EPISODE 176: Dissolution

Sunday October 20, 2002
United Center
Chicago, Illinois
9:26 PM Local Time

“HERE ARE YOUR WINNERS AND STILL CHAMPIONS… THE WHIRLYBIRDZ VHS!”

Sore and tired, but ultimately grinning, Wendy Briese rolled off her downed opponent, and got to her feet, looking around for her fiancée.    He was sliding back into the ring, having dragged their other opponent out, and keeping him occupied long enough for Wendy to get the fall.  Now, the match over, he was rejoining her, as the referee raised both their hands, the crowd giving the champions an ovation, as the defeated challengers dejectedly climbed out of the ring.

Wendy took a moment to watch them go.  They had been a tough out, she had to admit.  Like she and Terrence, they were a rookie team, with a lot of potential and heart.  They had fought a good match, but her and Terrence’s isolation strategy had paid off towards the end, and they hadn’t been able to see the Vortexinator coming- until it was too late, that is. 

“Nice match!”  Terrence told her as the two embraced in front of the cheering crowd, exchanging a quick kiss.  Wendy couldn’t help but wince as her boyfriend hugged her- she was more banged up than she wanted to be.   It was understandable- the two of them had only just won back their titles the previous week, reclaiming the belts in a hellacious cage match from the exact same team that had beaten them back in August.  They had barely even begun to celebrate THAT win when they had been told that they’d be defending their belts just a week later.  She hadn’t minded, really.  For some reason, no one ever thought to run a wrestling show in Indianapolis, so competing in Chicago was pretty much the closest thing to wrestling in her hometown as she figured she was going to get.

But now that it was over, and the adrenaline was wearing off, she felt tired, albeit happy.  She couldn’t wait to get back to the RV, and just sleep for the next twelve hours.  She felt she both needed it and deserved it after tonights performance.

The referee handed them their belts, and Terrence held his high, drawing another pop from the crowd.   Wendy simply looked down at hers, smiling as she stared at the faceplate, with “World Tag Team Champions” written across the top, and her name etched into a smaller plate below the main emblem.  Even though everyone had complimented the Birdz on their spirit and heart after the Redondo Beach match, it had been devastating to lose the titles.  Wendy had thrown everything she had into gaining those belts back, to the point that even Terrence had started to worry about her. 

She loved title belts, she knew.  Almost an obsession with them, really.  It wasn’t so much the glory, or the prestige that came with it, although there was something nice about being recognized.  For Wendy, though, the championships were validating- she had to be doing something right if she was winning them.  And if she wasn’t… well, she was, so why bother thinking about it?

“Come on, hon.  Let’s go.”  Terrence was whispering in her ear, breaking her from her thoughts.  “Apparently they need this ring for another match.  Something about a World Championship, and time constraints.”

“Oh!  Yeah.”  She exclaimed, grinning apologetically over at the referee, who stood patiently waiting.  “Sorry!”  she exclaimed, before she and Terrence gave one last wave to the crowd, and rolled out of the ring, heading up the ramp, slapping the occasional fan’s hands on their way up. 

“WHOO! YEAH!”  Terrence whooped as they broke through the curtain, startling a poor stage hand into dropping his coffee on the floor at the sight of a two hundred twenty pound man screaming in his face.   Wendy rolled her eyes, in exasperation.

“Terry… I’m sorry, he’ a bit… wound up.”  Wendy apologized, guiding Terrence away from the poor kid, who was still staring wide eyed at the man.  “Really?” she hissed as they headed towards their locker room.  “You can’t be civilized for sixty seconds?”

“Sorry.  I’m just a bit excited, because I’m on the BEST GODDAMN TAG TEAM EVER WITH THE HOTTEST GIRL IN THE WORLD!” Terrence finished his boast, with a chest thump, drawing a few more looks from the stagehands.   Terrence’s voice quited, as he looked over at Wendy.  “But seriously, you were awesome out there tonight, hon.”

“Thanks,” Wendy said, turning an even deeper shade of crimson as Terrence stole another kiss from her.  “You kept us in it tonight, Terrence.  I just was able to capitalize and get the pin.  I’m lucky to have you.”

“No, I’m the lucky one, hon.”  Terrence argued.  “Just trust me on this.”

It wasn’t too far back to the locker room, the distance made shorter by the two half-jokingly arguing over just who the luckier WhirlyBird was.  Wendy was glad as they neared their door though.  She wanted to change out of these clothes, and get cleaned up, hopefully in time to watch the end of the World Championship.   But instead of the peace and quiet she had been expecting, she was surprised to hear raised voices coming from behind her door.  Giving a bewildered look to her fiancée, she turned the handle, and opened the door, prepared to defend herself in the event of an attack.

Instead, she saw something far more unexpected, her parent’s, standing toe to toe with each other in a shouting match.  Before Wendy could even begin to react, her mother winded up, and slapped her father across the face as hard as she could.  Gus’ head snapped to the side, while Wendy bleated in shock.  Gayle, her face flushed in fury, turned, and stormed out of the room, brusquely brushing by her daughter and future son-in-law as she did.

“Mother!?   What…?”

“Ask your father!”  Gayle snapped, her voice thick from being on the verge of tears. 

Wendy turned back to Gus, her eyes wide and questioning.  But Gus reacted first. 

“Gayle!  Don’t you DARE walk out on me!  Get back here and talk to me, dammit!  GAYLE!”

“Daddy?  What’s going…”   Wendy was cut off as Gus stormed out of the room too, stopping only to give a positively nasty glare to Terrence as he did.   Normally that would be enough to make her fiancée react, but Terrence seemed too stunned as Gus rudely brushed him aside, speed-walking down the hallway after his retreating wife.   Recovering somewhat, Wendy burst back out of the locker room, ready to run after her parents and demand an explanation for what just happened.  But after only a few strides, she gave up, turning back to Terrence, her expression of disbelief and dismay.

Terrence looked fairly nonplussed himself.  “What the hell just happened?”

“I don’t know!”  Wendy responded, trying- and failing- to keep the hysteria that was settting in  out of her voice.    “I didn’t even know they were going to be here!”

In fact, she realized, she had only seen her father a couple of times over the last few months, ever since he had visited her in California.  In truth, she hadn’t really minded, since every visit had been accompanied by increaslingly annoying and desperate demands that she quit wrestling and break up with Terrence.  She understood her father’s concerns, and frustrations, but this was the life she had chosen.  She enjoyed it (well, most of it).  Why should she give it up?

Wendy sighed as she headed back to the locker room, the weariness she had been feeling intensifying, while the elation  was completely gone.  Without anything else to do, she shut the door behind her, and began taking off her gloves and elbow pads. 

