Thursday December 2, 2010
The Nest- Driveway
Indianapolis, Indiana
4:56 PM Local Time
“How much longer?” my daughter asked, the clouds of her breath hanging in the air, as she tucked both her hands into the pockets of her jacket.
In all honesty, it actually was fairly nice out this evening. The temperatures had already dipped into the upper twenties, but without any wind, the air simply had a clean, brisk feeling about it. I’m sure I’d have been singing a different tune had I been outdoors for any extended period of time- but considering we were merely standing in the driveway of our house, the chilly evening air was hardly an inconvenience.
Still, as I looked up at the darkened house in front of me, I couldn’t help but bounce from one foot to another, more in anticipation than an attempt to keep warm. In just a few seconds, the timer in the garage was going to click on, and ‘The Nest’ was going to become awash in the glow of nearly fifteen hundred tiny multicolored bulbs. I had always looked forward to the decoration of our house, but this year, I had another reason for my anxious anticipation- never before had I helped put the lights up, and I couldn’t wait to see the end result.
In response to my daughter’s question. Terrence checked his watch. “Should be less than a minute,” he told her, his breath also condensing in the chilly evening air. “I set the timer to go off right at five.”
Theresa turned back to the house, counting seconds under her breath as she did so. I smiled at my daughter’s impatience, then leaned into Terrence, putting my arm around him. In response, he put his own arm around my shoulder, and pulled me into him.
“I just wanted to say, Terry. I had a lot of fun decorating with you.”
Terrence nodded, although his eyes never left the house. “Tag teaming that house was like tag-teaming our opponents. Never any doubt as to the way it turns out.”
I laughed at my husband’s comments. Leave it up to Terrence to compare hanging Christmas lights to wrestling. “Well, you’ll never see me use a staple gun like that in a wrestling ring.”
Now it was Terrence’s turn to laugh, but whatever response he had was cut off as the lights suddenly came on, drawing an “oooh” from all three of us. Every inch of trim on the house was covered by the lights, and every window on the front was framed, as well as the garage doors. In addition, the two small maple trees in our front yard had been weaved with lights of their own. As we watched, the bulbs on the house began to twinkle, causing the Nest to seemingly come alive with the magic of the Christmas season. Completing the ensemble was the Christmas tree in the window, the all white-lights and ornaments glinting through the window in perfect contrast with the multicolored exterior.
“It’s beautiful!” Theresa exclaimed, and I could only nod in agreement.
Terrence leaned over at me, and whispered in my ear “Stop smiling so much. The glow on your face is detracting from the house.”
I playfully swatted his arm. “I helped do this, Terry. Let me have my moment.” For an agreement, Terrence only squeezed me in tighter to him, and for several moments we stood there, admiring our handiwork.
“All done there, Thompson?”
Merely hearing those condescension-filled words was enough to throw me from my emotional pedestal. Nevertheless, I attempted to fix a smile to my face as I turned around to meet the speaker. Next to me, I could feel my husband stiffen as he turned around too, almost certainly feeling the same way I did.
Despite the occasional explosion or immolation of small marsupials in our driveway, we got along fairly well with the vast majority of our neighbors in the Pike Creek subdivision. Like any community, however, there were some people we just couldn’t stand. Erik Sickles easily fell into that later category. Erik was a high school history teacher, and the head coach of the local Pike High School Red Devils football team. He was almost Terrence’s size, and with a similar build, albeit with a much bigger belly than I hoped my husband would ever have. He also gave John Ojeda a run for his money in terms of sheer rudeness and obnoxiousness.
Tonight, he seemed to be on a walk with his wife, kid, and dog. Kelly Sickles was a wispy little slip of a woman, thin as a supermodel, although not nearly as pretty, with her elongated face and the missing front tooth in her grin (neighborhood rumor said the gap was created by Erik’s temper, although nothing had ever been proven.) Their son, Clinton, was a seven year old towheaded little monster who had become the bane of every child in the neighborhood under ten. Over the past couple of years or so, several of Theresa’s toys had gone missing from the front yard, and I while I never had any evidence, Clint was certainly high on my suspect list.
“I saw you both on the ladder earlier today,” Erik was continuing with a laugh. “What’s wrong, Thompson? Injury keeping you from doing everything yourself?”
Terrence managed to force a laugh of his own, and he put his arm around me. “Nah, Erik. I’m fine. Wendy just wanted to help me this year. I think she did a great job.”
I beamed at Terrence’s remark, and kissed him on the cheek, but one look at Erik wiped the smile from my face. Erik was giving me the exact same look so many people gave me when I said I was a professional wrestler. That patronizing little smirk that indicates the viewer feels they are looking upon something that’s little more than a cute novelty.
