Tutorial Mode: How to Shoot like a Savage Asshole
May 8, 2016 3:39:10 GMT -5
Logan, Crow McMorris, and 3 more like this
Post by Deleted on May 8, 2016 3:39:10 GMT -5
The fans at Arena Mexico were filing out of the building, talking about nothing else but Logan winning the World Title from Joey Flash after cashing in his shot for the title. I knew they were talking about it, because while I know very little Spanish, the name "Logan" was on the tongue of the fans that came out. Guess that name just doesn't translate over to Spanish very well...
While they were all hyped about what was going to transpire next, I had my own doubts about what was to come next. Sure, we put Black Asshole Sun (not the name I came up with for them, by the way) out of the tournament against great odds, but our next opponents were not only hailed as even better, but they're also pissed off about losing said World Heavyweight Title this very evening. And there was a good chance that the next fight was going to get dirty as fuck.
Even worse is that now Logan has the prize he wanted all along, does he even give a shit about completing this tournament? I mean, Dag'll just follow along with whatever he wants, but where does that leave me in the end? Am I going to be left as a victim to these three #BeachedWhales for the next round? Like that fat guy was left to his own devices LAST YEAR in Trios against Fly, Orbit, and Black?
With my thoughts in my head, as I watched the fans leave, I hear the shuffle of feet behind me. I turn and see that it is Hank Brown coming outside, seemingly to smoke a cigarette. I didn't pay much mind to him, as I turned to watch the fans leave. I mean, I was in no great big hurry to go back to an empty hotel room. Hell, I was considering going to a bar and getting wasted on some mucho excellente tequila. Especially after picking up the pinfall in the match up tonight. I deserve that, at the very least.
Hank then walks over towards where I was, and I realized that the cigarette was NOT exactly a cigarette. He then says to me...
Hank: Game! Really nice show out there tonight! Wanna take a hit?
Me: Nah, I'm good...
I hoped that would be the end of our exchange, as he takes another pull off of the joint, but then he says...
Hank: For a guy who just played a big role in putting a highly touted team away tonight against all odds, you don't look to thrilled about it. Something bothering you?
Me: Nope. Super fucking peachy. Logan wins the World Title, so where does that leave me? Are we even going to complete this tournament? Or is he going to leave me swinging in the breeze like he did that fat guy last year?
Hank: Mod Deuce? Well, to be fair, that team had a snowball's chance in...
Me: People said the same thing about us tonight, as well. But that didn't stop me from planting Sunshine's head into the canvas. Didn't allow for Black or Price to stop me from doing it, either. But now that Logan has the title, what's in it for him to win this whole damn thing, now? Especially since Beach Krew...
Hank: It's "#BeachKrew"...
Me: Fuck a goddamn "hashtag"! That shit used to be called a pound sign! Anyways, my point being, those guys are probably super-pissed about how Logan snagged that title. God knows Jared Holmes really wanted that match-up with Joey Flash, so they could blow each other for the whole world to see! But Logan just fucked all that shit up, so just imagine how they're going to feel come next Sunday. And do you think Logan will come out and handle that kind of onslaught? Or is he going to pull the same shit in a new tournament and just walk away?
Hank: Wow! I hadn't even thought about it very much, truth be told, but you know...
Me: And you call yourself a reporter! You're not exactly a "big picture" guy, are you?
Hank: I live paycheck to paycheck, and I got problems. Actually waiting for my horse to arrive...
Jesus, they really don't drug test around here, do they?
I take the joint from Hank Brown and take a hefty pull off of it. Last time I took a toke was as a Freshman in high school, but I felt the tension just kinda go away, and I felt even lighter on my feet than I normally did. That last part I don't remember, but I wasn't called "Chunky Britches Chevalier" in high school for nothing! If those assholes could see me now, though. Well, if they have a decent cable package, they can!
SUCK IT, DEERING HIGH SCHOOL!!!
Hank: Did you just say "Suck it, Deering High School?"
Shit! I just said that out loud! Did I just say that out loud, too?
Hank: Are you stoned, already? WOW!!! You're a total lightweight!!!
I left as fast as I could, in case more thoughts surface that Hank would totally take out of context.
I needed to get back to the hotel, ASAP! Maybe get some soda, some Gummi Worms, and peanut butter! Yes! It was time for some peanut butter and Gummi Worm sandwiches!!! All of this while Hank is screaming in the background...
Hank: Hey!!! That was my joint!!!
I paid no mind to him, as I continued to puff away at the joint still lodged inside of my lips, as I went to the next scene of importance...
I left Arena Mexico via a chauffeur provided by Seth Lerch. Still baffling that I'm getting such treatment from him, so I wasn't about to waste this particular use of his services. My first stop was at a supermarket of any kind. I NEEDED MY PEANUT BUTTER AND GUMMI WORM FIX!!!
I went to Soriana, which I guess was like Shaw's. It was a supermarket, how else do I explain it? I found bread, peanut butter, Gummi Worms, and tequila. The girl behind the checkout counter looked at me as if I was strange, but whatever. She spouted off some numbers in Spanish, and I handed her over the amount of Pesos needed for the purchase. Seems that most of the numbers in Spanish are similar to those in French, which is what I took in high school. Figured I would need that more, considering Quebec and New Brunswick wasn't that far away.
After regretting not learning Spanish so I could chat up the really cute checkout girl, I continued my trek back to the hotel. I made one hell of a mess making a PBGW sandwich in the back seat of the limo. Hopefully that doesn't come out of my paycheck, considering some of the shit I've seen people do in the back of said limos in music videos and other forms of media. Ah, to be rich and famous...
I got dropped off at the Wyndham (which truly is worldwide, I guess) and I stumbled back to my room, with a security officer following me every step of the way. Why he did, I had no clue, but once I got there, I found myself shocked at who was standing at my door. I pulled down a pair of shades hanging on my face, which I had no clue where they came from, and said...
Me: Susan?
Susan: James...
Me: I thought you weren't going to come to Mexico. Out of protest, and all that noise...
Susan: I had time to think it over. And after talking to Sammy, I came to the conclusion that I was being selfish. I know this is your dream, but after the autograph session and Seth seemingly doing whatever he wants with you and your career, I just didn't think I could handle seeing you getting hurt. Or myself, for that matter. Hell, I half expected you to come up here with an armful of señoritas...
Me: No, just an armful of tequila, and all the makings for some PBGW sandwiches... The tequila is to help forget the pain of everything that's going on, though. Shit's been really bad since you decided not to come. Hell, it was so bad I smoked a joint before I decided to come here. Stole it from Hank Brown.
Susan: I see, and you look the part. I guess that's why the security guard followed you up here?
Me: Either that, or Seth is ensuring my protection. We won tonight, by the way.
Susan: So why would you need protection?
Me: Three reasons. Our next opponents are members of #BeachKrew, and Logan cashed in his shot at the World Title tonight against Joey Flash, and won. And Seth keeps telling me I'm some sort of "golden ticket" or some shit. He's really deep with The Family, or Team of Treachery, or whatever it's being called these days, and I guess he REALLY wants me on this team.
Susan: Wow. Way to kiss the ass of the boss while I was gone...
Me: Whatever. So can you grab one of these bags so I can open the door to the room?
She nods, and grabs a bag. Her scent gets caught in my nose, and after four days without her around, it arouses me. Enough for me to open the door, swing it wide, and as she goes in, I drop my bag next to the door, and move for her. I kiss her, hoping like Hell she felt the same way. I planted one on her lips, as she drops the bag and returns the kiss. We found our way to the bed as we stripped each other of the clothing we had on our bodies in the process, before we got down to pleasurable business...
About an hour later, we retrieved the items we had dropped after providing each other some pleasurable experiences in more ways than one. The bread was slightly crushed from when she dropped the bag and the peanut butter fell on top of it, but otherwise not a big loss. We made ourselves some PBGW sandwiches and washed them down with some Dos Lunas Añejo. We both agreed that tequila is probably not something we should ever wash anything down with ever again.
She then said after our shared agreement...
Susan: So I guess I should cancel my room here. I got one in case this didn't work out.
Me: What? You really thought I was just going to forget you and our 7 years together overnight?
Susan: I didn't know if you would or not. Not like we ever been split up before. And I didn't talk to you for several days. You called me for three days straight, then stopped on Sunday...
Me: Match day. I wanted to push everything out of my mind and focus on the match. My opponents were not noobs this time, so thinking about how you just walked away, and the government agent, and being in the damn match with...
Susan: Did you just say "government agent"?
Me: Oh, yeah. I'm being bullied by the United States government to provide details on Dag Riddik and his movements at every turn. Something about him being in some terrorist organization that wants to overthrow the governments of Scandinavia or some bullshit...
Susan: That's crazy! You said no, right?
Me: I did, then he threatened to put me on every government watchlist he could think of. And not just me, but my family and friends. He named you and Sammy by first and last name, so I had to say yes at that point.
Susan: And I thought Seth was the worst.
Me: I said the same thing! But what else do we expect from a government? Not like the government has ever been known for being reasonable. Just ask my father about that, and he'll tell you...
Susan: Can we not talk about him? He's never accepted you for who you are, so why dwell on him at all?
Me: Because he is my father. I'd hoped to at least hear from him by now, but I lost my phone earlier today...
Susan: It's over by the window, plugged in. I saw it when you went down on me and I bent over the side of the bed. I tried calling you today to let you know I'd be here. It's not like you to leave your phone behind.
Me: I'm not Caleb Ronan. And I remember why I left it here. And now we're back to the whole "focusing on the match" thing. Basically so Corey Black, Jayson Price, or Teo del Sol wouldn't kill me in that ring.
Susan: But you guys won that match, right? How did that go down?
Me: I hit Game Over on Teddy. Kinda wished I hit it on either of the other guys, though. Especially Corey Black, after calling me a basement dweller and saying that he'd show you what a "real man" was like.
Susan: You let Corey Black know that I don't date dinosaurs. I prefer them younger so I can train them the way I want them.
I got a chuckle out of that statement, but she was a few years older than me. She was heading to graduate school, and I was just shy of 20 when we met. It was this kind of statement that she made that had got my attention to begin with. Of course, it took me about a year to really make my move on her. She then says...
