Another long week of taping. They're slowly winding down, getting towards the final scenes scheduled for filming, and it's pretty much the only thing helping Mike to hang on- that, and the various phone conversations, texts and skype communications he has with Morrison and Alex through the week, whenever he's not completely dead off his ass from the long hours. The further into the movie they go, the longer it takes to film scenes, and the more hot it seems to get in Canada. He hates the cold but he's now starting to hate the heat too and he just wants to go home, start wrestling again, have his life return to some semblance of normalcy.
He's face first down on his hotel bed, the TV buzzing behind him as Raw starts off with AJ Lee once again going back and forth between CM Punk and Daniel Bryan. He blinks tiredly against his pillow as he considers how crazy wrestlers seem to regularly hold up the shows- first R-Truth, and now AJ. Maybe that's Cena's big secret, he muses.
He hasn't moved when suddenly a sound from his nightmares echo through his hotel room, almost sending him flying off of the bed. "Aah!" he grouses, rolling over to glare at the TV. "Aww, hell no! They did not bring him back!" But sure enough, he watches, fingers flexing in aggravation, as Cole gets up, smug and proud, and pulls a black sheet from a podium, revealing the horrible laptop that had been the bane of Miz's existence for ages.
"And I quote!" he exclaims as Mike looks around desperately for something to beat himself across the skull with. It's nothing more important than putting Punk and AJ against Daniel and Eve and he relaxes.
I take back what I said, he decides vehemently. I'm glad I'm still here after all this week. The show carries on, Mike soon growing sleepy once more as he watches it. It seems like a rehash of a lot of old things- JeriShow teaming together once more, Cole and King bickering and possibly having a match later, Cena taking up a fourth of the show between talking and the match that he's in, yada yada.
He does end up falling asleep somewhere between that match and the tag match with Tensai and Dolph vs Christian and Tyson Kidd, just to wake back up almost an hour later to the repetitive sounds of the Anon GM's horrible, grating email alert. He's so confused when the noise continues on, and on, and on... "Ugh, what the hell?" he mumbles, leaning up on his elbows to look at the TV better. Santino and Hornswoggle is struggling and Hornswoggle has a laptop in hand. "No way. It can't be..."
But sure enough, it's confirmed via Cole and Lawler that Hornswoggle is, and has been, the Anon GM all along. "No way. That... little... twerp made my life hell for months? How? Why? What the hell?" Once the screen fades to commercials, he angrily turns the TV off and stares at the ceiling. He should sleep, but his mind is racing a thousand miles a minute. He could call Alex or John. But really, what's he going to say? "Oh, hey, Morrison? Did you know that little leprechaun bastard is who made us team years back? Alex, can you believe your job was put on the line numerous times by Hornswoggle? Isn't that funny?"
Instead he bites his lip and punches the bed before rolling angrily over onto his side. "This business, dammit," he mumbles tiredly, unable to think of anything else that would even come close to fitting just how he's feeling.