Terrence was sorting through his duffel bag, pulling out his street clothes, and setting them aside.  He glanced up at Wendy, and shrugged, offering a half-smile.  “Well, at least this happened AFTER our big title defense, right?”

The temperature in the locker room dropped about twenty degrees as Wendy looked up, her eyes narrowed as she glared back at Terrence, who to his credit, immediately realized that he had just said the wrong thing.  He grinned apologetically, shrugging his shoulders.  “That was a joke, hon.”

“I’m going to change,” Wendy snapped, picking up her own duffel bag, and storming into the adjacent bathroom, slamming the door behind her as she did so.

==================
Sunday October 26, 2002
Crowne Embassy Hotel- Lobby
Chicago Illinois
11:41 PM Local Time

Wendy shivered as she quickly scurried through the front doors of the hotel, glad to be out of the chilly Chicago night.  What she wasn’t happy about was her reasons for being at the Crowne Embassy in the first place.  She knew her parents were staying there- her parents always stayed at the Crowne when they were in Chicago. 

She had hoped that one- or even better, both- of her parent’s would have come back and explained to her why they were even in her locker room, much less arguing to the point where her mother stormed off.   Or at least a call to her cellphone, or something.  But she had gotten nothing, and had grown restless with all the thoughts running through her head.  She had finally given into her impulses, and told Terrence she was going for a  walk, making it clear she didn’t want him to come along.   Terrence had been uneasy about the thought of Wendy walking by herself in the middle of the night in Chicago, but, feeling that Wendy was still irritated with him, he had let her go.

In truth, she had gotten over that almost immediately.  After three years together with Terrence, she had gotten used to him saying stupid things at the absolute worst time, and this was no exception.  But she hadn’t gotten over her parent’s fighting, not by any stretch of the imagination.  She needed answers, and she couldn’t sleep until she got them.

She strode across the lobby towards the front desk, taking a short glance to her left, unable to keep the shame and guilt from washing over her.  She remembered all too well what had happened in that restaurant the last time she had been in there.  She doubted anyone who had seen it would ever forget the tantrum she had thrown, that had put another waiter in the hospital.

She briefly wondered whatever had happened to the man, but forced the thought from her mind.  She couldn’t afford to be distracted, not tonight.  She quickly conferred with the desk clerk, getting her parents room number, and headed to the elevator, pressing the button for the twelfth floor, and stepped back, forcing herself to breathe easy as the elevator acscended, the doors opening.  She stepped off, beginning the long walk down the corridor, her mind still ajumble with confused thoughts, along with the feeling that clarity was hardly going to be a good thing in this case.

She finally arrived at her parents room, taking a deep breath and raising her hand to knock, but stopped as she heard voices coming from behind the door.  She paused, quickly debating to herself over whether or not to simply eavesdrop- it might be the best way for the truth behind her parent’s fight to really come out.   Finally, her impulse gave out, and she crouched down, leaning into the door and resting her ear up against it. 

“...going to be devastated, Gus.  Did you ever think that?”  Her mother had obviously calmed down, but she was obviously still angry.

“She’s twenty-one, Gayle,” came the gruff reply in her father’s usual Irish brogue.  “She’s an adult now, like she absolutely insists on reminding me every time I see her.  She can handle the truth.”

“Gus, I can’t handle the truth, for crying out loud!  You’ve been sleeping with another woman for the past twenty-five years!  How the hell can anybody handle that!”

Wendy clapped her hand over her mouth to suppress the horrified shriek she gave at that.  She wavered for a second, wanting to kick down the door and demand an explanation.  But she hesitated, instead being forced to listen to the conversation continue.

“People cheat all the time Gayle.  And yet, life goes on.  Besides, it HASN’T been for the last twenty-five years.  It was twenty-five years ago.”

“And the last couple of months,” her mother replied, angrily.

“At least I’m being honest about it now,” Gus replied, coldly.  “And besides, you’re missing the bigger picture here, Gayle.  This isn’t why we’re in Chicago.  We’re here to give Wendy an ultimatum that if she doesn’t quit and leave Terrence…”

“Why, Gus?  Why the hell should we do that?”  Wendy was surprised to hear her mother defending her.  “Did you see her out there?  She enjoyed it, although I don’t have the faintest damn clue why she would.  But she’s HAPPY!  Who are we to deny that?!”

 “This isn’t about her happiness, Gayle.  This is about her throwing away everything we’ve given her like an ungrateful bitch.  And do you know how embarrassing this is?  What do you think our friends think about the fact that our daughters in this disgrace of a ‘sport’?  What do they think when they see her running around with a boy who’s spent his whole life covered in dirt and grease?”

There was a long pause.  “At least she’ll never have to worry about her husband cheating on her.”

Wendy cringed as she heard the sound of a mirror shattering, her mom shrieking, and Gus bellowing.  “SHUT UP!  JUST SHUT UP!  Our daughter… is… NOT… marrying… Terrence Thompson!  I will KILL that motherfucker MYSELF to keep that from happening!”

Wendy felt heat creeping into her face, and felt her nails digging into her palms, her breathing rapid and shallow.

“You don’t mean that Gus.”  Gayle was saying, and Wendy wasn’t surprised to hear a measure of fear in her voice.

“Oh, I mean it Gayle.  Don’t think I don’t.  I will have that jackass lying dead in a parking lot with a bullet in his brain if I have to!”

Wendy stood up, raising her hand to knock again.  She wasn’t going to demand an explanation this time.  She didn’t give a damn if that man was her father, she would SLUG anyone who DARED threaten Terrence like that…  but again, the voice of her mother made her hesitate- she was speaking in a tone that suggested something had just clicked in her head.

“Gus… that’s how they found Marg-“

“Don’t say her name.”

Wendy was alarmed by the fear in her mother’s voice.  “Did you kill her?  Did you kill Margaret Blaine?”

“I SAID DON’T SAY HER NAME!”  There was another crash, a lamp if Wendy could judge well enough by the sound.  “You know I didn’t.  You know that was a misunder-“

“I don’t know what to know anymore, Gus.”  Her mother sounded more resolute.  “They never would have arrested you without reason.   They released you so quickly though… I didn’t want to believe it.  But… you did.  I can see it in your eyes, Gus.  You-”

“Shut up, Gayle.”  Gus snarled.  “I didn’t shoot her. And no one… NO ONE benefited more from her death than you.  Had that not happened, you NEVER would have become the Angel of the Lyric.  You’d still be a goddamn understudy there.”

