___everytime i close my eyes, i see her
I found myself confined to the couch, with a wool blanket wrapped tightly around my body, and the television remote glued to my hand. The news was the only thing I could stand at the moment, because everyone was like me, losing their fucking mind. Never in my life had I come to witness such chaos. It was beautiful and I wondered.
Why would someone go on a rampage throughout their college, two 9MM’s blazing, and end up killing thirty-two people? Answer: Revenge.
Why would someone put a bullet in the head of some defense lawyer and burn his body in a motel room? Answer: Revenge.
Why would someone rough up a prostitute on a street corner? Answer: That bitch owed someone money.
Then I came to some questions concerning myself. Two I had been wondering about since the events of the Next Wave pay-per-view. Yes, the moment when Stevie Swing rammed my face into a mirror, leaving me with only my left eye. What could have possibly set him off and come Eternity…
Why would I break every bone in his pathetic little body? Answer: Revenge.
And I was going to get it, no matter if I was sick at the moment. Stevie Swing was about to do one last dance and it wasn’t going to be a pantomime. I guaran-damn-tee that. There was no way in hell this bastard was going to pull another fast one over me, if anything I was about to do that to him. It was time to fuck up dreams and break heads.
I turned the television off and set the remote down onto the couch. Next, I unwrapped the blanket from around myself and folded it up neatly. After laying it over the arm of the couch, I stood up and headed for the kitchen, where Theresa was washing the dishes. I stopped in the doorway and crossed my arms.
All I could do was stare at her behind in amazement. The way she scrubbed the oven pan, made it move gracefully. If it was up to me, I’d have her wash the dishes every day and nothing more. She finished cleaning the pan, dried it, and put it away with the other dishes.
“I’m surprised you’re even awake,” she said while drying her hands. “You were tossing and turning all night. Bad dream?” She turned around to see my face. It was the only way she could decipher my truths from my lies. It was good to know she still cared about our relationship, seeing as I only came home once every month.
I nodded my head in response, not knowing what to say. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Wanna talk about it?” She laid the rag down and hopped up onto the counter. I shook my head in disapproval and she frowned. “Why the hell not?
She crossed her arms and I massaged my left temple, trying to ease the pain of the oncoming migraine. There was no way I was going to tell her about my dream, not right now anyway. It’d only upset her and further the throbbing in my head, not to mention, piss me off as well. And I hate being in a shitty mood.
“Come on,” she whined. ”We barely even talk anymore.”
A wicked grin went across her face and she opened up the cabinet we kept our medicine. She pushed aside a few prescription bottles and a few packages, finally coming across the Aspirin. Taking it out, she closed the cabinet, then shook the bottle at me teasingly. Her determination was cute.
“Fuck,” I muttered, losing my patience. As I started to walk over to her, she pitched the bottle into my hands. Jumping down off the counter, she grabbed a glass from the drying rack, and filled it with water from the faucet.
“So?” she asked impatiently, while turning off the faucet and setting the glass down onto the counter in front of her. ”Just leave it alone.”
I flicked two pills into my mouth and reached for the glass of water. Before I could even grab a hold of it, Theresa quickly pulled it away from my reach. She smirked at me and waved one finger. “You’re going to tell me whether you want to or not.”
I snatched the glass from her hand and washed the pills down. Anger overcame me and I slammed the glass down so hard, it shattered into pieces under my grip. I realized what I had done, once I saw the blood dripping from my palm. Theresa seemed terrified and I turned to walk away from her. She clutched my arm and spun me around. “What’s wrong with you?!”
I pulled my arm from her grip and slammed my fist repeatedly into the broken glass, knuckles first. “I—don’t—fucking—know!”
Theresa covered her mouth, astonished by my behavior. She couldn’t believe her eyes and didn’t know what to say. All she could do was pick up the dish rag and tie it around my hand. After that, she headed for the kitchen door, but I stopped her. ”I had an affair with another women.”
“What!” Her voice was filled with anger and rage. Oddly enough, a chuckle escaped my lips, and she shoved me into the counter. “No, in my dream!” She started pounding her hands against my chest in a wild rage, then the words registered, and I gripped both of her arms tightly.
“Her name was Felicia Harmon,” I continued.
She looked at me.
“Is she someone from work?” I shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
“And you dreamed about her?”
“Humph…no… I dreamed about tickle me fucking Elmo. Of course I dreamed about her, didn’t you just hear me say that?”
Her hand came across my mouth so hard, that it knocked the saliva right out of it, leaving it dry. She smiled at me and ran out of the kitchen in a full sprint. I would’ve chased after her, but all I could do was rub at the red hand imprint left from the blow. It was time for me to go to work anyway.
Steven, I must admit, you are the dumbest son-of-a-bitch I’ve ever come across. What the fuck do you mean by saying let’s not make this personal? Use your head for once and ignore what your feet are telling you. It became personal long before you gave me the option of making it so. I figured you of all people would understand that, but I was wrong, not just about you either. I’ve been wrong about a lot of things lately. Truthfully, we both have.
Wrong #1: You’ll say I can’t do it.
