The Peace Pipe/The Drawing and the Shooting (US Title)
Nov 26, 2014 2:52:57 GMT -5
Steeltoe Joe and Kaz like this
Post by Deleted on Nov 26, 2014 2:52:57 GMT -5
Breaking out the Peace Pipe (Open Blog)
Oh wow...
I rolled over in bed and looked at the clock on the back window to see that it was 10:53 and the sun was shining, while we moved on to the next town. Most of the time, after a big match like that where I walk away victorious, I usually celebrate with alcohol, weed, and tons of heavy metal. But Kaz took me even farther than I had anticipated, and I thank him for it. It could easily be one of my best matches in my career, and 15 years on and off the road, that is saying something.
I sit up in my bed, and my legs, arms, my ribs, all sore as hell. About the only thing that's NOT hurting, ironically enough, is my head. At least not that sore, beaten all to hell feeling, like a milkshake resides where my brain should be. I grab my bag and pull out a bottle of Oxy, my pre cancer treatments, and a spliff from the bag. I take the painkiller and the treatments, before I move to the REAL cancer treatment.
At that point, I realized that my bartender Emily was sleeping across from me in the other bed. She starts to rise, as she sees me inhaling the sweet cheeba smoke. She looks over and says...
Emily: What time is it?
Gonzo: It's almost 11:00. How was the afterparty?
Emily: Those wrestlers are rowdy as fuck, yo! But some of them are alright. This is not a bad gig. I could've done worse. I really didn't know just what a badass you are in the ring, though. I mean, I had an idea, but nothing like that. You dropped that fool on his head!
Gonzo: He'll be okay. I'm sure he has plenty of nice things to say about me now that I evened the score. He's actually beaten me before. And clean. No cheating or anything.
Emily: Oh, I realize he ain't no joke, either. And now you got some sort of big title shot next week?
Gonzo: Yeah. Against another scrapper, no less. Seems like these guys hurt a little more than the bigger guys. My last match with Richards was pretty rough, but shit, Kaz was all over that damn ring. At least with Richards, he doesn't move around as fast or nearly as much.
Emily: Yeah, but he a big motherfucker! Who would want to fight a guy like that?
I smile, as I take a pull from the J, as she realizes that I've been in the ring with him more than once. I pass her the J, as I say...
Gonzo: Well, I did, and willingly. But like I've said before, I work in a business where safety and survival is not guaranteed, and I've made a hell of a career defying odds. Nobody thought I could go head-on with every member of The Pack, yet here I am, victorious over half of their roster. The others? They want no piece of me. Hell, even Bobby Cairo, Number 1 Contender for the World Title, he doesn't even want to trifle with me at a level like that.
Emily: That's because you a crazy-ass white boy! I'll admit, you kind of scare me a bit.
Gonzo: I don't see why. I employ you, shelter you, care about you...
Emily: You care about me?
Gonzo: You're an employee, of course I care. You get hurt, I'll take care of you myself. You know I'm a licenced paramedic. I'm probably a year or two away from an actual medical degree.
Emily: And you are in a ring getting beat on by a bunch of 'roided out guys? AND YOU LIKE IT!? Why not be an actual doctor?
Gonzo: Well, I do have a PhD. in Social Psychology, but that won't really help if you break a bone or get shot.
Emily: Jesus! Really, what are you doing in the ring? Why do you go out there and get your ass kicked around when you could be doing something much easier for even more money?
Gonzo: You ever play sports?
Emily: High school volleyball and softball...
Gonzo: Softball? You don't seem the type...
Emily: I was a really good shortstop. But I couldn't hit for shit, so I became an Average Josephina.
Gonzo: Shortstop, so you know that anything worth doing is going to be challenging. Fighting is a challenge, whether its for money, gold, glory, or survival. Sure, I could go to a big city and do demographic research that could provide insight for communities that could make them even better based on economic shifts and trends, but I do even better work inside of that ring for millions of people around the world. You know I wasn't always cheered.
Emily: I was not aware of that. So you were a bad guy? What changed?
Gonzo: I don't know. I still rub people the wrong way eventually. A big deal was made when I went to War and hung around that match for a long time. I put some guys on their asses, and the fans loved it. Next thing I know, I'm Rocky Balboa. The underdog. The Broken Hero. All of this fan favortism because I don't have a foot? I guess people love people who face adversity, regardless of their general disposition.
Emily: I do. Hell, I think its wild that I work with a guy with no foot and wrestles big time wrestlers. Hell, everyone's heard of Gravedigger. Even people like me, who's never really watched wrestling that much growing up. What's your deal with him, anyways?
Gonzo: He hurt one of my friends, and you just don't do that shit. Not when I'm around, anyways. Digger thinks I bit off more than I can chew? Well, I have a pretty big mouth, both figuratively and literally, and he's going to find out what it feels like to be consumed by one Broken Hero. He thinks this is my first rodeo because I haven't haunted the WCF for over a decade, but he's sadly mistaken. I've had more than my fair share of World Titles and all the other accolades that a wrestler hopes and dreams to have during their career. I don't sweat him.
Emily: Well, you're a much braver person than I am. I see Joe is much better now.
Gonzo: Yeah, he's a tough old guy. I'm certain he can fight his own fight with Digger, but its hard when you get laid up in a bed because a bunch of cowardly criminal assholes felt the urge to jump a preacher. What the fuck is the world coming to?
Emily: Is he a real preacher? I've heard him cuss up a storm a few times...
Gonzo: Oh, he's the real deal. And he's also a realist. Nobody can overcome all of their shortcomings, and his language is just a byproduct of that. And he's from Stockton, which is a real shithole. I'm surprised he's not worse off, considering Stockton is so bad.
Emily: Where you originally from?
Gonzo: Upstate New York, but that place is not my home anymore. I have nothing to go back to, so I moved to El Paso and that's the end of that.
Emily: The Borderland. I see...
Gonzo: You done with that roach?
Emily nods her head, as she passes me the roach. I toss it in the bag with the others, as I get to my feet, and promptly fall flat on my face...
Gonzo: Son of a...
Emily chuckles, as I fall over. Someday I'll remember that I don't have both feet anymore, and I should really quit trying to walk on my stump. The door to my room opens up, and I see that both Z and Joe are at the door, as Z says...
Lazlo: You forgot to put your foot on again, didn't you?
Gonzo: Yeah...
Joe: (chuckling) We thought you might've been having an encounter...
Gonzo: No, we decided to wait until its dark before we go all chocolate and vanilla swirl back here. We don't want to embarrass anybody right now.
Lazlo: Jesus...
Gonzo: Jesus doesn't need to be in this conversation.
Joe: Yeah, He does! This shit is too funny sometimes...
Gonzo: So, what have we got so far for next week?
Lazlo: Well, a significant portion of the roster, despite the great show, somehow came down with some flu-like symptoms, so there isn't going to be a Sunday show, but there is going to be a Wednesday show in its place. And no, the WCF Classic will not be on the show.
Gonzo: So what the hell am I going to do?
Lazlo: Well, Seth has been pushing for your drinking and interview segments, even though you're still balls deep in the tournament...
Gonzo: Yeah, no shit...
Lazlo: Well, ICE is going to do one, and Seth wants you on the show.
Gonzo: With Iceman? The boyfriend of whatshername? You think that's going to end well?
Lazlo: Well, with any luck. But you're hot for interviews right now, and that spot on the show is something that everyone is clamoring for. You've seen the rush of talent that's come in here lately?
Gonzo: Oh, I saw it, and I must say wow. Some of these guys really know what they're doing, unlike Ryan Blake.
Joe: Ryan Blake... (chuckles)
Eric: Ryan Blake? Why are we talking about him?
Gonzo: We were talking about the rush of talent that's come into the WCF lately, though I guess we can drop Ryan Blake from the list of talented guys to talk about.
Eric: Well, you gotta have talent first before you can be included into a conversation about people with talent.
Gonzo: Wow, that's cold.
Emily: Yeah, I felt the temperature drop about 10 degrees in here.
Eric: Speaking of temperature, did Z inform you about Wednesday night?
Gonzo: Apparently myself and Natty Ice Beckman have a date. Real sitdown affair over drinks. So Emily, when we get there, I'm going to have to ask you to make a few large containers of beverages for the show.
