Chapter 23: The Return
This chapter features some of the least witty witty repartee ever written. Enjoy!
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Angel was both nervous and excited as she stepped off of the plane. She made her way to the waiting area outside Gate 27 where Chris said that he would meet her.
She was in Edmonton National Airport, where Chris said he would meet her. His flight from Japan was scheduled to land about an hour after Angel’s did. A friend of Chris’ family would be picking them up and bringing them to Chris’ house.
The hour passed slowly for Angel. Each minute dragged on, each second lasted an eternity. [the readers know how you feel]
Chris’ plane landed. The passengers were let out. There was an agonizing moment when she couldn’t see Chris. But then she found him. Their eyes met and his pace quickened until he almost broke into a run. He swept her up into his arms and twirled her in a full circle. Their lips locked.
“How was your trip?” They both asked at the same time. They both laughed.
“I’ve missed you so much, Chris.”
“I’ve missed you too.” [will someone wake me up when this chapter is over?]
They picked up Chris’ baggage, Angel filling him in on Marcus and their conversation yesterday.
“Where is your friend meeting us?”
“Near the entrance.” [… of the airport?]
“I’m so nervous about meeting your parents.”
“My Mom and Dad aren’t that scary. And very rarely do they actually eat visitors. And don’t believe the rumors about the JFK thing, cause they’re not true!”
Angel giggled. “No, I’m worried that they’ll think I’m like this horrible person and forbid me to ever be within 10 miles of you.” [cross your fingers, Chris]
“You’ve got nothing to worry about, Sunshine. You are the sweetest, smartest, prettiest, wittiest, nicest, most gorgeous woman in the world, and besides, my parents don’t think.”
“What?”
“Just kidding. They think most of the time.”
Chris grabbed and invisible microphone and spoke in an announcer’s voice. “And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, for your entertainment, Christopher Pascal Benoit and the lovely Angelica Kerris will attempt to get through the hoardes of travelers to the dunt dah dah … Entrance! A feat never before attempted before such a large audience.” [I think Jim Carrey was rather popular at this point in time. I knew a guy who did stuff like this. It was funny when I was 13. If my husband, a man roughly the age I put Chris at here, tried it, he’d get stuffed onto the luggage carousel.]
A few people stared at them, one guy clapped, others laughed.
“Pascal?” Angel commented.
“Dad’s name. What’s your middle name?” Chris asked as they neared the entrance.
“I hate it.”
“Interesting name.”
“I’m not telling.”
“C’mon, I’ll be your best friend.” He pleaded.
“No.” she smiled.
“How bad can it be?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Oh, but I do!” he said playfully.
“No.”
“Then let me guess.”
“Fine, but you will never get it.”
He thought for a few seconds, then shouted “Gertrude!”
“Nope.”
“Hortenz?”
“Try again.”
“Umm … Drucilla?”
“I wish.”
“Rumplestiltskin.”
“Bingo!”
“You’re kidding.”
“Yup.”
He groaned.
“Believe me, Chris. You’ll never guess.”
“Then tell me.”
“Only on one condition.”
“Anything!”
“You will never, ever, ever speak it again.”
“Deal.”
“Christiabelle.” [Whaaaaaaaaaat? Wasn’t it Elizabeth? Wasn’t there a major “plot” point about how she hated her middle name? Wasn’t there an actual chapter title “middle names” that specifically … oh, nevermind]
“Christiabelle?”
“I warned you.”
“Sorry … Christiabelle.”
“Chris …” her voice rose.
“Okay, okay. Hey, nice initials.”
“I know, don’t remind me.”
“Ack! Ack! Ack!” he sang. [dude, is he 12? Seriously. Actually, wait, my husband would do this.]
“Oh, dear. Something new to tease me about.”
“You know I don’t mean any of it. I love you Christia…. I mean Sunshine.”
“I love you too, Melvin.”
“Melvin?”
“Just being creative.”
They arrived at the entranceway. Chris scanned the crowd of people. He recognized someone and exclaimed: “Bret!”
It couldn’t be, thought Angel. But it was. Bret Hart. No one will ruin my visit, not even conceited, obnoxious, unfriendly Bret Hart. At least she hoped so.
NOTES:
1) Bret Hart? Yeah, he was one of my least favorite wrestlers when I was younger. Mostly because I hated the good guys. And it’s true that Bret Hart and Chris Benoit were friends in real life …. I think Chris even trained in Stu’s dungeon … but … uhm … what is he suddenly doing in this story? Why couldn’t it have been someone I had mentioned at least once before, like Shawn Michaels or even Al the Janitor? What’s that? It’s because this is crap? Oh yeah, thanks for the reminder.
2) POLL! Worst couple? Candidates: Marty and Anjel, Marcus and Angel, Chris and Angel, Dustin and Alex, Scott and Marie, Brutus and Laurie, and Mr. P. and Nightshade. 7 way tie?
COMING UP NEXT ...
There's stupid tension between Angel and Bret. Angel doesn't ask Chris one thing about his trip from Japan and instead blathers on about her own non-problems. Sound good? See you next time for ...
Chapter 24: The Visit
4 comments:
Oh man, how I loved Bret Hart. My dad took me to a house show when I was a kid and we sat close to the ring and I got to see Bret up close--that's when I decided there was no one better than Bret Hart. And my daddy. He also took me to a GLOW show (remember that?) and I got Dementia's autograph but the pen ran out of ink in the middle of her signature. Sigh.
BTW, your husband and my husband would totally be BFF.
I can understand the appeal of Bret Hart ... he did give away those pink glasses. But alas, he was a face ... and had really creepy hair.
Way to be on that autograph! And Dementia no less!! Here's my autograph story: When I was little, Mr. Perfect was coming to a GNC in NYC and my Dad took my brother and I. We were sooooo excited. I even wore my Mr. Perfect and Bobby Heenan earrings (these were just regular earrings with pictures of Mr. P and Bobby cut out of magazines taped to them. Hawt.) But when we got there, Mr. P was gone and there was someone else signing autographs. You know who this was? Gary Strydom. Do you remember him? Don't feel bad if you don't. He's a professional bodybuilder. He was there to promote the WBF that Vince was promoting at the time. His autograph looked like three lowercase "g" squiggles. I was so disappointed. So were a lot of other people, if the Gary Strydom-autograph-loaded trashcans outside of the GNC were any indication.
As for our husbands being BFFs, it wouldn't surprise me ... how different could they be if they both agreed to marry ladies who can describe Barry Windham's wrestling boots in exquisite detail?
Thanks for reading and commenting all the time. You rock.
How many names does one woman need? Charlotte An[j/g]el Theodosia? Next thing you know she'll start having an allergy to cats! :)
tell me the Hardy Boys show up soon... ;)
Oh, they're showing up. One of them at least. But not for a good while. Nice prognosticating, by the way!
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