Contact with the former Adrenaline Champion has been sparse. He has fielded very few calls from family, and even fewer from friends. Those close to him, however, aren't deterred by his self-induced isolation, and continue to try and reach him. Some have gone as far as to try and get him to come answer their knocks at the door, to no avail.

Concern, at one point, began to seriously arise, due to this seclusion. Some friends were worried that this could have sent Jake into a mental state where he was liable to do drastic things. Some friends began to text him with messages simply asking for a reply to let them know he was still breathing. To those messages, Jake merely replied "Alive yes... Breathing occasionally..."

To those who know him best, they knew that was a sign he would be alright with time and space.

After his bouts with rage, his demonstrations of anger through punching holes in the walls, his moments of depression when he wondered if he should just give up the business all together, again, he still is at an emotional stalemate regarding answers.

He has confined himself to his office in his house, hoping that through all of these ups and downs, something positive will emerge. For his wife Roeper, she knows her job, right now, is to let him stew, and try to sort things out. When he's ready, she knows he'll come and talk. Until then, she cooks them lunch and dinner, and watches as he barely eats. She constantly hears his phone beeping with messages, and constantly get silenced. She hopes this all passes soon.

Roeper walks by his office and looks in at him, staring blankly ahead. He notices her, glances up, and she smiles, and walks on. She wants to make sure he knows she understands his pain. As she passes, the camera approaches Jake, in his office.

His mental state has, obviously, wavered little since he was last seen by the SCW public.

As the camera gets closer, his phone rings. He looks at the caller ID, and quickly hits the button silencing the ringer. The illuminated screen goes dark as the call goes to voicemail.

Several moments pass with Jake moving little, and his gaze fixated on the wall opposite his desk.

The phone rings again. Jake, once again, looks at the caller ID, and simply ignores the call, sending it directly to his, already full, voicemail. For a change of pace, he leans his head back into the head-rest of his chair, and takes an audibly noticeable deep breath.

His phone rings for a third time. Agitated, Jake takes a deep breath, grabs his phone, clicks the button to answer, and quickly shoots the phone up to his ear.

Jake Starr: WHAT?!

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: Dude... I'm sorry for calling so many time but...

Jake Starr: Then WHY do it?!

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: Dude... You know I wouldn't be if I didn't have a reason!

Jake Starr: My opinion of the collective brain cells of those surrounding me isn't at its peak at the moment, so no, I don't know that you wouldn't...

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: ... Well I do have a reason!

Jake pauses, then takes another audible breath.

Jake Starr: ... I'm waiting!

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: Ok sorry... Star Wars Kid is a bloodhound dude!

Jake's face goes from angry to annoyed. He thinks this call simply is NNG giving a report on Star Wars Kid.

Jake Starr: What?!

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: Dude... He's got the nose of a bloodhound!

Jake Starr: Why in the f_ck do you say that?!

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: It all leads up to why I'm calling!

Jake Starr: I sure as sh!t hope so!

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: Trust me... It does!

Jake's eyes roll in disbelief.

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: After we left, he immediately picked up Brandon's scent. Don't ask me how, he tried to explain it to me, and it made about as much sense as that Carolina chick's pageant speech about maps.

Jake Starr: ... The point?!

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: SORRY! Getting there! So he actually found Brandon, who was immediately scared off by this kid following his smell. I couldn't get a hold of him to ask him anything you wanted because he took off so fast. Well Star Wars Kid figured he had done part one of his mission, and immediately ran over to a tree nearby, and began to urinate on it.

Jake face-palms himself.

Jake Starr: Oh Jesus... He's not incarcerated is he?

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: Almost... But no!

Jake Starr: Thank God! I didn't need that f_cking burden on my shoulders as well...

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: ... Anyway, so I quickly run over to scold him for peeing in public, and he starts yammering about Jimmy Hoffa. Turns out, he was marking the tree to tell me that's where Hoffa was!

Jake's eyes immediately widen. His jaw drops.

Jake Starr: You're kidding!

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: Wish I was... Apparently the feds trust the intuition of "special" kids, and have called in an excavator to dig up the area.

Jake Starr: Oh my God!

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: That's what I said... But that's not the unbelievable part!