Susan: Besides, to the winners go the spoils. You made Corey Black and his team eat those words. "Real man"? More like "real big loser". Especially after tonight.
Me: Nobody was really focused on me, anyways. Everyone wanted a shot at Logan because he's Logan, or Dag because he's a huge asshole. But it's cool that everyone is leaving me alone. But it might not stay that way much longer. Especially considering most people had their money on Black Asshole Sun winning tonight against us.
Susan: Might also explain why Seth has such a hard on for you now. You just proved that your team is a credible threat to go all the way if you guys were able to put that team down.
Me: But now we face what they're calling themselves the "Dag Riddik Gang". Or DRG, for short. A jab at the Dark Riders Gang and Dag Riddik, obviously.
Susan: That's funny. They probably didn't think that they'd actually face you guys in the next round. Or that you guys would even make the tournament. You were essentially a last minute addition, right?
Me: That's what I was led to believe. But now, with Logan relieving Joey Flash of the World Title, and we have to face him, Jared Holmes, the Number 1 Contender for same World Title, and Andre Aquarius...
Susan: Who's Andre Aquarius?
Me: Oh, he's some guy who goes around calling everyone a "fuck boy". So the short answer is that he's basically a fuck boy. But those three are probably going to be out for blood come next Slam. And who do I have as a partner? The same guy that fucked them over tonight. And these guys are known for fighting dirty, if for nothing else.
Susan: Maybe Sammy can help you out in that department. He's here in Mexico, too. Came up with me.
Me: Sammy's in Mexico? Why?
Susan: We talked. After I told him everything, to include how I felt, he thought that maybe all of this was too much for you too fast. So he's left control of the gym to some of his more trusted guys and came along with me to Mexico. And honestly, after everything that's gone down, he may be right. He's the professional wrestler who knows how this business works. I'm just the girlfriend who's handling your finances.
Me: It's okay. Glad to have him here. This is a lot to take in in such a short period of time. Maybe he can help ensure I don't get killed in or out of the ring by either jealous asshole rival wrestlers. Or by terrorists. Or by the government. Maybe he's dealt with shit like this before when he was in the Big Time.
Susan: Well, if the government railroaded him into being a spy, they must've been real desperate. He wouldn't be my first choice...
Me: Maybe he has. Either way, he'll probably have some solid advice for me on the matter. If nothing else, he's always got some pretty solid advice. One more shot before we crash out?
Susan: Why not?
I poured us two more shots, before we clink plastic cups together and down them. She makes a face, as she says...
Susan: Next time remember salt and limes...
Me: I like it just the way it is. Smooth but tangy. Aged to perfection. Just like you, old lady...
She gives me a dirty look, before she jumps on top of me. We roll around for a bit before we go into Round 2 and the scene ends here. Unless you wanna see how a "real man" loves his lady...
Yeah, I didn't think you would...
Mike Tyson's Punch-Out starting theme plays on my phone in the 8-bit version, as I roll over and see that my phone is all the way over by the window. I groaned, as I got up out of bed in nothing but my birthday suit to go answer Sammy's call. I knew it was Sammy, because he's the only person linked to that ringtone on my phone.
I grabbed the phone and looked at it. With the swipe of my finger, I answer the call with a...
Me: What's up, Sammy?
Sammy: You gonna sleep all fucking day, or what?
Me: The thought crossed my mind. Where are you?
Sammy: Downstairs getting my grub on. Es muy excellente de chorizo.
Me: What?
Sammy: I was just telling the waitress the chorizo is excellent. Come on down, and I'll have them toss some huevos y chorizo down your gullet hole, as well.
Me: I'll just settle for some toast. I have a hangover. Me and the lady had some making up to do, and we did it over a bottle of tequila and inside of the bed. And we had some peanut butter and Gummi Worm sandwiches...
Sammy: Whatever, just get your ass down here. We got business to discuss.
He hung up, and I looked at my phone, which indicated to me that I had several missed messages. I decide to attend to them later, as a hot shower after an ass-gasm shit seemed more preferable than fielding messages at this particular moment.
I came down to the hotel restaurant and looked around to see if Sammy was there. He was easily spotted, as most of the breakfast crowd had already left. In front of him seemed to be more than just chorizo and eggs, but also fruit salad, coffee, orange juice, cereal, and even some bagels. I was hoping he did not want me to eat all of that...
I sat down as he was finishing off the fruit salad, as he says...
Sammy: I saw on the computer that you did pretty good work last night. Put the wannabe Mexican jumping bean's head into the center of the mat and got the pinfall.
Me: I think Logan held him in place, but yeah. Job was done.
Sammy: Maybe that'll shut Creeping Dick's mouth up for a minute or two. Same with that loudmouthed Price guy, too.
Me: I doubt it. They're all pinning the blame on Teo because that's what they do to try and keep their sterling reputations afloat. That, and their fragile egos can't accept being beaten by a better team. Even if my teammates are the absolute scum of the Earth.
Sammy: Yeah, but there's no denying you three work VERY WELL together. Seth was right in that aspect. Logan's lost a few steps, but makes up for it with a cunning that you don't see much of in wrestling. Dag is young, but on the same path as Logan. He's got an incredible mix of speed and strength, but a mind that works just as hard inside of that ring. I guess what they really needed was someone to take to the air when needed, but your mind with all those games, is just as analytical and working just as hard inside of that ring. You guys were a joy to watch.
Me: Glad somebody enjoyed it. Next week is probably going to be a bloodbath.
Sammy: Are you talking about those Beach Bums, or whatever the Hell they're calling themselves? Talk about sour grapes. I guess its too bad about that Joey Flash/Jared Holmes match. But to be honest, it was looking to be a jerkfest, anyways. That's all I ever see those guys do, is jerk each other off. What makes that particular Main Event going to be any different? That's not exciting, at all!
Me: It's probably why Logan cashed in, but I didn't ask. There's enough people who are going to ask that question of him, so we'll get our answer on that soon enough. My concern now is will he actually give a shit about the rest of the tournament? Or is he going to leave like he did last year?
Sammy: Good question, but my guess is no. He seems to enjoy sticking it to these guys in the WCF way too much to just leave. Especially after he's been told he doesn't have what it takes anymore to compete? I guess he's showing them...
Me: So where do I fit into all of this? I mean, how in the Hell did I get into this position? The other rookies usually have to break their asses to get this kind of endorsement from anyone else in the WCF. Seth just puts me on a pedestal right the fuck away! I'm not THAT good, am I?
Sammy: Honestly, I didn't think so, but I'm not a big time wrestling promoter, am I? But you did work your ass off to get to where you are. And I'll be damned if I let three assholes just tear into you for something that you had no control over! Hence why I'm here. I'm going to help you put these trash-talking douchebags in their fucking place. Which is the garbage. Because that's what they are.
Me: You're going to teach me how to cheat like they do?
Sammy: No. That's not exactly rocket science to cheat, and that's why I never taught you how. I thought you'd figure that part out on your own. No, instead, I'm going to teach you something better than that...
Me: The Dim Mak? I may need it in this...
Sammy: Have you been watching Bloodsport, again? Because the only thing I can teach you is the headbutt that Jackson uses to crush the bricks. But somehow I don't think that's your cup of tea.
Me: So what is it you're going to teach me?
Sammy: You'll see...
God, I hate it when he does that shit. Can't even tell me so I can at least mentally prepare for whatever he's going to put me through. After said talk, I managed to swallow down a plain bagel before we agreed to meet later on tomorrow. He tells me to quit drinking so I won't be hung over for tomorrow's work we have ahead of us. This just adds to the sense of dread I have for whatever training he has in store for me come tomorrow...
I went back up to the room after my very light breakfast to find that the bed was still occupied by Susan, who had the best idea ever to get rid of this crappy feeling. Maybe that NSA agent was wise to cut me off before, because now I feel like hammered dogshit.
My phone chimes as I start to go towards the bed and commence to crashing out for the foreseeable future, which reminded me that I still had a bunch of messages to field. I decided that now was as good a time as any, and got to my phone to see what was in store for me in my voicemail.
There were messages from several of my friends who saw the match and thought that I was awesome. Others voiced their concerns over the "choices" that I was making. Like they were my choices, but like I can explain to them that this is not how the upper echelon pros work. Someday they may make it, and then they may understand that such "choices" are really not up for negotiation. Such is life.
But the one message that really stuck with me was the one I got from my mother. The contents of the message truly rattled me to my core. Well, rather than just say what it is, maybe it's just best to let it be heard out loud, as I had to hear it over and over again, before I knew for a fact that I heard her correctly...
Mom: Hello! It's your Mother calling. Just letting you know that we saw you on the Slam television show tonight for the first time! I know you had your big debut on that Aftermath Pay Per View, but with bills and everything, we just couldn't afford to watch it.
But anyways, we wanted to let you know just how proud we are of our son making it to the big time on television! Even your father is proud of you, and is telling his friends about how you're on television just crushing these big time wrestling stars left, right, and center! I know he may never admit it to you, but he is proud, and don't you be thinking that he isn't, because it just isn't true!
We're also thrilled that you're working so well with Cousin Logan. My sister down in Virginia called me and asked me if you were in the WCF, because she saw you and recognized you from the pictures I sent her from when you were in high school. She was so surprised you had lost so much weight! She then let me know that despite them being estranged for several years now, that your cousin Logan is also a competitor in the WCF, and to my surprise, there you two were on the television! So glad that you were able to work out your differences, even though it was over 20 years ago when the incident occurred.
Anyways, I don't want to take up too much of your time. I bet you have lots of training to do, with the big tournament and that next group of guys you have to take on. Have fun fighting in the tournament, and we wish you the best of luck.
I love you, my little man.
And my mind STILL couldn't process it. It was so bad that I even woke up Susan to hear the message, to which she just groaned and told me she felt sorry for me if being related to Logan was indeed true. Then she ran to the bathroom, where I thought I heard her heave a few times. That was how I felt, but not because of the borderline alcohol poisoning we tried to give ourselves the night before.
I decided that I needed to hear this in live time, so I hit my Mom's number up on speed dial. After a few rings, I got an answer from my Mom, who seemed a bit giggly on the other end...
Mom: Pizza guy?
Me: No, Mom. It's me.
Mom: Who's me? I'm me! Ha ha...
Me: Mom, are you high right now?
Mom: Uhh...
