EPISODE 30: MOONLIGHTING
Sunday July 25, 2010
Embassy Suites- Parking Lot
Spokane, Washington
11:21 AM Local Time
Terrence Thompson sighed as he pulled the rental car into the last remaining spot in the Embassy Suites hotel parking lot.
Damn, but the next forty-eight hours were going to suck.
After choking in the final Summer Games competition just over a month ago, Terrence had felt himself coming to a crossroads. His singles career in Pro Wrestling X was going nowhere- apparently the top brass in the company had felt his performance at Full Throttle wasn’t good enough, and he was shunted back down the card. So, Terrence had suggested to Wendy (who’s singles career was also treading water), that they enter the tag division, and within a month, they had the tag straps around their waist.
Go figure.
But still wanting the desire for a good singles match, and realizing he wasn’t going to get it against facing the likes of Dean McDaniels, Terrence did one of the things he never in a million years thought he would do.
He called Eric Dane and asked him for a job.
So suddenly, with Wendy barely have recovered from her food poisoning episode, the Birdz were whisked off to Spokane, where Twister would make his Defiance debut against some uncomprehending idiot named the Angel of Death. Then, it would be a red-eye back to Chicago, where the RV was waiting for them, a quick drive to Valparaiso, and then a tag team title defense against Xander Crewes and Scott Styles.
He planned to sleep the vast majority of Tuesday away, that’s for sure.
Climbing out of the car, Terrence looked around. As far as mid-sized cities went, Spokane was actually pretty nice. The airport was small, but considering they were on the shuttle to the car rental agency within ten minutes of leaving the gate, he couldn’t complain too much. And while Terrence hated flying with a passion, even he had to admit the trip out was actually pretty smooth going. Theresa had slept most of the way, and the flight wasn’t too bumpy. And Salt Lake City was hardly the worst airport to be holed up in for three hours.
He could only hope the return trip, by way of Minneapolis, was just as smooth.
Locking the rental, Terrence quickly walked across the parking lot, and entered the hotel. Ignoring the bustle taking place in the massive center atrium that was the chief feature in all Embassy Suites, he quickly walked to the glass elevators, and pushed the button.
He hoped that the people of PWX didn’t see him taking second bookings as a defection. After all, he loved it in Pro-Wrestling X. Save for their new dick of a boss and the fact that the Belmonts wasted no opportunity to let the world know that they thought he was a ‘prat’ (fuggin Brits), it was almost the perfect fed for him. It was competitive, weekly, and best of all, close to home. But he had to do what was best for his career, and if that meant competing in Spokane and catching a red-eye, then so be it.
Besides, it wasn’t like he was the only PWX wrestler to be pulling double duty. Still though, he knew he was no friend of the PWX management at this point, and after the beating his wife laid on Brian Hollywood last week, he was certain retribution against the WhirlyBirdz would be coming post-haste.
Ah well, like he told his wife at Theresa’s birthday party- might as well worry about tomorrow tomorrow.
The elevator doors opened and Terrence stepped off onto the ninth floor. Fortunately, his room was not too far from the elevator, and with a swipe of his electronic keycard, the Mechanical Mayhem was inside.
“I’m back!” Terrence called, looking around the deserted front room of the Suite. They had gotten two Suites adjacent to each other- one for him, Wendy, and Theresa, and another for Pollaski and Cassie, but so far this trip, theirs had been the gathering place for the whole gang. Thus, Terrence was surprised to find the area almost empty.
“I’m in the bedroom!” a feminine voice called, and Terrence quickly walked into the second room of the suite, a rather nice bedroom with a flatscreen television hanging on the wall.
“Where is everyone?” Terrence asked as he entered, looking over at his wife.
Wendy Briese was sitting on the bed, a paperback book in her hand. Even the normally modestly-dressed Wendy had caved in to the scorching Eastern Washington heat, as she had put on a pink t-shirt, and a pair of tan shorts. She smiled at her husband.
“There’s an arcade down on the second floor, and Pollaski went promising to show Cassie his ‘mad Galaga skills,’” she said, hopping down from the bed, and walking up to Terrence, giving him a kiss. “Are you ready for tonight?”
Terrence nodded. “Most definitely. It should be a fun show, although it’s probably going to run a little long. The better question is, are WE ready for tomorrow night?”
Wendy smiled as she retreated back to the bed, perching herself atop it. “Certainly. We’re can’t going to be losing our titles on our very first defense, can we?”
Terrence gave a low chuckle as he walked to the bed. He started to sit down, but stopped as something caught his eye. It was the book Wendy had been reading. Leaning over the bed, he peered down to get a better look at the title.
Detox For Dummies
Terrence shot a sidelong glance at his wife, who had seen his reaction, and waited patiently, arms folded across her chest, for the inevitable question.
“Interesting reading for someone who’s straight-edge.” Terrence quipped.
He winced as Wendy’s shot an open hand out, smacking him hard in the shoulder. “Don’t call me that! I hate that term!” Wendy said fiercely, as Terrence smirked back at her, despite the stinging pain now in his arm. “It’s not for me, anyways,” she continued, her angry eyes never leaving her husband. “It’s for Jake Donovan.”
“Jake Donovan?” Terrence was intrigued, considering that Donovan was the protege of Angel of Death, his opponent at the Defiance show tonight. “What’s he to you.”
“He’s Rick’s younger brother,” Wendy said, ignoring the scowl that crossed Terrence’s face whenever her late friend was mentioned. “And he’s in a lot of trouble.”
“I’ll say, if that talentless idiot Angel is training-”
“Not that way!” Wendy said adamantly, rolling her eyes. “But Terrence, Jake’s been shooting meth.”
“Oh,” Terrence said, looking back at the book. “How do you know that?”
Wendy paused for just a second, and took a deep breath. “Rick told me.”
If Wendy had just told him that she was leaving him for Pollaski, Terrence Thompson could not have been more shocked. His jaw dropped, as he tried to find the words that had somehow managed to lodge themselves in the back of his throat. “Rick... as in UlfRIC, told you...”
Wendy nodded, her emerald eyes not blinking. “Well, his ghost did.”
Terrence didn’t say anything, just blinked stupidly at her, so Wendy went on. “Remember that fight we had before Summer Games?” she asked rhetorically, given that there was no way in hell that either Bird would be forgetting it anytime soon. “Well, after I ran out on you, he appeared, and tried to talk sense into me. And then Wednesday, when I was home sick, he appeared again, and asked me for my help. I can’t say no, Terry...”
Terrence stared at his wife for just a second. “So let me get this straight,” he began, very slowly. “The ghost of Rick Logan appeared to you while you were out with food poisoning, and asked you to get Jake Donovan, a guy you’ve met TWICE in your whole life, off of drugs?”
Wendy nodded.
Terrence looked down at Detox for Dummies. “Maybe YOU need this book...”
“I’m serious, Terrence!” Wendy snarled back, and Terrence found himself taking a step back from her ferocity. “I wasn’t hallucinating!”
“I’m sorry Wendy,” Terrence said quickly, trying to avoid his wife’s ire. “And I don’t mean to joke, but I just can’t believe it. But if Rick was really flying around as a ghost, why doesn’t he just appear to Jake and tell him to sober up?”
“I asked him that too, but he said his appearance has an adverse affect on him.”
“Well, I believe THAT,” Terrence snorted. “Rick Logan always did bring out the worst in people.”
“Terrence...” Wendy snarled through gritted teeth.
Terrence laughed, and picked up the book, moving it aside so he could sit down next to his wife on the bed. Reaching out an arm, he grabbed his wife’s far shoulder and pulled her into a one-armed hug.
“Okay,” he said. “I believe you.”
“You do?” Wendy said, surprised. “About the ghost?”
Terrence shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter to me if there was a ghost or not. What matters to me is that you are the most kindhearted woman I know, and if you feel you need to help someone, then by all means you should do it. Hell, if you’re lucky, you might even see Jake tonight.”
Wendy smiled a bit, surprised at the words “Thank you, Terry,” she finally managed to say.
Terrence shrugged. “I’d be a piss poor husband indeed if I tried to keep my wife from being a good Samaritan. But... how exactly do you plan about going about this?”
Wendy opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Finally, she sighed. “Not a clue. I was hoping you’d have some ideas.”
Terrence snorted. “Nah, stringing out junkies isn’t exactly my specialty. I’ll keep a couple braincells on the problem, though.”
“Don’t overexert yourself,” Wendy smiled.
Terrence smiled back, and hugged his wife even closer. “You’ll think of something, hon. And if you need any help, just let me know.”
Wendy turned her head toward Terrence’s, and smiled. “I know,” she said. She leaned forward and kissed him, and they were soon preoccupied with things other than ghosts and drugs.
============================================================
Sunday July 25, 2010
Embassy Suites- Room 902
Spokane, Washington
6:10 PM Local Time
Twister: “Well, that was easy!”
[See, this is what happens when you don’t plan ahead. Terrence Thompson is two thousand miles away in Spokane, and he’s only now realizing that he’s forgotten to cut a promo. So after dredging up a last minute camera (the normal one’s in the RV now parked at Chicago O’Hare), Terrence has cleared out the room, and decided to say his piece]
[Terrence has spiffed himself up a bit for tonight’s promo. He’s not wearing a T-shirt- he’s wearing a POLO! The bottom button is closed too, so you know the Mechanical Mayhem means some serious business. Of course, there’s the ever-present sardonic smirk he’s wearing as well, as he leans back, hands behind him, relaxing on the hotel’s bed.]
Twister: “So just as I predicted, Dean McDaniels was a goddamned waste of time. One minute, that’s all it took for me to knock that dipshit out and get the victory. All in all, a fairly short night for the Mechanical Mayhem, but it’s been fun to watch the replay of Dean’s head bouncing off the mat.”
[Seriously, watch the tape in slo-mo and add a *BOING* sound effect. It’s freakin’ epic. Terrence chuckles for just a second, then remembering what else happened last week, his smirk vanishes completely.]
Twister: “But what wasn’t fun was the events that transpired to close the show. Some overgrown ‘roider named Wild, who’s last moment of relevance was Jeremiah Belmont turning him into the amazing human meteorite back at New Horizons, has decided to make it his personal mission to relieve my wife and I of our tag team championships. Worse, that fucker went and hit my wife from behind while she was celebrating her win over Brian Hollywood!”
[A snort, and a sneer.]
Twister: “That, gentlemen, will not do.”
[His tone starts mild, but it’s growing angrier by the second, and the narrowing of his eyes is a great indication that the Mechanical Mayhem is quite pissed indeed.]
