She had the opportunity to bash my fucking face in and didn’t… what a better way to start off a friendship.
I mean if the shoe was on the other foot I’d have stomped down on Eileen's neck – after all I just stabbed a man in the head with an ice pick to win a wrestling match.
Eileen wanted to prove a point and that was it. That she wasn’t a vulnerable damsel in distress like her mom was when my father hunted her. She wanted me to know she evolved – she’s not just a survivor – she’s got that killer instinct.“So, you aren’t that much different from you dad huh? I mean you fucked that Dixon guy up with an ice pick – pretty brutal stuff and you seemed right in your element,”
Eileen said drinking a surgery pink cream soda and checking her makeup in the mirror.
“Why do you think I’d be good at this anyway? Seems like a lot of bullshit. A lot of false idolization – it just all seems so fucking self serving.”
“Isn’t life,” I
said. “If we aren’t looking out for ourselves first we are just going to get eaten alive. You have to lay claim to the things that are yours.”
“Is that why you are so upset about this next match?”
Eileen asks, chugging the last of her cream soda and tossing it in a can as we walk through a busy city park.“Exactly,”
I said, grinding my teeth. “Back at Magnificence II I secured a shot at Jason Long’s title, but here we are a story as old as time. This industry fucks me over time and time again and I just keep crawling back for more,”
I said.Eileen skipped ahead of me, her skirt popping up to reveal the bottom portion of her ass cheeks on occasion – I’m only human. She stops dead in front of an old stone well in the middle of the park – the top of it covered with mesh so kids stop falling through and dying – and no one can use it to dump a body.“Sometimes all you can do it hope for the best you know – at the very least maybe that spark of positively keeps you going – I mean it can’t hurt,”
She pulls a few pennies out of her purse and hands me one.She throws one in and we hear it splash at the bottom. She won’t tell me what she wished for – says it won’t come true if she does. I toss one in two – she’s right – what could it hurt?What I wished for is no secret though…
SOME FUCKING RESPECT AROUND HERE!“I don’t know if I trust her,”
Bash Daddy said as he pulled the camcorder out of his bag.“I mean, I’m the one not to be trusted. I hunted her down – not the other way around,” I said.
“You really think that podcaster reached out to you organically. I’m just saying, there is a lot more to that thing than she is letting on.”
I shrug and ask him to just roll the camera. I’m in a full on professional kitchen – stainless sterile appliances up the fucking ass. The timer dings and I giggle sarcastically as I pull a perfectly baked raspberry pie from the oven and place it on the marble counter top.“Just in time for a slice…”
I push the pie toward the camera smiling.“I like to make enough for everyone to have a bit, but the truth is some people think their slice of pie should be more delicious than someone else's – everyone wants the best tasting largest slice and well… that’s just how society crumbles isn’t it.”
I sigh and light a cigarette, smoking it over the freshly baked pie. Obviously not fitting with health regulations.“I’m used to being in this position. I know what it's like to be on the other end of conspiracy. See the place I won my first World Championship wouldn’t let me have a rematch for the title. Here we are again, where there is some disconnect with management. I’m the number on contender for Jason Long’s title already — I earned that at Magnificence II. I have been plotting, planning for when we meet – for when I can take on someone at the very top of his game. I was hoping for match of the goddamn year, but here I am. I am once again in the position of having to prove myself. I have to defend something I’ve already won. In a way this is the perfect preparation for taking the Impulse Championship from Long. So at Victory get a close look, because no matter what PWE management wants to throw my way I will find a way to take that championship and promote it as the top fucking title whether they like it or not.”
I take a few drags off my cigarette and look down at the raspberry pie still steaming away – crust perfectly golden brown. It’s like I got it from a professional chef and heated it up on my own – boner petite.“Be careful what kind of position you put a man like me in. Issak Otto may not know what it is like to be in the ring with me, but Damian Ayla sure does. He dealt me my only loss in this company. But allow me to explain what kind of man I am. Do you remember the story of Lardass? He was this heavyset kid to put it politely – anyway all through the school year the kids would call him fat ass, piggy, – I dunno all that lame fucking shit. But every year at the county fair he had his moment to fucking shine. The kid would destroy the town pie eating contest in record breaking fashion each and every time. So he’s getting sick of everyones' shit and decides to toss back a few raw eggs before eating an absolute shit ton of pie. Anyway whole crowd is chanting for him and the fucker just starts violently throwing up on people. Then it formed a chain reaction – people puking on one another until well the whole room was just fucking pukefest. What I am saying is that if you sicken one member of the roster, you run the risk of sicking it all – and that’s exactly what PWE is doing to me. They are going to force me to burn this fucker down to get some respect around here. I take one loss and they risk everything I worked for over the last few months. I’m ready to vomit in the face of management – people like Issak Otto who believe this sport is still righteous and l think loyalty matters at all.”
