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Wakey Wakey

Bryan Baxman

League Member
Joined
Jan 18, 2008
Messages
6
Points
0
Fade In to a dark bedroom, with mainly shadows and outlines being visible from the moonlight sneaking in through the curtains.

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.....BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

"What the hell?" the tired voice of Tyler Boyd mumbles, apparently awakened by the buzzing. "What the hell time is it?" In the darkness, you see his silhouette throw the comforter off of him and swing his legs down off the bed. He looks at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand next to his bed, where it reads “3:33 AM” in a bright blue LCD display.

BUZZ…BUZZ…BUZZ…BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

“This has got to be a joke,” Tyler says to himself, as Natalia’s sleepy voice chimes in.

“Who could that possibly be?”

“No clue,” Tyler responds through a yawn. “But whoever it is had better hope they’re already dying…because otherwise I’m going to kill them.” Standing up, he stretches his arms out and walks out the bedroom door into the hallway, where he immediately flips on a light, to which his eyes aren’t very appreciative.

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

“For christ’s sake, I’m coming,” he mutters as he stumbles down the hallway in a pair of fleece pajama pants, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. After heading down the stairs, he makes his way to the entryway of the house and opens up a panel next to the front door. After pushing a button, a small screen lights up from inside the panel, and Tyler squints to look at it.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” he says to himself, shaking his head in dismay. He holds down another button on the panel and starts talking into it. “Really man? It’s three-freaking-thirty in the morning.”

A deep voice from a speaker on the panel answers. “Just let me in, *****. You gonna offer to send that pretty plane of yours to come pick my ass up, I told Jack to gas it up and have it come get me before you changed your damn mind.”

Tyler rolls his eyes and presses another button and then closes the panel before grabbing a blue hoodie hanging within arm’s reach, pulls it over his head, opens the front door, and walks out in front of the house into the huge gated-in yard. A black stretch limousine is pulling up the drive to the circle directly in front of the house. Pacing back and forth slowly, Tyler waits for it to finally pull up in front of him. The driver gets out, and walks down the length of the car to open up the passenger door. Out steps a well built African American man wearing a pair of black Nike sweats, throwback Jordans, and a “Ball So Hard” hoodie with an Oakland Raiders beanie covering his head, the logo cocked just over his left eye.

“Wakey-wakey, Ty,” the man says with a chuckle. Tyler doesn’t seem amused, as he watches the driver unload the bags from the trunk curiously.

“This isn’t my car service,” he says with some abruptness in his voice.

“Nope, sure ain’t,” the man says as he reaches to his pocket and pulls out some cash, handing it to the driver. “Thanks, my man.”

“Why didn’t you use my car service?”

“I left the info Jack gave me about all that stuff at the gym,” he responds with some strain in his voice as he picks up a huge duffel bag that’s obviously stuffed as full as can be. “So when I landed, I just found a service that was answering the phones at two in the damn morning and told them to send the bill to you.” He winks at Tyler before heading into the house. Tyler just rolls his eyes, nods to the driver who’s getting back in the car, and turns to go back inside the house. He closes and locks the door behind him, and then watches the screen on the panel to make sure the limo got out and the gate closed, and then closes the panel, letting out a deep sigh.

“You can use the guest bedroom upstairs. Second door on the left…has its own bathroom,” Tyler says as he makes a bee-line for the stairs.

“Oh hell no,” the man says, standing in the entrance to the lavishly appointed living room. “You flew my ass down here in the middle of the night because you’ve got a hair up your ass to start wrestling again…want me to help train your ass…you’re stayin’ the hell up and we’re talkin’ about this ****, *****.”

“Dazz…I didn’t ask for you to come in the middle of the night. You could have flown out later this morning…”

Dazz, of course, is the former Pro Wrestling X World Champion who fought against Boyd through multiple promotions.

“Naw, not when ‘The Main Attraction’ is thinkin’ about climbin’ back in the ring!” Dazz answers with sarcastic excitement, as he circles around the couch and falls back into the plush black leather recliner. He pulls the leg rest up and looks around. “I like your place up north better, by the way. This crib feels like a god damn museum. PEP helped you decorate, didn’t he?” Dazz is finding himself rather amusing, but Tyler doesn’t seem to share his sentiments.

“Your judgment in my real estate and decorating is well noted, Wes…but I’m really tired, and I’m going back to bed,” Tyler says before letting out another yawn. “Upstairs…second room on the left…all the towels and sheets are clean.”

“There a TV in there? Damn flight made me miss the end of the Warriors’ game. Gotta catch up on SportsCenter and ****,” Dazz asks as Tyler reaches the stairs.

“Yes, Dazz…you can even watch ESPN Japan if you want,” Tyler says with some sarcasm.

“No ****? Like Sumo?”

“Goodnight, Dazz…turn the hall light off when you come up.”

“I’m raidin’ the damn kitchen first, homie…I ain’t eaten since I landed,” calls out after him. “Mind if I hit the bar, too?”

Tyler throws his hand up in the air and mutters “mi casa, su casa” and disappears in the upstairs hallway. Dazz just laughs to himself as he looks around the living room.

“That boy’s got a wake up call comin’ to him tomorrow morning,” Dazz says as he pushes the leg rest back down into the chair and pushes himself up using the armrests. “Time to start getting’ breakfast ready…”

Fade out.
 

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