Fuck A Duck

[Deleted]

{{Fuck a duck. I've had a lot on my mind lately and most of my thoughts have centered around one man: Oblivion, The Dark One, The Monster, IT. I've said many harsh words about the man, but I know as well as anyone what he's capable of. I defeated him in a triple threat match at Blast to retain my WCF Hardcore Championship, but that's in the past. It means nothing now. NOTHING. Oblivion was motivated by that loss, fueled by it. It made him hungrier, less stable, more unpredictable. To step into the ring with Oblivion is to play with fire, and when a young boy plays with fire he's bound to get burned. I uttered a similar phrase to Oblivion in the lead-up to our match at Blast, but in that scenario he was the young boy playing with fire, i.e. Baines. It seems as though the tables have been turned, and now I'm the one who's searching for the extinguisher to put out the flames.

Even when I was wrestling Tek on Monday Night Slam this past week my mind was focused on Oblivion. I intend no disrespect to Tek when I say these words, but I knew that beating him would be a piece of cake and it was. Hell I made him tap out and I'm not exactly a submission wizard, now am I? Tek was a chump who got fed his breakfast, lunch and dinner by Baines, but in the forefront of my mind I was concerned about the possibility of an ambush by Oblivion and The Gathering. Sure I had Bobby Cairo, the WCF Hall of Famer at ringside to watch my back along with his wifey Emily and my girl Gina, who's no slouch in the ass-kicking department herself. But I saw what Oblivion and his minions did to FPV in the moments before my match. I saw how they pulled the motherfucker through a hole in the ring. I saw the end result of them walloping the shit out of him and leaving him tied to a chair in a back room. FPV was bloodied and bruised. He was wrapped up in barbed wire and duct tape, and gagged. He had a note stapled to his chest, or more accurately a warning. That warning said "This is what happens when you challenge The Dark One!"

On one hand I have to commend the fine WCF ring crew for getting that hole in the ring patched up as quickly as they did. That could have presented a real hazard to the superstars who competed later on the card, myself included. On the other hand I have to think to myself, how nuts is Oblivion? How nuts are his followers? Are there any limits that they will not cross? I know the answers to these questions. I know that Oblivion, the Gathering and the Vixen will do whatever it takes to ensure that Oblivion is once again the WCF World Champion. He's already qualified for the main event at Ultimate Showdown, but that's not enough for him. He wants to add Phillip Baines to his list of victims and really give himself some momentum heading into that pay-per-view extravaganza. I have to say that I wasn't surprised to see my name listed across from Oblivion's in the line-up for this week's Slam. I certainly wasn't surprised to see our match in the main event slot. The only thing that I couldn't figure out is why our match was scheduled as a non-title affair. After awhile it hit me: Creeping Death wants me to let my guard down going into this match. He wants me to not only get beat by Oblivion, but mutilated by him. CD is still bitter about me ending his undefeated streak in the Classic and he wants revenge. Sorry, asshole. Not gonna work. I'd have to be the stupidest motherfucker in WCF history to overlook Oblivion, regardless of whether ours is a title match or a non-title match.

To prepare for my match against Oblivion I've been busting my ass this week at Crimson House Dojo in Hartford, Connecticut, a facility that has become famous as a proving ground for future champions. I've been putting in the work as I always do, going head-on in training against grown ass men who want to make a name for themselves by knocking Baines down a peg. Good luck, motherfuckers, cuz it ain't gonna happen. Still, I take my share of lumps in training. I wouldn't say that it's as bad as stepping into the ring with a nut like Oblivion, but it's not fun. I welcome a distraction from the rigors of training and match preparation every now and again, and that's why I've agreed to be interviewed today by none other than WCF's resident interview specialist Hank Brown. I used to dread talking to Hank, looked at it as little more than a chore and a contractual obligation, but I've grown to enjoy chatting with Hank. His knowledge of pro wrestling history and his passion for this business are unequalled as far as I'm concerned. Of course I would never tell him that. Hank is one of these cats that you can't compliment or he'll let it go to his head.

Not everyone likes Hank. He can be persistent with his line of questioning, even invasive, but that doesn't bother me. I have nothing to hide. Unlike the United States government, I believe in transparency. As I sit across from Hank here in the main training room at Crimson House, I soak in the ambiance. There's a smell of sweat in the air, and the sound of grunts and bodies hitting the mat plays as our soundtrack. I can tell by the gleam in Hank's eye that he's getting ready to ask me some good shit. I nod to him before he says a word, giving him unspoken consent to ask me whatever he needs to. He knows that I mean business. Baines don't mince words and I'm not about to start with a microphone attached to the collar of my grey workout shirt and a cameraman rolling tape.}}

Hank Brown: "Gosh, this is the first time that you and I have chatted in ages."

