15 July AD 2011
Happy birthday, my dear daughter!
Five years ago, on a day just as wonderful and beautiful of this one, Theresa Serena Thompson came into the world, weighing eight pounds, and four ounces. There are no words to describe the joy that this little girl has brought to Terrence’s and my life. She has been everything to me, and to my husband. And she has grown into such a beautiful young lady. She’s so smart, and so funny. I know she’ll be the star of her kindergarten class come September.
Unfortunately, I wish I could give my daughter a better, more exciting birthday. I didn’t want to have to spend so much of it in the RV driving from Indianapolis to Iowa. Terrence has practice at three, and we had to get up at 5 AM this morning to get to Newton in time. Between travelling, and Terrence’s practicing, most of the day will be gone.
Still, I’m doing the best I can to make this day special. We’ve let her open her presents, and she’s having fun with the LeapPad learning system we got her. I was a bit leery of giving my daughter a video gaming system- the last thing I need her doing is turning into Pollaski. But I looked into it- the games are both fun, and educational, and just so long as we moderate her usage, it should both entertain and enrich her.
And it’ll be a bit late in the day, but we’ve already booked reservations at Chuck E. Cheese’s in Des Moines, which is about forty minutes away from the racetrack. Even if the day will be little to write home about, Terrence and I can give her the best birthday evening we possibly can!
Still, I always hope that we’re doing the right thing when it comes to her. Terrence and I don’t exactly want for money- we’re both doing what we do simply because we want to. It seems selfish, especially given our responsibilities as parents. Not only are we constantly on the road, but both of us risk serious injury every time we go out to compete. I don’t want my daughter growing up with one or both of her parents severely crippled- or worse. Given the light of recent events, that thought weighs heavily on my mind nearly every day.
And yet, as Terrence points out, either of us could be killed in a simple car accident, like Terrence’s parents were when he was just five. Or we could get cancer, or suffer some other sort of illness. We can’t shut ourselves up in the Nest, and we can’t shelter Theresa from the realities of the world. That’s one of the advantages of doing what we’re doing- we get to take our daughter all around the country, and show her so many different things. We’ve been to aquariums, museums, parks, landmarks, so many places we wouldn’t get to see if we didn’t do what we do. The experiences have been enriching for her. After all, how many kids in her kindergarten class will get to say they’ve been to as many places as she has?
The best I can do is be careful, and make sure that every day, Theresa knows that she is loved, and cared for, and that she learns to respect herself and others. After all, like those ads for the adoption agency say- you don’t have to be perfect to be a perfect parent.
So happy birthday, my dear Theresa, and may the many years you have ahead of you bring you much happiness and wonders!
-WCBT
Friday July 15, 2011
Chuck E. Cheese’s Pizza & Arcade
West Des Moines, Iowa
8:31 PM Local Time
“I win!”
My declaration was hardly a surprise- about the only video game my husband was worse than me at was Dance Dance Revolution. But still, given that I nearly doubled his score, I was still rather proud of myself.
Terrence took the loss stoically, and shrugged, picking up his paper beverage cup, and taking a sip. “Yeah, well, of course you beat me. I never play this game. It’s like the only game you DO play.”
Terrence’s words were true enough. Pollaski had actually gotten me the X-Box version of the game for my birthday, with the idea that it would be a great non-traditional way for me to work out, not to mention work on my agility and footwork. I still wasn’t certain if playing DDR actually benefited my competitive edge any, but it still was a fun way to get moving that didn’t involve going on a treadmill.
Terrence put his arm over my shoulder, and together we turned away from the DDR machine, narrowly missing a couple kids running through the arcade. As could be expected, it was a pretty busy Friday night at Chuck E. Cheese’s, with at least three other birthday parties going on at the same time as ours. Actual parties, too, not like the small family outing that we had going. I felt bad for Theresa that she wouldn’t be able to spend Theresa’s birthday among children her own age, but at the same time, she seemed to have been having fun.
I checked my watch. “They said our pizza would be ready about eight-forty,” I said, raising my voice to be heard over the video game machines. “We should probably gather everyone up. Where’s Theresa?”
“She was playing a racing game with Pollaski, last I saw her,” Terrence said. “She sat on his lap and steered, while Pollaski worked the pedals. They were doing really good too!” He looked at me, smiling gently. “Are you having fun?”
“Yeah, I am,” I replied, smiling back. “This was a great idea. I’m just glad that we got to give Theresa a special night.”
Terrence nodded. “She deserves it, the kid. She dealt with our crazy schedules so well. It’s just a shame you and I have to split up tomorrow.”
“We don’t have to,” I said, only half-kidding. “My offer for you to accompany me to ringside tomorrow still stands.”
Terrence snorted, as if he found the idea positively absurd. “Sorry hon. If it wasn’t a five hour drive between us, I might have a chance of making it. But the race should be over, and we should be well on our way up to you by the time you hit the ring. Just make sure Pollaski manages to text us before you go out, so we can find a place to pull over and watch.”
