_________--_________

+Unfucking

Twenty minutes ago, I had my life figured out.

I’ve got a bong, a sack, an economy size bag of Chex-Mix and a mad collection of porno on my computer, and TWO title belts. There wasn’t much more I could want. I mean, come on, that’s the makings of a perfect life. A perfect, RELAXED life…

I don’t need to be moving around every fucking week, from city to city. I’m getting older, definitely getting tired, and now I’m subjected to the expectations that aren’t even my own anymore. Fuck that, I’ll sit in a room all day with snacks and chronic, getting blunted and not moving a fucking finger. I’ve lived enough life in my short time on this planet—I’m not dying to get out the door and experience new things.

I’m content. Or, I was.

Twenty minutes ago, I knew what my defining moment in life was. Julia Szechnia was the first girl I ever fell for, but that doesn’t really matter. Names and details, like tit-size, are never as important as they’re made out to be. What is important was that feeling of anticipation I experienced.

When you first start getting passionate with a girl, when you really like this girl and you’re really hot for each other, that’s the feeling I’m talking about. Where the first kiss has came and went, you’re still learning each other’s patterns and all you want to do is explore. Feel around. At first, sex doesn’t seem to matter. You just love fucking kissing the bitch.

It’s pretty much universal. You can attribute it to that time where you’re working for sex. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Guys, it’s that one night where you like this girl so much, and you know she’s digging you, but through all the mixed signals its somewhat hard to tell when to make your move... or what move to make.

So you make out, and you make out like mad. The bitch’s tongue is a foreign delicacy and all you want to do is suck on that thing all night. But the night is wearing thin and the agenda starts to change. You want to express yourself in a way you weren’t really content with before. Your dick starts to get hard and you can tell her leg is starting to twitch.

Chemical reaction begins to take its’ toll. So you move in closer, your hips are grinding and you guys start to get a little frisky. Clothes start flying, but who minds less clothing when you’ve been dry-humping for the last fucking hour that you’re sweating your balls off? The night has been so great so far. And it seems like it can only get better.

This is where people get it all wrong. See, the general notion across the country is that “sex is the greatest feeling, EVER.” It’s fucking sold to us on t-shirts and in television. They’ve got it all wrong, see, sex is only OKAY. It’s the build, it’s the anticipation, and most importantly, it’s the pay-off.

See, after a night of working, working, and working to get on this girl’s good-side, getting her to make out with you, getting her to share some of the most passionate moments that one person can express with another, all for the sake of getting laid. But like I said, it’s not getting laid that really matters. It’s that moment when you’re laying over her on a flat surface, and you’re kissing her and possibly feeling a titty or two.

Then your hand starts to move down towards the waist, and your fingers begin to dance across that top panel of her underwear that she spent $84 at Victoria’s Secret for this exact moment. It’s this exact moment, the one where you start one finger under the string of her thong and you begin sliding her panties down the legs, that’s the defining moment.

It’s the moment of truth. It’s the time where she’ll either shuffle her hands and pull yours away, saying something predictable like “I’m not ready,” or “I’m on my period.” Or, and boy, this is a big one. Or, she’ll curl her toes and push her body up off the ground, and allow you the freedom you need to get those blasted panties off her ass so you can get to work.

It’s all relative, of course. Personally, my moment came a bit less grotesque. It was a night much like the same described. At first it was filled with conversation until the drinking ties us closer together. Then we began making the fuck out. Then we kept dry-humping and groping and rubbing and smooching. As if we were a pair of horny teenagers that didn’t know the difference between ‘love’ and ‘like’. At the time, it felt like I did.

But like I said, those mixed signals can keep you guessing. It doesn’t matter how sure you are. In terms of women, there’s no such thing as certainties. You never KNOW exactly what’s going to happen. I’ve always kept this in mind, as it’s always kept my disappointments to a minimum.

So the night went on and we kept talking and walking and dating in this extravagant situation that we’d never be able to take advantage of again. And the night was grand. More than grand, it was epic. I lived the cliché romantic experience that you see in movies every day on Lifetime and TNT and other lame channels.

