On my own again, no gold around my waist.  You're nothing without a belt.
I lie back on the bed with the lights off in a cheap hotel room.  I could
get a better room if I wanted to but this is all I need, a bed, a light, a
toilet and a shower.  Anything else would be a distraction.  All these
relationships people seem so fond of are nothing but distractions to getting
the belt, any belt but the World Heavyweight belt in particular.  JR says
I'm going to get pushed for it, but how often has he said that in the past
year.  I keep doing my best, one day it will be mine.

They're so undedicated, most of them.  Hunter's got his priorities right,
and Steph knows that, he's a wrestler first, and husband a far distant third
or fourth after friend and agitator, but people like Matt Hardy ditching his
brother for Lita.  He had a working partnership that could challenge for
belts, but he let it go for sex.  'Cause that's all a relationship is,
that's all humans are designed to do.  My own Radical friends, Malenko and
his Lita obsession driving down him and his belt.  He has gold but he
doesn't use it.  Perry and darling Terri, he could be getting a backstage
rub, if he would ask for it, they seem to like him a lot but Terri's told
him to believe in things like fair play and doing it off your own back.
Trash, she's just scared he'd get Trish or someone with more power on his
arm.

Eddie, my closest friend, got rid of his 'girl' and I use the term loosely,
when he got the belt.  It was sneaky.  I could have stood up and applauded
him.  But she couldn't deal with it, the over shadowing thing.  Isn't he
doing a lot better without her.  But do they listen, no.

Sure having someone touching you is nice but no arms or hands or any other
part feels as good as leather and gold.  Keep that clear in your mind and
you'll go far.

Poor Eddie wants something more than fucking.  That's what we do, I'll
admit it.  When he won the belt, it was a celebration, when he lost it, it
was commiseration.  The same with me.  Now Jericho has the belt.  That's a
joke.  Tell him to go and try to sell records and give the belt to someone
who gives a damn about it.  I told Eddie that there wasn't anything more and
he wouldn't believe me.  Knocking down X-pac, trying to show me he cared,
pathetic.

When I win the IC belt we'll fuck again.  And then he'll say he wants more.
  Then I might lose the belt, most probably to him.  He doesn't understand,
he'd be just another distraction if it was anything more.  Distractions are
there to be eliminated.  As it is he lets me release various primal urges so
they don't interfere.  He's useful to me.  But he gets so emotional about it
all, that he's a Radical first so he has to watch my back and he'd have even
more reason if he were my lover not just a friend I fuck.

The others don't care so long as we don't break up the unit, if one of us
has power we all do, exellence in numbers, but if Terri rolls her eyes at us
again I swear I will knock the taste out of her mouth so fast.  They won't
be shocked, they know I'm a modern man.  Men and women are equal, they all
have an equal use to me.  Use them and get the gold.  Don't let them
distract you, however much they plead with you, with his dark puppy dog
eyes, 'cause there is no higher purpose than getting gold around your waist.
  Nothing more.

The end

Only Distraction(1/1)

Author: Red Fiona
Disclaimer:  Don't own them, no money being made, absolutely nothing to do
with real life.
Rating: 15 some swearing
Notes and Summary:  Eddie's view on what happen Smackdown 1/03/01, companion
piece to No Distractions.  For Twig who wanted it.

Eddie's reply

I can't do this anymore, and I don't just mean rooming with Jerky, but
that's the icing on the rotten cake.  I mean all of it, Chris most of all.
"I've been here for you every step of the way, I've even bled for you, man."
  I was speaking the truth for once on a show.  I went out to save his ass
and I damn well won the match for him.  Not that he cares, he shot me a look
of pure poison afterwards.

Other looks I don't like.  Terri giving me pitying glances.  So she's got
her lovelife worked out, so have I.  I'm happy with what I've got and I
don't need her pity.  Okay so I don't need the pity.  I love Chris, and he
loves me back, as much as he can.

He's in a room on his own, hell he's even in a different hotel to the rest
of us.  They didn't have enough rooms for everyone in the 3 star, so he
volunteered for the motel room.  I think he would have been sent anyway.
He's one of the few people who doesn't get given a roommate, what is it, the
classic Benoit quote, 'He's not a people person.'  Is that just a polite way
of saying he's a control freak who pisses off just about everyone he meets?
I mean, come on, Perry, Dean and me are the only ones who he gets on with in
the slightest and thats barely some of the time, apart from Hunter and
that's more of a mutual respect thing going on.  We're his power base, but
we're disintigrating in front of him.  Perry's being led off on to the path
of good and right and no Radicals by Terri, Dean's Lita obsession is
beginning to scare us all, we're talking underwear sniffing here.  And then
there's him and me, or the not him and me.

