#2 Forget This, I’m Out
What if he just snapped and disappeared?
He stopped showing up at scheduled events, stopped returning phone calls and emails, stopped leaving his house altogether. Nothing on social media, silence from WWE’s camp. He went rogue, dark, TOTAL PR BLACKOUT (ooh, that could be the name of his new show on E! Just a blank screen. Highest ratings ever!).
His family and friends had “no comment.” Like Verbal in The Usual Suspects said: “After that, my guess is that you’ll never hear from him again. The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist. And like that…he’s gone.”
This kind of thing happens. He’s played the company man for so long, done everything asked of him with a smile on his face and a positive attitude. But something was building inside. Something deep down in the furthest reaches of his tummy soul, barely noticeable at first, but growing steadily.
He tries to ignore it at first, but it’s persistent, oh yes, it’s persistent. The sound in his head grows louder while the light dims around him. He locks himself in the bathroom for days at a time, surviving on bidet water and Nikki’s face creams.
Nikki is worried, but she shields the rest of their families from John’s erratic behavior. Hoping the insanity will subside. It’s becoming increasingly more difficult. It’s a losing battle. The John Cena you knew is gone. Replaced by a seething mass of regret and chaos. This is the darkest timeline. This is hell.
Or maybe he’s all like: “I think I got enough money and stuff. I’m just gonna play Xbox and paint band logos on empty vitamin bottles for the rest of my life. Guess who you can’t see, now?”
