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02.23.06 I Love My Avarice
I: Richmond, Virginia - backstage,
immediately after "Outrage"
"I want you...I want you so fucking bad."
She lunges at my lips, the
blood still pouring profusely from my forehead. Her aggression is
untamable.
I'm surrounded in a tizzy of
technies, other wrestlers walking by, staring wide-eyed at my wife and
I.
She does not care that her
grasping at my lips is filling her own with my blood.
A medic or two rush to my side,
yelling things that are incomprehensible in my ear. The world is
still spinning around me.
The medics grab me by the arms
and haul me aside into an injury room.
They sit me down on a table and
Marissah unrelenting jumps onto my lap, running her arms and hands up
and down my chest, still kissing me wildly.
The stability of the table
causes me to regain most of my faculties, although I know I am still
losing a great deal of blood.
"Get out the stitching immediately,"
I hear one medic tell the other.
"Oh shit you were
magnificent...oh God..." Marissah now attacks my earlobes,
licking and tugging at them, going up and down the length of my neck.
"Avarice, we can't do this with her
in here!!" one medic yells out in desperation.
Feeling increasingly
lightheaded from my blood loss, I set her off my lap. I have an
idea that will distract her.
"My love...go to the ring...get
that chair, and bring it back to me."
The look in her eyes is of pure
animalism.
I place my hands on the sides
of her head.
"Go."
She knows what chair I'm
talking about, the one covered in barbed wire.
And more importantly, the
spilled blood of my competitors.
She lets out an animalistic
growl to match her stare, and departs from the room.
The medics, now with some
semblance of peace, put to work to sew up my very damaged forehead,
which had suffered a great deal of trauma over the past month or two;
first, thanks to Seamus - hope the fat Irish bastard is enjoying his
retirement into pathetic obscurity - and now my delightful foe, Daemon
Curtis.
I'm starting to take a shine to
this young man - he knows evil quite well.
That tactic was superb - even
if the irony was not too thick - cutting me with the very cane I
smashed into his skull only those few weeks prior. Lacking in
originality.
But he sent a message
regardless - don't mess with me, otherwise I will get my cadre to do
the job that I cannot do myself alone.
If that's the message he's
sending, I welcome it.
I like my odds.
I feel the needle pierce my
skin - I never enjoy getting stitches, but it's a necessary evil.
And besides.
I like necessary evil.
"All right," the lead medic
says to me. "You're all
done."
I'm sewn and bandaged, not
unlike a verily used old sweater.
"For the love of God just try
and take it easy for the next few hours, don't physically exert
yourself. You lost a lot of blood."
I don't give a shit really, but
I thanked him.
The door re-opened and I found
my loving devoted wife, breathing heavily still, now with the blood
soaked barbed wire chair in hand.
I stand and take her by the
hand. "Let's go."
I look up at my husband.
He's so wounded, so hurt, but he only gives off an aura of strength, of
defiance.
We walk down the crowded back
stage of the arena, passing by, and receive nothing but dirty
looks. He gets the major share of them though.
Perhaps they didn't like what
he did to that little bitch Dawn.
But I
loved it.
I looked on into that ring and
salivated as I saw her flesh - so delicate, so white, so silken - tear,
and be ripped apart by that which I hold in my hand now. Her
expression was of pure agony, fear, terror. All because of my
sweetie. My Robert.
My Avarice.
When I think about what I'm
doing to him - with the paintings, my affair with Paulus, laundering
millions of dollars into my Swiss bank account - I can't help but feel
bad almost.
He looks down at me with a
wicked smile as we enter our dressing room.
He grabs the chair from my
hand and tosses it onto the ground. He leans down and grabs my
ass, firmly, and whispers.
"They told me to take it easy
for the next little while. I'm going to take you - but I won't be
easy - or gentle."
The lust erupts deep inside me
as I put my arms around his sweat covered back.
Suddenly I don't feel so bad
anymore.
I love my
avarice.
I am become Death
The Destroyer
of Worlds
