Sunday December 5, 2010
The Nest- Master Bedroom
Indianapolis, Indiana
5:46 AM Local Time
“Wendy, wake up! We need to go!”
I desperately tried shaking my wife from her slumber, but wasn’t having much luck. For being such a self-proclaimed ‘morning person’, she sure had a hard time getting up when it really mattered.
Finally, my wife stirred, and she smacked my prodding hands away, rubbing her eyes as she struggled to sit up. Her normally well-maintained red hair hung loosely all over her shoulders, with more than a few strands in her face. She brushed them aside as she looked up at me.
“Terry- what... what time is it?”
“Quarter to six,” I responded quickly. “Come on now, get dressed. I’ll wake Theresa up. Up and at ‘em, hon.”
As I had hoped, the urgency in my voice seemed to rouse her quicker, and she stumbled to her feet, smoothing out her nightgown as she did. After a quick stretch, she looked at me, her eyes widening with concern. “Okay, Terry. I’m up. What’s going on?”
“Get dressed, I’ll explain in the car!” I said impatiently. “I’ll get Theresa up. But hurry, Home Depot opens in ten minutes!”
Wendy stopped dead in her tracks, suddenly rooted to the carpet, and I inwardly groaned. We did NOT have time to dawdle. “Wendy, please we don’t-”
“You woke me up at five forty-five in the morning to go to Home Depot?” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“We don’t have time to argue about this, hon!”
Wendy slowly turned around “Why in the HELL did you wake me up at five forty-five in the morning to go to a HARDWARE STORE?” she was still whispering, but it was more of a stage whisper now. An incredulous, furious stage whisper.
I could vaguely hear alarm bells going off in the back of my mind, the kind that security guards probably get when they have stumbled across a package that looks like a bomb. A very volitaile, red-haired bomb.
“The Sickles bought an inflatable snow-globe. I need to find something to beat it.”
Wendy stared at me for just a second, her arms clenched at her side. “I’m going back to bed,” she finally said, her voice flat.
“But...”
“Terrence, the way you woke me up, I thought the neighborhood was on fire,” she replied, giving me a positively dirty look. “Now, I’m sorry that you think we’re losing to the arrogant jerk down the street, and its killing your ego, but I’m not getting up in the wee hours just so we can win a stupid lighting contest!”
She marched to the bed, and threw the covers back, preparing to climb into them again. I stood watching her, feeling absolutely foolish. I mean, yeah, winning the neighborhood Christmas decorating contest would be great, but at the same time... probably dragging your wife and kid out of bad at 5:45 was probably not the best way to go about things.
“Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry I woke you up,” I said in all honesty. “I got carried away.”
Wendy nodded and sighed. “Just remember, its all for fun, Terrence. We can’t take it so seriously. We don’t even get anything for winning.”
“I know.” I managed to mumble. “I just hate those bastards. I mean, that fat bastard is always strutting around, pretending that he’s God’s gift to the world. Just because he can yell at a bunch of teenagers and make them move a football...”
Wendy nodded, “I feel the same way, hon. And I’m certain Clint’s bullied Theresa a couple times. I even think he’s stolen some of her toys, but I can never seem to catch him...”
“And I remember all to well when Kelly called your potato salad ‘inedible’ at the neighborhood block party.”
For the second time this morning, Wendy froze, this time right in the middle of climbing into bed, so that one of her knees was on the matress, while her other foot was still on the bedroom floor. Ever so slowly, she turned to face me. When she spoke, again, her voice had been reduced to a whisper. “She said WHAT?”
I gulped, taking a step back at the sudden ferocity that had appeared on my wife’s face. “I... I thought you knew about that.” I managed to stammer out.
“When... when was this?”
“Memorial Day,” I replied.
For a few seconds, Wendy stood there, staring at a spot on the wall somewhere behind me. Then she removed her knee from the matress, and put both her feet on the ground. “Go wake up Theresa,” she snarled.
