Post by Stace Matthews on Feb 2, 2006 11:13:01 GMT -5
Stress and exhaustion screamed from his puffy, bloodshot eyes. It was a struggle for him to keep them open as he laid his head back against the seat. Above him heavy drops of rain splattered against a window labeled, across the top in reverse of course, “YELLOW CAB.”
It had been two days since we last saw the man in black. His demeanor so much different now from then, almost as dark as the shirt on his back, somber wouldn’t even sum it up. It was almost like he’d just received word that his suspension from PCW for missing a promotional assignment on Tuesday had been carried out. Something was eating at him.
“You know, I’ve got a lot of respect for you man.” He speaks to the ceiling of the vehicle. “The things you’ve done mean a lot to some people.” He claims. “Come Sunday…” He brings his swollen eyes back to the camera. “…all of it will be diminished to squat. Mentis, you’re going to find out why they call me Vivacious.”
So, he may not have been suspended. He did his best to make up for the missed appearance by going to the Hard Rock and signing autographs in an attempt to promote the upcoming pay-per-view match. Possibly, Gregory McPeterson had verified with American Airlines that the flight was indeed delayed, we’ll never know. What is crystal clear, he’s promising to be at Mass Destruction on Sunday.
“I am a non-stop, full throttle, ass kicking machine between those ropes Mentis.” He continues with a smirk. “Just ask your pal Pegasus.”
Something on the outside of the taxi grabs his stare.
“Driver, stop here.” He commands before turning his attention back to the camera. “You may have pulled a card from my deck so to speak.” He affirms. “I wasn’t expecting you to be there when I turned around; you got me.”
He throws the door open and steps out of the cab. The drizzle bombards the erratic spikes atop his head, knocking some down momentarily before they spring back into place.
“Keep it running Buddy.” He requests before closing the door.
He crosses the sidewalk and climbs the steps of a floral shop. The camera follows him into the ornate showroom of the shop. He approaches the counter, where a young girl recognizes him almost immediately.
“Well hello Johnny V?” She greets. “The usual?”
“You got it Kelly.” He confirms. “If you would please.”
Kelly Sanderson, the pride of Accident; she was the perfect candidate for small town homecoming queen; blonde, beautiful and pleasant. She was the daughter of Gerald Sanderson, the owner of Sanderson Floral, and the girl that had given Vivacious “the usual” every time the Matthews returned home from the road.
“You look tired.” She points out.
“Yeah.” He admits. “It’s the job.”
She turns to the back counter and lays some paper out before disappearing in the room to her left. He looks around at the Valentine decorations and arrangements the Sandersons have on display. Behind him, Kelly reappears with a dozen long-stemmed roses and goes to work wrapping them up.
“How’s your Dad doing?” He asks.
“It’s our busy time, you know.” She answers. “He’s in the back working with the roses.” Vivacious nods as she continues. “I think it’s more so to keep himself busy and his mind off of being voted off of the township.”
“I guess I can see that.”
“Well, here we go.” She announces.
He returns to the counter with a card that he lays beside the assortment of red, pink and white roses in heart wrapping, a true objet d'art. Kelly scans the card and punches in a code for the roses and takes a fifty from Vivacious. Why she counts up the change he signs the card and places it into an envelope.
“Fifteen-fifty is the change.” She says counting out the bills. “Don’t get too wet.”
Vivacious takes the change and gathers the flowers and card. He exits the shop and darts back across the sidewalk diving into the back seat of the cab.
“Wooo!” He exclaims, shaking the rain from his head. “Let’s go.”
He places the flowers on the seat beside of him as the taxi departs. Adjusting himself and brushing the rainwater off of his chest and lap he gets comfortable in the seat once more.
“So, we’ve surprised each other.” He admits. “Much like you’ve done each time I’ve tapped you on the shoulder, I took a step back.”
“You ran Mr. V!” The driver interrupts.
“Yeah, thanks Buddy!” He rolls his eyes. “Pay attention to the road.”
“Sorry.” The driver apologizes.
“Like I was saying, I didn’t run.” He plays off. “I got the ‘wrap call’ and ended the segment is all. Unlike you Mentis, I don’t run from my problems.”
“Or let them thump you in the back of your head!” The driver laughs.
“Yeah.” He agrees and boasts. “You will just have to wait until Sunday before you lay a hand on me.”
“If you even give him a chance to Mr. V!” The driver continues to instigate.
“Will you fuckin’ watch the goddamned road?” Vivacious barks. “I got this!”