Oh yeah, about my Mom. She was one of those "hippie" types who never really left the 70's in her mind. While she's always been able to hold down a job with her art degree she got from UMO, she's essentially a free spirit who somehow got hooked up with my father, who's a huge stick in the mud by comparison. Especially considering he was a returning and wounded Vietnam veteran when they met in 1972.
A year after they met, they were married and had my oldest brother Joseph. Five years later, my older sister Brooke was born. Five more years later, my other brother Timothy was born, followed by five years later, and here I came! Something tells me if Dad didn't go to prison, I would probably have a younger brother or sister, but by the time he got out of prison, my Mom was unable to have anymore children.
I'm figuring that the reason why they had us all five years apart was because, according to my mother, raising us kids past diapers and into school was the only thing they agreed on. My older siblings would go on about how as they got older, they would argue a lot, until mom got knocked up, and everything was fine once a new baby was in the house. But now it seems that in order for them to get along, they go and take advantage of the weed laws in Portland, and they smoke together. I guess whatever makes them both happy, I'm all for it.
But yeah, back to the conversation...
Me: You're high. It's no big deal, but when you left your voicemail yesterday, were you high when you called?
Mom: No, I don't think I was. Your Dad was, but he uses it to get to sleep sometimes...
Dad (background): Don't be telling people my business, woman!
Me: So that thing about Logan...
Mom: Oh, Cousin Logan... God, he was so mean to you when you were little! I remember this one time, you guys were playing video games while your Aunt Edith and I were out grocery shopping. We came back, and you were laid out on the floor and he was just standing over the top of you with this weird look in his eyes...
And then it all came rushing back...
I was six years old, and the year was 1994. Mortal Kombat II was all the rage at the time, and I was no exception to the fanbase it had gathered. And with so many adults telling me "That game is so violent, you can't play it!", well, it made me an even bigger fan than if they had just left the issue alone. Yes, I was one of those kids who grew up thinking adults were dumb. Now that I think about it, they still are...
We were down in Virginia visiting our Aunt Edith, who was a recent widow and had one son. I had forgotten his name on purpose, because after the incident in which I'm about to describe, it needless to say left a bad impression on me. Dad was still in prison at this time, so Mom always made an effort to go and visit with what family she had left. Mom was originally from there, but went to art school in Maine because it was as far away as she could get from the rest of the world. That, and she didn't get accepted into any of the art schools in New York or Boston, where she initially applied.
Anyways, the afternoon I had blocked out was just chock-full of myself kicking the absolute crap out of Logan at Mortal Kombat II. And being 6 years old, I'm fairly certain I was an absolute brat about it. If you stop and think about it, as a 6 year-old facing a much older and supposedly smarter/better at stuff in life point of view, I should NOT have been kicking his ass at this game this easily.
I remember the last match which had stoked the ire of Logan, when I defeated him with Johnny Cage. He was using Reptile, which now just further confirms that he really is a snake. I used the Shadow Kick almost exclusively in the final round, which sent him across the screen and never allowed for him to get close to me. As the round came to a close, Logan just tossed the controller down in frustration, as I said...
Young Me: Okay, I'll be nice this time...
I then performed the Friendship Fatality, as Johnny Cage signed an autograph "TO MY BEST FAN! Johnny Cage". I thought it was nice, since prior to that, I had done nothing but the regular Fatalities against him. He then says...
Young Logan: Friendship? Friendship?
Young Me: Well, I already did use the Torso Rip and the Head Pop Fatalities. I figured I'd change it up this ti-
The next thing I remember, he grabs me around the head, pulls me up to my feet, and then he jumps over me, while still holding my head in his arms. I remember going end over end, before I hit the ground a few feet away. I remember the last thing he said, before I passed out was...
Young Logan: SHUT UP!!!
My mind came back to now, and my mother was rambling on the other end of the phone. I then said...
Me: Mom, I got to go. I'll call you later. Probably on Mother's Day...
My Mom was still jabbering on, stoned out of her gourd it seemed, when I hung up. The revelation that I was related to Logan was just...
Sickening.
I went over to the bed and laid down. I then grabbed Susan and pulled her close, before I closed my eyes and attempted to suppress this particular memory from my mind...
Sammy: So you're related to the bastard. Not like you have to marry the bastard.
That was how Sammy put it in regards to the revelation that Logan and I were related by blood. We were in a rented Buick Regal and already in the district of Oaxaca. What our business was in Oaxaca was beyond me, as Sammy one again threw out there the "Just wait and see." response.
Pissing me off, is what he was doing with that response...
With a few hour trip ahead of us, it was bound to come up in conversation that Logan and I were blood related, and I needed some advice on how to proceed with Logan on this matter. Did he even really need to know? But I did point out my frustration with the idea of being related to such a monster. In regards to the "monster" comment, he did say in response to that...
Sammy: Yeah, he's a extra strength bastard, alright. So's that Dag Riddik guy, too. Is he really a racist?
Me: I honestly don't think he is. But he seems discontent with everything everywhere. Except for antique phones and trains, for some strange reason.
Sammy: Trains? As in they go "choo-choo"?
Me: Yes. But I'm beginning to think his whole racial attacks are out of sheer hatred for everything. He bags on religions the same way. And by religions, I mean all of them. Jesus is NOT his homeboy. Neither is Yahweh, Allah, Buddha, or any of them.
Sammy: What a weird guy. Whatever. The thing about your partners are that they're die hard bastards, but so are your upcoming opponents for the week. Flash, Holmes, and Aquarius are just as horrible as the two of them. In some eyes, you're what is called the "weak link" right now, because you aren't the bastard any of these 5 guys are.
Me: That's a little unfair. But to be fair, this is only my third match here in the WC...
Sammy: This is why we're taking this trip. A little education on how to handle these Beach Bums, or whatever the fuck they call themselves.
Me: Hashtag BeachKrew.
Sammy: What the fuck is a "hashtag"?
Me: You know on the phone they have the "Pound sign"? That's now a hashtag. Something Twitter came up with...
Sammy just shakes his head, as he says...
Sammy: You kids and your Twitter... Sounds pretty fucking stupid to me...
Me: I sort of use it, but it is kind of stupid. So this trip is about how to deal with #BeachKrew? Are you going to tell me where we're going, or do I have to jump out of the car?
Sammy: We're going scuba diving, so we can observe their natural habitat up close and in person.
Me: Uh, Sammy? You know they don't actually live at the beach, right?
Sammy: But they claim to be creatures of the sea, so hopefully we can go and find them in their natural habitat. I even got some dive gear rented out that has the full face masks and microphones so we can actually talk about what we see when we see it.
Me: Okay... It's been awhile since I went diving. Last time was when I worked on that lobster boat about 5 years ago. You dive?
Sammy: Mostly muff, but I know my way around a snorkel and tanks. But afterwards, we're going to do some shoots on these guys based on what you see. We're going to find a few things that I have in mind, and then we're going to talk about them after we make said observations.
Me: This sounds like a huge waste of time. I mean, I wouldn't mind diving, but if we want to talk about sea creatures that each of these guys are like, I've already thought of what they are.
Sammy: Oh really? Well, please do tell...
I knew I was being put on the spot, but the comparisons had been burning in my mind for the longest time. As for the trash talk, well, I've been a competitive gamer for a LONG time...
Me: First off, we got Andre Aquarius. Little guy. Part-timer until recently. He reminds me of the barnacles I used to have to scrape off of the side of the lobster boat I worked. Always stuck to something, never moving on their own, but rather along for the ride and eating whatever plankton gets in its way. Like Andre, who settles for the table scraps of whatever #BeachKrew doesn't want. The dregs. Some could even say that Andre is their own little parasite that they keep around for shits and giggles.
Sammy: Oh please, go on.
Me: But now that Wade Moor isn't around, the supreme leader of this group, they're all up in arms about who's going to lead this group. Andre thinks he has what it takes, even though he hasn't done Jack Shit inside of that ring. He's a joke, and he knows it. So what does he do? He throws his lot in with Jared Holmes, and has become Jared's own personal barnacle as a result. Again feeding off of whatever he or Flash doesn't doesn't finish off. Essentially, this guy is dead weight for their team, and everyone knows it except for him.
What, because he's had a few good matches here and there, he thinks he's relevant? In the grand scheme of #BeachKrew, he's easily the most expendable member of that group. Not Wade Moor, for obvious reasons, nor Jared Holmes, even though he's nothing great to write home about. Sure as shit can't say that Dustin Beaver, Kyle Kemp, or Johnny Rabid are the most expendable members of that group, either. Hell, even Sandy Coconutz serves a better purpose than Andre Aquarius! She's the team whore, right? They do the whole gangbang thing on her probably as a team building exercise. Except Andre, who's probably relegated to jerking off in the corner while watching Wade's flabby ass pump his thickness harder into the asshole of Sandy Coconutz. Fuck, even the dead guy from the group is more relevant than Andre Aquarius!
Yet that accidental pregnancy/abortion survivor still walks around like he's King Shit of Turd Mountain, when he hasn't done shit! And then you got his beach buddies all backing him when in actuality they keep him around just so they know that's about as low as you can go, before you get tossed on your ass out the door. He's the bar, alright. The bar for how shitty you can be, but not be booted from #BeachKrew. Because when they do have a bad night, they gotta have that one person they can kick around so they can feel better about themselves. That is the role that Andre Aquarius has in the grand scheme of #BeachKrew.
This team is probably no different. Joey Flash probably rage fucked Andre on the way back to the dressing room after he got his shit punched in by Logan at the end of last Slam. Jared Holmes probably helped him, because that's just what Jared Holmes does, kick a guy while he's down. And Andre probably took it, because he knows his lot in life. To take it in the ass for the sake of his team, because that is his function. That is, if he wants to continue being the barnacle that doesn't get brushed off.
Sammy: Jesus! I didn't think you'd be able to trash a guy like that...
Me: I'm not finished! We're now moving on to Jared Holmes, or Los Tiburones, or 6ix God or whatever the hell he's calling himself these days. I remember when I was a kid going to the beach in Kennebunk, and seeing what looked like a gray and slimy bowl upside down on the beach. I remember kicking it with a bare foot, and getting stung pretty bad as an end result. Come to find out, it was a jellyfish. Full of poison and sting, but lacking any discernible spine of any sort. Yup, we're talking about Jared Holmes.
