Making the trip

The scene opens up to the sound of a ceiling fan humming along. The camera pulls back to show Zach gathering his clothes and ring gear. His two gym bags are open as his grabs a couple t-shirts from his closet. Folding them up, he sets them in his bag. Walking to his dresser he grabs his ring gear. Folding his stuff he places them into the other gear bag. He stops for a second and lets out a sigh.

Zach: I can see why dad hated this shit so much at the end. I can fully get it now. See, before I would always wonder what his problem was. Even as a kid.

Zach: He would bitch and complain about the travel, getting ready for the travel. The staying in hotels or Air BnB’s. I get it now. This is bullshit.

Zipping the one bag up, he tosses it to the doorway. Grabbing a pair of shorts and a pair of jeans he folds them and put them into the other bag. Walking into his bathroom, he grabs a couple small bottles and makes his way back to the bed. Putting the bottles in the bag, he sits down.

Zach: So, here we go. This is the lead up to War Games. The ppv that everyone is chubbed over.

Zach: Looking back to what I said this morning, well I stand by it. I’m not going to go on a long tirade about the guys in the match to kick this off. Or the rest of the roster.

He looks up and pulls his hair back out of his face.

Zach: What I will say is, I am fucking done playing around. If I win and move on or if I lose and come back early….I don’t give a fuck. See, taking on this new ideal of just getting in that ring and raising hell that is on my mind. This fighr, not match, is going to be fun. I had the chance to sit back and watch some more of dad’s matches. Just to get a handle on how he did what he did.

Zach: And I noticed that his violent nature was just the tip of it all. He was scary as fuck. Large and mean. He had no fear, no worries about winning or losing. All he wanted was a fight. That is what this is, a fight.

Zach: I am annoyed wit the travel part, but the fight part is what is now…well making me want to be apart of this.

Getting up from the bed he zips the other bag up as well. Grabbing it and making his way out of the room, he grabs the other bag in stride.

Zach: Now the last part of this shit. Getting there.

He stops and stares at his dog. Sitting looking up at Zach, the dog puts his paw up. Smiling he leans forward and grabs the paw and shakes it. He leans further down and kisses his dog on his head. A small smile crosses his lips.

Zach: My buddy. Been with me since mom and dad split up. He is my constant. Always there. Was at my side when ma passed and when dad passed.

Nodding he stands upright and walks to the bar in his kitchen and grabs his keys. Turning around, he smiles at his dog.

Zach: I’m going to War Games, to prove a point. To show I am more than a last name legacy. This is where I make my stand for myself.

Zach: This is where I show I can handle what this roster and Lee want to throw at me. This is my time.

He looks at the his keys in his hand. Making his way to the front door, he stops and pets his dog one more time. Walking through the doorway, he steps out into the sunlight of Florida. He closes the door as the scene fades to black.