{{I scan my memory for the exact time and date.}}

Phillip Baines: "Since XIII, right? The pre-show interview before I wrestled Greenfever in that fucking whacked-out Flatliner match."

Hank: "I do believe that you're right, Phil. Although we did run into each other at Blast when you interrupted my interview with Oblivion before your match against him and Reckless Jack."

Phil: "Ah yes. Good times. That was when the girls started fighting and ripping each others clothes off. That was great!"

{{Hank blushes and wipes the drool from his chin.}}

Hank: "Oh yeah! That was a good night for the Hankster!"

{{I'm pretty sure that Hank didn't get laid that night so he must have jerked "little Hank" back in his dressing room.}}

Phil: "I'm not so much into the Vixen though. I like my ladies classy not trashy. Don't get me wrong, I am a kinky kinda dude. The WCF Universe knows this to be true."

Hank: "Pardon my asking, but have you ever had a threesome with Gina AND Emily?"

{{A bold question even by Hank's standards. Sleep with Emily, my mentor Bobby Cairo's wife? What, do I have a death wish? If Bobby didn't kill me, my girl Gina would. Hell, I'm looking around to make sure that none of the aforementioned parties are in the immediate vicinity before I answer that question.}}

Phil: "Only in my dreams, Hank. Emily looks like a cross between Zooey Deschanel and Katy Perry, and my Gina bears more than a passing resemblance to Eliza Dushku. What man wouldn't dream of a little ménage à trois action with those two ladies, unless he were of the Seth Lerch-slash-Logan inclination? Still, I know my limits and sleeping with my best friend's wife is a recipe for disaster. I'm sure that a sophisticated man of the world such as yourself can appreciate that, Hank."

{{Hank smiles. Sure that was a compliment that I just gave him, but it was so over the top as to almost be an insult. Of course he's oblivious to that fact, so we move along...}}

Hank: "Speaking of the Logan inclination, you had yourself some tranny action during your promo last week, prior to your match against Tek."

Phil: "Hey watch it, Hank. There was no funny business between me and Tranny Gina. That was simply an example of a young man helping a young woman in distress. She was hopped up on smack and I was helping her to keep her balance. Would you have left her to fall face first to the sidewalk and certain demise, Hank? Would you?"

{{Hank is so desperate for action, he would have lured that tranny into his beat-up old Volvo sedan and driven her back to his place.}}

Hank: "I suppose not. Let's move along to more pertinent matters, shall we?"

{{Guess I hit a sore spot with the Hankster. I shudder to think about it, but honestly when was the last time this guy got laid? That crinkled old gray suit ain't helping matters, that's for sure. Why the hell doesn't he invest a few bucks into a new wardrobe? He's been interviewing people for what, ten, eleven years now? Dude's still wearing the same suit that he wore on those early WCF broadcasts. Hasn't bought himself an iron in all these years either, apparently.}}

Phil: "Sure, that sounds good. What's on your mind, Hank?"

{{Hank glances down at his handwritten notes on his notepad, as if he really has to think about what he's going to ask me. He licks his lip with his tongue and then looks up at me with a pseudo-cocky grin on his face. Is he getting aroused or is he just giddy at dropping a bombshell on me that he doesn't think I'm prepared for?}}

Hank: "This coming Monday night on Slam you will be doing battle once again with The Dark One, Oblivion."

{{Hank pauses for a moment before continuing. Seriously, THAT was the set-up for his big question? Stevie Wonder could see where he's going with this, for fuck's sake.}}

Hank: "This time around you'll be facing Oblivion one-on-one, but you don't have to worry about defending your Hardcore Championship. Tell me, Phil: What are your thoughts on this match? What's going through your head as you prepare to face The Monster?"

Phil: "To be honest, Hank, I wouldn't be worried even if I was defending the Hardcore Title. As sure as I know the sun will rise tomorrow barring a nuclear holocaust and the subsequent end of the world, I know that I will eventually lose the title. Why worry about the inevitable? I sure as hell don't. I've put on a facade of invincibility in some of my past promos, but I'm not the brash young man that I've sometimes presented myself as being. I pinned Oblivion during our match at Blast, but I went through pure hell with him and Reckless Jack to earn the opportunity for that pinfall. I know that I'm flesh and blood like anyone else that steps through those ring ropes. I'm talented and I'm confident in my abilities, but I am a mortal man."

