Level 1: Never Say Die- A Tag Team Melee Brawl
Apr 24, 2016 2:45:15 GMT -5
Logan, CJ Phoenix, and 1 more like this
Post by Deleted on Apr 24, 2016 2:45:15 GMT -5
The flight from Boston to Toronto was not dull by any means. Me and my favorite lady got to ride in First Class, despite our relaxed attire. While on the flight, we were able to organize a game of Scrabble with a bored executive-looking guy and an older lady who's big shot son bought her tickets to see him in Toronto "just because" is how she put it.
However, the last game got a little heated after I managed to win after being handed "ptomaine", or at least being able to play everything in my hand right from the start. The executive absolutely insisted that it wasn't a real word, as he had never heard of it, but the older lady backed me up. Of course, you don't hear about ptomaine anymore, considering it used to be synonymous with food poisoning, but is no longer associated with food poisoning. At least that's what I remember from health class years ago.
I should have went to college, or something.
Anyways, the executive-looking guy got pissy, and refused to play anymore until he could access Wi-Fi that he didn't have to pay for in flight before he would accept that it’s an actual word. We just blew him off, deciding to instead play with the older lady, who didn't seem to care other than to pass time with "that nice young couple".
But now the flight was over, and we were about to get off when he pulls out his phone and looks it up. He even asks...
Executive Guy: How did you spell that word?
Me: P-T-O-M-A-I-N-E.
He types it in, expecting a different result than he got, as he reads straight from the screen as I saw it courtesy of Google...
pto·maine
ˈtōˌmān,tōˈmān/Submit
noun CHEMISTRY dated
any of a group of amine compounds of unpleasant taste and odor formed in putrefying animal and vegetable matter and formerly thought to cause food poisoning.
Executive Guy: Crap! Well, I thought I was something else at Scrabble. You just take the cake, though. Never even knew that word existed. How did you even know the word?
Me: My Great-Grandmother would call leftover night "Ptomaine Night". I looked it up, and told her that ptomaine was not associated with food poisoning anymore. Lot of good that did, though.
Executive Guy: Well, it was fun, sort of. Good luck to the two of you in, what was it you guys are in town for? A wrestling show?
Me: Yeah, I'm going to be in a wrestling show.
Executive Guy: You're a wrestler? But you're so...
Me: Short? Slight of stature? Yeah, I get that a lot. It’s okay, though. I don't expect the world to know who I am. Hopefully after the show, that might change. But not too much.
Executive Guy: Okay then. Good luck not getting killed, I guess.
The guy walks off, as the older lady walks up and says...
Elder Lady: You showed that guy something else, did ya? Well, I'm glad to have been able to pass the time with such nice young folks. I want to wish you good luck in your wrestling match. I pray to God you don't get hurt. But a nice fella like you being so smart, I'd like to think you don't plan on making your living inside of the wrestling ring the rest of your life.
Me: I've got career options. If wrestling doesn't pan out, I got other things to fall back on.
Elder Lady: Well, that's good. Just hope you don't end up like some of those guys who die so young. That ring takes a toll on people, I guess. And you don't look like the steroid type, so that's good!
That comment gave me a little chuckle. I guess THAT will not be debated whenever my career does end. Was he a juicer? That'll be met with a flat "no".
Elder Lady: Well, take care of yourselves! Maybe I'll see you on the television! I'll cheer and pray for you!
Me: Thank you! I really appreciate that very much!
The lady waves, before she departs our general vicinity. Susan then says...
Susan: Time to get the bags, then we're to find a chauffeur who's going to drive us to an autograph session over at "Critical Hits Gaming Emporium". That sounds like a fun time!
Me: Too bad I'll be signing autographs for, like, ever. But it pays the bills, doesn't it?
Susan: It does. Let's just say that by signing autographs for two hours, you'll be making more than a week back at "Natural 20".
Me: WOW! THAT MUCH?!
Susan just nods her head in affirmation. I just shake my head, as I think to myself how surreal this has all become. I haven't even wrestled in a match yet in this company, and I'm already making this kind of money? I've got to be the luckiest bastard alive!!! Life is totally awesome!!!
After the moment or two of stopping to acknowledge and smell the roses, I snapped out of it, and said...
Me: Well, to keep this ball rolling, we better get out of here. Got to get the luggage. We're dropping it off at the hotel first?
Susan: That is the plan. And our room has a single bed, and I guess there's a coed sauna as part of the facilities package.
Me: NICE! We can add to the steam of that room later. Maybe make some people uncomfortable, while we're at it...
She just giggles at the idea of a sexual encounter in a public place, and I grin at the fact that I was able to make her laugh at the idea. The she says...
Susan: But first, we gotta do this session. I'll try not to wander away from you too far.
Me: Yeah, I know you and how much you love the games. Leave me stranded with the wolves while I answer the call of all three of my fans in the world that happen to be in Toronto.
Susan: Don't sell yourself that short. Critical Hit told me that you're already generating a lot of interest.
Me: But I haven't even set foot in a WCF ring yet. Where is all this interest coming from?
She just shrugs her shoulders, while I shake my head. Not wanting to dwell on the thought too much, I say...
Me: I guess I'll find out soon enough. C'mon Princess. Dozens of my adoring fans are awaiting my arrival...
We navigate the airport, find our luggage, then our chauffeur, before we depart on the activities of the day...
I found myself about two hours later settling in at a table with a line of fans ready for me to sign autographs. The line wasn't streaming out of the door by any means, but the line within the store was long enough where the walls were filled with fans awaiting my arrival. And this store was HUGE!!! It put Natural 20 to shame in regards to how massive the store was! Again, the burning question of where and when did I get so many fans came up once again. Back in New England, I never met so much adoration by people in the know about me, let alone those who seemingly didn't know a thing about me.
The first person that came to my table was a young man about college age. He lacked a certain fashion sense, as most of his clothing was of loud and offensive colors, but otherwise seemed to be a normal enough guy at first glance. He had a glossy and his cellphone out, along with $50 Canadian. It looked like Monopoly money from back in the day, which made me nostalgic to the fact that Monopoly no longer sells games with paper money anymore.
I took the glossy and signed it with a silver Sharpie (Registered Trademark), as he says...
Fan 1: I saw you in a show in Burlington a few years ago. Man, you can fly! Like crazy sick fly!
