JAMES: So, where were we?

I do my best to ignore Peter as he rolls around in agony, blood gushing from between his clamped fingers and across the slick basketball court we’re sitting on. He rolls over on his hands and knees, and I intentionally look at the ceiling again, trying to avoid him, but no one else is quite ready to move on…

I wonder why.

ANGELA: Uhhh… I think we were at the part where you laid Peter out… I could be wrong though.

JAMES: Why don't you shut your crazy ass up and let the head of the meeting tell us where we are? So? Mr. Facilitator man?

FACILITATOR: Ummm… well… I'm pretty sure we were at the part where you ummmm… laid Peter out.

Angela smiles smugly, almost like she was about to stick her tongue out at me. I really hate this chick. I avoid her gaze and look at the facilitator who is staring at me disapprovingly. I try and avoid his gaze too, but with as many people as I'm avoiding right now, I'm running out of spaces I can actually look.

Peter staggers to his feet, staring at me angrily. He takes a step towards me, almost like he was trying to threaten me. Is he serious? Do we need to go instant replay, frame by frame mode for him to show him that this is exactly what got him drilled last time?

He seems to realize it as I raise my eye brows and look at him finally, an amused look on my face, and he stumbles backwards a few steps, spinning on his heels and storming across the gym towards the swinging doors.

PETER: FUCK THIS CLASS!!! FUCK THAT MOTHER FUCKER!!! I DON'T FUCKING NEED ANY OF YOU!!!

He trips on his way out the door, collapsing on the linoleum tiles and squealing in pain as he hits his face once again. I start to laugh, but immediately see everyone is still staring at me and clearly not amused, so I cut that shit right there.

FACILITATOR: James… do you mind telling me why you’ve decided it was a good idea to hit Peter?

JAMES: Well, do you want a P.C. answer or an honest one?

FACILITATOR: Honesty is key James, as I said earlier.

JAMES: Well, then I punched him because he’s a retard, and his punk ass deserved it. He was egging me on, and you all saw it.

FACILITATOR: And what would your politically correct response to that question have been?

JAMES: That he hit a sensitive spot and I lost control for a moment and made a poor decision?

I sigh as I spit out that last sentence, then I scan the room and look at everyone. Are you freaking kidding me? They’re STILL staring? Come on, this is an anger management class… you’ve all tried to nuke dogs, eat someone’s hand or forced them to eat your shit… are you all really this shocked by someone losing control and punching someone else.

JAMES: Come on guys, seriously… you all saw him instigating… he was begging for me to take him down. This really wasn’t my fault.

FACILITATOR: Yes, its true… we did all see him attack you verbally, but you’re the only one who used physical violence. You were unable to control your anger, and it got the best of you when you lashed out… that's what you’re here for… to learn to control it.

JAMES: Whoa… NO!!! I mean… NO!!! You just told me that Shank didn't give a reason to send me here, it was just out of spite! You told me I could leave.

FACILITATOR: Yes, I did.

JAMES: So what, you just think its fun to fuck with me? You can’t tell me I can go then yank that offer off the table because of one little mistake.

ANGELA: Actually, he can.

JAMES: Shut the fuck up, Angela.

ANGELA: I'm just saying… you apparently need-

JAMES: Shut your mouth, whore bag!

ANGELA: YOU apparently need more WORK before you’re ready to-

JAMES: SILENCE YOU’RE FUCKING LIPS!!! I swear to God I will go Hunter Ryan on you right here in front of everyone.

RANDOM ASS HOLE: You’re going to be really boring and stick her head in your crotch?

Angela and I both stop and turn to face the guy, my face angry because he stole my thunder, her face confused and disgusted at the thought of blowing me. Don't worry bitch, you have about as much a chance of sucking me off as Spice One has at the hall of legends.

RANDOM ASS HOLE: Sorry... I just never liked The Initiative.

As much as that ass hole deserves to get bitch slapped, his comment does relieve some tension. Angela and I pant heavily before sitting back down in our seats. We look around the circle, and to my relief, half the faces are now staring at her. Score for me.

JAMES: What's going on here, doc?