{{Hank appears surprised by my candidness, my lack of bravado. I nod my head assuredly.}}

Phil: "I watched Oblivion's match against FPV before my own match against Tek on Slam. Oblivion had a solid performance in that match and earned a hard-fought victory. In the process he showed us all a glimpse of his grappling skills in addition to his famous brawling style, but it was his actions after the match that really caught my eye. Oblivion proved that he's as deranged and as dangerous as ever. Furthermore he's desperate, desperate to show that he's still one of the elite in WCF. I think that makes him even more dangerous than when I faced him at Blast."

{{I take a deep breath and think for a moment before continuing, as Hank patiently looks on and listens.}}

Phil: "Oblivion has already punched his ticket to the main event at Ultimate Showdown. I'm sure that the Hardcore Championship that I wear so proudly and defend with such vigor and passion means little if anything to him now that he has a shot to reclaim the WCF World Championship. When Oblivion and I step into the ring on Monday night at the WCF Arena and engage in hardcore warfare, it won't be about titles. It won't even be about respect. We're far beyond that. This match is about vengeance. It's about bloodshed. It's about self-preservation. Oblivion wants to end my seed, and I want to end his. The best part about it? We're going one-on-one, the way it should have been at Blast before Reckless Jack stuck his nose into business that did not concern him."

Hank: "How are you preparing for this match, Phil? Any special training regimen or top secret strategy that you'd like to blurt out--"

{{Before Hank can finish his question he's cut off by a blood-curdling scream, followed by a man yelling "Oh God! Oh God!" and begging for mercy. All of this is taking place in the ring behind where Hank and I are seated. Well, behind me at least, because I'm turned away from the ring. Hank is facing the ring and he can see everything that's happening, as the look of horror on his face indicates.}}

Hank: "Who... is THAT?"

{{I don't even have to look. I know exactly who it is. Hell, I'm the one who hired the motherfucker and brought him in here, but I pretend not to know, just to string Hank along.}}

Phil: "I'm sorry? Who are you talking about, Hank?"

Hank: "Are you not hearing the pained screams and pleas for mercy behind you? My God, there's a masked lunatic in the ring biting another man's forehead! Blood is streaming down the poor guy's face! The masked man is huge! I'd say he's at least seven feet tall, and he must weigh four-hundred and fifty pounds if he's an ounce!"

Phil: "Pfft..."

{{I blow a raspberry and roll my eyes like it's no big deal.}}

Phil: "You're talking about the mental patient in the black, leather mask? The guy with tree trunks for limbs and a boulder for a head?"

{{Hank nods his head emphatically, his eyes huge with fear. I suspect that a wet spot is forming in the crotch of his crinkled gray slacks, but I'm afraid to look. Even I'm not fearless.}}

Phil: "That's the Medicine Hat Mauler. He's Canada's answer to Abdullah the Butcher. He knows how to hurt. He knows how to maim. He knows how to maul, as his name indicates. He knows how to destroy, both inside and outside of the ring. Sometimes he uses weapons, but for him the deadliest weapon of all is his mind. Oh yeah, he's a real sicko. The second deadliest weapon? That would be his four-hundred and sixty-seven pound body, consisting of just three-percent body fat. Turns out he's almost as passionate about lifting weights as he is about mutilating people. You were close with your guess, Hank, but you short-changed him by seventeen pounds and three-and-a-half inches."

Hank: "Is that man, that BEAST--"

{{A hint of spittle hits my forehead as the word spurts forth from Hank's mouth.}}

Hank: "Your training partner for your match against Oblivion?"

Phil: "Oh sure."

{{I play it off real casual-like.}}

Phil: "He's one of them anyway. I've also brought in former WCF superstar Barbwirefreak, extreme wrestling legend Sabu and the spirit of Greenfever to assist me in my preparations."

{{No I haven't brought in any of those men, or spirits, but Hank will believe anything that I tell him so why not see how far I can take this?}}

Hank: "Wow! Sabu!? And the spirit of Greenfever!? That's incredible! You're obviously pulling out all of the stops in your training for this match against Oblivion!"