Me: Burlington? So what are you doing in Toronto?
Fan: I'm doing medical research here. Hoping to add Ph.D to my MD title that I already have.
Me: You're a doctor? That's gotta be a first. You're not going to warn me about neurological damage or anything like that?
Fan: Not my line of work. I'm an Endocrinologist. But if you really want a warning...
Me: I'm good, thanks...
Fan 1: Oh, and can I get a selfie with you?
Me: Sure!
I stand up, and he has an inch or two on me, but he doesn't tower over me, at least. We snap a shot, he looks at it satisfied, and says...
Fan 1: I remember you being taller, though...
Me: I get that a lot. I guess my wrestling shoes have lifts in them I don't know about.
He laughs, I laugh, nearby people laugh. It was a fun encounter. We shake hands, before he departs. I sit back down when the store manager drops a jug of hand sanitizer on the table in front of me, prompting me to use it. It does make sense, since I'll be shaking hands with a lot of different people. The last thing I need is to get sick before my first match. I squirt some into my hands and rub vigorously before calling up the next person.
It was another younger college-aged (I assume) fan, but this was a girl. All of a sudden, I can feel the burning eyes of Susan on my shoulders, as she passes me a glossy with one hand, while holding her cellphone with the other hand. She then says...
Fan 2: Can you write "Love" on the glossy?
Me: Uh... Are you sure? I mean, uh...
Her eyes plead with me to sign it with "Love", but my girlfriend was now glaring at me, and I knew it without having to look at her. But she says...
Susan: Of course he'll sign it "With Love". He signs all of his autographs with love, even if he doesn't write it on the autographs.
With that incredible weight lifted off of my shoulders, I endorse my glossy "With Love" and pass it back to her. I then ask her...
Me: So you're a fan?
Fan 2: M ex-boyfriend is a WCF fan, so I figured get myself an autograph from one of you guys to make him jealous. He says we have nothing in common, so I'm doing this to prove to him that I can do things he likes as much as doing stuff that I like.
Me: Oh. Okay.
Fan 2: Selfie?
Me: Sure!
I get into position behind her and bend down to reach her face level. As she raises the camera, she the plants a kiss into the side of my face as she snaps the picture. Deep inside of my heart and soul, I could feel that burning stare, before she trots off, happy with herself that she got a picture kissing a professional wrestler. Probably with the intention of making her ex boyfriend VERY jealous.
I look back at Susan, where I just shake my head at the whole situation, while she just folds her arms and looks annoyed at the situation. I didn't shake her hand, so no sanitizer for this particular round. The next contestants were three young boys and a mom type. She smiles and says...
Mom Fan: Can I get a kiss, too?
I smile nervously, as she smiles back before she says...
Mom Fan: I'm kidding! The boys just wanted to meet a pro wrestler. They saw your intro video and thought you were something else. Gotta admit, it take a lot of guts to do some of the stuff I saw in that video.
Me: Video?
Mom Fan: Yeah! We saw it on WCF.com. All the stuff you did at the last place you were at. They're really excited to see you wrestle at Aftermath.
Boy 1: We liked that thing you do where you flip in the air, grab the guy by the head, then slam him into the ground!
Boy 2: Yeah! That running up the turnbuckle thing with the guy is pretty awesome, too!
Boy 3: Kickass!
Mom Fan: Bryan! Language!
Boy 3: Sorry Mom
I chuckle a bit, as I take the glossies and sign them "TO THE FUTURE WRESTLING STARS OF WCF" before putting my John Hancock on them. Young Bryan reiterates his comment of "badass", with a stern look from his Mom, before we gather around for a picture with the three kids. Satisfied, she then says...
Mom Fan: Now about that kiss...
I could just feel Susan about to blow a gasket behind me, as she just chuckles and walks away with the three boys in tow.
As I sit back behind the table and fill my hands with sanitizer, she comes up and says in my ear...
Susan: We're going to have to make a sign with some ground rules on them. Specifically no kissing of my boyfriend!
Me: How do you think I feel about the whole thing? This is all pretty awkward. You know they put up a video of my previous matches on the WCF website? That's why there's so many people here. I guess the WCF has been hyping me pretty hard since I signed papers with them. Glad they told me something about it.
Susan: For now, sign whatever they want on the glossy, but don't let any more of them kiss you! There's a lot of girls in here, too!
Me: I'm surprised, too. I mean, I don't want to think of myself as bad looking, but this attention...
Susan: Don't push your luck, mister!
Me: All I'm saying is that I'm shocked at all the attention I'm getting, so far. You feel awkward back there watching this? I have to sit here and live through it. Think about that for a minute or two.
She concedes the fact with the nod of her head, as the manager of Critical Hit clears his throat behind us. Prompting us to get the line moving again. She backs up, as I turn my attention to the fans again. And to think I had another few hours of this to go at this particular rate...
It had finally come down to four people. Myself, my special lady, and two of my colleagues in the ring, CJ Phoenix and Andre Holmes. To be honest, I'm just happy that the controllers all still worked, as many others played and lost. It seems that the default losing activity is to throw your remote as hard as you can in a random direction, save for this one hipster schmuck. All he did was cry, then demanded that we all acknowledge that he tried. I just shook my head at the absurdity of his statements, but acknowledged that he tried, just so he'd shut the fuck up. The other guys were not nearly as nice about it as I was. He'll get over it. And if he doesn't, there's always therapy.
But yes, back to the Smash Bros. Final. I was rolling hard with Captain Falcon, while my lady floated around with Princess Peach. Holmes was utilizing Lucario, while CJ Phoenix had been using Rosalina & Luma for the duration of this tournament. Those that were not infuriated at being eliminated had stuck around to see who was walking away with the bragging rights to say they're the best at Smash Bros., if only for today.
With everyone set, I say out loud...
Me: Everyone ready?
Susan: Uh-huh...
Andre Holmes: I was born ready...
CJ Phoenix: You ready to get smashed?
I just shake my head at that pointless cliche thing to say whenever someone does play Super Smash Bros., before I hit the Random Stage Generator for us to find ourselves in. We find ourselves in Brinstar for the final fight, as the game begins. No sooner does the game start, I see Rosalina & Luma go right off the stage, for the very first death of the game. Andre beats me to being the one that says...
Andre Holmes: HA HA!
