I just realized…I haven’t moved for the past few days now. I mean, I haven’t left my apartment…no television…no cell phone, no anything. I have just been sitting here…in the corner…with my thoughts thinking about the week that I had last week. First, my wife is getting angry with me because I am doing whatever the fuck I want to do…then I try to talk to her and she changes her tone more times than Beethoven changed his tune in on his symphonies. But, not only that…I am beginning to think that she isn’t really being true to me.

I shouldn’t be thinking this. I shouldn’t be sitting here thinking that my wife, the one who I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with…the woman that I thought I could trust with all my heart, due to the fact that we have a fucking kid in the picture, could wind up being unfaithful to me? I mean, I am the celeb in this relationship. I am the one that’s getting all of the money, getting the paychecks that pay for her future, as well as the future of Eddie. I don’t want to be paying for a third party if I don’t have to. I don’t want to pay for her to go see a man on the side. I want to be the one she loves and all of that crap. I don’t want another man in her life, that’s not related to her. Gah, I hope I am overreacting here. I hope none of this is true, I hope that this is going to go all away in the end. I hope it ends…nicely…but I have a feeling that this may end horrible for both parties, if not just one…

…my party, of course.

I get up from my bed and slouch over to the mirror that’s in my hotel room…there, I see my baggy eyes…I see the scruffy blonde hair and the brown peach fuzz that is beginning to form foam-like around my mouth and hang my head in shame.

What the hell is happening to me? This should not happen to me, one bit. I shouldn’t feel any of this…I shouldn’t feel like shit…I should feel happy, gleeful, awesome, happy…but I’m not…and it’s because of a reason that I don’t even know it’s true. Pull yourself together, Rizz. You’re better than this. You need to beat your demons and be the “Big Tyme” that you need to be, whether it is in the ring or in my personal life. I need to get my life back together…that is for damned sure. ---===We Will Be Right Back===--- Legend. That’s what everyone want to strive for in the X-Treme Wrestling Federation. A legend is something anyone wants to be in anything, whether it is wrestling, football, baseball, basketball, hockey, taxes, sales, helping out in the community, being a total douchebag the community, jail, running, arson, murder, and irony. All of these consist of being a legend in one way or another. Being a legend is the reason why I do what I did. I wanted to be the best in a sport that, let’s face the facts, is one of the toughest son of a bitches to get into. I had that opportunity to get my name engraved in the annals of the X-Treme Wrestling Federation. To get my name mentioned with the greats, like Lee Stone and Jem Will… …you know what? Fuck it. You all know who’s in there and you all saw what happened. I did my job. I went in there and showed Johnny Gambino and Dynamic mother fucking Dynamite why I should be in that damn league of extraordinary gentlemen that is the XWF Legends. I showed that I deserved to be in the same spotlight, the same arena, and the same ring as two of the X-Treme Wrestling Federation’s best of the best, that is the XWF legends. However, my partner didn’t think so. My partner got in there and, pretty much, stunk out the joint. My partner, as you can tell, cost me my, possibly, one and only shot at the one thing that I was striving for once I saw this coming out…then…he comes outside…blames me and smacks me across the damn face. You see, there are three things you don’t do to me. A. You don’t eight ball me and go half-assed in a match of that magnitude, of that friggin’ importance. B. You don’t blame me for the half-assed job that you did. And letter C…this letter, my friend, goes directly to you and anyone in the future who wishes to try this to me…you never…ever..never…EVER smack me in the face after YOU were the one who lost…after YOU were the one that cost us the match. If I was the one who got pinned, if I was the one who got my ass beat inside and out…then I would have taken the loss…then I would have stood there and taken the abuse…but you, Famine of the Vile, falsely accused me of a crime that I did not, I repeat NOT, commit. However, you broke all three of those rules…you were the one who struck me…and, guess what? Zachy poo had to react…and react I did. And, yes, I did sit there in my room thinking about you, Famine. I thought, generally, that I overreacted…that I shouldn’t have touched you after our match…that I shouldn’t do anything but grin and bear it. But…then…I sit there and thought to myself… “…You know, if I was the one who got pinned…I would be the one laying unconscious inside that ring. Famine of the Vile would have done that same damn thing…I would be the one wondering what the hell happened…wondering why I was laying there in the first place.” So, I sit here saying this to you, Famine of the Vile…you will hear no apology from me. I haven’t done anything wrong, I haven’t done anything that you wouldn’t do. I haven’t done anything, at all, that wasn’t worth anything that you deserved. That’s for damn sure. But, now…I have, for some unknown reason, a man who I thought was never going to step in the ring again. Someone who, let’s face it, is not one of the brightest bulbs in the bunch. QC Thug, I bet you don’t even know I am talking about you, right now, huh? I bet you are sitting there high as a mother fucking kite…wondering if there are any mother fucking Cheetos in your bag of Doritos and pondering if there is life on the fucking sun…saying to yourself “Dog, everyone knows what a couch is…anyone can sit on a muthafuckin’ couch…but you’s gotta be in love to sit on a mother fuckin’ love seat, man. That shit is fuckin’ stupid, man!” But in all seriousness, I am begging QC Thug to take off his belt. I am pleading, I am on my damn knees begging and praying that QC Thug takes that belt off this Thursday night. Why? Because I’m already pissed off as it is and, trust me, one thousand slaps with his flabby ass belt is less than one punch from my fist directly hitting him in the cranium. So bring that belt…I will be bringing MY fists. We’ll see who wins. ---===Welcome BACK to the Big Tyme===--- ---===No Part 2 tonight===---