Walter Wallace - Chapter 21

Walter was escorted home in the same van that picked him up outside of his work earlier that day. The drive was quiet. He hadn’t said much since the incident at the studio except that he would like to go home right away. There had been no argument from any of the executives; they were all quite supportive and insistent upon making him comfortable in any way. Brian Smithwaite was the most supportive but his eyes were still grinning that condescending grin. It was the first time Walter truly felt adverse to someone’s smile.

When he arrived home he waded through the mob of press at the entrance to his building. It had not thinned out though they seemed to have lost their bite a little and parted obligingly as Walter pushed forward. The questions they asked were a blur but he didn’t have to think too hard to guess what they were quizzing him about. He had been reliving the conversation for the last hour; trying to imagin what he could have to help the man instead of provoke him; instead of somehow giving him his blessing to take his life. Why would he want to do that? Why would anyone want to do that?

Once he entered the stud, Walter closed his curtain (that is he hung his bed sheet over the naked curtain rod). He didn’t much want a repeat of this morning’s invasion and the sight of the adjacent buildings wall wasn’t quite as inspiring as it used to be. He sat in thought with the conversation swirling around his head. He wished he had a blank crossword to help take his mind off the topic but the ones he had stored away were all thrice completed and fresh in his memory. He cooked some pasta and sauce in a rushed manner and noticed that it tasted as though it were bereft of its usual flavour. He ate it begrudgingly, using it as an outlet for the frustration that was building in his head. What if I had just said something different? He went to bed feeling no urge to sleep and for the second night in a row he lay awake in his bed long into the early morning hours.

He awoke at 6am feeling worse than when he had gone to bed and wondering if he had even slept. He sat and ate some cereal lethargically before putting on his work clothes. He left the house and the press were ready for his early bird antics this time. The little respect they had shown the night before had clearly dissipated and they seemed to be making up for lost time.

Walter Wallace - Chapter 20

“Walter. Ed Hames. Pleasure to meet you. Look I’m a lawyer - not like some hot shot big leagues lawyer – but I get a decent living. But in my job you gotta lie. You gotta. And I wanted to know if it’s wrong. I mean like I feel bad about it sometimes and- Idunno...Do you lie?”

“No, I don’t think so. But I never really need to lie. Do you need to lie?”

“Like I said I’m not a hot shot lawyer, but I mean...I gotta make a living for my family, don’t I?”

“That’s true. Well do you hurt people with your lies. Do you feel guilty?”

“I-” Ed Hames sighed audibly through the telephone, “I mean...yeah I do, I do.” There was a short pause during which it seemed obvious that Ed was contemplating his existence on a deep scale. “OK thanks buddy.”

“Thank you, Mr Hames. Walter, we have a ‘Bruno’ on the line. No last name here. Go ahead Bruno.” Tony Holdsworth couldn’t help but smile. Well he could help enough not to look like a douche on TV but he couldn’t help his inner smile. This was great television. Whoever this Walter Wallace was and whether or not the silly machine worked, people were engaged by the whole scenario and Tony was perched overlooking TV history.

“Yeah so what I wanna ask you is this: Walter Wallace. You ever had sex pal?” The studio audience laughed and Walter smiled, blushing a little. “And don’t you lie to me, I heard what you said to that other poor bastard so you can’t lie.”

Walter looked a little childish as he spoke, “Yeah I have.” A few hoots and a wolf whistle came from the audience.

“And?”

“It was pretty good.” Tony could tell Walter was nervous but he wasn’t lying. Sex makes everybody giddy to talk about and guessing by Walter’s social life he hadn’t had much sex and had talked about it even less.

“Hahah you cheeky bastard. So what’d you do, have a lady or just go fuck a hooker Bruno Style.” The audience, who felt like they were sharing an inside joke over the fun back and forth dialogue, laughed and whispered excitedly but live F-bombs were a piece of cake. Tony hammed it up, freezing on the spot and then mopping his brow while giving exaggerated nervous glances backstage. By now it would have been censored on the slight delay and all he had to do now was cut the call while they were ahead.