Jake immediately closes his eyes, worried about what he's going to hear next. Is he going to hear how he began to, once again, visualize himself in the midst of a battle scene in Star Wars, and begin smacking people with his "light saber?" Was he going to accost some woman he felt was his Queen Amidala or Princess Leia? He honestly fears the worst.

Jake Starr: Ok... Lay it on me!

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: Well that's why I am calling! After he found Hoffa, or thinks he did, he got this strange look in his eye, and started talking about his "special" mission.

Jake knows the bombshell is coming.

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: ... I turn away to answer a question for one of the feds, and when I turn around, he's gone stealth, and vanished into thin air.

Jake Starr: You lost him?!

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: Sort of! He sent me a message that I just got!

Jake Starr: He can write?!

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: Not really... It took some ciphering, but it says he's coming to see you, right now!

Jake Starr: Oh no... Why?

NNG continues to cipher the note out.

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: Apparently because he thinks he's found the solution to your troubles, better your mood, and turn the world upside down!

Jake Starr: I know, for a fact, he doesn't have that many brain cells to have written all of that.

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: Ok, so he wrote what he found, and I kind of added in why he's coming to see you. I know his intentions, sometimes.

Jake Starr: How about this... You tell me whatever it is he "found," and then call him, and you both just leave me be right now?

Voice of Numa Numa Guy: I don't think I'd catch him in time!

Jake Starr: Why not?

Jake hears a knocking at his front door. His head falls back into his head rest knowing who's at the door.

Jake Starr: ... Call him and tell him to go away!

The knocking gets louder and louder with Star Wars Kid chanting on the other side "I GOTZ JAKEY PWESENT!" Jake grits his teeth together, knowing he's going to have to scold the kid for this interruption, and begins to walk out of his office. As he reaches the doorway of his office, Roeper has also come to see who's at the door. Jake stops her, and says he'll handle this one, knowing it's something that is his responsibility.

As he reaches the door, NNG still sits on the other end of the phone, awaiting the reaction of this event.

Jake takes one final deep breath, trying to keep his composure, and quickly swings the door open. The light blazes through and illuminates Jake, who stands there, eyes wide open, and jaw now dropped as far as it'll go.

NNG exclaims at Jake, asking what he thinks, to which Jake cannot respond. Star Wars Kid comes skipping into the foyer area chanting, "I FINDZ HIM! I FINDZ HIM!"

Jake remains frozen where he stands.

The camera shifts behind the person Star Wars Kid found, and shows Jake fully illuminated by the light. The figure, in a white robe, walks forward, into the house.

As the camera pans around Jake, the door shuts without being touched, while the light continues to illuminate the room. Once, again, behind Jake, the figure's face slowly shows through the light.

Jake Starr: Oh... My... God!

Jesus: Yes my son?

As Jesus stands before Jake, Jake gulps. He can't believe Star Wars Kid has actually found the Messiah himself.

Jesus stretches his hand out, and touches the SCW Champion on the shoulder. Jake, then, immediately finds himself waking up in his own bed, drenched in a cold sweat, and panting heavily. He looks around the room, into every corner, and simply sees everything normal and as it should be.

Jolted by his sudden awakening, Roeper jumps up in bed as well, still half asleep, and wondering why her husband is soaked in sweat, and apparently awake from a nightmare.

Roeper Hart: Baby? What's wrong?

Jake continues to scan the room. The dream had been so real. Jesus had been standing right in front of him. He felt his touch. It was all so vividly real!

Roeper Hart: Baby?

Jake finally begins to catch his breath to the point of explaining.

Jake Starr: I... I think it was just a dream!

Roeper Hart: I assure you, there aren't any showers on in the house, and Brandon isn't here!

Jake Starr: It wasn't about Brandon... Not really at least! But... Unlike that dream... I think this one had some deeper meaning?

Roeper Hart: What was the dream?

Jake explains his dream, unable to leave out any minute detail. Every moment of it still is racing through his head as if it was a real-life experience. At times, he actually begins to get excited about what he's experienced, then at others, shows signs of fear or worry.

Roeper sits next to him, stunned at the dream. She doesn't have a clue what to make of this experience of her husband's.

As he finishes explaining the dream to his wife, she quickly begins to think out loud...

Roeper Hart: Well... I wonder what it means then?

