Bloody perfect… I lost me match against that bleedin’ tosser, Michael Hardy. I look like the biggest tit in SCW, aside from the set on Brandi Shotze naturally. After all of the talk about how I was going to pack it in for that match, I perform the biggest botch in me career to date. Was it because I lost to Hardy, or was it because I’m really bothered with me own actions and words lately? Some people think that I give a toss about their opinions. The truth is that it is all about Michael Hardy. I disappointed me self because I should never have lost to someone like him. I took him as a joke, because quite honestly, he is. But instead of going in there and cracking skulls like I always have, I came out as the bigger joke. Not again… never again.
***********************************
We fade to the inside of The Platinum Hotel just off of the Las Vegas Strip. In first person, we stumble through the hallways, careening into walls and the occasional guest or cleaning lady as we go. It is like a parade of “Hey!” and “Excuse yourself!” but all we can manage to do is raise up a middle finger and slur a few noises that questionably resemble words. It isn’t until you knock on a door, and a seven year old girl answers the door with a bewildered look that you realize you aren’t even on the right floor.
Girl: Daddy…?
A few more words escape your lips before you turn around and walks away from the door. There was something that could have been an elevator a few hundred feet in he opposite direction, yeah? An angry father shouts at you, but fuck if you can understand him. Your hand flies up to wave the concerned guest off. You hug onto the wall as you stumble around, nearly tripping over your own feet.
”Bloody fuck!”
Even though it felt like entirely too long, you have finally reached the elevator. There are two buttons, but somehow you’ve forgotten which direction you want to go. You just press both and hope for the best. After popping a cigarette into your mouth and lighting it, you hear a ding. You blink your eyes, feeling them get heavy as you stumble inside of the door. You collapse into the paneling and slide down to the floor as your eyes slowly close.
”Too much was never possible… until now…”
Before we know it, there is another loud ding noise that snaps us back to reality. As the eyes seem to force opened, we see Mickey Carroll lying on the floor of the elevator, and the sleeve of his black canvas jacket is on fire as he looks around.
Holly: Oh… my… gawd!
Tessa: Jesus Christ, Mickey! What the hell are ya doing here?!
Mickey stares at them for a moment, just blinking his eyes as he takes it all in. Tessa rips Mickey’s jacket off and begins stomping on it frantically. Mickey simply looks at his lightly reddened skin, the blackened butt of the cigarette still between his lips. He scratches his head as he slowly gets up. An elderly couple looks horrified at the scene, turning around to take the stairs instead.
Mickey: Thah-that w-w-as just a little bit of a nap.
Tessa: Ye passed out ye bleedin’ eedjit! What’s wrong with ya, Michael?
Mickey: Whatsss… wrong with yer face, Con-tess-a? Heh…
Holly: This ain’t my business hunty… Oh, nevermind. Looks like someone was having some happy… happy… dreams… how you doin’?
Holly runs her hands through her hair as she bashfully smiles and giggles. Tessa gives her the evil eye as Holly surrenders her stare. Tessa rips Mickey out of the elevator and begins to drag him down the hallway.
Holly: What? You don’t want to bring your boy to Krave tonight?
Tessa: Go on without me, luv. I’m going to find out what the toss he’s doing here.
Mickey: I’m bloody fine, Tess. Let’s go get bloody pissed with some benders! Oi! Oi! Oi!
Tessa: No, you’ve clearly had enough to drink tonight, Michael. Let’s get ye to pass out, and pray to the Heavenly Father that ye don’t puke all over me bed…
Mickey tries to protest by turning around to follow after Holly to the stairwell, but Tessa’s will is clearly greater than his. She drags him down the hallway and swipes her room key to open the door. She flings him inside almost violently as he collides with the ground. She slams the door behind herself and a whole new fire comes over her face.
Tessa: You… stupid… drunk!
Mickey: Hey! I’m not stupid!
Tessa: Like fuck yer not! There’s an entire list running through me head right now, Michael, and I don’t even know where to start.
Mickey sits up, pulling a cigarette out of his red plaid shirt pocket, steadying it between his lips as he fumbles around in his pocket for a lighter. Tessa snatches it out of his mouth and snaps it in half before crumbling it together, letting the tobacco fall to the floor slowly.
Mickey: Why’d ye do that, Tess? Not like yer so against smoking when ye got a pack on yer nightstand.
Tess: Yes, but I’m not so pissed that I caught me self on fire, either, Mickey! If yer going to damage yer own stuff, that’s fine by me, but I will not have ye wrecking me room that Delia was kind enough to pay for!
Mickey: Right… Ms. Moneybags… How could I forget? Ye always wanted to be a… star! But, didn’t ye try to beat the piss outta her a couple months ago when she poured ink on ye?