The night wore down and here I’m walking her to her door. She told me she was tired and that’s the obligatory act to follow. So we walked hand in hand, I keep kissing her to make the most of it because like I said, there is no certainties on these grounds. SO I’m making the most of it. And we’re inching so much closer until we can’t be much more, because I’ve got her back against the door with a hand on her neck and all I can think of is how good she smells and tastes.

I don’t even want to say goodbye, but my mouth pulls away and I begin to utter the word until she blurts “Do you want to come in?”

THAT is the moment I thought I lived for. It’s the culmination of emotion, anticipation, attraction and passion that defines EXACTLY what your relationship means. The entirety of it could all be shitty, that one moment is all you need to get a good night’s sleep for the rest of your life. Because at the end of the day, in those thirty seconds, you’ve experienced many different aspects of life that will never be explored by the majority of the people that waste their existences on this planet.

I could have been happy, dying after those thirty seconds. And then I experienced another thirty, only from the opposite end of the spectrum.

It’s moments like this that incite suicide contemplations. Like a physicist facing the harsh, over-whelming of certainty of dark matter; it’s moments like this that completely erase what you think you know.

With my cell-phone shattered, the faceplate and battery and bulk of the phone all sitting in separate chunks, I don’t really acknowledge that throwing it against the wall was possibly the dumbest thing I could have done as a reaction. Instead I recognize it as justification in terms of the knee-jerk theory. It’s the most reasonable action I could have taken. I mean, Christ, Taliana just called me and told me she killed our fucking child.

Oh, don’t forget that she’s fucking leaving me.. the bitch.

Oh yeah, also, don’t forget that those XWF fucks decided to give Bigg Rigg what should, by all rights, someone else's.

Hell of a thirty seconds. In all honesty, this puts Tuesday in my category as the shittiest of all days. No joke, today fucking sucked. And the majority of it was all right. But it’s easy to relate how everything can turn to shit in the single blink of an eye.

Is it selfish to think that the life I left behind should remain as I left it? Is it wrong to expect that everything would remain the same once I’m gone?

I’ve sat content for far too long and there was never any problems with women or betrayal or possessions. Why do I have to feel so much pride at such a point like this?

It took me my own time to come around to such a feeling that I had. I was a father. I was responsible. I was the benefactor of an inheritance. Dude was supposed to be MY responsibility.

That’s something no one but a parent can understand. What sucks is, that I’m not a parent. As much as they can relate to me, I cannot relate to them.

What sucks is, that my significant other claimed responsibility so nonchalantly. Much like she regards many aspects of life.

All of a sudden, I’m left with a blank line. An answer to fill in. I’ve got a situation, now the question remains;

What do I do?

How do I react?

Do I get off of my ass, leave this fucking hotel room that I’ve been trapped in for the past month and a half? Do I leave my bong and my never ending sack of weed which has provided me with exceptional comfort in a time of self-pity and procrastination?

Am I supposed to just set aside my lazy lifestyle to prove a point to everyone that thinks they can fuck over Shawn Christopher?

Have I fucked myself over?

I'm wrestling two fucking matches back to back, like every night. My body is aching. At this rate, I won't make it to December.

That’s something to be afraid of, right?

I need to smoke more.

I lean over and I give Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis the last kiss I need to get me out of the sheets.

It's time to make sure no one fucks with Shawn Christopher again. Because Shawn Christopher is the definition of Unfuckable.

Right?

________--_______

The following promotion is brought to you by the Gambino Killer... Shawn Christopher

Johnny! It's about time, son. But I think you are a day late… and a dollar short. It seems you picked up the Cowardly Lion’s… C-C-C-Courage. You better return it quickly… before it gets you into even more trouble. I’m about ready to kill you...

So ease into that chair of yours… and listen up.

This is much more than just a match. It's a battle between two warriors. One who used to be at the top, and the other who is reigning supreme. Correct, you Johnny, are the one who used to be. I expected you to quiet down after I gave you my opening thoughts. You fired back, congrats.

I don't need fuel from you.