Emily: Anything specific?
Gonzo: Probably four beverages. White Russians, Mojitos, Bloody Mary's, and a pot of Irish Coffee. And a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon. ICE likes PBR, right?
Eric: I don't think he discriminates, but he's been pushing this Whoop Ass Beer for awhile now.
Gonzo: Well, fuck it. Get a case of Whoop Ass Beer. We should have a rolling tray under the bus, so transporting the booze will not be a problem. Anything else?
Lazlo: Yeah, the show will be on the Internet, so restrictions on television doesn't apply. So language onscreen will not be a problem. This is probably going to be more of a candid interview, so feel free to speak freely on the show, within reason.
Gonzo: Well hell, if that's the case, I may just have to break out the Peace Pipe for this one.
Lazlo: You still have the Peace Pipe?
Gonzo: Fuck yeah! About the only thing that came out of that pottery class my first ex-wife dragged me to. Boy, she was pissed when I made that thing.
Emily: What's the big deal about this "Peace Pipe"?
I reach into the bag, and pull out a box with a kiln-fired pipe about ten inches in total length inside, with swirls of primary and secondary colors going up and down the whole piece, as the colors almost fluidly create multiple peace symbols all over the entire piece. The shaft is bent in a similar fashion that the Sherlock pipes are set, and a gold chain is connected to the bowl for wearing, if needed. Other than the fact that this piece is over ten years old, it still looked to be in cherry condition, as everyone's eyes brighten up as the see the pipe...
Lazlo: Damn, that thing is a work of beauty!
Emily: You made this?
Eric: Wow, that's a pretty nice bowl, and I don't even do drugs.
Joe: Nice! I think you should totally bring that out on the show! I think people will be impressed with the work.
Gonzo: Yeah, I'm just worried that some asshole is going to break it. Is the set going to be closed?
Eric: Probably...
Gonzo: You know what? It's ICE. He deserves the best, and I'm going to give it to him. (Handing my pipe to Emily in the box...) Make sure this gets on the cart as well. Do not break that, or you might be the next thing broken.
Emily: Gee boss, you sure know how to motivate your work force.
Gonzo: Its not like this pipe is replaceable. Bottom line, I will be very angry if it breaks.
Emily: Don't worry. If it breaks, it will not be because of me. (Receives the pipe)
Gonzo: What about Roy Speede?
Eric: I think you've gone over the hardest part of this tournament. Stick a fork in him, and he's done.
Joe: What EP said. He doesn't hold a candle to you.
Gonzo: Have you been watching the same matches as me? He put down Digger, Oblivion, Chase, and Jayson Price to get to me. I'm not going to underestimate and dismiss him as easily as you guys are.
Eric: But he's been nothing but an annoying gnat since he's come to WCF. And he's Logan's kid, too, which makes everything even worse.
Joe: He's had a few flashes of brilliance, but I don't honestly think he can take you. This isn't a size thing, but he's still greener than goose shit inside of that ring. Or at least he wrestles like that sometimes.
Gonzo: Well fuck, I was 21 once upon a time, and I started wrestling much earlier than that. When I was 21, I had already held two World Titles!
Joe: Yeah, that was you. Don't get me wrong, he's held a few titles, and he even lays claim to the longest Hardcore Title run in the WCF, though that record might be in danger if Orbit holds on to it much longer. Bottom line is that he's not ready for the next level. I don't think he's ready for the next level.
Eric: And I agree. His Hardcore Title run was held together by his Daddy, anyways, so its not that impressive.
Gonzo: Somehow I doubt that. Nobody can hold on to a title for that long without being skilled yourself. Even if it is the Hardcore Title. But the fact of the matter is that he's in this tournament, and he's my final obstacle. I want no stone left unturned when it comes to what to expect from him.
Eric: Remember you match with Kaz?
Gonzo: Yeah, that was only like 12 hours ago...
Eric: Well, expect more of that. Less technical wrestling, and more moving out of the way. If I were you, I'd just let him crash and burn. Let him hurt himself before you go in for the kill. Hell, that worked on Kaz.
Gonzo: Yeah it did. But that was my plan. Make him wrestle me on my terms. Take the air from him. Maybe I'll get to kick him off of a turnbuckle like I did to Kaz.
Joe: I didn't know you could jump so high.
Gonzo: Hell, I used to be able to dunk standing underneath the basket. No running start or anything.
Eric: And it was a miracle you didn't wind up outside of the ring, because that's where you were going if you missed that kick.
Gonzo: But I connected, and I knew I was going to. Its not like Kaz had anywhere else to go when he was up there. And if he did move, he was going down to the floor as well, so at least we were going to stay on even ground if I did miss.
Eric: Good point. But all I'm saying is that I know you can win this match. You made my hair stand up on end last night, and that match with Alex got me nervous a few times, but I can't say that I'm nearly as worried as I was with your last two matches.
Gonzo: And that's the type of thinking that allowed Roy to advance to the Finals. You guys can keep talking shit about Roy, but it doesn't change the fact that he's here, he's serious, and he wants the U.S. Title for himself. And he's going to try to go through me to get it. At this point, I really don't care what you guys think of him as a person or a wrestler, but what I really want to know is what to expect from him. You guys have wrestled him before, right?
Both men nod their heads, as Deuce continues...
Gonzo: So tell me what to expect, and not what your opinions are about Roy or the outcome you guys want. Hell, I want to win, too! And I'm sure if Roy is smart, he'll be asking about me to some of the other guys that have crossed my path. Of course, most of them reside in The Pack.
Eric: Hell, the way The Pack has been falling apart, it wouldn't surprise me if The Pack recruits him as a new member.
Joe: Eh, I don't know. Wonder how Logan might feel about that.
Gonzo: What about Logan? What kind of wrestler is he? I'm sure he trained Roy, so what am I to expect from the perspective of Logan's training?
Eric: Logan is as hardcore as they come. But he's also a very technically sound wrestler. Roy isn't up to scratch with his old man, but you might consider that he's a fairly good grappler.
Gonzo: There we go! That's what I'm talking about! So we've established that Roy likes to fly, and he can grapple technically. What about submissions?
Joe: I don't think I've ever seen him win by submission. I'm sure he knows a submission move or two, but if he gets his way, he's going to just crash into you from up high, and will probably try to wrestle with you if he's in a tough spot.
Eric: Not to make it sound fundamental, but honestly, just kick him in the head with that foot of yours and be done with it.
Gonzo: It's not that easy, and you know it. How many times did I kick Richards in the head? And how many times did he fall the fuck down? And Speede is a moving target, on top of that. Fuck, I sometimes hate wrestling these squirrelly bastards!
Eric: We've got plenty of video for you, if you need it. Speaking of that, are you ever going to get out of bed?
Gonzo: You know, I tried that, and I fell down on my face. Give me a minute or two. In the meantime, can you toss some eggs into a skillet? I'm getting hungry.
Joe: Yeah, I'll do it. But I'm not going to watch them, so get your ass out here.
Gonzo: Okay, okay... I'm moving...
Everyone cleared out of the room, as I attached my foot and got dressed for the rest of the day. As I come out to the cab, I see the eggs are cooking sunny side up. I flip the eggs and turn off the burner, as I put a few pieces of bread into the toaster. I finish my cooking, and I combine the eggs and toast into a sandwich.
Deep down inside of me, I know that I can beat Roy, but the last thing I wanted to do so close to the prize was to miss something and lose bad. Everyone in the tournament that had the misfortune to face Roy paid for it in the end, and I refuse to add my name to that list. On the same note, I fought a few pretty tough matches to get where I am now. Okay, so Ryan Blake proved to be easy, but the other two, well, see how I move around slowly this wonderful afternoon, and you'll see that it wasn't easy.
But Roy probably had it harder. First Digger, then Oblivion, before he had to deal with both Chase Michaels and Jayson Price at the same time! Not an enviable list of opponents to face in any tournament format. And as much as everyone wants to bag on him for being Logan's son and being a bit goofy himself, he fought hard as fuck to get here, and I acknowledge his climb and struggle to get where he is.
