Monday February 14, 2011
Cedar Ridge Memorial Hospital- Fourth FLoor Hallway
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
10:31 AM Local Time
I learned a lot of things from my stay at Cedar Ridge Memorial Hospital.
I learned that in pro-wrestling, it doesn’t matter if you’re signed to a company or not. If you’re there, and a guy doesn’t like you (or, more specifically, doesn’t like your wife), you better be on your guard.
I learned that no matter how strong and tough I think my wife is, she’s still capable of surprising me. The poise she had controlled in guiding our family through this small crisis was absolutely remarkable.
I learned that regardless of what people say, Drew Carey is a SHITTY host of the Price is Right.
But, most importantly of all, I learned that, even if you got the bad luck of getting a male nurse, and you’re the most heterosexual guy on the planet, simply yanking out your own catheter tube is NOT the proper solution to the dilemma.
I mean, seriously, that may have hurt worse than the concussion.
But alas, they finally took one last MRI, decided that my concussion was no longer ‘kinda-sorta-semi-life-threatening’, and gave me my walking papers. After five days bedridden, I was a free man.
Luckily, Wendy had left me some clothes before she had taken the rest of the family to Dallas. It woulda sucked driving four-hundred miles in some bare-ass hospital gown. Especially as cold as it had been.
“Mr. Thompson!” I heard one of the nurses saying as I trudged towards the elevator. I was eager to put this hospital, and Oklahoma City in general, as far behind me as possible, but nonetheless, I stopped, and turned around, waiting for the nurse to catch up to me.
“Here,” slightly out of breath, she handed me a slip of paper, and I looked at it. “The doctor wanted me to give you this prescription for pain medicine.”
I looked at the prescription. Neurontin. I grimaced, then nodded my thanks to the nurse, who walked away. For a second, I considered just throwing the prescription away- I tried to stay away from anything stronger than Ibuprofin unless absolutely necessary. But I held on to it. My ribs were still sore, and this may be one of those times.
Besides, if anything, I could always crush a couple up and slip it into Pollaski’s Lucky Charms in the morning. That was always surefire entertainment.
I was a bit apprehensive as I approached the RV. The weather in Oklahoma had been freakishly cold all week, to the point where the RV had been rendered uninhabitable. Pollaski had managed to get it moved into the hospital parking lot, and then he, Wendy, Theresa, and Cassie had all piled into my Charger, and taken it to Dallas for the week. The plan was for me to drive the RV down, pick the whole family up, and we’d continue on to Los Angeles.
Something wasn’t right, though. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it’s just a connection I’ve always had with my cars. Whether it was on the racetrack, or in my driveway, if there was something wrong, I could just sense it, like the car was silently crying out to me for help.
That, and there were three MASSIVE icicles hanging out from beneath the RV.
I quickly got to the RV, and climbed the stairs to the inside. It was cold and dark, the mark of a massive vehicle that had been sitting idly for several days. I could still see my breath, which was odd, because I couldn’t outside. With a shrug, I began to walk through the cabin, looking around to see if everything was okay.
I got about four steps before I slipped, and fell hard.
I gasped as my bruised ribs screamed in agony from the fall, and even teared up a bit as I seethed against the pain. Slowly, I managed to roll onto my stomach, and tried to climb to my feet, but I slipped, and fell again.
“Mother.... fucker....” I wheezed, as again I tried to get to my feet. Eventually I gained my feet again, and I realized what was wrong.
Everything was covered with ice. The floors, the walls, the ceiling. Everything. What the fuck happened?
Then it hit me. Despite me telling him to do so at LEAST five times, Pollaski had forgotten to turn off the RV’s water system, and drain the tanks. The pipes had frozen, and they had burst.
And now I owned a half-million dollar ice skating rink on wheels.
=====================================
Monday February 14, 2011
The RV- Cockpit
Interstate 35 near Ardmore, Texas
9:14 PM Local Time
[Okay, so maybe that wasn’t exactly the way Terrence had intended to spend his first few hours of freedom, but it is what it is, right? So six hours of scraping and mopping, Terrence finally managed to get all the water and ice out of the RV, patch the holes in the fresh, grey, AND blackwater tanks, and get the King Aire in some semblance of working order.]
[Meanwhile, the pipes under the kitchen sink and in the shower both have massive holes in them, so it looks like the Birdz are going to be roughing it for a few days. Lord can only imagine the horrors that will be involved if the Thompson family’s forced to take their showers at truck stops.]
[Anyways, the scene opens in the cockpit of the RV, which is finally road worthy, and heading towards Dallas on the first leg of its journey to Los Angeles. As usual, the camera is mounted on the dash at the front, looking back at the RV, which is empty save for Terrence Thompson. For his part, the Mechanical Mayhem is more jovial than he has any right to be, considering that Lord knows what the price tag is for a new RV plumbing system. But maybe its that Terrence now has a rare treat- an open road drive by himself across the southern Great Plains.]
[Or maybe he’s just been imagining burying his manager in the New Mexico desert]
“Well, look who just got medically cleared!”
“I know, did anyone out there honestly think that I was going to sit out the Great Panda Bash? My first ever Catholic Panda Wrestling Supershow, and I’m gonna watch it from a hospital bed?”
[Terrence chuckles to himself, and shakes his head. No way, no how]
“Still, it did kinda suck that within twenty-four hours of becoming the #1 Contender to the Undisputed Panda title, I’m shipped off to the hospital with a concussion because one of my wife’s rivals wanted to get under her skin. A definite setback to be sure, but one I can certainly overcome. Of course, now I have some serious training and preparation time to make up, but you can rest assured that when I hit that ring Monday night, Belladonna is going to be in for the fight of her life.”
[Terrence flashes a grin at the camera, then turns to check his mirrors.]
“So just a week ago, at the fourteenth episode of Zoo, I did exactly what I said I was going to do. I stepped in that ring, I took matters into my own hands, and I forged my own path in this company. The best Catholic Panda Wrestling had to offer stood in my way, and not one of them could bring me down.”
“Okay, so maybe it was just seven people. But don’t look at me! I didn’t make the entry list! Hell, maybe I scared ‘em away!”
[Another grin at the prospect of the locker room cowering in fear of the almighty Thompson. Even if it is more or less a fantasy]
“Either way, I’m sure that there are some people that are less than happy about what transpired. Those seven unfortunate souls, for starters. I mean, Liam’s got the biggest ninja-troubles since Shredder himself, and if I hadn’t snapped my attention back to Gowan when I did, then maybe things might have ended up differently. But them’s the breaks.”
[small shrug]
“But I’m sure our illustrious owner, Missus Valerie Belmont, isn’t exactly jumping with glee either. Can you imagine. Me, Terrence Thompson, scourge of the Belmont clan, main eventing HER supercard? But what’s going to be best of all, is the expression on her face when I pin Belladonna one, two, three in the middle of the ring, and become the champion of HER company. That could explain the stipulation she suddenly just dropped on us earlier today, but I’ll get to more of that later.”
“And of course there’s the dodo himself, Aoraki. I’m sure I have my detractors around here, and they can bash my ‘attitude’ if they want, but Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! For a guy who’s biggest match involved him beating up my manager, he’s turned into one pretentious little asshole.”
[Another small chuckle, and Terrence shakes his head, too amused at this point to be irritated]
“Now, I know, winning a battle royal, especially one with eight people in it, is hardly the most dominating way to earn yourself a title shot. But you know what? It was an opportunity. If Aoraki wants to play it safe, and spend the big show taking on both members of Furry Vengeance, more power to him. I’m the kinda guy who goes for whatever opportunity he can get, so when Cammie and Val dangled the carrot, I grabbed it, and took a great big juicy bite. And I gotta tell you, from here, its pretty damn sweet.”
[Short pause, and Terrence’s eyebrows arch]
“Or maybe I just ingested a lethal amount of poison. After all, you know which poison tastes the sweetest?”
[Belladonna, yo]
“So once again, I’ve got myself a dance with the great Belladonna. I hope Little Miss Trixie isn’t sick of me yet, because this is going to be my fourth match since I signed my CPW contract, and the third that has Belladonna as one of my opponents.”
