Post by The Anarchist on Nov 12, 2017 0:51:15 GMT -5
It has been a whirlwind of a time for me recently. So much so I wish I could find the nearest slow or pause button and hit it. Just freeze these moments in place, bottle them up, and cherish them. But that wasn’t the nature of the business. Champions are made. Championships are lost. What I could attempt to enjoy for the first twenty-four hours, would soon be just a distant memory in my rear view mirror. A pair of prints in the sand that would be be lost with the next gust of wind.
I was the Pure Class Wrestling World Champion. It has yet to stop feeling surreal. I can repeat the achievement hundreds of times over to myself, and the reality of the matter wouldn’t change. I didn’t have this overwhelming feeling when I won the International Title. When I look back at that moment in time, I’ll remember that I managed to hold onto it for close to ten months, making me the second longest reigning champion.
But to hold the TOP prize in the company? That’s a different beast. It didn’t matter how long I have given to the sport of professional wrestling. How many championships I’ve held in the past. The fact I am inducted into the Hall of Fame. The honor of winning the Deadly Rumble for the first time. To walk into the ring with the opportunity, and possibly the only one, to win the World Championship, against two of the very best in Pure Class Wrestling history, and actually DO it?
There are no words that I can articulate that would capture the significance of the moment. Everything of that momentous night was a complete blur once I heard the referee’s hand come down for the final count. I remember hearing my music. I remember embracing my wife in euphoria. I remember being passed the actual belt and hearing my name announced.
But then it all becomes a blur. For those first few initial minutes, I was frozen in time as the moment assaulted my senses. I was officially the Pure Class Wrestling World Champion.
And I was proud of it.
Which brings me to the first challenger. Kyle Shane is someone that has been a rising star from the very moment he walked into the company. He calls his shots, backs them up, and continues to build on his own individual legacy. He is a technical marvel in the ring, able to produce blistering speed to keep opponents in check if they were prone to weakness against the ability. A former Underground and North American Champion. The reigning Icemann Invitational Tournament winner. All of this in the span of what, a year?
I knew there would be a time when our paths would cross. Now that time had a name and a date. Kyle Shane, the latest person to declare war against my name, was set for a Collision Course. The self proclaimed “God of Game” is going to have to add an ‘over’ to the end of his nickname. He is one of the best at our current moment in time, meaning I would have to be at my own and then some. The last voices to proclaim they wanted a war are no longer on the active roster.
I don’t expect Kyle Shane to drop off the planet after our battle is over. But he will fall just like the others, as I continue to reign supreme at the top of the throne. He’s due for a sneak preview soon. A little sampler, before he becomes the main course.
PRESENT DAY
“Have you seen the card for Trauma?”
Destiny had the information right in front of her. The glare off the laptop was shining in our direction. White text spelled out who would have to be in South Carolina that evening. She pointed to the main event for me to look at. As I leaned in and read it to myself, a half smile crept upon my face. The two men who had just been opponents, were now going to team up against Gabriel and myself. Perfect! My head ached after being jumped by Kyle Shane, Justin “Stormm” Michaels, and an opportunistic Johnny Vivacious. All Gabriel and I raced out to do was "congratulate" our future challengers. And, well, things got out of hand.
“The ring will have to be reinforced on their side. The size of their egos is so large, only the orange buffoon in office can match it.”
I hadn’t forgot about Kyle’s comparative slight against me. I had been called everything in the book. It comes with the territory of being a wrestling “bad guy.” But to put me in the same breath as one of the few people I genuinely despised? You bet my offense against him would have a little something extra behind it. In truth, I always make sure to put that extra bit of force behind things. But hey? Who said extra motivation ever hurt?
Destiny chuckled at my response. It was nine-thirty at night. A Saturday. A relatively quiet one at that. We were wondering how in the world we got off without the noise of our lovely children, all of which were at home. Naturally I began thinking they were secretly plotting against us. Christmas products and advertisements had been shoved down our throats since summertime. Back in our day, you wouldn’t hear or see of the festivities until the day after Thanksgiving. But leave it to corporate America to continuously remind us that December twenty fifth was coming, whether you like it or not. Our daughters loved the holidays, so those lists would surely be given to us soon enough. Their logic? Best behavior equals better presents, haha.