But now we're here, at the top, and there is only room for one of us. He's had the U.S. Title, and although I have not earned this particular version of the U.S. Title, I can say that I've fought hard for a few of them in the past, and this battle will be no different. And I know he wants the title bad. He wants that title because it may prove to be the stepping stone that allows him to truly emerge from his father's large and long shadow here in the WCF. He may not want to admit it, but deep down inside, that is what he feels. I felt it, too, when I entered the wonderful world of professional wrestling. My own father was a skilled grappler, and I had a lot of living up to do inside of that ring.
While his goals are noble enough, I still have my own agenda to accomplish. Within the past year, that title has been in the hands of some of the more disappointing superstars that have been in the WCF. Omega didn't do anything with the title other than wear it. Dr. Micayle, or however the fuck you spell his name, practically ducked everyone who made an approach, at least until ICE relieved him of his title. Hell, all ICE did with the title was hold it long enough to collect the World Title. It's time that the title is properly defended on a regular basis, and I'm the guy to do it. As long as I survive the operation to remove the cancer.
I still haven't told Seth about the cancer, though I'm sure he knows by now. Everyone and their mother in the WCF reads the blog, and I've been pretty candid about the situation. With any luck, I get to have that surgery after I win the U.S. Title, and maybe recover well enough before I go to "One". You think I'm going to miss "One"? You must be high to think that.
So to all my lovers and haters out there, I'm going to sign off for now. Look for another blog after Wednesday night. I'm sure I'm going to have a lot to write about shortly after that show...
Deep, Dark Thoughts in the middle of Intercourse (Personal Log)
Iknew it wasn't going to take long before I finally cracked the black oak. At least that's what my somewhat racist step-father referred to as having sex with a black chick. Weird what some shit you want to forget just sneaks into your brain as you're pounding out the back end of a broad. This wasn't my first go-round on the swirl express, but it was proving to be highly memorable. Maybe its the excitement of new pussy that makes me think this is the best ass in the world I've ever had, but like ice cream, its all good, but some are more prominently etched into your mind than others, in terms of both good ice cream (sex) and bad ice cream (sex).
We'd been going for about an hour, as her body glistened with sweat from a nightlight across the room, the only real source of light in the entire room. True to my word, I told everyone that I would engage Emily tonight, and after an entire day in close quarters, and nothing to do but screw with each other, we got to bumping uglies. Well, her peach wasn't so ugly, and I like to think I have a pretty dick, so where does this whole "bump uglies" come from? Grade school?
We'd finally got to a point where we had both slowed down and caught our breath, as she rolled off of me, saying...
Emily: Jesus Christ, I'm sore...
Gonzo: Jesus can't help you with the soreness. Sorry...
Emily: Ass...
Gonzo: True story.
She giggles a bit, before they lock lips for a moment or two. They break off, as Deuce says...
Gonzo: If your peach needs a break from pounding, I could always provide oral comfort...
Emily: Hate to say no, but you got a tongue like a cat. Kind of rough.
Gonzo: Really? I've never had a complaint about my tongue like that before. I'd think it would help with sensation if that was the case.
Emily: Oh, I felt plenty of sensation, but I feel like you're about to overload me. This must be like what robots feel like before blowing up.
Gonzo: Not the first time I've heard that...
Emily: What the fuck was I thinking? You're my BOSS! And God knows how many bitches you be fucking on the road before me. You got any STD's?
Gonzo: Not that I'm aware of, but I usually wrap my tool, because my cracker ass is not a fool. I was a poet and didn't even know it!
Emily: Jesus, you're going to fire me, aren't you?
Gonzo: Uh, no... But to be honest with you, I'm really not looking for a relationship. Trust me, you don't want to be with me. I'm an asshole, and a slob, and a drunk, and an addict, who's great idea of a good time involves all of that and a fistfight. I'm not going to fire you, but if you quit, that's up to you. I'll fly you back to Chicago and that'll be that. But if we're going to do this, its going to be casual. Its got to be casual.
Emily: I got my shit to deal with, too. I like the job and all, but I think after Wednesday, I should go back. Maybe get my old job back.
Gonzo: I'll put in a good word for you. But in the meantime, why not enjoy each other's company for the next few days?
Emily: I don't see a reason why we can't do that...
And so is the story of my most recent love affair. Note to self, quit dipping your goddamn pen in the fucking company ink! Especially if it's your own damn ink! Goddammit, she was a really good bartender and cook. Where the fuck am I going to get another bartender and cook like this? Perhaps if I was an idiot and placed my trust into her, perhaps she could stay under the pretense that we're a thing. But I don't think I can trust another woman again. Its hard to place your trust in anybody when you find that more than one woman in your life has left you at your darkest hour.
Fuck!!! Why must women bother me so much? I love the shit out of them, don't get me wrong, but they also seem to be the biggest fucking problem in my personal life. Especially when I had to deal with Ryann, who has now filed for sole custody and no visitation, and has had the audacity to ask for more child support. Z's a good lawyer, but he's not a family lawyer, so I may have some issues in the future with this. It's within her rights to ask for these things, but it couldn't come at the worst possible time in my life. First she tries to weasel her way back into my life, using our daughter, no less, then cancer, now the Tournament Finals, my bartender and cook is leaving, and Digger, and The Pack... How the fuck do I sleep? Oh yeah, with Ambien.
We'd continued engaging in each other, but the feeling wasn't there this time around. Sure, it was still enjoyable, but ironically enough, it seemed as if our sexual peak has passed for the time being, and we're now just fucking for the sake of fucking. This lasted for about a few more minutes, before we called it quits and I swallowed an Ambien. With any luck, I either wake up dead, or I wake up and none of this madness is going on, and its all just a dream...
The Draw and the Shooting... (TV/Blog)
As usual, I was in a terrible mood come television time. You know, those interview segments that get plugged into shows and internet spots? Yeah, well sometimes they're quite tedious. As in the directors of the clips. "Oh, you're not angry enough." or "Oh, you're not presenting right." Normally, I like being a laid back person, but these directors and their incessant whining. "It's not right! OMG! I can't do anything else in life!" I fucking hate directors and their worthless asses. Writers, real creative. Actors, well, they've got something on me, I don't know what. But directors? Any Joe Blow asshole in the world can tell you what is good and what is shit. You get paid to look at a screen all day, and then whine when it doesn't meet your personal standard. Join the world club, asshole!
And normally, especially since joining WCF, I usually get angry and violent on screen, so the anger played to my favor. I've been pretty fucking angry at most of my competition, which has consisted of mostly members of The Pack. They were so full of hot air, that it gave me great joy to face them all in the ring at the same time. Granted, I let my anger get the best of me, and I hurt a guy because of it, but so far, that gambit has played out in my favor, since that injury led to this Classic WCF United States Title Tournament. Hooray for me. Sometimes violence is the answer.
However, today I wanted to go a different route. You see, Roy Speede doesn't evoke emotions from me as easily as The Pack does. Not to say anything about Roy, because I'm sure if I hung out with him long enough, then he might become annoying, which I've noticed has been the biggest detrimental thing said about Roy. I was aiming for something more personal and intense. Like maybe a prison shower fistfight where both of us are naked. Something tells me if that was to happen, I would have to rape that poor kid in the shower if we were really in prison. I'd find no real pleasure from it, but establishment of the pecking order must be established, and in this tournament, I'm the Top Fucking Dog. And I say Top Fucking Dog, because this entire tournament has been filled with dogs. And Roy Speede has been the proverbial Underdog in this entire tournament.
I'll admit that I had written Roy off at the beginning of the tournament. Hell, he was facing Gravedigger! The man is a legend, I'd been in the ring with him, had received what he had to offer, and it was fairly substantial what he brings to the match. I was sorely mistaken about the heart that was inside of Roy Speede's chest. He proved he had one, gutted it out, and won the match. And then he turned around again, and pulled off another upset against Oblivion. I say upset, because like Digger, Oblivion has a similar background and is considered a legend here. And I've seen him wrestle. It's brutal. I thought I was ultraviolent, I may not hold a candle to him. And yet Roy perseveres, like "The Little Engine That Could".
