All Part of Business

[High Tide]

High Tide slammed the flimsy wooden door of his motel home shut behind him, almost taking it right off it's rusted hinges. He was not in a good mood at all. His friend and fellow PCW Wrestler, Jule “The Wasp” Martins, was with him.

“Can ye believe the bullshit? Arr, I need another drink,” High Tide slurred reaching for a bottle from his “never-ending” rum pile. However he accidently grabbed from the pile of empties. Upon putting the empty glass bottle to his lips, and realizing that it smelled like week old residue, he was not impressed. Without warning he spun and threw the bottle across the room, where it shattered into a million tiny pieces, much like a fragmentation grenade, or an old stale candy cane that you tried to break a piece off of.

“Tide man, you gotta get it together. You know how it goes in wrestling. It's all part of business. Sure they got the jump on us outside the ring. What does that prove? It just proves they were a little bit too afraid to get in the ring with us. However, we get to teach these new guys a lesson when we get in the ring with them. After all it's only fair to return a beating with an even more solid one, no?” The Wasp asked his longtime friend, shaking his head as Tide reached for another bottle of rum, his luck better this time as it was a full bottle.

“Yer damn right we do. I don't need to resort to dirty tricks and out-of-ring ambushes. We'll trounce them in the ring. I've got the wind at me back, and me sails open and ready to catch it. I've got me best friend as a partner, and although I don't consider Andy D a friend, he is a PCWer through and through, and I am content with him as part of this ship's crew,” High Tide rambled, taking a long swig of his favourite alcoholic beverage.

Wasp could only sigh. Tide was a different person with the alcohol in him, yet he seemed to be a bit more stable than as of recent. He had never heard the man speak of wanting to win cleanly. He knew that Tide could not resist the temptation of getting the upper hand, legally or illegally, if the opportunity presented itself, but to see High Tide fight a mostly clean match, well, he would believe it when he saw it.

“I'll tell you this now, Wasp, and I'll tell Andy D the same before we all get in the ring. I want Whitey Ford. When he's in the ring, I want to be in there. I want to show his punk ass that you can't just come in here and do things however you want. Whitey Ford is as good a leader for them as any, and I'm going to get in there with him, and teach him a little respect!” High Tide shouted, venting his anger.

“You've got no qualms from me man. You want Whitey Ford in that ring? You've got him. I can't speak for Andy D, but I'll let you take as many shots at this Ford guy as you want. You know, I think they might have underestimated what you are capable of Tide. They certainly underestimated your anger. After our match, I think that'll be the last time they ever think too little of High Tide,” Wasp replied, attempting to pump up his friend and get him concentrated more on this important match than the drink at hand.

Tide took another swig from the bottle. “They haven't even got the slightest clue what's coming to them. You don't mess with a pirate. You don't mess with his crew,” he responded a small ghost of a smile flickered on his face, barely visible but for a moment.


“And you don't mess with a pirate's hormonal girlfriend,” a familiar voice came from the doorway. High Tide turned to see Chelsea standing there, the first time he had seen her in months, noticeably more pregnant.

“Amen to that,” Wasp replied and High Tide was so overwhelmed by the sight of her, a tear trickled down his cheek.