I nodded. Even though we were seperating for our respective events tomorrow, the close proximity of Minnesota and Iowa meant that we wouldn’t be apart long. Pollaski and I were leaving the next morning, driving up to Breaking Point in the Charger, while Terrence, Theresa, and Cassie remained behind for the race. After the Prairie Meadows 200 ended, they would drive up and pick us up, with the plan to be staying in Minnesota for an extra day to go fishing.
“I’m nervous about tomorrow.” I confessed, as we continued to slowly make our way through the maze of game machines.
Terrence squeezed my shoulder in reassurance, and shrugged. “Well, don’t worry about me- I’ll be fine. Even if Wes was the vengeful homicidal maniac you’ve made him out to be-” he grinned as I shot him a nasty look- “you saw the warning ARCA slapped on him for aggressive driving. He’ll keep it clean at Iowa. They’ll be watching him too close.”
I nodded. It was true enough- apparently Terrence wasn’t the only one Wes had been a bit liberal about ‘swappin’ paint’ with over the past few weeks, and I had been forced to turn away to hide a smirk when ARCA officials came over during practice this afternoon, and told Wesley that they were goig to be watching him closer due to several complaints by other teams.
“Or are you worried about your match?” Terrence asked, breaking into my thoughts.
“That, too,” I admitted. “I need this one, Terry. Badly. After that debacle against Kaitlynn Stryfe, I got left with egg on my face. I can’t afford to lose another one, especially one that I’ve worked so hard towards over the past couple of months. I’m so close to breaking through.”
“And you want to kick Crystal’s teeth down her throat,” Terrence finished with a chuckle.
I smiled reluctantly. “I’m okay with just shutting her up, really,” I said. “But God.. that woman, she...” I paused. “She reminds me of my parents!”
“Oooh...” Terrence cringed, shaking his head. In his mind, being compared to my father was about the worst insult you could possibly make of a person.
I couldn’t see Crystal using her money to help fund Puerto Rican nationalist terrorism, but other than that, it really wasn’t that far off the mark.
“Heck,” I continued sourly. “I’ve been dealing with elitist jerks like her my entire life. Mother and father. Some of the girls I went to school with. Heck, even Andrea Hamilton to some extent. People who think that because they have it better than most in one or two areas, that makes them somehow superior. And what gets me the most, is that Crystal isn’t just wrestling. She’s acting too. She reminds me of the worst of both worlds. It’s unfair to her, maybe, but she represents every frustration I’ve had over the last thirty years of my life. And if I can’t beat that...”
“Well, back up there, hon,” Terrence replied. “You’re not facing your past here. Your’re facing a woman that you’ve known for all of two months, who’s done everything possible to irritate the shit outta you. Don’t get those two confused, hon. You don’t wanna beat yourself here.”
“I know, and I’m trying not to over think it. It should be just another match, albeit a big one. It’s about me getting the job done, winning the chase, and going on to face Colleen and Robbyn at the biggest show of the year. I can’t take it personally as annoying as I find her.”
“Yeah, well, just be glad you don’t have to LIVE with her,” Terrence guffawed. “Imagine what poor Todd’s gotta put up with.”
I laughed, in spite of myself, and shook my head. “That man must have a patience of a saint, to put up with all that.”
“Eh, looking at her, I’m sure the rewards well worth it,” Terrence replied, chuckling.
I shot my husband a nasty glare, and Terrence grinned back. I sighed. “I just hope she’s not raising her kid with all that baloney. Brittany’s a beautiful girl, and it’d be a shame if she grew up completely spoiled-”
My voice trailed off as Terrence and I rounded a corner, and I saw what was in front of me. Speaking of horrible, horrible ideas about raising your child...
“Terrence...” My voice was suddenly quiet, and clipped. “Why is my five-year old daughter playing House of the Dead?”
“Technically, its House of the Dead 3, and I wouldn’t really call that playing.” Terrence muttered. “THERESA!”
Both my daughter, and Pollaski, who was playing alongside her, jumped with my husband’s bark. Pollaski shrugged, and turned back to blasting away at the screen, while Theresa looked sullen- a child just caught in a wrong doing.
Terrence glared down at her, his arms on his hips. “What have I told you about these kind of games?”
Theresa looked down, ashamed of herself. “Aim for the head- its the only place you do any real damage,” she muttered.
“What?!” I heard myself bark, but Terrence ignored me.
“Then why you aiming for arms and bodies? You’re just wasting ammo! Now get going before you get your partner killed!”
Theresa nodded, and turned back to the screen, raising the little plastic pistol in her hand. Terrence smacked Pollaski upside the back of the head. “You know better than that! Letting her get into bad habits!”
“DUDE!” Pollaski protested, as he blasted away at a pack of charging zombiedogs. “I’ve had my hands full here keeping her alive!”
“Yeah, well if she dies in the zombie apocalypse, I’m blaming YOU. Idiot...” Terrence turned away, shaking his head in disgust. He stopped when he saw me staring at him, my mouth open in disgust, horror, and outrage. “What?”
