Post by Michael Callahan on Feb 10, 2013 0:16:59 GMT -4
Having just seen the defining opportunity that could make or break your career be flushed down the toilet right before your very eyes, to then be called into a meeting by your other employees to ominously “discuss” your future prospects” is not something that would fill anyone with confidence. Yet for Michael Callahan, this was not so much a nightmare scenario but his very reality. As he sluggishly dragged himself out of his car and through the hallways of the head office of Washington State Republicans, he felt like a man on death row taking his long walk to the gallows.
Entering the board room, the blank stares of Chief Press Officer and Inner Consult Colby Shelby, Director of Communications Nora Baines and Head of Department Rick Marsden couldn't have sent Callahan's spirits further south if they had tried. As Callahan sluggishly searched for a seat across, the pessimism had kicked in as he tried to anticipate for what particular reason he was about to be fired for.
Colby Shelby: Ah Michael, so glad you could make it. Please, take a seat.
Callahan pulled out a seat from the desk and planted himself heavily into it, not feeling terribly well on this particular day. Clearly not in the mood for a roasting, Callahan didn't even bother with the formalities before he started making some wild assumptions.
Michael Callahan: What am I being hauled over the coals for this time? Are you actually going to man up and fire me this time?
Colby cocked an eyebrow and smiled reassuringly and disarmingly at Callahan who wasn't sure what to make of him, especially after the trip to China.
Colby Shelby: No, of course not. What gave you that impression my dear boy?
Michael Callahan: That's usually why you guys drag me in here. Though to be fair, usually I get my ear-bashings down the phone so it must be something spectacular I've done now if you're actually balling up to ruin my career face to face.
Madsen, the husky throated executive of the Washington State Republicans reaced into his desk and pulled out a heavy bottle of expensive Scotch along with a handful of glasses. He poured everyone in the room one then passed the first to Michael, a weak smile spread across his cracking old lips.
Rick Madsen: Relax, Mike. Have a shot of whiskey. We're not here to light a fire under your ass.
Michael Callahan: You're not?
Nora Baines: No. We're here because we believe that you've got a fantastic career ahead of you.
Defensively, Callahan folded his arms and stared daggers into the bearded Colby Shelby who's last encounter with Callahan wasn't especially positive.
Michael Callahan: Last time we had a conversation about my future as a Republican, Colby told me I was a liability, that I was dead weight and that I was “hanging on by a thread”.
Shelby chuckled weakly before taking a shot of Scotch, presumably to calm his nerves in a situation like this. As Callahan supped at the alcohol, he felt his stomach begin to turn and had already resigned himself to the certainty that something bad was going to happen to today.
Colby Shelby: Times change people my boy. I was rash, I was angry, I was scared. I didn't expect you to shine through and be the team player you're becoming. I expected you to let your idealism cloud your judgment and thrust us into a diplomatic nightmare. Alas, you kept your head cool and stayed your tongue when you needed to the most and that is an important quality at the Republican Party.
Michael Callahan: Not if the Bush administration was anything to go by.
Colby Shelby: Look, that's in the past. We made our mistakes. Listen, Michael, answer me this. How old are you?
Michael Callahan: Twenty six, twenty seven in May.
Colby Shelby: That's a shame because we could've used a dependable man to run for Senate. Alas though, it'll be a few years yet before you're ready for such a responsibility.
Michael Callahan: Why are you projecting me as a future fore-runner? Last year you demoted me from Young Representatives so you could sweep me under the carpet like a dirty secret, because you knew you couldn't fire me but you didn't want me to be seen. So what's changed?
Nora, a blonde in her forties with her hair tied back in a bun used to be attractive once. Years of working for the Republicans though ruins your appeal somewhat.
Nora Baines: You changed, Michael. You changed. Y'see, we've tracked your progress over the last fourteen months since you came back from your little vacation and we've seen you go through a lot of changes, physically, intellectually and emotionally. We watched the way you contained yourself when your fiancé unfortunately passed away, even when those harridans at The Seattle Times were blasting you and accusing you of foul play. We admired that, and not only did we but so did the people. No matter what you did, you came across as the innocent victim in that story.
Michael Callahan: What about my wrestling career and my embarrassing antics that bring “shame upon the WRC”? Is that okay now?
There was little Callahan could do to mask his disgust at the sudden change of heart his superiors were having. For the last fourteen months, he had constantly been lampooned for his decision to wrestle and support politics. He'd lost his job as a Youth Ambassador because of it.
