Post by Cliff of Doom on Sept 18, 2016 6:58:58 GMT -5
Why am I doing this?
I don’t mean running through an airport. I mean, why am I doing any of this? Why am I trying to teach Monday through Friday and wrestle for a national wrestling promotion on Sundays in different venues all over the country just to rush back home Sunday night in order to get back to work on Monday morning?
As soon as I walked through the curtain after my Fatal Four-Way was over, I sprinted to the locker room, packed my shit, jumped into the cab that was waiting for me (I didn’t even bother showering), got to the airport, got checked in (with many people standing a few feet from me because of the smell), got searched (which went quickly because, as I’ve mentioned twice already, I smell and the guards just wanted to get me through the security checkpoints as quickly as possible) and now I’m running to my gate.
I arrive with time to spare. Actually, quite a bit of time. An hour, in fact. I guess I could have taken a few minutes to shower. But fuck it. It’s better to be too early than too late.
Finally, I can relax a little bit.
I find a seat and lay my back against the chair. I put on some music to try to calm my mind. Between the match and trying to get to this airport, my adrenaline was in overdrive. What’s some good, soothing music? I searched through my iTunes playlist.
KT Tunstall. She’s pretty good for mellowing out. I turn her on, put my head back, and close my eyes.
That was not an easy match. Jaice Wilds brought it this time. What about when he Russian leg swept me in mid air? Holy God, that was genius. Then he Disaster Kicked me when I had O’Neal in the No Leaf Clover. I was a sitting duck. I should just be thankful that he didn’t go for the pin after that second Xtreme Dream that he gave to O’Neal. When he went to the top rope to attempt the Aerial Ace, he left himself open for the Cliffhanger. If he had just gone for the pin, there wouldn’t have been enough time to get into that ring and turn the tide in my favor. Wilds in I will face off again. I know. And next time, I don’t know if I...I don...I d…
Gate Agent: Sir?
I can hear words. It sounds like a lady’s voice. I can feel her hand on my arm. My eyes shoot open. I turn my head side to side rapidly.I sit up quickly. Where am I? Why am I…
Cliff: OH, SHIT!
I fucking fell asleep!
Cliff: Did my flight leave yet?!
Gate Agent: Which flight was it, sir?
Cliff: The 11:30 to LaGuardia!
Gate Agent: Oh, yes, sir, that flight left half an hour ago. You didn’t hear them calling people up for boarding?
Cliff: Obviously not! I was asleep!
Gate Agent: Alright, sir, no need to yell. We can probably get you on another flight.
I collapse back into my chair and hold my head in my hands.
Cliff: Oh, God, I have to get to work!
Gate Agent: Alright, sir, we’ll do the best we can do to get you home.
She’s really being quite calm considering that she has to deal with me, who right now is acting like a lunatic because he told his wife and his principal that wrestling would not impede on his teaching career. It didn’t take long to go back on those words.
I’m eventually able to book another ticket, shelling out hundreds of more dollars in the process. And the flight doesn’t leave until 7:00 in the morning. Well, I’m not making it to work today. I call the school and let them know. Then, I-email my plans to the secretaries to give to the substitute teacher.
I just wait in the airport until then. I’m drinking cup after cup of coffee so that I can stay awake long enough to, you know, not miss my flight.
My phone rings. I look at who it is. Tina. Fuck.
I answer it. I don’t want to sound cheerful because I know she’s pissed, but I also don’t want to sound too negative because she’s probably going to suck up all the negativity in the conversation. I’m going to go for the emotionless voice. Just sell nothing.
Cliff: Hello?
Tina: Where the hell are you? Did your flight land yet? I’m in the terminal waiting for you!
I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a very tall building strapped to a harness, not knowing that if I step off if the harness will catch me. A jump and pray for the best.
Cliff: I’m in Montgomery. I missed my flight.
Tina: WHAT!
I wait to see if any other fire is going to come through the phone. When it’s safe, I speak again.
Cliff: Yep.
Tina: How the fuck did that happen?!
Cliff: I fell asleep at the gate waiting for my flight.
I can tell that she doesn’t have her ear up to her phone and she’s thinking about what she wants to say next.
Tina: I wake up at 1:30 in the morning to drive to fucking Queens to pick you up so that you could get to work, I’m feeling scared because I’m a five foot woman alone in a third world airport, and you don’t make your flight, let alone have the decency to call and say that you missed it?!
I try to make a joke.
Cliff: Well, can you blame me for not calling?
Tina: Oh, really? Find your own fucking way home now!
I hear the click of the phone call ending. This is the part where the harness snaps and I splatter all over the concrete below.
6:30 comes and I get on line to board the plane. The flight leaves ten minutes late because someone was late. Well, I guess it’s better to be late than not get on the plane at all.
I get to LaGuardia around 12:30. I hail a cab. An hour and $160 later, the cab pulls up to my in-law’s house. I walk through the side gate and down the stairs to mine and Tina’s apartment. She’s not home yet. She won’t be for a few hours. I hope she’s cooled off by then. Probably not.
I plug my phone in (it died on the plane). When it boots up, a text message pops up from Sars, the agent who discovered me at LIWA.
You’re facing Lilith, Crazy J, and Teddy Blaze next week. It’s your first time facing some credible vets. Don’t waste the opportunity.
Well, that brightens my mood a bit. It’s another four-way, but it’s my chance to prove that I can roll with some major players in the WCF. If I have a good showing, maybe my stock will go up. Maybe I’ll get a shot at a title. Maybe people will see me as a real threat in the War match. That would be something. People underestimate me because of the name I’ve chosen to wrestle by. I mean, I don’t care what they say about the name. It means something to me. It’s just that people immediately discount me because of it. Then I get in the ring and I show what I can do and those people say to me, “Hey, I judge you based on your name but you’re actually pretty good.” When my next match is booked, a new crop of people speak some verbal diarrhea about my name and then I shut them up, too.
I really hate people who speak too much, especially when 99% of what they say is bullshit. It seems like day after day more and more people, whether it’s on social media, the talking head news shows, or just plain old people on the street, think they need to constantly talk and opine and give their two sets and shit and shit right out of the gaping asshole below their nose. Even if they don’t know what they’re talking about, they just spew whatever thought comes into their head.
Fucking Lilith is like that. That bitch is annoying. You could be having a conversation with someone in the locker room about anything and she has to jump right into the conversation with her own unsolicited comments and jokes that are about as funny as Ann Coulter during the roast of Rob Lowe on Comedy Central.
And questions! This bitch has always got to ask fucking questions about whatever it is you’re talking about. We have millions of libraries across the country with books written by the most intelligent people in the world. Smart phones make it possible to look up anything in a millisecond. But when Lilith has a question, what does she do? She gets in your face and asks one fucking question after the other. And don’t think one answer will get you off the hook, either. She’ll keep asking and asking and asking until she finds something that distracts her like a dog who stops barking as soon as it notices a squirrel. Sometimes she doesn’t even let you answer the first question before she’s off and asking the next question!
The bottom line is that she needs constant attention, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. I’ve encountered plenty of kids like her in school. There is one constant between all of them: they have no friends, or at least all the friends they had abandoned them because they got sick of their shit.
That’s why Sarah Twilight doesn’t want to be friends with her. Sarah Twilight is no upstanding citizen, herself, but at least she has the wherewithal to recognize when you need to cut certain people out of your life.
I mean, Sarah Twilight ran the WCF for a few weeks. As much as people may not like her, she steered the ship whose passengers include guys like The Butcher and Gemini Battle and, of course, Lilith; you know, unstable people. Plus, Sarah Twilight is a serious competitor who is one of the favorites to win War. I’ll eliminate her if I get a crack at her on October 2, but she’s one of the favorites nonetheless. She doesn’t have time to cater to the needs of a parasite like Lilith. I mean, what person with serious aspirations and goals could have time for someone who is as weird and needy as Lilith. A person would have to have absolutely no life and hate him or herself to want to subject their existence to that of Lilith’s.
