A
Little Less Conversation
I: Wednesday, November 3, 2004:
Broadway Avenue, driving south, New York City, New York, approximately
7:30 PM
"All
right..."
She leaned forward and blasted the tune. Elvis Presley's voice,
mixed with some ungodly sounds from today's genres, went from a
manageable whisper to a deafening blare.
"A little less conversation, a little
more action please.
All this aggravation ain't
satisfaction-ing me."
I bemoaned her action as the traffic before my Jag got increasingly
shittier. That was something I learned in New York City.
Traffic came in three forms: shit, shittier, and shittiest.
I'd take shittier for the time being, but listening to the drone of Mr.
Presley provoked more conversation than action.
How ironic.
"WOULD YOU PLEASE TURN THAT
SHIT BACK DOWN, I'm trying to drive."
Drive where though? I was stuck in traffic. Regardless. I was
still driving technically, damn it.
"Fuck you," came her
gracious reply, as she flipped down her vanity mirror...nay...the
NARCISSISM mirror...to check her make-up.
And this was to be my wife?
The music continued unabated at its present deafening pitch. Time
for some action.
I turned it down.
"Ughhhhhh," came her
sigh of disgust.
I shook my head and chuckled as I finally was able to move my Jag about
another three feet before coming to a stop, again.
"Now my sweet...just because
good ol' Dubya..."
"Shut up jerk off."
Her vehement Kerryism came through in its bitterest form. Poor
sweetie. I felt worse for Tony Blair frankly...but that's another
story.
I had to get the hell to what was to become...our condo,
soon, and get to JFK as soon as we could to fly for Baltimore. The damn
Lear was in the shop...and people think being a billionaire is easy.
Well it's not.
...And we had to settle for a shabby domestic flight aboard Air God
Knows What in their first class section.
I'll put the term "first class" to the test...as I know my cherry
cheesecake will too, with the maximum amount of spite and malice if
needs be. She wasn't above making a scene when she felt she was
in the right.
Which was of course, 100% of the time.
Old Line Wrestling awaited.
Even I began to admit to myself that this was growing tiresome.
And with marriage fast approaching, yet again, I pondered my own
career's future.
Fed after fed, league after league.
Only one thing eluded me, and it rotted in the pit of my stomach and ate a
hole.
Suffering defeat at the hands of Destiny Hunter emphasized this, and
one thing else.
Something had to give. Something had to change.
"ROBERT you missed the turn."
Wha...? I?
I turned my head and noticed the our condo at the Trump International
zooming by as I headed down Central Park West. Shit. I hadn't even notice that the traffic in front of me had evaporated.
"Sorry."
Brilliant move, idiot.
Save the philosophizing for the flight, not behind the wheel.
II: Wednesday, November
3, 2004:
in the air, approximately 10:30 PM
The flight to Baltimore wasn't particularly long. We could have
driven there, but, bah.
Here we were, first class. Pretty decent I'd say, Marissah of course
found a thousand microscopic and insignificant things to nit pick about.
I could expect nothing less.
I looked forward to OLW actually. I had heard that the arena
would be fairly small - only about 1500 fans - no frills, no huge video
screen.
Certainly less glamorous.
But definitely purer.
The essence of wrestling would be present.
The essence...
I stared into blank space as Marissah squawked something into my
ear. I nodded blindly as she got up and left her seat.
I yawned and closed my eyes, stretching out my neck and arms.
I turned my head towards my left, towards her seat, to see it occupied
again.
But not by her.
Once again my eyes widened in disbelief. He had returned.
And so soon between visits? Shit.
My dark Lord, in the
same well tailored suit, with greying hair, slight black mustache,
piercing blue eyes.
"You might be onto something there
Robbie my boy."
I looked around the cabin,
wondering...
"No, nobody else can see me. Relax, will you? When will you
learn?"
"I...what do you mean," I queried in puzzlement.
"What you were just thinking. The essence." He nodded and smiled. "About
time you realized that. It might be the answer you seek."
I frowned.
"You promised me..." I thought. Ah yes. "Something along the lines of...'say
the
right things and do as you order, and you will have what you
need.' Where the fuck were you when I lost to that bitch in the
Crusade?"
He laughed strongly.
"My dear boy do you think that's
what I promised? Victory? You lost to her..." he stared at me, "deservedly. That was your own
doing, nobody else's."
I bit my lip in disgust and anger. Anger that he was right.
"I hope you appreciate all this
free, valuable advice you're getting." He shifted in his
seat. "Don't think I'm
going to come running to your side every time you fall flat on your
ass. You will however continue to abide by my rules."
He turned towards me.
"You will do my bidding. You will spread hatred and destruction.
And you will find your essence."
I stared blankly once more. Yet again I blinked, and he was, gone.
And in his place was Marissah.
"Can you hear what she's
asking?"
I..wha..?
I turned to my right and saw the stewardess holding a tray of champagne
in her hands.
"Oh...yes, please."
She smiled and handed me a glass.
"God Robert, pull your head
out of your ass and pay attention."
Marissah sipped her champagne and closed her eyes. I looked at
her hand and saw that engagement ring that cost me a sweet $1 million,
plus.
I should have bought the bitch a cubic zirconia.
I sighed heavily and considered his words heavily.
He never appeared without a reason. A fundamentally important reason.
I plugged in my headset to see what alleged music they had to offer.
"Come on baby, I'm tired of talking.
Grab your coat and let's start
walking.
Come on, come on...
Come on, come on...
Come on, come on...
Don’t procrastinate, don’t articulate
Girl it’s getting late, gettin’ upset
waitin’ around
A little less conversation, a little
more action please
All this aggravation ain’t
satisfaction-ing me
A little more bite and a little less
bark
A little less fight and a little more
spark
Close your mouth and open up your
heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby..."
I would not procrastinate. My spark would erupt into a blazing endless fury.
And I will be satisfied.
In finding my essence.
And I will be satisified in doing my lord's bidding.
And in the blood of all who await.
Beginning with Cole Christenson.
