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Boys Day Out
#NP "Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve
Locale: Market grille Cafe; Las Vegas, Nevada
I hate to appear like a savage, but there is nothing like licking tzatziki off of your fingers after the beautiful disaster known as the gyro. It makes you feel like a beast, consuming it faster than you would think is humanly possible, but it's nearly impossible not to. I move along to the fries on the side of my plate. As I pick up a couple and ready them for dipping, I look across the table at my son, sitting there with a blank expression on his face. He has barely touched his food, just as he'd barely moved around the laser tag course, or barely accelerated the go cart at the track. He always loved our Boys Day Out, but today, he's just going with the flow, like he's barely ever here. I set my fries back down on my plate as I stare at him for a moment. He doesn't look discontent or miserable, but he has almost completely checked out. I reach across the table, waving my hand in his face as he just lets out a "Hmm?" as a response. He picks up the pita and brings it to his lips as if he were taking a bite, but he doesn't even take a crumb into his mouth. He's pretty convincing though, as he pretends to chew a huge bite, and swallows the nonexistent bite. He picks up his glass and takes a sip to wash it down as he offers me the most forced smile I've ever seen in my life. I purse my lips for a moment as I try not to comment, but after a solid month of this, I can't hold it back any longer.
Me: Do you feel like you're getting any better? Any closer to becoming your old self?
He pauses, knowing that I know the answer to my own question. He looks past me, trying to pretend to look me right in the eye.
Tim: A little. It's a slow process, but...
Me: I was thinking about increasing your visits to Dr. Liddell to twice a week, you know... to help you get back to normal more quickly.
Tim: I don't think the doctor is going to be of any help, dad. I thought after what happened the week before Christmas, that you would get that. We're not just dealing with some lunatic with boundary issues.
I let out a groan of hesitation, recalling what had happened with Belladonna Grey a couple weeks after the crazy Christmas attack on my son. He's right. I can't ignore the fact that something more is going on here. I saw the effects of Brother Grimm's attack, and after everything I've seen in my lifetime, there's no way any human being could animate Gingerbread men and teddy bears, and make it snow a foot within twenty minutes. Still, he doesn't get the fact that this insane stalker is hot on his trail.
Me: I've been working closely with the North's, and we are dealing with things on that end. And you've got so many people surrounding you that this Belladonna freak couldn't possibly be stupid enough to try anything else.
Tim: She doesn't even care. She's got something else up her sleeve, and I just know it. Not to mention the fact that Brother Grimm hasn't forgotten about me, either. He made that pretty freaking obvious last week when he told everyone why he's on my tail now.
I don't say anything, but my blood boils at the thought of that. I try not to show it, but us Staggs don't have the best way of hiding our anger from one another. I slowly lick at my bottom lip as I chuckle, in a manner that conveys anything but humor of the situation. I guess the ass beating I gave The Brat Prince in the middle of the ring two years ago didn't do anything but make him fear any type of obstacle that gets in his way.
Tim: It doesn't really matter, though. Those Xanax pills are such a life saver. Brother Grimm could walk through that door right now, and I wouldn't even flinch. I don't care, about anything. It's great.
I see him smile for the first time since August. Like, really smile. I wish I could say I was happy to see it, but given the circumstances, I'm pretty far from happy. He picks up his sandwich and takes a real bite, delight written on his face as he leans back in his seat to crack his back.
Me: I'm glad to hear that you've got your anxiety under control, son, but what you're doing isn't healthy.
Tim: Oh and living in fear constantly is healthy? I tell you what, I've been able to keep food in my stomach, and I've been able to train without feeling like I'm going to fall over. If that's not healthy, then I'm afraid I just don't know what is.
In a manner of speaking, he is right... though, it just isn't right. I can't seem to gather the right words to say it, but it's not.
Me: It would be great if you didn't need to rely on pills to help you conquer your fears, in the long term. It takes away from your strength overall. That's not you, son. That's not in our blood.
Tim: Mental disorders aren't in our blood? I'd say that's a real line of bullshit. Uncle Erik is a simple narcissist, but you can't look at Jamie and tell me something's not wrong. And no offense, but you aren't the picture of mental health yourself. Uncle Tommy deals with depression and anxiety. We're pretty fucked in the head, dad, and if you can't see that, then we can just add delusion to the long list of your mental ailments.
The words coming from his mouth cut like knives, even with the cool, nonchalant delivery Tim uses as the conduit. He's not trying to be hurtful as he states it all as fact. Not that he's wrong, but that doesn't make it any easier to swallow these bitter pills of truth.
Me: It's great that you hold your family in such high esteem, kiddo...
Tim: That's not a bad thing. It makes us stand out... well, it makes you guys stand out. Apparently my pale skin and hair bright red enough to stop traffic doesn't even get me noticed. Unless you're Brother Grimm, of course.
