Scott woke up later in the morning (he hadn't fallen asleep until after 1:00) on the couch, still wearing his street clothes that he'd changed into after last night's show. Say, speaking of changing...no, that had to have been a dream...but, then, why was he on Valerie Said's couch, in her apartment? Had he just fallen asleep in the middle of a discussion, and then dreamt the whole ordeal that was replaying itself in his mind just now?
He had awoken because of the loud sound that metal makes when it hits a hard floor. Scott sat straight up, and found himself facing a small kitchen. It didn't have carpet, making the sound of the pan louder. Val reached down and picked it up, then set it on top of the oven. She'd knocked it off as she was getting a glass of milk.
Val turned to see that Scott was up. She smiled. "Hey, sleepy," she said, walking over to him and sitting in the wooden chair. It hadn't moved. "How're you feeling this morning?"
Scott was still collecting his thoughts. "I...I think I'm okay..." he managed.
"You think you're okay? Hmmm...we'll have to work on that. But first...do you remember what happened last night?"
"I think so...I wrestled a match...I did an angle...I came over to your place...and I saw something that I still can't believe"
"Can't believe, huh? Need me to show you again?"
"NO!" Scott exclaimed, suddenly widening his eyes and looking straight into Val's face. He calmed down a moment later. "No...uh, that won't be necessary...I think I saw all I needed."
"Ah, all you needed, good...all you needed to do what?"
Scott didn't reply to that question, but instead asked his own. "Val...what happened last night?"
"I guess I do need to jog your memory. That's okay. I understand. Last night, we got in a little argument about the Bible being fact or fiction. You asked for proof. I couldn't give it to you at the arena, so I invited you to come to my apartment after the show. You came over, and you were expecting me to show you a book or something that said why God is real. That's what you were expecting, right?"
"Uh...yeah."
"I told you that I could feel God, and I didn't need to see Him to know that He exists. I told you that no other group of people can tell you that about their gods. That argument didn't help. I told you I'd have proof of the possibility of there being a supreme being. I said that God is supernatural. You waved that idea off again. So, I changed. It was risky, let me tell you. I was scared. I was probably more afraid of you than you were of me. But I did it anyway, because I needed to open your mind."
"Oh, man..." Scott said, holding his head. "So it was real."
"Yes. I'm none other than a myth come true. I'm a werewolf. Well, actually, a were-jackal. We didn't have too many wolves in Egypt, where I was born."
"You're Egyptian?"
"Yep."
"You're a werewolf?"
"Pretty much."
"I need a drink."
"I don't have any beer, or anything like that..."
"No, no, just some water, or something...Good Lord..."
Val walked to the kitchen and got Scott a glass of tap water. "Ah, I see we're opening our mind a little, hmm?"
"Say what?"
Val went back into the living room and handed Scott the water. He inhaled it. "You said, 'Good Lord.' You can't say that the Lord is good, without believing in Him first."
Scott set the glass on the carpet. "So, that was your proof? You...changed into something, and it was supposed to open my mind to God? What if it backfired, and I opened my mind to...I don't know, some Hindu god? What then?"
"That's a risk I was willing to take. I prayed about it before you came. I knew I had to try. Now that you're awake, and you can tell what's going on around you, It's time for the next piece of the puzzle." Valerie walked over to her TV set. Scott hadn't noticed before, but it had a red binder on top of it. Val retrieved the binder and went back to her chair. She opened it, revealing that it was actually a photo album. Scott leaned over to see.
"This is me when I was a baby," Val said, pointing to the first photograph. "I was born in Cairo. My family and I were part of a minority group in Egypt, the Copts. Copts are Egyptian Christians. I was baptized when I was one year old." She pointed to a photo of her as a toddler. "When I was five, we moved to America." She turned the page and pointed out a shot of her and her parents on a boat. "I'm not exactly sure as to why. It might have been because of prejudice against us. Or maybe my dad just found a better job overseas. I forget. But, anyway, we moved to Virginia, and I started school in America.
"Life went well when I was young. No extreme racial discrimination, no hate crimes. The only problem was that we moved a lot." Val showed off photos of her in front of various apartment buildings. "I changed schools, like, once a year. I never really kept any friends when I was little. Luckily, we stayed put when we got to Missouri. I made it from eighth grade all the way to college in this state. And I made-and kept-friends.
"We always attended church." She pointed to a photo of a church. "This one was in St. Joseph. And, of course, I got stuck in the common mindset for someone my age: I thought that, if I attended church every Sunday, and I lived by good morals, then I had my ticket to heaven. I started attending church youth group under the same philosophy." Now she showed Scott a few pictures of her as a teenager many other kids her age. "It wasn't until my junior year in high school that I decided to truly live for God.
"It wasn't a glamorous point in my life. I was riding the city bus home from a shopping trip with a few friends. It was a little late. I was standing up front talking to the bus driver, making sure we stopped at a close enough place to my house. Just then, we were hit by a drunk driver who was trying to escape a police car. He swerved and rammed into the side of the bus. The bus driver tried to steer back onto the road as we fell, but that just made the bus go head first. It wasn't a really deep ditch, but we went careening into it anyway. Fortunately, no one was killed. Unfortunately, I ended up going through the windshield."
"No way."