Jake Starr: I think I have it narrowed down somewhat!

Roeper Hart: Wow... Already?

Jake Starr: Yeah...

Roeper Hart: Well...?

Jake Starr: Either, I need to start going to church more, strengthening my religious relationship with God, and finding Jesus for myself or...

Roeper cocks an eyebrow at what the "or" could be.

Roeper Hart: Or...?

Jake Starr: Or... SWK is the key to all of my riches and successes in life thanks to his uncanny ability to win at hide and seek!

Roeper smacks her husband with a pillow, and flops back into bed. Jake remains upright as he continues to ponder the dream, as the camera slowly begins to exit the bedroom. As it leaves, on the table next to the door lies a bracelet with the letters "WWJD" on it, not belonging to either of the two habitants of the house.

With this dream now occupying his mind, could this be the metaphor he needed to begin mentally preparing for Greg Cherry at Body, Heart and Soul? Or will this just be another distraction that leads to another setback in his quest for legendary status in the halls of Supreme Championship Wrestling? Regardless, at the pay-per view, Jake knows he has to come in with a slightly different game plan from his first encounter with the challenger. He knows that he cannot allow the same result to occur this time around, or he may begin to second guess his entire existence in SCW.

For Greg Cherry... It's, "ready or not... Here he comes!"

Jake Starr: The past few days have really been ones that have caused me to do a lot of soul searching. I have bouts of rage, mixed with bouts of depression, mixed with desires for revenge, and in the end, nothing feels right.

Never before has this ever happened to me. Never before have I ever not been able to sit down with my wife and eat dinner, and simply not been able to have normal conversation, or be, well, normal. It's just something that I've never had to cope with before.

But it doesn't mean I'm incapable... Or unwilling.

I'm willing to meet new challenges head-on in this business. It's another reason I came back to it. I'm willing to fight through adversity. It, too, is another reason I came back to this business. So, no matter how many emotional peaks and valleys I encounter, I know, in the back of my head, it's part of why I returned.

Knowing this, still, doesn't stop the emotional turmoil.

See, I hate being on the receiving end of an "I told you so." It's one of those things that, I guess you can say, stings to hear. But, as the fatso that I'll soon be reclaiming my Adrenaline Championship from so eloquently put it, he did tell everyone so.

He likes to attribute his success to being "great," or something, and that he is superior to everyone. I, however, simply attribute it to the fact that he got lucky. I know, someone in his position, and weight class, won't ever admit it, but it's the only way they ever get the breaks in life. It isn't because of talent. It's not because of superiority. It's because someone didn't give them enough credit to make it to the ring without an oxygen tank, and thusly, lost.

Hence my position.

As I stated before, this time is different. I'm not going to, necessarily, have the proverbial 20/20 hindsight, because I do get a chance to correct my mistake. I don't have to suck it up, and just dwell on what I know I did wrong. I get to fix it. And I will.

Cherry seemingly has this affinity for living in the past. He likes to talk about things he could have done, things he should have done, things he wishes he had done, girls he wishes had actually been drunk enough to have done him, you know, typical things in a life like his. He uses these as reasons he, of all people, will do something nobody else has been able to do to me in years, and that's beat me twice. He expects this 20/20 vision of his past to lead him to greatness, when in all actuality, it's telling him the truth of what is to come. He knows, deep down in his jelly roll and bile-filled stomach that he won't be accomplishing more greatness, but yet succumbing to it.

To put it in simpleton-terms Greg would comprehend... He's wrong about everything!

And see, I'm in the business of righting the wrongs surrounding me, thus proving his wrongful views of the world. When I see political collusion, favoritism, ass-kissing, pretend romances, et cetera, I do what I can to get them completely removed from around me, and anyone else I see fit. I don't allow it to continue to prosper, period.

And that time... Is now!

I've admitted my mistake, which is step one in correcting a wrong. I've taken responsibility for my loss by admitting that I took him too lightly (bet that's the first time he's heard a reference to him and the word "lightly" used in one thought). And now, I look ahead. I look ahead to Body, Heart and Soul. I see what I have to lose, and what I have to gain. I could, conceivably, become a FORMER champion on two fronts. I could, conceivably, have to cope with the idea that MAYBE Greg Cherry is better than me.

