Prologue

Many things can be said about a man by the company that he keeps. With that in mind, what can be said about me? My best friend is not unlikely to place a knife in my back at the first opportunity that benefits him. My wife is schizophrenic, manic depressive, obsessive compulsive, and has an abnormal taste for human suffering. The old cliché says to “keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer”. Isn’t that what I’ve been doing? Have I been purposely keeping these kinds of people around me so that I wouldn’t feel bad when I did the exact same things they would’ve done to me? Yes and no.

Friday, March 23rd
1:19PM

“God damn it,” Seth sighed. A set of lights were flashing in the rear view mirror. After digging his driver’s license out of his wallet the stout police officer made his way next to Seth’s window.

“Do you know how fast you were going?” The cop asked as he casually examined the backseat. He didn’t bother taking the license from Seth’s outstretched hand. Instead, he looked down at it for a second then right to Seth.

“Uh, twenty-six, sir?” He replied without trying to hide the sarcasm. This wouldn’t have been the first time he got a ticket for such a reason. They have to fill their quota somehow.

“No,” the husky officer said. Now he was peering past Seth to the passenger side. Getting irritated, Seth moved his head in the cop’s line of sight.

“Twenty-seven?” he blurted. Despite being broad daylight, the officer took out his flashlight and shined it in Seth’s face. This did nothing to improve Seth’s attitude.

“Actually, it has nothing to do with your speed,” he told Seth. With one eye squinted shut Seth managed to keep his cool despite the overbearing urge to shove the flashlight up the porker’s ass.

“Then why did you stop me, officer?” Seth asked with clenched teeth. The officer put the flashlight away and tipped his hat.

“This vehicle has been reported stolen,” he said. Seth squinted his eyes and tilted his head to the side.

“Excuse me?” he shot.

“We got a call about twenty minutes ago that this here vehicle was stolen. Only black SUV around here that has a God-dammed maple leaf on the back window,” the officer said while hiking up the front of his pants.

“Look, here,” Seth said as he shoved his license towards the officer again. “I have proof of insurance right here in the glove compartment.”

“Best not try any funny business while you’re in there,” the cop warned. He searched frantically through the pile of paper but to no avail.

“The one time I can’t fucking find it,” he groaned as he sat back up. “Look, I can tell you exactly what the license plate says,” he pleaded.

“Sir, there is no license plate on the vehicle.” the cop told him. This confused Seth to no end. Then, like a ton of bricks, it hit him.

“That caller didn’t happen to be female did they?” he asked.

“I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle.”

Epilogue

“What the fuck?”

That’s about all that can be said at this point in time. Shockwave definitely turned a lot of heads by the time it went off the air. Shit was happening left and right. Jalie pushed me right into Clemmens, Hect walked away Hardcore champion after a major clusterfuck backstage, and Amy Jo reared her head like a little pimple on the face of RWA.

Can I be excused from class? I appear to have the plague.

So now we’re rolling into Capital Punishment with what promises to be the biggest match in the history of RWA. Yes, everybody has mentioned the specifics about it.

I am not.

The only thing we need to know is that several people won’t be walking out on their own volition. Last time that unlucky person was me when I sent myself hurling through one of the chambers. Here’s to hoping lightning doesn’t strike twice. One person I think won’t be leaving with the coveted piece of platinum with be it’s current holder. Let’s face it, one-on-one Dryden is very good. When it comes to having seven other people in a match making sure you don’t leave with which you came, the odds become overbearing, even for somebody like Dryden.

So who will it be?

That’s hard to say. I could develop a God complex and say it’s going to be me, but that would be the easy way to avoid the question. Spouting off about random acts of violence isn’t going to help either. Breeden can be angry all he wants, the fact of the matter is that if he can’t get over that I hit him with a pair of brass knuckles in a match where it was perfectly legal, then what the hell is he going to do in there? You claim to eat, sleep and breath pain and hate, but the second it’s brought back around to you, you turn into a sniveling little bitch. Take what’s coming to you and enjoy it.

Then move on.

Jalie is no stranger to violence either. In fact, I could almost say she could be a female version of Breeden, if she had a below average IQ and smelled as bad as she looked that is. The truth is that I know Jalie is going to excel in this type of environment. This is what she thrives on, violence and utter chaos. It’s no secret that I’ve never beaten Jalie in any match where we’re on opposite sides. There are a lot more people that can say the same thing. The fact that she’s a woman doesn’t hurt her in a position like this. If anything, it helps her when the dull and crude foolishly think she’s going to be a push-over because she’s a woman. You can ask me, you can ask Badger, you can even ask Walsh himself and we’ll all tell you the same thing; Jalie is not to be taken lightly.

And now, on to Bob Dole.

Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole! Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole? Bob Dole! Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole! Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole? Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole? Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole! Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole? Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole! Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole! Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole? Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole! Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole. Bob Dole?

Pineapple.

Sunday night everybody’s world is going to be turned upside down. I’m ready. Are you?