Never Again. What a Mess.

May 4th

“I think I am losing it,” the distinct voice of Steve Harrison said cloaked in darkness. The small amount of light inside the room was caused by a digital clock that read 2:39 AM in bright red lettering. The drunken yells and laughs could be heard below in the streets of Paris on this early Saturday morning that sees The former Stefan Hariston awake and melancholy.

The sound of a can being crushed in one’s hand is heard.

The moonlight shines a sliver of light into the dark room. The sliver of light lands on a spot where multiple empty crushed beer cans are beginning to pile up.

Clank!

A second can flies in the air and lands with precision and joins its fallen brethren in the moonlight.

“With friends like these, who need enemies,” Steve with a slight slur, grumbles to himself.  Not overly drunk yet as beers don’t quite do the trick for the former Miracle Man like they do for his previous frenemy Cancer Jiles.

GULP

“Like, why the hell did that traitor join a group called eucalyptus. Do they plan on cornering the market for essential oils?”

A small sup from the beer can is heard followed up with a scuffing noise on the floor and then a throat is heard clearing itself.

“I should have force fed him that cowboy hat and watched him choke on all that glitter.”

“Remember, Steve, you should do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” an odd goofy sounding voice says from out of the blue.

Harrison grunts, “how else do you deal with traitors?”

“Why do you consider him a traitor?”

Silence follows the question but the light sound of Harrison gulping his beer again. A sigh follows and the noise of the can being crushed in the hand of the Vendor King of PRIME.

BURP!

“What do you call what he did to my Merch Table?”

“And?”

“Oh, yea…and Jack. Did you see his face? He looks like he was shot with a pellet gun in perfect placement around his face. Friends wouldn’t do that, right?”

“Did you ever try to contact him?”

Smacks on the floor are heard and Steve responds, “out of beer.”

“Ignoring the question will not make it go away, Steve.”

KNOCK KNOCK

‘I’M COMING IN, YOU BETTER BE DECENT!”

The door flies open bringing with it the light from the hallway. The tiny amount is enough for the entering Jack Marley to see the light switch to the left of the entrance. He flips it quickly and then looks towards the patio and sees Steve Harrison sitting on the floor shielding his eyes from the newly lit light with his right hand, his left hand is stationed swiftly behind his back. Three feet away lays the six beers he has drank and thrown towards what once was the only light in the room.

“Why are you sitting on the floor,” the confused tone in Jack's voice sounded more concerned than startled at the situation. He puts a bag down that he had brought with him and slides it away from himself with his right foot.

“I thought it was right to…wait, what is in that bag?”

Jack looks down at the bag he attempted to shield from Steve, his shoulder slump in defeat and he responds, “More beer…”

Steve cuts him off, “then slide those mamajamas towards me.”

Jack shakes his head, “If you would let me finish,” he clears his throat, “I think the last thing you need is more beer, mon. I think you need a trash can, so you clean up,” Jack moves his arms around the hotel room, “everything, mon…everything.”

The IHOPs merchandise that had been ruined by Clay Byrd is scattered in every corner of the room. Just inches away from the Merch Maniac is a shirt, he reaches out to it and grabs it. “You think this is trash?”

Jack nods slowly as he reads the shirt, “you literally just picked up the ‘Conor Fuse is my Hero,’ shirt, boss. I am not sure you could have chosen worse.” Jack ducks as the shirt comes flying at his face from the strong left arm of the IHOPs Creator. “Nice try but I am on full alert after being manhandled by that monster earlier. Speaking of…well…monsters, did I hear you talking to someone before I came in?”

Harrisons right arm still behind his back flexes uncontrollably from that comment as if it was taken by surprise. “NO!”

Jack rolls his eyes, “hmm ok, what’s behind your back then? It better not be more beer and it especially better not be another snow globe.” He grumbles to himself, “nobody cares about the Lego man anyway.”

He grins back at Jack and shrugs his broad shoulders, “nothing, but how’s your face?”

“You know when they say the smell cannot be worse than the pain?”

“Do they…wait, who has ever said that?”

“Well let’s just say that Clay Byrd must rip cans of anchovies open with his bare hands and not wash afterwards.” Marley grimaces as he touches his bruised face and then he stops and leaves his hand there as his mouth opens, “wait a second, are you changing the subject?”