Rick Madsen: As it happens, that's another piece of the puzzle Mike. People like you because of your brutal honesty in the wrestling ring. They like you because you entertain, you give it your all and you do what you think is best for the people even if it may not seem that way. It's not gone unnoticed Mike. People are talking about you. They're crying out for someone like you to not be their wrestling representative... but their state representative. At the tail end of next year, we want you to run for the Lower House and we want you to stay there until you're ready for Senate.
Michael Callahan: ... Really? Even with my sleazy reputation?
All three board members nod unanimously, agreed that Callahan would make an ideal representative for Washington State in what they predict will be a landslide victory.
Nora Baines: Absolutely.
Colby Shelby Couldn't agree more.
Rick Madsen: This is exactly the shot in the arm we need right now. You're just what the good doctor ordered.
Michael Callahan: Well... how can a man say no to having his hopes and dreams accomplished? We'll put it on the back burner now, I don't want to look like I'm grave-robbing Congressman Richards, but we'll discuss things towards the end of 2013 and see where we go from there?
Rick Madsen: Perfect. Thanks for catching up with us Michael. It's been a pleasure.
Callahan stood up from his chair and shook all three hands of the board members before making his way back for the door and from the way in which he had entered as Nora wrapped it up.
Nora Baines: Yeah. It's people like you with that “side-show” appeal that is going to steer us back into power for the future. Someone who can cut loose is essential to our plans.
Callahan's hand wrapped around the door handle, ready to twist until something Nora said caught his ear. A sharp pain jolted the back of his skull, followed by a loud ringing in his ears like someone had just beaten him over the head with an iron bar. He turned and shot her a vicious glare, his eyes narrowing in desperate hatred.
Michael Callahan: ... Don't call me a side show.
Vancounver International Airport, 10PM. Darkness had set upon the Canadian city but it was a Friday and life was just beginning for the local mothercannuckers. For some, an easy night in was preferred. For others though? Vancouver's night life thrived and even despite being jet-lagged and ill, Callahan still felt the need to boogie. He had danced in the toilet cubicle, danced in the street and in the rain and boogied his way through customs but the night life wasn't there for him. At least not yet anyway.
For now, he needed to get himself to the hotel room and in record time. He could feel himself falling gravely ill again, and even then during the flight whenever he'd fall asleep he'd instantly jolt awake thanks to the nightmares. All three men; Callahan, Gray, GI, left the airport together to make their way to the parking lot.
Michael Callahan: Thanks a lot Schmidt, bring us to Canada in the middle of the god damn winter season. As if Canada wasn't unbearable enough without adding an extra thirty feet of snow. What's our rent-a-car option? A pack of huskies and a sled?
Dr. Alexander Gray: No, it's a Honda Civic. GI can hop in the back and you can drive us to the arena.
The three search the lot for sometime until they eventually stumble across the offending article, a beat-up old Civic that should be back on the scrap and not looking after Americans.
Michael Callahan: ... Actually, I think you'd better drive Doc.
Dr. Alexander Gray: You... you what?
Dr. Gray had never been asked by Callahan to drive. Not for want of trying, but Callahan saw it as a way for him to shape his own destiny. He who drives is in control of his own destiny, and whoever is in the passenger and backseat.
Michael Callahan: Yeah man. I think you should drive. You're licensed, you're qualified.
Dr. Alexander Gray: But you love to drive... It helps you focus.
Michael Callahan: Don't stress it, Doc. Just take the wheel. I need to... collect my thoughts.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Alright, if you're sure.
Gray hops into the drivers seat and Callahan takes passenger for ease of talking to his friend. Yet GI doesn't really, and instead simply flops about in the back seat muttering something about Sly and the Family Stone and how gunshots are the only compilation album he listens to.
Michael Callahan: Hello, ladies and gentlemen. It is I, an American Werewolf in Canada. Yes, that's right, for the first time since I signed my brand new contract I return to one of the most renowned countries for technical wrestling prowess in the world. Forget America's muscles and entertainment, forget fat Japanese men and their knife edge chop battles, if you want classic chain and catch as catch can wrestling then you come right here up north to Canada. Besides the fact that this great nation is a monument to wrestling history though? There's no doubt that I am completely out of my element up here. I don't like universal healthcare, I don't like getting high and I do NOT like snow, under any circumstances at all. So the fact that me and Doctor Gray are on our way to hire a plough for the duration of our journeys across The Great White North is a mark of our struggle.
The sound of an Ice Road Trucker roaring past is unmissable, it even makes Callahan take a brief pause to focus his words.
