I was in the middle of doing dishes, when I got a message from my cousin Walsh asking if I had seen last night's wrestling yet, their dvr hadn't worked and he didn't get to see it. Lucky for him, I'm that predictable and keep episodes till the machine gets full. He came by when he dropped the kids off at skating.
Me-:"Anything new?"
Walsh-:"Nope. You?"
Me-:"Just working on the fairy tale."
He said nothing for awhile, just watched tv. Then the Pack came on and he nodded towards the screen. "Think they write their own promos?"
Me-:"I bet some do. I swear half the wrestlers get one script and half get a different one, because there is no way all those guys are that good of actors. I mean, all the wrestlers seem to make certain things, reactions seem natural; then you see them in movies and totally cardboard."
Walsh-:"I haven't read anything on it in a while. How's the fairy tale?"
Me-:"Fine. I did a piece like last week that had triple the normal amount of hits, then the last three or so have been almost nothing."
He got up to get a coffee. "You do anything different?"
Me-:"Near rape scene." his jaw dropped when I said that. "That and one of the other characters got a small boost."
Walsh-:"Okay pause the show, I wanna read." I pulled up the blog I've been writing the fairy tale on and showed him. "Huh? Brutal. Wonder what Rebel without a Cause thinks of that?"
Me-:"Don't start."
Walsh-:"Start what? All I did was say that I wonder what the wrestler you based that character on thinks about you writing a scene like that? How is that starting anything?"
Me-:"Okay. I thought...nevermind what I thought." I poured myself a coffee debating if I should try to finish the dishes?
Walsh-:"I still believe that Mad Hatter is Mr.Scratchy, if you thought I was going to say it was Rebel without a Cause." he put the episode of last night's wrestling back on. "I haven't heard you say much about Mr. Scratchy."
Me-:"Nothing to talk about. You know. I think he's left the building." my cousin just looked at me. "Oh god, okay. Last March, like the beginning of last March, the scratching started to slow down some, as did the blog hits that corresponded with it. Seriously, just literally went from like three times a day every day at the same time, to once every few days, to only when I posted on my blogs. Then last summer, nothing. The scratching stopped."
He looked at me like he wasn't understanding what I was saying. "When last summer?"
Me-:"Middle of August. Just stopped dead."
Walsh-:"Okay and?"
Me-:"And what? I don't know if he just got massively bored, busy, into a relationship, fell of a cliff and died..."
Walsh-:"Uh hello." he waved at the tv screen, at the Pack. "Obviously didn't fall off a cliff."
Me-:"Obviously says you." I stood there for a moment nearly drooling as we watched the rest of the match. "Anyways, what does it matter? I had my one chance at you know that quote/unquote, big love back like a decade ago and it didn't work. ----- just didn't want what I did, lest not with me."
Walsh-:"So you're giving up? What about Mr. Scratchy?" he pointed again to the tv screen.
Me-:"Been through this a million times. It's been a few years, if he was going to jump into it he would have. And he hasn't, so...what if he was suppose to be the right guy and that window of time is over? Or what if he was just suppose to introduce me to the right guy, and cause we never met, that window of time is over?"
Walsh-:"You won't give up! You're too much of a girl to give up." He flipped through the dvr. "You've got the one from Monday?" he pulled it up and was flipping through the episode. "Ha!" he paused it. "He's scratching his right side!" He was referring to Mad Hatter.
Me-:"He's very carefully trying not to get caught on camera scratching his right side. Means nothing." I took a deep sip of my coffee blushing. "Other then he reads me and is being careful not to do anything that might seem like it could be analyzed by weird people like us with no life."
Walsh-:"I have a life. One that I wish I could escape from more often, but I have a life." he played the scene back in slow motion in rewind torturing me. "Oh see he's thinking, I have to make sure I'm facing the right direction so that the camera picks up all of it, slowly so that I'm noticed. Slower, must make sure the camera catches every angle..." he played it proper then rewound it playing it again before stopping the dvr. "That's what I think. I think he was subtly trying to get your attention."
Me-:"I don't know what I think anymore. I think I'm going to work on the fairy tale as much as possible, I think I'm going to accept the fact I'm turning 40 and have less chance at finding a decent guy anywhere..."
Walsh-:"I think that's crap."
Me-:"...I think that for whatever reason, the mystical magical bond or crush or whatever it was that Mr. Scratchy had for the last few years is gone. Done, over with. And you maybe need to get your testosterone levels checked because you're acting more like a girl at times then even I do." I started to laugh then. "I'm going to buy you a skirt or something."
Walsh-:"Okay. Make sure it's in time for Valentine's Day. That will freak the wife out." he hit the play button on the dvr again. "What more proof do you need?"
Me-:"My name written on his chest during a match. I don't know...proof. A comment on the blog. The sky to open up and whomever the right guy really is to just fall into my lap. Like I said, doesn't matter, Mr. Scratchy has stopping thinking of me months ago."
Walsh-:"I don't believe that. I believe he's waiting for you to believe it's him."
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