Post by Gēmu on Sept 20, 2017 18:55:40 GMT -5
*Video not used for profit, only for context of the following story. Like GG Allin would give a shit either way. But yeah, all rights reserved for GG Allin and his estate...
Gonzo is sitting inside of an apartment in Detroit, surrounded by the belongings of his best friend and recently departed Zeeshan Lazlo, who had recently succumbed to cancer. Inside the apartment, Gonzo sits in the middle of his best friends living room in a collapsible camping chair. A bottle of Jack Daniel's rests on the hardwood floor next to Gonzo's booted left foot, while he finishes cooking some China White, in preparation for his ride.
Despite the persona that Gonzo had portrayed in his professional wrestling life, he had never mainlined heroin before this. He knew how to do so, but never really felt the need to ever go here. Until now, that is.
As "Carmalita" played on the radio, Gonzo tightened his leather belt around his left arm, before sinking the shallow needle into his raised vein. As he depressed the plunger on the needle, everything started to warp. GG Allin's voice, his vision of the "Renaissance Man" print by da Vinci in Lazlo's living room, even his life force within himself. Gonzo then rocked over and fell flat on the floor. Face first, and the needle still in his arm...
Gonzo: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
I toss the covers off of me, as I shoot myself out of bed. As I get to my feet, I start bolting, only to fall flat on my face. As I look around, I see my wife Susan bolt out of bed herself. She comes around to where I've fallen and says...
Susan: George! Oh my God! What happened?
I scramble myself to a sitting position to realize that my right foot, after five years, is still missing. This happens all the time, and it seems even as a sober person I forget that particular limitation about myself.
Susan: George, are you okay? Was it another bad dream?
Gonzo: I'm alright. Just...
Susan: Was it Pakistan?
Gonzo: No. It was Detroit...
Susan frowns, as she wraps her arms around me in comfort. Until last night, I had been alone in Japan for the last two weeks. While I welcomed her presence, especially during such horrible nights, I felt it was more because she still didn't trust me. Though to be fair, I've only been clean just shy a year, and professional wrestling is not a place that caters well to the recovering alcoholic/addict.
Susan hopped the first plane to Tokyo when she had heard that I whored myself out for 5,000 tickets. True, they were to go to the men and women of the Armed Forces, as a morale booster in this tumultuous time of imminent war with a belligerent nuclear power that wasn't afraid to use said nukes. Still, despite her reasoning of her being in Japan, I was still glad for her presence.
Susan pulls away, as she says...
Susan: Has this been going on for long?
Gonzo: No. This is the first time in a long time. I thought this was over. Maybe I had found peace or something. Guess I was wrong.
Susan: Detroit. Wasn't that when you last blew off the WCF? When Lazlo died from cancer?
Gonzo: Yes, and I overdosed on heroin in his apartment. Still, all I remember is the pain. Of everything... Why the fuck am I getting back into that ring? What was I thinking, saying yes?
Susan: I'm not thrilled about it, either. Hell, when you told me, and when I first got on the plane to here, my first thoughts were that I was going to be spending the rest of my life in a Japanese prison after I killed you. But at least you're getting into the ring for a good cause.
Gonzo: That, and it bought me some favors from the most powerful American Admiral in Japan, in case shit happens in the future. I may need it.
Susan: And I'll make sure he follows through on that favor when the time comes. I know how these guys need a kick in the ass to do what they should do.
And she really does. A few years before I met her, she had got her Masters in Nuclear Physics and went off to spy on North Korea and their program, only to get captured and nearly executed for espionage. Before that could happen, she managed to make contact with her handlers, who fortunately for her, managed to do the right thing and get her back in a prisoner exchange. On that note, I changed the subject from myself to her...
Gonzo: How about you? How are you feeling about being here? Last time you were here was...
Susan: After the exchange. My only wish was that perhaps I could have done something then to set the nuclear program off its rails. Instead, this kind of reminds me of my failure.
Gonzo: Yes, but at least you're alive. It could be much worse. You know, while you're here, you could probably provide some insights on the North Korean military that others may not have. Just a thought.
Susan: You trying to get rid of me? Get me involved in something so you can go off and live the pro wrestling rock star life for a week?
