Post by The Killenial (Caleb Ronan) on Apr 21, 2016 4:01:20 GMT -5
Caleb Ronan and Frank Brown approach Seth Lerch’s office after Slam 350. Caleb knocks. He hears some stumbling around before Seth finally answers the door, irritated as hell after losing the street fight to Jayson Price. He’s holding a bag of ice on his head.
Seth Lerch: What?
Caleb Ronan: Hi, Seth.
Seth Lerch: Who are you?
Caleb Ronan: Caleb Ronan.
Seth looks blankly.
Caleb Ronan: I wrestle here.
Seth looks Caleb up and down. The beanie, plaid shirt, and chukka boots wake up his memory.
Seth Lerch: Oh, right, the hipster kid.
Caleb Ronan: I’m not a hipster.
Seth Lerch: Whatever. What do you want?
Caleb Ronan: I came to pick up my participation award.
Seth Lerch: You’re what?
Caleb Ronan: Participation award.
Seth Lerch: For what?
Caleb Ronan: For participating…in my wrestling match.
Jesus Christ. Is this really happening right now?
Seth Lerch: Who did you wrestle?
Caleb Ronan: Freezer Burn.
Seth Lerch: And did you win?
Caleb Ronan: No.
Seth Lerch: THEN YOU DON’T GET A FUCKING AWARD!
Seth slams the door in Caleb’s face. Caleb becomes indignant.
Caleb Ronan: How dare he?
Caleb knocks on the door again. Seth flings the door open.
Seth Lerch: What part of “you don’t get a fucking award” wasn’t clear to you?
Caleb Ronan: I demand you tell me why.
Seth Lerch: Why? Why?! Because this isn’t your fucking little league baseball team.
Caleb Ronan: But I’ve always gotten a participation award.
Seth Lerch: I know, which is the greatest fault of your generation. You fucking kids that have grown up in the last twenty years have been given a fucking award for every fucking thing that you do. You come in fifth in the spelling bee, you get an award. You come in last during the mile run, you get a participation award. You show up to school and breath, you get a participation award. None of you kids understand what losing means.
Caleb Ronan: Well, I didn’t lose tonight. I came in second place.
Seth pauses and stares at Caleb.
Seth Lerch: You came in second in a two person contest. That’s not second place. That’s last place.
Caleb Ronan: Aren’t you concerned with my feelings though? Aren’t you concerned with how not winning the match will affect my self-esteem?
Seth Lerch: What? No! I could give a shit about your self-esteem. It’s called SELF-esteem for a reason. You are the one that’s supposed to give a shit about your confidence, not me. I mean, look at me. I lost tonight and I think I’m still fucking awesome.
Caleb Ronan: I don’t think this is right, Seth. I showed up to wrestle for the chance to fight for a title and now I have nothing to show for it.
Seth Lerch: You still get paid for competing tonight, right?
Caleb Ronan: Well, yeah, but…
Seth Lerch: THEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU COMPLAINING ABOUT?!
Caleb’s lip starts to quiver.
Caleb Ronan: I just, I just…
Seth starts mocking Caleb and pretends to quiver his lip, too.
Seth Lerch: “I just, I just.” Shut the fuck up and stop acting like a little baby. This is the WCF. This is where MEN wrestle. If you don’t win, you don’t get special recognition. If you do win, then you get rewarded. That’s how wrestling works. Shit, that’s how life works. Nobody hands out awards for failure, especially not around here. If you can’t handle that fact, then you can go back to the bedroom where used to wet the bed and write about how sad you are in the little fucking blog that you probably keep!
How did he know I was going to do that?
Seth slams the door in Caleb’s face again.
Frank Brown: It’s okay, Caleb. He…
Seth flings the door open one more time.
Seth Lerch: And one more thing. Hank Brown is the official interviewer for this promotion. I’ll admit, Hank Brown is a piece of shit, but he’s a professional piece of shit who knows how to hold a microphone and ask real questions, not throw out undeserved compliments left and right. If Hank Brown wants to conduct an interview with you, you will humor him and answer whatever question he asks you whether the question offends you or not. If you can’t handle his questions, then you can get the fuck out! Trust me, if you and Hank Brown were both hanging from a cliff and I could only save one of you, you’d be playing the part of Wile E. Coyote.
He points to Frank Brown.
Seth Lerch: And as for your butt fucking boyfriend over here, you can end your little Twitter campaign to get him hired because it ain’t fucking happening. The only people I hire to suck dick are prostitutes, and I don’t even pay them the standard rate. If you want to pay him to accompany you and make you feel good about yourself, that’s your prerogative, but he will never receive a paycheck with the letters “W-C-F” on it. Now, is there anything else you’d like to discuss with me; because as far as I’m concerned, I’m done here.