I could feel the heat rushing into my cheeks, as I clenched my fist at my side. Whether it was Christmas decorating, or wrestling, or anything else, I HATED being considered a novelty.
If Erik noticed my taking offense to his silent deprecation, he didn’t show it. Instead he turned and gestured to his house. “Been trying to get my own lights up, but it’s been so busy with the High School football playoffs. Pike made the finals this year, you know.”
Of course we knew that the local High School had made the finals of the State Football Championships. When it wasn’t in the paper, or on the local television news, Coach Sickles himself was making sure everyone knew just how far the Red Devils got this year, undoubtedly because of his coaching genius.
“Yeah, we saw that.” Terrence replied with a shrug. “Congratulations on that. It’s a shame Fishers High had your number in the championship.”
The smile flickered from Erik’s face for just a second. Obviously, he was still sore about the 35-7 beating he had taken in the final round of the tournament. Nevertheless, he managed to force a laugh of his own, and shrug. “Well, you can’t win ‘em all, as I’m sure you two can well attest. But the important thing is to never say die, right?”
At the insulting reference to the last PWX pay-per-view, which saw both Terrence and I lose difficult matches, my teeth gnashed together so tightly my jaw began to hurt, and my fist clenched even tighter. I could put this arrogant buffoon down, crying in the middle of the street, in a manner of seconds. But of course, there was something just not right about beating up your neighbor, especially in front of his child.
For his part, Terrence squeezed me reassuringly, and smiled another false smile back at Erik. “Well, I don’t think we ever said die- we’ve done pretty good since then,” he commented with a shrug.
For a second, no one spoke, and I became dimly aware that the Sickle family dog had decided to relieve itself on our front lawn. Of course, neither Erik nor Kelly seemed to notice this gross breach of standard suburban ettiquette. Finally, Erik shrugged, and beckoned back to his house. “Well, we oughta get going. Got some papers to grade, and more lights to get up. Just a little over a week until the contest is judged, you know. Gotta keep the streak going!”
The Sickles family had won the neighborhood Christmas decoration contest the past four years running, most years going away, which only fueled Erik’s unbearable ego. Simply no one else in the neighborhood had the time (nor the inclination) to outdo the Sickle family’s annual coating of their house in Christmas bulbs.
“Well, good luck,” Terrence replied, still somehow managing to keep his voice amiable. “I’m hoping to start on phase two of decorating tomorrow.”
“What?” I blurted, looking up at Terrence in shock. Phase Two?
In response, Erik laughed. “Good luck yourself, Thompson. Oh, by the way, you have three burnt out bulbs on your garage.”
As Erik walked off, his family in tow, Terrence growled, turned, and trudged back towards the house. I hurried to catch up to him, trying not to slip on the icy driveway, while Theresa waddled behind us.
“How long til dinner?” Terrence muttered in clipped tones as we re-entered the house.
I shrugged in response. “I haven’t even started anything. I don’t know... what do you want to have?”
Terrence thought for a second, than reached into his pocket, and pulled out the keys to his Charger. “Wait twenty minutes, then order a pizza from Franco’s. I’ll pick it up on my way home.”
“Where are you going?” I asked, suddenly puzzled.
“Home Depot. I’m not letting that jackass win without a fight this year.” Terrence began to walk to the door.
“Wait, Terry!” I said, causing Terrence to stop in his tracks. “Don’t you think the house looks fine the way it is?”
Terrence smiled without any humor behind it. “Wendy, it looks fine, but do you really want to settle for just ‘fine’? When we can have it so much better?”
“But...”
Terrence chuckled, and turned back to the door, opening it. “I’ll be back soon. By the time we’re done, our house will be so bright, it’ll shrivel the Belmonts!”
The door closed behind Terry, leaving me standing alone in the foyer, still somewhat stunned over the way this evening had developed. I had this distinct feeling that nothing good was going to come out of this. With a sigh of resignation, I turned towards the kitchen, going to look for the number for Franco’s Pizza.
========================================
Friday December 3, 2010
The Nest- Front Porch
Indianapolis, Indiana
10:38 AM Local Time
[Shawn Lester standing on a front porch]
[Probably not the most expected (or desired) fade-in to be had, but nevertheless, that’s what we’re treated with as we open our scene. Needless to say, considering that Lester is bundled up against the elements, and dancing from one foot to the next, he’s pretty much praying that the door in front of him will open. So far, no dice.]
Lester: “Oh, come on. They said they’d be home...”
[In exasperation, Lester rings the bell again, and waits for a while again, but still, nothing happens]
Lester: “You have got to be kidding-”
Terrence: “OY!”
[The voice of Terrence Thompson echoes from off camera, and Lester immediately looks around wildly for the disembodied voice. Not seeing anything, he casts a confused glance over at the cameraman.]
