"Heaven send Hell away, no one sings like you anymore." - Chris Cornell

I walk down the sidewalk and away from Steve and the camera man. As I look to my left hand to make out why it's still clenched, I see that I walked off with the microphone in hand. Well, this is really awkward. I stand there, in the middle of the sidewalk contemplating which would be weirder, keeping it, or giving it back? Looking back, I see Steve and the camera man still staring at me. Fuck it, I'm going to keep this thing.

This is the first time I realize just how angry I not only sounded during that interview, but how angry I actually was. Maybe dealing with an idiotic interviewer lit a fire under my ass or something, I don't know. One thing's for sure, I kinda like that attitude I gave him and my opponents. It surely wasn't the stupidest thing I've done, I'm pretty sure joining the XWF in the first place still has that one in the bag...

As I walk down the sidewalk and look at every person who passes me, I notice that apparently a girl who looks she's still stuck in the mid 1990's carrying a microphone walking down the street isn't out of place in the slightest. Only in Seattle. A man standing against the wall of an adjacent building waves me over, and foolishly I oblige.

"Hey honey, wanna come back to my place?"

He tries his hardest to look like a suave son of a bitch, which contrasts with his obnoxiously high pitched voice. Puberty, he's doing it way wrong. I look down at my hand and place the microphone to my lips before answering his stupid request.

"This is Jessica Diaz with KIRO TV, live with a report on registered sex offenders' view on life out of prison! We've found our first, let's hear his thoughts!"

Before I even stick the microphone out to a position where he can speak into it, the man's gone. Darting off into the stream of pedestrians, looking like a chicked with his head cut off. I look back over at Sayors and the camera man, who are barely visible at this point. Stevie seems to be clutching his ear, I guess this little piece of equipment's hooked up to that stupid earpiece somehow...

This kinda bitchy attitude is actually pretty fun, the more that I think about it. I've thought things like this for a really long time, and somehow becoming a professional wrestler and being interviewed by whatever the fuck his name was really transformed me. No, not really, but what better way to have some kind of edge to me than to have a "Don't fuck with me" vibe? I should probably get home, before that interviewer starts following me...

I can't help but laugh at the thought of me being intimidated by that guy, I'm pretty sure most of the things I said about him were dead on. As I continue walking down the street, I start to focus on the people I'm passing. How I don't know or recognize any of them, yet there's a possibility that after Monday, there's probably a good few who'll recognize me and know who I am. It's kind of a scary thought, the more that i think about it. An arena full of people, not to mention who knows how many people watching at home knowing enough about you to dig every piece of your personal life. Is it too late to back out?

No, I have to do this! I've backed out of too many things in fear of failing that I never knew if I'd be successful. Not this one, and not any time after! I owe this to myself, to not go back and work three part time jobs to make a living.

The mental debate seemed to have taken me out of focusing on where I was going, because somehow I made it back to my place without realizing it. Walking through the door, I reach in my back pocket for the keys. Here we are, apartment #106, the place I've called home for five years. I jam the key into the lock and turn it, pushing the door open simultaneously.

Stepping into the small, one bedroom apartment, I notice how much of a rush I left in prior. The notebook I was writing in was sitting on the table, out in the open. That's just asking for Anna to read it. Note to self, don't let it slip that you live with another girl in a one bedroom apartment, that's kinda asking to be stalked...

Quickly, I grab the notebook and shove it into my drawer. That ought to be enough to keep her from snooping into my personal affairs.

Fuck it, she's not going to be off work for at least a few more hours. I take the notebook out of the drawer again and open it to the page I was writing on before I left. Reading through it, I can barely make out the last bit. Oh well, it probably wasn't important anyway. I walk out of the bedroom and back to the table, picking the pen up to continue where I think I left off at.

So, I think the interview was a success, in some weird sense. I managed to piss off the interviewer and tried my hardest to sound threatening despite the fact that I look like the least intimidating person in the world.

What comes next? No seriously, I feel as though I should be doing something else toward preparing for this match. It is my debut after all, I kinda wanna look like I have some clue of what the fuck I'm doing.

Wait, I know! I'll see if anyone else has said anything about my match! I mean, with seven other people involved, there should be at least something that someone said...

Luckily, the computer's official resting location is on the table. I reach over and pull it toward me. The XWF website should probably be airing whatever things people have said about the match, right?

Ah, that Hunter Payne guy has his own podcast and is talking about our match! This should be interesting...


Well, I couldn't have been more wrong in assessment that this was going to be interesting. I think I might have fallen asleep at some point during that, but I'm not sure. Oh well, I think I retained enough information to formulate some kind of response...

Oh look, this laptop has a webcam. I was going to write a fucking letter, but this seems much more fun! Turning on the webcam, and setting it to record, time to see if I can have that same attitude as earlier. Let's go!

"Hi Hunter! I saw the podcast you put up and I think you might've broken a record there! The longest time in which someone can speak without making a single point!"

Yeah, start it off with an insult! Now to keep this going long enough to not fall into the same hole he did.

"I mean come on, subjecting us to your annoying fucking girlfriend while you two play twenty fucking questions on camera? I think you're breaking the Geneva Convention's laws on cruel and unusual forms of punishment. Even going so far as to, as you so eloquently put it 'skip the rookies because who cares about them?' Because it's so smart to not focus on your opponents, y'know, the ones who are going to grind your ass to dust faster than it takes your girl to fake an orgasm? Yeah, let's focus on everything else under the fucking sun, because that's the perfect course of action!"

Sheesh, that came out a lot harsher than I expected! How am I supposed to follow that one up?

"Throwing out a bunch of loose terms that neither of you could probably spell correctly, let alone properly define in one word. What are you, an unlicensed psychiatrist or a boring professional wrestler? What's next, are you going to ask her which Rorschach test picture looks the most like which of your opponents? How her childhood experiences relate to the pro wrestling business? Wait a minute folks, I think I may have just spoiled future episodes of the podcast! Whoops!"

Damn! Maybe I should tone it down...

Then again, maybe I shouldn't...

"How about we talk about what's going to happen in that ring, you know, the place where it matters. Let's talk about how I'm going to pick you apart, limb from limb, while you struggle to get out of the gates. Like how I'm going to snap your ankles as if they were twigs, tear your ligaments like they were pieces of paper, beat the fucking taste out of your mouth. How I'm going to make you into a glorified punching bag."

Woah, this is getting pretty intense. I may have to tone it down a bit.

"Alas, there isn't enough time to do all that at once. So I'm just to have to pick one thing to go after. I did already make a pretty good case about your arms, so I may just stick with that. However, maybe a few kicks to the head will make you interesting to listen to. Either way, it would be embarrassing to lose in pretty convincing fashion to the team of rookies that you didn't think anything of, am I right?"

Oh snap! I think I may have just turned his little insult around back at him! I'm actually pretty good at this whole talking part. Then again, I've always had a big mouth, it just used to say much friendlier, and less vulgar things. Oh well...

"And because that was the worst catchphrase ever. Of all time. I decided to take it upon myself to think of something much more suitable. Oh wait, that actually is suitable for the worst podcast ever. Of all time. Fuck, at least you did something right."

Stop recording. I take the video file and send it in to the XWF website. Here's hoping this is actually halfway decent...