Friday February 4, 2011
The Cheesecake Factory- Dining Room
Beverly Hills, California
7:21 PM Local Time
Cassie DeSlair: “And I’ll have the fettuccine Alfredo, light on the sauce please.”
[Ah, The Cheesecake Factory.]
[Very little in the world can stand up to the dining experience in one of these restaurants, with the wide varitiy of menu options, excessively generous portions, and of course, in the miraculous event that one has room at the end, the Cheesecake. In short, it’s a perfect venue for the Thompson family and friends to be spending their dinner this evening.]
[And that’s where we open the scene, with the five members of Terrence and Wendy’s entourage sitting around a table, with the camera placed at one end. To the left, nearest the camera, sits Cassie DeSlair, Wendy’s friend, and the Birdz travel-along babysitter. Next to her sits the patriarch of the Thompson clan, Terrence himself, surprisingly in a very nice buttoned shirt (which Wendy probably made him wear). On the right, nearest to the camera, is Terrence and Wendy’s daughter, the ever adorable Theresa, who’s showing more interest in the coloring book in front of her than anything else. Wendy sits next to her, a tad further away]
[And of course, at the head of the table is none other than the WhirlyBirdz manager himself, Daniel Pollaski, his ever-present Hawaiian shirt today in a blue and gold motif. Pollaski is handing the last of the menus to the waiter, who smiles at the quintet, then turns and walks off. Wendy turns to her husband.]
Wendy Briese: “This was a good idea for a place to eat, hon. I love the Cheesecake Factory.”
[Terrence merely shrugs at his wife’s compliment]
Terrence Thompson: “Well, I doubt any of us feel like cooking in the RV tonight, and we can’t eat at McDonalds and Taco Bell EVERY night, so why not-”
*BANG! BANG! BANG!*
[Terrence is cut off in midsentence by the banging of a gavel on the table. Terrence, Wendy, and Cassie turn immediately to Pollaski, all three looking rather astonished as Pollaski sets the wooden hammer on the table]
Cassie: “What-”
Wendy: “-the-”
Terrence: “-HELL did you do that for?”
[Pollaski waves his hands pompously, as if beginning to make a speech]
Daniel Pollaski: “Order, order! I hereby call this team meeting of the WhirlyBirdz Vehicular Hit Squad into session!”
[Stunned silence meets this proclamation, as Terrence, Wendy, and Cassie all exchange glances. Theresa, of course, has her nose shoved in that coloring book.]
Terrence: “Team meet-on-the-what-now?”
Wendy: “We’re just having dinner.”
Cassie: “Although that does explain the camera.”
[Cassie points to the camera at the end of the table, and Terrence and Wendy look over at it briefly as well]
Terrence: “Yeah, I was gonna ask about that...”
[Pollaski shrugs]
Pollaski: “Well, I figured it’d be a nice change of pace from the normal sit down in front of a camera and talk smack interview. You know, give everyone an insight into how the WhirlyBirdz prepare for the matches.”
[Another pause]
Cassie: “So why are Theresa and I here?”
[Wendy smiles]
Wendy: “You’re part of this team too, Cass. You don’t wrestle, but if you didn’t watch Theresa while Terrence and I were training and competing, we couldn’t do this. Besides, we’re still having a nice family dinner, even if it IS being recorded.”
Pollaski: “Yeah, and besides, no one’s ever gone wrong shoving a good-looking blond in front of a camera.”
[Cassie’s eyes narrow]
Cassie: “So you essentially view me as eye-candy?”
Pollaski: “Well, your words, but... yeah, pretty much.”
[Suddenly indignant, both Wendy and Cassie begin talking at once, while Terrence leans back in his chair, eager to be out of the way of the brewing argument. Pollaski looks fairly nonchalant at the two angry females rebuking him, and calmly grabs the gavel again.]
*BANG!*
[Silence reigns for a second, although at some of the tables in the background, several other diners are looking over at the Birdz’ table, some looking rather annoyed]
Pollaski: “Anyways, it’s time to focus. That Four-Store War was a mess of a match, but you came out of there the winners-”
Terrence: “Well, Wendy did. I didn’t do much.”
[Wendy, suddenly exasperated, looks back over at her husband, rolling her eyes.]
Wendy: “Terry, how many times have I told you? It didn’t matter which of us got the pin, or did the most damage. We’re a team, and we win as a team.”
[Wendy’s staring fiercely, althought not exactly angrily, at her husband, and there’s a long awkward pause. The ever talkative Pollaski, of course, is the one to break the spell]
Pollaski: “Gotta say, Wendy’s right. It wasn’t pretty, but you guys did what you set out to do, and you got the win. So now, you’re SEVEN-time Tag Team Champions, not to mention still undefeated since returning to wrestling last ye-”
Wendy: “Wait.. didn’t we lose our last match in PWX?”
[Another long, uncomfortable pause]
Pollaski: “Yeah... that was because you got crammed in an eight-man cluster-you-know-what and got stuck with those idiots in Global Revolution as your partners.”
Wendy: “But still...”
[Pollaski interrupts her before she can continue, waving his hand.]
Pollaski: “Look, make of it what you will, but the fact of the matter is, you guys have once again established yourself as one of the most dominant tag teams in the sport today. The question is, where do we go from here?”
[Both Terrence and Wendy look at each other, and Terrence shrugs. Wendy looks back over at Pollaski]
Wendy: “Well, from what I heard, Double Dragon was probably going to be the first challengers, but now that they’re gone, that leaves the door wide open.”
Terrence: “Well, I’m hearing some stuff about this Sin City Syndicate. I’d wager they knock of Steely Vengeance, which would immediately put them at the front of the pecking order.”
Wendy: “I don’t know, hon. I wouldn’t rule out Steely Vengeance. Tough Eagle nearly got me in that match. But if the Cherrybombs can beat us nontitle this week, they’ll be the clear frontrunners.”
[Pollaski nods in agreement with Wendy’s assessment.]
Pollaski: “And that brings us to the purpose of this meeting. The Cherrybombs.”
Cassie: “You think they’d be better off if they spelled their name like you do. You know, the CherryBombz?”
[Another long, uncomfortable pause as everyone else stares at Cassie. Wendy looks amused, although Terrence looks annoyed, even angry.]
Terrence: “Okay, you know what? We came up with that name back in 2001. It was COOL then, okay? And we can’t bloody go around changing it now!”
[Not really, but saying that it was the brainstorm of an 19 year old kid on three hours of sleep and running out of time until the application was due is even more embarrassing.]
Cassie: “Sorry, I was just joking.”
[Terrence shrugs, as if to say ‘no big deal’. Everyone looks over at Wendy, who’s no longer amused. In fact, she’s looking at the table, her eyes downcast.]
