Post by Cliff of Doom on Oct 15, 2016 13:40:02 GMT -5
“Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!”
I smack myself in the head every time I say the word “idiot.” It’s probably not the best idea, seeing as it’s 1:00 in the morning and I’m driving east on the Long Island Expressway trying to get home after War and there’s thirty exits left.
Why did I go for the No Leaf Clover on Joey Flash? I sent him flying through the air and down on his back with the Cliffhanger. I should have pinned him right there, and then maybe Kevin Bishop wouldn’t have eliminated me and I’d be driving home right now as the #1 Contender for the World Championship at One.
Being the 45th guy out of 49 to be eliminated ain’t bad, especially for someone who was competing in War for the first time, but I get no accolades for that. Maybe a pat on the back. Maybe an attaboy. But no World Title shot, and that’s all that matters.
I hate driving back from the city this late at night. I get so tired and I end up…
My wheels drive over the rumble strip and I open my eyes back up.
Fuck, I have to pull over. I’m going to kill myself. Yeah, I know I was wishing for God to take me after I got fired from my job, but today ain’t the right day for that to happen. It’s my first wedding anniversary. I was hoping that my gift to Tina would be the World Title shot, but that didn’t happen, and I’d rather her not remember our wedding day as the day that I died in a car accident.
I get off at exit 46 and pull into a Holiday Inn parking lot. Funny thing is that this is the hotel where Tina and I stayed the night of our wedding. Our venue is about five minutes away. I lay back in my chair and think about that night.
The wedding reception ended at 6:00 and everybody went back to the hotel for the after party. Tina and I were surrounded by friends and family, some of whom had driven for flown many hours to be with us. It was such a warm feeling to have everyone we loved in one place. There were friends that I hadn’t seen in years that I finally got to catch up with.
People were singing. People were laughing. And people were drinking. One buddy of mine took it upon himself to pour his own beers when the bartender wasn’t looking.
My wedding day was the greatest day of my life, and I really didn’t think anything could go wrong after that.
How naïve? It’s a year later and I’m sleeping in the hotel parking lot without a full time job and with a wife who’s disappointed in the decisions I’ve made as of late.
How the hell am I going to support my wife and me? Forget trying to buy a house and have kids. Now we have to figure out a way to get by. I mean, I’ve saved enough over the years so that I can get by and pay my bills for the next six months, but when that dwindles down, then what? And Tina’s salary isn’t enough to support the both of us.
I’d save a lot of money if I quit wrestling right now. The expenses of traveling to a new city every weekend add up real fucking quick. But I can’t do it. It’s really the only thing keeping me going, now more than ever. Plus, Tina and I made a deal- win the World Title by August 28, 2017 or I’m out. Well, it ain’t August 28, 2017 yet.
I sleep for about four hours when I hear my phone ring. In my half-awake haze, I don’t realize at first that it’s my phone. When I finally figure it out, I hastily grab the phone out of my pocket and try to read the name on the screen. Through my foggy eyes, I see a “T.” Fuck, it’s Tina. I sound groggy as I answer the phone.
Cliff: Hello?
Tina: Where the hell are you?
This feels like déjà vu, except when she asks me this time, I don’t remember where I am.
Cliff: I’m, um…
I turn the key in the ignition and roll down the window. Oh, that’s right.
Cliff: I’m at the Holiday Inn in Plainview.
Tina: The one where we stayed the night of the wedding? You got a room there? Who are you with?
Cliff: What? Tina, no! I pulled into the parking lot and slept in my car so I wouldn’t get into an accident on the expressway.
Tina: Oh, Jesus, Cliff. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?
Cliff: Sorry, babe, I should have called when I pulled over.
Tina: So are you coming home now?
It was 6:00 and the sun was rising.
Cliff: Yeah, I’m leaving right now. I’ll see you in half an hour. Happy Anniversary, by the way.
Tina: Yeah, Happy Anniversary.
She says it with about as much excitement as a crowd during a Gemini Battle promo. It hurts a little and I stay silent on the line. She picks up on it.
