The sky was royal blue and streaked with lavender as the day awakened. Most of the world was silent but somewhere in Connecticut the floorboards squeaked as a morning ritual began. The coffee pot had started and the end of peace and quiet was almost near. A short series of beeps sounded as the coffee finished and a blonde haired woman rose with a sigh. From under the kitchen sink she pulled a large bowl which was promptly filled with ice cold water.
The floorboard squeaked more although she tried to make her steps light for the only innocent resident in the house. The other? He was about to get what was coming to him. She rose the bowl over his head and whispered a soft count. "1..2..3..4.." And on five she dumped the contents over a disheveled figure laying on the couch.
"What the hell was that for? Jesus tap dancing Christ, can a man sleep without being harassed?"
It was six in the morning, much too early for the inevitable insults that were ready to fly between the two adults residing in the house. With an empty bottle in his lap and a startled expression on his face, Eric Bischoff looked as though he were a homeless man that had stumbled to greener pastures. Though his back was flat on the couch the rest of his body was a tangled mess. One arm was hanging over the back of the couch. His leg crossed over the other and limply dangled over the side.
While most people would wonder how a person could wind up in such an unusual state, his unaffectionate companion, Stephanie McMahon, found the answer at the bottom of a bottle. One normally didn't expect to find a man drunk in their living room and neither did Stephanie McMahon, but she wasn't surprised to find him laying there after his late night 'liquid therapy session', as Eric lovingly referred to it. To Stephanie it was just another night where he moaned and complained about 'the business' and about the so-called rats and cheats he had encountered until she gave up and went to sleep.
"Eric, we had a deal," Stephanie said in her business tone. "I told you that if you're going to drink in my house you can't be so blatantly drunk and right in the living room. Personally, I don't care if you want to put yourself on display so I can invite my friends from the office over to laugh at you, but considering she can't even sit up by herself, I don't think it would be appropriate to have to explain to my daughter why the angry old man on the couch smells funny."
The so-called angry old man glared as the two engaged in a thirty second cold war with mutual contempt bouncing off of each other until Eric surrendered with a growl and covered his face with a pillow. "You're a mess," Stephanie said as she shook her head and began to walk away, but they both knew that already. "Oh and Eric," she started, looking back at him. "Since you're up, do you mind fixing Aurora's formula for me?"
The New York Times was spread out on the kitchen table for Stephanie to read as she sipped at a cup of coffee she held in one hand and gently rocked Aurora's car seat with the other. "Any plans for the day?" Random, yes, but if there was one thing that Stephanie couldn't stand it was an awkward silence in her own home. In a daze, Eric sat back in his chair and stared blankly at her. "Eric." Stephanie snapped, harsher than her previous tone. Eric grumbled something that could hardly be mistaken for English and closed his eyes.
"The usual then?" Stephanie set down the cup and pulled Aurora out of her seat to hold her in her arms, smoothing that few locks of hair on her head as she spoke. "Let me guess: you're going to sleep for eight hours, wake up, fall asleep in the shower, wake up again, possibly get dressed and then go to lunch on my tab just to harass girls that could pass for a long lost daughter. Am I about right?"
Eric grumbled once again but this time Stephanie played along with his silent act. "I see," she said mockingly understanding. "I think I have a better idea. I'm a busy woman, you know, and I rarely have time to make personal appearances, especially with Aurora to take care of. Today I have the opportunity to combine work, a social life and Aurora, and you're going to help me. My sister-in-law is throwing an office party and myself and Aurora are invited. You have the pleasurable task of helping me take care of the little angel during said party."
Pleased with her plan, Stephanie stood up from the table and nudged the paper toward Eric. "You might want to read up on some current events. These things tend to pop up in conversation. And you might want to shave too. Remember, you're going to be in the company of old friends." Old friends. Even in his Neanderthal-like state Eric knew that a storm was brewing and that he would be in the eye of it.