Notes: I thought this chapter could be short because 38 is going to be quite long. Well perhaps not extremely long but it won't be short. Yeah I'm babbling. Oh and something about Dayquil in this chapter: I have a cold I can sympathize with what I did to poor Danny. Jules had to correct several things in 35. And I haven't taken any cold medicine but when I do, I am really loopy. So be glad this wasn't written when I was loopy. Another joint effort. But 38 is all Jules' doing.
I was stretched out on the couch at the insistence of my father. My dad's making me soup! I think he's trying to make up for the fourteen years he wasn't in my life. I do feel better today not well enough to go jump into a wrestling ring and I still have a fever. But any more soup and I might go crazy. My dad's not a bad cook it's just that even sick people need real food.
Owen's sitting on the other couch reading the newspaper when the phone rings. Erichson answers it and talks for awhile before handing it to me saying its Eddy.
"Hi."
'How are you feeling? Tammy said you are sick.'
"Flu but I'll be fine in a couple days. How's Bret."
'He's doing better. He gets out tomorrow. I was calling to check on you. Can I talk to Owen?'
I handed it to Owen. They talked for a few minutes but then Owen said something weird. "Eddy? You still there?" He hung up and looked to be getting ready to call Eddy back when the phone rang. "Eddy? Oh shit. Hi Bret."
Oh no that couldn't be good. He took the phone and went into a back bedroom to talk to his older brother who he hadn't spoken to in 19 years. That I bet is going to be emotional.
***
I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know is hearing the roar of a car. I sit up, look out the window, and see a Porsche coming to a stop outside the cabin. Apparently, Tammy Lynn Sytch Erichson likes life in only one speed: Fast. It shows in her driving.
I looked at my watch. I had been asleep most of the day. Dayquil does that to me. It's supposed to be non-drowsy but a spoonful of that and I'm done for the day.
I think Michael was about to go out to help his wife bring in the cabin supplies when we heard, "How the Fuck did you get in that trunk!"
Michael raced out the door; I looked out the window again.
"Uh, Dad?" I called out. "I think you might wanna look at this."
My dad looked out the window and I think his face blanched a little. And we all worried about Bret Hart doing something stupid.
Dad walked out the door and onto the porch. I followed him.
"Ric," Dad said locking eyes on Ric Flair for the first time in 14 years.
I was stretched out on the couch at the insistence of my father. My dad's making me soup! I think he's trying to make up for the fourteen years he wasn't in my life. I do feel better today not well enough to go jump into a wrestling ring and I still have a fever. But any more soup and I might go crazy. My dad's not a bad cook it's just that even sick people need real food.
Owen's sitting on the other couch reading the newspaper when the phone rings. Erichson answers it and talks for awhile before handing it to me saying its Eddy.
"Hi."
'How are you feeling? Tammy said you are sick.'
"Flu but I'll be fine in a couple days. How's Bret."
'He's doing better. He gets out tomorrow. I was calling to check on you. Can I talk to Owen?'
I handed it to Owen. They talked for a few minutes but then Owen said something weird. "Eddy? You still there?" He hung up and looked to be getting ready to call Eddy back when the phone rang. "Eddy? Oh shit. Hi Bret."
Oh no that couldn't be good. He took the phone and went into a back bedroom to talk to his older brother who he hadn't spoken to in 19 years. That I bet is going to be emotional.
***
I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know is hearing the roar of a car. I sit up, look out the window, and see a Porsche coming to a stop outside the cabin. Apparently, Tammy Lynn Sytch Erichson likes life in only one speed: Fast. It shows in her driving.
I looked at my watch. I had been asleep most of the day. Dayquil does that to me. It's supposed to be non-drowsy but a spoonful of that and I'm done for the day.
I think Michael was about to go out to help his wife bring in the cabin supplies when we heard, "How the Fuck did you get in that trunk!"
Michael raced out the door; I looked out the window again.
"Uh, Dad?" I called out. "I think you might wanna look at this."
My dad looked out the window and I think his face blanched a little. And we all worried about Bret Hart doing something stupid.
Dad walked out the door and onto the porch. I followed him.
"Ric," Dad said locking eyes on Ric Flair for the first time in 14 years.