Tuesday, November 23rd, 2021
Uncle Morris’ House
Thanksgiving is always an interesting holiday when I’ve celebrated it. We always celebrated it with family fights. It always ended with my step father belittling my biological family for failing to raise me. Never once after he passed away did I gather with friends to celebrate the holiday. Today marks the first time I’ve celebrated Thanksgiving in 15 years. It goes without saying it was weird to sit at a table with my biological uncle, my girlfriend, and her daughter. No one raised their voices one time throughout dinner. We only focused on sharing the details of our lives within Uncle Morris’ quaint home. The whole ordeal almost brought tears to my eyes. After finishing the traditional turkey and taters, my eyes fixated on Lexi. Without a care in the world, she reached into my duffel bag. She started running around the house with my replica HOTV belt.
Screaming out in glee, her young voice echoes throughout the halls of Uncle Morris’ house. “GWEEEENIE! GWEEENIE! I wuv you, Greenie!” Her little eyes sparkled as if she’d seen a unicorn in the flesh.
“God damnit! I’ll be in the kitchen! I can’t stand that kid’s energy!” Uncle Morris bellowed under his breath. Collecting our plates and the food, Morris collects our plates. He bails in the search for some silence from Lexi’s screeching.
Observing her daughter’s playful behavior, Meredith chuckles under her breath. She leans over to whisper in my ear. “Lexi’s got a soft spot for her new daddy. She’s bragged to her friends about how you saved her mommy at Alcatraz. She’s even considering following in ‘daddy’s’ footsteps when she’s old enough.”
“God, I hope she doesn’t, no offense. I wouldn’t wish this life on anyone. My body aches out in pain from all the bumps and bruises I’ve taken over 15 years. Hell, I barely get any recognition over anything I do. If she does decide to enter the business, I pray she’s got thicker skin than I have.” I retort.
Meredith shakes her head as I miss the point. “She’ll probably grow out of this phase someday. Please don’t ruin this moment for her. Let her have her moment with Greenie over there. Let her play wrestler. She loves the way that belt shines. I can see it glimmer off the reflection of her eyes. She knows her daddy will bring the real one home soon enough.”
A smile curves along my face as I pull out my phone. Opening up the HOW Schedule app, I lay my iPhone on the table for Meredith to see the big news. “Well Greenie might have a playmate after Refueled this week. I’m booked to face off against John Sektor for the LSD Championship this week.”
Meredith’s eyes sparkle light bright stars; she struggles to contain her excitement. However, both of us get startled as Lexi’s voice squeals out in delight. “LISA D?! LISA D?! You hear dat Gweenie? Daddy’s gonna bring you home a sister!!!!!” Lexi wastes no time in barreling down the hall, screaming her elation to the news.
Meredith and I both stare at each other, bursting out in uncontrollable laughter. Shaking my head with a smile plastered on my face, I say to her. “God, I love that kid’s confidence. But she has no idea what’s in store for me this week. John’s clasped his cold, vicious grasp around that championship for almost 155 days. If I know Sektor’s mindset going into this match; he’s looking to put a hurting on me. ‘Redneck’ Bill Dickinson has put the hurt on Sektor’s pride weekly on MVW television. Sektor’s coming into this defense searching for blood. He’s defended this belt once against me already. No doubt he sees this match as a warm up for the asswhooping he’s got for in store for the Redneck.”
Meredith starts caressing my hair to ease tensions. “No doubt you’re going out with Uncle Morris for some more training tonight.”
My eyes start looking past her over at the picture of Uncle Morris with his golden gloves. My stomach churns in place before I let out a loud blech. I still couldn’t tell her the unconventional ways my uncle used in his training sessions. No doubt she could smell all the drunken Irishmen barf all over my leather coats when I came home at night. I’d spent the last couple weeks obliterating dunkards at the Worthless Coin Tavern. I’d made the finals of the Irish Bar Fighting Tournament. As the memories continue swirling in my head, I grab my knuckles out of pure reflex. Phantom pains burned in my fist with the simple memories. But I had to do it! I needed to regain some of the grit from the old days I lacked in securing a championship. I wanted a better life for Lexi and Meredith, and HOW Championships mean money. They bring a certain clout and happenstance that rejuvenate careers. All that hype translates to becoming a better provider for my future wife and kid. It’s something John Sektor could NEVER understand.
