It's moving day! the day before Labor Day, 2013, and we're on Commonwealth Avenue in Boston, Massachusetts. The kid, Jeremy, is finished with his "internship" (that word must be used lightly in this case) with Tony Santos, and he's now off to begin his journey through the wilderness that is sophomore year.

It's a bustling, rainy day near BU, with students and their families lining the streets, unpacking their U-Hauls, trucks, minivans, and the like, while BU student workers run around like chickens with their heads cut off, attempting to maintain some semblance of order in the moving process, while at the same time trying to keep people moving at a speedy pace to avoid horrendous traffic jams.

They were failing. Failing miserably.

However, this wasn't fazing Tony and the kid. They had packed up their U-Haul early... well, early after Jeremy was able to nudge Tony from the couch, where he sat begrudgingly playing a text simulation baseball game, Out of the Park Baseball 12 (yes, even Tony has some nerdy qualities) and simply wished to ignore the fact that he had actual responsibilities to take care of. But, they had packed it up, eventually. Now, they were sitting in an atrociously long line of cars, waiting their turn to lug 30-pound boxes up multiple flights of stairs. Oh, it was an honor, and Tony was proud to be part of it.

Santos: Kid, why'd you choose to move today? Couldn't we have done this, like, next week?

Jeremy: Sir, classes start on Tuesday. Would you rather I be living with you for the next week?

Tony gives Jeremy a quick glance, then back at the road, then back at Jeremy.

Santos: Instead of dealing with this crap? Absolutely. Plus, I could use someone to clean up my place. It's god damn filthy in there.

Jeremy: Sir, I'm your intern, not your errand boy.

Santos: Don't use the term "intern," kid. You barely managed to keep up with me, let alone learn or attempt to learn any newfangled skills.

Jeremy turns to his right.

Jeremy: Trust me, I know.

Tony lifts his head a bit, eyeing the seemingly mile-long line of traffic ahead. With seemingly no end, let alone movement, in sight, a lightbulb turns on in Tony's head. He looks to the kid, slouched in the passenger's seat, his portable video camera on his lap, and then looks outside. Tony sticks his left arm out of the window, palm facing the sky, as only a few, tiny raindrops hit his hand. Tony smiles.

Santos: Kid, let's make this last day count. Get that camera out. Let's shoot a damn promo.

The kid shoots Tony a confused look. He turns his head to the rear of the car, then to the front.

Jeremy: Wait, sir, are you serious? There are cars surrounding us every which way. They could be moving at any moment, and we'll be the jerks holding up traffic.

The kid couldn't dissuade Santos, though. He'd already hopped out of the driver's side door and was making his way to the back. He yells back to Jeremy.

Santos: Kid, we haven't moved for a solid 15 minutes. You think another 10 is gonna hurt us? I know I can ramble, but I promise that I won't ramble for that long. Come on, meet me over near the trunk!

Jeremy lets out a sigh in resignation. He'd never been able to control Tony's one-track mind over the past three months, so he knew there was no chance of convincing him on their last day together. Plus, he was kind of happy that Tony actually wanted to utilize Jeremy's skills for once. Hell, he was honored, considering Tony hadn't seem to give a damn about the kid and his role in this partnership over the last few months. This was about as generous as Tony was going to get (even though this was purely due to his own wants and needs), so, well, I guess he had to take this for what it was worth.

Santos lifts the trunk door open and inside are mounds upon mounds of cardboard boxes. Tony hops up on to the rear bumper and looks around the inside of the truck.

Santos: Where is that damn rocking chair...

Jeremy: Sir, I don't have a rocking chair...

Santos: You don't? I thought we packed one. I was sure that we...

Tony stares at the ground, his right index finger held up by his lips as he contemplates this imaginary rocking chair, which he somehow thinks exists.

Santos: Fuck it then.

Tony yanks a box from the nearest stack, plops it on the floor of the truck, and plants himself on top of it.

Jeremy: Sir! You can't just sit on one of my boxes! What if I had valuables in there???

Tony brushes off Jeremy's comment and gives him a shoo motion with his hand.

Santos: Pff, please, kid. What's done is done. Turn the camera on. I have some things to say to our little friend, Nightmare.

Jeremy, looking increasingly frustrated by the situation, flips the view open and gives Tony the thumbs up gesture to let him know that he's good to go...

Well, he actually gave Tony the middle finger, but nonetheless.

Santos: Fuck you too, kid.

Tony flips Jeremy the bird right back at him.

Santos: Anyways, I don't usually go this route, and for obvious reasons. I don't like speeches, I'm not a huge fan of long diatribes...