Michael Callahan: And struggle is something that we all face. Day in and day out, we all find different aspects of our lives that just don't come easy. For the ordinary man? It's getting up in the morning, going to work, facing your boss or your partner that you can't stand any more. For me? It's being forced to eat my own words. I had no respect for Phil Atken going into that Survive and Conquer when I had every intention of ripping his head off and taking his title. Now though? Like it or not, that fat slime ball has proved himself to me and to all the APW fans that he's legitimate. He took me to the limit and he surpassed them. I wasn't expecting it. He caught me off guard and I fell hard. Now though, I've gotta' face Shane Borderland. And as we've seen documented time and time again, his struggle is consistency.
It didn't take a genius to see that Borderland's stretches, while always memorable, were never truly long enough to make a ground-breaking impact. It's just whether or not he throws himself full throttle into the game this time that will determine it.
Michael Callahan: Shane Borderland is APW's ticking time bomb. He's been in this company and this business on and off for years, and certainly since my arrival his limited appearances have been exactly like described. The clock ticks until it's his time, he arrives on Asylum to cause as much carnage and havoc as possible, annihilating any and all opposition to whatever he could possibly want. Then, when he's finished destroying, he doesn't stick around to collect his rewards. He just leaves without another word and vanishes until he recharges, at which point he explodes again and immolates the competition once again.
Callahan rolled down the electronic windows slowly, feeling the heat. He needed the cold Canadian air lapping at his face.
Michael Callahan: Yet, what the Wide Open Bad Boy doesn't seem to appreciate is that people get back up after their world has been destroyed. When Shane Borderland comes out and takes people out, they're not gone forever. Oft times, they're back and ready to go within a week, banged up and bruised but ready to seek revenge, only to discover that wait, Borderland has already disappeared into the shadows where he belongs. And the reason for that is because Borderland isn't a predatorial creature. He's not a chaser, he's not a contender. He doesn't have the patience for that kind of crap.
Doctor Gray tapping his watch is heard on the microphone very faintly. Ending time.
Michael Callahan: Instead, he wants us all to fear him. He wants us to panic whenever we hear that music going off and the “Bad Boy” himself comes out with a steel chair. He's no better than a common criminal, a mindless, vengeful insurgent who's fear tactics win 90% of his battles for him. What he doesn't appreciate is that the mettle of the Asylum roster is built for stronger men. We do not take beatings lying down. We get back up, we fight again, and that's exactly what I plan to do in regards to Phil Atken. Some critics out there question whether or not my loss to Phil has made me question and re-evaluate myself. Well it hasn't. It won't rattle my cage, it won't unsettle me and make me freak out like previous losses. I'm keeping things together, and Shane Borderland? When I keep things together, there's not a man alive who can stand between me and the things I want. And that, Shane, is a promise.
Fade.
Entering the board room, the blank stares of Chief Press Officer and Inner Consult Colby Shelby, Director of Communications Nora Baines and Head of Department Rick Marsden couldn't have sent Callahan's spirits further south if they had tried. As Callahan sluggishly searched for a seat across, the pessimism had kicked in as he tried to anticipate for what particular reason he was about to be fired for.
Colby Shelby: Ah Michael, so glad you could make it. Please, take a seat.
Callahan pulled out a seat from the desk and planted himself heavily into it, not feeling terribly well on this particular day. Clearly not in the mood for a roasting, Callahan didn't even bother with the formalities before he started making some wild assumptions.
Michael Callahan: What am I being hauled over the coals for this time? Are you actually going to man up and fire me this time?
Colby cocked an eyebrow and smiled reassuringly and disarmingly at Callahan who wasn't sure what to make of him, especially after the trip to China.
Colby Shelby: No, of course not. What gave you that impression my dear boy?
Michael Callahan: That's usually why you guys drag me in here. Though to be fair, usually I get my ear-bashings down the phone so it must be something spectacular I've done now if you're actually balling up to ruin my career face to face.
Madsen, the husky throated executive of the Washington State Republicans reaced into his desk and pulled out a heavy bottle of expensive Scotch along with a handful of glasses. He poured everyone in the room one then passed the first to Michael, a weak smile spread across his cracking old lips.
Rick Madsen: Relax, Mike. Have a shot of whiskey. We're not here to light a fire under your ass.
Michael Callahan: You're not?
Nora Baines: No. We're here because we believe that you've got a fantastic career ahead of you.
Defensively, Callahan folded his arms and stared daggers into the bearded Colby Shelby who's last encounter with Callahan wasn't especially positive.
Michael Callahan: Last time we had a conversation about my future as a Republican, Colby told me I was a liability, that I was dead weight and that I was “hanging on by a thread”.
Shelby chuckled weakly before taking a shot of Scotch, presumably to calm his nerves in a situation like this. As Callahan supped at the alcohol, he felt his stomach begin to turn and had already resigned himself to the certainty that something bad was going to happen to today.
