“I didn’t do it.”

I begged and I pleaded with the two officers, attempting desperately to convince them that I wasn’t the one who attacked Jack last night. Why couldn’t they just believe? I know I was blind drunk, but for god sake, even when I am drunk I would never even think of attacking my best friend. I think.

“I’m sorry Mr. Jenkins, but your words are simply not enough for us to not take you down to the station. I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us. We will take you down to the police station, where you shall be arrested initially for Actual Bodily Harm.”

As they spoke to me, I stayed calm and cool, not moving a muscle. But inside I was drowning in my own pity, screaming for escape. As they dragged me to the outside of the house, I turned around to face Julie and my nephew Bradley, unable to bear what I had done to them. I had brought so much shame on them, even my family. Everybody. Surprisingly, this is the first time I’ve ever been arrested.

As I was finally torn away from the front door, I realised something. I absolutely NEED to get to Meltdown. I need to be able to face Brian Calvin, for my own good. Oh god, please let me be released.

Please.
-------------------------------------------------

“Mr. Jenkins, will you please stop shuffling, we don’t want to damage the leather that we can afford, considering we are overpaid professional wrestlers!”

And, for some incredible reason, the two cops started laughing at me, spitting their vulgar saliva into my face as if the driving officer just made the funniest joke of all time. Imbeciles.

“Ooh, hilarious. Have you ever thought about sending your material into any magazines?” I replied a bit sarcastically, I’ll admit, but when you’re as pi**ed off as I was at that moment, you’ll understand why I was so harsh to a bloody police officer.

“Ya know Actual Bodily Harm can get you some sort of sentence in prison.”

This time, I was smart enough to just look him in the eye and scowl. I thought of him as scum as I did the previous moment, but he’s a police officer, he has the authority to send me into the cooler if I wasn’t careful. I do find it despicable how just because a man is wearing a certain uniform he has the power to imprison you, but that’s just the way life is, and you have to go along with it or suffer the dire consequences.

The police van stopped outside a murky looking building on West Avenue, dirt was all over the walls, moss hanging from the inside of the bricks and the front door as dusty as anything can possibly be. The law has really stooped down to an all time low on this one, I have to say.

“Here we are. Not Buckingham Palace, but it’ll have to do for you, Mr. Big Shot. Got it? Get it? Good.”

I stepped out of the car, refusing to be manhandled by the officer, and walked to the front door, looking willing to do so. The two officers straggled behind me, funnily struggling to keep up. I opened the door, and confidently walked inside. Before the officers had a chance to catch me up, I noticed that nobody was at the front desk. I also noticed a small bell at the edge of the desk, and I did what I thought was right.

DING! DING! DING! DING! DING!

No answer came, and the officers were at the entrance to the station. Isn’t public service amazing these days?

DING! DING! DI-

“Cut it, wiseass! I’m the front receptionist here. We’re low on staff, you see. We don’t have billions of money like you do.”

I found this comment very offensive. I work very hard for the money I earn, and I’ll be damn sure to get to Meltdown next week and do the same. Anyway, a billion pounds is just a bit of an overstatement.

“Okay, officers. [Serious tone of voice] Cut the chit-chat. I’m obviously going to be sleeping in one of these cell-things tonight anyway, so just give me one to sleep in and I won’t bother you. Although a doughnut sounds good, I know you guys have a lot of those hanging around here.”

And, I’m pretty sure they found that comment pretty offensive too. I’m glad, I’ve been waiting to insult them successfully for what seems like an eternity now. They handed me a card key, and told me to go to Cell 3. They said I’d be spending tonight in there, and my case would appear in court as soon as is possible, assuming that this Jack presses charges.

“But you don’t even know I did it!” I felt confident that this would stop me spending the night in jail. Boy was I wrong.

“Oh yes we do, sonny boy. CCTV shows that it was you after he dropped a beer bottle on your foot. You can have a look at the tape if you like.”

I didn’t even bother to take a look at the tape, I just wanted to go to my cell and spend the night in peace. I opened the gate with the white card key they handed me earlier, and used the same key to get into my cell.

“This is going to be a long night…”
-------------------------------------------------

FLASH!

Brian Calvin grabs me around the waist and throws me to the floor, before locking me in some sort of submission move.

FLASH!

Damn, this really hurts. I try to resist the move, but it doesn’t work, and I tap.

DING!
DING!
DING!

Jimmy: Brian Calvin is your new United States champion!

FLASH!

I walk out of the backstage area and enter the ring as quickly as is possible. I see Brian Calvin is laying out cold on the floor, and I run over, before locking him into a Sharpshooter. He starts to tap out, and I cheer madly. I win the US title-

“Dennis!”

Someone is calling me from the crowd. I turn to face the audience to try and catch the eye of who it is, but suddenly my eyes become weary. They start to drift off into another scene. A row of bars are blocking me from moving, and a shadowy figure is standing behind them laughing. I suddenly fall unconscious, before falling to what I think is the mat, and go to an unstoppable sleep.

*BLACKOUT*
-------------------------------------------------

“Dennis?”

It’s that man from the crowd once again. Where is he-

“Dennis!”

My eyes open, but certainly not to a WWA wrestling squared circle. I am back in a prison cell. I fully awake, and look behind the same bars I saw earlier. Standing behind them, still chuckling, is the man I least wanted to see right now. Jack.

“Jack?”

“Hello, Dennis.”

“Jack. I’m sorry- I mean, for what I did last night. I was drunk, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

I prayed to god that Jack’s response would be a forgiveness, but on the contrary- well, it was, but it certainly didn’t feel like it.

“It’s okay, Dennis. [Sigh] Just remind me not to go on a night out with you ever again.”

I couldn’t tell whether he was being serious or sarcastic. But I thought it was the latter one, so to avoid any confusion on the subject, I changed the topic of the conversation.

“Hey man, I don’t mean to be forward, but do you know what’s gonna happen to me about this?”

His response was simple, yet incredibly, one of the most confusing words I’d heard.

“Nothing.”

“Say what?”

“Say nothing. I’m not pressing charges. We’ll talk about a favour or something after you pin Brian Calvin on Monday, ok?”

“Sure Jack. Thanks, man…”

I was actually speechless. After all the petty little things I’d been mad at Jack for, I’d just caused him Actual Bodily Harm, and here he is, not pressing any charges and standing by me through whatever.

But I wonder what that favour is?

I’ll do it, but I do wonder…

Ah well. Time for Meltdown.

Get ready, for here I come.

END