I DON'T OWN THE WWE, MONDAY NIGHT RAW, SUMMERSLAM, OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS, ETC.

March 1, 2011. San Diego, California

The most amazing thing about 21 year old Gregory Harold Issacs was how...ordinary he was. He wasn't a geek, or a jock, or a hardcore gamer, or a musician. Hell, he wasn't even that cool. He was sort of handsome though, with his blondeish brown hair, and his beard. There was nothing remarkable about him at all. Gregory had graduated from Parker-Nichols high school in the class of '08; but since then he hadn't had a job, or gone to college, or had anything amazing happen to him at all. He was still living at his parents house, trying to find a job. If you asked his mother, she'd tell you that he was shy. If you asked his old man, he'd tell you that Gregory was a lazy ass. If you asked his parents if they thought that Gregory was a disappointment, they would have been lying if they had answered no. The fact was he had no ambitions, there was nothing he was passionate about...well, there was one thing. One thing that made him happy. One thing that gave him joy. That...was wrestling.

Kick down the door to Gregory's room and you'd probably find him watching wrestling on TV. Ever since he was a small child, Gregory had enjoyed watching wrestling on TV. Gregory had always been amazed by the WWE. He got a real thrill out of seeing all the superstars in their cool costumes. It was amazing to see all their signature moves like piledrivers and Vader bombs. He knew it was going to be an especially good show when they brought out the sledgehammers and the steel chairs. From the age of 9, Gregory had always wanted to be a wrestler. He would always roughhouse with his brother and what few friends he had. As he grew up, Gregory was definetly able to hold his own in a fight. He had to. When you're a loser in high school, as Gregory was, you gotta be able to fend off assholes at a moment's notice. Gregory wasn't the best brawler in the world by any means, but he could at least come out of a scrap without too many bruises. To him, this was just proof that maybe, possibly, he could shed his loser reputation. Perhaps he could be a superstar like Triple H, or The Undertaker, or his hero: John Cena.

When Gregory turned 16, he made the decision to pursue a career as a professional wrestler. On his 18th birthday, (yes, he did have a WWE themed birthday party.) he sat his parents down and told them about his plans for the future. Let's just say that they wern't exactly in love with the idea.

"Are you out of your mind, Gregory?" His mother asked.

"No mother, i'm not." Gregory replied.

"Well you must be." His father added. "No son of mine is going to be a sports entertainer."

"But dad, it's my dream." Gregory argued. Wrestling was the only thing in his life that he was passionate about.

"Do I look like I give a rat's ass?" Mr. Isaacs asked. "You need to get your shit together and do something with your life."

"I am doing something with my life. This wasn't just something I came up with off the cuff, Ok. I've put a lot of thought into this. I've watched WWE religiously since I could speak. I know all the moves. Hell, I've even been practicing my catch phrase, listen...YOUR ASS IS ABOUT TO GET KICKED!" Mr. and Mrs. Isaacs looked at their son for a few minutes and then they looked at each other for a few minutes. Finally, Gregory's old man broke the ice.

"If that isn't the stupidest thing that I have ever heard in my life!" He yelled. "I mean, I could've come up with a better catch phrase than that and I don't even like wrestling."

"Then why didn't you?" Gregory asked. His father shot daggers at him. Gregory had never dared to talk back to his father before. However, this was his dream on the line and as a wise man once said: desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Gregory, how dare you talk back to your father." Mrs. Issacs said in shock. "Apologize immediately."

"Why?" Gregory asked. "He started it." Suddenly, Mr. Issacs disciplined his son by striking him across the face.

"As long as you are living in my house, you will show your mother and myself some respect boy." He insisted as Gregory looked pissed as Hell.

"Well...maybe I should just leave." Gregory replied. He'd had enough. His parents never encouraged his dreams, they never gave a damn about what made him happy. All they cared about was having a "respectable" son and Gregory having a "decent" career. He had enough of living under their thumbs and being contained by their restrictions. He knew that he was destined to be a WWE superstar and if he had to make his way without his parents love and support...well, that was life.

"If that's what you want." Mr. Issacs replied, his face as stone. "But if you leave, you had better not come back. Ever." Gregory looked to his mother, but she just turned away with tears in her eyes.

"Fine. I'll just get my stuff and leave." Gregory replied. He spent the rest of the night packing his clothes and other belongings into 2 separate suitcases and by the next morning, he was ready to leave. His parents didn't say a word as he packed his stuff into his Volkswagen bug. Gregory took one last look at his former home and his former life. Then, he got into the car, started it up, and headed out on his journey to the WWE universe.

NEXT TIME, SOMEONE SEES TALENT IN GREGORY AND HE IS REBORN. REVIEWS BADLY NEEDED.