I mean, prior to Wade Moor's disappearance into the deep blue sea post his World Title run that consisted of him taking on the same two guys over and over again until somehow Price was able to pry it from him, Jared Holmes was just as equal in being considered the Team Joke. Sure, NOW he pulls his shit together and pulled one off at the Trilogy Cup Finals against Kemp, but before that, he was content with being a drugged out noisemaker and general ass in the name of #BeachKrew. But again, with no guidance by Wade Moor, he thinks he's the next in line to be King Merman under the sea. But how can anybody in #BeachKrew really take him seriously when there are members within the group that are more capable mentally AND physically to do said job?
He should stick to the things that he knows. Like LSD, drinking wine with his twiggy bitch of a girlfriend who's probably unable to conceive because of their combined drug use along with her constant use of the twat scrapper that most would call an abortionist while in high school slutting it up with whoever would allow themselves to bang a girl that looks like a guy in the chest! Which was probably her step-father and Jared Holmes. But we'll get to the questionable sexuality of Jared Holmes later on...
Sammy: No, we really don't have to talk about that. Really has nothing to do with the match at hand...
Me: I said we'll get to that later. As in when it is most relevant. Do you want me to continue this, or not? This was what you wanted, right? Me being able to trash these guys like a savage asshole? Because some people think I'm soft? Well, sorry to disappoint you in that aspect!
Anyways, back to Holmes the spineless jellyfish. Somehow you managed to weasel yourself into a victory at Trilogy, and you now sit the Number 1 Contender for the World Title. And I know how much you REALLY wanted to face your partner, in more ways than one, at XIII or whatever fucking venue you wanted to have your public date/coming out of the closet moment with Joey Splatters on Your Face. Or is he a dribbler? Eh, I'm sure you like it either fucking way.
Too fucking bad Logan came in and beat your boyfriend's ass and took the shiny gold belt away from him at the end of Slam. Ruined your picture perfect date you had with Joey. Boo-fucking-hoo for you! And now you're all mad and you're going to say mean and hurtful things to get us off of our game. Stinging, poisonous words to sow discontent and anger within our group. Two can play at that game, you cheap bastard.
But the thing is that with the exception of this Trilogy Tournament and the War record that you and Grayson Battle/Gemini Pierce co-own, you really haven't been very relevant in your tenure in the WCF. Except maybe if we need a poster child for an anti-drug commercial, in that you are the example of what happens to your brain on drugs. You turn into a sniveling twatwaffle who just goes around saying whatever he wants with no consequence because you had the big whale that was Wade Moor protecting your sorry ass from the repercussions of your words. The day you step into that ring with us, and you're going to get dosed with your own fucking poison. From a man who has a spine, and is willing to back everything up with or without the help of a team.
The cracked egg on the television back in the day? That is you, and in very short order.
Sammy: What about Joey Flash? What do you associate him with in regards to the sea?
Me: That one is a bit difficult. Technically, he's not a part of #BeachKrew, even though I did see some signs in the last crowd saying "Joey Splash" or some garbage like that. I was thinking maybe not inside of the sea, but on the beach. Like a seagull? Like every bird, he goes about and shits on just about everything that he can. And gets away with it because he runs from a real challenge whenever it truly presents itself. And those that has bested him legitimately? He shits on the hardest! It was no real wonder why Bates snapped at the end of their match and damn near decapitated Joey Flash in the middle of that ring. It was just too bad that Bates wasn't able to do it DURING the match like he was able to do so last year, hence crushing the Imperium hopes and dreams before they could become a reality.
That must sting Joey's ass like a bitch. Worse than what Jared Holmes does to that ass whenever they're out doing whatever it is they do on their weekly play dates. Stings to know that the DRG crushed him like the bug that he is, so he has to go around and mock them as the Dag Riddik Gang. Or the DRG. I guess Dag appreciates the flattery that they would name their team after him? I don't know, because I try not to talk to him too much. He's another seagull that shits on anything and everything. But mockery aside, it still doesn't stop the fact that they crushed your ass like a cheap soda can. If anything, it is their example that will help US do the exact same thing to you and your hopeless little minions THIS year.
Of course, outside of the ring, you get away with that shit because your Daddy or someone close to you is part of the big, bad Mafia. Yet another sackless asshole who hides behind a group to keep himself safe when he runs off at the mouth. Was that how you bested Dune? Did you do the same to Price? Did your Daddy make them both "an offer they couldn't refuse"? Is that how your career in the WCF was built? It wouldn't surprise me in the least. Just like it wouldn't surprise me if you saw things not quite working out for you this year, and you leave Jared Holmes or Andre Aquarius as tribute to our team efforts overall. Kind of how like ICE Beckman and Zombie McMorris left you to die at the hands of the DRG last year. Though between you and me, I hope Logan finishes his delusional ass off once and for all.
Sammy: Wishful thinking, but highly doubtful. I think you called it when you said he'll leave Andre or Jared hanging out to dry. That loss he took for Imperium really damaged his calm, his confidence, his pride, and everything that makes Joey tick, because he thinks he is invincible. Except to Adam Young, for some strange reason. Of all people in the WCF, he's lost to Adam Young twice?
Me: Maybe Adam Young has no price, and that proves what a real hack Joey Flash in the Pan is inside of that ring.
Sammy: Joey Flash in the Pan? Yeah, don't use that pun ever again. As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to erase that part off of the tape...
Me: What? You taped all of that?
Sammy: Yeah! I learned how to use this phone application to record audio. Wish I had this technology when I was coming up. Tape recorders were about the size of a briefcase growing up. And they took ridiculously sized batteries to run them, which would then die about an hour into using the damn thing.
Me: So what are you going to do with that tape?
Sammy: Might send it to Hank Brown, or someone in the WCF. Seth might get a kick out of hearing you talk shit about these three guys. What was it you said earlier? Tear into them like a savage asshole?
Me: Yeah, something like that.
Sammy: Well, I'm sorry I ever doubted you. I guess all that competitive video gaming made you one helluva trash talker.
Me: You should hear the 8 year-olds on the Vent sometimes. I was polite compared to the shit I've heard in some of these online games.
Sammy: Well, that shit has paid off, and in dividends. Still want to go and do some diving? I still have all the equipment rented.
Me: Might as well. At least we can say we did something while we're here. Everyone else just wants to do drugs and wander around in the desert talking to the air. Fucking idiots.
Sammy: No shit. We still got a few more hours to go. You wanna drive for awhile? I'm getting a little tired.
Me:I was hoping we could stop off somewhere. Gotta take a leak.
Sammy: Alright. We'll pull over and switch off. You go take a leak, and I'll grab some Cokes.
Me: Sounds like a plan.
He nods, as he pulls off at the next Pemex we see. I run off to use the bathroom, while he takes the opportunity to fuel up and buy some Cokes. We're back on the road in about 10 minutes, and a few hours later, we were donning our snorkels and dropping into the cool blue Pacific Ocean off the coast of Puerto Escondido.
After our excursion to the beach, we came back to Mexico City. I managed to get some quality gaming time in with Susan, which was the first time in quite a while where both of us were happy. This wrestling has started to get in the way of our passion for gaming. Not just for myself, but for Susan as well. She doesn't want me to know, but deep down, I know she worries for me, and that affects her just as much as it affects me and how I roll into things. Like big matches with guys who are out to hurt us just to prove they can.
Speaking of which, Sammy sent the recording of me trashing my opponents out to Seth, Hank, and even some people I had never even heard of at random magazines and wrestling radio personalities. It turns out that my shoot was well received, but I still felt a little dirty firing away at them the way that I did. The worst part was that it was recorded when I thought it was a private moment and not to be repeated. On one hand, at least they can't call me out for being a lying sack of shit when I go through the motions of saying that I respect what they've done in the WCF thus far, when in actuality, I honestly couldn't give a shit about what they've done thus far in their careers.
Most of that was the competitive nature in me, but some of that was because while they want to be fluffed up and made to feel like kings of this particular pond, they're bound to take anything I say and just twist it to their own means. Nothing I really say will matter, whether it be positive or negative. But at least they should know that I wasn't trying to feed them a line of bullshit. Just like in hindsight I was glad I wasn't interviewed and asked about my opinions on Corey Black, Jayson Price, or Teo del Sol. Hopefully after this unexpectedly recorded shoot, the rubberneckers will leave me alone on what my "real feelings" in regards to this match really are.
In truth though, nothing much has changed on the team. I still don't trust them as far as I could throw them. And being as big as they are in comparison to me, that toss isn't going to be very far. I still get a little nauseated when I think about Logan and I sharing a particular bloodline. What's next? My father calls me and tells me that Dag's dad and him shared a cell up in Shawshank? If that wound up being the case, then maybe I'll start paying attention to the movements of Dag a little closer, if only to get these guys out of my life a little faster.
Despite my feelings towards them, they seem to be warming up to me. Dag hasn't uttered a single racial epitaph in my general direction since our match against Black Asshole Sun. Logan hasn't called me a "boudle" (whatever the fuck that is) or told me to "SHUT UP" as loud as he can. Hell, even Seth offered to pick up the rental that Sammy and I took out to Oaxaca, as he considered it "inspiration" for the excessive shoot I pulled on these guys.
But despite the special treatment, I still feel a bit uncomfortable with all of this. Especially if all of this backfires and we wind up eating shit this week. For all the failures and weaknesses that I did point out in regards to our opponents, they were still formidable in their own rights. Sure, Andre isn't very accomplished, but he is getting better the more and more he applies himself to the ring. Jared may not have what it takes to be the true leader of #BeachKrew, but he is still a mastermind and was easily the first person that Wade Moor asked when he and the group needed guidance. And Joey Flash, for all the shitting he does on everyone and everything, is still a skilled grappler with two World Title reigns on his resume. We would be foolish to think this match will be a cakewalk.
No, not a cakewalk. Far from it. For them, this match is about redemption after Logan essentially spit in the face of both Flash and Holmes by cashing in and taking the World Title for his own. They're all going to be out for blood. Meanwhile, Logan and Dag, with the backing of Seth, want to press their fledgling dominance over the current incarnation of the WCF, and I'm along for the ride, it seems. Involved in this war that is brewing and threatening to explode.