Tina: I’m sorry, I’m just so stressed out with everything that’s been going on lately. Just get home quick so we can spend the day together.
Cliff: Okay. I love you.
Tina: Love you, too.
I pull out and head home.
It’s a Monday but Tina has off today because of Rosh Hashanah (thank you, Jews). I take her to a wildlife preserve on the South Fork of Long Island. There’s a trail that runs through the forest and the main attraction is feeding the birds. I brought her here because I knew she would love it. She loves animals and she loves talking to the animals. I love seeing her face as the birds land on her fingers and start eating seed right out of their hand. I’m hoping that for a little while her mind isn’t on our troubles. I know mine isn’t.
After spending about two hours there, we drive into a town called Sag Harbor and stop in a frozen yogurt place called Buddhaberry’s. It’s one of those self-serve places that charges you by the pound. I pour myself the Twix flavored frozen yogurt and load it up with as many candy toppings as I can. Fuck it. Fifteen hours ago I was wrestling for almost three hours straight. I burned more calories in that amount of time than Crazy J burns in a whole year.
We sat on a bench outside the place and ate our treats in the pleasant fall sun.
Tina: You did well last night.
I didn’t bring up War the whole day. I figured she wouldn’t want to talk about wrestling on this day of all days.
Cliff: Thanks. I wish I hadn’t have gone for that submission on Joey Flash.
Tina: Hey, there’s no use in regretting it. What’s done is done. And besides, you were one of the last five men. Not many people can say that.
Cliff: Yeah, I guess.
While I feel bad for myself, I swirl my frozen yogurt around, trying to get at the Oreo pieces buried underneath.
Tina: Listen, I didn’t say anything the last two weeks because I knew you were preparing for War and you weren’t in the best place after you had to resign, but now I think you need to start looking for a job.
Fuck, I really don’t want to talk about this, but it’s unavoidable.
Cliff: I’ll go and talk to Mark over at CVS tomorrow. I’ll talk to Johnny, too. Maybe I can clean the gym for him or something.
Tina: What about substitute teaching?
Cliff: Babe, I was just fired for putting a kid in a wrestling hold. It was all over the news. What district is going to hire me?
Tina: Come on, how do you know some district won’t hire you?
Cliff: I just know, babe, that’s all.
I can tell she’s getting aggravated by my stubbornness.
Tina: Are you wrestling this weekend?
She asks the question like a wife wanting to know if her husband has cheated on her.
Cliff: Of course I’m wrestling this weekend.
Tina: And where do you have to go?
Cliff: Hawaii.
Tina: HAWAII?!
A couple passing by is startled by her outburst.
Cliff: Could you keep it down? Jesus!
Tina: Do you know how much that’s going to cost you?
Cliff: Yeah, a lot of money.
Tina: Money that you shouldn’t be spending right now.
Cliff: Well, babe, I would have had to spend the money to go somewhere this weekend.
Tina: Oh, come on, Cliff.
Yeah, that was a weak point. The prices I saw were almost hitting $1,000.
Cliff: Alright, I’ll talk to Seth and ask him for the week off.
Tina: Seth. I don’t trust that guy. He seems like a real asshole.
Cliff: Bingo.
Tina: You think he’d pay for your travel expenses.
Cliff: That’s not the way wrestling works.
Tina: Well, it should! He wants you to wrestle so bad and travel around the country to do it, he should pay for it.
What she doesn’t know about the wrestling business could fill a book. Still, I try to appease her.
Cliff: I’ll talk to him about that, too. Maybe he’ll see my situation and give me a break.
She looks away, but I can tell the look on her face is an unsure one. Okay, time to get her mind off of our problems.
Cliff: Let’s go walk down to the harbor.
While we walk, I hold her hand tight to reassure her that everything is going to be alright. She looks at me, smiles, and hugs my arm as she learns her head on my shoulder. I think for the first time in three weeks, she trusts me to do the right thing.
The next day I do what I said I would do. First, I went to CVS and talked to Mark, my old manager when I worked there before I got a teaching job. He was a nice guy, always real patient, never got flustered. As far as retail went, he was a dream boss.
