SCW Boards

Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Climax Control Archives => Topic started by: Giani Di Luca on December 20, 2013, 03:04:59 PM

Title: {No Sleep Til...}
Post by: Giani Di Luca on December 20, 2013, 03:04:59 PM

 ”It’s like a drug that I don’t think I can recover from on my own…  The high I get from it is wayyy too intense.  As soon as I got my hands on it, all of the pain, all of the lost blood, all of the exhaustion… it just left my body for a lil minute, yaknowhatimsayin’?  I feel invincible right now.  There is no stopping “The Italian Stallion” right now…  But how long is that gonna last?  I hear they got some serious plans for good ole Giani Di Luca before the year ends.  There’s this Battle Royal for the right to face me, on my birthday no less, for the title that I fought so hard to win.  But, it’s cool, it’s cool… I understand that bein’ a champion mean havin’ to defend ya title.  Hell, I almost want to jump into this battle royal myself to prove that I ain’t broken.  I ain’t nowhere near finished with this belt, neither.  I’m at the top, and I’m sittin’ pretty.  So bring it on, Sin City.  Prove to me that ya belong in the same league as the “Italian Stallion”  Give it ya best shot, and then I’ll go on to prove that it was no fluke that I won this damned thing.  2014 is the year of the Stallion according to Chinese Astrology.  Whoever is lucky enough to win this thing better hope that the Chinese don’t know what they’re talkin’ about…”

Immediately After December 2 Dismember II

{Beautiful Pain}

The lights shine in Giani’s eyes as he hoists the Sin City Wrestling Heavyweight Championship high in the air.  “Wrecked” is playing in the background.  The words are still echoing in his ears, hearing Goth say “I… I quit…” almost felt unreal to him, but no more than holding the Heavyweight belt in his hands.  Feeling the cold leather and gold between his fingers is the only thing that makes him realize that this is really happening.  He could hear his biggest fan, a child no more than ten years of age, crying out to him.

Boy:  WAY TO GO GIANI!  I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT!!!

Through the almost blinding crimson mask he is wearing, feeling it start to cake on his face, he can see the boys face filled with tears of terror from the horrific match he had just taken part in.  But a new stream is forming on his face because of the joy and relief he feels as he watches his idol hold the belt up high.  Luckily for him, the blood hides the emotional tear he feels himself at the sight.  Giani walks over to the right side of the ramp, motioning for the boy to come over the railing.  The medical team files through the curtains and down the ramp, trying to talk Giani into retreating to the back, but he shoves them off of him.  He continues to wave the boy through the crowd.  His parents nod their heads as the crowd parts way.  Security tries to stop Giani, but he is on a mission, muttering under his breath at the guy.  The boy makes it to the barricade and Giani uses what little strength he has left to lift the kid up and over.  The kid is almost in shock as he jumps up and down, tugging at Giani’s free arm.

Boy:  I can’t believe you have the title, Giani!

Giani is still winded, looking down at the boy, he is starting to feel the brutality of the match catching up with him.  After struggling for a few deep breaths, Giani nods his head, trying to muster up the strength to speak.  His voice is hoarse and crackling as he speaks.

Giani:  Yeah… you and me both, kid…

Giani places the title on the boy’s shoulder, lifting him up as the fans cheer him on.  The emotion in the Newark Pavilion is at an all-time high as the “NXT” and “Giani” chants ring around him, almost drowning out the music.  Cameras flash at Giani, showing off the support that he has gained in just one month’s time.  He turns slightly to allow everyone to get a picture of this moment.  He sets the boy down and looks to the security guard as the medical team continues shouting at him all at once.  He can barely hear them, but he makes sure to get his point across to the security guard.

Giani:  Get the kid and his family backstage passes.

Security Guard:  Are you sure that’s wise?  You need to rest, and you don’t really know them.

Giani:  I didn’t fuckin’ stutter, bro…  Get ‘em backstage.  I am these people’s champion.  If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have this belt!

Giani all but shoves the belt in the security guard’s face.  He holds his hands up in surrender and walks off, getting on a walkie talkie.  It isn’t long before Erik Staggs comes out amongst the medical team, practically shouting in his ear.

Erik:  MR. DI LUCA!  YOU NEED MEDICAL TREATMENT!  I MUST INSIST YOU ABIDE BY THE WISHES OF THE MEDICAL TEAM!

Giani turns around, presumably with a look of disdain as he bumps into Erik Staggs’ shoulder.  He glares at Staggs for a moment before stumbling up the ramp, feeling the aftershock of the match more than ever.  Giani gets to the curtains, turning once more to hold the belt up high in the air for the fans, eliciting one last cheer from them.  The medical team practically shoves him back through the curtains.  He doesn’t have much more in him right now to protest it, so he follows along with them.  As soon as he gets behind the second set of curtains, he is greeted by a massive hug from Jessie Salco.  Vixen is clapping like mad before Mickey gives him a harsh pat on the back.

Mickey:  Oi! That’s how it’s done, Itie!

Misty gives him a gentle pat on the back, possibly the most sympathetic of the pain that is starting to surge through his entire body.  Giani puts on a brave face as Spike grabs onto his hand, firmly shaking it.  Spike’s face is filled with pride and utter excitement, as if he had won the belt himself.

Spike:  Congratulations on the biggest win of your career.  How does it feel?

Giani:  Honestly, it feels like my entire body is gonna fall to pieces, bro… but not until my skull cracks in half.  Hahahaha.

Giani does his infamously obnoxious laugh as the medical team continues to rush him along, more or less carrying him at this point.  Giani finally surrenders to the pain and the exhaustion, scooting along as quickly as he can.  Spike leans in to give Vixen a peck on the cheek, muttering something to her before jogging to catch up with the team.  He hooks one of Giani’s arms around his neck to support him.

Spike:  Dude, you have no idea how hard it was to stay out of that match.  I have been in some brutal matches before, but you two nearly killed each other.

Spike gives a gentle nod to the blood smeared across the walls on either side of them.  Giani acknowledges them almost as if he is proud of it as maintenance is seen scrubbing the walls down with heavy duty chemicals.

Giani:  Thanks for that… The last thing I needed was that jackass sayin’ I won cause my buddies got involved.

They walk past the collapsed catering table that was crushed by Giani’s own weight just about a half an hour prior.  His blood covered lips curl into a smile as he almost chuckles at it.  Giani pants as they get closer to the door marked with a temporary placard that reads “Zoey Carpenter – Head Nurse”.  The medical team pushes the door open as they quickly guide Giani over to a medical bed covered in paper.  Giani lies down, looking up at the ceiling.  He sees Spike checking in at him, but his face is eclipsed by the shadow from the light.  Giani takes in as deep of a breath as he can, trying to relax as everything hits him like a freight train.  Spike moves to sit in a chair near the bed.  Giani focuses in on the florescent light above him, starting to fade out into a daydream of sorts.  Spike sighs in a mixture of uncertainty and relief, knowing exactly where Giani sits.  He finds a clean towel and begins gently wiping at Giani’s face.

Zoey:  Quite the masochist, aren’t we Mr. Di Luca?

Giani sighs as Spike gives momentary pause to cleaning Giani’s face up.  He gives Zoey a smirk before turning back to the light, remaining silent.  Zoey clears her throat as she opens up her supply cabinet.  She brings out some wrapping and medical tape, setting it on a rolling tray by the bed.  She flicks out the tiny flashlight, clicking it as she runs it from Giani’s left to his right.  She watches for his reaction as he instinctively follows it.  She places the stethoscope to his chest, moving it around a bit after a moment.  She brings it down to his stomach, giving his body a quick once over.

Zoey:  I don’t think you have a concussion.  Everything sounds normal, but I would advise a trip to the Emergency Room, if for nothing else, to stitch your forehead and bridge.  Is there any pain in your neck?

Giani:  I think there’s a little pain in every bone in my body, lady.  So yeah, there’s pain in my…

*BLAGHHHHHH*

Giani leans over and wretches his guts on the floor.  Spike quickly moves his feet out of the way as Giani eventually stops.  He stays on his side for a minute to make sure he’s finished as Zoey gives him a look of relief mixed with a look of concern.

Zoey:  I would put money on you having whiplash, Mr. Di Luca.  I’m going to get your head taped up, and clean up the nicks a bit, and then I want you to go straight to the hospital, okay?

Giani nods his head, remaining silent, through his embarrassed expression.  He rolls over onto his back, mesmerized by the light once more as he wipes at his mouth.  The light seems to make the pain fade ever so slightly as he takes in short breaths through his nose.  Zoey steps around the vomit on the floor carefully, trying not to further embarrass Giani.  She looks to Spike as she unwinds the medical tape slightly.

Zoey:  Please, make sure he gets to the hospital immediately.  What he’s feeling right now is nothing compared to how he will feel in the coming hours.

Spike:  I have been through matches nearly as brutal on multiple occasions… I will drive him there myself…

Zoey nods her head as she places a piece of gauze over the cut on his forehead.  She then pulls the tape over Giani’s forehead.  She presses it firmly on Giani’s forehead, causing him to wince in pain.  He lifts his head up as she begins to place a wrap around Giani’s head.  She pulls it tightly to apply the proper amount of pressure as Giani chooses to stay focused on the light.

Zoey:  Get him there quickly, and don’t be surprised if you have to get your car detailed afterward, because the nausea will only grow worse as the pain increases.

