____________________________________________________________

{I've had so many lives
Since I was a child
And I realize
How many times I've died

I'm not that kind of guy
Sometimes I feel shy
I think I can fly
Close to the sky

No one's telling you how to live your life
But it's a setup until you're fed up

This world is not so kind
People trap your mind
It's so hard to find
Someone to admire

I, I sleep much better at night
I feel closer to the light
Now I'm gonna try
To improve my life...

Nobody, nobody knows me
Nobody knows me
Nobody knows me
Like you know me...}

Jeff Hardy padded to the front door of his modest Cameron, North Carolina home, his eyes grainy from lack of sleep.

He stopped for a second to pet Liger, his boxer, on the head before continuing.  His dog was so good that he hadn't even barked when the doorbell had rung a moment earlier.

The shaggy-haired young man ran a hand through his unruly locks just before reaching the door.

"Hold on," he called, though he wondered who might be paying him a visit at only a little after eight in the morning.

Jeff opened the door and was met by a smiling man in a dark blue uniform.  Just ahead, in the street in front of the house, sat a delivery truck.

"Good morning, sir...Federal Express package for a Mr. Jeff Hardy?"

"That's me - and good morning," the ink-blue-headed man said.

"Sign right here..."  The delivery man handed him a clipboard and pen, pointing out where he should leave his John Hancock.

Jeff signed, wondered who'd sent him a package, and what it contained.  It certainly couldn't be from his older brother, Matt, or from Amy, his best friend.  Maybe it was some gift from a fan - although he never gave out his home address to them.  He and Matt always used a P.O. box for stuff from the fans.

"Thank you, sir...Have a good day," the FedEx man said with a smile, then turned to leave.

"Thanks a lot...You too..."

Jeff closed the door, and, package in tow, made his way to the small living room.  Liger was right at his heels and came to sit on his haunches before him as his master seated himself on the couch.

"What in the world can this be?"

The young man opened the package in a hurry, now beyond curious as to its contents.  Once he had it open, he reached inside and felt some papers.

Jeff pulled everything out at once, spreading it all out on the couch beside him.  Liger cocked his head to one side, regarding him curiously.

"Finally..." the younger Hardy brother spoke as he had everything out of the package.  He picked up the first thing and examined it, and his heart nearly stopped as he did.

"What the f-"

Jeff reached for the other papers, going through the various documents quickly, not bothering to read through all of them, as a few contained pretty much nothing of interest or importance to him.

Then, he came to another one the caliber of the first he had perused... His mouth went dry as ashes, his pulse pounding, and all the blood drained from his face.  He feared he might even pass out from shock.

In his hands, he held a pinkslip - a message telling him he was being released by the WWE.

"They can't do this!" he cried, returning his attention to the first document - his contract, which had a big black stamp diagonally across it that read: Terminated.

As Jeff hurriedly flipped through the remaining papers, he found a note with someone's own personal handwriting on it.  In black ink, in script that was slightly messy by easily decipherable, the note stated that his services were no longer needed - and that he'd been 'incredibly useless over the past couple of months.'  And at the very bottom of the page, printed in print, rather than the script of the rest of the note...

Eric Bischoff...

"Son of a bitch!" Jeff yelled, and, rage building up within him, he gathered up the entire ream of documents and hurled them across the room, where they came to land scattered across the living room floor.  Liger slowly walked over to some of them and sniffed at them, then whuffed a little as he raised his head and looked back at his master.

"God damn it..." Jeff muttered, his hands balled into fists at his sides.  "He's not gonna get away with this..."