Sunday, February 21st, 2021
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
Maple Leap Grappling School
Oh! Canada Baby! I ventured to the land of the moose, maple leaf, Mounties, and lumber jacks. Don’t forget the hockey and wrestling too! I’ve made it to the land of the real men. 5 hours away from the home of my opponent this week: Teddy Palmer. I could spend hours blaming Canada for my problems, but instead, I chose to embrace it. It had been a long time since I visited the home of one of the most important trainers in my journey to becoming a pro wrestler: Caleb Walters, the man behind Captain Calgary in the Battle Arena down in sunny California where I trained. While I had ventured out into the world; Caleb finally moved home to start his own school out of his hometown. 10 years ago, he moved home to take care of his ailing parents before they both passed, but now he remains rooted in one of the heartlands of professional wrestling. He invited me to train at his school this week perfecting my craft. We both stood in the ring decked out in our ring gear. I went directly for his chest, chopping the hell out of it.
As the back of hand kept smacking him directly in the chest, immediately, Caleb grabbed my hand and stopped me. He glared directly into my eyes with his lip quivering. Veins bulged from his head as his voice raised while he lectured me: “You call that a chop? You fuggin’ sissy! You didn’t chop me. You barely breezed my chest. COME THE FUGG ON KIDDO! Where’s that intensity you once had, kid? Where’s that spark I taught you? I taught you better than this.”
Turning away from him I shook my head before wiping the sweat off my forehead. Sighing from disappointment, last week’s loss weighed on my soul. I found the old Zion inside of me. I wrestled my damn heart out. I put my soul into the match. But I couldn’t shake the fact when I looked in Hollywood’s eyes: he wasn’t there. He lacked the excitement and intensity I had. He’d begged and pleaded with me to show him that old Zion, but he couldn’t deliver that old Brian Hollywood. It pissed me off to have Hollywood call me out for being a pathetic shell of myself lacking my own balls when he just stood in the damn corner and coasted the entire match. After grabbing the water bottle, chugging my water, and wiping it from my face, I turned to look Caleb straight in the eye lackadaisically.
“I won’t lie, Caleb. My mind’s been in the clouds. Last week Brian Hollywood bitched me out and I didn’t even deal with it. I glared at him, walked it off, and I didn’t show the grace and mercy you showed me to my training partner. I left him in the dust as I walked off and…”
THWACK! THAWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!!!
Caleb’s eyes widened as each of his chops intensified. I looked down to see red welted forming on my chest as I collapsed down in the corner. Caleb scrapped my head off the mat and sternly poked his finger in between the bridge of my nose as he continued:
“You let him dictate how you fight? You let Hollywood dictate your life and career path? You fuggin’ wimp! He didn’t dictate what you did before I met you. You had a chip on your damn shoulder, and you didn’t give a shit about your feelings, kid. You packed your shit wanted to prove your worth. Let me guess what you wanna say next? You fuggin’ give two massive shits what the rest of your crew perceives as? Is that right, kid? I’ve seen your shit recently. Where’s your balls, man? Where’s your balls? You just handin’ them over to whoever will make you look the best? Naw, son! I taught you better than that shit.”
Caleb slammed my face down on the mat a few times to drive the point home before locking my head straight into a crossface and continuing.
“I don’t hear you fightin’ kiddo, eh? You just going to let me take advantage of you. You gonna let me smash the shit out of you. Because that’s what that Palmer kids going to do. He knows a doormat when he sees it, kid. He knows he can walk up right to you, wipe all his shit all your face, and get away with it. He’s a Canadian. He’s a fighter! COME ON, KID! He will whip the ever-loving shit straight out of you. Isn’t that why you came here? You wanted to prove yourself to be a fighter. You wanted to come out of here a killer ready to take your place back in the LSD Championship rankings? You wanted to leave that past behind, eh? I don’t see you fighting. Feel that anger building inside you, Zion. That’s your hunger coming back. Remember that? Remember how hungry you once felt, kid?”
My arms started shaking while my face turned red. I felt the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I tapped the foot on the mat to simulate the crowd noise in the background. The fire in my belly intensified as I slowed my breathing down and mustered the strength up in my body. I pull both Caleb and my body off the mat. I lifted Caleb straight up into the sky and I drive him neck first straight into the mat. I grit my teeth for a moment running to the other side of the ring. I rush towards him and drive my foot straight into his jaw.