Or...

I could end up showing the world that a fluke happened. I could redeem myself in my own eyes, as well as those of my family, friends, and fans. I could walk out of there knowing that Greg Cherry is simply, a loser.

I personally like that outcome better, as would those around me whose opinions actually MATTER to me.

I'd especially like to see the happiness once again in the eyes of my wife. Not to say she's disappointed in me, but with the situation because of how it has impacted me. Like I said, home life has been rather rocky as of late, and it's caused me to have serious doubt on if a career would continue if I do not win in the end. Now we all know, if that were to happen, it'd make a bunch of people happy. Hell, it'd make Cherry think he had rid SCW of Jake Starr. He'd be a hero to some people backstage who can't take a JOKE about GOLDen showers... But nevertheless, he'd be a superstar. That's what drags me back the other way. That's what has kept me from saying if I lose, I'm out.

So who knows?

BUT... While we're on a similar subject, I have to raise some question here. And it's one, I think, everyone has been curious about for some time now.

Will Greg ever drop this FAKE act with his FAKE girl?

Think about it... He walks around like he's "THE sh!t," and then goes on this sob story about how he wishes his version of Julia Roberts in "Pretty Woman" was around. WHO, in their right mind, would shack up with THAT?! And, more importantly, WHY is anyone believing that this broad is for real, and not some actress paid to come stand through a meaningless scene with two-bit dialog that a third grader with dyslexia could write? Is she THAT desperate to break into show business that she'd allow herself to be portrayed as this "lover" to Jabba the Hutt?

Good God! It's so FAKE! At least mine have some believability to them, Jesus. I don't make up these faux-mances that I hope people pull out a tissue for, and wipe the tears from their faces.

What... A... HACK!

Next thing you know, he'll start having dreams about winning the SCW Championship from me!

Oh wait... He did!

Talk about lame. How old is he? Does he not realize we're in an adult world, and talking about his childish dreams and aspirations were supposed to end when he found out Santa Claus wasn't real?

Greg needs to fully understand that these figments of his imagination are just that, figments. He's allowing himself to write me off because he was lucky ONCE in his God-forsaken life, and that immediately sends his pre-pubescent brain into overdrive about what will happen next.

GOD he angers me!

I can't stand people who are THIS fake, and THIS predictable in life. ESPECIALLY when they pawn this drivel off as their own "ingenious" ideas and concepts. In the end, all these things he says, does, and pretends that have actual meaning to him, are contrived scripts written by a toddler who hasn't had his genitals drop.

It's time for him to come to big-boy world now. His days of dreaming in the world where Tinky Winky and LaLa play hop-scotch with him in his little tree fort are over. His days of playing dress-up with a championship he is UNFIT to hold have come to an end. It's time to face the music. It's time to let the truth be told.

He had his time to enjoy having his first Adrenaline Championship, but unfortunately for him, it's not something that was ever meant to last. He can enjoy his moment of glory as he sees his name forever-enshrined with those of us GREATS who have held it, me namely being the greatest. I'm fine with him enjoying his little time in the light. But, I never was great at sharing. It wasn't really a concept my family instilled in me very well. So my time sharing the glory with him, has long-since passed the point I'm willing to allow.

Another thing I'm done sharing is something I covet quite a lot, and that's airtime. See, when I come out and say the things I do, I make a great deal to make sure I don't put people to sleep, bore them, or quite frankly, wasting time that could be used for reruns of "You Can't Do That on Television." Unfortunately for Greg, he seemingly thinks he is worthy of taking up as much time as he wants. Unfortunately, his little scenes he likes to try and fool people with remind me of late-night infomercials that are selling a product you KNOW sucks. Greg is the cure for insomnia. I'm telling you... Put one of his "caddy" promos on, and put someone with insomnia there to watch it, they'll be asleep before he can get to his second monologue.

It should be his job to dress like Chunk from the "Goonies" and Truffle Shuffle the entire time he talks. At least then... Maybe then... I'd actually be able to sit through his garbage, not wake up even angrier than I was when I first turned him on the television, and not feel sick to my stomach as he gorges himself on Pop Tarts and Laffy Taffy.

So... To Cherry I say... DANCE FAT BOY! MAKE ME LAUGH!

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