Post by Buddy Winchester on May 14, 2020 13:56:46 GMT -5
As far as Buddy Winchester was concerned, other than himself, there were only three things in South Dakota; four, if plain old nothing had any weight because there is a shit-ton of that. Deep in Boulder Canyon, the Black Hills surrounded him, but beyond them were wide open plains.
Nothing.
Sure, he could head east into Sturgis, but this time of year, everyone may as well be in quarantine because the world-renowned rowdy town was quiet outside of the annual bike rally.
In silence, he stood in the large window of his Apple Springs accommodation.
The rising sun was to his back, causing daybreak to cross the valley in his direction. It’s quite an illusion. He was distracted by a trio of college-age girls in short shorts and loose tank tops at the lodge across the way.
“Only volleyball or gymnastics forms it up like that.”
He watched them prepare for their hike among other excited fishermen and golfers gearing up for their leisurely activities. They had his full attention as the bent and reached to load up their jeep.
“Hey, Google,” he raised his steaming coffee for a sip, “give me the weather.”
“It is currently fifty-six degrees in Sturgis this morning, the high should peak at sixty, but there are scattered showers in the forecast.”
“Rain, huh, and all of them in white.”
“I did not understand. Would you like for me to call Rain?”
“Hell, no. Damn, that would be all the shit-show I need, right now.”
“Calling Rain, right now.”
“Fuck!”
He had no sooner avoided the shit-show and his telephone rang, ‘Incoming Call from The Kid’.
“What?” He paused as he listened. “Good morning to you, lovely daughter. What do you want?”
His brow furrowed as he listened and he began to pace the room of the quaint, little cabin; sighing, he placed his empty cup on the small counter next to the coffee maker. He crossed his left arm across his sternum and rested his right elbow in the bend of his wrist, holding the phone to his ear intently.
“So, we were there and we did our thing and they aren’t adding it to the event?”
His expression further soured as he listened.
“So, you had to see it live or…”
She cut him off with further explanation and he listened, drumming the fingers of his left hand against his right side.
“Oh, so, only on their streaming service? How in the Hell am I supposed to market that?”
A disappointed glance at the clock, as if he expected hours to have fallen off.
“I swear, the brains behind Pure Class Wrestling have to be about as desolate as the entire state of South Dakota,” he said, shaking his head. “How soon are you two going to be ready?”
He rolled his eyes with a sigh and a slight shake of his head.
“Well,” his pitch heightened, “the flight leaves at noon, get your shit together.”
She could be heard telling him that she loves him as he pulled the phone from his ear to check the time.
“Okay, yeah, yeah. Bye,” he smashed the button to end the call.
And, no sooner had he disconnected before it was ringing again, ‘Incoming Call from Prick Lawyer’.
“Fuck you, dude. Probably just another load of her shit to dump on me.”
Buddy laid the phone on the counter and poured another cup of coffee. He sipped it a few times, sat the cup back down on the counter, and just like that, ‘Incoming Call from Unkown’.
“Fuck you too.”
He ignored both calls, and a few more that followed, as well as the voicemail notifications.
Instead, he crossed the room and dug out a small wooden box from his bag. Returning to the counter, he used the contents to grind a dank nug and pack it into his one-hitter. He had time to get his mind right; so, he plopped down onto the sofa and reached for the remote. A quick search of the guide and he decided on sports news.
“In sports entertainment news, former wrestling agent Buddy Winchester made a surprising appearance this past week in South Carolina at a local wrestling show where he revealed he is now in the business of ringside management.”
“Did you say ‘wrestling agent’?” The cohost interrupted.
“I did.”
“And, he is now a manager?” The cohost asked in a sarcastic state of confusion.
“Apparently so.”
“Aren’t they one and the same?” The cohost bright balance to her hands in front of her.
“Apparently not, it seems Buddy used to connect potential talent to promoters hoping to find them their break whereas now he is actually at ringside as a part of the show.”
“Wrestling is so confusing. This guy was like a talent agent getting people spots on these shows and now he’s a part of the show?”
