It is a gloomy late Monday morning in Rochester, New York and a soft drizzle is pattering against the window of Hyatt room 506. Inside, the room is silent except for the sound coming from the small TV set against the thin wall. On the screen is the image of the Big Show. For the next several minutes it shows Big Show as he sets fire to John Cena merchandise and then the numerous clips of the 500 pounder discussing the match set to transpire that very evening. As the clips come to an end, the screen is suddenly paused, Big Show's face freezing on the screen in a distorted fashion: one eye half open, a large zit on his forehead, and a gob of spit sprayed into the air from Show's lips. Starting at the screen with one eyebrow lifted in a mix of skepticism and disgust, John Cena cocks his head to the side.
Cena: (Speaking out loud to himself) Wow... how does that man get himself dressed in the morning? Who ties his shoelaces and wipes his ass? Cause obviously this guy is not capable of doing those kinda things by himself. I've had conversations with people in vegetative states that were more intellectually stimulating.
Shaking his head Cena shifts his position on the bed. He is laying on his stomach, facing the television, remote in hand. He's not looking his best with a strong shadow of a beard on his face. He looks very tired and is still laying in his sleep wear, aka a pair of black boxers. He knows he should be getting ready for his match against the Big Show but he just can't seem to get a move on. Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's just because he had a busy day the day before, Cena doesn't know he just knows that he is tired. The day before had consisted of 2 press conferences, a radio show, and a DVD signing. John had also had to cram in time to work out, get checked into the hotel and call home. His wife Elizabeth was not enjoying the fact that since coming to the EBWF Cena had been even busier than usual, especially since his DVD “12 Pounds” had come out and he'd had all the extra publicity from that. Rubbing his eyes Cena replays part of the conversation from the day before in his head...
Liz: You haven't been returning my calls John.
Cena: Sorry Liz. I've just had a lot going on lately. You know that. And you know I still haven't replaced my cell phone yet.
Liz: Yeah, I know. I don't remember, how exactly did you end up with chicken poop all over it?
Cena: Long story. I'll tell it to you again soon. I'm in Rochester now so I'm not too far from home. I'm gonna try and swing by before the next show. But I gotta go babe, my day is packed.
Liz: (With a sense of urgency in her voice) John wait... I wanted to tell you... I'm worried.
Cena: (With a heavy sigh, he thinks he knows what's coming) About what baby?
Liz: About this match you have coming up. Against that Big Show guy. John he's huge! I think he may be the biggest opponent you have ever had. I'm just worried you are going to get hurt and I...
Cena: (Interrupting) Liz. You have nothing to worry about okay? I mean have you been listening to this guy? He's slow in more ways than one. And I mean, yeah, he's strong but that's all he has going for him in that ring. And I'm strong too. All you ever see him doing is lifting stuff. Okay so he can bench press. Okay so he can lift men and cars. So what? In this business you have to have so much more than just strength. I could be blindfolded and have one arm tied behind my back and I'd still be able to take this guy out. Because I three things he doesn't have: talent, skill, and intelligence. Okay? So don't worry. I promise you, not only will everything be fine but I'm going to win this match tomorrow night. And you'll see that all your worries were for nothing.
Liz: But John this guy is setting fire to your merchandise and....
Cena: (Interrupting again as he tries to reassure her) Yeah Liz, my MERCHANDISE! (Sarcastically) Wow, big strong tough guy can set fire to a couple t-shirts and armbands! Yeah, I'm afraid. I mean, next time he might decide to stick my head in the toilet or give me a wedgie! Liz, please, I need to get my head on straight and I can't do that if I'm trying to calm you down okay? Now I gotta go. I love you and I'll call you after the match okay?
Liz: Okay, I love you too...
Cena stares back up at the frozen image of Big Show on the TV screen. He picks up the remote and turns the television off.
Cena: (Talking out loud to himself thoughtfully as he begins to get ready) Wish it was always that easy to shut the guy up. Just press a little button and no more Big Show. I mean really, I've heard better comebacks from a turkey sandwich than what this guy is spouting. And seriously, the guy is whacked. I mean one second he's torching my merchandise then the next he's doing the whole, “I have all the respect in the world for him” shtick!
Cena rolls his eyes and starts looking through his duffel bag to try and find his shaving kit as he continues to vent quietly to himself in an attempt to try and psych himself up for the night ahead.
Cena: Seriously, 100,000 sperm and he was the fastest? Arm wrestling in preparation for a wrestling match? I guess everyone has their own technique but really? Does he honestly think that is going to help him? And why the f*ck is he still trying to rap?!?!? It's just...wrong. SO. WRONG. It's like telling a stroke patient it's not nice to make funny faces at people! It's like playing “I Will Remember You” in an Alzheimer's ward! It's like telling the pope not to wear the funny hat! Tonight I am going to make sure that that fat-ass never raps again. It's pretty hard to say much of anything with your jaw wired shut!
Cena finally finds his shaving kit, tucked away in, of all places, the microfridge between a bottle of Gatorade and a Swanson TV dinner. Grabbing it and a towel Cena heads for the bathroom. Turning on the shower, Cena pauses and looks at himself in the mirror, grimacing at the reflection he sees.
Cena: Ugh. Yeah, the homeless bag-man that's been hit by a train look is so not me. I look like that puppet in "Team America: World Police" that tries to dress up like a terrorist! God, I kinda look like Big Show with that stupid, gross splotch of pubic hair he has growing on his face!
With that Cena shakes his head, shivers in disgust, steps out of his boxers, and climbs in the shower. He'll need to be leaving for the arena soon. Cena is looking forward to his match against the Big Show that evening. It will be fun to take the big man down a peg or two. Hasn't he ever heard, "the bigger they are the harder they fall?" Tonight, Cena has only one thought for Big Show and that's a thought that Cena has for all of his opponents. Pain is only what you make of it. So without the slightest bit of apprehension or nervousness Cena begins to sing loudly and energetically in the shower:
Cena: AMERICA, F*CK YEAH!!!
