I knew I liked you Sean…
Even when I first introduced myself to you by taking an ax to your locker room door, mistakenly believing you to be another wrestler entirely, only to be punked by you on the other side… I enjoyed your moxie. Your swagger. Your… willingness to do whatever it takes.
That’s the thing. That was you THEN. Now? I don’t think you have the will to do what it TAKES, to be the man you once were. The desire, the drive, the pure determination to say FUCK THE WORLD, I WANT THIS, and go AFTER it.
And honestly? I don’t know if I have that will either. One of the reason we’re both floundering a bit here in the sea of HOW. See, you question why you aren’t as an elite of an athlete as you once were in a sport you once dominated. I know why I’m not. I’ve grown softer in my old age. My bones have worn themselves down to nubs. My family has softened me. And overall? At the end of the day? I just don’t want it as much as I once did. I see it in you too, the spark, that pro wrestling used to give us… fading…
It’s like the world has abandoned us, moved on, pushed forward with a new generation. While we fight and kick and scream to remain relevant.
I see it every day my kid takes the ring and flips with more rotations than I ever did back in the day. I see it when I see grey hairs in my beard, see all the people I had epic feuds with either die or retire. You’re one of the few still around, still reminding me of my youth, of days long gone.
And, for an instant, I feel that spark, that flare that lights a fire in the gut. Reminds me, makes me feel like a twenty year old man, ready to take on the world.
Man, what I wouldn’t give to have the speed and body of my younger self, or put my brain in my younger body.
… there’s gotta be some wrestler out there with a Freaky Friday motif…
Clean. Hygenic. A sterlized environment of a doctor’s office. This elder doctor flips through his notes, lowers them, and looks over toward his patient, better known to HOW audiences as High Flyer.
The Doctor: I… Okay. So…
High Flyer: Can you do it?
The Doctor: No. It’s not legal.
High Flyer: It is! I swear. I checked. The library told me. Nobody ever thought about swapping people’s brains. It’s a brain transplant.
The Doctor: It’s also quite unethical.
High Flyer: It is? Then how did Hollywood do it with Lindsey Lohan?
The doctor sighs. Already over this conversation. He crosses his arms over his chest.
The Doctor: I’m not going to swap your brain with your son’s.
High Flyer: Oh, she must have consented. That makes sense.
The Doctor: No. That’s… a movie. If I were to do what you’re asking, it would probably kill you both.
High Flyer: So you’re saying there’s a chance it could work?
The Doctor: Let me rephrase it. It WILL, kill you BOTH.
High Flyer: Jeez. Negative nancy over here. Doubting his own abilities as a doctor.
A large sigh. The doctor points to the door with his head obscured by his hands, gripping the bridge of his nose.
The Doctor: Please leave my office now or I’m calling the cops for trespassing.
High Flyer: You don’t have to be a dick about it.
High Flyer stands up from the patient bed and gently dusts himself off.
High Flyer: Thank you for nothing good sir! I hope you die by a pelican attack.
High Flyer promptly jumps out of the window, shattering the glass. He then runs left off screen. After a few moments, we hear a “BRAAAAAAIIIINNNS!” as High Flyer runs back across screen, from left to right, and then disappears.