“Exactly. Just like he was this past weekend, at Pure Class Wrestling’s Living a Legacy pay-per-view event, when he brought Hunter Benjamin down to the ring and, much like a sideshow attraction, offered up twelve-hundred dollars to anyone that could beat his massive bear of a boy.”
“Please tell me he was embarrassed.”
“No, but it gets better. See, he quickly sweetened the deal and offered up half of the money…”
“That’s six-hundred dollars!”
“Oh,” Buddy shook his head, “she likes the money.”
“...that’s right, just for trying.”
“So, even if someone attempted the challenge and lost, they got paid!”
“Yeah, honey,” Buddy smirked as he puffed, “looks like you would lay down for a lot less.”
“That’s what he said, but he did not keep his word...”
“--What?” She just couldn’t believe this to be true.
“No. After Benjamin squeezed the life out of Texas Tim, Buddy Winchester collected the entire twelve-hundred dollars, half from the referee and the other from a limp Texas Tim as he was attended to by medical staff.”
“You’re kidding me!” Now, she couldn’t get over the audacity, “So, Texas Tim left with nothing?”
“Deal-breaker?” Buddy scoffed a puff of smoke through his nose. “Man, I was hoping to see them titties somewhere down the line.”
“Well, not necessarily, because Pure Class Wrestling has pulled the match from their on-demand encore of the event. While the match is available for viewing by subscribing to the PCW Network, it will not appear should you view a replay of Living Legacy.”
“So, if I watch the event, the match isn’t there?”
“Correct.”
“--but I can subscribe to their app and watch it? You know, if I wanted to?”
“Exactly.”
“Who put this bitch on television?” The smoke was getting thick as he huffed.
“So, um, why did they do that?”
“Initially, they claimed that they were not going to put an exhibition match on such a prestigious event, especially due to Buddy’s actions following the match. However, since the event, the internet SMARKS claim there may be another or a combination of several other reasons the match was removed.”
“Really?” Buddy couldn’t believe it.
“This is everywhere as Andy Cohen, of BRAVO Network, has even claimed Buddy may be trying to spin his request to withhold the match onto Pure Class Wrestling as shock-and-awe television.”
“Why would he request the match cut from the event?”
Oh! Do tell…
“Sources close to Buddy Winchester have revealed that he is avoiding showing income as he is embroiled in a nasty divorce.”
“Wrestling is so entertaining! Why am I not watching this?”
“Now, we’re talking,” Buddy leaned forward, “maybe some tickets will get that top off.”
“If you want to start, Trauma returns in two weeks, live on TBS and Buddy Winchester is scheduled to be at ringside when The Kodiak takes on Mo Burrows…”
Buddy was glued to the screen. This was all news to him.
“...Mo is the older of Les, who is also his tag team partner, and they are managed by Scavenger. You may remember Scavenger, he used to carry a chair to the ring.”
“--but don’t all… I mean, when I think of a pro-wrestler, they all carry chairs, Don.”
“Not necessarily; and apparently, not with the passion Scavenger did.”
“Who?!” Buddy searched his pockets futilely, his phone was on the counter across the room.
With bloodshot eyes ready to pop out of his skull, he continued to watch. PCW production provided the broadcast with a decent montage of the trio.
“For fuck’s sake, is he talking to that chair?”
“They are Mo or Les and they are due to make their PCW debut on May 22.”
“Who the fuck agreed to this?” Buddy soon realized he had left his phone on the counter.
Another glance at the clock only further tested his calming exercises and further goose necking proved the phone too far to care at the moment. Besides, he had another hit or two burning and a nap sounded better than getting up.
> > FAST FORWARD
Following his nap and a scenic drive out of the canyon, though the latter he could have given a shit about, Buddy Winchester picked up his daughter and her boyfriend, Buddy’s client, Benji.
If by some grace the people in Wyoming and Utah hadn’t heard their argument on a passing breeze, those fleeing the terminal at McCarran surely had something to envy. Heated words, nasty names, and some lower jabs fired like daggers at one another from the time the plane left the tarmac until barking tires as it touched back down.
