EPISODE 65: Might Makes Light

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]

EPISODE 64: Full Circle

Friday January 8, 2010
Thompson Residence- Front Lawn
Indianapolis, Indiana
12:21 PM Local Time

“Well, that’s that,” I muttered, as I looked up at my suddenly barren house. Another year, another season, come and gone.

I always hated taking down Christmas lights. To watch your house go from being awash in the glow of thousands of twinkling bulbs back to normal was unsettling, as if someone had sucked all the joy right out of your existence. Of course, I guess that if we kept our house lit all year round, it would lose the magic it had during the Holiday Season.

Besides, it was in the nieghborhood charter that all Christmas decorations had to be down by January tenth, and I had promised Wendy that I would keep the charter violations to a minimum this year.

I had just began to put the last of the light strands away when an emerald green Ford Focus pulled up into the driveway. I smiled, and turned to greet my wife as she climbed out of her car, home on her lunch break from the theater. We quickly embraced, and kissed.

After we broke apart, Wendy looked up at the house. “Almost done?”

I nodded, and squeezed her on the shoulder. “Yup. Just have to put everything away for another year. I’ll be done in a couple minutes. How was your morning?”

“It went alright,” Wendy replied, her breath clouding in the air in the chilly morning, as I returned to putting away the lights. “I spent most of the morning getting the tickets printed. We’re less than a month til the weekend of the show, so I wanted to get ticket sales started as soon as possible. Everything is shaping up so nicely- I think Annie Get Your Gun will be my best production yet.”

I looked up, just in time to see a shadow cross my wife’s face. “Something wrong?” I asked, suddenly concerned.

Wendy shrugged in response, then made a brave attempt at a reassuring smile. “They’re talking about budget cuts again. But they do every year. I’m sure we’ll be alright.”

I hoped so. Outside of Theresa and I, that theater was Wendy’s life. I couldn’t imagine what would happen to her if she ever lost it. “Oh, you’re gonna love this,” I said, remembering something I had seen on the television this morning. “Remember Daniel Pollaski, our old manager? He signed with the WFWA this morning as a columnist.”

Wendy shook her head in amazement. “Last I heard, he was trying to start his own promotion, but things didn’t work out too well. You’d have thought that after five years, he’d had realized the gig was up, grown up, and moved on.”

I looked up again, as I was rolling up a strand of lights. “You never thought about getting back in?”

Wendy laughed, and shook her head. “Why? I have a good job and a great family. And its been nice not waking up in the morning sore because someone tried to beat you up the night before. It was a chapter of our lives. An enjoyable one, but one that’s closed.” She paused. “Why, do you miss it?”

I shrugged. “A little. But like you said, that’s over for us now. I’m happy running the garage, and with my race team. And besides, I wouldn’t want to do it without you. We were too good a team.” I tossed the last of the lights into the box. “Okay, done. Lets go have lunch.

Wendy smiled softly at me, but then immediately frowned. “Shouldn’t you separate the lights into grocery bags so they don’t get tangled?”

I shook my head, and scoffed. “Nah. They’re just going to sit in the box like that for a year. How could they possibly get tangled?”

“If you say so.” Wendy replied, shrugging. She leaned over, and kissed me again. “Come on, its freezing out here, and I only have thirty-five minutes left in my lunch hour.”

With one more look at our now bland house, I bent down, picked up the box, and followed my wife into the house.
=============================================

Friday November 26, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
9:05 AM Local Time

“Hanging lights today?” Wendy asked me as I emerged from the basement, holding a giant box in my hands. Grunting in affirmation, I carried the box past her, into the living room, finally setting it down.

“Weather’s nice, and we don’t have the ring at the gym until the afternoon.” Now that I wasn’t carrying a massive container of highly fragile light bulbs, I was much more at liberty to talk.

“You need any help?” she asked as I grabbed my pocketknife out of my jeans, and began cutting the masking tape-covered box open.

“I’m okay,” I said as I finished cutting the box open. I looked up just in time to see Wendy’s face fall just a bit. “Then again, four hands are always better than two.”

“Great!” Wendy said, beaming, although she suddenly paused, frowning at the box. It suddenly occoured to me that she had never helped me with the lights before. “What do I do?”

“Well, first we got to test the strands, and make sure they work.” I said, pulling the flaps of the box open, and reaching down to pull out the first strand. My face fell as I felt a lot more resistance than one single strand of lights would give me.

