~PART SEVEN~
Believe it or not, when I walked into Madison Square Garden on Monday, I actually breathed a sigh of relief. 'Home,' I thought as I looked around with what felt like new eyes, 'Time to get back in the ring.'
Of course, Jeff and I got a lot of "Are you gonna be okay?" and "You handling everything alright?" but we let it all slide. We figured no one would know exactly how screwed up we were in reality anyway.
Towards the beginning of the taping, my phone rang. Recognizing the number, I picked up quickly. "Lars? What's wrong?"
His voice had an interesting tone to it. "Sir, I can't remember, did Jeffery drink from the chalice after you two shook hands?"
I thought that was a slightly strange question, to say the least. Especially considering that he handed the chalice to Jeff. "Yes, he did," I answered, slightly confused.
"Well, in that case, there's something the two of you should know."
This wasn't sounding good. The last thing I needed was more bad news. "What is it?" I'm pretty sure I sounded anxious.
He cleared his throat. "Well, I mean, it's no big deal."
"You're lying." When I said that, Jeff came out from under his hat to watch and listen.
"You're right, sir." I wish he wouldn't call me that. It made me feel a lot older than 26. "Well, I was reading back on some of the scrolls, and..."
As he again stalled, I grew impatient. "Would you just go ahead and tell me? Nothing can be as upsetting as what you said last week," I snapped, causing Jeff to sit up and become very alert.
"Okay, okay. The blood from the chalice ended your aging."
My eyes just about popped out of my head. "What the Hell are you talking about?"
He took a deep breath. "Apparently, when the blood enters the chalice, something happens to it, and it permanently ends your aging."
"Just like that," I said, hoping there was more to it.
"I'm sorry, sir."
I was angry. Why didn't he tell me this before? "Goodbye, Lars."
"Goodbye, sir. Walk wisely."
I hung up without returning the parting message, just to let him know that I was not happy. My entire life I had dreamed about growing old like my dad, choosing when to stop my aging, as he did.
I looked at Jeff, and shook my head. "Do you remember the interveiw you gave to WWF Magazine, in which you said that if you could have anyting you wanted, it would be eternal life at age 22?"
He looked at me like I was crazy. I don't make it a habit to remember his interveiws. "Yes," he answered cautiously.
"How about age 23?"
"Say what?" he responded, taken aback.
"That was Lars calling," I explained, putting my phone away, "He neglected to mention that the nasty sacrificial blood from the chalice halted our aging."
"So, you mean that I'm stuck at 23 for eternity?"
I nodded. "Yep, and I'm 26 for the rest of my years."
He thought for a minute, then said "This just hasn't been our week, has it?"
"Not at all." And as we sat there, thinking it couldn't get any worse, I heard the door slam, and the lights went out.
Instinctively Jeff and I both dove behind the bench and rolled slightly under it. As my eyes adjusted to the sudden dark, and I regained my night vision, I made out two figures, both all in black, looking over the room. I strained a little to attempt to see their faces, only to see black masks.
They whispered just low enough so that I couldn't make out who it was, and one of them pounded on the wall. Then they left, and the lights went back on.
I closed my eyes to give them a bit of immunity from the bright flourescent lights of our dressing room before sitting up. I looked at Jeff as he sat up, and then looked around the room.
And that's when I saw it: a dagger stuck deep into the wall by the door. I got up slowly and went to check it out. Pure silver. And attached to the wall by the dagger, was a note.
Jeff read the note aloud as he joined me. "We know."
The two of us looked at each other, and swallowed hard. This wasn't good.
As we stood there, we heard a knock on the door, and Adam's familiar voice on the other side. "Come in," I called, still in shock.
Adam, Jay, and Raychele entered the room, and all stopped short when they saw the dagger and note. "Looks like we have a bit of a problem," Jeff said sarcastically.
"Oh yeah," Raychele responded, walking over and taking the dagger out of the wall and looking it over.
"Oh boy," I added, plopping back down on the bench to tell them of Jeff and my latest adventures in bad days.
~PART EIGHT~
Ever have the feeling that your life simply can't get much worse? That's how I was feeling after that little dagger incident. I thought nothing could be worse than getting that first phone call from Lars, and was effectively proven wrong.
I actually wasn't worried about myself. I figured either I'm killed or I'm not. If it's my time, then what can I do? (I know that's a little morbid, but that's how I felt). My health was of no concern to me.
I was worried about Jeff. Putting his life in danger was a worse blow to me than when my father died. It would be like losing a part of myself. He's my brother, my best friend, my Second, and I just couldn't handle it. Also, WWF fans everywhere would be losing a beloved superstar, and that would make it even worse.
Let me just say one thing: greif, stress, and unreturned love make for a very irritable person. And I'm pretty sure I was driving everyone crazy. Jeff was understanding, we'd talked about my feelings for Raychele. I think everyone else was getting a little annoyed.