“I just can’t believe you would agree to something like that without discussing it with me first.”
Buddy was exhausting.
“You weren’t paying attention!” She was not. “You were all, ‘blah blah Dayton, Ohio and blah, blah, see you in Chicago and…’...”
“Then, you shouldn’t have agreed to anything.”
“Why?”
“Becau-”
“Why, Dad?”
“It’s not your-”
“Why?”
“The cash-” He threw his hands up.
Every time he tried to speak she cut him off, “It’s always the cash and how you can control getting the most of it. There’s no real concern for Benji, YOU just have to control the money.”
“You don’t make decisi- ...you do not make any business decisions concerning him. Do you understand?”
“Come on,” she shoulder bumped him, “this is one-on-one and Benji could beat all three of them at the same time anyway and you know it.”
And, that is where it hit him.
From the darkest shadowed corner of his brain, a crookedly clever thought crept forth. It took some work, but he kept the grin from cracking his cheeks. Pulling his daughter under his arm as they started toward baggage claim, he promised to start communicating better.
All the while, with Steeldrivers strumming in his earbuds, The Kodiak followed the Winchesters one foot after the other with a huge smile buried deep in his rosy cheeks.
> > FAST FORWARD This may take a minute. Seriously, go get a snack.
Three days later, after two more flights, Buddy Winchester left from Las Vegas, visited New Orleans, and now sat ready in a lower Manhatten news studio where ESPN believes in professional wrestling more than ever before. EVER.
“You know, Deb, just three days ago we were discussing this guy and today, he has joined us here in the studio, help me welcome Buddy Winchester.”
“Oh, yes, I remem-”
“Take off your shirt or shut the -|BEEP|- up, Deb,” Buddy waved a handful of tickets at her with one hand while motioning to tuck a pair in her waistband and blowing kisses. “Don, you can kiss my -|BEEP|- with all of your pot-stirring. You’re as bad as Ace Anderson at insinuating bull-|BEEP|-, if not worse.”
“I certainly hope the censor is being attentive; if you wouldn’t mind, your language, please.”
“What Don, are you offended because I told you to kiss my -|BEEP|-? I mean, you look like you just watched me yank out my crank and piss on your desk. What kind of -|BEEP|-ing animal does that -|BEEP|-?”
“No-”
“Was it because I asked to see her ginormous -|BEEP|-s?”
“I just want the viewers to be able to hear what is said without all of the beeps.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Is that why this show is so -|BEEP|-ing controversial and provoking? -|BEEP|- that, I’m probably the only -|BEEP|-er with a -|BEEP|- big enough to stroll in here and call you two on your -|BEEP|-.”
“Uh! Do you have anything relevant to say?”
“Yeah, I bet they are a fake-|BEEP|- set of plastic -|BEEP|-ies, aren’t they?”
“Can we please get someone in here?” Don pleaded.
“Look, listen, get in real -|BEEP|-ing close on me. I don’t know who these Burrows brothers are and more or less, I could really give a -|BEEP|-. Until the walking pecker heads -hey, that one got through- that run PCW put Kodiak against someone of recognizable talent, consider every one of these -|BEEP|-ing bone bags measly scraps until my bear of boy sinks his teeth into the meat of your little podunk promotion.”
“Whoa! Big words!”
“Kodiak doesn’t mind shredding the -|BEEP|- competition at PCW from the ground up, but don’t waste out -|BEEP|-ing time. Let me feed all three of them -|BEEP|-holes to the Kodiak and then, the faithful can more or less just forget they ever -|BEEP|-ing existed and Kodiak gets one step closer to mauling a champion.”
“So, you want all three, Mo, Les and Scav?”
“So much so that, if together, they beat my Kodiak on May 22, I will hand each of them one-thousand -|BEEP|-ing dollars. If they don’t, and Kodiak wins, I want a twenty-five percent -|BEEP|-ing bonus added to the payout AND, the next time they take it upon themselves to book my bear, it better be against someone who -|BEEP|-ing deserves to be in the ring with him.”