Terrence: “What, hon?”
Wendy: “I... I LIKE our name...”
[She would.]
*BANG!*
[Gavel, yo]
Pollaski: “Okay, getting off track again. We need to focus on beating the Cherrybombs.”
Terrence: [chuckling] “Easy. Step on ‘em.”
[Pollaski chuckles, but Wendy doesn’t even look anywhere near amused.]
Wendy: “Belladonna isn’t the Undisputed Panda for nothing, Terry. Both she and Hayley might be small, but they’re insanely fast, and they’re also tough as nails. Hayley took some serious punishment in that Four-Store War, and she kept on going almost until the end. They’re stronger than they look, and they’re almost freakishly acrobatic.”
[Pollaski again nods in agreement with Wendy’s assessment.]
Pollaski: “Yeah, both women, especially Belladonna, are accomplished parkours, and they can use their skills in that discipline to help their mobility in the ring.”
[Wendy suddenly, looks over at Pollaski, her eyebrows narrowed in confusion.]
Wendy: “Sorry, but I keep hearing that word. What is a ‘parkour?”’
[Both Pollaski and Cassie open their mouths to respond, but stop when Terrence bursts out laughing. He quickly reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his Droid. He quickly types something in on the screen, and slides it across the table to his wife]
Terrence: “Here you go, hon. This is what Pollaski’s talking about.”
[Wendy picks up the phone, and stares at it, looking fairly impressed for several seconds. Then, on the phone’s audio, a scream can be heard, followed by a sickening thud. Wendy cringes, and hands the phone back to Terrence, looking rather disgusted]
Wendy: “Why would ANYONE want to do that?”
[Pollaski chuckles, and shakes his head]
Pollaski: “Well, the good ones manage to do that stuff without faceplanting on the concrete. Parkour is one of those activities where the people who are in it for the long term are really good, or really really dumb.”
Terrence: “So which one is Belladonna?”
Wendy: “Given that she doesn’t look like she’s fallen off of about sixty different buildings, I’m going to go with her being a really good parkour.”
Cassie: “Traceur.”
[Another brief pause. As the Birdz look over at their nanny, the waiter silently slips in and drops a basket of bread on the table, not interrupting the conversation.]
Terrence: “Bless you?”
[Cassie shakes her head]
Cassie: “Practitioners of parkour are called traceurs. Anyways, from what it sounds like, this Belladonna girl is likely more into free-running than parkour, since she’s more flashy and competitive. Its a similar, but different style that emphasizes more on tricks and aesthetics in the movements, instead of the pure efficiency that’s emphasized in Parko...”
[Cassie stops talking as she realizes that everyones staring at her like she’s crazy. She suddenly becomes very interested in getting putter on a slice of pumpernickel.]
Cassie: “Sorry. I got a little geeky there.”
[Wendy smiles reassuringly]
Wendy: “No, you’re fine. Just, how do you know so much about it?”
[Cassie shrugs]
Cassie: “I had a boyfriend who was REALLY into that stuff. Of course, there wasn’t a wall he could climb or a roof he could jump to get away from me after I came home and found him with my roomate...”
[Cassie’s voice is tinged with bitterness, and both Wendy and Terrence look at her uncomfortably, not entirely sure what to say. Pollaski knows what to do, however.]
*BANG!*
[Needless to say, that gavel is starting to get on people’s nerves]
Pollaski: “Well, anyways, I think that you guys are missing the most dangerous aspect of the Cherrybombs. All that resiliency and bouncing off the walls doesn’t mean jack if you don’t have the energy to do it, and THAT is what makes these two so dangerous. It’s like little nuclear reactors have been installed in them or something.”
[Terrence shrugs]
Terrence: “So all we need to do is get those reactors into a meltdown. Why is it that small people like that have so much energy anyways?”
Wendy: “Great metabolism, I’m sure...”
[Pollaski nods again, but reaches for something under the table.]
Pollaski: “I’m sure metabolism has something to do with it. But I think the real reason Belladonna is so energetic is... THIS.”
[Pollasi sets a bottle, filled with a red liquid on the table. Everyone else stares at it curiously.]
Wendy: “What is this?”
Pollaski: “This... is cherryade.”
[Dun dun DUUUUUUN!]
[Seriously, not a common drink in America]
Pollaski: [shoving the bottle at Wendy] “Go on, try it, you big wuss.”
[Wendy stares at the bottle as if she’s never seen a soft-drink before in her life. Finally, uncertainly, she unscrews the cap, and takes a swig. She immediately begins choking and sputtering, setting the bottle back on the table.]
Wendy: “S....s....sweet!!!!”
[Wendy chokes a couple more times, then dives at her water to wash the taste of cherryade out of her mouth. Terrence, looking at Wendy with concern, picks up the bottle of the liquid and sets it at the end of the table, just out of the view of the camera.]
Pollaski: [who’s naturally acting like Wendy didn’t just choke to death in front of him] “See, that stuff is so chock full of sugar, no wonder they’re always energetic.”
Wendy: [still a little raspy from coughing] “I think I’m diabetic now...”
Terrence: “Great, so essentially we’re fighting two undersized girls who are perenially hyper due to a massive sugar intake. It’s like we’ve become villains in an anime or something.”
*BANG!*
[Everyone looks over at Pollaski, Terrence definitely more annoyed than the others.]
Terrence: “Okay, give me the gavel, dude.”
[Pollaski shakes his head in defiance]
Pollaski: “No. We’re getting off track. This helps us focus.”
Terrence: “No, this irritates us. This makes us want to kill you.”
[Surprisingly, Pollaski actually beams at that prospect]
Pollaski: “Great! Take that aggression and use it to beat the Cherrybombs!”
[For a second, Terrence looks mollified. Then he lunges for the gavel, but Pollaski won’t let go. For a second, the two wrestle for the gavel.]
Pollaski: “Dude...chill... out!”
Terrence: “Give...me...the...GAVEL!”
[With one roar of exertion, Terrence rips the gavel out of Pollaski’s hands. However, as he does so, he knocks over Wendy’s water. Wendy leaps to her feet with a shriek, knocking over her chair. The waiter quickly rushes over, and hands Wendy a napkin, who immediately begins to dab the water on the front of her skirt, all the while angrily looking at Terrence and Pollaski.]
Wendy: [hissing] “Could you two start acting like ADULTS?”
[By now, their entire secton of the restaurant is staring at them. Wendy turns red from embarrassment, and, after thanking the waiter for his help cleaning up the spill, she quickly sits back in her chair, glaring daggers at her husband and manager. Terrence responds with a sheepish grin, while Pollaski sits stone-faced, pretending nothing is going on. Wendy fumes for a second, then puts on the widest, most phony smile she can manage]
Wendy: “I believe we were discussing our match?”