Mark: You want to come back? Absolutely! What were you making when you left?
Cliff: $8.50 an hour.
Mark: Well, we can’t have you making that again. How about $9.00?
Cliff: That’s…perfect, Mark.
Whatever. I need the money as badly as Serujah needs an AIDS test.
Mark: You have to go to training again. There’s one out in Bellmore this Sunday. Can you do it?
I guess that’s my out to not wrestle this weekend.
Cliff: No problem.
The next stop was LIWA to see Johnny. I was hoping that he would shower praise on me, his former student, for my performance during War, but he led with something else.
Johnny: That sucks what happened to you at the school. It’s bullshit that they fired you.
Cliff: I resigned.
Johnny: Well, whatever, it was bullshit. The kid’s fucking fighting and you tried to break it up and you get canned for it. The way I see it, the kid had it coming. But anyway, you had a nice fucking face lock on that kid.
Seeing as the face lock cost me my job, that compliment means little.
Cliff: Did you see me in War?
Johnny: Oh yeah, you were great! But why did you go for the Cloverleaf on Flash?
Cliff: Yeah, I know. Rookie mistake.
Johnny: You’re telling me. You should have pinned that asshole when you had the chance! Well, whatever, you’ll get em’ next year.
If there is a next year.
Johnny: So are you here to train?
Cliff: Um, actually, I was kind of hoping you were in need of some work. I could clean the gym for you; wipe the mats, shit like that.
Johnny looks at me quizzically and scratches his chin. He ponders my offer.
Johnny: Yeah, you could do that. Or you could be one of my coaches.
Cliff: Johnny, are you serious?
Johnny: Yeah. You know enough now. You made it to a big league promotion. You’re still learning, but you could teach some of these dipshits the basics. Teach the Wednesday night class.
Cliff: I’d love to. I just have to run it by my boss over at CVS. He wants me to work nights. Maybe I can get him to give me a day time shift on Wednesdays.
Johnny: CVS? You have to work there?
Cliff: I’ve worked there before. It’s no big deal.
Johnny: Yeah, but fucking CVS?
Cliff: Hey, it’s a job.
Johnny: I suppose. I’ll tell you what. I can give you a few hours cleaning the gym, too. I wish I could give you more work, but I just don’t have that type of money. Believe me, Cliff, if I could pay you enough so that you wouldn’t have to work at that fucking place, I would.
Cliff: Johnny, I know you would. I appreciate whatever you can give me.
We shake hands. I’m feeling real good. I’m two for two. Now for the third boss- Seth Lerch. I call his office and talk to his secretary. He can see me tomorrow.
When the next day comes, I drive out to New York City to visit Seth in the WCF headquarters. I wait outside his office for what seems like three hours. Oh, wait. It is three hours. Fuck.
Cliff: Did he forget that I was here?
Secretary: No, he’ll be with you in a moment.
Cliff: You said that an hour ago- and two hours ago- and two and a half hours---
Secretary: HE’LL BE WITH YOU IN A MOMENT.
She says it real stern this time. Fuck this cunt. And fuck Seth for making me wait here. I hate this power move shit. I know he’s the fucking boss. He doesn’t have to prove it to me by making me wait here like a fucking asshole. If I didn’t need what I’m going to ask of him, I’d be gone already.
Finally, after another fucking hour, I get sent in to his office.
I walk in and find Seth drunk, something that’s more obvious than Trump’s dye job.
Cliff: Good afternoon, Seth.
Seth: What the fuck do you want?
I tighten my fists. Stay focused, Cliff.
Cliff: You mind if I sit down?
Seth: YES.
Don’t punch him, Cliff.
Cliff: I need the week off. I’ve got…
Seth: Like I give a shit why you need the week off. I don’t give a fuck. Take the fucking week off. It’s not like you’re in Pantheon or some shit. You don’t drive ratings like they do.
Cliff: Well, maybe one day I will. I’ve been doing pretty well for myself in your company so far.