Spike:  I have two kids, and a brother who is almost like a third kid, so it wouldn’t be the first time someone yacked in my car…

Sensing that he is almost finished here, Giani slowly sits up.  His bones crack and he groans with the movements, but tries to retain his tough guy creds he earned tonight by minimizing the groans.  Zoey hands Giani a cup with over the counter pain reducers and another one with water.  Giani takes them down quickly before crumpling them up and tossing them in the nearby trashcan.  He can’t help but think to himself that he wished he had seen that five minutes ago.  Giani gets down from the bed, careful not to step in his lunch leftovers.  Spike stands up from his chair as Zoey leans in to whisper to Spike.  Giani picks his title belt up from the floor nearest to the door, opening it to hear a round of cheers from his fellow Stars, as well as a few Bombshells, welcoming him out.  He raises his arms in the air victoriously as he comes out, slowly nodding his head as everyone pats him on the back.  He comes to the end of the line, joining his New X-Tremes team mates.  He turns around to say a few words to them as Spike comes after him cautiously.  He shouts out a whisper, a strained yet urgent tone in his voice.

Spike:  Giani!  Hey, I wouldn’t…

Spike watches as Giani raises the belt in the air, looking around at all of the support.  Giani feels each and every person, and it is almost overwhelming.  He tries to think of the right words, and he seems to have found them right as Spike comes up to him, trying to rush him off.

*BLAGHHHHHH*

Giani hurls all over Spike’s shirt.  Spike looks stunned and disgusted all at once as he holds his arms up, dripping and astonished as a gasp of shock comes over the crowd.  A few people who got some of the back spray grunt and rush off, while others with weaker stomachs begin mimicking Giani’s actions.  As Spike blinks his eyes, he soon comes back to reality and he roughly shoves Giani forward.  We focus in on Spike’s face as he clinches his jaw, heading toward the parking lot as quickly as he can.


{{Four Hours Later}}


We come to the inside of BHC Fremont Hospital in Newark to find Giani wrapped up, still in his wrestling gear.  He has a handful of prescriptions in one hand, and his SCW Heavyweight Championship dangling from the other.  At his side is Spike Staggs and Vixen. Spike looks much cleaner as he is wearing a white “Italian Stallion” T-Shirt he retrieved from Giani’s bag after the retching incident.  He carries Giani’s duffel bag as they walk through the bright white hallways silently.  Giani looks out of the windows as they walk up a sloped, wheelchair accessible ramped hallway.  He watched the ambulance lights rotating rapidly as the faint sound of the sirens come in through the thick glass. He sighs as they turn the corner, feeling like this trek toward the exit was never ending.

Giani:  Why did I hafta go to the cafeteria?  This hospital is borin’ the fuck outta me.  I got an after party arranged at…

Spike:  … at your hotel room, by yourself?

Giani:  Are ya kiddin’ me, bro?  I gotta celebrate this win, dawg.  I celebrated the Tag Team Championships with James for like two days straight.

Spike and Vixen both turn to Giani as they come to a cross in the hallways.  Vixen shakes her head as if Giani had just said the most absurd thing ever uttered by man.  Her French Canadian accent rolls off the tip of her tongue like music.

Vixen:  You heard what the doctor said, Giani.  Bed rest for the next two days is what I heard, not a party.

Giani:  The fuck!  How do ya expect me not to go have a little fun?  I don’t care if I hafta be wheeled in on a hospital bed… I’m gonna celebrate.

Spike:  If you even attempt it, I’m going to make sure you have the shortest reign in SCW history, because I’m going to put you six feet under *air quotes* broski…

Giani pouts like a child who was just denied candy.  He crosses his arms over his chest as he slows down his pace.  He puffs out his bottom lip as he shifts his eyes over to the plain white walls as they get closer to the lobby.  Spike shakes his head, letting out a muffled laugh as he looks at Vixen.

Spike:  Unfortunately, I can’t say that he’s the most immature Heavyweight Champion SCW has ever seen.  I can think of about three who were worse…

Giani lets out a “Hmph” as if he were offended by the notion.  He pulls his zipped up white hooded “Italian Stallion” jacket closer to his body due to his lack of a shirt, but it is more about pouting than staying warm.  He rushes his pace to reach the door first, waiting for it to open up for him.  He storms through it to get several feet in front of Spike and Vixen.  He moves through the busy parking lot, dodging angry drivers as he weaves through the parked cars.  He comes to Spike’s crimson Mustang.  He tugs on the locked door, as if the more he tugged, the more likely it would be to open.  He stomps the ground as Spike comes up closer, laughing at Giani’s frustration.

Spike:  All of this over a party?  Seriously, Giani?  Are you like two years old or something?

Giani:  Fuck you!  Of course it ain’t about the party.  But that party was gonna be my distraction…

Spike reaches the car, pressing the remote on his key chain, opening the door up for Giani as if that will solve his temper tantrum.  Spike walks back to the trunk, popping it open as he sets Giani’s duffel bag inside.  He closes it, only to see Giani still standing there with the six year old stare of death.  Spike hands the keys over to Vixen as he walks over to Giani.

Spike:  Dude, what’s wrong?  What is so wrong with your life that you need to party to forget about it?  You’re the Sin City Wrestling… Heavyweight Champion!  That’s kind of a big deal for you, isn’t it?

Giani:  You act like you know what’s goin’ on in my personal life.  It’s girl problems that could be fixed at this party tonight.  Oh, and the fact that I nearly killed myself out there tonight, and someone decided that it would be a good idea to put up a Battle Royal to determine my first challenge.  It’s bullshit…

Spike:  Oh come on!  There’s no one on the active roster that you couldn’t take down, Giani.  Be the champion that SCW needs, a fighting champion that they can be proud of.

Giani rolls his eyes and winces as he tries to turn his head toward Spike.  He holds onto his neck brace and then turns his entire body toward Spike with a serious look on his face.

Giani:  Don’tcha think I know that?  I don’t care if they run a gauntlet on me, but they better make damned sure that every opponent deserves it!  This Battle Royal is open to anybody.  That pisses me off cause I didn’t get some Battle Royal for my shot at the title…

Spike:  Well…. back in May…

Giani:  Whatever, bro… I didn’t win that, so ya point is lost… My point is that I didn’t enter some Battle Royal to earn my shot at Goth.  I earned it by showin’ dedication.  I earned it by beatin’ a former Number One Contender AND TWO former Heavyweight Champions, scorin’ a pinfall over the second longest reignin’ champion in SCW history.

As if this were an ego stroke, Spike smirks with pride at the words “second longest reigning”.  He wipes the smile off of his face before looking back to Giani with a serious expression painted on his face.

Spike:  I get that, but who is to say that said second longest reigning champion won’t be in this tournament?  Or every single former champion in the company?

Giani:  Maybe, maybe not, but I earned my shot the old-fashioned way, with a pinfall victory.  I didn’t trip some kid up and throw him over the top ropes.  That’s lame, and we all learned how that worked out after the last time we saw that.  We got a weak Number One Contender…

Spike: … who won the title too?

Giani:  Hahahaha!  Yeah, and he was one of the weakest champions SCW had.  Weak win, weak champion.  I had one of the strongest wins, and I got the strongest will, so I know I can beat whoever they throw at me, even at my weakest.  My point is that whoever wins this thing will more than likely not deserve it.  Like I said, I showed dedication to this company.

Spike chuckles, ready to raise his hand up to interrupt Giani, but Giani is already a step ahead of him.  He holds Spike’s hand down and takes a step closer with his eyes widened to emphasize his point.

Giani:  EVEN WHEN I sided with ya uncle in the rebellion… it was still about loyalty to SCW, wantin’ to see it get better.  Most of those who actually give a fuck about this company, and who worked to help build it to what it is now, are all gone, or they don’t care anymore.  We’ll probably get some ACW reject comin’ out on top in that thing, and I’ll be damned if I lose to one of those Canucks…

Just then, Giani is startled by Spike’s horn blaring.  He jumps off of the car, turning as Spike nearly doubles over laughing.  Vixen’s silhouette can be seen looking at Giani as a string of French expletives muffled by the engine are heard.  Giani gives a quick apologetic wave to Vixen before turning back to Spike.

Giani:  Ya get what I’m sayin’ don’t ya?  I think ya uncle’s got a hard-on for seein’ me fail since he couldn’t lead me to the top.  I bet this was his idea.  It seems like a sneaky bastard thing to do.

Spike:  Hey, hey, hey… How about this?  What if you think of the positives here?  Best case scenario for this Battle Royal, someone who deserves the shot will get it, and they will put you to the test as the champion.  Worst case scenario, you get an easy opponent with an easy win and do something that no other champion since Jordan Williams has been able to do… and you hang onto that title for more than a month

Spike does a fake gasp to elicit a slight giggle from Giani.  He rolls his eyes with a faint nod of his head, so not to aggravate his neck any more than it already is.  He lets out a sigh as Spike pats him on the back in encouragement.

Giani:  Yeah, okay, but I don’t wanna be known as the champion who had it easy.  Despite what some champions think, it ain’t about havin’ the title, it’s about what ya do while ya got it.  I want a challenge, and I get the feelin’ that some bitch is gonna win this thing since every other weak ass wants to recover from the show tonight…

Spike shrugs his shoulders as Vixen honks the horn once again.  She rolls down the window on the driver’s side, poking her head out as she turns to look back at the two men.

Vixen:  I don’t mean to interrupt your little talk, but could we do it back at the hotel so Giani can get the rest that the doctor ordered?

