Los Angeles, California - Thursday, June 15, 2006

”One.

One last goodbye. Goodbye to the house, goodbye to this city, and goodbye to this godforsaken country. The main gripe that the world has with “the land of the free” is gun-control, and now I certainly share that sentiment.

One.

One last goodbye to Springfield. Goodbye to Ohio and everything I’ll leave behind there. Some of it I wish I could take with me, but it won’t leave. It can’t leave. It doesn’t even have the ability to do so. They don’t have the ability. But fuck it, I’ll deal with that when it’s time. Tomorrow… yes, tomorrow. The funeral is tomorrow. I’ll have to be flying out of here tonight to get to Springfield, but one last trip around the city won’t do any harm.

What city? L.A. my friend: the city of angels. The city that I no longer feel comfortable in. The city that I no longer feel I belong in. Me an angel? Ha! I may not know what I am, but I definitely know that an angel is not the answer. Do I look like I have fluffy wings and a glowing halo above my damn head? No, didn’t think so. All I have is my whiter-than-white Air Force Ones hugging my feet, blue jeans that could fit a sumo wrestler and a gray wifebeater that doesn’t even make me look like I beat my wife. Hell, I don’t even look like I could beat a paralyzed midget. Kind of ironic isn’t it? People will look at me and see the diamonds glistening of my customized necklace – my “bling” – and they’ll think “look at that pretty boy, poser bitch”. Of course they’ll probably want to ravage my body there on the spot, but that just comes with the territory. They simply won’t realize that I’ve made a career of giving people two options. Black out or get a dislocated shoulder and/or broken arm and/or collarbone and then tap out – all depending on how exactly I lock the Armageddon on. Screw it, if that’s what people want to think then let them think it. This is Hollywood, people’s opinions play second fiddle to their looks here.

One.

That’s just one of the reasons I’m leaving. To sum all of them up though, this whole freaking place has failed to live up to its reputation. There are no angels here. Just people. Insecure misfits who have banded together to form a society where the world revolves around them. And people buy into this crap too. I bought into this crap. Here I was, a misfit in any other society. Attractive, athletic, wealthy and a little more tanned than most people. One would think that being good at almost everything would make everyone like you. Well that’s a joke if I’ve ever heard one. Whoever invented jealousy should be revived just so they can be killed again. And so here I was, rubbing shoulders with other living marvels of society, yet still feeling out of place. You see, unlike most of these fuckers, I’ve actually worked to get where I am. Acting isn’t working. Is it hard? Probably, but it ain’t a job, it’s a hobby. Nobody should ever be paid $20 million to entertain people for two-hours. I don’t earn that much money and I entertain people every week of the year. I sacrifice family… I sacrifice myself. The money I earn is repayment of thousands of gallons of blood, sweat and tears. The fortune I so often refer to doesn’t come from entertainment, it comes from investment. That money is what I spend on all this superficial shit I have, but if it comes from my real job then it goes to a real cause. Apparently hard work is a lost cause in this town though, so fuck ‘em. I’ll go buy my products from a place who will respect my money and service. I’ll go spend it with the people who deserve it. I’m severing all ties here and I’m going the fuck back home.

One.

One more aimless wander can’t hurt though. Maybe I’ll go take another stroll down the walk of fame later on. Right now though, I need a damn Coke. I’m quite sure there’s a vending machine somewhere near-by. Yeah, I’m right, there it is. Knowing this town it’ll be at some obscene price though, but fuck it. One last waste of money. At least I’m actually going to use this product. Half the god damn art work I bought for that house I never even took out of the attic. But it’s all gone now, sold with the house. I pushed for a higher price when selling, but I really didn’t need to. I guess it was just one last attempt to fit in as a socialite living in the Hollywood Hills.