He looks back at Steve to see him tiptoeing towards the bathroom, both of his hands now in front of him out of Jack's view. Of course, Harrison not knowing the hotel room very well (and has a Budweiser Buzz) has instead grabbed the doorknob to the small closet that holds the iron board.

“Ah ha!” Jack grabs the much larger Steve Harrison’s right arm. The Vendor King of PRIME tries to wiggle his arm away from Jack's grasp as he does so his right arm with all his strength breaks free and goes crashing into the iron board and as these things usually go in every cartoon the iron board comes falling down on Harrison’s head.

Steve stumbles backwards and falls back to the floor. While doing so something flies from his hand and lands to the left of Jack Marley. The former marijuana maestro stares at the floor and starts laughing so hard tears start forming in his eyes.

The laugh struggle is real at this moment.

He gives himself some time to compose himself and wipes his eyes. With everything now quiet and his eyes dry, he bends down and picks it up.

Jack goes to comment about the newly found Donkey Puppet but notices that Steve Harrison has passed out on the floor with part of the Iron Board still on top of him.

A snore follows.

“Oh, for Christs…” he pauses his comment as he looks at the smiling puppet, it stares back at him with its smile and judging eyes, “nevermind.”

Jack Marley takes a deep breath and walks into an adjacent room. He comes out seconds later with a blanket in his hands. He moves the iron board to the side and then tosses the blanket on top of the snoring Steve Harrison. He finishes by gently putting the puppet to the side of him.

He walks around the Hotel Living Room and begins to clean up the mess. Minutes go by with Jack cleaning the beer cans and the ruined IHOPs merchandise until he finally gives himself a break. He sits down on the comfy chair that is stationed near the patio in the living room and watches as Steve mumbles to himself and turns over.

“See…this time I am going to be helpful,” Jack says as his head bobs up and down followed by his eyes closing.

–

Jack was jolted awake by the screeching sounds of his IPhones Alarm going off at top volume inside his pocket. “Huh…what?” Jack opened his eyes in complete confusion, he looked around and then finally grabbed his phone from his pocket and turned the alarm off. He looked at the time it read 7:05AM, “I guess I fell asleep.”

“UGH.”

Marley looked over at Steve. He was awake as well and holding his head with his right hand and holding the puppet in his left hand with his face red in embarrassment. “Making new friends is great,” Jack says with a smirk on his face.

Harrison moves his head sharply towards Jack, “This isn't…”

Marley nods, “I know, it isn't what it looks like,” he chuckles, “but you are definitely holding a puppet.”

Harrison grunts and throws the puppet at Jack, “this puppet is your fault. You wanted to get to Europe on the USS Octane. In a crate. With the unused puppets of Don Winters.”

Jack picks the puppet up and brushes any dust that could have gotten on it. Still smiling he responds to his boss, “nobody made you talk to him and give him his own voice may I add. Nobody made you drink beer and then get knocked out by an iron board either.” Jack looks back at the puppet and sees the tag on the Donkey Puppet and then says out loud, “do unto others as you would have them do unto you Donkey. Hmm…pretty long name no wonder he was forgotten about—until he met you that is!”

More Laughter.

Towards Harrison.

By Jack Marley.

Man, things have changed.

Harrison sits up and rubs his eyes, he groans loud and long at the situation he has helped create that only made him look like a clown. He follows up his pity thoughts with a massage of his headache that is throbbing behind his bloodshot eyes. “I am never doing this again.”

Doing what exactly was not relayed by Steve but we can probably rest assured that he will not be getting drunk and making a fool of himself again.

Well…at least not with a Donkey Puppet.

Right?

Oh please make this not be a lie.

–

Elsewhere

May 5th, 2024

“Look at this.”

“Hah, did he really think we didn't know what he was doing?”

“It would seem he thinks too highly of himself…still.”

“What was this woman supposed to do for him?”

“Well, he does know that you won't just torture and dispose of a woman.”

“She doesn't even know anything. She just came and gave us a fraction of the money he owes us.”

“We can at least put her to work.”

“Legally.”