He rolls his eyes and goes to shake his head, but double takes, noticing the flowers laying beside of him. You know the huge gulp, kind of like the one we saw him do on Tuesday night after realizing Non Compos Mentis was behind him? Well that same gulp slid lethargically down his throat as he locked onto the roses.
“My name is Johnny Vivacious.” He shakes whatever clouds his mind. “Ever since I arrived in PCW there ain’t been a day I’ve not been knee-deep in steamy shit and trouble.” Chuckling, he continues. “If you turn on the television on Tuesday night though, you’ll see how I’m binding the hands of the powers that be each and every week.” Raising his right hand, palm up he goes on. “The people in the crowd love to hate me because I entertain them by making the guys in the back look bad.” His left hand now, in a balancing demonstration as he addresses his fellow wrestlers. “The guys in the back hate me because each and every one of them are pawns in my game of chaos and controversy.” With both hands he gestures the universal money rub with his thumb against his fingers. “If I can keep them balanced, I win because my pockets are mad-lined with cash. End of story.”
He lowers his hands and shakes his head at the sight of the rain against the window.
“You need to understand, as well as all of those guys struggling to make a name for themselves in the little league, that I’ve already made a name for myself.” He embellishes. “Not the name I was born with, that is a whole different story of how I am better than you, but the name I’ve splashed on the ‘big show’ that you aspire to.”
The cab comes to a stop behind a school bus picking up a little boy.
“We all have dreams, even that little squirt right there.” He points. “The bitch about life is there is always somebody that wants to get in your pocket, kick you in your ass or smash the shit out of your dreams.” Then he points to himself. “That’s me Mentis. I am here to smash your dreams. Your dreams of being someone in this business.” A vilifying snort breaks his monologue. “Let’s face it, it’s not like there’s any chance of it any way.”
The vehicle is on the move again and he braces himself as the car leaps forward throwing him against the seat.
“Christ man!” He snaps at the driver.
“Sorry Mr. V!”
“I know, I know, you worked so hard to get where you are today.” He sarcastically agrees with a nod. “Which, when it gets to the nuts and bolts, really isn’t all that big a fuckin’ accomplishment, but hey, who am I to knock your place in the world, right?”
The driver, unable to control himself, explodes in laughter distracting Vivacious for a second.
“I know that belt means SO much to you.” He adds. “To tell you the truth, and I know it’s really going to bother you, I could really give a shit about it.”
“You don’t want the belt.” The driver noses in.
“DRIVE!!”
“Sorry again Mr. V!”
“It just gets me off to know that you love the title so much, that winning it meant so much to you, that it’s now an obsession to take it away from you.” He admits. “The first thing I’m going to do with it, after washing it of course, is let it be the only thing Stace wears as we consummate my victory.”
The toothy grin cracks his face from ear to ear.
“Imagine it Mentis, all the things I’m going to do with that belt. I’m going to fuck with it, sleep with it, show up at these stupid ass promotionals with it and the one thing you couldn’t do. I’m going to SUCCESSFULLY defend it against ALL challengers!”
“We are here Mr. V.” The driver announces.
“Thanks man, get my bag.” He demands.
He steps out of the taxicab into the light sprinkle. Reaching into his back pocket he retrieves his cigarettes and trademark “FU” lighter. He raises the pack to his lips to pull a Red out, but stops. Looking at the pack of cigarettes as if they suddenly offended or disgusted him. The pack is lowered as he again chokes down a ball of nerves. A deep breath of the fresh air being washed clean by the rain and he turns back into the cab to gather the roses and card.
“You smoke Buddy?”
“Nah.” The driver answers as he pulls Vivacious’ luggage from the trunk of the cab. “I used to and got really sick and was told if I didn’t quit I wouldn’t see forty.”
“Ah.” He acknowledges. “Good for you.”
With the luggage on the sidewalk Vivacious tucks the flowers under his arm, pays the cab driver and sends him on his way. He remains on the sidewalk, in the rain, looking at his home. Not much to it really, a red-brick A-frame with a screened in front porch and white picket fence around the front yard. A large plastic trash receptacle is resting near the mailbox at the end of the driveway.
“Life is full of hard decisions.” He mumbles as he makes his way towards the trashcan, dragging his luggage behind him.
He drops the pack of cigarettes in the can and starts up the driveway. He swings the gate open and enters the yard. Before he can get halfway up the sidewalk the door to the front porch is flung open and Stace rushes down the steps.