Seth: Yeah, yeah. I’ve seen a million like you come and go. What makes you so fucking special? Is this what you came here for, for a fucking week off? You could have just called my secretary. Hell, you’re so insignificant to me that you probably could have just no-showed and I wouldn’t have known the difference.
I wonder if he’d know the difference between having all his teeth and having no teeth.
Cliff: No, I’ve got another request. As you know, I lost my teaching job.
Seth: No, I did not know that.
Cliff: You wanted me to do an interview with Hank Brown about it.
Seth: Oh, yeah, you’re the dumbass who put a kid in a choke hold. That was fucking dumb.
Cliff: Well, anyway, if there was any way you could see to it to give me a little extra on top of what you pay me already, I’d appreciate it. Traveling around the country is expensive enough, and with the loss of my primary salary, it’s going to get a lot harder.
Seth gets up and starts opening up the drawers in his desk.
Seth: Now where the fuck is that thing?
Is he serious? He’s having a meeting with me and he’s rummaging through his desk?
Cliff: What are you looking for?
Seth: Wait a minute…
He puts his hand in one drawer as if he’s grabbing something but when he pulls his hand back out, he gives me the middle finger.
Seth: There it is!
I stare at him, my mouth agape.
Seth: You think I give a shit about your problems? I didn’t get you fired. You put that kid in a choke hold, not me. Do me a favor and go fuck yourself and get the fuck out of my office before I send you back to Johnny Shitwrecks little rat infested gym in that floating piece of shit you call Long Island.
Cliff: Hey, you can say whatever you want about me, but don’t talk about Johnny that way. He’s a legend in this business and done more in that ring than you could ever dream to.
Seth: Oh, yeah? What are you going to do about it, dickhead?
My face tightens up and I turn red.
Seth: What are you gonna do? Hit me? Go ahead, hit me. I want you to. I dare you to. I would love nothing more than to fucking fire you right now. Go ahead. Do it. Fucking do it!
My body tenses. My fists are so clenched they could bleed. But I need this job. I can’t disappoint Tina for a second time. I turn around and walk out.
Seth: That’s right, get the fuck out, you fucking---
I slam the door shut before he can finish his sentence.
Sunday comes and I drive out to a CVS in the next county for the training. I remember this. I have to sit in a conference room all day and watch videos about policies and all that nonsense. I look at the people sitting around me. Some of them are kids, mere teenagers, starting their first entry level job. Some are fresh out of college and took this job because nothing in their chosen fields was open. Some are older than me, retirees who just want the extra cash and a reason to get out of the house for a few hours a day. And then there’s people in the middle like me who got fired- or resigned- from their first job and now need this job to make ends meet.
The videos are really common sense. They’re all about customer service. Customer service is not that hard. You act polite. You help people. Voila. I can’t believe some people have to be told how to behave when they’re working.
Mercifully, after eight hours, it’s over. I step out into the sunny Sunday weather. It’s 4:00. It’s a beautiful day outside and I had to spend it in the back of a fucking CVS watching videos about how to ask customers if they need help.
It’s a job, Cliff. It’s money.
I guess the consolation is that Slam is on tonight. If I can’t be there, at least I can watch it.
I turn Slam on at 8:00. It’s the first time I’ve gotten to watch it from the comfort of my own living room since before I got the contract. Tina is beside me on the couch sleeping. She looks so comfortable and peaceful.
Watching wrestling on TV, wife beside me.
Maybe being here instead of wrestling in Hawaii is better.
Maybe I don’t need wrestling.
Maybe I can just walk away from it now and…
Kyle Steel: This following contest is a battle royal to determine the competitors in the Alpha Title Gauntlet Match at Helloween!
Cliff: What the fuck?!
Tina: Huh? Wha?
Cliff: Sorry, honey, go back to sleep.
She passes back out.
I can’t fucking believe this. The week that I take off, there’s a fucking battle royal for a shot at the Alpha Championship. I could have been in this! Fuck!