The glow of the laptop was soon powering down. Replaced now by a blank, dark screen. Destiny put it away and relaxed next to me. She turned her head in my direction, brushing strands of brown hair out of her face. She was just about to say something when---
“NIGHT OF THE LEPRECHAUN CANNIBALS. TONIGHT ON CHANNEL ELEVEN.”
“Alright!” I belted with glee. It was the same god awful film I had watched the weekend before we left for the Deadly Intentions pay per view. I was the only fan in the house. It was like the local network was saying, “Congratulations Seromine! For winning the World Title, we are proud to air this!” Destiny groaned at the announcement. She immediately wrestled me for the remote control, coming out victorious in that battle.
“Hey!” I reach over her to try and take it from her right hand. She wiggled her body to the side so that she was on her hip. Her left forearm pushed its way against my chest. Presuming I had been able to reach her hand, what most don’t understand is she is stronger than she looks. I wasn’t actually putting forth much effort to retrieve the item, but still. We lived for these kinds of playful interactions.
“I’m not going to watch that garbage again, and neither are you.”
“You didn’t even watch it the last time! In fact, you fell asleep!”
“That’s because it sucks, babe. The idea of it is ludicrous. Just look at the name of it for pete’s sake.”
With faux shock I recoiled back. “Night of the Leprechaun Cannibals is the greatest name ever for a movie!” I replied in protest. She promptly changed the channel, swung off the bed, and removed the batteries. The remote was then tossed where she had been.
“I can just get up and change the channel, you know.”
She raised an eyebrow before walking over to the outlet where the tv was plugged in. It didn’t remain that way. Her eyes marched from their corners and over in my general direction. “If you even attempt to turn that movie on, I’ll cut the cord!”
I got myself off the bed. She raced to find a pair of scissors, taking the cord hostage when she beat me to the punch. I stopped.
“Don’t you dare take one more step, mister.”
“All I was going to do was get the batteries from you. I just remembered I needed them for something else...and, and, it would save me the trouble of buying some.”
She knew I was full of crap. I restrained my laughter behind the bullshit reasoning. “Tough.” she replied in jest. “You just get back in that bed, real nice and slow. And don’t try any funny stuff!”
I put up my hands and began to back my paces up. She watched with intent. I got one leg on and tried to go for the heart. “I love you!” I said with the panache of Tim Curry in Home Alone 2. A laugh slipped. She caught herself, however, and returned to being semi-serious.
“Good. That just means you won’t watch the movie.”
“Ok. You win. I won’t watch it.”
I patted her side of the bed. She put the scissors away, but still remained in possession of the batteries.
“Now, with your right hand, slowly hand me the remote.”
I looked at it and like any hostage would do in these situations, complied. But I took the ‘slowly’ part literal, moving no faster than a snail while chuckling to myself. Destiny grabbed the device and quickly darted out of the way of my lunge. I leapt across to the foot of the bed and got my arms around her waist. She giggled while raising her arms above her head, making sure to stand on her tippy toes for added height. There was only a good one to two inches between us.
So I cheated. I copped a feel. Her arms dropped from the surprise of it all. Again, I reached for the remote. She played dirty with her left hand. The initial grip wasn’t bad, but it was tightening. She laughed through gritted teeth. I mussed up her hair, but was in no position to test the waters. She tossed the remote into the closet. After she let go, she spun around and tackled me onto the bed.
We laughed at the silly stupidity of everything. After sharing a kiss, she rolled off of me, but pulled me close to her like a security blanket. From there she began to innocently play with my fingers.
“What was it you were going to say before the tv interrupted you?”
“Hm? Oh. It was nothing. I was just going to joke that Justin should be mad at Trump for being orange. Since that’s his trademark color and all, hehe.”
“I think Stormm has bigger issues to worry about. You know like coping with the Deadly Intentions loss. Then this recent Trauma loss. Now the upcoming Trauma loss. Then another loss at Collision Course. Do you think I should give him a call and see if he’s doing ok?”
Destiny heartily laughed. “I’m sure he’ll be alright. If push comes to shove, he could always do like Tony Romo did, and become a commentator.”
“Hey now. At least Justin has actually won championships. I know that guy. He’s going to rebound. Stormm has way too much world class talent to stay down. Just these next two shows won’t do anything for his morale.”
“Poor Stormmie.”
“Yeah.” I say under my breath. “Poor Stormmie. I mean, Stormm.”