I yank him off the mat only to take his head and drive it stiffly into the turnbuckle before cracking the back of my hand against his chest several times leaving the same welt across his chest. I throw his straight into the ropes before throwing the full force of my body into a stiff discus clothesline straight into his jaw, taking him down towards the mat. His eyes looked glazed over as I pulled him up from the mat and looked straight into his eyes and gawked:
“That what you wanted to see? That’s the jealousy I have right now. I’ve let people wipe their shit all over me. I’ve let people treat me like their damn welcoming mat. I’ve let Lee Best, Brian Hollywood, 4CW everyone else dictate my career the last 4 damn years. You looking for that chip, you jackass? It’s right there!”
I slap him in the jaw before I walk out of the ring and grab a towel to wipe my forehead. As I pant heavily, I chug down the Dasani water bottle next to the ring, sitting down, feeling better about letting some steam off about last week. I had a lot on my mind after Ray McAvay told me I had to start at the beginning. I damn sure knew I had to start there from Lee even if I beat Jason Cashe. I’d stayed in the shadows for too long, letting opportunities pass me by. As Caleb recovered in the ring, I paced around the ring a bit before he slide outside and stared for a moment before his hands slowly moved.
CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!
“Bravo, kid! You pushed yourself hard out there, you fuggin’ little pansy!” He exclaimed as he got straight into my face. I just sat back and shook my head as I talked my smack back to him.
“You want a cookie old fucker?! You proud you pulled that shit out of me? God you’re awful. You had the chance to rip my arm from its socket and toss it into the crowd and you didn’t. You’re the weak one!”
He chuckled with a twinkle in his eyes, “You needed to feel that intensity before havin’ it stopped in it’s tracks. If I was that Teddy kid, I would have yanked your damn arm off, locked you in the Pump Handle and hits that DVD drivin’ your ass on that vulnerable neck of yours kiddo. He smells the blood. He’s seething from his loss last week too. He knows your weak. He’s looking for you to change your game. He’s looking for this flip floppin’ shit you’ve done the last few months. He knows your doubting yourself kid. I could have taken that away from you in a snap.” He snaps his fingers and looks me straight in the eyes as he pauses.
“But I have all damn week to do that in my school. You wanted the best out of you, kid. I’ll beat it out of you. I’ll have you beggin’ for mercy, but you a’int gettin’ that shit here this week. You could be trainin’ in Shitty-cago like the rest of your boys, but you wanted to get back to the basics. Let’s do that.”
I chuckle as I get right up in his face. I snarl straight at him shaking my head in disgust. “Talk is cheap old fart. You yammered all this shit in the past, but your ass held back in the beginner’s classes. I’ve watched your shit. I didn’t come for Canada for your shitty Tim Hortons . Fuck that knock off Starbucks shit. I didn’t come here for your shitty Beaver Tail donuts either. I came looking for a fight. And I knew your old decerped ass would bring it straight out of me. Teddy thinks he’s going to hit me hard. Fuck that. I want to hit him harder. I want to take him off his game. I want to have a smash mouth contest that leaves him in a pool of that rancid maple syrup that runs through his damn Canadian veins. I knew those HOW dipshits didn’t have a smash mouthed fighter like you in their lives.”
He nodded as he exclaimed, “True, kiddo, they don’t have many wrestlers that like a good ole’ fashioned brawl like me anymore.”
“They don’t make old clunkers like you any more you old fart. It’s appreciated. I know you have a lot more talent to train up and move onto the next stages of their careers,” I said as I stuck my hand out to shake his hand and hug him. We both embrace as he motions towards the ring.
“Yeah, well, talks cheap, you piss ant. Step into this ring. Next match, I’m gonna break your damn skull on the mat when you try to hit me with the Ban Hammer. Now come on! I want to get this morning session over with and get a fresh Beaver Tail before they get stale.
I shook my head as I rolled into the ring smiling, “Alright, old fart, get ready to go 0-500 this week. I’ll send your ass into retirement and take over this school you got.”
He laughs as we lock up and continue training as the scene fades to black.
“No, blame Canada, blame Canada
With all their beady little eyes
And flappin’ heads so full of lies”
-Blame Canada, South Park
“Teddy Palmer, I a’int going to be cordial with you, your bland ass promos, smash mouth wrestling style, you worthless Canadian Chris Hemsworth knock-off. You think you can just step up and wipe your shit stained boots all over my back like I’m a welcome mat. You don’t think that promo of yours from the Battle Royal didn’t resonate with me when I watched your tapes this week studying your bland ass. Shit, I barely stayed awake while watching all your shit. You ramble off the same tough guy bullshit promos every single time. You’re going to make an example. You’re going to make me bleed. Hell, while you’re at it, crack the same damn flip flop jokes everyone on the roster does you fuckin’ chanuckle head.