“Zombie apocalypse?” was all I managed to choke out.
Terrence shrugged. “It *could* happen. And you or I could be eaten, or worse, infected, and she’ll be left to fend for herself. It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.” He turned back to watching the game. “BOOM! Headshot! Nice one Terr-Bear!”
“She’s FIVE, Terry! She’s gonna have nightmares!” I protested, my voice hitting an octave I wasn’t aware I could reach.
“Nah, she’s fine. I’m not an idiot Wendy, I actually explain this stuff to her. She hasn’t gotten nightmares from the other four times we let her play.”
“The *OTHER* four times?!”
Terrrence cracked that always available, frustrating grin at me, and looked back away. I stood next to him, alternating glaring at him, and watching the screen. It did kind of look like a fun game, and other than the intense, graphic violence, it definitely did allow one to practice hand eye coordination.
Who was I kidding? MY FIVE YEAR OLD DAUGHTER WAS PLAYING HOUSE OF THE DEAD!!!
“Thompson, party of five! Please return to your tables, your pizza is ready! Thompson, party of five!”
The voice over the loudspeaker made me look up, and Pollaski and Theresa groaned.
“Ah, well. Come on guys. Let’s go eat,” Terrence said in a consoling voice as the two dropped their guns back into the holders on the machine. “Good job there, Theresa. Much better.” He turned to look at me. “Shall we go?”
I paused for just a second, looking from Terrence, to my daughter, and then over to the machine. Rolling my eyes, I opened my left palm, and swung it, connecting solidly with the back of my husband’s head. Without another word, I marched away, off to the dining room, ignoring the protest coming from behind me.
“Ow! What was THAT for?”
Saturday July 16, 2011
Target Center- Briese Locker Room
Minneapolis, Minnesota
5:13 PM Local Time
[Well, unfortunately for poor Theresa, after a long in depth discussion last night, Terrence finally saw Wendy’s point that impending zombie apocalypse or not, it probably wasn’t the best idea to be letting a five year old play ultraviolent video games. Ironically, part of the negotiations involved a figure-four leglock. Wendy can make some pretty good arguments when she wants to.]
[Poor Terrence. He’s a good father, really. I promise]
[Anyways, we’re here! Wendy’s sitting on a chair, wearing her street clothes, tugging nervously at the hem of her skirt as the scene fades in. In one hand, she is holding a small mirror. While the other seems to be a small sign of some sort. Both items, as well as her hands, are for the moment, placed in her lap. She smiles softly as she realizes the camera is on.]
“Well, Crystal. The day is upon us. In just a few hours, the past two weeks, the past two months, heck, our entire FFW careers thus far all comes down to this. All the speculation, all the hype, all the talking that’s been done between us- it will all disappear, and it will be you and I in that ring, facing against each other to determine which of us will be the winner of the chase for the crown.”
“Thank God for that too, because Crystal, you talk a LOT.”
[Wendy snorts in half-amusement, and shakes her head]
“But do you honestly listen, and pay attention to the words that actually come out of your mouth? Do you actually stop and think about what you are going to say, or do you just prattle on, and on, and on, letting the words flow from your tongue with no regard to the consequences? Because I’m starting to wonder...”
“Take, for instance, your constant reminder to everyone that you are the ‘Reflection of Perfection’. Have you ever paused, Crystal, and truly thought about what it meant?”
[Wendy smiles coyly, and hold up the mirror, facing it towards the camera]
“Now, I’m pretty sure I don’t need to tell you what this is. From what I’ve heard, you seem to enjoy spending a lot of time in front of one, staring at your reflection. Because that is what mirrors do, right? They reflect images back at us.”
[Wendy lifts the card she’s been holding, and turns it towards the camera. On it, the word “PERFECTION” is written.]
“Now, pardon for me being a bit on the literal side here, but what exactly does the reflection of perfection look like?”
[Wendy turns the card in her hand, and holds it in front of the mirror, so that the image flashes back to the camera.]
“It’s backwards.”
“Is that really what you are, Crystal? Backwards? Perfection in reverse? Is that what you’re really trying to tell us?”
[Wendy chuckles, and shakes her head, setting the items back on her lap.]
“I doubt it, but it goes to show how careless you can be. I’m a believer that actions speak louder than words, of course. But I know that words aren’t meaningless. Words have an impact- if they didn’t, I’m pretty sure part of my job wouldn’t be to sit here in this chair and talk about this match. But it leaves me wondering- if you’re this careless with your words, just how careless will you be with your actions?”
“See, Crystal. This is what I’m talking about when I say that I hold myself to a higher standard than you do. I don’t get on this camera and just say anything. I could sit here, and make insults and name-call, and say all kinds of nasty things right up until bell time. But I won’t. I’m just going to tell it straight from my heart, and from my mind.”
“The very first tenant of leadership is knowing thyself, and seeking self-improvement. It’s something I try to remember every day, not just in the ring, but as I go about my life. I’d like to think that I have a grasp on my strengths, and my shortcomings. And I’m trying to be better, all-around. And I think little by little, I’m improving myself, as a wrestler, as a mother, as a human being.”