"You'd have to see it to really believe it, but it's true. I was the worst of the injured on the bus that night, thankfully. I got a concussion, and I landed bad enough that I was paralyzed from the neck down. I was unconscious until later at the hospital." Val showed Scott a few pictures of her in the ICU.
"Believe me, when you wake up, and you can't move, and you can't feel you body, it's a scary moment. The doctors told me they were going to do some surgery, try and help fight the paralysis. It was risky stuff. No one knew if I could make it. If it didn't work, I'd be paralyzed for life, or dead."
"I'd take the latter."
"Anyway, before they did the surgery, my whole youth group showed up in the hospital. I'd had no idea that they really cared about me. I hardly knew if they'd ever noticed me. But they all laid their hands on me and prayed that the surgery would do it's thing. It really made me think. All these people my own age, taking time from their schedules and lives to pray for me!
"So, they did the surgery. And it worked! Soon, I began to feel my legs and arms. Soon after that, I could sit up. The doctors had worried that I could've been paralyzed for life, but, in about a month and a half, you wouldn't even know I'd ever been in an accident!"
"You're kidding?"
"Nope. And it was then that I realized that the Lord had blessed me. He had a plan for me, and I couldn't fulfill it by being a vegetable in a hospital bed. I gave my life to Him, and now He guides me. He even guided me to witnessing to you, Scott."
"Is that so?"
"I prayed about it before you came. I prayed that I could at least I could use my abilities to help open your eyes-and your heart-to other things."
"Well....you certainly did that...I don't even know what to believe anymore."
"Good. That's the first step." She set her photo album down and picked a Bible up from the floor. "Now, why don't I get you something to eat, and then you can listen while I tell you a little story about someone that was more than just a man..."
Valerie shared the Gospel with Scott that morning. Scott listened. For once in his life, he decided to listen. And, to his extreme surprise, he felt very moved by what he heard. Could this be true? Val said it was passed down for hundreds of years. It was translated from Hebrew and old Greek. What made it any more unbelievable than a history book...he'd never seen George Washington cross the Delaware, but he believed that to be true...
"I hope I've taught you something, Scott," Val said, after a brief description of what she'd just read. "I know it's gotta be hard, learning something new after all the confusion you've seen in the past hours."
"Yeah...well..." Scot didn't know what to say. It had been confusing, going from one thing to the next so quickly. He still held on to his pride, and he didn't want to admit any change. He didn't want to be proven wrong. But there was a change. He knew he wasn't the same since last night, when Val had suddenly transformed right in front of him.
"I've done my best to help. If you want to hang around here, I won't stop you. But, if you'd like to get back to your place..."
"Yeah...that's what I want to do," Scott stood for the first time that morning. "My head's just full of everything you could imagine now...I need to get back to my place...do some peaceful thinking, you know?"
"I understand. Good-bye, Scott. I'll be praying for you."
"Yeah..." And with that, he left.
Scott Shadows got back to his own apartment and fell onto his own couch. He led his head and moaned. Despite the fact that he'd actually gotten some sleep during his time at Val's, it still felt as if everything had happened so fast. Val had opened his mind. Maybe there was something out there. Who's to say that there wasn't? Certainly not him.
Scott sat for what seemed to him like forever, thinking about the Gospel Val had shared with him, and her testimony, and how they just seemed so real all of a sudden. He thought about the face of the beast he'd seen, and how he'd almost wet himself. That reminded him that he had to use the restroom.
After relieving himself, Scott went to his refrigerator. He pulled a bottle of beer out of a six-pack and opened it with his bottle opener/key chain. Then, he leaned against the counter and took a quick drink. He swished the liquid around in his mouth, then swallowed. What was so great about this stuff, anyways? He'd been drinking it, as well as similar alcoholic beverages, since before college. But he found himself questioning that habit. What made it such a coveted thing for him? The taste? Couldn't be. Beer didn't taste so great. It was the buzz he got from drinking multiple bottles or cans.
But what was so great about getting your mind messed up? Defiance? Anarchy? His mind was already messed up now, but he wasn't defying anyone. Scott took a long, hard look at the bottle. He shook it, watching the beer splash around. Then, he turned to the sink and drained the bottle. It took some strength to do that. But he did. Then, he snatched the other five bottles from the fridge and emptied them. Then, he tossed the leftover glass into his garbage can.
Now Scott was feeling something. Something different from the buzz he'd used to get from the alcohol. He felt...cleaner. He felt like he'd just fulfilled a longtime goal. He suddenly had another thought cross his mind. He methodically walked into his bedroom and opened the drawer at the bottom of his dresser. Inside, he found all the PLAYBOY, PENTHOUSE, and other magazines he'd collected over the years. He'd always found pleasure with the pictures in these magazines. Something in him still did.
But something else was driving him now. He reached over and grabbed his room's trash bucket, and began to pile all the magazines into it. As he did so, he began thinking...This is an experiment. This will help me to decide if Val was telling the truth. I'll go and toss these in that dumpster out back. I'll do what Val suggested earlier. I'll pray to this God. I'll see if He answers me. If I don't get anything out of it, I'll go out and buy more of these. And more beer. I'll live as if nothing happened between me and Val. But, if it works the way Val said...
After Scott returned from the dumpster, he sat on his couch, leaning over his lap, hand folded. He hesitated for a few minutes, but, finally brought himself to it.