Twister: “Now I know, my wife is a big girl, and she is fully capable of defending herself. But she’s still my wife, dammit, and if you fuck with her, you fuck with me. If I EVER see Wild, Brian Hollywood, or any of his other goons so much as even TOUCH Wendy Briese outside of a sanctioned match, I guarantee every single member of the Cartel will find themselves broken in pieces at the nearest hospital.”
[Pause]
Twister: “And I won’t even need a match to do it. I’ll leave your bloodied carcasses lying in the middle of the parking lot, for all I care. Nobody messes with my family.”
[Except for seven and a half foot tall Machiavellian monsters. Just sayin’. Anyways, Terrence’s expression softens just a bit.]
Twister: “Now, on to other, slightly more pleasant matters. The WhirlyBirdz’ first tag team title defense is merely hours away, and I know the fans are getting excited. Our first challengers are Xander Crewes and Scott Styles, a makeshift tag team who earned their shot at Do Or Die. My question is, do you boys have a name yet for yourselves, because I have a suggestion, if you’re open.”
[Smirk]
Twister: “Cannon Fodder.”
[OH NO HE DIDN’T!]
Twister: “Personally, I think it’s a damned catchy name, and considerably accurate too. Because, let’s face it, there’s no way in flipping HELL the two of you are going to overcome my wife and I.”
[A slow chuckle at the mere thought of Styles and Crewes beating him.]
Twister: “Xander, the way you talk, you sound like an autistic zombie robot. I get that you’re looking forward to the match and you want to walk out with the tag titles and you have great respect for Wendy and I and have seen us in action before and know that you have to work flawlessly with Scott Styles if you hope to win but for the love of God man stop and take a breath before you pass out!”
[As Terrence reaches the end, its clear his lungs are out of oxygen. Run on sentences ahoy!]
Twister: “Although I have to say I’m impressed with your lung capacity.”
[Hell, if this wrestling thing doesn’t work out, Xander oughta try SCUBA instructor.]
Twister: “Despite all that, I actually kind of like you, Xander. You’ve managed to scrape out a few wins here in PWX, and while they haven’t been the most spectacular or dominating victories I’ve seen, you’re still winning. And the list of people who have wins over Victor Mandrake is extremely short indeed, and you, sir, are on it, although I still have absolutely no idea how the fuck you pulled that off.”
[So’s the rest of the world]
Twister: “You have an admirable passion for the business, Xander, and I can respect that. You train hard, you play by the rules, and you give one-hundred percent every night. But so do I, and so does Wendy, and both of us are more talented, to boot. I know, it makes me sound like a conceited ass, but it really ain’t bragging if it’s true.”
[Another smirk]
Twister: “But even if someway you could manage to overcome the talent gap between us, you still have to worry about your partner. I trust Wendy with my life. Not only is she my partner in the ring, she’s my partner out of it as well. Have you and Scott even seen each other since Do Or Die? Near as I can tell, you two haven’t even been in the same room since that night. It took Wendy and I many months and many tough losses before we were able to properly act as a unit, and that was with us living and training together on a daily basis.”
[To be fair, they were both stupid rookies at the time as well, so a lot of those losses were just due to lack of experience. Terrence snorts in disdain as he gets to the unpleasant topic of this promo.]
Twister:”Even worse, your partner is Scott Styles. Every time we’ve seen Scott thus far, he’s been in a bar or some other hellhole crying about how miserable his life is. If I were you, I’d be wondering if this idiot is even going to show up at Adrenaline sober. Or if he’ll break down and start crying halfway through the match.”
[Over/Under on THAT video showing up on YouTube: 7 minutes. Smirk from the Twister]
Twister: ‘Seriously, the best thing Scott Styles could possibly do for himself, the PWX, and the fans, is to walk into Sami Jacob’s locker room, hold out his wrists, and ask Sami and his switchblade to make it quick.”
[Where the hell do the Belmont’s get off saying Terrence Thompson’s a prick?]
Twister: “Xander, sorry dude, but your undefeated streak’s coming to an end tomorrow night. I fully expect you to give your all, and put up as much of a struggle as you can, but in the end, it won’t matter. You’ve got a long ways to go before you can equal Wendy and I, and you sure as hell need a better person standing in your corner. “
[Terrence stretches, and begins to rise off the bed.]
Twister: “Just do us, and yourself, a favor. As the climax of the match draws nigh, and the fans get to their feet, sensing the end is near, please try and make sure Scott’s the legal man in the ring. After all, either the Kamikaze or Hailstorm is going to have to hit somebody. Unlike your worthless tag partner, you have potential, and I’d hate to see you get hurt.:
[One final grin from the Mechanical Mayhem, and its fade to black.]
Sunday, July 25, 2010
DEFIANCE PODCAST #2- Twister vs. Angel of Death
Thursday July 22, 2010
The Nest- Kitchen
Indianapolis, Indiana
3:21 PM Local Time
“Great,” Terrence muttered as he reviewed their upcoming trip itenerary. Three hours on the ground in Salt Lake City on the way out, and three hours in Minneapolis on the way back.
Goddamn, he hated flying.
Smirking quietly to himself, Terrence quickly flipped over to the Delta Airlines website, and hit the upgrade button. Five first class tickets weren’t going to come cheap, but he wasn’t about spend the weekend trapped in the sardine section of the tin can.
He looked up from his laptop as Wendy walked into the kitchen, carrying a small stack of envelopes in her hands. She smiled at her husband, then set herself to sorting out the newly arrived mail.
“Cable bill... water bill... electric bill...” Wendy muttered as she sorted through the envelopes, tossing each one on the table as if it were a dead animal. “What’s this?” she asked, coming to a strange looking envelope.
“Lemme see,” Terrence requested, and Wendy obliged, tossing the envelope onto his laptop’s keyboard. Terrence looked at it, puzzled. The return address for some nightclub in downtown Indy... a place he’d never even heard of.
“Probably an advertisement of some sort,” he said, ripping open the envelope nonetheless. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered.
“What?” Wendy asked, her curiosity piqued as Terrence surveyed the contents of the envelope.
“It’s a voucher for free admittance and half-price drinks at Club Midnight,” Terrence murmured, still eyeing the coupons.
“Club Midnight?” Wendy asked, puzzled.
“Boston Bancroft’s nightclub, apparently,” Terrence murmured as he read the attached note. “He’s personally inviting us to check the club out.”
“Really?” Wendy asked sarcastically. “Is business doing that badly?”
Terrence shrugged. “It looks like he’s just trying to bury the hatchet,” he said, handing Wendy the note. “Besides, it’d be a fun night out. We could have Cassie babysit and..”
“Neither of us even drink alcohol, Terrence!” Wendy responded fiercely, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Yeah,” Terrence shrugged, “But there’s other things to do in a nightclub as well. There’s food, and music, and dancing.” As he said the last, Terrence did a horrible seated version of the rumba, which at least illicited a giggle from Wendy. But within seconds, she had returned to irritably staring at the letter. Terrence quickly placed her hand on hers.
“I’m not proposing we go tonight,” he said amiably. “We’ve got to get ready for our trip to Spokane. But after we got back, we can pick a free evening and go. What’s the worst that can happen?
Wendy nodded, accepting Terrence’s offer to table the issue. “Fine, we’ll discuss this when we get back.”
“Fine by me.” Terrence agreed. “But there’s another issue... what are you going to do at Defiance?”
Wendy paused, not expecting the question. “I... I don’t know.” Wendy said quietly. “I guess I was just going to sit in the locker room and watch the show. I did want to talk to Jake Donovan, but considering he’s being trained by your opponent-”
“I want you to come down with me.” Terrence said, cutting her off.
Wendy eyed Terrence curiously. She and Terrence rarely stood ringside for each other’s matches out of fear that the presence of the other might be too distracting. “Why?” she finally asked.
Terrence shrugged again, “Why not?” he asked. “I said before Summer Games that we oughta do more together. If you don’t want to wrestle for Dane, that’s fine. But there’s no reason you can’t be my...” Terrence cut himself off.
But Wendy finished for him. “Valet,” she sighed in exasperation.
Terrence grinned sheepishly at his wife. “I’m not asking you to cheat on my behalf or anything. Hell, if anything, you could help keep Pollaski in line. And if things DO get ugly, well, I’d rather have you around than anyone else.”
Wendy thought for just a second, then broke into a smile. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Great!” Terrence said, giving his wife a quick hug. “This should be fun.”
Wendy didn’t quite share Terrence’s enthusiasm, but she nodded nonetheless. “I should probably go pack,” she quickly said, standing up.
“Yeah, me too,” Terrence said, and together, they left the kitchen.
=======================================================================
Thursday July 22, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
9:13 PM Local Time
[So, the bags are packed, The cat’s been fed. Everything is ready to go as the Birdz prepare for their weekend journey to Spokane, Washington.]
[Except for maybe one final promo]
[So we are in the WhirlyBirdz’ living room, Terrence Thompson sitting alone on the couch, He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt, and a pair of cargo shorts, and of course the ever-present sardonic smirk on his face. Could he be ready to rip the Angel of Death a new one?]
Twister: “I...”
[Terrence pauses, and that smirk disappears as his face goes completely blank. Terrence blinks, once, twice, before trying his hand at talking again.]
Twister: “I’m sure you all got to this part of the podcast hoping to hear some final words from me about my opponent. Some eloquent speech rebutting all that the Angel of Death said... or something.”
[Terrence shrugs, almost apologetically, and gives a bit of a lopsided smile.]
Twister: “Regretfully, that’s not going to happen.”
[According to some, he never does, but bummer.]
Twister: “See, after watching Angel of Death’s inaccurate, idiotic, diatribe, my brain has more or less... I can’t even explain it. There’s no way I could possibly put into words the pain and suffering my intelligence has gone through after listening to the Angel of Death talk.”
[You heard it here first, folks. The Angel of Death made Terrence Thompson’s brain hurt.]
Twister: “Maybe this is his new strategy. Maybe the Angel of Death is so washed up, that he has to resort to mind crippling stupidity to make his opponent submit in order to never be forced to listen to the sound of his voice again. Because after that, God knows I’m pretty damn close to tapping out.”
[Obviously, he’s being sarcastic. Althought that would be a hell of a way to end a match.]
Twister: “I don’t even know where to begin. I’m now facing a man whose greatest taunt he could think of was to compare me to a bathrobe. I’ve heard better insults during my fourth grade recesses.”