Jeremy: Yes you are.

Santos: And I don't like interviews. Interviews are cop outs. They're what you do when you have nothing to say but just need to say something to avoid having the higher ups getting angry with you. But that's not me. No no, not at all. I'd rather let you tag along as I, a 25 year old kid, destroy my body and mind at a rate that will lead me to senile status faster than it takes you to use your name to talk about nightmares you're going to put your opponents through...

Which is pretty darn fast there, Nightmare. Get it? Maybe? Oh, you're busy knocking punching bags off their supports and trying to keep that pesky mask of yours on your face, otherwise, we'll be tormented by your Nightmares. Get it? Because your name is Nightmare. You conceal nightmares.

But wait, wouldn't you want to torment us? Why save us from this pain when you're apparently so fixated on inflicting your own form of punishment on others? That doesn't make a whole lot of sense, now does it, partnah?

Tony shakes his head as he lets the inconsistencies of this Nightmare fellow sink in. Brushing his hair back... he loves to brush his hair back in promos apparently... he looks back at the camera.

Santos: See, Nightmare, you're just another phony moron who talks about your grand plan of taking over the XWF. You're here to fulfill a prophecy too, right? Those nightmares of yours, the ones contained in that goofy mask, they're laying out the path for your imminent triumph, right? But see...

Doesn't that make you the pawn in this big ol' game? You're a servant to these so called nightmares of yours, and you really have no control over what does and does not happen. You're simply following orders. What does that make of your cute little apprentice, huh? If you're the pawn in this chess match, he's the clock, getting smacked around whenever he's supposed to start and stop, start... and stop... a little bitch, just like how I'm going to make you mine when we step in to that ring tonight.

See, Nightmare, as you mentioned, I have had success in this company. Sure, there's plenty o' room to grow, but shit, I've faced some of the best this place has to offer, while you've been the bitch boy of a motley crew that can't come up with one, coherent theme. I'm sure you're wondering right now, why? Why has Tony Santos had the opportunity to fight with the best this place has to offer, while I'm stuck rambling about rotting fruit and trying to insert my name in to every other sentence that I make?

Why? Because I'm not a delusional fool like you. Shit, kid, I'm an alcoholic, a dirty, filthy drunk with a bastard child and no real direction, but I understand that. You? You can't come to grips with your own inadequacies. Instead, you sit here and plan your XWF conquest when you can't even win a freaking match! You want ultimate power when you can't even fathom what gold feels like in your hands.

Honey bee, you ain't seen nothing like me. You're going to step in to that ring tonight, all of your huffing and puffing having worn you out, and you're going to flex those big, scary muscles of yours. You're going to try to intimidate me. You're going to play to the crowd a little bit, getting them to jeer you, getting the energy level in Kemper Arena up just a bit, so that you can distract yourself from the actual task at hand. And here's what's gonna happen...

I'm gonna strut on over to you, then I'm gonna smack that stupid mask off of your face. Then, after (shocker!) we find out that the nightmares being concealed under that mask of yours are really just the voices in your demented head fucking with you, I'm gonna walk all over you. I'm going to embarrass you. I'm going to shame you in front of that shit stain apprentice of yours, leaving him questioning why he's wasted his time on you. Then I'm gonna do what I do best.

I'm gonna knock you around the ring for a few minutes, maybe take a breather in between, maybe read a book, maybe send some dick pics to my lady friends on Snapchat...

Jeremy shoots Tony an unapproving stare.

Jeremy: Sir...

Santos: Alright, alright, getting off track.

Anyways!

Nightmare, I'm going to make a mockery of you, is basically what I'm getting at. You want to make an example out of me? You picked the wrong son of a bitch to attempt to make an example out of. Tonight, I won't be able to save you from yourself, but when I drop you with the always graceful Final Destination, then pin you, 1, 2, 3?

I'll smile for you.

Tony blows the camera a kiss before hearing horns blaring directly his way.

Driver: Quit blowing kisses for your boyfriend and get the fuck up the road!

Santos smiles as he hops off of the truck. Tony picks a rock up off the ground and... throws it directly at the man's windshield?? The rock plants itself in the pane of glass but is too small to go through it. However, it does enough damage to leave significant cracks right in front of the man's area of vision.

Santos: I smile for you too, motherfucker! Enjoy the drive!

Jeremy: Thank the Lord I never have to see you again!

Tony and Jeremy quickly jump into the van and speed off... for about 30 feet before hitting more traffic. This was going to be an awkward remainder of a ride...

The scene fades to black.

September 2013 and May 2019 Star of the Month
1x Hart Champion
1x Television Champion
1x Xtreme Champion