“Son... of... a... bitch,” I muttered sourly as I looked down at the rats nest of wires and bulbs that awaited me. This was going to take forever.

Wendy grimaced as well as she saw the tangled mess. “Maybe you should put them in seperate grocery bags when you put them away,” she suggested.

I felt a sudden stab of irritation at the suggestion. If she had said something while I was putting the damned things away... nonetheless, I knew Wendy was only trying to help, so I put on my most diplomatic smile. “That’s a good idea, hon, but it ain’t gonna help us now. First thing we’re going to have to do is separate all these strands. So just find one, and start untangling.

Wendy attacked the unexpected chore with gusto, grimacing with determination as she worked to untangle the lights, while I started extracting a strand of my own. “Almost forgot, to tell you,” Wendy said. “Pollaski called to say he won’t be at our training session this afternoon.”

I nodded absently, then broke into a grin as I realized why. “Oh yeah. His annual Black Friday Samuel L. Jackson movie marathon.”

The scowl on Wendy’s face was almost comical. “You know, some people would find that offensive.” she snapped at me.

“Hey, it ain’t my idea,” I replied, raising my hands defensively. “I’m just remembering why he’s not coming.”

Wendy shook her head in irriation, then turned back to her strands, and we worked in silence for a few more moments, before Wendy broke it again. “So, what do you want for Christmas this year?”

“Jacob Wright’s head on a plate,” I growled, trying to unwrap a wire from around one of the bulbs.

Wendy smiled softly at me, obviously amused. “Still upset about the bumper sticker?”

Considering that I had spent the better part of Thanksgiving morning scrubbing all the residue off from that damned sticker, I wasn’t anywhere close to sharing the amusement my wife felt. Wendy seemed to sense my irritation, and her smile faded slightly in consolation. “I’m sorry, Terry. I didn’t mean to laugh.”

I finished extracting the strand I was working on, and tossed it to the side, immediately grabbing another one, and going to work on it. Finally, I shrugged. “I’m sure on someone else’s car it would have been hillarious. But you know how much time I spent working on that Charger.”

Wendy nodded sympathetically, and tossed another strand aside. I was amazed that she had already managed to extract four, while I was still on my second. “How are you so much quicker?”

“I’ve spent the last four years untangling Theresa’s shoelaces. This is nothing.” Wendy grinned at me, then paused, for just a second.

“What is it, hon?”

“I got a letter the other day,” Wendy began quietly. “From Auntie Margaret. About Christmas.”

“They’re coming here?” I asked in astonishment.

“Don’t be silly, Terrence,” Wendy said abruptly. “They want us to visit them.”

I supposed that was only reasonable. Wendy’s aunt had married into an Amish community in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Considering the utlraconservative sect eschewed most modern technology, especially cars, it was going to be a long buggy ride in December to get here.

I paused for just a second, chewing on my lower lip. “You wanna go?”

Wendy shrugged, and tossed another strand of lights aside (damn she was fast!). “I thought it was worth suggesting to you. I know it’d be... different out there. But after the year we’ve had, I want to do something really special for Christmas.”

I nodded. Twenty-ten had been a hell of a year for us, with us losing our jobs, returning to wrestling, dealing with Mandrake again, the closure of our alliance, and all the goings on in PWX. Maybe getting away for Christmas would be a good thing.

“Okay, let’s do it,” I said, breaking into a grin.

My response caught Wendy completely off guard, and her smile would have outshone all the lights in the room combined. “Great, I’ll write Auntie Margaret and tell her we’re coming! She’s going to be so excited!”

I nodded in return, then looked down at the lights in my hand. “I guess since we’re not going to be home for Christmas, there’s no sense in putting these up anymore.”

The disappointment on Wendy’s face was unmistakable. “Really? Because I really wanted to do this with you...”

I broke into another grin, letting her know I was joking. “You kidding me? Considering all we’ve done as a team in the ring, if we tag team the house, we’ll win the neighborhood Christmas Light contest for sure!”

Wendy returned my grin, and went back to untangling the last of her strands. Sometimes, even the best of tasks were better when you had a loved one to do it with.


==========================
Sunday November 28, 2010
The RV- Main Cabin
Interstate 55 Near Hayti, Missouri
1:37 PM Local Time

Terrence: “You know, hon. I’ve been thinking.”