[Pollaski takes that as his cue to proceed, and quickly does so.]
Pollaski: “Well, any ideas on how to defuse the Cherrybombs?”
[For a second, everyone pauses and considers this question, even Cassie, who suffers from a clear lack of wrestling knowledge]
Terrence: “The legs.”
[Everyone looks over at Terrence, who shrugs]
Terrence: “Look, I don’t think there’s any doubt that if I were to stand toe to toe with either Hayley or Belladonna, I’d turn them into hamburger. They have to know that too, so they’re gonna be bouncing all over the place like hot air molecules. They can’t do all that flippy crap if we take their legs out.”
[Wendy, who also does that ‘flippy crap’, albeit to a lesser extent, grimaces, but she nods in agreement]
Wendy: “You’re right. If we can force them to lose that speed advantage, things will be much easier for us. Let me start the match, Terry. I have a better chance at keeping up with them than you would, and I know how to wear down people’s ability to move.”
[Terrence grins]
Terrence: “Just like demo derbies. Doesn’t matter how good your engine is, if your wheels are broken, you’re a sitting duck.”
[Cassie clears her throat, causing the rest of the table to look at her.]
Wendy: “What’s up, Cass?”
Cassie: “Well, you realize you just broadcasted your entire gameplan to the world?”
[Both Terrence and Wendy start laughing, and shake their heads]
Wendy: “Not really. We just said what we’re going to try and do. They don’t know how we’re going to go about doing it. I mean, there’s several different ways you can wear a leg down... submission holds, kicking, repeated dragon screws...”
Terrence: “Trust us, Cassie. Both Wendy and I are pretty creative when we’re in that ring. The Cherrybombs will be surprised indeed when they see what’s coming. We’re not dumb enough to put all our cards on the table three days before the match even happens.”
[Cassie nods, and smiles, appeased by her friends reassurances. Pollaski opens his mouth to say something else, but...]
*BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!*
Theresa Thompson: “ORDER! ORDER!”
[Everyone (and we mean EVERYONE) looks at Theresa, who’s gotten ahold of the gavel, and is doing her best Pollaski interpretation. Wendy glances from her, to the now-empty bottle of cherryade, and her face pales]
Wendy: “Oh no...”
*BANG!*
[Wendy grabs the gavel from her daughter’s hands, and tries hushing the suddenly wired four-year old.]
Wendy: [hissing] “Theresa, behave yourself! Do you want us to get kicked-”
Waiter: “Excuse me, ma’am?”
Wendy: “-out?”
[Both Wendy and Cassie turn beet red from embarrassment as they look up to see the waiter standing above them, the most insincere smile ever plastered across his face]
Waiter: “I’m sorry, but we’ve received several complaints about you and your party. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
[Terrence scoffs, thumping his chest]
Terrence: “You know who you’re freakin’ dealing with, boy? You better bring the whole kitchen staff out, because we ain’t goin til our bellies are FULL!”
[Another moment of silence, where everyone looks at Terrence, Wendy especially looks like she’s about to fling the gavel at her husband’s head. Terrence gets the hint.]
Terrence: “Alright, we’ll go. Come on, Theresa.”
[Terrence picks his child up out of her seat, and starts carrying her out of the restaurant. Cassie, looking embarrassed and crestfallen, picks up her coat and purse and follows. Wendy, looking absolutely humiliated, turns towards the waiter.]
Wendy: “Look, I’m really, really sorry about this. I don’t know what...”
[Wendy’s voice trails off as she sees the waiter is flashing her that same vacant, insincere smile.]
Wendy: “Um, look, we’re really hungry, and I’m sure our food is almost ready. Is there anyway you could box that food up and we take it to go?”
Waiter: “I’m sorry ma’am. Store policy says that-”
Wendy: “I’ll give you a fifty percent tip.”
[Wendy thrusts her credit card at the waiter, who takes it without a second thought.]
Waiter: “Please wait outside.”
[The waiter briskly walks off, leaving Wendy and Pollaski alone at the table. Around them, the rest of the restaurant is returning to their normal conversation. Wendy’s turns to grab her coat, and is reminded about the camera.]
Wendy: “Oh, God. Everyone’s going to see this. Why couldn’t they have just-”
Pollaski: “They?”
[Pollaski claps Wendy on the shoulder as he walks by, a smug smirk on his face]
Pollaski: “Wendy, how many times have I told you? It doesn’t matter which of us made the most noise, or pissed off the post people. We’re a team, and we get kicked out of restaurants as a team.”
[Wendy glares at Pollaski who grins back as he goes to grab the camera. The last thing we see is Wendy’s furious visage, her fists clenched at her side as she tries with all her will to avoid pouncing on her manager.]
[And the feed cuts]
Friday, February 4, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
EPISODE 74: Kicked Out
Monday February 7, 2011
CPW Enclosure- Main Arena
Los Angeles, California
10:41 PM Local Time
“Wendy! Behind you!”
The warning left my mouth too late, but fortunately for my wife, it was also unnecessary. She turned her head just as the man rushed her from behind. Quick as a tiger, she ducked down, and thrust her shoulder into the woman’s abdomen. The girl let out a whoop, and began to double over, but Wendy suddenly hoiseted the woman up, using her attacker’s own momentum to send her sailing over the top rope. The unfortunate wrestler made a desperate grab at the ropes, the apron, anything to save her, but she was already out of arms reach. With a grunt of pain and frustration, the woman hit hard on the mat on the outside.
Three left.
Before I could react, a blow hit me on the back of the head. I staggered forward, trying to clear my suddenly blurred vision. I spun around. A man was grinning at me, seemingly thinking the blind attack had me beaten. He charged forward with a clothesline, and I ducked, the forearm lariat flying harmlessly over my head. He slammed on the brakes, trying to stop his momentum as he turned around. He did, but only after backing into the ropes. I smiled.
Sparkstarter time.
I was rewarded with the smack of my boot hitting the man’s face, and the man pitched bodily backwards tumbling over the ropes. The best that could be said for him was that he got his hands out before his face smacked the apron, breaking his fall somewhat as he rolled to the outside, the crowd around us giving another deafening roar of approval.
And then there were two.
I looked over at the other remaining occupant in the ring. Wendy was panting from exhaustion, and was still down on one knee. She trembled slightly as she stood up, brushing several damp strands of her flame red hair from her flushed face. Even now, she was the most beautiful thing in the world, and right now I wanted nothing more than to hold her close in an embrace, and kiss her.