Caleb hesitates while trying to hold back his tears.
Caleb Ronan: Well, there is one more thing.
Seth Lerch: Jesus Christ, what?
Caleb Ronan: C-can I have next week off?
Seth Lerch: Next week off? You’ve only wrestled three matches. Hell, I gave everyone a break last Sunday.
Caleb Ronan: I just, I just think I’ve been working really hard and I need a week off.
Seth Lerch is trying to hold in another outburst.
Seth Lerch: You know, I’m in a lot of fucking pain, I can’t deal with you anymore tonight, and I don’t have any more energy to be dick. Get the fuck away from me and take next week off; but if you aren’t at Aftermath the week after, you’re fucking fired!
Seth slams the door for the last time. Caleb finally allows himself to burst into tears.
Frank Brown: Caleb, I think what you did just now was courageous. You stood up for what you believed in. And don’t worry about me. I don’t need a job in the WCF. You’re friendship is enough for me.
Caleb stares up at Frank.
Caleb Ronan: I’m sorry, Frank, were you saying something?
Frank sighs.
Frank Brown: Don’t worry, it wasn’t important.
He notices that Caleb’s eye is twitching.
Whoa, that’s a nasty twitch.
Frank Brown: Hey, buddy, let’s get you home. I think you need to get some rest and relaxation. It’s been a tough night for you.
Frank scurries Caleb towards the exit.
ontheropes.blogspot.com
On the Ropes
April 11, 2016
My Aftermath
I’m depressed.
First, Freezer Burn won the shot at any non-world title of his choosing.
Then, I was informed by my boss that I wasn’t receiving a participation award because I “lost.”
Finally, my fabulously insensitive superior declared that not only would Hank Brown get to keep his job but that Frank Brown, my personal interviewer and affirmationist, would never be hired.
Talk about raining when it’s pouring. I must have gone back in time to witness Hurricane Katrina. This must be what life is like in the “real” world.
One year ago, I was riding high, I lived with friends. I had a meal plan. Spring was emerging from winter’s prison. I played Ultimate Frisbee out in the quad every day. My classes were places where feelings on inclusiveness were as common as the sun rising. The activist clubs that I was a part of held rallies to reject the right-wing feelings of hatred that threatened to infect our campus.
And most importantly, I was on the verge of graduating from college with my whole life ahead of me.
Now, one month shy of a year since I last wore my cap and gown, I have found that everything that I once loved has been ripped away from me. I’m like one of those stuffed animals in the prize machine that gets snatched up the claw and taken away to be some kid’s new plaything. Maybe life is like that prize machine. Maybe it snatched me away from the liberal haven where I found myself and dumped me into the uncertain hands of a reality that I did not want.
What’s my reality, you ask? Let’s review.
I’m a 21 year old aspiring writer.
I live with my parents, one of whom I’m pretty sure hates me.
I have student loan debt that I need to start paying.
I won’t be able to afford the iPhone 7 when it comes out.
Low job prospects for writers have forced me to work a physically demanding job for a company that does not appreciate my effort.
My workplace is a den of tactlessness and ultra macho dispositions. If you show any signs of sensitivity, you’re automatically labeled a- my god, I can’t believe I have to type this- “faggot.”
This is the world that I have to live in now, a world I did not create.
The people that created this world that I’ve been dropped in are the ones who loathe my generation for trying to make the world a better place.
I need allies. I need allies to fight the status quo and hatred of the older generations. The Trios Tournament is coming up. Maybe I’ll find those allies there. Maybe I’ll find them in my match in two weeks at Aftermath.
Aftermath- it’s an interesting word. It suggests that some big event happened. My match can be that big event. People discount me because of who I am and what I believe in. They assume that because I’m a millennial I don’t know anything and what I think and feel don’t matter; but if I can unite three different personalities and lead them to victory, the people that came before me will see that my thoughts and feelings have value.
Andrew Marx and CJ Phoenix- are you happy with the way the world is now?
If you’re answer is “no,” then join hands with me as we walk down the aisle at Aftermath to confront our opponents, Andre Holmes, Occulo, and Justin Sane. With our powers combined, we can be victorious and show Seth Lerch and the rest of the WCF that a better world is possible; that the world can be a place where diverse people, no matter their creed, color, or background, can work towards common goals.
That is the aftermath that I’d like to see.