Trauma was certainly on my mind. Collision Course was as well, but I had to take things one show at a time. When taking things in a serious context, Kyle Shane and Justin “Stormm” Michaels is a tough draw. Sure, Gabriel and I owned individual wins against them (he with Shane, me with Stormm), but so fucking what. We have targets on our back.
And so do they.
I was the Pure Class Wrestling World Champion. It has yet to stop feeling surreal. I can repeat the achievement hundreds of times over to myself, and the reality of the matter wouldn’t change. I didn’t have this overwhelming feeling when I won the International Title. When I look back at that moment in time, I’ll remember that I managed to hold onto it for close to ten months, making me the second longest reigning champion.
But to hold the TOP prize in the company? That’s a different beast. It didn’t matter how long I have given to the sport of professional wrestling. How many championships I’ve held in the past. The fact I am inducted into the Hall of Fame. The honor of winning the Deadly Rumble for the first time. To walk into the ring with the opportunity, and possibly the only one, to win the World Championship, against two of the very best in Pure Class Wrestling history, and actually DO it?
There are no words that I can articulate that would capture the significance of the moment. Everything of that momentous night was a complete blur once I heard the referee’s hand come down for the final count. I remember hearing my music. I remember embracing my wife in euphoria. I remember being passed the actual belt and hearing my name announced.
But then it all becomes a blur. For those first few initial minutes, I was frozen in time as the moment assaulted my senses. I was officially the Pure Class Wrestling World Champion.
And I was proud of it.
Which brings me to the first challenger. Kyle Shane is someone that has been a rising star from the very moment he walked into the company. He calls his shots, backs them up, and continues to build on his own individual legacy. He is a technical marvel in the ring, able to produce blistering speed to keep opponents in check if they were prone to weakness against the ability. A former Underground and North American Champion. The reigning Icemann Invitational Tournament winner. All of this in the span of what, a year?
I knew there would be a time when our paths would cross. Now that time had a name and a date. Kyle Shane, the latest person to declare war against my name, was set for a Collision Course. The self proclaimed “God of Game” is going to have to add an ‘over’ to the end of his nickname. He is one of the best at our current moment in time, meaning I would have to be at my own and then some. The last voices to proclaim they wanted a war are no longer on the active roster.
I don’t expect Kyle Shane to drop off the planet after our battle is over. But he will fall just like the others, as I continue to reign supreme at the top of the throne. He’s due for a sneak preview soon. A little sampler, before he becomes the main course.
PRESENT DAY
“Have you seen the card for Trauma?”
Destiny had the information right in front of her. The glare off the laptop was shining in our direction. White text spelled out who would have to be in South Carolina that evening. She pointed to the main event for me to look at. As I leaned in and read it to myself, a half smile crept upon my face. The two men who had just been opponents, were now going to team up against Gabriel and myself. Perfect! My head ached after being jumped by Kyle Shane, Justin “Stormm” Michaels, and an opportunistic Johnny Vivacious. All Gabriel and I raced out to do was "congratulate" our future challengers. And, well, things got out of hand.
“The ring will have to be reinforced on their side. The size of their egos is so large, only the orange buffoon in office can match it.”
I hadn’t forgot about Kyle’s comparative slight against me. I had been called everything in the book. It comes with the territory of being a wrestling “bad guy.” But to put me in the same breath as one of the few people I genuinely despised? You bet my offense against him would have a little something extra behind it. In truth, I always make sure to put that extra bit of force behind things. But hey? Who said extra motivation ever hurt?
Destiny chuckled at my response. It was nine-thirty at night. A Saturday. A relatively quiet one at that. We were wondering how in the world we got off without the noise of our lovely children, all of which were at home. Naturally I began thinking they were secretly plotting against us. Christmas products and advertisements had been shoved down our throats since summertime. Back in our day, you wouldn’t hear or see of the festivities until the day after Thanksgiving. But leave it to corporate America to continuously remind us that December twenty fifth was coming, whether you like it or not. Our daughters loved the holidays, so those lists would surely be given to us soon enough. Their logic? Best behavior equals better presents, haha.
The glow of the laptop was soon powering down. Replaced now by a blank, dark screen. Destiny put it away and relaxed next to me. She turned her head in my direction, brushing strands of brown hair out of her face. She was just about to say something when---
“NIGHT OF THE LEPRECHAUN CANNIBALS. TONIGHT ON CHANNEL ELEVEN.”