With each wrestler that’s announced, I get more and more irritated. I’ve beaten a third of these guys already, and I outlasted all of them in War, except the new guys, the two Johnnies, who weren’t in War.
I watch the match play out to the end. Johnny Evil, Jason O’Neal, and Kid Krazzy are the last three and get the title shot, yet Johnny Evil is the last man standing in the ring at the end and is declared the winner.
God fucking damn it. I could have won this fucking this easily. I should be in the Alpha Title match at Helloween. Not only could I beat anybody in that battle royal, but I could beat CJ Phonix, too. He couldn’t put me down at War, even after a Phoenix Splash, and I know he wouldn’t be able to do it at Helloween.
I sit back in the couch and take deep breath.
I’m sounding bitter. Hey, shit happens. I had to do what I had to do and took the week off. These guys were given an opportunity and three of them took advantage of it. Good for them, especially Johnny Evil. The guy’s debut match is a battle royal and he wins it. Impressive.
Still, the thought that I could have been in that match makes me feel like shit. I know the ultimate goal is the World Title, but winning the Alpha Title or any other title would be a great achievement. Plus, some extra money comes with winning a title, which I sorely need right now.
I watch the rest of the show and get more and more depressed the more I see which titles are defended on the show. I would have loved to have competed for the Hardcore Title. Fuck, even Howard Stern got a fucking title shot before me. God damn it.
I turn the TV off after the main event and head to bed. I am NOT missing Slam next Sunday. No fucking way. I don’t care if it’s in Hawaii again. I have enough money to get out there. I am not missing another opportunity.
The next day, I start at CVS. I was a little nervous that I would forget a lot of things, but it’s all coming back to me. It’s like riding a bicycle.
One thing I do remember is how boring it can be, especially if you’re working the cash register. There are some days, like Mother’s Day, where people are coming in every second and you don’t even have time to take breath. Then there are times like today where not enough people seem to be in the store and I have to drink a Red Bull just to keep myself awake. I talk to the other clerks working behind the counter, but after a while, you run out of things to talk about.
I see a basket full of returned items behind me that could be returned to the shelves.
Cliff: Louise, you mind if I go and re-shelve these?
Louise is a nice old lady who’s working at the register next to mine.
Louise: Yeah, sure, I’m not going anywhere.
Hearing her say that is a little chilling. She’s really not going anywhere. She’s a 70-year-old woman and she took this job after she got laid off from her job as a nurse in a hospital. She’s worked here for ten years. She probably was hoping she would be able to retire from the hospital job and have a nice pension, but now she has to work as a clerk at a CVS to support herself in her old age. She’s clearly too old for CVS to promote her to anything else like a manager’s position. Is that going to be me? Am I going to have to work at CVS until I’m in my 70s? Am I know teaching wasn’t my dream as a kid, but I ended up liking that job, and I love wrestling but I might lose that, too. I never thought when I was a kid that my destiny would end up being fucking CVS. I shiver at the thought and try to forget what Louise said.
Putting returned items back on the shelf is a pain in the ass. Shampoo is easy to return. There’s a whole aisle for that. Infant rectal suppositories are a little more obscure, so I have to walk up and down the medicine aisles and look up and down the shelves and the little codes on the tags just to shelve something that most people don’t buy.
Jesus Christ, where does this fucking thing go? I’m in aisle 21. I kneel down to look at the tags on the bottom shelf. I have to bend even further because the print is so small.
I hear some snickering in the background. I look to my left and I see two teenage boys standing at the end of the aisle. One of them is wearing a winter hat on his head. I stand up.
Cliff: Can I help you find something, guys?
Boy: No, but you look like you need some help.
They snicker some more.
Cliff: Um, no, I’m just trying to find…
I suddenly realize that one of them is holding up a cell phone.
Cliff: Are you guys taping me?!
Boy with cell phone: Hey, Cliff of Doom, what’s it like working at CVS?
Cliff: Hey!
I start walking towards them but they run away, laughing the entire time. Fuck! How long were they recording me?!