I slice into the pie and lift up a triangular slice. Red raspberry filling oozes from the pie like blood as I set it down on a white plate with a little splash.“I have to respect you Otto. The world was cruel to you and still you smiled with clenched teeth and became a world traveled respected professional wrestler. You didn’t let it all turn you jaded like the loss of my own mother did to me. No, I should really look up to how you shit rainbows and glow with an aura. Hell you convince people moustaches are still fashionable. But management is doing you dirty here too. There are putting you right between two men willing to kill one another if they have to. I know you have these fans held up on a pedestal – but no matter what I promise if I choke you out in the middle of that ring you’ll here some cheers. Because no matter how much you love them Otto they won’t love you back – they aren’t your fucking mother. I’ve been through the whole thing myself. I'm not underestimating you, I know all you know how to do is fight – been doing it since 16 and you’ve just gained muscle mass since and lost brain cells. Maybe it’s a lot easier to be corrupted them you think. Maybe all it takes is the right time, the right place and the right opportunity. Maybe you and I could help propel each other to unimaginable heights. The Most Professional Wrestler and The Unprofessional… I can see the comic series now, the movie and shitty video game. It all ends with you overcoming the odds – but that won’t happen at Victory no. At Victory you are in a pressure cooker and that’s where I thrive. See Otto while you might be cut out to take down the giants of the 80’s. I’m much different. I’m no lumbering oaf – I’m a whole different type of evil. I’m the place all your childlike wonder comes to die. I am the reality in professional wrestling and it’s not as Utopian as you make it out to seem.”
I smirk and puff my cigarette slowly looking at the slice of pie.“Otto, you want your slice of pie sweet, you want it to last forever. You want to be the man that shakes hands and kisses babies all the way to the top of the sport and hell if this was thirty years ago it may have worked. But now these fucking marks love the shit that’s evil and hates the shit that’s good. I get fan mail week after week from people I could give a fuck about. I mean… how many letters of support do you get? I mean how many Make-A-Wish-Kids are really asking for Otto. People like being treated like shit man, it’s the status quo like it or not. You get too caught up like a hero – and well you might just die like one.”
I blow a few clouds into the previously sterile kitchen and pull out another large slice of raspberry pie and plop it down on another plate.
“Look at the size of that one,” I said, examining the slice.
“Damian Ayla, this one must be yours. I mean they have handed you everything since you decided to bless the company with your presence once again. The first top champ, a man whose entire personality is based around being the first World Champion of a company where the competition just wasn’t half as stiff as it is now. Why do you even want a shot at the Impulse title? So you can lose to Jason Long and take a long vacation – come back and expect to get handed more title opportunities like a vicious fucking circle. You were pretty quite all week long the first t time we face off – then you picked up a win and started spouting off at the mouth with some holier than though bullshit on social media you couldn’t even get your own wife to back you up on. Hell last week she waked right by me to assault my opponent – you want to know why? Because she knows this little relationship we have going on is something between us and she ain’t coming to Victory to bail your ass out. You can I both know that.”
“I lost track of why these fans and the management here at PWE think you are so fucking important. See Ayla I have you right where I want you. I can take those stiff shots, I can be backed into a corner – the second those knuckles buckle – the moment that wrist cracks or that hand breaks on my fucking jaw I’ll pounce on it – I’ll twist and stomp fingers. I’ll do whatever it takes not to let you take this Impulse Championship opportunity from me. The second you came back to PWE they rolled the red carpet out for you and mark my words – my new mission is to roll your limp fucking body up in it and toss you into the nearest body of water. See Damian that win over me will mean nothing in the long term. I’m here to stay. I’ll keep putting asses in seats – I’ll still keep having match of the year contenders. I’ll be the person who keep this company going while you are a fair weather wrestler — popping up in the booms and fading away in the slumps – just to come back here and claim you built this place because why, you where the first World Champion… bravo. But trust me when the dust settles and legacies are stacked up side by side, even the people will come to the proper conclusion themselves – The Unprofessional laid a whole new foundation in this company. Management has once again given you a chance - you don’t even need to pin me to take away what is rightfully mine. But know this… you take that title shot from me… and I promise I’ll take that title off of you – you know – so you can enjoy a vacation while the rest of us work.”
I pull one more slice out of the pie pan and slam this one down on a third place – the raspberry red splatters everywhere including my face.“My slice… my slice is a bitter fucking mess… it requires a unique palate to be truly appreciated. Overtime though… it’ll grow on ya.”
I wink at the camera and then put my cigarette out on my slice of pie as the scene fades to black