CJ Phoenix: Whatever. I'm just getting warmed up.
Andre then finds himself on the receiving end of a "Falcon Punch!" before Peach hits him with a bomb that sends him crashing down off of the screen, as he says...
Andre Holmes: BULLSHIT!!!
Me: TEAMWORK!
Susan: Attack of opportunity that worked in my favor. I got the kill, so...
Me: Hopefully my team works this well later tonight.
Susan: Even with that bimbo on your team that was going to sell you all up the river for her "boyfriend"?
Andre Holmes: YES!!! GOT YOU, YOU FUCKER!!!
Susan: Dammit! Now I can't concentrate!
CJ Phoenix: HAHA!!! COMEBACK!!!
Me: Crap... What's your guys take on these random-ass tag matches? You guys have one tonight, yeah?
Andre Holmes: Against each other... And there goes CJ, down like later on tonight!!!
CJ Phoenix: You got lucky! Tonight ain't going down like that, though. But yeah, I'm not thrilled with my partners, but we professional. We step in the ring and do what needs to be done.
Andre Holmes: He's right. Seth books like he's, well, drunk. Sometimes like he's tweaking out on something else. But at the end of the day, we're all professionals. Just do your best and showcase what you got. Maybe Seth puts you in some serious matches...
CJ Phoenix: Or at least not in those bullshit clusterfuck matches all the time. At the very least.
Both of them nod, then watch as they get blasted off of the screen one right after the other. CJ was down to two lives left, while Andre had three left. Myself and the special lady of mine still rocked four lives, though she was down to the wire and floating to stay above the maelstrom of violence.
The game continued on like this, with myself and my lady staying just ahead of them edgewise. They were good, but not at our level. To be fair, I played video games professionally until about a week ago. Then I went home and would play them some more until it was time to go train. Susan was all over games in general whenever she didn't have to work, as well. I guess these guys were just out of practice, or didn't make video games a priority. This may have been a bit of foreshadowing into my WCF career, and I had no clue until later. Still don't know.
Andre was the first to go, as he slammed his controller down and says...
Andre Holmes: This fucking game is rigged! You all had it out for me!!! FUCKING CONSPIRACY!!!
Me: Dude, settle yourself. And please don't be tossing the controllers like that. How would you like it if I did that to your shit?
He just reiterates "BULLSHIT" again, but at least picks up the controller and sets it down next to the gaming console.
CJ Phoenix fell victim next, though he did manage to take down Princess Peach in the process, which left myself and Susan at one life each. CJ said something to the same effect as Andre, but didn't chuck the controller so much as dropped it in frustration. But I wasn't paying attention so much this time, as I locked eyes with Susan and said...
Me: Are you ready for some domestic abuse?
Susan: Bring it on if you have the balls!
Whooping and laughter fill the air, as the door to the room opens up, and the shrill voice of someone cuts through the noises building up by the bystanders, saying...
???: Is there a James... Chevrolet in here?
I just shake my head at the attempt at pronouncing my last name, while Susan just chuckles at the common mispronunciation of my name. She then says...
Susan: It's pronounced CHEV-ALL-YAY, and he's over here...
A man about the same height as myself comes up and offers his hand to me, as he says...
Hank Brown: Hi, I'm Hank Brown with WCF. I wanted to talk to you regarding your time in...
Me: I'm a little busy right now...
Hank Brown: So am I. I have an entire roster to get to, and time is short. So if you don't mind...
Me: I do mind. This is the last match of this particular tournament that I set up days ago. You've waited all week to interview me, so what's another minute or two... SHITBALLS!!!
And with the waive of a parasol by Princess Peach, Captain Falcon went flying across the screen, as the match ends with the announcer stating...
GAME!
I sigh, as Susan starts dancing around, stating in a singsong voice...
Susan: I kicked all your asses! I kicked all your asses!
CJ Phoenix: Dammit, we all got beat by a girl!
Andre Holmes: Not the first time I've seen it happen to you...
CJ Phoenix: Pot, meet kettle! Especially over that Kath...
Andre Holmes: You finish that sentence and you'll be the next person with the name Phoenix that I bury deep in the ring!
CJ Phoenix: Oh, you wanna bet?
Me: If you two want to punch each other out, do it not here, please? You break my stuff, and you buy it.
Both of them give me dirty looks, and I fire one right back at them, but they nod and split away from each other, saying...
CJ Phoenix: I'll see you later on...
Andre Holmes: Not if I see you first!
Both of them depart the area, as the crowd starts to disburse from the general area around the television and gaming system, much to my relief. Susan was still happy with herself, as I turned my attention towards Hank Brown, stating...
Me: You have my full attention, now that you've essentially cost me the tournament and now I have to listen to THAT all night long.
Hank Brown: I've dealt with worse this week than your sour attitude. When you start shooting me with rock salt, then maybe I might start to cower in fear of your attitude, but until then...
Me: Just ask your fucking questions, already!
Hank Brown: Okay, so how are you liking your stay in the WCF so far?
Me: It's different in a good way. Like the paycheck, ain't gonna lie. But it is an adjustment. Especially with the fans. How did I get so many fans so fast? You WCF guys really know how to promote the hell out of someone!
Hank Brown: Some of us are actually good at what we do. So have you had any issues with anyone so far?
Me: There's a few brown-eyes I wouldn't mind seeing in the ring. Mostly this rude and racist guy named Dag...
Hank Brown: Oh, there's a line of people who want to face him that goes to China! You're in good company there!
I just shake my head, as I then say...
Me: Then there's also one particular partner on my team who deserves a foot in the ass for even thinking about betraying the team to some other jag-off on the other team...
Hank Brown: I guess they had a falling out, so...
Me: Like I trust that shit! I trust her like I trust a hungry hyena. Hell, I trust the hyena more than I do her, right now! I'm saying if she costs us the match, I will form a line that starts with punting her in the cock-holster for betraying us. I think Jericho Scrawl will probably be down to do the same thing if it prevents him from getting his payday. The CIA guy might, too. I'm sure he's killed a few chicks in his day, so...
Hank Brown: How do you feel about your opponents? Many of them have spoken about you, making it clear that you think you're just playing at being a wrestler...
Me: Do I look like I'm playing around right now? I'm more than willing to take out a member of my own team for even implying to me that she's willing to betray the team because she's a horny or greedy twat. Can they even imagine what I'm more than willing to do to them?