But alas, if I did that right now, she’d never forgive me. This was to be a fight to the finish.
“Just you and me, then?” she said, cracking a small smile. I nodded, and immediately the smile and warmness vanished, replaced by that glint in her eye- that glint that always let me know that just because she was my wife, she wasn’t giving, nor expecting to receive, any quarter.
I moved to grab her, but even fatigued as she was, she was the quicker, rolling out of the way, and my right leg screamed in pain as her boots smashed into it with another one of those damnable leg kicks. She hit me with another, and a third, and I gritted my teeth in frustration as my leg gave out, me falling to one knee. This was just what Wendy was hoping for, and she fired off a quick roundhouse, aiming for my head. More on instinct than anything, I ducked, feeling the cool rush of air as her foot whizzed centimeters above my head. Wendy was knocked off balance by the miss, and she could do aught but shriek as I lunged forward, taking her down with a spear.
Under normal circumstances, I probably would have tried a bit of ground and pound, but even in a match, I had reservations about hitting my wife. Wendy, however, had no such qualms, and I caught an elbow to the side of my head, followed by a rapid succession of boots to the chest as she tried to kick me away. She rolled over on her stomach, and tried to scramble away to her feet. For once, I was too fast for her, and I grabbed her leg, yanking her back towards me, Wendy falling on her stomach with a grunt.
I hooked my arms around her waist, and began to stand up, easily dragging her up with me as she struggled to break my hold. I was too strong, however, and got to my feet, Wendy’s back in front of me. “You gonna give, hon?” I asked in her ear. “After all, doesn’t the Bible say ‘wives submit to your husbands?’”
“Submissions don’t count here, Terry!” Wendy snarled in reply, making another effort to free herself. I held on, then threw myself backwards, throwing Wendy over my head in a beautiful German Suplex. I was careful not to drop her on her head, but even so, Wendy hit hard, bouncing once on the mat before lying still.
For just a second, I paused, sickened at the sight of my wife lying motionless on the ring. A part of me hated myself for hurting the one I loved so. But another part of me had accepted this reality for what it was. We were opponents, and we had to do whatever we could to win. Even so, I thought it was best for the both of us that we ended this quickly.
I picked Wendy up to her feet. She was on spaghetti legs, and her right knee almost buckled, but she managed to remain standing. “Sorry hon, nothing personal,” I said, then took a running start at the nearest ropes, flinging her over. But Wendy managed to grab the ropes as she flew over, and for a brief second, hung from the top rope by one hand, her feet kicking wildly above the floor. But by the time I went to go pry her hand from that rope, Wendy had tucked in her legs and had crawled onto the apron.
Annoyed with my wife’s persistence, I tried to push her off, but Wendy, her teeth gritted in determination, clung to the rope. Suddenly, Wendy dropped down, and I lost my balance, pitching over the top rope, and landing hard on the apron myself. I regained my balance and tried to get to my feet, but a kick from my wife knocked me back to my knees. Another kick, this time to my gut knocked me off balance. Wendy, sensing I was in trouble, allowed herself the barest flicker of a smile.
“Apology accepted hon. Nothing personal.”
Wendy, clinging to the ropes for balance, swung her feet up, and kicked at me, connecting solidly, one boot in my chest, the other in my stomach. I panicked as I felt my grip on the rope vanish, and for just a brief second, I was airborne. I closed my eyes and braced for impact.
Then I crashed to the floor, and lay still.
“Terry?”
Everything had gone strangely quiet, save for the sound of my wife’s voice. I opened my eyes, and was surprised to find the world had gone dark. No music was playing, no crowd was cheering. I clutched at the skirt of the ring apron, and looked up at the arena ceiling.
As I rolled over onto my back, groaning, I had a curious thought- when did they replace the mat at ringside with carpet?
=====================
Sunday January 30, 2011
The Nest- Master Bedroom
Indianapolis, Indiana
3:04 AM Local Time
“Terry, are you okay?” my wife’s sleep-addled voice sounded concerned, and I was forced to squint as a click sounded, and a light turned on. Immediately, the roof of the arena became the ceiling of my own bedroom, and the skirt of the ring I was clutching became a soft, silk sheet. And then my wife, squinting just as I was in the sudden light, was hanging over the side of the bed, looking down at me.
“Terry?”
“I’m fine,” I groaned, rolling onto my stomach, and climbing back to my feet. Wendy slid back over to her side of the bed to make room for me, tugging at the straps on her nightgown nervously as she did. Even though most of the aspects of the dream were gone, one remained- a dull, throbbing pain in my stomach. I looked over at my wife accusingly. “Were you kicking me?”
The guilt on Wendy’s face was evident, and she cringed. “I might have in my sleep... that’s probably why you fell out of bed.”
“Goddammit,” I groaned as I plopped back on the bed. I knew it wasn’t really her fault, that she had done it in her sleep, but that didn’t stop me from being irritated about it.
“I’m sorry, Terry,” Wendy said, coming up behind and wrapping her arms around me. “I didn’t mean to.”
“No, its fine,” I replied patting her arm. “I was just having a.. bad dream. That’s all.”
“Oh,” Wendy said. Generally it was my wife who had unpleasant dreams, understandable considering some of the situations she had been placed in over her life. “Want to talk about it?”
I shrugged, “Not much to talk about. Just was you beating me in a match.”
The moment the words left my mouth, I realized how bad it sounded. Wendy pulled her hands away from me, and sat down on the bed. “You think losing to me is a nightmare?”
“No!” I said defensively, waving my hands. “Just... well, facing you in a match is kind of a nightmare.”
Wendy gave me a wry smile, and brushed a loose strand of her hair from her face. “I’d like to think everyone has nightmares about facing me in a ring.”
I laughed, and nodded. “They do. But that’s not what I meant.” My expression turned serious. “I know we’re both competitive, but I hate the thought of having to hurt you, just for the sake of my career. I nearly killed you when we faced last May- what if I did something worse?”
Wendy shot me an indignant glare. “You did NOT almost kill me. You knocked me out with a completely fair, legal wrestling move. And what has you thinking like this? The upcoming battle royal in CPW?”
I looked at her, and nodded. I lay back down, my head on my pillow, looking back up at the ceiling. Wendy took my hand in hers, and lay down beside me. “I was under the impression that we were going to work together in that.”
“We are. At least to start.”
Wendy sighed, and I turned onto my side to look at her. “Well, then what’s the worry? We wouldn’t have to face each other unless we were the final two. And Terry, I hate to say it, but even as good as we both are, the odds of that happening are pretty slim. To win a match like that is hard. To win and have your partner be the other finalist is almost impossible.”
