“Bad, horrible, and stupid idea, mon.”
That was Jack Marley calling me stupid. ‘The times they are a-changin,’ Bob Dylan once mumble sang and that could not be any closer to the truth when it comes to my life. I had given him a few weeks off and, in that time, he had seemingly grown a backbone and I just stood there in my Miracle Enterprise BA Shirt and Cancer Jiles BA Shades and nodded in agreement as he stared at me out the car while I opened the passenger side door. Relax Doozer, I also had shorts on they just aren’t HOW related so I cannot make money off them.
Riding in the Miracle Whip was once a chore but maybe I had softened even more then I realized because I had not complained about it the entire car ride. I had actually been happy when Jack pulled up outside The Miracle Enterprise apartment to pick me up for the drive to Charleston. I guess having someone to talk to even if it was the Jewmaican was better than grunting to myself. I jumped in and he went in on me about my plan to meet my father to negotiate the release of Rebecca Hines. It had been a few weeks and I had not heard back from Sandy on if I could get my meeting.
“What do you suggest I do, Jack?” I asked as I leaned back in the passenger side of the Miracle Whip and stared outside at the cars and trees we passed.
Jack still staring ahead at the road groaned to himself, “you need to focus on the LSD Title, mon. You are going to drive yourself to a grave if you worry about Rebecca all the time. I mean, you do know she hated you and wrestling, right?”
She hated me and wrestling? I guess I was not surprised by that especially since wrestling has become more of a niche market. Thus, I must sell products so I can make a living if wrestling is going to be my job. The Best Alliance raise in pay was great of course but if people wrestling at such old ages has taught me anything it was that saving money was better than dying inside the ring. As for hating me well shit, get in the back of the line for that, but this time I wish it weren’t true.
“I guess…I can understand that,” I softly responded as I hid my disappointment behind my best buddies T-Shades.
“What did you expect? You aren’t exactly known as a friendly person. Hell, you are known as a piece of shit and if you have noticed Bobby Dean and Doozer still see you as that. I mean, they blame you for Cancer Jiles becoming a jerk.”
“Just because you call a stupid person stupid doesn’t make you a bad person. At least that is what I believe,” I finished after my laugh had concluded. “That doesn’t mean I cannot make it up to Rebecca of course.”
“She will never be the same, Steve. How do you even know she is alive? Last time she was like a mind raped robot you cannot honestly believe she is even that good, right?”
He had a very good point and it was one I had decided to ignore because guilt is a fucking monster. I don’t mean like the Monster from Plainview, or The Minister, or John Sektor’s stretch marks either. I mean that it eats you from the inside and makes getting out of bed even for a title shot very difficult. I am not irrational enough to not realize it is a selfish request to rid yourself of guilt. Only another person can cleanse you of your sins so attempting to get it can be as dirty as the sin itself.
“Not trying will be even worse,” I said as I open the glove compartment and pulled out a bag of cashews and started tossing them in my mouth one by one. Yum, they are addictive can’t stop at just ten just like John Sektor snorting coke at any moment he can and not having the ability to stop. I am sure losing weight had nothing to do with that. It must have been all the hard work in the gym he does when the cameras are running and not all the rage filled coke binges, he tries to hide off camera.
Jack shakes his head, “changing subjects…”
“CHANGING WHAT NOW?!?!” I said as I turned my head so fast my brain probably rebounded off my beautiful bald head.
“The subject,” he responded as coolly as possible that it made my face contort like Bobby Dean seeing Pretzel Bites with Cheese Fondue one hundred feet away from his table at Cheesecake Factory.
I calmed myself down with some breathing exercises I have perfected since having to team with Cancer Jiles. I don’t need to explain the need for that. “Ok, reborn asshole, what would you like to talk about?”
Jack continues to look ahead with a serious look on his face which was beginning to make me question everything I knew about him. “How about the fact John Sektor knows who he is, and you are floundering about trying to act like a peacekeeper for a group of piranhas.”
