There he is...coming back...
-Go away, please!-
He's just a silhouette...
-Not again, please, not again!-
Leaning over my bed, the rest of the room goes black...
-No, no, no, no!-
I see his face...
-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!-
I wake up.

Another bad dream. The same as the night before, and the night before. He'd never showed his face before, though...if only I could remember what his face looked like. But I can't. Drake jr. is in his cot, crying. He's one years old soon. I don't know what I'll get him for his birthday. A new Wrestling Figure perhaps, considering he's bit the head off all the others. I get out of bed and comfort Drake jr., I open the drawer and get out his milk bottle. I give it to him and he takes it in his little hand. I look at the clock next to my bed. It's 4AM. I stroke Junior's hair and tell him about what's happening in my life. 'I rejoined NLW. It's a bit smaller than it used to be y'know? You'd expect a few more OWF people coming in, considering all that's happening to that fed these days. I dunno if I'll ever go back. I liked CJ, though I will never tell him. He was an alright boss. Still, I can't look back, yeah? If Daddy looks back he'll need to get the gun from the top drawer again, and we don't want that, do we? No.'
Junior just looks up at me and smiles. I like his smiles, and his blue eyes. I put him back in his cot and go back to sleep. My alarm goes two hours later. I wake up screaming. Junior wakes up crying. I wish that man would go away. I take Junior and go jogging to the gym, he goes to sleep.

After a couple of hours work out with my personal trainer, Mick, I sit down on the bench where I'd left Junior. He's still asleep. Mick joins me. 'Alright?' He asks. Mick's been having trouble himself lately, his wife's bleeding him dry in the divorce. I nod. I don't want to bother him.

Back to my hotel room. I'd like to get to know some of the other wrestlers, but I can't. I'm...shy. Drake Munday is not shy. Drake Munday is outgoing and cocky and unbeatable. But Drake Henry Munday is not. I practice for ten minutes at being Drake Munday. Then I go downstairs and meet my cameraman, Ashley. She smiles, and gets me all set up. Some guy takes hold of my baby. 3...2....1....GO!
'So..here I am. Yeah. Me, Drake Munday. In this filth-hole. But you gotta work somewhere. I thought my work with the Japanese was done when my Granpa sorted them out in the forties...but it wasn't. I had to kick Akira Kanemura's ass across the pacific ocean back to Japan. Done? No. Now I've got this guy who after you've watched his poor excuse for a promo you'll never forget his name. OKUMA! OKUMA! OKUMA! And random Japanese lettering that makes no sense. Great. Well...I have one thing to say to you: Sie wird am Montag die von Montag! You will die on Monday by Munday. Sadly though, that is not Japanese. I tried getting Japanese on google translator but it didn't work because Japan is such a suckish language! PEACE OUT!!!'

I don't know why I did the peace out thing. I just did. When I'm Drake Munday I don't have to worry about what I say or how I say it. Because it all comes out well.