"God," he began, "if you're out there...if you exist...I've got something I think you want. Valerie says you want me. She told me that God loves everyone, and He rejoices over every soul that is saved through His grace. Well, I want to see that grace. I'm here, I'm in the best point of my life. I've got money, I've got a job, I'm famous. But, I don't have You. I want to see what this is like. I want to feel You, I want to know You. I want You to change my life. I really mean it. I wouldn't have thrown all that stuff out if I didn't. I want to accept you...yeah, that's it, I want to accept you into my life, so that You can take what you did for Val and use it for me. I'm lost. I'm confused. Now's Your best chance. Take me while you can. In God's name I sincerely pray...Amen."
Scott was surprised he'd meant that. But he had. Now, he sat back into the couch. He stared at the wall. A picture of his family. Him, his Mom, his dad. They were smiling. He was faking it. They were all dressed up. Scott remembered not wanting to take that photo, but he'd ended up complying.
Look at them, he thought. They really loved me. They still love me. They gave me everything. They wanted me to succeed, and I did. But I never had any gratitude. And they still love me, no matter what. Like...God. Scott continued to stare ahead.
Valerie Said was sitting in her living room, watching the news channel, when her phone suddenly rang. She went over to the jack on the kitchen wall and picked up the receiver, then put it to her ear and said, "Hello?"
"Val?"
"Yes, that's me. Who's this?"
"It's Scott."
"Oh, Scott! Sorry, I didn't recognize your voice."
"It's okay. Everything's okay."
"Everything, huh?"
"I did what you said, and then some. I threw out all my magazines, and I dumped all my beer. Then, I found that guy you've been telling me about. You remember? God."
"Seriously?"
"Never been more serious in my life. And it feels great."
"That's amazing, Scott! I mean, it's great that you found God. I just...didn't expect it to happen this soon, really. No offense or anything..."
"None taken. I was stubborn and ignorant until last night. Have you ever used that little trick on anyone else?"
"No. You're contestant number one."
"Well...it was a good strategy. When you changed right in front of me, my world came crashing down. I had no idea what was right. It was like a clean slate, or something. And you wrote the right things on that slate."
"Scott, I am so proud of you, seriously! I can't believe it all came together."
"We need to celebrate. God is, right?"
"That's what the Bible says."
"Then let's you and me go get some lunch. My treat."
"Where do I meet you?"
Spunky's Bar and Grill, right at the corner of 8th and Chasuble, was where Scott met Val. They got a booth and made themselves comfortable. The waiter gave them two glasses of water, took their drink orders, then left them to think about what they wanted to eat. Scott started the conversation, not with something about God, but with a little story about Titus and himself.
"You're kidding?" Val gasped.
"Nope. That's just how it went."
"I can't believe he wants you to do something like that! That's disgusting!"
"I know, and I actually said yes."
"Don't blame yourself. You weren't the same person that you are today. It's Titus' fault."
"I just don't know what I'm going to do about it."
"Call him up and tell him you won't do it!"
"I can't. I know Titus. It's not that easy..."
The waiter returned and took their orders. Scott continued when he left again.
"If I were to call him and tell him that I refuse to break Chris' leg and send him packing, then he'd let the whole wrestling world know that I am unreliable. He's a pretty powerful guy. Heck, he'll get others to vouch for him. I'll end up like Balls Mahoney on the East coast. No one'll want me. The only work I'll find is in IRW, and Titus'll make it miserable. I'll be totally off the map. Believe me, he's done it before. Remember Michael Spencer?"
"No..."
"Exactly. And I'll be gone to, if I refuse."
"Hmmm...you don't want to lose this work, right? Wrestling's been good to you."
"Yeah. And if I try to walk out on him, he'll just have more evidence to back his claims up."
"But you can't go in and break Chris' leg!"
"I know, I know. If it comes down to the wire, I'll tell Titus off, and leave. Maybe, if I get some witnesses, then they can deny anything he tells the media...but getting a different job is better than sabotage."
"I never had any idea that Titus was like this. How can I go to the show this Saturday to perform if I know I'm working for a crook?"
"Maybe...maybe I can do the spot, but say I screwed up. I can say that I thought I'd broken Chris' leg, but I was wrong, and...no, no, Titus can see through that. How can I not tell if I've broken a leg?"
"Hold on...I just got an idea...you said something about getting witnesses?"
"Yeah..."
"How many people attend one of out shows?"
"Like, maybe a thousand or so at some place like the Grand Hall."
"How's one thousand witnesses sound for you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Remember Shane Douglas?"
"Of course! How can you forget someone like him?"
"Remember back in '93 when he won that big title? He threw it down and declared his title the real championship. He totally changed the face of wrestling."
"What are you getting at...?"
"I know a way you can get out of this, and still keep your jobs. And you'll give the fans their money's worth..."
Saturday evening. Scott arrived at the arena a few hours before showtime. It was a few hours earlier than he normally arrived, but he had to be prepared. Just as with the week before, Scott walked through the back door. No Val to meet him there. She was in the women's locker room. Scott went to the men's and started to put his things up.
Chris Parceles was a little later this week than the last. Still, he perked up when he saw Scott, who was just putting his shiny black vest on.
"Hey, Scott!" Chris said, smiling. He went to a locker a little ways down the line. "You're early again. Gotta be ready for the match, though, right?"
