All Characters are copyright WWE Inc. Eric appears courtesy the author... no claims are implied regarding any person, real or fictional, and are not based on any events, also real or fictional... much as I wish I could, I am making no profit from the publishing of this... have fun!!!!
Here's A Story... of a man named Hardy..
For the first time in almost a year, Eric was involved in something remotely involving wrestling, other than his relationship with a certain Enigma. For the last nine months that he'd been with Jeff, he'd repeatedly turned down offers from both TNA and the WWE to either start a career or return to active competition. Even Eric had a hard time explaining his indifference toward something he'd once been so passionate about. However, after much persuasion, he'd softened his position and agreed to go to a show. Thankfully, time had allowed for enough of a change in his appearance. Recognition was not something he wanted or needed...
"Okay, just a minute, here... what the hell are you doing, Jeff...?"
"Uh, nothin." Jeff looked up from my laptop.
"Nothing, my aunt's fanny." I leaned over Jeff's shoulder and quickly read the above paragraph. "Yadda, yadda, yadda, Eric was involved... blah, blah, blah, active competition... dot, dot, dot... recognition was not something..."
I'll be the first to admit, for all his creativity when it comes to wrestling, music, poetry, and so on, his writing of fiction is sorely lacking. At least that's my opinion, so it looks like it's going to be up to yours truly to do most of the floral prose.
TWO DAYS LATER...
Okay, me again... I was wrong! That should come to no big surprise to anyone who knows me, but I've been put in my place for sure this time. Apparently my Jeffro has become quite a prolific author of this "Fanfiction" stuff. He just showed me this group, or site, he's been sending stuff to. While I'm not gonna pretend to understand the appeal of it, most of it is pretty good. Although his choice of "rratedauthor" as a moniker confuses me twofold. If it's a reference to Adam, then maybe I can see the fit, but if not, then I'm scratching my head like the rest of you 'cause most of what he's written is beyond R. And again, maybe it's me, but don't you think that for a supposed hetero, he seems to enjoy writing about man-love? But more on that later.
In a nutshell, it looks like Jeff and I will be splitting duties on this one. He can get a little over-dramatic at time, but you already know that, and the last thing I want is to come across as some kind of drama queen. Based on the first few stories, I may be a bit late though. So where to begin? I guess at the beginning. Take it away, Jeff...
"Cool... where was I...?"
"Recognition was not something he wanted or needed or at that point... or some junk like that." Eric sat back in a corner chair and closed his eyes. His even breathing soon told me he'd fallen asleep.
I returned to my, or rather Eric's, laptop and started typing again. Like some other wrestlers/authors, I'm not real good when it comes to computers, but I get by. Anyway...
"Since his release, Eric had changed his appearance enough that none of the people in the line recognized him. To them, he was just another wrestling fan, and that was how he wanted it. The only difference was once inside, he immediately headed backstage. Yes, I'd been bugging him for months, just trying to get him to come out and see a live event. Why he chose this particular one is strange, but I was just glad to see him. Now that he no longer worked for Vince, we hardly got together and when we did it was usually just for dinner or something fast. Not a good way to keep a relationship together, but it is all I have right now.
"Like I said, I wasn't expecting him to show. I think it was Adam who first made me aware by saying something like 'Hey, Rainbow (one of his lesser-known pet names for me), some dude's lookin' for ya.'
"I'll never forget the tingle that went down my back when I heard Eric's reply... "Is that all I am: 'some dude'? Thanks a lot, Cope."
"Eric!" I squealed and, dropping my hair dye into my locker, jumped at him. I take a lot of ribbing from the boys about this and I know how embarrassed it makes Eric feel...
"Damn straight!" I heard a booming voice over my shoulder. "We agreed we were gonna keep our relationship on the DL."
'How long have you been standing there?" I yelled
"Would you stop that?"
"I'll stop sneaking up on you when you stop jumping me in crowded locker rooms." Eric stated
"I guess a little discretion is too much to ask from you sometimes." Eric groaned "Anyway, I'm going out to get some snacks and stuff for tonight. I'll be back shortly."
Tonight was our "date night". I finally asked for, and got, four days off. I plan to spend every minute possible with Eric.
I gave Eric the keys to my 'Vette. His Viper was in the shop, getting it's twenty thousand mile tune-up. As I did, I heard an ominous rumble. Thunder. Now, everyone knows how much I hate thunderstorms. I tensed up immediately.