[Or in High Octane promos, for that matter... Terrence shakes his head, almost cringing as he remembers AOD’s words]
Twister: “And the inaccuracies. My God! Like how I’ve never won a World Title? Is there anybody else around who was not paying attention on December Thirtieth, Two Thousand Four, when I pinned Victor Mandrake to win the WWA World Title in front of sixty thousand screaming fans in the Louisiana Superdome?”
[Terrence almost looks incredulous about this. He very well should, considering that AOD was in the AWA when Terrence ascended the mountain.]
Twister: “Angel of Death, you need to learn how to pay attention. There are many regrets I have about my career, and what I was unable to accomplish, choking in the first round at the final Summer Games being one of the more bitter moments. But if you think I’ve accomplished nothing... obviously you haven’t been paying as close attention as you think. We both wrestled in the World Wrestling Alliance for years. I had FIVE alliance-wide title reigns to my name, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. How many had you gotten?”
[Terrence palms his forehead, as if he just suddenly remembered something]
Twister: “Sorry, I forgot. You were focusing on Hudson River and Appalachian Wrestling because you felt that by staying strictly to the regional shows, the fans would come running to the arenas to see you compete. That business strategy obviously worked out extremely well.”
[Considering HRW and AW are now very, very, out-of-business. Terrence now looks slightly pissed off, considering that AOD just essentially called his wife a coward.]
Twister: “As for my wife’s ‘sabattical,’ once again, you reveal your ignorance. Wendy continues to compete, but not in Defiance. While I wish she felt otherwise, I respect her decision to not put herself on Eric Dane’s payroll. It’s just another instance of you talking shit about something you couldn’t even begin to understand. You see, unlike the painted up hag you parade around with, my wife has morals.”
[Terrence shrugs, as if it was obvious]
Twister: “There’s really nothing more to say, is there? It’s obvious to me that I’m now facing a person who knows absolutely nothing about me, and hasn’t even bothered to a do a shitsquirts worth of research. I am not some concussion ravaged Ripper Longshanks, staggering down to the ring. I’m Terrence Thompson. I”m a former World Champion, in case that hasn’t quite registered in your head yet. I’ve already made my impact in Defiance, And Sunday Night, in Spokane Washington, I’m going to make another one.”
[Smirking grin.]
Twister: “Aye-Oh-Dee, let’s just say it involves you, the Last Lap, and a small crater in the wrestling ring. I’ll leave the rest up to your imagination.”
[Pause]
Twister: “Because you seem to be pretty good at imagining things.”
[Fade]
The Nest- Kitchen
Indianapolis, Indiana
3:21 PM Local Time
“Great,” Terrence muttered as he reviewed their upcoming trip itenerary. Three hours on the ground in Salt Lake City on the way out, and three hours in Minneapolis on the way back.
Goddamn, he hated flying.
Smirking quietly to himself, Terrence quickly flipped over to the Delta Airlines website, and hit the upgrade button. Five first class tickets weren’t going to come cheap, but he wasn’t about spend the weekend trapped in the sardine section of the tin can.
He looked up from his laptop as Wendy walked into the kitchen, carrying a small stack of envelopes in her hands. She smiled at her husband, then set herself to sorting out the newly arrived mail.
“Cable bill... water bill... electric bill...” Wendy muttered as she sorted through the envelopes, tossing each one on the table as if it were a dead animal. “What’s this?” she asked, coming to a strange looking envelope.
“Lemme see,” Terrence requested, and Wendy obliged, tossing the envelope onto his laptop’s keyboard. Terrence looked at it, puzzled. The return address for some nightclub in downtown Indy... a place he’d never even heard of.
“Probably an advertisement of some sort,” he said, ripping open the envelope nonetheless. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered.
“What?” Wendy asked, her curiosity piqued as Terrence surveyed the contents of the envelope.
“It’s a voucher for free admittance and half-price drinks at Club Midnight,” Terrence murmured, still eyeing the coupons.
“Club Midnight?” Wendy asked, puzzled.
“Boston Bancroft’s nightclub, apparently,” Terrence murmured as he read the attached note. “He’s personally inviting us to check the club out.”
“Really?” Wendy asked sarcastically. “Is business doing that badly?”
Terrence shrugged. “It looks like he’s just trying to bury the hatchet,” he said, handing Wendy the note. “Besides, it’d be a fun night out. We could have Cassie babysit and..”
“Neither of us even drink alcohol, Terrence!” Wendy responded fiercely, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Yeah,” Terrence shrugged, “But there’s other things to do in a nightclub as well. There’s food, and music, and dancing.” As he said the last, Terrence did a horrible seated version of the rumba, which at least illicited a giggle from Wendy. But within seconds, she had returned to irritably staring at the letter. Terrence quickly placed her hand on hers.
“I’m not proposing we go tonight,” he said amiably. “We’ve got to get ready for our trip to Spokane. But after we got back, we can pick a free evening and go. What’s the worst that can happen?
Wendy nodded, accepting Terrence’s offer to table the issue. “Fine, we’ll discuss this when we get back.”
“Fine by me.” Terrence agreed. “But there’s another issue... what are you going to do at Defiance?”
Wendy paused, not expecting the question. “I... I don’t know.” Wendy said quietly. “I guess I was just going to sit in the locker room and watch the show. I did want to talk to Jake Donovan, but considering he’s being trained by your opponent-”
“I want you to come down with me.” Terrence said, cutting her off.
Wendy eyed Terrence curiously. She and Terrence rarely stood ringside for each other’s matches out of fear that the presence of the other might be too distracting. “Why?” she finally asked.
Terrence shrugged again, “Why not?” he asked. “I said before Summer Games that we oughta do more together. If you don’t want to wrestle for Dane, that’s fine. But there’s no reason you can’t be my...” Terrence cut himself off.
But Wendy finished for him. “Valet,” she sighed in exasperation.
Terrence grinned sheepishly at his wife. “I’m not asking you to cheat on my behalf or anything. Hell, if anything, you could help keep Pollaski in line. And if things DO get ugly, well, I’d rather have you around than anyone else.”
Wendy thought for just a second, then broke into a smile. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Great!” Terrence said, giving his wife a quick hug. “This should be fun.”
Wendy didn’t quite share Terrence’s enthusiasm, but she nodded nonetheless. “I should probably go pack,” she quickly said, standing up.
“Yeah, me too,” Terrence said, and together, they left the kitchen.
=======================================================================
Thursday July 22, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
9:13 PM Local Time
[So, the bags are packed, The cat’s been fed. Everything is ready to go as the Birdz prepare for their weekend journey to Spokane, Washington.]
[Except for maybe one final promo]
[So we are in the WhirlyBirdz’ living room, Terrence Thompson sitting alone on the couch, He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt, and a pair of cargo shorts, and of course the ever-present sardonic smirk on his face. Could he be ready to rip the Angel of Death a new one?]
Twister: “I...”
[Terrence pauses, and that smirk disappears as his face goes completely blank. Terrence blinks, once, twice, before trying his hand at talking again.]
Twister: “I’m sure you all got to this part of the podcast hoping to hear some final words from me about my opponent. Some eloquent speech rebutting all that the Angel of Death said... or something.”
[Terrence shrugs, almost apologetically, and gives a bit of a lopsided smile.]
Twister: “Regretfully, that’s not going to happen.”
[According to some, he never does, but bummer.]
Twister: “See, after watching Angel of Death’s inaccurate, idiotic, diatribe, my brain has more or less... I can’t even explain it. There’s no way I could possibly put into words the pain and suffering my intelligence has gone through after listening to the Angel of Death talk.”
[You heard it here first, folks. The Angel of Death made Terrence Thompson’s brain hurt.]
Twister: “Maybe this is his new strategy. Maybe the Angel of Death is so washed up, that he has to resort to mind crippling stupidity to make his opponent submit in order to never be forced to listen to the sound of his voice again. Because after that, God knows I’m pretty damn close to tapping out.”
[Obviously, he’s being sarcastic. Althought that would be a hell of a way to end a match.]
Twister: “I don’t even know where to begin. I’m now facing a man whose greatest taunt he could think of was to compare me to a bathrobe. I’ve heard better insults during my fourth grade recesses.”
[Or in High Octane promos, for that matter... Terrence shakes his head, almost cringing as he remembers AOD’s words]
Twister: “And the inaccuracies. My God! Like how I’ve never won a World Title? Is there anybody else around who was not paying attention on December Thirtieth, Two Thousand Four, when I pinned Victor Mandrake to win the WWA World Title in front of sixty thousand screaming fans in the Louisiana Superdome?”
[Terrence almost looks incredulous about this. He very well should, considering that AOD was in the AWA when Terrence ascended the mountain.]
Twister: “Angel of Death, you need to learn how to pay attention. There are many regrets I have about my career, and what I was unable to accomplish, choking in the first round at the final Summer Games being one of the more bitter moments. But if you think I’ve accomplished nothing... obviously you haven’t been paying as close attention as you think. We both wrestled in the World Wrestling Alliance for years. I had FIVE alliance-wide title reigns to my name, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. How many had you gotten?”
[Terrence palms his forehead, as if he just suddenly remembered something]
Twister: “Sorry, I forgot. You were focusing on Hudson River and Appalachian Wrestling because you felt that by staying strictly to the regional shows, the fans would come running to the arenas to see you compete. That business strategy obviously worked out extremely well.”
[Considering HRW and AW are now very, very, out-of-business. Terrence now looks slightly pissed off, considering that AOD just essentially called his wife a coward.]
Twister: “As for my wife’s ‘sabattical,’ once again, you reveal your ignorance. Wendy continues to compete, but not in Defiance. While I wish she felt otherwise, I respect her decision to not put herself on Eric Dane’s payroll. It’s just another instance of you talking shit about something you couldn’t even begin to understand. You see, unlike the painted up hag you parade around with, my wife has morals.”
[Terrence shrugs, as if it was obvious]
Twister: “There’s really nothing more to say, is there? It’s obvious to me that I’m now facing a person who knows absolutely nothing about me, and hasn’t even bothered to a do a shitsquirts worth of research. I am not some concussion ravaged Ripper Longshanks, staggering down to the ring. I’m Terrence Thompson. I”m a former World Champion, in case that hasn’t quite registered in your head yet. I’ve already made my impact in Defiance, And Sunday Night, in Spokane Washington, I’m going to make another one.”
[Smirking grin.]
Twister: “Aye-Oh-Dee, let’s just say it involves you, the Last Lap, and a small crater in the wrestling ring. I’ll leave the rest up to your imagination.”
[Pause]
Twister: “Because you seem to be pretty good at imagining things.”
