The lights stream by in elongated lines throughout the night as SAM in Ichabod's body cruises down Reidville Road at top speed. Everything is running by at top speed just like everything in his mind. The nerve of Wicked D, revealing him prematurely to the world like this. And to turn his own friend, Serious Darius, on SAM like this, taking away the last trusted person he ever had in this world. And everyone questions SAM as to his purpose for everything he does. This is why. This is why.
As he is nearly lost in his little world he may never fix, the image of one of his opponents pops into his brain. Wafer in his cocky-ass glasses struts around an imaginary ring talking of how awesome he is. SAM tries to get focused once again before he loses all composure.
I just need this to be alive. I can't feel like I used to. I can't take it anymore, everytime this happens, I come unglued. They try to put too much pressure on me so that I can't see it, hoping I'll drown in it. They take everything for granted about me. Now my name has been revealed and a wrench thrown into my plans. Well I think I'll throw a wrench into the whole damn works.
Wafer you've reached the point where I can't take my mind too far before it jumps back to you. You take a lot for granted as well. All this past and history you have, you take for granted that your legendary status matters here. You take for granted that all of your wins have been so great and you think they will carry you through until you drop dead one day.
Looking back... you do have a win over Ichabod. But so much like you, you don't give credit where credit is due. The reason it escaped my mind was because it was a tag team match. Lobster and Wafer vs. Ichabod and Smoke Dawg. Yeah you made that asshole tap. So what, its not me. Thats Ichabod. If this were Ichabod you were blasting off at the mouth to, then you'd have a point. What is your point? My point is that you have one single win over Ichabod that you bragged about this morning, and you didn't even have the testes to mention that it was you and Lobster who did that damage. You can come back and say it was officially you who ended that match, but it doesn't matter. It was you and Lobster wearing him down for that squeeze.
Hell, I'll at least give credit. When Ichabod beat you, he had help. Someone interfered. But it was singles competition interference or no interference. Ichabod has a singles win over you and you can't take that away.
Knowing you and how much of a perfection faggot you are, I'd have to believe that this is the reason you have such a vendetta against Ichabod. Something as insignificant as a grain of sand in your shoe, this eats at you to no end, rubbing you the wrong way that he has something over you and there is nothing for you to do to change it. It kills you doesn't it?
This may also be the reason you can't accept the fact that I'm not Ichabod. I am SAM. But you can't live with that, because I've killed Ichabod and you'll never get retribution for that little singles win he has over you. Damn it sucks to be you, you fucking bullet sponge.
SAM takes a right onto Greenville HWY and then a left on Daniel Morgan Avenue. He takes 221 down toward Spartanburg Regional Hospital.
You could take a cue from Justin Payne, Wafer. Payne, you're finally getting a clue here. I'm glad that you are going to get something out of this match win or lose. But you need to be ready to accept that fact that what you earn from a loss is the most probable thing for you to expect in this case. I don't have to pretend anymore, I'm no longer locked inside this redneck under an assumed name. You know my name, and if you don't remember me from IPWF, so much the worse for you. If you haven't followed the events of my... life... since then, even better for me. I've become much more than just another wrestler seeking fame, much more than a lowcarder who looks like a kid jumping for a dollar held above his head by some mean bully. If you are ready to accept me, then good, but I still bet you aren't ready to give me the attention you get all the time. You still want it all, you and Cannon Fodder over there, Mr. Awesome.
SAM pulls into the parking garage at Spartanburg Regional Hospital. He walks in and right past the sleeping desk attendant. He takes the elevator to the fourth floor. It isn't long before he reaches room 427 and enters. He grabs a pillow from the nearby chair. He whispers at the man in the bed in what is almost a loud hiss.
Steve!
Steve comes up quickly to see the man standing over him. He tries to defend himself, but in a remembrance of Wicked D's attack on Ichabod a year and a half ago, SAM forces the pillow over Steve's face. Steve begins to struggle, then he remembers something the taught Ichabod long ago about not struggling in submissin type cases. Steve relaxes, pulling deeply to get air through the porous pillow. Its very difficult, however, as his body is severely damaged.
SAM hears a noise outside the room. A pretty nurse is just outside the door knocking.
Mr. Parke? Can I get you anything?... Mr. Parke?
SAM looks down to see that Steve has managed to push the call button. He stares at it intently for a few moments before it shorts out and sparks fly from it. Knowing its a matter of moments before the nurse comes in, SAM elects to give up on the attack and save it for another night.
Be seeing you soon, Steve. You, Wicked D, and... Darius.
With that, SAM removes himself to the window which he is able to force open. He closes his eyes and leaps... and lands on his feet on the ground from the fourth story window! He runs past the fountain and into the darkness of the parking garage across the street.
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