Post by Deleted on Apr 6, 2013 4:18:41 GMT -6
“A FUCKING 14 HOUR LAYOVER IN NORTH KOREA?!”
Can’t say my first day back wrestling is going very good. Gotta give Jesse Styles credit for that one. It seems he decided a nice, lengthy layover in the Pyongyang-Sunan International Airport is a good way to welcome me into his company. The capital of North Korea, vacation hotspot it is not. But I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same to him if the roles were reversed, given our history. But here I sit, as a gay American, in a place where being neither of those things is tolerated. They kill gays here. And didn’t they just declare war on South Korea? This hazing is a little bit over the line. Just another thing to add to my “reasons to hate Jesse Styles” list. As if it needed any more entries. The stares of the passerbys in the airport are really starting to bother me.
“You got a problem, bro? Ya’ll act like you’ve never seen a former gay porn star turned preacher, turned wrestler, turned fed owner, turned wrestler, turned homeless criminal delinquent before!”
I’m not sure they if they really understood the words I just spoke, but they sure thought they were funny. The tiny Asians broke out into laughter, sending me into a rage.
“That’s it! You little crab rangoon peddlers better shut up! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?! I’m famous, bro! I know people! How many AVN awards for Best Use of a Household Appliance in Assplay do you have?! None, I bet. None. Because nobody watches Asian gay porn. Tiny dicks don’t sell! Why do you think you Asians blur out the dicks in your porn? You’re humiliated! Humiliated! I HAVE A BIG PENIS! YOU DON’T! You think North Korea has nukes?! Check out my missile!”
13 HOURS, 55 MINUTES LATER.
Turns out screaming and pulling out your penis “isn’t tolerated” in North Korean airports. Weird. You see that in Los Angeles all the time. At least they’re letting me board the plane to Tokyo after spending the rest of my layover in a sequestered holding cell. The alternative could have been much worse. As I was being hauled off kicking and screaming, I was imagining the rest of my life in a North Korean prison camp. Only slightly worse than being in NEW. Just barely.
THE NEXT DAY, TOKYO DOME
Ah, The Tokyo Dome. This is one of the monumental buildings in wrestling history. A place I’ve always dreamed of wrestling at. Although the dream always consisted of being here under different circumstances. I never would have imagined being forced here by a court of law, wrestling for a company I despised. New Edge Wrestling. Put those three words in succession and my blood will instantly begin to boil.
This company is everything that is wrong with the wrestling business. It’s the big bully company that rapes and pillages other companies, picking their corpses to the bone. It takes what it wants and then leaves the rest. I know this very well, as it’s happened to me more than once. PWE was my baby. Along with my former best friend Volcano Sampson, we had the best company in wrestling. Everybody knew it. The fans knew it. The critics knew it. We amasses an amazing and talented roster for a start-up. We were poised to success. We just didn’t have a ton of cash. Every cent Samson and I had was poured into PWE and we were killing it.
And then Jesse Styles and XXX of NEW saw what we were doing. They saw the special thing we had going. And they wanted to go to war. That was fine. An inter-promotional war with a bigger company had nothing but things to gain for us, or so we thought. So the rules were laid out. The battle lines were drawn. Every cent PWE had left was poured into setting up and advertising for this war. Our wrestlers were better, damnit. We were going to win. Some harsh words were spoken and NEW decided to take their ball and go home. They pulled out at the last minute, killing the war and killing PWE along with it. They knew we couldn’t survive that. It was our death blow. It was the worst day of my life. Until now.
I’ve been in plenty of locker rooms before, but none were this uncomfortable. Just scanning the nameplates on the lockers brings names from my PWE and TEW past back. Seth Iser, Davey Dynamo, Keelan Cetinich, Drake Blake… The list goes on and on. I can even smell the putrid stench of Hunter Valentyne permeating from somewhere in the arena. Not a smell or person I’ve missed in my time away from the sport, that’s for sure. As I start to unload my gear in my stall, another old TEW friend, Patrick Jones, walks into the locker room.