[Fade]
EPISODE 29: Bedridden
EPISODE 29: BEDRIDDEN
Wednesday July 21, 2010
The Nest- Master Bedroom
Indianapolis, Indiana
3:14 PM Local Time
Wendy Briese-Thompson clutched her stomach in agony, and stared up at the ceiling of the master bedroom. There was little doubt in her mind that she was dying. After returning to Indianapolis on Tuesday afternoon, both Wendy and Terrence had found themselves hardly in a cooking mood. So after a quick deliberation, they had agreed to try the brand new Vietnamese restaurant that had opened over on Meridian Street. Having found their culinary selections within their hometown growing stale over the past few years, Wendy was excited at the opportunity to try a new and exciting meal.
That excitement had become somewhat tempered at about two o’clock this morning, when Wendy awoke with the distinct impression that the pork in her entree might not have been properly cooked. After spending the rest of the night paying homage at the porcelain altar, Wendy had finally managed to crawl back into her bed at eight this morning, curled up into the fetal position, and tried to sleep.
Almost six hours later, that sleep had still eluded her, and the young redhead lay awake, entertaining dark fantasies involving herself, the owner of that restaurant, and her Banshee finishing maneuver. Terrence had ran to the drug store for Pepto-Bismol and Ginger Ale, taking Theresa with him, which at least afforded her some peace and quiet.
She felt like such a wuss. She had wrestled in countless matches, taken so many blows, and bumps, and holds, and the only thing she could think of that could even come close to this agony was her labor with Theresa. Maybe she was in labor again, she thought darkly. Maybe any minute, an alien lifeform would burst forth from her stomach, and eat her face off. She actually was looking forward to it- at least then she’d get some rest...
She hissed as another spasm of pain burst forth from her abdomen, and she clutched her stomach almost ripping holes in her nightdress with her fingernails as she did so. On her honor, if this was ecoli or something else that made her miss ring time...
“You look like death,” came the voice of the ghost who now hovered beside her bed.
Given her condition, it was impossible for Wendy to jump in alarm from the voice, but she did give a start, and turned forward, squinting at the translucent specter of Rick Logan. Groaning, she flopped back on her pillow and covered her eyes. “Go away, Rick,” she moaned.
“I can’t do that right now Wendy.” He told her. “I really need your help.”
The seriousness of Rick’s tone alarmed her, and Wendy removed her arm from over her eyelids. Turning her head sideways, she looked over at her deceased friend. “Now?” she asked, incredulously.
“As much as I would love to leave you be at this moment so you can sleep, yes, it has to be now.” He said.
Gritting her teeth in pain, Wendy slowly worked her way to a sitting position on the bed, smoothing out her nightgown as she did. Rubbing her puffy, red eyes, Wendy looked over at Rick, concern setting in. Ever since he had appeared to her just before Summer Games, her rare visits from Rick had always seen the ghost in a good mood- a much better mood than he normally had been in real life. But today, things seemed to be different.
“What’s going on, Rick?” Wendy asked quietly.
“It’s Jake.” The ghost said with a sigh. “He’s following a bit too much in my footsteps.”
Jake Donovan was another wrestler, currently contracted out to Defiance Wrestling. The younger brother of the ghost now flittering before her, merely months ago, Jake had been a promising young talent in the wrestling world. Wendy had met the young man a couple times, and found him likeable enough, but she had heard dark whisperings from some about him.
Wendy shook her head, confused. “How? He hasn’t been in any death matches... at least from what I’ve seen.”
The ghost chuckled.
“Not that,” the ghost said, “hell, right now, I’d be wishing for that. It’s much worse. I used....ALOT and for quite a number of years, and now Jake is using too, or at the very least, he’s done it once that I know about and talked about doing it far more than that.
Wendy nodded somberly. “I had heard the rumors,” she said quietly. With a growing wave of shame, Wendy realized she hadn’t even seen Donovan since that day in the pizza parlor. They hadn’t even met at Summer Games, when they were in the same building. “I’m sorry, Rick. I promised I would check up on him... I’ve just been so busy,” she lamented.
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “You’d think the dumb kid would know better after the things he watched me do, guess I didn’t set a very good example for him, but right now, I’m just worried about him continuing to take them and destroying himself in the process.”
Wendy nodded silently, fighting down another wave of nausea as she did. “What about the Angel of Death?” she asked, unable to keep the sarcasm completely from her voice. The old veteran had taken Jake Donovan under his wing, but from what Wendy had seen, she had completely disapproved of the training tactics he had utilized. The methods he had resorted to seemed- cruel to her. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if the Angel of Death had turned Donovan to substance abuse.
“He’ll keep Jake in condition to fight, but his disapproval of Jake’s use was conveyed in the form of threat of ditching him and not training him anymore. I can tell you from experience, Threats arn’t what’s needed. Micheal used to threaten me all the time, in the end, it’s what broke up the Dark Angels.” The ghost said.
“And you think I can succeed where everyone else has failed?” Wendy asked, looking fairly skeptical.
“Yes,” he said “I think you can, and I’ll tell you why. Jake needs a friend, not someone to lecture him and not someone to threaten him. He lives in his car wherever he decides to park it, and he thinks that in order to be the best, he can’t have any sort of a life outside of the ring. So he drives, and he goes to AOD and trains, and he constantly teeters on the edge of shoving another needle in his arm.”
“That’s not the energetic young rookie I met in Pittsburgh,” Wendy said, shooting a sidelong glance at Rick.
“That’s not the kid that I lived with and trained with and hung out with for three years in Japan either.” Rick said. “He drove out into the desert like I used to do, but he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be looking for, just that he’s either looking for something or looking to run away, and you know, for him the easiest way to run is going to be to put something in his arm.”
Wendy nodded silently. “But, Rick,” she protested. “I couldn’t stop you from putting a gun in your mouth. I can’t even stop Theresa from sneaking Oreos before dinner! How could I possibly stop Jake from doing drugs?”
The ghost chuckled.
“Let me ask you something. If I had called you, and told you I was going to stick a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger, what would you have done?” he asked.
“I...” Wendy paused, and looked at her spectral friend. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “I guess I would have begged you not to. I would have told you that you still had a lot to live for.”
“And in doing so, you would have reminded me how selfish I was being.” He told her. “So the next time Teresa steals oreos, gently remind her that by stealing them before its time for a treat, she might be stopping someone else from getting a treat later because they’ll quickly be all gone. Kids have a sense of fair play that adults have mostly lost. As for Jake, I doubt he thinks anyone really cares what he does, or whether he destroys himself or not. Maybe all he needs is to be reminded that he’s hurting someone besides himself.”
“But why can’t you do it?” Wendy asked. “If you can appear to me like this, surely you can to him as well.”
“I do appear to him.” Rick said. “But it seems to have an adverse effect. Everytime I show up, it just makes him miss me more. Last time I popped in on him, he tried to off himself thinking he could join me.”
“Oh, God,” Wendy muttered under her breath. But then she sighed, and looked Rick directly in the eye. “I’m honored that you think I’m the one to perform this task, Rick. And I’ll do what I can. Just please don’t think less of me if I fail.”
He gave her a lopsided smile.
“If you fail, it just means that’s what was meant to happen, a tragic legacy, when you think about it, especially after what happened to Scott.” Rick told her.
“So no pressure, then.” Wendy quipped. She sighed. “Well, if you have any ideas how I’m to go about doing this... don’t hesitate to let me know.”
“Not a clue,” he told her with a shake of his head. “Never did find anything that worked for me.”
With that he vanished.
Wendy stared at the spot where the spirit had been and sighed. This was hardly a task she was looking forward to, but she did owe it to her friend to do the best she could. Wendy settled back down on her pillow, once again staring up at the ceiling as she tried to find a way to accomplish what had been set before her. Maybe if she... no. What about... wouldn’t work. But... not likely.
As she drifted off to sleep, so intent was Wendy on her newfound problem that she had failed to notice her stomach had stopped hurting.
================================================================
Thursday July 22, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
8:41 PM Local Time
[Well, luckily for our heroine, Wendy’s food poisoning episode lasted a little less than twenty-four hours. Wendy awoke from her nap Wednesday evening feeling better, and by Thursday morning, she was back to training again. Meanwhile, she called the offending restaurant to complain, and was told she would be getting vouchers for a free meal in the mail. There’s probably fairly good odds she won’t be using those.]
[Anyways, we’re in the Birdz’ living room, looking at a well-rested and rejuvenated Wendy Briese. She, as usual, sits in the couch, dressed in a knee-legnth green skirt, and a pale green short-sleeved top. There’s a little something different about Wendy. Unlike the normally rigid position she sits in, Wendy looks... a bit relaxed. And while she has that customary warm smile splashed across her face, there’s a bit of smugness to it as well. Who knew the girl had an ego?]
Wendy: “It is inevitable that good will one day triumph over evil.”
[A small grin from Wendy. It’s fairly obvious she’s relishing her victory from the past week over Brian Hollywood]
Wendy: “I’ve always held firm to that belief that if one plays by the rules and works hard, they will one day get their due, and Monday night, that happened. For two months now, Brian Hollywood has used every trick he could possibly think of to evade my grasp, and Monday night, finally, the Executive ran out of room to manuever. Just like what Danny Szatkowski did to John Ojeda, when it came down to it, the right way prevailed.”
[It should be noted that Wendy by no means views her victory over Hollywood as anywhere approaching the monumental victory that Szatkowski had over Ojeda at Do Or Die. But still, Wendy knows Ojeda’s one of Hollywood’s running buddies now, and she can’t resist rubbing a little extra salt in the wound. What? She’s got a vindictive side, she just doesn’t like to show it too much.]
Wendy: “I’ll admit, what happened Monday Night will likely hardly matter in the grand scheme of things. A cruicifix roll-up is hardly the most dominating, fan pleasing way to win a match, and I’d be a fool to think that what happened will end the threat Brian Hollywood poses to the integrity of professional wrestling. But when the history book on Pro-Wrestling X is written, and the chapter of the Brian Hollywood is penned, the author will have no choice but to mention that in his very first week in power, after all the corrupt moves he had made to solidify his holdings on PWX, Brian Hollywood fell by my hand in that night’s main event.”
[But she’s sure showing that vindictive side today. Go Wendy go!
Wendy: “I suppose, given that context, I can understand the post-match actions of Brian. Obivously, he was frustrated with the outcome, and he needed to take that out on someone. After all, when children throw their tantrums, they do tend to go for the closest thing they can find. What Hollywood did to me was little more than a childish outburst from a sore loser. A desperate plea for attention, as Brian Hollywood begins to realize that his relevance will soon be confined to the title deed he holds in his hand.”