You should be paying attention. Learning something. I'm glad you decided to reply though. You're making it far worse than what it should be. Are you looking for me to fire back off from what you said? I don't need your words to make an amazing promo. I can own you without you even speaking.

Let me show you...

I want you to realize who I am. You trying to act like you're not worried isn't working. I know deep inside the pits of your stomach you fear me. You fear Shawn Christopher. For you know that I am ten times the athlete you are. Character. Heh, I've got character you could only dream of having. I don't have to say the same things in every promo like most people. I switch it up. I have so many styles, that you can't even compare to. But you a legend. A Paragon of Virtue, eh? For the time being. After I'm done with you, you'll be hanging up the tights.

You aren't intimidating anymore.

Now I know how things work Johnny. I'm a seasoned veteran. I am the King, and I am the wrestling god. You can refer to me as Zeus if you like. It's all about your own preferences. But hey, keep up this act like you understand me. It's amusing. Just like others have done, I will be beating you too. Maybe I'll even make you tap. That should be even better. Watch a big superstar like yourself, tapping like a little girl.

Or would you rather be beat unconscious?

It's all about how you want to lose Johnny. I know I will be winning, so I'm giving you options on how you want to take this defeat. But hey... at least you still have your confidence.

Your legacy, eh?

I have already done more in my stint here in the XWF than about 85% of the current roster... you included.

By the way, how many angry muthafuckas do we need in one fed? How many guys to we need saying the same ol', "I'ma hurt you!" gibberish, spouting off every week?

Teach me something, Johnny. The student will be teaching the teacher. That's what everybody thinks I am, a student. Because lord knows there isn't anything you can teach. Maybe how to lose the big match? How to get hurt so you have to deal with getting beat for your title? Maybe even how to run your trap without being able to back it up? I don't need to sign up for a class Johnny, I've already graduated. I'm the main event. The showstopper. The Icon.

Wait that's Shawn Michaels.

Dammit now you got me stealing other wrestlers slogans. Quit wasting space on my television with bullshit. No one believes it. You're not impressing anyone. Right now, you're only declining. You're at the level I started at.

Look where I am now.

Yup, ten steps ahead of you. Just like I said when I first started. I could've sworn I had guessed you would be a nobody when I got to the top. They could only hold me down so much. Now I'm sitting at the top, waiting for everyone else to catch up. Week in, week out I show that I am the greatest. I show why I am going to go down as one of the greatest. I mean how the hell could you even match what I'm doing. Go home, work on your ability, get your mind right, then come and see me.

Oh wait, it still won't matter.

I've got this match under control, and it's still a day away. That gives you plenty of time to focus on the task at hand. You've got plenty of time to study my tapes, and attempt to control me in the ring. It's still doubtful though.

Because in the survival of the sickest, I'm still standing.

I'm still the best, no matter how much people try to break me down. Everybody wants to see me fail. Everybody wants to see me get beaten like a dog. And everytime it happens... I just get right back up.

And things would only get worse for you.

Let it be the last thing you think about at night… and the first thing that pops into your head when the morning greats you. Let it be known… that The Cult Icon is the greatest… and that The Cult Icon, once again gave you a proper introduction to the world... of the Superwrestler.

If you’re nice…

I’ll even let you touch my title, before I rip it from the grasp of your hands. Open your eyes, Johnny. Don’t run away from what you know to be true. You’re dealing with a madman… a madman who is the greatest wrestling spectacle… this… or any other world has seen. My advice to you? Go take another break, and go back into that daze you were in when you signed the dotted line for this match-up.

Escape reality one last time.

Cause I'ma go down as the King of the XWF. I'm still twelve steps ahead of you, and I am gradually pulling away further and further. Maybe before you jumped in to this match, you should have beat Famine and the Ryan Brothers a couple of more times, got your confidence back to where it was when you were a winner, and then came at me. Because cause if I didn't shatter it the first two times.. the third time will indeed be the charm.

And that's the truth.

Look at this flow. It's unmatched. Go home, do your research on Shawn Christopher. Try and come up with a gameplan that can actually work against me.

Heh, come to think about it... there is nothing.