Yeah, that's what this is. A war. No other way to explain it.
The music once again begins to play, as I reluctantly get to my feet. Whether I like it or not, I still have a role in this war, and a career to try and keep alive by any means necessary. Logan and Dag also answer the call, as the Main Event calls for us...
While they were all hyped about what was going to transpire next, I had my own doubts about what was to come next. Sure, we put Black Asshole Sun (not the name I came up with for them, by the way) out of the tournament against great odds, but our next opponents were not only hailed as even better, but they're also pissed off about losing said World Heavyweight Title this very evening. And there was a good chance that the next fight was going to get dirty as fuck.
Even worse is that now Logan has the prize he wanted all along, does he even give a shit about completing this tournament? I mean, Dag'll just follow along with whatever he wants, but where does that leave me in the end? Am I going to be left as a victim to these three #BeachedWhales for the next round? Like that fat guy was left to his own devices LAST YEAR in Trios against Fly, Orbit, and Black?
With my thoughts in my head, as I watched the fans leave, I hear the shuffle of feet behind me. I turn and see that it is Hank Brown coming outside, seemingly to smoke a cigarette. I didn't pay much mind to him, as I turned to watch the fans leave. I mean, I was in no great big hurry to go back to an empty hotel room. Hell, I was considering going to a bar and getting wasted on some mucho excellente tequila. Especially after picking up the pinfall in the match up tonight. I deserve that, at the very least.
Hank then walks over towards where I was, and I realized that the cigarette was NOT exactly a cigarette. He then says to me...
Hank: Game! Really nice show out there tonight! Wanna take a hit?
Me: Nah, I'm good...
I hoped that would be the end of our exchange, as he takes another pull off of the joint, but then he says...
Hank: For a guy who just played a big role in putting a highly touted team away tonight against all odds, you don't look to thrilled about it. Something bothering you?
Me: Nope. Super fucking peachy. Logan wins the World Title, so where does that leave me? Are we even going to complete this tournament? Or is he going to leave me swinging in the breeze like he did that fat guy last year?
Hank: Mod Deuce? Well, to be fair, that team had a snowball's chance in...
Me: People said the same thing about us tonight, as well. But that didn't stop me from planting Sunshine's head into the canvas. Didn't allow for Black or Price to stop me from doing it, either. But now that Logan has the title, what's in it for him to win this whole damn thing, now? Especially since Beach Krew...
Hank: It's "#BeachKrew"...
Me: Fuck a goddamn "hashtag"! That shit used to be called a pound sign! Anyways, my point being, those guys are probably super-pissed about how Logan snagged that title. God knows Jared Holmes really wanted that match-up with Joey Flash, so they could blow each other for the whole world to see! But Logan just fucked all that shit up, so just imagine how they're going to feel come next Sunday. And do you think Logan will come out and handle that kind of onslaught? Or is he going to pull the same shit in a new tournament and just walk away?
Hank: Wow! I hadn't even thought about it very much, truth be told, but you know...
Me: And you call yourself a reporter! You're not exactly a "big picture" guy, are you?
Hank: I live paycheck to paycheck, and I got problems. Actually waiting for my horse to arrive...
Jesus, they really don't drug test around here, do they?
I take the joint from Hank Brown and take a hefty pull off of it. Last time I took a toke was as a Freshman in high school, but I felt the tension just kinda go away, and I felt even lighter on my feet than I normally did. That last part I don't remember, but I wasn't called "Chunky Britches Chevalier" in high school for nothing! If those assholes could see me now, though. Well, if they have a decent cable package, they can!
SUCK IT, DEERING HIGH SCHOOL!!!
Hank: Did you just say "Suck it, Deering High School?"
Shit! I just said that out loud! Did I just say that out loud, too?
Hank: Are you stoned, already? WOW!!! You're a total lightweight!!!
I left as fast as I could, in case more thoughts surface that Hank would totally take out of context.
I needed to get back to the hotel, ASAP! Maybe get some soda, some Gummi Worms, and peanut butter! Yes! It was time for some peanut butter and Gummi Worm sandwiches!!! All of this while Hank is screaming in the background...
Hank: Hey!!! That was my joint!!!
I paid no mind to him, as I continued to puff away at the joint still lodged inside of my lips, as I went to the next scene of importance...
I left Arena Mexico via a chauffeur provided by Seth Lerch. Still baffling that I'm getting such treatment from him, so I wasn't about to waste this particular use of his services. My first stop was at a supermarket of any kind. I NEEDED MY PEANUT BUTTER AND GUMMI WORM FIX!!!
I went to Soriana, which I guess was like Shaw's. It was a supermarket, how else do I explain it? I found bread, peanut butter, Gummi Worms, and tequila. The girl behind the checkout counter looked at me as if I was strange, but whatever. She spouted off some numbers in Spanish, and I handed her over the amount of Pesos needed for the purchase. Seems that most of the numbers in Spanish are similar to those in French, which is what I took in high school. Figured I would need that more, considering Quebec and New Brunswick wasn't that far away.
After regretting not learning Spanish so I could chat up the really cute checkout girl, I continued my trek back to the hotel. I made one hell of a mess making a PBGW sandwich in the back seat of the limo. Hopefully that doesn't come out of my paycheck, considering some of the shit I've seen people do in the back of said limos in music videos and other forms of media. Ah, to be rich and famous...
I got dropped off at the Wyndham (which truly is worldwide, I guess) and I stumbled back to my room, with a security officer following me every step of the way. Why he did, I had no clue, but once I got there, I found myself shocked at who was standing at my door. I pulled down a pair of shades hanging on my face, which I had no clue where they came from, and said...
Me: Susan?
Susan: James...
Me: I thought you weren't going to come to Mexico. Out of protest, and all that noise...
Susan: I had time to think it over. And after talking to Sammy, I came to the conclusion that I was being selfish. I know this is your dream, but after the autograph session and Seth seemingly doing whatever he wants with you and your career, I just didn't think I could handle seeing you getting hurt. Or myself, for that matter. Hell, I half expected you to come up here with an armful of señoritas...
Me: No, just an armful of tequila, and all the makings for some PBGW sandwiches... The tequila is to help forget the pain of everything that's going on, though. Shit's been really bad since you decided not to come. Hell, it was so bad I smoked a joint before I decided to come here. Stole it from Hank Brown.
Susan: I see, and you look the part. I guess that's why the security guard followed you up here?
Me: Either that, or Seth is ensuring my protection. We won tonight, by the way.
Susan: So why would you need protection?
Me: Three reasons. Our next opponents are members of #BeachKrew, and Logan cashed in his shot at the World Title tonight against Joey Flash, and won. And Seth keeps telling me I'm some sort of "golden ticket" or some shit. He's really deep with The Family, or Team of Treachery, or whatever it's being called these days, and I guess he REALLY wants me on this team.
Susan: Wow. Way to kiss the ass of the boss while I was gone...
Me: Whatever. So can you grab one of these bags so I can open the door to the room?
She nods, and grabs a bag. Her scent gets caught in my nose, and after four days without her around, it arouses me. Enough for me to open the door, swing it wide, and as she goes in, I drop my bag next to the door, and move for her. I kiss her, hoping like Hell she felt the same way. I planted one on her lips, as she drops the bag and returns the kiss. We found our way to the bed as we stripped each other of the clothing we had on our bodies in the process, before we got down to pleasurable business...
About an hour later, we retrieved the items we had dropped after providing each other some pleasurable experiences in more ways than one. The bread was slightly crushed from when she dropped the bag and the peanut butter fell on top of it, but otherwise not a big loss. We made ourselves some PBGW sandwiches and washed them down with some Dos Lunas Añejo. We both agreed that tequila is probably not something we should ever wash anything down with ever again.
She then said after our shared agreement...
Susan: So I guess I should cancel my room here. I got one in case this didn't work out.
Me: What? You really thought I was just going to forget you and our 7 years together overnight?
Susan: I didn't know if you would or not. Not like we ever been split up before. And I didn't talk to you for several days. You called me for three days straight, then stopped on Sunday...
Me: Match day. I wanted to push everything out of my mind and focus on the match. My opponents were not noobs this time, so thinking about how you just walked away, and the government agent, and being in the damn match with...
Susan: Did you just say "government agent"?
Me: Oh, yeah. I'm being bullied by the United States government to provide details on Dag Riddik and his movements at every turn. Something about him being in some terrorist organization that wants to overthrow the governments of Scandinavia or some bullshit...
Susan: That's crazy! You said no, right?
Me: I did, then he threatened to put me on every government watchlist he could think of. And not just me, but my family and friends. He named you and Sammy by first and last name, so I had to say yes at that point.
Susan: And I thought Seth was the worst.
Me: I said the same thing! But what else do we expect from a government? Not like the government has ever been known for being reasonable. Just ask my father about that, and he'll tell you...
Susan: Can we not talk about him? He's never accepted you for who you are, so why dwell on him at all?
Me: Because he is my father. I'd hoped to at least hear from him by now, but I lost my phone earlier today...
Susan: It's over by the window, plugged in. I saw it when you went down on me and I bent over the side of the bed. I tried calling you today to let you know I'd be here. It's not like you to leave your phone behind.
Me: I'm not Caleb Ronan. And I remember why I left it here. And now we're back to the whole "focusing on the match" thing. Basically so Corey Black, Jayson Price, or Teo del Sol wouldn't kill me in that ring.
Susan: But you guys won that match, right? How did that go down?
Me: I hit Game Over on Teddy. Kinda wished I hit it on either of the other guys, though. Especially Corey Black, after calling me a basement dweller and saying that he'd show you what a "real man" was like.
Susan: You let Corey Black know that I don't date dinosaurs. I prefer them younger so I can train them the way I want them.
I got a chuckle out of that statement, but she was a few years older than me. She was heading to graduate school, and I was just shy of 20 when we met. It was this kind of statement that she made that had got my attention to begin with. Of course, it took me about a year to really make my move on her. She then says...
Susan: Besides, to the winners go the spoils. You made Corey Black and his team eat those words. "Real man"? More like "real big loser". Especially after tonight.
Me: Nobody was really focused on me, anyways. Everyone wanted a shot at Logan because he's Logan, or Dag because he's a huge asshole. But it's cool that everyone is leaving me alone. But it might not stay that way much longer. Especially considering most people had their money on Black Asshole Sun winning tonight against us.