Steven, you would’ve been 100% right two months ago, but right now you’re 100% wrong. It isn’t my job anymore to tell people they can’t do something. I’m not invincible and I’m not a God. I’m just an ordinary man, just like you. I have my abilities, you have yours. Whichever of us is more effective at implementing our strengths will walk away the winner. Neither of us will win just by telling the other we can’t. I realized a long time ago it takes more than that. You can beat me, you can beat Morgy. It just depends on how badly you want that to happen.
Wrong #2: You’ll continue to choke at the thought of her.
I never choked at the thought of Morgana; actually the thought of her makes me do the opposite. Sure, she defeated me twice. I’ll give her that too, but isn’t it obvious? Don’t you realize just exactly why I didn’t win either time? It’s because she wanted it more than I did. She’ll probably always will, no matter what’s at stake.
Wrong #3: I want Morgana. I want her bad.
Wrong #4: Only difference between you and me is that, thus far, I haven’t choked against our World Champ.
And how could you possibly want Morgana as badly as you claim? You don’t. That’s the other difference between us. You want the title and not the women. I want both; therefore fighting against you isn’t only about revenge for my eye. It’s about Morgana.
And since I like you, I’ll tell you one last time.
Nothing in life goes as planned. Nothing. In our line of work especially.
I figured you would’ve remembered, but you were too busy concentrating on the cigarette I lit for you.
So, if you try and break a leg, I’ll keep an eye out.
___how to take a bump for dummies
“Good, you’re all here.” I lifted the new page added to my clipboard and looked over it. It was a printed memo stating that four new students had joined up. Their names weren't listed as usual and I was better off not knowing them at the moment. It was going to make teaching today's lesson that much easier.
"Alright, everyone line up." They did as they were told.
"Good." I slowly walked down the line, examining them all and their reactions towards me. I paused in front of a few, just to make the others nervous, until I finally came to the last one. It was time.
I released my clipboard and the older students watched it closely. As soon as it came into contact with the ground, they laid down and started doing pushups. The other four still standing were surprised and before they could react, I quickly shook my head in disapproval.
"If you're doing pushups, then stop. You're allowed to leave for the day."
Raising themselves from their position, the bunch quickly gathered their belongings and hurried out of the gym. Only the four stood before me and they were dumbfounded.
"I hate to do this to you, but it has to be done." I pointed at the first student in line. " You're one sir. She's two. You're three sir and he'll be four."
They looked at each other, then me.
"Now," I said, pacing back and forth. "I want two and four in the ring. One and three just sit and watch. You watch like your life depends on it."
One and three sat back down into their folding chairs, two and four entered the ring. The circled each other and awaited further instruction.
"Before I allow you to know what I know, I want to see what you know. Show me how to take a proper bump."
Launching himself off the ropes, four charged at two, and she connected with a simple clothesline. Four did a full backflip and landed hard on his back. Perfect by my standards, but I wasn't going to let him know that.
"Okay, not bad. A little too much over the top, but I can't expect perfection everytime."
A disappointing expression came over four's face as two launched herself off of the ropes. Another simple clothesline, but two fell straight to her back. I could hear her head make contact with the ring. I winced.
"Get up and try it again," I said, holding in my anger.
She did as she was told and again. PLOP! Her head slammed to the mat and this time I could hear her muffled cry.
"What in the fuck was that?" I yelled, smashing my clipboard over my knee, and throwing it to the floor. One and three just looked on in shock at my violent outburst.
"No, better yet. Why in the hell did you decide to become a wrestler, if you can't take a bump! Get out of the ring four!"
He quickly exited the ring and I rolled in. I stood to my feet and stared down at two, as she laid there in defeat, tears streaming down her eyes.
"Get up! With all my strength, I pulled her to her feet. "We're going to get this right! You understand me?"
She nodded her head, while rubbing it, and a look of shame came over her face.
"Good. Now, get ready."
Before she could launched herself off of the ropes again, I grabbed the strands of her hair and slammed her down hard to the mat. PLOP!
"Don't fuck with me you little bitch!" I could feel my veins showing in my neck and see saliva shooting from my mouth. I didn't even recognize my own voice anymore. I turned to one, three, and four.
"No! Mercy! Learn it now and take no prisoners!" I snarled with so much hatred, it felt like venom was running through my blood
"Now you little bitch, you're going to get up and do it right!"
A few strands of her hair came out as I pulled her to her feet. Just as I was about to give her another chance, someone smashed a chair over my head. The impact knocked me backwards and over the ropes. I landed on the outside of the ring, leg first. I could hear a soft cry, then footsteps. They were walking away. I stood up, blood trickling down my face. They were leaving and all I could do was laugh.
"It's such a shame, your career will be over before you can even deliver a dropkick!"
The last thing I heard was the gymnasium doors shut close. I groaned and limped towards my office. Who was that bitch? Who could've possibly sent her to me? I sat down in my office chair and tried bringing up my e-mail. The blood splattered onto the keys covering the ones I needed to push. I wiped it away with my palm and finally success. I clicked on my inbox folder and found a new e-mail entitled "Updated Roster". I opened it and scrolled down to see the news names added to my roster. I stopped the mouse over two's name and highlighted it. It said: