THE BIGGEST MISTAKE YOU’VE EVER MADE

Argyle position. The production techs are in front of monitors with keyboards, keeping check on the show and everything going on. They have a visitor.

TAL: Come on, you drunk fuck. Where are you?

By now, his tie is completely off and draped around the back of his neck. His shirt has the top three buttons undone. He’s pacing. Finally he hears footsteps behind him and turns around to see Foster Nackedy stroll up, a small smile on his face.

Foster Nackedy: Hey buddy! Here I am, in the place you asked me to meet you. Why here? We going to go ringside for a nice chat?

TAL: Here because this is the last place a sneak attack from your feral mutant crocodile would happen.

Foster laughs, shaking his head,

Foster Nackedy: Buddy. We’re backstage at a wrestling event. Sneak attacks can happen anywhere.

The Bad Name Bomber shrugs.

Foster Nackedy: But don’t worry about that. I convinced Paxton not to come at you yet. Wanted to get a chance to talk about everything first. 

TAL: Okay then, let’s talk. Let’s talk about boundaries. Let’s talk about accusations. Let’s talk about things that might be hard to take back. Or most importantly, let’s talk about a little girl who is tired of her life being in complete, chaotic upheaval.

The glare from the eyes behind the lucha mask could melt tungsten.

TAL: What do you think she thinks about being chased like an animal? And by whom? Any truth to the rumor you got Cthulhu Jules running your search party?

Foster rubs his goatee for a moment, blinks twice, then opens his mouth. Then he shuts it. After a moment, he opens it again.

Foster Nackedy: Oh. You’re…

He widens his eyes for a minute.

Foster Nackedy: You’re, uh…you’re doubling down. You didn’t call me over to apologize, or to make it right, or to maybe explain why you kidnapped a crazy man’s little girl. Just so you know, when I said I convinced Paxton not to come after you, it wasn’t some quick conversation. It wasn’t like this.

Foster holds up both hands in the universal shape of talking mouths. He opens one of his hands as he talks in a slightly higher voice.

Foster Nackedy: “Hey, Pax! Listen, the asshole who took your daughter is here tonight, but I want to talk to him, so why don’t you just relax and not try to kill him, okay?”

He then opens the other hand as he talks in a scarily accurate approximation of The Bayou Butcher’s voice.

Foster Nackedy: “Yeah, sure, I’ll let ya handle it. I’ll just sit here and throw rocks at the wall or read a famous person’s memoir.”

Foster raises both hands in the universal sign of “what the hell?”

Foster Nackedy: No, I had to fight for you. And I don’t even know why I did that, except to tell you what you probably already know. Whatever reason you think you have, whatever noble blood you think is beating in your heart right now, this was a grave mistake. Probably the biggest one you’ve ever made. And I am keeping him from attacking you right now, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do that much longer. 

The Luchador stifles a laugh.

TAL: You’re a real humanitarian, Fost. You know that, right? Just consider this. You and that Paleolithic-era brute of yours seem to think people can be controlled or possessed. Nora is his daughter, but he doesn’t belong to her. And to be quite honest, and the State of Louisiana agrees, Melissa is better suited to be her primary caretaker. Her proxy came to me. I’m not doing this for me.

He throws his tie down on the floor and moves his face about three inches away from Foster’s.

TAL: I’m doing this because a little girl and her mother asked me to. They’re scared. Mistake or not, this is the right thing to do, and I’m tired of letting the wrong thing happen to innocent people like Jon. It ends here.

Foster nods. 

Foster Nackedy: Okay. Yeah. I mean, I knew you wouldn’t actually apologize, or ask me to spare you, or whatever. That’s not your style. And part of me would be pretty disappointed, like when you’re six years old at a birthday party and you go around the corner to find the Spiderman who just visited your party was actually some teenager smoking menthols. No that didn’t happen to me.

Yes it did.

Foster Nackedy: You’re going to be who you’re going to be. And that’s fine, because Paxton is going to be who he’s going to be. I guess we’ll find out how those two things mix. 

Foster smiles.

Foster Nackedy: And you are right, Tom. It will absolutely end here. For you.

The Luchador rolls his neck.

TAL: Well, if that’s the case, so be it. Just don’t hurt the girl or her mother, Foster. I’ll haunt you two fuckfaces from Mictlan if you do.

The Luchador walks briskly past Foster, bumping into him on purpose before crossing the curtains back into the locker room area. Foster watches him go with a scowl, then looks over at one of the production techs.

Foster Nackedy: Hey, do you know if Mictlan is a suburb in Philadelphia?

The production tech looks at him like the moron he is, and we cut to the ring.