“Bobby! Wow, Bobby Backdoor! Man, I heard you were coming in. Couldn’t believe it. How have you been, man? It’s been ages!”
I just shrug Patrick off and continue to empty my gear into the stall. The truth is, I don’t know how to react. Part of me wants to give my old coworker a hug and swap stories about our time after TEW, and the other part of me wants to kick his fucking teeth into the back of his throat for willingly walking through the NEW doors and signing a contract. For betraying every TEW brother who has resisted the money and kept their integrity. When Jesse Styles pulled himself and other NEW wrestlers out of TEW, it set the chain of events in motion that eventually killed it. And now Patrick Jones, along with many others, have gotten over that? They are fools.
“Gonna give me the cold shoulder, huh Bobby? Didn’t know things were like that between us.”
“Patrick, I don’t know if I can trust you. I don’t know who I can trust anymore. We’re at war, and you jumped sides! You’re a Benedict Arnold, Patrick. You and all those guys!”
“Whoa, at war?!” Patrick replied. “Nobody is at war, man. TEW died. We had to put food on the table. There aren’t exactly that many places out there to do what we do. New Edge is the industry leader. This is the natural place to go. I‘m sorry you feel betrayed, man. I hope you can get your head on straight and realize what the real deal is. Anyway, I better go get a workout in to get ready for the Terror Dome. You should probably get ready for LA Kief or he‘ll try to butt fuck you. No bueno. Later, man.”
Not at war? What a fool. They’re all fools. They’ll see, in due time. Oh, they’ll see. …Wait, what did he say about buttfucking?! Off to the hotel, pronto! I need to check the net for some video on this LA Kief!
2 HOURS LATER, INTERIOR OF A VERY SWEATY, STICKY, KLEENEX-COVERED TOKYO HOTEL ROOM
Wow, LA Kief. This opponent of mine is the real deal. He may be as unconventional as they come, but I’m that way too. I won’t underestimate him like they underestimated me. LA is also a man after my own heart. Fat and sloppy, but he can really work the ring and, oh…well damnit he turns me on a little bit. I’m usually not into chubby guys. The bear thing isn’t for me, but this intrigues me. I must have him. Wait, no… I can’t. I told myself no treating myself until I accomplish my goal…
OF TEARING NEW EDGE WRESTLING DOWN THE GROUND!!!
…Did anybody else hear that in epic deep movie preview announcer voice? Because if you didn’t, go back and listen to it again in that voice. That’s how serious I am about this. NEW will be my bitch. It will work my corner. I will pimp slap it around a little bit and make it suck the dicks of random strangers who pay no more than $5. Then it will give me half of the money, because it is my ho. I am NEW’s pimp…
2 HOURS LATER, ONE EPIC “NEW IS THE HO, I AM THE PIMP” METAPHOR HAS FINALLY COME TO A CLOSE…
Damn, I’m hungry. Time to leave this hotel and get some real, authentic Japanese cuisine! I’m in Japan, finally! Time to do it up, right!
15 MINUTES LATER. MC DONALD’S. TOKYO, JAPAN.
“What do you mean, I have to pay?! This is an outrage! I am a close, personal friend of THE Ronald McDonald. We used to wrestle together in TEW! Call him! I let him beat me that one time to get free Big Macs for life.”
“Sir you must pay. Big Mac not free. Big Mac cost money.” squawked the elderly Japanese gentleman at the counter in broken English.
“Listen Jackie McChan, I told you. I don’t pay at the Golden Arches. Why do you think I’ve eaten every meal here for the past two years?! I worked a deal with the big guy.”
“You pay or you leave!”
“Hey!” I barked as I raise my fist at the tiny, old McDonald’s worker. Suddenly, a rainbow wristband-wearing hand snatches my arm out of the air. The owner of that hand speaks in a very feminine voice.”
“Here, I’ll pay for Bobby. Bobby, quit making a scene.”
“RICHARD SIMMONS?! What the hell are you doing here?!”