Colby Shelby: Times change people my boy. I was rash, I was angry, I was scared. I didn't expect you to shine through and be the team player you're becoming. I expected you to let your idealism cloud your judgment and thrust us into a diplomatic nightmare. Alas, you kept your head cool and stayed your tongue when you needed to the most and that is an important quality at the Republican Party.
Michael Callahan: Not if the Bush administration was anything to go by.
Colby Shelby: Look, that's in the past. We made our mistakes. Listen, Michael, answer me this. How old are you?
Michael Callahan: Twenty six, twenty seven in May.
Colby Shelby: That's a shame because we could've used a dependable man to run for Senate. Alas though, it'll be a few years yet before you're ready for such a responsibility.
Michael Callahan: Why are you projecting me as a future fore-runner? Last year you demoted me from Young Representatives so you could sweep me under the carpet like a dirty secret, because you knew you couldn't fire me but you didn't want me to be seen. So what's changed?
Nora, a blonde in her forties with her hair tied back in a bun used to be attractive once. Years of working for the Republicans though ruins your appeal somewhat.
Nora Baines: You changed, Michael. You changed. Y'see, we've tracked your progress over the last fourteen months since you came back from your little vacation and we've seen you go through a lot of changes, physically, intellectually and emotionally. We watched the way you contained yourself when your fiancé unfortunately passed away, even when those harridans at The Seattle Times were blasting you and accusing you of foul play. We admired that, and not only did we but so did the people. No matter what you did, you came across as the innocent victim in that story.
Michael Callahan: What about my wrestling career and my embarrassing antics that bring “shame upon the WRC”? Is that okay now?
There was little Callahan could do to mask his disgust at the sudden change of heart his superiors were having. For the last fourteen months, he had constantly been lampooned for his decision to wrestle and support politics. He'd lost his job as a Youth Ambassador because of it.
Rick Madsen: As it happens, that's another piece of the puzzle Mike. People like you because of your brutal honesty in the wrestling ring. They like you because you entertain, you give it your all and you do what you think is best for the people even if it may not seem that way. It's not gone unnoticed Mike. People are talking about you. They're crying out for someone like you to not be their wrestling representative... but their state representative. At the tail end of next year, we want you to run for the Lower House and we want you to stay there until you're ready for Senate.
Michael Callahan: ... Really? Even with my sleazy reputation?
All three board members nod unanimously, agreed that Callahan would make an ideal representative for Washington State in what they predict will be a landslide victory.
Nora Baines: Absolutely.
Colby Shelby Couldn't agree more.
Rick Madsen: This is exactly the shot in the arm we need right now. You're just what the good doctor ordered.
Michael Callahan: Well... how can a man say no to having his hopes and dreams accomplished? We'll put it on the back burner now, I don't want to look like I'm grave-robbing Congressman Richards, but we'll discuss things towards the end of 2013 and see where we go from there?
Rick Madsen: Perfect. Thanks for catching up with us Michael. It's been a pleasure.
Callahan stood up from his chair and shook all three hands of the board members before making his way back for the door and from the way in which he had entered as Nora wrapped it up.
Nora Baines: Yeah. It's people like you with that “side-show” appeal that is going to steer us back into power for the future. Someone who can cut loose is essential to our plans.
Callahan's hand wrapped around the door handle, ready to twist until something Nora said caught his ear. A sharp pain jolted the back of his skull, followed by a loud ringing in his ears like someone had just beaten him over the head with an iron bar. He turned and shot her a vicious glare, his eyes narrowing in desperate hatred.
Michael Callahan: ... Don't call me a side show.
---
Vancounver International Airport, 10PM. Darkness had set upon the Canadian city but it was a Friday and life was just beginning for the local mothercannuckers. For some, an easy night in was preferred. For others though? Vancouver's night life thrived and even despite being jet-lagged and ill, Callahan still felt the need to boogie. He had danced in the toilet cubicle, danced in the street and in the rain and boogied his way through customs but the night life wasn't there for him. At least not yet anyway.
For now, he needed to get himself to the hotel room and in record time. He could feel himself falling gravely ill again, and even then during the flight whenever he'd fall asleep he'd instantly jolt awake thanks to the nightmares. All three men; Callahan, Gray, GI, left the airport together to make their way to the parking lot.
Michael Callahan: Thanks a lot Schmidt, bring us to Canada in the middle of the god damn winter season. As if Canada wasn't unbearable enough without adding an extra thirty feet of snow. What's our rent-a-car option? A pack of huskies and a sled?