Giani takes in a deep breath before turning to walk around the car.  Spike gets in front of him, opening the door to pull the seat down.  He crawls in the back seat, pulling the front seat back for Giani.  Giani pauses, appreciating the gesture before he crawls inside of the car slowly.  He shuts the door, and less than a minute later, the car backs out of the parking spot and takes off.  The scene fades out on the blazing tail lights.


<img src=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v674/GXWSpikeStaggs/DixieTXT1_zps5756e5c1.png>

{Mouth 2 Mouth}

As the high from the events of the night start to wear off, Giani pops open a bottle of pills, pouring a few into the palm of his hands.  He tosses them back before picking up a bottle of Smart Water {“Hydrate Responsibly”}, the glistening condensation dripping down from his fingerprints as he lifts it to his mouth.  He sprays the water into his mouth through the opened sports cap, taking his time to get it down, before bringing the bottle back to his lips, gulping down half of the bottle with a sigh to end it off.  He closes the bottle cap and sets it (logo out) on the nightstand next to the king size bed.  He collapses back on the bed, crossing the width of bed.  He can hardly muster the energy to turn over to face the television as some late night dribble comes on the air.  He reaches down into his pants pocket to pull out his phone, seeing a text from his latest love interest.  He sighs, finding it a chore to even respond to the text.  He drops it down next to him as he runs his hands over his face gently, feeling the bandages that make him look like he were half mummy.  He lets out a groan as he closes his eyes.

”Damn it… Was this really worth it?  I coulda taken that painted up freak with one hand tied behind my back in a regular match, and I coulda been at that party instead of standin’ up this fine dime for a second time…”

Giani rocks himself over onto his side after only four tries.  He fumbles around with on the mattress until he comes back with the remote for the television.  The rather humble room, for what Giani normally affords for himself, is only lit by the television and a sliver of light escaping from the bathroom door only six feet from the large bed.  Giani flips through television shows in boredom as he waits for the pain pills to kick in when suddenly there is a knock on the door.  Giani looks a bit annoyed as he cups his hand around his mouth to amplify his voice.

Giani:  Spike, I told ya… I’m fine.  Go back to bangin’ Vixen, cause that’s the closest to action I’m gonna get tonight…

Giani lets out a weak chuckle as he rests his hand on the large arm that he uses to control the television.  A few seconds go by before there is another knock on the door.  This time, Giani grunts as he struggles to get up, fighting through the pain to give the person on the other side of the door a piece of his mind.  He gets up as another knock is heard.

Giani:  I’M COMIN’ DAWG!  Damn…

Giani shakes his head as he mumbles under his breath.  He slowly walks over to the door, rubbing his temples before reaching for the handle to fling it open.

Giani:  WHAT?!

His expression changes completely as a hand reaches from the other side of the door, slapping his across the face.  The porcelain skin and neatly manicured, crimson red nails seem to remind us one a certain “Queen”, possibly of the Damned variety?  No sooner than Giani clutches his face, groaning in the agony that is caused from the slap, an innocent gasp is heard from the person outside.  She reaches in with both hands to gently caress Giani’s face, walking into the room.  Her long blonde hair cascades down her back, teased at the ends so that they are like golden feathers, her lips a bubble gum pink, and her eyes eerily reminiscent of Misty’s icy eyes, as the assailant reveals herself to be Dixie, the youngest sister of Misty.  She groans apologetically as she looks up into his pained, almost puppy-like eyes.

Dixie:  Awwww!  I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I’m so, sooo sorry, Giani…  I didn’t know.

Giani grabs onto her wrists gently, lowering them from his face as a half smile comes over his face.  He just stares at her for a moment in silence until she opens her mouth to apologize once more.  This is when he lets out a long “Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” at her, finding solace in her mere presence.

Giani:  It’s okay.  If that was the worst thing to happen to me today, I would be doin’ pretty damn good, huh?

Dixie:  I really am sorry.  I didn’t know.  I didn’t watch the show tonight after Misty’s match.  I was really… REALLY mad at you for standing me up, and barely agreed to go to this party, and then you stood me up again, and Misty said…

Giani places a finger to her lips, quieting her down.  The compassion slowly drains from her face as she breaks the mutual stare.  She refuses to let him get away with what he’d done just one week prior.

Dixie:  Look, don’t shush me, okay?  You don’t get to do that to me.  You don’t get to act like everything is suddenly okay just because you are hurt.

Giani:  You came here tonight, so there must be a reason.

Dixie:  Yeah, I came to slap the taste out of your mouth for standing me up twice, and to tell you that I’m not some dumb bimbo who is going to sleep with you because you’re a Reality TV star, or a Heavyweight Champion.  I might not be glamorous, or skanky, but I deserve respect.  What you did was shitty, Giani Di Luca, and I’m not going to put up with that kind of treatment.  So, if that’s what you are after, then I suggest you tell me now so neither of us wastes our time.

Giani sighs as he turns around toward the chairs next to the bed.  Dixie gets a sour look on her face with Giani’s back toward her until he turns around again to allow her to lead the way.  She rolls her eyes before walking to the nearest chair that is next to a table with a small coffee pot in the middle.  She rests an elbow on the table as Giani slowly lowers himself into the chair opposite of her.

Giani:  If I was tryin’ to put down some game on ya, I wouldn’t invite ya to the after party.  If I was still the same douchebag I used to be, I woulda just assumed you would be there, but I made sure to let ya know that I wanted ya there.  Do you know how hard it was for me to miss out on my own party like that, knowin’ you was gonna be there?  THAT was the worst part of my entire night, if I’m bein’ honest here.

Dixie:  I want to believe you, Giani.  I’m not just some naïve Midwest girl, though.  I don’t think that it was right of you to blow me off, and then for you to feed me some lame excuse about how you needed to track down someone to apologize to, only to turn around and take her on a date?  My sister filled me in on what kind of guy you are, and…

Giani:  WAS!  What kind of guy I was…  That was a long time ago, and if she really told ya the story, then ya would know that I was crazy about her then, but those feelin’s was never returned.  It’s cool though, I’m over it now and I’m well past ready to move on.  My point is that I only ever was serious with one girl, and I tried with another.  I’m ready to go after somethin’ real now, and I get the feelin’ that this could be what I’m lookin’ for.  I just need the chance to prove it, but things keep fuckin’ it up.

Dixie stares at him with eyes that are even icier than Misty’s.  She is surgically picking him apart, looking for the slightest hint of a lie, but she can’t seem to find it.  After all of the scrutiny, Dixie finally softens her expression, the warmth that Giani fell for in the first place returns to her eyes as she looks right into his.

Dixie:  Okay…

Giani:  What?

Dixie:  I said… okay?  Let’s see where things go, maybe?  I don’t know, you are way more of a cheese ball than the guys I would normally date, but something… in those eyes… just says I should give this a shot.

She smiles as her cheeks slowly turn red.  She lowers her head, but looks up at Giani as she giggles nervously.  Giani lets out a muffled sigh of relief in the form of a small laugh as he reaches over to grab onto her hand.  He cups both of his hands around hers as he pulls it to the center of the table.

Giani:  Yeah… ya definitely should, cause I’m pretty awesome.  Not to pat myself on the back or anythin’, yaknowhatimsayin’?

Dixie practically snorts at Giani’s “modesty”, shaking her head and laughing along with him.  After a moment of googly eyes and kindergarten giggling, Dixie sighs and looks over to Giani’s bed with a stern look.

Dixie:  You need to go lay down, mister,  and rest yourself up.  You need some healing…

Giani gets a mile wide grin as he raises his eyebrows.  Though he is in pain, he refuses to turn down an opportunity to “rise to the occasion”.  He gauges her reaction for a moment before speaking again.

Giani:  Sexual healing?  Huh, huh?

Dixie: Uhhh… no, do I look like that kind of girl?  We haven’t even been on one date, so the answer is no.

Giani:  Well, if intentions count, this would be our third date…

Giani flashes a hopeful smile toward Dixie who only folds her arms across her chest, tapping her foot impatiently.  She even goes as far as to offer him a growl as he continues on until she can’t take it anymore.

Dixie:  If intentions count, then I would be a trillionaire world class model travelling Europe and Asia.  But, intentions mean very little.  Actions do, and guess what?  You’re not getting any action tonight bucko, so give it up.

Dixie flashes a playful, yet still very serious grin at Giani who sarcastically pouts and moans as he gets up and collapses on the bed.  This causes Dixie to laugh loudly, shaking her head as she pinches the bridge of her nose.  She sings her hair from off of her left shoulder as a sultry look crosses her face.  She slowly walks over to the bed, biting her bottom lip before she crawls onto the bed next to Giani, gently running her nails up his back, causing him to shiver as her fingers reach his shoulders.  She gently massages then, eliciting moans of pure pleasure from Giani.  She favors them for a moment and then works down to his back, kneading it with an elbow for a moment before going back to her hands, working them in deeply.

Giani:  Ohhhhhhhhh…. Ya got some magic hands there

Dixie:  One of the perks of dating a Massage Therapist.  Seems like a match made in heaven, huh?

Giani:  Yeah… see, the only problem is that I’m formin’ a kink up front that might need to be worked out if ya keep it up... hahahaha-ow!

Dixie slaps Giani with a playfully angry expression on her face.  She leans up, ceasing this immediately as she grunts.  She leans off of the edge of the bed, walking over to a small love seat against the far wall, sitting down with a small fleece blanket, throwing it over herself.

