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wake up wake up! wake up wake up!
The cute but annoying repetition of vocal cues from an alarm clock chirps loudly in the darkness. A few streaks of light pierce through the blinds coming from the bedroom, allowing a glimpse of the king size bed that carries a lump shifting from one side to the other of the bed. A groan follows as the volume of the alarm seems to increase, suggesting that longer duration means the sleeper should move with haste.
James rises with the urgency of an narcoleptic elderly, rubbing his eyes as he kicked his dresser, causing the uniquely designed alarm of a penguin to fall as he walked away.
The years had not been generous, or at least how James felt as he took opening the curtains, reflecting a frosty view. He dared not to open the window, as he touched the glass pane hesitantly. He pulled back as he took to grabbing his phone, swiping all over the screen to unlock it. With his free hand, he opens his suitcase sitting upright next to the bed, pulling out his ring gear.
“Teddy Palmer…..Theodore Palmer…Ted Palmer….Arnold Palmer sounds nice right about now.”
He walks into the bathroom, placing the phone on the counter top affixed underneath the mirror. He stares into the mirror, frowning a little before smirking and chuckling a little.
“Oh boy James, you really outdid yourself this time.”
He chuckles again as he stares at a man would lost an eye many years ago. The thought brings brief and terrible memories back to the forefront, his blood boils and he feels prickly, but he forces back the demons screaming in his head for blood. It wasn’t why he signed back with High Octane Wrestling. Yet his attempt to do just that almost a year ago fell thru. Embarrassing as it was to hype up and then bolt under the pretense of business with his investments, he was hounded monthly by the lawyers representing the company.
He ponder those phone calls as he shed his boxers and t-shirt, reaching into the shower area to let the water run for a minute as he began a few arm stretches. He groaned as he rubbed the area around his eye, chuckling a little again as he recalled the first time he did just that. He had literally took to hiding in shame for a day and a night, before realizing he was dealing with wrestlers far more capable than he thought he could handle.
His phone rang an 8-bit melody of “Pokemon” as he began humming it. He reached for it to read the text message that silenced the song:
“Press interview to discuss the interaction you jumped into a few weeks prior?”
James pondered that as he felt the warmth of the steam coming from the shower. He had taken to listening to the HOR when he could before resigning up, doing his best to keep up with the wild asylum that was High Octane Wrestling. No normal mental health test could prior the litmus scale that company ran off of, yet it had drew individuals like himself back. Individuals believing that they could take on those stronger than themselves and could serve up punishment twenty times worse than the leading serial killer in the news.
James smiled as he pondered a response again, the HOR he jumped into didn’t have his best interest in mind, it took effort not to give Scottywood a piece of his mind on public radio channels. There was no need to rush that, time would come to close that chapter the way he felt was needed. What bothered him more was that he was given a legend to contend with in his group. Of all the inmates he wanted to shake hands with but not fight, it had to be Living Sherman Tank himself, Chris Kostoff..but he wouldn’t see him anytime soon.
He sighed as he stepped into the shower, tossing out the rubber duck that was amusingly there. He pressed his hands against the wall, letting the water wake his senses up as he took into consideration the steps needed to excel in the Lee Best Invitational. The insanity needed was high if he wanted the ICON Championship. He smiled as he took into the consideration of that he had heard the voice of Mike Best and someone called Colin in the HOR, but they were too far away lapping up luxury cruises, they would not consider him a threat now, but time and ample preparation would help get near the World Championship.
But that wasn’t what he needed to focus on, he thought as he took the turn to lather the hand towel with liquid soap, scrubbing away what little filth that had accumulated overnight. Teddy Palmer was someone who also wrestled in his past, clearly the paths he took were a bit rogue-ish, potentially questionable. He smiled as he took into thought how questionable was his actions, he had self-retired from wrestling, seeking to chase his ambitions in other hobbies and pursuits that aligned with his goals at the time. Yet here, in all his naked glory, he stood ready for the squared ring again. He turned off the water, walking out towards the bedroom as he picked up his phone, unlocking it as he kicked over his suitcase. He dugged into the suitcase with his right foot as he text his response to his agent back home in Miami. He tugged a few times before getting a pair of boxers, a plain white t-shirt, and gym shorts.
He knew the month was gonna be a long one, but the LBI would be a refreshing way to get back into the feel of things. But what thing circled in his brain as he pondered what had changed in HOW as he sent an inquiry to his agent one last time.
“What…are…these…new stables…doing here?”