“Alright Bruno, I have to say I wouldn’t mind hearing more of what you feel are the important questions for happiness but we’ll have to leave it at that for now.”

“No harm; no foul, Tony. Least I know them celebrate monks ain’t got all the secrets.”

Walter Wallace - Chapter 19

Whisky sat in the van halfway down the block and across the street from Channel 8 studios. He had followed Walter, undetected, into the large building and tracked his every step. He saw him being introduced to different figures within the network by Brian Smithwaite, he saw him enter the conference room and eventually saw him pushed onto the stage by a young stagehand. All the while he had kept out of sight, following the orders of Boss Citadel. Or so he thought.

“You don’t need to be here, Mr Whisker. And if you are going to tail someone, try be a little more subtle.” It was a mocking, sarcastic voice and it almost made Whisky jump. He turned and saw Brian Smithwaite with a slimy grin on his face.

“It’s Whisky, and Boss told me to trail the mark so that’s what I am doing.”

“Ooh, have a nickname now do you? But Whisker was so cute. Just like a fluffy little kitten.” He pinched Whisky’s cheek as he said it. Whisky didn’t flinch. “So they teach you how to be a robot at the academy but not how to track a mark without being sighted.” Whisky’s jaw tightened for a split second. Brian gave victorious smirk. “Listen, I run the show down here at Channel 8. This is my home court and I have everything quite under control. I don’t need some lumbering security guard raising any suspicions. What you can do is go back out and wait in the car with Mr Chips and call the Boss and tell him that Walter hasn’t signed the contract...yet.”

“That was your job,” Whisky replied matter-of-factly, “shouldn’t you make the call?”

“Do I look like I have time? I am running this operation here. Do you know how many strings I am pulling to keep this show going? And now you come in here playing spy and I am forced to untangle you before you ruin it all. Now follow your orders like you were trained to do and go back outside and call Boss and tell him the contract is yet to be signed.” The two men stared at each other a moment before Whisky turned and headed back to the side entrance he had found when he originally entered the building.

Walter Wallace - Chapter 18

It wasn’t hot at Channel 8 studios. Sure under the immediate attention of some of the lighting the temperature jumped, but this seemed to be offset by a very prominent air conditioning system. Its prominence such that most those in the audience had goose bumps, though this in turn could be attributed to the anticipation that Walter Wallace was generating. What he did know was that despite any lighting/a/c produced artificial ambience, he was sweating like he had never sweat before.

A rushed looking girl with an awkward contraption wrapped around her head came up and stood in front of Walter. She smoothed out Walter’s suit while speaking rapidly, “You look great. Remember not to look directly at the camera. Speak with a strong but not too loud voice, OK? You’ll be fine!” Walter nodded vaguely and she furrowed her brow as she tried to mop up his leaking forehead. “A sweater are you? Don’t tell me that’s the secret to happiness. I just had laser surgery on my armpits.”

Walter furrowed his own brow, trying not to think what that might mean. Instead he paused for a moment and closed his eyes and settled himself naturally. He was as deep as he had ever been but didn’t feel out of his depth. He felt a natural calm begin to trickle through his body and realised there was no need to worry he would just make sure he-

“You’re On!” The rushed girl had pushed Walter out in front of the cameras and he stumbled slightly before checking himself and walking timidly over to the chair next to Tony Holdsworth. He had met Manny’s father only an hour ago. He was seated at a long table with four other important figures including Brian Smithwaite. The men took turns as they talked of how they would approach the situation. They spoke of respecting Walter’s predicament and ensuring he was safe and comfortable at all times. They spoke of the expectations of Channel 8 and the media in general. They spoke of the public’s expectations. And in the end they came round to Walter’s response to all this. The senior most of them leaned forward, “Obviously you are not bound to any duties, Walter. You are a free man just as this great nation promises us all. You are here only on invitation to which you have so graciously accepted. We are not suggesting that you have any obligation to us, or that we the people have any right to you; we only further extend our invitation that you chat with us and share with the world your...expertise in the field of happiness.” The men all chuckled while Walter smiled politely. It was not clear where it came from or for how long it had been there but Walter could have sworn there wasn’t piece of paper in front of him a moment ago. “We will make it well worth your while, Walter.” Tony Holdsworth was standing at Walter’s right shoulder, offering him a pen. Walter glanced at it and then at Tony. He had no idea what was going on, only that he was extremely uncomfortable. He took the pen from Tony and-

“Are you still with us Walter?” Walter started, as if he had just been dozing off. Had he been dozing off? “It’s OK to get a little camera shy Walter. Even the happiest man in the World would be a little intimidated by all this equipment at first. The audience laughed and Walter again smiled politely.