Dixie:  Bad boys get no treats, so I won’t “treat” you with my presence, or my “magic hands” tonight.  But I will hang around in case you need help with anything tonight.

Giani:  I think I could…

Dixie:  Hold it right there...  Think before you speak in the presence of a true lady.

Giani:  I was just going to say that I think I could manage to scoot over so ya don’t gotta sleep on that lumpy couch when there’s a king size bed over here.

Giani strains to move over toward the door, allowing her ample space to sleep, turning his back toward her so to allow her the respect that she deserves.  She stares at the seemingly endless mounds of satin comforters and sheets and space.  Try as hard as she might, she can’t hold out for too much longer before she crawls over to the bed, giving Giani the same treatment, turning her back toward him, hugging her jacket close to her body.  Giani peeks over his shoulder just enough to gently cover her in the blanket.  This puts a small smirk on her face.  She gives it a minute before she leans over, doing the same, but making sure to tuck him in so that there is no funny business from him.  However, as soon as she hunches over him, he is sleeping like a rock.  This is impressive to her as she just stares for a moment, smiling.  Eventually she rolls over, tucking herself in as the scene fades out.


{No Sleep Til… *{Jersey}*}

”Tonight was… yeah… I don’t even know what to say about Climax Control this week.  It was a clusterfuck from front to back, start to finish.  After Amanda Hugginkiss finished her performance, I hit the stage to let everyone know that the champ was here and in full force.  I had my fun, I made my point, and got the crowd ready for a night of family friendly fun… Boy was I wrong, dawg…”

This flight from Newark, California to Newark, New Jersey had just made it’s full ascension as most people are making themselves comfortable.  The steward makes his rounds with his beverage cart, politely smiling as he checks in with each passenger.  He makes it about half way down the aisle when he comes to Giani, looking out across the seemingly endless night, deep in thought.  Sitting next to him is Dixie, though she is fast asleep, leaning on Giani’s shoulder.  The steward gently clears his throat so not to disturb Dixie, but loud enough to get Giani’s attention.  He peels his eyes from the window, snapping out of his daydream.

Steward:  Pardon me sir, would you care for any refreshments?

Giani:  Um, yeah… could I get a glass of orange juice?

The steward nods his head, pulling out a plastic cup and a small carafe, pouring the juice into the cup before gently handing it to Giani.  Giani whispers a “thank you” as the steward gives a wink of confirmation, moving his cart along.  Giani takes a sip from the cup, setting it on the tray in front of him before looking back out into the night sky.

”I wanted to kick things off on a positive note for those kids, cause I was one of them.  Growin’ up, I was poor, and had many years where the only presents I got was from Toys for Tots and church donation.  Thinkin’ back, I probably shoulda gone to Mass more often, but yeah… The crowd seemed really responsive to my heartfelt speech.  Then we go out to do some promo work to draw more interest for the event, and that freakin’ douchebag Nick Jones had to come out with that stuck up bitch Diana and ruin everything.  Spike put him down, but he had to come back for some more, so me and Mickey had to put him down, and he still came back, so we had to literally lay the smack down on his ass.  How much do ya wanna bet people say some shit about how I was showin’ my true colors?  That my quest for redemption is all a lie?  It ain’t my fault I can’t allow myself to be somebody’s punk bitch…”

Giani feels Dixie stirring a little, her golden locks trickling down his shoulders.  He glances at her angelic face, and the rage that is starting to build within him starts to fade.  He takes a deep breath as he brushes a few strands of her hair out of her face, rolling it around between his fingers as a half smirk comes over his face.  He leans down and kisses her forehead gently before turning his head back to the window, the moon reflecting in his eyes.

”Then Ben Jordan, the man who denounced the New X-Tremes on Twitter for the world to see, kinda got the raw end of the deal.  Sure, I don’t care much for the guy, and the only reason I didn’t start some shit there was cause Spike asked me not to, and I respect that.  As much as I think he’s a smug bastard, he didn’t deserve what came to him, though.  I gotta kinda laugh at the fact that he called me and Misty vipers, but the one who bites first is his own homeboy, the kid that he grew up with.  Other than laughin’ at the irony of it all, I gotta say that I got nothin’ more for Mickey, and I hope that Spike kicks him to the curb.  Kinda seems like the pot callin’ the kettle black though, so I guess I will keep my opinions on that inside my head where they belong.  How can I expect to be taken seriously when I can’t even forgive Mickey for knocking out a guy I don’t really care much for to begin with?  It still sucks.  I know how hard Spike is fighting to try to bring NXT together, and that he really wanted Ben to come back with us.”

Giani takes a deep breath and leans his head against the chilly window, nursing his slight headache from earlier in the night, cooling off the new knot he’s got forming.  He sighs it out, fogging up his window in the process.

”Then, I went out to try to save the night, seeing who even gives a fuck about the charity event, and it turns out that not too many people could find the time to show up.  I watched as five people threw their hats into the ring.  Five people, seriously?  With an opportunity to not only face “The Italian Stallion”, but to go after the Heavyweight Championship, there was only five people that thought they stood a chance?  Probably woulda been six if NXT didn’t hafta put Nick Jones back in his place, but still… Anyway, I got to joke around a bit with Jason and Belinda while gettin’ the chance to watch my potential challengers put it all out there.  I got my opinions of Ben Jordan, but he put up a good fight.  And I definitely got a few things to say for that cocky prick Damien Kingston, but he played the game and he won.  He even had the nuts to tell me he was gonna beat me for the title next week.  Gotta appreciate the guts, but I had a few things I was gonna tell him straight to his face… that was until…”

Steward:  Excuse me, sir.  May I take that cup?

The steward comes back around to collect Giani’s empty cup.  Giani loses his train of thought as he reaches for the cup.  He slowly brings it around Dixie so not to wake her up.  He whispers another polite thank you to the steward as he tosses it into the trash compartment on his cart, wheeling it off to the next row as Giani disappears back into his thoughts and daydreams.

**************************************************

The sound of the audience booing loudly as “Killing in the Name Of” by Rage Against the Machine fills Giani’s ears as he comes back around.  His eyelids flutter open as he groans and rolls over onto his forearms.  He looks around for Damien Kingston, or anybody, but all he sees is the medical team.

“Fuck this déjà vu shit…”

Giani pounds the mat in frustration as he slowly brings himself back to his feet.  He looks around once more, because he had a point to prove, and he would settle for either Damien, or any of the three men he felt beating him down to the mat.  The medical team comes into the ring, but Giani shakes his head furiously as he leans down to grab onto his title belt.  He quickly straps it around his waist, looking at the medical team as they begin to circle him..

Giani:  Nuh uh, dawg!  Not this time, I’m fine…

He pushes past the medical team who deems him well enough judging by his boisterous and determined stride as he gets to the ropes.  Giani leans over the top rope, resting one hand on the apron as he flips himself out of the ring, very uncharacteristically.  He storms up the ramp as the fans shout at him in support.  He slaps a few hands, though his attention rests firmly on the curtains.  As soon as he bursts through them, he comes almost face to face with Spike, Jessie, Vixen, and Misty.  He shakes his head, pushing past them, causing the ladies to look offended.  Spike grabs onto Giani’s arm to gain his attention, but Giani simply shakes it off, a sadistic grin coming over his face as he goes on the hunt.

Giani: Yo, thanks for havin’ my back out there… I guess the same way ya had Ben’s?

Spike:  Come on, Giani, that’s bullshit and you KNOW IT!  How was I supposed to know that those guys were stupid enough to attack you/?  And how was I supposed to know that Mickey would go rogue and attack Ben?

Giani continues to walk off, but Spike doesn’t allow him the opportunity.  Spike follows after him closely, which says a lot the way Giani is flying down the halls.  It would almost appear like he is running, but he is doing it so fluidly that it seems nothing more than a fast paced strut.

Spike:  Giani?  Giani!  Wait up, man!  You can’t pull this shit after everyone has shown you the kindness of forgiving you.  We will pay better attention from here on out, but you need to hear us out, brother…

Giani stops in the middle of the hallway and spins on the balls of his heels, almost causing Spike to crash right into him.  Giani throws his hands up in the air in frustration before bringing them down to a crashing halt at his side.

Giani:  Look, it ain’t even about that, dawg.  Seriously, I’m just pissed off right now cause some two bit, no talent cowards hidin’ behind cloaks and darkness came after me and embarrassed me in front of the fans and the locker room.  They took advantage of me when I was weak, and now I look like a bitch right after I won the top title of the company.  And to top it off, I didn’t even get the chance to get inside of Damien’s head.

Giani pounds his fist into the wall angrily, causing Spike to back up a couple steps.  Giani keeps his fist against the wall for a moment, letting it slide down as the anger only seems to pool up deeper in his eyes.  He breathes heavily through his nostrils, flaring them out as he looks into Spike’s eyes.

Giani:  I ain’t gonna be one of those fifteen minute champions, Spike.  I ain’t gonna just let some dudes come in here and punk me out without repercussions, and I ain’t gonna let Damien Kingston taunt me like that.  I put on what could be the Match of the Year for 2014’s awards, and I didn’t do it for nothin’.  I got the respect of the fans, so I’m good, but if I’m gonna lead this company as their champions, then the entire locker room better damn well respect me.  They ain’t gonna do that if I don’t do somethin’ about what happened out there tonight.  Capiche?

Spike clinches his jaw as he stares at Giani, his icy blue eyes searching for any sign of weakness within Giani.  However, his protégé’s convictions are iron clad.