“That’s not how I wanted it…”

“Stop thinking life comes to you in neatly wrapped up packages!  It doesn’t matter how you get it, the fact is, you got it.  Everything has a price, Gayle.  Someone else paid yours that night when they removed an obstacle.  So shut up, and be grateful, for once in your goddamned life.

*CRASH*

Had she not been to the boiling point of rage, Wendy would have strongly doubted that she’d have the strength to kick a hotel door open.  At that point, having heard enough, she wasn’t too surprised at her feat.  Both Gus and Gayle turned, taken completely off guard at the sudden intruder.  Wendy ignored their shocked faces, and strode through the doorway, her eyes not leaving her father’s.

“Is all of this true?” 

Gus sputtered, staring wide-eyed at his furious daughter.  “Is… is all of what true?”

Wendy glare intensified, her emerald eyes boring into her father’s a snarl starting to form on her lips.  “Don’t take me for an idiot.  I was listening through the door.  I heard everything.”

Gus took a step back, exchanging a panicked glance with Gayle.  “You were eavesdropping?”

“Yeah I was.  I daresay that adultery, murder, and threatening to kill my fiancée are slightly more egregious breaches of etiquette, so pardon me if I don’t quite feel so apologetic.  Now, again.  Is. All. Of. This.  True?”

Gus took a deep breath, steadying himself under his daughter’s piercing glare. Somehow, through it, he managed to put a sneer of defiance.  “Obviously you didn’t hear me the first four times.  I haven’t killed anyone. But yes, I… have had an affair.”

Wendy turned away, shaking her head.  She was surprised to find herself laughing, although she hardly found any humor in this entire situation.  “Why?  Why the hell would you betray Mother like that?”

“I didn’t betray her,” Gus replied, rolling his eyes.  “It was just sex, and good sex at that.  Besides, it’s not like your mother hasn’t been with another man.”

Gayle turned to glare at him, but Wendy’s head snapped around, looking at her mom in astonishment.  Her mouth was open, ready to form the natural question, but Gayle spoke first, icily, her eyes never leaving her husband.   “That was your idea, Gus.”

Tears were welling up in Wendy’s eyes, and she wasn’t laughing in disbelief anymore.  “Are you kidding me?  All these years, to hear that you both have been…”

“Wendy, it’s not my fault.”  Gayle said quickly.  “Your fath… Gus… he suggested that I give a bit of… incentive, when I was trying to go back to acting after giving birth to you.”

“But you went along with it.” Wendy replied angrily.  She again looked from one parent to the other.  “For God’s sakes, you two.  What happened to your vows?  What happened to..”

“You have no right to judge us, dear DAUGHTER,” Gus snapped. 

“Just like you have no right to judge my profession, or my choice of boyfriend,” Wendy snapped, “both of which are apparently more honorable than you two will EVER be.  But that does remind me. I recall Mother saying something about an ultimatum.   So what was it?  If I don’t quit wrestling and leave Terrence, then what?”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause.  Finally, Gayle softly whispered.   “We would disown you.”

The pause returned.  Wendy looked from one parent to another, her tears no longer able to be held back, so they leaked out of her eyes, running down her cheek.  “Let me save you the trouble,” she whispered, reaching up and grabbing the rosary necklace Gayle had given her on her first day of school.   She pulled hard, snapping the chain, and tossed the cross on the floor at her mother’s feet.   “To hell with the both of you,” she whispered, before turning on her heels, and bolting from the room.

“Wendy!  Wait!”  Gayle exclaimed, but her daughter was already gone, out the door, sprinting down the hallway.  Crying herself now, Gayle leaned against the wall, sobbing into her arms. 

Gus looked down at the broken rosary.  “That ungrateful…”

“Shut up, Gus,” Gayle sobbed, before forcing herself to stop.  Moving quickly but with a sense of being on autopilot, Gayle moved across the room, grabbing her suitcase.  Quickly, she began throwing everything she could find into it, haphazardly.  “Just stay quiet, for once in your life.  Everytime I’ve listened to you, it’s made me miserable.”

“Wrong.  That’s what happened when you DIDN’T listen to me.  Like when when you insisted that we keep that ungrateful bitch instead of going to the clinic and…”

Gus didn’t even finish before a palm smashed into his face for the second time that night.  Gayle shook her stinging hand, and marched across the room, grabbing her suitcase.  She quickly threw everything she could into it, all the while sniffling and trying to fight back her tears.

“Where are you going?”  Gus demanded

“Away.  I don’t know where, but just away.”  Gayle said thickly.  “Gus, I’ve tried to turn a blind eye, but I can’t anymore.   You’re a heartless, cruel man, and you don’t give a damn about anyone else.  I’ve tried to convince myself for two and a half decades that it wasn’t so, but…  I can’t anymore.”  She looked up, tears falling down her cheeks, and splattering upon her dress, the suitcase, the floor, and the bed.  “I want a divorce.”

Gus chuckled slowly.  “We’re Cathlolic, Gayle.  We don’t believe in divorce.”

“Yeah, well, tonight’s destroyed my beliefs in a lot of things.  One more isn’t going to hurt.”   Gayle zipped up her suitcase, and walked to the door.  She turned around at the threshold, walked back inside, and picked up the rosary, putting it in her pocket.  “Goodbye, Gus.” 

And then she was gone.

Gus sat down on the bed, looking at the door, breathing slowly.  He tapped his foot on the ground, and waited.  Waited for Wendy to return, full of apology over throwing everything he’d ever given her away.  Waited for Gayle to come back, after realizing just how desperately she needed him.  Waited for twenty minutes with no result.

Finally he reached over, and picked up his cellphone, dialing a number, and holding it to his ear.

“You downstairs?  Yeah, she’s gone.  No, your room would be better… let’s just say there’s not much privacy up here at the moment.  Besides she might always come back.”

A smile curled across his lips.  “I’ll be right down.”

========================
Saturday May 5, 2012
New Orleans Arena- Briese Locker Room
New Orleans, Louisiana
3:53 PM Local Time

Well, it’s been a while since Wendy has decided to film a promo in the quiet and (air-conditioned) comfort of her own locker room, but today seems like a good day to do that, as its sunny and in the mid-eighties outside, a condition that isn’t going to do much good for the fair-skinned White Knight.  And so the scene opens with Wendy leaning up against the wall of the locker room, a table with a bottle of water and an empty chair sitting beside her.  In her hands is a piece of paper, and as she realizes the camera is on, she looks down at it, reading.

“You think the way you live’s okay. 
You think posing will save your day.
You think we don’t see that you’re running.
Better call your boys, cause I’m coming.”

Wendy scoffs and sets the paper down next to her on the break table.

“I think Leo got one thing wrong in his rankings Jo.  You have got to have the most fitting entrance music in the entire company.”

