same surname). Probably both.]
Wendy: “I doubt that. Considering how well that ruse ultimately worked out for the Belmonts, why would anyone else try that?”
[Wendy’s words are true enough, considering the week after the Belmonts reunited, proclaiming their break-up was little more than a trick on the ‘sheep’ of PWX fans, both of them lost their titles, Valerie’s Hybrid belt going to Willett, while Terrence himself took Jeremiah’s Grand Prix title. Even Terrence can’t seem to find fault with Wendy’s logic, merely shrugging in response.]
Terrence: “Well, Josh isn’t exactly known for his amazing mental capacity, is he? Besides, we’ve already seen what pathetic lengths Josh Graves has been willing to go in his desperate attempts to achieve relevance in this company. And the poor bastard can’t even figure out that everything he does around here, he’s just embarrassing himself even more.”
[Wendy arches her eyebrows, halfway between being intrigued and annoyed by her husbands words, although she ultimately says nothing. Terrence takes this as a cue to continue]
Terrence: “Seriously, is there anyone on this roster more pretentious? Josh is another image over substance kind of guy. He puts on the face paint to make him look- hell, I can’t even figure out why he does it. He interviews for magazines. He even has that idiot PWX Informer to write the occasional column, trying to portray him as someone with any value.”
[Wendy grimaces at the mention of ‘The Informer’. Neither Bird has quite forgotten THEIR interview, in which the Informer had the audacity to refer to Wendy as ‘second-rate’]
[Ah well, at least it was still better than the debacle of a follow-up, featuring Ojeda]
Wendy: “You know, the Informer-Graves connection has never actually been proven. And most people would say that Pollaski does the same things about us in his ‘PoWer X’.
Terrence: “Yeah, but at least Pollaski doesn’t hide behind some shrouded ‘mystery identity’. Everyone knows that the author of the ‘PoWer X’ is our manager, and he’s as shameless as any other manager when it comes to promoting his wrestlers.”
[Wendy slowly nods in agreement. It’s true enough.]
Terrence: “Remember, throughout the summer, Josh Graves tried to act like he was the savior of PWX. The man who would lead the Resistance against the Cartel. And yet, when the Civil War came, and everything was on the line, JPO didn’t even choose him for his team.”
[Terrence shrugs,and continues]
Terrence: “Probably a good thing too. Because Josh Graves ended his match that night crumpled on the mat, begging Johnny Moxie not to hurt him anymore. Meanwhile, you get kicked through a plate glass window, Victor Jace takes staples in his head, and both of you managed to hold out, come back, get the win, and truly save the company. Had Graves been in that match, he would have started tapping the moment Hollywood entered the cage.”
Wendy: “So, you’re basically saying that Josh Graves has no heart?”
[Terrence snorts]
Terrence: “No heart, no brains, and not even that much talent. All Josh Graves has ever had in his PWX career were a couple of decent tag partners to carry him..”
[Wendy shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Openly badmouthing opponents has never really sat well with her, but she can’t exactly come up with anything to rebut Terrence’s words. Suddenly, Terrence breaks out into a chuckle]
Terrence: “You know, the more and more I think about it, the more I realize that Twisted Emotion is a stupid name for a team. And considering that we’ve traipsed around calling ourselves the WhirlyBirdz for the better part of the last decade, that’s kind of saying something.”
[Wendy pauses for just a second, then shrugs.]
Wendy: “I like our name...”
[Terrence shoots his wife a grin]
Terrence: “Yeah, the ‘z’ at the end really makes us look cutting edge and cool. But nonetheless, it’s how we’re known. Not exactly gonna change it now. But come on... Twisted Emotion? It sounds like the name of the opening act on one of the small stages at the Warped Tour. You know, the ones that end up getting track twenty-two on the second disc of the compilation CD.”
[Not that Terrence would know ANYTHING about Warped Tour music...]
Wendy: “I’m assuming you have a better name in mind?”
[Ah, we thought she’d never ask. But Terrence only shrugs]
Terrence: “I was thinking of a few. I mean, we could call them ‘Tunnel Vision’, because all of them seem to be unable to grasp the big picture. Or what about the ‘Vampcriers’, since well... you know. Jer’s a vampire, and they both spend all their time whining and moping about EVERYTHING. But you know what I ultimately think would be the best name for them?”
[Wendy shakes her head, dreading the answer]
Terrence: “The Demonic Bobsled Team.”
[Uh...]
Terrence: “Because it’s gonna be a cold day in hell before they get anywhere!”
[That’s bad enough to inspire a facepalm from Wendy. And probably most of the audience.]
Wendy: “Terrence...”
[Terrence breaks into a grin, and begins to guide the RV through a lane change, preparing to exit the freeway]
Terrence: “Sorry, hon. Couldn’t resist. Now, what say we stop for lunch, eh?”
[Wendy, still holding her face in her hands, nods silently, and Terrence reaches over, and shuts off the camera]
[Black]
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