And then he faced his biggest challenge yet. Not only did he have to fight the proverbial lapdog Wolfie Michaels, the resident Pack member left somehow in the tournament, but he also had to go through Jayson Price. Jayson Price, somehow a member of Pantheon, even though almost everyone on the planet hates Jayson Price. Fuck, Jayson Price hates Jayson Price. Enough said about that. However, he's still managed to gain major success in the WCF, something that has eluded Roy and Wolfie. He was the clear favorite, even though everyone hates thinking that Price is the favorite to win anything. Price even goes so far as to attack Roy, who he saw as the clearest threat in this match, only to become a victim of his own hubris at the very hands of Roy Speede. And now here we are. YOU AND ME! NO WITNESSES! Er, I mean.... EVERYONE'S A WITNESS!
Wow, I better calm down. Thank God Eric is here to oversee this madness. He and the director seem to have a good rapport, so I'll utilize that to my advantage. And thank God he's a people person, or I may have not gotten this far. I probably would've killed Seth by now. Many find it hard to believe, but he's worked pretty fucking hard for my trust, and thus far, he's earned it. But their chat is over, and I'm called in front of the camera. The backdrop is there, I'm in my War gear, the eye pro, the brain bucket, the face paint, the stogie, and everything else for my full battle rattle. No weapons, probably because they don't trust me, but I really didn't need it for this segment. The director called for "Action", and the cameras started rolling, as I let the viewers settle in on what they're looking at. I pulled off my brain bucket, revealing my bald head, as I say...
Gonzo: Silver Linings... I guess you could say that me being in that ring is a big silver lining in what I call a life. You see, I started out pretty young in the ring. In the shadow of a proverbial legend. Well, my old man was only legendary in his later life for how much he could drink, before he poisoned himself to death. But hey! I'm still here! Still wrestling, to this day!
I start pulling my load bearing vest and my bulletproof vest off, and I start shaking it free of me, letting it fall to the ground with a thud. I continue...
Gonzo: But whatever. It's just you and me now, Roy. Never mind what everyone is saying about this match. Never mind some of those inappropriate comments that my manager, Eric Price, said to you, about you, or whatever the case may be. Never mind what everyone else is saying in the locker room, or what maybe Seth is thinking right now. I would also say don't even bother finding out what Logan thinks. Better yet, just shut out the world for a second, because the only thing that really matters is what I think of you. Hell, I'm your opponent, and a party to this, so whatever everyone else in the world thinks, it doesn't matter right now.
I was miles ahead of you at your age. By the time I was your age, I had already held two World Titles and had performed my first combat deployment with SEAL Team 9. You're a little behind on your curve, but then again, I've always been somewhat special. Go ahead and make a "Special Ed" joke. Deflect with humor, because I get it. Looking at you, you had horrible training, because let's face it, Logan isn't much on actual training, as he is on embarrassing everyone around him. Must be hard being his son. My old man would rather just beat my ass because it was convenient, but a harsh taskmaster makes for serious trainers. At least you had stability, while I've wandered. So in a sense, you have the terrain to your advantage, but I have a world of knowledge in my hands on how to bring you down.
I started to remove my blouse, button by button, and I pulled it off, revealing a green t-shirt and bare arms. My arms are covered in tattoos of a various nature. However, the inside of his right arm, all the way down to the palm of his hands, are 3rd Degree burns. I pulled off my t-shirt, to reveal further burn scars on his right flank and torso. I turn to walk around, so the camera can catch my back, full of ruined tattoos, thanks again to the burn scars. His entire back was covered, right up to the back of his head. I'm sure now everyone at home knows now why I wear so much to the ring, because I am a sight to behold. Anyways, I continue to speak...
Gonzo: You see, Roy... Can I call you Roy? Well, we're about to get as intimate as two men can without all the latent homosexuality boiling over in the middle of the ring, kind of like what happened at War, when Biohazard and Walker Whateverthefuckhisnameis got really touchy-feeley in the middle of the ring? Yeah, well, as you can see, I'm no stranger to pain. Yes, everyone knows about my foot. World's worst secret I tried to keep when I returned to wrestling. I had figured I had fallen into obscurity, and for a moment, I did.
You see, when I came here, I was lost. I had no purpose. I was an OD away from becoming another tragic loss in the world of professional wrestling. And I was embarrassed for my lack of caring. So I did what I do best, I went to war. And War. And I kicked some serious ass. And got laid low by The Pack... The Pack... To think that they were just a huge annoyance that I've taken care of. You're welcome, WCF. You're welcome, Pantheon. You're welcome, whoever gives two shits about The Pack now. So I found myself in the WCF Classic, after I relieved Jay Omega of his U.S. Title. And I must say that my climb to the top was much easier than yours. Perhaps a bit too easy. Less than ten seconds for Ryan Blake to fall victim to The Phantom Itch? Well, it got much harder, when a remnant of The Pack came back for another attack. Talking about Richards. Oh, how I would've loved to send him to Bat Country in the middle of the ring. Alas, his fat ass was not moving. There was no way I was going to pick him up again. I'm surprised I got him up at all! And I'm surprised I didn't end his career. I guess God does look out for drunks and idiots. So what's your excuse, Roy?
I pull out a pack of Camel Crush Menthols from my pants and pull a cigarette out before lighting it, letting the smoke go into my sinus cavity, before releasing it from my nose, before gritting my teeth and opening my mouth, as I look like a bull letting smoke out of both my nose and mouth at the same time. Hopefully if the lighting is right and my head angle is perfect, the smoke, once it clears my head, should look like the smoke is coming out of my ears. Well, one can hope the angle of the camera is right. I do NOT want to take another cut so I can blow smoke some more. I already got enough cancer...
Gonzo: I guess that's a mean question. You don't have to answer that. However, I've weighted and measured you, and it is you that is, indeed, fighting an uphill battle. You have the credentials, but you have not given neither your fellow wrestlers or the fans anything to look forward to. Despite your young age, you seem to be spinning your wheels in place, failing to evolve. And if you don't change it soon, you will be destined to fail in your quest to prove yourself to the world. But that is your cross to bear, not mine. If anything, I'll be saddling you with more of a burden than you've ever imagined in your career, when you fail to capture the United States Title at the end of this rainbow.
Don't misunderstand me, Roy. I respect you, and in a way, I really want to help you attain something better than you've already attained. But the time for that is not now. Bottom line, you're standing in my way, and I want that title. It deserves to be around the waist of someone who is more than willing to defend it against all comers. Can you say the same, Speede? Or do you just want the belt to hold up your big boy pants? Because JC Penny has a holiday sale on all apparel items come Black Friday. I'll get you a belt, with a nice buckle. It'll say "Try, Try Again" on it. And I'm serious. If I win that title, I'll give you another shot. Don't want anybody to think that my U.S. Title win is a fluke.
So Roy Speede, you and me, every witness available in the world watching. Another Main Event! Another shot at glory! Denver, Colorado! Time to join the "Mile High Club"! You take flight, and I'll see if I can knock your ass out of the sky with some artillery! Mano e mano! For the Title! Are you nervous yet? Try not to get a hard-on in the ring! I won't make any promises!
I pull my shades down a little bit, as he walks up towards the camera, as the world can see the prominent scar going over my right eye. My eyes are dark, almost black, as the audience sees the manic intensity in my eyes, as I recite my emotions going into such a big match. Hell, I'm sure that Roy shares the same emotions, the same fears that I do going into this match. I'm still trying to get back in the saddle, while he's trying to go further than he did before. A lot was riding on this match, and he was going to get my absolute best. But as I stood there, looking into the camera, building up the match, I finally felt the rush of adrenaline that I was looking for. I grabbed the camera and pulled it towards me, as I said, with force...
Gonzo: But if you fuck with me, you bring your Daddy down to the ring. You get fresh with me, and I'll write you a Love Letter that you may or may not live to read! You won't be the first child I've ever had to put down, sad to say, and your Daddy won't be the only guy I've ever kicked a new asshole for sticking his nose where it don't belong! So feel free to get cheap and dirty, and you'll pay for it via blood donation! So come on, kid! FUCK WITH ME! C'MON, LET'S FUCK! I'LL FUCK ANYTHING THAT MOVES, MOTHERFUCKER! SO C'MON! SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT, FUCKER! SHOW ME WHAT YOU...
I grab the camera, and I fling it into the ground, shattering it into a million pieces, as you can hear in the background Eric screaming at me not to. Fuck a camera! Needless to say, my television time ends, as I stomp that piece of shit into the ground, with hopes I imbed pieces of the camera into the floor, just like I'm going to embed Roy Speede's head into the mat come next Slam...
