I haven't posted in a while and thought hey why not do a one-shot (may be a two)? And so I thought hell lets write about something angsty and stuff hence, I wrote this about my favorite wrestler, Dean Ambrose/Jon Moxley. This was taken from his earlier promos and the info I got watching his interviews on YouTube. (And for those reading my Harry PotterXBleach I'm trying to finish the chapters as fast yet awesomely as possible.)

Italics=thoughts

Shit! Shit! No, keep calm…stay as inconspicuous as possible. Was all I thought as I sat with several other WWE superstars and divas for a live show special, to celebrate a god forsaken day: Mother's day.

I shift within my chair crossing and uncrossing my legs as I look to the floor, my anxiety higher than the time I had my first tournament of Death.

"Okay! So, what's the most embarrassing thing your mom has done in public?" I hear my girlfriend, Renee Young, say as I slump even further within my seat, my toes curling within my boots.

"My mother…haha…Mannn. She's become a walking billboard as she wears everything with me on it! Hats, shirts, gloves, even earmuffs despite it being summer!" Cena say in his overly fatherly tone as the others join in laughing.

My mom barely had any clothing at all…I still remember her leaving every night in too tight tops and the non-existent skirts, whale tailing everyone despite standing up. God, those goddamned heels clicking upon the cold, stained hardwood only to return scrapping across the floor in her dope up state. The most embarrassing time…

"So are you coming over to watch HWA? I hear William Regal might actually get into the ring for some 3 way match thing!" Sami said enthusiastically as he jumped up and down, doing circles around me despite hauling a hundred ton backpack.

"Wha? Pleeeasse! That'd never happen! The dude rather be some stupid commentator than a wrestler!" I wave my hands in exasperation over the phony information, my friend's gullibility, and the overrated William Regal.

"Hey baby, you looking for a goodtime?" a voice that's too familiar says in a seductive tone, but that can't be right as she promised she'd stopped.

I glance over to the other side of the street to find my worst fear had come true: she's back at it again. There. Standing bent over and talking to some mysterious man in a shitty card, looking like the sluttiest whore on the block was my mom. I don't know why I'm surprised as she's lied to me over a million times on some many degrading topic, most of which a nine year old shouldn't have any knowledge about.

"M-mum? Wh-what are you doing here?"

"No, y-you got that job at Walmart...I-I even saw your uniform." I slowly take a step towards my mom

"Let's go Jon…You don't need to see this" Sami said as he carefully placed a hand upon my shoulder, trying to lead me away.

"N-no…NO SHE PROMISED ME! SHE SAID SHE'D BE BETTER! SHE'D STOP DOING THIS SHIT!" I rip my friend's attempts at restraining me, getting even more violent as my skank of a mom climbed into the car.

"JON! Come on! Let's go, dude! Uh…maybe that wasn't her! Just some whore that looks like her!" Sami said awkwardly as he dragged my ass back from the middle of the busy street.

As he leads me away, my head down and tears streaming from my eyes, him muttering stupid feel good activities and possibilities for what we saw being wrong. "She's just some random $2 whore, Jon!"

"Your right, Sami, she's nothing but a whore" I say but deep down I know it's her, I'd know those eyes anywhere. Those eyes that flashed with recognition upon seeing my face, yet hold no remorse upon having her son catching her in the act.

She's nothing but a whore. That's what she is, was, and always will be. A whore

I phase back in time to hear Jerico talking about his mom insisting he walk home with her, hand and hand every day.

"It was so embarrassing! Imagine how dorky I looked at Halloween when Scarface was being led around by Mary Poppins! My friends walked literally 10 feet ahead of me!"

"That's not a costume Jon!" Kyle yelled as he pointed his plastic Scream knife at me, "Bakers aren't fucken scary!"

"Yeah!" the other sheep-like children said, following their bumbling leader they'd deemed king

Before I can interject I feel my body tip, having been pushed by one of the minions. I hit a puddle, my butt getting wetter and wetter as they pointed and laughed. God, their voices are aggravating… I can't remember whether I'm disappointed or relieved as they leave me in the gutter water

Don't cry that makes you weak…you'll show them…

Little did Kyle know I had gotten a caramel apple that night.

