”You are angry! …”
“You are sad…”
“You are PISSED! …”
“You are lonely..”
“You are… kinda hungry…”
So many things I tried to tell myself after the “incident” at Climax Control on March 25th, 2012. It was the big day. It was the day where I would spend the rest of my life with the one person I cared enough about to let into my heart.
”I loved her. I LOVE her!”
“She’s a rotten, conniving, bitch!”
“She is my soulmate!”
“She can rot in hell for all eternity!”
“I miss the smell of her hair.”
“I’m glad she left me at the alter…”
So many things I felt as I sank down to the ground. My nards felt like they were knocked into my throat, choking the very life out of me, and believe me… It would have been far easier for everyone involved if I really had choked on them.
”I’m so sorry to hear about what happened, Spike…”
“That bitch is gonna get her car fucked up for starters, and then…”
“Man, you had to have seen it coming. Everyone did…”
“I was so shocked when I saw what happened…”
“Are you okay? …”
“You have our sympathy…”
“She’s such a bitch, and you are better off without her…”
“What’s going to happen with the kids, the house, the…”
So many things said by those who care about me. If they really knew me, they would have just shut the fuck up and left me and my kids alone. It’s bad enough that I have a four year old, who looks the spittin’ image of her mother, breaking my heart every time I took into her angel eyes…
”When’s mommy coming home?”
“Are you and mommy fighting?”
“What did uncle Jamie mean when he said mommy nearly knocked yer nards off?”
“Can I call mommy?”
“Why can’t we go home yet?”
“Where is mommy?”
“Can we get another ice cream for mommy?”
“Is mommy running away?”
So many questions that I could not answer for my baby girl. The one man who is supposed to have all the answers, and I’m about as dumbfounded as she is. I sit there and I try not to lose my mind in front of my children, but my son knows. He knows… He has been through it with me once before. The memories of that are far more painful, but they are further in the past, where I am used to it now, that was… until……….
”That certainly was rich, the way she laid you out in front of both of your families. And everyone called me the bitch!”
I couldn’t stand it anymore. Misty had her demons, and I still have mine. She stands about six foot nothing, a red-haired, acid tongued, leather studded, fire breathing, cold, hard bitch of a woman. She stands tall, but right now she was all but standing. The cigarette pressed between her lips signified her lusty appetite had been quenched momentarily. I knew it wasn’t real, but who am I to argue with my psychosis? Still, I felt every quiver and every bite mark on my shoulder. I felt… every… single… thing. And it felt strangely satisfying. I glanced over at her heaving bosom, covered only by the red satin sheets.. She gently exhales a silver stream of smoke in the dimly lit room where, in reality, we had spent many, many hours doing similar physical activities, one of which led to the conception of my, our son.
It is worrisome that this felt so real, as I buried this woman just before Misty and I were engaged. But, it’s happening, even if only in my mind, so why not enjoy it?
Spike: You have no room to talk, Roxanne. You all but did the same thing to me. Stabbed me in the back, went with one of my best friends, tried to wreck Misty and I for a solid year including stealing her championship, took Tim away from me, tried turning my whole family on me… I might have settled for being racked at the altar, if given the choice.
A smirk ran across her as she tapped the butt of her cigarette, her crimson lips parting just enough to stream out another wisp of smoke. Her big, lovely eyes lock onto mine, and I want to hate her. Somehow hating a dead woman seems blasphemous, so I settle for a slight contempt for her, and the events that had just transpired. She leans in for a kiss, but when I turn my head away, she nips at my earring, working her way up to the lobe, without letting go.
Roxanne: You were pretty spiteful yourself. You had barely booted me to the curb when you were laying down with that cu…
Out of sheer reflex, I ripped my ear from her now gentle nibbling, and I put my over her mouth with an angry glare. Her eyes brighten up by my near outburst only to show disappointment when my eyes sink downward. I took a deep breath and shuffled around the blankets.
Spike: I’m still not used to the idea of anything negative said about… her. Even though she knocked my jewels off…
Roxanne: Well, she definitely didn’t knock them off. They’re still in working order.
Spike: So, I just have to ask. Misty had her demon, Sydney. I knew about it the whole time, and apparently she is the reason for all of this. She got what she wanted now… But I don’t get why I am being haunted, and by you? Why? I get that I’m turning into a basketcase, by why you?
I looked over for an answer, but I forgot how hard it is to read her. Misty was almost always like an open book, but Roxanne was lock stock and no key. Her she surprised me by putting her cigarette out on my arm, and I winced slightly, the feeling sending a jolt of pleasure up my arm, and throughout my entire body. She dropped the butt into the more convenient ash tray to her right, and then she just shrugs her shoulders.
Roxanne: Why not me? You and I go way deeper than you and that Hot Topic trailer trash. She is the first at everything… except you. I would say I planted my flag in you, but it was quite the opposite. Hmm…
Spike: So you turned me into a deviant. I still don’t see why you are haunting me.
Roxane: Get past the appearance, and get down to the real issue… The reason why is as obvious as anything. You really have become pathetic, and it is really sad to see. Spike Staggs used to be a name that was to be feared. Now, the name is associated with a family man who reprised a team of losers, and who just got ditched at the altar by the only golden one of the stable. You are just laughable anymore. Every single thing that every person is saying about you, down to calling you Miss Elizabeth to Macho Misty, is true. You can act like you don’t believe it, but deep down… you know it’s true. You know that, and watch your opponents exploit any or all of those things, plus a thousand others that are equally true.
I hated hearing that. I just couldn’t stand hearing her, and each word added to the rage I felt inside. I did know it was true. Maybe it was time I pulled a one way JT Underwood/Justin Underwood/Phoenix.
Roxanne: No, it is not the same. He reinvented himself, you are reverting to a fraction of what you used to be.
But I didn’t say that out loud. How did she know?
Roxanne: I’m in your head, idiot. I know everything.
Spike: Then what number am I thinking?
42…
Roxanne: 42
That’s just trippy. As I sat there for a moment, I thought that I really should try to pull myself out of my slump. Posture a bit to show the world that I wasn’t dead, more alive than ever actually. I had already showed up and confronted Misty, showed her that I am not missing a beat.
Roxanne: You need to focus on your match, Spike. At least you have it easy this week. They must know you are weak.
Spike: First, I am not weak, and second…
I stopped because she burst out into a fit of laughter. I started to remember why I left her in the first place as I stood up from the bed. She smacks my ass, getting a firm grip with her claws to leave her print before letting go. She stifles back her laughter, lighting another cigarette.
Spke: … AND secondly, this match isn’t some big cake walk. Rage and Gabriel are a real challenge.
Roxanne: Oh give me a break, Spike! You are making me laugh too hard… The biggest threat in the Seven Deadly Sins is Kittie, and thanks to the 1940’s style rules of SCW, you don’t have to worry about facing her. Despayre is next, he’s unpredictable, and a great athlete. Rage and Gabriel are bottom of the barrel. And I mean the very bottom… Gabriel is a con man, nothing but a joker, a rambler, and a gambler. Unless he can pull an ass kicking out of his hat, you should be fine. And Rage… Rage! Don’t get me started on him.
I haven’t had any real encounter with Rage, but I have seen the damage this man can cause. He is a monster in every sense of the word, and truly is where my biggest worry lies.
Roxane: I can’t believe you are worried about that big waste of space. Seven feet of nothing! He is a useless ape, and you being afraid of him just goes to show you are a worse case than I originally thought.
Spike: Oh yeah, you say that because you aren’t the one that has to face him. Not that I will go down without a fight, but…
Roxanne: Spike! The man’s biggest achievement is that he was a Tag Team Champion with your brother… not the young one, the dumb one! I just don’t get why you are so worried about it?
”Daddy?”
My eyes shoot open, and I look around the room in a sort of panic. Just then, my daughter walks sleepily into my room. She stands next to my bed, and lays her head on my chest, as if awaiting my permission to crawl next to me.
Eden: Timmy’s snoring and it sounds like a monster’s under the bed. Can mommy sing to me?
Stunned, I look over to the spot next to me, and it sits empty. Of course it did. I lift her up as I sit up in the bed. I set her on my lap. She rests her head against my chest as she whimpers. I place my chin on top of her head as I hum a lullaby version of “Rainbow In the Dark” My voice, somehow soothing to the little four year old
“When there’s lighting. You know it always brings me down. Coz it’s free, and I see that it’s me who’s lost and never found. I cry out for magic, I feel it dancing in the light. It was cold, lost my hold to the shadows of the night. No sign of the morning coming, you’ve been left on you own… Like a rainbow in the dark… A rainbow in the dark…”
Humming the instrumentals, I watch as her eyes flutter open and closed, but she doesn't let herself go out that easy. She crawls up a few inchest and rests her head on my shoulder, groaning in protest of the oncoming slumber.
“Do your demons, do they ever let you go. When you tried, do they hide, deep inside. Is it someone that you know? You’re just a picture, you’re an image caught in time. We’re a lie, you and I. We walk without a right. There’s no sign of the morning coming. You’ve been left on your own. Like a rainbow in the dark. Just a rainbow in the dark… Yeah…”
With a yawn, I know it won't be long before she is fast asleep. I have to give her credit, she sure is stubborn like her old man. She puts up a fight like a lot of the people I encounter in my profession. She jolts, trying to stay awake, even though her eyes stay closed. I run my hands through her hair, the one ray of hope that I have of getting through this...
“When I see lightning, you know it always brings me down. Coz it’s free, and I see that it’s me that’s lost and never found…”
I look down at her, and as I expected, she was fast asleep. Say what you want about my parenting skills, but at least my daughter will know that “Holy Diver” isn’t the only Dio song… She purrs in my arms, and I rock her back and forth. This is what kills me most of all, the fact that she did exactly what she always scrutinized Roxanne for doing with Timmy…
With the blink of an eye, I am on the plane to Amsterdam Airport Schiphol, that same beauty with her head buried in my son’s arm as he taps away at his Nintendo 3DS. At least she has someone to help usher her through these hard times, someone who has been through it before… That thought alone puts a hint of a smile on my face, watching as he holds her close.
I have been doing pretty good so far, but I can already tell that the craziness isn’t far from consuming me. The idea of fighting my opponents is exciting. The thought of any of the four of us spilling blood on the canvas sends glorious shivers up and down my spine. Win or lose, I need this more than anything. Everyone keeps asking me…
Spike shakes his head as he stands in the streets of Amsterdam, a group gathered around with as much enthusiasm as donkey show patrons in this fair city. He winces a bit with a slight hint of a headache before he notices a microphone sitting just inches from his face. He takes a deep breath, and acts as if he heard the question, and if pondering it. He is even more surprised not to see a pair of boobs in his face, but rather the good ole “Stoner” Scott Oliver. He apologetically smiles, putting his hand out to shake his hand.
Spike: I’m… I’m so sorry, Scott. My mind is in probably a millions different places right now. Spacing out a bit.
Scott Oliver: Sha, right? It’s in the air here, man. This is the world capitol for Sex, Drugs, and… Yeah, that’s right.
Spike nods his head, still sort of in shock over his sudden appearance. He rubs the back of his head, clinching his eyelids, trying to shake off the headache. He shakes hands with Scott, and then proceeds.
Spike: Yeah… What was the question again?
Scott Oliver: Dude, are you sure you are ready to come back to the ring already? All of the talk of knackers, nuts, nads, nards, and gooley’s on Twitter, it’s gotta make you think twice about it.
Spike’s eyes narrow, as he swore the next time someone asked that, he would punch them right in their nose. His jaw clinches, and he turns toward Scott, gently straightening out his shirt nice and neat.
Spike: Am I ready to return to the ring? Of course I am you silly asshole!
Spike pats him on the shoulder, allowing Oliver a second to breath before Spike leans back down toward the microphone with a smile on his face.
Spike: What is every person’s dream? You have a bad day at work, or you get dumped, or your car breaks down, or you get a speeding ticket, or your friend just drank your last beer… What do you want to do when any one of a million possible scenarios like that happens? You want to kick someone’s ass. You want to punch the fuck out of someone, anyone’s face. You want to toss them on the ground and stomp them until they stop moving. You want to choke the life out of someone, don’t you? Well, I am fortunate enough to be in a profession where that is legal. So, to properly answer your question in the most diplomatic manner possible… Yes. I am sure I am ready to return to the ring. As for anyone who has something to say about the knocking of the gooley’s or whatever, I implore you to refrain.
Spike looks down from the camera, his eyes showing a glimpse into his sadistic past before his attempt to hide them. He closes them as his jaw is tightly clinched. He opens them again, thinking that maybe they have lost the bitter cold. He looks back into the camera, only having fooled himself as his eyes are even icier than before.
Spike:I can’t promise that you won’t fully and completely regret it. I don’t give a fuck if you are Joe Schmoe, The Sin of Wrath, Jamie Staggs, Misty’s father, Jordan Williams, or a flashy magician! I could care less. One day I will be ready to deal with what happened two weeks ago, but today is not that day. Call me a loser, call me a low life, washed up has been, Mr. Mommy, and I will still shake your hand in the middle of that ring. But even the slightest…
Spike holds up his thumb and index finger, bent to show about a centimeter between. He squints his eyes to emphasize the tiny measurement.
Spike: … smallest hint of a nut shot joke, and I will take pleasure in ripping your godamned esophagus right out of your neck with a smile. With a smile, I said. Old Spike is inside, and he is clawing at my gullet, trying to escape, but no one liked what they saw when he ruled. The King of the bloodbath sold seats, but he was just a bastard… An angry, bitter, jaded man who was so sloppy, it was ridiculous. I am trying to be a monster of a different color, but sometimes it’s just so hard. So, a friendly warning to everyone… The thing you thought you saw in the ring two weeks ago… the sham of an engagement that you thought went on for five years… It never happened. None of it. As long as it stays that way, that reckless beast of a man stays in the past where he belongs. We clear, Scott?
Spke’s eyes finally warm up as he looks back to Scott, reaching forward for another handshake from the rather stunned Scott. He shrugs his shoulders and accepts the handshake. As Spike turns toward the camera, Scott whirls a finger around at his ears to signify “crazy”. He then brings the microphone back to his lips.
Scott Oliver: So none of that shit happened, gotcha. So tell me, bro. That Twitter shit’s all over this place now. You and Rage agreed to kick each other’s asses in a friendly way. I’m excited to see that. Us GXW people waited for the day you two locked up in the ring, and never got to see it. But my question is about Gabriel. You two have no history, but many are saying this is the true main event of the night. Why do you think it is?
Spike smiles, truly contemplating the ideas of what makes this match truly epic. He nods his head back and forth as if having a conversation with himself before leaning down to the microphone.
Spike Well, there is just too many reasons to count. All former Heavyweight Champions except Rage who should, and surely will be one soon. It is honestly a travesty that he has not been yet, It is epic, because every person in this match has been a part of more Main Events than SCW has had matches. The possibilities are endless, and I truly am excited to face off with the Sins in a friendly competition.
Spike pauses, as if answering himself again, in a more animated manner this time. He nods his head and shrugs his shoulders.
Spike: We all love a good surprise, but what makes this one such a hidden gem is the fact that we have two men who are so similar. No, I am not talking about Rage and I… I am talking about Gabriel and I. Rage is a powerhouse, but he is more like old Spike. Sloppy. His anger gets the best of him. Gabriel and I, we are opportunists. We know when and where to execute the truly devastating maneuvers. We play with our prey before we eat them alive. I was the mindfuck before Gabriel ever laced up the boots. He is like Criss Angel of the wrestling ring, but I’m bloody David Copperfield! Do I think I will outwit him? I’m not sure. It is all part of the fun of a match, but I promise you one thing… People will talk about this match for years to come. Regardless of the outcome, I look forward to putting on one hell of a match with you boys…
Spike starts to walk away from Stoner, when he stops and slowly turns around. Oliver looks kinda worried and confused as Spike pats him on the back. A sly smile spreads across Spike’s face as he lowers his sunglasses back down to cover his eyes.
Spike: To those watching at home, who might visit Amsterdam, I would not suggest looking into a crowd of people… But you, I think you might be into that sort of thing. Do yourself a favor and take a gander, okay?
Scott Oliver: Uhhh, okay dude. Whatever you say.
Spike motions over to another crowd of people just down the block, and then he exits out of the picture. Scott looks over to the camera and raises the microphone back to his mouth.
Scott Oliver: This is “Stoner” Scott Oliver reporting from… Damn it all, now I’m curious!
He drops the microphone and walks over to the crowd of people. The camera follows him as he peeks inside, it’s content still shrouded in mystery. He tries to turn away, but is fairly unsuccessful.
Scott Oliver: No way! It’s like, straight outta Clerks II or something!
[FaDE]
