I get out of my car with a smile on my face…I have been in New Jersey for two friggin’ weeks and got the stench of New Jersey out of me. I have been on the road for four bloody hours. I slam the door and breathe a deep sigh to get all of the air of Pittsburgh that I need to get. I start coughing a little bit before clearing my throat…ah that felt better. I look around the place where I parked my car…it’s sunny…and many people are wearing shorts. I left and it was cold…it was rainy…and it was crappy. What the fuck is this weather?! Hell, I was dying from hacking up from the weather just changing from hot to cold…now I got to adjust to this weather? God damn it, Mother Nature is on the fucking rag, or something. I sniff and I smell some good home cooking. I get to the edge of the hill that leads down to my house and see Eddie and Bella both running, and both sticking their tongues out to the side…Bella’s supposed to do that…she’s a dog. Bella is dragging her leash from her neck so when she comes up and almost blows by me, I stomp hard on the red leash and I feel a little tug before I grab the Westie in my arms.

Awe, you ok? I didn’t mean to choke you like that.

My son, who is now attached to my leg, looks up at me with a big smile on his face.

No daddy, Bella’s just tired from running up the hill so fast.

Thank God he didn’t see me step on her leash when she was running out of this place…because, let’s face it, she would be GONE if I hadn’t done that and I wasn’t going into the woods…O.K. Yes, I would of went in the woods for some reason….that “some reason”, my wife, who I see sitting on the porch, watching me get attacked by a 2 year old and a vicious dog that can, probably, fit in my coat pocket. Still, she tries to be vicious by biting me with her small teeth, as well as giving me kisses all over my face and her tail wagging and hitting my chest numerous times…kinda tickles…I put Bella on my shoulder, like she’s my baby…but I can hold her tight…because she’s definitely trying to escape my grasp. I grab the leash and wrap it around my wrist a few times and the put the leash in between my ring and middle finger. I put the dog down, who now jumps up and grabs the middle of the leash. I walk a few feet and she just…stops. I don’t know how that works, to be honest with you. I go to the middle of our hill and hook Bella up on the stationary run that keeps my hands free and helps us keep an eye on the little girl and the little boy, when he is playing with the little girl.

Eddie begins to walk up the hill and immediately begins to get chased around by the small white ball that is Bella Rizza, Mia made that her full name…honestly, and it’s a fucking dog I tell her…she doesn’t listen, meh…I love the little bugger, though, even though she’s always munching my shoes or socks or something that she isn’t supposed to…but I digress.

I walk over to my wife and plop right down next to her. We sit on the porch and I look at the table in front of me. There’s a pitcher of Iced Tea. I get up and grab a glass that’s sitting there, perfectly for me…because I was too tired to get into the kitchen and grab one. I take a swig of the tea…it’s not iced…its luke warm and luke warm tea isn’t good tea at all. I look at my wife and smile with a “puppy dog look” on my face. Mia looks at me with a “Fuck you, get it your own damn self” look.

Pleeeease?

Do I look like your maid? You have functional legs, get it your own damn self!

I knew that look was accurate. I get up off of my chair and into my kitchen and grab the ice tray and empty the contents into the glass…now, the ice towers over the liquid, almost looks like an iceberg. I begin to walk out of the kitchen and then I received a buzz in my pocket. I grab the phone and see that I have a text message.

“PLZ CALL! BRUCE”

I drop the phone on the kitchen table and then chug my iced tea. I throw the glass into the sink before picking up the phone again and begin dialing. I hear someone pick up.

Bruce?

Yeah, it’s me Rizz…look…I don’t have much time…I am getting on the plane right to Pittsburgh…it will be just like old times. Only…right now…I’m never going back to the bar…I’m never going back to Jersey. Can you please keep me in your place for a while until everything die down…you know, tremendously?

I step outside…

Sure, you can crash here as long as you want, Brucie.

…stepping outside was a huge mistake as I see fire in the eyes of Mia…this may not go well. I hang up the phone; my face is pale as a ghost. Mia looks at me with a confused look on her face.

Babe, what’s wrong?

It’s Brucie, he needs a place to crash…I, honestly, can’t explain anything to you…but he is in danger…really bad danger. He needs our help.

I’ll make the bed…shit…why can’t anything be simple when you get home Rizz? Damn.

I give a kiss to Mia and my glass and another glass of iced tea, finally. I sit on the porch and pondering how safe Bruce is right now.

---===We Will Be Right Back===--- I told you. I told you, and you, and you, and even you. I told you that I was going into that ring without a care in the fucking world. I told you that I was going to run rapid all over the “legend” and the “X-Rated Icon” that is Dynamic Dynamite. I told you that I was going to go out there and take the title that I made famous, that I made my own, that should be named AFTER me back around my waist and, wouldn’t you know it? I stand here…as the seventeenth time….YOUR X-TREME CHAMPION! YOUR X-TREME ICON! YOUR X-TREME BEING OF THE X-TREME WRESTLING FEDERATION!

But, you know something? When I heard this from the ring announcer:

“The winner…and the NEW X-TREME CHAMPION…’Big Tyme’ Zach Rizza.”

