NOTE FROM THE EDITOR: Every month, the Columnist of the Month contest is held in the LOP Columns Forum. The winning columnist gets to have one of his columns posted on the main page. This month, it was another annihilation, another first time winner, and yet another Brit. He's been writing for a while and gets better with every column. Please welcome Johnny Boomerang and his Boomerang Prophecies.
THE BOOMERANG PROPHECIES XXIV: IT‘S ALL A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE
Hospital Bedroom, 2 PM, Birmingham, Alabama
EDGE
He was cold. More specifically, his foot was cold. He glared accusingly at the open window, the cold, unappealing weather outside causing a chill breeze to come through, the cause of his troubles. For a moment, his mind was rife with conflict, debating whether to call for assistance and cure his discomfort, or to just ‘suck it up and be a man’. The harsh words of his father reverberated in his head, forcing his hand, keeping him in his perpetual state of unease. Why? Why had this happened now? Things were going so well! He’d just been putting on some really great matches, and had been rewarded with the Unified Tag Team Championships. He’d seen the plans the company had in store for him over the coming months, and they were big. Another title reign, this one lasting upwards of six months, to compliment the face turn he was about to receive. And now it was all gone. The phone call he’d received from Vince McMahon still echoed in his mind, the phrases ‘Disappointment’, ‘Not Young Forever’, ‘Losing Faith’ spinning dizzily round his head. Was he too old for this? He wasn’t as old as Hunter or Batista, but the strain he’d put on his body, especially in his younger years, had taken it’s toll far worse than it had on either of the other two superstars. Could he continue to compete on this level? As these thoughts whirled through his head, his let out a mental scream. After a second, he realised that the scream hadn’t come from his subconscious, it had come from down the hall. His mind began racing: Had someone died? Had a family member just received the bad news? Well the deceased is lucky that there had been someone there for them at all! Who was going to be there for him if something went wrong? His family was all up in Canada, there was no-one to be with him. He was alone. As he sat upright, the door swung open to reveal the arrogant, obnoxious face of a young man, peroxide-blonde hair slicked back as if exiled.
Ziggler strode directly to the side of the bed, his eyes wide and full of the youthful enthusiasm Edge once had, a cocky smile strewn across his face. “Hey, I’m better than you, so I’m glad you got injured, that way I can take your place, and people will get a chance to experience me as a champion!” The arrogance emitting from the young superstar was almost overwhelming. Edge replied honestly and without bias: “You’re not the best superstar around here, so don’t act like it. You’re good, I’ll give you that, but you’re don’t have the mic skills of the Rock, or the in-ring ability of Shawn Michaels, so stop fooling yourself.” Ziggler looked at him for a second, his eyes piercing Edge’s stare, probing his thoughts, sensing his weaknesses. Edge felt naked and defenceless before the cocky figure towering before him. Ziggler stood there for a moment, clearly letting what he’d said sink in. Then, with a sarcastic smile, he turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him. He watched him leave, simultaneously glad to be rid of him and missing his company. It was lonely here in the hospital bedroom, as most of his friends were on the road, he didn’t get many visitors. The door was thrown open, and in walked an irate-looking Chris Jericho.
He lay there, looking at the frustrated superstar. He wondered if it was possible to be more frustrated and full of inner turmoil than Chris. As if cued by that thought, Chris turned to him, a malicious glare in his eyes: “Look, Edge, I know you think you’re unlucky, but you’re just stupid. I’ve been carrying this team ever since we formed, and if it wasn’t for my hard work and dedication, we wouldn’t have lasted one week. Now you’ve forced me to find another partner. Well I’m going to find someone better than you, in every way. You’re just a sycophant, and I pity you.” With that Chris turned and left, leaving him to sit there, counting down the long days until he was able to return. If he was able to return.