“I got these for you.” He hands her the roses and they wrap their arms around each other. “It’s going to be okay Baby.”
He stands, steadfast, as she sobs on his left shoulder. The scene fades as the rain continues to come down on their embrace.
It had been two days since we last saw the man in black. His demeanor so much different now from then, almost as dark as the shirt on his back, somber wouldn’t even sum it up. It was almost like he’d just received word that his suspension from PCW for missing a promotional assignment on Tuesday had been carried out. Something was eating at him.
“You know, I’ve got a lot of respect for you man.” He speaks to the ceiling of the vehicle. “The things you’ve done mean a lot to some people.” He claims. “Come Sunday…” He brings his swollen eyes back to the camera. “…all of it will be diminished to squat. Mentis, you’re going to find out why they call me Vivacious.”
So, he may not have been suspended. He did his best to make up for the missed appearance by going to the Hard Rock and signing autographs in an attempt to promote the upcoming pay-per-view match. Possibly, Gregory McPeterson had verified with American Airlines that the flight was indeed delayed, we’ll never know. What is crystal clear, he’s promising to be at Mass Destruction on Sunday.
“I am a non-stop, full throttle, ass kicking machine between those ropes Mentis.” He continues with a smirk. “Just ask your pal Pegasus.”
Something on the outside of the taxi grabs his stare.
“Driver, stop here.” He commands before turning his attention back to the camera. “You may have pulled a card from my deck so to speak.” He affirms. “I wasn’t expecting you to be there when I turned around; you got me.”
He throws the door open and steps out of the cab. The drizzle bombards the erratic spikes atop his head, knocking some down momentarily before they spring back into place.
“Keep it running Buddy.” He requests before closing the door.
He crosses the sidewalk and climbs the steps of a floral shop. The camera follows him into the ornate showroom of the shop. He approaches the counter, where a young girl recognizes him almost immediately.
“Well hello Johnny V?” She greets. “The usual?”
“You got it Kelly.” He confirms. “If you would please.”
Kelly Sanderson, the pride of Accident; she was the perfect candidate for small town homecoming queen; blonde, beautiful and pleasant. She was the daughter of Gerald Sanderson, the owner of Sanderson Floral, and the girl that had given Vivacious “the usual” every time the Matthews returned home from the road.
“You look tired.” She points out.
“Yeah.” He admits. “It’s the job.”
She turns to the back counter and lays some paper out before disappearing in the room to her left. He looks around at the Valentine decorations and arrangements the Sandersons have on display. Behind him, Kelly reappears with a dozen long-stemmed roses and goes to work wrapping them up.
“How’s your Dad doing?” He asks.
“It’s our busy time, you know.” She answers. “He’s in the back working with the roses.” Vivacious nods as she continues. “I think it’s more so to keep himself busy and his mind off of being voted off of the township.”
“I guess I can see that.”
“Well, here we go.” She announces.
He returns to the counter with a card that he lays beside the assortment of red, pink and white roses in heart wrapping, a true objet d'art. Kelly scans the card and punches in a code for the roses and takes a fifty from Vivacious. Why she counts up the change he signs the card and places it into an envelope.
“Fifteen-fifty is the change.” She says counting out the bills. “Don’t get too wet.”
Vivacious takes the change and gathers the flowers and card. He exits the shop and darts back across the sidewalk diving into the back seat of the cab.
“Wooo!” He exclaims, shaking the rain from his head. “Let’s go.”
He places the flowers on the seat beside of him as the taxi departs. Adjusting himself and brushing the rainwater off of his chest and lap he gets comfortable in the seat once more.
“So, we’ve surprised each other.” He admits. “Much like you’ve done each time I’ve tapped you on the shoulder, I took a step back.”
“You ran Mr. V!” The driver interrupts.
“Yeah, thanks Buddy!” He rolls his eyes. “Pay attention to the road.”
“Sorry.” The driver apologizes.
“Like I was saying, I didn’t run.” He plays off. “I got the ‘wrap call’ and ended the segment is all. Unlike you Mentis, I don’t run from my problems.”
“Or let them thump you in the back of your head!” The driver laughs.
“Yeah.” He agrees and boasts. “You will just have to wait until Sunday before you lay a hand on me.”
“If you even give him a chance to Mr. V!” The driver continues to instigate.
“Will you fuckin’ watch the goddamned road?” Vivacious barks. “I got this!”
He rolls his eyes and goes to shake his head, but double takes, noticing the flowers laying beside of him. You know the huge gulp, kind of like the one we saw him do on Tuesday night after realizing Non Compos Mentis was behind him? Well that same gulp slid lethargically down his throat as he locked onto the roses.