Oh wow...
I rolled over in bed and looked at the clock on the back window to see that it was 10:53 and the sun was shining, while we moved on to the next town. Most of the time, after a big match like that where I walk away victorious, I usually celebrate with alcohol, weed, and tons of heavy metal. But Kaz took me even farther than I had anticipated, and I thank him for it. It could easily be one of my best matches in my career, and 15 years on and off the road, that is saying something.
I sit up in my bed, and my legs, arms, my ribs, all sore as hell. About the only thing that's NOT hurting, ironically enough, is my head. At least not that sore, beaten all to hell feeling, like a milkshake resides where my brain should be. I grab my bag and pull out a bottle of Oxy, my pre cancer treatments, and a spliff from the bag. I take the painkiller and the treatments, before I move to the REAL cancer treatment.
At that point, I realized that my bartender Emily was sleeping across from me in the other bed. She starts to rise, as she sees me inhaling the sweet cheeba smoke. She looks over and says...
Emily: What time is it?
Gonzo: It's almost 11:00. How was the afterparty?
Emily: Those wrestlers are rowdy as fuck, yo! But some of them are alright. This is not a bad gig. I could've done worse. I really didn't know just what a badass you are in the ring, though. I mean, I had an idea, but nothing like that. You dropped that fool on his head!
Gonzo: He'll be okay. I'm sure he has plenty of nice things to say about me now that I evened the score. He's actually beaten me before. And clean. No cheating or anything.
Emily: Oh, I realize he ain't no joke, either. And now you got some sort of big title shot next week?
Gonzo: Yeah. Against another scrapper, no less. Seems like these guys hurt a little more than the bigger guys. My last match with Richards was pretty rough, but shit, Kaz was all over that damn ring. At least with Richards, he doesn't move around as fast or nearly as much.
Emily: Yeah, but he a big motherfucker! Who would want to fight a guy like that?
I smile, as I take a pull from the J, as she realizes that I've been in the ring with him more than once. I pass her the J, as I say...
Gonzo: Well, I did, and willingly. But like I've said before, I work in a business where safety and survival is not guaranteed, and I've made a hell of a career defying odds. Nobody thought I could go head-on with every member of The Pack, yet here I am, victorious over half of their roster. The others? They want no piece of me. Hell, even Bobby Cairo, Number 1 Contender for the World Title, he doesn't even want to trifle with me at a level like that.
Emily: That's because you a crazy-ass white boy! I'll admit, you kind of scare me a bit.
Gonzo: I don't see why. I employ you, shelter you, care about you...
Emily: You care about me?
Gonzo: You're an employee, of course I care. You get hurt, I'll take care of you myself. You know I'm a licenced paramedic. I'm probably a year or two away from an actual medical degree.
Emily: And you are in a ring getting beat on by a bunch of 'roided out guys? AND YOU LIKE IT!? Why not be an actual doctor?
Gonzo: Well, I do have a PhD. in Social Psychology, but that won't really help if you break a bone or get shot.
Emily: Jesus! Really, what are you doing in the ring? Why do you go out there and get your ass kicked around when you could be doing something much easier for even more money?
Gonzo: You ever play sports?
Emily: High school volleyball and softball...
Gonzo: Softball? You don't seem the type...
Emily: I was a really good shortstop. But I couldn't hit for shit, so I became an Average Josephina.
Gonzo: Shortstop, so you know that anything worth doing is going to be challenging. Fighting is a challenge, whether its for money, gold, glory, or survival. Sure, I could go to a big city and do demographic research that could provide insight for communities that could make them even better based on economic shifts and trends, but I do even better work inside of that ring for millions of people around the world. You know I wasn't always cheered.
Emily: I was not aware of that. So you were a bad guy? What changed?
Gonzo: I don't know. I still rub people the wrong way eventually. A big deal was made when I went to War and hung around that match for a long time. I put some guys on their asses, and the fans loved it. Next thing I know, I'm Rocky Balboa. The underdog. The Broken Hero. All of this fan favortism because I don't have a foot? I guess people love people who face adversity, regardless of their general disposition.
Emily: I do. Hell, I think its wild that I work with a guy with no foot and wrestles big time wrestlers. Hell, everyone's heard of Gravedigger. Even people like me, who's never really watched wrestling that much growing up. What's your deal with him, anyways?
Gonzo: He hurt one of my friends, and you just don't do that shit. Not when I'm around, anyways. Digger thinks I bit off more than I can chew? Well, I have a pretty big mouth, both figuratively and literally, and he's going to find out what it feels like to be consumed by one Broken Hero. He thinks this is my first rodeo because I haven't haunted the WCF for over a decade, but he's sadly mistaken. I've had more than my fair share of World Titles and all the other accolades that a wrestler hopes and dreams to have during their career. I don't sweat him.
Emily: Well, you're a much braver person than I am. I see Joe is much better now.
Gonzo: Yeah, he's a tough old guy. I'm certain he can fight his own fight with Digger, but its hard when you get laid up in a bed because a bunch of cowardly criminal assholes felt the urge to jump a preacher. What the fuck is the world coming to?
Emily: Is he a real preacher? I've heard him cuss up a storm a few times...
Gonzo: Oh, he's the real deal. And he's also a realist. Nobody can overcome all of their shortcomings, and his language is just a byproduct of that. And he's from Stockton, which is a real shithole. I'm surprised he's not worse off, considering Stockton is so bad.
Emily: Where you originally from?
Gonzo: Upstate New York, but that place is not my home anymore. I have nothing to go back to, so I moved to El Paso and that's the end of that.
Emily: The Borderland. I see...
Gonzo: You done with that roach?
Emily nods her head, as she passes me the roach. I toss it in the bag with the others, as I get to my feet, and promptly fall flat on my face...
Gonzo: Son of a...
Emily chuckles, as I fall over. Someday I'll remember that I don't have both feet anymore, and I should really quit trying to walk on my stump. The door to my room opens up, and I see that both Z and Joe are at the door, as Z says...
Lazlo: You forgot to put your foot on again, didn't you?
Gonzo: Yeah...
Joe: (chuckling) We thought you might've been having an encounter...
Gonzo: No, we decided to wait until its dark before we go all chocolate and vanilla swirl back here. We don't want to embarrass anybody right now.
Lazlo: Jesus...
Gonzo: Jesus doesn't need to be in this conversation.
Joe: Yeah, He does! This shit is too funny sometimes...
Gonzo: So, what have we got so far for next week?
Lazlo: Well, a significant portion of the roster, despite the great show, somehow came down with some flu-like symptoms, so there isn't going to be a Sunday show, but there is going to be a Wednesday show in its place. And no, the WCF Classic will not be on the show.
Gonzo: So what the hell am I going to do?
Lazlo: Well, Seth has been pushing for your drinking and interview segments, even though you're still balls deep in the tournament...
Gonzo: Yeah, no shit...
Lazlo: Well, ICE is going to do one, and Seth wants you on the show.
Gonzo: With Iceman? The boyfriend of whatshername? You think that's going to end well?
Lazlo: Well, with any luck. But you're hot for interviews right now, and that spot on the show is something that everyone is clamoring for. You've seen the rush of talent that's come in here lately?
Gonzo: Oh, I saw it, and I must say wow. Some of these guys really know what they're doing, unlike Ryan Blake.
Joe: Ryan Blake... (chuckles)
Eric: Ryan Blake? Why are we talking about him?
Gonzo: We were talking about the rush of talent that's come into the WCF lately, though I guess we can drop Ryan Blake from the list of talented guys to talk about.
Eric: Well, you gotta have talent first before you can be included into a conversation about people with talent.
Gonzo: Wow, that's cold.
Emily: Yeah, I felt the temperature drop about 10 degrees in here.
Eric: Speaking of temperature, did Z inform you about Wednesday night?
Gonzo: Apparently myself and Natty Ice Beckman have a date. Real sitdown affair over drinks. So Emily, when we get there, I'm going to have to ask you to make a few large containers of beverages for the show.
Emily: Anything specific?
Gonzo: Probably four beverages. White Russians, Mojitos, Bloody Mary's, and a pot of Irish Coffee. And a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon. ICE likes PBR, right?