Terrence: “Up here!”
[Lester steps back off the front porch, and the camera follows. Lester looks up at the roof of the house, and the camera turns to follow his gaze. Sure enough, both Terrence Thompson and his wife are standing on the roof, looking down at Lester. Terrence isn’t exactly bundled up for weather in the low thirties, wearing a faded gray IUPUI sweatshirt, and a pair of jeans. Wendy, on the other hand, is significantly more bundled, wearing a heavy winter coat, and a stocking hat with a little poof ball on the top. The more wary of the duo, she stands more towards the center of the roof, while Terrence balances right at the edge, greeting his visitors]
Terrence: “Oh, hey Lester! Ladder’s on the back porch, come on up!”
[It’s obvious that Terrence’s invitation doesn’t exactly sit well with Lester, who’s turned pale.]
Lester: “Up... like, you mean on the roof?”
Terrence: “Where else?”
[Lester looks over at the camera again, an expression of pure panic on his face. Finally, he turns back to the house.]
Lester: “I’m kind of afraid of heights!”
Terrence: “What?”
Lester: [a little louder] “I’m afraid of heights!”
[Terrence rolls his eyes.]
Terrence: “Lester, don’t be a baby! Just climb the freakin’ ladder, and get up here!”
[Lester hesitates again, and Terrence shoots an exasperated look to Wendy. The ever diplomatic Briese, her arms out wide like an airplane’s wings to balance herself, takes a couple steps forward.]
Wendy: “Shawn, don’t worry, you’ll be fine! I mean, look at Terrence. He’s afraid of flying, but he still gets on an airplane when he has to! Just be brave!”
[As Terrence shoots a furious look at his wife, Lester sighs, and shakes his head.]
Lester: “Fine, I’m coming up!”
[It’s not exactly a brisk pace, but Lester nonetheless trudges around to the side of the house, and up a staircase to the back deck, where the ladder sits, leaned against the house. Lester tentatively sets one foot on the ladder, then another, and slowly but surely works his way up towards the roof of the Nest, the camera following. As they near the top, they can hear Terrence and Wendy engaged in an argu- erm.. ‘discussion’]
Terrence: -am NOT afraid of flying! I just don’t like it. And even if I was afraid, you think it would be a good idea to let the entire world KNOW that on PWX television?”
Wendy: “Terry, that’s not exactly a weakness you can capitalize on in wrestling. What are they going to do, bring a 747 to the ring?”
Terrence: “It’s just-”
[Terrence pauses as he notices that Lester and the camera have reached the roof. He growls silently under his breath, then turns back to regard the PWX Interviewer]
Terrence: “Glad you could make it up, Shawn.”
Lester: “Uh... thanks? Busy decorating the house?”
[As is so typical of Lester, the question is blatatnly obvious, considering that on the roof is a half-assembled set of reindeer and sleigh. Wendy smiles, and just nods, but Terrence doesn’t even bother to respond to the question. Not entirely happy with the silent response to his question, Lester tries another.]
Lester: “So... do you guys always argue like that?”
[Wendy’s smile disappates at the question, and she puts her hands on her hips, a clear posture of indignation.]
Wendy: “*We* do not argue. We discuss.”
[Terrence scratches his chin, although the act is really a thin attempt to hide the smirk that has come over his face.]
Lester: “Well, I just think it’d be eye opening to fans to see that the PWX Tag Team Champions aren’t always on the same page.”
[Wendy’s eyebrows arch, and she glances sidelong at her husband. Terrence, for his part, merely laughs, turns and walks away. He kneels next to the unfinished reindeer display, and gets back to work, although he continues to talk to Lester as he does so.]
Terrence: “Lester, don’t try to start a controversy where there is none. Wendy has her opinions, and I have mine, and they don’t always coincide. That doesn’t mean you’re going to get any Belmont-like or Graves-like drama out of us. Trust me when I say, that our marriage, and our team, is as strong as ever. Wendy and I are in this marriage for the long haul.”
Lester: “What about when Wendy walked out on you right before Summer Games?”
[Terrence stops immediately, and looks up from the reindeer. He is no longer amused.]
Terrence: “Lester, it’s a long way down from the roof.”
[Wendy smiles amiably, and steps forward, stepping between Lester and her suddenly-annoyed husband.]
Wendy: “Shawn, I didn’t do that out of spite, or because I was angry at Terrence. I did it because for one week, I couldn’t focus on being a mother or a wife. I had to focus on that tournament. It’s not a decision I made lightly, nor one I will ever make again, because that was one of the loneliest, most miserable weeks of my life. It’s still a sore subject for me, and I don’t appreciate it being breached so easily.”
