Post by chaos lite on Oct 31, 2012 16:25:35 GMT -4
”i've been told that i'm amazing
make sure they keep that fire blazin...”
make sure they keep that fire blazin...”
oct.30.twelve 11.58pm
Before we dive into this, I want to inform you that Aubrey was a little rowdy in the days succeeding her North American Title win. When I filmed her, her jacket smelled a little bit more like weed than it usually did. Her eyes were a little less bright than they usually were. Her blood-alcohol level may have been higher than it usually was. Yep... Inhibitions were low.
On Sunday night, she partied in Las Vegas. On Monday night, we partied in San Francisco. And tonight, Aubrey had insisted that we partied in Los Angeles. The girl just won a damn championship and she wanted to party with all of her friends, so by golly we did.
I wasn’t certain that she actually knew any of these people, but in my eighteen-plus years of knowing the colorful Aubrey J. Parker, I knew better than to question it. What would I accomplish from that? We’d end up going anyway.
I didn’t argue because I was able to score us a free night at the hotel about fifteen miles from this party. We’d be boarding a flight to Pittsburgh early in the morning and it all worked out favorably for my gas tank. I wasn’t a drinker or a smoker so I spent a majority of the party cowering in the corner with my cell phone, eagerly awaiting the next day.
Now on the drive home, I found myself periodically turning the radio up to drown out Aubrey’s half-intoxicated rant about Logan-- so you have to understand that I missed a lot of it, just as you will. Don’t worry, I’m not leaving anything out.
”Do you think he’s mad at me?”
”Who? Logan?”
”Yeahhhh.”
”No, that’s stupid. And-- stop gripping the belt so hard. You’re going to kill your knuckles... Why is it even in the car?!”
”Where did you WANT me to leave it?! The hotel room? Oh my Goddd, can you imagine what Logan would say if someone stole it and I lost the belt?”
She was mildly slurring her words and I groaned as we came dangerously close to another Logan-related conversation.
”He’s mad at me. He won’t talk to me.”
”There’s no way he’s mad at you for winning the title. He’s been preparing you for this day since you guys got here.”
”Then why won’t he say anything to me?”
”Jesus, Aubs, who am I, Professor Xavier? I don’t know.”
”Well, if me being the North American Champion is going to cause some type of problem then I--”
”It’s not. For someone that’s so concerned about her tag team partner, you sure don’t give him a ton of credit, do you?”
I gave her a devious wink.
”Maybe you should worry about your own match this week.”
About five seconds ticked by without a response and I smirked a little bit, looking over at her from the wheel for just a second.
”You don’t even know who you’re facing, do you?”
”Umm...”
oct.31.twelve 12.35am
We had been back in the hotel room for about ten minutes before she figured it out.
”Krunk?”
I’d decided to let her read the news for herself on the official APW website.
”For the fourth week in a row, you fight Krunk. Except this time, there’s no catch. It’s just you and him and... that.”
I pointed toward the hotel suite’s nightstand at the North American title belt that she had been cradling like an infant during the ride back to the hotel. Aubrey’s eyes drifted over to it as well, then back to the laptop on the bed which we were huddled in front of.
”I guess they’re not wasting any time jumping into this.”
”This is great for you.”
”It is?”
”How often do champions have to defend their titles eight days after a Last Man Standing match?”
”Last Person Standing.”
I grinned a bit but couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her predictability.
”If you beat him, nobody can call your win a fluke and nobody can say that you don’t deserve to be the North American Champion.”
”Of course I’m going to beat him.”
Something I didn’t like-- she had that uncertainty about her again. Maybe it was the liquor wearing off, but I felt that she would’ve been much more gung-ho about this title defense situation if we’d discussed it an hour ago.
”There’s no reason you shouldn’t.”
Fucking Logan.
”And what other people are doing shouldn’t have any bearing on you next Monday. Right?”
”No, you’re right. I get it. I mean it-- I’m going to beat him. I’m going to win the match. Did I ever tell you about what he said to me after the match?”
I raised an eyebrow in curiosity.
”No. You never tell me anything interesting, remember?”
”Ha... He Tweeted me and said that I’d earned his respect.”
”Wow. Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”
”After everything he said to me? After all the shit he talked, only to get knocked out three weeks in a row? I’m not really sure that’s good enough at this point.”
”What do you--?”
”I don’t care about earning Germaine’s respect. Sure, we’ve had good matches, but it doesn’t make him any less of a pig. No matter how many times I kick his ass, he’s always going to view me as a piece of meat. I don’t expect a Makeunder or a Superkick to change him.”
