Finale.

[Logan]

Finale.
Introduction

Logan: The best feeling in the world? It's the second after you find out what match you've been booked in and the second before you go out onto the stage to let everyone watch you work.

The reminiscence of a past promo raddled televisions with a single line before freezing on those words and then shattering them with signs of new unfamiliar life. A home grown star true to not only himself, but the viewers hearts, graces their living room entertainment once again. Logan. He's put himself in yet another memorable situation; teaching a class room of young prospective future wrestlers. His lessons do not involve wrist locks or arm drags, the learning experience will be more focused with the ideology of tight wearing sailor mouth'd grown men and women.

Logan: Three quarters of you aren't going to understand the following--

Standing front center to the packed standing room of ambitious youngsters with hopes and dreams, Logan held up a hand and counted off fingers.

Logan: --obsessive shouts of SHUT UP!, often references to a fictional city named Connector, random insults with an unknown word, and the importance of no matter what you say.. I won't care. However, I promise by the end of the day, no matter how many sexual jokes made about your anus, we'll all be a little closer.

The Face of Treachery drums his stomach whilst letting out a subtle yawn to the audience of staring lost faces.

Logan: Any questions?

Finale.
None of The Above

On the corrupted soil of Reading, PA stands the headquarters of Wrestling Championship Federation. Bound by concrete, sealed with lies and deceit, and presumably built on ritual Indian burial. Inside.. an interview takes place.

Hank Brown: The past month has inevitably been one of the worst for you. First, the most prized position in your list of treasures this year, the United States title, became a victim of Jay Price’s thievery.. then your off and on former love interest, Shannan Lerch. I mean, wow, Logan, how are you feeling?

Standing next to Brown, the superstars facial expression differs dramatically in comparison. He doesn’t appear to be alive and functioning like Hank, separating the two, making the difference is; Hank Brown woke up this morning, kissed his wife, ate his favorite bowl of cereal, left his house with a smile and skipped off to work. The exact opposite was done on Logan’s part. This result provides a cold emptiness to him, nothing saddening or depressing, just someone who is empty with every feeling and is only left with a volcano of rage that’s dying to erupt.

Hank Brown: Logan?

His eyes give their first movement, cornering to Hank.

Logan: One second.

The silent coldness peaks. Remaining unresponsive, Logan burns a hole into the floor with his eyes, aching strains of built up anger swelling his brain. His thoughts are painful, unbearable. It’s too much for one man to swallow, he can’t take it anymore. The painted drywall behind Logan hollows in after a stiff shove of his fist. Hank’s reaction is obviously something of surprise to the unpredicted sign of violent life just shown. His shinned knuckled fist recoils from the wall like a rattle snake and falls back limp to his side, Hank pursues the idea of an interview despite the superstars emotional status.

Hank Brown: I’m sorry.. Logan. You loved her, didn’t you?

Sighing, Logan folds his arms together, embracing the question.

Logan: ….yes.

Brown urges on, digging deeper into the discussion for the sole purpose of television ratings and pay-per-view hype.

Hank Brown: Do you believe defeating Jay Price will lead her back to you?

Logan: Huh..? I don’t want her back. And, really, we weren’t a couple to begin with. You’re mistaking this, it’s different. Shannan was my little guardian angel of the ring. For the last ten years.. no matter what I did, said, hurt, or joy’d, she accepted me for it.. she loved me for it and I felt the same in return. Through the rough and the good, a barrier never lied between us. Now, however, that barrier is broke.. and.. she’s betrayed me. Most guys can act tough and say it doesn’t hurt when another person, or a woman you had affection for turns your back on you, but, honestly.. it does hurt you, especially when you realize ten years of memories is all you’ll ever have to revisit and that future memories.. well, they’re already gone.

Hank Brown: But—maybe by beating Price she might realize she’s at fault?

Logan: I.. I.. don’t know.

Hank Brown: Do you have to beat Jay Price?

He answers after a brief pause.

Logan: No, he has to beat me. Other than the satisfaction of revenge I have no real benefits of defeating Jay Price.

Hank Brown: Do you want to beat Jay Price?

Logan: More than anything…

Finale.
Woo0o0o0oooo000ooo!

Peterson: This is my jam!