Spike:  Capiche… But, under one condition… Do it when everyone is watching.  Don’t do it after the show is over and everyone is leaving to go home.  Make a statement with it.  Be relentless and show those pussies that they made a mistake messing with you.  And prove to Kingston that you are ten leagues above him and everyone else by beating him next week.  A statement is made bold not by the words that form it and not by the crowd who witnesses it… but by the combination of the two.

Spike nods his head as Giani just stares at him.  It is clear that Spike’s words had gotten through to him to a certain degree, but he is still on fire from the entirety of tonight’s show.  Giani turns around and walks off from Spike, shaking his head.  He continues down the hall until he reaches a door marked “Head of Talent Relations – Erik Staggs”.  Without knocking, Giani pushes the door open to find Erik sitting at his desk with his arms back as if he were expecting somebody.  However, when Giani enters, a look of shock spreads over his face.  He slowly hunches forward, pulling his suit jacket closed as he clears his throat.

Erik:  Oh, um… hello there Gi, ahhh… Mr. Di Luca.  How may I serve, er, assist you today?

Giani simply raises an eyebrow as he remains silent at the door.  He takes a quick scan around Erik’s office to see why he is acting so suspicious, but sees no signs of anything.  He shrugs his shoulders before walking over toward the desk.  He pulls out a chair and takes a seat as Erik fumbles with his radio, humming a Christmas tune loudly, but stumbling on the melody a bit.  He finally finds the holiday station and then he relaxes a bit.

Erik:  I’m really in the, um, holiday spirit this year…

Giani:  Hmmm… whatever bro.  I came to talk to ya about that shit that just took place out there.

Erik nods his head, closing his eyes, clinching them for a second as he mumbles “mmm hmm” in a long, drawn out manner.  Giani chuckles as he looks around for a candid camera or something.

Giani:  Pretty enthusiastic there, ain’t ya, Staggs?  How about ya pull ya’self back to reality and do ya fuckin’ job, bro?  Or are ya too busy walkin’ in a winter wonderland to hear the champion of this company tellin’ ya that he’s gonna fuck up half of ya locker room?

Erik groans in frustration as he rests his elbows on his desk, lacing his fingers together as he looks right at Giani.

Erik:  Look, if you need to go fuck some people up, I couldn’t care less.  This roster could use a good kick in the ass.  That’s hardly a complaint, and it isn’t my job to satiate your ego anymore, Mr. Di Luca, ever since you turned into some Batman Boy Scout…

Giani:  I ain’t askin’ ya to stroke my ego, Erik!  I’m askin’ ya to stop me from doin’ somethin’ stupid out there.  Ain’t Sin City Wrestlin’ had enough property damage fees from me by now?

Erik:  Go ahead… Why exactly should I give a damn if you get fired?  You’re the one who wants to prove to the world that this company isn’t a sinking ship.  You’re the one who wants to lead this “rag tag” set of misfits to the top of indy wrestling.  I could replace you with some meathead like, say… Jimmy Ringo… in a heartbeat.  So don’t you dare come in here with those threats, because I will can your ass for breach of contract so fucking fast it will make your big head spin…  Ohhhh yeahhhh…

Giani’s eyebrows furl as he leans against the desk, sizing Erik up.  Both headstrong men can’t seem to get the other to budge, that is until Erik’s awkward spaz out at the end of his rant.  Giani leans back a bit, still keeping his stare locked on Erik’s steely eyes.

Giani:  I’m sure one more flash in the pan champions will help the reputation of this company out a lot, won’t it?  Look, I ain’t askin’ for any special favors.  I ain’t tryin’ to have an easy title run.  As a matter of fact, I want to have to earn the title more and more with each defense.  It’s got nothin’ to do with the title even.  My gripe is that, if ya don’t start warnin’ ya roster about tryin’ to prove that they’re better than the champ… I’m gonna start takin’ them out, one by one, until there ain’t no competition left… So breach that, motherfucker…

Giani gets up, ready to walk over to the door.  He turns around to say one last thing until he really notices the beads of sweat on Erik’s forehead and eyebrows.  He pulls something out of his jacket pocket, a piece of paper that he tosses down on Erik’s desk.

Giani:  By the way, that’s the money I promised for the Toys for Tots drive here tonight.  Make sure they get it, errand boy…

Erik isn’t even paying attention as he clutches onto the edge of his desk, taking in hard, shallow breaths as he looks down at his white knuckles.  His breaths get more and more shallow until he shouts out.

Erik:  Ohhhhhh yeahhhhhhhhh sugar tits, you earn that contract!  Uhhhhhh…

Giani’s eyes widen as he has now learned a new level of discomfort.  It isn’t until he looks slightly underneath the desk that he sees a pair of long, slender legs and the deep red bottoms of black stiletto heels.  He rubs the back of his head, trying to figure out how to come back from something like that, but he can’t seem to find a way.  Erik takes in another deep breath, pounding the top of his desk with a relieved laugh.

Erik:  Fwewwww… Thanks or that, Giani.  I thought nobody was going to come in here and bitch at me.  I like an audience.

Giani:  I’m… pretty sure that’s some form of sexual harassment, bro.

Erik shakes his head as he fumbles around, making “adjustments” before he zips up his pants underneath his desk.  He pulls a tissue out of the box on his desk and puts it underneath the desk.

{{{TBC: was cut off around here}}}

Title: {No Sleep Til...}
Post by: Giani Di Luca on December 20, 2013, 03:06:10 PM

 {{{Continued}}}


Erik:  The way you came in here, challenging my manhood, you might as well have been right down there with her buddy boy…  Not that I’m into that sort of thing, but…

Giani:  Bro, bro, bro… T.M.I…

Giani shakes his head, wondering why he is even still there.  He shuts the door behind him, feeling like he is going to wretch again.  He gags a couple of times as he walks down the hall…

**************************************************

The soft bell dings over the intercom as the passengers of the flight stretch and come back from their cat naps.  Giani draws his attention away from the window as the soft yet masculine voice of the steward comes over the intercom.

Steward:  Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to begin descending upon Newark Liberty International Airport.  Please make sure all seats and trays are in the upright position, and please, fasten your seatbelts…  Thanks you all for your cooperation.

Giani gently nudges Dixie awake as he flips his empty tray up.  He pushes hers up as well before fumbling with his seatbelt.  Dixie yawns as she tries to wake herself up.  She groggily fights with her seatbelt, getting it latched before leaning up, smiling weakly at Giani as the scene fades out.

<iframe width="420" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/uAke6QgIpog" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

”As almost everyone has heard a million or more times from me by now, I am on a quest for redemption.  I’ve tracked down some of the people I have hurt with my actions over the last year or so, in hopes that they might accept my apologies.  It has been one helluva ride, I gotta say.  Some have accepted my apologies without hesitation, while others have slammed doors in my face, or kicked my balls straight up, popping them out through my mouth.  I been punched, kicked, slapped, and had a liquor bottle embedded in my face, but overall, I have proven to most people that I’m a changed man.  But one thing still echoes through my mind.  The last time I saw my parents, it wasn’t pretty.  It ended with me cursin’ my dad out and havin’ him kick me outta the family, all while I was hung over from a night of binge drinkin’.  I felt awful after that, I really did.

I talked to Spike about it, and he told me that, surprisingly, I did the right thing by not apologizing for my actions.  How could that be?  I told my own father to fuck off and stay outta my life?  How is that right of anybody to do? The Good Lord says… Wait, that sounds too Protestant of me... In mass, I remember hearin’ a time or two that you should honor thy father and thy mother.  I told one to fuck off, and told the other one that she deserved to be married to such an asshole, and told her to join him in stayin’ outta my life.  Shitty son, I know… But I’m goin’ to make things right.  This is the holiday season, and it’s the time when family is supposed to be together.  So I’m a week and a day early…  Sue me.”


{Buon Natale}


Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but my dear… it’s even more frightful inside of Antony’s Italian Cuisine and Pizzeria just a block off of the infamous Boardwalk of Seaside Heights, New Jersey.  The rain has begun to turn over to snow, and the light yet bitter cold winds are nipping at the noses of those rushing home after work, late night drinks, or some final Christmas shopping.  The headlights on the roads glisten from the recent rain as cars hurry home before the weather gets too bad.  However, there is one car, a black Volkswagen Jetta, that comes rolling up outside of the rather quaint eatery.  The car parallel parks between a beat up El Camino and a blue station wagon with wood panel siding.  After a few moments, the drivers side door opens up to reveal Giani Di Luca, bundled up in his charcoal dressy jacket with his checkered scarf wrapped tightly around his neck.  As we come in closer, Giani leans inside of the car, trying to shout over the traffic and people honking their horns at him (Welcome to Jersey, yo).

Giani:  Ey, wait out here while I go in an’ take care of some business, alright?

Giani goes to shut the door until he heard the faint speaking from Dixie.  After one more horn honking and some random Guido-style yelling, Giani turns around and flips his fingers under his chin at the car as it comes to a halt.

Giani:  EY!  Can’t ya see I’m busy tawkin’ hay?!  Fuhgeddaboudit!  Buzz off, meathead…

Driver:  Why I oughta knawk ya blawk off Di Luca!

Giani:  Yey, I’d like to see ya try Forcelli!  Gidoudahay!

The car honks once more as Giani waves them off in aggravation.  He rolls his eyes as he turns back to look at Dixie who is snickering.  He forces his breath out in anger, but finding solace in her eyes.