“What?”
“We’ll have her take a nap later. I’ll go get dressed.”
I was stunned by this turn of events, but Wendy was already walking towards our closet, a grim look of determination on her face. “But...”
“You want my help or not, Terry?”
“Of course, I do,” I said quickly, then backed out of our bedroom as Wendy began to slip off her nightgown. Quickly, I crossed the hallway, heading for my daughters room to wake my little angel up. I had wanted Wendy to be as determined to win the lighting contest as I was, but I sure as hell hadn’t been expecting THAT.
It was going to be an interesting day.
==================================
Sir, I want to buy these shoes for my Mama, please
It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size
Could you hurry, sir, Daddy says there's not much time
You see she's been sick for quite a while
And I know these shoes would make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful if Mama meets Jesus tonight
“The Christmas Shoes” NewSong
December 5, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
8:51 PM Local Time
[You know, if the Thompsons could just manage to get the Sickles family in the ring for a one-fall match, their lives were probably be a lot easier.]
[Never gonna happen, but hey, at least they have the Belmonts to beat up in the meantime!]
[Anyways, long story short, by the time the Birdz left for their all-afternoon training session, another thousand lights were stapled to the house, and a full-size twenty piece Nativity set was on the lawn. Throw in an angelic chorus and the Christmas star, and the first couple chapters of the Gospel According to Luke could be very well playing out right in the Thompson family front yard.]
[Rest assured, they’re working on the missing elements.]
[In the meantime, the scene opens in the Nest’s living room. Unlike the exterior of the house, the interior has retained some level of sanity, with the only decor being a tastefully decorated all-white light Christmas tree. And coasters on the end table depicting various kitties in Christmas-related situations. You know, wearing a Santa hat, riding in a sleigh, getting electrocuted after gnawing on one of the wires...]
[... Okay, just kidding about that last one.]
[About the only thing amiss in the living room right now is the young lady sitting on the couch. Wendy Briese can definitely be considered one of the more emotional wrestlers in PWX, but its rare to to actually see her crying.]
[No, not full on wailing, but her eyes are definitely red and puffy, tears are running down her cheeks, which she dabs at with a handkerchief, and she’s sniffling. That’s crying. In a wrestling promo. That will be seen by millions]
[Or at least thousands]
[Hundreds? Dozens?]
[SOMEONE FUCKING CLICK THE GODDAMN WATCH BUTTON!]
[Or maybe not. This is probably kind of embarrassing]
[Noticing a movement out of the corner of her eye, Wendy, with another sniffle, turns towards the camera, and she freezes, a queer expression on her tear-streaked face as if she realizes that somethings not quite right, but she can’t really figure out what it is.]
[Suddenly, it hits her, and her eyes go wide in horror]
Wendy: “WHY is the camera on?”
Terrence: “Uh, we need to cut a promo.”
[As he says those words, Terrence comes walking in from the right hand side of the scene, opposite of Wendy. He plops down on the couch with a grunt, kicking back into his normally relaxed pose. Wendy, on the other hand, is in full fledged panic mode, as she turns towards her husband.]
Wendy: “NOW?”
Terrence: “Why not? You’re here, I’m here... have you been crying?”
[Probably an observation that was best made before hitting the power button on the camcorder, but good job, Terrence! Wendy can do aught but glare back at her husband.]
Terrence: “Is it because of what Moxie said in his promo? Because that was just a bunch of hot-”
[If it’s possible, Wendy’s eyes go even wider in alarm and indignation.]
Wendy: “No!”
Terrence: “Oh. Then what’s with the waterworks?”
[For a response, Wendy points to a spot behind and to the left of the camera. For those not well versed in the layout of The Nest, it’s where their 42’ HD Flatscreen TV hangs on the wall.]
Wendy: “I was watching ‘The Christmas Shoes.’ It just ended.”