Lilith needs to wake up and smell the coffee. Nobody likes her. Nobody ever will like her; not as long as she continues to be crazy and talk to teddy bears.
Oh, God, the teddy bears. Jesus Christ, she talks to fucking teddy bears! I had a teddy bear that I talked to once- when I was FIVE. Unless Lilith was born on Leap Year Day, she is not five years old anymore.
And when she’s not around her teddy bears, she’s calling people “bear.” This bear, that bear. You’re a bear, he’s a bear, she’s a bear, we’re all bears in her twisted, psychopathic world!
Her only saving grace is that she can wrestle. She is a former champion, something that I cannot claim. She is vicious. I shudder to think about what would happen if she used the Death Grip on my balls like she did to Drake Knight.
Wrestling isn’t just physical, though. It’s mental. And if you are mental, than you’re not going to win. You have to concentrate. You have to have a clear plan and a clear mind. Lilith has got her mind on too many things and none of those things seem to be wrestling. I’m going to exploit that on Sunday just like people exploit Lilith, get what they want from her, and leave her laying. I will exploit her weakness, use her to get a victory, and leave her looking up at the lights.
I will say this: she is pretty hot. I mean, I’d bang her. If only she wasn’t a lesbian. Or maybe she’s bi. If she were bi, I’d definitely hit th--
What am I saying?! I’m a married man! Jesus!
Why did I decide to run at night? I can’t see a damn thing. And why am I wearing dark clothes? Am I asking for a car to hit me? If I didn’t need to train for my match on Sunday, I’d be in the apartment right now watching TV with Tina. She’d probably want to watch My Big, Fat, Fabulous Life, but you have to make the wife happy. At least I have the Solomonster Sounds Off podcast playing on my headphones to keep me company.
Solomonster: Cliff of Doom has really impressed me over these last three weeks.
Oh, shit, he’s talking about me!
Solomonster: He had a fun little match with Jaice Wilds, “Real Deal” Jason O’Neill, and Jake Wakef---
Suddenly, a song starts playing over the headphones. What the hell? What happened to Solomonster? I pull my phone out and look at the screen. It’s gone completely black. I hit the button on the side of the phone but nothing pops up. What is going on with my phone?
Wait a minute. I know this song. I listen for a few seconds before I figure out what it is. It’s “Prosthetics” from Slipknot’s first album. Wow, I haven’t heard this song in years.
Even if you run I will find you
Jesus, I forgot those were the first lyrics. That’s the last thing you want to hear on a nighttime run.
I decided I want you, now I know, I need
A pair of headlights are shining from behind me. I move to the side of the road so I don’t get hit by the car but it seems as if the lights are following me. I motion for the car to go around me but it won’t. It continues to stay behind.
If you can’t be bought, tougher than I thought
Keep in mind, I am with you
This car seems to be getting closer and closer to me but won’t pass. I look behind.
Never left out fate, can't concentrate
You will be mine!
Holy shit! That’s not a car! It’s Lilith with headlights on here tits!
Ah, fucking you will be mine!
Ah, fucking you will be mine!
Ah, fucking you will be mine!
I sprint, but no matter how fast I run, I can’t lose her.
I found you
Leanin' out of an open window
You laughed (my fingers clenched)
Too perfect, far too careless
I couldn't help myself - I just took you
Lilith tackles me to the ground.
Cliff: Lilith! What are you doing?!
Lilith: Cliffy Bear, why did you think those awful things about me?
I squirm but she has me pinned down to the blacktop.
Cliff: Lilith, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean any of it! I was having a bad day.
Lilith: Aw, it’s okay Cliffy Bear. C’mon, let’s make up.
She starts putting her hand down my pants.
Cliff: Lilith, no, I’m married.
She puts her finger over my mouth.
Lilith: Shhhhhhhh. What little Tina Bear don’t know won’t kill her.
I consider it.
Cliff: You’re right.
Lilith: That’s good. Now just lay there and relax. I’ll make you feel all better.
She clutches my balls in the Death Grip. I scream bloody murder.
Cliff: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Dammit, man, I knew it was a mistake
I try to struggle free. She lifts her other hand in the air. I know she’s about to Death Grip my face.
Cliff: No, Lilith. No! No! NOOOOO!
When I scream the last “no,” I sit up. It’s dark and I’m sweating profusely. I look around frantically. I’m in my bedroom. In my bed. I rejoice in the realization.
Cliff: Oh, thank God. It was just a nightmare.
Boom clap
The sound of my heart
The beat goes on and on and on and on and
Boom clap
You make me feel good
Come on to me come on to me now
Where the hell is that song coming from? I look over at the nightstand. It’s coming from Tina’s phone.
Cliff: Honey, why is “Boom Clap” the alarm on your phone?
Tina doesn’t respond.
Cliff: Tina, your alarm’s going off.
I shake her but nothing’s happening.
Cliff: Tina? Tina, c’mon, wake up. Jesus Christ.
I flip the light on and see Tina with a knife in her heart. Blood is all over the sheets. I look in horror. It’s too shocking to even make a noise. No, Tina, you can’t be dead. Oh, my God, oh, my God. Tina, no!
Suddenly, the closet door flings open and out steps Lilith holding a bloody knife in her hand.
Cliff: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
I fall backwards off the edge of the bed, still screaming. I try crawling out of the bedroom, but I feel someone grab my arm.
Tina: Cliff.
Is that Tina’s voice? Is she alive?
Tina: CLIFF!
I open my eyes and see Tina standing above me. I’m not on the floor. I’m on the couch in the living room.
Tina: You’re having a bad dream.
I breath a sigh of relief. The TV’s on. I must have fallen asleep while watching it.
Cliff: Oh, God, am I glad you’re home. It wasn’t just one bad dream, it was two. First Lilith, was chasing me while I was running and she was squeezing my balls and then I woke up in another nightmare where she murdered you and…
Tina: Who’s Lilith?
Cliff: This crazy bitch that wrestles for the WCF.
Tina: Great. First you stand me up at the airport and now I come home to find you having a dream about a woman you wrestle with who murders me. Real nice. Is that what you want to happen?
Cliff: What? No, honey, it wasn’t like that. This bitch is nuts. It was a nightmare, not a wet dream. Trust me, I would never cheat on you with her.
Tina: Oh, but if the right woman came along, you’d cheat on me.
Oh, God, I can’t win today.
Cliff: Alright, I’ve had a long day, you’ve had a long day. Sit down and relax.
Tina thinks about it for a second before begrudgingly sitting down. I sit up.
Cliff: Look, I’m sorry about the plane and leaving you by yourself in the airport. There’s no excuse for it. And the joke I tried to make, it was a bad one. None of it will happen again.
She sits staring straight ahead and crossing her arms.
Tina: You said you weren’t going to miss work today and you went ahead and did just that. Why should I believe you?
She’s got a point there.
Cliff: You shouldn’t, but I need you to have faith that I can handle this. Last night, that was just a stumble, a little hiccup. I won’t make that mistake again. It won’t be the norm for me.
Tina doesn’t say anything at first. She tightens her lips and then speaks, still not looking at me.
Tina: You know, Coleman came into your classroom today.
My eyes widen.
Cliff: What?
Tina: Yeah. Apparently, he wanted to observe you today.
Cliff: He wanted to do my informal observation today? On the fifth day of school?
Tina: Yep. And when he realized you weren’t there, he found me in the hallway and asked if you were sick.
Oh, God, I hope she said yes.