"Yep," Scott said. He'd called Chris up on Wednesday and they'd planned the match out. He noticed that Chris had a notepad with words scribbled on it. Scott had one, too. They wanted to get this perfect.
"It's gonna be a good one," Chris cheerfully announced. "Everyone's going to love it...until the end, of course."
"Yeah."
"Don't worry about me, Scott. I'm not scared. You probably think I am, but I'm not. I'm ready to go with the show. I'm going to sell it like they'll need to remove my leg!"
"Right..."
"Say, Scott, you said on the phone that you had something big planned for the end...what is it? A new move?"
"Nah. It's a secret. Can't tell anyone."
"Oh, got it. This is going to be great!"
"Chris?"
"Yeah?"
"You...you want to sit down and pray with me? I mean, if you don't, that's fine. But I feel like I should pray about this match...to make sure nothing goes wrong..."
"Cool, sure! I always pray before matches. I pray that I won't break my neck, or anyone else's!" He chuckled and sat next to Scott they both folded their hands and closed their eyes.
"God," Scott began, "tonight's a big night for both me and Chris. I pray that you can watch over us, so that neither of us gets seriously hurt. I pray that we can both leave this match...and the big surprise after it...with a sense of fulfillment and joy. Thank you, God, for all you've done..."
Chris stopped Scott before the "Amen," and then began to pray in Spanish. Scott didn't understand what Chris was saying, but he went along with it anyway. Finally, Chris said, "Amen."
"What did you pray about?" Scott asked, raising his head.
"I thanked Him for answering all my prayers and watching over me when I have matches. You know, He even protected me once in Mexico during a cage match. I slipped and fell off the top to the outside."
"Really?"
"Yeah. But a fake table broke my fall. I didn't even know the table was there! It was weird, but I lived. And I didn't lose my ability to wrestle...well, I did go to the hospital for a short time, but I survived it and came back."
"Mexico, huh? I've kind of wanted to go there and wrestle sometime. How is it?"
"Pretty crazy stuff they do there, you know. Most people wear masks and stuff. I used to be called Blackhole Son. It was like that song by Soundgarden, you know? Only with the 'o' instead of the 'u.'"
"That's cool. You and I should...you know, go down there sometime. Arena Mexico. We can tag team."
"Really? You think so? Wow...that would be like going home...okay, we'll have to do that. You have a passport?"
"I can get one."
"Yeah, okay. Just like good buddies, we'll go down there and show what you can learn from wrestling in America! But, we've got to get through this match first, right?"
"Right. And the surprise."
"We'll make it. God willing."
"Yeah...God willing."
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" The announcer spoke clearly into the microphone. "It is now time...for your main event of the evening!" The fans cheered. "A special challenge by the Shadow Master; a hardcore, no rules, falls-count-anywhere match between two rivals who's feud has heated up in the course of one week. This will be their first match; and it may very well be one man's last. Are you prepared...for the main event?" The fans cheered again. "Then LET'S ROCK AND ROLL!" That was the IRW announcer's catch phrase. He tried his best to rival Michael Buffer with his voice tones, but he was more of a soprano
"Introducing first...he hails from Ponce, Puerto Rico..." Chris Parcele's music began to play, and he slowly stepped through the curtain, selling a focused and determined look. He eyed the crowd, looking back and forth at each side. The announcer continued, "Here is 'Carcrash' Chris Parceles!"
The fans gave a loud round of applause for one of their favorite lucha-style high flyers. Chris was one of the few wrestlers in IRW who utilized that style, and it had made him an instant hit. His entrance music blared over the PA system in the arena as he leaped over the top rope and landed on his feet in the ring. He quickly ran over to the ropes in front of him, jumped onto the second, and did a backflip, landing on his feet in the middle of the ring, and almost taking the referee out. His playing to the fans paid off with cheers and applause.
The announcer raised the microphone to his lips as the music died. "And now, introducing his opponent...he hails from across the state in Kansas City, Missouri..." the Shadow Master's theme song faded in and the fans began to boo and hiss. Their disapproval for the man about to enter the ring sounded like that of a cow who just got kicked. Donned in his black mask, shiny black vest, cutoff blue jeans, right hand-only biker glove, and boots with skulls on the sides, the Shadow Master stepped through the curtain. He raised his arms in the air as if he was expecting the fans' approval. They continued to boo him. His gesture suddenly turned into the "up yours" sign, and he began to argue with a fan as the announcer finished the introduction, "Here is...the Shadow Master!"
The jeers grew even louder at the mention of Scott Shadows' ring name. He casually entered the ring and mimicked being a fan favorite. His imitations halted when he locked eyes with Chris. Under the mask, Scott remembered the accidental chair shot from the week before. Back then, he was almost ready to tear Chris' head off for performing an unrehearsed spot. He wasn't that man anymore. And he was going to prove it...after the match.
Chris, who had been crouching in a waiting position, stood and walked to the center of the ring. He and the Shadow Master went face-to-face. However, since Chris was a little shorter than his opponent, the Shadow Master bend down and made a scene of it. He looked Chris in the face and mocked him for his size. Chris shoved the Shadow Master, who, in such an awkward position, had no choice but to fall back into a seated position. In an angered fashion, he quickly rushed to his feet and shoved Chris down, putting the force of his movement behind the push. Chris fell backwards, but rolled in a backwards somersault. He didn't stand immediately, but took a knee and eyed his enemy. The Shadow Master used his hands to gesture, "Bring it on."