A newspaper… hmm… haven’t really been keeping up with the going-ons of the world lately. It’s hard enough to follow all the crap that I’ve been dealing with in my own-life, let alone the rest of the world. The news is getting so predictable anyway. More people are dead in Iraq, whoopdie-do. I used to care, but it just goes to show how fucked up our world is if we’re becoming desensitized towards war. In some part of the world a miracle will have happened and there will be people alive who shouldn’t be. Not here though. Everyone dies here. Never any good news to tell. Although to be honest, celebrity breakups always put a smile on my face. It’s nice to know that I’m not the only famous person who sucks at handling relationships. I mean for Christ’s sake, here I am in Los-freaking-Angeles while my fiancée is back in New Zealand without me. Way to go Leroy, you’re sure doing well to change your ways. She did want to come, but no… I need to do this on my own. I need to handle Springfield on my own. This is my life, and before she can be a part of it entirely, there are things I need to take care of. I hate to say this as it makes me sound like an asshole, but I’ve got to make room for her. I’m not going to fuck this up. No way.

What the? Did I just see what I think I saw? Yep… I sure did. Those three letters stand out like an albino on the million man march. X-W-F. Return? You’ve got to be kidding me. Can’t these damn journalists let sleeping dogs lie? I guess they’re just doing their jobs though. Surely if there was any kind of final show let alone a full-throttle return to action, Leroy Bruce Stone would’ve been told. I mean, the Universal Championship is in my trophy cabinet back in New Zealand. One would think that an XWF return couldn’t take place without its prized possession, and a final show couldn’t take place without the last ever holder of said prize. I always knew newspapers and magazines just make shit up to fill the pages, and now I have my confirmation. No thank you Mr. Newspaper Man, I won’t be needing one today.

Well I’ll be damned, speaking of the XWF, I’m quite sure I’m only one block or so away from the site of Club Paramount, L.A. headquarters of XWF Legend himself Steve Jason where we met a few times in regards to the whole “Goth invasion” that never arrived. Wow we were pathetic. A bunch of guys who trusted each other about half as much as we could throw each other, all trying to band together to fight against some emo faggots who posed less of a threat than Barney the big gay Dinosaur. I even had Captain Creep himself, Ashen Iscariot under some magical control with a freaking golden head. No wonder the XWF went under, who the fuck wants to see that shit? I guess nobody wanted to see Club Paramount either. Never saw it for myself, but apparently that place went boom. A finger could even be pointed at me thanks to that whole W.O.R.L.D. shit I got myself into, but hey, the past is the past, and I’m looking to the future. Oh god… I was hoping this XWF train of thought would run out of steam, now I’m using a freaking pun on top of it all. I guess while this is all in my head, I may as well pay these ruins a visit. I guess I could use it as a way to say goodbye to the XWF as a whole.

And there it is. “DANGER – HIGHLY UNSTABLE”. Well I guess nobody can argue with capital letters and a hyphen. “SCHEDULED FOR DEMOLITION”. If you ask me, that place is already demolished. These signs, and countless others like them stand out against the decaying, charcoal remains. I could have it rebuilt. Imagine that. Imagine the shock on Stevie J’s face if he saw his little fortress rebuilt in the name of Lee. Shit, that’d almost be worth the astounding cost of such an operation. In fact, I think it’d be worth more than the cost, but the illegal activities needed to get the original plans would be the driven point against such action. If I did it, I’d have to do it right… it’d have to be perfect just to fuck with Steven’s mind. But no, seeing this destruction has done exactly what I wanted it to do… the XWF is just like Club Paramount. It’s a few support beams, damaged walls and a big pile of shit surrounding it all.

Well bite my ass and call me Rover, speaking of a support beam, there he is. Steven Alexander Jason himself, with his usual cohorts Dougy and Talia. Not sure who the other lady is around him, but it really doesn’t matter to me. Four months ago I would’ve sauntered over to the four of them, flashed my wicked smile, made some smart-ass comment towards Steve, hit on the two ladies and then smugly strolled away again. Somehow I don’t think that would help either of out situations though. Chances are Steve’s probably doing the same exact thing I am. Examining the damage and saying goodbye for good. Knowing how his brain works, he’s probably making the same comparisons that I am as well. Unless of course he’s actually paying attention to whatever he’s heard about the XWF. Then I could almost guarantee that he’d be on a mission to find answers, and would foolishly expect to find something at the site which metaphorically signaled the end of the XWF. Or find someone. Kind of strange that I’m here when it gets put that way. But if Steve was searching for answers, then surely he’d be looking for somebody in particular. After all, is there anything XWF-related that Steve Sayors doesn’t know? I wonder what Sayors is up to anyway. Bah, momentary side thought. My work here is done. I think the walk of fame needs a visit now.”