Cliff: And did you?
She pivots her head just enough to make eye contact with me.
Tina: Yes.
A breath a sigh of relief.
Cliff: Thank you, honey.
Tina: Don’t thank me! It was totally awkward! I had to lie to the principal, and what’s worse, I could tell he knew I was covering for you! You know, I don’t have the luxury of tenure like you! They could fire me at any time if they wanted for no reason! You better not cost me my job! You want to lose your job, be my guest, but don’t screw me in the process.
Cliff: I’m not. I won’t put you in that position again. I’m sorry.
I go to kiss the side of her face but she gets up off the couch. I fall forward.
God damn it, can’t she just forgive me? I hate that shit. Whatever happened to forgive and forget? I guess she subscribes to “punish and make the other person feel shittier than they already do.” Now I’m pissed at her for being pissed at me.
What fucking time is it? 7:00? Good, Jeopardy’s on. I need something to take my mind off of this horrible fucking day. I flip the channel to 7. It’s already on.
Alex Trebek: And here are your categories: “It’s Not Rocket Science,” “Potent Potables,” “Famous Thespians,” “CEOs,” “Let It Snow,” and finally, “Detroit.” Shane, you’re the returning champion, so you get to pick the first category.
Shane: I’ll take Detriot for 100.
Alex Trebek: For 100, here is the clue: This NFL team is the last to have gone 0-16. Shane.
Shane: Who are the Lions?
Alex Trebek: Correct. Pick again.
The first round continues. For some reason, Detroit sounds worse with every clue.
"In 2013, Detroit’s embarrassing finances forced the city to file for this legal status."
"This former mayor resigned after being convicted for obstruction of justice and perjury and is now serving 28 years for mail fraud, wire fraud, and racketeering."
"Fans of the Detroit rap group Insane Clown Posse, known collectively as these, were offended when they learned that they were classified as a gang by the FBI."
"This city came in second on the list of the most dangerous American cities, topped only by Detroit, who has held the less than dubious distinction for eight years."
My God, no wonder Crazy J’s from Detroit. He’s just as shitty as his city.
I really hate these fucking white guys who wear fucking face paint and act like they’re fucking gangstas from the hood. Newsflash: I work in the fucking hood. The kids I teach would eat these painted motherfuckers for breakfast.
Groups like Insane Clown Posse and Twiztid were, are, and always will be niche and laughed at by the rest of the population for what they attempt to look like: clowns. And the same goes for anybody else who looks like these assholes, including Crazy J and Salem Shepard.
What do they call these guys, Juggalos? Well, they can juggalo my balls.
And it doesn’t surprise me that that hillbilly bitch Jason Cash has decided to hitch his wagon to these dickless losers. I have “zero tolerance” for these fucking people who muddy the waters of the collective gene pool. I feel dumber just knowing who they are.
Zero Tolerance wants to rule the world? The only world they rule is the backwoods where they replay that scene from Deliverance where the guy gets raped in the ass. If they want to rule the wrestling world, they’ll have to go through me at War.
But first, Crazy J will have to go through me this Sunday. I know his moveset. A lot of power. A lot of submissions. He knows himself and how to win. I know he’s the Hardcore Champion. I’m not taking that away from him, either. It’s not an easy title to win and he beat one of the best hardcore champions WCF has ever had. But unlike Zombie McMorris, I won’t allow Crazy J to knock me out. Zombie McMorris is a drug addict. His reflexes are for shit. I, on the other hand, am too quick for Crazy J. I’m 190 and move at 100 miles per hour. J is a 325 pound sack of shit who gets gassed real easy. I don’t think he does the cardio that I do. Plain and simple, he won’t be able to catch me. He won’t lock me in Disturbed Dreams or the Neck Cutter. I’ll move when he goes for the splash. I’ll squirm when he goes to pick me up. I won’t take his offense because he’ll never have the chance to use it.
Plus, the hardcore thing doesn’t intimidate me. Maybe J doesn’t know my background. I’m closer to hardcore than he ever will be. My trainer, Johnny Shipwreck, was a star in Hardcore Championship Wrestling back in the 90s while J was practicing his face painting skills. Johnny put me through one of the most hellacious training camps known to man. While I was learning the fundamentals and taking a beating in order to become the best wrestler in the world, Crazy J was shopping for light tubes at The Home Depot. I came out of Johnny’s school more hardcore than Crazy J will ever be. Hell, I’m more equipped than all of Zero Tolerance to be successful in that squared circle.
I’ll put it this way.
Crazy J is Detroit and I’m New York City.
Crazy J is the depressed, culturally defunct, embarrassing, laughing stock of America who is both financially and morally bankrupt.
I’m the center of the world, the place where everybody comes to see something great.
Part of me feels bad for thinking so low of this guy. Part of me is just thinking this way out of anger. Then there’s the part of me that feels bad for the guy. He lost his girlfriend. If I lost Tina, I don’t know what I would do.
But no matter how I feel, it doesn’t change the fact that Crazy J is a douchebag who looks like a douchebag who’s part of a douchebag stable and comes from a city full of douchebags. If people want to predict that I’m going to lose to Crazy J, let them. They can join J and Salem and Cash in the woods at the next Gathering of the Juggalos, where I’m sure all types of ass raping goes on. The fact is that I’m on my way up and starting this Sunday, Crazy J is on his way down. In the end, he’ll go back to the mall where he can meet up with all of his Juggalo friends at Hot Topic.
Me, on the other hand? Well, I’ll just go to the top.
Tina walks out of the bedroom.
Tina: What do you want from Subway?
Cliff: You’re not cooking?
She stares at me blankly. What is wrong with me?
She starts heading for the door.
Tina: I’m sorry. I’ll have the Sweet Onio---
She slams the door behind her. Fuck. I guess I’ll just have some crackers.
I wake up the next morning. I’m dragging my ass. I haven’t recovered from my odyssey from Montgomery yet.
I drive to the school. I think about Dr. Coleman the whole way. I wonder if he’s going to try to find me. If he does, what’s he going to say to me? I think my objective today will be to just avoid him.
I get to the school early and go right to my classroom. I don’t even bother to sign in in the main office. I keep the lights in my room off. I don’t want him to pass by and know that I’m here.
I start working on my computer, but pretty quickly, I feel some pressure on my sphincter. Fuck. I have to take a shit. I take a shit every fucking morning at school. It’s just something my body has gotten used to. Why doesn’t my body ever want to take a shit when I’m home? Fuck. I can hold it. I can hold it.
No, no, I can’t.
My first instinct is to run to the bathroom, but I temper that instinct and walk cautiously. I don’t need Dr. Coleman finding me by chance.
God, I feel like my body’s gonna blow a new asshole through one of my cheeks if I clench any tighter.
There we go. Made it. I rush into the stall and take a seat.
The bathroom door opens. Fuck. I’ve got a thing about shitting with other people in the bathroom. Alright. I’ll just hold it a little bit longer until this person’s done.
If that person ever finishes using the urinal.
If they ever start using the urinal.
Seriously, is this person going to use the urinal?
I bend down to see if someone is still there. Not only are they there, but I can tell that they’re facing the stall door. Is this person waiting to use the toilet? There are plenty of other bathrooms in the building they can use if they’ve got to take a shit that badly. They don’t need to stand there like a creep waiting for me to finish.
Oh, really, c’mon. Leave!
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m going to lose this standoff. I can’t hold it anymore. I release.
And this one is on the smellier side. Great. Even with the smell, the person is still standing there. Maybe they’re holding their breath.
I finish up and open the stall door. It’s Dr. Coleman. He doesn’t move out of the way. He just stares at me.
Cliff: Um, hello, Dr. Coleman. Do you need to use the toilet?
