Post by Deleted on Sept 15, 2019 19:55:20 GMT -6
“I AIN’T NO JOKE!”
I snuck onto the Howling Wolf after everyone else did, and I hunkered down with a bottle of scotch until we were well on our way. After about an hour, I made my way to one of the unoccupied rooms and locked myself in. I downed the handle of scotch and don’t remember anything until waking up the next day to find that we landed in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. I peered out the window to see that it was early morning and that the sun had not yet risen. As quickly and quietly as I could, I showered and got ready to head to a hotel near the venue for this week’s Ignite. I had all but written this event off, as I had no plans to actually show up. Be that as it may, my competitive drive and guilt for missing a commitment took over. After my shower, I slowly rolled my motorcycle out of the cargo hold and down the ramp I went. It didn’t dawn on me that someone else had lowered the ramp and was sipping a cup of coffee as she stared at the horizon awaiting the sunrise. Always the first to rise and the last to set, Voodoo just leers at me with a disappointed side-eyed glare.
VOODOO
“You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, Preston.”
DANE
“Good morning to you too, Red. How are they handling my being away?”
VOODOO
“The babes are still young, this sort of thing isn’t registering with them yet. Their mother on the other hand. Her training is off. Her mind is elsewhere. It’s negatively affecting her performance in the ring. This bender you’re on, it needs to end quickly. For your sake. And hers…”
Voodoo subtly nods back up the ramp, when I look over my shoulder, I see Allison standing there, arms crossed over her chest. I nod and prop my bike on its kickstand and head back up the ramp. By the time I reach Allison, she puts her hands up and starts to back away. I snatched one of her hands and pulled her into me, where she broke down crying. I kissed the top of her head a few times.
DANE
“I’m so sorry baby. I’ll kick this shit. I swear it. I just need a little more time…”
After kissing the top of her head one last time, Voodoo appeared at my side and took Allison in her arms, walking back into the plane as I headed back to my motorcycle. I made sure to close the ramp before I started the bike and sped off.
HOURS LATER
I’m standing in the middle of an empty ring in a musty old wrestling and boxing gym. Spots like this are not hard to find in Canada, as wrestling is as big a thing in the great white north as hockey. An N.E.W. camera crew had received my memo, as they had set up a camera and some ambient lighting. I walk the ring, pacing from one side to the other, a bottle of Empress 1908 gin in hand, already half empty.
DANE
“I didn’t come here to compete in matches of chance, Jesse. I came here to fight motherfuckers one on one, face to face. I was half tempted not to bother showing up at all. But my conscience and competitive drive won out, and here I am.”
I raise my hand with my index finger up as I take a huge pull from the bottle. Then I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my hoody before continuing.
“Number 16. Just like my favorite quarterback of all-time, Joe Montana. Joe Cool. The Comeback Kid. Super Bowl Champeen four times over. MVP a couple times too. I dig it. I like my chances of winning. What I don’t like though, is this feeling that this match is going to play out like a bad soap opera. You have a bunch of hacks who don’t belong in the ring, then you have a handful of shit for brains that I aim to eliminate. And then you have people I refuse to lock up with. Who books this shit anyway…”
I wave my hand at the crew to keep rolling as I take another pull of gin. I reach my free hand up to my mouth and swipe it down my stubbly face.
“First off, I ain’t fighting my wife. I ain’t fighting our girlfriend’s boyfriend. And well, I ain’t fighting my wife’s ex-boyfriend neither. We have a code in our family, we don’t fight each other unless we’re booked against one another and it’s for a damn good reason. A rumble match a damn good reason does not make…”
I down the remaining contents of the bottle and lean my head back, holding the bottle over my wide open mouth as I try to shake the last few drops of gin out. No dice, bottle is dry, so I slung it over my shoulder and heard it shatter against a nearby wall.
“Don’t get shit twisted or misconstrued though. There are a good number of punk motherfuckers I have more than enough itch to throw down with. The first of which is this delusional halfwit who fancies himself an MIT grad, Kyle Manson. Listen up Cuntswab Kyle, you remind me of the fuckin orange buffoon we have in the White House. Full of hot air, false bravado, an overinflated sense of self. You, much like Dumpsterfire Donald, talk a lot of shit you know nothing about, and say a lot of things that you later deny saying, despite there being record of you saying it. One of these things applies to my girlfriend Ani, you know the lass, she’s the hot piece of ass you tried to work with behind the scenes, but got butthurt when she turned you down so you pretend that conversation never happened. I’ve seen the footage. Hell, we all laughed at your pathetic ass after she said no. But then you had to go and challenge her, you had to tell her, a fucking veteran in this industry, that she needed to work on her ring skills. Son, I lost to you on one of my worst days, I know what you bring to the table and you ain’t shit to her. Which brings us to why you’re Preston Enemy #1 on my Shitlist; eliminating you from the rumble match will be more than satisfactory recompense to make up for both my loss to your wack ass, and the insults you threw at Ani. You better have eyes in the back of your head though boy, I’m not the only one gunning for you. My wife Allie, and Ani’s other boyfriend Roger both have you in their sights as well…”
“Next on my shitlist goes without saying, is this punk bitch Matt Haven, who put forth so little effort in our match last week, yet still found the balls to talk some shit after the fact. Listen up Doormat Haven, what I did to your punk ass last week was only the beginning. Tossing your ass out this week would be the icing on the cake for me. That is, if you can last that long from your lowly #3 entry spot. If you’ve got the balls to hold out for me, please Minimum Effort Matt, try your best to do so, because I can’t wait to get my hands on your shit talking ass one more time.”
“And then we have good old James “Don’t Call Me Morbid, Wait I Changed My Mind, Call Me Morbid” Wolf. Since I broke back into business in that last craphole promotion we were in, I called you and Johnny out. I promised to eradicate you two cumstains from the bedsheets of this business. While I was focused on Johnny, I rescinded the eradication proclamation from you. But you still chose to come after me. I’ve already whooped your ass, it will be the easiest thing in the world for me to do it again, this time taking away an opportunity for you to get a title shot. First, you have to hang on in this match. You can’t get eliminated before I get to you. That’s a privilege reserved for Yours F’n Truly. If you don’t get tossed out first, I’ll be the cure to your affliction, Wolfie. See you real soon...”
“The last shit for brains on my list is Johnny Stylez. Don’t think for one second that just because you’ve been preoccupied with Roger Wright that I am not going to get my revenge against your ass. You and I, we have some long overdue, unfinished business. I may not be at my best these days, but I have no doubt in my mind that I can bring the fight to your ass. Mark my words, I’m coming for your punk ass. I AIN’T NO JOKE Johnny, and you're about to find that out first fucking hand. So when I get my hands on you, I’m gonna take my time throwing one helluva beating on you, before I do the honors, and throw you outta the ring and onto your sorry ass, where you fuckin’ belong boy!”
“To the rest of you asshats that plan on stepping up, better step hard, because I came to drop the fuckin hammer and delete all your sorry asses from this match. You know what they say folks, it’s better to be fashionably late to the dance than to not show up at all. To each and everyone of you N.E.W. Rumble contestants, be smart about this…”
“GET BENT OR GET ELIMINATED!”
“...there are no other options…”
With the swipe of my finger across my throat the recording fades to black.