“Obviously, if you think you’re perfect, you don’t need to improve, do you? There’s nothing to work on, nothing to re-evaluate. You can just go on, as the same, again and again and again. Do you know what that is, Crystal? When you continue to exist, but never adapt, develop, or improve?”
[Wendy shakes her head, and sighs]
“Stagnation.”
“Is that really what you want to ultimately be, Crystal? Stagnant? As shallow and murky as a day-old puddle of rainwater? Or do you want to be flowing, like a river? Always advancing, and moving towards that ultimate final goal?”
“The problem is, Crystal, I don’t even think you’ve gotten past that first step. You don’t even truly know who *YOU* are, so you’ve invented a facade for yourself, as a way of achieving a definition. It’s sad, but ultimately, it’s yet another reason why I have to win tonight. I don’t just need to beat you, you need me to beat you, and wake you from this dream, and dispel the illusion you’ve created.”
“Because I think beneath it all, Crystal, you’re not a bad person. You’re a talented wrestler, a beautiful woman, and near as I can tell, a wonderful mother. You’ve managed to achieve a level of fame- in two fields no less- that few people could dream of achieving. You’ve got a lot going for you.”
“But there’s something that’s prevented you from growing-up, because there’s so much about you that is childish. You throw tantrums. You’re self-absorbed. You’re repetitive to the point that your words become vapid. I mean, honestly, Crystal, there’s only so many ways you can proclaim yourself supreme, and everyone around you unworthy, before it gets old.”
“Believe it or not, I counted. In your many... MANY rants against me this week, the word ‘perfect’ came up in your dialogue, in some form or another, thirty-four times. You know, Crystal, there’s other words out there. Have you ever thought of using a thesaurus?”
[Wendy flashes a small smirk, and unfolds another sheet of paper looking at it.]
“There’s flawless, immaculate, impeccable, ideal, faultless, infallible, unblemished, prime, superb, and irreproachable. And heck, if you really want to spice things up, you can go for foreign languages. There’s perfecta in Spanish, which I’m sure you’re familiar with. Or parfait, in French. Yum! Or vollkommen in German, bezoprechny in Russian, kanpeki in Japanese, or, my personal favorite, beacht in Gaelic.”
[Thank you Babelfish!]
[Wendy laughs to herself, and folds up the piece of paper, putting it away.]
“But also like a child, you’re too quick to insult those you don’t see eye to eye with. You’ve called me a... *ahem* ‘bitch’ twelve times, a ‘loser’ five. You said I ‘sucked’ five times. Six times you called me, or a comment I made ‘stupid’. You also dropped the ‘f’ bomb on me six times as well. Need I go on?”
“It’s like a mantra you’ve made for the cult of your own supremacy, Crystal. Maybe... MAYBE if you repeat it enough times, it’ll become true.”
“Well, it’s not true, Crystal, and I think deep down inside you know it. See, maybe you’ve been too self-absorbed to pay attention, but this has already gone beyond a simple tournament to determine the number one contender for the Evolution Championship. People are noticing us- BOTH of us. And those murmurs have only increased as we’ve headed into these final few days.”
[Wendy takes a deep breath, almost shivering, as excitement dances into her eyes]
“Can’t you feel it, Crystal? Don’t you realize what this means? Tonight you and I are in the main event- the first time for either of us that’s happened. But it goes beyond that. We’re not just in *a* main event, we’re in the main event for the go-home show of the largest pay-per-view of the year! We will be the last match that FFW will present to the fans before they make the decision on whether or not to plunk down forty bucks to order this. They could have put Colleen there. They could have put any of the five girls announced for the Elimination Chamber there. They could have even put the Eternal flame there. They didn’t. They picked US.”
“And you want to sit there and tell me that because you stole a pin from me, and I lost a close match to Kaitlynn Stryfe, that I suck, when the actions of my superiors and colleagues indicate the exact opposite?”
[Wendy snorts, and shakes her head]
“It’s funny that you likened me to LeBron James, Crystal. I was thinking of a different sports analogy. Do you remember the 2007 New England Patriots? Of course you do. Everyone remembers them. They went into Super Bowl Forty-Two the ‘perfect team’. They were eighteen and zero. Unblemished. Impeccable. And they faced a flawed, imperfect, ‘sucky’ New York Giants squad, with a thirteen and six record. Do you remember who won that game, Crystal? Everyone does- it’s one of the most famous moments in sports history. And what’s it said about those who fail to remember their history lessons?”
“They repeat themselves. Only this time, Crystal, there will small difference.”
[Wendy flashes a grin]
“I won’t nead a miracle to beat you.”
[The scene begins to fade, but stops as Wendy’s phone suddenly rings with a text message. Puzzled, Wendy pulls the phone out, and looks at it, taking a deep breath, and exhaling.]
“It’s over... eighth place. No incidents. Thank you God...”
