PROMO: Counseling By The Stars!

[TheBostonStrangler 0]

NOVEMBER 1, 2003

11:49 AM

 

Mark Stevens sits alone in his office at the Five Seasons Center in Ames, Iowa, prepping for the night’s show while blandly staring over more tedious paperwork. Stevens scratches his signature onto the bottom of the latest document to pass his way, and places it on top of a rather large pile in his outbox. He then turns and looks at the much larger pile in his inbox, and sighs. Suddenly, he looks up, and sees an even larger sight standing there: The Boston Strangler, looking down at Mark with a forlorn expression on his face. Mark stands up to his full 6’6” and looks at Strangler, who tries to avoid eye contact.

 

“Hey Strangler. I’ve been hoping you’d swing by here. I think it’s time we had a little chat.”

 

Strangler compliantly sits down in front of Stevens’ desk, and Mark sinks back into his luxurious chair. Stevens takes a sip of coffee out of the mug on his desk, then returns his gaze to Strangler, whose eyes immediately turn to the floor. Mark frowns, but begins: “Strangler, we’ve been needing to talk for a while. I’ve tried everything here to get you going. You’ve been coddled, you’ve been challenged, and every time you look like you’re about to cry out there. And every now and then, you’ll get something going, only to have it fall apart! I know Taylor’s been wreaking havoc in your life, but you need to forget about him. You were CHAMPION of this place, and Erek Taylor never was! You’re the guy who I brought back into this fed last December under Stubby and King’s noses, and you never disappointed me until now, Strangler. You’ve been incredible, and now you’ve turned into…I don’t know what you are anymore, Albert. Tell me, what do you want?”

 

Strangler finally lifts his head, with a glint of pride in his eye, but a look of total defeat on his face. “I don’t have a goddamn clue what I want anymore, Mark. I was happy until Taylor showed up. Now, I…I can’t forget what I did. I screwed up so goddamn badly, and now he’s back, and I…I just can’t forget, Mark.”

 

“It’s OK to feel bad about things, Strangler. You made a mistake back then. That was a combo of still being younger, and having Chris Wilson as a negative influence on you. But you’ve changed! You don’t have to be afraid!”

 

Strangler lifts his head sharply, and looks Stevens squarely in the eye for the first time during the conversation. “Mark, I have to be afraid! You know how I feel about 2002! I was a total mess! I was on drugs, I was under the control of the Clan and Chris Wilson for the entire damn year, I retired an innocent man, and then I got kicked out of the damn fed! And you know WHY I did that? Because I listened to my instincts! They told me to go out there, kick some ass, and get noticed! And guess what happened? I lost all my friends, my job, and my respect! Now Taylor is back, and he’s trying to turn me back into that old me, the one who was hated, the one who would snap at anything! I can’t ever become that person again! And if I fight Taylor…it’s just gonna open the goddamn door. He knows it, I know it, and you know it! If I fight, I’ll just turn into the guy who ruined his career! I…I can’t fight!”

 

Mark leans back into his chair, looking slightly lost for words. Suddenly, a small light flashes inside his head, and a grin spreads across Mark’s face. He forcefully pulls a drawer in his desk open and roots around inside while Strangler looks up and watches Stevens searching. Finally, Mark pulls out the right sheet of paper, with a little look of triumph. “Strangler, I just realized something. I have a pretty good friend who’s been through a little something like this before, and he turned out just fine. What I want you to do is leave this room right now, call this man, and go to talk to him. If he can’t fix you, then I’m sending you to a psychiatrist, and making you take a leave of absence from this fed. But I doubt it’ll get that far. He knows what to do.”

 

Mark slides the piece of paper across the desk to Strangler, who looks down at the paper, which simply reads…

 

Edwin MacPhisto: 291-553-9283

St. Michael’s Hospital

Lincoln, NE

 

 

NOVEMBER 3, 2003

12:49 PM

 

The front lobby of St. Michael’s Hospital is dead as the midday lull is in full swing. The front door swings open, and Albert Katowski, the Boston Strangler, steps through the door, doing all that a 300 pound man can do to look inconspicuous (and failing miserably at it). He steps quickly through the lobby and walks up to the front desk. “Excuse me, miss? Can you tell me what room James Canterbury is in?” Strangler waits as the female nurse punches in a few buttons on the computer while continuing her phone call. She quickly looks up and says, “Room 615” before immediately returning to her conversation. Strangler turns and walks towards the elevator. As he reaches, the door swings open. “Some good timing for a change…nice” mutters Strangler as he steps onto the now-empty elevator.

