Yeah, and the Pope is Jewish.
Every complaint from Xander fell upon deaf ears though. Many in the SCCW Front Office were more concerned over the condition of Dr Nigel Kensington than SCCW’s resident primadonna.
The few that actually did listen, promptly snickered afterward. Maybe it was more about attention than anything. People were paying more attention to Jonathan Rhine’s return than they did the fact that Xander’s own tag team partner left him high and dry.
But don’t tell Xander the fact that he refused to tag in, and had to be distracted in order to enter the match didn’t help his case. Nor did the fact that he promptly got into a fight with Jadian Bridden do him any favors either.
It was still a few days before the next show. No one has told him whether or not he has a match yet. He was told to show up and be prepared to wrestle, just in case.
“Do I need to bring my wrestling gear?” Xander asked while he was on the phone. “Because if you tell me I can keep it at home, do you really think that I’m going to even bother packing it?”
The person at the other end of the phone answered in the affirmative that he should bring his gear. How do we know this? Well, it would probably because of the ‘aw, fuck’ look that comes to Xander’s face as he listens to who we can only assume is either his agent/cousin or a member of SCCW’s front office.
He hasn’t threatened to kick the crap out of the person that he’s talking to, so we can only guess that he’s talking to a member of the front office.
Xander gets up as he hangs the phone up and walks over to his refrigerator. He opens it up and sees that all that there is in there is a couple of opened bottles of water, a loaf of white bread and a bottle of mustard. He hasn’t gone shopping since getting back. In the garbage can next to the fridge is your usual piles of Chinese Food containers, burger wrappers and empty pizza boxes.
“Fuck.”
Xander pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, opens it up and sees that there’s no cash in there.
“Fuck.”
He then opens one of the cupboards to find a box of rice, a can of tuna and an expired box of Count Chocula.
“Fuck.”
Xander takes the can of tuna out of the cupboard. He opens it up and drains the water from the can before pulling a fork from a nearby drawer and start eating it.
“This is going to suck more than having to watch James Varga wrestle.”
With that, Xander takes his first bite of the tuna. No Mayo, no Miracle Whip, just straight up tuna. The looks that come to his face with every bite are somewhere between priceless and sickened.
He throws the can away, unable to finish the rest of the tuna. One bit will suffice until he can get to the bank in the morning. Then after that, he’s going to hit the grocery store.
----Three Days Later----
It’s the day of the show. Xander still doesn’t know who he’s wrestling, if anyone. With Nigel out because of injuries that he suffered, there is a sense of panic in the locker room. Well, a sense of panic amongst road agents and production staff.
The wrestlers really could care less, as long as Dr Kensington can still sign their checks.
The LiveWire Champion hadn’t arrived at the building yet. He was supposed to do an interview with some podung college radio station that didn’t matter. Being the model employee that he is, Xander decided to skip it.
What was SCCW going to do, fire him? That wasn’t going to happen. After all, he is the current, and reigning SCCW LiveWire Champion.
Xander stops at a Mexican Drive Thru, and orders up a burrito to eat before the show. He was hungry, and needed the sustenance to get him through the match. Knowing the costs that were cut by SCCW, he wouldn’t be surprised if Catering for this event consisted of boiled hot dogs and ramen noodles.
He wasn’t going to take too much time to ponder that, as when he pulls out from the drive thru, he receives a call.
It’s from his cousin. Xander puts it on speaker.
“Yo, X. I found out who you’re facing this week.”
Xander was unimpressed that his cousin was able to find out who his opponent is.
“So, Chad, who is it?”
“Baron Von Blackberry.”
Xander Searle had to take a few minutes to digest this information.
He responds with one word, “Fuck.”