“Alright!” I belted with glee. It was the same god awful film I had watched the weekend before we left for the Deadly Intentions pay per view. I was the only fan in the house. It was like the local network was saying, “Congratulations Seromine! For winning the World Title, we are proud to air this!” Destiny groaned at the announcement. She immediately wrestled me for the remote control, coming out victorious in that battle.
“Hey!” I reach over her to try and take it from her right hand. She wiggled her body to the side so that she was on her hip. Her left forearm pushed its way against my chest. Presuming I had been able to reach her hand, what most don’t understand is she is stronger than she looks. I wasn’t actually putting forth much effort to retrieve the item, but still. We lived for these kinds of playful interactions.
“I’m not going to watch that garbage again, and neither are you.”
“You didn’t even watch it the last time! In fact, you fell asleep!”
“That’s because it sucks, babe. The idea of it is ludicrous. Just look at the name of it for pete’s sake.”
With faux shock I recoiled back. “Night of the Leprechaun Cannibals is the greatest name ever for a movie!” I replied in protest. She promptly changed the channel, swung off the bed, and removed the batteries. The remote was then tossed where she had been.
“I can just get up and change the channel, you know.”
She raised an eyebrow before walking over to the outlet where the tv was plugged in. It didn’t remain that way. Her eyes marched from their corners and over in my general direction. “If you even attempt to turn that movie on, I’ll cut the cord!”
I got myself off the bed. She raced to find a pair of scissors, taking the cord hostage when she beat me to the punch. I stopped.
“Don’t you dare take one more step, mister.”
“All I was going to do was get the batteries from you. I just remembered I needed them for something else...and, and, it would save me the trouble of buying some.”
She knew I was full of crap. I restrained my laughter behind the bullshit reasoning. “Tough.” she replied in jest. “You just get back in that bed, real nice and slow. And don’t try any funny stuff!”
I put up my hands and began to back my paces up. She watched with intent. I got one leg on and tried to go for the heart. “I love you!” I said with the panache of Tim Curry in Home Alone 2. A laugh slipped. She caught herself, however, and returned to being semi-serious.
“Good. That just means you won’t watch the movie.”
“Ok. You win. I won’t watch it.”
I patted her side of the bed. She put the scissors away, but still remained in possession of the batteries.
“Now, with your right hand, slowly hand me the remote.”
I looked at it and like any hostage would do in these situations, complied. But I took the ‘slowly’ part literal, moving no faster than a snail while chuckling to myself. Destiny grabbed the device and quickly darted out of the way of my lunge. I leapt across to the foot of the bed and got my arms around her waist. She giggled while raising her arms above her head, making sure to stand on her tippy toes for added height. There was only a good one to two inches between us.
So I cheated. I copped a feel. Her arms dropped from the surprise of it all. Again, I reached for the remote. She played dirty with her left hand. The initial grip wasn’t bad, but it was tightening. She laughed through gritted teeth. I mussed up her hair, but was in no position to test the waters. She tossed the remote into the closet. After she let go, she spun around and tackled me onto the bed.
We laughed at the silly stupidity of everything. After sharing a kiss, she rolled off of me, but pulled me close to her like a security blanket. From there she began to innocently play with my fingers.
“What was it you were going to say before the tv interrupted you?”
“Hm? Oh. It was nothing. I was just going to joke that Justin should be mad at Trump for being orange. Since that’s his trademark color and all, hehe.”
“I think Stormm has bigger issues to worry about. You know like coping with the Deadly Intentions loss. Then this recent Trauma loss. Now the upcoming Trauma loss. Then another loss at Collision Course. Do you think I should give him a call and see if he’s doing ok?”
Destiny heartily laughed. “I’m sure he’ll be alright. If push comes to shove, he could always do like Tony Romo did, and become a commentator.”
“Hey now. At least Justin has actually won championships. I know that guy. He’s going to rebound. Stormm has way too much world class talent to stay down. Just these next two shows won’t do anything for his morale.”
“Poor Stormmie.”
“Yeah.” I say under my breath. “Poor Stormmie. I mean, Stormm.”
Trauma was certainly on my mind. Collision Course was as well, but I had to take things one show at a time. When taking things in a serious context, Kyle Shane and Justin “Stormm” Michaels is a tough draw. Sure, Gabriel and I owned individual wins against them (he with Shane, me with Stormm), but so fucking what. We have targets on our back.
And so do they.