Susan: Might also explain why Seth has such a hard on for you now. You just proved that your team is a credible threat to go all the way if you guys were able to put that team down.
Me: But now we face what they're calling themselves the "Dag Riddik Gang". Or DRG, for short. A jab at the Dark Riders Gang and Dag Riddik, obviously.
Susan: That's funny. They probably didn't think that they'd actually face you guys in the next round. Or that you guys would even make the tournament. You were essentially a last minute addition, right?
Me: That's what I was led to believe. But now, with Logan relieving Joey Flash of the World Title, and we have to face him, Jared Holmes, the Number 1 Contender for same World Title, and Andre Aquarius...
Susan: Who's Andre Aquarius?
Me: Oh, he's some guy who goes around calling everyone a "fuck boy". So the short answer is that he's basically a fuck boy. But those three are probably going to be out for blood come next Slam. And who do I have as a partner? The same guy that fucked them over tonight. And these guys are known for fighting dirty, if for nothing else.
Susan: Maybe Sammy can help you out in that department. He's here in Mexico, too. Came up with me.
Me: Sammy's in Mexico? Why?
Susan: We talked. After I told him everything, to include how I felt, he thought that maybe all of this was too much for you too fast. So he's left control of the gym to some of his more trusted guys and came along with me to Mexico. And honestly, after everything that's gone down, he may be right. He's the professional wrestler who knows how this business works. I'm just the girlfriend who's handling your finances.
Me: It's okay. Glad to have him here. This is a lot to take in in such a short period of time. Maybe he can help ensure I don't get killed in or out of the ring by either jealous asshole rival wrestlers. Or by terrorists. Or by the government. Maybe he's dealt with shit like this before when he was in the Big Time.
Susan: Well, if the government railroaded him into being a spy, they must've been real desperate. He wouldn't be my first choice...
Me: Maybe he has. Either way, he'll probably have some solid advice for me on the matter. If nothing else, he's always got some pretty solid advice. One more shot before we crash out?
Susan: Why not?
I poured us two more shots, before we clink plastic cups together and down them. She makes a face, as she says...
Susan: Next time remember salt and limes...
Me: I like it just the way it is. Smooth but tangy. Aged to perfection. Just like you, old lady...
She gives me a dirty look, before she jumps on top of me. We roll around for a bit before we go into Round 2 and the scene ends here. Unless you wanna see how a "real man" loves his lady...
Yeah, I didn't think you would...
Mike Tyson's Punch-Out starting theme plays on my phone in the 8-bit version, as I roll over and see that my phone is all the way over by the window. I groaned, as I got up out of bed in nothing but my birthday suit to go answer Sammy's call. I knew it was Sammy, because he's the only person linked to that ringtone on my phone.
I grabbed the phone and looked at it. With the swipe of my finger, I answer the call with a...
Me: What's up, Sammy?
Sammy: You gonna sleep all fucking day, or what?
Me: The thought crossed my mind. Where are you?
Sammy: Downstairs getting my grub on. Es muy excellente de chorizo.
Me: What?
Sammy: I was just telling the waitress the chorizo is excellent. Come on down, and I'll have them toss some huevos y chorizo down your gullet hole, as well.
Me: I'll just settle for some toast. I have a hangover. Me and the lady had some making up to do, and we did it over a bottle of tequila and inside of the bed. And we had some peanut butter and Gummi Worm sandwiches...
Sammy: Whatever, just get your ass down here. We got business to discuss.
He hung up, and I looked at my phone, which indicated to me that I had several missed messages. I decide to attend to them later, as a hot shower after an ass-gasm shit seemed more preferable than fielding messages at this particular moment.
I came down to the hotel restaurant and looked around to see if Sammy was there. He was easily spotted, as most of the breakfast crowd had already left. In front of him seemed to be more than just chorizo and eggs, but also fruit salad, coffee, orange juice, cereal, and even some bagels. I was hoping he did not want me to eat all of that...
I sat down as he was finishing off the fruit salad, as he says...
Sammy: I saw on the computer that you did pretty good work last night. Put the wannabe Mexican jumping bean's head into the center of the mat and got the pinfall.
Me: I think Logan held him in place, but yeah. Job was done.
Sammy: Maybe that'll shut Creeping Dick's mouth up for a minute or two. Same with that loudmouthed Price guy, too.
Me: I doubt it. They're all pinning the blame on Teo because that's what they do to try and keep their sterling reputations afloat. That, and their fragile egos can't accept being beaten by a better team. Even if my teammates are the absolute scum of the Earth.
Sammy: Yeah, but there's no denying you three work VERY WELL together. Seth was right in that aspect. Logan's lost a few steps, but makes up for it with a cunning that you don't see much of in wrestling. Dag is young, but on the same path as Logan. He's got an incredible mix of speed and strength, but a mind that works just as hard inside of that ring. I guess what they really needed was someone to take to the air when needed, but your mind with all those games, is just as analytical and working just as hard inside of that ring. You guys were a joy to watch.
Me: Glad somebody enjoyed it. Next week is probably going to be a bloodbath.
Sammy: Are you talking about those Beach Bums, or whatever the Hell they're calling themselves? Talk about sour grapes. I guess its too bad about that Joey Flash/Jared Holmes match. But to be honest, it was looking to be a jerkfest, anyways. That's all I ever see those guys do, is jerk each other off. What makes that particular Main Event going to be any different? That's not exciting, at all!
Me: It's probably why Logan cashed in, but I didn't ask. There's enough people who are going to ask that question of him, so we'll get our answer on that soon enough. My concern now is will he actually give a shit about the rest of the tournament? Or is he going to leave like he did last year?
Sammy: Good question, but my guess is no. He seems to enjoy sticking it to these guys in the WCF way too much to just leave. Especially after he's been told he doesn't have what it takes anymore to compete? I guess he's showing them...
Me: So where do I fit into all of this? I mean, how in the Hell did I get into this position? The other rookies usually have to break their asses to get this kind of endorsement from anyone else in the WCF. Seth just puts me on a pedestal right the fuck away! I'm not THAT good, am I?
Sammy: Honestly, I didn't think so, but I'm not a big time wrestling promoter, am I? But you did work your ass off to get to where you are. And I'll be damned if I let three assholes just tear into you for something that you had no control over! Hence why I'm here. I'm going to help you put these trash-talking douchebags in their fucking place. Which is the garbage. Because that's what they are.
Me: You're going to teach me how to cheat like they do?
Sammy: No. That's not exactly rocket science to cheat, and that's why I never taught you how. I thought you'd figure that part out on your own. No, instead, I'm going to teach you something better than that...
Me: The Dim Mak? I may need it in this...
Sammy: Have you been watching Bloodsport, again? Because the only thing I can teach you is the headbutt that Jackson uses to crush the bricks. But somehow I don't think that's your cup of tea.
Me: So what is it you're going to teach me?
Sammy: You'll see...
God, I hate it when he does that shit. Can't even tell me so I can at least mentally prepare for whatever he's going to put me through. After said talk, I managed to swallow down a plain bagel before we agreed to meet later on tomorrow. He tells me to quit drinking so I won't be hung over for tomorrow's work we have ahead of us. This just adds to the sense of dread I have for whatever training he has in store for me come tomorrow...
I went back up to the room after my very light breakfast to find that the bed was still occupied by Susan, who had the best idea ever to get rid of this crappy feeling. Maybe that NSA agent was wise to cut me off before, because now I feel like hammered dogshit.
My phone chimes as I start to go towards the bed and commence to crashing out for the foreseeable future, which reminded me that I still had a bunch of messages to field. I decided that now was as good a time as any, and got to my phone to see what was in store for me in my voicemail.
There were messages from several of my friends who saw the match and thought that I was awesome. Others voiced their concerns over the "choices" that I was making. Like they were my choices, but like I can explain to them that this is not how the upper echelon pros work. Someday they may make it, and then they may understand that such "choices" are really not up for negotiation. Such is life.
But the one message that really stuck with me was the one I got from my mother. The contents of the message truly rattled me to my core. Well, rather than just say what it is, maybe it's just best to let it be heard out loud, as I had to hear it over and over again, before I knew for a fact that I heard her correctly...
Mom: Hello! It's your Mother calling. Just letting you know that we saw you on the Slam television show tonight for the first time! I know you had your big debut on that Aftermath Pay Per View, but with bills and everything, we just couldn't afford to watch it.
But anyways, we wanted to let you know just how proud we are of our son making it to the big time on television! Even your father is proud of you, and is telling his friends about how you're on television just crushing these big time wrestling stars left, right, and center! I know he may never admit it to you, but he is proud, and don't you be thinking that he isn't, because it just isn't true!
We're also thrilled that you're working so well with Cousin Logan. My sister down in Virginia called me and asked me if you were in the WCF, because she saw you and recognized you from the pictures I sent her from when you were in high school. She was so surprised you had lost so much weight! She then let me know that despite them being estranged for several years now, that your cousin Logan is also a competitor in the WCF, and to my surprise, there you two were on the television! So glad that you were able to work out your differences, even though it was over 20 years ago when the incident occurred.
Anyways, I don't want to take up too much of your time. I bet you have lots of training to do, with the big tournament and that next group of guys you have to take on. Have fun fighting in the tournament, and we wish you the best of luck.
I love you, my little man.
And my mind STILL couldn't process it. It was so bad that I even woke up Susan to hear the message, to which she just groaned and told me she felt sorry for me if being related to Logan was indeed true. Then she ran to the bathroom, where I thought I heard her heave a few times. That was how I felt, but not because of the borderline alcohol poisoning we tried to give ourselves the night before.
I decided that I needed to hear this in live time, so I hit my Mom's number up on speed dial. After a few rings, I got an answer from my Mom, who seemed a bit giggly on the other end...
Mom: Pizza guy?
Me: No, Mom. It's me.
Mom: Who's me? I'm me! Ha ha...
Me: Mom, are you high right now?
Mom: Uhh...
Oh yeah, about my Mom. She was one of those "hippie" types who never really left the 70's in her mind. While she's always been able to hold down a job with her art degree she got from UMO, she's essentially a free spirit who somehow got hooked up with my father, who's a huge stick in the mud by comparison. Especially considering he was a returning and wounded Vietnam veteran when they met in 1972.