Eric: I don't think he discriminates, but he's been pushing this Whoop Ass Beer for awhile now.
Gonzo: Well, fuck it. Get a case of Whoop Ass Beer. We should have a rolling tray under the bus, so transporting the booze will not be a problem. Anything else?
Lazlo: Yeah, the show will be on the Internet, so restrictions on television doesn't apply. So language onscreen will not be a problem. This is probably going to be more of a candid interview, so feel free to speak freely on the show, within reason.
Gonzo: Well hell, if that's the case, I may just have to break out the Peace Pipe for this one.
Lazlo: You still have the Peace Pipe?
Gonzo: Fuck yeah! About the only thing that came out of that pottery class my first ex-wife dragged me to. Boy, she was pissed when I made that thing.
Emily: What's the big deal about this "Peace Pipe"?
I reach into the bag, and pull out a box with a kiln-fired pipe about ten inches in total length inside, with swirls of primary and secondary colors going up and down the whole piece, as the colors almost fluidly create multiple peace symbols all over the entire piece. The shaft is bent in a similar fashion that the Sherlock pipes are set, and a gold chain is connected to the bowl for wearing, if needed. Other than the fact that this piece is over ten years old, it still looked to be in cherry condition, as everyone's eyes brighten up as the see the pipe...
Lazlo: Damn, that thing is a work of beauty!
Emily: You made this?
Eric: Wow, that's a pretty nice bowl, and I don't even do drugs.
Joe: Nice! I think you should totally bring that out on the show! I think people will be impressed with the work.
Gonzo: Yeah, I'm just worried that some asshole is going to break it. Is the set going to be closed?
Eric: Probably...
Gonzo: You know what? It's ICE. He deserves the best, and I'm going to give it to him. (Handing my pipe to Emily in the box...) Make sure this gets on the cart as well. Do not break that, or you might be the next thing broken.
Emily: Gee boss, you sure know how to motivate your work force.
Gonzo: Its not like this pipe is replaceable. Bottom line, I will be very angry if it breaks.
Emily: Don't worry. If it breaks, it will not be because of me. (Receives the pipe)
Gonzo: What about Roy Speede?
Eric: I think you've gone over the hardest part of this tournament. Stick a fork in him, and he's done.
Joe: What EP said. He doesn't hold a candle to you.
Gonzo: Have you been watching the same matches as me? He put down Digger, Oblivion, Chase, and Jayson Price to get to me. I'm not going to underestimate and dismiss him as easily as you guys are.
Eric: But he's been nothing but an annoying gnat since he's come to WCF. And he's Logan's kid, too, which makes everything even worse.
Joe: He's had a few flashes of brilliance, but I don't honestly think he can take you. This isn't a size thing, but he's still greener than goose shit inside of that ring. Or at least he wrestles like that sometimes.
Gonzo: Well fuck, I was 21 once upon a time, and I started wrestling much earlier than that. When I was 21, I had already held two World Titles!
Joe: Yeah, that was you. Don't get me wrong, he's held a few titles, and he even lays claim to the longest Hardcore Title run in the WCF, though that record might be in danger if Orbit holds on to it much longer. Bottom line is that he's not ready for the next level. I don't think he's ready for the next level.
Eric: And I agree. His Hardcore Title run was held together by his Daddy, anyways, so its not that impressive.
Gonzo: Somehow I doubt that. Nobody can hold on to a title for that long without being skilled yourself. Even if it is the Hardcore Title. But the fact of the matter is that he's in this tournament, and he's my final obstacle. I want no stone left unturned when it comes to what to expect from him.
Eric: Remember you match with Kaz?
Gonzo: Yeah, that was only like 12 hours ago...
Eric: Well, expect more of that. Less technical wrestling, and more moving out of the way. If I were you, I'd just let him crash and burn. Let him hurt himself before you go in for the kill. Hell, that worked on Kaz.
Gonzo: Yeah it did. But that was my plan. Make him wrestle me on my terms. Take the air from him. Maybe I'll get to kick him off of a turnbuckle like I did to Kaz.
Joe: I didn't know you could jump so high.
Gonzo: Hell, I used to be able to dunk standing underneath the basket. No running start or anything.
Eric: And it was a miracle you didn't wind up outside of the ring, because that's where you were going if you missed that kick.
Gonzo: But I connected, and I knew I was going to. Its not like Kaz had anywhere else to go when he was up there. And if he did move, he was going down to the floor as well, so at least we were going to stay on even ground if I did miss.
Eric: Good point. But all I'm saying is that I know you can win this match. You made my hair stand up on end last night, and that match with Alex got me nervous a few times, but I can't say that I'm nearly as worried as I was with your last two matches.
Gonzo: And that's the type of thinking that allowed Roy to advance to the Finals. You guys can keep talking shit about Roy, but it doesn't change the fact that he's here, he's serious, and he wants the U.S. Title for himself. And he's going to try to go through me to get it. At this point, I really don't care what you guys think of him as a person or a wrestler, but what I really want to know is what to expect from him. You guys have wrestled him before, right?
Both men nod their heads, as Deuce continues...
Gonzo: So tell me what to expect, and not what your opinions are about Roy or the outcome you guys want. Hell, I want to win, too! And I'm sure if Roy is smart, he'll be asking about me to some of the other guys that have crossed my path. Of course, most of them reside in The Pack.
Eric: Hell, the way The Pack has been falling apart, it wouldn't surprise me if The Pack recruits him as a new member.
Joe: Eh, I don't know. Wonder how Logan might feel about that.
Gonzo: What about Logan? What kind of wrestler is he? I'm sure he trained Roy, so what am I to expect from the perspective of Logan's training?
Eric: Logan is as hardcore as they come. But he's also a very technically sound wrestler. Roy isn't up to scratch with his old man, but you might consider that he's a fairly good grappler.
Gonzo: There we go! That's what I'm talking about! So we've established that Roy likes to fly, and he can grapple technically. What about submissions?
Joe: I don't think I've ever seen him win by submission. I'm sure he knows a submission move or two, but if he gets his way, he's going to just crash into you from up high, and will probably try to wrestle with you if he's in a tough spot.
Eric: Not to make it sound fundamental, but honestly, just kick him in the head with that foot of yours and be done with it.
Gonzo: It's not that easy, and you know it. How many times did I kick Richards in the head? And how many times did he fall the fuck down? And Speede is a moving target, on top of that. Fuck, I sometimes hate wrestling these squirrelly bastards!
Eric: We've got plenty of video for you, if you need it. Speaking of that, are you ever going to get out of bed?
Gonzo: You know, I tried that, and I fell down on my face. Give me a minute or two. In the meantime, can you toss some eggs into a skillet? I'm getting hungry.
Joe: Yeah, I'll do it. But I'm not going to watch them, so get your ass out here.
Gonzo: Okay, okay... I'm moving...
Everyone cleared out of the room, as I attached my foot and got dressed for the rest of the day. As I come out to the cab, I see the eggs are cooking sunny side up. I flip the eggs and turn off the burner, as I put a few pieces of bread into the toaster. I finish my cooking, and I combine the eggs and toast into a sandwich.
Deep down inside of me, I know that I can beat Roy, but the last thing I wanted to do so close to the prize was to miss something and lose bad. Everyone in the tournament that had the misfortune to face Roy paid for it in the end, and I refuse to add my name to that list. On the same note, I fought a few pretty tough matches to get where I am now. Okay, so Ryan Blake proved to be easy, but the other two, well, see how I move around slowly this wonderful afternoon, and you'll see that it wasn't easy.
But Roy probably had it harder. First Digger, then Oblivion, before he had to deal with both Chase Michaels and Jayson Price at the same time! Not an enviable list of opponents to face in any tournament format. And as much as everyone wants to bag on him for being Logan's son and being a bit goofy himself, he fought hard as fuck to get here, and I acknowledge his climb and struggle to get where he is.
But now we're here, at the top, and there is only room for one of us. He's had the U.S. Title, and although I have not earned this particular version of the U.S. Title, I can say that I've fought hard for a few of them in the past, and this battle will be no different. And I know he wants the title bad. He wants that title because it may prove to be the stepping stone that allows him to truly emerge from his father's large and long shadow here in the WCF. He may not want to admit it, but deep down inside, that is what he feels. I felt it, too, when I entered the wonderful world of professional wrestling. My own father was a skilled grappler, and I had a lot of living up to do inside of that ring.