Buddy was finished, he ripped off the microphone and flung it backward as he made his exit. The entire stage was left in shock, Don looked to Deb bewildered. It was abrupt, it was abrasive and, with Buddy Winchester’s exit, it was over.
Nothing.
Sure, he could head east into Sturgis, but this time of year, everyone may as well be in quarantine because the world-renowned rowdy town was quiet outside of the annual bike rally.
In silence, he stood in the large window of his Apple Springs accommodation.
The rising sun was to his back, causing daybreak to cross the valley in his direction. It’s quite an illusion. He was distracted by a trio of college-age girls in short shorts and loose tank tops at the lodge across the way.
“Only volleyball or gymnastics forms it up like that.”
He watched them prepare for their hike among other excited fishermen and golfers gearing up for their leisurely activities. They had his full attention as the bent and reached to load up their jeep.
“Hey, Google,” he raised his steaming coffee for a sip, “give me the weather.”
“It is currently fifty-six degrees in Sturgis this morning, the high should peak at sixty, but there are scattered showers in the forecast.”
“Rain, huh, and all of them in white.”
“I did not understand. Would you like for me to call Rain?”
“Hell, no. Damn, that would be all the shit-show I need, right now.”
“Calling Rain, right now.”
“Fuck!”
He had no sooner avoided the shit-show and his telephone rang, ‘Incoming Call from The Kid’.
“What?” He paused as he listened. “Good morning to you, lovely daughter. What do you want?”
His brow furrowed as he listened and he began to pace the room of the quaint, little cabin; sighing, he placed his empty cup on the small counter next to the coffee maker. He crossed his left arm across his sternum and rested his right elbow in the bend of his wrist, holding the phone to his ear intently.
“So, we were there and we did our thing and they aren’t adding it to the event?”
His expression further soured as he listened.
“So, you had to see it live or…”
She cut him off with further explanation and he listened, drumming the fingers of his left hand against his right side.
“Oh, so, only on their streaming service? How in the Hell am I supposed to market that?”
A disappointed glance at the clock, as if he expected hours to have fallen off.
“I swear, the brains behind Pure Class Wrestling have to be about as desolate as the entire state of South Dakota,” he said, shaking his head. “How soon are you two going to be ready?”
He rolled his eyes with a sigh and a slight shake of his head.
“Well,” his pitch heightened, “the flight leaves at noon, get your shit together.”
She could be heard telling him that she loves him as he pulled the phone from his ear to check the time.
“Okay, yeah, yeah. Bye,” he smashed the button to end the call.
And, no sooner had he disconnected before it was ringing again, ‘Incoming Call from Prick Lawyer’.
“Fuck you, dude. Probably just another load of her shit to dump on me.”
Buddy laid the phone on the counter and poured another cup of coffee. He sipped it a few times, sat the cup back down on the counter, and just like that, ‘Incoming Call from Unkown’.
“Fuck you too.”
He ignored both calls, and a few more that followed, as well as the voicemail notifications.
Instead, he crossed the room and dug out a small wooden box from his bag. Returning to the counter, he used the contents to grind a dank nug and pack it into his one-hitter. He had time to get his mind right; so, he plopped down onto the sofa and reached for the remote. A quick search of the guide and he decided on sports news.
“In sports entertainment news, former wrestling agent Buddy Winchester made a surprising appearance this past week in South Carolina at a local wrestling show where he revealed he is now in the business of ringside management.”
“Did you say ‘wrestling agent’?” The cohost interrupted.
“I did.”
“And, he is now a manager?” The cohost asked in a sarcastic state of confusion.
“Apparently so.”
“Aren’t they one and the same?” The cohost bright balance to her hands in front of her.
“Apparently not, it seems Buddy used to connect potential talent to promoters hoping to find them their break whereas now he is actually at ringside as a part of the show.”
“Wrestling is so confusing. This guy was like a talent agent getting people spots on these shows and now he’s a part of the show?”
“Exactly. Just like he was this past weekend, at Pure Class Wrestling’s Living a Legacy pay-per-view event, when he brought Hunter Benjamin down to the ring and, much like a sideshow attraction, offered up twelve-hundred dollars to anyone that could beat his massive bear of a boy.”
