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.