While his goals are noble enough, I still have my own agenda to accomplish. Within the past year, that title has been in the hands of some of the more disappointing superstars that have been in the WCF. Omega didn't do anything with the title other than wear it. Dr. Micayle, or however the fuck you spell his name, practically ducked everyone who made an approach, at least until ICE relieved him of his title. Hell, all ICE did with the title was hold it long enough to collect the World Title. It's time that the title is properly defended on a regular basis, and I'm the guy to do it. As long as I survive the operation to remove the cancer.
I still haven't told Seth about the cancer, though I'm sure he knows by now. Everyone and their mother in the WCF reads the blog, and I've been pretty candid about the situation. With any luck, I get to have that surgery after I win the U.S. Title, and maybe recover well enough before I go to "One". You think I'm going to miss "One"? You must be high to think that.
So to all my lovers and haters out there, I'm going to sign off for now. Look for another blog after Wednesday night. I'm sure I'm going to have a lot to write about shortly after that show...
Deep, Dark Thoughts in the middle of Intercourse (Personal Log)
Iknew it wasn't going to take long before I finally cracked the black oak. At least that's what my somewhat racist step-father referred to as having sex with a black chick. Weird what some shit you want to forget just sneaks into your brain as you're pounding out the back end of a broad. This wasn't my first go-round on the swirl express, but it was proving to be highly memorable. Maybe its the excitement of new pussy that makes me think this is the best ass in the world I've ever had, but like ice cream, its all good, but some are more prominently etched into your mind than others, in terms of both good ice cream (sex) and bad ice cream (sex).
We'd been going for about an hour, as her body glistened with sweat from a nightlight across the room, the only real source of light in the entire room. True to my word, I told everyone that I would engage Emily tonight, and after an entire day in close quarters, and nothing to do but screw with each other, we got to bumping uglies. Well, her peach wasn't so ugly, and I like to think I have a pretty dick, so where does this whole "bump uglies" come from? Grade school?
We'd finally got to a point where we had both slowed down and caught our breath, as she rolled off of me, saying...
Emily: Jesus Christ, I'm sore...
Gonzo: Jesus can't help you with the soreness. Sorry...
Emily: Ass...
Gonzo: True story.
She giggles a bit, before they lock lips for a moment or two. They break off, as Deuce says...
Gonzo: If your peach needs a break from pounding, I could always provide oral comfort...
Emily: Hate to say no, but you got a tongue like a cat. Kind of rough.
Gonzo: Really? I've never had a complaint about my tongue like that before. I'd think it would help with sensation if that was the case.
Emily: Oh, I felt plenty of sensation, but I feel like you're about to overload me. This must be like what robots feel like before blowing up.
Gonzo: Not the first time I've heard that...
Emily: What the fuck was I thinking? You're my BOSS! And God knows how many bitches you be fucking on the road before me. You got any STD's?
Gonzo: Not that I'm aware of, but I usually wrap my tool, because my cracker ass is not a fool. I was a poet and didn't even know it!
Emily: Jesus, you're going to fire me, aren't you?
Gonzo: Uh, no... But to be honest with you, I'm really not looking for a relationship. Trust me, you don't want to be with me. I'm an asshole, and a slob, and a drunk, and an addict, who's great idea of a good time involves all of that and a fistfight. I'm not going to fire you, but if you quit, that's up to you. I'll fly you back to Chicago and that'll be that. But if we're going to do this, its going to be casual. Its got to be casual.
Emily: I got my shit to deal with, too. I like the job and all, but I think after Wednesday, I should go back. Maybe get my old job back.
Gonzo: I'll put in a good word for you. But in the meantime, why not enjoy each other's company for the next few days?
Emily: I don't see a reason why we can't do that...
And so is the story of my most recent love affair. Note to self, quit dipping your goddamn pen in the fucking company ink! Especially if it's your own damn ink! Goddammit, she was a really good bartender and cook. Where the fuck am I going to get another bartender and cook like this? Perhaps if I was an idiot and placed my trust into her, perhaps she could stay under the pretense that we're a thing. But I don't think I can trust another woman again. Its hard to place your trust in anybody when you find that more than one woman in your life has left you at your darkest hour.
Fuck!!! Why must women bother me so much? I love the shit out of them, don't get me wrong, but they also seem to be the biggest fucking problem in my personal life. Especially when I had to deal with Ryann, who has now filed for sole custody and no visitation, and has had the audacity to ask for more child support. Z's a good lawyer, but he's not a family lawyer, so I may have some issues in the future with this. It's within her rights to ask for these things, but it couldn't come at the worst possible time in my life. First she tries to weasel her way back into my life, using our daughter, no less, then cancer, now the Tournament Finals, my bartender and cook is leaving, and Digger, and The Pack... How the fuck do I sleep? Oh yeah, with Ambien.
We'd continued engaging in each other, but the feeling wasn't there this time around. Sure, it was still enjoyable, but ironically enough, it seemed as if our sexual peak has passed for the time being, and we're now just fucking for the sake of fucking. This lasted for about a few more minutes, before we called it quits and I swallowed an Ambien. With any luck, I either wake up dead, or I wake up and none of this madness is going on, and its all just a dream...
The Draw and the Shooting... (TV/Blog)
As usual, I was in a terrible mood come television time. You know, those interview segments that get plugged into shows and internet spots? Yeah, well sometimes they're quite tedious. As in the directors of the clips. "Oh, you're not angry enough." or "Oh, you're not presenting right." Normally, I like being a laid back person, but these directors and their incessant whining. "It's not right! OMG! I can't do anything else in life!" I fucking hate directors and their worthless asses. Writers, real creative. Actors, well, they've got something on me, I don't know what. But directors? Any Joe Blow asshole in the world can tell you what is good and what is shit. You get paid to look at a screen all day, and then whine when it doesn't meet your personal standard. Join the world club, asshole!
And normally, especially since joining WCF, I usually get angry and violent on screen, so the anger played to my favor. I've been pretty fucking angry at most of my competition, which has consisted of mostly members of The Pack. They were so full of hot air, that it gave me great joy to face them all in the ring at the same time. Granted, I let my anger get the best of me, and I hurt a guy because of it, but so far, that gambit has played out in my favor, since that injury led to this Classic WCF United States Title Tournament. Hooray for me. Sometimes violence is the answer.
However, today I wanted to go a different route. You see, Roy Speede doesn't evoke emotions from me as easily as The Pack does. Not to say anything about Roy, because I'm sure if I hung out with him long enough, then he might become annoying, which I've noticed has been the biggest detrimental thing said about Roy. I was aiming for something more personal and intense. Like maybe a prison shower fistfight where both of us are naked. Something tells me if that was to happen, I would have to rape that poor kid in the shower if we were really in prison. I'd find no real pleasure from it, but establishment of the pecking order must be established, and in this tournament, I'm the Top Fucking Dog. And I say Top Fucking Dog, because this entire tournament has been filled with dogs. And Roy Speede has been the proverbial Underdog in this entire tournament.
I'll admit that I had written Roy off at the beginning of the tournament. Hell, he was facing Gravedigger! The man is a legend, I'd been in the ring with him, had received what he had to offer, and it was fairly substantial what he brings to the match. I was sorely mistaken about the heart that was inside of Roy Speede's chest. He proved he had one, gutted it out, and won the match. And then he turned around again, and pulled off another upset against Oblivion. I say upset, because like Digger, Oblivion has a similar background and is considered a legend here. And I've seen him wrestle. It's brutal. I thought I was ultraviolent, I may not hold a candle to him. And yet Roy perseveres, like "The Little Engine That Could".
And then he faced his biggest challenge yet. Not only did he have to fight the proverbial lapdog Wolfie Michaels, the resident Pack member left somehow in the tournament, but he also had to go through Jayson Price. Jayson Price, somehow a member of Pantheon, even though almost everyone on the planet hates Jayson Price. Fuck, Jayson Price hates Jayson Price. Enough said about that. However, he's still managed to gain major success in the WCF, something that has eluded Roy and Wolfie. He was the clear favorite, even though everyone hates thinking that Price is the favorite to win anything. Price even goes so far as to attack Roy, who he saw as the clearest threat in this match, only to become a victim of his own hubris at the very hands of Roy Speede. And now here we are. YOU AND ME! NO WITNESSES! Er, I mean.... EVERYONE'S A WITNESS!