“Of course, a contract signed is a contract enforced.”

“Send him a friendly reminder and keep searching for what started this all. If we can find it he will have no other options but either pay, do what we say, or well…you know.”

“On it.”

–

May 17th

11:15 PM

“Never again.”

“Never again.”

Jack Marley continually echoes these words towards his boss: Steve Harrison. Steve Harrison lies on top of a bed in the Zenith Strasbourg onsite health clinic. Harrisons shirt is ripped and an ice pack on his face begins to slip off to show a right eye that is becoming swollen. Jack leans against the wall and finally stops repeating when the nurse gives him a french side eye that could make Vickie Hall shut up. (Probably…definitely an exaggeration).

“Hé should bé fine, just mak sure 'é gets zum rést,” the venue nurse says to the now silent Jack Marley.

Jack nods slowly and then quietly says, “any suggestions on a quick hangover cure?”

She rolls her eyes, “Cassoulet.”

Marley blinks…

…Blinks…

…Blinks…

“And. I. Get. That. Where?”

The nurse scoffs at Jack like only a French woman can when surrounded by Americans and turns around and walks to her desk. She turns around with two cups in her hands and puts them down on the table next to the bed Harrison is lying in. “Just tak zis.”

“Is that the casserole? I have always loved the Tuna kind with the onion straws on top of them. It always gave it a great crunch.”

The nurse grumbles and points at the cups, “Oui, ai put a cassairule een a cup...no you idiot, eet eez coffee,” oh a wonderfully snarky french comment ends it as she just walks out of the door.

The Marley Man watches as she exits, “see ya.” He walks to the cups and looks down and can smell the coffee, “oh…coffee, guess that makes more sense than a Tuna Casserole.”

The Man who lost all the Miracles grunts and moves to his side. His eyes open slowly, and he stares directly into the coffee cups and Jack's nose which is eye level smelling the French roast. “Ooooooooof, everything hurts.”

Marley takes a step back started by Steve talking. He composes himself and then looks down at Steve who is now staring at the ceiling with both hands on his beautiful bald head. “Just wait till you see what t-shirt you are wearing.”

Harrison slowly sits up and then looks at the shirt and unfortunately the rips are not ruining any of the text. He begins to chuckle softly to himself and then holds his head because of an obvious headache. “Of course…of course…of course.”

“Uh, are you ok, boss mon?”

Steve turns his head towards Jack.  It cracks as it moves but Steve completely ignores it, seemingly accustomed to something not working correctly. Jack hears it and winces and then winces again when he sees the incredibly creepy smirk on Steve's face. “Just need a little hair of the frog.”

“Dog.”

“When in France, Jack!” Harrison grabs the two COFFEE cups and cheers them together and then…

SPLISH SPLASH, Harrison was taking a hot coffee bath!

“DAMMIT!”

“HOT, HOT, HOT…UGH MY HEADACHE TOO!”

Coffee spills over Steve and all over the floor because for some reason he did not smell the coffee or notice it was not beer. Jack Marley was once the person this would have happened to but now he is witnessing it. For now all he could do was squint in thought at how to respond. He takes a deep breath.

“What the hell is going on, Steve?”

The Merch Marvel rolls off the bed drenched in coffee. He puts one foot before the other and then puts his arms out to balance himself. He leans against the bed and pulls his cell phone from his pocket. He unlocks it and then pushes some buttons and throws the phone to Jack. Marley fumbles with it but holds on to it enough for it not to shatter on the floor and drown in coffee. He looks at the phone and his eyes get big in surprise. “OH…this isn't good.”

Harrison slowly nods, “sooooo yea…how about replacing the spilled coffee with some nice cold beers. Where are we anyway?”

“They have stopped serving beers because we are literally the last people in the venue.”

“What concert did we see?”

Jack shakes his head, “we are at the wrestling venue where PRIME just had a show. You know when I was in NA they…”

“For weed.”

Jack flashes an annoyed look at Steve which is really starting to flip the universe on its head. He clears his voice, “anyway…we were always told to look for triggers that make us spiral and go down the dark hole again.”

Harrison laughs, “for weed.”

‘YES, STEVE, FOR WEED, DO YOU HAVE ANY MORE JOKES?!?!”

