RECORD
22-5-1

THE DEMISE.

Cause the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse are coming.
And they're not bringing flowers.

I push the rolling leather chair slowly along the wooden floor in my den as I inch away from my computer desk. I place my bare feet onto the food and step away from my computer screen with a smile wide across my face. Gingerly, I pace through the halls of my house and head for the kitchen. My eyes lock on my refridgerator that has a white note pinned to it.

Instantly, my good mood is ruined. When I was heading for the fridge, I first thought "Milk would be great!", but I had a feeling I was out of milk. So, I was excited for Orange Juice. Swing and miss again. Then there is no beer? AND I have less than a week before the biggest night of my life?

This was gonna be a shitty day- I felt it in my bones.

As I mope away from the fridge, heading towards my living room I snatch the phone from it's cradle and place it in the palm of my right hand while my left hand dials a number that I'm not sure how I remember. My heart jumps into my throat as the first ring goes by, I don't know why I am this stressed over a phone call. A second ring goes by, which sends a chill from the base of my spine up into the frontal lobe of my brain and freezes me- paralyzed in fear. A third ring goes by, and then a fourth.

"Hey, this is Jenna...I can't answer your call at this time, but please leave a message and I'll return it as soon as I can. Thanks!"

AFTER THE TONE, PLEASE RECORD YOUR MESSAGE.
ONCE YOU ARE FINISHED RECORDING YOUR MESSAGE YOU MAY HANG UP OR PRESS POUND FOR MORE OPTIONS.

*BEEP*

I stay frozen in fear, opening my mouth and having no words come out. I feel the silence grow and grow before I just blurt out of the first thing that comes to my mind.

"HEY! It's Jesse. Sorry. Didn't hear the beep.", I say as I think to myself "Nice one."

"I just wanted to see what you were up to, tonight. I'm gonna be here all week, so, if tonight is no good then that's fine.", again my words fade away into silence as I have a hard time putting together a coherant sentence.

"You have my number, so call me! Talk to you soon".

As soon as I finish blabbing my mouth off, I press the off button on my phone and drop it onto the couch. I sit down on the leather, relaxing again as I drop my face into my hands.

It's not supposed to be like this. I'm not supposed to be miserable. I have every reason in the world to be the happiest wrestler alive...I haven't lost a match in two months. I just bought a new house. I have a World Title shot. Yet, there's always something missing.

Will becoming a Grand Slammer help? Probably not. To be honest, if it happens, good for me...If it happens for Draco, good for him. Will becoming a Triple Crown Champion help? Again, probably not. That's just me. I can't help but never be content with what I do in the ring, because the day I get complacent in that ring is the same day I'll be hanging up my boots for good.

Would it be a great feat to be a four time World Champion, the last Grand Slammer and the first Triple Crown Winner all in one night? Absolutely. Are the belts fueling me? No, because there aren't enough belts and accomplishments to own to fill my content for what I still must do in this business.

I want to win my matches and if that means winning the belts, then that means I want to win ths belts. If I don't win the OWF Title, it won't be the end of me. In fact, I'll only bounce back stronger.

I lift my head back up suddenly as the phone rings. I quickly grab a hold of it and slide my thumb to the talk button. I stop myself, though, "No! Don't seem desperate!", I whisper to myself. I let the phone ring a second time and then I press the talk button, lifting the phone to my ear.

"Hello?", I mumble as I answer the phone with a smile. Then, that smile turns right down into a look of disappointment as I hear the voice of Godsmack, not Jenna. "..Yeah, hey 'Smack. What's up?".

Listening intently on what he has to say, I lift my legs and across them as they lay on top of the coffee table. "Yeah, I know. I'll go with you", responding nonchalantly.

*BEEP*

"Oh, hold on. I have another call.", I hang my head as I press talk on my phone, switching to the other line. "Hello?"

Now It's Lopes. I can't believe this. All I want is some peace and quiet and I can't get any. Right now, I'm more focused on relaxing before my own personal hell. I don't have the energy to worry about others.

"Yeah Ray,. I'm here. What's going on?", I assert as I try to get to the point of him calling. Slowly I retract my feet from the table and place them flat on the floor while still focused on all Ray is saying to me. "Yeah. I know. I didn't expect him to come back and be able to fight either. Listen I got-"

Lopes cuts me off, as apparently he is not done venting. I sigh deeply, as I continue to listen to Ray. "Yep. You're right. He's way past his prime. You'll beat him easy. Listen, I have Godsmack on the other line. I'll call you tomorrow!"