“But it is doable, and it can happen,” I said. “And what if it does?”
Wendy shrugged. “Then we be the professionals that we are, and do our job. I won’t love you any less if my feet touch the floor because of you, Terrence. I hope you feel the same way.”
I sighed, and rolled back onto my back. “I do. But I still don’t like that in order for me to get what I want, you have to be denied. It was the same in PWX-”
“It was that way in PWX because the people in charge were too stupid to regard my worth as anything but filler, Terry,” Wendy suddenly snapped, surprising me. “That wasn’t your fault.” Her voice and face softened, until she was smiling again. “But that’s why I’m in X3W, hon. For that opportunity, and you’ve been great about supporting me in that.”
Wendy rolled on top of me, and I smiled up into the face of the woman I love.
“Don’t worry about me, hon. I’ll be fine, win or lose. Just focus on the two of us beating the Cherrybombs, and then getting yourself through that battle royal. If we’re fated to meet, then so be it. And if either of us wins. I’ll be happy.” She grinned. “I’ll be happier if *I* win, of course...”
I chuckled, and put my arms around her. “That’s what I love about you, hon. You can make sense out of everything.”
Wendy smiled back at me, and gently placed both of her hands on my shoulders. “Oh, and Terry?”
“Yes.”
She broke into a grin. “OnetwothreeIwin!”
I arched an eyebrow, “Now, that, madam, was a fast count. I believe I’m going to have to file a protest.”
Wendy reached over, and with another click of the lamp switch, the room was once again bathed in darkness. “Would a rematch satisfy you?”
============================================
Monday January 31, 2011
WhirlyBirdz RV- Main Cabin
East St. Louis, Illinois
8:10 PM Local Time
[Normally I’m not really into the whole on/off camera thing]
[However, for those of you who lack any semblance of common sense, it should be noted that the previous section was one hundred percent, bonafide, purely, beyond a shadow of a freakin doubt OFF THE FUCKING CAMERA.]
[Seriously, they don’t sleep with a camcorder in their bedroom. Well, Terrence did try that once. Wendy broke it with a sledgehammer.]
[ANYWAYS, we open our scene in the oft-used, and ever loved, main cabin of the WhirlyBirdz RV. Terrence Thompson’s perched himself on the couch, wearing an Indianapolis Colts T-shirt and a pair of jeans.]
“So yeah, I’m gonna have to admit that wasn’t quite the debut I was hoping for.”
[Now, THERE’S an understatement]
“Of course, I went and became Teaming Panda Champion in my very first CPW match, but I can hardly take credit for much of that. I’ve said it before, but that night belonged to my wife. I had a mediocre night on my end, she had a phenomenal night on her end, and she managed to pin Scavenger, and bring the belts home. I’m proud to have that woman as my tag team partner and wife, and I can damn guarantee you that when the time comes for us to face the Cherrybombs this week, I’ll be more than pulling my weight.”
[Terrence smacks himself on the chest with an open palm twice as he talks]
“Because this week, it’s my turn. Over the past couple of month’s, Terrence Thompson’s engine has more often than not been resting on idle. I’ve been in exactly one match since the first week of December, and it was that lackluster performance in the four-store war. My last non-tag match? Second week of November.”
[He’s a former auto-racer, so you’re gonna have to learn to deal with the car metaphors]
“Needless to say, my foot’s itching to get back on the gas again.”
[Like that]
“Of course, that all changes this week. Because as of right now, you can officially consider me an entrant in the over-the-top battle royal to determine the number one contender to the Undisputed Panda Championship.”
[Small shrug]
“Now, I hate doing promos for Battle Royals. I mean, what am I supposed to do, talk about every single possible entrant to this thing? Seriously, does anyone REALLY want to sit and listen to me give my thoughts on each and every member of the Catholic Panda roster?”
[Terrence laughs, and shakes his head]
“So, yeah. I’m not going to be doing that. Besides, I still don’t even know who the hell half the people on the roster are. I mean, if you were to hold up a picture of Ace Andrews, and a picture of James Chaos, and asked me which one was which, I’d be guessing.”
[Eyebrow arch]
“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I’m still learning my way around the place.”
[It should be mentioned that Wendy’s a bit better on the research department than her husband is.]
“But there is one person in this company that is painfully familiar to me. The co-owner of CPW, Valerie Belmont. It’s because of Valerie that I had reservations about signing up for this company in the first place. But after putting my name on that dotted line, I figured the rivalry that had transpired before us would become water under the bridge.”
[Scoff]
“My first night in this company proved me wrong on that count.”
“See, even before I pulled that stupid little stunt with the Four-Store Merchandise, Valerie decided to plop her butt in front of a camera, and start running her mouth. About how Camilla Pazzini unilaterally signed Wendy and I to the company, without Valerie’s consent. About how if it were up to her, I would be shafted at every opportunity. About how she doesn’t need Terrence Thompson in her company.”
“And then she goes and backs up those words by leaving me off of the next Zoo, and sitting me on the shelf for another month.”
[Terrence bites his lip and gives a disgusted shake of the head]
“Big mistake, Val.”
“Because, whatever you may think, your company NEEDS a guy like me just as badly as I need a company like CPW. You know what I can do better than most, and you know firsthand that there isn’t a person in Catholic Panda Wrestling, hell, there isn’t a person in the WORLD that I’m not able to beat.”
[And a small eyeroll...]
“And don’t even give me this bullshit that you’re doing this because of my wife. The fact that Wendy was continually shafted had NOTHING to do with me, and you goddamn well know it. If you wanna know why it happened, go ask the man in charge, JPO, why he continued to overlook Wendy, even after she stood by his side and saved that company from the Cartel. Because the only answer I have is that I’m not the guy you oughta be looking at.”
[A small shrug]
“And what’s all that to you anyways, Valerie? Do you really have the gall to white-knight for Wendy Briese after the way YOU treated her during those final months in PWX? How many times did you call my wife a cheater, over some dumbass controversy you manufactured after Wendy and I beat you and Jeremiah CLEAN? Do you have any idea how much that bothered her, especially considering how much she admires and respects you?”
[Terrence leans forwards just a bit, his tone lowering until it’s almost a snarl]
“So don’t you DARE go on a Crusade over this now, because the only pennant that’s being raised is the bullshit flag.”
[For just a second, Terrence actually looks angry as he stares into the camera]
“This isn’t about Wendy. This is about the fact that Valerie Belmont just doesn’t like Terrence Thompson. You don’t like me because I’m a bit self-assured of my talent. You don’t like me because I have the audacity to make fun of you and Jeremiah and your, ahem, lifestyle. And most of all, you don’t like me because neither you nor your husband could ever beat me, and you can’t figure out the fuck why.”