Steve takes a small metal case out of his pocket and opens it up. The smell coming from it is intense as Harrison grabs what is obviously a joint from the case. He pats his other pockets and then looks back at Marley. “You got a light?”

The anger continues to boil as Steve continues to make fun of Jack's rehab. Marley clenches his hands into fists. His face begins to get as red as his hands are, “No and fuck you, Steve. I know it seems everything is lost again but what you are doing is making it all worse. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?”

Pause.

“Have you heard yourself the past few weeks?”

Pause.

“You did it again, Steve, you lied to yourself and WE are both supposed to rely on you wrestling again?”

Pause.

“When was the last time you even worked out?”

Pause.

“How about running a mile? Lift a goddamn weight?”

Pause

“Get it together or spiral yourself to death. I don't want to see that so when you have smartened up, I will see you at the Hotel.”

Jack furiously walks out of the room and slams the door. Harrison who after each line Jack made had his smile get smaller and smaller is now just frowning as he cringes at the sound of the door slamming. His hands begin to both shake uncontrollably. His palms are both cut in different places from the wood that was broken when he went through the Merch Table face up and he places them both on his forehead and covers his eyes.

He mumbles, “I don't need…wait do I need—him?”

–

I was never much of a beer fan…

…I'm still not.

The meddlesome thoughts that took over my mind when Clay Byrd decided to finally say hi to me left me reaching for something…maybe anything…to help me cope or forget what had occurred between us.

Now look at me now!

I have bruises all over my body for doing a belly flop through my own Merch Table.

On Camera.

In front of tons of people.

During an interview with Simon.

The Jeffersons had it right: I sure am moving on up.

I mean, Jack said I am spiraling and spirals go up as well, right?

RIGHT?!?!

I never thought a time would come where Jack Marley lets me have it and the only response I have is to say nothing. What should I say? That I was not spiraling, this is just a one night thing just a few weeks after I did the same thing and promised it would never happen again. That doesn't work on the clean and sober Jack Marley. I would say that's unfortunate but the way things are going I think I need someone with some sort of clarity.

But yea…wrestling.

Have I worked out? No Comment.

How's my cardio? Again, no comment.

My opponent should fully understand my predicament because I am also self-destructive and an underachiever. I wished and wanted that to change and when I finally thought I had overcome that mountain, right behind it was an even larger mountain and instead of trying to climb it I quit and took my sherpa and disappeared to Canada.

I have memories of being an unstoppable machine and I also have memories of losing every big match I had. PRIME is Sean O’Neill's last stand before he gives up and returns to Japan for his retirement tour. To me PRIME is my only option. I cannot work the Merch Stand unless I wrestle.

I suppose what I mean to say: is that I have to wrestle because I have nothing else to offer right now. I need money. I need to protect those that I hold dear and if I have to do this for SOMEONE else then…fuck it…I’m back.

You might think I am an easy win.

Haven't wrestled in fifteen months.

Been living in a beer can for the past month.

The truth is, I probably am. When I think about that, something stirs inside me. Something I tried to escape from. Something Clay Byrd wishes to wake up from its dormant state. Something Lindsey Troy knows firsthand. Something that would have no issue going into a back alley with Max Kael.

I don't have any options left, Sean. Regardless of where my mind is I will never have a problem with kneeing a neck or kicking a shin to get ahead, in what I have to believe is my last chance in this industry.

I didn't make it to Spain to close my eyes to the reality around me. I am here to win.

I am here to WIN.

I AM HERE TO WIN!

The more I say it the more I come to believe it and if I spiral back to enjoying watching people bleed then so be it. I always have tomorrow to apologize… to those who matter.

You don't matter.

I will never be sorry, and I don't think you would want it any other way. But who am I kidding, heh-heh, it's hard for me to control anything these days. Miracles are something I need to grab again, and I might just not care when the stirring takes over if I am seeing my dreams being accomplished.

My next drink will be in celebration of my first victory, Sean. I will make it a classy drink and I will cheers you falling back into obscurity just two months after being part of the winning War Games team. You need to take advantage of momentum so thank you for giving me what little you have left.

Good luck.

I will let my Soulshine.