"I won't be too long." Eric patted my head as he walked past. "Just remember to shut it down if there's any electrical interference."
"Yessir." I snapped
Once I heard the rev of my engine, I returned to staring at the screen. I think our relationship is going very well, and before any of you ask, no we haven't had sex yet. Honestly, it's not that I don't think it will happen, I just don't want to ruin what we have by forcing the issue. The fact is, I believe that Eric is still a little unsure about himself. I have no problems with being into guys or girls, but as you can tell from what I've related, Eric doesn't like to open up about his personal life very often. Hell, other than the guys we work with, I don't think he's told anyone.
I hate to cut this short, but the lights just flickered. Looks like we're in for one hell of a storm. I'll get back to you whenever I can...
The following morning, eleven a.m. Eric's P.O.V.
Before I get slandered any further, let me set the record straight... I know, not the best choice of words, but like whatever, to quote RVD. It's not that I don't want to push this relationship with Jeff into that area, it's just that... how do I put this... what little family I have looks for any excuse to rat on me. Nothing I have ever done has ever been good enough for them. Not my choice of friends, career, anything! Anyway, let's get onto a more interesting topic... last night.
I ran into Phil at the grocery store. He's one of the guys I actually liked hangin' with while I worked for the company. We never did much in, or out, of the ring, other than close a couple bars, but for him, it's all about company. He does make one hell of a puking buddy, though. So, being polite, I called Jeffy and asked if he minded if I brought Phil back to the house. I think he said yes, but a loud burst of static interference drowned out his reply. We just got back to our respective cars before the rain started. By the time we'd driven three blocks, it was a raging storm, You could barely see the road in front of you. But somehow, we made it home, and Jeff didn't seem at all displeased with the extra body, so I guess he'd said yes.
We're crashing in the den, and the storm is so violent that it feels like the walls are shaking. Jeff is curled up on the couch, a beer in one hand, and his stuffed rabbit in the other. Whatever gets you through the night. It could almost be funny if Jeff weren't so damn scared. Both Phil and I can see it.
"I know you've been asked this a million times, but" I'm just trying to get Jeff's mind off the weather, "what exactly does straight-edge mean?" Maybe if I can get Phil to carry the conversation...
"Straight Edge is a lifestyle that started within the hardcore punk subculture whose adherents make a lifetime commitment to refrain from drinking alcohol, using tobacco products, and taking recreational drugs." Phil replied
It sounded like he'd either been asked a million times or had just looked it up on Wikipedia. And before I go any further, let me warn you... the rare time I tip a cocktail or two, I get weird thoughts and many times my mouth will ask questions that would normally get my ass in trouble.
"What does straight-edge say about sex?" I asked. Having already been disqualified on the basis of what I was currently holding in my hand, I figured there was no harm in asking.
"Some of the more militant members push for abstinence until marriage, but most straight-edge people fuck." Phil squirmed, like my question was a little too personal. But, as I said, cocktails go in, inhibitions go out... the window.
"Sorry, I'll change the subject." It was not my intention to make my guest uncomfortable.
"S'okay. You're cool." Was it just me, or were certain parts of Phil getting a little bigger? And I don't mean his eyes. I'm thinking it wasn't just me. In fact, I'm sure Jeff noticed it too, 'cause he passed me a look he usually reserves for when he's putting on his 'gay' act.
"Does that mean you're a virgin?" Jeff giggled.
Phil turned a similar colour to that of his Cobra tattoo.
"Jeff, leave him alone." I knew exactly what was going to happen, if Jeff got his way, and I really didn't care for it to. "I'm sure Phil has had his share of experience in that area and it's none of either of our business."
Phil swallowed nervously. I'm one hundred percent sure that this isn't what he had in mind when he accepted my invitation to chill. I'm also sure that if there was ever one point in his life when he would question his decision not to drink, it was then.
"My bad." Jeff apologized "I'm sure Phil's had a ton of fun. What girl wouldn't want to run her fingers through that hair, across those pecs and abs, then slowly grip your..."
"Jeff!" I scolded "Stop it!" When Jeff acts like a horny teenager, it just drives me batty. Sometimes, I just want to shake the shit out of him.
"It's okay, Eric." Phil interrupted, gasping slightly. "Go on, Jeff!"
What the fuck... I swear to you, the more I get to know the Enigma, the more of an enigma he becomes. Anyway, I'm sitting in the corner listening to Jeff tell a long story about his first experience with a girl he met in high school. Phil is sitting next to Jeff, and I swear on my mother's grave, he's actually getting aroused by the tale. At least, Jeff's mind is off the storm, eh?