”And you’re back.” Lee’s eyes open to the dim-lighting of the room. He’s lying on an uncomfortable-looking couch and a gawky-looking man peers over the thick top rim of his glasses at him. His hair is neatly combed-over in a failed attempt to disguise the bald patch beginning to dominate the top his head. ”Was that alright?”

”That’s all hypnosis is?” Lee cocks his eyebrow as if he was expecting more. Like maybe a seizure to add some suspense. Or some leprechauns for comic relief.

”That’s all it is.”

”It just felt like I was dreaming.”

”That’s the general idea.” The man snorts a little laugh.

”So did you get everything that you needed?” The man smiles wryly. He’s clearly amused by Lee’s statement.

”What exactly did you think I was after?”

”Shrink stuff. You know, like an insight into the inner-workings of my mind.” I guess that means this man is a psychiatrist. That would explain the couch Lee’s on.

”It’s amazing that after three months of these little sessions, you’re still very cynical about it all.”

”What can I say? Hating is in my blood. I guess the fact that I still feel depressed as fuck doesn’t really bode well for my confidence in ya either Doc. No offense.”

”None taken. I’m just thankful that you’re still coming.”

”Is that an invitation to stop?” And there it is… the image that has sold merchandise around the entire world… the gleaming teeth of Lee Stone, shining out of his smile like a star in the night sky. It’s beautiful… just beautiful. I’m talking Ben Stiller, Zoolander, “Magnum” beautiful.

”I’d advise against it. This hypnosis test seems to have potential.”

”Yeah, the missus would kill me anyway.”

”You mean Mandy?” Ah yes, the incomparable Mandy Freeman, Lee’s wife-to-be back in Cambridge, New Zealand. The circumstances around the proposal were a little dubious, what with the unconscious bodies lying around them, and Ashen Iscariot standing above one of the bodies on the side of the room, but it happened none the less and it seems that Lee is even going to go through with it. That’s huge for a notorious failure with women.

”Is there anybody else?” Lee inquisitively asks, wondering what the hell he could’ve said in his hypnotized state.

”Not that I know of,” the doctor simply replies.

”Then yes, I mean Mandy.”

”How is she?” the shrink asks, leaning forward a little. You didn’t seem to mention her much while you were in the trance. Have you been trying not to think about her while you wrap everything up?”

”Doc, I think about her every moment of every day. It kills me to be away from her for any length of time, let alone the length I need to be to put an end to all of this.”

”Then why didn’t she come with you?”

”We’ve been through this before homie, this is something I just need to face on my own.”

”Alright, we’ll leave that topic. How about tomorrow, you didn’t seem to mention that much either.” The man’s gaze makes Lee feel uneasy. Or perhaps it’s the thought of what he faces tomorrow that’s causing him tension. Maybe it’s a mix of both. Either way, Lee takes his time to reply.

”Now that…” He pauses as he swallows quite loudly. Lee is staring at the bland ceiling of the room, avoiding the eye contact of the psychiatrist. ”…That I have been trying not to think about it.”

”And why is that?” Lee swings his legs over the side of the couch until they find the ground, He leans forward over his lap, resting his elbows on his knees as he brings himself to look straight at this man who is prying into his life. His eyes show a side of Lee that is rarely seen. A side of himself that he would die before he showed in public. A side of himself that’s weak. A side of himself that has many questions, but no answers.

”Tomorrow I bury the one person who I could rely on to support me in anything. The one person I could go to with any problem, whether it concerned him or not, and he would be able to help me out. The one person who knew me almost as well as my mother, and yet now I realize that I didn’t know nearly enough about him as he should.”