Dr. Coleman: No, I was waiting for you to finish up.
That’s...weird.
Dr. Coleman: I saw you come in here and wanted to catch you before the school day started.
Catch me? For what? To sexually assault me?
Dr. Coleman: Mrs. Piraino says you were sick.
Cliff: Yep.
Dr. Coleman: How are you feeling today?
Cliff: Well, I’m here, so I guess I’m feeling pretty good.
Dr. Coleman: Yeah, I guess you are. I came into your classroom to give you your informal observation.
Cliff: I heard.
Dr. Coleman: Your students- they were a little unruly for the substitute teacher. I hope you’ll be talking to them today and reinforcing how to behave when there is a substitute in the room.
Cliff: Of course.
Does this guy think I’m new here?
Dr. Coleman: I looked around your room. You don’t have a word wall.
Cliff: A word wall?
Dr. Coleman: Yes, to help students with their vocabulary. You’ve never had a word wall before?
Cliff: No.
Dr. Coleman: So how did students learn their vocabulary in your class?
Cliff: Because I taught it to them.
That seems to confound him. I don’t need gimmicks to teach. To wrestle, yes. To teach, no.
Dr. Coleman: I think it would be a good idea to have in your room. You have a whole back wall with nothing on it.
Cliff: Is that a directive or a suggestion?
He can’t force me to make a word wall.
Dr. Coleman: It’s a strong suggestion.
Someone walks into the bathroom. It’s Jon, one of the tech teachers.
Dr. Coleman: Hi, Jon. Could you give us a second? We’re having a meeting.
Jon: Um, okay.
He walks out the door. Jon, God damn it, don’t leave. Save me from this crazy son of a bitch.
Dr. Coleman: I’d like to come in and observe you.
Cliff: Yeah, sure, whenever you want to come in.
Dr. Coleman: Great. I’ll be in there next Monday during first period.
Fuck. This. Guy.
Dr. Coleman: We’ll have a pre-observation meeting on Friday. I’d like to see your full lesson plan and materials by that time.
He pats me on the shoulder real hard. A little too hard. He smiles.
Dr. Coleman: See you then.
He leaves and I wash my hands. Motherfucker.
I find one of my union representatives, Malcolm, later in the day. Malcolm’s a pretty straight shooter. He’ll tell me what I need to hear, not what I want to hear. I tell him what’s been going on with Coleman and I over the last few weeks and about the impromptu meeting in the bathroom this morning.
Malcolm: Bathroom? That’s strange.
Cliff: I really think this guy’s had it out for me ever since the faculty meeting when I laughed out loud by accident.
Malcolm: Yeah, you’re probably right. He needs to make an example out of someone and you made yourself an easy target.
Cliff: Why does he have to make an example out of anybody?
Malcolm: Come on, Cliff. You know. When you have a new class, you need to show them who’s boss, so as soon as someone does something they shouldn’t, you deal with it right away so the other kids get the message. He’s doing the same thing with you. You interrupted his meeting and everyone’s looking at him to see what he’s going to do about it. He’s coming down hard on you to show the rest of the faculty that he’s in charge. And trust me, you’re giving him a lot to work with. Using the school computer to listen to music. Reading a book during your hall duty. Being “sick” on a Monday. If he were here for six months and already had his authority in the school established, he would look the other way on these things, but it’s the second week, so he’s got to deal with it.
Cliff: Yeah, but a fucking word wall? It’s not like it’s in our contract that I have to do that.
Malcolm: Cliff, until he eases up on you, I would do whatever he wants. You want him to leave you alone? Just walk the straight and narrow. And don’t fuck this observation up. If he sees you’re capable in the classroom, what’s he going to do? Fire you?
He’s right. I just have to stop fucking up and knock my observation out of the park. It’s not like I don’t teach well every day, but my observation needs to be flawless. I can’t give Dr. Coleman any more ammunition to use against me.
Mercifully, the end of the day comes, but in my mind, there’s a lot racing through my head. I have to get ready for this observation.
And I have to get ready for my match this Sunday.
The way I see it, my most formidable opponent at work is Dr. Coleman.
And my most formidable opponent in my Fatal Four-Way is Teddy Blaze.
When I first heard that I was facing Blaze this Sunday, I really thought that it was a great opportunity to face a guy who’s almost done it all. I mean, come on. He’s a former two time Television Champion, a former Trios Champion, a former record setting People’s Champion, and the current Internet Champion. Not many people have a record like that.
But then I started thinking about what this match means to Teddy. This isn’t just a regular non-title match for him. No, for him, this is a Beat the Clock Challenge. Not only does he have to win, but he has to beat Gemini Battle’s time to do it. If I were to find out that Blaze is worried, I wouldn’t blame him. If Gemini wins the challenge, he chooses the stipulations in the 3 Stages of Media Hell Match at War. Gemini Battle is a sick and twisted motherfucker. Giving him the power to choose the stipulations in his fights is like giving a gun to a sociopath.
That makes me wonder: is Teddy going to look for the easy way out on Sunday? I respect Teddy’s accomplishments, but I don’t entirely trust him. I don’t trust anybody who says that they want to be an honorable man in the ring. I find that most people who say they’re honorable end up being the exact opposite, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Teddy was one of those guys.
It’s not like he hasn’t changed his spots once before. First, he was Teddy Blaze. He wasn’t going anywhere in the United States, so he donned a mask and went down to Mexico to be Teo Del Sol. The people loved him. He came back to America as Teo Del Sol but now feels he can leave that all behind and be Teddy Blaze again. As Teo Del Sol he was Mr. Fan Favorite, the hero who always did the right thing. Now, he takes off the mask and wants to be Mr. Aggressive, the vigilante of the WCF. Who is Teddy Blaze exactly?
I think he’s just a guy who tries to fit whatever the situation is at any moment. If being Teddy Blaze doesn’t give him some advantage at some point, he’ll change again, whether he leaves his fans or not.
I think if the situation in our Fatal Four-Way doesn’t work in his favor, he’ll do something underhanded to get the win. I know he said that he only cheats if his opponent cheats first, but he’s going to be desperate for the win, especially once he sees that a guy like me isn’t going to go down quickly, if at all.
That’s right. I’m going to be in his way the entire fucking match. I’m going to make him confront me. If he chooses to pin Lilith or J, I’ll break up it up. I won’t just sit back and say “Well, as long as I’m not getting pinned, it’s okay.” No, I want Teddy Blaze to have to fight me. I want Teddy Blaze to prove that he’s a man of conviction. If he truly wants to push people and make the WCF better, if he truly is a man of honor, than he should forget about beating the clock and worry about trying to beat me cleanly in the middle of the ring.
Blaze has my respect as a wrestler. As a man, time will tell.
In all honesty, Dr. Coleman and Teddy Blaze are similar in one way. They both have higher objectives in mind and they think that I’m a stepping stone to those objectives. Dr. Coleman wants to show that he’s not a pushover, so he’s trying to make an example out of me. Teddy Blaze wants to be become the King of All Media, so he has to beat me in order to put his match at War in his favor.
I’m not a fucking stepping stone. I’m not someone to just use and throw to the side once you’re done with me. I’m someone that people should recognize. I’m someone who’s good at what he does, whether it’s in the classroom or in the ring.
Once Dr. Coleman sees me teach, he’s going to see that I’m one of the best educators in the building. When I win the Fatal Four-Way on Sunday, everybody will recognize that I’m one of the best wrestlers in the WCF.
I pull into the driveway. Tina’s home already. I get sad thinking about how much I let her down the past few days. I have to try to fix the fuck ups of the last new days. Coleman and Blaze may be my most formidable opponents in their respective areas, but my most formidable opponent in life is me.
And right now, I’m kicking my own ass.