[Wendy pauses, and takes a deep breath, a little bit of color entering her cheeks. Her smile fades, just a bit, and her emerald eyes lose a significant amount of their shine.]
Wendy: “While I can easily dismiss Brian’s actions as the raving of an immature child, I cannot overlook the actions of another man quite as easily.”
[Another deep breath by Wendy, and it’s obvious she’s not happy about this at all.]
Wendy: “Wild, what exactly is your problem with Terrence and I? Before Do or Die, the three of us had never even been under the same roof together. But you’ve turned to us, venom dripping from every word you speak about us in your promos. You’ve accosted me in a hallway over words that did not concern you in the slightest. You stood at ringside, insulting the effort I gave in the biggest win of my PWX singles career. And then you attacked me from behind during my moment of triumph.”
[Yeah, its safe to say this is about as pissed off as one normally sees Wendy Briese. And considering that she’s an Irish redhead, that’s saying a ton.]
Wendy: “Edward, your actions over the past couple of weeks have confused me. From what i’ve seen of your career, you have never concerned yourself much with the tag division. And yet, despite having zero connection to the straps Terrence and I now hold, you are so quick to declare the WhirlyBirdz disgraces. Before we have even had the opportunity to defend these titles, you have leapt at the chance to criticize us.”
[Wendy slowly leans forward, her slightly narrowed eyes never blinking or leaving the camera.]
Wendy: “Wild, what I’m about to tell you holds true for any member of the PWX roster. There is no need to resort to cheapshots, back attacks, and empty threats. If you have a problem with Terrence and I holding the PWX World Tag Team Championsips, you are more than welcome to do something about it. Find a partner, issue a challenge, and lets set a date. Terrence and I are fighting champions, and we’ll be more than happy to take on anyone who has an issue with our reign.”
[And thus, the challenge delivered, Wendy relaxes ever so slightly, and a slight smile even comes across her face.]
Wendy: “Two brave souls already have stepped up.”
[A bit of excitement dances in her eyes. No match is more important to Wendy than a title defense, where she has to prove that she deserves the belt she holds.]
Wendy: “Scott Styles, and Xander Crewes. Two men, almost complete opposites of each other, who were thrown together as a makeshift team for a Battle Royal at Do Or Die. And yet, they managed to work well enough together to emerge from that match the victors, and earn a chance to face us.”
[Wendy’s smile drops just a smidge as she gets to the subject of Scott Styles. Given his… attitude, it’s understandable why Wendy isn’t too thrilled to have to deal with him.]
Wendy: “The tale of Scott Styles is a sad one. Not of his divorce- that is an unfortunate tale that has been told too many times over in this day and age. But Scott seems intent on being the most miserable person he can possibly be. His weekly prophecies of his own demise are interspersed with images of him lying intoxicated in grimy back alleys. He refuses to look for the positives in his life, and so his downward spiral continues. “
[The sparkle in Wendy’s eye returns as she moves on to Styles’ partner]
Wendy: “Xander Crewes is at the other end of the spectrum. Looking at the history of this young man, it is obvious he is living his dream. He has entered into every match with the passion of a true fighter, and thus far it has served him well. He has even managed to gain a victory over my most hated nemesis, Victor Mandrake, and for that, I certainly applaud him.”
[And she’d LOVE to know how the hell he managed to pull that out…]
Wendy: “The big question is, with such disparate personalities, how will both men react in the heat of the match? Will Xander’s enthusiasm and desire to leave it all in the ring break Scott from his doldrums? Or will Styles’ constant pessimism grate on Xander’s nerves, causing an irreparable splinter between the two men? They worked together well enough at Do Or Die, but that match was hardly one to push their talents to the limit. Can they keep it together in the heat of battle against Terrence and I?”
[Wendy shrugs, as she knows not the answer.]
Wendy: “To beat a team such as Terrence and I, teamwork will be required, and even then, it is no guarantee. It is with good reason that the WhirlyBirdz are considered one of the best tag teams in the world. The list of teams that have managed to beat us is small, and we fully intend on keeping it that way. And never have we lost a tag team championship on our very first defense. The bond Terrence and I share is indestructible, both inside the ring and out. I’ve already said it, but as talented as we both are individually, together we are that much more powerful.”
[Although Wendy’s words might be interpreted as boasting, she states them calmly, as if she is merely supporting a conclusion with evidence. Then she breaks into another warm smile.]
Wendy: “Either way, I wish them the best of luck. I’m always ready to welcome a challenge, and I feel confident that our opponents will provide one. But I feel even more confident that when the day is done, it will be the WhirlyBirdz standing victorious in the ring. After seven years without a tag team title reign, I have no intention of losing our belts three weeks after finally winning them.”
[Wendy stands up, and heads towards the camera.]
Wendy: “I’ll see you all on Monday”
[Wendy reaches the camera, and shuts it off, and the screen goes completely black]
Wednesday July 21, 2010
The Nest- Master Bedroom
Indianapolis, Indiana
3:14 PM Local Time
Wendy Briese-Thompson clutched her stomach in agony, and stared up at the ceiling of the master bedroom. There was little doubt in her mind that she was dying. After returning to Indianapolis on Tuesday afternoon, both Wendy and Terrence had found themselves hardly in a cooking mood. So after a quick deliberation, they had agreed to try the brand new Vietnamese restaurant that had opened over on Meridian Street. Having found their culinary selections within their hometown growing stale over the past few years, Wendy was excited at the opportunity to try a new and exciting meal.
That excitement had become somewhat tempered at about two o’clock this morning, when Wendy awoke with the distinct impression that the pork in her entree might not have been properly cooked. After spending the rest of the night paying homage at the porcelain altar, Wendy had finally managed to crawl back into her bed at eight this morning, curled up into the fetal position, and tried to sleep.
Almost six hours later, that sleep had still eluded her, and the young redhead lay awake, entertaining dark fantasies involving herself, the owner of that restaurant, and her Banshee finishing maneuver. Terrence had ran to the drug store for Pepto-Bismol and Ginger Ale, taking Theresa with him, which at least afforded her some peace and quiet.
She felt like such a wuss. She had wrestled in countless matches, taken so many blows, and bumps, and holds, and the only thing she could think of that could even come close to this agony was her labor with Theresa. Maybe she was in labor again, she thought darkly. Maybe any minute, an alien lifeform would burst forth from her stomach, and eat her face off. She actually was looking forward to it- at least then she’d get some rest...
She hissed as another spasm of pain burst forth from her abdomen, and she clutched her stomach almost ripping holes in her nightdress with her fingernails as she did so. On her honor, if this was ecoli or something else that made her miss ring time...
“You look like death,” came the voice of the ghost who now hovered beside her bed.
Given her condition, it was impossible for Wendy to jump in alarm from the voice, but she did give a start, and turned forward, squinting at the translucent specter of Rick Logan. Groaning, she flopped back on her pillow and covered her eyes. “Go away, Rick,” she moaned.
“I can’t do that right now Wendy.” He told her. “I really need your help.”
The seriousness of Rick’s tone alarmed her, and Wendy removed her arm from over her eyelids. Turning her head sideways, she looked over at her deceased friend. “Now?” she asked, incredulously.
“As much as I would love to leave you be at this moment so you can sleep, yes, it has to be now.” He said.
Gritting her teeth in pain, Wendy slowly worked her way to a sitting position on the bed, smoothing out her nightgown as she did. Rubbing her puffy, red eyes, Wendy looked over at Rick, concern setting in. Ever since he had appeared to her just before Summer Games, her rare visits from Rick had always seen the ghost in a good mood- a much better mood than he normally had been in real life. But today, things seemed to be different.
“What’s going on, Rick?” Wendy asked quietly.
“It’s Jake.” The ghost said with a sigh. “He’s following a bit too much in my footsteps.”
Jake Donovan was another wrestler, currently contracted out to Defiance Wrestling. The younger brother of the ghost now flittering before her, merely months ago, Jake had been a promising young talent in the wrestling world. Wendy had met the young man a couple times, and found him likeable enough, but she had heard dark whisperings from some about him.
Wendy shook her head, confused. “How? He hasn’t been in any death matches... at least from what I’ve seen.”
The ghost chuckled.
“Not that,” the ghost said, “hell, right now, I’d be wishing for that. It’s much worse. I used....ALOT and for quite a number of years, and now Jake is using too, or at the very least, he’s done it once that I know about and talked about doing it far more than that.
Wendy nodded somberly. “I had heard the rumors,” she said quietly. With a growing wave of shame, Wendy realized she hadn’t even seen Donovan since that day in the pizza parlor. They hadn’t even met at Summer Games, when they were in the same building. “I’m sorry, Rick. I promised I would check up on him... I’ve just been so busy,” she lamented.
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “You’d think the dumb kid would know better after the things he watched me do, guess I didn’t set a very good example for him, but right now, I’m just worried about him continuing to take them and destroying himself in the process.”
Wendy nodded silently, fighting down another wave of nausea as she did. “What about the Angel of Death?” she asked, unable to keep the sarcasm completely from her voice. The old veteran had taken Jake Donovan under his wing, but from what Wendy had seen, she had completely disapproved of the training tactics he had utilized. The methods he had resorted to seemed- cruel to her. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if the Angel of Death had turned Donovan to substance abuse.
“He’ll keep Jake in condition to fight, but his disapproval of Jake’s use was conveyed in the form of threat of ditching him and not training him anymore. I can tell you from experience, Threats arn’t what’s needed. Micheal used to threaten me all the time, in the end, it’s what broke up the Dark Angels.” The ghost said.
“And you think I can succeed where everyone else has failed?” Wendy asked, looking fairly skeptical.
“Yes,” he said “I think you can, and I’ll tell you why. Jake needs a friend, not someone to lecture him and not someone to threaten him. He lives in his car wherever he decides to park it, and he thinks that in order to be the best, he can’t have any sort of a life outside of the ring. So he drives, and he goes to AOD and trains, and he constantly teeters on the edge of shoving another needle in his arm.”
“That’s not the energetic young rookie I met in Pittsburgh,” Wendy said, shooting a sidelong glance at Rick.
“That’s not the kid that I lived with and trained with and hung out with for three years in Japan either.” Rick said. “He drove out into the desert like I used to do, but he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be looking for, just that he’s either looking for something or looking to run away, and you know, for him the easiest way to run is going to be to put something in his arm.”
Wendy nodded silently. “But, Rick,” she protested. “I couldn’t stop you from putting a gun in your mouth. I can’t even stop Theresa from sneaking Oreos before dinner! How could I possibly stop Jake from doing drugs?”
