Thursday March 17, 2011
The RV- Main Cabin
Santa Monica, California
2:10 PM Local Time
“I'm home!” I called out as I climbed up the steps to the RV. I smiled as I looked around the main cabin of the King Aire. Wendy and Theresa were sitting at the table, looking through a photo album. Wendy smiled at me as I walked in, then turned her attention back to the book on the table, while Theresa barely acknowledged me, so intent she was on the pictures inside.
“What's going on?” I asked, walking over to look at the photo album, surprised to see that they were black and white photos, taken in the early twentieth century- maybe even the late nineteenth
“I'm teaching Theresa about Irish history,” Wendy explained to me, brushing a loose strand of her red hair out of her face. “I figured that since today's Saint Patrick's day, it's as good as time as any to let my daughter know about her heritage.”
I snorted. “Hon, she's too young to drink Guinness.”
Wendy shot me a severe look, and scowled. “Honestly, Terry. There's a lot more to being Irish than drinking beer. Considering who you married, I'd have thought you'd at least have figured that out.”
“Of course there is. There's whiskey, and scotch.” I stopped with a grin as Wendy narrowed her eyes at me, then walked over to the photo album. “So who's this?”
Wendy smiled, and looked up at me. “That's a my great-great-grandfather, Aiden. He was a colonel in the famous Tyneside Irish Brigade during the first World War. He was wounded in the battle of the Somme.”
“Ah, a hero then,” I replied, arching my eyebrows.
Wendy nodded, but then shrugged. “Not everyone thought so. There were many Irishmen who thought that Irishmen who fought in the British army were traitors. In fact, there were some Irish who wanted to join the war on the German's side, hoping for independence”
“Sounds complicated,” I said, looking at another picture of this Aiden, with a small, smiling woman, whom I could only assume was Wendy's great-great-grandmother. “Why are you showing her this?”
“Because, it's important to know our history, Terrence,” Wendy said, almost surprised that I would even ask such a question. “Its tougher to know the road ahead of us if we don't know where we came from. Don't you want Theresa to know your family's history?”
I paused for a second. “You know... I don't even know my family's history,” I remarked. “I mean, I know who my parents were... and my grandparents. But beyond that...”
“You should try and find it out,” Wendy replied, looking at me. “It'll probably be harder, since Thompson's a fairly common family name. But Theresa's a mixture of both of us. She should know about both sides of her family's history. Not just mine.”
“I dunno,” I said. “It's all just a bunch of names and dates.”
“No, they're not!” Wendy exclaimed, looking scandalized. “They're stories! True stories about the people who made us who we are! How can you not find this fascinating?”
I shrugged. “I'm just not a history guy. I'm gonna go watch the tournament.”
Wendy looked as if she wanted to say more, but she only sighed as I picked up the remote, and plopped down on the couch, turning the television on. For a while, the only sound was that of squeaking sneakers, and the low murmur of the announcers as they called the contest.
Suddenly, Wendy looked up from the book, and over at me.
“Is Notre Dame playing?”
“Tomorrow,” I said with a smirk.
“Oh,” she replied, then turned back to the book, where she went back to talking to our daughter.
Friday March 18, 2011
The RV- Main Cabin
Santa Monica, California
5:54 PM Local Time
“Well, I sure hope everyone was paying attention last week.”
[Well, Terrence might not know his family's history, but he's well aware of what happened in his past- namely, the recent past. This is probably why Terrence is looking pretty smug as the scene fades into the RV's main cabin, where Terrence is lounging on the couch, looking at the camera]
“Going into that match last week, there was one question- could the WhirlyBirdz and the Cherrybombs really function as well together as they think they can? Well, everyone now has their answer, because once the Bombs and the Birdz teamed up, there wasn't ANYONE who could stand in our way. We just took a former Undisputed Panda in Joey Flash, and his new, supposedly 'monstrous' sidekick Drake Black, and we completely exposed them for the overrated hacks they are.”