{{Poor Hank. Poor, gullible Hank. I resist the urge to hang my head in pity. It's not easy, but I want to keep up this charade for as long as I can. It humors me, helps to break up the monotony and intense physical and mental toil that goes along with training to face a sociopath like Oblivion. Hell, so much crazy shit happens in WCF that what I'm saying isn't even that far-fetched.}}

Phil: "Exactly, Hank. I could have stopped with the Mauler or even Sabu, but I thought to myself "You know what? I really need to bring in the spirit of Greenfever if I want to properly train for this match." So I did!"

{{Hank is listening intently, bright-eyed and with bated breath, like a little kid who's being told a story about Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, LeBron James's clutchness, or some other mythical entity.}}

Hank: "I'm speechless! Well, not really because I am speaking, but I'm in shock! How did you get the spirit of Greenfever to agree to work with you? After all, you are responsible for his being a spirit instead of a physical being, and he was Oblivion's tag team partner during his time on this earth."

Phil: "Surprisingly it didn't take much prodding. I knifed a hobo in the spleen in the alley across the street and Greenie's spirit was so impressed that he agreed to help train me."

{{Hank shakes his head in wonderment.}}

Hank: "Phil, correct me if I'm wrong but--"

{{Uh-oh. Is the Hankster onto me? Does he realize that I'm yanking his chain?}}

Hank: "I suspect that you wouldn't be doing all of this unless you had developed a certain amount of respect for Oblivion. Is that a fair statement? Do you now respect Oblivion after the war that you had with him at Blast, and after the havoc that he wrought upon FPV?"

{{Good, ol' Hank. Reliable, gullible Hank. He's still buying it. I have to give Hank credit though. I actually am hesitating for a moment before I respond to his question. He caught me off-guard with that one. Could it be that I actually do respect Oblivion?}}

Phil: "After having been in the ring with him, feeling the brunt of his wrath, seeing what he's capable of... I begrudgingly have to give Oblivion my respect."

{{I bite the inside of my left cheek after allowing those words to part from my lips. I don't give my respect to many, but Oblivion has earned it whether or not I want to give it to him.}}

Hank: "That's interesting, Phil, because you're not someone who gives your respect to many, at least you don't often admit it."

Phil: "Hmm... really? I hadn't thought about it that way, but now that you mention it I guess you're right. What can I say? Oblivion has earned my respect, whether I want to give it to him or not."

{{Hank nods his head as he scribbles some notes down on his pad.}}

Hank: "I know that you don't like looking past your opponents, and I'm certainly not asking you to ignore the challenge that awaits you at Slam in the form of Oblivion, but let's talk about your future for a minute. A lot of people whether they be fans, journalists or your fellow wrestlers have touted you as a future World Champion here in WCF. How do you feel about receiving that kind of praise so early in your career, and how do you view your own chances of someday claiming the most prestigious championship in all of professional wrestling?"

Phil: "I am humbled of course by that type of praise, especially when it comes from my colleagues. I don't want to short-change myself. I certainly think that I have the tools that one needs to become World Champion. I've placed myself in a position to challenge for the World Title at any time that I please by winning the Classic and earning an automatic title shot. The truth is that I don't think that I'm ready for the responsibility of being World Champion and carrying WCF on my back just yet. I've worked hard to get where I am, winning the Hardcore Championship, winning the Classic, defending my title a few times now, headlining the occasional Slam, but I still have a long road ahead of me. Talent is great. Talent is a necessity to becoming World Champion, but talent alone isn't enough. Experience is important, it's essential really, and I have to add experience to my résumé before I'll be ready to claim, as you described it, the most prestigious championship in all of professional wrestling."

Hank: "Does it help to have men such as Bolts Quackenbush and Bobby Cairo giving you advice, helping you to avoid the pratfalls that come with being successful early in one's career?"

Phil: "Absolutely. Their wisdom is invaluable. I wouldn't be where I am today without them. I'm eternally grateful for what they've done for me."

Hank: "Do you think that you've cemented yourself as one of the greats in this sport?"

{{I take a deep breath and then exhale before answering that one. Sure I have confidence in myself, but the more that I learn and grow the more that I realize how much more learning and growing I have to do.}}

Phil: "Honestly? I can't say that I have. Logan, Slickie T., Jack of Blades, Skyler Striker. Those are some of the names that come to my mind when I think greats, both past and present. I can't put myself in that league. Not yet. Not even close."

Hank: "Fair enough. That's a surprisingly humble answer coming from a young man with swagger such as yourself, Phil."

Phil: "I'm maturing I guess. Heh."