The ghost chuckled.
“Let me ask you something. If I had called you, and told you I was going to stick a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger, what would you have done?” he asked.
“I...” Wendy paused, and looked at her spectral friend. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “I guess I would have begged you not to. I would have told you that you still had a lot to live for.”
“And in doing so, you would have reminded me how selfish I was being.” He told her. “So the next time Teresa steals oreos, gently remind her that by stealing them before its time for a treat, she might be stopping someone else from getting a treat later because they’ll quickly be all gone. Kids have a sense of fair play that adults have mostly lost. As for Jake, I doubt he thinks anyone really cares what he does, or whether he destroys himself or not. Maybe all he needs is to be reminded that he’s hurting someone besides himself.”
“But why can’t you do it?” Wendy asked. “If you can appear to me like this, surely you can to him as well.”
“I do appear to him.” Rick said. “But it seems to have an adverse effect. Everytime I show up, it just makes him miss me more. Last time I popped in on him, he tried to off himself thinking he could join me.”
“Oh, God,” Wendy muttered under her breath. But then she sighed, and looked Rick directly in the eye. “I’m honored that you think I’m the one to perform this task, Rick. And I’ll do what I can. Just please don’t think less of me if I fail.”
He gave her a lopsided smile.
“If you fail, it just means that’s what was meant to happen, a tragic legacy, when you think about it, especially after what happened to Scott.” Rick told her.
“So no pressure, then.” Wendy quipped. She sighed. “Well, if you have any ideas how I’m to go about doing this... don’t hesitate to let me know.”
“Not a clue,” he told her with a shake of his head. “Never did find anything that worked for me.”
With that he vanished.
Wendy stared at the spot where the spirit had been and sighed. This was hardly a task she was looking forward to, but she did owe it to her friend to do the best she could. Wendy settled back down on her pillow, once again staring up at the ceiling as she tried to find a way to accomplish what had been set before her. Maybe if she... no. What about... wouldn’t work. But... not likely.
As she drifted off to sleep, so intent was Wendy on her newfound problem that she had failed to notice her stomach had stopped hurting.
================================================================
Thursday July 22, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
8:41 PM Local Time
[Well, luckily for our heroine, Wendy’s food poisoning episode lasted a little less than twenty-four hours. Wendy awoke from her nap Wednesday evening feeling better, and by Thursday morning, she was back to training again. Meanwhile, she called the offending restaurant to complain, and was told she would be getting vouchers for a free meal in the mail. There’s probably fairly good odds she won’t be using those.]
[Anyways, we’re in the Birdz’ living room, looking at a well-rested and rejuvenated Wendy Briese. She, as usual, sits in the couch, dressed in a knee-legnth green skirt, and a pale green short-sleeved top. There’s a little something different about Wendy. Unlike the normally rigid position she sits in, Wendy looks... a bit relaxed. And while she has that customary warm smile splashed across her face, there’s a bit of smugness to it as well. Who knew the girl had an ego?]
Wendy: “It is inevitable that good will one day triumph over evil.”
[A small grin from Wendy. It’s fairly obvious she’s relishing her victory from the past week over Brian Hollywood]
Wendy: “I’ve always held firm to that belief that if one plays by the rules and works hard, they will one day get their due, and Monday night, that happened. For two months now, Brian Hollywood has used every trick he could possibly think of to evade my grasp, and Monday night, finally, the Executive ran out of room to manuever. Just like what Danny Szatkowski did to John Ojeda, when it came down to it, the right way prevailed.”
[It should be noted that Wendy by no means views her victory over Hollywood as anywhere approaching the monumental victory that Szatkowski had over Ojeda at Do Or Die. But still, Wendy knows Ojeda’s one of Hollywood’s running buddies now, and she can’t resist rubbing a little extra salt in the wound. What? She’s got a vindictive side, she just doesn’t like to show it too much.]
Wendy: “I’ll admit, what happened Monday Night will likely hardly matter in the grand scheme of things. A cruicifix roll-up is hardly the most dominating, fan pleasing way to win a match, and I’d be a fool to think that what happened will end the threat Brian Hollywood poses to the integrity of professional wrestling. But when the history book on Pro-Wrestling X is written, and the chapter of the Brian Hollywood is penned, the author will have no choice but to mention that in his very first week in power, after all the corrupt moves he had made to solidify his holdings on PWX, Brian Hollywood fell by my hand in that night’s main event.”
[But she’s sure showing that vindictive side today. Go Wendy go!
Wendy: “I suppose, given that context, I can understand the post-match actions of Brian. Obivously, he was frustrated with the outcome, and he needed to take that out on someone. After all, when children throw their tantrums, they do tend to go for the closest thing they can find. What Hollywood did to me was little more than a childish outburst from a sore loser. A desperate plea for attention, as Brian Hollywood begins to realize that his relevance will soon be confined to the title deed he holds in his hand.”
[Wendy pauses, and takes a deep breath, a little bit of color entering her cheeks. Her smile fades, just a bit, and her emerald eyes lose a significant amount of their shine.]
Wendy: “While I can easily dismiss Brian’s actions as the raving of an immature child, I cannot overlook the actions of another man quite as easily.”
[Another deep breath by Wendy, and it’s obvious she’s not happy about this at all.]
Wendy: “Wild, what exactly is your problem with Terrence and I? Before Do or Die, the three of us had never even been under the same roof together. But you’ve turned to us, venom dripping from every word you speak about us in your promos. You’ve accosted me in a hallway over words that did not concern you in the slightest. You stood at ringside, insulting the effort I gave in the biggest win of my PWX singles career. And then you attacked me from behind during my moment of triumph.”
[Yeah, its safe to say this is about as pissed off as one normally sees Wendy Briese. And considering that she’s an Irish redhead, that’s saying a ton.]
Wendy: “Edward, your actions over the past couple of weeks have confused me. From what i’ve seen of your career, you have never concerned yourself much with the tag division. And yet, despite having zero connection to the straps Terrence and I now hold, you are so quick to declare the WhirlyBirdz disgraces. Before we have even had the opportunity to defend these titles, you have leapt at the chance to criticize us.”
[Wendy slowly leans forward, her slightly narrowed eyes never blinking or leaving the camera.]
Wendy: “Wild, what I’m about to tell you holds true for any member of the PWX roster. There is no need to resort to cheapshots, back attacks, and empty threats. If you have a problem with Terrence and I holding the PWX World Tag Team Championsips, you are more than welcome to do something about it. Find a partner, issue a challenge, and lets set a date. Terrence and I are fighting champions, and we’ll be more than happy to take on anyone who has an issue with our reign.”
[And thus, the challenge delivered, Wendy relaxes ever so slightly, and a slight smile even comes across her face.]
Wendy: “Two brave souls already have stepped up.”
[A bit of excitement dances in her eyes. No match is more important to Wendy than a title defense, where she has to prove that she deserves the belt she holds.]
Wendy: “Scott Styles, and Xander Crewes. Two men, almost complete opposites of each other, who were thrown together as a makeshift team for a Battle Royal at Do Or Die. And yet, they managed to work well enough together to emerge from that match the victors, and earn a chance to face us.”
[Wendy’s smile drops just a smidge as she gets to the subject of Scott Styles. Given his… attitude, it’s understandable why Wendy isn’t too thrilled to have to deal with him.]
Wendy: “The tale of Scott Styles is a sad one. Not of his divorce- that is an unfortunate tale that has been told too many times over in this day and age. But Scott seems intent on being the most miserable person he can possibly be. His weekly prophecies of his own demise are interspersed with images of him lying intoxicated in grimy back alleys. He refuses to look for the positives in his life, and so his downward spiral continues. “
[The sparkle in Wendy’s eye returns as she moves on to Styles’ partner]
Wendy: “Xander Crewes is at the other end of the spectrum. Looking at the history of this young man, it is obvious he is living his dream. He has entered into every match with the passion of a true fighter, and thus far it has served him well. He has even managed to gain a victory over my most hated nemesis, Victor Mandrake, and for that, I certainly applaud him.”
[And she’d LOVE to know how the hell he managed to pull that out…]
Wendy: “The big question is, with such disparate personalities, how will both men react in the heat of the match? Will Xander’s enthusiasm and desire to leave it all in the ring break Scott from his doldrums? Or will Styles’ constant pessimism grate on Xander’s nerves, causing an irreparable splinter between the two men? They worked together well enough at Do Or Die, but that match was hardly one to push their talents to the limit. Can they keep it together in the heat of battle against Terrence and I?”
[Wendy shrugs, as she knows not the answer.]
Wendy: “To beat a team such as Terrence and I, teamwork will be required, and even then, it is no guarantee. It is with good reason that the WhirlyBirdz are considered one of the best tag teams in the world. The list of teams that have managed to beat us is small, and we fully intend on keeping it that way. And never have we lost a tag team championship on our very first defense. The bond Terrence and I share is indestructible, both inside the ring and out. I’ve already said it, but as talented as we both are individually, together we are that much more powerful.”
[Although Wendy’s words might be interpreted as boasting, she states them calmly, as if she is merely supporting a conclusion with evidence. Then she breaks into another warm smile.]
Wendy: “Either way, I wish them the best of luck. I’m always ready to welcome a challenge, and I feel confident that our opponents will provide one. But I feel even more confident that when the day is done, it will be the WhirlyBirdz standing victorious in the ring. After seven years without a tag team title reign, I have no intention of losing our belts three weeks after finally winning them.”
[Wendy stands up, and heads towards the camera.]
Wendy: “I’ll see you all on Monday”
[Wendy reaches the camera, and shuts it off, and the screen goes completely black]
EPISODE 28: Birthday Party
EPISODE 28: BIRTHDAY PARTY
Thursday July 15, 2010
The Nest- Backyard
Indianapolis, Indiana
3:10 PM Local Time
Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday, Dear Theresa!
Happy Birthday to you!
The twoscore party goers gave a rousing cheer as northwest Indianapolis’ newest four year old took a deep breath, and blew out her candles with an impressive burst of carbon dioxide. Beaming at her daughter, Wendy quickly removed the four candles from the Disney Princess cake while Terrence, knife in hand, approached to start cutting pieces.
As Pollaski struggled to open a giant tub of Neapolitan ice cream, Wendy looked around. Most of the young parents in the neighborhood had come to the party, while a heaping pile of presents sat on the deck, waiting for Theresa’s eager hands to tear away their wrappings. Finally, with a grunt of pain, Pollaski managed to pry the lid off, and grabbed a nearby scoop to start putting the ice cream on the plates of cake that were now being handed out to the guests (although the birthday girl had gotten first slice, of course!)