I knock on the door.  "It doesn't lock."  He meant to say come in, I know
that.
"Hi Chris,"
"What do you want?"  He means 'Hi Eddie, what brings you here, and how can
I help you?'  Yeah right even I don't believe that.
"A bit of gratitude would be nice."
"Why?  I would have won anyway.  You made me look bad out there."
"Thanks.  I need somewhere to stay, Jerky's rooming with me."
"Why did you come here then, go bother the others, they've got rooms."
Could there be anymore hate in your voice esa.
"You've got a bed, that's all I need."
"Fine then."

So I strip down to boxers and get into bed.  No touching.  We don't do
that.  I've never kissed him just to kiss him, just in the throws of passion
'cause it felt good.  We don't cuddle after sex, we're not like that.  I
like it the same way he does, hard and rough and straight forward, none of
this wine and roses shit for us.  No touching at all.  No nothing from him
at all.  He's already asleep.  He just switches off, like a computer shuts
down.  He's not human.

I'm lying here looking at him, watching him breathe.  There's nothing warm
or soft about him, he's a machine, from crew cut to muscle.  I feel sorry
for him.  Yeah, me of all people feels sorry for him.  He's not got a life,
he's got a vocation.  He's got a relaxation problem, he doesn't know how to.
  Some of the other guys watch films, go to concerts, josh and joke, they
even have days off.  Not Chris, he gets up in a morning.  Then he trains,
has breakfast.  Finds out his match.  Goes over it with the person for a
couple of hours, not that he couldn't do it straight off, he doesn't want
them to make him look bad.  Never anything to make him look bad.  You should
see him clean up hotel rooms after himself.  He doesn't use anything but the
bed and shower but he's got a hospital corner that a nurse would be pround
of.  A small meal in the middle of the day about an hour and a half before
he tapes the match.  After that, he trains some more.  He has his evening
meal, grabs his room key and goes to sleep.  Getting the gold is all that
matters to him, morning, noon and night.  He eats, sleeps and breathes
wrestling.  He dreams five star matches.  As the light from the streetlight
goes through the window, I can see him with his Crippler Crossface grimace
on.  I just want to touch him, hold him close, show him how I feel, so that
he can understand, I don't think he gets the why of my actions.  He
fantasises about gold and leather and winning, sometimes it not me he's
fucking but the belt, that's all that gets him hard.  He's got no room for
distractions like entertainment, good food, he makes sure it has a good
amount of all the nutrients he needs, he doesn't snack, eat junk food or eat
things because he likes the taste.  Oh no, he even eats two oranges a day
despite the fact he hates the taste.  Not that he told me that, his mother
did one time she came to watch him wrestle.  His Mom's so proud of him, it's
cute.

But the main thing he won't allow to distract him is people and
relationships.  He's got no time for me at all.  Maybe though, there is a
human under the intensity, I'm the only release for primal urges as he calls
me that he'll let stay in his bed till the morning after, or even if, like
now, I need a bed for the night.  Score one for me, ha.  Not really, he sees
me as a friend that he happens to fuck, not a lover, a fuckfriend.

He was so happy when I got the title off Chyna.  Boy was I sick of being
her guard dog and valet.  I'm not a nice person, I laughed when she cried.
She deserved it, that belt should have been around my waist.  I like winning
as much as the next man.  Scratch that, I'm lying next to mister live to
win.  He knew I didn't do it for him, I got that belt for me, I do have some
pride in my work, and he didn't give a damn.  He might not give but he
doesn't want either.

I want though.  I want too much.  Maybe it's old age creeping up on me but
I know that someday I'll have to stop, he'll have to stop, it'll all stop.
And then what do we do.  I want someone to go grey with, someone who'll hold
my hand as we go into the long dark night.  And I can cope outside of this
world, he can't, he's given his life to wrestling so much so that his life
is wrestling and nothing else, he doesn't or can't or won't think of a time
when he won't be able to do it.
Poor Chris.  They won't remember him, glorify him, however many times he
wins things.  Nothing lasts in this business, ask your ordinary Joe on the
street about say Andre the Giant and you'll get a blank look, or Big Show'll
get mentioned.  He doesn't see that it's not worth it, not worth what he's
going without, but I'll be there to pick up the pieces.  There for food,
shelter, medical bills and companionship.  That's my place in life, by his
side.  No more, no less, why can't he see that.

End notes:  The "He's got a relaxation problem.." bit is a quote from Eddie
Irvine about Micheal Schumacher but I thought it fit.