Matthews-Zion, Zion-Matthews….blah blah blah heard the same boring shit from all the other schmucks on this roster. Write something, original, Teddy Kimmel, you a’int the first and you certainly won’t be the last who wants to make an example out of my brain-dead ass.
Let’s get something straight about last week. I didn’t choke. I fought the Bruvs valiantly and my partner choked on the proverbial dildo load that LT Wentworth does every week. You couldn’t handle the legends you stood in the ring with. Hell, let’s be real here, Teddy Boy, you’ve choked more than I have against these legends in HOW. You came up short after you delivered gold in the LBI when chasing after the HOW World Championship. You choked against John Sektor, which by the way, I fucking beat to retain my ICON Championship and beat him and Stevens for in the Tag Team Title rankings. Yet you don’t recognize my glory. You don’t recognize what accomplishments or accolades that I paved in High Octane Wrestling before you stepped your foot into my damn ring.
Look at you sounding like every other diva on this damn roster. Thinking you’re owed the damn world because you’ve had some glory. I’ll give you mad respect, man. You made my ass train hard this week. You fight hard and you fight hard. I’ve looked forward to stepping into that ring with you and going toe to toe with one of the best smashed mouthed technicians HOW has to offer.
But I never said I would be fighting honorable. I didn’t say I’m shaking your hand. Hell, I didn’t say this fight was going to be pretty, kid. I’m not looking for respect from you. I’m not looking for respect from anyone. I stopped kissing ass like others a few weeks ago when I let my shit out directly on air. I’m looking to take your diet Hemsworth ass and smear it all over that canvas. I’m looking for my retribution against the Best Alliance for embarrassing my ass last year and stealing my Tag Team Championships. But I’m looking for a bigger prize: the LSD Championship.
And that comes after I smear the maple leaves right out of your Canadian ass.
See I’m not looking towards all the beefs and quarrels I’ve got with the rest of the roster when I step in the ring with you. I’m looking to knock your head off straight into Section 214 with the Discus Clothesline. I’m looking to smash your teeth down your throat like those worthless Toronto Maple Leaves Players you call a hockey team. I’m looking to beat some respect into disrespectful fuck stick who thinks he’s going to use my name as some kind of stepping stone.
You see I’m coming into this match pissed off at the world. I’m tired of people like you thinking I’m here to lay down for your ass. I’m tired of all the stop start pushes. I started 2021 off 1-0 in actual singles wrestling matches where I damn well excel. Not this Tag Team bullshit where Lee Best feeds me to his fucking minions with a worthless best friend. Not this HOFC bullshit. REAL PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING. I came down and knocked Cashe’s head straight off and I made my damn statement to the world. I made my statement to Lee Best by massacring his latest wet dream signing leaving him lay in a pool of his own shit and piss.
And that’s what I’m going to do to you, Palmer, by any means necessary. I didn’t go to Canada for fucking leisure this week to study to come up short handed. I came to smash my damn fist across your skull and leave you more brain dead than people perceive me to be.
I’m tired of staying at the damn bottom waiting for Lee to throw fucking scraps. I want that LSD Championship. I want to prove why I am a world-renowned wrestler and why I deserve that next shot.
You think I’m going to waiver when I step in that ring just because your pissed off that you got beat by Lee’s fucking cronies. Boo fucking hoo! Been there myself. I pouted and jaw jacked my shit for years talking about earning that opportunity.
Talk is cheap, Palmer. I know. I’ve lived it for 4 years.
Instead of yammering on like Ben Stein telling us all bedtimes stories about your failed life goals: SEIZE THE FUCKING DAY, kid. Step in that ring and massacre me like you jaw jack about. Every wrestling has dreams. We ramble on like a broken record for hours about them. We don’t want the stories or the life goals. Just fucking seize them and stop mapping your shit out. You’ll end up getting lost like Amelia Earheart while someone smacks the shit out of you.
You’ve failed to follow through on doing that with StarrSex. You failed on doing that with Rock Hard Farthypants, and this Saturday, Palmer, you’re going to fall hardest with the shit stained, rambling welcome mat kicks your damn ass in the middle of that fucking ring.
You won’t have Canada to blame for your problems after that kid, you’ll have Darin Zion to blame for making you look like the biggest tool in High Octane Wrestling.
Our match this Saturday is going to be messy, Teddy. Just like my trash talking. I’m going to wreck you and beat the ever living piss out of you in my ring. And I promise not only to you, but to Lee Best, I won’t be a Teddy Palmer and won’t deliver on those promises. I’ll leave my mark and I will be one step closer to regaining MY LSD Championship back.”