Wendy was so intent on watching her daughter gleefully gulp down her birthday cake, she hardly noticed her husband thrusting a plate into her own hands. She looked up at him, smiling warmly as she accepted the treat, and grabbed a fork from the table.
Before too long, everyone else had a piece, and Terrence cut a slice off for himself, and plopped a scoop of ice cream on his plate (Pollaski had abandoned his post in short order to wolf down his own cake), and walked over to stand next to his wife.
“It’s going well.” Terrence commented, looking around at the guests enjoying themselves.
“It is,” Wendy agreed, her mouth full of the chocolate cake. “I was afraid it might be too big a party for her, but ...”
“She’s handling it well,” Terrence observed. “She’s having a lot of fun.”
Wendy looked up at the sky, where only a few white puffly clouds idly wandered across, the rest of the heavens a perfect azure. “Such a great day,” she said wistfully.
Terrence nodded, and took Wendy’s empty plate from her, tossing them in a nearby Rubbermaid trash can.
“But all this makes me that much more worried about her.” Wendy commented.
“Hey,” Terrence admonished sternly. “No thinking about Mandrake today. That’s a rule.”
“I’m sorry,” Wendy said, sighing as Theresa went bounding down the deck steps after some other kids to go play tag. “It’s just always in the back of my mind, though.”
“Yeah, well, I doubt Victor’s going to be storming into this party. Not when three of the guests are police officers,” Terrence said with a chuckle, pointing out a group of three men down on the lawn, drinking Cokes and laughing with each other as they watched the game of tag get underway. “Just relax, and worry about tomorrow tomorrow.”
“I know, but...”
“Relax!” Terrence said kindly, but still in a tone that brokered no argument.
“You’re right,” Wendy said, looking around the yard. “Where’d Pollaski go?” Oddly enough, after eating his cake, the portly manager had completely disappeared.
She didn’t have to wait long to get her answer.
“PINATA!” Pollaski bellowed in triumph as he emerged from the back door, and the vast majority of the partygoers looked over at the disturbance. Sure enough, Pollaski was carrying a pinata shaped like a pink pony, a rope tied to it, while a small baseball bat rested in his other hand. The children down on the lawn screamed in anticipation, their game of tag forgotten as Daniel jogged down the steps.
Exchanging amused glances, the WhirlyBirdz followed Pollaski down, nor were they the only adults doing so. Before long, Pollaski had tossed the rope over the lower branches of the large elm that sat in the middle of the yard, and was holding the pinata at the right height for a four-year old girl. Producing a blindfold from his pocket, he tossed it to Terrence, who put it over Theresa’s eyes, and put the bat in her hand.
“Okay,” Terrence said, guiding the little girl towards the pony. “Try to hit the pony.”
Theresa swung the bat with all her might, and the crowd cheered as the bat made contact. Theresa ripped off the blindfold, squealing with glee at the two pieces of candy that had fallen out. Theresa snatched them up, and ran back to her mom, placing both candies in her hand, while the crowd “awww”ed at the gesture.
“Thank’s, Terr-Bear,” Wendy smiled, opening the wrappers. She knew that the gesture was hardly as selfless as the onlookers believed. The candies were Tootise Rolls, which Theresa was not fond of. Still, she popped one in her mouth, as Terrence helped blindfold the next child.
Soon, all the children had gone, and the pony had definitely taken a beating, candy and cheers flying with each hint. Since she went first, Terrence went to put the blindfold back on his daughter, but she refused, pointing at Daniel. “Powaskee’s tuwn!” she demanded.
Pollaski protested, but Theresa kept insisting, so finally, he agreed, and Terrence put the blindfold up, while Wendy grabbed the rope, raising the pony to a higher level. Pollaski took the bat, and tentatively moved forward, but Terrence stopped him.
“Oh, no” the Mechanical Mayhem said. “You’re doing this the HARD way.”
Terrence forced Pollaski to spin around several times, and let go, shoving him at the pinata. The portly manager stumbled towards the pony, raising the small bat, and swinging with all his might...
THWACK!
While no candy went flying, the head of the pony did, having been seperated from the body by the blow. As Terrence and Wendy watched in horror, the head slowly arced over the back fence, landing in the next yard.
It took some time for Wendy to realize that most of the children were screaming, and for a fleeting second, she had this horrible thought that Pollaski had just traumatized the entire neighborhood. But then she realized the screams were of joy and excitement, not terror. In fact, the word “Awesome” was being thrown around rather liberally. Most of the adults were even laughing at the spectacle, and Pollaski, who taken off his blindfold to see the decapitated horse in front of him, was grinning sheepishly. Deciphering from the children’s babbles what had happened, he erupted in belly shaking laughter at the situation.
“Say,” one of the police officers in attendance said, his mouth full of one of the Flavor Rolls he had ‘confiscated’ from his own child. “Isn’t that the house where that couple who’s REALLY active in the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals lives?”
That comment raised more laughter at the thought of the expression on those people’s faces when they discovered a horse’s head lying in their yard. Even Wendy grinned nervously at the thought.
“What say we open some presents?” Terrence said, fully realizing the pinata game had come to a fitting end.
With that, the children let out another collective scream of excitement, and a tiny stampede back towards the deck began. Wendy watched them all run away, Theresa leading the way, and smiled.
Yes, today was a good day.
Thursday July 15, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
9:23 PM Local Time
[Okay, you shoulda heard the scream from the woman living behind the Thompsons when she saw the head of the pony in her backyard. So after assuring the woman that it was an accident, and not some anti-PETA message, Terrence invited the woman and her husband over for a barbecue next week.]
[That was NOT wise.]
[So Wendy, despite it still being her daughters fourth birthday, is in somewhat of a less than pleasant mood as she sits down to cut her promo for the week. She is sitting as rigid as ever, and her face is set in a grim determination.]
Wendy: “We’ve hit a new low.”
[And no, she’s not talking about the limbo contest at the birthday party.]
Wendy: “Over the years I have spent in in professional wrestling, I have seen many things that have disgusted me. I have seen screwjobs perpetrated on good, talented wrestlers by craven individuals who were unwilling- or unable, to win a match on their own talent. I have seen gangs of thugs corner and brutalize one person, simply because they were too weak individually. And I have seen my colleagues subject themselves to such needlessly brutal matches that it’s a miracle they can even walk afterwards, much less ever wrestle again.”
[A bit of sorrow enters Wendy’s voice through the end of that, given the memories of some of her friends after they went through “ultraviolent” matches.]
Wendy: “But never in my life have I been so revolted than by what happened Monday Night at Adrenaline Thirty-Eight. To see a man as craven and cowardly as Brian Hollywood blackmail his way into ownership of the PWX is one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen in my professional career.”
[Probably not as gross as the time Pollaski fed alka-seltzer to seagulls, but its up there.]
Wendy: “At first, I thought about resigning. How could I possibly justify myself as an advocate for honor and integrity in our sport, when I willingly competed under the banner of a such a corrupt man? How could I possibly hold my head high when I knew that every match I wrestled, every blow I took, every bead of sweat that fell from my brow, or drop of blood that leaked from my veins went to pad the pockets of such an appalling individual?”
[Wendy looks away from the camera for just a second, a mixture of shame and disgust on her face.]
Wendy: “But no, despite my reservations, I have no intention of departing Pro-Wrestling X. I’m not a quitter, and every honorable person that walks away from PWX in this troubled time makes it that much easier for Brian to mold this organization to his twisted visions. And I know that if I were to leave, that would only mean that Brian Hollywood drove me out, that when all is said and done, he won.”
[Wendy’s emerald eyes turn hard, and she looks directly into the camera.]
Wendy: “And Brian Hollywood will NEVER beat me”
[NEVAR!]
Wendy: “Brian, I find it interesting that the week after you come to power, I suddenly find myself in a match against you. It seems to me that you want to establish your power as quickly as possible, and you’re looking to make an example of someone, to show everyone just how much swagger you have now that you’re our boss. Considering how much a thorn in you’re side I’ve been, I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised that the example is to be me.”
[A short, humorless chuckle from Wendy.]
Wendy: “The catch is, you haven’t learned a single thing from our two previous encounters.”
[Wendy holds up two fingers, to indicate her two previous contests against Hollywood.]
Wendy: “Both times we’ve met, Brian, I’ve emerged victorious. But that’s not good enough for me. I don’t want to win because somebody hit me with a chair, nor do I want to win on a countout. There’s two ways I want this to end, and that’s either with the referee’s hand tapping the mat three times, or yours. Anything other than a clean pinfall or submission victory will be hollow. And I’m SICK of hollow victories over you.
[That hard glare is back, with a grim, determined smile, on her lips.]
Wendy: “After Monday night, I will make sure there will be no more excuses for you to hide behind. If you grab a chair, I will kick it out of your hand. If you run out of the ring, I will drag you back in. And if, God forbid, anyone even attempts to interfere in this match, regardless on who’s behalf, I will personally see to it that when they awaken after the show, it will be with the biggest headache of their lives.”
[Given Hollywood’s popularity with the boys, its obvious she’s more concerned about interference to ‘help’ her than anything else. ]
Wendy: “I know you’re coming off a big win over Darin Zion, but that doesn’t faze me in the least. Darin Zion was more concerned about reforming you than anything else. While that is an admirable pursuit, with someone as craven as you are, it is fruitless. Redemption can only come from an internal desire to be a better person, and you not only lack that desire, you spit on those who posses it.”
[Wendy shakes her head in disgust]
Wendy: “I don’t care about making you see the error of your ways, because no matter what I do, you won’t. All I care about is stopping you dead in your tracks. All I care about is ridding the PWX of your despicable influence. All I care about is restoring the PWX to a time when your athletic ability and your drive to succeed was what defined you, not whether or not you sucked up to a corrupt owner.”
[Disdainful snort]
Wendy: You cannot escape me, Brian. Not this time. There is nothing you can throw in my way that I cannot overcome. Twice now, I’ve been at the threshold of victory, and showing you how weak you truly are.”
[Grim smile]
Wendy: Monday night... I finish the job.
[Fade]
Thursday July 15, 2010
The Nest- Backyard
Indianapolis, Indiana
3:10 PM Local Time
Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday, Dear Theresa!
Happy Birthday to you!
The twoscore party goers gave a rousing cheer as northwest Indianapolis’ newest four year old took a deep breath, and blew out her candles with an impressive burst of carbon dioxide. Beaming at her daughter, Wendy quickly removed the four candles from the Disney Princess cake while Terrence, knife in hand, approached to start cutting pieces.