I like to think of myself as a fairly nice guy, but I have a competitive streak in me that prevents me from extending that to my professional life. If they are my opponents, they are my mortal enemies until that final bell rings. I hate them with every fiber of my being from bell to bell, because that is how strong my drive to win is. If they don't like that, I don't give a shit. Deal with it, or get dealt with. That goes double for traitors!
Hank Brown: I guess the fans were unable to see all of that in your YouTube videos...
Me: I'm a high risk high reward type of guy in that ring. But with any game, without risk, why even bother? Everyone would do it, and I'm not that into the mainstream. Every time a game is played, something is on the line. Pride, bragging rights, money, titles, the list goes on. I mean, look at her all happy with herself she just kicked the asses of a roomful of guys at a video game...
The camera pans to Susan, who's grin on her face is about three miles wide. And she's STILL humming the "I kicked all your asses" tune she was singing earlier on. Making my point, I say...
Me: I rest my case. So if these particular opponents want to make the mistake of me coming into this match thinking that nothing is on the line, and its all a big game, they are sadly mistaken, and I will be happy to teach them the errors of their thinking. Of course by the time they learn of their error, it will be too late. Game Over.
Hank Brown: I see. I have just one more question. Did you really request in your contract that you have all WCF video games pulled so you can have your character put into them?
Me: Where did you hear that? That's just crazy talk. Besides, I already have my character created. Only problem is that my finisher isn't available. Wish we had a "Create A Move" thing like I saw in...
Hank Brown: I have to stop you right there. Copyright issues and such...
Me: They should be happy that people actually care enough about wrestling to at least not blatantly rip off their characters, truth be told. But what do I know? I'm just an Indy guy who's paying his dues. The check is in the mail.
Hank Brown: After tonight, you won't be that Indy guy anymore. That's all I have for now. I have a few more interviews to do... Where did everyone go? I wanted to talk to Andre about the TMZ thing, and... Ah crap! I got to go...
Hank Brown departs the area, as Susan comes up to me and says...
Susan: Hey, you know what?
Me: No, but you're gonna tell...
Susan: I kicked all your asses. I kicked all your asses...
At this point, Frank Patrick Venable, or better known as FPV, comes in and says...
FPV: So I got my Pokemon stuff. You down to make some trades?
Me: YES! Anything to get away from the gloating!
I go grab my DS, while I leave Susan to herself as she continues to gloat aloud...
It was hours later, long after the tournament, the interview, the Pokemon trades, and the gloating of my girlfriend had faded into the background of my own personal history. It was now contemplation time in regards to the upcoming match...
To tell the truth, I let a little bit too much go in the interview with Hank Brown. Though to be fair, if you aren't in it to win it, why the hell are you in there to begin with? I'd like to ask Fitch that question, but to what ends? So she could lie to my face? In my view, she was worse than the enemy at this juncture of this event. At least they made no bones about being the opposition, and had no malice or treachery regarding this match. Save for perhaps Richie Shag, who may now be too busy being a rich snob to even show up to the event.
Alas, other than Fitch, who has proven to be a treacherous "cunt", to steal a vulgar term from Joey Flash, much to the chagrin of ladies in the United States. I guess that word just makes their skin crawl for some strange reason. It's just a word, but it's an accurate description of Kathy Fitch, at this point in time. An untrustworthy cunt.
At least she seems to be showing up, which may be more than I can say for my other partners, who have remained radio silent all week long. They probably know of Fitch's treachery, and haven't even bothered to come up with a plan to counteract it. Hell, for all I know, they've written off the match and are looking ahead to something else. God knows I would not blame them, but I refuse to let my debut be fucked over by this stupid fucking bitch! And these guys seem to be no better than SHE is...
I basically cannot trust anybody in this match. Almost like Seth rigged this match to go off like this just to piss everyone involved in it off. So why pay us so much money to do this? For his own amusement? I have much better ideas on how to spend so much money for my amusement. Like buy a cruise liner, and get a bunch of gamers on board. Maybe like a Comic Con on the water that lasts for a week! Now THAT would be badass!!!
I'm writing that idea down for later! Why hasn't anybody thought of that before?
Oh yeah, still on this upcoming match. There was the Snake Venom guy from Boston. The guy obviously hasn't been paying much attention when he thinks I'm just walking off the street and into the WCF. I've paid my dues, what has this fucking clown done? Talk shit about what I wear? Never mind what I'm wearing, and pay attention to the guy who's about to crash into you like a ton of bricks!
At least Tom O. Hawk (I think that's how it's supposed to be spelled) wasn't rude about his mention of me, other than the "white boy" remark. Don't worry, I blame my ancestors for being assholes and stealing your land, too. By that, I mean I really don't get along with my Dad. Again, mentions the fact that he thinks that I think this is all a game. Too bad he hasn't figured that out. Life is a game, and I don't mean the game with the spinning wheel, the cars with pegs, and all the cards with jobs and houses on them, either. And right now, I'm doing quite well in the areas that count. Can you or anybody else on your team say the same?
Maybe Richie Shag would, if he would bother to open the caviar and champagne-smelling sewer he calls a mouth. Provided if he even shows his steroid-riddled self up to this match, he'll find out first hand that not even all the money in the world can buy his way past me. Maybe he can buy off Fitch, or give her the dick she seems to be aching for, provided the 'roids haven't rendered him useless to a woman, but not this guy. If he wants to continue winning at his game of life, he should probably just walk away while he still can. And lay off the steroids.
That leaves Bad News Benson, the veteran of their team. The "Jobber to the Stars" as Sammy put it once, along with Adam Young and The Ultimate Destroyer. Do I need to say much else? I guess there always needs to be some enhancement talent in any group of wrestlers, but it seems like Seth actually WANTS to give this guy a chance at every turn to elevate himself. I can hope that someday he's able to, but not on this day, and not at my expense.
Just thinking about this shit sandwich makes my stomach turn, but thinking back on what CJ and Andre did say, I'm a professional, now more than ever before. Which means sometimes having to deal with such issues and do what is necessary to get through it. If anything, that means my "Never say die" attitude needs to be more to the forefront than ever before. That means excel despite a teammate being potentially on the take. Excel in the face of my opponents doubts, of themselves and my own abilities. Exploit their ignorance and overestimation of their own abilities, and pray for the best result. God knows it may take a miracle to get out of this match in one piece.
