time: evening, roughly nine o'clock.

day: wednesday, january tenth, 'seven.

place: bailey's bay, bermuda; engel residence.

(Tell us what it is, dangerous?)

(Friends and enemies I find are contagious)

(And they're spreading through your system like a virus)

(Yes the trouble in the end it makes you anxious.)

(A quiet, cool air infiltrates the kitchen from a slightly opened window. Straight off the ocean, it seems. Sitting atop the kitchen counter with a Guinness Extra Stout in my right hand, I look over at Mia, who is preparing a late dinner. With Alexia in bed, we thought we'd make good use for the time to ourselves. Sporting a simple pair of jeans and a San Diego Chargers powder-blue jersey, featuring #85, I hop down from the counter to give Mia a hand with...whatever. I'm not one for cooking, but I do as I'm told. Lately, I've been nothing but a follower, just doing my own thing at home while I take orders from the wife. A real man's dream, so it seems. Seemingly retired, I thought about stepping into the ring again for the eight hundredth time. It seems like a broken record to me now, but there's something there inside of me, burning to be let out. A fire not yet extinguished. An anger not yet calmed. An insanity not yet cured.)

(Chopping away at some onions, I don't find the words to make small-talk with her anymore. I've been somber, yet content, lately. I just am. I didn't appear to be excited with life anymore, I just appeared to be grateful for what I had. A wonderful family. A nice house. Security. Whatever else.)

(I don't feel like I'm letting anyone down anymore. I'm just living...and I'm happy with it, almost.)

(Something deep inside me was brewing. Instinct. Fury. Determination. You feel it in the pit of your stomach, as if someone landed a kick right to it. But you didn't feel pain, you felt emotion. Some people think pain is just another emotion, but this...this was something else.)

(I stop with the onions for a moment to take a drink from my Guinness. Being a fan of the darker beers has its ups and downs. An up being the taste; a down being the fact that you could only have a couple. Well, that's not so bad...makes them last. I put the beer back down on the counter, near the sink, and go back to my onions. Mia asks me how it's going with the onions, I do my fake cry impersonation. She laughs a bit, then gives me a shove on the shoulder. I laugh a bit myself, then finish the onion up.)

(It seems she's attempting steak fajitas for tonight. I don't argue; when it comes to food, I'm like a garbage disposal -- I'll eat anything. I don't have time to be particular.)

(Almost done, she says. I can smell the spices from the grilled steak atop the oven. Enjoying the aroma, I take a seat at the kitchen table. Almost forgetting about what I saw today, I grab the videotape I laid on the table earlier and pop it into the video camera, set up in its usual spot. With the backyard behind me and the Guinness in front of me, I hit record on the camera. Action.)

VIRUS: I'm confused. I'm pretty sure that we're all grown-up adults here; professionals, if I may. Yet, watching what Protean had to say about me, I was convinced for a moment there that we were back in high school. It's sad, really, to see people resorting to high school behavior to attack people, especially people that haven't even dropped their name or made any comment about them in the longest of times. You know, people who just don't care about them? Ohh, yeah, that's right Jacob. I really don't give a flying fuck about you. But apparently it's not the same in your case because you're pulling out all the high school tricks to get my attention and stir something up inside me.

It was a good attempt, I'll give you that, but let me express to you and the millions watching why I believe you think you're still in fucking high school.

(A cough to clear up the throat and a swig of my beer, I fix up my stature a bit and begin.)

VIRUS: Attacking my musical taste, for one. Who does that anymore, except high school kids? "Oh man, you listen to Smashing Pumpkins? You must be a fag. And what's with the earring? Definitely a homosexual!" Do you realize how fucking immature you sound?

And did I hear you use the word "clique"? That term should have been dropped from your vocabulary a long fucking time ago, dumbass. Do you not get the fact that my sister and Dustin have been life-long friends and our families have been close for a long time? Do you not understand the word family? "Clique." You gotta be kidding me.

