Slow down and enjoy life. It's not only the scenery you miss by going too fast - you also miss the sense of where you are going and why.

Eddie Cantor (1892-1964)

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Date: Thursday, February 8th
Time: 7:06AM
Location: Thomas Residence

When I got out of bed this morning I felt... different. Like my heart had figured something out that my mind couldn't comprehend. I've always thought I was happy. I have a home of my own, a wonderful wife, and a fairly successful career. Most people would kill to have what I do.

Seth adjusted the icepack on his face. He sat on the little patio out front in one of the lawn chairs set up in a corner. The sun was peeking over the trees in the distance, much to Seth's dismay. This was an unusual hour for him to be awake, even for him. With one hand he flipped open the bottle of Tylenol on the little stand next to him and carefully dumped a couple into his mouth. He washed them down with a glass of orange juice then held the ice pack with his other hand.

Another near sleepless night because of this so-called "career". All I need is another concussion. It's no wonder I've developed a little bit of difficulty thinking at times. My brain feels like those fried eggs from those commercials, without the drugs. But still I keep subjecting myself to this environment.

The front door opened and Jalie stepped out onto the porch, an even rarer sight at this hour. She was wrapped in her favourite cow-print blanket and wore her bunny slippers with the floppy ears. She tilted her head while she stumbled her way towards Seth.

"I know you like to get up early, but isn't this a little early for you?"

She plopped down in his lap and curled up. He wrapped his free arm around her as she nuzzled her head in his chest. Within seconds she was fast asleep.

I can't help but wonder what my life would've been like if I decided to have a "normal" career. One of those nine-to-five deals with the cheap suits and cramped workspace. Making all those mid-day coffee runs just to get a promotion.

Seth closed his eyes and the scene faded into a different setting. He was sitting in a very compact car with the windows rolled down all the way. His suit jacket was draped over the passenger seat along with a dull grey tie. The top few buttons to his shirt were undone and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He sat back in the seat with one hand on the steering wheel, occasionally honking at the immobile traffic, while he used the other to wipe the sweat beading on his forehead. His cell phone rang and he dug through the jacket pocket until he found it.

"Hello?"

The phone rang again. He cursed under his breath then pushed the button a little harder than needed.

"What?"

He was obviously irritated and the phone call wasn't improving his mood.

"You know I always get out of the office late on Thursdays, then I get bombarded with traffic... I know I said I'd be home by five but that obviously isn't the case... God forbid you can't get Josh ready for his recital... Look, I'm not in the mood for this right now... It would go much faster if you weren't wasting time bitching to me when there's obviously nothing I can do..."

He let out a sigh then hung up the phone. He held it up for a moment, scrunched up his face then slammed it down on the dashboard. His frustrations were now being taken out on the horn.

That was unpleasant.

The scene was now back to normal. People were moving about the street; heading off to work, school or whatever errands they had to run. Seth looked down at Jalie who was still out cold. He set the icepack on the table next to him then looked at his watch and let out a sigh.

"Seven forty-six."

His words roused Jalie but only for a second. He gently ran his fingers through her hair then kissed the top of her head.

I'm glad we're not like that, and I'm glad I don't have a job like that. I don't know how people can put themselves through that kind of stress. What if I wasn't so laid back? What if I turned out like most of my mother's... companions?

The scene faded off to a different setting once more. This time around it was in the dining room of what looked like a very financially stable home. Moving through the house the sound of voices were heard off in another part of the house, steadily becoming louder. Angrier. Turning the corner of a narrow room revealed a Seth and a woman in the front hallway next to a set of stairs leading up. The woman was in a black dress with a pair of black high-heels and the Seth sported a fancy looking suit minus the jacket.

"You don't have to treat him like that." The woman pleaded.

"You don't have to treat him like a God damn baby!" Seth shouted. He violently removed the bowtie from around his neck and threw it to the ground.

"He didn't mean to..."

Before she had a chance to finish Seth hit her with a stiff backhand, sending her back into the wall. He grabbed her face with a hand and stood with his nose to the tip of hers.

"Do you object when I allow you to sleep in my house? Do you object when I give you money and take you to fancy parties?

"No..." The woman whimpers.

"Then don't object when I discipline him either." Seth snarled as he let go of her face.

The woman slouched to the floor as Seth made for the stairs.

"Please..." The woman sobbed.

Seth stopped and turned his head.