I think he has been listening to Ray and Sam’s Combat Showcase on 490 AM when I wasn’t around, and we all know how their opinions matter to some folks around here for some absurd reason. “I don’t care what someone might believe they are. What some people can’t see is the reality in front of them and the next time you talk back to me I will back hand you so hard your hair will retreat off your hair…you know, what’s left of it.”
“Sorry, mon, ok? The last month or so has been hard and you are eating all my cashews too!”
I looked down at the bag as I tossed a few more in my mouth. All that was left was crumbs now and salt, not exactly something that can crave someone’s hunger. “It was business not personal, as in for me to perform as leader of Miracle Enterprise and as The Heart and Soul of The BA I need to eat for energy. Plus, you don’t want to fill up before you get to Charleston and eat shrimp and grits, hush puppies, crab rice, and Okra Soup.”
“Just say you ate them all but…yea that all sounds good, dammit!”
I tossed the empty bag of cashews into a bag used for trash while driving and looked at Jack, “look, you don’t have to worry about me.”
He shook his head while he drove, “whatever, mon, it’s not like I care or anything.”
I laughed, pulled the seatbelt up so it wasn’t so tight around my chest and let it back slowly. “I have been training like a maniac, Jack.”
He nodded, “yes, we will see…”
Before he could finish, I had fallen asleep with dreams of fighting monsters and nightmares of all my failures.
Gameboy Nerd Pins.
Failed title shots.
Getting up, wiping myself off, and remembering who I was.
I am Steve Harrison.
I know where I am going but I don’t know what will happen when I get there.
Fight them all.
I feel guilty in a way that I do not fully understand because until recently I didn’t feel anything, so these new feelings are like a knife being twisted inside my body.
John Sektor would clothesline his own mother for the LSD Title, so I guess he doesn’t feel guilt and that is what is supposed to make him a threat?
I don’t understand why that makes you better prepared to win this match then me. I am not living in the past. I am remembering what made me strong before all of this and that should make you wary of me. I fight for more than a title, while you fight to stroke that enlarging ego of yours. That is all Adam Ellis is too…an extension of that shrinking dick you keep trying to wag in front of me.
You think I care that you were sweating like a fat man in a sauna when you came up against me before? I lost, so any fake compliments you give me now are just that: fake. You are putting on airs, trying to puff me up about absolutely nothing.
I lost, I don’t give a fuck how you FELT, I care about how you are going to feel when you don’t get to measure yourself against a healthy Teddy Palmer after I leave you unconscious in the middle of the ring.
Your opinion did mean something to me but now we know who to blame for Hughie Freeman joining The BA, thus you just lost a shit ton of credibility, hermano. The next time you tell Lee we should be recruiting someone it is going to a vote because I am certain you will try to get your young boy to join so you have someone to carry those coke filled bags of yours.
It’s an easy thumbs down, especially since you will get bored of training him within the next two months anyway.
I mean, I guess if he lets you plow Polly you will let him stick around. Play for pay means something different to a man like you.
What the fuck is getting Harrisoned?
I will just assume it is making lots of money for The Best Alliance and ignore your flat-out inaccuracies about ME losing your money when you never had any to begin with. Most people use money for assets like houses or cars but let’s be honest you have gold chains and bags of coke and I wouldn’t be surprised if both were fake.
Little bet lost here and there is of no consequence when every Saturday I sell enough Miracle Enterprise merch to pay for Jatt to get his balls stomped on by a dominatrix for the whole weekend.
Not saying I will pay for it, but yea…I could.
On the other hand, you would just toss Jatt in front of a moving car and then take whatever is in his pockets and claim it was yours because you were nearby. Just because you are in the vicinity of something doesn’t mean you can claim it and say it was best for everyone that you had it.
Thick as thieves is definitely the correct verbiage because y’all stole the Tag Titles and then lost them before anyone could report the robbery. I am Forever Tag Champ while you are standing outside claiming Freebird rules like a child who is trying to deny he fucking burned the house down while holding a lighter. I can rail against you about your dishonesty until I am blue in the face, but I would prefer to just wipe my hands of it because everyone knows exactly what you are at this point:
A Hall of Famer.