“I’m not sure you actually intended to be the object of that song when you chose it, but you sure have become it.  You are absolutely heedless of any consequences of your actions.  You certainly are adept at living a lie.  You’re as equally adept at running away from any responsibility you might have.  And you’ve developed quite the knack for becoming a low-level groupie in some vain attempt to cover your weaknesses.”

“And here I bet you thought you were actually a rock star.”

Wendy chuckles and shakes her head.

“I’m sure you’re rolling your eyes by now, Jo.  Of course, you had to have known that I was going to at least mention the nine-hundred pound gorilla in the room, right?  Your ugly breakup with Chris.  The one that wouldn’t be anyones business but yours had you not got on Twitter and broadcasted it to the entire roster of two separate wrestling companies.  You remember that night, right?  When you tore Chris Strike’s heart out and stomped on it for all the world to see?”

“Yeah, Jo.  That offended me, and I know I’m not the only one.   I’ll confess, part of it’s because of my own bruised pride.  After all, when Christian Kane started going around bragging about how he conquered you, I was one of the many who told him to put a sock in it, only to be proven wrong in the end.  I’m sure you actually loved that, didn’t you?  All those people coming to your defense, and you fooled them all.  Made them look stupid for thinking that you’d NEVER cheat on Chris, much less with a weasel like Kane.  The saddest part is that’s the biggest accomplishment you’ve yet had in your FFW career.”

“But God, Jo.  Seeing the hurt on Chris’ face when he returned your stuff, and the sickening mirth you derived from it, well yeah.  That just makes me a bit on the annoyed side.  I don’t know what your motives were to begin with.  Maybe you really loved Chris.  Maybe you got caught up with Kane, one thing led to another, and you got put in a position you had no desire to be in.  I can see that happening, especially to someone who’s repeatedly shown no inclination for any foresight whatsoever.  But whatever it was at first, you turned it into something ugly, something hurtful on someone who cared about you and trusted you.  And for what?  The attention?”

“Well, you got it Jo, although I’m not entirely sure this is what you’ve had in mind.  After all, everyone’s sick of the White Knight going on an indignant rant like this, right?  Well too bad, and brace yourself, because I’ve barely even begun here.”

Wendy sighs, and shakes her head, walking away from the table, towards the center of the locker room.

“I want to know, Jo.  I want to know why the blazes you are so hell-bent on ruining every single thing you have going for you.  Because however bad it was at Violent Night, it’s only gotten worse.”

“You impressed at Violent Night, Jo, even though you lost.  Even though you tapped out to the Banshee, begging me not to hurt you anymore.  Even though you decided to take whatever promo time you had and try and drag my name through the mud by bringing up every single trivial thing you could think of to make me look like a hypocrite.  Even though you tried to win by pulling my tights, then cry about it to the referee after she had the audacity to do her job and catch you cheating.  Despite all that, you earned my respect, something that I made no secret about.  And I sincerely hoped that you were finally turning the corner, and becoming the wrestler… and person… you SHOULD have been, instead what you were.”

“Yeah, I was wrong.   If there ever was a title belt for instilling blind optimism in me, Jo, you’ve definitely managed to hold it for the better part of the last year.”

Wendy chuckles at her own joke, but the shake of the head she gives is a forlorn one.

“You remember what I said going into that match?  When I knew for certain that this was going to be the one match in your life you’d actually show some fire about, considering you hand-picked your opponent?”

Wendy clears her throat

“Here it is, verbatim:  ‘I’m glad that you respect me enough to at least try to make something of this match.  But don’t you DARE disrespect me by going back to being the same old Jo McFarlane after it’s all said and done.’”

“Guess what, Jo?  You went back to being the same old Jo McFarlane.  Two weeks later, you came out flat against Shane Sanders.  Then there was that debacle where you proved how little FFW mattered to you by going to another, lesser company, and getting yourself hurt.  And then Kelly McGuffin wiped the floor with you in the prison of punishment.  All the while Jo, I was praying, honest to god praying that you’d wake up.  That Chris or Val or SOMEBODY would make you wake up and realize what the hell you were wasting.  But no, you clung to your Lord and Master Samantha Star like a suction cup, even after you got kicked out of the A-List.  And somewhere along the lines, you lowered yourself even further by bedding Christian Kane.”

“What the hell, Jo?  Ruining your career wasn’t enough, so you had to ruin everything else?”

Wendy scoffs, and shakes her head in disbelief.

“So here we are again.  Heck, it’s just second-chances galore for you, isn’t it?  You’re also taking one more stab at Future Shock after being the absolute first one voted off in Season Three, because apparently the FFW Faithful realized how unlikeable you were long before the rest of us did.  And then there’s tonight.  Five and a half-months after Violent Night.  The rematch of what could have been the biggest win in your career.  You face me.”

“The pressure’s not on you this time around, Jo, because you didn’t pick this match out.  This isn’t the bright lights of Jerryworld… there won’t be a hundred thousand people sitting in the stands.  This isn’t a pay-per-view.   This historically isn’t really the kind of match you’ve ever really gone out for, is it?  Is Jo McFarlane going to buck history?  Is she actually going to come out swinging for a match on a televised show?”

“I hope you do, Jo.  I hope you come out ready for a fight, to light up New Orleans and give these people a Cinco de Mayo show to be proud of.  I’m going to be ready for you, whether you come prepared or not, because I don’t need a hundred thousand fans and a forty-five dollar purchase on the cable box to tell me how big a match is.  A packed New Orleans arena, seventeen thousand strong, and a Saturday Night on ESPN is perfectly fine, because this is what I ENJOY doing.  Every match is big to me, no matter who I’m facing.  Whitley Mercer found that out the hard way a couple weeks ago.”

Wendy leans slightly towards the camera, her eyes blazing, although her expression is fairly neutral.

“As for me, I’d love to believe that I’m going to beat some sense into you, Jo.  That somehow, after tonight, you’ll finally wake up and realize that there’s a lot more to wrestling than sycophantically clinging to the owner and breaking out a kendo stick every time things don’t go your way.  But I’ve given up hope a long time ago that you’re actually going to learn anything around here.  So I guess it’s just  straight up kick your butt until you beg me to stop time.”

“Because I don’t know if you know this, but I’m still pretty steamed over what happened at Chaos Theory.  And I’m sick of every single thing I do around here being stepped on by the owner of the company, because I don’t fit into her short-sighted self-serving business model.  And if I need any extra motivation, all I have to do is remind myself that everything she said, you probably weren’t too far away, clapping like the little suck-up you are and cheering ‘Good one, boss!’”