[A brief pause, as Terrence furrows his brow, trying to recall something]
Terrence: “Wait, is that the movie about the kid who’s mom’s about to die of some rare disease on Christmas Eve, and the kid wants to get her new shoes so she looks pretty when she meets Jesus, but doesn’t have enough money?”
[Wendy nods, wiping her eyes in the process. Terrence, sensitive soul that he is bursts out laughing]
Terrence: “That actually made you cry?”
[He’s really a loving husband and father, honest. He just can be.. an idiot sometimes]
Wendy: “It was touching!”
Terrence: “Well yeah. So’s ‘The Michael Jackson Story...’”
[Ba-dum-CHING!]
[Probably the wrong audience though]
Wendy: “It’s a reminder of the true values of the Christmas Season, Terrence, something we all occasionally forget. If I was on my deathbed, and Theresa wanted to bestow one final kindness on me, you wouldn’t support her in that?”
[Terrence shrugs]
Terrence: “Well, its really not the same, is it? I mean you already own a nice pair of shoes. Several of them, actually.”
[And there’s the ever infamous Wendy-death-glare!]
Wendy: “I think you’re missing the point.”
Terrence: “What is the point? That Jesus won’t let you into heaven unless you meet the dress code?”
[The glare only intensifies. Terrence starts to look a tad uneasy from the stare his wife’s giving him.]
Terrence: “Just sayin’”
[Still glaring. Terrence decide’s it might be best if he changed the subject, and quickly]
Terrence: “So, did you hear Johnny Moxie said some really mean things about us?”
[That’s probably not gonna get her in a better mood]
Terrence: “I mean... REALLY mean things.”
[Wendy hasn’t even blinked yet, and Terrence is definitely starting to wilt. He has to do something before lasers come out of her eyes. Or her retinas dry up.]
Terrence: “I mean, he said that you were a-”
Wendy: [clenched teeth] “I know what he said. Unoriginal inaccurate idiot.”
[Wait... did she just...?]
Terrence: “Wait... did you just...?”
Wendy: “Call Johnny Moxie an idiot? Yeah. I did.”
[Win?]
Wendy: “Its really the same thing from people like him, isn’t it? Call me ugly, say I can never make it on my own. Even insult my child, which, by the way, I only have ONE of. All in, what, some attempt to get a rise out of me?”
Terrence: “Well, it looks like he’s got you pretty pissed off-”
Wendy: “I’m not angry because Moxie opened is mouth, Terrence. I’m angry because I haven’t had the chance to prove people like him wrong.”
[Wendy tosses her handkerchief on the nearest end table, and sits up a little straighter, her eyes blazing]
Wendy: “If Johnny Moxie wishes to downplay my singles credentials, then why not step into the ring with me one on one, and give me a chance to better my resume.”
Terrence: “He could even put the Hybrid title on the line.”
[Wendy snorts]
Wendy: “He can’t put on the line what he’s not going to win, hon.”
Terrence: “You don’t think he’s gonna beat Val?”
[Wendy looks at Terrence with a quizzical smile that all but says ‘are you kidding me?’]
Wendy: “You do?”
Terrence: “Well yeah. He might be an ass, but I’ve wrestled Val, and she’s nothing special. He could take her.”
[Wendy shakes her head]
Wendy: “Just trust me on this, Terry. Valerie Belmont’s walking out of End Game the Hybrid Champion. But that’s not really the point here. The point is, Johnny Moxie’s yet another person to jump on the catch-twenty-two that my singles career has become. Personally, I think I could win any of the three singles titles in this company, if I could just get a chance at them.”
Terrence: “And this hogwash about you being the ‘lesser’ of the two Whirly-”
Wendy: “Actually, that’s probably the only thing Moxie’s right about.”