A year after they met, they were married and had my oldest brother Joseph. Five years later, my older sister Brooke was born. Five more years later, my other brother Timothy was born, followed by five years later, and here I came! Something tells me if Dad didn't go to prison, I would probably have a younger brother or sister, but by the time he got out of prison, my Mom was unable to have anymore children.
I'm figuring that the reason why they had us all five years apart was because, according to my mother, raising us kids past diapers and into school was the only thing they agreed on. My older siblings would go on about how as they got older, they would argue a lot, until mom got knocked up, and everything was fine once a new baby was in the house. But now it seems that in order for them to get along, they go and take advantage of the weed laws in Portland, and they smoke together. I guess whatever makes them both happy, I'm all for it.
But yeah, back to the conversation...
Me: You're high. It's no big deal, but when you left your voicemail yesterday, were you high when you called?
Mom: No, I don't think I was. Your Dad was, but he uses it to get to sleep sometimes...
Dad (background): Don't be telling people my business, woman!
Me: So that thing about Logan...
Mom: Oh, Cousin Logan... God, he was so mean to you when you were little! I remember this one time, you guys were playing video games while your Aunt Edith and I were out grocery shopping. We came back, and you were laid out on the floor and he was just standing over the top of you with this weird look in his eyes...
And then it all came rushing back...
I was six years old, and the year was 1994. Mortal Kombat II was all the rage at the time, and I was no exception to the fanbase it had gathered. And with so many adults telling me "That game is so violent, you can't play it!", well, it made me an even bigger fan than if they had just left the issue alone. Yes, I was one of those kids who grew up thinking adults were dumb. Now that I think about it, they still are...
We were down in Virginia visiting our Aunt Edith, who was a recent widow and had one son. I had forgotten his name on purpose, because after the incident in which I'm about to describe, it needless to say left a bad impression on me. Dad was still in prison at this time, so Mom always made an effort to go and visit with what family she had left. Mom was originally from there, but went to art school in Maine because it was as far away as she could get from the rest of the world. That, and she didn't get accepted into any of the art schools in New York or Boston, where she initially applied.
Anyways, the afternoon I had blocked out was just chock-full of myself kicking the absolute crap out of Logan at Mortal Kombat II. And being 6 years old, I'm fairly certain I was an absolute brat about it. If you stop and think about it, as a 6 year-old facing a much older and supposedly smarter/better at stuff in life point of view, I should NOT have been kicking his ass at this game this easily.
I remember the last match which had stoked the ire of Logan, when I defeated him with Johnny Cage. He was using Reptile, which now just further confirms that he really is a snake. I used the Shadow Kick almost exclusively in the final round, which sent him across the screen and never allowed for him to get close to me. As the round came to a close, Logan just tossed the controller down in frustration, as I said...
Young Me: Okay, I'll be nice this time...
I then performed the Friendship Fatality, as Johnny Cage signed an autograph "TO MY BEST FAN! Johnny Cage". I thought it was nice, since prior to that, I had done nothing but the regular Fatalities against him. He then says...
Young Logan: Friendship? Friendship?
Young Me: Well, I already did use the Torso Rip and the Head Pop Fatalities. I figured I'd change it up this ti-
The next thing I remember, he grabs me around the head, pulls me up to my feet, and then he jumps over me, while still holding my head in his arms. I remember going end over end, before I hit the ground a few feet away. I remember the last thing he said, before I passed out was...
Young Logan: SHUT UP!!!
My mind came back to now, and my mother was rambling on the other end of the phone. I then said...
Me: Mom, I got to go. I'll call you later. Probably on Mother's Day...
My Mom was still jabbering on, stoned out of her gourd it seemed, when I hung up. The revelation that I was related to Logan was just...
Sickening.
I went over to the bed and laid down. I then grabbed Susan and pulled her close, before I closed my eyes and attempted to suppress this particular memory from my mind...
Sammy: So you're related to the bastard. Not like you have to marry the bastard.
That was how Sammy put it in regards to the revelation that Logan and I were related by blood. We were in a rented Buick Regal and already in the district of Oaxaca. What our business was in Oaxaca was beyond me, as Sammy one again threw out there the "Just wait and see." response.
Pissing me off, is what he was doing with that response...
With a few hour trip ahead of us, it was bound to come up in conversation that Logan and I were blood related, and I needed some advice on how to proceed with Logan on this matter. Did he even really need to know? But I did point out my frustration with the idea of being related to such a monster. In regards to the "monster" comment, he did say in response to that...
Sammy: Yeah, he's a extra strength bastard, alright. So's that Dag Riddik guy, too. Is he really a racist?
Me: I honestly don't think he is. But he seems discontent with everything everywhere. Except for antique phones and trains, for some strange reason.
Sammy: Trains? As in they go "choo-choo"?
Me: Yes. But I'm beginning to think his whole racial attacks are out of sheer hatred for everything. He bags on religions the same way. And by religions, I mean all of them. Jesus is NOT his homeboy. Neither is Yahweh, Allah, Buddha, or any of them.
Sammy: What a weird guy. Whatever. The thing about your partners are that they're die hard bastards, but so are your upcoming opponents for the week. Flash, Holmes, and Aquarius are just as horrible as the two of them. In some eyes, you're what is called the "weak link" right now, because you aren't the bastard any of these 5 guys are.
Me: That's a little unfair. But to be fair, this is only my third match here in the WC...
Sammy: This is why we're taking this trip. A little education on how to handle these Beach Bums, or whatever the fuck they call themselves.
Me: Hashtag BeachKrew.
Sammy: What the fuck is a "hashtag"?
Me: You know on the phone they have the "Pound sign"? That's now a hashtag. Something Twitter came up with...
Sammy just shakes his head, as he says...
Sammy: You kids and your Twitter... Sounds pretty fucking stupid to me...
Me: I sort of use it, but it is kind of stupid. So this trip is about how to deal with #BeachKrew? Are you going to tell me where we're going, or do I have to jump out of the car?
Sammy: We're going scuba diving, so we can observe their natural habitat up close and in person.
Me: Uh, Sammy? You know they don't actually live at the beach, right?
Sammy: But they claim to be creatures of the sea, so hopefully we can go and find them in their natural habitat. I even got some dive gear rented out that has the full face masks and microphones so we can actually talk about what we see when we see it.
Me: Okay... It's been awhile since I went diving. Last time was when I worked on that lobster boat about 5 years ago. You dive?
Sammy: Mostly muff, but I know my way around a snorkel and tanks. But afterwards, we're going to do some shoots on these guys based on what you see. We're going to find a few things that I have in mind, and then we're going to talk about them after we make said observations.
Me: This sounds like a huge waste of time. I mean, I wouldn't mind diving, but if we want to talk about sea creatures that each of these guys are like, I've already thought of what they are.
Sammy: Oh really? Well, please do tell...
I knew I was being put on the spot, but the comparisons had been burning in my mind for the longest time. As for the trash talk, well, I've been a competitive gamer for a LONG time...
Me: First off, we got Andre Aquarius. Little guy. Part-timer until recently. He reminds me of the barnacles I used to have to scrape off of the side of the lobster boat I worked. Always stuck to something, never moving on their own, but rather along for the ride and eating whatever plankton gets in its way. Like Andre, who settles for the table scraps of whatever #BeachKrew doesn't want. The dregs. Some could even say that Andre is their own little parasite that they keep around for shits and giggles.
Sammy: Oh please, go on.
Me: But now that Wade Moor isn't around, the supreme leader of this group, they're all up in arms about who's going to lead this group. Andre thinks he has what it takes, even though he hasn't done Jack Shit inside of that ring. He's a joke, and he knows it. So what does he do? He throws his lot in with Jared Holmes, and has become Jared's own personal barnacle as a result. Again feeding off of whatever he or Flash doesn't doesn't finish off. Essentially, this guy is dead weight for their team, and everyone knows it except for him.
What, because he's had a few good matches here and there, he thinks he's relevant? In the grand scheme of #BeachKrew, he's easily the most expendable member of that group. Not Wade Moor, for obvious reasons, nor Jared Holmes, even though he's nothing great to write home about. Sure as shit can't say that Dustin Beaver, Kyle Kemp, or Johnny Rabid are the most expendable members of that group, either. Hell, even Sandy Coconutz serves a better purpose than Andre Aquarius! She's the team whore, right? They do the whole gangbang thing on her probably as a team building exercise. Except Andre, who's probably relegated to jerking off in the corner while watching Wade's flabby ass pump his thickness harder into the asshole of Sandy Coconutz. Fuck, even the dead guy from the group is more relevant than Andre Aquarius!
Yet that accidental pregnancy/abortion survivor still walks around like he's King Shit of Turd Mountain, when he hasn't done shit! And then you got his beach buddies all backing him when in actuality they keep him around just so they know that's about as low as you can go, before you get tossed on your ass out the door. He's the bar, alright. The bar for how shitty you can be, but not be booted from #BeachKrew. Because when they do have a bad night, they gotta have that one person they can kick around so they can feel better about themselves. That is the role that Andre Aquarius has in the grand scheme of #BeachKrew.
This team is probably no different. Joey Flash probably rage fucked Andre on the way back to the dressing room after he got his shit punched in by Logan at the end of last Slam. Jared Holmes probably helped him, because that's just what Jared Holmes does, kick a guy while he's down. And Andre probably took it, because he knows his lot in life. To take it in the ass for the sake of his team, because that is his function. That is, if he wants to continue being the barnacle that doesn't get brushed off.
Sammy: Jesus! I didn't think you'd be able to trash a guy like that...
Me: I'm not finished! We're now moving on to Jared Holmes, or Los Tiburones, or 6ix God or whatever the hell he's calling himself these days. I remember when I was a kid going to the beach in Kennebunk, and seeing what looked like a gray and slimy bowl upside down on the beach. I remember kicking it with a bare foot, and getting stung pretty bad as an end result. Come to find out, it was a jellyfish. Full of poison and sting, but lacking any discernible spine of any sort. Yup, we're talking about Jared Holmes.