As Pollaski struggled to open a giant tub of Neapolitan ice cream, Wendy looked around. Most of the young parents in the neighborhood had come to the party, while a heaping pile of presents sat on the deck, waiting for Theresa’s eager hands to tear away their wrappings. Finally, with a grunt of pain, Pollaski managed to pry the lid off, and grabbed a nearby scoop to start putting the ice cream on the plates of cake that were now being handed out to the guests (although the birthday girl had gotten first slice, of course!)
Wendy was so intent on watching her daughter gleefully gulp down her birthday cake, she hardly noticed her husband thrusting a plate into her own hands. She looked up at him, smiling warmly as she accepted the treat, and grabbed a fork from the table.
Before too long, everyone else had a piece, and Terrence cut a slice off for himself, and plopped a scoop of ice cream on his plate (Pollaski had abandoned his post in short order to wolf down his own cake), and walked over to stand next to his wife.
“It’s going well.” Terrence commented, looking around at the guests enjoying themselves.
“It is,” Wendy agreed, her mouth full of the chocolate cake. “I was afraid it might be too big a party for her, but ...”
“She’s handling it well,” Terrence observed. “She’s having a lot of fun.”
Wendy looked up at the sky, where only a few white puffly clouds idly wandered across, the rest of the heavens a perfect azure. “Such a great day,” she said wistfully.
Terrence nodded, and took Wendy’s empty plate from her, tossing them in a nearby Rubbermaid trash can.
“But all this makes me that much more worried about her.” Wendy commented.
“Hey,” Terrence admonished sternly. “No thinking about Mandrake today. That’s a rule.”
“I’m sorry,” Wendy said, sighing as Theresa went bounding down the deck steps after some other kids to go play tag. “It’s just always in the back of my mind, though.”
“Yeah, well, I doubt Victor’s going to be storming into this party. Not when three of the guests are police officers,” Terrence said with a chuckle, pointing out a group of three men down on the lawn, drinking Cokes and laughing with each other as they watched the game of tag get underway. “Just relax, and worry about tomorrow tomorrow.”
“I know, but...”
“Relax!” Terrence said kindly, but still in a tone that brokered no argument.
“You’re right,” Wendy said, looking around the yard. “Where’d Pollaski go?” Oddly enough, after eating his cake, the portly manager had completely disappeared.
She didn’t have to wait long to get her answer.
“PINATA!” Pollaski bellowed in triumph as he emerged from the back door, and the vast majority of the partygoers looked over at the disturbance. Sure enough, Pollaski was carrying a pinata shaped like a pink pony, a rope tied to it, while a small baseball bat rested in his other hand. The children down on the lawn screamed in anticipation, their game of tag forgotten as Daniel jogged down the steps.
Exchanging amused glances, the WhirlyBirdz followed Pollaski down, nor were they the only adults doing so. Before long, Pollaski had tossed the rope over the lower branches of the large elm that sat in the middle of the yard, and was holding the pinata at the right height for a four-year old girl. Producing a blindfold from his pocket, he tossed it to Terrence, who put it over Theresa’s eyes, and put the bat in her hand.
“Okay,” Terrence said, guiding the little girl towards the pony. “Try to hit the pony.”
Theresa swung the bat with all her might, and the crowd cheered as the bat made contact. Theresa ripped off the blindfold, squealing with glee at the two pieces of candy that had fallen out. Theresa snatched them up, and ran back to her mom, placing both candies in her hand, while the crowd “awww”ed at the gesture.
“Thank’s, Terr-Bear,” Wendy smiled, opening the wrappers. She knew that the gesture was hardly as selfless as the onlookers believed. The candies were Tootise Rolls, which Theresa was not fond of. Still, she popped one in her mouth, as Terrence helped blindfold the next child.
Soon, all the children had gone, and the pony had definitely taken a beating, candy and cheers flying with each hint. Since she went first, Terrence went to put the blindfold back on his daughter, but she refused, pointing at Daniel. “Powaskee’s tuwn!” she demanded.
Pollaski protested, but Theresa kept insisting, so finally, he agreed, and Terrence put the blindfold up, while Wendy grabbed the rope, raising the pony to a higher level. Pollaski took the bat, and tentatively moved forward, but Terrence stopped him.
“Oh, no” the Mechanical Mayhem said. “You’re doing this the HARD way.”
Terrence forced Pollaski to spin around several times, and let go, shoving him at the pinata. The portly manager stumbled towards the pony, raising the small bat, and swinging with all his might...
THWACK!
While no candy went flying, the head of the pony did, having been seperated from the body by the blow. As Terrence and Wendy watched in horror, the head slowly arced over the back fence, landing in the next yard.
It took some time for Wendy to realize that most of the children were screaming, and for a fleeting second, she had this horrible thought that Pollaski had just traumatized the entire neighborhood. But then she realized the screams were of joy and excitement, not terror. In fact, the word “Awesome” was being thrown around rather liberally. Most of the adults were even laughing at the spectacle, and Pollaski, who taken off his blindfold to see the decapitated horse in front of him, was grinning sheepishly. Deciphering from the children’s babbles what had happened, he erupted in belly shaking laughter at the situation.
“Say,” one of the police officers in attendance said, his mouth full of one of the Flavor Rolls he had ‘confiscated’ from his own child. “Isn’t that the house where that couple who’s REALLY active in the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals lives?”
That comment raised more laughter at the thought of the expression on those people’s faces when they discovered a horse’s head lying in their yard. Even Wendy grinned nervously at the thought.
“What say we open some presents?” Terrence said, fully realizing the pinata game had come to a fitting end.
With that, the children let out another collective scream of excitement, and a tiny stampede back towards the deck began. Wendy watched them all run away, Theresa leading the way, and smiled.
Yes, today was a good day.
Thursday July 15, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
9:23 PM Local Time
[Okay, you shoulda heard the scream from the woman living behind the Thompsons when she saw the head of the pony in her backyard. So after assuring the woman that it was an accident, and not some anti-PETA message, Terrence invited the woman and her husband over for a barbecue next week.]
[That was NOT wise.]
[So Wendy, despite it still being her daughters fourth birthday, is in somewhat of a less than pleasant mood as she sits down to cut her promo for the week. She is sitting as rigid as ever, and her face is set in a grim determination.]
Wendy: “We’ve hit a new low.”
[And no, she’s not talking about the limbo contest at the birthday party.]
Wendy: “Over the years I have spent in in professional wrestling, I have seen many things that have disgusted me. I have seen screwjobs perpetrated on good, talented wrestlers by craven individuals who were unwilling- or unable, to win a match on their own talent. I have seen gangs of thugs corner and brutalize one person, simply because they were too weak individually. And I have seen my colleagues subject themselves to such needlessly brutal matches that it’s a miracle they can even walk afterwards, much less ever wrestle again.”
[A bit of sorrow enters Wendy’s voice through the end of that, given the memories of some of her friends after they went through “ultraviolent” matches.]
Wendy: “But never in my life have I been so revolted than by what happened Monday Night at Adrenaline Thirty-Eight. To see a man as craven and cowardly as Brian Hollywood blackmail his way into ownership of the PWX is one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen in my professional career.”
[Probably not as gross as the time Pollaski fed alka-seltzer to seagulls, but its up there.]
Wendy: “At first, I thought about resigning. How could I possibly justify myself as an advocate for honor and integrity in our sport, when I willingly competed under the banner of a such a corrupt man? How could I possibly hold my head high when I knew that every match I wrestled, every blow I took, every bead of sweat that fell from my brow, or drop of blood that leaked from my veins went to pad the pockets of such an appalling individual?”
[Wendy looks away from the camera for just a second, a mixture of shame and disgust on her face.]
Wendy: “But no, despite my reservations, I have no intention of departing Pro-Wrestling X. I’m not a quitter, and every honorable person that walks away from PWX in this troubled time makes it that much easier for Brian to mold this organization to his twisted visions. And I know that if I were to leave, that would only mean that Brian Hollywood drove me out, that when all is said and done, he won.”
[Wendy’s emerald eyes turn hard, and she looks directly into the camera.]
Wendy: “And Brian Hollywood will NEVER beat me”
[NEVAR!]
Wendy: “Brian, I find it interesting that the week after you come to power, I suddenly find myself in a match against you. It seems to me that you want to establish your power as quickly as possible, and you’re looking to make an example of someone, to show everyone just how much swagger you have now that you’re our boss. Considering how much a thorn in you’re side I’ve been, I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised that the example is to be me.”
[A short, humorless chuckle from Wendy.]
Wendy: “The catch is, you haven’t learned a single thing from our two previous encounters.”
[Wendy holds up two fingers, to indicate her two previous contests against Hollywood.]
Wendy: “Both times we’ve met, Brian, I’ve emerged victorious. But that’s not good enough for me. I don’t want to win because somebody hit me with a chair, nor do I want to win on a countout. There’s two ways I want this to end, and that’s either with the referee’s hand tapping the mat three times, or yours. Anything other than a clean pinfall or submission victory will be hollow. And I’m SICK of hollow victories over you.
[That hard glare is back, with a grim, determined smile, on her lips.]
Wendy: “After Monday night, I will make sure there will be no more excuses for you to hide behind. If you grab a chair, I will kick it out of your hand. If you run out of the ring, I will drag you back in. And if, God forbid, anyone even attempts to interfere in this match, regardless on who’s behalf, I will personally see to it that when they awaken after the show, it will be with the biggest headache of their lives.”
[Given Hollywood’s popularity with the boys, its obvious she’s more concerned about interference to ‘help’ her than anything else. ]
Wendy: “I know you’re coming off a big win over Darin Zion, but that doesn’t faze me in the least. Darin Zion was more concerned about reforming you than anything else. While that is an admirable pursuit, with someone as craven as you are, it is fruitless. Redemption can only come from an internal desire to be a better person, and you not only lack that desire, you spit on those who posses it.”
[Wendy shakes her head in disgust]
Wendy: “I don’t care about making you see the error of your ways, because no matter what I do, you won’t. All I care about is stopping you dead in your tracks. All I care about is ridding the PWX of your despicable influence. All I care about is restoring the PWX to a time when your athletic ability and your drive to succeed was what defined you, not whether or not you sucked up to a corrupt owner.”
[Disdainful snort]
Wendy: You cannot escape me, Brian. Not this time. There is nothing you can throw in my way that I cannot overcome. Twice now, I’ve been at the threshold of victory, and showing you how weak you truly are.”
[Grim smile]
Wendy: Monday night... I finish the job.
[Fade]
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