After clenching down on my teeth deep in thought, I look her in the eyes. I stroke her long, golden locks of her hair as I reply back in a sweet, loving tone. “Absolutely, baby! I’ll do anything to make sure we win Sektor’s LSD Championship. Ending the 5th longest LSD title reign in company history will secure my path to ICONIC. Hell, it presents one helluva case why I should become Zion Two Belts. Make no mistake about it, I still want that HOTV Championship. If I have to do it, I’ll bulldoze Sektor and take the LSD Championship to validate my case for Greenie. They think the LSD Championship will quench that thirst. But I’m not about to stop this newfound streak of confidence with only one belt. I won’t rest until I’ve won them all. This is the prime opportunity to transition this win streak into true momentum.”
Meredith wastes no time in giving me a firm slap on the back. “Attaboy, Tiger! Don’t get in your damn head. People like Sektor look at your streak and start discrediting it. So you beaten two people everyone beats in their sleep. You’ve found your confidence and focus. This new outlook drives me wild. Maybe we can get some alone time later this week, and I’ll…”
“GOD DAMMIT! FECKING CABINET! I FECKING HATE YEW!!!!!!” Uncle Morris’ hollers out from the kitchen. Clean up is obviously not going his way in the kitchen. Meredith takes the signal to stand up from the table to go tend to Lexi. “I’ll let you boys talk strategy for a moment. I got to put someone down for a N-A-P.”
Meredith rushes to scoop Lexi up and take her to bed, leaving me to dream up a battle plan for tonight’s brawl. The gears start turning in my head to make sure I walk out in one piece. But another thought enters my mind: The $2,000 cash prize. Almost an immediate, devilish thought enters my mind. I could get a return on my investment with the earnings. I could gain a sudden advantage over the Hall of Famer. It might sound crazy, but I would do anything to walk out with a second belt and some more clout going into ICONIC. Sektor stood in my way to all my plans. And I damn sure wanted to take him down to get my hands on his belt.
Tuesday, November 23rd, 2021
The Worthless Coin Tavern
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!
My left eye swell shut from the brunt force trauma that “Fast Hands Flaherty” threw at my face. The current champion gained the upper hand after nailing a surprise low blow in the first round. Blood trickles down the back of my skull after he’d smashed a couple full pints against my skull. This man is out for vengeance. He couldn’t let some fake ass pretend wrestler take his coveted belt. Wheezing under my breath from exhaustion, I lay against the table, panting.
“God, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into, Zion. You’re taking too much damage from a 300-pound heathen before a major championship match. Pull your Goddamn head out of your ass and regain your composure.”
Flaherty continues to wail on me before I collapse to the ground. The referee’s count rings through my thick skull as the world became blurry. My eyes shift all over the room until the idea hits me. I lock onto a wooden chair sitting next to me on the ground. In an act of defiance, I pull myself back to the chagrin of the crowd. Flaherty continues to taunt and celebrate with the crowd, his eyes turned away from me. He’s offering to buy the boys more pints with his winnings. Before he can flip around, I hoist the wooden chair off the ground. Unleashing a primal scream, I smash the chair with full force into his back. As his body falls to the ground, I waste no time in mounting an offense. Pressing my fists into his skull, I smash it until blood spills from his nose. As the referee pull me off, I spit down at Flaherty before launching one more kick into his ribs.
“ANY MEANS NECESSARY!” I mutter under my breath with force. The visions of Sektor’s face begin to peel back as I come back to reality.
As the referee’s count makes it to ten; I drop to my knees and kiss the ground. Uncle Morris rushes over to me, giving me a true, Irish embrace.
Kissing me on the forehead, he exclaims with relief. “Feck, Boyo! Yew had me worried for a moment. I could feel that beating he put on yew. But I’m feckin’ proud of me nephew. Faster Hands Flaherty’s held that championship for ten years and yew took him down like it was nothin’. Aye! Great showin’ lad!”
Turning around he yells out to the crowd, “Drinks are on me tonight, fellas! Least I could do for my nephew!” He barrels towards the bar to pull out his wallet.
After the long battle, my thirst began to pang at me. Without looking I reach over towards the first glass filled with liquid and chug it down. I shift my eyes around the room a few times, hoping the room would stop spinning. As everything steadies, I catch a glimpse of a man at a table in the corner. He jams is nose straight into the table before lifting his head to the sky. His eyebrows twitch as a diabolical smile forms on my face.
As Uncle Morris hobbles back over to the table, he reaches into his jacket pocket. His hand emerges with his cherished golden gloves he earned from his military days. “I want yew to have these. Someone in our family needs to carry these with a noble cause. Figured it’ll give yew another notch in that ole belt of yours before facing off against Sektor this week. They’ll be the ole good luck charm! Wear ‘em diginity, boyo!”
“Thanks, but I got something else on my mind. Everyone needs an insurance policy going into a fight.” I mutter under my breath before leaning into to Morris’ ear. “Who’s the guy over there in the corner? He might have something I want. In case things get out of hand with the my old ‘friend’ Sektor.”
