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Melbourne, Australia. June 20, 2009.
A spacious bedroom. It's dark but there is a glint of light peeking past the large window curtain. With this light we can see a couple laying together, spooning. Wrapped up in a warm blanket and each other, the scene is really quite serene and lovely.
"AAAH!"
The serenity is broken as the big spoon, also known as the "Virtuoso of Violence" Jamie Krenshaw suddenly jerks awake and screams. His wife is woken instantly. She turns to her husband who sits in bed, sweating and upset.
"What's wrong?" She asks with genuine worry and affection. She loves him, you see. Just imagine if you had something resembling this in your life. Hold on tight to that image though, because it's as close as you're ever going to get.
"I... I just had a nightmare." Jamie stares into space as if he's just seen a ghost. His wife's lips form a cheeky smile.
"Aw, what about?"
"Don't tease me. It was genuinely horrible." As Jamie's concern shows no sign of immediate dissipation, his wife's concern grows.
"I'm sorry, baby. Tell me about it." Jamie's lovely wife rests a hand on her man's shoulder and gazes at him. He shakes his head, recounting the awful dream.
"Well, I was in a strip club and I was doing a wrestling promo."
"What's so bad about that?"
"I was cutting a promo about teaming up with Adam Young. I was even talking like him. It was like I was..."
"Like you were what, honey?" Jamie's wife stares intently into her husband's eyes. Jamie pauses, mortified, his face creasing up with disdain. He meets his wife's gaze.
"It was like I was... retarded."
Melbourne, Australia. June 18, 2009.
My plane touched down at 6:37AM and as it bounced and roared down the runway, I felt a great weight lift from my shoulders.
I wasn't booked for the next Showdown and I used this opportunity to neglect training and return to Australia to visit my wife and child.
In spite of my own needs, I'd ridden with the plebs in the general seats and the result was a searing headache. Beside me sat a large woman who spent the entire flight watching the same episode of Thank God You're Here over and over. By the fifteenth hour of the flight from the US back to my homeland, she was quoting the lines along with the actors. On the other side of me, sat by the aisle was a bookish type who seemed desperate to impress me with his intelligence, despite, I assumed, him having no notion of who I was. Over the hours he proceeded to flip through a variety of "intelligent" magazines. Time Magazine etc. As he read them, he tilted the pages in my direction just so I could glimpse the oh so smart articles he was reading. I did my best to ignore them both but after eighteen hours in the sky, I was sick with frustration and anticipation.
As I disembarked the plane I resolved that perhaps a first-class ticket was a necessary expense. As much as my family needed every cent that I earned in the States wrestling, they also needed me to be of sound body and mind. Eighteen hour flights surrounded by slack-jawed mutants did not lend itself to either.
With luggage in hand and customs dealt with, I marched through the airport with purpose. The anticipation threatened to burst as my mind flooded with images of my wife, Jenna and my child, Sophie. My two beautiful girls. For the first time since I'd stepped foot back into the wrestling business, I smiled. Genuinely smiled. Because, for the first time since I'd resigned myself to an in-ring return, I was genuinely happy.
FADE INTO:
A large projection screen stands on a platform in a darkened room. A projector flashes an image onto the screen. It reads: Eleven Inconvenient Truths.
Standing beside the screen, wearing a suit and looking fantastic is none other than the "Virtuoso of Violence" himself, Jamie Krenshaw. In his left hand, slightly coated with Adam Young's blood, is a tire iron. Appearing quite serious as he gazes through the camera lens and straight at you, "Australia's Greatest Export" allows moments of silence to permeate the scene before finally allowing you the privilege of hearing his soothing voice. Let it wash over you like a warm shower, filthy urchins.
JAMIE: Hello and welcome to a very special presentation. A presentation that will change your lives. Welcome to Eleven Inconvenient Truths.
Jamie gestures to the projector screen.
JAMIE: It is with great generosity and kindness that I make this presentation. I offer it to you, whether you be a TWD viewer, backstage hand or fellow competitor in a gesture of benevolence. A gesture surely unworthy of you and a gesture only I can make. For you see, over the course of this presentation, I am going to outline for you not one but eleven inconvenient truths. Truths that perhaps in your blinkered states of stupidity and denial, you have either chosen not to acknowledge or have simply been unable to. Leading up to my first TWD pay-per-view appearance, a 12-Man Parking Lot Brawl, I have elected to share with you a special truth about each and every wrestler I face on that fateful night. I trust this will be a learning experience for you and I urge you to listen intently because these truths, while primarily applicable to my opponents in that Parking Lot Brawl, can almost certainly be applied to anybody lonely and stupid enough to spend their time watching a wrestling promo.