[Uh oh... no good has EVER come out of that.]

[Nonetheless, the words are enough to catch his wife’s- and our- attention as we fade into the cockpit of the WhirlyBirdz RV, on the road yet again as the Thompson family heads towards Houston, the site of the next Adrenaline.]

[Terrence is, of course, behind the wheel, both hands guiding the forty-five foot Newmar King Aire down the road, although Terrence does allow his attention to be occasionally diverted with quick glances at the camera. Wendy, on the other hand, is sitting shotgun, and had been working her way through a crossword puzzle. The words of her husband, however, are enough to bring her head up, and she looks over at him, suddenly interested, and more than eager to have a new diversion on this painfully long road trip.]

Wendy: “What about?”

Terrence: “This whole Ashley-Josh divorce thing. You know, how Ashley conked Josh over the head during his match with Ojeda, and now they’re on the outs? Well, it got me thinking.”

[Wendy smiles softly]

Wendy: “About how lucky you are to have a wife who loves you forever, and would never do that to you, especially in public?”

[Terrence snorts in amusement.]

Terrence: “No.”

[About a full second after he says that, a little bell goes off in the Mechanical Mayhem’s head, informing him that he had just done something remarkably stupid. Sure enough, he looks over at Wendy, who suddenly looks quite offended by her husband’s flippant dismissal.]

Terrence: “Well, I meant not JUST about that. Of course I think about how lucky I am to have you. I do that all the time, so I just assumed it went without saying.”

[It was a nice attempt, but Wendy doesn’t exactly buy it. She folds her arms over her chest, continuing to stare hard at Terrence. Despite her stern visage, there is a flicker of amusement in her eyes, as she watches her squirming husband try to crawl his way out of this predicament.]

[Terrence, for his part, grins sheepishly at Wendy.]

Terrence: “I love you...”

[Wendy nods quietly, then unfolds her arms, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face]

Wendy: “Anyways, you were saying something about you thinking?”

[Terrence doesn’t exactly miss the subtle barb, but he wisely realizes that’s his cue to continue. He quickly shoots one more apologetic smile at Wendy, then turns his attention back to the road.]

Terrence: “Okay, this whole thing with Josh and Ashley, something about it just seemed... weird. But not like, Jerry Springer weird. More like... deja vu weird. You know what I’m saying?”

[Brief pause, as Wendy looks over at Terrence, an expression of utmost consternation on her face.]

Wendy: “Not in the least.”

[Terrence pauses, and thinks for a second.]

Terrence: “Okay, let me put it this way. Do you recall another high-profile husband-wife duo who, perhaps back in August, broke up with each other, with no warning, or even a reason, whatsoever?”

[Wendy pauses for just a second, before her face lights up in recognition.]

Wendy: “The Belmonts?”

[Terrence nods, breaking into a grin.]

Terrence: “Bingo. And who did Josh and Ashley start hanging out with just before this whole drama-fest start?”

Wendy: “The Belmonts...”

Terrence: “Bingo again!”

Wendy: [skeptically] “So, by your line of reasoning, Josh and Ashley are taking a page out of the Belmont’s playbook, and faking a breakup out of some pathetic, desperate cry for attention?”

[Terrence shrugs, although the smile he shoots at Wendy suggests she’s not too far off the mark, in his opinion.]

Terrence: “I’ll tell you one thing. If Tyler Graves suddenly shows up and starts fucking Ashley, we’ll know for certain.”

[Terrence grins again, but the revulsion on Wendy’s face is easily apparent. Not entirely clear if she’s revolted over her husbands crude words, or the thought of another Tyler Graves love triangle (especially one involving two people with the exact same surname). Probably both.]

Wendy: “I doubt that. Considering how well that ruse ultimately worked out for the Belmonts, why would anyone else try that?”

[Wendy’s words are true enough, considering the week after the Belmonts reunited, proclaiming their break-up was little more than a trick on the ‘sheep’ of PWX fans, both of them lost their titles, Valerie’s Hybrid belt going to Willett, while Terrence himself took Jeremiah’s Grand Prix title. Even Terrence can’t seem to find fault with Wendy’s logic, merely shrugging in response.]

