Dear Journal,
Body, Heart, and Soul…sounds like a damn R&B album. Nevertheless, there were no smooth melodies rising out of a baritone. No…but there was nothing but smiles as I smashed Damian’s skull in. Some say it was an act of revenge for jacking a chair straight into my throat. Some say it was because I felt cheated…maybe being a poor sport. The only thing anyone should be worried about is if The Devil actually goes through with his threat of making me a “dead man”. Don’t worry for me…worry for the poor soul who thinks he is going to lay hands on me without consequence. After last year, I’ve changed drastically. No more being Silkk’s lackey…no more being insulted…it ends this year. The games are over. I’m done with the bullshitting. My career can end at any minute and I refuse to let it end without the SCW Championship around my waist. The Devil will have to send every soul caste to hell to stop me…and even that won’t be enough.

I came close…I did what no one has done since Hudson won it I tied with him. I know, it doesn’t mean shit if I don’t have the belt. What it does mean to me is that I have potential. I had the potential to beat him and I will get my rematch. Gold wants me to stop bickering with Hudson but even in the depth of Hudson’s heart, he knows I have his number. He knows he is biding his time. Anyone can beat Cherry and Angel. Hell, Liana and Jay did it twice. Mentioning Cherry…my upcoming match is with him. Any match I was in with him, ended controversially. I can recall when I beat him one on one; Allocco came in and beat him to a pulp. It sickened me but I had to deal with it. I want to beat him fair and square; I’m tired of these shady endings. Quite frankly, I’m tired of seeing his face. If this means I put him down for the count and get one step closer to my rematch, then I’m quite happy to oblige.

Location: New York University, New York
Scenes open to a young man sitting down reading an Accounting book. He looks through some of the pages, noticing some familiar work that he had done in high school. He is wearing a long sleeved with black jeans and white sneakers as well as a beanie cap. As he flips through a few more pages, a few beeps are heard. He takes off his reading glasses as he looks up. It’s his girlfriend, Hazel. He closes his book and puts it in the bag next to him. He slings the bag over his shoulder and walks towards her green Toyota RAV4. She unlocks the door and he gets in immediately. They embrace with a kiss but soon the young man, pulls back, a bit puzzled. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to be here or he wasn’t expecting her but here she was in car parked right in front of the University…ready to pick him up. She looked stunning, as usual. It still didn’t change the bewildered facial expression on his face.

Hazel: Look MJ, I know your grounded and I shouldn’t even be seeing you but it’s been a whole two weeks! Baby, I had to see you even if your dad is mad that you went into hiding a week before your match.

MJ: Look Hazel, I have a lot of work to do when I get home and…

Hazel: And what? I’m just saying…spend five minutes with me. Let’s just talk.

MJ (sighs): Fine.

Hazel: Thank you. I just want to know what’s going on with you. I saw you at Body, Heart, and Soul. That’s not even like you to do something like that. I’m getting worried about you, that you’re letting wrestling change you instead of you changing the wrestling world. I know what your already going to say, “It’s my business, don’t worry about it” but you don’t leave me much of a choice when I see you slamming steel chairs into people’s heads. What am I suppose to say? “Oh yeah, that’s my boyfriend…cowardly attacking a guy during his match. I’m so proud of him.” MJ, I don’t want a coward for a boyfriend. I want a man who will deal with his enemies face to face. I know your fighting your way back to your rematch but don’t forget that any BOY can cheat his way back into a main event…but it takes a MAN to EARN his title shot back. Don’t forget that.

MJ: Look…my attack on Damian Angel. It will be explained when the time comes. I could as easily kick his ass in a one on one match up. There is a reason for everything; you just going to have to trust me on this one. I don’t want you worrying about me. I got myself into it; I can get myself out of it. Not to mention when I put a blow to their group after dismantling their leader, Cherry, Angel will definitely watch his step. All you have to worry about is me surviving the cold in Ontario when I catch my flight later on today.

Hazel: You promise to call when you reach the hotel?

MJ: Of course.

She smiles and they kiss once more. MJ loved Hazel and every time he had to leave to go to Breakdown or a pay per view event, it hurt him. He hated to leave Hazel behind, honestly. Yet he knew that carrying her with him everywhere would not only be detrimental to Hazel’s health but the health of their relationship. He’s not pulling women, per say, but when your out on the road for so long with someone…the little things they do annoy you. It could be what they watch before they go to their bed or the way they wear their clothes. Just little things like that when you’re stuck more than two hours with a person. Hatred begins to set in and the relationship falls apart. Not to mention, MJ had some enemies backstage who wouldn’t hesitate to hit a woman. All these factors were keeping MJ from bringing Hazel along to events but it didn’t make him feel any better to leave her behind.

MJ: Oh crap…

Hazel: What?

MJ: My dad…he’s over there…looking for me.

Hazel: Okay jump out the car and act like you were just wondering around campus.

MJ: Okay, talk to you later.

Hazel: Bye, sweetie.