”What do you mean?”

”I still have the urge to call him Token Blackman, yet everybody else calls him Token Fisher.”

”That’s understandable. You knew him as Token Blackman.”

”Don’t you see? That’s exactly my point. I didn’t know Token Fisher. That means I didn’t know him for the last few months of his life. A life that’s over now. A life that will never return. I can escape death’s clutches twice, yet the man strong enough for me to lean on as well as hold himself up, is unable to do it even once.” Your eyes do not deceive you people. Token Blackman/Fisher, Lee’s close confidant and friend has passed away.

”God tends to want the best people closer to him. How can you be angry with that?”

”Because I live by my own religion. The concept that there is an almighty being who loves us all yet allows 30,000 children to die daily from malnutrition is just laughable. Those children haven’t had time to develop completely. Give them another ten years and they could be an entirely different person. I don’t believe there is a God. I don’t believe there is a devil. What I believe is that people need something to blame, because they don’t want to face the possibility of their life sucking so much because they fucked up, or because their parents or grandparents fucked up. We control our own fate. We live our own lives. And nobody else can help us save for ourselves.”

”Is that what you really believe?”

”I said it didn’t I?” Lee’s tone is quite aggressive, but the doctor’s reply is quite calm.

”If you really thought it, then you wouldn’t be here. We both know that while Mandy may be able to get you to do a lot of things that you normally wouldn’t, she wouldn’t be able to get you to stay on that couch for longer than a few minutes without some part of you hoping that it could work.” Lee sighs as he slouches back into a horizontal position on the couch, with his head once again resting on one arm and his legs hanging over the other.

”What I really believe...” Another pause as Lee searches his brain for the right way to describe what he wants to say. He starts again. ”What I really believe is that no matter how hard I try, it will never get easier. The moment one thing seems to be resolved, another problem crops up. And the problems steadily get worse. What I really believe is that sooner or later I’m not going to be able to solve a problem…”

”And that scares you?”

”Quite frankly, yes.”

”Have you talked to Shelly much?” Shelly Moore has been a corner-stone of Lee’s life for years now. Two years dating each other, another year as an on-and-off trouble period, and then lately she grew close to the now deceased Token. This occurred while Lee was on another self-saving mission, unknowingly leaving Shelly pregnant with twins… Lee’s twins. A revelation made in the week leading up to the Destiny Pay Per View held by Dynasty Wrestling, the one DW event that Lee made an appearance at, was that his twins whose names were given Joseph Anthony Moore and Conner Leroy Stone, died on March 01, 2006. The same day they were born. I guess to be more precise, they were born dead – stillborns.

”A little. She was kind enough to call me and tell me about Token’s run-in with a gun, but aside from that, not really at all.”

”Do you think it’d be a good idea to talk to her?”

”I’d like to, it’s just… what would I say to her? What would I say to the woman who was bearing my children for nine freaking months, only to have the doctors say that one child didn’t receive enough nutrients causing it to die, and the other got strangled by the dead one’s umbilical cord. I tried telling her that it wasn’t her fault but you try making a legitimate case as to why one kid didn’t get enough nutrients when he could only get them from her. It’s not easy you know. She’s taken it quite hard, harder than I have. And now with Token gone as well… he mattered as much to her as he did to me. Perhaps more. You see, Mandy helped me through it as I’m sure Token tried to do for Shelly. But Mandy’s still here. Mandy’s here to help me through Token’s departure as well. She’s got nothing, and there is nothing I can do about it. I feel helpless and I hate it.”

”I think that’s the key to everything. You hate feeling helpless, yet you keep feeling that way more and more. It’s almost as if you bring it upon yourself in an effort to punish yourself.”

”What are you saying? That I killed Token?”

”No! Jesus! Definitely not! All I’m trying to say is that the helpless feeling might fade if you try to focus on the things that don’t make you feel down.”

”Wow, that’s great advice.” The sarcasm oozes out of those words. ”And tell me Mr. Shrink-man, what exactly would you advise me to focus on? Unicorns? Butterflies?”