Dixie:  It’s like you guys talk a completely different language up here, and you’re even more obnoxious with it than you usually are…

Giani:  Hahahah yeah, welcome to Joysey!  Now, what was ya sayin’ there doll?

Dixie stares at him for another second as he gives her a friendly wink.

Dixie:  Now, I was saying that you don’t have to do this alone.  I want to be there for support.  From what you were telling me, it sounds like you could really use it.

Giani:  Yeah, but I’m not really sure.  I can guarantee its gonna be ten kinds of uncomfortable up in there. Plus, we just started datin’ and all, so I don’t wanna have ya runnin’ off when ya find out I’m the diamond in the ruff of the Di Luca family…

Dixie places her fingers against Giani’s lips, quieting him down so that he can’t continue.  She gently shushes him before silently insisting that she join him.  He gives her the look of death for a moment before finally closing his door.  He walks around to the passengers side door and opens it up for Dixie.  Her fur boots hit the ground one at a time as her bountiful legs stretch out.  She stands up and Giani gently wraps her coat around her upper body.

Dixie:  Such a gentleman…

Giani holds onto her hand as he guides her onto the sidewalk.  He takes a few deep breaths as he approaches the door.  He puts his hand on the door knob, only to turn toward Dixie.

Giani:  I don’t wanna do this anymore, boo.  I really don’t.  There’s a reason I told ‘em to fuck off in the first place and…

Dixie:  This is exactly why you need my support.  There is also a reason you felt the urgency to come here in the first place.  Now go face your fears like a big boy.

Giani:  Ya always makin’ me do big boy things, except the most fun one’a all…  Ball buster.

Her mouth opens up in shock as she playfully smacks his shoulder.  He stands there like a cheeseball, soaking it up to distract him from what awaits him.  He takes a few more breaths and opens the door before he gets the chance to change his mind.  Frank Sinatra is playing over the speakers of the dimly lit, more romantic type of quaint restaurant.  Pictures of the Di Luca family and friends line the walls along with various Jersey Boys memorabilia, an Italian flag, and the infamous New Jersey state traced sketch filled in with red white and green.  Giani completely ignores the “Please Wait To Be Seated” sign by the empty hostess booth as the door slams and the bell on it rings behind him.  A robust woman’s voice shouts out from the back.

Woman:  Whassamattawitcha?  Can’t ya see we’re closed?!  Ay mio Dio, la gente!

The short and stout woman with a poorly died blonde perm, and a long strand of fake pearls comes walking from out of the kitchen where there is a bunch of commotion going on.  She shakes her head as she pulls her apron off, ready to throw it at the late patron.  She slowly looks up at Giani, gasping as she holds her chest.  She drops the apron onto the floor and waddles quickly over to Giani, reaching up to grab onto his face.  She pulls him down to make sure that her eyes do not deceive her.

Woman:  Ay mio Dio is right… Giani, il mio caro nipote come here and give your aunt Paula a hug now.  Don’t be rude.

Her thick Italian accent makes it hard for Dixie to fully understand her, mixed with the language differential thrown in there, but Giani lets out an excited growl as he leans down and hugs onto his aunt, allowing her saturate his cheek with what seems like an endless amount of kisses.

Paula:  Get in here, get in here and don’t fuhget to lawk the door behind ya’s.  EY EDDIE!!!  GUESS WHO’S HERE!!!

Eddie:  Awwright, awright! I’m comin’ ma!  Hold onto ya panties, Jesus, Joseph, and Mother Mary…

Just then, the kitchen door opens up again to reveal a much different owner of such a booming, raspy and deep voice than would have been expected.  A slender string bean of a man comes walking through the door with a dish towel in his hands.  He mumbles under his breath until he looks up and almost hits Giani’s infamous laugh dead on.

Eddie:  Uncle Lou didn’t tell me you was in town.  When did Santa drop off the fruitcake?

Giani:  I dunno cuz… what time did ya get here?

*OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!*

Eddie and Giani both point at one another to acknowledge the zinger being zinged right back at Eddie.  He does what is supposed to be a pimp walk with a gangster lean as he reaches out his hand for Giani’s, slapping it and snapping it, both men spinning around to slap hands from behind.  Paula shakes her head and mumbles in Italian before resting her eyes on Dixie.

Paula:  And this must be Bianca, oh how ya motha bragged about this one.  Full blooded Italian, but she looks kinda… er, Arian to me, but hey, who am I to judge?

Paula points up to her hair as if it were her natural copper color.  She shrugs her shoulders before taking in the uncomfortable look on Dixie’s face, and the completely and utterly embarrassed look on Giani’s reddened face.  She gasps as she grabs onto Giani’s hand.

Giani:  Ummm, no… That was like a year ago and… This is Dixie.  She’s got the biggest heart I ever seen, outside of my favorite aunt of course.

Eddie:  And there’s a couple other “biggest” things I can see here, why don’t ya give us a turn sweetheart?

Paula:  Eddie!  I didn’t raise no pe-vert, ya understand me, son?  Ay mio Dio, come imbarazzante, ya boys make me pray to the Good Lord way too much, and I’m sure he’s tired of it.

Eddie:  Ma?  Ma!  I was tawkin’ about her eyes.  Calm down.

Dixie:  It’s very nice to meet you guys.  Giani says that you are the sweetest family members along with his nonna…

Paula holds onto her chest as she cocks her head to the side.  She acts as if this were the biggest honor of her life as she steps over to Dixie, yanking her down to her four foot six level.  Dixie finds her face squashed into Giani’s aunt’s cleavage and she chuckles nervously.  Before she knows it, her aunt has let her go and now has a hold of her hand.

Paula:  This one might nawt be Italian, but she’s got the heart of one, and then some… *whispers to Giani*  she’s a keeper…

Giani nods his head as Eddie clicks his teeth at Giani, disappearing back to the kitchen to finish his job.  Giani looks around as Paula leads Giani and Dixie over to the table in the corner, out of view of the big gaping window at the store’s front.  She lights up the candle in the middle of the table.

Paula:  Ya motha would be proud, and ya father… well, he’s always gonna be an asino (ass/donkey) but he’s my brotha so what can I say?  Now ya two must be starved, let me bring ya out Auntie Paula’s famous Shrimp Manicotti.

Lou:  What’s this I’m hearin’ about that no good bastard son of mine bein’ out here.  Is that some sick joke, cause that slacker Eddie’s gonna get a hard kick to the ass if he’s yankin’ my chain, sis…

The much lighter, yet still ever-present Italian accent of Giani’s father resonates from the kitchen, as if Pavarotti were trying to do an Archie Bunker impression. The short and stout man pushes his way through the door, past his sister, giving her an annoyed look.  They exchange a few whispered words in Italian, leading to Paula slapping him a few times with her apron before evening it out over her chest.  She disappears through the door as Lou’s eyes move over to Giani, and a look of disgust comes over his face.

Lou:  I thought I told ya never to come around this family ever, ever, EVER again, ya lousy punk.

Giani simply glares at his father who refuses to back down like he were a pitbull locked on a steak.  He comes over to the edge of the table, snubbing his nose at Dixie, barely acknowledging her at all before looking back to Giani.

Lou:  Am I gonna hafta whip ya ass little boy, or are ya gonna finally do what ya was told to do and leave?

Giani:  As soon as ya apologize to me, and I get some of Aunt Paula’s Shrimp Manicotti, I’ll be on my way pops…

Lou:  Vuoi che io mi scuso (You want me to apologize)... to you?  Non voglio (No way), motherfucker!

Giani:  Lei mi ascolterà! (You will hear me!)

Lou snorts a laugh at his son as he rears his hand back to slap the taste out of Giani’s mouth, but Giani shoves the table out, towering over his father by nearly a foot.  He tightens the muscles in his arms and chest as Dixie leans deeper into the booth to avoid being in the middle of this.

Giani:  I told ya the last time ya hit me… that it was gonna be the last time, Lucy…  Now, I dare ya to try that shit on me again, pops.  This time, I will make up for all the beatin’s ya gave me as a kid up until now… Or, ya could apologize for bein’ the shittiest father ever, and we can go on never talkin’ to each other if that’s what ya really want.

Lou:  How dare you do such despicable things in the presence of a lady!  What kind of woman respects a man who threatens his own father, for whom without you would be nothing more than a stain on a pad, mio!

Giani clinches his teeth, showing them off as Dixie grabs onto his wrist.  He yanks his arm free and then digs his finger into his father’s chest, pushing him back with nothing more than that.

Giani:  Ya wanna talk to me about how to act in front of a lady, and ya go and say some shit like that?  Fuck you for that, dad!

Lou:  The big and bad wrestler is going to try to intimidate me?  I wish ya would, son… Then take this girl back to your hotel room, and give her the only thing you inherited from me… The Di Luca wham bam and thank ya ma’am…

Giani connects with a right hook across his father’s jaw, causing him to holler out in pain.  As he does so, Giani’s mother comes out and her fiery eyes rest on Giani as she looks at her downed husband.  She weeps out as she sees her son standing over him and she begins hysterically shouting at him as he looks ashamed of himself, but refuses to back down.  His aunt comes out with a surprised look on her face as she helps her brother up.  She looks at Giani with a puzzled look on her face as Eddie peeks from the serving station, giving Giani a thumbs up and quietly cracking up.  Giani looks back to Dixie, seeing the horror in her eyes as he pulls his jacket off of the chair.  He slings it over his body and storms toward the door.  Dixie slowly gets up and follows after, unsure of how to react.