He had awoken because of the loud sound that metal makes when it hits a hard floor. Scott sat straight up, and found himself facing a small kitchen. It didn't have carpet, making the sound of the pan louder. Val reached down and picked it up, then set it on top of the oven. She'd knocked it off as she was getting a glass of milk.
Val turned to see that Scott was up. She smiled. "Hey, sleepy," she said, walking over to him and sitting in the wooden chair. It hadn't moved. "How're you feeling this morning?"
Scott was still collecting his thoughts. "I...I think I'm okay..." he managed.
"You think you're okay? Hmmm...we'll have to work on that. But first...do you remember what happened last night?"
"I think so...I wrestled a match...I did an angle...I came over to your place...and I saw something that I still can't believe"
"Can't believe, huh? Need me to show you again?"
"NO!" Scott exclaimed, suddenly widening his eyes and looking straight into Val's face. He calmed down a moment later. "No...uh, that won't be necessary...I think I saw all I needed."
"Ah, all you needed, good...all you needed to do what?"
Scott didn't reply to that question, but instead asked his own. "Val...what happened last night?"
"I guess I do need to jog your memory. That's okay. I understand. Last night, we got in a little argument about the Bible being fact or fiction. You asked for proof. I couldn't give it to you at the arena, so I invited you to come to my apartment after the show. You came over, and you were expecting me to show you a book or something that said why God is real. That's what you were expecting, right?"
"Uh...yeah."
"I told you that I could feel God, and I didn't need to see Him to know that He exists. I told you that no other group of people can tell you that about their gods. That argument didn't help. I told you I'd have proof of the possibility of there being a supreme being. I said that God is supernatural. You waved that idea off again. So, I changed. It was risky, let me tell you. I was scared. I was probably more afraid of you than you were of me. But I did it anyway, because I needed to open your mind."
"Oh, man..." Scott said, holding his head. "So it was real."
"Yes. I'm none other than a myth come true. I'm a werewolf. Well, actually, a were-jackal. We didn't have too many wolves in Egypt, where I was born."
"You're Egyptian?"
"Yep."
"You're a werewolf?"
"Pretty much."
"I need a drink."
"I don't have any beer, or anything like that..."
"No, no, just some water, or something...Good Lord..."
Val walked to the kitchen and got Scott a glass of tap water. "Ah, I see we're opening our mind a little, hmm?"
"Say what?"
Val went back into the living room and handed Scott the water. He inhaled it. "You said, 'Good Lord.' You can't say that the Lord is good, without believing in Him first."
Scott set the glass on the carpet. "So, that was your proof? You...changed into something, and it was supposed to open my mind to God? What if it backfired, and I opened my mind to...I don't know, some Hindu god? What then?"
"That's a risk I was willing to take. I prayed about it before you came. I knew I had to try. Now that you're awake, and you can tell what's going on around you, It's time for the next piece of the puzzle." Valerie walked over to her TV set. Scott hadn't noticed before, but it had a red binder on top of it. Val retrieved the binder and went back to her chair. She opened it, revealing that it was actually a photo album. Scott leaned over to see.
"This is me when I was a baby," Val said, pointing to the first photograph. "I was born in Cairo. My family and I were part of a minority group in Egypt, the Copts. Copts are Egyptian Christians. I was baptized when I was one year old." She pointed to a photo of her as a toddler. "When I was five, we moved to America." She turned the page and pointed out a shot of her and her parents on a boat. "I'm not exactly sure as to why. It might have been because of prejudice against us. Or maybe my dad just found a better job overseas. I forget. But, anyway, we moved to Virginia, and I started school in America.
"Life went well when I was young. No extreme racial discrimination, no hate crimes. The only problem was that we moved a lot." Val showed off photos of her in front of various apartment buildings. "I changed schools, like, once a year. I never really kept any friends when I was little. Luckily, we stayed put when we got to Missouri. I made it from eighth grade all the way to college in this state. And I made-and kept-friends.
"We always attended church." She pointed to a photo of a church. "This one was in St. Joseph. And, of course, I got stuck in the common mindset for someone my age: I thought that, if I attended church every Sunday, and I lived by good morals, then I had my ticket to heaven. I started attending church youth group under the same philosophy." Now she showed Scott a few pictures of her as a teenager many other kids her age. "It wasn't until my junior year in high school that I decided to truly live for God.
"It wasn't a glamorous point in my life. I was riding the city bus home from a shopping trip with a few friends. It was a little late. I was standing up front talking to the bus driver, making sure we stopped at a close enough place to my house. Just then, we were hit by a drunk driver who was trying to escape a police car. He swerved and rammed into the side of the bus. The bus driver tried to steer back onto the road as we fell, but that just made the bus go head first. It wasn't a really deep ditch, but we went careening into it anyway. Fortunately, no one was killed. Unfortunately, I ended up going through the windshield."
"No way."
"You'd have to see it to really believe it, but it's true. I was the worst of the injured on the bus that night, thankfully. I got a concussion, and I landed bad enough that I was paralyzed from the neck down. I was unconscious until later at the hospital." Val showed Scott a few pictures of her in the ICU.