So again, I have to ask myself:
Why am I doing this?
I don’t mean running through an airport. I mean, why am I doing any of this? Why am I trying to teach Monday through Friday and wrestle for a national wrestling promotion on Sundays in different venues all over the country just to rush back home Sunday night in order to get back to work on Monday morning?
As soon as I walked through the curtain after my Fatal Four-Way was over, I sprinted to the locker room, packed my shit, jumped into the cab that was waiting for me (I didn’t even bother showering), got to the airport, got checked in (with many people standing a few feet from me because of the smell), got searched (which went quickly because, as I’ve mentioned twice already, I smell and the guards just wanted to get me through the security checkpoints as quickly as possible) and now I’m running to my gate.
I arrive with time to spare. Actually, quite a bit of time. An hour, in fact. I guess I could have taken a few minutes to shower. But fuck it. It’s better to be too early than too late.
Finally, I can relax a little bit.
I find a seat and lay my back against the chair. I put on some music to try to calm my mind. Between the match and trying to get to this airport, my adrenaline was in overdrive. What’s some good, soothing music? I searched through my iTunes playlist.
KT Tunstall. She’s pretty good for mellowing out. I turn her on, put my head back, and close my eyes.
That was not an easy match. Jaice Wilds brought it this time. What about when he Russian leg swept me in mid air? Holy God, that was genius. Then he Disaster Kicked me when I had O’Neal in the No Leaf Clover. I was a sitting duck. I should just be thankful that he didn’t go for the pin after that second Xtreme Dream that he gave to O’Neal. When he went to the top rope to attempt the Aerial Ace, he left himself open for the Cliffhanger. If he had just gone for the pin, there wouldn’t have been enough time to get into that ring and turn the tide in my favor. Wilds in I will face off again. I know. And next time, I don’t know if I...I don...I d…
Gate Agent: Sir?
I can hear words. It sounds like a lady’s voice. I can feel her hand on my arm. My eyes shoot open. I turn my head side to side rapidly.I sit up quickly. Where am I? Why am I…
Cliff: OH, SHIT!
I fucking fell asleep!
Cliff: Did my flight leave yet?!
Gate Agent: Which flight was it, sir?
Cliff: The 11:30 to LaGuardia!
Gate Agent: Oh, yes, sir, that flight left half an hour ago. You didn’t hear them calling people up for boarding?
Cliff: Obviously not! I was asleep!
Gate Agent: Alright, sir, no need to yell. We can probably get you on another flight.
I collapse back into my chair and hold my head in my hands.
Cliff: Oh, God, I have to get to work!
Gate Agent: Alright, sir, we’ll do the best we can do to get you home.
She’s really being quite calm considering that she has to deal with me, who right now is acting like a lunatic because he told his wife and his principal that wrestling would not impede on his teaching career. It didn’t take long to go back on those words.
I’m eventually able to book another ticket, shelling out hundreds of more dollars in the process. And the flight doesn’t leave until 7:00 in the morning. Well, I’m not making it to work today. I call the school and let them know. Then, I-email my plans to the secretaries to give to the substitute teacher.
I just wait in the airport until then. I’m drinking cup after cup of coffee so that I can stay awake long enough to, you know, not miss my flight.
My phone rings. I look at who it is. Tina. Fuck.
I answer it. I don’t want to sound cheerful because I know she’s pissed, but I also don’t want to sound too negative because she’s probably going to suck up all the negativity in the conversation. I’m going to go for the emotionless voice. Just sell nothing.
Cliff: Hello?
Tina: Where the hell are you? Did your flight land yet? I’m in the terminal waiting for you!
I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a very tall building strapped to a harness, not knowing that if I step off if the harness will catch me. A jump and pray for the best.
Cliff: I’m in Montgomery. I missed my flight.
Tina: WHAT!
I wait to see if any other fire is going to come through the phone. When it’s safe, I speak again.
Cliff: Yep.
Tina: How the fuck did that happen?!
Cliff: I fell asleep at the gate waiting for my flight.
I can tell that she doesn’t have her ear up to her phone and she’s thinking about what she wants to say next.
Tina: I wake up at 1:30 in the morning to drive to fucking Queens to pick you up so that you could get to work, I’m feeling scared because I’m a five foot woman alone in a third world airport, and you don’t make your flight, let alone have the decency to call and say that you missed it?!
I try to make a joke.
Cliff: Well, can you blame me for not calling?
Tina: Oh, really? Find your own fucking way home now!
I hear the click of the phone call ending. This is the part where the harness snaps and I splatter all over the concrete below.
6:30 comes and I get on line to board the plane. The flight leaves ten minutes late because someone was late. Well, I guess it’s better to be late than not get on the plane at all.
I get to LaGuardia around 12:30. I hail a cab. An hour and $160 later, the cab pulls up to my in-law’s house. I walk through the side gate and down the stairs to mine and Tina’s apartment. She’s not home yet. She won’t be for a few hours. I hope she’s cooled off by then. Probably not.
I plug my phone in (it died on the plane). When it boots up, a text message pops up from Sars, the agent who discovered me at LIWA.
You’re facing Lilith, Crazy J, and Teddy Blaze next week. It’s your first time facing some credible vets. Don’t waste the opportunity.
Well, that brightens my mood a bit. It’s another four-way, but it’s my chance to prove that I can roll with some major players in the WCF. If I have a good showing, maybe my stock will go up. Maybe I’ll get a shot at a title. Maybe people will see me as a real threat in the War match. That would be something. People underestimate me because of the name I’ve chosen to wrestle by. I mean, I don’t care what they say about the name. It means something to me. It’s just that people immediately discount me because of it. Then I get in the ring and I show what I can do and those people say to me, “Hey, I judge you based on your name but you’re actually pretty good.” When my next match is booked, a new crop of people speak some verbal diarrhea about my name and then I shut them up, too.
I really hate people who speak too much, especially when 99% of what they say is bullshit. It seems like day after day more and more people, whether it’s on social media, the talking head news shows, or just plain old people on the street, think they need to constantly talk and opine and give their two sets and shit and shit right out of the gaping asshole below their nose. Even if they don’t know what they’re talking about, they just spew whatever thought comes into their head.
Fucking Lilith is like that. That bitch is annoying. You could be having a conversation with someone in the locker room about anything and she has to jump right into the conversation with her own unsolicited comments and jokes that are about as funny as Ann Coulter during the roast of Rob Lowe on Comedy Central.
And questions! This bitch has always got to ask fucking questions about whatever it is you’re talking about. We have millions of libraries across the country with books written by the most intelligent people in the world. Smart phones make it possible to look up anything in a millisecond. But when Lilith has a question, what does she do? She gets in your face and asks one fucking question after the other. And don’t think one answer will get you off the hook, either. She’ll keep asking and asking and asking until she finds something that distracts her like a dog who stops barking as soon as it notices a squirrel. Sometimes she doesn’t even let you answer the first question before she’s off and asking the next question!
The bottom line is that she needs constant attention, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. I’ve encountered plenty of kids like her in school. There is one constant between all of them: they have no friends, or at least all the friends they had abandoned them because they got sick of their shit.
That’s why Sarah Twilight doesn’t want to be friends with her. Sarah Twilight is no upstanding citizen, herself, but at least she has the wherewithal to recognize when you need to cut certain people out of your life.
I mean, Sarah Twilight ran the WCF for a few weeks. As much as people may not like her, she steered the ship whose passengers include guys like The Butcher and Gemini Battle and, of course, Lilith; you know, unstable people. Plus, Sarah Twilight is a serious competitor who is one of the favorites to win War. I’ll eliminate her if I get a crack at her on October 2, but she’s one of the favorites nonetheless. She doesn’t have time to cater to the needs of a parasite like Lilith. I mean, what person with serious aspirations and goals could have time for someone who is as weird and needy as Lilith. A person would have to have absolutely no life and hate him or herself to want to subject their existence to that of Lilith’s.