Hospital Exterior, 1.50 PM, Birmingham, Alabama
DOLPH ZIGGLER
It was a beautiful day! A cool breeze was blowing outside, and he was feeling particularly cute, in a ruggedly handsome sort-of-way. The world was, as they say, his oyster. He strode through the hospital doors, aware that people were turning to look at him. He’d come to accept it, that was the price for being beautiful. He turned towards the elevators, excited at his prospects. Mr McMahon had been all but bursting to give him the good news, and he’d listened, calmly and politely. It was hard not to just scream with joy, but he’d held his tongue, and politely thanked Mr McMahon, told him he was excited to be given this opportunity. Had anyone ever held the Unified Tag Team Championship belts and the Intercontinental Championship at the same time before? He was a groundbreaker, a trendsetter, and a superstar, all rolled into one. As he exited the elevators, he saw a particularly attractive nurse bending over to pick up some dropped papers. Without a second thought, he strode past her and smacked her ass. She let out a scream, but it was fine, because she wanted him. He could tell from the time she took to actually scream, she’d been flattered but had to hide it. She was teasing. Should he go back? No, there’d be plenty more fish in the sea. He stopped before a door, having arrived at his destination. Looking back the way he’d came, the nurse had vanished, clearly leaving to be with her thoughts of him. As he was about to open the door, he heard the elevators open. He turned to see a familiar face, and gave him a cocky grin. He opened the door and strode in, walking straight to the bed where his injured colleague lay.
As he approached the prone figure of Edge, he smiled a reassuring smile, letting Edge know everything was okay. “I bet you’re sad you’re injured, but hey! At least I’m getting a place on the card, getting some experience, so people can see what I can do as a champion!” Edge looked at him for a second: “You’re the best superstar around here, and I mean you’re good . You’ve got the mic skills of the Rock and the in-ring ability of Shawn Michaels. Don’t let anyone fool you”. He glanced at Edge for a moment, a thankful look in his eyes. Edge seemed so strong in front of him, a figure that wouldn’t lay down and go away, a determined person, ready to overcome another injury. He was impressed with Edge’s resiliency, and it was a trait he saw in himself as well, knowing that he’d be able to survive and grow from any obstacle in his path. After all, of everyone in the Spirit Squad, who was thriving in the WWE? He was. After his pairing with ’Kerwin White’, who was getting title shots, not squashed by midgets? He was. He was a survivor, he was a hero, he was a champion! With one last smile at Edge, he left the room, closing the door behind him.
Awaiting him outside was the figure of Jericho staring at him intently. Does he like me? He thought, the question dancing around his head as he looked about the hallway, hoping for a nurse to excuse himself from the presence of his admirer. Jericho was really staring at him. Working with him in a tag team was going to prove difficult, if this was how he was going to behave. Dolph knew he was beautiful, but still… this was going a bit far. Leaning forward, he tapped Jericho on the shoulder; “Good to see you again, Chris. Look forward to teaming with you, buddy!” With that, he walked off, a hurried skip in his step, hoping to catch the elevator before it closed, exploiting the time he had, using it to his advantage.
Hospital Hallway, 2:00 PM, Birmingham, Alabama
CHRIS JERICHO
The day was as meticulously pathetic as every other. He was waiting to see the gelatinous, so-called ‘superstar’, the fragile, injury-prone excuse for a wrestler. There were a few things he needed to say. That clown Dolph was in there at the moment, so he was waiting, patiently. Unlike others, he knew the value of patience. He wouldn’t rush into situations and get himself injured. He let out a sigh: Edge had really screwed him. He’d been righteously and justly working hard as a champion, but that fool had subjugated himself to another injury, adding to his growing list of shortcomings. Vince had been polite over the phone, but really? Giving him the kid as a partner? He wasn’t a babysitter, he was the greatest superstar in the WWE Universe. He deserved more…
The door opened, and out came the insecure Dolph Ziggler, eyes darting about the place, clearly scared. Jericho kept his gaze on the blonde-haired, wide-eyed starlet, the title giving unearned, undeserved praise to him. “Hey, don’t think you can just come around here, kid. You’re not in our league, so don’t fool yourself into thinking you are. Just because some foolish, ignorant people in management think you’re hot stuff, that doesn’t make you great. Face it, Dolph you’re just a small fish in a big pond, and I’m the shark. I am in a league unprecedented by any other superstar. Let’s run down the list-” Dolph leaned towards him, tapping him on the shoulder; “Great to see you again, Chris. Look forward to tarnishing your legacy by teaming with you!” Dolph turned and walked away towards the elevators, a recalcitrant bounce in his step. Incensed, he stormed into the room, looking at Edge lying prone on the bed.
The pathetic figure was just lying there, feeling sorry for himself, looking for sympathy. Well he wasn’t getting any from him. “Look, Edge, I know you’ve screwed up, and that’s not just unlucky. I’ve been trying to help you since we formed, and through my hard work and dedication, we’ve lasted more than a week. Now you’ve forced me to find another partner. Well I’m going to find someone, but they won’t be on the level I’m on, not in any way. You’re out for a while, and nobody can be with you.” With that, he turned and left, closing the door behind him. The day was still young, and he had a brand to control.