Tessa stares at Mickey, not saying a word as she simply looks on. She shakes her head and offers him a laugh in return. Mickey slowly stands up, but Tessa shoves him down to the ground again, just about five feet from where he was prior. He tries to get up again, but she knocks him back down before he makes much progress.
Tess: Yer a bastard, Mickey. Just like yer father. Yer a lousy, sloppy drunk. The more ye fuck up yer life, the more ye drink and make everything worse.
Mickey: Because you’re such a better mum than I am a father, yeah? Where is yer son right now? Tell me and I’ll kneel down and kiss yer feet, Tess.
Tessa purses her lips together as she stares down at his shit eating grin. She has had enough at this point, and she slaps the taste out of his mouth, sending him back to La La Land for a spell.
We come back to find Mickey sprawled out over a queen sized mattress. His shirt is unbuttoned and opened as he hugs a fleece blanket against his chest. He peels his eyes open as he looks around, seeing that it is still dark through the balcony door. He rubs at his head, feeling a pulsing headache, pounding his brain into oblivion. He touches at his sore cheek as he notices a glass of water and a few Tylenol tablets on a tissue on the nightstand. He pops the pills into his mouth and chases them down quickly with the entire glass of water in about two seconds. It is then that he sees a glowing ember on the balcony, seeming to float in mid air. He stands up and walks over to the door to inspect it further, only to see Tessa standing there with a cigarette between her fingers, looking out into the distance to see the glowing lights of the Vegas Strip. He opens the door and pops a cigarette back between his lips, lighting it as he comes to stand next to her. She doesn’t even look over to him, only acknowledging his presence with a scoff and deeper drag from her cigarette.
Mickey: Ahh, just like old times, yeah? Ye slap the piss outta me, and yer the one who stays mad at me…
Tess: Yer a tosser, Michael. Ye get yerself into shit, and then ye come around and find me to drag me into it. Always…
Mickey nods his head as the cool breeze runs over his bare chest. He squints his eyes to study the lights off in the distance as well. In an odd, unfamiliar way, he finds comfort in the flashing lights and the residual noise, as they almost make him forget there are stars in the sky, or even a moon for that matter.
Mickey: We always find each other, Tess. Highs or lows, we always come back together eventually. Maybe it means something that it happened yet again, in a place where…
Tess: Don’t… even… say it, Mickey. We’re no good for each other. That is why, just as soon as we find each other, we lose each other again.
Mickey: Yet… here we are, sweets. We could put a stop to the chase now. We’re like a fucked up Romeo and Juliet.
Tessa takes in another deep drag from her cigarette, tapping the butt end of the cigarette with her finger as the breeze carries the ashes off into the distance. Tessa looks over to Mickey with a look that is as serious as a heart attack.
Tess: They’re dead, luv. I wouldn’t die for ye, Mickey. And I’m fairly certain that ye wouldn’t die for me, either. Of course, I don’t blame ye. Yer just a little drunk yet, and have some sobering up to do.
Mickey: I’m sober as a judge, Tess. I mean it. Every last word of it. We could even go back to London. We could start our family anywhere, as long as we give Michael the parents that he needs.
Tess: I don’t mind if I sound like a complete bitch to ye, Michael, but I don’t want to marry you… Honest to God, I don’t.
This time, it is Mickey who decides that he wants to take a long drag from his cigarette. He holds in the bitter, scratching feeling in his chest for a moment, as a distraction from the aching heart. Finally, he exhales it, a vindictive expression on his face.
Mickey: Of course. Don’t know what I was thinking, honestly. I mean, I’m poor as dirt, and ye want a lad with money…
Tess: Ohhh, bollocks, Mickey! Money doesn’t hurt, but I’m not some gold digging tramp. Yer… yer like my beast of burden. Loving you simply drags me down, and I gave up on that when ye spent time in her majesties extended stay hotel for seven years.
Mickey: That was two years ago, luv… and I’ve changed.
Tessa laughs as she drops her cigarette off of the balcony, allowing it to be taken by the wind. Mickey looks hurt by her words still. Tessa turns to face Mickey for the first time in this conversation, smiling sweetly as she runs her hand over his rough, stubbly cheek, staring deep into his blue eyes.
Tess: No… ye haven’t changed a bit, Michael… and that’s the problem. Ye still get knackered morning, noon, and night. Ye still leave yer poor mum waiting at home for the call that ye wound up dead in a gutter somewhere. Ye turned yer back on the man who helped ye out of yer mess. And, ye spend just as much time with yer son as ye did before ye knew ye had one… Call me a bad mum, but I took care of him completely on me own for seven years, and I’m entitled to a short vacation while me son spends time with his nan.