“Considering that you and Starla are under the same umbrella, you’re the perfect person to make an example of tonight.  Because when it’s all said and done, and you’ve christened that new ring gear Ms. Star bought you by having it stretched out a bit by the Banshee, you can limp on back to Ms. Star, an tell her that Wendy Briese wants HER title back, and that she has three weeks before it comes time to collect.  It'll be a nice change of pace from what I'm sure your usual conversations are.  Because just like I did to Whitley, and I’m going to do to Starla, I’m not going to let anything stop me.  You’re not stealing this from me.  No one is.  And at the end of the night…”

Wendy is cut off as the door swings open, and in walk Terrence and Pollaski.  Her expression changes from one of intensity to one of confusion, then bemusement when she sees what they are wearing.

Pollaski: “CINCO DE MAYO ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!”

Yeah, sombreros.

Wendy: “Um… I wasn’t done yet.”

 Terrence: “Oh, sorry.  There’s a taco wagon outside, and we wanted to see if you wanted anything.”

Wendy cringes, and holds her stomach involuntarily.

Wendy: “Um… before my match?  I can’t think of a bigger disaster waiting to happen.”

Pollaski: “She’s got a point dude.  That’s got ‘bad, yet memorable ending’ written all over it.”

Terrence thinks for a second, then nods in agreement, while Wendy smiles consolingly.

Wendy: “Tell you what, after tonight, we’ll go out to a nice restaurant.  In the meantime, I have a match to get ready for.”

Pollaski: “Oh yeah, about that.  Chris Strike sent us a bit of a ‘good luck’ present.  Hehe… wait til you see this!”

Wendy and Terrence exchange glances.

Wendy: “Uh oh…”

Pollaski: "Yeah.  It's awesome.  I love that guy.  Shame I'll have to kick his ass for the Defiance title one day."

Feel free to pause while you finish rolling on the floor laughing.

Terrence: “Oh well, you better finish up.”

Wendy looks at her husband, then back at the camera.

Wendy: “I think you guys kind of ruined the ending.”

Pollaski: “Oh hell no!  If Daniel Pollaski knows anything, it’s how to end a promo.  THERESA!  MY MARACAS!”

Theresa: “TA-DA!”

Theresa suddenly appears out of nowhere, wearing a cute little pink sombrero of her own, and holding up a pair of brightly colored maracas.  As usual, its adorable.

Pollaski: “Thank you, maracasquire.  Now…”

Pollaski starts shaking the maracas (and every ounce of his body fat), in weird dance that doesn’t even seem all that rhythmic, but is certainly time consuming.  He finally finishes, with a cheesy pose.

Wendy: “Um… “

Pollaski: “That’s morse code for POLLA OUT!”

Triple facepalm!  Quintuple if you count that Terrence and Wendy use both hands.

Wendy: “I think we’re done here.”

Fade.  Mercifully.

EPISODE 175: Disaffection

Saturday August 24, 2002
Redondo Pier Parking Lot
Redondo Beach, California
2:24 PM Local Time

It was the evening before the third annual Summer Games wrestling tournament, and Southern California had been thrown into a fever pitch at what promised to be one of the most intriguing, exciting events ever.  Six regional wrestling companies from around the world had sent teams, each one of four wrestlers each, to compete in a survivor style elimination tournament, the final company turning on itself in the end to name one final grand champion, as prestigious a prize as had ever been known in wrestling.   The debate was as hot as the sun-baked atmosphere.  California were the defending champions, but the Nevada company, barely into three months of existence, had managed to bring some of the best wrestlers in the world into their fold.  The team from England were considered dark-horses, while everyone was quick to dismiss the rookie-laden New England squad.  

It was as gala as any affair could be had. The event had been essentially turned into a three day party, with an enormous undercard show happening the night before, along with a huge fan festival today, and finally the main card, held just a few miles away in the Staples Center, culminating tomorrow.   Up and down the beach were various parties, autograph signings, last-second promos being filmed, and general frivolity.

Augustus Briese didn’t give a flying damn about any of it.

He shoved his way through the crowd that had amassed on the blacktop, scowling distastefully at a group of surfers who sat drinking beer in the back of a pickup truck.  The summer heat was sweltering, especially on the asphalt, surrounded by hundreds of reflecting automobiles, but he pressed on, heading towards the end of the parking lot where the various RV’s had been parked.

She was there.  And she would listen to him this time.

Augustus didn’t know whether to feel sickened, embarrassed, or triumphant over what he had seen the night before, the cause of him flying all the way out here to this infernal sweat-drenched hellhole.   During the preshow, the WhirlyBirdz had lost their tag titles in a match that anyone but Terrence and Wendy themselves had known they were going to lose.  After all, what chance did the two young rookies really have when they had challenged one of the most dangerous tag teams in the world to a no-holds barred streetfight, then vowed to never use weapons?  Despite putting up a fight that would be talked about for years, the reign had ended spectacularily- Wendy’s head being driven into a chair, and the girl easily covered for the loss.   Gus had felt a moment’s sickness from watching his daughter being destroyed like that, followed by a sense of embarrassment that the world would know how pathetic his daughter looked during the end of that match- the desperate panic on her face as she went to tag out- only to realize that asshole Terrence was knocked out on the other side of the ring, and that she was a sitting duck.  He hoped no one he knew was watching.

But overriding everything was the sense of triumph he was feeling.  In that moment, he felt, everything had left Wendy.  Not just her tag titles, but her legitimacy as a competitor, and the hope that she might actually make this wrestling charade work.  Ever since he had shown up in Boston and demanded that she give up wrestling, she had refused him, feeding him such lines that they were just getting started, that she couldn’t back down now.   What was worse was that she kept on winning, feeding her arrogance and belief that she need not listen to her own father. 

She had finally lost.  And in the most decisive way imaginable.   This was his moment.

He found the RV, a dirty-dinged up 1992 Winnebago that he couldn’t believe Wendy would stoop to riding in.   It took him several moments to lower himself to knocking on the door, but he finally did, taking a step back and waiting patiently for the door to open.

Gus did, and looked up to see Wendy in a light blue t-shirt that carried the emblem of her New England based company, her face flushed red from the Southern California heat.  Gus wrinkled his nose- his fair-skinned daughter had evidently used about a whole bottle’s worth of sunscreen for the day.  She blinked in surprise at the sight of her guest.  “Daddy?  What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” Gus simply asked, dodging the question altogether.  

Wendy hesistated for several seconds before nodding.  “Sure, okay.”