Me: We have a mutual understanding that we don't judge one another, because not one of us is better than the other. As for Brother Grimm, we'll deal with whatever comes our way. You have people who care about you, and will protect you at literally any cost. That should be enough to make you feel safe.
Tim: Well, it doesn't. What makes me feel safe are those little white pills, three times a day. If you want to know the truth, this is all beyond you guys. Brother Grimm might as well have just killed me at December 2 Dismember. He killed any trace of a normal life I could ever hope for, along with another thing that happened at that event...
I watched the show from home, and just like any proud father, I tuned in for every second of my son's on screen time, including watching him have his heart broken by that no good, foul-mouthed, low rent piece of trash. Not that I'm in to shaming my students, but I didn't care for her before she broke into my gym and led my son down a horrible path, let alone after she crushed his heart on live broadcast for thousands to watch live. In a lot of ways, I think that's what has destroyed him the most, and left him vulnerable for Brother Grimm. I believe his apathic state is due to Alexis humiliating him on social media. However, until he wants to talk about it, I'm going to play stupid with a gentle nod.
Me: You are dealing with a lot right now, and this is why I didn't want to negotiate your contract, or let you sign up for ASW last year. This business tears you apart from the inside out, and not everyone recovers. I put my life on the line, week in and week out for fifteen years to make sure you could have any life you wanted.
Tim: And if I don't want any life? What if I'm just sitting here, waiting for the inevitable? Does it comfort you to know that I'm at least comfortable in just waiting to die? That I've come to terms with what is coming for me, and that those pills make the transition less hard on me?
The anger fester inside of me has finally reached its boiling point. I smash my fists against the table, causing out drinks to splash out a bit from our glasses. Tim looks over at me, though he obviously doesn't sense the urgency in my voice.
Me: No! I'm not okay with that! How am I supposed to be okay with the fact that my little soldier, the most prized fruit of my loin, just wants to wither and fall off the vine?! In no form of reality, alternate or otherwise, am I going to be okay with that, son!
The mild crowd of patrons within the Mediterranean restaurant stop and look in our direction, but I don't care. Some how, some way, he needs to understand what I've apparently failed to make clear throughout his entire life. I just don't see him listening to me right now, but that doesn't mean it shouldn't be said.
Me: Apparently I'm horrible at expressing my feelings, because you went seventeen years without knowing that you were the one and only consistant thing in my life that kept it worth living. You are my child, and although I've failed you in the past, I will watch your eyes light back up with life one day, even if it's the last thing that I do. Bet your ass on that, Tim...
I can't watch his indifference. Not right now. I need to get up and leave before I boil over and cause a real scene. I pull out my wallet, and I slap down a few bills on the table. I push my plate to the edge of the table as I walk off. Hearing the sound of a text alert, I reach for my phone, only to see Tim pull his phone out, and he smiles kind of awkwardly as he hesitantly responds, seeming to totally write me off. I shake my head as I slap the keys to the car down on the table, because I'm about to take a long walk, and eventually I'll make it home. Eventually.....
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Sweet Dreams
#NP "Sweet Dreams" by The Eurythmics
Locale: Inside of Tim's Mind
I'm lying in bed, thinking about everything people have said to me over the last few days. I'm losing everything, and I just... don't... care. Literally, my world is crashing down all around me, and I couldn't possibly care less. What don't they get about my current situation? I'm only staving off the inevitable. I will be taken by Brother Grimm, and there's no stopping it. My dad wants me to ween myself off of the pills. Connor and Celeste want me to stop taking them altogether. Tessa and the rest of The Nobodies are too afraid of hurting my feelings to tell me that they want the same, but there's always this feeling whenever I walk into the crowd of my hooded brethren, that they agree with Connor and Celeste. Well, except Alexis, because she's off doing Johnny, or god knows what.
This is when I feel it. The shaking begins. I've lied awake for too long, and now the meds are wearing off. I look over to my nightstand, toward the bottle of Xanax waiting to take any remnant of feeling away from me. I throw the covers back just slightly to reveal my bare arms and chest, and the newest "body art" that Celeste recommended to help ward off Grimm, a pair of doves to promote inner peace, one on each side of mhy chest. I reach over toward the bottle, but I've underestimated the distance. I groan as I sit back in bed, wiggling up to a seated position. I take a breath and then reach over toward my nightstand to grab my glass of water, taking a sip to relieve the bit of dry mouth I'm starting to feel as the fear washes over me like a long lost friend. Obviously, it is an unwelcomed one, so I'm quick to reach over for my pill bottle, when I miss it once again. For some reason, this sends chills through my whole body, as that familiar metallic taste washes over my tongue. Something's not right. I can't breathe. I cough a bit as my heart tries to race, and I do everything in my power to convince myself that the air is just too dry. I close my eyes and slowly count to ten before I open them again. My arms flinch as I reach back toward the pill bottle. This is when I watch my nightstand move across the room... except the entire room has stretched out now. I feel like I'm the size of an ant in my own room. I can't breathe! Fuck!