Finally, Wednesday night at the house show in Hartford, Connecticut, Raychele told me she had to talk to me, and led me to a little area outside the Hartford Civic Center.
She looked at me, her dark eyes full of concern. "Now, tell me the truth. Are you okay?"
I took a deep breath. "Truthfully," I said, turning my head to look at her, "No, I'm not. Too much is going on at once. I feel like I'm drowning," I told her, admitting to my slightly distorted emotions.
She nodded. "What's been the worst for you?"
She did have a habit of asking the wrong questions at the right time. "Thinking about the possibility of losing Jeff."
She was silent for a good thirty seconds. "Jeff's worried about you. He's beginning to think you might not be able to come out of this okay."
I was surprised that he hadn't come to me with this himself. "What do you mean?"
She turned her head and looked out at the parking lot in front of us. "He doesn't know just how depressed you are, or if it could be terminal. He's afraid."
I hadn't even realized that I was depressed. I was too far into it to see it.
Suddenly, she stepped behind me. "Sit down," she commanded.
My eyebrows raised as I sat on the concrete. She kneeled down behind me, and started to rub my neck. It felt good, but only strengthened the feelings I had for her.
I leaned back into it and let my mind clear. It felt good to have no worries, even if it was only for a minute or two.
"I don't think I've ever seen anyone this tense," she remarked as she worked.
I smirked. "I'm not surprised."
"Do you get regular work done, like some of the boys?"
I shook my head. A lot of the roster got massages once a week, but I'd never been one of them. I figured my tension would make me look better in the ring, a little more uptight during storyline related bouts.
"Well, maybe I can change that," she said as she ground hard into my shoulder blades.
I liked the sound of that. I especially liked the fact that she had said it, not me. Was she making a move? "Oh really?" I replied, trying not to show how much I wanted her.
"Mmmhmm. I'll do this to you once a week. That is, if it feels good."
"It feels great."
She gave me one last pull, then stopped. "Then we have a deal. And now, I have a match."
Damn. She stopped. We both got up and went inside, and then went in two totally different directions. She to her, Amy, and Trish's dressing room. Me to Jeff and my room.
I ran into Jeff in the hallway. "Where've you been?" he asked, probably expecting an obscene answer.
"In the parking lot. Raychele was giving me a neck rub."
He smiled. "Is that all she gave you?"
I glared at him. "Yes, that's all she gave me."
"Oh, damn. And I was hoping to hear a few stories."
I tried not to laugh. "Not this time. Pervert."
Believe it or not, when I walked into Madison Square Garden on Monday, I actually breathed a sigh of relief. 'Home,' I thought as I looked around with what felt like new eyes, 'Time to get back in the ring.'
Of course, Jeff and I got a lot of "Are you gonna be okay?" and "You handling everything alright?" but we let it all slide. We figured no one would know exactly how screwed up we were in reality anyway.
Towards the beginning of the taping, my phone rang. Recognizing the number, I picked up quickly. "Lars? What's wrong?"
His voice had an interesting tone to it. "Sir, I can't remember, did Jeffery drink from the chalice after you two shook hands?"
I thought that was a slightly strange question, to say the least. Especially considering that he handed the chalice to Jeff. "Yes, he did," I answered, slightly confused.
"Well, in that case, there's something the two of you should know."
This wasn't sounding good. The last thing I needed was more bad news. "What is it?" I'm pretty sure I sounded anxious.
He cleared his throat. "Well, I mean, it's no big deal."
"You're lying." When I said that, Jeff came out from under his hat to watch and listen.
"You're right, sir." I wish he wouldn't call me that. It made me feel a lot older than 26. "Well, I was reading back on some of the scrolls, and..."
As he again stalled, I grew impatient. "Would you just go ahead and tell me? Nothing can be as upsetting as what you said last week," I snapped, causing Jeff to sit up and become very alert.
"Okay, okay. The blood from the chalice ended your aging."
My eyes just about popped out of my head. "What the Hell are you talking about?"
He took a deep breath. "Apparently, when the blood enters the chalice, something happens to it, and it permanently ends your aging."
"Just like that," I said, hoping there was more to it.
"I'm sorry, sir."
I was angry. Why didn't he tell me this before? "Goodbye, Lars."
"Goodbye, sir. Walk wisely."
I hung up without returning the parting message, just to let him know that I was not happy. My entire life I had dreamed about growing old like my dad, choosing when to stop my aging, as he did.
I looked at Jeff, and shook my head. "Do you remember the interveiw you gave to WWF Magazine, in which you said that if you could have anyting you wanted, it would be eternal life at age 22?"
He looked at me like I was crazy. I don't make it a habit to remember his interveiws. "Yes," he answered cautiously.
"How about age 23?"
"Say what?" he responded, taken aback.
"That was Lars calling," I explained, putting my phone away, "He neglected to mention that the nasty sacrificial blood from the chalice halted our aging."
