“Well I just took a left on 57 South.
With a stogie in my hand and a lighter in my mouth.
There’s a transient in the backseat and my dog is riding ‘gun.
We’re making easy money and we’re always on the run.
When you’re pimping ho’s in style, there’s just one place to be.
It’s nestled in the corner of southwestern Tennessee.
My dog who knew the King he told me just the other day.
The only one from Memphis is the Presley’s Adelay.
Making Easy Money Pimping Hos In Style.
The only one from Memphis is at Graceland.
Making Easy Money Pimping Hos In Style.
It’s good to have you in the band.” M.E.M.P.H.I.S, By the Disco Biscuits.
You know when you enter the city limits of Memphis there are areas with liquor stores and pawn shops, but the great Steve Harrison is only looking for a strip club. Unfortunately, Steve Solex said NO for Stevens Jr to accompany me on this grand adventure. I thought we were making him a man I stated over the phone, but Solex said not a man like ME. I was insulted but hey I did understand there should probably only be one Miracle Man running around the Highway with those talented men.
There were a lot to choose from, but I ended up at Diamonds where many a big booty dancers dance and this evening I want to see some jiggle in front of me that wasn’t Bobbinette Carey flopping around a wrestling ring with an ice cream cake.
I leaned back in the comfortable chair at a table by myself towards the back of the club. I had finally shaved my head and trimmed the beard and was looking like normal Harrison again. You know, looking like the handsome beautiful bald devil I am, not like some homely Devil’s Advocate. I grabbed the lime on top of my Modelo and pushed it through the opening and took a big swig. “Ah, that’s the stuff, “I said with a grin as I peered up to witness one of the strippers grinding down the pole into a split. “Damn,” I said softly.
I Looked behind me and walking through the door was the man of the hour: Joe Bergman. I waved at him and saw him look at the stage with a shake of his head. He then saw me and walked slowly over to me attempting to not look back at the stage. “JOE!”
Bergman nodded at me and sat down across from me. “I thought this was a steak joint,” Joe said to me right away with a scowl on his face.
I shrugged, “they make a mean steak, Joe. But you know this place is all about the deserts and I figured you might need some entertainment.”
Joe sighed, “couldn’t you have just brought Jack for this?”
I shook my head and laughed, “Joe, I have a funny story about that man.” I paused expecting him to respond but he just stared at me apparently in his own little world. I smiled, “Ok, well one time when we were in Memphis, we ran into DJ Paul from Three 6 Mafia and Jack decided to call him baby hands,” I paused and looked around to make sure nobody could hear me. “That dude has got the weirdest hands. Anyway, Jack is now afraid to show his face anywhere in Memphis in case he runs into him again.”
I waved my hand in front of Bergman’s face as he just continued to stare into space. “YO…JOE!”
Joe finally looked back at me, “I don’t think I should be here, Steve and shouldn’t you be getting prepared to face Arthur?”
My smile faded and I lifted my fists and showed them to Joe. “Do you see these?” My fists were bruised from me striking a bag at the gym for several hours that morning. I had started punching the bag (stick and move, stick and move) and blacked out. Afterwards I found myself icing my hands in the hotel ice machine. Time seems to slip these days and I had already concluded that might be a side effect of the miracle medicine. “I am ready, Joe, don’t confuse strip club Steve with fighting Steve.”
Joe gave me a small nod and crossed his arms across his chest. “Good.”
“See, look at us bonding over some bodacious women and forgetting about our past matches against each other and of course first dance on me,” I winked back like the pervert I was. It was like a wink only an amazing celebrity like myself can give, I was surprised what little light was in the club did not explode in stardust.
“I don’t care about our past matches. If I can shake Solex’s hand, anything involving you is nothing of note.”
“But…I really don’t want to talk to any women right now.”
I took another sip from my beer and eyed him sideways, “you can’t stay angry forever and you know these bitches are paid to compliment you.”
The Berg-Man gave me a sideways look back with a frown accompanying it, “don’t talk about it, Harrison.”
I put my hands up and moved them in a calm down motion, “fine, fine, bud. I won’t mention your personal life, but you know a beer and some food might make this evening better.”
Joe leaned forward and put his arms on the table and looked at me, “Steve, that isn’t happening. If you want to talk about War Games or defeating Pleasant, we can do that.”
“Why should we worry about War Games yet?” I asked nonchalantly without giving it another thought.
“Have you been paying attention?”
I took another sip of my beer. I put it down and clenched my fists to get some blood running in my fingers. They were not feeling good but that is the price for whatever I am doing to myself to still perform at a high enough level to succeed in HOW. “Thought you wanted me to focus on bringing the LSD Title back home, why waste my time worrying about the Lee Best jerk off match?”