I throw the blanket off of me, and grab around for my pants. After a few rapid attempts, I find them, and slide them on. I stand up out of bed, looking down at my legs as they appear to be fifty feet long. The room is slowly spinning as I freak out. I stumble over across the long journey to my nightstand, and I slap around for the bottle, finally taking it into my hand. I fumble around with it a bit, trying to get the cap off. Once I do, I go to pour a couple into my hand, but they fall through the cracks of my fingers and onto the floor. I look at the ground, which feels like it's a hundred feet away from me. I kneel down, and wind up falling, knocking my head against the nightstand. The rush of pain is only momentary before my eyes close, and darkness begins to overwhelm me.
Embarrassment...
I don't know how much later it is, but I feel the fear creep back inside, whispering a chilly "wake up" to me. The sinister laughter echoes through my ears as my eyes shoot open. I lift my head up to look around my room. Everything seems normal, besides the smashes pills in my carpet, and the skeleton standing in the corner, laughing at me. No big dea... WHAT?! Holy hell, it's another nightmare. Since I started taking those pills, I haven't had one. And, even though I know it isn't real, I can't stop myself from feeling like it is. I back up against my bed, covering up my nearly naked body with my legs and arms, curling up into a ball as the skeleton walks closer. He is wearing a black hooded jacket, much like the ones my crew wears. His sick smile and eyes that are somehow blacker than the shadows surrounding my room cause me to shake. I sit there, trying the whole "they can't see me, so they can't hurt me" routine, but he clearly can. His heavy footsteps approach me as he reaches down and yanks me up by my hair, causing me to yelp out in pain, but scream out in pure fear.
Skeleton: Just when you thought you were safe, is when you were most vulnerable. Isn't that how it always works, child?
I want to tell him to fuck off, but I... I can't. My voice won't work. Not even a squeak escapes my lips as I dangle from his frosty, bony fingers. His mouth opens as some sort of black liquid begins to flow through his teeth.
Skeleton: What's that? I can't hear you through all of that delicious adrenaline seasoned fear pouring out of your skin, boy!
He brings his mouth closer to mine as he cackles in a demonic tone. I turn my head, but it doesn't do much good, as he simply twists my hair ever so slightly to turn me back around to face him. However, instead of a skeleton standing in front of me, it is Celeste's on again, off again boyfriend, Chad Miller. Instead of lifting me up by my hair, he's got his fingers tangles in my hair, tugging back lightly as he leans in.
Chad: Ever since that night at the party, I've been wanting to do this again...
I try to turn my head, but his hand is latched on to my hair, and all I can do is close my eyes, and hope that it all goes away. I think... it might have actually worked. I stand there, frozen for a minute, but I feel nothing. I shoot my eyes open, ready to sigh in relief when I'm nose to nose with him, and his lips press against mine. I squirm to escape it, but I can't get away. His lip lock is tighter than my Untitled No. 1! I feel the warmth of his lips, but the chilling cold of putrid black liquid and a serpent tongue prodding into my mouth. I try to scream, but it is muffled by his mouth. I look around as the masked Nobodies all laugh and point at me. Chad's hands run all over my body as I do everything in my power to escape. I somehow find it in my to shove him away, but the laughter still rings through my ears.
Me: No... NO! NO! NO! DON'T LAUGH AT ME!
I look around, and somehow, my bedroom has turned into an SCW venue, and the crowd consists of nothing but masked Nobodies, all laughing at my expense. I spit the putrid black from my mouth, feeling the wretching feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. Chad winks at me as he wipes the black from his mouth too.
Chad: Oh, come on. I know I'm not the only one who enjoyed that...
He slowly starts to unzip his jacket before reaching for his zipper. I back up quickly, hitting my back against the ropes of the ring. I dive through the ropes and to the outside as I keep my sights on Chad, running up the ramp backward. I trip over a wire and fall flat on my boxer brief covered ass.
Crowd: You're a pussy! *Clap, Clap, ClapClapClap* You're a pussy! *Clap, Clap, ClapClapClap*
I scramble backward up the ramp, but Chad is gaining on me quickly. I didn't like that. I didn't like it one bit, so I certainly won't enjoy any more than that. I make it to my feet, until my body collides with something, or someone.
Celeste: Go ahead, T-Bone. Screw my boyfriend, and shit all over our friendship. It's not like you haven't been doing that lately anyway.
I turn to look at Celeste, anger boiling under those deceivingly soft blue eyes of hers. She tries to nudge me closer to Chad, who licks at his lips in what I assume is supposed to be in a sensual manner, but it just makes me shove past Celeste and through the curtains. As I reach the backstage area, it looks a lot like... my hallway? I look back to see Chad still in hot pursuit as the crowd reminds me that I'm nothing but a walking vagina. I slam the door shut behind me and rest against it. I look around, and everything is quiet. I take this time to catch my breath before I start walking down the hallway. I can hear the creaking of the house as it breathes in a soft yet steady tone. I see a soft light trickling up the stares, and I'm almost sure its coming from the living room. I walk toward the steps as I can hear a bit of chatter coming from the living room, and it's not the television.
Failure...
I can't quite hear what they're saying, but the soft whisper of the word failure lingers in my ears, even more than the one I'd heard earlier which was clearly "embarrassment". I feel like there is a heavy weight on my chest, making each breath take fifty times as much energy as it should. I walk down the first step, but it makes a loud creak, and the voices stop. I softly move down a few more steps and have a seat as I get a clear view of the living room. My family is sitting there, pretty much everyone. My dad, Vixen, Eden, the twins, Jamie, Tommy, and Erik. They look over toward the steps, but I know they don't see me from this position. Once they realize no one is there, my dad clears his throat and begins speaking again.
Dad: It's no secret that we've got a big problem here. I'm just not sure what to do about it.
Vixen: You're right. It's a very big problem. As much as I love you, Spike... it is becoming a lot for me to handle.
My dad sighs as Vixen bounces the fussy twins on her knee. Her usually calming French Canadian accent deceives the frustrations in her voice, but to those who know her, those frustrations are very clear.
Vixen: I am starting to see why the other two left like they did. Who else could put up with that?
Dad: Look, I know! But, we all play with the hand we were dealt. There isn't a discard pile for kids who just aren't good enough. Well, there is, but that only resulted in a bit of jail time, and even then, I was still handed back that Joker card.
Erik: Well, I sure as hell couldn't keep it in my hand. I'm playing with all aces. I can't have a four of useless shitheads in my deck. He's your kid, so you should have done what I told you to do in the beginning and make Roxanne get an abortion.
There is a hush that comes over the room as I feel a tear start to trickle down my cheek. I purse my lips together, waiting for some sort of sick punchline to come through, but it doesn't. There is just a round of mumbles of agreement. My dad sighs and shakes his head.
Dad Hindsight is twenty-twenty, uncle Erik. But now, it's considered murder, so it's a little late to do anything about it. We just need to figure out how to deal with it.
Tommy: He's at the age where he can be emancipated. Why don't you feed him a few bullshit lines about how cool it is to be an adult, even though it's a total lie, and once he signs those papers, tell him peace out Red?
Jamie: Or, you could do what you did with me, and sign him up for scientific experiments and stuff? Totally made me smarter and way better to be arrrrrrrrr-rrrrrrr-rrrrr.... Wait, what?
I think Jamie had a mini seizure as he looks around the room at everyone who is staring at him, shaking their heads.
Eden: Can we make him go live with Uncle Jamie? Ooooh, can I have all his stuff?! Doesn't he have a real mommy he can go live with?
Vixen: No, sweetie... just like everyone else, nobody wants him.
Eden: Oooohhhhh....
Eden nods her head as she seems to understand now. My vision goes a bit hazy from the tears in my eyes as I softly sniffle so not to bring attention to myself.
Erik: So, murder is out of the question, but I know a guy who could make anything look like an accident. He's a bit pricy, but...
Dad: No! I've tried already, and it doesn't work. Why do you think I signed his wrestling contracts? I thought he'd have killed himself already, but the most he did with his shitty wrestling skills is nearly kill someone else! I mean, I hate to say it, but my son sucks. He sucks so bad, and I'm finding it harder and harder not to tell him that while I smack those beady fucking eyes right out of his head.
Vixen: Oh my god, tell me about it...
I can't help but make a loud noise from crying, and all conversation stops. My dad stands up as I cover my mouth to stop any further noises from escaping my lips. I hear footsteps slowly coming toward the stairs, and then, moments later, I see my dad looking up the steps with a fake smile on his face.
Dad: H-heyyyy there, kiddo. How long have you been sitting there?
Jamie: Hopefully not long enough to hear how we all hate his ugly guts. I mean, he looks like a ginger Gollum, emirite? Huh?
Erik: Uhhhhghhhh... totes...
I try to play innocent as my dad slowly walks up the steps toward me, with his hands behind his back.
Dad: We're really worried about you, son... We were just... oh man, I can't hold it in any longer. You are shit. Not "the shit", meaning cool from twenty years ago, but shit. As in shitty. Basically, you suck, and the only people who want to be around you are losers who also suck. I mean, you can't wrestle for shit. It's kind of embarrassing to all of us, really. I mean, even Jamie, with all that he lacks, can still wrestle.
My dad chuckles, hoping that I'll understand. I just keep covering my mouth, despite the fact that I can hardly breathe without a hand over my mouth. I gasp through my fingers as I begin crying again, shaking my head.
Dad: You're an embarrassment to the family name, son. I mean, everyone hates me for not making you use a fake name to wrestle under. They were all pretty on board for hoping that you kill yourself in the ring, though, and that's the only reason they still talk to me.
Me: I'm... I'm... champion.
My dad tilts his head to the side as if I just told him a sad joke, where he gives me a pity laugh. Downstairs, I hear laughter ringing from the living room.
Tommy: What a dumbass! Did you hear that? No, no, it was like "Ohhhh, but, but... I are champeen!" Give me a fucking break.
Dad: He's right. Having the tag championships right now is like being friend zoned... something else you're totally familiar with right now! HA! Am I right, guys?
Everyone: OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
Vixen: Somebody take him out of the oven, because he just got BURNED!
I get up and run down the stairs, tears falling out of my eyes. I stop right at the front door, frozen as I feel their eyes on me as they laugh at my expense. It slowly dies down as my dad comes up to me. As he approaches, I see a butcher knife in his hand. He slowly raises it up with a bit of joy in his eyes.
Dad: You're such a failure, son. A miserable failure, and I only see one option left, to rid the family of the burdens you put on us.
As he goes closer, the rest of the family stands up, butcher knives in their hands. Even the twins, clank theirs together in Vixen's embrace. They come toward me as they all keep repeating "Failure... Failure... Failure..." I fling the front door open as I run out toward the cold, but...
Failure...
The ghastly word echoes through my ears, as probably the biggest fear I face. Everything is dark and misty as I walk through the abyss. I look around, and see what appear to be gaslights, but there is no street, and they are so far apart. I approach the first one, slowly. As the mist clears, I see a red throne, with a woman and a man, wearing a gimp mask, lying at the feet of my biological mother. All three are leather clad, and my mom holds on to two chain link leashes, going to collars around each of their necks. She looks over at me with narrowed eyes.
Roxanne: You gave me the greatest gift I've ever received when you wouldn't let guilt get the better of me, doll. It was the best thing I ever did, leaving you with your father. It made him miserable, because he had to be around you. I might not have much of a heart now, but I felt bad about it. Now that I've seen what you become, sugar? I'm glad I chose this life over you...
Before I can even try to say anything, the light goes out, and she disappears. While it does hurt that my biological mother abandoned me when I was five years old, I try not to let it show much, and each passing day, it's gotten easier to deal with. I sniff a little, as I let out a laugh.
Me: Is that the best you got, Grimm?
I shake my head as I walk off toward the next light. The fear is easing up some as I walk up to see Misty standing there, singing a lullaby to Owen, he baby boy. I walk up to her, while her back is turned to me. I'm ready to speak, when I hear her speak.
Misty: Mommy will always love you, best. You're my real son. Not just by a piece of paper handed to me from some other woman who didn't want you. You are a product of love, no matter how momentary. Timmy is a product of hate and violence pretending to be love. He is cursed to be a terrible person with no real purpose. Ohhh, but not you, my beautiful baby boy. You're my little miracle.
She nearly weeps in the splendor of the light resonating from her baby boy. Her... real son. She turns around to face me, and that beam of joy fades away quickly to a look of utter disgust.
Misty: Shouldn't you be hiding in a corner, shaking like the little coward that you are? That's what you've done your whole life, so how in the hell do you expect me to see past that and value you as a member of my family? You put so much stress on the relationship I had with your father, that we wound up hating each other. I am not your mother, and I didn't have to stick around for you.
Me: What about Eden, then? Why did you leave her? Is it because you're a coward, too?
Misty: I figured that, with a son as useless as you, our daughter would have turned out that way, too. But, when she didn't, I came back. It's not your stock, Timmy. It's you. And that is why everyone leaves you, or pushes you away. You are nothing, and the only smart thing you've ever done is label yourself as the leader of the Nobodies...
I close my eyes and sigh, because I don't exactly know how to argue that in my state of mind. Luckily, I don't have to, because when I open my eyes, the light around her had gone out, and she disappears into the darkness with Owen. The next light seems as if it is a mile away, but the sound of a woman being hurt echoes across the abyss. I begin to speed walk toward it, but the sounds get louder and louder, sounding more urgent as I hear skin slapping skin, and a pained groan from the woman as she pleads for her attacker to stop. My walk turns to a jog, and then to a run as I try to help whoever she is. Near the light I see a bench, where the light only seems to cast a soft glow on the face of Alexis. She is in pain, as her eyes are closed, and her left eye is swollen, and ready to bruise.
Me: Lex? Lexi?!
I charge up to the bench as I see her lips quiver, and the pained groan suddenly becomes a clear moan of ecstasy. The mist around her stops anything from being visible, but I'm pretty sure she's naked. I know it sounds like the creepiest option, but I skid to a stop and just stare at her.
Lexi: Smack me harder this time. I'm not a lesbian, so I don't want to fuck pussies. Do you understand me? Oh, no... choke me...
She opens her eyes to look down at the man below her, but she sees me instead. She loses a bounce in her proverbial step as she scoffs at me, shaking her head.
Lexi: What the fuck do you want, T-Bag? Do you get off on watching people have sex, because you know you'll never have it on your own?
Me: No... I... uh...
Lexi: Duhhh, uhhh, uhhh... Get on with it already. Can't you see I'm busy right now?
Me: I thought you were being hurt, so I was, um... trying to save you.
She laughs as she gets back into her groove. She moans loudly before looking back at me.
Lexi: You couldn't save anyone. You're pathetic. I mean, if you can't even get a girl who thinks so lowly of herself, because you're such a fuckin' ugly loser, how do you think you'll ever manage to be man enough to save me, or date me? Once I realized that you were so beneath even me, it was only a matter of time before I moved on. I mean, you had a year and a half where you could have weaseled your way into a pity fuck from me, and possibly knocked me up to trap me, but you didn't even have the balls. You're weak. There's a reason everyone hates you.
I can't argue with that, and she knows it. She looks away from me as she leans down and kisses the man in the mist. However, as she does so, her eyes look at me, teasing me with that which I will never have.
Johnny: Bae, will you tell the loser to fuck off? He's total bonerkill.
I see Johnny's head raise up from the mist, and he looks back at me, winking as a form of insult. I can't help but charge at them, ready to hurt him, and possibly Alexis at this point. The anger inside of me boils over, but before I can reach them, the light becomes so bright that I can't see for a few seconds. As it dims slightly, and my eyes adjust, I look around to see everyone lying there on the ground. The Masked Nobodies. My family. Celeste, Chad, Alexis, Johnny... all a bloody mess... dead. I gasp as I look around, shaking my head. This can't be real. I walk through the pile of bodies, and I look down at them. As I look down, there are blood stains all over me, and the splatter on my white boxer briefs let me know exactly what it is. Smeared across my chest is the blood of those around me. My arms are dripping with the thick crimson liquid, leading to the knife in my hand. I quickly drop the knife as I fall to my knees. I shake my father, but he doesn't answer me.
Me: Dad? DAD?!
I look over to Celeste. who is spurting blood from her mouth. She's not quite dead yet. I cradle her head in my arm as she looks up at me, horrified. She tries with every bit of strength she has to escape me, but she can't.
Me: Celeste? What happened? Tell me what happened. Please tell me what...
Celeste: You...
Her eyes roll back as her body goes limp. Tears start to roll down my face as I hear the sinister chuckle coming from right behind me. I slowly turn back to see Brother Grimm standing right behind me. He is smiling at me, but it is all but calming.
Brother Grimm: The fact that you are so horrified by the thought of killing those who look down on you, means that you are just as innocent as I'd hoped for. I will see you soon, child...
His chuckles as he slowly backs away into the shadows, disappearing...
This is when I wake up. My iPod is playing "Sweet Dreams" by The Eurythmics as I look around the room. There is no wrestling ring. No Nobodies, or skeletons, or Chad Miller. Everything is normal, except the sweat and tears rolling down my face. I look over to my bedside table and pick up my pill bottle. I open it up, seeing all of my pills are in tact. I tilt the bottle into the palm of my hand, but as the first pill hits my palm, I stop. I look down at the pill for a moment before dropping it back into the bottle. I close the lid, and toss the bottle across the room. I need to do this on my own, from here on out. I need that total control over myself. I'm doing this... alone...
Ink
#NP "Zerospace" by Kidneythieves
Locale: Alien Ink & Body; Laughlin, Nevada
The bell rings above my head as I walk inside of the tattoo shop. There are pictures of art work all over the walls, and I have to say, it seems pretty impressive. I walk over to the front desk where a woman with neon green hair is sitting in a leather barbers chair. She looks up at me and smiles as she sets her cellphone down on the desk.
Lady: Welcome to Alien Ink & Body. What can I do for you today?
Me: I have an appointment with Kenny at six thirty.
She quitely whispers "okay..." as she searches through the computer. It takes a minute, but she seems to find what she's looking for.
Lady: Okay, and your name?
Me: Tim Staggs.
Lady: I thought I knew you from somewhere. You're in town for the SCW show, right?
I nod my head, almost finding it weird that someone actually knows me. It couldn't possibly be the championship belts, could it? Have they started to gain us recognition?
Lady: I love SCW, but I love The Nobodies so much more. I like how you guys are underdogs, but you usually show everyone up. Like how you guys are set to face a former World Heavyweight Champion, and a man who pinned the current World Heavyweight Champion a few weeks ago? Those have got to be some tough odds to overcome.
Me: And everyone thinks that the first tag title defense is easy, right? It's not like we have to face the Surf Boys or something. I guess we got lucky because we were free when they needed someone to throw to the wolves known as Guns For Hire, the guys who everyone thought would run over us as if we were just garbage on the street, when it was actually the other way around.
She smiles, and I think she might even be flirting a bit now. Awkward, but I do have to say that it's nice to have a fan.
Lady: Yeah... you guys were totally supposed to be the easy defense for them. And I guess the conspiracy against you guys continues as they try to put the belts on *air quotes* real wrestlers.
Me: Wait, real wrestlers? The Monstimals? I thought we were doing some interpromotional bit where we were wrestling Muppets. How does anyone take a name like that seriously? I mean, somewhere out there, there's at least one person thinking "Damn, and we thought a name like The Nobodies was embarrassing..."
The lady giggles as a man emerges from the back, auburn beard, a bit heavyset, and a baseball hat on. He looks right at me as he asks the question...
Kenny: You Tim?
Me: Unfortunately...
He chuckles as he waves me over toward the back.
Kenny: So, you want to pick something from the book, or you got something specific in mind?
Me: I've actually got something very specific in mind, K-Dawg.
I look at him, and the name doesn't really seem to resonate with him, so I flash him an apologetic smile. He pulls out a piece of paper and a charcoal pencil.
Kenny: What you got in mind for this peace, and where you want it?
Me: I am actually a professional wrestler, and I've hit a bit of a rough patch lately. I've been feeling kind of... weak. Helpless. I realized that it's impossible to do what I do and be weak. Even if I lost, like all the time... like my name was Travis Nathaniel Andrews... you're still not weak. He's not weak. He's just stupid. And I win way more than he does, which is sort of sad if you think about it.
Kenny nods his head, but he's not exactly following me here. Not yet, anyway. But this idea is pure genius, and anyone who disagrees is as stupid as Steve Ramone!
Me: Even in defeat, there are lessons to be learned. And in victory, we grow stronger. So... and this is the part that you should care about... on my left arm, I want the word "Defeat" written into an upper half sleeve tattoo. On this arm, I want to put symbols or faces of those who have defeated me, in or out of the ring.
Kenny: I dig that.
Me: But that's just the half of it. On my right arm, I want the same thing, only instead of the word "Defeat", I want the word "Success", and I want to have symbols of my successes inside of the ring and out... though for now, the latter doesn't really apply... This way, I can look to one arm, and learn from those mistakes, and when I'm feeling down about myself, I can look to the other for inspiration.
Kenny: Awesome shit dude. Let me wrap these around your arms to get the dimensions straight, and we'll work on the specifics.
I nod my head as Kenny wraps the first piece of paper around my arm, tracing the full circumference of my right arm, and then he repeats it for my left. I go on about my time in ASW, and how that would make up most of my "Defeat" arm. I show him pictures of my opponents and tell him a little about them. I move along, giving him an idea of my time so far in SCW, and he works some really cool designs of the championship belts, the black hoods, amongst other highlights. This conversation goes on for an hour longer than it probably should, but I'm happy with the end result. He quickly traces over it as we continue to talk about the good times, and the bad, and before I know it, I'm sitting in the chair, as the loud buzz of the tattoo machine starts up. He dabs the needle into the black ink as he starts to trace over the design that is flattened on my arm. But, I brought the cameras here, hoping that I wouldn't cry like a little bitch, the way I did with the doves on my chest. By comparison, this isn't nearly as bad. I take a deep breath as I look over to the cameras.
Me: Defeat. It has such a negative connotation, doesn't it? By definition, ibeing defeated means to be overcome by an obstacle, or to be beaten. That doesn't sound very positive, now does it? Defeat can be positive. It can teach you of the mistakes you once made, and can serve as a solid reminder not to make those same mistakes twice. Defeat can be just as beneficial as success.
I look down at my left arm, nodding toward the word being traced as we speak.
Me: Success can be a great motivator. You think of success, and you almost instantly remember moments in your life where you overcame the odds. You straighten your posture, and take pride in those moments, no matter how many or few they might be. Success is something I'm fairly new to when it comes to wrestling. I am not as accomplished as some had expected, given my pedigree.
I take a moment, remembering the dream from the other night, and hearing the words my family spoke to me in those dreams, and it causes me to waiver for a moment. I do my best to bounce back, because I'm trying my best not to be overcome by my own self doubts and insecurities.
Me: I didn't come into this business to ride on the coattails of my family. I entered the business the same way each of them did, green as lettuce. The only advantage I've had, if you can even call it that, is my name. My family wasn't known until my father made a name for himself in Generation X Wrestling, becoming their undefeated World Heavyweight Champion. He came to Sin City Wrestling under... different circumstances, but he only furthered the legacy of his name by becoming two time NeWA World Heavyweight Champion, again, undefeated in his second run. He became the SCW Heavyweight Champion, holding that belt alongside the NeWA World Heavyweight Championship for months. He didn't just appear in SCW one day and say "Hey, I'm going to be the Heavyweight Champion." No, he worked for that for a decade. I've been wrestling for almost a year now, and I have the SCW Tag Team Championships alongside Connor. So, to everyone who says that I suck, and that I have no business baring the name "Staggs"... put that in your hashpipe and smoke it!
I use this moment to tense up some, as it offers a great distraction from the fact that I'm in a bit of pain here. I clinch my free fist as I shake it at the screen in a joking manner. However, I'm pretty damn serious.
Me: I told the world that I would defend these belts against any losers that wanted to step up to us for them. No one answered. That's either an insult or a compliment. I haven't decided which one it is yet, though... Either way, Christian Underwood, in all of his infinite wisdom, decided to force the hand a little bit and book us against The Monstimals...
Kenny: The fuck are Monstimals? Are they characters from some retarded Saturday morning show on Cartoon Network?
Me: I thought it sounded like mentally challenged Muppets...
Kenny shrugs his shoulders as he nods his head, seeing where I'm coming from. I give him a look that asks him "Right?!" before I look back to the camera.
Me: The Monstimals are a tag team in SCW, Former Heavyweight and Roulette Champion, Lord Raab, and... Samuel McPherson, a guy who has done nothing but pin the World Heavyweight Champ.
Kenny: Oh, you musta done that a hundred time then?
I go quiet, and shoot him a dirty look that suggests he go back to work on my arm. It is a look that I instantly regret as he digs a little deeper than he had before. I suck air through my teeth as I regain my composure.
Me: Well, he's no SCW Champion, so I win... If Mark Ward has anything to do with it, that victory will be erased from any and all record books, where my title reign will be sealed in the books for eternity. But, I didn't come here to trash The Monstimals. That is just a little bit of fun I'm having on the side. No, I came here to explain to these deranged psychopaths the meaning of the words "success" and "defeat". I'm sure they didn't hear me before, because I didn't mention them specifically, so I'll repeat myself. "Defeated" is defined as being overcome by obstacles, or beaten. You can learn from your mistakes, so you don't make them again. Though, honestly, I know I find comfort in repetitive behaviors for the sake of stimulating myself mentally or physically. It's my own personally tailored Aspergers experience. Surely Samuel feels the same way?
I pause for a moment, as if I expect an answer. When I don't get one, I tilt my head to the side and let out a growling response.
Me: Yaarrp! Anyway... I don't find comfort in defeat. I just understand that it is sometimes necessary. Without defeat, we have nothing to learn from. Without defeat, we have nothing to make the successes we enjoy feel that much greater. So, this week, I'm going to give the both of you a gift. I'm going to make it easy for you two.
I smile, as I expect people watching this (Hi mom!) to give a reaction like "Whaddufuq??" It's okay, if I weren't me, and didn't understand the way I think, I might also have this reaction.
Me: I'm going to let you guys win... by being defeated horribly. See, in this case, everyone wins. The idiotic duo of savage numbskulls get to learn a lesson, while Connor and I retain our championships, and defeat a former top dog. Win-Win... For us, anyway. But, as I said, defeat offers many valuable rewards, and I'm sure your shrink can put those in terms that you will both understand. Yaarrp? Naarrp? Okay then.
I smile, as even I know how wrong it is to make fun of Samuels limited speech capabilities. But, why should I be the most mature one in SCW all the time, when I have the most excuse to be immature? After all of the retard and ugly jokes I've heard, lashing out at the competition to make them bring every bit they have is the least I deserve. But, that's not my main focus here.
Me: SCW... fans, roster, management, whatever... There is a new Tim Staggs here, a refreshed Tim Staggs... a confident Tim Staggs. I'm not scared anymore... at least I'm not crippled by my fear anymore. I'm ready to face it. And in doing so, that means proving to each and every one of you that, despite being a Nobody, a faceless, nameless body amongst the masses of the unknown... I am not to be taken lightly. I've warned you all of this, time and time again, only to fall on deaf ears. Not now. Not this time. Once I defeat The Monstimals, a former Heavyweight and Roulette Champion, and the man who pinned Drake Green two weeks ago... and retain these belts with Connor, you will be forced to take us seriously, and give us the chance to become Somebodies. Sunday will be a game changer for The Nobodies. Are you ready for what's to come?
I stare at the camera for a moment, letting the intensity in my eyes linger. The cold stare that I inherited from my father, and his father, resonates as the sound of the buzzing continues, and the first outline is nearly completed. Kenny puts the finishing touches on that side, as he spins my chair around, turning my back to the camera to work on the other side as we fade out... TO BLACK!