“Now, both times we faced previously, I walked out on the winning team, although neither victory was what you’d exactly call overly decisive. Of course, that’s going to have to change this time. There ain’t gonna be anyone else to pin, and winning by disqualification amounts to just about the same thing as losing.”
[A small grimace, which disappears quickly]
“So ultimately, this is probably going to end up a game of cat and mouse, with me playing the role of the feline. Belladonna is quick, agile, and damn good at playing keep away. But one problem with that... in order to beat me, she’s going to have to get close. This isn’t the cartoons, where she can run circles around me until I get dizzy and fall down. And while I’m sure I’m not quite as fast as Belladonna is, I know I’m no slouch in the speed department myself. I’d like to think I’m fairly well rounded; I’ve got the speed, I’ve got the strength, and, yes, I have adaptability.”
[Another chuckle, although Terrence shakes his head in helpless disbelief]
“And yet, even after being here for nearly two months now, people still don’t quite seem to be able to respect me. Everyone, especially our smaller boss-lady, seems to think that I’m simply riding in Wendy’s wake, letting her plow the road, while I traipse along behind, and pick up all the spoils along the way. I suppose as preposterous as these rumours are, it’s only fair. After all, for so long it was Wendy who had to deal with this bullshit. I suppose it’s only fair I take a turn with the haters.”
[Another chuckle, and head shake, and this time Terrence’s voice takes on the tone of a teacher addressing a difficult student with a simple truth]
“Look, people. Of COURSE I look better with Wendy Briese in my corner. Just as Wendy looks better with me in her corner. That’s the mark of a great tag team, we make each other look better, something I’m surprised the Cherrybombs aren’t able to comprehend. But both of us are more than capable of dominating singles competition as well. I’m a five-time world champ, and Wendy...”
[Terrence breaks into a huge grin of pride for his beloved]
“Well, it took ten-and-a-half fucking months, but someone finally decided to give Wendy Briese a shot at a singles belt, over in X3W, and she did exactly what everyone knew she was going to do all along. She walked down that aisle, and she kicked ass, and now she’s got a World Championship to call her very own. So two monkeys off her back in a single night, and I couldn’t be more proud of her.”
“But now? It’s my turn.”
[Smirk]
“Of course, what woiuld be a World Title match these days without throwing some goofy-ass stipulation into the mix, and our Catholic Panda braintrust has sure come up with a good one. LUMBERJACKS! Y’know, I’d ALMOST be worried, except that I know that Wendy ain’t going to anything but make sure that this match is kept clean, and I’m pretty sure Haley Dark is going to be of the same mindset. That leaves the Sin City Sinners, who apparently ain’t too keen that Wendy and I are the tag team champions, and they’re not.”
[Terrence’s eyebrows arch again, and he smirks at the camera]
“Well boys, maybe you shoulda signed up a couple of weeks earlier and done something about it.”
“So now you take these two idiots, and you stick them at ringside in a main event that features one-half of the tag team champions, and one-half of the team posing the fiercest threat as a contender, and you don’t think they’re going to start shit? Then again, considering Valerie’s feelings about me, maybe she’d prefer this match getting wrecked to me being the champion.”
[And you thought Michelle Taylor was good at pissing off the management]
“Well, it doesn’t matter. Wendy will be more than enough to keep those boys in line, and even if they somehow manage to give her the slip, I’m sure Belladonna wouldn’t mind me taking a couple of minutes to kick their asses from here to eternity. After all, I owe them one from the last show, don’t I?”
[Another chuckle, albeit this one’s a teensy sinister]
“Either way, I ain’t about to let anything get in the way of me beating Belladonna and taking the title. I’ve been here before, and I’ve been on both sides of the coin at the end of the night. But I fully anticipate this flip ending up in my favor, and at the end of the night, Catholic Panda Wrestling is going to have a new champion. A dominant champion. A champion that ain’t currently wallowing in sixth place in her own fed’s rankings. And who’s going to stop me?”
[Oh dear god, where gonna have a catchphrase]
“Haven’t I warned ya yet? You just can’t stop the Mechanical Mayhem!”
[Terrence flashes one last cheesy grin at the camera, then turns his full attention back to the road, as he resumes the long drive towards Texas]
[Oh, and fade. To black. Because rainbows are gay]
No comments:
Post a Comment