"Believe me, when you wake up, and you can't move, and you can't feel you body, it's a scary moment. The doctors told me they were going to do some surgery, try and help fight the paralysis. It was risky stuff. No one knew if I could make it. If it didn't work, I'd be paralyzed for life, or dead."
"I'd take the latter."
"Anyway, before they did the surgery, my whole youth group showed up in the hospital. I'd had no idea that they really cared about me. I hardly knew if they'd ever noticed me. But they all laid their hands on me and prayed that the surgery would do it's thing. It really made me think. All these people my own age, taking time from their schedules and lives to pray for me!
"So, they did the surgery. And it worked! Soon, I began to feel my legs and arms. Soon after that, I could sit up. The doctors had worried that I could've been paralyzed for life, but, in about a month and a half, you wouldn't even know I'd ever been in an accident!"
"You're kidding?"
"Nope. And it was then that I realized that the Lord had blessed me. He had a plan for me, and I couldn't fulfill it by being a vegetable in a hospital bed. I gave my life to Him, and now He guides me. He even guided me to witnessing to you, Scott."
"Is that so?"
"I prayed about it before you came. I prayed that I could at least I could use my abilities to help open your eyes-and your heart-to other things."
"Well....you certainly did that...I don't even know what to believe anymore."
"Good. That's the first step." She set her photo album down and picked a Bible up from the floor. "Now, why don't I get you something to eat, and then you can listen while I tell you a little story about someone that was more than just a man..."
Valerie shared the Gospel with Scott that morning. Scott listened. For once in his life, he decided to listen. And, to his extreme surprise, he felt very moved by what he heard. Could this be true? Val said it was passed down for hundreds of years. It was translated from Hebrew and old Greek. What made it any more unbelievable than a history book...he'd never seen George Washington cross the Delaware, but he believed that to be true...
"I hope I've taught you something, Scott," Val said, after a brief description of what she'd just read. "I know it's gotta be hard, learning something new after all the confusion you've seen in the past hours."
"Yeah...well..." Scot didn't know what to say. It had been confusing, going from one thing to the next so quickly. He still held on to his pride, and he didn't want to admit any change. He didn't want to be proven wrong. But there was a change. He knew he wasn't the same since last night, when Val had suddenly transformed right in front of him.
"I've done my best to help. If you want to hang around here, I won't stop you. But, if you'd like to get back to your place..."
"Yeah...that's what I want to do," Scott stood for the first time that morning. "My head's just full of everything you could imagine now...I need to get back to my place...do some peaceful thinking, you know?"
"I understand. Good-bye, Scott. I'll be praying for you."
"Yeah..." And with that, he left.
Scott Shadows got back to his own apartment and fell onto his own couch. He led his head and moaned. Despite the fact that he'd actually gotten some sleep during his time at Val's, it still felt as if everything had happened so fast. Val had opened his mind. Maybe there was something out there. Who's to say that there wasn't? Certainly not him.
Scott sat for what seemed to him like forever, thinking about the Gospel Val had shared with him, and her testimony, and how they just seemed so real all of a sudden. He thought about the face of the beast he'd seen, and how he'd almost wet himself. That reminded him that he had to use the restroom.
After relieving himself, Scott went to his refrigerator. He pulled a bottle of beer out of a six-pack and opened it with his bottle opener/key chain. Then, he leaned against the counter and took a quick drink. He swished the liquid around in his mouth, then swallowed. What was so great about this stuff, anyways? He'd been drinking it, as well as similar alcoholic beverages, since before college. But he found himself questioning that habit. What made it such a coveted thing for him? The taste? Couldn't be. Beer didn't taste so great. It was the buzz he got from drinking multiple bottles or cans.
But what was so great about getting your mind messed up? Defiance? Anarchy? His mind was already messed up now, but he wasn't defying anyone. Scott took a long, hard look at the bottle. He shook it, watching the beer splash around. Then, he turned to the sink and drained the bottle. It took some strength to do that. But he did. Then, he snatched the other five bottles from the fridge and emptied them. Then, he tossed the leftover glass into his garbage can.
Now Scott was feeling something. Something different from the buzz he'd used to get from the alcohol. He felt...cleaner. He felt like he'd just fulfilled a longtime goal. He suddenly had another thought cross his mind. He methodically walked into his bedroom and opened the drawer at the bottom of his dresser. Inside, he found all the PLAYBOY, PENTHOUSE, and other magazines he'd collected over the years. He'd always found pleasure with the pictures in these magazines. Something in him still did.
But something else was driving him now. He reached over and grabbed his room's trash bucket, and began to pile all the magazines into it. As he did so, he began thinking...This is an experiment. This will help me to decide if Val was telling the truth. I'll go and toss these in that dumpster out back. I'll do what Val suggested earlier. I'll pray to this God. I'll see if He answers me. If I don't get anything out of it, I'll go out and buy more of these. And more beer. I'll live as if nothing happened between me and Val. But, if it works the way Val said...
After Scott returned from the dumpster, he sat on his couch, leaning over his lap, hand folded. He hesitated for a few minutes, but, finally brought himself to it.