"So, you mean that I'm stuck at 23 for eternity?"
I nodded. "Yep, and I'm 26 for the rest of my years."
He thought for a minute, then said "This just hasn't been our week, has it?"
"Not at all." And as we sat there, thinking it couldn't get any worse, I heard the door slam, and the lights went out.
Instinctively Jeff and I both dove behind the bench and rolled slightly under it. As my eyes adjusted to the sudden dark, and I regained my night vision, I made out two figures, both all in black, looking over the room. I strained a little to attempt to see their faces, only to see black masks.
They whispered just low enough so that I couldn't make out who it was, and one of them pounded on the wall. Then they left, and the lights went back on.
I closed my eyes to give them a bit of immunity from the bright flourescent lights of our dressing room before sitting up. I looked at Jeff as he sat up, and then looked around the room.
And that's when I saw it: a dagger stuck deep into the wall by the door. I got up slowly and went to check it out. Pure silver. And attached to the wall by the dagger, was a note.
Jeff read the note aloud as he joined me. "We know."
The two of us looked at each other, and swallowed hard. This wasn't good.
As we stood there, we heard a knock on the door, and Adam's familiar voice on the other side. "Come in," I called, still in shock.
Adam, Jay, and Raychele entered the room, and all stopped short when they saw the dagger and note. "Looks like we have a bit of a problem," Jeff said sarcastically.
"Oh yeah," Raychele responded, walking over and taking the dagger out of the wall and looking it over.
"Oh boy," I added, plopping back down on the bench to tell them of Jeff and my latest adventures in bad days.
~PART EIGHT~
Ever have the feeling that your life simply can't get much worse? That's how I was feeling after that little dagger incident. I thought nothing could be worse than getting that first phone call from Lars, and was effectively proven wrong.
I actually wasn't worried about myself. I figured either I'm killed or I'm not. If it's my time, then what can I do? (I know that's a little morbid, but that's how I felt). My health was of no concern to me.
I was worried about Jeff. Putting his life in danger was a worse blow to me than when my father died. It would be like losing a part of myself. He's my brother, my best friend, my Second, and I just couldn't handle it. Also, WWF fans everywhere would be losing a beloved superstar, and that would make it even worse.
Let me just say one thing: greif, stress, and unreturned love make for a very irritable person. And I'm pretty sure I was driving everyone crazy. Jeff was understanding, we'd talked about my feelings for Raychele. I think everyone else was getting a little annoyed.
Finally, Wednesday night at the house show in Hartford, Connecticut, Raychele told me she had to talk to me, and led me to a little area outside the Hartford Civic Center.
She looked at me, her dark eyes full of concern. "Now, tell me the truth. Are you okay?"
I took a deep breath. "Truthfully," I said, turning my head to look at her, "No, I'm not. Too much is going on at once. I feel like I'm drowning," I told her, admitting to my slightly distorted emotions.
She nodded. "What's been the worst for you?"
She did have a habit of asking the wrong questions at the right time. "Thinking about the possibility of losing Jeff."
She was silent for a good thirty seconds. "Jeff's worried about you. He's beginning to think you might not be able to come out of this okay."
I was surprised that he hadn't come to me with this himself. "What do you mean?"
She turned her head and looked out at the parking lot in front of us. "He doesn't know just how depressed you are, or if it could be terminal. He's afraid."
I hadn't even realized that I was depressed. I was too far into it to see it.
Suddenly, she stepped behind me. "Sit down," she commanded.
My eyebrows raised as I sat on the concrete. She kneeled down behind me, and started to rub my neck. It felt good, but only strengthened the feelings I had for her.
I leaned back into it and let my mind clear. It felt good to have no worries, even if it was only for a minute or two.
"I don't think I've ever seen anyone this tense," she remarked as she worked.
I smirked. "I'm not surprised."
"Do you get regular work done, like some of the boys?"
I shook my head. A lot of the roster got massages once a week, but I'd never been one of them. I figured my tension would make me look better in the ring, a little more uptight during storyline related bouts.
"Well, maybe I can change that," she said as she ground hard into my shoulder blades.
I liked the sound of that. I especially liked the fact that she had said it, not me. Was she making a move? "Oh really?" I replied, trying not to show how much I wanted her.
"Mmmhmm. I'll do this to you once a week. That is, if it feels good."
"It feels great."
She gave me one last pull, then stopped. "Then we have a deal. And now, I have a match."
Damn. She stopped. We both got up and went inside, and then went in two totally different directions. She to her, Amy, and Trish's dressing room. Me to Jeff and my room.
I ran into Jeff in the hallway. "Where've you been?" he asked, probably expecting an obscene answer.
"In the parking lot. Raychele was giving me a neck rub."
He smiled. "Is that all she gave you?"
I glared at him. "Yes, that's all she gave me."
"Oh, damn. And I was hoping to hear a few stories."
I tried not to laugh. "Not this time. Pervert."