Tess pats Mickey’s face as a tear rolls down his cheek. She tries her hardest not to cave so that she could hold up the illusion that she was the heartless bitch here. She finally pulls her hand away from Mickey’s cheek as she pulls the balcony door open. She stands there for a moment as she watches Mickey show a sign of regret. She silently cries as Mickey does, turning around. She gives Mickey his private time on the balcony. Mickey shamelessly sobs as he leans on the railing, trying his best to hide it from the unseen watcher.
***********************************
A few key strokes are heard as “Beast of Burden” by The Rolling Stones begins playing. A few seconds later, the screen of Mickey Carroll’s webcam pops up to see Mickey sitting on the queen sized mattress from earlier. His eyes are darkened slightly from what presumably happened just moments prior to the screen going live. Mickey looks a bit sullen as he silently stares at the screen for a few more moments.
Mickey: We always see ourselves in a certain light, don’t we? The victim? The anti-hero? The badass? No matter what vision ye got of yerself, it’s never right. At the end of the day, ye could be the one who knows the least about ye…
Mickey swallows hard as he does his best to knock the sorrow from his face with a classic punk rock stiff lip and another cigarette between the lips. He lights it, and uses it to hide behind the silvery screen of smoke.
Mickey: I been quite the tit lately. I can’t say that it wasn’t completely uncalled for. There was a blatant slap to me fuckin’ face when me best friend in the entire world decided that he was going to tag up with some half arsed legend that left him out to dry just weeks later. Was the biggest fuck ye I’d ever seen from me bruv, Ben… It stung.
Mickey takes in another drag from the cigarette as he leans back against the headboard of the bed. He places the cigarette between his lips as he puts his arms behind his head, propping it up as he continues.
Mickey: Many people called me gullible. They thought I was the biggest eedjit in Sin City Wrestling for believing “Real Money” Jimmy Ringo. Even if he was being a slick bastard, he never once lied to me. He never said that he was done with the sport, then the second I decide to break from it, he jumps back in with baldy. We might not have much of an arrangement these days, but I can still trust him.
Mickey pulls the cigarette from between his lips, holding it down just over his chest. He forces a slick smile on his face as he looks forward, directly into the camera.
Mickey: I can blame whoever I want, but at the end of the day, it was my choice to be the tit in the situation. All I can do is apologize to Ben. I can be the bigger man. So, Ben? If yer listening to this. I’m sorry, bruv. I expect nothing from ye, but to hear it and know that I’m truly sorry.
Mickey lets his apology linger for a moment, a sincere look coming over his face to let it be known that his emotions and his sentiment are genuine.
Mickey: This isn’t about making up, of course. I didn’t get on here to confess me sins and seek forgiveness. There’s a point to it all. See, me and Ben aren’t exactly on speaking terms these days. Me and Jimmy haven’t spoken in weeks at best. We’re not a shining example of friendship. We don’t play patty cake and have hot chocolate tea parties. We don’t consult a bear like it were a Magic 8 Ball. Not like me opponents for Blaze of Glory III.
Mickey puts the cigarette back between his lips as he adjusts his body a bit.
Mickey: Bosom Buddies, now that’s a shining example of friendship, yeah? Two mentally challenged adults running around like six year old children. A true Romeo and Juliet style friendship, once of warring families, forbidden to speak, who found their way around to set a shining example that warmed the hearts of thousands. Truly special, if I do say so me self.
Mickey pauses for a moment, thinking it over as if he were truly moved by the notion. After the moment passes, Mickey chuckles, rolling his eyes at the idea.
Mickey: I’m not trying to be an arse here. I’m really not. But take it from me, mates… Friendship is overrated. It’s only a matter of time before one of ye stabs the other one in the back. Me and Ben was friends since we was knee high blokes playing football in an abandoned lot. Ben was the closest thing to a brother that I will ever know. Not to place blame, of course. We both turned on each other like rabid dogs fighting over a bloody steak, after about fifteen years of friendship. What makes ye think that the lot of ye stands a better chance of staying friends, of trusting one another enough to tag?
Mickey takes a drag from the cigarette before removing it from his mouth once more, putting it out in the bedside ash tray.
Mickey: Despayre? Bernard me boy? Keep yer eyes open, and look over yer shoulders, lads, because neither one of ye is safe from the other. Greed is a powerful drug. Just ask yer boy, Gabriel… He’ll tell ye just what greed and jealousy can do to someone. He’s a shining fucking example of greed gone wrong. Just keep that in mind, gents. I could spout off a bunch of nonsense about how me and Jimmy are gonna beat ye at the Super Card, but it all seems fairly pointless. Yer gonna likely say the same, but the truth is that it all comes down to what happens in the ring. So I’ll just leave off by saying this… Good luck to ye at Blaze of Glory. Let’s put on a show, yeah?
Mickey holds his thumbs up for a moment as the music fades out. He offers a wink to the camera before shutting off the screen. We start to fade out as “No One Knows” by Queens of the Stone Age plays. After a few key strokes, the music stops and we fade out completely.