The road agent comes up and points in my direction. Looks like its time to fly and never say die. I slowly get to my feet and march myself to the curtain, as the roar of the fans can be heard even back here, as the music begins to play...
However, the last game got a little heated after I managed to win after being handed "ptomaine", or at least being able to play everything in my hand right from the start. The executive absolutely insisted that it wasn't a real word, as he had never heard of it, but the older lady backed me up. Of course, you don't hear about ptomaine anymore, considering it used to be synonymous with food poisoning, but is no longer associated with food poisoning. At least that's what I remember from health class years ago.
I should have went to college, or something.
Anyways, the executive-looking guy got pissy, and refused to play anymore until he could access Wi-Fi that he didn't have to pay for in flight before he would accept that it’s an actual word. We just blew him off, deciding to instead play with the older lady, who didn't seem to care other than to pass time with "that nice young couple".
But now the flight was over, and we were about to get off when he pulls out his phone and looks it up. He even asks...
Executive Guy: How did you spell that word?
Me: P-T-O-M-A-I-N-E.
He types it in, expecting a different result than he got, as he reads straight from the screen as I saw it courtesy of Google...
pto·maine
ˈtōˌmān,tōˈmān/Submit
noun CHEMISTRY dated
any of a group of amine compounds of unpleasant taste and odor formed in putrefying animal and vegetable matter and formerly thought to cause food poisoning.
Executive Guy: Crap! Well, I thought I was something else at Scrabble. You just take the cake, though. Never even knew that word existed. How did you even know the word?
Me: My Great-Grandmother would call leftover night "Ptomaine Night". I looked it up, and told her that ptomaine was not associated with food poisoning anymore. Lot of good that did, though.
Executive Guy: Well, it was fun, sort of. Good luck to the two of you in, what was it you guys are in town for? A wrestling show?
Me: Yeah, I'm going to be in a wrestling show.
Executive Guy: You're a wrestler? But you're so...
Me: Short? Slight of stature? Yeah, I get that a lot. It’s okay, though. I don't expect the world to know who I am. Hopefully after the show, that might change. But not too much.
Executive Guy: Okay then. Good luck not getting killed, I guess.
The guy walks off, as the older lady walks up and says...
Elder Lady: You showed that guy something else, did ya? Well, I'm glad to have been able to pass the time with such nice young folks. I want to wish you good luck in your wrestling match. I pray to God you don't get hurt. But a nice fella like you being so smart, I'd like to think you don't plan on making your living inside of the wrestling ring the rest of your life.
Me: I've got career options. If wrestling doesn't pan out, I got other things to fall back on.
Elder Lady: Well, that's good. Just hope you don't end up like some of those guys who die so young. That ring takes a toll on people, I guess. And you don't look like the steroid type, so that's good!
That comment gave me a little chuckle. I guess THAT will not be debated whenever my career does end. Was he a juicer? That'll be met with a flat "no".
Elder Lady: Well, take care of yourselves! Maybe I'll see you on the television! I'll cheer and pray for you!
Me: Thank you! I really appreciate that very much!
The lady waves, before she departs our general vicinity. Susan then says...
Susan: Time to get the bags, then we're to find a chauffeur who's going to drive us to an autograph session over at "Critical Hits Gaming Emporium". That sounds like a fun time!
Me: Too bad I'll be signing autographs for, like, ever. But it pays the bills, doesn't it?
Susan: It does. Let's just say that by signing autographs for two hours, you'll be making more than a week back at "Natural 20".
Me: WOW! THAT MUCH?!
Susan just nods her head in affirmation. I just shake my head, as I think to myself how surreal this has all become. I haven't even wrestled in a match yet in this company, and I'm already making this kind of money? I've got to be the luckiest bastard alive!!! Life is totally awesome!!!
After the moment or two of stopping to acknowledge and smell the roses, I snapped out of it, and said...
Me: Well, to keep this ball rolling, we better get out of here. Got to get the luggage. We're dropping it off at the hotel first?
Susan: That is the plan. And our room has a single bed, and I guess there's a coed sauna as part of the facilities package.
Me: NICE! We can add to the steam of that room later. Maybe make some people uncomfortable, while we're at it...
She just giggles at the idea of a sexual encounter in a public place, and I grin at the fact that I was able to make her laugh at the idea. The she says...
Susan: But first, we gotta do this session. I'll try not to wander away from you too far.
Me: Yeah, I know you and how much you love the games. Leave me stranded with the wolves while I answer the call of all three of my fans in the world that happen to be in Toronto.
Susan: Don't sell yourself that short. Critical Hit told me that you're already generating a lot of interest.
Me: But I haven't even set foot in a WCF ring yet. Where is all this interest coming from?
She just shrugs her shoulders, while I shake my head. Not wanting to dwell on the thought too much, I say...
Me: I guess I'll find out soon enough. C'mon Princess. Dozens of my adoring fans are awaiting my arrival...
We navigate the airport, find our luggage, then our chauffeur, before we depart on the activities of the day...
I found myself about two hours later settling in at a table with a line of fans ready for me to sign autographs. The line wasn't streaming out of the door by any means, but the line within the store was long enough where the walls were filled with fans awaiting my arrival. And this store was HUGE!!! It put Natural 20 to shame in regards to how massive the store was! Again, the burning question of where and when did I get so many fans came up once again. Back in New England, I never met so much adoration by people in the know about me, let alone those who seemingly didn't know a thing about me.
The first person that came to my table was a young man about college age. He lacked a certain fashion sense, as most of his clothing was of loud and offensive colors, but otherwise seemed to be a normal enough guy at first glance. He had a glossy and his cellphone out, along with $50 Canadian. It looked like Monopoly money from back in the day, which made me nostalgic to the fact that Monopoly no longer sells games with paper money anymore.
I took the glossy and signed it with a silver Sharpie (Registered Trademark), as he says...
Fan 1: I saw you in a show in Burlington a few years ago. Man, you can fly! Like crazy sick fly!
Me: Burlington? So what are you doing in Toronto?
Fan: I'm doing medical research here. Hoping to add Ph.D to my MD title that I already have.
Me: You're a doctor? That's gotta be a first. You're not going to warn me about neurological damage or anything like that?
