Cameron...

Matt heard the phone ring from across the room and hopped over to it on his good leg. "You've reached the sexiest, one-legged man in the world. How can I help you today?"

"Hey Matt." Amy chuckled on the other end. "You're not one-legged. You'll get better soon."

"But I am the sexiest man in the world."

"That may be true. I haven't decided. I hear there's some competition on this flight. These chubby, sausage and polka loving mid-westerners sure know how to party."

"So you're going along with this? You're nicer than I am. I would have told him to shove it." He laughed and fell back onto the couch.

"I would have too, but with all the cuts in the rosters lately, it just wouldn't be smart. If you want to be nosey, though…there's a small box at the top of the hallway closet with your name on it. You can't open it, but you can shake it around and all." She smiled. "I have to go. Bye."

"Amy? Bye." He sighed and put the phone down. The DVD player clock read 11:56 pm. "4 minutes to Christmas Eve. Who am I talking to? I'm alone, duh Matt."

Stamford...

Back up in Stamford, Connecticut, Triple H waited outside the WWE home offices for his valet to bring the car around. "Can't find good help these days. There's only 2 cars in the damn lot. His and mine." He gave up and walked along the shoveled path to the lot towards his car. "Whaahh! AHH!" He threw his arms up in the air as he slipped on a patch of ice and landed hard on his back. "Aw, shit. My suit!"

"Need a hand, pal?" A tall figure hovered over him, silhouetted by the street light in the background. "That vas a nasty spill, ya?" The tall man had a thick accent and a strong familiar scent. "You suck it up now. Baby."

Triple H took his hand to get up as the street lights burned out and they were left in nearly total darkness. "Yeah, thanks. Who are you?" He sniffed his hand after letting go. "Ugh, buddy, you reek of burnt sausages and tar."

"Ya! And dat's dhe only way to eat dem!" he let out a long loud laugh before stopping suddenly. The smell was strangely familiar.

Trips stared into his dark face and backed up a few steps to take in the long black coat and heavy boots. "You…can't be." He turned to leave, but the man appeared out of nowhere right in front of his face. "You're gone! You died! You can't be here!"

"Vat I teel you about that vord? Can't? CAN'T! No such ting!"

"You're crazy old man. You don't know who you're talking to!" He tried to run again, but was stopped by the large figure once more.

"I tell you Paul. You listen now! No such ting as CAN'T! You beleef dis now! You veel be visit by tree ghosts before Chreestmas mornink!" he boomed and raised his hands.

"WHAT? There's no such thing as ghosts man!" He tried to stand his ground, but inside, he was shrinking like a whipped dog.

"LEESIN NOW! Tree ghosts come visit you and show you de path to greatness! Heed these figures and you vill become great man. Ignore their advise and you will pay ultimate sacrifice. NOW GO! And remember my words!" With that, the figure lifted his arms once more and Trips found himself back on the ground in the lot.

"OH! Oh, Mr. Levesque, I am SO sorry. I have your car. I couldn't get the engine turned over, sir." The young valet helped him to his feet before dusting the snow off his coat. "I'm so sorry."

"Did you see him? DID YOU?" The valet was shaking in his boots.

"Uh, no sir. Who?"

"KOWALSKI! He was here!"

"Killer Kowalski, sir? No. I believe he passed on a few years ago. Perhaps, his son or a relative…?"

"Nevermind. What do you know? You're just a parking attendant." Trips scoffed and slid into his Mercedes.