Hank: "You just touched upon the fact that you do have a World Title shot that you can use at your discretion. In your last promo you announced that you won't be cashing in your World Title shot for as long as D-Day is World Champion, which you predicted will be a VERY long time. You called it your quote "declaration of integrity in an age of deceit" unquote. What exactly is your relationship with D-Day, and why did you make this pledge?"

Phil: "I wouldn't say that I have any specific relationship with D-Day. He's my colleague. Like most people I have profound respect for him. We don't hang out together. I think we've teamed up once or twice in some tag team and eight-man matches on Slam, but I'd be hard-pressed to remember if we said two words to each other the entire time. I just, I admire what he's done. He's the epitome of a true World Champion, a man who represents his company with honor and integrity, and brings prestige to the World Championship. That's not to say that the WCF World Championship needed prestige, but he's worthy of wearing that belt. Unless you're a cynic then you have to appreciate what D-Day does, from the way that he carries himself, to the way that he performs in the ring. He's eloquent, intelligent and an all-around jam-up kind of guy."

Hank: "Do you aspire to be World Champion, Phil?"

Phil: "I'm sorry, do I perspire to be World Champion?"

{{I'm not trying to be a wise-ass. It really did sound like Hank said perspire. He annunciates this time.}}

Hank: "No, aspire. Do you aspire to be World Champion?"

Phil: "Oh, aspire? Sorry, it's kinda noisy in here with dudes throwing each other around the ring and ripping the flesh from each others bodies. Like I said, Hank, I'll know when I'm ready to be World Champion, and right now I'm just not ready. Do I want to be the man who stands atop the mountain and surveys the WCF faithful from that lofty throne? Of course, and I have no doubt that my ambition to be champion will come to fruition, but patience is a virtue and I am a patient man. I wasn't always, but with maturity and life experience I've become one."

Hank: "Well then do you have any major announcements this week after that announcement last week?"

Phil: "Yes, actually. In tribute to Ron Artest I'll be changing my name to Metta World Peace, Jr."

{{Hank and I share a laugh before moving along to the next subject. Hank shifts in his chair so I know that he's getting ready to ask me something that he considers to be a real whopper.}}

Hank: "There's been a lot of backstage turmoil recently in WCF. Certain superstars, who I won't name, have been unsatisfied with their placement on the card. We've seen some departures. Creeping Death, who is a legend in WCF, a Hall of Famer, basically was fed up with what he was seeing. He unceremoniously forced Mark Markman from power and placed himself in charge of WCF. You and he have not had the greatest relationship. How do you feel about CD taking over? Is there still bad blood between the two of you?"

{{I force myself to smile, hoping that it's real looking and not an obvious fake. I even make a reassuring gesture with my hands to add to the charade.}}

Phil: "Oh no, that's water under the bridge."

{{The hell it is. I hate CD with a passion. I hate that he's in charge of WCF. I have little doubt that the man will abuse his power to make an example out of me.}}

Phil: "I think it's good that we finally have a wrestler in charge of WCF."

{{It would be if he weren't an egotistical asshole who plays favorites.}}

Phil: "Creeping Death has proven time and time again that he knows what it takes to put together a great wrestling show. His XIII pay-per-views are some of the most watched and most acclaimed in WCF history."

{{At least that much is true.}}

Phil: "I'm sure that he'll do his best to run a tight ship and eliminate any bitching and bickering that goes on in the locker room."

{{Is Hank done? He has that look on his face that he gets when he's done with an interview. It's a cross between a blank stare and the look of a man who's just orgasmed.}}

Hank: "Wouldn't you know it? I'm out of questions! Most people shoo me away before I'm able to finish, haha!"

{{I shrug my shoulders and let out a polite chuckle.}}

Phil: "What can I say? You brought your A-game today, Hanky!"

{{At this point I'm eager to usher Hank off of the premises. We've been chatting for maybe a half hour, but it feels like it's been a day and a half.}}

Hank: "I really want to thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to talk to me, Phil!"

Phil: "Hey, no problem. I'll even walk you out, ok?"

Hank: "Great!"

{{I remove the microphone from my collar. Hank motions for his cameraman to come with as we stand and head for the door, which is good because I was prepared to use physical force with both of them, if necessary. I was already in a bloodthirsty state of mind due to my preparations for facing Oblivion on Slam, but all this talk of CD really has me seeing red. It's a good thing that you come from a country with universal health care, Medicine Hat Mauler, because if you were American that ten grand that I'm paying you to spar with me wouldn't even cover your medical bills.}}