Sunday night, inside their motel somewhere in
Portland, Maine, Mark Sommers and his wife Sandra, tidied up in pajamas and
bathrobes, lay cuddled up on the queen sized bed as the final moments of the
post time Superbowl show end. Mark
grins, as he certainly has enjoyed the game and even more so cause;
“Yeah!
Sandra quirks an eyebrow his way, brushing
her long soft hair out of her face.
“PWNS?”
Shrugging, Mark offers a slight chuckle.
“Some
strange fad going around. Frankly I just
think it’s a typo, but what do I know?”
Sandra nuzzles closer.
“Oh,
you know A LOT, dear.”
Smirking, Mark clicks off the TV and kisses
Sandra’s forehead.
“Thanks,
but let’s switch topics before we get kicked over to Skinamax, okay?”
Sandra licks her lips, but tucks her hands in
front of her like an innocent angel.
“O.K.”
Pulling himself into a sitting position, Mark
raises his arm as Sandra crawls out of bed and heads to the bathroom. Mark eyes her lovingly a moment before
turning back our way. He winks.
“I
brought Sandra along cause someone asked why she’s not been around
recently. People start to ask questions
when I’m on my own too long. No, not
those kind of questions, the OTHER KIND!”
Pause.
“Anyway,
time to focus. Tomorrow I get back into
the ring after last weeks gut wrenching, painstaking match against Anthony
Johns, and it’s no push over encounter.
Even before I came to the BWF, there were very few cornerstones here
that people always associated as champions, titles or not. Kind of wish I was
facing one of those….”
Mark grins, winking.
“…Just
kidding. Rob Torborg, you come out of
Broken Resolutions without the BWF Championship, and a major stumbling block in
your way of getting back up there. Namely; ME!
All this week I waited, and waited… looking for that Torborg that would
come back with some sort of Television program, or perhaps even get serious…
like in the Roughkut Tournament.
Instead, I get the silent treatment.
Now, that kind of crap may work for Executioner, but honestly, kiddo..
untie that tongue of yours that got slammed down your throat and cough up
something interesting!”
We hear the bathroom door open and Sandra
comes back into frame as she slides back onto the bed, handing Mark a bottled
water. He takes it gratefully and lifts
his arm up to accept her back against him.
She takes the bottle back, and uncaps it for him so he can take a long,
solid drink. Thanking her with a gentle
kiss, he gives us our attention.
“Torborg,
you wanted this, now you have it. Make
good your promise and put the fear of the R-K-O into me, because if you don’t
do it now… you never will. GOT IT?”
Cracking his
End.