Tina:  Never come back here, boy!  Leave, you spoiled man-child!

Giani closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he unlocks the door to the restaurant.  He pulls it open, causing the bell to ring.  He gets one foot out of the door when he is stopped by an unexpected voice.

Lou:  Son!  Son?  Come help your old man off the floor, yeah?

Tina looks at him with a surprised look on her face.  Giani turns back with fire still in his eyes, looking at his confused mother and his shocked aunt.  The look of regret comes over Lou’s usual miserable, stone-like expression.  He raises his hand up from across the restaurant.  Giani thinks about it for a moment before finally giving in and walking over to lend a helping hand.  His mother almost sheds a tear as she watches Lou wrap his arms around the bulking man that is his son.  Giani returns the embrace, both men showing uncharacteristic tears.  Lou pulls away and looks up into Giani’s eyes, patting his face a bit rough, but playfully.

Lou:  Why if I was about twenty years younger… Hahahaha!

Giani:  Ya wouldn’t do shit old man!

Lou:  Ya hear that, Paula?  He’s my fuckin’ kid after all.

Paula:  I know, there was a lot of doubt with his good looks and all, but it appears so.

The family shares a laugh, but the tension is far from gone still.  Paula senses how uncomfortable Dixie is, and she walks over to her, grabbing onto her hands, pulling her from near the door and toward the kitchen.

Paula:  Woman, what’s wrong with ya?  Ya haven’t run away from the crazy farm yet?  Ahhh, if ya gonna be with an full blooded Italian, I’m gonna hafta teach ya how to cook like ya one ya’self…  That way we can let the men have their tawks…

Dixie offers her a relieved smile as she winks at Giani.  The ladies leave Giani and Lou to sit in the restaurant alone.  Lou leans on the nearest table in the middle of the restaurant, letting out a long breath as he takes a seat.  Giani grabs a chair from a nearby table and spins it around so the back is against the table.  He straddles the chair, resting his elbows on the table, staring at his father and not knowing what to say.

Lou:  If nothin’ else gets said between the two of us tonight, I wanna make sure that I tell ya how sorry I am for every single goddamned thing, Gi…  From the late nights out after the restaurant closed, to the whoopin’s, to all the bastard things I said to ya through ya whole life.  To be honest, I woulda knocked my block off a long time ago if I was you, kiddo…

Giani looks at his dad, still remaining silent.  Part of him wanted to hit him again and again, but the other part wanted to shout out to him that it was all okay.  He found the happy medium in silence as his father rubs at the bridge of his nose so to disguise wiping away the tears from his eyes.

Lou:  I never wanted to be such a terrible father to ya.  I just saw how ya mother babied ya, and I focused on ya sister…  I pushed her into a stagnant career and I tried to do the same to you, my boy.  Ya done good though.  Ya didn’t listen to me and now ya chasin’ ya dreams.  No one in this family has ever been able to do that, and on the inside… I’m so fuckin’ proud… and jealous of ya son.

This one hits Giani hard, but he tries his best to hold back any expression.  A smirk spreads across his face ever so slowly.  He tries to cover it with his hands, but that’s all he ever dreamt of as a child, is hearing that his father was proud of him.

Lou:  Don’t get me wrong… you was a Hell child, and ya always walked to the beat of ya own drum.  You are a self-made man, more than I could ever be.  And it’s time that I told ya that instead of shovin’ the bad choices you made in ya face, cause ya made plenty of good ones to get where you are now.

Giani:  You got no idea how bad I needed to hear that, pops…  I… I just can’t say enough to explain how much that means to me.

Lou:  That’s the true makings or a real man.  Someone who sticks to his convictions.  Someone who follows his own path in life, and doesn’t apologize for making it on his own.

Giani:  Well, I have been apologizin’ for a lot lately, but…

Lou reaches over to pull his son’s hand away from his mouth so that he can be heard clearly, but also to capture his attention.  He looks at him through narrowed eyes, silently for a moment before finally getting to his point.

Lou: … but that is all part of gettin’ to where ya know ya should be, son.  Ya better than that spoiled brat that I was watchin’ on my computer when I came to ya weird tall girlfriend’s house to stop ya from dyin’ of alcohol poisoning.  That ain’t the boy I was proud of.  This… this…  is the boy that I am proud of, even if he does beat on his father, yaknowhatimsayin’?

Giani:  Yeah, yeah… and if that old man keeps on swagger jackin’, he might hafta knock him around the block a few times, ey?

Lou:  Hahahaha!  Swagger jackin’?  What the fuck does that even mean, boy?  You’re gonna hafta get this old man tuned in to today’s slang if we’re gonna start talkin’ regularly…?

The statement turned into a question seems to strike Giani very much as he smiles like a child who thinks their father just conquered the monsters under his bed.  He nods his head and shakes his father’s hand happily.  The ladies are heard clapping loudly in the kitchen as a mixture of hyper Italian expressions find their way through the serving station window.  Giani and Lou look back to the window to see Dixie, Tina, and Paula eavesdropping.  They both roll their eyes before Lou waves them on out into the restaurant.  Paula comes out, bringing two hot plates of manicotti covered in white sauce.  Dixie comes out with an apron covered in food, laughing hysterically as Giani points and laughs at her.  Tina takes the apron from Dixie and gives her a kiss on each cheek before disappearing into the kitchen.  Paula places the plates on the table and then nudges Lou until he gets up, quietly protesting.  He pulls Dixie in for a lingering hug, whispering an apology to her before disappearing into the kitchen with Paula.  Dixie takes a seat at the table as the scene fades out.


{Sing For the Moment (pt 2)}

The musty smell, similar to that of an unfinished basement, trickles up the nostrils as we move inside of the Staggs Dungeon training facility.  Normally we would expect to hear Spike coming down hard on one of his students, or sparring with any member of the New X-Tremes.  However, this time we hear nothing whatsoever.  There is complete silence in the dark training grounds.  Only the moonlight coming in through the tinted windows near the edges of the ceiling.  As we pan around the wide space, we hear the creaking sound of the door opening up.  This lets in a small amount of extra light until it comes crashing to a close, briefly giving us only a faint silhouette of the “Italian Stallion”.  After a few moments that seem to go on forever, the light above the ring comes on, acting almost like a spotlight.  Sitting in the center of the ring is Sin City Wrestling’s Heavyweight Champion, Giani Di Luca.  He is propped up on a steel chair, wearing a large Santa’s hat.  He is dressed in his usual street attire of skinny jeans and a white t-shirt.  This one depicts Chinese characters against each shoulder, above an octagon with a horse in the middle, and “2014” under its raised front hooves.  Underneath, it says “Year of the Stallion”.  The Heavyweight belt rests in his lap, the edges of its design gleaming in the light to draw our attention more than anything else.  Giani looks down at it in silence for over two minutes, admiring it with a smile like a father would give his new-born child.  He finally takes a deep breath before looking up into the camera.

Giani:  She’s beautiful, ain’t she?  She’s got her mother’s eyes…

Giani does his infamous laugh before giving it another stare.  This one isn’t nearly as long as he props the belt up on his shoulder, patting it like he were burping a baby.

Giani:  All of that hard work and determination, with one goal in mind.  Then, I had to wait nine whole months to hold my baby in my arms… to rock it, and caress it, to wash it, and to nurture it.  I feel like the proudest father in the world right now, like my baby is the most wonderful baby ever created…

Giani smiles meekly before thinking about it for a minute.  The shadows from the spotlight cast an eerie expression on Giani’s face, Alfred Hitchcock style.  The creepy smile soon fades as he looks slightly embarrassed.

Giani:  Wait, no… This ain’t like some old school Kittie style promo…  I know the belt ain’t a real kid.  Just to be clear.  I’m only crazy when I’m beatin’ down on some beats at LAX.  I’m just sayin’ that, in a lot of ways, this thing is like my baby.  I’m gonna treat it with the dignity and respect that such kinda belt deserves.  I will carry it with pride, and I will protect it at all costs.

Giani gives the belt a slight polish with the sleeve of his shirt before returning his gaze to the camera.

Giani:  And just like a papa bear, I ain’t gonna let anyone threaten my baby.  I’m willin’ to do what’s best for this thing, yaknowhatimsayin’?  Right now, there ain’t nobody that can take care of this thing better than I can.  Over the last six months, I watched person after person try to do what was best for this belt, only to fail miserably.  I refuse to do that.  I will fight with everythin’ I got to keep this belt in my possession.  I will give myself completely to the division, cause that’s what a true champion does.

Giani leans back, cracking his back and shoulders against the back of the chair, letting out two small pops, followed by a loud one.  He lets out a small sigh of relief before moving the belt to his other shoulder.

Giani:  In just a few short days, I get to have my first defense that has become customary for two weeks after a Supercard that crowns a new champion.  I get to step in that ring and prove to the fans exactly why I was crowned the champion in the first place.  I booted a no-good piece of trash champion, who somehow managed to carry this belt for a second time, to the curb at December 2 Dismember II, and now I get to knock down some undeserving piece of trash challenger.  Ya might as well call me the garbage man, yo…

Giani shrugs his shoulders with a smug look upon his face.  He chuckles a bit as he straightens his posture completely, puffing out his chest in the process.