[Lester shifts uncomfortably, and decides that its best that he change the subject]
Lester: “Okay, well, moving on to this week, you both are in the main event of Adrenaline Fifty-Six, a massive eight-man tag team match, where you and Wendy team with Global Revolution against Twisted Emotion and Johnny Moxie. Starting with your partners, just two weeks ago you successfully defended your titles against Global Revolution. Do you think there will be any animosity carrying over from that match that will hurt your ability to team with them?”
[Wendy shakes her head]
Wendy: “I don’t see that it would. All four of us are professionals. They took a shot at our titles, and it didn’t quite work out in their favor. I’m sure that’s hardly the last we’ve seen of Wright and Lopez in terms of the tag titles, but I also think we can put that match behind us for one evening.”
Lester: “Well, you might be able to, but what about your husband? Terrence didn’t exactly alleviate tension with his interview last week, when he said that Lopez wasn’t even in his league. Now that he’s your teammate for a week, do you regret making those comments?”
[Again, Terrence looks up growling.]
Terrence: “Seriously, Lester. Off the roof.”
[Wendy turns to her husband, again putting her hands on her hips.]
Wendy: “It’s a fair question, Terrence.”
[Terrence reluctantly stands up from the sleigh, and walks around the display, standing next to his wife. He brushes his hands off on his sweatshirt for a second, then looks cooly at Lester.]
Terrence: “No, I don’t regret making the comments. It’s no offense to Antonio, I’m sure he tries his hardest, but he’s simply not among the upper echelon of talent in this company. Last week’s loss against Brian Hollywood only proved that further. As for teaming with him, if that’s what JPO wants me to do, then I’ll do it. Besides, the other guys have Josh Graves, and he’s even worse, so if anything, it’s only fair.”
Lester: “That doesn’t exactly sound like a ringing endorsement.”
Terrence: “What do you want from me, Lester? A poem? Look, I have no problem with Antonio Lopez in my corner, so long as he doesn’t start shit with me. That’s twice now you’ve tried to create discord on my team this week. If I were you, I’d be looking at the other guys.”
[Lester looks confused]
Lester: “You mean that Valerie and Moxie are facing each other for the Hybrid title next week?”
[Terrence shakes his head, and scoffs]
Terrence: “Not really. I mean, I’m sure the pressure’s rising between the two of them, but they worked pretty well together last week. I’m talking about the other two members of the team.”
Lester: “Josh and Jeremiah?”
[See? Obvious questions!]
Terrence: “Look, maybe Jeremiah doesn’t have any pride, but I doubt that he’s going to let last week slide. Josh Graves and his miserable performance, essentially left him out to dry last week, against us no less. Hell, Tweeder was a better partner to Ashley Blade. If I were Jer, I’d be pissed, but that’s just me.”
[Wendy looks over at Terrence, rolling her eyes.]
Wendy: “Sounds like YOU’RE the one trying to create controversy now, hon.”
[Terrence grins, and shrugs]
Terrence: “I’m just calling it like I see it, and saying what I would do. But hey, it’s none of my business. I never have to worry about having an unreliable partner.”
[Terrence puts his arm around Wendy, who turns red slightly, and gives her husband that now-familiar look that is a mixture of exasperation and amusement]
Lester: “Well, I think its fairly safe to say that when you add up all eight participants in this match, both teams look extremely even on paper.”
[Terrence laughs, and shakes his head]
Terrence: “Except its not even. You know why? Because time and time again, this family has proven that it cannot, and will not, be beaten. By anyone. We won’t be beaten by Global Revolution. We won’t be beaten by the Belmonts. And we sure beyond all fuck are not going to be beaten by THE SICKLES!!!!!!!!!”
[The last couple of words are bellowed over Terrence’s shoulder, off the corner of the roof towards the front of the house. Wendy’s jaw drops, and she covers her face in her hands]
Wendy: “Terrence, please...”
[Terrence realizes that he might have gotten off track a bit here, and he turns around, throwing an apologetic shrug at Wendy, who still has her face buried in her hands. Lester, needless to say, looks confused out of his mind]
Lester: “Uh... who are The Sickles?”
Terrence & Wendy: [together, resigned] “Neighbors”
Lester: “Oh.”
[Terrence turns around and heads back over to the sleigh.]
Terrence: “Now, if you excuse us, Lester, we have a lot of stuff we have to do before our training session tonight.”
[Lester realizes that his interview subjects have just dismissed him, and he looks nervously over at the ladder still on the side of the house.]
Lester: “Uh... is there another way down?”
[Terrence shrugs]
Terrence: “My offer to chuck you off still stands”
[Wendy shoots her husband another glare, then smiles sympathetically back at Lester.]
Wendy: “You’ll be fine, Shawn. Just be careful on the ladder.”
[Lester gulps, and begins to slowly walk towards the edge of the roof, as the scene fades]
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