I said to myself, “You know…I won this title thirteen times…it’s not really ‘new’ when I win that title. It’s not ‘new’ when I had this title so much that I had to change the duct tape numerous times on this bad boy. It’s not new that I had many opponents from young to old, new wrestlers and old wrestlers, the curtain jerkers and the legends of the X-Treme Wrestling Federation.” And so on, and so on.

I have done a lot with this title…but, once I heard that announcer say that I was the new X-Treme champion…it felt like I won it for the very first time. Because…you look at the people I won this over…Tony Capretti, Crimson Kline, Killjoy…those three names alone don’t hold a match to the spotlight that was shown last week against myself and Dynamic Dynamite. Me winning this title 17 times may have gotten me into main event status and into the realm of superstardom, but I never EVER had a bigger X-TREME title win than I did last week against Dynamic Dynamite.

There is a reason Double D is a legend, there is a reason he is one of the top dogs in all of the X-Treme Wrestling Federation. There is a reason he is one of the best that I have ever fought in this damn federation and that match showed ever ounce and every small bit in why he is one of the best.

However, this match was tainted. How was it tainted? Hell, I won and I am saying that this match was “tainted” and that was because of two men. Jordan Penn…and whatever the hell his body guard was, who…after two weeks of me kicking his ass…probably doesn’t even know who the hell he is stuck their nose into my match. Why? I have no clue…I guess Jordan Penn is pissed that I knocked his big oaf off the ground with one move two weeks ago.

Jordan then says that his body guard wasn’t hurt and that “Nobody gets knocked out by the Rizzaliner.” He may be right. But…you know something? He might have not been “knocked out” by the Rizzaliner, I know of a few guys who have. However, I believe nobody…for the last two times I have hit someone with, you know, the little move that I have called the Rizzatude Adjustment….I saw nobody move. I saw no movement in your buddy or Dynamic Dynamite. So, yeah…people get out of the Rizzaliner…people don’t technically hop right up from it…but they aren’t knocked out…but, you know, the look on your face looking at the face of your bodyguard was priceless. Priceless, I tell you.

But Jordan…you’re not Dynamic Dynamite…you’re not your body guard. You’re smaller, you’re skinnier, you’re weaker, and you’re just not good. I mean, you did beat “me” and Daniel Malcolm when you PINNED Daniel Malcolm and then claimed that you beat ME because you beat someone else since I was in the match with them…you then, in turn, beat me…I will let you have that gloating power, sir. I will let you stake claim in beating me…when you, for some reason, beat me.

It makes me want to get you in that ring even more. It makes me want to get my hands around your throat and throw you halfway up section E in the Double A’s.

Jordan, when you get in that ring and look at me face to face…I want you to bring your body guard…if he doesn’t have post traumatic stress from the ass kicking I gave him…not one week…but for two straight weeks, TWO! Hell, maybe you will be smart and get Ralphus or the Jeric Holic Ninja from Jericho to help you out so I can knock THEM out and get to you even quicker than I did when I knocked out your other body guard in 1.9 seconds.

So…bring whomever you want…and not only will I knock the fuck out of that guy…and the other body guard that you would bring out…and the other…and the other…and the other…and then when it’s time, Jordan, and you are all out of body guards to bring out...it’s you…and me. One…on one…no more hiding. No more sneaking behind the curtain, where you do belong jerking it. But you get one shot at this, Penn, soak it in…breath in the air…take in the fact that you are in the same exact ring as I am…that you are in the same match as I am…that you are about to get your very own “Welcome to the Big Tyme” moment.

---===Welcome BACK to the Big Tyme===--- ---===No Smoking, please.===---

Its late night…I’m dreaming of some freaky colors floating in a colorful pattern of colors to different songs that I have in my Zune player…I don’t know why I am thinking about this…but it is creeping me out…I must say…but, let’s face it, it’s an awesome dream sequence. Wow, the diagonals…the curvy wavy lines…the one that’s forming my wife on top of me right now…hmm…that one seems a bit too much…in fact, why does it seem like I have something on my waist? All the colors just seem to disperse from my dream and I open my eyes to see Mia pacing back and forth.

Zach, Zach…why is Bruce coming? What aren’t you telling me?

I can’t tell you, Mia. I really can’t. There just seems like there is a lot of crap going on in his life that you don’t need to know about…I met up with him in Jersey and, pretty much, he’s in dire trouble with his…um…job and needs our help.

What does he do?

He’s a…bartender.

How is being a bartender a bad thing, babe? I mean, does he serve a margarita with crack rocks sprinkled on the damn edge of the glass?

Ok…If I tell you, make sure you don’t tell ANYONE ok?

You know I can keep a secret.

Bull shit. But I sit up from my bed and scoot to the edge of the bed holding my head in my hands…

He…works as a bartender…in a bar that is a hideout…for the mob. He is, also, one of those guys that need….well, protection…from the mafia…as he is, pretty much a marked man…and that’s why he needs us.

Mia looks at me in shock…and then begins to laugh hysterically...

Zach, you’ve watched the Sopranos too much…you need to stop…that will rot your brain. Just say "He got fired and needs to find a job and wants to come back to Pittsburgh." That's all.