 

The elevator starts to climb upwards, and Strangler looks at the ceiling, trying to sort out what’s going on in his mind. “I can’t believe Stevens got me to go through with this…I don’t even KNOW MacPhisto! He beat me once. That’s it…and now he’s gonna understand how to turn me around? I dunno…” Strangler tails off as the elevator dings, slides to a stop, and opens into the sixth floor corridor. Strangler walks through the hallway, looking at the recovery rooms, which look more like hotel rooms than hospital rooms. “Looks like he saved his money well…” mutters Strangler to himself as he reaches 612…613…614…615. Strangler pauses, takes a deep breath, then walks into the room.

 

James Canterbury, otherwise known as Edwin MacPhisto, looks up at the noise, and breaks into a big grin as Strangler walks into the room. “Stranglerama! How wonderful to see you here!” cries MacPhisto in his trademark energetic voice as Strangler, still looking somewhat uncomfortable, walks over to the bed MacPhisto is in. “Don’t mind all the medical doohickeys, Strangler. They don’t do anything important. Who needs a heart monitor anyways?” Strangler pulls a chair over and drops himself into it before looking up at MacPhisto, who still has a few tubes running out of his right arm.

 

“So…Edwin…how are you?” asks Strangler after taking in his surroundings for a few moments.

 

“Well, I’m feeling better…the beating was brutal, and I’ve been in here ever since, really. I don’t really remember most of the match, and that’s probably for the best. But I’m walking around now just fine and dandy, and flirting with all the nurses down the hall. The pain is mostly gone, although my ribs and neck are still giving me some trouble. But I’ll teach them a lesson eventually. The men in white say I should be out of here in a week or two, which is a good sign and all.” Strangler nods along to most of Edwin’s diatribe, doing his best to look interested (but once again failing miserably). Edwin takes note of this, and quickly changes tone: “But Strangler, I know that’s not why you’re here. I appreciate you coming, as I haven’t had many visitors besides Mark and Lynn in the last month, but that’s not why you were here. I think we both know why Mark decided to send you to talk to me. So why don’t you simply sit here and tell me what you’ve had to deal with.”

 

Strangler takes another deep breath, and starts to speak before cutting himself off. Edwin looks up at Strangler, who returns the gaze, inhales sharply again, and then finally begins to talk. “Edwin…I just don’t know what to do anymore. It’s…Erek. You’ve seen what he’s been doing to me, right? What he’s done to me?” MacPhisto nods, and Strangler continues onwards. “Well….I was never this way before. I used to be an asskicking machine. I got that belt for a couple of months, and I was on top of the world. Flesher and I had all those brutal matches, and I was never afraid. And then…suddenly….Erek is back. Erek was the thing I kept out of my mind for so long. I made amends for all the stuff I did, but not for Erek…I couldn’t face Erek. And I kept him in the past for so long…suddenly, he’s back here, he’s humiliating me at Genesis, and the people….the people BOOED me at Genesis! I couldn’t deal with that, Edwin!”

 

“And now…now Erek’s not leaving me alone, ever. I can’t get through a match without seeing him appear. And even when he doesn’t show up, I’m always looking over my shoulder. He’s doing whatever it takes me to fight him…and I can’t do it.”

 

“Why can’t you fight him, Strangler?” asks Edwin, who is still trying to get a firm grasp on the situation.

 

“Edwin, the only time we ever went in the ring together was back last summer, when you were World Champ, and I was feuding with Erek Taylor. You beat me cleanly, but you remember how I was then, and during that entire period. I beat people for no good reason, I got addicted to steroids, and then I ruined Erek’s career before mine went to hell. That was the worst time of my entire life, and I’d give anything to take everything I did back then back. And so I come back, and I’m an upstanding citizen. I do all the right things. I put it all behind me, and I became a new person. But when Erek came back…I felt the old Strangler coming out inside. The one who wanted to destroy anything in his path, The one who didn’t care about anyone but himself, the one who only wanted to inflict pain. I don’t ever want to have to be that person again, Edwin…but I can’t hold out much longer. Eventually, I’m gonna snap, and I’m gonna hit him…and then who knows what I’ll do?”

