Chapter 12: Bobby's New Partner

When we last left our insufferable blonde heroine, she was driving home from Sting's rockin' party, no doubt capable of blowing a .8, if breathalyzers could detect sanctimoniousness and stupid advice. Are you ready to see where this train wreck goes next? (Hint: it involves a hideously long description of how pretty and nice Angel is.) If so, then please join me in suffering through ...

Chapter 12: Bobby's New Partner

In the 2 weeks following Rick and Scott's party, a number of things happened, Bobby, who was still pretty upset about losing Arn, was full time tag teaming with Chris Benoit. He had made this decision after a series of matches between himself and Arn.

The fans now knew that the legendary [?!] Eaton/Anderson team was no more. Arn told the fans that while he was injured, Bobby had never called him. [I'm pretty sure that was an actual storyline. Carters?]. This had made Bobby furious, but he saw no purpose in telling the fans the truth [why not just poll magazine readers?]. He had gone almost his whole career as a heel, and could go on as one now.

Dustin was momentarily pulled off of Cloud 9 when Barry Windham vowed to destroy him and then broke Dustin's forearm. Just yesterday, she had signed his new cast. - "No turn on red - ha ha! Hope you get better real soon. Lotsa love - Angel"

Angel was wrong about her happy streak lasting, so far.

Bobby wanted Chris to meet Angel, so today he brought him in to her office. Chris had never seen her before, but Bobby told her how nice and friendly she was, so he was looking foward to it. But he never expected what he saw.

When they entered the infirmary, Bobby introduced them, but Chris barely heard him. [hold on to your lunch, folks] He was taken aback by her beauty. Her sparkling blue eyes put him in a trance, her golden hair shined in the sunlight from the window. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. When she shook his hand, his heart raced, and his insides melted [sounds like dysentery]. Her skin was soft and warm.

He floated through the whole introduction, not hearing what anyone said, himself included. There was only her. Her smile. Her face.

When Bobby and Chris left her office, Chris was still with her in her mind.

"Chris? Chris! Hello!" Bobby said, interrupting his thoughts. He snapped back to Earth. "You were really spaced out there for a minute. You ok?"

"Better. I feel wonderful." He began to lace up his boots. "Bob, do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I guess. Why?"

"I've got a bad case of it. Bobby, please, tell me she's single."

"Angelica? Yeah. Why? You mean ..."

"Yeah. Bobby, she's a living goddess."

"She is pretty, isn't she?"

"Pretty? She's drop-dead gorgeous. And you said she was nice, didn't you?"

"Yeah, she's the nicest person I know," he said thoughtfully.

"She's perfect."

"So ask her out."

"What if she says no?"

"What if she says yes?"

"I don't know ..."

"Chris, if you like her that much, then go ahead."

"Well ... allright. It's definately worth a shot. God's she's beautiful," he said wistfully. "Bobby, you're her friend, right?"

"Yeah."

"Would you mind asking her what she thinks of me? I know it's kind of juvenile [you don't say], but please? So that if she didn't like me, I won't make a fool of myself? Please?" [why not just hand her a note that says "do u like me? check yes or no"]

"Allright Chris," Bobby sighed.

After the match, Bobby went to Angel as promised, but not for the reason he had planned. Chris had recieved a huge gash on his forehead during the match, and it was bleeding profusely. Chris had passed out and had to be carried into her office.

Angel had seen everything that had transpired and had everything necessary ready. With a piece of gauze, she applied pressure to the wound.

"Will he be OK?" Bobby looked incredibly pale and terribly concerned.

"If I can stop the bleeding, he'll be just fine" [uhm, except that he's apparantly lost enough blood to lose consciousness]. If not, I'll transfer him to a hospital." She grabbed another piece of gauze.

"He'll be fine. It's only superficial." Finally she had succeeded in stopping the bleeding. She taped down a fresh piece of gauze to his head and washed her hands again quickly.

She caught a glimpse of Bobby's flour-white face.

"Bobby, you'd better sit down."

"I can't see anything. My ears are ringing. Angelica ..." she caught him before he could hit the floor. She set him down gently and put a cot pillow behind his head. Meanwhile, Chris had woken up. He was dazed and unaware of his surroundings.

"Where am I?" His voice was painfully weak.

"Shh, don't talk, Chris. You'll be OK." her voice was soft and soothing.

"Bobby ..." he said, seeing him on the floor.

"He's allright. He just fainted. You lost a bit of blood, and you need to rest."

He laid back and closed his eyes. [Ok, I'm doing another editorial cut here. Basically the next page and a half contains extensive descriptions of Angel changing bandages and mopping their faces with wet washcloths. It's hideously boring. Anyhoo, Bobby comes to with no real explanation as to why he passed out ... I suppose we're supposed to intuit that he's freaked out by the sight of blood, which is, of course, patently ridiculous considering the fact that he's an effing wrestler, but oh well. I'll pick it up at the thrilling juncture where Bobby stands up]

His knees buckled at first, but then he was fine. He had to lean against the wall for support for a few seconds. Angel took the sleeping Chris' pulse and listened to his breathing. Everything seemed OK. She shot a worried glance at Bobby.

"I'm OK." he reassured.

"I'm going to call a backup nurse to handle any other injuries. I'm going to keep an eye on Chris. He needs a little more work."

"I'll stay here."

"No, Bobby. You still don't look so good. I think you'd better go home and rest. He'll be fine. Trust me."

"Ok. He's in good hands."

Bobby left a littel shaky, but otherwise fine. Angel called Katlin Ross the stand-by nurse and told her Chris' situation. She agreed with a bored sigh. Angel had never liked either Katlin or Leslie Canter. They were obnoxious snobs with huge egos. They avoided each other. [who are they and why are we hearing about them now? Well, here's the thing: we have reached the end of the second marble notebook. I was so excited to move on to the next notebook that I just wanted to fill up the rest of the page. It obviously didn't matter what I wrote].

TO BE CONTINUED ...


NOTES:

1) "No turn on red" - Get it? she "signed" it. Yes, I wrote this on someone's cast when I was in seventh grade and thought it was the epitome of wit.

2) The end of the second marble notebook? Egad! Never fear. There are two more. And my writing gets smaller the older I get, so there's plenty to come.

3) I'd like to reiterate one final time that if anyone's squicked out by the mention of Chris Benoit, then abandon ship while you can. He's not going anywhere for a good long while.


COMING UP NEXT:

Before we get to the thrilling conclusion of this chapter, I think I'm going to divulge some of weird crap I wrote in the margins and back pages of the notebooks. These include: lyrics to a song about oldies and a transcript of a blurb I got to read on a radio station. I was such a loser. You, my friends, are the winners.