When I get home, I find out that they were following me throughout the store for about fifteen minutes. The video they were taking was uploaded to YouTube, with the title “Cliff of CVS.” Great. As if the video of me restraining Kesha being shown on the news wasn’t bad enough, now there’s a video of me trying to find where to put infant rectal suppositories for nine bucks an hour. I’ll probably go viral and get more views than the video of Donald Trump saying he wants to grab pussies.
I compounded my embarrassment by reading the comments below. Some of them were from my fellow WCF wrestlers.
Doc Henry: Good news - Condom and Penicillin discounts...
Jared Holmes: LMFAO Seth pays you that little huh? Should've been a teacher instead.
Dion Necurat: Now we know where those sleeping pills went.
Warbird: Bwahahahahahahah....
Gemini Battle: Cliff of Doom tis a shame. If you need any money just ask... I've got work for ya...
Adrian Archer: BEHOLD! I could use a new personal assistant! Stop toiling over there and work for a Real Bastard!
He is a real bastard, for sure.
Kevin Bishop: Oh how the mighty hath fallen off a cliff of doom and fell into a retail cesspool... But atleast it's not Wal-Mart... From WAR to the Drug Store... Interesting turn of events...
First, he eliminates me from War and now he’s trolling me on the Internet. He’s got my fucking number, doesn’t he?
Steven Singh: Those who can't do, teach. And those who cant teach, should kill themselves to avoid this indignity.
Well, Thievin’ Steven, maybe you should learn to type because you forgot the apostrophe in “can’t.”
I slam my laptop shut.
Whatever. I deserve the derision. I ragged on all of those guys in my own cell phone video a few weeks before War. Maybe I deserve some of my own medicine. Being humbled sure is a son of a bitch.
Two days later is my first class at LIWA as a coach. I’m a little nervous. I’m a teacher by trade and all, but coaching adult men and women in wrestling is a little different than talking with 12-year-olds about George Washington. Still, I became a pretty good wrestler for someone who had never wrestled before, so I’m sure I can be a pretty good coach, too.
I can’t believe that just about a year ago, I was in the position that these students were in- green and hungry to achieve their dreams. I hope I can be an inspiration to them. I hope they can see my example and push themselves to be the best wrestlers they can be.
Johnny has me working with some of the newer students on their grappling holds. I’m a little clumsy in my explanations. I’m stutter a bit from the nerves. Then I hear some whispering coming from Greg, one of the students, to one of the other students.
Greg: I can’t believe this guy is our fucking coach.
My eyes shoot right in Greg’s directions.
Cliff: What was that, Greg?
Greg clearly thought he was quieter than he actually was.
Greg: Oh, uh, nothing, nothing.
He tries to act like Mr. Cool by trying to cover up what he said. I have two choices here. I can address what he said with him privately after the session is over or call him out on it right now in front of the class. I choose the former. I don’t want to make a scene and take time away from everybody else to learn. Besides, I don’t want to give this dickhead a platform to say anything else.
I go back to teaching but notice that now some of them aren’t paying attention to me. Some of them are looking away or down at the mat. Clearly some of them agree with Greg, and if they didn’t before, they do now. Alright. I guess I have to address it now and make an example out of this prick.
Cliff: You know, guys, I have to stop for a second. Greg, I’m very open to criticism, so why don’t you tell me why you can’t believe I’m your “fucking coach.”
Greg: Huh? What? I’m…
Cliff: Greg, drop the bullshit and just answer the question.
The other students murmur and now Greg’s got to save face. He smirks.
Greg: I just think it’s kind of funny that you’ve only been wrestling for less than a year and you’re here teaching us. I mean, they couldn’t find anybody with some more experience to work here? Plus, I mean, it’s going to be kind of embarrassing to tell people that I’m learning how to wrestle from the guy in the CVS video, not to mention the guy who got fired from his teaching job. I mean, who gets fired from teaching? Like, they all have tenure. That’s like immunity. You’d have to be a real idiot to get fired from a job like that.
Some of the other students start to laugh.
Cliff: Well, Greg, all opinions on my career dilemmas aside, I’ve been pretty successful in the WCF in the time that I’ve been there, so I think I know what I’m talking about when it comes to wrestling.