I mean, prior to Wade Moor's disappearance into the deep blue sea post his World Title run that consisted of him taking on the same two guys over and over again until somehow Price was able to pry it from him, Jared Holmes was just as equal in being considered the Team Joke. Sure, NOW he pulls his shit together and pulled one off at the Trilogy Cup Finals against Kemp, but before that, he was content with being a drugged out noisemaker and general ass in the name of #BeachKrew. But again, with no guidance by Wade Moor, he thinks he's the next in line to be King Merman under the sea. But how can anybody in #BeachKrew really take him seriously when there are members within the group that are more capable mentally AND physically to do said job?
He should stick to the things that he knows. Like LSD, drinking wine with his twiggy bitch of a girlfriend who's probably unable to conceive because of their combined drug use along with her constant use of the twat scrapper that most would call an abortionist while in high school slutting it up with whoever would allow themselves to bang a girl that looks like a guy in the chest! Which was probably her step-father and Jared Holmes. But we'll get to the questionable sexuality of Jared Holmes later on...
Sammy: No, we really don't have to talk about that. Really has nothing to do with the match at hand...
Me: I said we'll get to that later. As in when it is most relevant. Do you want me to continue this, or not? This was what you wanted, right? Me being able to trash these guys like a savage asshole? Because some people think I'm soft? Well, sorry to disappoint you in that aspect!
Anyways, back to Holmes the spineless jellyfish. Somehow you managed to weasel yourself into a victory at Trilogy, and you now sit the Number 1 Contender for the World Title. And I know how much you REALLY wanted to face your partner, in more ways than one, at XIII or whatever fucking venue you wanted to have your public date/coming out of the closet moment with Joey Splatters on Your Face. Or is he a dribbler? Eh, I'm sure you like it either fucking way.
Too fucking bad Logan came in and beat your boyfriend's ass and took the shiny gold belt away from him at the end of Slam. Ruined your picture perfect date you had with Joey. Boo-fucking-hoo for you! And now you're all mad and you're going to say mean and hurtful things to get us off of our game. Stinging, poisonous words to sow discontent and anger within our group. Two can play at that game, you cheap bastard.
But the thing is that with the exception of this Trilogy Tournament and the War record that you and Grayson Battle/Gemini Pierce co-own, you really haven't been very relevant in your tenure in the WCF. Except maybe if we need a poster child for an anti-drug commercial, in that you are the example of what happens to your brain on drugs. You turn into a sniveling twatwaffle who just goes around saying whatever he wants with no consequence because you had the big whale that was Wade Moor protecting your sorry ass from the repercussions of your words. The day you step into that ring with us, and you're going to get dosed with your own fucking poison. From a man who has a spine, and is willing to back everything up with or without the help of a team.
The cracked egg on the television back in the day? That is you, and in very short order.
Sammy: What about Joey Flash? What do you associate him with in regards to the sea?
Me: That one is a bit difficult. Technically, he's not a part of #BeachKrew, even though I did see some signs in the last crowd saying "Joey Splash" or some garbage like that. I was thinking maybe not inside of the sea, but on the beach. Like a seagull? Like every bird, he goes about and shits on just about everything that he can. And gets away with it because he runs from a real challenge whenever it truly presents itself. And those that has bested him legitimately? He shits on the hardest! It was no real wonder why Bates snapped at the end of their match and damn near decapitated Joey Flash in the middle of that ring. It was just too bad that Bates wasn't able to do it DURING the match like he was able to do so last year, hence crushing the Imperium hopes and dreams before they could become a reality.
That must sting Joey's ass like a bitch. Worse than what Jared Holmes does to that ass whenever they're out doing whatever it is they do on their weekly play dates. Stings to know that the DRG crushed him like the bug that he is, so he has to go around and mock them as the Dag Riddik Gang. Or the DRG. I guess Dag appreciates the flattery that they would name their team after him? I don't know, because I try not to talk to him too much. He's another seagull that shits on anything and everything. But mockery aside, it still doesn't stop the fact that they crushed your ass like a cheap soda can. If anything, it is their example that will help US do the exact same thing to you and your hopeless little minions THIS year.
Of course, outside of the ring, you get away with that shit because your Daddy or someone close to you is part of the big, bad Mafia. Yet another sackless asshole who hides behind a group to keep himself safe when he runs off at the mouth. Was that how you bested Dune? Did you do the same to Price? Did your Daddy make them both "an offer they couldn't refuse"? Is that how your career in the WCF was built? It wouldn't surprise me in the least. Just like it wouldn't surprise me if you saw things not quite working out for you this year, and you leave Jared Holmes or Andre Aquarius as tribute to our team efforts overall. Kind of how like ICE Beckman and Zombie McMorris left you to die at the hands of the DRG last year. Though between you and me, I hope Logan finishes his delusional ass off once and for all.
Sammy: Wishful thinking, but highly doubtful. I think you called it when you said he'll leave Andre or Jared hanging out to dry. That loss he took for Imperium really damaged his calm, his confidence, his pride, and everything that makes Joey tick, because he thinks he is invincible. Except to Adam Young, for some strange reason. Of all people in the WCF, he's lost to Adam Young twice?
Me: Maybe Adam Young has no price, and that proves what a real hack Joey Flash in the Pan is inside of that ring.
Sammy: Joey Flash in the Pan? Yeah, don't use that pun ever again. As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to erase that part off of the tape...
Me: What? You taped all of that?
Sammy: Yeah! I learned how to use this phone application to record audio. Wish I had this technology when I was coming up. Tape recorders were about the size of a briefcase growing up. And they took ridiculously sized batteries to run them, which would then die about an hour into using the damn thing.
Me: So what are you going to do with that tape?
Sammy: Might send it to Hank Brown, or someone in the WCF. Seth might get a kick out of hearing you talk shit about these three guys. What was it you said earlier? Tear into them like a savage asshole?
Me: Yeah, something like that.
Sammy: Well, I'm sorry I ever doubted you. I guess all that competitive video gaming made you one helluva trash talker.
Me: You should hear the 8 year-olds on the Vent sometimes. I was polite compared to the shit I've heard in some of these online games.
Sammy: Well, that shit has paid off, and in dividends. Still want to go and do some diving? I still have all the equipment rented.
Me: Might as well. At least we can say we did something while we're here. Everyone else just wants to do drugs and wander around in the desert talking to the air. Fucking idiots.
Sammy: No shit. We still got a few more hours to go. You wanna drive for awhile? I'm getting a little tired.
Me:I was hoping we could stop off somewhere. Gotta take a leak.
Sammy: Alright. We'll pull over and switch off. You go take a leak, and I'll grab some Cokes.
Me: Sounds like a plan.
He nods, as he pulls off at the next Pemex we see. I run off to use the bathroom, while he takes the opportunity to fuel up and buy some Cokes. We're back on the road in about 10 minutes, and a few hours later, we were donning our snorkels and dropping into the cool blue Pacific Ocean off the coast of Puerto Escondido.
After our excursion to the beach, we came back to Mexico City. I managed to get some quality gaming time in with Susan, which was the first time in quite a while where both of us were happy. This wrestling has started to get in the way of our passion for gaming. Not just for myself, but for Susan as well. She doesn't want me to know, but deep down, I know she worries for me, and that affects her just as much as it affects me and how I roll into things. Like big matches with guys who are out to hurt us just to prove they can.
Speaking of which, Sammy sent the recording of me trashing my opponents out to Seth, Hank, and even some people I had never even heard of at random magazines and wrestling radio personalities. It turns out that my shoot was well received, but I still felt a little dirty firing away at them the way that I did. The worst part was that it was recorded when I thought it was a private moment and not to be repeated. On one hand, at least they can't call me out for being a lying sack of shit when I go through the motions of saying that I respect what they've done in the WCF thus far, when in actuality, I honestly couldn't give a shit about what they've done thus far in their careers.
Most of that was the competitive nature in me, but some of that was because while they want to be fluffed up and made to feel like kings of this particular pond, they're bound to take anything I say and just twist it to their own means. Nothing I really say will matter, whether it be positive or negative. But at least they should know that I wasn't trying to feed them a line of bullshit. Just like in hindsight I was glad I wasn't interviewed and asked about my opinions on Corey Black, Jayson Price, or Teo del Sol. Hopefully after this unexpectedly recorded shoot, the rubberneckers will leave me alone on what my "real feelings" in regards to this match really are.
In truth though, nothing much has changed on the team. I still don't trust them as far as I could throw them. And being as big as they are in comparison to me, that toss isn't going to be very far. I still get a little nauseated when I think about Logan and I sharing a particular bloodline. What's next? My father calls me and tells me that Dag's dad and him shared a cell up in Shawshank? If that wound up being the case, then maybe I'll start paying attention to the movements of Dag a little closer, if only to get these guys out of my life a little faster.
Despite my feelings towards them, they seem to be warming up to me. Dag hasn't uttered a single racial epitaph in my general direction since our match against Black Asshole Sun. Logan hasn't called me a "boudle" (whatever the fuck that is) or told me to "SHUT UP" as loud as he can. Hell, even Seth offered to pick up the rental that Sammy and I took out to Oaxaca, as he considered it "inspiration" for the excessive shoot I pulled on these guys.
But despite the special treatment, I still feel a bit uncomfortable with all of this. Especially if all of this backfires and we wind up eating shit this week. For all the failures and weaknesses that I did point out in regards to our opponents, they were still formidable in their own rights. Sure, Andre isn't very accomplished, but he is getting better the more and more he applies himself to the ring. Jared may not have what it takes to be the true leader of #BeachKrew, but he is still a mastermind and was easily the first person that Wade Moor asked when he and the group needed guidance. And Joey Flash, for all the shitting he does on everyone and everything, is still a skilled grappler with two World Title reigns on his resume. We would be foolish to think this match will be a cakewalk.
No, not a cakewalk. Far from it. For them, this match is about redemption after Logan essentially spit in the face of both Flash and Holmes by cashing in and taking the World Title for his own. They're all going to be out for blood. Meanwhile, Logan and Dag, with the backing of Seth, want to press their fledgling dominance over the current incarnation of the WCF, and I'm along for the ride, it seems. Involved in this war that is brewing and threatening to explode.
Yeah, that's what this is. A war. No other way to explain it.
The music once again begins to play, as I reluctantly get to my feet. Whether I like it or not, I still have a role in this war, and a career to try and keep alive by any means necessary. Logan and Dag also answer the call, as the Main Event calls for us...