Giani:  Let’s talk about this particular piece of trash, shall we now?  This one is the most gaudy, foul, and smelly piece of garbage there is in Sin City, and trust me… I’ve seen some seriously scummy scumbags roamin’ around Vegas.  But this one takes the cake!  Even his name sends shivers… of disgust… down my spine.  Damian… Kingston…

Giani shudders out loud, shaking his entire body to emphasize his disgust.  He acts almost as if the thought of his opponent makes him gag as he covers his mouth, hunching over in his chair for a moment.  He removes his hand and looks up at the camera, with a smile and a wink.  He rests his elbows on his knees as he shoots.

Giani:  What kinda person comes up in here and claims that they deserve to be the top dawg without so much as havin’ his debut match.  The kid said in his debut promo that he was gonna be the next big thing.  From someone who wasn’t at the top at the time, I had to just roll my eyes and say “Whatever, buddy…”  I found it kinda funny cause every single piece of trash that rolls in and outta this place makes the same claims.  Nothin’ new or original ‘bout that.

Giani groans as he is deep in thought about what to say next.  He shakes his head as he rests it on the palms of his hands.

Giani:  That’s all good and well, I figured the kid was gonna disappear within like a month anyway.  He made it a little longer than that before… hahahaha… Wow, even when I was a total dick, I never done nothin’ like this… The kid… he… he faked an injury cause he had to team with Casey Williams.  Hahaha!  Who the fuck does that shit?  THAT GUY!

Giani has to stop to laugh at the irony, shaking his head as he does so.  He leans back up a bit as he tries to recompose himself.

Giani:  Seriously, bro?  I mean, like… seriously, seriously?  If you was worth a damn, you woulda fought through teamin’ with Casey Williams like I did back in the old NXT days with him.  Ya carry the big bastard on ya back if ya hafto.  Ya don’t bail out on him like a pussy ass bitch.  That’s weak, and that’s NOT what a real champion would do, bro…

Giani shakes his head in disgust as he stares dead into the camera.  He clutches the belt against his chest like a protective father would his child.  The glare he has on his face is very intense with disbelief, and his eyes appear to be throwing proverbial daggers directly at his challenger.

Giani:  Then… THEN!  Ya got the nerve to ask why people don’t respect ya?  Are ya stupid, dawg?  I mean, are ya a freakin’ idiot?  Seriously, kid…  Ya haven’t done fuck all to prove that ya actually deserve to be taken seriously.  Ya kiss off to God knows where for months after fakin’ an injury to get outta losin’ a tag match.  Ya leave Casey Williams off in a handicap match like a punk.  Then ya come back and attack Kain from behind, and expect people to give a shit?  Somehow ya snuck a win past the kid to top it off, and suddenly ya think ya fought hard enough to deserve a title shot?  Whatever, bro…

Giani takes a deep breath, sighing it out harshly in disgust as he can’t even stand to look at the camera.  He turns his head slightly, but continues on with his rant.

Giani:  I’ll give ya one thing, though.  Ya did beat the man I thought had this thing in the bag.  Ben Jordan is a tough sonuvabitch.  No matter if I like him or not, he deserves respect.  I don’t know exactly how ya managed to eliminate the Cockney King, but that don’t change the fact that ya did.  But the fact of the matter is this… But, if we are basin’ how worthy ya are on that alone, then my first title match of the new year is probably gonna be against Mickey Carroll.  Get real, dawg.

Giani finally manages to bring his eyes back to the camera, with a completely different look on his face.  This time, he seems to be enjoying himself as he gives a smug, toothy grin to the camera.  He adjusts the belt on his shoulder as a sign of how confident he is that he will retain.

Giani:  Let’s face the facts, homie… Ya didn’t do shit to deserve a shot at this title.  Ya can go ahead and pretend that ya did, but everyone watchin’ at home is gonna agree with me when I say that ya didn’t earn it.  Me?  I put in a year and a half of solid work, takin’ on the biggest dogs there was in this yard.  I put ninety percent of them away just to prove that I could.  That was before I even wanted this title.  I told everyone that once I decided I wanted the belt, it would be mine.  I had some fun with the tag belts, and I made them matter for a minute.  Then I decided that I was done beatin’ ass just for the sake of it.  I decided that I deserved the pay raise that comes along with this belt if I’m gonna stampede all over the male roster.  And… well, ya smart enough to figure out how that went down.

Giani uses both of his thumbs to point to the belt on his left shoulder with a proud, confident smirk on his face.

Giani:  I put in the effort to prove why I deserve this belt instead of bein’ some fifteen minute champion like you would be if ya could somehow manage to sneak a win by me on Sunday.  I debuted with a bang, bro.  I beat every big name that this company had to offer at any given time.  I did it just to prove I could.  Then, I pinned the second longest reignin’ Heavyweight Champion is SCW history to earn my shot.  I went on to defeat another former Heavyweight Champion before I won this belt.  What have ya done except show us time after time what a little bitch ya are, Damien?

Giani gets up from the chair, nudging it off to the side.  He rolls his shoulders around in a circle a few times before leaning his head to each side, cracking it as the spotlight catches the dew on his skin, showing off his chiseled arms.

Giani:  The better question is this.  What are ya gonna do when I whoop ya ass at Climax Control?  Are ya gonna fake another injury and blame ya loss on that?  Ya might think it will taint my first title defense with uncertainty, but all it’s gonna do is reinforce what I been sayin’ for the last five minutes.  It’s gonna prove that ya nothin’ but a whiny little bitch.  Hahaha, as if we needed to be reminded of that.  Ya ring promos, and the thing with the kid last week?  That drives the point across pretty well I’d say.  But, ya strike me as the kinda guy who doesn’t care.  Ya know, the selfish kinda prick who has no pride in what he does.  Ya nothin’ more than an even bigger douchebag than Nick Jones and that says a lot by itself.

Giani spits venom at the camera as if it were Damien Kingston himself.  He slowly begins pacing across the ring, only coming into the spotlight periodically.  He has a little bit of a swagger in his step, but the determination shines through the brightest.

Giani:  I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that when ya promo airs, it’s gonna be a lot of the same old shit.  Cry and bitch.  Bitch and moan.  Moan and cry.  “I deserve this.” And “I deserve that.”  Maybe thrown in a little bit of “Giani’s a douchebag who got lucky to win the title.” And a pinch of “That sexy bitch, Giani, better polish that belt up real nice, cause I’m gonna take what I *air quotes* deserve”…

Giani snorts in response to this as he slowly passes through the light once more, disappearing just as slowly as he continues his little mind game.

Giani:  Ya gonna be in for the biggest surprise of ya life if ya think that I’m gonna let ya take this belt away from me on my first defense… or ever for that matter, ya puke.  It’s gonna take a lot more than some arrogant speech where ya list the fuck all ya done to get this title shot to get the job done.  It’s gonna take a lot more than some acrobatics show to take down the beast that is “The Italian Stallion”, “The Reflection of Perfection”… your Sin City Wrestlin’ Heavyweight Champion, Giani Di Luca.

Giani stops in the center of the ring, standing under the spotlight as he rolls his shoulders.  He swings his arms from side to side, loosening himself up as he stares off past the camera.

Giani:  Damien, I want ya to do me a solid here.  I want ya to show up for this match, and I want ya to give it all ya got, broski.  I wanna see ya give it ya best shot.  Yeah, that’s right.  I’m askin’ ya to bring it.  Don’t hold back one bit.  Don’t make some excuse about a sudden “knee injury” or some bullshit like that.  I won’t even go into explainin’ the after effects of my match at December 2 Dismember, cause it don’t mean shit.  I’m gonna bring it.  I ain’t gonna puss out.  Even though I know how ya operate, D-Bag, and I should expect some kinda bullshit from ya, I’m askin’ ya to man up and at least pretend like ya might, some how, some way, deserve this title shot.  Hell, it ain’t even a favor to me.  It’s a favor to ya’self, dawg.

Giani pauses to take in a deep breath, as his eyes wander directly upon the camera.

Giani:  Don’t be the bitch that ya been for the last several months, Damien.  Act like a freakin’ man for at least for one night.  I ain’t gonna listen to some lame excuses after I whoop ya ass and leave ya down on the mat for the old one, two, three, or however the special holiday stipulation says I gotta win.

Giani stops for a moment and then he places the Heavyweight belt around his waist.  He slowly peels off his shirt, holding it up for the camera to see.  His chest glistens in the spotlight as he turns his attention over to the shirt for a short moment.

Giani:  This is how much I have faith in myself, kid.  I believe that I’m gonna whoop ya ass, and ring in the new year as the champion.  In Chinese Astrology, 2014 is the year of the horse… or stallion *wink*.  I don’t believe that it’s some kinda coincidence that I won the belt so close to the end of the year.  It’s written in the stars that I’m gonna stampede over the competition, and prove that this is the Era of Giani Di Luca.  And for anyone who would like to get in on this shirt, check out the merch table or the website to get yours today… Hahaha, cheap plug.

Giani slings the shirt over his shoulder as he smiles.  Before long, the smile fades as his face fills with seriousness once more.

Giani:  I’m done talkin’ ‘bout ya punk ass, Damien.  Just make sure ya give me everythin’ ya got on Sunday, cause I’m gonna give ya my best. In the spirit of good sportsmanship, good luck, kid.  May the best man win?  Yeah, I will…

We linger on Giani’s arrogant smirk for a moment.  The light seems to intensify around Giani, glistening off of his bare arms, chest, and abdomen.  After a moment, the spotlight shuts off, bathing the screen in darkness as we fade out…


{I got my speakers on WRECKED!}


{fin}