A selfish addict.
An insincere friend.
Heh, not hard. You are extremely easy to read.
Making yourself out to be the big bad I need to overcome is cute, John. I will take your challenge and use my knee to cauliflower those ears of yours even worse so that you cannot hear anyone making fun of your short title reign with ZERO successful title defenses.
Do not question my desire to win just because I said it should be difficult to face a comrade. I did say should, right? You are the one that isn’t difficult to face because you have gone out of your way to take a chisel to the unity in The BA. You aren’t making a point this Saturday, I am. I am laying claim to if you stray off the path you get tossed on your head and your title moves towards a more deserving man.
I think you misunderstand who I am. I don’t offer a handshake because I am not going to do everything I can to win. I offer a handshake to show The Best Alliance might be vicious, but we respect each other’s skills. If you want to arrogantly step towards me because you think I am some star struck kid, I will remind you why you once feared me. This doesn’t have to be a friendly match and I think you taking what I said out of context just shows you do not have the courage to shake my hand after I wake you with a bucket of cold water after I beat you.
I will bring you some ice packs.
Shit, friend…I will even pay for the prostitute of your choice that night.
That is how much of a standup guy I am.
Being the underdog is a rarity for me, John. I won’t deny that, I know I am this Saturday but that doesn’t change anything, does it?
Am I supposed to put my head down and whine to myself because some faceless odds makers think you are going to successfully defend against The Miracle Man?
Let me just stay in my hotel, there is no reason to show up since I am not supposed to win. Heh, come on, buddy you know The Heart and Soul doesn’t have any quit in him. I look backwards to find what I was lacking and that is the fight in me that will not tap out. You will need to make me pass out for me to lose this match, Sek.
I don’t think you have the stamina in you to get me to that point. Lose all the weight you want but you are still going inside the ring with a taller, stronger, younger, and hungrier man who will take what you deliver and give it back tenfold until you can no longer move.
I will let Teddy Palmer know that he is in your head still even though you already beat him. I am sure that burley haired moron enjoys you waxing poetic about him multiple times. At Bottomline you will be there for the LSD Title match because I will allow you to be the timekeeper and you can watch up close and personal on why Teddy Palmer has not and will not ever beat me…even at his best.
Little rib, I love the ribbing.
This is going to be battle and I wouldn’t expect it any other way when we are talking about The Gold Standard and The Miracle Man. But please take that mirror analogy and keep it to yourself, it as cliché much like most of your personality. You are going to show me my weaknesses, what kind of lame shit are you talking about?
I swore I had been mentioning my own weaknesses for a month now what are you going to show me that I haven’t already been trying to fix? Is my head not bald enough for you? I have laid them all out on the table and you just ignored them and instead you will decide what they are, how creatively dense.
Just admit you haven’t paid attention to anything that doesn’t involve you because your understanding of me is lacking.
It is not reality.
Not surprised, coming from a man who must have memory issues after all the drugs and beatings he has taken.
I can agree that being in the ring with you will make me a better wrestler. I know you are damn good, but I also believe being in the ring with anyone will make me better because the more experience I get that better I can become. I plan on climbing the damn turnbuckle soon and trust me that STF is not as sloppy at it once was now.
I am evolving but it might be that YOU don’t wish for that and turn a blind towards something you don’t wish to fear again.
I don’t give a fuck what LSD is going to mean after Saturday, but you can rest assure it will be shined up by Jack Marley and placed next to MY Tag Title.
If you go on a drug binge because of you losing, I am just a call away and I will drop you off at rehab because that is what the glue does.
I keep us together.
I keep us moving.
You will not stop what we are building with your foolishness.
You are lucky to have me in your life.
You are welcome, friend.
Next thing I knew.
“Hey, mon… wake up, your phone is going off.”
I opened my eyes quickly and shook off my dream, “huh, what?”
Jack pointed to my cell phone which was sitting on the top of my shorts, “you have a call, mon.”
I looked down and it read Sandy Reed-Lawson.
I took a deep breath.