The passing of Cowboy Bob Orton and the entrance of Ethan.

It was some 6 months back. After Dream and Piper. Longer than anybody probably thought Cowboy would stay upright, anyway, given how his era has lived and died. Hep C took its toll, as did things like not eating clean. You can't force an ignorant man stuck in his ways to change them, even if it means life or death.

He accomplished everything he pretty much could. He was, if I've got to be honest, the weakest link in Legacy. Funny how I came out the Main Eventer and my counterparts got stuck around the midcard, when their fathers wore the Main Event boots and Cowboy was little more than Piper's henchman.

If I've got to be honest, Piper as a person's death hit me worse at first. I don't like being blindsided. I guess I came to terms with losing Cowboy a long time ago. Had he raised me different, had we been closer, friendlier? ...Now, don't get me wrong, the man was no Stu Hart. We didn't have a dungeon or any of that shit..but we didn't have the typical father and son relationship.

Then again, we didn't have the typical anything. Is there a typical anything, though? He was away more than I am, he made a fraction of what I make, and there was never enough to go around. When he was home, I learned when to avoid him and when to be nearby.

He did train me. Like I said, he wasn't Stu Hart. And I didn't have to go the Indy circuit to get my spot. Vince knew me since I was a kid. Knew my grandfather. I've heard the murmurs that talent can skip a generation..so if anything, it's Bob Sr. who I got this from. You sure as fuck don't think Barry could come close to what I've become?

Leave the drugs out of it. At least I don't do crank.

At least I never accused any guys from the office or locker room of sexual shit, either. Especially on a daytime talk show. Way to kill your career, Uncle Doofus.

Taker effectively killed Cowboy's career...although like the "Bret Screwed Bret" thing, you could say Cowboy himself did it, what with the Hep C. I honestly didn't know he had it. You think I'd have stood there all, "Sure, Pops! Bleed all over me and Taker!" Fuck you, no. You think other guys in their 20s who've botched in the ring had their fathers waiting for them in Catering with the "Just wait til I get you home" look that makes you feel 12? Not like Cowboy.

He'd go off on me in front of everybody telling me when, where and exactly how many times I fucked up. Even in front of guys like Ryder, who would try and squirm the fuck away. Even to people I dicked over (Looking at you, Kennedy), they'd feel bad when my father would go batshit.

Then again, some people think they've got me figured out because they see what I put up with.

For better or worse, that was my father. For better or worse, he's gone. I take care of Mom financially. Mom is still recognizeable although she's a little changed. It's like she's fearful of fucking up, even though I provide a safety net. It's not having his presence around. The presence that scared the fuck out of you, but there was no feeling in the world like when he was proud of you, either. Maybe being so hard all the time made those moments sweeter. I don't know. I'm not a shrink.

A shrink, ha. That's my fuckbuddy. We won't get into that now, but when we talk, I actively avoid bringing Cowboy's name into anything. It hit the news..that's how she knew. I didn't tell her.

Mom had called when the light started going out of his eyes in the hospital and told me to get my ass there to say goodbye. I said ok. Then I stopped to top off my gas tank. Why? Because fuck you, that's why. Had 3/4 of a tank. If I had to admit it, it's because I was dragging my feet. There was nothing I could do or say to him as a goodbye and I didn't want to cry like a bitch. I got there about 30 seconds after he passed, to the hospital room, and held my mother. Had to be stoic, but felt numb.

Instant regret like a goddamned sledgehammer to the back of my skull. Now my mother to this day feels badly that I missed Dad by -that- much. "He tried to hold on." Makes me feel like an even bigger piece of shit. But how could I heal some shit that took over 30 years in deathbed moments? I reckon Cowboy knows I loved him, and that's all that counts. I carry on the bloodline in more than myself.

I got custody of my kid. I didn't exactly expect it, but it couldn't have come at a better time for either of us. For him because Amber fucked him up pretty good. For me, I guess for selfish reasons.

I do alright on the outside about this, but WWE.com put up a picture and article that completely fucked me up today:



So it's off to the gym I go to work off some anger, guilt, shame and all that shit. Yeah, I feel those. What, think I'm incapable? Okay, I'll give you that maybe I have a shameless streak sometimes. But anger, I've got probably double or triple of what the average person has and the guilt? Oh, fuck me. The guilt.

That's probably why I get nervous when Wellness Testing comes around. Not like somebody with these abs can eat their feelings. Alcohol is carbs. Got to numb out somehow, right? But that's the thing...with the boy, I can't do what his mother did. Not in front of him anyway. $2500 fines for pissing weed are no big deal. But sometimes even that can't fix it.

Maybe next time we have a house show in Colorado, I'll check out the different strains they make now rather than just get whatever's available. Maybe something out there can fix it. And if it fixes that, I can be a better father, a better person.

Fuck if I know.

"Just fucking text him. Please."

"He has a kid."

"He needs a friend, Cody. We know what this feels like. You had people in your corner."

"Max, shut the fuck up about it, alright?"

"Whatever, man."

Fucking kid was already trying to do the right thing. And there is no right or wrong. Me and Randy hadn't spoke to each other much since 2011. Since he bashed my head in with a ring bell. Friendship, right?

Wasn't intentional, but neither was us ever even communicating. I thanked him for being there when I first got on the road. And for Legacy. Even for the elevation, professionally, on Smackdown. But there's a reason why Ted ran back to the chruch, and I moved on to my own thing. Own crowd.

Randy knows he's a dick. So am I. Just in different ways. he could be difficult. I could be much too dry and apathetic. Me as a rookie and him in 2009 were bound to clash anyway. It alpha males going at it. Truth be told, it wasn't much of one thing or a problem that pushed us from hanging out. I just didn't want to. Simple as that.

This was hard. I didn't keep too many people close. I'd probably be intruding. But if no one else knew how this felt, I did. Definitely not calling him, but I'd be passing through the area anyway.

Guess I'll just see how it plays out. Maybe we've changed. I'm just hoping for a drink out of all of this.

Randy ended up texting 2 Runnels within days of each other. (*Apologies for being slow to reply. Just doing a massive update for everybody I missed.)

He'd more or less cockblocked his girlfriend fuckbuddy rat female friend to reserve prime Cody weekend time. Maybe have a couple drinks, out.

Cody offered an ear about Bob. And had Dream not passed prior, he'd probably look at Cody as still a "kid". Cody having a babyface (Literally. Not character alignment) didn't help with the age difference. Plus, with this shoulder, and the years on the road, Randy feels about 15 years older than he's supposed to, anyway.

He pretended not to keep an ear out on his phone to see who of them, if any, replied. Anxiety, both the good and bad kinds, sort of hit. He missed Cody, but had they ever been actually -equals-? Having Ethan around has sort of made some points in Randy's life, showing ironies..how many times had Randy unthinkingly treated CODY like an actual child, the 'kid', vs. how he treats his own flesh and blood?

Something to consider. Something he could probably ask Camille about, but won't, because she has an education specific to him being a fuck up, and fuck you, that's why.