”A little judgmental, isn’t it? You never really gave him a chance to speak after One Night in Hell.”
Aubrey sighed and made her way over to her own bed, pulling the digital clock off of the nightstand and preparing to set the alarm. It needed to be done, but I silently and briefly noted that it was probably a nervous tick of sorts. Something she did because-- well, she just couldn’t admit that I was right!
As usual.
”He doesn’t get a chance to speak. He’s an asshole.”
”That battle you guys had at the end of the Last...” I giggled when I caught her sharp glare. ”...Person Standing match, didn’t convince you? It didn’t help him earn any of your respect?”
”Cass, he’s a good wrestler. I’m going to have to work my ass off to beat him again because he always gets better. Every time we fight, it’s harder. I know, alright? I know he could take my title on Monday.”
She sighed and paused momentarily.
”I take him seriously. I commend him for what he can do in the ring. Okay? What else do you want me to say?”
”I want you to forgive him! What kind of world are we living in if a guy named KRUNK is the bigger person than you?”
”A very liberal one.”
She finishes setting the alarm clock and flops down on her bed, pulling the pillow up around her ears to drown out whatever she expected me to say.
”You’re killing my buzz. I hope you’re happy.”
”Hahaha, don’t get mad at me, get mad at Krunk.”
”Doesn’t take much for me to do that...”
”Yeah, yeah. Let’s get some sleep then.”
”When do we have to get up?”
”Three and a half hours!”
”...Fuck.”
I think that’s when I officially killed that buzz she spoke so highly about.
oct.31.twelve 3.54pm
I’m not sure when we landed in Pittsburgh after the time change. Two o’clock? A few minutes after that, maybe. Not that it mattered.
I know Aubrey doesn’t share my sentiments, but I don’t like Pittsburgh, and this more recent adventure cemented that.
When we stepped out to the arrival bays, I immediately longed for the relatively recent days where Aubrey would be stopped by a fan on the streets once a week at most. In recent weeks, and following One Night in Hell, it was increasingly difficult to get through the city unscathed. I was “accidentally” groped more in a seventy-foot radius than I had been in my four years of public high school.
Soon, we were flagged down and rescued by good friends of ours-- Chris and Dana Fields. We’d known Dana since elementary school and we often traveled to Pittsburgh in the summers to stay with her grandparents at their lake house. One summer she found Chris and never came back. ‘Twas adorable, really.
However, I’m quite proud at myself for what happened at 3:54 PM when they left Aubrey and I alone in their house while they went to store.
I may have scared the poor girl to death-- but I had a breakthrough!
”Cass, can you come here?”
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I made my way up the wooden staircase of the Fields’ home despite my obscured vision; two poorly cut eye-holes eliminated any possible peripherals. However, I kept my butcher knife clutched firmly in my right hand. I used my left to guide myself along the wall as I drifted closer to Aubrey’s voice.
”I need a second opinion on this outfit. Where are you?”
I didn’t know the house too well yet, so it took a moment for me to figure out which room she was in. I moved slowly and stealthily, inadvertently fueling her impatience.
”Cassandra!”
By this point, I could see her in all her Halloween glory. She was standing in the bathroom, doing her best to turn herself into Lois Lane in the mirror. She even had an amusing dwarf-sized Superman somewhere around here that she would use to hang on her arm.
I felt my heart pounding as I crept closer. Within moments, my fingers gripped the door frame.
”Fine, ignore me...”
She turned toward the door, and I jumped upright.
I drove the knife into her gut.
Cue blood-curdling shriek.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind her. I wore a slightly yellowed, cracked, imperfect hockey mask and a black jacket. It was simple, and it was enough to cause Aubrey to fall to her knees, clutching the knife that had penetrated her.
Clutching the fake knife that had retracted into its plastic hilt once it struck her.
In the seconds that she realized what happened, I laughed. I busted out into uproarious laughter and pulled the mask off of myself, letting it fall to the floor. I fell onto my butt, unable to support myself through the heckling. By the time I calmed down, tears were stinging my eyes and Aubrey was red-faced and glaring at me.
”Glad you’re amused.”
”Did you SEE your face?!”
She never took kindly to being scared. She pushed herself up, and I feared that she’d storm off somewhere, so I hopped up too.
”I was making a point.”
She rolled her eyes and made her way back to the mirror, checking her features after her scare.
”Which was?”
”You’re man-bait, Aubs.”
”...Excuse me?”
”Horror movie 101! You’re a classic damsel in distress. The final girl.”
”And you’re a freak in a hockey mask.”
”I’m the killer. I just stabbed you in the gut and spilled your intestines all over the floor.”
She continued re-adjusting herself, so I continued speaking.
”And you? You’re the final girl... You’re the investigative consciousness Meltdown needs. You’ve got it all: the sexual unavailability, the shared history with the killer, the unisex name... Everything!”
”I’d love to see your point.”
”The final girl always gets away! No matter how badly the odds are stacked against her and how intangible success is, she finds a way.”
”Then why is it a bad thing?”
”All of these close calls.”
”What are you talking about? My matches?”
She sounded offended. Good.
”All I’m saying is, maybe it’s time for a decisive win. Maybe instead of being the girl that survives and barely makes it away at the end of the melee, you should be the killer. Maybe you should be the one causing the chaos. Then people wouldn’t talk about you the way Krunk talked about you in the past...”
I made sure to emphasize “in the past” but I’m not sure if she caught it. From the way she was rubbing her abdomen in the spot where I “stabbed” her, I could tell that she was still shaken by my Jason Voorhees impersonation.
”I haven’t been barely making it away, Cass. I’m doing the best I can out there... I thought this trip wasn’t supposed to be about any of that.”
I wanted to lash out with “when isn’t it about this?” but she pushed past me before I could get it out.
”I’m going outside.”
She said it coldly like a child might say to a parent after an unsuccessful scolding. I didn’t chase her. No point in making things awkward. From Pittsburgh, we’d be heading to Ohio where we would remain until Monday Night Meltdown. This had the potential to be a long five days.
oct.31.twelve 4.01pm
I didn’t see the video until later so I can’t comment much on what was said-- but I can tell you something that may mean more to me than it ever will to you.
Aubrey looked like she belonged there, sitting in the Lois Lane costume in the Fields’ historic backyard. The winds blew the warm colored autumn leaves everywhere, but she hardly seemed phased by it. Even without a replay, I vividly remember what she said when she turned our camera onto herself.
”When I was a kid, I didn’t enjoy Halloween. The entire month leading up to it and the aftermath was traumatizing. Like most kids, I believed in the boogeyman.
Of course, as I got older, things became more clear: The boogeyman wasn’t any specific guell or person. The boogeyman was an embodiment of terror. To each child, it was specific. To every person, their boogeyman represented his or her worst fears.
Krunk, I already know your worst fear. It’s pretty similar to mine; you don’t want to be forgotten.
You don’t want to just get noticed, but you want to be remembered. If you lose the North American Title match to me on Monday, you might be forgotten. You may never get a shot at gold again and your entire career could come to a crashing halt. Because after you fail to win the gold not once, but twice, who’s going to be so eager to give you another shot?
I guess the possibilities aren’t the most frightening parts, but the facts are.
I’ve knocked you out cold three times. Two of those times, I beat you. One of those times, I became North American Champion. We’re approaching match four, and things aren’t leaning in your favor.
Now I understand that you’re supposed to be a hot topic on Monday nights and the fans adore you, but I don’t. I never appreciated your blatant and disgusting sexual advances, and your ‘show of respect’ on Twitter did nothing to change that. I don’t want your compliments and I don’t need your respect. To the little kids in their Power Rangers Pull-Ups, you’re a hero, but to me, you’re a pig-- one close to being slaughtered.
I’m sure we’ll put on a great match in Ohio, but as you’ve seen in your nightmares, it ends with AJP as the winner. It ends with you limping away empty handed.
No matter how much you improve over the next five days, it won’t be enough to take my championship from me and probably won’t be enough to stop me from breaking your leg. I would’ve left it in one piece, but this past weekend you decided to call my bluff from weeks ago... So just for you, Krunk, I’ll make sure you never walk the same after Meltdown.
Ever.
...No gimmicks. No partners. No excuses. That’s it. If you want to earn my respect, then you fight like hell, and you monitor the fucking words that come out of your mouth this week. Typically I don’t like hearing the shit you have to say, so I do something about it. With that said, allow me to address something.
Before, you complained about me acting like I ran the show, but now it IS. I’m the North American Champion, and I’m going to be for a long time. So in that time, what are you going to be? What are you going to do? I hope you’re able to stay relevant.
Admire me all you’d like, but until you’ve pushed yourself farther than you think you can go, you’ll never beat me, you’ll never hold the North American Title, and nobody will ever remember Germaine.
Come with everything, or I’ll destroy you. If you want these people to remember you months, years from now, then give them something they can be proud of. But in the meantime, I want you to remember that the boogeyman does exist. Someone can stop you from succeeding. Somebody can break you. It’s been proven... And it’ll be reaffirmed Monday, Krunk.
I am very much your Boogeyman.”
fin.