Greg: Yeah, you’ve had some luck.
Luck? Is this motherfucker kidding me?
Cliff: You don’t seem convinced that I’m any good.
Greg: Nope. Sorry. I think your luck is going to run out against Johnny Blaze on Sunday.
He shrugs and smirks some more, looking at the other students for approval.
Cliff: Well, how about this?
I kick him in the gut and lock him in the same face lock I put Kesha in. The other students gasp.
Cliff: This right here, everybody, is a front face lock. If you watched the news like Greg here has, you know that this is the wrestling hold I put a student in to get her to stop fighting, but what you don’t know is that I didn’t have that girl in the hold as tight as I have Greg in it right now. Greg, how does this feel?
Greg is flailing about. He sounds like he’s choking.
Cliff: I don’t think this is real comfortable for Greg. In about thirty seconds, Greg is going to pass out because there won’t be enough blood going to his thick head, but since I’m such a shitty coach who doesn’t know what he’s talking about, that might not happen. What’d say Greg? Should we find out if I’m right or not?
Greg: Ack! God, no, please. Let me go, let me go!
Cliff: Greg, you know the magic word.
Greg: Please, please!
Cliff: Nope, not that one.
Greg: Sorry?! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!
Cliff: For what, Greg?
Greg: For saying you suck!
Cliff: And being disrespectful…
Greg: And being disrespectful!
Cliff: And talking during class…
Greg: And talking during class!
Cliff: And for being a bitch.
Greg doesn’t repeat after me. I squeeze tighter. It’s not helping Greg any that while I’ve got him in this hold, I’m also imagining that he’s the little shit who took the video at CVS.
Cliff: Say it, Greg.
Greg: And for being a bitch! I’m sorry for being a bitch!
I let him go and he drops to the mat. Tears and mucus are running down his face and spit is hanging from his mouth.
Cliff: Anybody else have an opinion?
Nobody says a word.
Cliff: Good. Now let me tell you what I think! I think all of you don’t know shit right now about professional wrestling and I’d like to think you all came here to this school to learn from the professionals who teach here. Well, news flash, folks. I’m a professional wrestler and I can teach you how to be one, too!
Now, if you doubt my credentials, let’s take a look at the evidence. I’m the first student from this school to make it to the WCF and I did it in less than a year after my first class. Since I debuted in August, I’ve won every single one of my matches, except War, and I lasted almost three hours in that match, eliminating two men, including the current Internet Champion and King of All Media, Teddy Blaze.
And all those other matches I mentioned? They weren’t one-on-one matches. I’ve faced no less than four men in every single match I’ve been in so far and I was the one with his hand raised at the end of all of those matches.
Now Greg, the guy on the floor right now who’s trying to catch his breath, says that he thinks I’m going to lose to Johnny Blaze this week. Well, let’s compare:
I’ve had five matches.
Blaze has had one.
I’ve won four matches.
Blaze won none.
I think it’s pretty clear to see who’s got the edge in this match.
Greg: But [cough, cough] he’s an ex-marine and an [cough] ex-cop.
Cliff: Greg, are you still talking?!
Greg cowers.
Greg: No, no sir, God, please, no more!
Cliff: I understand he’s got a background that would have you believe he’s a real, mean, tough motherfucker, and I don’t doubt that he is. Like most of you, I imagine, I grew up in a pretty comfortable existence here in suburban Long Island. My pedigree doesn’t go back to Detroit with all of its crime and violence. And I was never a marine or a cop. I get it. To be a marine, you have to be a certain kind of person with a certain mindset that I just don’t possess. And to be a cop and commit to that line of work for at least 20 years- that takes some guts, maybe more guts than Greg and I have, isn’t that right, Greg?
Greg: Yes [cough] sir.
Cliff: But this isn’t the no holds barred world of the streets or the battlefield. What he learned in Detroit, the marines, and the police force doesn’t necessarily translate into the ring. I mean, take a look at the guy who was in that UFC fight against Mickey Gall a few weeks ago. What the fuck was his name…
Student: Phil Brooks.