"God," he began, "if you're out there...if you exist...I've got something I think you want. Valerie says you want me. She told me that God loves everyone, and He rejoices over every soul that is saved through His grace. Well, I want to see that grace. I'm here, I'm in the best point of my life. I've got money, I've got a job, I'm famous. But, I don't have You. I want to see what this is like. I want to feel You, I want to know You. I want You to change my life. I really mean it. I wouldn't have thrown all that stuff out if I didn't. I want to accept you...yeah, that's it, I want to accept you into my life, so that You can take what you did for Val and use it for me. I'm lost. I'm confused. Now's Your best chance. Take me while you can. In God's name I sincerely pray...Amen."
Scott was surprised he'd meant that. But he had. Now, he sat back into the couch. He stared at the wall. A picture of his family. Him, his Mom, his dad. They were smiling. He was faking it. They were all dressed up. Scott remembered not wanting to take that photo, but he'd ended up complying.
Look at them, he thought. They really loved me. They still love me. They gave me everything. They wanted me to succeed, and I did. But I never had any gratitude. And they still love me, no matter what. Like...God. Scott continued to stare ahead.
Valerie Said was sitting in her living room, watching the news channel, when her phone suddenly rang. She went over to the jack on the kitchen wall and picked up the receiver, then put it to her ear and said, "Hello?"
"Val?"
"Yes, that's me. Who's this?"
"It's Scott."
"Oh, Scott! Sorry, I didn't recognize your voice."
"It's okay. Everything's okay."
"Everything, huh?"
"I did what you said, and then some. I threw out all my magazines, and I dumped all my beer. Then, I found that guy you've been telling me about. You remember? God."
"Seriously?"
"Never been more serious in my life. And it feels great."
"That's amazing, Scott! I mean, it's great that you found God. I just...didn't expect it to happen this soon, really. No offense or anything..."
"None taken. I was stubborn and ignorant until last night. Have you ever used that little trick on anyone else?"
"No. You're contestant number one."
"Well...it was a good strategy. When you changed right in front of me, my world came crashing down. I had no idea what was right. It was like a clean slate, or something. And you wrote the right things on that slate."
"Scott, I am so proud of you, seriously! I can't believe it all came together."
"We need to celebrate. God is, right?"
"That's what the Bible says."
"Then let's you and me go get some lunch. My treat."
"Where do I meet you?"
Spunky's Bar and Grill, right at the corner of 8th and Chasuble, was where Scott met Val. They got a booth and made themselves comfortable. The waiter gave them two glasses of water, took their drink orders, then left them to think about what they wanted to eat. Scott started the conversation, not with something about God, but with a little story about Titus and himself.
"You're kidding?" Val gasped.
"Nope. That's just how it went."
"I can't believe he wants you to do something like that! That's disgusting!"
"I know, and I actually said yes."
"Don't blame yourself. You weren't the same person that you are today. It's Titus' fault."
"I just don't know what I'm going to do about it."
"Call him up and tell him you won't do it!"
"I can't. I know Titus. It's not that easy..."
The waiter returned and took their orders. Scott continued when he left again.
"If I were to call him and tell him that I refuse to break Chris' leg and send him packing, then he'd let the whole wrestling world know that I am unreliable. He's a pretty powerful guy. Heck, he'll get others to vouch for him. I'll end up like Balls Mahoney on the East coast. No one'll want me. The only work I'll find is in IRW, and Titus'll make it miserable. I'll be totally off the map. Believe me, he's done it before. Remember Michael Spencer?"
"No..."
"Exactly. And I'll be gone to, if I refuse."
"Hmmm...you don't want to lose this work, right? Wrestling's been good to you."
"Yeah. And if I try to walk out on him, he'll just have more evidence to back his claims up."
"But you can't go in and break Chris' leg!"
"I know, I know. If it comes down to the wire, I'll tell Titus off, and leave. Maybe, if I get some witnesses, then they can deny anything he tells the media...but getting a different job is better than sabotage."
"I never had any idea that Titus was like this. How can I go to the show this Saturday to perform if I know I'm working for a crook?"
"Maybe...maybe I can do the spot, but say I screwed up. I can say that I thought I'd broken Chris' leg, but I was wrong, and...no, no, Titus can see through that. How can I not tell if I've broken a leg?"
"Hold on...I just got an idea...you said something about getting witnesses?"
"Yeah..."
"How many people attend one of out shows?"
"Like, maybe a thousand or so at some place like the Grand Hall."
"How's one thousand witnesses sound for you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Remember Shane Douglas?"
"Of course! How can you forget someone like him?"
"Remember back in '93 when he won that big title? He threw it down and declared his title the real championship. He totally changed the face of wrestling."
"What are you getting at...?"
"I know a way you can get out of this, and still keep your jobs. And you'll give the fans their money's worth..."
Saturday evening. Scott arrived at the arena a few hours before showtime. It was a few hours earlier than he normally arrived, but he had to be prepared. Just as with the week before, Scott walked through the back door. No Val to meet him there. She was in the women's locker room. Scott went to the men's and started to put his things up.
Chris Parceles was a little later this week than the last. Still, he perked up when he saw Scott, who was just putting his shiny black vest on.
"Hey, Scott!" Chris said, smiling. He went to a locker a little ways down the line. "You're early again. Gotta be ready for the match, though, right?"
"Yep," Scott said. He'd called Chris up on Wednesday and they'd planned the match out. He noticed that Chris had a notepad with words scribbled on it. Scott had one, too. They wanted to get this perfect.