 

Edwin nods in silence for a moment while Strangler contemplates what he just said. Finally, Edwin pushes himself up in bed a little bit, groaning from the force required. “Strangler, I do know how you feel. A lot of people will tell you that they understand what you’re going through, but almost nobody ever does. Their idea of a dirty secret is that they took a whiz in an alley back in college or something. But I know how you feel. I made mistakes with Nathan all those years ago in Arizona, and then it all got played out on national television. I know exactly how it feels to have millions of people looking at you in a totally different light, to realize that not everyone out there wants to see you win any more…it’s incredibly difficult.”

 

“But people still loved you, Edwin! They didn’t believe you’d do it! They always cheered you! With me…the fans love Erek!”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. They LOVED Erek. They most certainly don’t anymore. I’ve been watching the shows, and I haven’t heard boos that loud in a LONG time. They still love you, Strangler. They want to see you fight back!”

 

“No they don’t! They might not know it, but they don’t! They don’t want to see me reach back down into there, and if I try to fight Taylor, it’s GOING to happen! I’ve been fighting it for weeks! You had the crowd, you had the Carnival, you had Mark….I have NOTHING, Edwin! No family, no friends, no partners, no stable! I’m dealing with this on my own, and I don’t fucking think I can do it!”

 

Edwin looks ready to snap back at Strangler, but instead restrains himself, allowing Strangler to vent his emotions. “Strangler, I know this has been difficult on you. You’ve been trying to follow the honorable path, to stay on the light side, if you will. I know that the dark side is there, and that it’s always tempting you. But everyone has a dark side. You have one. I have one. King has one. Dace Night has one. Ted Flink has one. Liberace…well, that man couldn’t be evil if he tried, but he might have had one as well! But we don’t all give into it!”

 

“That’s a lot easier said than done.”

 

“You know what? It is. It’s hard to do sometimes. But Strangler, you have to have faith in yourself. You’ve got as much mental toughness as anyone I’ve seen come through the SWF. You’ve recovered from Thoth, you’ve recovered from Wilson, you’ve been in brutal match after brutal match, and you DIDN’T GET DOWN ON YOURSELF! You stayed true to yourself, and the fans loved you for it, Strangler! Don’t you see it? You can’t let one setback get on you, Strangler!”

 

“You don’t think I’ve been telling myself that, Edwin? I’ve been trying and trying…but there’s no reason for me to believe that I’m not gonna snap all over again!”

 

“Hey, Strangler, remember who you’re talking to. I fought my demon in a steel cage at Genesis. I fought CLEAN. I lost, but I got my honor back, and I didn’t go nuts. I had my chances, but I stayed calm and made sure that I knew what I was doing. Once you throw the first punch, you’ll know that you’re fine. You just need to realize that you can take that one step, Strangler. I know it’s there, Mark knows it’s there, and all those fans that want to see you beat Erek Taylor beyond all recognition…they know it’s there! You’re the only one who doesn’t, Strangler! You need to realize that if you fight Erek Taylor, you’re not gonna become that monster inside! You’ve beaten the old Strangler! You’re not him anymore, and you’re never, EVER going to have to deal with it again. And I also know that Ashes to Ashes is coming up, Strangler. He’s been challenging you to this match. Why not prove at Ashes 2 Ashes that the old Strangler is dead, but the Strangler who stands up for what he believes in and can kick all kinds of ass is still there?”

 

A grin creeps over Strangler’s face, but quickly vanishes. He turns to look at MacPhisto, who has an impassioned look on his face, and reaches his hand out. “I’ll do what I can, Edwin. I really appreciate you talking to me. It…it was therapeutic. Thank you.”

 

Edwin shakes Strangler’s hand, and grins widely. “I’ll be watching Lockdown, Strangler. Make me proud. And call me. I need all the friends I can get, even an ugly old weirdo like you.” Strangler chuckles, then stands up.

 

“Thank you, Edwin.”

 

“No problem, Strangler. Have a good one.”

 

Strangler exits the room and walks down the hall, trying to fathom what he and Edwin talked about. He steps onto the elevator, and pushes the button. Strangler looks at the people in the elevator, flashes one of the nurses a smile, then starts to hum along to the elevator music.

 

“Tomorrow’s gonna be a better day…”

[janusd 0]

I like it. Strangler looks like he may get his fire back without going berserk. Which is a good thing.

 

Though for some reason I was expecting Edwin to call him "Stranglepants".

[Ace309 0]

Um. This didn't get props.

 

This deserved props.

[Secret Agent 0]

Major, Major kudos. This was very well done, my hat is off to you, Superstation!

[Rawknight 0]

/me amz teh givingz teh r3sp3ct to teh pr0m0