[Terrence pauses for several seconds, and takes a deep breath, calming himself. He then shrugs, throwing up his hands semi-helplessly]
“So obviously I’m in a bit of a predicament. I just signed up to a company where one half of the ownership has no desire to have me on the roster, and wants to keep me away from that top prize as best she can.”
“And that’s where this week- MY week- comes in.”
[Sinister grin]
“See first of all, Wendy and I are going to face the Cherrybombs, a team that just so happens to have the Undisputed Panda herself on it. You think people are going to sit up and take notice once Wendy and I send Belladonna and Haley Dark packing with losses for a second time?”
“And then, the Battle royal.”
[If possible, that grin seems to widen]
“They may be a pain in the ass to interview over, but I love battle royals. So simple- everyone in the ring, last man standing wins. No politics, no shenanigans, pure survival of the fittest. If Valerie Belmont wants to ‘shaft’ me, and make sure that I don’t have a crack at Belladonna at the next Supershow, then she better enter this thing herself, and try to do what she’s never been able to before.”
[A small dark chuckle, and a shake of his head]
“Otherwise, she better get on her knees and pray to the God she doesn’t believe in that someone else pulls off a miracle and chucks me over the top rope. Because who else is there to oppose me? Belladonna, Crystal Hilton, and Michelle Taylor aren’t eligible, and last I checked, Joey Flash just stuck himself on Leave of Absence. Who’s that honestly leave?”
[Terrence holds up his left hand, all five fingers spread wide, he then moves his right index finger from one finger to the next, as if counting his threats]
“Faith? Maybe if it was a whining contest. Loba? Barking up the wrong tree. Aoraki? Couldn’t even handle the success of being the Bamboo Champion. And I have a sudden moral obligation to kill anyone who even SUGGESTS Jason Loveheart.”
[See, he’s a good guy at heart!]
“No, face it. With the exception of my wife, there isn’t a damn person that can stop me, without lucking into some freakish fluke of an elimination. I didn’t come to CPW to enjoy the sunny SoCal weather, or to hang with the Panda, or even set up play dates between Chloe and Theresa.”
[Which is a shame, because that would be adorable]
“I came to Catholic Panda Wrestling the same reason I come to every other wrestling company- to be the champion. My first match, I win tag gold with my wife. My third match, I can become the number one contender to the top prize in the company. And anyone who thinks they can stand in my way?”
[One final chuckle, as Terrence shakes his head, smirking into the camera]
“Good luck with that.”
[And Fade]
CPW Enclosure- Main Arena
Los Angeles, California
10:41 PM Local Time
“Wendy! Behind you!”
The warning left my mouth too late, but fortunately for my wife, it was also unnecessary. She turned her head just as the man rushed her from behind. Quick as a tiger, she ducked down, and thrust her shoulder into the woman’s abdomen. The girl let out a whoop, and began to double over, but Wendy suddenly hoiseted the woman up, using her attacker’s own momentum to send her sailing over the top rope. The unfortunate wrestler made a desperate grab at the ropes, the apron, anything to save her, but she was already out of arms reach. With a grunt of pain and frustration, the woman hit hard on the mat on the outside.
Three left.
Before I could react, a blow hit me on the back of the head. I staggered forward, trying to clear my suddenly blurred vision. I spun around. A man was grinning at me, seemingly thinking the blind attack had me beaten. He charged forward with a clothesline, and I ducked, the forearm lariat flying harmlessly over my head. He slammed on the brakes, trying to stop his momentum as he turned around. He did, but only after backing into the ropes. I smiled.
Sparkstarter time.
I was rewarded with the smack of my boot hitting the man’s face, and the man pitched bodily backwards tumbling over the ropes. The best that could be said for him was that he got his hands out before his face smacked the apron, breaking his fall somewhat as he rolled to the outside, the crowd around us giving another deafening roar of approval.
And then there were two.
I looked over at the other remaining occupant in the ring. Wendy was panting from exhaustion, and was still down on one knee. She trembled slightly as she stood up, brushing several damp strands of her flame red hair from her flushed face. Even now, she was the most beautiful thing in the world, and right now I wanted nothing more than to hold her close in an embrace, and kiss her.
But alas, if I did that right now, she’d never forgive me. This was to be a fight to the finish.
“Just you and me, then?” she said, cracking a small smile. I nodded, and immediately the smile and warmness vanished, replaced by that glint in her eye- that glint that always let me know that just because she was my wife, she wasn’t giving, nor expecting to receive, any quarter.
I moved to grab her, but even fatigued as she was, she was the quicker, rolling out of the way, and my right leg screamed in pain as her boots smashed into it with another one of those damnable leg kicks. She hit me with another, and a third, and I gritted my teeth in frustration as my leg gave out, me falling to one knee. This was just what Wendy was hoping for, and she fired off a quick roundhouse, aiming for my head. More on instinct than anything, I ducked, feeling the cool rush of air as her foot whizzed centimeters above my head. Wendy was knocked off balance by the miss, and she could do aught but shriek as I lunged forward, taking her down with a spear.
Under normal circumstances, I probably would have tried a bit of ground and pound, but even in a match, I had reservations about hitting my wife. Wendy, however, had no such qualms, and I caught an elbow to the side of my head, followed by a rapid succession of boots to the chest as she tried to kick me away. She rolled over on her stomach, and tried to scramble away to her feet. For once, I was too fast for her, and I grabbed her leg, yanking her back towards me, Wendy falling on her stomach with a grunt.
I hooked my arms around her waist, and began to stand up, easily dragging her up with me as she struggled to break my hold. I was too strong, however, and got to my feet, Wendy’s back in front of me. “You gonna give, hon?” I asked in her ear. “After all, doesn’t the Bible say ‘wives submit to your husbands?’”
“Submissions don’t count here, Terry!” Wendy snarled in reply, making another effort to free herself. I held on, then threw myself backwards, throwing Wendy over my head in a beautiful German Suplex. I was careful not to drop her on her head, but even so, Wendy hit hard, bouncing once on the mat before lying still.
For just a second, I paused, sickened at the sight of my wife lying motionless on the ring. A part of me hated myself for hurting the one I loved so. But another part of me had accepted this reality for what it was. We were opponents, and we had to do whatever we could to win. Even so, I thought it was best for the both of us that we ended this quickly.
I picked Wendy up to her feet. She was on spaghetti legs, and her right knee almost buckled, but she managed to remain standing. “Sorry hon, nothing personal,” I said, then took a running start at the nearest ropes, flinging her over. But Wendy managed to grab the ropes as she flew over, and for a brief second, hung from the top rope by one hand, her feet kicking wildly above the floor. But by the time I went to go pry her hand from that rope, Wendy had tucked in her legs and had crawled onto the apron.