”She’s a Saint, Not a Celebrity” sounded the corner of 12th and East, the music blaring the streets that surrounded the punk bar. Peterson, along with his two friends, Dud and Shannon, immediately dropped positions off the bar stools, hitting their feet center room. The scenery of 12th and East and the people who populated it were all of the same association, however, everything was cut of two, divided. Other than the music playing, everything was spilt. Half of the bar table built in cheap pinewood colored with black spray paint while the other half laid in expensive cherry stained oak. The walls met half way points before breaking off into different textures and colors, along with the floors, the drinks served, and even the line separating the different worlds that ran through the middle of the dance floor. The punks of the same breed respectively partied on their sides. That line divided them on so many levels. A light world and dark world, only of the same Hell. Peterson and his friends always stayed true to the more disgruntled poorly built less expensive side of the bar, the side that brought fond memories of sweaty drunk public corner sex and dancing on sticky beer vomit reeked broken down tables. Arms were thrown, legs were kicked, bodies were jerked, Peterson and his friends danced the night away in their own fashion. The scene would be absolutely chaotic to the sight of any ‘outsider’, but here, for them, bloody noses and bruises came hand in hand with laughs and smiles. Dud made things happen with ”She’s a Saint, Not a Celebrity”, thudding one of many head bangs and elbow thrusts that would mistakenly catch the jaw of Peterson or the boob of Shannan from time to time. Anger was never a reaction in part to these unfortunate dance moves and it’s mistakes. The jerk of a elbow hitting another jaw only fueled the night to make it that much more worth while. The trio formed their own circle, as usual, standing the ground that unnatural bodily movements stomped upon. The barbarian acts would soon fade, as promised, with the cue of the bars slow dancer classic, ”Red Tide”. Dud and Shannon fell into each other and stuck like glue, swaying with embrace in personal tribute for the slow song. Both of their mouths resting next to one another’s ears.

Shannon: Pretty sore. I got my clit pierced last night.

The jaw of Dud’s mouth dropped before falling off Shannon’s shoulder. His eyes, filled with genuine shock, locked and stapled with hers.

Dud: You know we never say a word during Red Tide

She chewed on the bottom part of her lip, implying hesitation.

Shannon: …but.. the other side does..

Dud: Which is why we stay on this side. We enjoy ourselves. Everyone should shut the fuck up during Red Tide and we do!

Trying to forget this conversation ever took place, Shannon fell back into Dud and clinched him to finish the special dance. However, he couldn’t forget, so, he pushed her away.. so far away.. that she stumbled backwards across the line that separated everything.

Dud: ..Shannon.

With wide eyes, she soared her eyes down to her feet then up over herself and her own hands, as if she had just been transformed. The other side of the room noticed her accidental betrayal and the members of such did a heart staking act by accepting her, welcoming her. Dud stood speechless and watched as she embraced the welcome, turning her back on the side that taught her how to live, raised her. Before disappearing into the once crowd of enemies, she turned to Dud, cocking her head, and flipping him the bird. ”Red Tide” faded.

Finale.
The Coffee Table Law

The duo sit down in a small diner, each on either side of a table, displaying a scene heavily inspired by Seinfeld.

Joe Smith: You’re just coming out, about to hit the ramp, you turn your head, look at her, and she flips you the bird?

Logan: Flips me the bird.

Joe Smith: Who flips the bird?

Logan: Shannon flips the bird.

Joe Smith: Ya’ know, you don’t see that anymore, it’s almost like flipping the bird went out of style.

Logan: Not for Shannon.

Joe Smith: Don’t you realize the importance of this?

Logan: She broke up with me and later recognized so by flipping me the bird?

Joe Smith: No! She’s brought it back! It’s back! What’s her number?

Logan: Why do you want her number? Obviously, she isn’t single right now.

Joe Smith: I need to call and thank her.

Logan: You’re going to thank her for flipping me the bird?

Joe Smith: Damn right! And to show further support, I’m going to help her bring it back!

A child and her Mother, whom have just ate and paid, are on their way out of the diner. The pass the table of Logan and Joe, where Joe, meets their exit by flipping the bird and waving his hand at them with a smile. The Mother covers her child’s eyes and scoots herself out of the shop in disgust. Logan simply stares at Joe.

Logan: And you wonder why flipping the bird isn’t in style.

Joe Smith: Not everyone likes it. It’s a love it or hate it type of trend.

Logan: Almost like lemon pie.

Joe Smith: Exactly!

Logan: There’s no in-between with lemon pie.

Joe Smith: Speaking of which, did you know, that in Alaska, they melt cheese on lemon pie?

Logan: Alaska is definitely the only ones that are in-between.

Joe Smith: Indeed.. pie-sexual. I’ve seen it before, in England.

Logan: Pie-sexual?

Joe Smith: Their in-between, like bi-sexual, can’t pick a side.

Logan: I think I may have dated a pie-sexual once.

Joe Smith: How’d that go?

Logan: She didn’t like to hear shut up all the time.. so..

Joe Smith: You know who makes good pies and goes under the radar?

Logan: Who?

Joe Smith: The Greeks.

Logan: The Greeks?

Joe Smith: Yes, the Greeks. They had that little pie shop next to that weird bar on 12th and East.

Logan: Wasn’t that placed burned down?

Joe Smith: Yeah! They found hotdog’s on the scene of the crime.

Logan: Well.. it wasn’t me. I have nothing against Greeks or pies.

Joe Smith: H’m..

Logan: H’m..

Joe Smith: Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.. are you the Hotdog Mascot?

Logan: Me? No!

Joe Smith: Because if you’ve kept it a secret from me this whole time, bravo!

