((Malibu Beach, California... the weather is still perfect here, but the company is something to be desired.))

((There's a bandage covering his right temple. Eight stitches and time will leave a scar to match his bruised ego. The doctor called it a "slight" concussion. Kyle thought "slight" was too kind a term to describe what his head felt like over the next couple of days post Wednesday Night Aggression. He should have expected it, after all Bryce was always one for making grand displays... subtlety was never his strong suit. Still the dame was something new and a nice touch.))

((In hindsight he should have tucked tail and run, but that pesky thing he likes to call "pride" got in the way and now he's left to deal with the repercussions.))

November: Here's something funny, and you'll laugh with me when I'm through explaining it. Because it really is funny.

((A condo on the beach front and the Golden Gate is hundreds of miles away. He's dressed comfortably in the traditional SoCal style, but more importantly then that is how relaxed he looks with the Pacific as his backdrop. It's mesmerizing and powerful all at once.))

November: So get this I drop the Miami Mouth with the most impressive chair shot that you have ever seen.

Ever.

((Karma's a bitch....))

November: Silence him for days on end... 23-days worth to be exact. I mean not a damn peep coming out of his camp at all. Which is, you know, to be expected because that was the most impressive chair shot that you or God has ever seen. And so now here's where it gets funny.

When he finally decides to open his mouth after 23-days of rehab. After 23-days of learning to chew solid foods again. After 23-days of blissful silence. It's all to tell me that I don't matter.

((I blink twice so I don't roll.))

November: Like maybe two of you understand the point that I just laid down. For the rest of you though... I'll explain it out in simplistic terms. Simplistic meaning overly simplified. Meaning I'm going to make this really easy to understand so that you don't hurt yourself thinking about it.

The Man with a Tan doesn't speak for 23-days after I destroy his face with the most impressive chair shot your mother has ever seen.

When he finally does decide to use his words again it's to tell me that I don't matter.

So then if I don't matter... then why is it he spends his first interview back, after 23-days of silence, telling me I don't matter? Seems to me that if you really want to express your disinterest in someone you just, you know, fucking ignore them. You don't make them the center piece in your return interview.

See I told you. Totally fucking funny. 

((I could tell you what his hair's doing in the gentle breeze coming in from the west. Or what his wardrobe is comprised of. I could even tell you every facial feature that he's making right now, but that doesn't matter. Not nearly as much as his words.))

November: So Attict you and I both know that you're full of shit, and well now the rest of the federation knows you're full of shit too. But let's not make too big of a deal of of this. Just because I hit you with the most impressive chair shot that Tommy Riley has ever seen doesn't put any greater significance on your worth. Let's just call that a love tap. A friendly hello from one LWF alumni to another.

Speaking of which anyone seen Atom Bomb around? No not THAT one, but THAT one.

And only one of you understood that. So moving on...

((He gave up on composing himself a long time ago. Bryce always brings out the very best in him.))

November: You know unlike Attict it is all very personal and stuff with us. I mean three-years later and we're still fighting about...

Um... about...

You know... just what the fuck are we fighting about?

((He pauses there for a moment and gives you a chance to breath... to clear your head before he dives right back in.))

November: Over these past ten-days I've had a lot of time to think. To really wrap my mind around the situation between you and I, and here now before your scathing ears are the two conclusions I've come to.

One, your fiancé is a total bitch, and I mean that in the most heartfelt way.

And two... jealousy doesn't suit you.

Let's face it Bryce three-years ago we both used each other in the LWF. However, what pisses you off the most is that my use of you ran its course a lot sooner than you would have liked. I was ready to go back to my Family... my fiancé, and part ways with you amicably. Oh, but not you. You weren't ready for it to be over, and just like Alex Forrest after a one night stand, you go all Fatal Attraction on me. Start stewing up bunny rabbits and aligning with Shawn Twilight.

It was all very crazy nonsense.

((Of course there were plenty of good times.))

November: Point is Bryce you felt jealous that I was choosing someone else over you. In this case it just so happened to be the sister of the woman you and your cronies beat unmercifully and then strung up. I'm sure that even you can understand why you never received an invite to our engagement party. Of course I'm sure you'll no doubt put some alcoholic induced spin on all of this and make me out to be the bad guy. And I'm fine with that too because this isn't about me being right and you being wrong. This isn't even about me being the hero and you the villain. This is now just about me beating the living fuck out of you.

We already established back in the NGW how long you've been hounding me, and I'm tired of it. Tired of your attitude, tired of your threats, and most of all I'm tired of all this tension between us. It just keeps building and building, and no one cares anymore expect for you and I.

So on July 2nd you're going to get every opportunity in the world to punish me for dumping you. You can throw the promise ring I gave you right back in my face. You can burn my letterman's jacket. You know what? You can even pretend that this is about something entirely different. You can even make up some fantasy about how I killed your family and skull fucked you in a bathroom in New Jersey, but make no mistake about this Bryce.

This is your one and only shot to put these demons to rest.

'night.

((Fade))