“Well, that buddy of yours Arthur Pleasant could end up being our partner,” Joe responded coolly like he was the child of Camel Joe.
I dropped my beer and it hit the table and tipped over. Beer poured down the table and onto my pants, “THE FUCK YOU SAY?!?”
Joe nodded, “this year seems to be a tad different.”
I shook my head and flipped the beer back up, “I would rather bow out with the LSD Title then team up with the masochistic man child, isn’t there a princess for him to save during War Games?”
Joe tried not to smile, “no, if it comes down to it there will be six from twelve and it could be from any group, hell The Highway Men could all be at home.”
I gritted my teeth so hard it felt my teeth were going to move. “These pricks are always trying to get an advantage. The Highway Men should be a team beating these irritating fucks.” I stood up and walked to the stage, my left hand in my pocket feeling the wad of one-dollar bills. I turned to see Joe lean back in his chair. I got to the stage and watched the stripper whose name eludes me now because who the hell cares what her whore name was.
She moved towards me, and I gripped that cash like I was strangling the awkwardness out of Arthur Pleasants throat. I pulled it out like Arthur Pleasant’s dad should have when he was conceived, and she gave me a smile that said give that damn money you simp. I smirked back at her and tossed some ones at her. She turned and started twerking and I took the whole wad and smack it as hard as I could on her ass. She spun around surprised at how hard that dirty money hit her, “HEY!”
I shrugged back at this beautiful thot and laughed. Nobody even made a move towards me because I am 6’ 4” and looked like I just beat up a house. She looked around and noticed that and then looked me up and down. She turned around and start shaking her ass again. “There is more of that money if you come over where I am sitting and give my boy a lap dance.” I pointed towards the back where I was sitting with Joe.
She looked over, “I don’t see anyone, hon… but maybe you and I can get a dance.”
I turned and saw the table empty. “Dammit,” I said to myself. I looked back up at her, “come see me later.”
I walked towards my chair and sat down and pulled my phone and started typing in my group message chat with Solex and Clay.
SH: Bergman just disappeared on me.
SS: Don’t text me during dinner with Stevens Jr, Harrison. I don’t need him seeing about strip clubs.
SH: Dammit, Solex, I am just trying to help Joe get his groove back.
SH: Real helpful, cowboy.
SS: Go lift some weights to sweat out your thirst, Steve.
SH: I am thinking of maybe lifting something else in a wheelbarrow position if you know what I am saying 😉 😉
Steve Solex has left the chat.
CB: Don’t lose this badly on Sunday.
SH: I am just here…asking for your support.
I put my phone back in my pocket as it would seem I had failed in helping Bergman forget about his ex-wife. I lifted my almost empty beer, finished it off and grunted at nothing in particular. I better not fail that badly on Sunday, huh? That almost felt like a threat but then again Clay Byrd isn’t really known for his sarcasm, his brutal assessments…yes, and maybe clotheslining cretins out of their boots. I snapped out of it to see the stripper, I guess I could call her Lindsay so Arthur can feel like this is one of his incel fantasies about Lindsay Troy. Need to get him to pay attention to something that isn’t about him somehow, right?
‘Lindsay’ walked up to me and sat down across me, and I wasted no time, “I believe in only the finest of cigars and whiskey and none of that is here. Do you understand what I am saying?”
She nodded and then rubbed her fingers together towards me, “you understand me?”
I smiled, “I do.”
That was pleasant to listen to. Let me get some cotton balls to wipe the blood from my ears because of all the high pitch squealing you were doing.
I didn’t think I was this important to you, Arthur. You remember things I have said that I honestly do not remember saying and even if I did say them (doubtful) just the thought of you lasts a mere hit from a fucking blunt because you mean that little to me.
You are the equivalent of the shortest guy on the basketball team always trying to outdo the taller and obviously more talented players. You want their acceptance, and you want that high five because deep down you are just like Darin Zion and NEED and CRAVE others to acknowledge you. Jeez man…even winning a title hasn’t stopped you from being a victim.
You are such a try-hard, Arthur. You are not some special once in a lifetime generational champion with deep thoughts. You are a guy who won a title just like Brian Hollywood was World Champion at one time. Am I supposed to bow to you my liege and sacrifice some goats in your honor? Sorry, they got swept up in a tornado just like you are now for being cute with an OnlyFans joke.
You are not for that world, bro.
Like I said…try-hard.
Just take that razor down your arm one more time now so you can feel hard again.
I am most certainly a hypocrite. Did I ever say I wasn’t? I have mentioned numerous times that you need allies in HOW and even said that it seemed you had more friends than me. I am trying to understand what I did wrong here because it sure seems like you are jealous you were not invited to the barbeque.