“Please tell me he was embarrassed.”
“No, but it gets better. See, he quickly sweetened the deal and offered up half of the money…”
“That’s six-hundred dollars!”
“Oh,” Buddy shook his head, “she likes the money.”
“...that’s right, just for trying.”
“So, even if someone attempted the challenge and lost, they got paid!”
“Yeah, honey,” Buddy smirked as he puffed, “looks like you would lay down for a lot less.”
“That’s what he said, but he did not keep his word...”
“--What?” She just couldn’t believe this to be true.
“No. After Benjamin squeezed the life out of Texas Tim, Buddy Winchester collected the entire twelve-hundred dollars, half from the referee and the other from a limp Texas Tim as he was attended to by medical staff.”
“You’re kidding me!” Now, she couldn’t get over the audacity, “So, Texas Tim left with nothing?”
“Deal-breaker?” Buddy scoffed a puff of smoke through his nose. “Man, I was hoping to see them titties somewhere down the line.”
“Well, not necessarily, because Pure Class Wrestling has pulled the match from their on-demand encore of the event. While the match is available for viewing by subscribing to the PCW Network, it will not appear should you view a replay of Living Legacy.”
“So, if I watch the event, the match isn’t there?”
“Correct.”
“--but I can subscribe to their app and watch it? You know, if I wanted to?”
“Exactly.”
“Who put this bitch on television?” The smoke was getting thick as he huffed.
“So, um, why did they do that?”
“Initially, they claimed that they were not going to put an exhibition match on such a prestigious event, especially due to Buddy’s actions following the match. However, since the event, the internet SMARKS claim there may be another or a combination of several other reasons the match was removed.”
“Really?” Buddy couldn’t believe it.
“This is everywhere as Andy Cohen, of BRAVO Network, has even claimed Buddy may be trying to spin his request to withhold the match onto Pure Class Wrestling as shock-and-awe television.”
“Why would he request the match cut from the event?”
Oh! Do tell…
“Sources close to Buddy Winchester have revealed that he is avoiding showing income as he is embroiled in a nasty divorce.”
“Wrestling is so entertaining! Why am I not watching this?”
“Now, we’re talking,” Buddy leaned forward, “maybe some tickets will get that top off.”
“If you want to start, Trauma returns in two weeks, live on TBS and Buddy Winchester is scheduled to be at ringside when The Kodiak takes on Mo Burrows…”
Buddy was glued to the screen. This was all news to him.
“...Mo is the older of Les, who is also his tag team partner, and they are managed by Scavenger. You may remember Scavenger, he used to carry a chair to the ring.”
“--but don’t all… I mean, when I think of a pro-wrestler, they all carry chairs, Don.”
“Not necessarily; and apparently, not with the passion Scavenger did.”
“Who?!” Buddy searched his pockets futilely, his phone was on the counter across the room.
With bloodshot eyes ready to pop out of his skull, he continued to watch. PCW production provided the broadcast with a decent montage of the trio.
“For fuck’s sake, is he talking to that chair?”
“They are Mo or Les and they are due to make their PCW debut on May 22.”
“Who the fuck agreed to this?” Buddy soon realized he had left his phone on the counter.
Another glance at the clock only further tested his calming exercises and further goose necking proved the phone too far to care at the moment. Besides, he had another hit or two burning and a nap sounded better than getting up.
> > FAST FORWARD
Following his nap and a scenic drive out of the canyon, though the latter he could have given a shit about, Buddy Winchester picked up his daughter and her boyfriend, Buddy’s client, Benji.
If by some grace the people in Wyoming and Utah hadn’t heard their argument on a passing breeze, those fleeing the terminal at McCarran surely had something to envy. Heated words, nasty names, and some lower jabs fired like daggers at one another from the time the plane left the tarmac until barking tires as it touched back down.
“I just can’t believe you would agree to something like that without discussing it with me first.”
Buddy was exhausting.
“You weren’t paying attention!” She was not. “You were all, ‘blah blah Dayton, Ohio and blah, blah, see you in Chicago and…’...”