[Fade.]
Happy birthday, my dear daughter!
Five years ago, on a day just as wonderful and beautiful of this one, Theresa Serena Thompson came into the world, weighing eight pounds, and four ounces. There are no words to describe the joy that this little girl has brought to Terrence’s and my life. She has been everything to me, and to my husband. And she has grown into such a beautiful young lady. She’s so smart, and so funny. I know she’ll be the star of her kindergarten class come September.
Unfortunately, I wish I could give my daughter a better, more exciting birthday. I didn’t want to have to spend so much of it in the RV driving from Indianapolis to Iowa. Terrence has practice at three, and we had to get up at 5 AM this morning to get to Newton in time. Between travelling, and Terrence’s practicing, most of the day will be gone.
Still, I’m doing the best I can to make this day special. We’ve let her open her presents, and she’s having fun with the LeapPad learning system we got her. I was a bit leery of giving my daughter a video gaming system- the last thing I need her doing is turning into Pollaski. But I looked into it- the games are both fun, and educational, and just so long as we moderate her usage, it should both entertain and enrich her.
And it’ll be a bit late in the day, but we’ve already booked reservations at Chuck E. Cheese’s in Des Moines, which is about forty minutes away from the racetrack. Even if the day will be little to write home about, Terrence and I can give her the best birthday evening we possibly can!
Still, I always hope that we’re doing the right thing when it comes to her. Terrence and I don’t exactly want for money- we’re both doing what we do simply because we want to. It seems selfish, especially given our responsibilities as parents. Not only are we constantly on the road, but both of us risk serious injury every time we go out to compete. I don’t want my daughter growing up with one or both of her parents severely crippled- or worse. Given the light of recent events, that thought weighs heavily on my mind nearly every day.
And yet, as Terrence points out, either of us could be killed in a simple car accident, like Terrence’s parents were when he was just five. Or we could get cancer, or suffer some other sort of illness. We can’t shut ourselves up in the Nest, and we can’t shelter Theresa from the realities of the world. That’s one of the advantages of doing what we’re doing- we get to take our daughter all around the country, and show her so many different things. We’ve been to aquariums, museums, parks, landmarks, so many places we wouldn’t get to see if we didn’t do what we do. The experiences have been enriching for her. After all, how many kids in her kindergarten class will get to say they’ve been to as many places as she has?
The best I can do is be careful, and make sure that every day, Theresa knows that she is loved, and cared for, and that she learns to respect herself and others. After all, like those ads for the adoption agency say- you don’t have to be perfect to be a perfect parent.
So happy birthday, my dear Theresa, and may the many years you have ahead of you bring you much happiness and wonders!
-WCBT
Friday July 15, 2011
Chuck E. Cheese’s Pizza & Arcade
West Des Moines, Iowa
8:31 PM Local Time
“I win!”
My declaration was hardly a surprise- about the only video game my husband was worse than me at was Dance Dance Revolution. But still, given that I nearly doubled his score, I was still rather proud of myself.
Terrence took the loss stoically, and shrugged, picking up his paper beverage cup, and taking a sip. “Yeah, well, of course you beat me. I never play this game. It’s like the only game you DO play.”
Terrence’s words were true enough. Pollaski had actually gotten me the X-Box version of the game for my birthday, with the idea that it would be a great non-traditional way for me to work out, not to mention work on my agility and footwork. I still wasn’t certain if playing DDR actually benefited my competitive edge any, but it still was a fun way to get moving that didn’t involve going on a treadmill.
Terrence put his arm over my shoulder, and together we turned away from the DDR machine, narrowly missing a couple kids running through the arcade. As could be expected, it was a pretty busy Friday night at Chuck E. Cheese’s, with at least three other birthday parties going on at the same time as ours. Actual parties, too, not like the small family outing that we had going. I felt bad for Theresa that she wouldn’t be able to spend Theresa’s birthday among children her own age, but at the same time, she seemed to have been having fun.
I checked my watch. “They said our pizza would be ready about eight-forty,” I said, raising my voice to be heard over the video game machines. “We should probably gather everyone up. Where’s Theresa?”
“She was playing a racing game with Pollaski, last I saw her,” Terrence said. “She sat on his lap and steered, while Pollaski worked the pedals. They were doing really good too!” He looked at me, smiling gently. “Are you having fun?”
“Yeah, I am,” I replied, smiling back. “This was a great idea. I’m just glad that we got to give Theresa a special night.”
Terrence nodded. “She deserves it, the kid. She dealt with our crazy schedules so well. It’s just a shame you and I have to split up tomorrow.”
“We don’t have to,” I said, only half-kidding. “My offer for you to accompany me to ringside tomorrow still stands.”
Terrence snorted, as if he found the idea positively absurd. “Sorry hon. If it wasn’t a five hour drive between us, I might have a chance of making it. But the race should be over, and we should be well on our way up to you by the time you hit the ring. Just make sure Pollaski manages to text us before you go out, so we can find a place to pull over and watch.”