”How about wrestling?”

”The XWF is dead. Even Dynasty is dead. It just doesn’t seem like there’s a lot or promising options out there if you ask me, but I’m sure you knew I’d say that so please, explain this little idea of yours.”

”You mentioned that there are rumors of an XWF return, or at least a one-off final show.”

”One newspaper article doesn’t count as rumors. Notice the ‘s’ at the end of that word. It means plural, more than one rumor.”

”And how do you know that there aren’t more rumors? You said it yourself that you haven’t exactly been paying attention to the rest of the world lately. Maybe you should investigate the matter a little further.”

”And what if they aren’t true? What then? No, scratch that, what if they are true?”

”Does a return to the ring not appeal to you?”

”It just seems like it would be an excuse for me to push everything else in my life to the side.”

”But isn’t there a possibility it could give you the balance you need in life? Couldn’t it give you an outlet to push everything to the side just for a small part of the day? If controlled correctly, you could use it to stop dwelling on all the negative things and go home to the positive things.”

”You’ll have to forgive me, but possibilities aren’t enough for me anymore.”

”Do you want me to give you my personal opinion?”

”Isn’t that what you’re being paid to do?” This causes a chuckle in the doctor.

”No. I’m paid to give a professional opinion.”

”What’s the difference?”

”Professionally, I’m supposed to give you ideas. I’m supposed to find out what you want, and help you get there, but it’s you who is supposed to do all the thinking, I just need to ask the right questions.”

”And personally?”

”Personally…” He smiles warmly. …I think sometimes all we have are possibilities, and it’s up to us to make those possibilities come to fruition.” This seems to hit a note with Lee, who remains silent as he thinks it over. ”I think we’re done today. Call me after the funeral tomorrow. Good luck Leroy.”

Without saying anything else, Lee nods and rises up out of the couch. He shakes the psychiatrist’s hand before exiting the room. Passing through the lobby, he doesn’t even notice the increased temperature and general stuffiness in comparison to the air-conditioned office, with the name Dr. Geoffrey Connolly on the plaque. Shoving his hands into the pockets of the same jeans he worse earlier as he wandered around the city, he once again steps out onto the streets of Los Angeles. Still without thinking, he climbs into the back of a nearby black limousine. It’s not a stretch limo, as the situation doesn’t call for that level of money-flaunting, but when riding the streets of this town you need to ride in style. I guess a case could be argued that the tinted windows also offer some sort of protection from other people. Lee can’t concentrate on anything though, as the Dr. Connolly’s words are circling in his head.

”Where to Mr. Stone?” asks the driver sitting in the front seat as he looks in the rear-view mirror at Lee’s face. If one is looking to see any changes in Lee since his last appearance, the fact that he has stopped insisting on being called by his first name is definitely a major one, but since I presume you’re not stupid (I hope I’m not jumping to a conclusion there), I’ll let you read into that what you will.

”Are all my things in the trunk?” A question answered with another question. Super.

”Yes sir. All except for your laptop computer which is still in the back there where you had it last.” Lee spies the small briefcase-like computer on a seat in front of him.

”Thank you Mitchell, just take me to the airport. I’m done here.”

”Of course sir.”

The engine of the limo starts up and the vehicle pulls out into the flow of traffic. Meanwhile in the back of said limo, Lee Stone moves into the seat where the laptop is and fastens his seatbelt there. Turning the computer on, Lee immediately goes to the Internet icon and brings up the home page of www.hotmail.com. Typing in three letters into the address bar changes the page entirely though. The three letters are simple “XWF” and due to the site being bookmarked, the XWF homepage quickly appears. The marquee at the top of the site confirms it for Lee.

”Is it over?.. .OR IS IT JUST BEGINNING?. ..STAY TUNED

They don’t advertise anything like that without something actually happening. They don’t go to the trouble of advertising something that will never be available. Part of Lee smiles. Another part breaks out in a nervous sweat. But most of Lee… most of Lee begins to shake. He shakes with anticipation, because in one form or another…

The XWF is back.