The RV was surprisingly cool inside, which was about the only positive thing that could be said about it.  It was painfully small, at just over twenty feet long, and the style of furniture would have been outdated when the stupid thing was built.   An ice pack sitting on the couch belied where his daughter was sitting before his arrival, and the small television hanging over the cockpit was playing a tape of a wrestling match, where a girl in overalls and pigtails was taking a chair to a man twice her size, the crowd booing.  

“Where’s Terrence?”  Gus asked as he sat down at the small dinette, looking over at Wendy.  

The ex-tag champ sat across from him on the couch, holding the icepack gingerly to her neck.  “He’s meeting with the rest of his team.   They’re going over strategy for tomorrow.”  Gus noticed she hadn’t quite been able to keep the embittered longing from her voice- she had campaigned hard to be one of the representatives in the tournament, and while Terrence had been selected, Wendy had been passed over.  “Why?”

“I’d rather not deal with him, or his bullshit today.  I’m not here for an argument.”

Wendy looked as if she was going to remind him that, in her eyes, at least half those arguments were his fault, but she seemed to think better of it, although Gus saw the flash of indignation in her eyes.  He shrugged.  “I saw your match last night.”

Wendy grimaced, and took a deep breath.  Obviously she was still upset over her loss, but she managed to keep her voice steady.  “Pollaski’s trying to get us a rematch, maybe in September or October.   He told me that a lot of people were impressed by the heart and effort we showed, and how close we came.  And we didn’t even use a weapon.”  She finished proudly.

“Maybe you should have,” Gus muttered under his breath.  He couldn’t exactly see the source of pride his daughter felt about her match, considering that it ended with them losing.  He shook his head, brushing the thought from his mind.  “So are you ready to go?”

Wendy frowned.  “Go?   Go where?”

“Home,” Gus replied, as if their leaving was a foregone conclusion.  “The flights at eight, so we don’t have too much time..”

Wendy’s eyes narrowed.  “I’m not leaving.  I can’t.  I have to defend my women’s championship tomorrow.  And Terrence is in the Summer Game…”

“Wendy, no one cares about the Women’s Championship.  It’s why you’re the second match on the show.”  Gus interrupted, waving a dismissive hand.  “And besides, you’re too hurt to compete.  You’re better off just calling it quits now, and going home while you are healthy enough to explore other options.   Broadway won’t take someone who’s had their face caved in.   They won’t take someone crippled, either.”

“I care about the women’s championship, and that’s enough for me. ”  Wendy scowled, and looked away, back up at the television, where the pigtailed girl was in a different match now, but still working over her opponent rather decisively.   “It’s my first ever singles title, Daddy.  You couldn’t possibly begin to understand how happy I was to win it, and I don’t want to surrender it, especially not to that horrible woman.   I’m not quitting because I lost one match.  And I’m cleared to compete.  I’ll be fine.”

Gus shook his head.  “Wendy, you have got to understand that this isn’t-“

“No, Daddy.” Wendy interrupted.  “You have got to understand that it IS what I’m supposed to be doing.  This is what I want to do.  I’m having fun, even though I lost last night.  And I’m getting a lot of fans… even though I’m still a rookie.  I wouldn’t have believed it myself a year ago, but I really think this is what I’m meant to do.”

Gus took a deep breath, finding himself growing angry. “Now, look here, Gwendolyn  Constance Briese.   I gave you EVERYTHING to ensure that you would be the next great thing on Broadway, and it’s a PISS-POOR display of gratitude for you to throw it all away for this stupid wrestling fantasy.   And that’s what it is, Wendy.  A fantasy.  You’re not that good, and last night showed the world that.  You can beat other weak women, and stupid people with no talent, but when it comes to a REAL wrestler with TALENT and a clue what they’re doing, the same thing is going to happen EVERY GODDAMN TIME .  You’ve become all you’re ever going to be here- a novelty act who lucked her way into the tag team titles, and will never touch them again.  And that idiot boyfriend you tag along with keeps feeding the lie to you so you stay with him.”

Gus paused, and looked at Wendy.  She was breathing heavily , tears in her emerald eyes, but there was a fire burning behind the water that Gus had never seen before.   She stared at him for a long while, then looked away.  “You should go.  I have a match to prepare for.”

That wasn’t the reaction Gus had been hoping for.  He had hoped to provoke her into a rage, or a breakdown, or something that would have broken her will to keep going, something that could have made it easier to convince her.  But this cold dismissal of his words, no matter how forced, made him feel foolish.  “Look, Wendy, I…”

“Just go.”  Wendy said again, pointing to the door.

Gus slowly got up, and walked towards the exit of the RV.  He paused as he reached for the door, turning back to her.  “What if you lose tomorrow, Wendy? What then?  You won’t even be the champion of a division no one cares about.  You’ll have nothing.”

“I’m not losing tomorrow,” Wendy declared, her voice more forceful than Gus had ever heard.  “It won’t be like last night.”

“But what if you do?   Will you then at least THINK that you’re doing the wrong thing here, Wendy?  Will you at least CONSIDER giving it up?”

Wendy paused, staring up at the television, watching the pigtailed woman again.  “I’ll think about it.” Wendy replied, in a deadpan voice, more to get rid of him than any commitment.

Gus smiled.  “I’ll hold you to it.”  He turned, and left the RV, letting the door slam behind him.  He couldn’t help but smile to himself.  He knew his daughter, and he knew how fragile her confidence could be.  Her loss last night had shaken it, horribly, no matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise.  Hearing her own father denounce her… well, that just wobbled it even more.  And when she lost tomorrow, and was left with nothing but the knowledge that she was in over her head, she would be with him, heading back to Indianapolis, and then on to New York, where she would finally begin the career she was meant to.

Gus smiled.  Sometime, he even impressed himself.

================
Sunday August 25, 2002
Four Seasons Hotel- Room 318
Los Angeles, California
9:08 PM Local Time

“A Bottle of your finest Scotch, and you better be DAMNED quick about it!”  Gus snarled into the phone before slamming it onto the receiver.  Not satisfied in the least, he picked up the receiver, slamming it down again, and then again, before plopping down on the bed, covering his eyes and letting out a long, feral growl.

How in the FUCK had she won?

Gus had been elated when Wendy’s opponent had decided to completely throw the rulebook out the window from the getgo, cheating at every single opportunity, including whacking his daughter over the head with a chair.  Wendy had been knocked around the entire ring, the crowd hating every damned minute of it, only for somewhere, somehow, for Wendy to turn things around, mount an offensive, and finish the worthless redneck bitch off with a submission hold that left the woman suspended in mid-air, every single limb of her’s stretched to the breaking point.  The crowd had loved it.  Wendy had been completely elated.  

Gus, however, was pissed, and had startled those around him when he stormed out of the biggest pay-per-view of the year just after the second match had finished. 