“Sorry, I was-”

“No don’t be, that’s perfectly fine. What I was saying was welcome to your new home at Channel 8 studios. And might I add that you look to be making it your own rather quickly.” Another laugh; this time Tony smiled broadly, he truly enjoyed himself. “Now let’s get to the nitty gritty. Everyone wants to hear it; I want to hear it, so tell us. What’s your secret? Is there a secret? Can it be wrapped up in 25 words or less? Do you need to draw it? Are you going to tease us with it? Are you going to hide it? What I’m trying to say is: Tell us the secret!” three in a row! The audience cheered and followed it up with a round of applause.

Walter had no idea, so that’s what he said, “Well I’m just not really sure. I mean, it’s not an easy question to answer. I’ve never really asked myself. It seems...pointless.”

“Mmm, OK. We saw a little bit of this last night with Manny. You had never heard of the machine before last night had you?”

“No.”

“And you say that you don’t consider yourself happy or unhappy?”

“Well,” Walter spoke slowly, returning to his natural calm again, “like I said, I never thought to.”

“Well it is quite remarkable I must say. We racked our brains here at the studio last night trying to work out how we can unlock this secret that even you yourself seem unable to articulate. Perhaps we ought get to know you a little better first. How about a little questionnaire? What do you say folks?” The crowd cheered and Walter shrugged obligingly. “OK first question: How old are you?”

“32.”

“What do you do?”

“Like a job?”

“Yeah.”

“I clean the toilets in the South West Zone train system.” There was a murmur in the crowd and Tony nodded, feigning appreciation; hiding disgust.

“For how long?”

“12 years.”

“Do you have a tertiary education?”

“No. High school was enough for me.”

“Are you single? Remember if you feel uncomfortable about any of this it is fine not to answer.”

“No that’s fine. Yes I’m single.”

“Divorced?”

“No.”

“Any family?”

“My parents passed away around 10 years ago. I don’t have any siblings.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No that’s OK. They had a good life. They loved me and I loved them.” Walter was starting to feel confident. He had never had anyone this interested in his life before.

“Do you have many friends?”

“Well, not really, no.” The crowd was murmuring a little louder now. Tony made to summarise.

“So what we have here, if I may be so crass, is a man, 32 with little or no possessions; a man with no friends and family, no relationships at all it seems; and finally a man who cleans toilets for a living. Tell me, Walter, what do you do for fun?”

“I like crosswords. I read; listen to music occasionally, though I don’t have many books and I only catch the radio playing in my boss’s office occasionally. I like to walk around the neighbourhood, sit in the park and get some fresh air.” He shrugged and smiled honestly. He had stopped sweating and felt rather at ease. He looked at Tony who was giving an exaggerated shrug of the shoulders to the camera as if summing up the collective reactions of everyone around the world. He had a playful look on his face which was much different to the expression Walter saw back in the dark office when he had returned Tony’s pen after politely refusing to sign the document that had been placed before him. He knew something felt wrong and decided at the last moment to trust his gut. “You’re making a mistake, Walter! A big mistake!” Tony had lost his cool. All the men did; All except Brian Smithwaite. By now Tony was all smiles and cheer for the camera, but earlier, while he and the rest were standing and yelling and insisting and pleading, Brian had simply remained in his leaned back position smiling his horrible, slimy grin.

The thought of that moment brought Walter back down a notch from his primetime high just in time for Tony to send them to commercial. “And when we come back, ladies and gentlemen, we will throw the microphone over to the studio audience and have them ask Walter a few questions to see if we can piece together a little more of this intriguing puzzle.”