Solex cooks a damn good burger too.
This isn’t about belonging anywhere because I have run around with few wrestlers. I was tag champs with Jiles on two occasions and the only times we interacted was on that godforsaken Aircraft Carrier where we couldn’t escape each other. The way I act with others is not predicated on the situation. I try to stay true to who I am and Clay and Solex are the exact same in that regard. We are not fake, we do not put on a smile when we are angry, we will grunt and try to defeat whatever is annoying us. I don’t expect you to understand that because you are not ME…it is ok to be different.
I mean how else would you explain your devotion to the ‘I am bland’ insult you have been trying to get over since you joined HOW. It hurts man, if there was one person, I really wanted to find me exciting it was definitely you: the paragon of originality.
Never seen someone who enjoys pain before.
That is it, right?
That is your whole deal.
Pathetically tired insults thought as gripping and edgy to going hardcore on that ass.
You had quite a great start in HOW and I know that from firsthand experience. I had the new guy and thought I had it in the bag. I decided to prove that Steve Harrison cannot only out wrestle people but beat someone at their own game in a hardcore match. I obviously failed as you like to constantly remind everyone. You like to talk down to me, but you sure seem to take a lot of pride in beating me. Truth is you should take pride in that. I have beaten a lot of accomplished wrestlers in HOW and went undefeated for over six months when I joined.
I can respect your accomplishments without having to shake your hand. Last year’s War Games was what it was and if you hadn’t requested your release (your words) we would have probably run it back at the next PPV to see who the better man was.
But…hey, you had Lindsay Troy’s to follow, and I moved on without a second thought about you.
We have come full circle, Pleasant as you have stated. This time though we are competing for the LSD Title which I have failed to win on two separate occasions. I guess the HOW universe finally smiled down on me and as happy as you are to face me, I am giddy to terminate you in any type of match and finally get that belt.
I mean…as giddy as I can get these days without following it up with some sarcastic bullshit I am known for.
I feel like we are on the same page about me in some respects. I am bitter, I am disgruntled, and I am miserable but what you seem to not understand is that I put most of the blame on myself. I know how lazy I was when I came back to HOW for the Tag Team Tournament. I don’t need you putting words in my mouth if you don’t seem to grasp what I am talking about.
I would really like to know who hung themselves to get away from you and made you king shit of the edge lords.
All of this is coming from the guy who quit because he didn’t win War Games last year. I know I said I wouldn’t even mention that, but you sure decided to make it a talking point with all your infuriating posturing about me supposedly crying about my position. How is anyone supposed to take you seriously when you are NEVER honest about yourself. Even with the LSD Title you are still a sniveling child that lacks all understanding and I know your excuse will be I am not worth understanding but good god man, do you just hear what you want to hear?
I already know you live in your own little world if YOU of all people think I don’t have the will to finish a fight.
To brush myself off and continue fighting?
This has got to be some sort of inside joke that only you are in on. Egad man…you are the living embodiment of the Spiderman Meme. I have lost several title matches, I have lost Tag Titles without even defending them, and I had knee surgery from an injury caused by my own ally. Most people would have rage quit and cried to the heavens if ONE of those things happened to them. I have had all THREE and I am still coming back for more…and you thought you were a masochist?
I am not a role model, and I am not going to call myself a paragon of kindness, but don’t you ever question my will to fight. This is all I have, Arthur because everything else has been taken from me but this bloody sport. I have no real family, the woman I cared for was brainwashed, and I am just now starting to make some money again. I am still breathing, and I will scratch and claw to get to the top because I need THIS. I don’t need it because I desire to be praised or idolized by fellow wrestlers and the stupid marks like you do to make yourself feel good. I need it so I can say at the end of it all that even though life has been difficult and treacherous I fought through it doing it MY own way and made it to the peak.
What have you done in wrestling that is so difficult?
You were given an opportunity at the right time and at the right place when Sektor was injured. That could have been anyone or have you forgotten that Darin Zion (who you love to continually insult) had JJR beaten? Don’t think you are any better than Zion, Arthur. If anything, you got lucky because you were given a rematch while Zion was not. You took your opportunity and made it yours though and I can respect that. You shouldn’t care about how you win a title so don’t complain about how you lose it this Sunday.
I agree with you that it doesn’t matter what type of match this is. You have shown you can wrestle any type of match and I commend you for putting the work in. While you have been strengthening your ground game, I have been strengthening my ‘I don’t care about my body’ game. The ultimate compliment I can give you is me telling the doctor to up the dosage.
