Chapter Thirteen- Shooting Star, Pressed
I have my match with Lita tonight. My Women's Championship match. Lita, Jeff, and I have all gone over the plans. She's supposed to go for a moonsault, but Jeff runs down and pushes her off the turnbuckle, which will allow me to do my own finisher, the Shooting Star Press. I swear, every time I do that, the only thing going through my head is, "Will I still get up this time?" That has got to be the most terrifying move in my entire arsenal, even more than a top rope Frankensteiner or a flying moonsault. As I'm walking down to the ring, I think about the plans once more. I can't believe that I have to be in this angle with Jeff Hardy, of all people! I climb in and get on top of the turnbuckle, and smile at the crowd, taking off my silver sunglasses and tossing them to the timekeeper, then getting into the ring and shrugging my shoulders in a circular fashion, much like what Christian does. I've picked up a lot of his quirks and habits over these five years that I have known him, as well as Edge. When Amy comes down, we begin the match immediately with me delivering a clothesline to her. Somewhere near the end of the match, I'm lying on the mat face up, and I know that's Jeff's call. As she climbs the turnbuckle, he comes racing down to the ring and grabs a chair, smashing her in the back with it. The referree supposedly "doesn't see," so I pull myself up and nod at Jeff, climbing the turnbuckle and flipping down onto Lita. Shooting Star Press, 1-2-3, and the bell rings. Jeff slides into the ring and holds my arm up as I'm handed my Championship belt. I look at him as he faces the crowd, and I suddenly very different. Suddenly, the purple hair didn't seem strange at all, in fact, I kind of liked it, and his clothes seemed to suit him perfectly. Now I see; he's not weird, just individual. He doesn't have to be what everyone else wants to be. I see him for who he really is... Jeffrey Nero Hardy. He doesn't have to be someone he's not. He has a lot of self-confidence, because no one else I knew would be that forward or open about their true feelings about life. I remember something he said in a promo once, with Bull Buchanan, something like, "...My fans don't love me for what's on the outside, they love me for what's on the inside, too..." And suddenly, it didn't seem so bad to be in this story with him after all.
I have my match with Lita tonight. My Women's Championship match. Lita, Jeff, and I have all gone over the plans. She's supposed to go for a moonsault, but Jeff runs down and pushes her off the turnbuckle, which will allow me to do my own finisher, the Shooting Star Press. I swear, every time I do that, the only thing going through my head is, "Will I still get up this time?" That has got to be the most terrifying move in my entire arsenal, even more than a top rope Frankensteiner or a flying moonsault. As I'm walking down to the ring, I think about the plans once more. I can't believe that I have to be in this angle with Jeff Hardy, of all people! I climb in and get on top of the turnbuckle, and smile at the crowd, taking off my silver sunglasses and tossing them to the timekeeper, then getting into the ring and shrugging my shoulders in a circular fashion, much like what Christian does. I've picked up a lot of his quirks and habits over these five years that I have known him, as well as Edge. When Amy comes down, we begin the match immediately with me delivering a clothesline to her. Somewhere near the end of the match, I'm lying on the mat face up, and I know that's Jeff's call. As she climbs the turnbuckle, he comes racing down to the ring and grabs a chair, smashing her in the back with it. The referree supposedly "doesn't see," so I pull myself up and nod at Jeff, climbing the turnbuckle and flipping down onto Lita. Shooting Star Press, 1-2-3, and the bell rings. Jeff slides into the ring and holds my arm up as I'm handed my Championship belt. I look at him as he faces the crowd, and I suddenly very different. Suddenly, the purple hair didn't seem strange at all, in fact, I kind of liked it, and his clothes seemed to suit him perfectly. Now I see; he's not weird, just individual. He doesn't have to be what everyone else wants to be. I see him for who he really is... Jeffrey Nero Hardy. He doesn't have to be someone he's not. He has a lot of self-confidence, because no one else I knew would be that forward or open about their true feelings about life. I remember something he said in a promo once, with Bull Buchanan, something like, "...My fans don't love me for what's on the outside, they love me for what's on the inside, too..." And suddenly, it didn't seem so bad to be in this story with him after all.