Gonzo: Sorry. My mind went to work, not to the WCF. The only thing that made sense is that this can be my real ride off into the sunset. As much of a drunk Seth is, he made a real good point of that. I do owe what few fans I have left a final ride. Its not like I'm going to win this match. Hell, I really don't want to.
But I would like to ruin someone's momentum. Like maybe Odin Balfore. Talk about a guy who thinks his shit doesn't stink. Yeah, maybe like 5 years ago he was someone, but today? Hell, back when I was balls deep into the WCF, I did a good job of fucking that guy over when he tried to ruin the momentum of everyone else WAY more deserving of being somebody. That fossil's time has past. He needs to get over himself.
Susan: Good luck with that. I don't even know any of these people. Don't want to. Just get your ass back from that match in one piece, and that'll make me happy. Then we can leave this place behind us. We can focus on more important things. Like George, or how to try and avert this war. Really important things other than a bunch of wannabe tough guys rolling around in their underoos.
Gonzo: Underoos? Cute. Speaking of underoos...
I moved my hand in between her thighs and maneuvered my fingers past her velvety underoos into her lotus patch. She moans and responds to my touch, as we drop those subjects for the remainder of the evening...
In between meetings in Yokosuka, I managed to squeeze in Hank Brown, the long-standing and venerable chief reporter for the WCF. Yet another guy whom I was surprised is still alive and kicking. Last I remember, Hank was a consistent rider of the white pony, and I figured his days of being an old head would've killed him by now. I guess only the good die young from drug abuse.
As I walked into the employee lounge to find Hank wearing styles off of the Sears rack from 1997, I nod in his direction. He looks at me, then says...
Hank: Pardon me, sir. Do you know of a George Murdock. Might better be known as Gonzo?
Gonzo: Hey Hank. Glad you found the place alright. How's the tricks been?
Hank: Gonzo? Holy fuck! You got...
Gonzo: Fat? Out of shape? Yeah, call it what it is. I don't really give a fuck what you think. Especially considering the junk I know you still like to partake in, you're in no position to really judge anybody about their life outside of the WCF.
Hank: So what the hell are you doing in Japan? I heard you were dead.
Gonzo: Gonzo is, but I'm alive and okay. Not well, but who the hell is well these days? As for why I'm here, all I can say is North Korea.
Hank: And you figure you would try your luck at WAR at the same time?
Gonzo: No, actually. I had no intention of actually competing until I was put on the spot by a few people that I will not name in this interview. I asked Seth for some tickets for some Armed Forces members as a morale booster, and Seth asked me to compete in return. As much as I really don't want to, it's for a good cause. Because God knows tomorrow a REAL WAR might kick off and we'll be in a full-swing. I guess at least I can entertain some of those war fighters before they go die in another pointless war of aggression. At least the aggression will come from a two-bit despot autocrat this time, rather than for the want and greed of oil.
Hank: So this is NOT a desperate attempt to recapture lighting in a bottle for your career?
Gonzo: God no! That ship has sailed. No, this is more like closure. For me, what few fans I haven't completely alienated. No, I have no illusion that this is my ticket back to the Promised Land. For example, if I actually did win this match by some freak accident or miracle, I would have no desire to show up at ONE to challenge whoever the fuck the World Champ is. As I said, this is my last ride. I've got more important shit to do in my life these days.
Hank: You're not the only high-profile return for this annual match, though you may be the only one not trying to launch a return. Many of your former peers, such as Jay Omega, Steve Orbit, Odin Balfore, and a few others are making special appearances. Anything to say about them?
Gonzo: That's a nice list to be included on, considering I never won a World Title...
Hank: Yes, but you've toppled some of these guys at certain points of your career.
Gonzo: Maybe when they were on their downswing. I have no real beef with any of these guys. Everything prior to this was professional, but if they hold grudges, that is their problem. Hell, they all have a chance to come and bury my ass if they so feel the desire to do so. Like I give a fuck, I'm retired and I plan on staying that way.
Hank: Well, some were rather disappointed on how the whole Jay Omega thing turned out...
Gonzo: And none more so than I was. I broke the poor bastard's leg as his star was shooting high into the air. Again, not personal, though I take the blame for that fucking his career momentum up. Then, when he comes back and is able to get some revenge, I fall to my own illness, which played a big role in ruining my career, and that feud in particular. I guess it was never meant to be, but I do implore Jay Omega to come at me if we're going to give some sort of closure to that conflict. I could do worse than losing to Omega. Like losing to Balfore.