Fan: Not my line of work. I'm an Endocrinologist. But if you really want a warning...
Me: I'm good, thanks...
Fan 1: Oh, and can I get a selfie with you?
Me: Sure!
I stand up, and he has an inch or two on me, but he doesn't tower over me, at least. We snap a shot, he looks at it satisfied, and says...
Fan 1: I remember you being taller, though...
Me: I get that a lot. I guess my wrestling shoes have lifts in them I don't know about.
He laughs, I laugh, nearby people laugh. It was a fun encounter. We shake hands, before he departs. I sit back down when the store manager drops a jug of hand sanitizer on the table in front of me, prompting me to use it. It does make sense, since I'll be shaking hands with a lot of different people. The last thing I need is to get sick before my first match. I squirt some into my hands and rub vigorously before calling up the next person.
It was another younger college-aged (I assume) fan, but this was a girl. All of a sudden, I can feel the burning eyes of Susan on my shoulders, as she passes me a glossy with one hand, while holding her cellphone with the other hand. She then says...
Fan 2: Can you write "Love" on the glossy?
Me: Uh... Are you sure? I mean, uh...
Her eyes plead with me to sign it with "Love", but my girlfriend was now glaring at me, and I knew it without having to look at her. But she says...
Susan: Of course he'll sign it "With Love". He signs all of his autographs with love, even if he doesn't write it on the autographs.
With that incredible weight lifted off of my shoulders, I endorse my glossy "With Love" and pass it back to her. I then ask her...
Me: So you're a fan?
Fan 2: M ex-boyfriend is a WCF fan, so I figured get myself an autograph from one of you guys to make him jealous. He says we have nothing in common, so I'm doing this to prove to him that I can do things he likes as much as doing stuff that I like.
Me: Oh. Okay.
Fan 2: Selfie?
Me: Sure!
I get into position behind her and bend down to reach her face level. As she raises the camera, she the plants a kiss into the side of my face as she snaps the picture. Deep inside of my heart and soul, I could feel that burning stare, before she trots off, happy with herself that she got a picture kissing a professional wrestler. Probably with the intention of making her ex boyfriend VERY jealous.
I look back at Susan, where I just shake my head at the whole situation, while she just folds her arms and looks annoyed at the situation. I didn't shake her hand, so no sanitizer for this particular round. The next contestants were three young boys and a mom type. She smiles and says...
Mom Fan: Can I get a kiss, too?
I smile nervously, as she smiles back before she says...
Mom Fan: I'm kidding! The boys just wanted to meet a pro wrestler. They saw your intro video and thought you were something else. Gotta admit, it take a lot of guts to do some of the stuff I saw in that video.
Me: Video?
Mom Fan: Yeah! We saw it on WCF.com. All the stuff you did at the last place you were at. They're really excited to see you wrestle at Aftermath.
Boy 1: We liked that thing you do where you flip in the air, grab the guy by the head, then slam him into the ground!
Boy 2: Yeah! That running up the turnbuckle thing with the guy is pretty awesome, too!
Boy 3: Kickass!
Mom Fan: Bryan! Language!
Boy 3: Sorry Mom
I chuckle a bit, as I take the glossies and sign them "TO THE FUTURE WRESTLING STARS OF WCF" before putting my John Hancock on them. Young Bryan reiterates his comment of "badass", with a stern look from his Mom, before we gather around for a picture with the three kids. Satisfied, she then says...
Mom Fan: Now about that kiss...
I could just feel Susan about to blow a gasket behind me, as she just chuckles and walks away with the three boys in tow.
As I sit back behind the table and fill my hands with sanitizer, she comes up and says in my ear...
Susan: We're going to have to make a sign with some ground rules on them. Specifically no kissing of my boyfriend!
Me: How do you think I feel about the whole thing? This is all pretty awkward. You know they put up a video of my previous matches on the WCF website? That's why there's so many people here. I guess the WCF has been hyping me pretty hard since I signed papers with them. Glad they told me something about it.
Susan: For now, sign whatever they want on the glossy, but don't let any more of them kiss you! There's a lot of girls in here, too!
Me: I'm surprised, too. I mean, I don't want to think of myself as bad looking, but this attention...
Susan: Don't push your luck, mister!
Me: All I'm saying is that I'm shocked at all the attention I'm getting, so far. You feel awkward back there watching this? I have to sit here and live through it. Think about that for a minute or two.
She concedes the fact with the nod of her head, as the manager of Critical Hit clears his throat behind us. Prompting us to get the line moving again. She backs up, as I turn my attention to the fans again. And to think I had another few hours of this to go at this particular rate...
It had finally come down to four people. Myself, my special lady, and two of my colleagues in the ring, CJ Phoenix and Andre Holmes. To be honest, I'm just happy that the controllers all still worked, as many others played and lost. It seems that the default losing activity is to throw your remote as hard as you can in a random direction, save for this one hipster schmuck. All he did was cry, then demanded that we all acknowledge that he tried. I just shook my head at the absurdity of his statements, but acknowledged that he tried, just so he'd shut the fuck up. The other guys were not nearly as nice about it as I was. He'll get over it. And if he doesn't, there's always therapy.
But yes, back to the Smash Bros. Final. I was rolling hard with Captain Falcon, while my lady floated around with Princess Peach. Holmes was utilizing Lucario, while CJ Phoenix had been using Rosalina & Luma for the duration of this tournament. Those that were not infuriated at being eliminated had stuck around to see who was walking away with the bragging rights to say they're the best at Smash Bros., if only for today.
With everyone set, I say out loud...
Me: Everyone ready?
Susan: Uh-huh...
Andre Holmes: I was born ready...
CJ Phoenix: You ready to get smashed?
I just shake my head at that pointless cliche thing to say whenever someone does play Super Smash Bros., before I hit the Random Stage Generator for us to find ourselves in. We find ourselves in Brinstar for the final fight, as the game begins. No sooner does the game start, I see Rosalina & Luma go right off the stage, for the very first death of the game. Andre beats me to being the one that says...
Andre Holmes: HA HA!
CJ Phoenix: Whatever. I'm just getting warmed up.
Andre then finds himself on the receiving end of a "Falcon Punch!" before Peach hits him with a bomb that sends him crashing down off of the screen, as he says...
Andre Holmes: BULLSHIT!!!
Me: TEAMWORK!