So her career would continue, under the illusion that because she beat some pigtailed slut who talked to pigs, she was somehow actually built for this sham of a sport. 

“God…. DAMMIT!”  Gus growled.   If those idiots in room service expected ANY sort of compensation, they’d better get their ass up here..

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

Gus blinked. That WAS quick.  Still, you couldn’t show gratitude to these hotel types.  Then they would feel some sort of empowerment, and start taking advantage of you.

“About goddamn time” Gus growled as he flung his door open.  He stopped, blinking as he saw a middle-aged woman with dark hair standing in front of him.  Still beautiful after all these years.

“Ivana?”

The Ukranian beauty stood awkwardly in the hallway, tugging nervously at the neckline of her dress.    “Hello, Gus,” she said, her voice halting and thick in her accent.  

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard you were in town.  May I come in?”

Gus nodded, too dumbfounded to do anything else.   He stepped aside, gently shutting the door behind Ivana as she entered.  “You’re living in Los Angeles now?  Yuri too?”  He was surprised when Ivana nodded.  “I thought he couldn’t live without the injections they were giving him.”

“So did I,” replied Ivana, her voice full of bitterness.  “Until the program ran out of money and they shut it down.  I thought my little Yuri was going to die, but… he didn’t.  He… they lied to us, Gus.  He never needed those hormones, at least not in the doses they gave him.  It was all a pretense to do their experiments, to use our son as a test…”  She sighed heavily.  “He still is wracked with pain sometimes, but he seems to be alright.  But he’s just so… they made him a monster.  I can barely stand to look at him, and I’m his mother, goddammit!”  She sighed.  “And I hate myself for feeling that way, but…”

Gus was quiet, listening to his onetime mistress’s lament.  “So you moved to Los Angeles?”

“There was work and money to be had here,” Ivana said simply.  “Well, for me at least.  I’m a waitress.  It’s a nice restaurant, I make enough to get us both by.  But Yuri…  he’ll never get a job.  He’ll never have anything that I can’t give for him, all because of those damn Russians.”  She sighed.  “I know you never wanted to see me again, and I’m sorry for showing up like this… but…”

“It’s fine,” Gus lied.  He was still too cowed to think of anything.  He hadn’t thought of Ivana since that day her brother showed up at his house and attacked him.  His blood ran cold as he remembered the day, and the fact that Vassily was now buried in his backyard.  He looked at Ivana warily.  Did she know about that?  Is that really why she was here?

There was another knock on the door, and Gus answered quickly, too distracted to remember to berate the room service who handed him the bottle of Scotch.  Closing the door again, he absently picked at the label of the bottle.  “Care for a drink?”

“Please,” Ivana replied.   Gus popped open the bottle, and poured two glasses, handing one to the woman.  He sat down, taking a sip, and smiling grimly.  Nothing was calming to him like a bottle of Scotch.  As he watched Ivana, he began to suspect that her intent for being here wasn’t malicious, whatever else it might be.  If she knew about Vassily, she was doing a better acting job than he had ever done.

“I’m glad to see you’re getting by.”  Gus finally said, watching her for a reaction.  A plan was very slowly beginning to form in his mind.

“For the most part,” Ivana replied, shrugging.  “It’s better than what was in Ukraine.”

Gus paused, then leaned forward.  “I want you to know that I do feel bad about what happened,” he began.  “I didn’t want to send you and Yuri away.  And I certainly never intended for him to be caught up in that accident.  I know I’ve been cold, Ivana.  Maybe I shouldn’t have been.”

“I’m past it.”  Ivana said, an obvious lie.  “I don’t even know why I came here tonight.  Guess nothing better to do.”

“I want you to know this,”  Gus said.  “Had it not been for Wendy, I would have divorced Gayle, married you, and raised Yuri as my own.  But with her being born, I panicked.  I couldn’t bear the thought of a bastard child, and the scandal it could bring.  I think I overreacted.”

Ivana blinked in surprise.  Gus was rarely the kind of man who ever seemed apologetic about anything.  Much less something like this.

“Knowing what I know now, I would have chosen you, Ivana.  Gayle… she’s boring.  She never turned out to be the great actress I envisioned her as, and nowadays she just sits around, reads and drinks.  And Wendy… I had EVERYTHING planned out for her, and she’s jumped track, and now thinks she can be a professional wrestler.  I’m trying to convince her otherwise, but…”  He sighed.  “I think I kept the wrong child, Ivana.”

Anger flashed in Ivana’s eyes.  “Why?  Why are you telling me this now?  Do you think it makes me feel better?  It’s too late, Gus.”

“Is it?”  Gus replied.  “Yuri’s alive, isn’t he?  Who says I can’t be in his life again?”

“But what about your own marriage?  The scandal?”  Ivana replied sarcastically.

“To hell with my marriage.  And I already have scandal.  My daughter fights for a living, and dates some greased-up former auto racer who beats up people now because he went insane during a race.  And everyone knows that Gayle’s cheated on me with some of her director’s.  And besides, my career is over, and times have changed.  Maybe it’s time for a new beginning.”

Ivana said nothing, but Gus didn’t miss the spark of hope in Ivana’s eyes.  He tried to keep himself from smirking.

“Yuri, he’s big, he’s strong, right?”  Gus asked.    He let that smile out as Ivana nodded.  “How would he like to meet his sister?  And maybe teach her a lesson on what happens to ingrates who throw away everything they’ve been given, especially when they have a sibling who never had anything?   Which child should I favor, the onEWe who spurned me?  Or the one who’s always wanted me, but never could have me?”

Ivana thought for a second, chewing on her bottom lip.  “I think Yuri would love to meet you.  And Wendy too.”

Gus smirked.  “Then tell him to get ready.  Family reunions are the kind of things that create lasting memories.  Ones that none of us would forget.”

Ivana nodded, and set her drink down.  “What do you want from this, Gus?  Why are you suddenly so amiable?”

“I just want to right what I’ve wronged, Ivana.” Gus replied.  “But, if you’re feeling up to it, I certainly wouldn’t mind your old ‘payment.’”

Ivana paused, and smiled, slipping off the straps of her dress.  Not hesitantly, but eagerly.  Gus wondered how many men she had been with since then.  He doubted it was a lot.  But then again, Gayle was hardly the most eager of partners these days either.  

Gus smirked contendedly as he began to unbutton his shirt.  It had been an unexpected draw, but he finally felt he had the hand to win here, to get Wendy back into the fold, and to make her give up this ridiculous charade.  And if not, he would simply have to decide what he’d have to end up discarding.  

He wasn’t so certain it would be the same cards he threw away the last time.