Spreading rumors. "The deal with ol'e T-wolf." Come on, I thought you were better than that. Good God. Can I even hope to try to believe anything else that comes out of that big mouth of yours? Spreading rumors like that belongs in ninth grade, not the AOWF. Get your shit straight.

You make some points about me being in Dustin's shadow all of the time and it sounds great. Sure, let's talk about how I gave up a title belt and a family member to stick around and get the people on your side, right Jacob? Sure. It sounds great and it makes you feel good about yourself, but point in fact, you don't know what the fuck you're talking about.

You weren't there. You read about it in some book or on some website and think of yourself as some fucking expert. Get a job.

(A crack of the knuckles.)

VIRUS: Do you think I care if he would have given me the same courtesy? The point is that McCade and I dominated -- wait, let me rephrase that -- I dominated the tag team division in the UHWA and I wanted my shot at the coveted AOWF Tag Titles. I didn't care who was my partner because I was going to win them anyway, either by myself or with a reliable partner. When the match finally came, I stepped up and won those fucking titles. I did what was necessary and yes, I got turned on. McCade did his thing with the MoA. But one thing people don't know is McCade never saw that fucking title again and where is he now? You don't know? Exactly.

I gave the title to Dustin because I wanted a reliable partner, not on the account of some deal.

Did you forget that later on that year I won a second AOWF title? Something you've never managed to do? The one we're fighting for? Yeah. I didn't achieve fame with Dustin's help, I got it on my own. I dominated the UHWA and I beat ass in the AJWF. I got my own fame, so you can forget about any kind of deal.

I was a double champion. And still am.

I was an up-and-coming legend. And now I am one.

I was the hottest thing since RHCP. And now I'm bigger.

And you come at me with some reverse psychobabble bullshit. Please. You need to do much better than that.

(I drain the Guinness bottle a little more. It's about halfway now, but I'm almost done.)

VIRUS: You go ahead and talk about how I don't appear to be "Extreme" material, how I don't sport the baseball bat and barbed-wire theme. That's fine, considering I've been out of the extreme scene since two thousand three. I did the extreme scene for a long time, all over UHWA and AJWF.

How do you think I was even considered for a KoE title shot? I was the epitome of extreme in the UHWA, next to Psychoduck. You probably don't remember him, but I do -- he taught me everything about hardcore because he was the most hardcore person to ever step into a ring.

I guarantee it.

I'm glad you decided to share a list of things you've done that consider you extreme. But I only have to mention one thing.

Kitty nunchucks.

Now, can you top that?

Didn't think so.

(I let that one stew a bit.)

VIRUS: What you fail to realize, Jacob, was that I was the definition of hardcore for a very long time. Now, I can see why you don't think so anymore. It's true; the words "extreme" and "Engel" haven't been paired up in quite some time, except every time someone takes a look at the past AOWF Champions.

AOWF King of Extreme Champion -- Matthew "Virus" Engel.

Every time.

So while you pester on about how I've been out of the scene for so long, I digress. I don't have to be in the scene anymore. I paid my dues in blood, tears, and fury. I earned that belt and earned the respect of thousands as a true extreme wrestler. I left it for something else; I left it for a different style. I realized the hardcore scene wouldn't get me near the cream of the crop when it comes to wrestlers. Anyone could take a chair, a baseball bat, a crowbar, and beat someone to the point of knockout or pin. I just happened to be the best at it. But...out-wrestling someone, countering their moves, and being the BEST wrestler -- that's what I wanted after AOWF.

And boy, I got it.

I trained hard not to be extreme anymore, but it seems I've been called upon to go back to the old ways. And rest assured, I will answer that call with brute force.

(I take another big swig of the Guinness and give a little smirk to the camera, but I hit the stop button. Some butterflies fly around in my stomach after the promo is over. It's been awhile. I'm satisfied with it and I put the tape on the counter to be mailed. Dinner is ready.)

-fade-