"What?"

The woman shook her head and didn't respond. This infuriated Seth, causing him to walk over to her and pick her up off the ground by the hair.

"You think you're so good to him, is that it? He's nine years old and has had more step-fathers than birthdays because his mommy is a whore. You can't live without a man or money, even at the expense of your kid. What kind of mother does that make you?

The woman hid her face, sobbing into her arms. Seth let go of her and walked towards the stairs while unfastening his belt.

Bad memories. Everybody has them. Maybe that's why I do what I do. To escape from the ordinary. I did marry Jalie, and she's about as far out there as they come. I do this so I don't have to become what I've always hated while growing up. It gives me freedom, and the occasional headache. I just need to appreciate what I have and not worry about what might be. I do, after all, have my own home, a wonderful wife, and a fairly successful career.

Seth looks over at his watch once more before kissing the top of Jalie's head and closing his eyes.

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Date: Thursday, February 8th
Time: 4:26PM
Location: Outside the Thomas' residence.

"This is Gunther Boohiney, Reporter extraordinaire!"

A ridiculous looking man gave the camera a goofy grin. Those of you who remember Gunther recognise him in his typical getup; a pair of flip-flops, floral print shorts, blue Armani jacket and a lime green bowler hat. He held up a tape recorder that had "The Boohiney Report" labelled on it as he moved to the front door of the Thomas' house.

"I have been trying to track down the Thomas family for some time now and believe I have succeeded in locating them. Stay tuned for further developments."

He lowered the recorder and knocked on the door. After a moment the door opened and Jay stood in the doorway giving Gunther a rather confused look.

"What you want, essa?" Jay asked.

"Well now..." Gunther turns back to the camera. "Apparently the Thomas', despite all the trouble with immigration, have decided to take in a stray Hispanic immigrant. What a wonderful thing to do, introducing this unfortunate individual to a great country. Let's see if he can help us."

Gunther turned back to Jay with a stupid smile on his face and attempted a horrible Mexican accent.

"Hello, senior. Yo quiero Taco Bell?"

Unaware of what he said, Gunther stood there looking rather hopeful.

"First off, homes..."

"Oh, they even taught you how to speak English." Gunther interrupted.

Jay tilted his head and glared at Gunther.

"First off, I ain't an immigrant. Second, who the fuck are you calling unfortunate? You can't even dress yourself."

Gunther looked down at his wardrobe but seemed unphased when he looked back at Jay.

"Is Mr. Thomas home?" Gunther asked, putting emphasis on each syllable.

"You know what..." Jay paused momentarily. "Actually, he is. Follow me."

Jay walked past the kitchen and let Gunther down the hallway to the right. Opening the door at the end Jay walked out into the garage where Gunther followed, soaking in the scenery.

"Close your eyes" Jay ordered.

Gunther covered his eyes and Jay turned to a large red tool chest on the far wall. He opened the top drawer and slid his hand inside. There was a faint click from the door next to it and opened.

"He's in there."

Gunther uncovered his eyes and walked past Jay to the doorway.

"Graces, senior."

Gunther tipped his hat before disappearing into the room. The door slammed shut behind him and Jay made his way back into the house. Upon entering the kitchen he was greeted by Seth sitting at the table.

"Who was that?" Seth asked.

"Some honkey, called himself... Gunther?"

Seth shuttered at the name. He had his dealing in the past with Gunther and hoped he never had to see the creepy bastard again.

"So what'd you tell him?"

Jay sat down at the table and picked up a handful of cards.

"I led him out to 'the room.' I figured Lie could have some fun."

This made Seth quite happy, as made obvious by the grin he wore. He picked up the pile of cards in front of him and looked at Jay. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped when the lights dimmed and a shrilling scream was heard coming from the other side of the house. Both men knew exactly what it meant - Gunther's ass was now extra crispy. After a moment of silence Jay took a sip of his Corona and looked at the cards in his hand.

"You got any twos, whitey?" Jay asked with a raised eyebrow

"Go fish, fucker..." Seth said as he reached for the tazer sitting next to him.

"Give me a two.. Give me a two..." Jay pleaded.

He slammed the card he drew down on the table then set his hand down beside it. With his head held low he stood from his chair, turned around and dropped his pants. This was when they noticed Jalie in the entrance to the kitchen and greeted her with a couple shit-eating grins.

"Amateurs." She snorted.