“My name is Johnny Vivacious.” He shakes whatever clouds his mind. “Ever since I arrived in PCW there ain’t been a day I’ve not been knee-deep in steamy shit and trouble.” Chuckling, he continues. “If you turn on the television on Tuesday night though, you’ll see how I’m binding the hands of the powers that be each and every week.” Raising his right hand, palm up he goes on. “The people in the crowd love to hate me because I entertain them by making the guys in the back look bad.” His left hand now, in a balancing demonstration as he addresses his fellow wrestlers. “The guys in the back hate me because each and every one of them are pawns in my game of chaos and controversy.” With both hands he gestures the universal money rub with his thumb against his fingers. “If I can keep them balanced, I win because my pockets are mad-lined with cash. End of story.”
He lowers his hands and shakes his head at the sight of the rain against the window.
“You need to understand, as well as all of those guys struggling to make a name for themselves in the little league, that I’ve already made a name for myself.” He embellishes. “Not the name I was born with, that is a whole different story of how I am better than you, but the name I’ve splashed on the ‘big show’ that you aspire to.”
The cab comes to a stop behind a school bus picking up a little boy.
“We all have dreams, even that little squirt right there.” He points. “The bitch about life is there is always somebody that wants to get in your pocket, kick you in your ass or smash the shit out of your dreams.” Then he points to himself. “That’s me Mentis. I am here to smash your dreams. Your dreams of being someone in this business.” A vilifying snort breaks his monologue. “Let’s face it, it’s not like there’s any chance of it any way.”
The vehicle is on the move again and he braces himself as the car leaps forward throwing him against the seat.
“Christ man!” He snaps at the driver.
“Sorry Mr. V!”
“I know, I know, you worked so hard to get where you are today.” He sarcastically agrees with a nod. “Which, when it gets to the nuts and bolts, really isn’t all that big a fuckin’ accomplishment, but hey, who am I to knock your place in the world, right?”
The driver, unable to control himself, explodes in laughter distracting Vivacious for a second.
“I know that belt means SO much to you.” He adds. “To tell you the truth, and I know it’s really going to bother you, I could really give a shit about it.”
“You don’t want the belt.” The driver noses in.
“DRIVE!!”
“Sorry again Mr. V!”
“It just gets me off to know that you love the title so much, that winning it meant so much to you, that it’s now an obsession to take it away from you.” He admits. “The first thing I’m going to do with it, after washing it of course, is let it be the only thing Stace wears as we consummate my victory.”
The toothy grin cracks his face from ear to ear.
“Imagine it Mentis, all the things I’m going to do with that belt. I’m going to fuck with it, sleep with it, show up at these stupid ass promotionals with it and the one thing you couldn’t do. I’m going to SUCCESSFULLY defend it against ALL challengers!”
“We are here Mr. V.” The driver announces.
“Thanks man, get my bag.” He demands.
He steps out of the taxicab into the light sprinkle. Reaching into his back pocket he retrieves his cigarettes and trademark “FU” lighter. He raises the pack to his lips to pull a Red out, but stops. Looking at the pack of cigarettes as if they suddenly offended or disgusted him. The pack is lowered as he again chokes down a ball of nerves. A deep breath of the fresh air being washed clean by the rain and he turns back into the cab to gather the roses and card.
“You smoke Buddy?”
“Nah.” The driver answers as he pulls Vivacious’ luggage from the trunk of the cab. “I used to and got really sick and was told if I didn’t quit I wouldn’t see forty.”
“Ah.” He acknowledges. “Good for you.”
With the luggage on the sidewalk Vivacious tucks the flowers under his arm, pays the cab driver and sends him on his way. He remains on the sidewalk, in the rain, looking at his home. Not much to it really, a red-brick A-frame with a screened in front porch and white picket fence around the front yard. A large plastic trash receptacle is resting near the mailbox at the end of the driveway.
“Life is full of hard decisions.” He mumbles as he makes his way towards the trashcan, dragging his luggage behind him.
He drops the pack of cigarettes in the can and starts up the driveway. He swings the gate open and enters the yard. Before he can get halfway up the sidewalk the door to the front porch is flung open and Stace rushes down the steps.
“I got these for you.” He hands her the roses and they wrap their arms around each other. “It’s going to be okay Baby.”
He stands, steadfast, as she sobs on his left shoulder. The scene fades as the rain continues to come down on their embrace.