“I’m here scouting participants for Sweating to the Oldies goes to Japan.” Do you know how hard it is to find fat Japanese people who don’t sumo wrestle? It’s damn near impossible. I just sit here at this Tokyo McDonalds for 12 hours a day, waiting for a chubby bastard to walk through the door so I can sign him up and get him to work out on our VHS tape.”
“Don’t you mean DVD…or even Blu Ray?” I ask.
“Nobody who sweats to the oldies has a DVD player. We’re still moving more VHS tapes than anything. You know we’re fucked when the rest of these fat geezers pass on. Nobody will be around to jazzercise to KC and the Sunshine Band anymore. And it’ll be a damn shame.”
“That sounds like the worst world imaginable, man. That’s terrible!”
“Tell me about it.” Richard nods and replies. “Now what the hell has gotten into you, Bobby? I’ve seen you pretty upset before, usually when we run out of lube at our big, gay orgies. But I’ve never seen you so upset that you almost hit a fast food worker. That’s not like you.”
“I know, Richard! It’s just this NEW thing. I’m working for a company that is my own personal hell, and the man running it is Satan. Jesse Styles is the worst man you’ll ever meet in the entire world.”
“Worse than the guy who works at Build-A-Bear Workshop at the mall that wont let you leave an open, gaping butthole on the bear you’re building?” asks Richard.
“Yes, even worse than that douchebag Jarrett. A whole lot worse. And on top of that, I’m facing a guy who likes to anally assault just as much as I do, but I’ve sworn off sex until my mission is complete. I’ll be so tempted, but I can’t do a damn thing about it!”
“Wait, so we’re not going to have sex in this McDonalds bathroom right now?” Richard Simmons asks sadly.
“I’m afraid not, Richard. There is almost nothing in the world I’d rather do than rub this shamrock shake all over my genitals and go to town all over your sphincter, but I have a greater mission in mind. I must save my energy. If you want to butt ram anybody, I suggest you go to the hotel around the corner and ask for a LA Kief. Tire him out for me. This is my first match back and I’ll be rusty. I need every advantage I can get.”
“Bobby, I believe in you!” shouts Richard with glee.
“Thanks, Richard Simmons. Now if I can only believe that much in myself.”
-FIN-
Can’t say my first day back wrestling is going very good. Gotta give Jesse Styles credit for that one. It seems he decided a nice, lengthy layover in the Pyongyang-Sunan International Airport is a good way to welcome me into his company. The capital of North Korea, vacation hotspot it is not. But I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same to him if the roles were reversed, given our history. But here I sit, as a gay American, in a place where being neither of those things is tolerated. They kill gays here. And didn’t they just declare war on South Korea? This hazing is a little bit over the line. Just another thing to add to my “reasons to hate Jesse Styles” list. As if it needed any more entries. The stares of the passerbys in the airport are really starting to bother me.
“You got a problem, bro? Ya’ll act like you’ve never seen a former gay porn star turned preacher, turned wrestler, turned fed owner, turned wrestler, turned homeless criminal delinquent before!”
I’m not sure they if they really understood the words I just spoke, but they sure thought they were funny. The tiny Asians broke out into laughter, sending me into a rage.
“That’s it! You little crab rangoon peddlers better shut up! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?! I’m famous, bro! I know people! How many AVN awards for Best Use of a Household Appliance in Assplay do you have?! None, I bet. None. Because nobody watches Asian gay porn. Tiny dicks don’t sell! Why do you think you Asians blur out the dicks in your porn? You’re humiliated! Humiliated! I HAVE A BIG PENIS! YOU DON’T! You think North Korea has nukes?! Check out my missile!”
13 HOURS, 55 MINUTES LATER.
Turns out screaming and pulling out your penis “isn’t tolerated” in North Korean airports. Weird. You see that in Los Angeles all the time. At least they’re letting me board the plane to Tokyo after spending the rest of my layover in a sequestered holding cell. The alternative could have been much worse. As I was being hauled off kicking and screaming, I was imagining the rest of my life in a North Korean prison camp. Only slightly worse than being in NEW. Just barely.