Hank: The All-Father....
Gonzo: He sure as shit ain't my fucking daddy. Last time I saw him in a ring, it was him, Cairo, and Mazy trying to advance at Trios. And what a bunch of little bitches they turned out to be after the match. But if there was one thing that myself, Bates and Battle proved it was that he has no business trying to take spots away from the guys on the rise in the WCF. Talk about a guy who really needs to stay fucking gone. Fuck Balfore, that self-serving assbag.
Hank: Anybody else you want to take a shit on while you're walking out the door?
Gonzo: Steve Orbit? Nah, I'm just kidding about that one, though I'm certain he'd like to drop a big one on me. I've said some unkind words professionally towards him, and to do so now would just be like kicking a dead horse. If anything, I wish him the best if this is him trying to restart his career. He was the future, and somehow it seems his legacy is just... Incomplete.
Besides, other than those names you shot at me, I have no clue who's in this match. I'm going to further assume I don't know any of these guys. Which to those guys, good luck. Just don't cross my path if you intend on getting out of this with your dignity intact. God knows nobody wants to lose to the guy who's trying to retire.
So who's all in this match who I know that you know that I know?
Hank: There's Oblivion...
Gonzo: He's still alive? I don't think I've crossed paths with him. Well, good for him. Anybody else?
Hank: Adam You...
Gonzo: The Tommy Dreamer of the WCF is still around? No way! I always liked that douchebag, sort of. I mean, he's not getting an invite to my son's Baptism, but he's alright. Maybe this year it'll work out for him.
Hank: A few holdovers from #BeachKrew are in this match. Johnny Rabid and Kyle Kemp...
Gonzo: So none of the big-time players from that horrible stable could be bothered to show up? No Waddle Moor? No Sexless God? That seems kinda sad that only the scrubs are still around from those days. Shame and pity. They could've finally Deep Sixed my ass, as they always wanted to do. Some other life, perhaps.
Hank: Mikey's in the match...
Gonzo: Any other former Dark Riders in this match? Talk about a bunch of guys who got shafted because of their fear of being relegated as inferior to a product that happened organically. At least Mikey's still around. Maybe we'll get to kick some ass and show people why the WCF had to manufacture a shitty stable to combat us. Because we were the shit, is why. Hope to see you in the match, Mike.
Hank: Jayson Price is still around...
Gonzo: I heard that. Easily the most self-centered asshat the WCF has ever produced. Hell, even Torture can't lay claim to that shit. Or Joey Flash. Or Jared Holmes. Or... Yeah, you get the picture. Also one of several that ducked me during my time in the WCF. Because God forbid he ever actually face someone challenging. That punk bitch will probably steer clear of me. Anyone else?
Hank: Digger is back.
Gonzo: Another ducking bitch if I ever saw one. God, it seems the WAR really does need me. The lineup, a few names excluded, looks like shit. Anybody that you named even considered to win this WAR?
Hank: The odds-on favorite to win is Andre Holmes.
Gonzo: Is he any relation to the shit-bag Jared Holmes? Because if he is...
Hank: Nope. Totally different Holmes.
Gonzo: Then I have this to offer to him. Good luck, and stay the fuck out of my way. I will embarrass you if you get in my way. And I'm not talking "naked in a dream" embarrassed. As I said before, nobody wants to go out to the guy who's retiring. Least of all, the odds-on favorite to win the match. May ONE make all your hopes and dreams come true. God knows none of mine ever did. Had that awesome moment from the top of a ladder, but nothing else. Can someone bring a ladder to WAR? Those were always fun!
Hank: In your condition? I thought you were retiring, not trying to commit suicide.
Gonzo: I think I should bring a ladder to the match. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Anyways, I think we've got more than enough for you to go back and tell everyone that I still hate them all in some colorful language. I guess some things never change. You know where the door is. Go use it.
Hank puts his notepad away and leaves the room. I take a deep breath and exhale just as heavily. Evoking Gonzo like that took a toll. Pretending I give a shit about this match, even the slightest, was actual work. Though at least Hank pointed out some juicy targets for me to go after. Considering this is a retirement match, I guess now is the best, if the last, time I get a shot at some of these cock slugs.
I better make this last shot at these guys count.
