The scene began inside Seth and Jalie Thomas’ home in San Diego. It was your typical suburban home, built in part of a sub division which, oddly enough, both of them utterly despised. The house itself was covered in white aluminum siding, although that was the only part of it that remained identical to all the other houses. The Thomas’ had apparently done everything humanly possible to make the house look different. Or maybe it was what they hadn’t done. The lawn, as opposed to the other houses perfectly manicured crisp green ones, was dead, brown, and horribly overgrown with weeds and a large cactus standing in the middle, beside the large boulder. A large dumpster stood against the side of the house. Some of you will recognize this as the lodgings of everyone’s favorite hobo. The porch was overgrown with vines, and cluttered with old furniture and a broken television set. A large great dane/pit bull mix was asleep in front of the door; with a tiny black Chihuahua asleep on his back. The cameras moved inside the house to the living room which was in all respects, a man’s living room. A torn black pleather couch sat opposite a big screen tv. Beside the couch was a mini-fridge that served as a beer cooler. Left and up the staircase was a hallway littered with dirty laundry and beer cans. On the right was a walk-in closet and a bathroom. To the left, the door leading into the only bedroom. The door stood open to give a glimpse into the room beyond. It looked about as neat and tidy as the porch. Clothes were scattered everywhere. The bed was a pile of wrinkled blankets and what appeared to be two human forms beneath. Upon the dresser, the only item not cracked or broken began to ring out that it was nine a.m. One of the wrinkled masses on the bed sat up with a groan. Seth’s untidy blonde hair rose from beneath the covers to toss his boot at the clock; sending it crashing into their ever-increasing realm of broken objects. He rubbed his hand over his face then pulled the covers down beside him to reveal his wife. She was face-down on the drool spotted pillow. One sleepy eye opened to look up at him.

“No.” She said simply.

Seth grinned. “Yes.”

“Never.”

“Now.”

“Later.”

Seth threw the covers off of her to the foot of the bed. Jalie let out a whimper, grasping for them but unable to reach them. Seth gave her a light smack on the ass before climbing out of bed.

“Come on, bootyful.” He smirked.

Jalie reached down over her black booty shorts, rubbing the spot he slapped.

“Why can’t we just stay in bed? Awakeness is over-rated…” She complained.

“Awakeness? Okay, if you say so babe… But you’re still getting up. So let’s move.”

“Boooooo.”

She protested, but crawled out of bed anyway. She dug through the mess on the floor to find her jeans, pulling them on and following Seth downstairs. He was in the kitchen making coffee when she made her way into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. Seth walked in moments later holding the phone.

“I checked the messages… Carmen called at like seven thirty, wanting to talk to you. She said she’s on the verge of a breakdown or something otherwise exaggerated. She also said she thinks Cody’s sleeping with other women.

“Gee, ya think?” Jalie said sarcastically.

Seth set the phone on top of the mini-fridge and took a seat beside Jalie. He handed her a cup of tea and took a sip of his coffee.

“She’s really lost it. They broke up. Mostly her doing… And yet she still thinks she has a fucking leash on him. A relationship isn’t about one person holding the leash and the other wearing a choke collar.” Seth stated.

“Unless you’re into that sort of thing.” Jalie added. “But… I do see what you mean. Not that I’d know what that’s like or anything.” She quipped. Seth gave her a calculating look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, of course. So what’s on the agenda today?” Jalie asked, quickly changing the subject.

“No… No, don’t do that. What was that comment for? Tell me.” He said, lowering his coffee cup.

“It’s just that, well… I haven’t had a whole lot of freedom… That’s all.” Jalie touched on the subject lightly, not wanting to cause a fight.

“You’ve spent most of the last two weeks at Cody’s fucking apartment, how the hell can you say you don’t have any freedom?!” Seth demanded.