THE NEXT DAY, TOKYO DOME
Ah, The Tokyo Dome. This is one of the monumental buildings in wrestling history. A place I’ve always dreamed of wrestling at. Although the dream always consisted of being here under different circumstances. I never would have imagined being forced here by a court of law, wrestling for a company I despised. New Edge Wrestling. Put those three words in succession and my blood will instantly begin to boil.
This company is everything that is wrong with the wrestling business. It’s the big bully company that rapes and pillages other companies, picking their corpses to the bone. It takes what it wants and then leaves the rest. I know this very well, as it’s happened to me more than once. PWE was my baby. Along with my former best friend Volcano Sampson, we had the best company in wrestling. Everybody knew it. The fans knew it. The critics knew it. We amasses an amazing and talented roster for a start-up. We were poised to success. We just didn’t have a ton of cash. Every cent Samson and I had was poured into PWE and we were killing it.
And then Jesse Styles and XXX of NEW saw what we were doing. They saw the special thing we had going. And they wanted to go to war. That was fine. An inter-promotional war with a bigger company had nothing but things to gain for us, or so we thought. So the rules were laid out. The battle lines were drawn. Every cent PWE had left was poured into setting up and advertising for this war. Our wrestlers were better, damnit. We were going to win. Some harsh words were spoken and NEW decided to take their ball and go home. They pulled out at the last minute, killing the war and killing PWE along with it. They knew we couldn’t survive that. It was our death blow. It was the worst day of my life. Until now.
I’ve been in plenty of locker rooms before, but none were this uncomfortable. Just scanning the nameplates on the lockers brings names from my PWE and TEW past back. Seth Iser, Davey Dynamo, Keelan Cetinich, Drake Blake… The list goes on and on. I can even smell the putrid stench of Hunter Valentyne permeating from somewhere in the arena. Not a smell or person I’ve missed in my time away from the sport, that’s for sure. As I start to unload my gear in my stall, another old TEW friend, Patrick Jones, walks into the locker room.
“Bobby! Wow, Bobby Backdoor! Man, I heard you were coming in. Couldn’t believe it. How have you been, man? It’s been ages!”
I just shrug Patrick off and continue to empty my gear into the stall. The truth is, I don’t know how to react. Part of me wants to give my old coworker a hug and swap stories about our time after TEW, and the other part of me wants to kick his fucking teeth into the back of his throat for willingly walking through the NEW doors and signing a contract. For betraying every TEW brother who has resisted the money and kept their integrity. When Jesse Styles pulled himself and other NEW wrestlers out of TEW, it set the chain of events in motion that eventually killed it. And now Patrick Jones, along with many others, have gotten over that? They are fools.
“Gonna give me the cold shoulder, huh Bobby? Didn’t know things were like that between us.”
“Patrick, I don’t know if I can trust you. I don’t know who I can trust anymore. We’re at war, and you jumped sides! You’re a Benedict Arnold, Patrick. You and all those guys!”
“Whoa, at war?!” Patrick replied. “Nobody is at war, man. TEW died. We had to put food on the table. There aren’t exactly that many places out there to do what we do. New Edge is the industry leader. This is the natural place to go. I‘m sorry you feel betrayed, man. I hope you can get your head on straight and realize what the real deal is. Anyway, I better go get a workout in to get ready for the Terror Dome. You should probably get ready for LA Kief or he‘ll try to butt fuck you. No bueno. Later, man.”
Not at war? What a fool. They’re all fools. They’ll see, in due time. Oh, they’ll see. …Wait, what did he say about buttfucking?! Off to the hotel, pronto! I need to check the net for some video on this LA Kief!
2 HOURS LATER, INTERIOR OF A VERY SWEATY, STICKY, KLEENEX-COVERED TOKYO HOTEL ROOM
Wow, LA Kief. This opponent of mine is the real deal. He may be as unconventional as they come, but I’m that way too. I won’t underestimate him like they underestimated me. LA is also a man after my own heart. Fat and sloppy, but he can really work the ring and, oh…well damnit he turns me on a little bit. I’m usually not into chubby guys. The bear thing isn’t for me, but this intrigues me. I must have him. Wait, no… I can’t. I told myself no treating myself until I accomplish my goal…
OF TEARING NEW EDGE WRESTLING DOWN THE GROUND!!!