Uncle Morris’ eye widen two sizes. You couldn’t understand the amount of shock running through his body. Pulling back in his chair, Morris strokes his beard. The color flushes from his face. “Yew don’t want to mess with him. That’s Patrick McCarthy! Most of the fellas don’t mess with him. He runs in circles people don’t want to acknowledge.”
“Don’t sugar coat this shit with me. I’m not naïve. I can tell he’s in a Cartel. I fucking know the powdered shit he’s using. I see it in the locker room all the damn time. I wanna make a deal. I got some cash burning in my pocket.” I exclaim.
Morris shakes his head with displeasure. The hairs on the back of his neck stick up as he speaks. “I won’t have no part in me nephew using that shit,” he barks at me. “Yew’ve been clean almost 3 months and I won’t hide that shit from Meredith.
“I’m not!’ I retort. “It’s pure leverage, Uncle Morris. You know, in case of emergency and Sektor does me dirty again. I’m tired of that rat bastard always sneaking out a fucking win over me. Rather he’s used the Best Alliance or underhanded tactics to secure a fuckin’ victory. I’m tired of that Hall of Fame asshole costing my family money. I want that LSD Championship and I’ll secure it by any means necessary. Superman can fall if I got some Kryptonite.”
Uncle Morris twirls his rugged beard around his finger as the light bulb turns on. His eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “OOOOOH! Y’er gonna fight dirty. Look at yew, boyo! Ya got some grit left over in yew after that fight. That’s some good moxie! Hit the bastard with his weakness.”
The fire burns in my eyes. My face turns bright red as my voice becomes more passionate. “He might want to stay clean, but if he fuckin’ tries anything this time. Let’s just say I’ll lower his damn guard. If he fucking feels froggy, then I’ll pull a few underhanded tactics myself. That belt’s coming home to me. I want to watch Lexi frolic around and screaming when daddy comes home a champion. I want to give Meredith a better home in Indiana. And I can’t do that with a meager 6-12 record. I gotta win some championships to pay the bills.”
“Well good luck gettin’ a meeting with him, boyo! He’s a tough cookie to crack,” Uncle Morris says before excusing himself for the bathroom. Once again, my eyes glance over to McCarthy. My passion increases as visions of Lexi screaming “Lisa D” fill my head.
If I wanted that championship belt, I needed to fight dirty. Sektor’s one of the stiffest competitors I know in HOW. I didn’t care what it meant for my image if I bought an insurance policy. It’s time for me to become a man of my word. I’ve spent the last 5 title shots coming up short with the Boy Scout attitude. It didn’t pay our bills. It was time to man up and fight dirty; the true HOW style. If you want to become a champion, you got play ruthless in this company. And I’m willing to get down in the dirt.
This championship match is personal. This time, I’m doing it to provide for my family.
“It’s no secret John Sektor and I share some history here in HOW. There’s no love lost between our pride. We’ve exchanged wins and losses over one another over the course of 7 years. I’ve got a lot of respect for the Hall of Famer. We might not LOVE each other or hang out. But every time we step into the ring; we give each other 110%. We both knock the ever-loving shit out of each other until the other succumbs to the pain. My Inner Irishman appreciates the level of dedication John Sektor has for the sport. He’s a true man’s man. He’s bludgeoned the hell out of everyone who steps into that ring with him to secure that LSD Championship. As of Saturday, he’s held it for 155 days, the fifth longest reign in company history. He’s racked up five defenses over the course of 5 months. It speaks volumes about his dominant run in the era in HOW. Hell, I’ve fallen victim to him almost 5 times.
I could spend all day kissing his ass like he did mine. We could outclass Mike Best and Scottywood’s brown nosing in our promos leading up to this battle. Hell, the old version of me would have begged to hear Sektor hyping me up going into this fight. I’d jump for joy after being recognized for putting in 110% in HOW. I live and breathe this damn company like any other Hall of Famer around here. I might not have the trail of accomplishments they do; but I bleed for this damn company to put food on my table. I didn’t sign my first HOW contract 7 years ago to peter out like all the other jackasses who have joined over the years. I came to make a goddamn statement.
You see, I’m tired of looking at my pathetic 6-12 record and pretending it’s good enough for me. I’m tired of just being another damn name on this roster so the fucking champions can pad their stats. It exhausts me every time when someone says I’m a flash in the goddamn pan. It pisses me off that my name is synonymous with the title of professional choke artist. I’ve spent the last three years of my life brown nosing and building everyone up. I forgot how this damn machine works.