I am putting my health on the line even more now, so that I can be as close to one hundred percent as possible when I face you. I don’t know what will happen to me after the match, but don’t you ever say I don’t do what it takes to secure victory ever again. Do not blame me for what will happen on Sunday. Last time I let off the gas when I had you down. This time I don’t even think I will be in the right mind to stop when the match is over.
I don’t think I would want to stop anyway.
Your exasperating presence will make this a war without any of your precious stipulations you love so much. I am going to kick the door down of any defense you put up and place my knee firmly through your neck, you condescending clown. When I am done your make up will be mixing with your blood on the mat and you will look up barely able to see and watch me lift the LSD Title to the sky…with a tear in my eye.
I don’t expect this match to be easy. Hell, I expect this to be one of the most difficult matches I have had in HOW in quite some time.
I can promise one thing though and that is I will leave whatever I have left in me inside that ring on Sunday night.
You can try to fit me into whatever malfunctioning falling apart box you wish to put me in but at the end of the day it is your opinion and that means absolutely nothing.
You are an excitable rascal and that will be your downfall.
Enlightenment is what you deserve because you badly need to open your eyes and see the truth.
You are a one hit wonder, and you will be tossed against a wonderwall and drowned in an oasis you cuck.
See you on Sunday, champ.
“I am very confused about these side effects.”
The doctor was early to the arena and had the locker room Harrison now shares with The Highway Men all to himself. He was on his phone and looking flustered at some paperwork that he held in his free hand.
The doc nods as he listens to the response, “it seems to do what he asked for it to do but it also seems like it does other things.”
He looks at the papers more, “the more often he takes it the longer he is in a state of aggression. That is too be expected but then he says things that almost makes it seem like he knows what’s happening.”
“He says he remembers me, that shouldn’t be impossible, right?”
Doc sits down in one of the chairs inside the locker room and takes a deep breath. “There is no way he understands everything he has me working on, right? Harrison isn’t some chemistry and biology wiz, but I feel like this Miracle Medicine is doing something more than helping motivate him to be at his peak inside the ring.”
He sighs and moves his glasses, so he read the paperwork better, “the truth is that whatever is happening is not going to help him in the long run. He knows being the experiment could cost him a lot more than his wrestling career, but he is still going overboard with it and asking to up the dosage. I don’t even work for that bastard of a father of his anymore but there is no way he trusts me.”
The doc lifts his head up and the door to the locker room opens. He frantically pushes the end button and puts his phone in his pocket. Steve Harrison walks in the room with Jack Marley meandering behind him with Steve’s work out bag. Steve stops and eyes the doc up and down with a quizzical look on his face. “Hmmm.”
The doc stands up, “glad you made it safe and sound.”
The Miracle Man rolls his eyes, “how long have you been here and why are you sweating?”
“Only a few minutes and it was a far walk for someone like me,” the doc wipes his brow and rubs it on his dockers hoping his excuse would be eaten up like a plate of pasta in front of a malnourished orphan.
“Right—so are we good to go for tonight? I am in no mood to be embarrassed by the likes of violent deviant tonight because I could not give it everything I had.”
Jack shakes his head behind Steve looking worried about where all of this going. The doctor sees it, but it is not like either of them can forcibly stop the Suplex Saint for doing what he wants. “I… still have objections to this.”
Harrison klicks the chair that the doctor was sitting in and then smirks at him, “I object to a lot every fucking day, so I don’t want to hear from you that you object to what I wish for. I have MOB and Mike Best trolling The Highway Man and we must have qualifying matches for War Games. I have a stripper who stole my watch after I smashed and passed out. I have Arthur Pleasant making me request someone go Vincent Van Gogh on both my ears. You get the point?”
Harrison interrupts the doc automatically before he could finish two words, with a frown so sharp it could cut Clay Byrd’s tough wrangler jeans off. “NO BUTS!”
Jack steps up, “let him finish, boss, because we are all just worried about what can happen.”
Harrison turns and grabs Jack by the shoulders and pushes him to the wall, “do I look like I am in the mood for games tonight? I want to get high and have fun like everyone else, but this is night that will only be enjoyable if I defeat that douchebag and get the LSD title.”
Jack nods repeatedly his head moving faster and faster in fear of the look in Steve’s eyes. “I get it, I get it, sorry.”
The Man who brought you the amazing Milk you all miss lets go of Jack and then sits down and turns his attention back to the doctor. “We have some time, but I assume all calculations are complete and we can safely up the dosage tonight.”
“I think we can all agree there is nothing safe about any of this.”
Harrison rubs his face and then slaps both sides of his cheeks to clear the clouds from his head, “just make sure I don’t die.”