Lilith needs to wake up and smell the coffee. Nobody likes her. Nobody ever will like her; not as long as she continues to be crazy and talk to teddy bears.
Oh, God, the teddy bears. Jesus Christ, she talks to fucking teddy bears! I had a teddy bear that I talked to once- when I was FIVE. Unless Lilith was born on Leap Year Day, she is not five years old anymore.
And when she’s not around her teddy bears, she’s calling people “bear.” This bear, that bear. You’re a bear, he’s a bear, she’s a bear, we’re all bears in her twisted, psychopathic world!
Her only saving grace is that she can wrestle. She is a former champion, something that I cannot claim. She is vicious. I shudder to think about what would happen if she used the Death Grip on my balls like she did to Drake Knight.
Wrestling isn’t just physical, though. It’s mental. And if you are mental, than you’re not going to win. You have to concentrate. You have to have a clear plan and a clear mind. Lilith has got her mind on too many things and none of those things seem to be wrestling. I’m going to exploit that on Sunday just like people exploit Lilith, get what they want from her, and leave her laying. I will exploit her weakness, use her to get a victory, and leave her looking up at the lights.
I will say this: she is pretty hot. I mean, I’d bang her. If only she wasn’t a lesbian. Or maybe she’s bi. If she were bi, I’d definitely hit th--
What am I saying?! I’m a married man! Jesus!
Why did I decide to run at night? I can’t see a damn thing. And why am I wearing dark clothes? Am I asking for a car to hit me? If I didn’t need to train for my match on Sunday, I’d be in the apartment right now watching TV with Tina. She’d probably want to watch My Big, Fat, Fabulous Life, but you have to make the wife happy. At least I have the Solomonster Sounds Off podcast playing on my headphones to keep me company.
Solomonster: Cliff of Doom has really impressed me over these last three weeks.
Oh, shit, he’s talking about me!
Solomonster: He had a fun little match with Jaice Wilds, “Real Deal” Jason O’Neill, and Jake Wakef---
Suddenly, a song starts playing over the headphones. What the hell? What happened to Solomonster? I pull my phone out and look at the screen. It’s gone completely black. I hit the button on the side of the phone but nothing pops up. What is going on with my phone?
Wait a minute. I know this song. I listen for a few seconds before I figure out what it is. It’s “Prosthetics” from Slipknot’s first album. Wow, I haven’t heard this song in years.
Even if you run I will find you
Jesus, I forgot those were the first lyrics. That’s the last thing you want to hear on a nighttime run.
I decided I want you, now I know, I need
A pair of headlights are shining from behind me. I move to the side of the road so I don’t get hit by the car but it seems as if the lights are following me. I motion for the car to go around me but it won’t. It continues to stay behind.
If you can’t be bought, tougher than I thought
Keep in mind, I am with you
This car seems to be getting closer and closer to me but won’t pass. I look behind.
Never left out fate, can't concentrate
You will be mine!
Holy shit! That’s not a car! It’s Lilith with headlights on here tits!
Ah, fucking you will be mine!
Ah, fucking you will be mine!
Ah, fucking you will be mine!
I sprint, but no matter how fast I run, I can’t lose her.
I found you
Leanin' out of an open window
You laughed (my fingers clenched)
Too perfect, far too careless
I couldn't help myself - I just took you
Lilith tackles me to the ground.
Cliff: Lilith! What are you doing?!
Lilith: Cliffy Bear, why did you think those awful things about me?
I squirm but she has me pinned down to the blacktop.
Cliff: Lilith, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean any of it! I was having a bad day.
Lilith: Aw, it’s okay Cliffy Bear. C’mon, let’s make up.
She starts putting her hand down my pants.
Cliff: Lilith, no, I’m married.
She puts her finger over my mouth.
Lilith: Shhhhhhhh. What little Tina Bear don’t know won’t kill her.
I consider it.
Cliff: You’re right.
Lilith: That’s good. Now just lay there and relax. I’ll make you feel all better.
She clutches my balls in the Death Grip. I scream bloody murder.
Cliff: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Dammit, man, I knew it was a mistake
I try to struggle free. She lifts her other hand in the air. I know she’s about to Death Grip my face.
Cliff: No, Lilith. No! No! NOOOOO!
When I scream the last “no,” I sit up. It’s dark and I’m sweating profusely. I look around frantically. I’m in my bedroom. In my bed. I rejoice in the realization.
Cliff: Oh, thank God. It was just a nightmare.
Boom clap
The sound of my heart
The beat goes on and on and on and on and
Boom clap
You make me feel good
Come on to me come on to me now
Where the hell is that song coming from? I look over at the nightstand. It’s coming from Tina’s phone.
Cliff: Honey, why is “Boom Clap” the alarm on your phone?
Tina doesn’t respond.
Cliff: Tina, your alarm’s going off.
I shake her but nothing’s happening.
Cliff: Tina? Tina, c’mon, wake up. Jesus Christ.
I flip the light on and see Tina with a knife in her heart. Blood is all over the sheets. I look in horror. It’s too shocking to even make a noise. No, Tina, you can’t be dead. Oh, my God, oh, my God. Tina, no!
Suddenly, the closet door flings open and out steps Lilith holding a bloody knife in her hand.
Cliff: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
I fall backwards off the edge of the bed, still screaming. I try crawling out of the bedroom, but I feel someone grab my arm.
Tina: Cliff.
Is that Tina’s voice? Is she alive?
Tina: CLIFF!
I open my eyes and see Tina standing above me. I’m not on the floor. I’m on the couch in the living room.
Tina: You’re having a bad dream.
I breath a sigh of relief. The TV’s on. I must have fallen asleep while watching it.
Cliff: Oh, God, am I glad you’re home. It wasn’t just one bad dream, it was two. First Lilith, was chasing me while I was running and she was squeezing my balls and then I woke up in another nightmare where she murdered you and…
Tina: Who’s Lilith?
Cliff: This crazy bitch that wrestles for the WCF.
Tina: Great. First you stand me up at the airport and now I come home to find you having a dream about a woman you wrestle with who murders me. Real nice. Is that what you want to happen?
Cliff: What? No, honey, it wasn’t like that. This bitch is nuts. It was a nightmare, not a wet dream. Trust me, I would never cheat on you with her.
Tina: Oh, but if the right woman came along, you’d cheat on me.
Oh, God, I can’t win today.
Cliff: Alright, I’ve had a long day, you’ve had a long day. Sit down and relax.
Tina thinks about it for a second before begrudgingly sitting down. I sit up.
Cliff: Look, I’m sorry about the plane and leaving you by yourself in the airport. There’s no excuse for it. And the joke I tried to make, it was a bad one. None of it will happen again.
She sits staring straight ahead and crossing her arms.
Tina: You said you weren’t going to miss work today and you went ahead and did just that. Why should I believe you?
She’s got a point there.
Cliff: You shouldn’t, but I need you to have faith that I can handle this. Last night, that was just a stumble, a little hiccup. I won’t make that mistake again. It won’t be the norm for me.
Tina doesn’t say anything at first. She tightens her lips and then speaks, still not looking at me.
Tina: You know, Coleman came into your classroom today.
My eyes widen.
Cliff: What?
Tina: Yeah. Apparently, he wanted to observe you today.
Cliff: He wanted to do my informal observation today? On the fifth day of school?
Tina: Yep. And when he realized you weren’t there, he found me in the hallway and asked if you were sick.
Oh, God, I hope she said yes.
Cliff: And did you?
She pivots her head just enough to make eye contact with me.