“And I’ve felt guilty every time I’ve left the house! Not because you need me, or I should be home, but because I’m doing it to get the hell away from you! You’ve tried to cut off everything I love.. The drinking, the weed, the loud music, the racing, my cursing… I get shit if any of my family even comes to see me. It’s who I am. And you married me knowing that… So I don’t get what the fuck changed, because it sure as hell wasn’t me.” Jalie said. She was quiet, waiting for Seth’s angry retort… But it never came. He swallowed hard, staring down at his cup. After a long, awkward silence, Jalie gave up.

“Damnit Seth… I love you. So much. But I can’t help you if you turn me away.” She told him softly.

Jalie stood and set her tea down. She grabbed her keys and turned back to Seth, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. She opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it… Instead turning and heading out the front door.

./scene 2\. __below the belt

The cameras returned inside the upscale restaurant Carmen had requested Jalie meet her at. The place was filled with haughty rich people, slowly dining and giving off the general ‘Better than you’ vibe that Carmen always used to hate. She was seated at a table in the back, with her hair pulled up away from her face. Her crushed velvet Dolce & Gabbana jacket draped over her black tweed slacks; making her fit right in with the uptown crowd. Carmen’s face was set, gazing sadly down at her cup of French brew café latte. She hated the way she felt lately… As though she wasn’t herself anymore. The whole modeling world of high toned parties and upscale designer clothes was tearing her further and further from the best times in her life… Hanging out with her sister, having a beer… Having sex with Cody and not giving a shit who heard them. Or saw them, for that matter. She thought this was what she’d always wanted. The celebrity, the money, and the fame… But as time went by, she was coming to realize that her world of laid back happiness, was slowly being replaced by this cold and uncaring one. Her musings, however, were to be short-lived. In one bursting moment of sudden and striking contrast, Cody Carson bounced into the restaurant, arguing loudly with the woman following him: Jalie Thomas. Cody’s chest was bare, his flannel plaid shirt unbuttoned and hanging down to where his torn Scooby Doo boxers were visible above his equally tattered jeans. Jalie was a stark contrast to her sister in her red plaid mini skirt and black button down top. A red tie was tied loosely around her neck. That combined with her knee-high Demonia platform boots gave her the look of a severely disturbed schoolgirl.

“Seriously dude… How the fuck can you not like football? It’s a mans sport!” Cody explained, looking shocked. Jalie put up a hand to silence him and pointed to the table where Carmen was seated.

“Oh, fuck me…” Cody groaned. “Does she know I’m here?”

“Not, uh, exactly… But she’s still got this fucking delusion that you two are still together. I thought it’d be good for her to see you.” Jalie told him. Cody understood, but that didn’t make him any happier about the situation. Jalie led him over to the table and sat down across from Carmen. Cody pulled a chair from an occupied table beside them, much to the surprise of its inhabitants. He sat down at the other side of Jalie and looked at Carmen blankly.

“What are you doing here? I thought we were… On a break.” Carmen said quietly.

“Babe, the chances of us still being together right now are about as likely as Michael Jackson getting a fucking teaching license.” Cody quipped.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Carmen asked, looking offended.

“It means Jackson’s a fucking freak who looks like something from planet of the apes and touches kids in their naughty spots.” Jalie explained, nodding. Carmen and Cody gave her a look. “…What?” Jalie asked, confused. Cody and Carmen shook their heads.

“Babe, it means what you think it means. We’re through. I can’t fuckin’ handle someone so goddamn uptight. You drive me nuts. It’s like… Shit, how can I put this nicely… Carmen, you’re a preppy fucking bitch and you’re totally not like you were when we first hooked up.” Cody said.

“What the hell, Cody? I get a great career, money, everything I ever wanted and suddenly you hate me for it?” Carmen demanded.

“I don’t hate you. Not the real you. But yeah… I hate who you’ve become.” He said solemnly.

Carmen’s eyes welled with tears. Cody sensed this and averted his eyes to the hot waitress a few tables over.

“It’s her, isn’t it? Ever since you two got closer!” Carmen cried.

“No… Trust me, I’m over Brandi. That was like, a phase. But I think most guys have a phase where they wanna bone one of the hottest women in the business.” Cody replied.

His words cut deep, but Carmen shook her head. “Not her! Brandi never led you on… You brought that on yourself. I’m talking about YOU!” Carmen turned to Jalie furiously.