Dr. Alexander Gray: No, it's a Honda Civic. GI can hop in the back and you can drive us to the arena.
The three search the lot for sometime until they eventually stumble across the offending article, a beat-up old Civic that should be back on the scrap and not looking after Americans.
Michael Callahan: ... Actually, I think you'd better drive Doc.
Dr. Alexander Gray: You... you what?
Dr. Gray had never been asked by Callahan to drive. Not for want of trying, but Callahan saw it as a way for him to shape his own destiny. He who drives is in control of his own destiny, and whoever is in the passenger and backseat.
Michael Callahan: Yeah man. I think you should drive. You're licensed, you're qualified.
Dr. Alexander Gray: But you love to drive... It helps you focus.
Michael Callahan: Don't stress it, Doc. Just take the wheel. I need to... collect my thoughts.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Alright, if you're sure.
Gray hops into the drivers seat and Callahan takes passenger for ease of talking to his friend. Yet GI doesn't really, and instead simply flops about in the back seat muttering something about Sly and the Family Stone and how gunshots are the only compilation album he listens to.
Michael Callahan: Hello, ladies and gentlemen. It is I, an American Werewolf in Canada. Yes, that's right, for the first time since I signed my brand new contract I return to one of the most renowned countries for technical wrestling prowess in the world. Forget America's muscles and entertainment, forget fat Japanese men and their knife edge chop battles, if you want classic chain and catch as catch can wrestling then you come right here up north to Canada. Besides the fact that this great nation is a monument to wrestling history though? There's no doubt that I am completely out of my element up here. I don't like universal healthcare, I don't like getting high and I do NOT like snow, under any circumstances at all. So the fact that me and Doctor Gray are on our way to hire a plough for the duration of our journeys across The Great White North is a mark of our struggle.
The sound of an Ice Road Trucker roaring past is unmissable, it even makes Callahan take a brief pause to focus his words.
Michael Callahan: And struggle is something that we all face. Day in and day out, we all find different aspects of our lives that just don't come easy. For the ordinary man? It's getting up in the morning, going to work, facing your boss or your partner that you can't stand any more. For me? It's being forced to eat my own words. I had no respect for Phil Atken going into that Survive and Conquer when I had every intention of ripping his head off and taking his title. Now though? Like it or not, that fat slime ball has proved himself to me and to all the APW fans that he's legitimate. He took me to the limit and he surpassed them. I wasn't expecting it. He caught me off guard and I fell hard. Now though, I've gotta' face Shane Borderland. And as we've seen documented time and time again, his struggle is consistency.
It didn't take a genius to see that Borderland's stretches, while always memorable, were never truly long enough to make a ground-breaking impact. It's just whether or not he throws himself full throttle into the game this time that will determine it.
Michael Callahan: Shane Borderland is APW's ticking time bomb. He's been in this company and this business on and off for years, and certainly since my arrival his limited appearances have been exactly like described. The clock ticks until it's his time, he arrives on Asylum to cause as much carnage and havoc as possible, annihilating any and all opposition to whatever he could possibly want. Then, when he's finished destroying, he doesn't stick around to collect his rewards. He just leaves without another word and vanishes until he recharges, at which point he explodes again and immolates the competition once again.
Callahan rolled down the electronic windows slowly, feeling the heat. He needed the cold Canadian air lapping at his face.
Michael Callahan: Yet, what the Wide Open Bad Boy doesn't seem to appreciate is that people get back up after their world has been destroyed. When Shane Borderland comes out and takes people out, they're not gone forever. Oft times, they're back and ready to go within a week, banged up and bruised but ready to seek revenge, only to discover that wait, Borderland has already disappeared into the shadows where he belongs. And the reason for that is because Borderland isn't a predatorial creature. He's not a chaser, he's not a contender. He doesn't have the patience for that kind of crap.
Doctor Gray tapping his watch is heard on the microphone very faintly. Ending time.
Michael Callahan: Instead, he wants us all to fear him. He wants us to panic whenever we hear that music going off and the “Bad Boy” himself comes out with a steel chair. He's no better than a common criminal, a mindless, vengeful insurgent who's fear tactics win 90% of his battles for him. What he doesn't appreciate is that the mettle of the Asylum roster is built for stronger men. We do not take beatings lying down. We get back up, we fight again, and that's exactly what I plan to do in regards to Phil Atken. Some critics out there question whether or not my loss to Phil has made me question and re-evaluate myself. Well it hasn't. It won't rattle my cage, it won't unsettle me and make me freak out like previous losses. I'm keeping things together, and Shane Borderland? When I keep things together, there's not a man alive who can stand between me and the things I want. And that, Shane, is a promise.
Fade.