Terrence: “Well, Josh isn’t exactly known for his amazing mental capacity, is he? Besides, we’ve already seen what pathetic lengths Josh Graves has been willing to go in his desperate attempts to achieve relevance in this company. And the poor bastard can’t even figure out that everything he does around here, he’s just embarrassing himself even more.”

[Wendy arches her eyebrows, halfway between being intrigued and annoyed by her husbands words, although she ultimately says nothing. Terrence takes this as a cue to continue]

Terrence: “Seriously, is there anyone on this roster more pretentious? Josh is another image over substance kind of guy. He puts on the face paint to make him look- hell, I can’t even figure out why he does it. He interviews for magazines. He even has that idiot PWX Informer to write the occasional column, trying to portray him as someone with any value.”

[Wendy grimaces at the mention of ‘The Informer’. Neither Bird has quite forgotten THEIR interview, in which the Informer had the audacity to refer to Wendy as ‘second-rate’]

[Ah well, at least it was still better than the debacle of a follow-up, featuring Ojeda]

Wendy: “You know, the Informer-Graves connection has never actually been proven. And most people would say that Pollaski does the same things about us in his ‘PoWer X’.

Terrence: “Yeah, but at least Pollaski doesn’t hide behind some shrouded ‘mystery identity’. Everyone knows that the author of the ‘PoWer X’ is our manager, and he’s as shameless as any other manager when it comes to promoting his wrestlers.”

[Wendy slowly nods in agreement. It’s true enough.]

Terrence: “Remember, throughout the summer, Josh Graves tried to act like he was the savior of PWX. The man who would lead the Resistance against the Cartel. And yet, when the Civil War came, and everything was on the line, JPO didn’t even choose him for his team.”

[Terrence shrugs,and continues]

Terrence: “Probably a good thing too. Because Josh Graves ended his match that night crumpled on the mat, begging Johnny Moxie not to hurt him anymore. Meanwhile, you get kicked through a plate glass window, Victor Jace takes staples in his head, and both of you managed to hold out, come back, get the win, and truly save the company. Had Graves been in that match, he would have started tapping the moment Hollywood entered the cage.”

Wendy: “So, you’re basically saying that Josh Graves has no heart?”

[Terrence snorts]

Terrence: “No heart, no brains, and not even that much talent. All Josh Graves has ever had in his PWX career were a couple of decent tag partners to carry him..”

[Wendy shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Openly badmouthing opponents has never really sat well with her, but she can’t exactly come up with anything to rebut Terrence’s words. Suddenly, Terrence breaks out into a chuckle]

Terrence: “You know, the more and more I think about it, the more I realize that Twisted Emotion is a stupid name for a team. And considering that we’ve traipsed around calling ourselves the WhirlyBirdz for the better part of the last decade, that’s kind of saying something.”

[Wendy pauses for just a second, then shrugs.]

Wendy: “I like our name...”

[Terrence shoots his wife a grin]

Terrence: “Yeah, the ‘z’ at the end really makes us look cutting edge and cool. But nonetheless, it’s how we’re known. Not exactly gonna change it now. But come on... Twisted Emotion? It sounds like the name of the opening act on one of the small stages at the Warped Tour. You know, the ones that end up getting track twenty-two on the second disc of the compilation CD.”

[Not that Terrence would know ANYTHING about Warped Tour music...]

Wendy: “I’m assuming you have a better name in mind?”

[Ah, we thought she’d never ask. But Terrence only shrugs]

Terrence: “I was thinking of a few. I mean, we could call them ‘Tunnel Vision’, because all of them seem to be unable to grasp the big picture. Or what about the ‘Vampcriers’, since well... you know. Jer’s a vampire, and they both spend all their time whining and moping about EVERYTHING. But you know what I ultimately think would be the best name for them?”

[Wendy shakes her head, dreading the answer]

Terrence: “The Demonic Bobsled Team.”

[Uh...]

Terrence: “Because it’s gonna be a cold day in hell before they get anywhere!”

[That’s bad enough to inspire a facepalm from Wendy. And probably most of the audience.]

Wendy: “Terrence...”

[Terrence breaks into a grin, and begins to guide the RV through a lane change, preparing to exit the freeway]

Terrence: “Sorry, hon. Couldn’t resist. Now, what say we stop for lunch, eh?”

[Wendy, still holding her face in her hands, nods silently, and Terrence reaches over, and shuts off the camera]

[Black]