What happened next is eerily similar to something I saw on HBO one night...
Punk is hard. Even to a jaded non-believer: i.e. me, unless Phil carries a kielbasa with him, he's throwing a serious piece of wood. Jeff finished his story and, necessary gleam in his eye, reaches over and gently squeezes the bulge. Phil looks at Jeff, then back down, and even a plebe like me knows what's gonna happen next. Scary thing is I wanna leave. Unless I'm actually involved in this, I'd rather not watch, even though I have had a noticeable lack of nookie in my life this past year. (Not counting my hand, but I'm sure you didn't need to know that!) It all goes back to one night when I walked in on my brother getting a blow job on my couch. It was months before I could even look at him without getting creeped out.
Anyway... back to the reason you're reading this.
The sound of a zipper opening cuts the silence. Jeff reaches inside Phil's jeans and starts a quick rhythm. Phil's face immediately contorts into a rictus of pleasure, combined with a certain amount of disbelief I'm sure. Sort of like Nicholson's Joker in the original :"Batman" movie.
I can't help but chuckle. I know the expression well. I've used it myself the odd time I've gotten lucky when I used to prowl for chicks. It's a cross between "What the fuck is going on?" and "I won't last too long if this keeps up."
It's about now that one of the weirdest thoughts crosses my cranium, not that any of the other things bouncing around inside would be considered normal. Maybe someone out there can answer this. If you have an answer, please let me know... "Is it considered rude to ask for a better view?" After all, this is my house. I know what I said earlier, but apparently my little head is controlling things right now, and it's telling me not to move.
As if he's reading my mind, Jeff changed position almost right away, and while doing so pull out Phil's dick, red and dripping. Oh man, this is way too much for me, but I gotta make it look like watching a REAL live sex show is nothing to me. On the slim chance that I do make a comeback, I wanna keep my macho image.
The room is silent, except for the odd grunt from Jeff and Phil's heavy breathing. Even I can see that Phil is about ready to blow. What I didn't expect is Phil to be a screamer. God, the neighbours are gonna wonder who's being killed? Anyway, Phil releases his load into Jeff's hand and seconds later, everything is back to normal, or sort of. Like nothing happened, the conversation quickly returns to work, and story lines, and other stuff. Between their conversation, and the sound of the rain on my windows, I doze off.
Shit happens, right? Well, the shit's really hit the fan. I woke up ten minutes ago and I soon realize that I am the only person in the house. Both Phil and Jeff are gone. Phil is no big surprise, but I could've sworn that Jeff said he had four days off when he came over yesterday.
I quickly check the driveway. Okay. Phil's car is gone, but that don't mean nothin'. Maybe they went for breakfast or something. I'm not sure if what happened last night would be classified 'male bonding', or if it even happened???, but Jeff knows that I rarely eat breakfast, so that also explains why neither of them bothered to rouse me.
I figure they won't be gone too long, so I sit down to wait. And I wait. And I wait some more. Finally, I get bored with it, so I go on-line and start playing poker. Quite by accident, after winning a couple grand I might add, I look at my watch. Christ! It's almost five, I haven't eaten all day, and those two aren't back yet. Must be one hell of a breakfast. Either that or they've shacked up in a motel somewhere...
Later that evening...
Okay, something I definitely wrong. I've called his cell, Phil's cell, Matt, Vince, and anyone else I can think of who might know where my Jeff is, and no one has seen him. Jeff's stuff is still here so wherever he went, it was certainly unplanned. Even his bunny is still on the couch. Looking at its sad expression makes me realize how much I am missing him. Okay, maybe miss is too strong a word. After all, he's only been gone twelve hours. I'm concerned, alright... he's been gone for longer stretches than this, but usually he has his stuff, and I know he never travels without his rabbit... dammit, I miss him! If anyone has seen Jeff, please call me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Three days later, and no one, and I repeat no one, has had any contact with either Jeff or Phil. Some of us are about ready to pool whatever cash we have and hire a private investigator, but how do I explain what led up to their disappearance? You know the details as well as I. The rumour mill being what it is, all hell will break loose if I say anything.
So, all that being said, this leaves me with one burning question:
"WHERE IN THE WORLD IS JEFFREY NERO HARDY?
TO BE CONTINUED
I'm not sure where I plan to go with this, so it'll be a real work in progress!