Wow, I better calm down. Thank God Eric is here to oversee this madness. He and the director seem to have a good rapport, so I'll utilize that to my advantage. And thank God he's a people person, or I may have not gotten this far. I probably would've killed Seth by now. Many find it hard to believe, but he's worked pretty fucking hard for my trust, and thus far, he's earned it. But their chat is over, and I'm called in front of the camera. The backdrop is there, I'm in my War gear, the eye pro, the brain bucket, the face paint, the stogie, and everything else for my full battle rattle. No weapons, probably because they don't trust me, but I really didn't need it for this segment. The director called for "Action", and the cameras started rolling, as I let the viewers settle in on what they're looking at. I pulled off my brain bucket, revealing my bald head, as I say...
Gonzo: Silver Linings... I guess you could say that me being in that ring is a big silver lining in what I call a life. You see, I started out pretty young in the ring. In the shadow of a proverbial legend. Well, my old man was only legendary in his later life for how much he could drink, before he poisoned himself to death. But hey! I'm still here! Still wrestling, to this day!
I start pulling my load bearing vest and my bulletproof vest off, and I start shaking it free of me, letting it fall to the ground with a thud. I continue...
Gonzo: But whatever. It's just you and me now, Roy. Never mind what everyone is saying about this match. Never mind some of those inappropriate comments that my manager, Eric Price, said to you, about you, or whatever the case may be. Never mind what everyone else is saying in the locker room, or what maybe Seth is thinking right now. I would also say don't even bother finding out what Logan thinks. Better yet, just shut out the world for a second, because the only thing that really matters is what I think of you. Hell, I'm your opponent, and a party to this, so whatever everyone else in the world thinks, it doesn't matter right now.
I was miles ahead of you at your age. By the time I was your age, I had already held two World Titles and had performed my first combat deployment with SEAL Team 9. You're a little behind on your curve, but then again, I've always been somewhat special. Go ahead and make a "Special Ed" joke. Deflect with humor, because I get it. Looking at you, you had horrible training, because let's face it, Logan isn't much on actual training, as he is on embarrassing everyone around him. Must be hard being his son. My old man would rather just beat my ass because it was convenient, but a harsh taskmaster makes for serious trainers. At least you had stability, while I've wandered. So in a sense, you have the terrain to your advantage, but I have a world of knowledge in my hands on how to bring you down.
I started to remove my blouse, button by button, and I pulled it off, revealing a green t-shirt and bare arms. My arms are covered in tattoos of a various nature. However, the inside of his right arm, all the way down to the palm of his hands, are 3rd Degree burns. I pulled off my t-shirt, to reveal further burn scars on his right flank and torso. I turn to walk around, so the camera can catch my back, full of ruined tattoos, thanks again to the burn scars. His entire back was covered, right up to the back of his head. I'm sure now everyone at home knows now why I wear so much to the ring, because I am a sight to behold. Anyways, I continue to speak...
Gonzo: You see, Roy... Can I call you Roy? Well, we're about to get as intimate as two men can without all the latent homosexuality boiling over in the middle of the ring, kind of like what happened at War, when Biohazard and Walker Whateverthefuckhisnameis got really touchy-feeley in the middle of the ring? Yeah, well, as you can see, I'm no stranger to pain. Yes, everyone knows about my foot. World's worst secret I tried to keep when I returned to wrestling. I had figured I had fallen into obscurity, and for a moment, I did.
You see, when I came here, I was lost. I had no purpose. I was an OD away from becoming another tragic loss in the world of professional wrestling. And I was embarrassed for my lack of caring. So I did what I do best, I went to war. And War. And I kicked some serious ass. And got laid low by The Pack... The Pack... To think that they were just a huge annoyance that I've taken care of. You're welcome, WCF. You're welcome, Pantheon. You're welcome, whoever gives two shits about The Pack now. So I found myself in the WCF Classic, after I relieved Jay Omega of his U.S. Title. And I must say that my climb to the top was much easier than yours. Perhaps a bit too easy. Less than ten seconds for Ryan Blake to fall victim to The Phantom Itch? Well, it got much harder, when a remnant of The Pack came back for another attack. Talking about Richards. Oh, how I would've loved to send him to Bat Country in the middle of the ring. Alas, his fat ass was not moving. There was no way I was going to pick him up again. I'm surprised I got him up at all! And I'm surprised I didn't end his career. I guess God does look out for drunks and idiots. So what's your excuse, Roy?
I pull out a pack of Camel Crush Menthols from my pants and pull a cigarette out before lighting it, letting the smoke go into my sinus cavity, before releasing it from my nose, before gritting my teeth and opening my mouth, as I look like a bull letting smoke out of both my nose and mouth at the same time. Hopefully if the lighting is right and my head angle is perfect, the smoke, once it clears my head, should look like the smoke is coming out of my ears. Well, one can hope the angle of the camera is right. I do NOT want to take another cut so I can blow smoke some more. I already got enough cancer...
Gonzo: I guess that's a mean question. You don't have to answer that. However, I've weighted and measured you, and it is you that is, indeed, fighting an uphill battle. You have the credentials, but you have not given neither your fellow wrestlers or the fans anything to look forward to. Despite your young age, you seem to be spinning your wheels in place, failing to evolve. And if you don't change it soon, you will be destined to fail in your quest to prove yourself to the world. But that is your cross to bear, not mine. If anything, I'll be saddling you with more of a burden than you've ever imagined in your career, when you fail to capture the United States Title at the end of this rainbow.
Don't misunderstand me, Roy. I respect you, and in a way, I really want to help you attain something better than you've already attained. But the time for that is not now. Bottom line, you're standing in my way, and I want that title. It deserves to be around the waist of someone who is more than willing to defend it against all comers. Can you say the same, Speede? Or do you just want the belt to hold up your big boy pants? Because JC Penny has a holiday sale on all apparel items come Black Friday. I'll get you a belt, with a nice buckle. It'll say "Try, Try Again" on it. And I'm serious. If I win that title, I'll give you another shot. Don't want anybody to think that my U.S. Title win is a fluke.
So Roy Speede, you and me, every witness available in the world watching. Another Main Event! Another shot at glory! Denver, Colorado! Time to join the "Mile High Club"! You take flight, and I'll see if I can knock your ass out of the sky with some artillery! Mano e mano! For the Title! Are you nervous yet? Try not to get a hard-on in the ring! I won't make any promises!
I pull my shades down a little bit, as he walks up towards the camera, as the world can see the prominent scar going over my right eye. My eyes are dark, almost black, as the audience sees the manic intensity in my eyes, as I recite my emotions going into such a big match. Hell, I'm sure that Roy shares the same emotions, the same fears that I do going into this match. I'm still trying to get back in the saddle, while he's trying to go further than he did before. A lot was riding on this match, and he was going to get my absolute best. But as I stood there, looking into the camera, building up the match, I finally felt the rush of adrenaline that I was looking for. I grabbed the camera and pulled it towards me, as I said, with force...
Gonzo: But if you fuck with me, you bring your Daddy down to the ring. You get fresh with me, and I'll write you a Love Letter that you may or may not live to read! You won't be the first child I've ever had to put down, sad to say, and your Daddy won't be the only guy I've ever kicked a new asshole for sticking his nose where it don't belong! So feel free to get cheap and dirty, and you'll pay for it via blood donation! So come on, kid! FUCK WITH ME! C'MON, LET'S FUCK! I'LL FUCK ANYTHING THAT MOVES, MOTHERFUCKER! SO C'MON! SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT, FUCKER! SHOW ME WHAT YOU...
I grab the camera, and I fling it into the ground, shattering it into a million pieces, as you can hear in the background Eric screaming at me not to. Fuck a camera! Needless to say, my television time ends, as I stomp that piece of shit into the ground, with hopes I imbed pieces of the camera into the floor, just like I'm going to embed Roy Speede's head into the mat come next Slam...