Jalie stared at her blankly. “……Uhh, beg pardon?”

“Don’t act stupid! You’re at his apartment all the time! I see the way you two are all over each other… You’re fucking inseparable. Excuse my language..” Carmen apologized to the customers around her then turned back to a shocked Jalie. “I’ve seen how you hang on him, and he follows you like a damn puppy! This is payback, isn’t it! It is!” Carmen was sobbing.

“No, sweetie… How could you think I’d do that to you?” Jalie asked. She reached out to touch Carmen’s shoulder but her sister pulled back.

“Don’t give me that. I know how you work. It’s fucking payback, because I knew him!” Carmen’s glare was burning into Jalie’s. Cody looked confused.

“Knew who…? Me?” He asked. Carmen replied, without looking at him. “Because I knew the guy that killed Robert.”

In a second, Cody sensed the atmosphere change. Although the other customers went about their conversations, the one between Carmen and Jalie had gone deathly quiet. Carmen, it seemed, knew she’d struck a nerve and was immediately fearing the consequences. Cody was utterly lost, though he knew something was very, very wrong by the expression on Jalie’s face. No longer was she genial, consoling and reassuring her sister. She didn’t even look angry. She looked… There was no other word for it… Calm. Disconnected. As though in one shouted accusation, she’d lost all semblance of emotion.

“Jalie, I… I’m so sorry… Please… I didn‘t mean that, I didn‘t mean to hurt you…” Carmen tried to find the words. Jalie gave her a small smile. Cody half wished she‘d stayed expressionless.

“No, of course not. Though sadly… The worst pain is usually by chance.” Jalie reached in her pocket and placed a twenty on the table. She stood up silently and walked out of the restaurant. After watching her go, Cody glanced over at Carmen, who was looking crushed.

“Girl… What the hell is wrong with you?” He asked, his face now contorted with anger.

“I didn’t mean it… I just, wanted her to hurt… Like I do.”

“Yeah, well you know what? I think she’s hurt enough.” Cody spat. He stood up from the table. “Some shit goes deeper than being poor or getting dumped, Carmen. Yet she deals with it. All of it. You need to get a fucking handle on your own life… And quit trying to drag everyone else down with you.”

Cody stormed out of the building, leaving Carmen in tears.

Would it be so bloody difficult for you to stop crying about your daddy and get your fucking job done? Hmm? Because I’m growing rather frustrated with you. I want to hurt you, Perkins. And you’re not giving me any reason. In fact, most people would probably pity you. All this shit with your papi. It’s supposed to be tragic. That is, if it’s even real. Maybe you should be out of this business altogether, and locked up somewhere. There’s only room for one crazy little bitch in the AWA, love, and that would be me.

Now, to my one opponent who did have the balls to make a statement, however senseless, but a statement none the less… Gary Mac… Holy shit, dude. Loosen the fuck up. Macdonald? It was a joke. A crack, senseless, making conversation, get me? If I was looking to insult you, you’d know it… Example coming forthwith… Damn, I gotta say I’m incredibly disappointed in you Gary. I expected more from a man who at least has some knowledge of me. Well, I suppose that’s what happens when you get your hopes up. Next time I’ll know better. I have several things to address with you here. Some, I was quite amused by. I guess I can at least thank you for that much, considering being a worthy opponent seems to be beyond you.

“Because let’s face it, your insults are generic.”

Really? Classic, dear. Sheer cunning. You know, because calling me a whore was so very original.

Think. Before. You. Speak.

Such a common thought… Makes sense, no? And yet, ninety eight percent of the worlds population do not possess the brain power to comprehend this. It’s like they’ve got an antidote for everything except stupidity. Actually… Strike that. I’ve got a cure for idiots. Yes, folks.

It’s called euthanasia.

“But I’ll make you a deal, you prepare my post match meal and I’ll take care of Ridge personally, or hell I might just decide to knock the guy out and hand you the victory.”

