We're jerkin' down the Interstate in a mid-90's Western Star big rig. I say we're jerkin' because regardless of the many absurd things the WWF would have liked you to believe in the innocent days of professional wrestling, Big Daddy Cool Diesel has never been a trained commercial truck driver, nor is he licensed to drive this particular rig.







It truly is a remarkable piece of equipment. That much I can not deny. When Diesel rang me on the phone and said he'd pick me up so that I could go with him to his appointment, I thought maybe an Escalade. A limousine even. But a black and chrome Western Star big rig? You have got to be kidding me.



”Don't you love this song, JR?”

”It's a good one, Diesel.”



No lie, he's had Guns n Roses 'Sweet Child o Mine' on repeat for the last ninety minutes. While its a very good song, its just not my cup of tea. I don't even like tea.



”Would you mind not grinding the gears, Kevin? You just made me spill my Starbucks Cafe Mocha on myself.”

”I think the transmission needs serviced. I'm really an excellent truck driver, Jim. And who's Kevin?”



We arrive at the office of Dr. Hugh Laurie, no relation to the actor, and...



HORRRRRRRRRRNNNNNN!!!!!!



...he's got to blow that damn horn as if seeing a monstrous Western Star big rig parked in the compact car zone of the parking lot didn't draw enough attention.



”Why am I seeing this guy again?”



You're delusional. That's why.



”I know you've been torturing yourself over your actions along with Vinnie Lane...”

”Who?”

”...HBK on Madness and I...”

”What show?”

”Monday Night RAW and I thought maybe a conversation with the good doctor might help you put that to rest and move on to Shove It this week.”

”Shove what? I don't want to shove anything, Jim. That's just mean.”

”Yes it is, Diesel.”



The big man starts to shed some tears and buries his head in my shoulder.



”It's alright, big guy. We'll get you back in the game in no time!”

”Thanks Jim. You're such a good friend.”



Diesel and I head into the office building. We don't talk as we ascend toward the top of the high rise where Dr. Laurie is waiting for us. I made it a point to make sure any other patients were pushed out for today. If we're going to cure Diesel of his delusions, I don't really want anyone around who may be able to harm our attempt by recognizing him as Diesel.



DING!



The elevator doors slide open and Diesel and I head toward the waiting lounge. Dr. Hugh Laurie is there to greet us.







”Dr. Laurie, I'm pleased to see you honored my request of ushering out any other patients you had.”

”I don't have any other patients.”



Excuse me?



”Judging by the look on your face, you seem shocked.

“My job forces me to meet people. I hate people.

“It forces me to talk to people, yet everybody lies.”



I've made a terrible mistake.



”Let's see the patient.”



He literally only glanced at Diesel.



”It's not Lupus.”

”We never thought it was. Considering Lupus is a medical condition and you're a psychiatrist, I'm pretty certain you don't know what Lupus is.”

”Don't have to. It's never Lupus.

“See?”



The doctor opens his shirt revealing a t-shirt with the saying: It's Never Lupus.



”Doc, I think Diesel here is suffering some sort of delusion.”

”I see. And what makes you think he's delusional? Are you a psychiatrist?”



I shake my head. Nothing more.



”How 'bout we leave the head doctor stuff to the head doctor, okay?”



He turns to Diesel.



”You really are a big guy, aren't you?”

”My name is Diesel. Like the fuel, only not spelled the same.”

”It's spelled exactly the same.”

”So it is.”



Dr. Laurie turns toward me.



”What sort of delusions is he having?”

”A long while ago he was a pretty big star in the wrestling business. He was the world champion for nearly a year. Almost all of 1995, in fact. He came back in 2011 under the same name for one night. The crowd response was deafening and overwhelming.

“I think that's where the problem lies.”

”What are you saying, Jim? I'm not a big star anymore? Did Bam Bam take my spot!?”

”Anyhow, ever since that night he's been calling himself Diesel, rather than his given name of Kevin Nash. And he's come to a new promotion and carries the same old world title he held nearly 20 years ago.”

”Well, I think I know the answer.”



Dr. Laurie goes to his desk and pulls out a prescription pad. He scribbles something down and hands the slip to Diesel.



”What is it?”

”A prescription for... vanilla?”

”Vicodin.”

”Doc, isn't that for pain?”

”I don't know. Probably. It truly is a remarkable drug though. If nothing else, he'll be pain free and happy.”

”Did you even graduate college?”

”Of course. But I've never practiced because I hate patients. Just fill the prescription and let the guy live out his dreams of happier times.”



I remove my hat from my head and twirl it in my hands as I stare over at Diesel. Is it really so bad that he's delusional? Sure, his prime was 20 years ago and he was a huge superstar back then. Made all the money, partied all night, carried the championship for nearly a year.

Is it really so bad that he has no idea that he's actually Kevin Nash from Arizona and not Diesel from Michigan? Is is really so bad that he thinks Steve Sayors is Todd Pettingill? Is it really so bad that he thinks the XWF is the WWF? Is it bad that he thinks its 1995? Is it bad that he thinks Shane Anonistrator and Vinnie Lane are Jack Tunney and Shawn Michaels respectively?



”What do you want to do big guy?”

”I think I need to fill this prescription and call Shawn. We have that big tag match coming up with Aldo Montoya and Harvey Wippleman.”

”Then what?”

”Pool party time! Aldo and Harvey are coming over! It's gonna be GREAT!”



Fade to Black and Chrome.