Annoyed with my wife’s persistence, I tried to push her off, but Wendy, her teeth gritted in determination, clung to the rope. Suddenly, Wendy dropped down, and I lost my balance, pitching over the top rope, and landing hard on the apron myself. I regained my balance and tried to get to my feet, but a kick from my wife knocked me back to my knees. Another kick, this time to my gut knocked me off balance. Wendy, sensing I was in trouble, allowed herself the barest flicker of a smile.
“Apology accepted hon. Nothing personal.”
Wendy, clinging to the ropes for balance, swung her feet up, and kicked at me, connecting solidly, one boot in my chest, the other in my stomach. I panicked as I felt my grip on the rope vanish, and for just a brief second, I was airborne. I closed my eyes and braced for impact.
Then I crashed to the floor, and lay still.
“Terry?”
Everything had gone strangely quiet, save for the sound of my wife’s voice. I opened my eyes, and was surprised to find the world had gone dark. No music was playing, no crowd was cheering. I clutched at the skirt of the ring apron, and looked up at the arena ceiling.
As I rolled over onto my back, groaning, I had a curious thought- when did they replace the mat at ringside with carpet?
=====================
Sunday January 30, 2011
The Nest- Master Bedroom
Indianapolis, Indiana
3:04 AM Local Time
“Terry, are you okay?” my wife’s sleep-addled voice sounded concerned, and I was forced to squint as a click sounded, and a light turned on. Immediately, the roof of the arena became the ceiling of my own bedroom, and the skirt of the ring I was clutching became a soft, silk sheet. And then my wife, squinting just as I was in the sudden light, was hanging over the side of the bed, looking down at me.
“Terry?”
“I’m fine,” I groaned, rolling onto my stomach, and climbing back to my feet. Wendy slid back over to her side of the bed to make room for me, tugging at the straps on her nightgown nervously as she did. Even though most of the aspects of the dream were gone, one remained- a dull, throbbing pain in my stomach. I looked over at my wife accusingly. “Were you kicking me?”
The guilt on Wendy’s face was evident, and she cringed. “I might have in my sleep... that’s probably why you fell out of bed.”
“Goddammit,” I groaned as I plopped back on the bed. I knew it wasn’t really her fault, that she had done it in her sleep, but that didn’t stop me from being irritated about it.
“I’m sorry, Terry,” Wendy said, coming up behind and wrapping her arms around me. “I didn’t mean to.”
“No, its fine,” I replied patting her arm. “I was just having a.. bad dream. That’s all.”
“Oh,” Wendy said. Generally it was my wife who had unpleasant dreams, understandable considering some of the situations she had been placed in over her life. “Want to talk about it?”
I shrugged, “Not much to talk about. Just was you beating me in a match.”
The moment the words left my mouth, I realized how bad it sounded. Wendy pulled her hands away from me, and sat down on the bed. “You think losing to me is a nightmare?”
“No!” I said defensively, waving my hands. “Just... well, facing you in a match is kind of a nightmare.”
Wendy gave me a wry smile, and brushed a loose strand of her hair from her face. “I’d like to think everyone has nightmares about facing me in a ring.”
I laughed, and nodded. “They do. But that’s not what I meant.” My expression turned serious. “I know we’re both competitive, but I hate the thought of having to hurt you, just for the sake of my career. I nearly killed you when we faced last May- what if I did something worse?”
Wendy shot me an indignant glare. “You did NOT almost kill me. You knocked me out with a completely fair, legal wrestling move. And what has you thinking like this? The upcoming battle royal in CPW?”
I looked at her, and nodded. I lay back down, my head on my pillow, looking back up at the ceiling. Wendy took my hand in hers, and lay down beside me. “I was under the impression that we were going to work together in that.”
“We are. At least to start.”
Wendy sighed, and I turned onto my side to look at her. “Well, then what’s the worry? We wouldn’t have to face each other unless we were the final two. And Terry, I hate to say it, but even as good as we both are, the odds of that happening are pretty slim. To win a match like that is hard. To win and have your partner be the other finalist is almost impossible.”
“But it is doable, and it can happen,” I said. “And what if it does?”
Wendy shrugged. “Then we be the professionals that we are, and do our job. I won’t love you any less if my feet touch the floor because of you, Terrence. I hope you feel the same way.”
I sighed, and rolled back onto my back. “I do. But I still don’t like that in order for me to get what I want, you have to be denied. It was the same in PWX-”
“It was that way in PWX because the people in charge were too stupid to regard my worth as anything but filler, Terry,” Wendy suddenly snapped, surprising me. “That wasn’t your fault.” Her voice and face softened, until she was smiling again. “But that’s why I’m in X3W, hon. For that opportunity, and you’ve been great about supporting me in that.”
Wendy rolled on top of me, and I smiled up into the face of the woman I love.
“Don’t worry about me, hon. I’ll be fine, win or lose. Just focus on the two of us beating the Cherrybombs, and then getting yourself through that battle royal. If we’re fated to meet, then so be it. And if either of us wins. I’ll be happy.” She grinned. “I’ll be happier if *I* win, of course...”
I chuckled, and put my arms around her. “That’s what I love about you, hon. You can make sense out of everything.”
Wendy smiled back at me, and gently placed both of her hands on my shoulders. “Oh, and Terry?”
“Yes.”
She broke into a grin. “OnetwothreeIwin!”
I arched an eyebrow, “Now, that, madam, was a fast count. I believe I’m going to have to file a protest.”
Wendy reached over, and with another click of the lamp switch, the room was once again bathed in darkness. “Would a rematch satisfy you?”
============================================
Monday January 31, 2011
WhirlyBirdz RV- Main Cabin
East St. Louis, Illinois
8:10 PM Local Time
[Normally I’m not really into the whole on/off camera thing]
[However, for those of you who lack any semblance of common sense, it should be noted that the previous section was one hundred percent, bonafide, purely, beyond a shadow of a freakin doubt OFF THE FUCKING CAMERA.]
[Seriously, they don’t sleep with a camcorder in their bedroom. Well, Terrence did try that once. Wendy broke it with a sledgehammer.]
[ANYWAYS, we open our scene in the oft-used, and ever loved, main cabin of the WhirlyBirdz RV. Terrence Thompson’s perched himself on the couch, wearing an Indianapolis Colts T-shirt and a pair of jeans.]
“So yeah, I’m gonna have to admit that wasn’t quite the debut I was hoping for.”