Tina: Yes.
A breath a sigh of relief.
Cliff: Thank you, honey.
Tina: Don’t thank me! It was totally awkward! I had to lie to the principal, and what’s worse, I could tell he knew I was covering for you! You know, I don’t have the luxury of tenure like you! They could fire me at any time if they wanted for no reason! You better not cost me my job! You want to lose your job, be my guest, but don’t screw me in the process.
Cliff: I’m not. I won’t put you in that position again. I’m sorry.
I go to kiss the side of her face but she gets up off the couch. I fall forward.
God damn it, can’t she just forgive me? I hate that shit. Whatever happened to forgive and forget? I guess she subscribes to “punish and make the other person feel shittier than they already do.” Now I’m pissed at her for being pissed at me.
What fucking time is it? 7:00? Good, Jeopardy’s on. I need something to take my mind off of this horrible fucking day. I flip the channel to 7. It’s already on.
Alex Trebek: And here are your categories: “It’s Not Rocket Science,” “Potent Potables,” “Famous Thespians,” “CEOs,” “Let It Snow,” and finally, “Detroit.” Shane, you’re the returning champion, so you get to pick the first category.
Shane: I’ll take Detriot for 100.
Alex Trebek: For 100, here is the clue: This NFL team is the last to have gone 0-16. Shane.
Shane: Who are the Lions?
Alex Trebek: Correct. Pick again.
The first round continues. For some reason, Detroit sounds worse with every clue.
"In 2013, Detroit’s embarrassing finances forced the city to file for this legal status."
"This former mayor resigned after being convicted for obstruction of justice and perjury and is now serving 28 years for mail fraud, wire fraud, and racketeering."
"Fans of the Detroit rap group Insane Clown Posse, known collectively as these, were offended when they learned that they were classified as a gang by the FBI."
"This city came in second on the list of the most dangerous American cities, topped only by Detroit, who has held the less than dubious distinction for eight years."
My God, no wonder Crazy J’s from Detroit. He’s just as shitty as his city.
I really hate these fucking white guys who wear fucking face paint and act like they’re fucking gangstas from the hood. Newsflash: I work in the fucking hood. The kids I teach would eat these painted motherfuckers for breakfast.
Groups like Insane Clown Posse and Twiztid were, are, and always will be niche and laughed at by the rest of the population for what they attempt to look like: clowns. And the same goes for anybody else who looks like these assholes, including Crazy J and Salem Shepard.
What do they call these guys, Juggalos? Well, they can juggalo my balls.
And it doesn’t surprise me that that hillbilly bitch Jason Cash has decided to hitch his wagon to these dickless losers. I have “zero tolerance” for these fucking people who muddy the waters of the collective gene pool. I feel dumber just knowing who they are.
Zero Tolerance wants to rule the world? The only world they rule is the backwoods where they replay that scene from Deliverance where the guy gets raped in the ass. If they want to rule the wrestling world, they’ll have to go through me at War.
But first, Crazy J will have to go through me this Sunday. I know his moveset. A lot of power. A lot of submissions. He knows himself and how to win. I know he’s the Hardcore Champion. I’m not taking that away from him, either. It’s not an easy title to win and he beat one of the best hardcore champions WCF has ever had. But unlike Zombie McMorris, I won’t allow Crazy J to knock me out. Zombie McMorris is a drug addict. His reflexes are for shit. I, on the other hand, am too quick for Crazy J. I’m 190 and move at 100 miles per hour. J is a 325 pound sack of shit who gets gassed real easy. I don’t think he does the cardio that I do. Plain and simple, he won’t be able to catch me. He won’t lock me in Disturbed Dreams or the Neck Cutter. I’ll move when he goes for the splash. I’ll squirm when he goes to pick me up. I won’t take his offense because he’ll never have the chance to use it.
Plus, the hardcore thing doesn’t intimidate me. Maybe J doesn’t know my background. I’m closer to hardcore than he ever will be. My trainer, Johnny Shipwreck, was a star in Hardcore Championship Wrestling back in the 90s while J was practicing his face painting skills. Johnny put me through one of the most hellacious training camps known to man. While I was learning the fundamentals and taking a beating in order to become the best wrestler in the world, Crazy J was shopping for light tubes at The Home Depot. I came out of Johnny’s school more hardcore than Crazy J will ever be. Hell, I’m more equipped than all of Zero Tolerance to be successful in that squared circle.
I’ll put it this way.
Crazy J is Detroit and I’m New York City.
Crazy J is the depressed, culturally defunct, embarrassing, laughing stock of America who is both financially and morally bankrupt.
I’m the center of the world, the place where everybody comes to see something great.
Part of me feels bad for thinking so low of this guy. Part of me is just thinking this way out of anger. Then there’s the part of me that feels bad for the guy. He lost his girlfriend. If I lost Tina, I don’t know what I would do.
But no matter how I feel, it doesn’t change the fact that Crazy J is a douchebag who looks like a douchebag who’s part of a douchebag stable and comes from a city full of douchebags. If people want to predict that I’m going to lose to Crazy J, let them. They can join J and Salem and Cash in the woods at the next Gathering of the Juggalos, where I’m sure all types of ass raping goes on. The fact is that I’m on my way up and starting this Sunday, Crazy J is on his way down. In the end, he’ll go back to the mall where he can meet up with all of his Juggalo friends at Hot Topic.
Me, on the other hand? Well, I’ll just go to the top.
Tina walks out of the bedroom.
Tina: What do you want from Subway?
Cliff: You’re not cooking?
She stares at me blankly. What is wrong with me?
She starts heading for the door.
Tina: I’m sorry. I’ll have the Sweet Onio---
She slams the door behind her. Fuck. I guess I’ll just have some crackers.
I wake up the next morning. I’m dragging my ass. I haven’t recovered from my odyssey from Montgomery yet.
I drive to the school. I think about Dr. Coleman the whole way. I wonder if he’s going to try to find me. If he does, what’s he going to say to me? I think my objective today will be to just avoid him.
I get to the school early and go right to my classroom. I don’t even bother to sign in in the main office. I keep the lights in my room off. I don’t want him to pass by and know that I’m here.
I start working on my computer, but pretty quickly, I feel some pressure on my sphincter. Fuck. I have to take a shit. I take a shit every fucking morning at school. It’s just something my body has gotten used to. Why doesn’t my body ever want to take a shit when I’m home? Fuck. I can hold it. I can hold it.
No, no, I can’t.
My first instinct is to run to the bathroom, but I temper that instinct and walk cautiously. I don’t need Dr. Coleman finding me by chance.
God, I feel like my body’s gonna blow a new asshole through one of my cheeks if I clench any tighter.
There we go. Made it. I rush into the stall and take a seat.
The bathroom door opens. Fuck. I’ve got a thing about shitting with other people in the bathroom. Alright. I’ll just hold it a little bit longer until this person’s done.
If that person ever finishes using the urinal.
If they ever start using the urinal.
Seriously, is this person going to use the urinal?
I bend down to see if someone is still there. Not only are they there, but I can tell that they’re facing the stall door. Is this person waiting to use the toilet? There are plenty of other bathrooms in the building they can use if they’ve got to take a shit that badly. They don’t need to stand there like a creep waiting for me to finish.
Oh, really, c’mon. Leave!
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m going to lose this standoff. I can’t hold it anymore. I release.
And this one is on the smellier side. Great. Even with the smell, the person is still standing there. Maybe they’re holding their breath.
I finish up and open the stall door. It’s Dr. Coleman. He doesn’t move out of the way. He just stares at me.
Cliff: Um, hello, Dr. Coleman. Do you need to use the toilet?
Dr. Coleman: No, I was waiting for you to finish up.