I nodded. Even though we were seperating for our respective events tomorrow, the close proximity of Minnesota and Iowa meant that we wouldn’t be apart long. Pollaski and I were leaving the next morning, driving up to Breaking Point in the Charger, while Terrence, Theresa, and Cassie remained behind for the race. After the Prairie Meadows 200 ended, they would drive up and pick us up, with the plan to be staying in Minnesota for an extra day to go fishing.
“I’m nervous about tomorrow.” I confessed, as we continued to slowly make our way through the maze of game machines.
Terrence squeezed my shoulder in reassurance, and shrugged. “Well, don’t worry about me- I’ll be fine. Even if Wes was the vengeful homicidal maniac you’ve made him out to be-” he grinned as I shot him a nasty look- “you saw the warning ARCA slapped on him for aggressive driving. He’ll keep it clean at Iowa. They’ll be watching him too close.”
I nodded. It was true enough- apparently Terrence wasn’t the only one Wes had been a bit liberal about ‘swappin’ paint’ with over the past few weeks, and I had been forced to turn away to hide a smirk when ARCA officials came over during practice this afternoon, and told Wesley that they were goig to be watching him closer due to several complaints by other teams.
“Or are you worried about your match?” Terrence asked, breaking into my thoughts.
“That, too,” I admitted. “I need this one, Terry. Badly. After that debacle against Kaitlynn Stryfe, I got left with egg on my face. I can’t afford to lose another one, especially one that I’ve worked so hard towards over the past couple of months. I’m so close to breaking through.”
“And you want to kick Crystal’s teeth down her throat,” Terrence finished with a chuckle.
I smiled reluctantly. “I’m okay with just shutting her up, really,” I said. “But God.. that woman, she...” I paused. “She reminds me of my parents!”
“Oooh...” Terrence cringed, shaking his head. In his mind, being compared to my father was about the worst insult you could possibly make of a person.
I couldn’t see Crystal using her money to help fund Puerto Rican nationalist terrorism, but other than that, it really wasn’t that far off the mark.
“Heck,” I continued sourly. “I’ve been dealing with elitist jerks like her my entire life. Mother and father. Some of the girls I went to school with. Heck, even Andrea Hamilton to some extent. People who think that because they have it better than most in one or two areas, that makes them somehow superior. And what gets me the most, is that Crystal isn’t just wrestling. She’s acting too. She reminds me of the worst of both worlds. It’s unfair to her, maybe, but she represents every frustration I’ve had over the last thirty years of my life. And if I can’t beat that...”
“Well, back up there, hon,” Terrence replied. “You’re not facing your past here. Your’re facing a woman that you’ve known for all of two months, who’s done everything possible to irritate the shit outta you. Don’t get those two confused, hon. You don’t wanna beat yourself here.”
“I know, and I’m trying not to over think it. It should be just another match, albeit a big one. It’s about me getting the job done, winning the chase, and going on to face Colleen and Robbyn at the biggest show of the year. I can’t take it personally as annoying as I find her.”
“Yeah, well, just be glad you don’t have to LIVE with her,” Terrence guffawed. “Imagine what poor Todd’s gotta put up with.”
I laughed, in spite of myself, and shook my head. “That man must have a patience of a saint, to put up with all that.”
“Eh, looking at her, I’m sure the rewards well worth it,” Terrence replied, chuckling.
I shot my husband a nasty glare, and Terrence grinned back. I sighed. “I just hope she’s not raising her kid with all that baloney. Brittany’s a beautiful girl, and it’d be a shame if she grew up completely spoiled-”
My voice trailed off as Terrence and I rounded a corner, and I saw what was in front of me. Speaking of horrible, horrible ideas about raising your child...
“Terrence...” My voice was suddenly quiet, and clipped. “Why is my five-year old daughter playing House of the Dead?”
“Technically, its House of the Dead 3, and I wouldn’t really call that playing.” Terrence muttered. “THERESA!”
Both my daughter, and Pollaski, who was playing alongside her, jumped with my husband’s bark. Pollaski shrugged, and turned back to blasting away at the screen, while Theresa looked sullen- a child just caught in a wrong doing.
Terrence glared down at her, his arms on his hips. “What have I told you about these kind of games?”
Theresa looked down, ashamed of herself. “Aim for the head- its the only place you do any real damage,” she muttered.
“What?!” I heard myself bark, but Terrence ignored me.
“Then why you aiming for arms and bodies? You’re just wasting ammo! Now get going before you get your partner killed!”
Theresa nodded, and turned back to the screen, raising the little plastic pistol in her hand. Terrence smacked Pollaski upside the back of the head. “You know better than that! Letting her get into bad habits!”
“DUDE!” Pollaski protested, as he blasted away at a pack of charging zombiedogs. “I’ve had my hands full here keeping her alive!”
“Yeah, well if she dies in the zombie apocalypse, I’m blaming YOU. Idiot...” Terrence turned away, shaking his head in disgust. He stopped when he saw me staring at him, my mouth open in disgust, horror, and outrage. “What?”