It isn’t fueled by sunshine and goddamn rainbows. It doesn’t care about your Goddamn feelings. It cares about results. Kissing ass doesn’t provide my family with the means to make a healthy living. Kicking asses does.
It’s why I’ve called out the HOTV Championship division the last few weeks. I’ve built the meaning behind that title. Every single championship here in HOW holds as much prestigious as a World title. Making the ICONIC card with a championship belt around your waste means you’ve made it here. You’ve fuckin’ punched the damn ticket. Rather you’re holding Greenie, #97RED, or the LSD Championship; it means you’re a world class act. It not only builds your credibility; it builds your paychecks. It gives me the means to provide for my family.
But you wouldn’t know anything about that Sektor. You have no idea what I’m fighting for this Saturday when I step in the ring. You flaked on Chloe like the HOTV Championship flakes on relevancy. You wouldn’t understand the disappointment my daughter would feel if I didn’t come home with a real title belt. You wouldn’t experience the shouting matches Meredith and I have when the pay is low. My war with Xander taught me responsibility and the value of every damn match.
You might think you’re fighting the annoying shitstain Zion. But things changed for me when I became a father. It gave me an insatiable lust for championships. And if you think you can claim I pivoted like I’m some thirsty fuck for gold. You haven’t paid one bit of attention to me over the last few weeks. Don’t get me wrong, I want the glory of winning Greenie. I’ve never held the HOTV Championship belt. Any form of a TV title never existed when I came here. It holds value to me. It gives me promise to build up the lineage of that belt by fighting weekly. If you think I only want her or think I’m pivoting from that dream; you’re dead wrong.
I want them all, Sektor. I want to hold every single HOW singles belt. I don’t see getting another opportunity against you as a failure. I see at as a chance to shine. I may have floundered around midcard purgatory for last three years. But I damn well know I’ve hit the jackpot.
You’re off roaming around MVW, distracted by some no named wanker to HOW fans. Hell, it’s funny to see you struggling to subdue a man I outclassed twice. When Dickinson came after my MVW Men’s Heavyweight Championship, I subdued the bastard every single time. Yet you let your anger and jealousy towards him distract you. You’re off trying to teach worthless lessons of respect. You’re not focused on the damn prize engrained around your waist. You’ve taken your eyes off what matters here in HOW. You aren’t focused on smashing my damn head into clay to protect your championship. You’re worried about what fucking message you’d send to HOW hopeful.
That’s fuckin’ pathetic!
You’re too worried about being some edgy mother fucker like everyone else on the damn roster. You’re all up in your feels over some baby and moron in MVW. It’s fuckin’ pathetic Dickinson doesn’t matter to you. Hell, I shouldn’t matter to you. That fuckin’ belt should mean EVERYTHING to you.
You should fight, claw, and skin every opponent who looks at it funny. It’s your damn fuckin’ family at this point. And you’re worried about what someone said to your damn rookie.
That’s why I got the shot at you this time. I know the stakes of this damn match and what it means for my ICONIC match. I know I have to beat you in dominant fashion to get my opportunity at ICONIC. I have to end the most historic LSD reign of the Refueled era to earn my shot at Greenie. I got to gain leverage heading into the most important Pay-Per-View in HOW history. I have to fight like hell and do whatever it takes so I can pay the bills.
That’s what makes me deadly to you this time, Sektor. My priorities changed. I’m focused and determined like hell to punch my ticket to earn a spot on the ICONIC card. Hell, I’m bent on taking your championship and calling the HOTV Champion out still. I’ll pave my way by crushing your damn pride in front of the Leeds crowd. Because my Conquest of Gold starts truly with you, Sektor.
Sure, I could rest on the fact I’ve beat Doozer and Azula. I could pump my chest up over the fact I beat two people who coast weekly. But you’re the challenge. You’re the first person standing in my way with some clout. And while no one recognizes the prestige your name holds, John. I do! I understand what beating you for your LSD Championship means for my career. It feeds my family. It makes me a provider.
And a man should do ANYTHING to provide for his family.
So, I hope you dig your head of your ass and appreciate that gold a little more than your half-assed attempt in your promo. Because you sound like the morons in the HOTV Championship division I bulldozed to get here. If you walk into the First Direct Arena with Dickinson on the mind; you’ll get your first taste of defeat in months. The Irishman in me is looking to strangle you for that belt. He’s looking to kick your ass within an inch of your sad life. Because he wants to come home a hero to his precious, darling daughter. He wants to brings home the fat stack of bacon to his wife too.
Make no qualms about it, the Chronicles of the Trophy Hunter start with you. And hunger won’t be satisfied until I take your championship as my first major accomplishment.