She walked over to the fridge and grabbed and bottle of water then left the kitchen.

"How do you like your ass, medium-rare or well done?"

Before Jay could answer Seth jammed the tazer to his ass and he let out a shriek. He cursed freely in Spanish and walked gingerly around the kitchen while Seth laughed manically.

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Just when you thought you could relax and enjoy a little bit of sanity, he ruins it. How?

By opening his mouth.

You gotta love his ignorance. And for the record I refuse to say his name, ever, since he takes it upon himself to say it enough for everybody. From this point on he shall now officially be dubbed as Bob Dole. Bob Dole is now threatening to have his daddy shut down RWA if he doesn't get his way. Sounds like a spoiled little princess if you ask me. He must've lived a very sheltered life in his mansion made out of money because he obviously does not understand what goes on in the outside world. He can say it until he's blue in the face, just like he does with his name, but it's not going to happen that way. The sooner he realizes it the easier things will be from here on out.

And the quieter.

The only thing you and your cousin proved Wednesday night was that you're a couple of pussies. Not in the fact that you hit me in the face with a chair, but that you didn't even try to hide it. If you really wanted to stick around any longer you would've found a better way to go about things and eventually walk away with the win. Instead you take the easy way out and claim you won because you were the ones walking away after the match. Grow-the-fuck-up. Your money won't do you any good here. Unless you have what it takes inside that ring you might as well take your fancy money clips and bitch elsewhere.

I suggest Ethiopia.

So what do I have on my plate for Resurrection? Allister Black, who we all saw fail to impress against the likes of the rather less attractive Seth, and a woman who apparently has more personalities than this match allows. Tell me, are her "alternate personalities" allowed to participate in this match? And who the hell allowed her to sign a contract? Just because you have an affinity for mentally unstable women, Shawn, doesn't mean you need to bring them all to work.

And to answer your question, fucking her does not constitute as an orgy in itself.

I'm rather surprised that we haven't heard from either one of her. Not that I'm really eager to meet her. I'm sure Shawn remembered full well when he booked this match that I've never won a match in RWA against a woman, let alone four of them. Although I feel surprising confident with this match for two reasons. One, I'm not even sure she's going to be there. Second, we all know how women get along when they have to share the same room for long enough, there must be some pandemonium going on inside that head of hers. So now I'm subject to not only one set of mood swings, but four of them.

Damn you, Shawn. Damn you.

And why the hell would we sue you, Lance? We're not assholes. Well, when it comes to shit like that, anyways. So instead of getting in the ring yourself you're going to unleash your prodigy on us? Is he going to put us in awe of his amazing ability to fuck up? Not that I mind, it just makes my job easier come Sunday. With you filling his head of the illusion that he's unstoppable it's just going to make for an interesting fit when he realizes you've been lying to him. Everybody wants to start off with everything. Like I told Bob Dole, just because you want it doesn't mean you're going to get it. I guess you can say I'll do him a favour for you Sunday night. I'll show him that it'll take more than a few flashy moves if he plans on doing anything worth while around here, because the RWA alumni aren't just going to roll over. Sethy-poo started the teachings and I'm going to continue them.

Yes, Sethy-poo.

I'm still amazed at how much he loves to talk. He always has something to say, whether it be anything you're interested in hearing is another not. One thing is for sure, he's not the kind of guy you take lightly. Allister did that last week and I know it won't be the last case either. That's the problem with a lot of the younger guys flooding in now-a-days. Not that I'm old at twenty-seven, I just come from a different generation. A generation where we don't expect instant gratification. People such as Allister get told of how much potential they posses and it immediately goes to their head. Excellent job, Lance. Guys like me and my number one fan, Mr. Dryden, got to where we are because we've worked our asses off, even though Dryden has more neat bumper stickers of where he's been. Though I don't share the uncanny ability to find myself in fights like most Irish men do, a appreciate a good one. And to be honest that's what I expect this Sunday. I'm sure Schitzo will have enough trouble getting past herself and I really don't think Allister is going to fair any better then he did Wednesday night. Like I said, the talent is there but his head is weighing him down a little too much. Some may say I'm getting ahead of myself when I say my main focus Sunday night will be on one man, though I call it getting prepared because I know I'm in for a hell of a fight.

And Cody, please, stop talking before you hurt yourself. The world knows I hit you with one of the tag team titles three years ago and nobody cares. Just let it go.