“Zombie apocalypse?” was all I managed to choke out.
Terrence shrugged. “It *could* happen. And you or I could be eaten, or worse, infected, and she’ll be left to fend for herself. It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.” He turned back to watching the game. “BOOM! Headshot! Nice one Terr-Bear!”
“She’s FIVE, Terry! She’s gonna have nightmares!” I protested, my voice hitting an octave I wasn’t aware I could reach.
“Nah, she’s fine. I’m not an idiot Wendy, I actually explain this stuff to her. She hasn’t gotten nightmares from the other four times we let her play.”
“The *OTHER* four times?!”
Terrrence cracked that always available, frustrating grin at me, and looked back away. I stood next to him, alternating glaring at him, and watching the screen. It did kind of look like a fun game, and other than the intense, graphic violence, it definitely did allow one to practice hand eye coordination.
Who was I kidding? MY FIVE YEAR OLD DAUGHTER WAS PLAYING HOUSE OF THE DEAD!!!
“Thompson, party of five! Please return to your tables, your pizza is ready! Thompson, party of five!”
The voice over the loudspeaker made me look up, and Pollaski and Theresa groaned.
“Ah, well. Come on guys. Let’s go eat,” Terrence said in a consoling voice as the two dropped their guns back into the holders on the machine. “Good job there, Theresa. Much better.” He turned to look at me. “Shall we go?”
I paused for just a second, looking from Terrence, to my daughter, and then over to the machine. Rolling my eyes, I opened my left palm, and swung it, connecting solidly with the back of my husband’s head. Without another word, I marched away, off to the dining room, ignoring the protest coming from behind me.
“Ow! What was THAT for?”
Saturday July 16, 2011
Target Center- Briese Locker Room
Minneapolis, Minnesota
5:13 PM Local Time
[Well, unfortunately for poor Theresa, after a long in depth discussion last night, Terrence finally saw Wendy’s point that impending zombie apocalypse or not, it probably wasn’t the best idea to be letting a five year old play ultraviolent video games. Ironically, part of the negotiations involved a figure-four leglock. Wendy can make some pretty good arguments when she wants to.]
[Poor Terrence. He’s a good father, really. I promise]
[Anyways, we’re here! Wendy’s sitting on a chair, wearing her street clothes, tugging nervously at the hem of her skirt as the scene fades in. In one hand, she is holding a small mirror. While the other seems to be a small sign of some sort. Both items, as well as her hands, are for the moment, placed in her lap. She smiles softly as she realizes the camera is on.]
“Well, Crystal. The day is upon us. In just a few hours, the past two weeks, the past two months, heck, our entire FFW careers thus far all comes down to this. All the speculation, all the hype, all the talking that’s been done between us- it will all disappear, and it will be you and I in that ring, facing against each other to determine which of us will be the winner of the chase for the crown.”
“Thank God for that too, because Crystal, you talk a LOT.”
[Wendy snorts in half-amusement, and shakes her head]
“But do you honestly listen, and pay attention to the words that actually come out of your mouth? Do you actually stop and think about what you are going to say, or do you just prattle on, and on, and on, letting the words flow from your tongue with no regard to the consequences? Because I’m starting to wonder...”
“Take, for instance, your constant reminder to everyone that you are the ‘Reflection of Perfection’. Have you ever paused, Crystal, and truly thought about what it meant?”
[Wendy smiles coyly, and hold up the mirror, facing it towards the camera]
“Now, I’m pretty sure I don’t need to tell you what this is. From what I’ve heard, you seem to enjoy spending a lot of time in front of one, staring at your reflection. Because that is what mirrors do, right? They reflect images back at us.”
[Wendy lifts the card she’s been holding, and turns it towards the camera. On it, the word “PERFECTION” is written.]
“Now, pardon for me being a bit on the literal side here, but what exactly does the reflection of perfection look like?”
[Wendy turns the card in her hand, and holds it in front of the mirror, so that the image flashes back to the camera.]
“It’s backwards.”
“Is that really what you are, Crystal? Backwards? Perfection in reverse? Is that what you’re really trying to tell us?”
[Wendy chuckles, and shakes her head, setting the items back on her lap.]
“I doubt it, but it goes to show how careless you can be. I’m a believer that actions speak louder than words, of course. But I know that words aren’t meaningless. Words have an impact- if they didn’t, I’m pretty sure part of my job wouldn’t be to sit here in this chair and talk about this match. But it leaves me wondering- if you’re this careless with your words, just how careless will you be with your actions?”
“See, Crystal. This is what I’m talking about when I say that I hold myself to a higher standard than you do. I don’t get on this camera and just say anything. I could sit here, and make insults and name-call, and say all kinds of nasty things right up until bell time. But I won’t. I’m just going to tell it straight from my heart, and from my mind.”
“The very first tenant of leadership is knowing thyself, and seeking self-improvement. It’s something I try to remember every day, not just in the ring, but as I go about my life. I’d like to think that I have a grasp on my strengths, and my shortcomings. And I’m trying to be better, all-around. And I think little by little, I’m improving myself, as a wrestler, as a mother, as a human being.”
