“Life is pretty simple: You do some stuff. Most fails. Some works. You do more of what works. If it works big, others quickly copy it. Then you do something else. The trick is the doing something else.” - Leonardo da Vinci

You remember that piece of paper that Eugene was absentmindedly twirling between his fingers earlier in the week? Well he was at it again, only this time he stopped turning it briefly at random intervals to read and re-read what was written upon it.

A phone number.

Fitting perhaps because in his other hand he held his iPhone 4S. Probably for one of the last times what with the announcement of the 5 earlier in the week.

Are you stoked?

You should be.

“Hey, it’s Eugene...” Eugene said to himself, looking at the screen of his phone, which read the same as the number on the scrap of paper save for the last digit, “Dewey...”

He paused for a second as he went over possible responses he might get in his imaginary conversation. “From Defiance... Yeah, I’m good, how are you?”

Eugene hit the cancel button on his phone and tossed it down onto the desk infront of him. He resumed twisting the scrap of paper between his fingers and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand as he exhaled loudly.

“See, that just sounds stupid.” Eugene muttered to himself in a defeatist tone. He shook his head and asked himself rhetorically, “How does this comes so easy for some people?”

He was right though, for some guys, calling up a girl, asking how she is and suggesting they go out for a couple of drinks some time seemed perfectly natural. But whenever Eugene went to do it, which up until now had been literally never, he suddenly became very aware of how heavy his breathing was and the fact that he had what had to be the world’s biggest tongue lodged inside his mouth.

Eugene sighed again and reached for his iPhone. He gripped it lightly before reluctantly letting it go again and rubbed his face while shaking his head.

“Come on, get it together.” He said to himself, trying in vain to motivate himself once more. “You want to be stuck like this forever?”

The answer to that question was obviously no. He didn’t want to be stuck living in his mother’s basement for the rest of his life, and he certainly didn’t want to make it to thirty years old without having done any of the acts he’d managed to fill up a 2 terabyte external hard drive with.

“Hello there, it’s Eugene Dewey here.” Eugene said as he picked up his phone once more. He sounded ridiculous to say the least, but hey, come on, give the guy a break would you? He’s permitted to be slightly nervous. “How are you doing today?”

Slowly he punched in the numbers one after another, but once again stopped one short of completing it. His finger hovered over the final digit and trembled before finally making contact with the screen. He’d completed it, now all he needed to do was press call.

But that was an entirely different matter now.

“This could change your life.” He told himself, although whether that was supposed to encourage or dissuade from pressing that ‘call’ button was unclear, “You could be stuck here with a brother who hates you, dependent on your mother for everything, or you could go off, start a life, get a house in the suburbs, have some kids...”

Ok, so maybe his imagination was a little advanced seeing as he’d only got a phone number so far, but a girl can dream, can’t she?

I mean guy.

“Christian Light can do it.” He said to himself, “It all comes so easy to him though, doesn’t it...”

Uh-oh, we’re losing him.

“It all comes so easy to Christian Light, doesn’t it?” He asked himself, sounding only slightly bitter, but mainly as though he were simply questioning why it didn’t come as simply for himself, “Wrestling, family, friends, life... I’d give anything to be like Christian and be a family man with a beautiful wife, loving kids... I’d give anything to be a favorite to make it to the finals, let alone win the whole masters of wrestling tournament...”

But then it hit him like a right hand from Frank Dylan James, he could be like Christian if he really, really wanted to, and there were two ways in which he could make that happen.

Number one, he could take the plunge and press that ‘call’ button, strike up a conversation with that subjectively beautiful, raven haired nurse from Michigan and give himself the chance of going on to live happily ever after.

Or number two, he could head to the grand champion playoffs, defeat Bronson Box a third time, face and defeat the man that would ultimately be his toughest challenge to date, the man he hoped to emulate, Christian Light, and book himself a place in the Masters of Wrestling final.

Eugene closed his eyes, took a long, deep breath, and pressed ‘call’ as he raised the phone to his ear.

...

What?

Nobody said anything about those options being mutually exclusive.

“Hey, it’s Eugene.”

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