I shake my head trying to forget the prickling pain Kyle's nails made when he desperately tried to remove my hands from his none existence neck as I shoved that stick down his gullet! Fucker never spoke the same again.

I make a glance at the clock to see the worst scenario had come true.

How do we still have 30 minutes left!?

"Yeah, I remember that always went all out for parties and events. I remember this one time at 12 my mom had a huge surprise when I awoke that morning." Roman said, stumbling like he always does upon the mic, "It was…

I shove my head deeper into my pillow that's flat and comfortable as resting upon a frozen waffle. Wishing I hadn't conditioned myself to be a light sleeper as I hear the bubbling of the bongs as some 5 cent lighter is held underneath them. Sadly, not blocking out the horrid moans as my mom and her 27th (?) boyfriend that month got real "friendly". I bite my fingers as another groan comes through the paper thin walls.

Remember Jon, how Hulk Hogan got the championship?

I slowly will myself to sink into the memory, becoming one of the many fans on television, cheering Hulk like I'd seen last week on TV as I sat out on the roof.

BANG!

Out of the delusion and back into this shithole. The slutty groans now replaced with ones of pain barely audible over the slurs and cussing.

I guess I'll sleep in Math class again, why break a pattern when my mom wont.

How many episodes of HWA did I miss after that dick stole our shit? Hope the dick finally overdosed or something.

"n…ean…Dean!"

"Huh?" I look over to see Roman shaking my shoulder and calling my name, successfully dragging me back to reality. Only if I knew what I'd been brought back to…well, let's say I wouldn't mind surfing through several other gut-wrenching childhood memories.

"Ahem! Yes? Yes, what exactly did I miss?" I rub the back of my neck, literally able to hear the crowds' laughter and see Stephanie's face getting bright red. She wants me so bad.

"I said…Ambrose. What is one way your mom showed you you were special, loved even precious?" she said with clenched teeth and semi-condescending tone in her voice.

"How'd she…show me I'm special? There was (lie) this (Come on, everyone's watching) one time…

(the fans are watching)…she (Why are you drawing such a blank?)…She… (Lielielie!)… (talk Jon! Anything! Say something cliché!) S-sh… (LIE!)

My minds empty and it feels as if I've swallowed sand as nothing is coming to mind. And, oh fuck, everything getting misty. I start playing with my shirt mumbling out pure gibberish.

"There wa-was…I-I…s-s-she…", my eyes shift from Jericho's creeped out expression to Roman's worried frown to a confused scowl from the Miz before settling upon my girlfriend's face. It's tense with a knowing look that screamed, "I'm so sorry, I tried to protect you." Which is strange, right? Crazy? Why would I need protection? I've raised myself from when I first entered this god forsaken world. It's almost…no, it is comical. Knee slapping humor. Fucken hilarious! That a 31 year old man, who takes steel chairs to the back, is rendered motionless by a piddly question!

"Dean, are…you okay?" Roman says slowly, his eyes showing concern (Concern? Concern for me! Hilarious!) I let out a chuckle. (Someone's concerned for crazy Dean Ambrose!?) The chuckle becomes a stream of giggles. (Feeling sorry for the Lunatic Fringe?! Can't buy comedy like that! I start laughing, my breath actually becoming short and tears pouring down my cheeks. (Someone actually giving a damn about Jonathan Good!?)

I leap out my seat, said thing falling over in the process, and start strutting adamant on escaping the stares of my co-works, girlfriend, and the invisible masses have focused upon my being. Shoving everyone and anybody that tries to stop me, laughter getting worse with every second.

I don't know where my feet are taking me, but I don't care. I don't give a damn what Hunter or Vince say. I don't give a rat's ass about scripts and fans! Who gives a fuck about matches and belts! I can't stand the all the chatter that seemed only audible to me.

Hell, for all they care it's just another crazy stunt/gimmick of the nutcase Dean Ambrose.