“Obviously, if you think you’re perfect, you don’t need to improve, do you? There’s nothing to work on, nothing to re-evaluate. You can just go on, as the same, again and again and again. Do you know what that is, Crystal? When you continue to exist, but never adapt, develop, or improve?”
[Wendy shakes her head, and sighs]
“Stagnation.”
“Is that really what you want to ultimately be, Crystal? Stagnant? As shallow and murky as a day-old puddle of rainwater? Or do you want to be flowing, like a river? Always advancing, and moving towards that ultimate final goal?”
“The problem is, Crystal, I don’t even think you’ve gotten past that first step. You don’t even truly know who *YOU* are, so you’ve invented a facade for yourself, as a way of achieving a definition. It’s sad, but ultimately, it’s yet another reason why I have to win tonight. I don’t just need to beat you, you need me to beat you, and wake you from this dream, and dispel the illusion you’ve created.”
“Because I think beneath it all, Crystal, you’re not a bad person. You’re a talented wrestler, a beautiful woman, and near as I can tell, a wonderful mother. You’ve managed to achieve a level of fame- in two fields no less- that few people could dream of achieving. You’ve got a lot going for you.”
“But there’s something that’s prevented you from growing-up, because there’s so much about you that is childish. You throw tantrums. You’re self-absorbed. You’re repetitive to the point that your words become vapid. I mean, honestly, Crystal, there’s only so many ways you can proclaim yourself supreme, and everyone around you unworthy, before it gets old.”
“Believe it or not, I counted. In your many... MANY rants against me this week, the word ‘perfect’ came up in your dialogue, in some form or another, thirty-four times. You know, Crystal, there’s other words out there. Have you ever thought of using a thesaurus?”
[Wendy flashes a small smirk, and unfolds another sheet of paper looking at it.]
“There’s flawless, immaculate, impeccable, ideal, faultless, infallible, unblemished, prime, superb, and irreproachable. And heck, if you really want to spice things up, you can go for foreign languages. There’s perfecta in Spanish, which I’m sure you’re familiar with. Or parfait, in French. Yum! Or vollkommen in German, bezoprechny in Russian, kanpeki in Japanese, or, my personal favorite, beacht in Gaelic.”
[Thank you Babelfish!]
[Wendy laughs to herself, and folds up the piece of paper, putting it away.]
“But also like a child, you’re too quick to insult those you don’t see eye to eye with. You’ve called me a... *ahem* ‘bitch’ twelve times, a ‘loser’ five. You said I ‘sucked’ five times. Six times you called me, or a comment I made ‘stupid’. You also dropped the ‘f’ bomb on me six times as well. Need I go on?”
“It’s like a mantra you’ve made for the cult of your own supremacy, Crystal. Maybe... MAYBE if you repeat it enough times, it’ll become true.”
“Well, it’s not true, Crystal, and I think deep down inside you know it. See, maybe you’ve been too self-absorbed to pay attention, but this has already gone beyond a simple tournament to determine the number one contender for the Evolution Championship. People are noticing us- BOTH of us. And those murmurs have only increased as we’ve headed into these final few days.”
[Wendy takes a deep breath, almost shivering, as excitement dances into her eyes]
“Can’t you feel it, Crystal? Don’t you realize what this means? Tonight you and I are in the main event- the first time for either of us that’s happened. But it goes beyond that. We’re not just in *a* main event, we’re in the main event for the go-home show of the largest pay-per-view of the year! We will be the last match that FFW will present to the fans before they make the decision on whether or not to plunk down forty bucks to order this. They could have put Colleen there. They could have put any of the five girls announced for the Elimination Chamber there. They could have even put the Eternal flame there. They didn’t. They picked US.”
“And you want to sit there and tell me that because you stole a pin from me, and I lost a close match to Kaitlynn Stryfe, that I suck, when the actions of my superiors and colleagues indicate the exact opposite?”
[Wendy snorts, and shakes her head]
“It’s funny that you likened me to LeBron James, Crystal. I was thinking of a different sports analogy. Do you remember the 2007 New England Patriots? Of course you do. Everyone remembers them. They went into Super Bowl Forty-Two the ‘perfect team’. They were eighteen and zero. Unblemished. Impeccable. And they faced a flawed, imperfect, ‘sucky’ New York Giants squad, with a thirteen and six record. Do you remember who won that game, Crystal? Everyone does- it’s one of the most famous moments in sports history. And what’s it said about those who fail to remember their history lessons?”
“They repeat themselves. Only this time, Crystal, there will small difference.”
[Wendy flashes a grin]
“I won’t nead a miracle to beat you.”
[The scene begins to fade, but stops as Wendy’s phone suddenly rings with a text message. Puzzled, Wendy pulls the phone out, and looks at it, taking a deep breath, and exhaling.]
“It’s over... eighth place. No incidents. Thank you God...”
[Fade.]
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