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John Brooks · **02-07-2015, 09:26 PM**

As I sat in the front seat of my two thousand thirteen charger listening to Sabbath, I knew it was probably a mistake. All the reviews of shows put on by Heyman were favourable, and I had yet to make a name for myself. But to just show up for a match I wasn't booked in? That was just unheard of. Yes, it may have been ballsy, but would Paul be appreciative of the guts I would show?

I looked over at Saria, my hot, young, blonde wife as she thumbed through the pages of Fifty Shades of Grey. I smirked. "Like it, dear?"

She nods enthusiastically. "Yes..."

"...but?"

She shakes her head. It's great, honey. I just wanted to see the movie is all."

"But movies never do the books justice. Look at Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Great movie but they just left a lot out. Besides, books are good for the mind. It's like exercise for the brain, and you're going to college so it's doubly good. Right?"

She scrunches her nose up thoughtfully. "Oh yeah. You do have a point."

"Of course, we can still go and see the movie. Just right now, I have to focus."

She rolls her eyes at me. "On a rumble match you aren't even booked for?"

Okay. Once again, the truth is that I haven't even contacted Mister Heyman concerning the match. I mean, when you do that, it just ruins the surprise. Not that all those fans are gonna be screaming for me anyway. After all, my place was back in Japan. I musta spent at least eight years over there, and I have won a title here and there. But other than that? No such thing in the states.

I could just wait until Heyman or someone does a "casting call" for the show, but where is the fun in that? People would actually SEE that coming. That's not entertainment. That's not "best for business". I think back to that video uploaded by one Bobby Charles and how he compares Heyman to McMahon. Yes, despite his mispronunciation of Vince's family name, a name that has been spoken trillions of times, I got the drift.

"Johnny? Johnyyyy?" She says as she snaps her fingers in my face. "Are you still with me, honey?"

"Of course I am, Saria. Just thinkin'."

"About what, exactly?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Well I was thinking about all the strange things happening on Warfare. You know, the other white meat. Thinkin' about how I need to be on Madness because I would be a perfect fit there. It's more wrestling related, and you and I both know what I love to do."

"Yes, you love to wrestle. God, the times you've had in the ring."

Armdrag, Hammerlock, Figure Four, Piledriver, you name the move I have learned and some say perfected it. Don't go running to Jerry Lawler or Ric Flair saying that though, because that would be disrespectful. Trust me. I mean no disrespect to anyone, but I am the best damned wrestler on the planet. Not going to say that out loud though.

I was schooled by legends over in the land of the Rising Sun. Men most men in this business hear about, but never have the honor of meeting. These men are the type of mentors that a man wants to make proud, and they were as family to me. I felt myself becoming misty eyed as I reminisced. I swallowed back that nostalgia. "Right, so anyways, I'm gonna go talk to Heyman now."

"Ummm...you just don't go talk to him. I think you need an appointment or something."

"Crap. You're right."

"Well shoot. Of course I am, John! I'm a woman, ain't we always right?"

Maybe. Maybe not. I love my Saria though. I remember the day we met. Tokyo, Japan. Crowded streets. We bumped into one another and the poor girl dropped all of her school books. Being the upstanding young man that I was, I helped her retrieve them. So we decided to have coffee.

We hit it off well. Very well indeed. We talked and talked for hours. She explained that her father had been stationed in Tokyo, and that she was born in Mississippi. Her parents had gotten divorced though, and as soon as those proceedings were finalized she spent the rest of her schooling in Japan. She was studying to become a marine biologist. It sounded boring to me, but you know, love is love.

We had a lot of trouble from her old leatherneck of a dad at first. It took me YEARS to actually gain his respect and blessing. But I did. Low and behold here we are today, married and business partners.

"Do you really think Heyman'll take kindly to ya hijackin' his rumble?"

"Most likely? No. But he'll see the potential and get over it. After all, I've got what it takes. Just need a little backing to get into American wrestling."

Look. I know Paul Heyman must be super busy what with managing Brock Lesnar over in WWE, managing a family life, and booking a whole bloomin' TV show. But I chose him as my promoter. Growing up, in Philly, I would actually go to those shows of his and dream of one day being that man in the ring. Not Mass Transit, mind you. But a Lance Storm. A Raven. A Stevie Richards. Two more of my idols growing up were Shawn Michaels and Bret Hart. I know they had bad blood for a hundred years, but those two knew how to put on a show.

You know, maybe Saria is right. Maybe I should "wait my turn". I didn't sign my contract until after the show was booked after all.

I sigh. "Okay Saria. I think that maybe I should wait. Maybe next Monday would be better, yeah? After all, no sense getting fired for insubordination."

"Oh, I'm not saying you shouldn't pop up an make a name for yourself."

"What are you saying then?"

"I'm just sayin' ya should make it count."

"Make it count...yes..."

She's right ya know. Maybe I should test the waters. Right?

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