That’s...weird.
Dr. Coleman: I saw you come in here and wanted to catch you before the school day started.
Catch me? For what? To sexually assault me?
Dr. Coleman: Mrs. Piraino says you were sick.
Cliff: Yep.
Dr. Coleman: How are you feeling today?
Cliff: Well, I’m here, so I guess I’m feeling pretty good.
Dr. Coleman: Yeah, I guess you are. I came into your classroom to give you your informal observation.
Cliff: I heard.
Dr. Coleman: Your students- they were a little unruly for the substitute teacher. I hope you’ll be talking to them today and reinforcing how to behave when there is a substitute in the room.
Cliff: Of course.
Does this guy think I’m new here?
Dr. Coleman: I looked around your room. You don’t have a word wall.
Cliff: A word wall?
Dr. Coleman: Yes, to help students with their vocabulary. You’ve never had a word wall before?
Cliff: No.
Dr. Coleman: So how did students learn their vocabulary in your class?
Cliff: Because I taught it to them.
That seems to confound him. I don’t need gimmicks to teach. To wrestle, yes. To teach, no.
Dr. Coleman: I think it would be a good idea to have in your room. You have a whole back wall with nothing on it.
Cliff: Is that a directive or a suggestion?
He can’t force me to make a word wall.
Dr. Coleman: It’s a strong suggestion.
Someone walks into the bathroom. It’s Jon, one of the tech teachers.
Dr. Coleman: Hi, Jon. Could you give us a second? We’re having a meeting.
Jon: Um, okay.
He walks out the door. Jon, God damn it, don’t leave. Save me from this crazy son of a bitch.
Dr. Coleman: I’d like to come in and observe you.
Cliff: Yeah, sure, whenever you want to come in.
Dr. Coleman: Great. I’ll be in there next Monday during first period.
Fuck. This. Guy.
Dr. Coleman: We’ll have a pre-observation meeting on Friday. I’d like to see your full lesson plan and materials by that time.
He pats me on the shoulder real hard. A little too hard. He smiles.
Dr. Coleman: See you then.
He leaves and I wash my hands. Motherfucker.
I find one of my union representatives, Malcolm, later in the day. Malcolm’s a pretty straight shooter. He’ll tell me what I need to hear, not what I want to hear. I tell him what’s been going on with Coleman and I over the last few weeks and about the impromptu meeting in the bathroom this morning.
Malcolm: Bathroom? That’s strange.
Cliff: I really think this guy’s had it out for me ever since the faculty meeting when I laughed out loud by accident.
Malcolm: Yeah, you’re probably right. He needs to make an example out of someone and you made yourself an easy target.
Cliff: Why does he have to make an example out of anybody?
Malcolm: Come on, Cliff. You know. When you have a new class, you need to show them who’s boss, so as soon as someone does something they shouldn’t, you deal with it right away so the other kids get the message. He’s doing the same thing with you. You interrupted his meeting and everyone’s looking at him to see what he’s going to do about it. He’s coming down hard on you to show the rest of the faculty that he’s in charge. And trust me, you’re giving him a lot to work with. Using the school computer to listen to music. Reading a book during your hall duty. Being “sick” on a Monday. If he were here for six months and already had his authority in the school established, he would look the other way on these things, but it’s the second week, so he’s got to deal with it.
Cliff: Yeah, but a fucking word wall? It’s not like it’s in our contract that I have to do that.
Malcolm: Cliff, until he eases up on you, I would do whatever he wants. You want him to leave you alone? Just walk the straight and narrow. And don’t fuck this observation up. If he sees you’re capable in the classroom, what’s he going to do? Fire you?
He’s right. I just have to stop fucking up and knock my observation out of the park. It’s not like I don’t teach well every day, but my observation needs to be flawless. I can’t give Dr. Coleman any more ammunition to use against me.
Mercifully, the end of the day comes, but in my mind, there’s a lot racing through my head. I have to get ready for this observation.
And I have to get ready for my match this Sunday.
The way I see it, my most formidable opponent at work is Dr. Coleman.
And my most formidable opponent in my Fatal Four-Way is Teddy Blaze.
When I first heard that I was facing Blaze this Sunday, I really thought that it was a great opportunity to face a guy who’s almost done it all. I mean, come on. He’s a former two time Television Champion, a former Trios Champion, a former record setting People’s Champion, and the current Internet Champion. Not many people have a record like that.
But then I started thinking about what this match means to Teddy. This isn’t just a regular non-title match for him. No, for him, this is a Beat the Clock Challenge. Not only does he have to win, but he has to beat Gemini Battle’s time to do it. If I were to find out that Blaze is worried, I wouldn’t blame him. If Gemini wins the challenge, he chooses the stipulations in the 3 Stages of Media Hell Match at War. Gemini Battle is a sick and twisted motherfucker. Giving him the power to choose the stipulations in his fights is like giving a gun to a sociopath.
That makes me wonder: is Teddy going to look for the easy way out on Sunday? I respect Teddy’s accomplishments, but I don’t entirely trust him. I don’t trust anybody who says that they want to be an honorable man in the ring. I find that most people who say they’re honorable end up being the exact opposite, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Teddy was one of those guys.
It’s not like he hasn’t changed his spots once before. First, he was Teddy Blaze. He wasn’t going anywhere in the United States, so he donned a mask and went down to Mexico to be Teo Del Sol. The people loved him. He came back to America as Teo Del Sol but now feels he can leave that all behind and be Teddy Blaze again. As Teo Del Sol he was Mr. Fan Favorite, the hero who always did the right thing. Now, he takes off the mask and wants to be Mr. Aggressive, the vigilante of the WCF. Who is Teddy Blaze exactly?
I think he’s just a guy who tries to fit whatever the situation is at any moment. If being Teddy Blaze doesn’t give him some advantage at some point, he’ll change again, whether he leaves his fans or not.
I think if the situation in our Fatal Four-Way doesn’t work in his favor, he’ll do something underhanded to get the win. I know he said that he only cheats if his opponent cheats first, but he’s going to be desperate for the win, especially once he sees that a guy like me isn’t going to go down quickly, if at all.
That’s right. I’m going to be in his way the entire fucking match. I’m going to make him confront me. If he chooses to pin Lilith or J, I’ll break up it up. I won’t just sit back and say “Well, as long as I’m not getting pinned, it’s okay.” No, I want Teddy Blaze to have to fight me. I want Teddy Blaze to prove that he’s a man of conviction. If he truly wants to push people and make the WCF better, if he truly is a man of honor, than he should forget about beating the clock and worry about trying to beat me cleanly in the middle of the ring.
Blaze has my respect as a wrestler. As a man, time will tell.
In all honesty, Dr. Coleman and Teddy Blaze are similar in one way. They both have higher objectives in mind and they think that I’m a stepping stone to those objectives. Dr. Coleman wants to show that he’s not a pushover, so he’s trying to make an example out of me. Teddy Blaze wants to be become the King of All Media, so he has to beat me in order to put his match at War in his favor.
I’m not a fucking stepping stone. I’m not someone to just use and throw to the side once you’re done with me. I’m someone that people should recognize. I’m someone who’s good at what he does, whether it’s in the classroom or in the ring.
Once Dr. Coleman sees me teach, he’s going to see that I’m one of the best educators in the building. When I win the Fatal Four-Way on Sunday, everybody will recognize that I’m one of the best wrestlers in the WCF.
I pull into the driveway. Tina’s home already. I get sad thinking about how much I let her down the past few days. I have to try to fix the fuck ups of the last new days. Coleman and Blaze may be my most formidable opponents in their respective areas, but my most formidable opponent in life is me.
And right now, I’m kicking my own ass.
So again, I have to ask myself:
Why am I doing this?