Logan: It’s not me! I know I had that little phase with hotdog’s awhile ago but that’s over with now.

Joe Smith: Then who is he?

Logan: A stalker.. I assume?

Joe Smith: I once had a stalker.

Logan: Oh?

Joe Smith: Rick West.

Logan: That was the guy who cut your hair, he never stalked you.

Joe Smith: You don’t know that, Logan! He never threw my hair away, he kept it locked up in little bags in the backroom.

Logan: You don’t know that.

Joe Smith: We should pay him a visit and flip him in the bird.

Logan: I’m staying away from the ‘flipping the bird’ trend.

Joe Smith: Logan, if you don’t get on this train now you’ll be left behind!

Logan: M’m.. you know who I wouldn’t mind flipping the bird to?

Joe Smith: Who?!

Logan: The owner of this diner.

Joe Smith: I own this diner.

Logan: Indeed. When are you going name it anyway?

Joe Smith: Well, I like ‘diner’..

Logan: It’s gotta have a name.

Joe Smith: ..doesn’t have to.

Logan: How about, ‘Flips’?

Joe Smith: ‘Flips’?

Logan: Yeah, you could greet people by flipping them the bird.

Joe Smith: Genius! I’d be able to take this thing to the top doing that.

Logan: You gotta do whatcha gotta do if you want to get to the top, indeed.

Joe Smith: Yeah! And.. I’d ban pie-sexua’s.

Logan: Why ban the pie-sexuals?

Joe Smith: My place doesn’t need any confusion. You either want to come in and eat my lemon pie or you don’t.

Logan: I have a feeling you aren’t going to be selling much lemon pie.

Joe Smith: Well, it’s long as no one tries to burn my place down like they did with the Greeks.

Logan: M’m..

Joe Smith: You burned down that place didn’t you?

Logan: ..no. But, I wish I would’ve the way you keep going on about it.

Joe Smith: The hotdog’s at the scene, Greeks, you don’t like Greeks, you like hotdog’s.. it adds up.

Logan: When did I say I didn’t like Greeks?

Joe Smith: You son of a bitch! You’re banned.

Logan: Banned?

Joe Smith: No lemon pie for you!

Logan: ..but, I’m not a pie-sexual!

The scene fades as the two continue to argue.

Finale.
I Can See The Ledge Now

A eerie dark room greeted with haunting sadness shelters the head of a desperate man. He lies among his bedroom kingdom, lamps unplugged, sheets draping the windows to block out any rays of light. The destroyed individual jabs his fingers into the only source of life; a stereo. ”Dark Side of Night” plays expectedly on repeat to his only lonesome pleasure. Soaked into his bed, afraid to move, hoping to avoid another massacre of his heart.. Logan, emotionally, dies.

The secret chasm
hole in my heart
Fire's raging on us
burning like a scar

[/blockquote]

The vocals thrive Logan’s current state of mind. They also deepen his sadness even further, engulfing his eyeballs with tears that’ll eventually wet his cheeks. The picture of a woman, appearing to be Shannan Lerch, along side with him, rests on his chest and beneath his hands. Clinging the picture to his aching heart, he rolls over onto his side and buries his face into the pillow. The tears slowly begin to stop coming, his eyelids, soaked from tears, finally dry out and seal shut. Logan, despite being in pain from a love bullet to the heart, finds it in his helpless soul to sleep and.. dream.

Made of flesh and blood
My soul's made of stone
My flame is burning out now
Darkness, nightmares, alone

[/blockquote]

Plunging his ear drums, the lyrics fuel with more heat, following him to sleep into his dreams. He dreams of the one pulling the strings to his hearts misery; Shannan Lerch. She’s forty-stories up, on a ledge, and in distress. Only he can save her. She calls out his name and he knows it sounds familiar, it’s only when he turns the corner of the buildings ledge does he fully recognize who needs his help. She’s in tears, her back clinged to the edge of the building, her feet cemented into the ledge. He lets her know it’ll be okay, that he’s coming, that everything will be alright. She takes in his courage.. all of it, and she loves every hair on his body because of it. And rather he makes it to her in time or not, she’ll always love him for trying to rescue her.

There's a rain tonight
Falling from the sky
There's a liar's moon tonight
The dark side of night

[/blockquote]

Despite the extreme height, they never break eye contact. He shuffles his feet side by side, getting closer to her, closer and closer to rescuing his ‘princess’. She pleads with him to hurry, that the clock is ticking, he may be too late. But, he knows he can save her, he has to, it’s what she’d do for him. She’d stand by his side, even in death. One more step. Ther—no? He loses his footing. No more balance. He’s not going to be able to save her, but, that’s okay.. because she’ll still love him for it. He falls backwards, Shannan and the ledge slipping away from his vision. He knew she should’ve still loved him. He fell into empty air, his hands out stretched, watching his love drift away from sight. Before he hits the ground, before everything ends, she flips him the bird, she betrays him during his last breath.