[Now, THERE’S an understatement]
“Of course, I went and became Teaming Panda Champion in my very first CPW match, but I can hardly take credit for much of that. I’ve said it before, but that night belonged to my wife. I had a mediocre night on my end, she had a phenomenal night on her end, and she managed to pin Scavenger, and bring the belts home. I’m proud to have that woman as my tag team partner and wife, and I can damn guarantee you that when the time comes for us to face the Cherrybombs this week, I’ll be more than pulling my weight.”
[Terrence smacks himself on the chest with an open palm twice as he talks]
“Because this week, it’s my turn. Over the past couple of month’s, Terrence Thompson’s engine has more often than not been resting on idle. I’ve been in exactly one match since the first week of December, and it was that lackluster performance in the four-store war. My last non-tag match? Second week of November.”
[He’s a former auto-racer, so you’re gonna have to learn to deal with the car metaphors]
“Needless to say, my foot’s itching to get back on the gas again.”
[Like that]
“Of course, that all changes this week. Because as of right now, you can officially consider me an entrant in the over-the-top battle royal to determine the number one contender to the Undisputed Panda Championship.”
[Small shrug]
“Now, I hate doing promos for Battle Royals. I mean, what am I supposed to do, talk about every single possible entrant to this thing? Seriously, does anyone REALLY want to sit and listen to me give my thoughts on each and every member of the Catholic Panda roster?”
[Terrence laughs, and shakes his head]
“So, yeah. I’m not going to be doing that. Besides, I still don’t even know who the hell half the people on the roster are. I mean, if you were to hold up a picture of Ace Andrews, and a picture of James Chaos, and asked me which one was which, I’d be guessing.”
[Eyebrow arch]
“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I’m still learning my way around the place.”
[It should be mentioned that Wendy’s a bit better on the research department than her husband is.]
“But there is one person in this company that is painfully familiar to me. The co-owner of CPW, Valerie Belmont. It’s because of Valerie that I had reservations about signing up for this company in the first place. But after putting my name on that dotted line, I figured the rivalry that had transpired before us would become water under the bridge.”
[Scoff]
“My first night in this company proved me wrong on that count.”
“See, even before I pulled that stupid little stunt with the Four-Store Merchandise, Valerie decided to plop her butt in front of a camera, and start running her mouth. About how Camilla Pazzini unilaterally signed Wendy and I to the company, without Valerie’s consent. About how if it were up to her, I would be shafted at every opportunity. About how she doesn’t need Terrence Thompson in her company.”
“And then she goes and backs up those words by leaving me off of the next Zoo, and sitting me on the shelf for another month.”
[Terrence bites his lip and gives a disgusted shake of the head]
“Big mistake, Val.”
“Because, whatever you may think, your company NEEDS a guy like me just as badly as I need a company like CPW. You know what I can do better than most, and you know firsthand that there isn’t a person in Catholic Panda Wrestling, hell, there isn’t a person in the WORLD that I’m not able to beat.”
[And a small eyeroll...]
“And don’t even give me this bullshit that you’re doing this because of my wife. The fact that Wendy was continually shafted had NOTHING to do with me, and you goddamn well know it. If you wanna know why it happened, go ask the man in charge, JPO, why he continued to overlook Wendy, even after she stood by his side and saved that company from the Cartel. Because the only answer I have is that I’m not the guy you oughta be looking at.”
[A small shrug]
“And what’s all that to you anyways, Valerie? Do you really have the gall to white-knight for Wendy Briese after the way YOU treated her during those final months in PWX? How many times did you call my wife a cheater, over some dumbass controversy you manufactured after Wendy and I beat you and Jeremiah CLEAN? Do you have any idea how much that bothered her, especially considering how much she admires and respects you?”
[Terrence leans forwards just a bit, his tone lowering until it’s almost a snarl]
“So don’t you DARE go on a Crusade over this now, because the only pennant that’s being raised is the bullshit flag.”
[For just a second, Terrence actually looks angry as he stares into the camera]
“This isn’t about Wendy. This is about the fact that Valerie Belmont just doesn’t like Terrence Thompson. You don’t like me because I’m a bit self-assured of my talent. You don’t like me because I have the audacity to make fun of you and Jeremiah and your, ahem, lifestyle. And most of all, you don’t like me because neither you nor your husband could ever beat me, and you can’t figure out the fuck why.”
[Terrence pauses for several seconds, and takes a deep breath, calming himself. He then shrugs, throwing up his hands semi-helplessly]
“So obviously I’m in a bit of a predicament. I just signed up to a company where one half of the ownership has no desire to have me on the roster, and wants to keep me away from that top prize as best she can.”
“And that’s where this week- MY week- comes in.”
[Sinister grin]
“See first of all, Wendy and I are going to face the Cherrybombs, a team that just so happens to have the Undisputed Panda herself on it. You think people are going to sit up and take notice once Wendy and I send Belladonna and Haley Dark packing with losses for a second time?”
“And then, the Battle royal.”
[If possible, that grin seems to widen]
“They may be a pain in the ass to interview over, but I love battle royals. So simple- everyone in the ring, last man standing wins. No politics, no shenanigans, pure survival of the fittest. If Valerie Belmont wants to ‘shaft’ me, and make sure that I don’t have a crack at Belladonna at the next Supershow, then she better enter this thing herself, and try to do what she’s never been able to before.”
[A small dark chuckle, and a shake of his head]
“Otherwise, she better get on her knees and pray to the God she doesn’t believe in that someone else pulls off a miracle and chucks me over the top rope. Because who else is there to oppose me? Belladonna, Crystal Hilton, and Michelle Taylor aren’t eligible, and last I checked, Joey Flash just stuck himself on Leave of Absence. Who’s that honestly leave?”
[Terrence holds up his left hand, all five fingers spread wide, he then moves his right index finger from one finger to the next, as if counting his threats]
“Faith? Maybe if it was a whining contest. Loba? Barking up the wrong tree. Aoraki? Couldn’t even handle the success of being the Bamboo Champion. And I have a sudden moral obligation to kill anyone who even SUGGESTS Jason Loveheart.”
[See, he’s a good guy at heart!]
“No, face it. With the exception of my wife, there isn’t a damn person that can stop me, without lucking into some freakish fluke of an elimination. I didn’t come to CPW to enjoy the sunny SoCal weather, or to hang with the Panda, or even set up play dates between Chloe and Theresa.”
[Which is a shame, because that would be adorable]
“I came to Catholic Panda Wrestling the same reason I come to every other wrestling company- to be the champion. My first match, I win tag gold with my wife. My third match, I can become the number one contender to the top prize in the company. And anyone who thinks they can stand in my way?”
[One final chuckle, as Terrence shakes his head, smirking into the camera]
“Good luck with that.”
[And Fade]
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