• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Everyone was having a chuckle at my expense when suddenly the laughter died and everyone started saluting. I turned around and came face-to-face with a four-star general.

He glared at me with his steely blue eyes, with not a hair out of place in his graying crew cut. He had the vibe of a no-nonsense ass kicker and I would’ve bet junior’s farm that he had a few kills under his belt. I’d never been so intimidated in my life. It was worse than when I went to Vince’s house for my secret meeting back in 1998.

“You’re a funny guy,” he said with a glare, both of us knowing he could rip out my jugular at will. He then barked at his troops, “Are you soldiers having a good time?”

“Yes sir,” they replied in unison.

“Are these boys being good to you?”

“Yes sir,” they replied in unison.

“Good!” Then General Kickass turned to me and said, “I just wanted to see what all the commotion was about over here. You guys are the most popular act today and I really appreciate you coming to take care of these kids. Some of them might not make it back home alive, but today you’re brightening all of their days and I thank you for that. Fozzy is welcome at Fort Benning anytime.” Then he stood at attention, lifted his hand to his forehead, and saluted us.

Wow.

We’d been shit on, pissed on, stepped on, fucked with, and pointed at by lesser men, but now we were being saluted by a four-star general.

Fozz bless America.

CHAPTER 38

Sweet Loretta Modern

One afternoon I received a call from Fozzy’s booking agent, the Agency Group, informing me that one of their agents in the literary division, Marc Gerald, was interested in talking to me about publishing my life story. I’d been writing since elementary school and had been thinking of penning my autobiography for years, but the WWE had never approached me to write one. After a quick meeting with Marc, he arranged a conference call with Grand Central Publishing to pitch the idea of a book about the life and times of little ol’ me.

I was sitting in a hotel room in L.A. waiting to make the call to the Grand Central offices when I received a call of a different kind. It was Jessica telling me that a doctor in Winnipeg called to say that my mom’s condition had deteriorated and she didn’t have much longer to live.

The news hit me like a ten-ton hammer, and even though I’d been expecting it for years I had to get home ASAP. When my conference call with Grand Central started, I explained that I had a family emergency and didn’t have a lot of time to talk. I pitched my idea as quickly as I could and got off the phone, certain there was no way I was going to be offered a deal. But I hardly cared, my mother was dying.

She had turned sixty in September 2003 and had essentially become a recluse ever since. Her body was physically breaking down, her bones were becoming brittle, she had zero mobility and needed assistance for every meal. It hurt her to chew so her food had to be liquefied, she needed twenty-four-hour home care and did nothing but lie in bed all day watching TV. I rarely spoke to her on the phone because she couldn’t raise her voice or open her mouth wide enough to talk.

She was also mentally breaking down, becoming anxious, nervous, and paranoid. When I visited her she’d say things like, “Don’t talk too loud, they’re listening to me here. I’m sure my room is bugged,” or “Don’t walk around the bed so quickly. The vibrations really hurt me.” It was a nightmare and our relationship was a shadow of what it had once been.

She once told me, “If I start losing my mind, I don’t want to be around anymore. If I can’t be myself mentally I want you to pull the plug.” There wasn’t a literal plug to pull, as she wasn’t hooked up to a life support machine, but I completely understood what she meant.

The way things were going, I had to do something.

So I asked my dad to start looking for places where she could be taken care of on a twenty-four-hour basis, a place where there would be other people in her situation whom she could talk to and befriend. She hated the idea and didn’t want to leave