“Then, you shouldn’t have agreed to anything.”
“Why?”
“Becau-”
“Why, Dad?”
“It’s not your-”
“Why?”
“The cash-” He threw his hands up.
Every time he tried to speak she cut him off, “It’s always the cash and how you can control getting the most of it. There’s no real concern for Benji, YOU just have to control the money.”
“You don’t make decisi- ...you do not make any business decisions concerning him. Do you understand?”
“Come on,” she shoulder bumped him, “this is one-on-one and Benji could beat all three of them at the same time anyway and you know it.”
And, that is where it hit him.
From the darkest shadowed corner of his brain, a crookedly clever thought crept forth. It took some work, but he kept the grin from cracking his cheeks. Pulling his daughter under his arm as they started toward baggage claim, he promised to start communicating better.
All the while, with Steeldrivers strumming in his earbuds, The Kodiak followed the Winchesters one foot after the other with a huge smile buried deep in his rosy cheeks.
> > FAST FORWARD This may take a minute. Seriously, go get a snack.
Three days later, after two more flights, Buddy Winchester left from Las Vegas, visited New Orleans, and now sat ready in a lower Manhatten news studio where ESPN believes in professional wrestling more than ever before. EVER.
“You know, Deb, just three days ago we were discussing this guy and today, he has joined us here in the studio, help me welcome Buddy Winchester.”
“Oh, yes, I remem-”
“Take off your shirt or shut the -|BEEP|- up, Deb,” Buddy waved a handful of tickets at her with one hand while motioning to tuck a pair in her waistband and blowing kisses. “Don, you can kiss my -|BEEP|- with all of your pot-stirring. You’re as bad as Ace Anderson at insinuating bull-|BEEP|-, if not worse.”
“I certainly hope the censor is being attentive; if you wouldn’t mind, your language, please.”
“What Don, are you offended because I told you to kiss my -|BEEP|-? I mean, you look like you just watched me yank out my crank and piss on your desk. What kind of -|BEEP|-ing animal does that -|BEEP|-?”
“No-”
“Was it because I asked to see her ginormous -|BEEP|-s?”
“I just want the viewers to be able to hear what is said without all of the beeps.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Is that why this show is so -|BEEP|-ing controversial and provoking? -|BEEP|- that, I’m probably the only -|BEEP|-er with a -|BEEP|- big enough to stroll in here and call you two on your -|BEEP|-.”
“Uh! Do you have anything relevant to say?”
“Yeah, I bet they are a fake-|BEEP|- set of plastic -|BEEP|-ies, aren’t they?”
“Can we please get someone in here?” Don pleaded.
“Look, listen, get in real -|BEEP|-ing close on me. I don’t know who these Burrows brothers are and more or less, I could really give a -|BEEP|-. Until the walking pecker heads -hey, that one got through- that run PCW put Kodiak against someone of recognizable talent, consider every one of these -|BEEP|-ing bone bags measly scraps until my bear of boy sinks his teeth into the meat of your little podunk promotion.”
“Whoa! Big words!”
“Kodiak doesn’t mind shredding the -|BEEP|- competition at PCW from the ground up, but don’t waste out -|BEEP|-ing time. Let me feed all three of them -|BEEP|-holes to the Kodiak and then, the faithful can more or less just forget they ever -|BEEP|-ing existed and Kodiak gets one step closer to mauling a champion.”
“So, you want all three, Mo, Les and Scav?”
“So much so that, if together, they beat my Kodiak on May 22, I will hand each of them one-thousand -|BEEP|-ing dollars. If they don’t, and Kodiak wins, I want a twenty-five percent -|BEEP|-ing bonus added to the payout AND, the next time they take it upon themselves to book my bear, it better be against someone who -|BEEP|-ing deserves to be in the ring with him.”
Buddy was finished, he ripped off the microphone and flung it backward as he made his exit. The entire stage was left in shock, Don looked to Deb bewildered. It was abrupt, it was abrasive and, with Buddy Winchester’s exit, it was over.