I don't wait for him to respond, I switch back to the other line where I hear Godsmack talking to someone as if they are his own personal slave. "Hey, I'm back..." I state to Godsmack. "It was Lopes. Anyways, I really need to relax right now, okay?"

He gets in a few last points before he says his goodbyes, "I'll talk to you tomorrow.", I press the off button as the last words escape my lips. I place the phone on the couch beside me while I continue to run over my opponents in my head.

People wonder why I am so good at what I do, and it's because I don't care if I lose. If my winning streak was a losing streak, that'd be fine. I don't need affirmation like that. I'm not going into the PPV and saying, "I need to win all three matches I am in so I can have a win streak of nine and be 25-5-1!". I have much bigger plans than that. I'm walking in to the pay per view, expecting to lose a match because let's face it, I'm going up against three of the best the sport has to offer in Angel, Draco and Trent Steel.

Suddenly, I hear a knock at the door. Once again, someone has visited me and yet, hardly anyone knows where I live. I push myself up to my feet and slowly walk out of my living room as I approach the door. Grasping the cool handle, I swing the door open and I see a welcoming face.

"Hey Jesse...Can I come in, it's kinda cold out?", she whispers.

"Ye-yeah, Jenna. Sure.", I step aside as I fumble with not only my words but with my actions. "I called you before."

"Oh, you did?", she asks as she steps through the doorway and I close the door behind her. "Shoot, my damn cell phone didn't have service."

Swallowing hard, I think even harder about what to think next, then I blurt out- "It's cool.".

She stares at me for a second, and there is a horrible silence. We both glance around the room as the tension rises. I decide I have to break it, or else she'll walk right back out the door. "Would you like to sit down?", I offer her.

"Why, yeah. I'd like that.", she accordingly accepts. We both walk into my living room as she glances up all around the spacious room. "Wow Jesse, this place is huge.", she remarks.

"Yeah. I went overboard. I know.", I admit to her. "But, I usually don't indulge like this. I did this as a gift to myself for staying sober."

"Aww, well that's good.", she smiles as she responds. "What did you quit? Alcohol?" she curiously asks.

"Pain killers", I quip back.

She sighs and smiles, "Okay, good. Recovering alcoholics are the hardest people to deal with."

I couldn't help but laugh, and she joined in with me. Suddenly, I became nervous and once again blurted out the first thing that came to my mind- "Speaking of alcohol, can I offer you a beer?"

NO! NO! NO!

As I let the word beer slip from my tongue, I remember I have no beer left. Now, I'm left standing there as she sits down, hoping she says no.

"Actually, yeah.", she says in a perky voice. "I don't have plans."

"Greaaat.", I mutter out. I turn and walk into the kitchen out of her view and begin to try to pull my hair out. I walk to the fridge and open it up, revealing there is no beer left.

So, It's time for Plan B.

"Jenna, I have to go into the basement. I'll be right back up.", I yell into the room. "Okay!", she responds.

I walk down the stairs towards where the basement is, but instead...I jet out the back door of my house. As I turn around and head for the front of my house I think to myself, "Did I just leave Jenna in my house alone?", but there was no time to wonder about that. I had to make it double time to the corner store and back with some beer. With every muscle in my body working together, I get up to a steady pace. The rubber soles of my shoes scrape along the black asphault. Glancing up, I see the corner store over to my right. I make a quick turn, darting towards the door. With one motion I swing the door wide open and head straight for the cooler. I grab myself a six pack of bud light and head for the counter. I place the beer on the counter and the middle eastern man behind it scans the beer.

"ID Please.", he asks.

I reach into my back pocket- to find nothing.

"I...left it at home.", I respond.

"No ID. No beer.", He quips back.

Suddenly there is a flash of white light that consumes the entire frame.

I awaken, face down on the keyboard of my computer as the speakers are makinga god awful sound since I seem to be pressing down about, oh, fourteen keys with the left side of my face. As I lift my head back up and glance at the clock to my left, a wad of drool bridges from my lip to the keyboard. "It was just a dream", I think to myself as I extend my arms and stretch, before I yawn deeply and shake out the cobwebs. As I move my tongue around in my mouth, I realize that I am very dried out. I push the roller chair out from the desk and away from the computer and use the arm rests to push myself to a standing position. I make my way towards the kitchen. I think to myself, "Man, a glass of milk or orange juice would do me great right now." as I round the corner and see a white note on the fridge. My eyes remain locked on the note as I get close enough to read it.

I sigh as I rip the note off the fridge, and I think to myself...

"Same shit....different fucking day."