MJ soon got out the car and walked away as if nothing occurred. He sneaked into library then opened the door and came out as if he had been there the whole time. His father soon caught sight of him and signaled for him to come over. MJ walked towards his clueless father who thought his son had just come out of the library after hours of hard work and researching. Shorty smirked and put his arm around his son’s shoulder. They walked off towards Shorty’s vehicle. Both got in and Shorty drove off. They soon pulled up and went into the house. MJ headed immediately to his room to finish his packing. After he zipped up his suitcase and duffle bag, MJ headed toward the living room to tell Shorty he was ready to go to the airport. Shorty was watching television. You could see the visible signs of aging across his face. MJ knew that he would be the same when he got to his father’s age. Wrestling’s cruel schedule does that.

MJ: Hey dad…I’m ready.

Shorty: Already? Good. Tell your mom we are leaving, I’ll be in the car.

MJ nodded his head and went to the master bedroom. Shorty turned off the television and with a grunt, got up from the couch. The years of being flung to the mat had done its damage on his back. He grabbed a bottle of Advil and shook out two pills. Shorty grabbed a small Poland Spring bottle from the fridge. He took his pills and drank off the little bottle. Shorty grabbed the keys off the table and headed outside as MJ was at the door of the master bedroom. He knocked and heard a gentle voice telling him to come in. He walked in and saw his mother sitting on the bed, quietly brushing her hair. She hasn’t spoken to him much since the SCW Championship match. He took a seat on the bed next to her. He knew he couldn’t function with the idea his mother was mad at him in the back of his head. He coughed a bit and began to speak to her; he was hoping he’d find out the reason for the silent treatment.

MJ: Dad and me are going to go to the airport now.

Janice: Oh, that’s nice. Have a good flight.

MJ: Look, I don’t know why your exactly upset but I’m sorry for whatever I did.

Janice: Sorry? How can you be sorry for something you’re not sure you did? MJ, get out.

MJ: What did I do?

Janice: You scared your father half to death and almost had him come down to Florida with a sledgehammer. He could have died. You didn’t even make a call or send an e-mail to tell us what was going on. You aren’t Glacier. You cannot lock yourself up and pretend everyone won’t care until you return. That’s not how it works. Did you even say thanks to your dad for putting his life on the line by coming down to Florida, looking for you? No. You grumbled when you got grounded then walked off. How ungrateful can you be? That man would put his own life on the line just to FIND you. I bet none of your fans would do that. They wouldn’t even risk losing a limb over you but you treat them with more respect than your own father? It’s a shame to see that is the man you have grown into and I wouldn’t be surprised if that Silkk guy was the one who put those ideas in your head. You were always so easily manipulated.

That was the straw the not only broke the camel’s back but put the Egyptian-located mule into a Crippler Crossface for all to see. MJ could not believe he was hearing, Silkk having an influence on his current attitude? He owed Silkk nothing. He was nothing like Silkk. His very hatred of Silkk led him to end Syndicate and push him own self to main event status. More respect for his fans than his own father? Bullshit. Manipulated? MJ was his own man…in his mind. Before he knew it, he was up on his feet in a heated argument with his mother. This, of course, would not be the first quarrel they had if you had been following his Majestic career. MJ didn’t even believe that his mother could say such words. He might have been ungrateful but even suggest he picked up any habits of Silkk’s…it was unthinkable. He calmed down and caught himself before he verbally hauled off on her even more.

MJ: Listen, I am NOTHING like Silkk. Let those words never have to be spoken again. Joining Dynasty was the worst mistake I made and my career was put on the back burner because of it. I have learned and moved on with my life. I am grateful for him, I’m grateful to be where I am in my life…professionally and personally. It wasn’t my intention to have anyone worry about me, what my intention was to isolate myself so I could win the SCW Championship…it would be my biggest achievement yet. I wanted and still want to be the SCW Champion. You know it. Dad knows it. Drachewych knows it. Hudson knows it. I don’t know a soul on the Earth who hasn’t been aware of that. You can sit here…and you can whine all day about what I did to prepare myself for the SCW Championship match or you can support me in my upcoming match against Greg Cherry. Regardless of which you choose, I don’t plan to stop until the belt is mine.

MJ walked out as Janice hung her head in a bit of frustration and shame. MJ felt like he was on fire; his hands were shaking from the adrenaline burst during the argument. He quickly slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and grabbed his suitcase. He wheeled it out of the house. Shorty signaled towards the truck, apparently he wanted to drive that vehicle to the airport. Night was coming down fast on them and they had to hurry up because Rush Hour traffic would soon set in. MJ put the luggage in the trunk and took a seat in the passenger seat as his father hoped into the driver’s side. They drove off and a few hours later, ended up at the JFK Airport. Shorty parked in one of the spots in their huge parking lot. They got out the car and MJ took his stuff from the trunk. He once again slings the strap of the duffle bag over his shoulder and wheels his suitcase. Him and his father start walking across the parking lot. Shorty begins to speak.

Shorty: MJ, I want you to know that out of me, Glacier, and yourself…you have become the most successful of us all. I’m proud of you and proud of your accomplishments but remember one thing, don’t let it change who you are. The way you are is what got you to where you are now. Nowadays you are hitting guys upside the head with steel chairs and attacking others when there is no match. That’s not like you and I know how bad you want to win the SCW Championship. I know how bad you want to fulfill your dream but honestly, I don’t want you to. Not if it makes you act like Damian, Cherry, and those other savages who have no conscience. I want you win with a clear conscience. I want you to win the title, whatever it takes as long as it’s between the bells. As long as it’s fair, it’s good. I don’t want you to be like Glacier where no one knows where the hell he stands cause he wants to kick everyone’s ass with very little reason.

MJ: I understand and what your saying is completely true. I should take a better approach to this, I’ve been patient all these months and it wouldn’t kill me if I went the right way about it but when you have these…these…these excuse for wrestlers like Cherry and Angel, it’s hard not to want to get quick and hard justice for their actions. Week after week, they and five hundred of their closest MySpace friends come out and assault those who have worked their asses off to get where they are at. I’m tired of it and I know everyone else is too. Either way, I know I have to explain to my fans and everyone else my reason for costing Angel his title shot. It will be done and it won’t be an easy thing to do but if it makes people understand where I’m coming from, then so be it. I just can’t be left standing around scratching my ass while these bastards get away with “murder”.

Shorty: I understand but just never forget who you are.

MJ: I won’t, dad. Thanks…for everything.

Shorty pats MJ on the back and gives him a hug. MJ walks into the airport as his father, with tears swelled in his eyes, looks on. MJ checked in his luggage and went through security. He took a seat in the waiting section. All he could do was think about what Hazel said…what his mother said…and most importantly, what his father told him. All these things were true; MJ had changed quite a bit. Even MJ knew that but he thought he had changed for the better with his no-nonsense attitude. It only seemed to alienate him from those who cared about him. He had to make some heart breaking decisions by Highway to Hell or he’ll never see that belt again. MJ had to be a man and with manhood, comes the forks in the road. With each decision you shape your own destiny. With each action you take, you pay for them with consequences. With every chance to fulfill your dream, there is a chance to be sidetracked. MJ begins to speak.

Shorty Jr.: I learned something in accounting today, Greg. It’s a common expression that’s used in every day conversations. Don’t write a check, your ass can’t cash. Cherry, you’ve always talked a big game but that’s not new for you is it? But the game about to be played is a new one, one you have yet to encounter. We’re going to be playing MY game. My game consists of me putting you back in line where you belong with the rest of the useless pieces of crap that have stood on the top of SCW for years. Cherry, the problem is you can’t deal with the fact your one of the first people to be shoved out the main event scene to make way for new blood. Why? You’re the least talented and most pitiful of all of the veterans. You’re about as useful as Cid Turner in an intellectual debate. The worst part about it all is you know it’s true and decide you want to end me before I get my hands on Hudson.

Here’s another lesson you need to learn…budget. You have so many idiots running around here doing your handy work, your still wondering how come they didn’t mistake you for the male prostitute conveniently hiding in Damian’s locker room and attack you. Instead of getting maybe one to two quality bodyguards to kick ass…you pick up Little Miss Dork Grenier and company. It just goes to show, Cherry, anything you touch turns to shit. How does a guy as respected as Angel loses to Jay Gold and Liana Lewis? I can tell you why…because you dragged him down. You are nothing more than a dead weight and you think your going to drag me down with you? You got another thing coming. You have bad taste in tag partners, henchmen, and women…but now you think your going to beat me? You have got to be kidding me. I took the Cherry Pit Crew down about three times back in the day; I assure you that you will be no different.

Finally…prioritize. Don’t worry about Hudson…don’t worry about Glacier…don’t worry about the midget who is secretly banging Ashley. Worry about me. When you step into that ring and stare into these dark brown eyes…you’ll find nothing but pure hatred for you. It is more than just you…hell this is more than just me. It’s about the age-old tale…good verses evil. I’m not Hudson; I’m not going to yell out every other show “YOU MAY BEAT ME BUT YOU WON’T DISCOURAGE ME from cleaning dog shit…talking to my loved ones…and other things no one cares about that I do on a consistent basis.” No. I’m not that kind of guy…I’m the kind of guy who’s going to smash and wreck the damn place up until my voice is heard and my power is felt. Don’t let this smooth face fool you, I’ve been through hell and back and you are not about to be the one to stop me from getting what I want: The SCW Championship.

MJ simply stares into the camera. The camera backs away slowly as MJ has not blinked at all. The veins in his neck slightly show, as he is tense and even more determined to get what he wants. The last time MJ was this intent on grabbing gold was a while back when at the God of Wrestling tournament. To think that MJ would be in the SCW Championship title shot picture in less than year is amazing. MJ has taken it to heart and is clawing his way back up to a title match. Such determination is detrimental though he cares for nothing else. Food no longer has taste. Music no longer sounds good. Sleep doesn’t even seem like an option. All he thinks about before, during, and after his Accounting class is the SCW Championship. Obsession doesn’t quite fit what is going on but for a lack of a better word…it could be used. MJ is ready to go all out for the one thing he loves the most…the immortality of being SCW Champion. Scenes fade.