FACILITATOR: Well, ummmm, as much as Angela may need to work on her technique of confrontation, she does have a valid point. I was willing to let you go, because you seemed in control, yet in the five minutes since I’ve said that you have physically assaulted one man, as well as verbally assault Angela with a vocalized threat of physical violence.

JAMES: But I was provoked!!!

FACILITATOR: Yes, you were, I agree. However you had very explosive reactions to very minor provocations. Neither Peter nor Angela, uummm, did anything serious other than criticize you in minor and or insignificant ways.

JAMES: Peter threatened to rape my grandmother, vandalize my home and motorcycle and kill my girlfriend!!! How is that minor or insignificant?

FACILITATOR: Because James, that's all it was… a threat. You know perfectly well that Peter wouldn’t have, ummm, fornicated with your grand mother and he wouldn’t have killed your girlfriend, and yet even though you must have known that, you still insisted on attacking him. It shows me that perhaps you do have inner rage that needs to be dealt with.

I open my mouth, my lips floundering like a gold fish as I try to come up with a well thought out response of some kind, something that justifies and rationalizes my actions…

I’ve got nothing.

JAMES: Please, please… don't go back on this. I cant be here, it was one stupid mistake.

FACILITATOR: Really? Was it?

JAMES: Absolutely.

FACILITATOR: How many people did you punch?

JAMES: Just Peter.

FACILITATOR: So you didn't punch your boss? I don't mean right now, I mean in say… the past week. How many?

JAMES: I'm a professional wrestler, that's not really-

FACILITATOR: Don't use that as an excuse. You know what I mean… outside of the ring, in your every day life, how many people have you punched in the last week?

I look sheepishly down at the floor as I answer.

JAMES: Maybe three.

FACILITATOR: So three people in a week, and yet you feel like there's no cause for concern?

I stumble over to my chair and sit back down, turning in towards the circle to plead my case, even though I know deep down it’s a lost cause. I rub my eyes in frustration before looking at the facilitator one last time, a last ditch attempt to get my freedom back.

JAMES: Please… I don't need to be here. I made mistakes, sure, but I promise you, that without a shadow of a doubt I can contain myself… please, just let me go home… please.

He stares back at me for a long moment, his eyes soft, and my spirits soar as I realize he’s actually considering it. The other people in the circle turn to look at him, awaiting a response that will tell them exactly how much they can get away with.

FACILITATOR: No. I'm sorry, but no. I told you that legally I decide whether you need to be here, and you clearly do. Now, everyone, I'm going to give you the rest of the night off. There's been too much excitement for us to accomplish anything, so I’ll see you all next week.

The circle quickly disperses as everyone leaves, Angela flashing me her bitch of the year medal one last time. I’ll kill that stupid slut.

God damn it, Raven… that's the shit that has you here in the first place…

I run across the gym to the facilitator as he packs up his briefcase, and I put on my best “humble” face. Trust me, that's not easy.

JAMES: Sir, can you hear me out?

FACILITATOR: Of course.

JAMES: I'm not even the craziest person in the XWF. There's a guy in a skull mask who’s high all the time, there's people with split personalities, there's someone-

FACILITATOR: Haven't you suffered with both vicodin addiction and schizophrenia in the past?

JAMES: How’d you know that?

FACILITATOR: I do my job, Mr. Raven. I read the files of my students.

JAMES: Well… the addiction wasn't really an addiction. It was because of some personal issues, but I was over it in a couple of months. The schizophrenia really had nothing to do with being crazy though, it was a hallucination due to a head injury, which really isn't the same thing. Now back to XWF, there's a-

FACILITATOR: The other issues of other XWF stars has nothing to do with this James. Your boss didn't send them to me. He sent you. Until the skull faced druggie hauls off and punches someone that sends him to me, he doesn’t concern me. You do. I’ll see you next week.

He picks up his case and walks out of the gym, and I just watch him silently the entire way. Soon, I'm all alone, and there's only one thing I can think of doing.

JAMES: FUUUUUCK YOOOUUUU SHAAAAANK!!!

You can imagine everything that happens next, so I’ll leave that part out… and say that after that explosion, everything just made a:

FADE TO BLACK… FADE TO BLACK… FADE TO BLACK…