Notes on the Text

UFC Eulogy - 128: Shogun v Bones Jones

Well what can I say?I'll just get this out of the way: Bones Jones is a freak.

OK,I'll come back to this point in a second. First I will write the review of the rest of the PPV similar to how I watched. Impatient and anxious about the main event.

It wasn't a terrible PPV. The main event was a spectacle and there was some good action beforehand, but I did find myself a little disengaged with the earlier fights. It may have just been an off day for me - tired, beers, footy on the adjacent screen - but I can barely remember the specifics of the other fights.

Cro Cop v Brendan Schaub was an entertaining fight. He did what he does best. He brought the fight to his opponent and threatened with an all round solid game but he still couldn't do what he used to do best...knock guys outSchaub landed a right hook that seemed to catch Mirko behind the ear and he dropped awkwardly and it was followed by a series of cringe-inducing replays

Marquardt v Dan Miller was a snooze fest. Sucked momentum out of the PPV and in the end Marquardt won but who cares. He is slipping down PPV ladder and might be headlining fight nights in the future.

Jim Miller v Kamal Shalorus was an entertaining fight. I haven't seen these two much if at all and Jim proved he is one to watch. I really can't get over the depth and variety of the Lightweight division. Good luck to whoever runs the ranking system for it.

My first Bantamweight bout. This would be interesting, more so because apart from the more committed MMA fans there will be plenty of UFC fans who don't recognise or buy PPVs based on the new WEC guys. So that means these guys are at a pivotal point of their careers in the octagon and how they market themselves outside of it. Faber came with plenty of hype but struggled through the first round. He did adjust and fought with plenty of flair that the little guys offer and in the end it was a decent decision bout. So I'm gonna stick to the fence before I commit to my maiden favourite Bantamweight.

So now to the big one. I was tipping and hoping for a Shogun victory beforehand but just the visual size difference alone would have been warning enough for most fans, but for me it was the first takedown that filled me with a sense of dread. Jones manhandled Shogun and then imposed himself on top and did some damage while draining Shogun of significant energy - by the first round bell he looked gassed. The stand up was a similar story. Jones' reach nullified anything Shogun could throw at him and on the not so rare occasion when Jones made a mistake, Shogun looked powerless to capitalise. At one point he had his back and dropped down to try take a leg but seemed to slide off weakly. Another was an attempted sweep or reversal that barely made Jones budge. Eventually an exhausted Rua was felled by a piercing body blow and a knee on the way down, tapping the mat as Bones Jones strode away to take in his victory.

So where do we go from here? Every sport has eras of domination; as do the weight divisions within the UFC: Silva, GSP, BJ Penn, Ortiz, Matt Hughes. When someone brings a game that is naturally a cut above the rest. Whether it is natural ability, work ethic, technique, etc. it is usually good enough to require years of training to develop a fighter to overcome it.

But one thing more common than dominant eras is making the call too early. Brock Lesnar wasn't meant to be the man atop the mountain. He was the Mountain. But in his two title defences he was rocked by Carwin and then destroyed by Cain Velasquez. Now people, myself included, are unable to see who could beat Cain but he hasn't made one defence yet either. The Light Heavyweight division for sometime now has been like hot potato with title belt; before Shogun we had Lyoto Machida, Rashad Evans, Forrest Griffin, and Rampage Jackson who were all convincing champs. But the cream of this even playing field seemed to have risen to the top with Shogun. A man of ample potential finally exuding it in a demolition of Machida.

But now we have to ask: Who will beat Bones Jones? Is anyone physically capable? Rashad Evans is next up and good luck to him because I love him but a cynical side of me suggested that his statements about moving to the Middleweight division if Jones became champ had less to do with friendship and more to do with inside info on the next big thing. At the moment Bones Jones is a marketing dream but Dana White may be worried of Anderson Silva syndrome where the competition are so far below that the fights are tougher to market. Admittedly he is American and much more aggressive tactically, and the more I think about it the more I want to see Rashad or Rampage or Shogun rematch or Machida or even the lovable Forrest Griffin have a go. It does seem like it will be 5 easy title defences but with UFC you really never know so in the end, after the devastation, I am pretty excited about Jones' next fight.

- Eden