Ooh, burn. So was that a cute attempt at an insult… Or would you rather I stood back and let you take an easy win? If only things were that easy. And again with that clever originality. I like that.

“I had no interest in beating Clayton Walker and taking the title after I won the contendorship for it, so I gave up the chance and left that place, so your husband was hand picked to take on a departing Mister Walker.”

Awfully mouthy when he’s not around, aren’t you? Heh, cute… Fact remains though, you just admitted you were there when we were… But I’ll move on to that in a minute. What I’d like to touch on here, was that Seth was set to enter that match whether you took part or not. The question wasn’t whether he was good enough to go for the title… It was whether he wanted it or not.

“I’ll warn you now though Jalie you try to piss me off or anything of the sort and I will slap you so hard the next time you suck Seth’s dick he won’t feel your teeth and he’ll be thanking me for that.”

Digging yourself a hole, aren’t you? Warning me? You really are adorable. Don’t worry Gary… I don’t have to try to piss you off. Because quite frankly, the truth hurts… And that covers plenty. Now! Holy mother of contradictions! What the fuck is wrong with you, dude? Do you not hear yourself speaking? You say you’re not going to threaten me, yet you threaten to slap me… You claim you’re not going to start with sexist remarks, and yet you made several throughout your pitiful little rant. You say you were never in RWA when we were… And then say you left just before the world title match. Need I remind you we were a part of RWA long before that? Lastly you tell me my insults are generic. This, coming from the man who called me a whore, a retard, stooped to sexist remarks, empty threats, and claiming his opponents could never beat someone as great as him. And why is that, Gary? Because you say so? Spare me your fucking ego trip. Finally you threaten to end my career. Shit… Where have I heard that before? Possibly every other man I’ve ever faced? And why would you be the one to do it? Is there some hidden ability you have that’s magically concealed by your idiocy? Should I be worried? Unfortunately I’m not… In all actuality, I’m rather looking forward to our little contest. Allow me to address one more of your statements here… Oddly enough, one I actually agree with.

“I guess these days, the caliber of wrestlers haven’t gotten better, still the same stupid bastards they always were.”

How very true. And there are very few exceptions to this. You have the occasional person who will exceed expectations. The occasional person who steps out of the shadows of mediocrity. People like Seth Thomas, Brandi James, Cody Carson, Jason Kinrade, and The Duck.. Among others. Yes, people, The Duck. The quacking genius of LAW. The Duck is fucking better than you, Gary. Tell me, how does it feel to be out-done by fucking Chinese food?

Gary your goddamn ego is going to get you nothing. Nothing that matters. You may think it gets you attention… That you’ve gone far, but trust me, that’s not the case here. It’s easy to make an impression when you feed everyone bullshit and talk yourself up. You wanna talk shit about what happened in RWA? Give me a fucking break, Mac… Walsh was a stepping stone. Nobody fucking depended on him, least of all me. Walsh is ancient fucking history, man. You claim everyone else is bringing him up and yet you’re the one who keeps fuckin’ talking about him. Give it up, dude. Walsh was never that bloody fantastic. He let his head inflate and it took a woman to put him back in his place. You’re fucking delusional. Back in RWA, nobody feared you… You were everyone’s favorite jobber, dude! You wanna boast about a victory over Cody back in the day?

Dude…

There are very few people ALIVE that couldn’t have beaten Carson back then. I did, Seth did, everyone did… It was like a long-running joke. But if you can’t see that he’s gone through a hell of a lot of improvement, then you’re even more of a dipshit than I thought possible. And that, is saying something. What you accomplished back then… Sure, it was talent. If you’re a fucking comedian. Let me get this straight… You’re the prince of the universe? Well, you’re looking at the fucking queen. You may have been able to fool people elsewhere, but here nobody’s buying your shit. Least of all me. You couldn’t match up to Cody, or me if your life depended on it. And if you keep talkin’ shit, it very well may.

Allow me to finish, with a simple statement. And I’m hoping you take this to heart. You want to claim you’re god’s gift to wrestling? Well Gary… Unfortunately for you, you’re looking at a fucking pagan.