…Did anybody else hear that in epic deep movie preview announcer voice? Because if you didn’t, go back and listen to it again in that voice. That’s how serious I am about this. NEW will be my bitch. It will work my corner. I will pimp slap it around a little bit and make it suck the dicks of random strangers who pay no more than $5. Then it will give me half of the money, because it is my ho. I am NEW’s pimp…
2 HOURS LATER, ONE EPIC “NEW IS THE HO, I AM THE PIMP” METAPHOR HAS FINALLY COME TO A CLOSE…
Damn, I’m hungry. Time to leave this hotel and get some real, authentic Japanese cuisine! I’m in Japan, finally! Time to do it up, right!
15 MINUTES LATER. MC DONALD’S. TOKYO, JAPAN.
“What do you mean, I have to pay?! This is an outrage! I am a close, personal friend of THE Ronald McDonald. We used to wrestle together in TEW! Call him! I let him beat me that one time to get free Big Macs for life.”
“Sir you must pay. Big Mac not free. Big Mac cost money.” squawked the elderly Japanese gentleman at the counter in broken English.
“Listen Jackie McChan, I told you. I don’t pay at the Golden Arches. Why do you think I’ve eaten every meal here for the past two years?! I worked a deal with the big guy.”
“You pay or you leave!”
“Hey!” I barked as I raise my fist at the tiny, old McDonald’s worker. Suddenly, a rainbow wristband-wearing hand snatches my arm out of the air. The owner of that hand speaks in a very feminine voice.”
“Here, I’ll pay for Bobby. Bobby, quit making a scene.”
“RICHARD SIMMONS?! What the hell are you doing here?!”
“I’m here scouting participants for Sweating to the Oldies goes to Japan.” Do you know how hard it is to find fat Japanese people who don’t sumo wrestle? It’s damn near impossible. I just sit here at this Tokyo McDonalds for 12 hours a day, waiting for a chubby bastard to walk through the door so I can sign him up and get him to work out on our VHS tape.”
“Don’t you mean DVD…or even Blu Ray?” I ask.
“Nobody who sweats to the oldies has a DVD player. We’re still moving more VHS tapes than anything. You know we’re fucked when the rest of these fat geezers pass on. Nobody will be around to jazzercise to KC and the Sunshine Band anymore. And it’ll be a damn shame.”
“That sounds like the worst world imaginable, man. That’s terrible!”
“Tell me about it.” Richard nods and replies. “Now what the hell has gotten into you, Bobby? I’ve seen you pretty upset before, usually when we run out of lube at our big, gay orgies. But I’ve never seen you so upset that you almost hit a fast food worker. That’s not like you.”
“I know, Richard! It’s just this NEW thing. I’m working for a company that is my own personal hell, and the man running it is Satan. Jesse Styles is the worst man you’ll ever meet in the entire world.”
“Worse than the guy who works at Build-A-Bear Workshop at the mall that wont let you leave an open, gaping butthole on the bear you’re building?” asks Richard.
“Yes, even worse than that douchebag Jarrett. A whole lot worse. And on top of that, I’m facing a guy who likes to anally assault just as much as I do, but I’ve sworn off sex until my mission is complete. I’ll be so tempted, but I can’t do a damn thing about it!”
“Wait, so we’re not going to have sex in this McDonalds bathroom right now?” Richard Simmons asks sadly.
“I’m afraid not, Richard. There is almost nothing in the world I’d rather do than rub this shamrock shake all over my genitals and go to town all over your sphincter, but I have a greater mission in mind. I must save my energy. If you want to butt ram anybody, I suggest you go to the hotel around the corner and ask for a LA Kief. Tire him out for me. This is my first match back and I’ll be rusty. I need every advantage I can get.”
“Bobby, I believe in you!” shouts Richard with glee.
“Thanks, Richard Simmons. Now if I can only believe that much in myself.”
-FIN-