The announcer, Josh “Buffer”, is talking, but I am not listening. I am just staring into a curtain of darkness holding RX pos #1 in an effort to keep the hips loose, they are.
“Okay, now.” Sebastion says. I had not even realized our music had been cued but I am through the curtain and yelling “I got the skill, who can match me? No-one! You ain’t got skill you noodle armed choirboy!” I yell at the group of kids that had run up to guardrail. I recognize them from last month and lay into them with a few other lines before spotting my some new prey for this month.
There on the opposite side of the ring, near were the “pretty boys” come out, I see exactly what I am looking for, all wearing their shirts from a recent “Special Olympic” competition. With purpose I stride across the gym floor my eyes fixed.
“You say something punk? What? Oh you think you got skill? Let’s see what you chumps got. I will take you, you and you, yeah you in the wheelchair trying to slither away, on! Right now! Come on Nancy Boy, unlock that brake and wheel it on around. In the ring now! C’mon punks, those Olympic medals don’t mean squat here!” Three more kids rush up in defense, all wearing yellow shirts too. I move right up to the guardrail and stick my forehead against their leader who is turning red as he yells furiously and gives me a push.
This is why I wrestle.
Normally any physical contact on either side of the guardrail is forbidden, but I made an exception in this case. “Did you see that! Hot Shot get over here!” I scream. My partner Hot Shot Mike Reed is sharing the same look as some of the parents in the other sections of the gym have plastered upon their faces. Rookies, I think to myself.
Reluctantly my partner comes over and I get him involved in the tirade. This is where my former partner, a master in this area of wrestling J.R.Ryder excelled. Hot Shot still has not got it yet.
In the background I can see the kid’s dad laughing his ass off as he takes picture after picture. Perfect, just as I planned. The crowd is really getting upset at this point.
This is why I wrestle.
Security comes over because it looks to be a breath away from becoming out of control.
“JJ sucks! Over rated!” I can hear the chants starting. A few posters saying such appear. Even better. I snatch them out of hands yelling whatever comes to mind.
“Aimed at you were the cowboys from hell.
“Okay, now.” Sebastion says. I had not even realized our music had been cued but I am through the curtain and yelling “I got the skill, who can match me? No-one! You ain’t got skill you noodle armed choirboy!” I yell at the group of kids that had run up to guardrail. I recognize them from last month and lay into them with a few other lines before spotting my some new prey for this month.
There on the opposite side of the ring, near were the “pretty boys” come out, I see exactly what I am looking for, all wearing their shirts from a recent “Special Olympic” competition. With purpose I stride across the gym floor my eyes fixed.
“You say something punk? What? Oh you think you got skill? Let’s see what you chumps got. I will take you, you and you, yeah you in the wheelchair trying to slither away, on! Right now! Come on Nancy Boy, unlock that brake and wheel it on around. In the ring now! C’mon punks, those Olympic medals don’t mean squat here!” Three more kids rush up in defense, all wearing yellow shirts too. I move right up to the guardrail and stick my forehead against their leader who is turning red as he yells furiously and gives me a push.
This is why I wrestle.
Normally any physical contact on either side of the guardrail is forbidden, but I made an exception in this case. “Did you see that! Hot Shot get over here!” I scream. My partner Hot Shot Mike Reed is sharing the same look as some of the parents in the other sections of the gym have plastered upon their faces. Rookies, I think to myself.
Reluctantly my partner comes over and I get him involved in the tirade. This is where my former partner, a master in this area of wrestling J.R.Ryder excelled. Hot Shot still has not got it yet.
In the background I can see the kid’s dad laughing his ass off as he takes picture after picture. Perfect, just as I planned. The crowd is really getting upset at this point.
This is why I wrestle.
Security comes over because it looks to be a breath away from becoming out of control.
“JJ sucks! Over rated!” I can hear the chants starting. A few posters saying such appear. Even better. I snatch them out of hands yelling whatever comes to mind.
“Aimed at you were the cowboys from hell.
Deed is done again, weve won
Aint talking no tall tales friend
cause high noon, your doom
Comin for you were the cowboys from hell”
Pantera is blasting over the speakers and I realize it is well into the song and I need to get in the ring. As I make a quick stroll along the outside of the ring an older guy races out of the bleachers getting right in my face, one leg through the guardrail. Despite having spent too much time already yelling at fans I still feel obligated. I see three more older guys a few seats down. They are sitting with arms crossed, looking bored. Though unrelated to the first I start unleashing my fury upon them. No one will ever be bored in one of my matches! One even has a sleeveless shirt on, heh, heh, heh, why not send me an invitation next time. I make some reference to zits and his biceps before realizing the song is over and I really need to get in the ring. Believe it or not I actually have some wrestling to do.
This my friends is why I wrestle.
Tune-age of the day: Cowboys from Hell, Pantera
Ah Grasshopper, More training I see is in order. Ponder the following:
“You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments that stand out, the moments when you have really lived, are the moments when you have done things in the spirit of love.” – Henry Drummond
Pantera is blasting over the speakers and I realize it is well into the song and I need to get in the ring. As I make a quick stroll along the outside of the ring an older guy races out of the bleachers getting right in my face, one leg through the guardrail. Despite having spent too much time already yelling at fans I still feel obligated. I see three more older guys a few seats down. They are sitting with arms crossed, looking bored. Though unrelated to the first I start unleashing my fury upon them. No one will ever be bored in one of my matches! One even has a sleeveless shirt on, heh, heh, heh, why not send me an invitation next time. I make some reference to zits and his biceps before realizing the song is over and I really need to get in the ring. Believe it or not I actually have some wrestling to do.
This my friends is why I wrestle.
Tune-age of the day: Cowboys from Hell, Pantera
Ah Grasshopper, More training I see is in order. Ponder the following:
“You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments that stand out, the moments when you have really lived, are the moments when you have done things in the spirit of love.” – Henry Drummond
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