Susan: Attack of opportunity that worked in my favor. I got the kill, so...
Me: Hopefully my team works this well later tonight.
Susan: Even with that bimbo on your team that was going to sell you all up the river for her "boyfriend"?
Andre Holmes: YES!!! GOT YOU, YOU FUCKER!!!
Susan: Dammit! Now I can't concentrate!
CJ Phoenix: HAHA!!! COMEBACK!!!
Me: Crap... What's your guys take on these random-ass tag matches? You guys have one tonight, yeah?
Andre Holmes: Against each other... And there goes CJ, down like later on tonight!!!
CJ Phoenix: You got lucky! Tonight ain't going down like that, though. But yeah, I'm not thrilled with my partners, but we professional. We step in the ring and do what needs to be done.
Andre Holmes: He's right. Seth books like he's, well, drunk. Sometimes like he's tweaking out on something else. But at the end of the day, we're all professionals. Just do your best and showcase what you got. Maybe Seth puts you in some serious matches...
CJ Phoenix: Or at least not in those bullshit clusterfuck matches all the time. At the very least.
Both of them nod, then watch as they get blasted off of the screen one right after the other. CJ was down to two lives left, while Andre had three left. Myself and the special lady of mine still rocked four lives, though she was down to the wire and floating to stay above the maelstrom of violence.
The game continued on like this, with myself and my lady staying just ahead of them edgewise. They were good, but not at our level. To be fair, I played video games professionally until about a week ago. Then I went home and would play them some more until it was time to go train. Susan was all over games in general whenever she didn't have to work, as well. I guess these guys were just out of practice, or didn't make video games a priority. This may have been a bit of foreshadowing into my WCF career, and I had no clue until later. Still don't know.
Andre was the first to go, as he slammed his controller down and says...
Andre Holmes: This fucking game is rigged! You all had it out for me!!! FUCKING CONSPIRACY!!!
Me: Dude, settle yourself. And please don't be tossing the controllers like that. How would you like it if I did that to your shit?
He just reiterates "BULLSHIT" again, but at least picks up the controller and sets it down next to the gaming console.
CJ Phoenix fell victim next, though he did manage to take down Princess Peach in the process, which left myself and Susan at one life each. CJ said something to the same effect as Andre, but didn't chuck the controller so much as dropped it in frustration. But I wasn't paying attention so much this time, as I locked eyes with Susan and said...
Me: Are you ready for some domestic abuse?
Susan: Bring it on if you have the balls!
Whooping and laughter fill the air, as the door to the room opens up, and the shrill voice of someone cuts through the noises building up by the bystanders, saying...
???: Is there a James... Chevrolet in here?
I just shake my head at the attempt at pronouncing my last name, while Susan just chuckles at the common mispronunciation of my name. She then says...
Susan: It's pronounced CHEV-ALL-YAY, and he's over here...
A man about the same height as myself comes up and offers his hand to me, as he says...
Hank Brown: Hi, I'm Hank Brown with WCF. I wanted to talk to you regarding your time in...
Me: I'm a little busy right now...
Hank Brown: So am I. I have an entire roster to get to, and time is short. So if you don't mind...
Me: I do mind. This is the last match of this particular tournament that I set up days ago. You've waited all week to interview me, so what's another minute or two... SHITBALLS!!!
And with the waive of a parasol by Princess Peach, Captain Falcon went flying across the screen, as the match ends with the announcer stating...
GAME!
I sigh, as Susan starts dancing around, stating in a singsong voice...
Susan: I kicked all your asses! I kicked all your asses!
CJ Phoenix: Dammit, we all got beat by a girl!
Andre Holmes: Not the first time I've seen it happen to you...
CJ Phoenix: Pot, meet kettle! Especially over that Kath...
Andre Holmes: You finish that sentence and you'll be the next person with the name Phoenix that I bury deep in the ring!
CJ Phoenix: Oh, you wanna bet?
Me: If you two want to punch each other out, do it not here, please? You break my stuff, and you buy it.
Both of them give me dirty looks, and I fire one right back at them, but they nod and split away from each other, saying...
CJ Phoenix: I'll see you later on...
Andre Holmes: Not if I see you first!
Both of them depart the area, as the crowd starts to disburse from the general area around the television and gaming system, much to my relief. Susan was still happy with herself, as I turned my attention towards Hank Brown, stating...
Me: You have my full attention, now that you've essentially cost me the tournament and now I have to listen to THAT all night long.
Hank Brown: I've dealt with worse this week than your sour attitude. When you start shooting me with rock salt, then maybe I might start to cower in fear of your attitude, but until then...
Me: Just ask your fucking questions, already!
Hank Brown: Okay, so how are you liking your stay in the WCF so far?
Me: It's different in a good way. Like the paycheck, ain't gonna lie. But it is an adjustment. Especially with the fans. How did I get so many fans so fast? You WCF guys really know how to promote the hell out of someone!
Hank Brown: Some of us are actually good at what we do. So have you had any issues with anyone so far?
Me: There's a few brown-eyes I wouldn't mind seeing in the ring. Mostly this rude and racist guy named Dag...
Hank Brown: Oh, there's a line of people who want to face him that goes to China! You're in good company there!
I just shake my head, as I then say...
Me: Then there's also one particular partner on my team who deserves a foot in the ass for even thinking about betraying the team to some other jag-off on the other team...
Hank Brown: I guess they had a falling out, so...
Me: Like I trust that shit! I trust her like I trust a hungry hyena. Hell, I trust the hyena more than I do her, right now! I'm saying if she costs us the match, I will form a line that starts with punting her in the cock-holster for betraying us. I think Jericho Scrawl will probably be down to do the same thing if it prevents him from getting his payday. The CIA guy might, too. I'm sure he's killed a few chicks in his day, so...
Hank Brown: How do you feel about your opponents? Many of them have spoken about you, making it clear that you think you're just playing at being a wrestler...
Me: Do I look like I'm playing around right now? I'm more than willing to take out a member of my own team for even implying to me that she's willing to betray the team because she's a horny or greedy twat. Can they even imagine what I'm more than willing to do to them?
I like to think of myself as a fairly nice guy, but I have a competitive streak in me that prevents me from extending that to my professional life. If they are my opponents, they are my mortal enemies until that final bell rings. I hate them with every fiber of my being from bell to bell, because that is how strong my drive to win is. If they don't like that, I don't give a shit. Deal with it, or get dealt with. That goes double for traitors!