EPISODE 174: Someone Thought It Was A Good Idea

You’d think one of these days, Daniel Pollaski might actually shoot a promo, from you know, his own home, but today is evidently not that day.  Mainly because there is no way in hell Daniel Pollaski is going to be fitting a full sized arcade cabinet in his apartment anytime soon.   As we fade in, Daniel Pollaski and Terrence Thompson are playing on it- a rail shooter that not coincidentally goes by the name Revolution-X.  Both men are standing side by side, playing the game, and with sounds of explosions and screams coming from the game.

In the midst of all this, Wendy walks by.  She pauses as she sees her husband and manager playing an arcade game, one that, judging by her expression, she had no idea they actually had.  She notices the title of the game, and frowns.  She then glances to the side, and sees the camera, and her frown deepens.  

Wendy: “Oh no.  No no no no no!”

Wendy marches to the wall where the game is plugged in, and with a yank, pulls the cord from the wall.  And just like that, the game is shut off, immediately followed by a disappointed groan from Terrence and Pollaski.  

Terrence: “Whadya do that for?” 

Wendy: “I believe I specifically said no more SVW promos being shot in this house.”

Pollaski: “Why?  Your stupid boycott of SVW is ov-“

Wendy shakes her head. 

Wendy: “It’s not that.  It’s that… everytime you’ve shot a promo for SVW… you’ve managed to destroy my living room.”

Momentary pause.

Pollaski: “Okay, so I crashed through your living room window ONCE.  That doesn’t mean that every time..”

Wendy: “And the time before that, you drilled holes in my ceiling rigging stage lighting.  It took three hours of spackling to fix it.  And another week to get you and Terrence to stop trying to see who can say ‘spackle’ in the funniest voice.”

Terrence: “Well, you gotta admit, it’s a fun word to say. SPACKLE!”

Long pause, with Wendy staring at her husband, who finally acquiesces and bows his head. 

Terrence: “Sorry.”

Pollaski: “Geez, give us a break, Wendy.  It’s a video game, for crying out loud.  Terrence and I play these every day.  This just happens to be a standalone arcade cabinet.”

Wendy: “Yeah.  Where did you get this?”

Short pause.

Terrence: “Pollaski knows this guy…

Wendy takes a deep breath, and sighs.

Wendy: “I should have guessed.  So what is this?  Some sort of shooting game?”

PollaskI: “No, it’s a sports game, Wendy.  That’s why there’s a freaking GUN MOUNTED ON IT.”

Wendy narrows her eyes and gives Pollaski a look that indicates in no uncertain terms that his sarcasm is not appreciated.  She looks up at the cabinet again, reading the title. 

Wendy: “Revolution-X.  This isn’t a game where you shoot Johnny Moxie, is it?”

Pollaski: “Nah.  Moxie was like four when this came out, as opposed to just acting like he’s four like he does now.  Essentially, it’s about this evil government who abducts one of the greatest rock bands of all time, and you have to liberate them.”

Wendy: “Oh!  Air Supply!”

Horrified silence.  Pollaski and Terrence’s jaws are both pretty much on the floor here.  

Pollaski: “Wha…?”

Wendy points to the arcade cabinet.

Wendy: “I see it now.  With the A in the circle and the wings.  That stands for Air Supply, right?  I like them!  I’m all outta love… I’m so lost without you…”

Even though Wendy has a very nice singing voice, this causes Pollaski to look over at Terrence.

Pollaski: “Dude…”

Terrence:  “I can’t.  She’s my wife.  There’s laws and shit.”

Pollaski sighs. 

Pollaski: “OY!  CASSIE!”

Wendy stops singing as Cassandra DeSlair comes walking into the picture.  

Cassie: “Yes?”

Pollaski: “Wendy here just thought Aerosmith was Air Supply.”

Cassie: “I see.”

*SMACK!*

Wendy: “OW!”

Wendy’s caught completely off guard as Cassie slaps her across the face, turns on her heel, and walks away.    Wendy holds her cheek for a second, then pulls her hand away, looking at it to see if she’s bleeding. Evidently, she’s not. 

Wendy: “This is NOT the kind of example we should be setting for my daughter!”

Terrence, of course, has shown such indignant outrage over his wife being slapped, he’s gone back to plugging in the machine.   Wendy, realizing she’s getting zero empathy here, looks back at the game.

Wendy: “So is it any good?  This Aerosmith Revolution-X thingie?”

Pollaski looks back at the game, pauses for several seconds, then turns back to Wendy.

Pollaski: “No.  The graphics are ugly.  The game play is horrible.  The collision detection is non-existant.  It’s mindlessly repetitive while thinking its cutting edge and cool.  And essentially it uses its lame-ass Aerosmith license to suker unsuspecting people into wasting their money.  Just like how the real Revolution X are ugly people who are horrible wrestlers who hit like four year old girls, do and say the exact same shit every week, and use chairs to rob good wrestlers of deserving victories.  I’d say the wrestling group is pretty close to their namesake, and I can’t wait for my girlfriend and I, along with creepy male nympho –dude, to put those bastards in their place.”

Wendy: “If it’s so lousy, then why did you buy it?”

There’s a long pause, while Terrence and Pollaski exchange glances.  

Wendy: “There’s a sledgehammer on the other side of the game, isn’t there?”

Terrence scoffs.  

Terrence: “No.  Why do you always think Pollaski and I are just going to destroy-“

Terrence is cut off as Wendy walks over to the cabinet, reaches over the other side.  Pollaski and Terrence cringe as Wendy pulls out a sledgehammer, and holds it in her arms, glaring at her husband and manager.  Again, Pollaski and Terrence exchange glances.

Pollaski: “To be fair, Terrence TOTALLY wanted to use a flame-thrower.”

Terrence: “DUDE!”

Wendy continues to just stand there, icily staring at her husband and manager, as both men slowly begin to get the hint.

Pollaski: “Welp, love to stay and chant, but I got training to do.”

Pollaski quickly leaves the scene.  Terrence takes one look at Wendy, and then the sledgehammer she’s holding. 

Terrence: “I’ll come with you.  I’ll show you how to do the Saskatchewan Spinning Nerve Hold.”

Pollaski: “Dude.  Why do I need to know that?  I can do an armbar.”

The door slams behind them, leaving Wendy alone in the living room.   Rolling her eyes, she sets the sledgehammer up against the arcade game, and turns to walk back towards the kitchen.  She takes a step, and looks back at the machine, then over at the kitchen, then back at the machine.  Sighing, she pats her jean pockets, and reaches into her left one, procuring a couple quarters.  The scene cuts out with Wendy bending over to deposit the coins into the player one slot.