Jamie affords himself a little smirk.
JAMIE: But without further adieu, I implore you all now to open wide and accept my great spear of truth. It might hurt a little, so have your lube handy.
Jamie gestures to the projector screen as the titular projection disappears and is replaced with:   INSULT TO INJURY A wry grin from Krenshaw. JAMIE: The truth about this tag team made up of The Wizard Of Ahhhs and Off Constantly: they're completely irrelevant. Irrelevant to the company and irrelevant to the Parking Lot Brawl. This pair are a prime example of the phrase "making up numbers" and that's what they're doing. Both on The Wrestling Domain's roster and in this match. Between them, their careers so far have amounted to, well, nothing. Apart from sporting "hilarious" and "witty" names (you can't beat Off Constantly? Yeah, you can't forge a career on primary school humour either, guy) this pair's greatest accomplishment is... winning a feud against Adam Young. Jamie cringes with embarrassment for the duo. JAMIE: That's kinda akin to a basketball player's greatest accomplishment being that he can correctly bounce a ball. It's not so much an accomplishment as it is an indicator that they're not completely retarded. Despite the pair trying to gleam some kind of entertainment from portraying that "Off Constantly" is. Jamie shakes his head with disappointment. JAMIE: Insult To Injury, I said this truth would be a two-for so here it is. Two facts you can take to the bank: You mean nothing to me. You have no chance of winning next Sunday. Now go to the next slide, I'm sick of looking at these morons. The slide immediately changes and we are now greeted with another face.
 Henry Ivan Davis. Jamie grins again, pleased with himself. JAMIE: This changing of names is fun. I can see why Saber does it all the time. Jamie reverts to his more serious, sombre facade. JAMIE: What to say about Henry? What kind of truth to put forth? Well, to be honest, Henry is no more worthy of my time than any of you who are watching this, so I'll keep it simple. Henry, the truth for you: Aligning with a prospective World Champion in Marcus T does not erase the fact that you hold a pinfall loss to Adam Young. Henry, you've now joined a very special club. Very "special" indeed. You are one of the few wrestlers with such a gaping chasm within your fundamental understanding of wrestling, that you can actually be defeated by Adam Young. It is people like you who allow Young to delude himself the way he does into believing that he is somehow "adequate" at what he does. Congratulations, Henry, you've contributed detrimentally to mankind. In the Parking Lot Brawl, me and my tire iron are going to contribute detrimentally to your bright young face. Jamie's eyes spark with some intensity as he makes his threat. He allows a few moments silence for the threat to sink in.
Melbourne, Australia. June 18, 2009. You want to know what happened when I finally saw my family again, don't you? Too bad. My family life is out of bounds. I'm already giving you more than you deserve just by gracing your television screens every fortnight. June 18 through to June 28, you want to know what happened? None of your fucking business.
And now we're back to Jamie's presentation of Eleven Inconvenient Truths. JAMIE: Next truth:  Jeffrey James. A smart-arse grin from the "Virtuoso". JAMIE: Oh, okay. I'll indulge you a little. Your bio page on the official TWD website says you're a member of a tag team called the "Career Killers". And just how has your career been going since forming that team, Jeffrey? Jamie lets the question hang in the air like a giant's penis. JAMIE: Yeah. I don't need to modify that name to make it apt. And the grin widens. Slowly, it retracts and Jamie addresses his audience (that's you, stupid) again. JAMIE: Thus ends the first installment of Eleven Inconvenient Truths. Not with a bang but with a whimper, thereby mirroring the career so far of Jeffrey James. I trust this has been educational, enlightening and somewhat frightening. 'Til next time ladies and gentlemen... go away. The image suddenly and violently cuts out.
Melbourne, Australia. June 28, 2009. As I made my way through the departure lounge of the airport, only minutes away from boarding the plane that would take me back to the United States, back to wrestling and away from my family, a severe pain formed in my stomach. A headache made itself apparent. My fingers trembled involuntarily. This is the sacrifice I have made to ensure my loved ones the life they deserve. As I boarded the plane and felt on the verge of a panic attack, I wondered whether this was all worth it. Then I thought back to the ten magical days I'd just spent with my wife and child. Is it all worth it? I wouldn't be appearing on pay-per-view, putting myself through a Parking Lot Brawl if it wasn't.
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 It's not my fault your life's a void. |