"It's gonna be a good one," Chris cheerfully announced. "Everyone's going to love it...until the end, of course."
"Yeah."
"Don't worry about me, Scott. I'm not scared. You probably think I am, but I'm not. I'm ready to go with the show. I'm going to sell it like they'll need to remove my leg!"
"Right..."
"Say, Scott, you said on the phone that you had something big planned for the end...what is it? A new move?"
"Nah. It's a secret. Can't tell anyone."
"Oh, got it. This is going to be great!"
"Chris?"
"Yeah?"
"You...you want to sit down and pray with me? I mean, if you don't, that's fine. But I feel like I should pray about this match...to make sure nothing goes wrong..."
"Cool, sure! I always pray before matches. I pray that I won't break my neck, or anyone else's!" He chuckled and sat next to Scott they both folded their hands and closed their eyes.
"God," Scott began, "tonight's a big night for both me and Chris. I pray that you can watch over us, so that neither of us gets seriously hurt. I pray that we can both leave this match...and the big surprise after it...with a sense of fulfillment and joy. Thank you, God, for all you've done..."
Chris stopped Scott before the "Amen," and then began to pray in Spanish. Scott didn't understand what Chris was saying, but he went along with it anyway. Finally, Chris said, "Amen."
"What did you pray about?" Scott asked, raising his head.
"I thanked Him for answering all my prayers and watching over me when I have matches. You know, He even protected me once in Mexico during a cage match. I slipped and fell off the top to the outside."
"Really?"
"Yeah. But a fake table broke my fall. I didn't even know the table was there! It was weird, but I lived. And I didn't lose my ability to wrestle...well, I did go to the hospital for a short time, but I survived it and came back."
"Mexico, huh? I've kind of wanted to go there and wrestle sometime. How is it?"
"Pretty crazy stuff they do there, you know. Most people wear masks and stuff. I used to be called Blackhole Son. It was like that song by Soundgarden, you know? Only with the 'o' instead of the 'u.'"
"That's cool. You and I should...you know, go down there sometime. Arena Mexico. We can tag team."
"Really? You think so? Wow...that would be like going home...okay, we'll have to do that. You have a passport?"
"I can get one."
"Yeah, okay. Just like good buddies, we'll go down there and show what you can learn from wrestling in America! But, we've got to get through this match first, right?"
"Right. And the surprise."
"We'll make it. God willing."
"Yeah...God willing."
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" The announcer spoke clearly into the microphone. "It is now time...for your main event of the evening!" The fans cheered. "A special challenge by the Shadow Master; a hardcore, no rules, falls-count-anywhere match between two rivals who's feud has heated up in the course of one week. This will be their first match; and it may very well be one man's last. Are you prepared...for the main event?" The fans cheered again. "Then LET'S ROCK AND ROLL!" That was the IRW announcer's catch phrase. He tried his best to rival Michael Buffer with his voice tones, but he was more of a soprano
"Introducing first...he hails from Ponce, Puerto Rico..." Chris Parcele's music began to play, and he slowly stepped through the curtain, selling a focused and determined look. He eyed the crowd, looking back and forth at each side. The announcer continued, "Here is 'Carcrash' Chris Parceles!"
The fans gave a loud round of applause for one of their favorite lucha-style high flyers. Chris was one of the few wrestlers in IRW who utilized that style, and it had made him an instant hit. His entrance music blared over the PA system in the arena as he leaped over the top rope and landed on his feet in the ring. He quickly ran over to the ropes in front of him, jumped onto the second, and did a backflip, landing on his feet in the middle of the ring, and almost taking the referee out. His playing to the fans paid off with cheers and applause.
The announcer raised the microphone to his lips as the music died. "And now, introducing his opponent...he hails from across the state in Kansas City, Missouri..." the Shadow Master's theme song faded in and the fans began to boo and hiss. Their disapproval for the man about to enter the ring sounded like that of a cow who just got kicked. Donned in his black mask, shiny black vest, cutoff blue jeans, right hand-only biker glove, and boots with skulls on the sides, the Shadow Master stepped through the curtain. He raised his arms in the air as if he was expecting the fans' approval. They continued to boo him. His gesture suddenly turned into the "up yours" sign, and he began to argue with a fan as the announcer finished the introduction, "Here is...the Shadow Master!"
The jeers grew even louder at the mention of Scott Shadows' ring name. He casually entered the ring and mimicked being a fan favorite. His imitations halted when he locked eyes with Chris. Under the mask, Scott remembered the accidental chair shot from the week before. Back then, he was almost ready to tear Chris' head off for performing an unrehearsed spot. He wasn't that man anymore. And he was going to prove it...after the match.
Chris, who had been crouching in a waiting position, stood and walked to the center of the ring. He and the Shadow Master went face-to-face. However, since Chris was a little shorter than his opponent, the Shadow Master bend down and made a scene of it. He looked Chris in the face and mocked him for his size. Chris shoved the Shadow Master, who, in such an awkward position, had no choice but to fall back into a seated position. In an angered fashion, he quickly rushed to his feet and shoved Chris down, putting the force of his movement behind the push. Chris fell backwards, but rolled in a backwards somersault. He didn't stand immediately, but took a knee and eyed his enemy. The Shadow Master used his hands to gesture, "Bring it on."