[If anything, Terrence's smirk only widens]
“But it was even worse for the Syn City Syndicate. Going into that match, I think there was little doubt in anyone's mind that Terry Marvin and Ace Andrews were on a collision course for our Teaming Panda titles. At least they were until they were so completely exposed as they frauds they were, now they have to deal with the Midnight Society to even get a whiff at our tag titles.”
“So while those two teams go off and decide whether or not Wendy and I will actually have a contender for these straps, I myself get a chance at some personal redemption.”
[A small shrug]
“Yeah, redemption. I know, the one time I've ever been in the ring with Lawrence Gowan, I chucked him over the top rope, and won the battle royal. But ultimately, I got nothing to show for it. I won to become the number one contender, and I failed to capitalize on that. So I head right back to where I started- Gowan and I standing in a ring, facing each other. Luckily, this time the match will be fought out to a much more decisive conclusion than 'first guy to hit the floor loses,”
“So Gowan, you're considered one of the truly nice guys of professional wrestling. I can see that, you don't seem to have anything mean to say about anybody...”
[Terrence pauses for a long while, looking deep in thought]
“Actually, you don't seem to have much of anything to say whatsoever...”
[Another shrug, and a snort to go along with the shake of a head]
“I'll give you your due, Larry. You're a hell of a technician, and you know your way around a ring. But dear God... for being someone who considers himself 'charismatic' and 'entertaining'... you're kinda boring.”
“Maybe that's why the whole 'musician' thing didn't work out...”
[Small smirk]
“Now, before anyone gets into a tizzy, and takes me out of context, no, I don't think that nice people are boring. Lord knows, people don't get much nicer than my wife, and if I ever called her boring, she'd slug me!”
[Terrence grins just a bit]
“But I also know that Wendy's got an inner-fire in her. If she's not happy with something, she'll sure as hell make her opinion known. And she doesn't back down to anyone.”
[Terrence arches his eyebrows, and looks at the camera]
“Where's your inner-fire, Gowan? I gotta ask, because I haven't seen it. I didn't see it when you faced Liam. I didn't see it in that battle royal. And I sure as hell don't see it in the pretentious waves of bullshit you call blog posts.”
[Another snort]
“Seriously, Larry. You almost seem to fancy yourself as some sort of tragic poet. A misunderstood starving artist. But let's get a reality check here, Gowan. All you are is a forty year old man who still dyes his floppy hair blue. I'm sure that makes you popular with all the fat little emo girls who haven't quite grasped the concept of rejection, but for those of us more sophisticated, all it induces in us is an eyeroll.”
[Sophisticated- this coming from a guy who actually put on his medical forms that he's allergic to art museums]
“I know I'm probably stepping on some toes with this. But I'm not exactly the kind of guy who aims for universal popularity. That's a pipe dream, after all- we'll always have our detractors. I have my fans, and I appreciate them, but I'm not going to start sugar-coating crap to get people to like me.”
[Terrence shakes his head]
“Ultimately, I doubt it really matters. My job, and your job are simple enough- get out there, and wrestle. And despite the fact that you've demonstrated all the personality of a cardboard box, you're not a pushover. And I've got a hell of a lot riding on this match. After all, I am aiming for that rematch with Belladonna for that Undisputed Panda title.”
“And for that, I've got some work to do. Val would sooner sunbathe than have me as the champion of her company, and I'd bet even Camilla's going to need some more convincing. Hell, even my own manager has me ranked below Liam Alexander in his Power X!”
[A small pause, Terrence scrunches his face, as if he just smelled something really bad]
“Talk about your indignities.”
[A small snort]
“So Gowan, you better be ready on Monday, because you're dealing with a Mechanical Mayhem that has some serious things to prove. And you better find that fire inside, or else you'll be finding yourself on the Last Lap sooner than you think.”
[Small pause, then one final smirk]
“Ah well, if that happens, at least you'll be interesting for a couple of seconds.”
[Terrence grins, as the scene fades to black]
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