[For the prideful Wendy, its a tough thing for her to say, and it’s obvious she hates saying it. Terrence’s jaw drops, and he turns to Wendy utterly speechless. For her part, Wendy merely shrugs]
Wendy: “Look Terry. Winning and losing are important in wrestling, but in this business, what matters most of anything is perception. And save for Valerie Belmont, bless her, most people perceive you as my better. You’re the one who’s gotten the opportunities that I haven’t. Heck, when you and I faced head to head, you were the victor, despite interference on my behalf.”
Terrence: “You didn’t exactly solicit that.”
Wendy: “Of course not. And maybe if we ever faced again, it’d work out differently. But for now, in the minds of the people who matter the most, I’m the lesser of the two of us. I don’t like it, but I sure don’t begrudge you for it.”
[For a second, Wendy looks over in the direction of the Christmas tree, her eyes tracing the strands of garland, as she gathers her thoughts.]
Wendy: “But the funny thing is, Terrence, while its frustrating, it’s not something I’m all that ashamed of. I know Ojeda beat you at Never Say Die, but on a week to week basis, you’re probably the best, most consistent wrestler in this whole company. I know you’re proud of what you’ve accomplished in PWX, and me being jealous would take away from that. But just because I’m considered to be in your shadow now, that doesn’t mean I can’t walk down to that ring and beat anyone that’s put across from me, whether its Johnny Moxie, John Ojeda, or even you.”
[Wendy shoots her husband a small, soft smile, and Terrence gives her a bigger one in return.]
Terrence: “Though actually hon, you’re wrong. I’m not the greatest wrestler in PWX. Josh Graves is. In his own words too.”
[Wendy snorts, just once]
Wendy: “I think Josh Graves is going to be in for one massive reality check.”
Terrence: “Yeah well, I mean, I WISH I was awesome enough to where limo drivers would risk their own jobs and take the fall if I were to do something wrong, like, say, smoke, inside a hundred thousand dollar car.”
[Wendy gives a short laugh]
Wendy: “You want to do a montage?”
[For a second, Terrence grins, but he quickly sobers, looking pensive]
Terrence: “You know, I don’t even know what song we’d use.”
Wendy: “Eye of the Tiger?”
[Brief pause, Terrence looks tempted, despite Wendy suggesting the most overused montage song in the history of combat sports. Thanks for nothing, Rocky III]
Terrence: “Its kinda late. In fact, we should wrap this one up.”
[Wendy nods, and glances back at the Christmas Tree]
Wendy: “We never even mentioned the Belmonts.”
[Other than in narration. Which doesn’t count.]
[Holy shit, I think I just found a loophole!]
Terrence: “Yeah, I was thinking about that. But you know what, hon? It’s Christmas. We’ve been giving poor Jeremiah and Valerie such a hard time over the past eight months, I think they could use a night’s reprieve. And besides, I know everyone hates the Belmonts, and rags on them, and cracks vampire jokes and shit. But after facing them like a dozen times over the course of this year, I can safely say they’re not all that bad of wrestlers. Or people, for that matter. Of course, that’s not going to stop you and I from getting one last victory over them before the year’s up, and another victory over them in January when they go for our titles, but when it comes to the main event at End Game, you can squarely count me on Team Jeremiah.”
[Sorry guys, couldn’t resist!]
[Wendy looks at Terrence, surprised that the ever-cocky Mechanical Mayhem was at least somewhat complimentary to an opponent. Especially the Belmonts]
Wendy: “Are you feeling okay?”
Terrence: “Actually, yeah, I am. Maybe there’s something to this Christmas Spirit thing after all! Wanna watch a Christmas movie before we turn in?”
[Wendy looks pleased at Terrence’s suggestion.]
Wendy: “What did you have in mind?”
[Terrence breaks into a grin]
Terrence: “Die Hard.”
[Wendy’s face falls]
Wendy: “That’s not a Christmas-”
Terrence: “Oh, yes it is!”
[Yippie-ki-yay, Motherfuckers!]
[Fade]
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
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]
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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