Hank Brown: I guess the fans were unable to see all of that in your YouTube videos...
Me: I'm a high risk high reward type of guy in that ring. But with any game, without risk, why even bother? Everyone would do it, and I'm not that into the mainstream. Every time a game is played, something is on the line. Pride, bragging rights, money, titles, the list goes on. I mean, look at her all happy with herself she just kicked the asses of a roomful of guys at a video game...
The camera pans to Susan, who's grin on her face is about three miles wide. And she's STILL humming the "I kicked all your asses" tune she was singing earlier on. Making my point, I say...
Me: I rest my case. So if these particular opponents want to make the mistake of me coming into this match thinking that nothing is on the line, and its all a big game, they are sadly mistaken, and I will be happy to teach them the errors of their thinking. Of course by the time they learn of their error, it will be too late. Game Over.
Hank Brown: I see. I have just one more question. Did you really request in your contract that you have all WCF video games pulled so you can have your character put into them?
Me: Where did you hear that? That's just crazy talk. Besides, I already have my character created. Only problem is that my finisher isn't available. Wish we had a "Create A Move" thing like I saw in...
Hank Brown: I have to stop you right there. Copyright issues and such...
Me: They should be happy that people actually care enough about wrestling to at least not blatantly rip off their characters, truth be told. But what do I know? I'm just an Indy guy who's paying his dues. The check is in the mail.
Hank Brown: After tonight, you won't be that Indy guy anymore. That's all I have for now. I have a few more interviews to do... Where did everyone go? I wanted to talk to Andre about the TMZ thing, and... Ah crap! I got to go...
Hank Brown departs the area, as Susan comes up to me and says...
Susan: Hey, you know what?
Me: No, but you're gonna tell...
Susan: I kicked all your asses. I kicked all your asses...
At this point, Frank Patrick Venable, or better known as FPV, comes in and says...
FPV: So I got my Pokemon stuff. You down to make some trades?
Me: YES! Anything to get away from the gloating!
I go grab my DS, while I leave Susan to herself as she continues to gloat aloud...
It was hours later, long after the tournament, the interview, the Pokemon trades, and the gloating of my girlfriend had faded into the background of my own personal history. It was now contemplation time in regards to the upcoming match...
To tell the truth, I let a little bit too much go in the interview with Hank Brown. Though to be fair, if you aren't in it to win it, why the hell are you in there to begin with? I'd like to ask Fitch that question, but to what ends? So she could lie to my face? In my view, she was worse than the enemy at this juncture of this event. At least they made no bones about being the opposition, and had no malice or treachery regarding this match. Save for perhaps Richie Shag, who may now be too busy being a rich snob to even show up to the event.
Alas, other than Fitch, who has proven to be a treacherous "cunt", to steal a vulgar term from Joey Flash, much to the chagrin of ladies in the United States. I guess that word just makes their skin crawl for some strange reason. It's just a word, but it's an accurate description of Kathy Fitch, at this point in time. An untrustworthy cunt.
At least she seems to be showing up, which may be more than I can say for my other partners, who have remained radio silent all week long. They probably know of Fitch's treachery, and haven't even bothered to come up with a plan to counteract it. Hell, for all I know, they've written off the match and are looking ahead to something else. God knows I would not blame them, but I refuse to let my debut be fucked over by this stupid fucking bitch! And these guys seem to be no better than SHE is...
I basically cannot trust anybody in this match. Almost like Seth rigged this match to go off like this just to piss everyone involved in it off. So why pay us so much money to do this? For his own amusement? I have much better ideas on how to spend so much money for my amusement. Like buy a cruise liner, and get a bunch of gamers on board. Maybe like a Comic Con on the water that lasts for a week! Now THAT would be badass!!!
I'm writing that idea down for later! Why hasn't anybody thought of that before?
Oh yeah, still on this upcoming match. There was the Snake Venom guy from Boston. The guy obviously hasn't been paying much attention when he thinks I'm just walking off the street and into the WCF. I've paid my dues, what has this fucking clown done? Talk shit about what I wear? Never mind what I'm wearing, and pay attention to the guy who's about to crash into you like a ton of bricks!
At least Tom O. Hawk (I think that's how it's supposed to be spelled) wasn't rude about his mention of me, other than the "white boy" remark. Don't worry, I blame my ancestors for being assholes and stealing your land, too. By that, I mean I really don't get along with my Dad. Again, mentions the fact that he thinks that I think this is all a game. Too bad he hasn't figured that out. Life is a game, and I don't mean the game with the spinning wheel, the cars with pegs, and all the cards with jobs and houses on them, either. And right now, I'm doing quite well in the areas that count. Can you or anybody else on your team say the same?
Maybe Richie Shag would, if he would bother to open the caviar and champagne-smelling sewer he calls a mouth. Provided if he even shows his steroid-riddled self up to this match, he'll find out first hand that not even all the money in the world can buy his way past me. Maybe he can buy off Fitch, or give her the dick she seems to be aching for, provided the 'roids haven't rendered him useless to a woman, but not this guy. If he wants to continue winning at his game of life, he should probably just walk away while he still can. And lay off the steroids.
That leaves Bad News Benson, the veteran of their team. The "Jobber to the Stars" as Sammy put it once, along with Adam Young and The Ultimate Destroyer. Do I need to say much else? I guess there always needs to be some enhancement talent in any group of wrestlers, but it seems like Seth actually WANTS to give this guy a chance at every turn to elevate himself. I can hope that someday he's able to, but not on this day, and not at my expense.
Just thinking about this shit sandwich makes my stomach turn, but thinking back on what CJ and Andre did say, I'm a professional, now more than ever before. Which means sometimes having to deal with such issues and do what is necessary to get through it. If anything, that means my "Never say die" attitude needs to be more to the forefront than ever before. That means excel despite a teammate being potentially on the take. Excel in the face of my opponents doubts, of themselves and my own abilities. Exploit their ignorance and overestimation of their own abilities, and pray for the best result. God knows it may take a miracle to get out of this match in one piece.
The road agent comes up and points in my direction. Looks like its time to fly and never say die. I slowly get to my feet and march myself to the curtain, as the roar of the fans can be heard even back here, as the music begins to play...