Cliff: Yeah, Phil Brooks. He apparently was a trained professional wrestler. I'd never heard of him, but whatever. Anyway, he thought his skills would serve him well in the octagon, and he got choked out in like two minutes, kind of like Greg here, right, Greg?
Greg: [cough] Yes, sir [cough].
Cliff: Well, I see the same thing happening to Blaze this Sunday. I’m mostly an aerial wrestler and I doubt that Blaze’s experience has taught him how to deal with someone attacking him from the air. He won’t have the opportunity to grab me in a piledriver or the Ghostly Ride or the Fatal Fury. And I outweigh him by about 60 pounds, so even if he and I are on equal ground, I’ll be too quick for him. Clothesline? I’ll duck it. DDT? I’ll reverse it. Dropkick? I’ll block it. I’ll do all of that and then counter with a handspring back elbow, a double foot stomp, a super kick, I’ve got tons of moves. Hell, I’ve even added some new moves to my repertoire. I can try them out on Greg if you’d all like to see.
The students murmur. I can hear some saying “Yeah, that’d be cool.”
Greg: NO, GOD NO [cough, cough], PLEASE, I APOLOGIZED LIKE 2O TIMES!
Cliff: Alright, alright, Greg, stop being such a bitch. I’m just fucking with you. The point I’m making is that while Blaze is a powerful guy, that’s all he’s got. I’m more versatile. I have both speed and power. I have the ability to hurt people when I’m on my feet or off my feet. I mean, Blaze says he’s technical, but I watched him in the battle royal. I didn’t see anything technical happening besides an armbar, which, if you saw Jason O’Neal apply it to me, I escaped from pretty quickly when I stomped on O’Neal’s gut. So, technically, I’m not impressed by Johnny Blaze.
And for those of you who are too afraid to point this out to me because you don’t want to end up like Greg here, yes, I know Johnny Blaze claims to have an amateur and professional wrestling background. But I looked at his WCF profile and none of his accomplishments are listed, which leads me to believe that either he’s A) lying or B) wasn’t very good and accomplished nothing. I’m hoping it’s the latter because I’d hate to think that the man is a liar. But if he is a liar and has no experience, than everything I just said applies even more.
If it’s just that he’s not very good at wrestling, which I think is the case then I’m going to prove it this Sunday. Greg, what do you think?
Greg: You’re going to win, sir [cough, cough].
Cliff: You see, I am a pretty good coach! I just coached Greg here to say that I’d beat Johnny Blaze! Alright, take a five minute break. And somebody bring Greg to the bathroom so he can clean himself up.
The students huddle around Greg to help him while I walk into Johnny’s office to cool off and compose myself. I pace back and forth.
Fuck Greg. Fuck those little shits at CVS. And fuck all the wrestlers who commented on the video. And for good measure, fuck Seth, too. I’m not a fucking loser. I may be down on my luck and my personal life might be taking a hit, but I’m anything but a loser.
Then again, where am I on the card, this week? Fighting Johnny Fucking Blaze. I’ll face anybody and fight any match Seth wants, but I need to start making my way up the card, not fighting three matches from the bottom of it.
And forget about my pride taking a hit by fighting so low on the card. My wallet is taking a hit, too. If I keep wrestling at the bottom of the card against new guys constantly, I’m not going to make any money. If I’m not wrestling in the main event or near the main event for titles, I’m not going to make any money. All I need is the opportunity to grab the brass ring. All I need is the opportunity to win gold. That’s all I need. Now how am I going to get it?
An alert goes off on my cell phone. It’s a notification from the WCF Network app.
I click on the link. It brings me to an article. I start to read.
He is, is he?
Oh, fuck, the deadline already passed?
God damn it, I had an opportunity right there!
Maybe I am just a fucking loser.
Wait a minute.
He will?
This Sunday?
On Slam?
Hmm…
Maybe instead of waiting for an opportunity to be given to me…
I’ll make one for myself.
