The Best Arena
August 15th, 2021
Two scotch-tape-made arrows point at each other and a hand is seen pulling the blackout drapes that hold the arrows apart, revealing the inside of an empty wrestling arena. The Bottomline apron on the ring can be seen from afar. The stench of often-spilled beer is the aroma of the day. The vacant stadium eerily seems to bellow H.O.W…H.O.W!
“Excuse me sir, can I help you?” a security guard asked firmly, his eyes clear he wanted an answer NOW.
“Don’t you recog–,” Capone began, then shook his head and shrugged his chiseled shoulders helplessly under his Jatt Starr: HOW Original T-Shirt. “Never mind.”
Kevin flashed his “Wrestler” credential, AGAIN, he’d pulled out of his back pocket. The security guard inspected the pass carefully.
“OK?” the security guard snarkily added, clearly not impressed or perhaps too used to seeing wannabe performers use this perk to gain backstage access. Maybe he was just an asshole. Prick.
“How can I help you?”
“Is Lee Best around?”
“Mr. Best is NOT around,” the guard replied, his demeanor exactly the same as before. “Is there anything else I can help you with?’
Capone’s lower lip quivered. However, he took a deep breath after stopping himself from pushing forward towards the patroller.
“Ok…ok. I’ll leave.”
I didn’t come to High Octane Wrestling to beat Doozer. I’m not resting on the laurels of that victory. And I certainly didn’t come here to sit with my thumb up my ass while most of the roster is going to Bottomline. Those that aren’t on the show don’t want it enough, if you ask me. So here I am, taking the initiative and asking one more time to be granted a match. Have me be the ultimate curtain jerker, I don’t give a fuck, but have me at the Pay-Per-View. A dark match? Fine with me. A dark match that doesn’t officially count in the record books? Fuck it! See that’s the thing that guys like Jace Parker Davidson don’t get when he called me a curtain jerker a few weeks back, like that was supposed to be an insult to me. I’d do this shit for free. As corny as it sounds, being with this company has been my dream for a long time. To step inside an HOW ring and simply prove my worth is more than enough pay for me regardless of the position on the card I’m in. I bleed this shit. So, if you would be so kind, can you get this message to the man? (Points up)
“First of all, all I said was congrats on getting your first HOW win,” said a middle-aged, heavy-set man wearing a black HOW polo-shirt sitting behind a front desk. “And second of all, I told you before, he isn’t in. Have you tried calling him?”
“I wouldn’t have come all the way down here, if I hadn’t tried calling him bitch-tits,” I said banging on the desk the man was sitting behind. “If you had a child and your wife wasn’t available, you’d be able to feed your kid with those things!”
The HOW employee’s expression suggested he was at a loss for words. He proceeded to shake his head in disappointment, in an almost fatherly manner.
“I’ve been called a lot of things by a lot of guys who have walked through that door over the years, so my skin is pretty tough. You need it to be, to work around here. Believe me. But you? I’ve watched your last few matches and you’re supposed to be the humble, nice guy. Something is getting to you.”
Was he right?
“I need to reach Lee Best.”
“I told you man,” This watchman began, his posture and voice both resembling a doting father again. “He isn’t in.”
“Yeah well, I have my sights set on someone on the roster who isn’t on the card. This person isn’t scheduled to compete. As a matter of fact, they’re in a similar position to me. This wrestler just suffered a debut loss in High Octane Wrestling, something I know all too well. If they’re anything like me or like they claim, with their pretty little arrogant ass, they’ll want to redeem themselves and I welcome them to try to do so, against me!”
HR wasn’t feeling it nor did they care to pass along the message. Prick…Pricks.
“A movie with a lot of hype that feels all too happy to highlight male nudity, most notably Rocky’s sweet ass?”
“No man, are you jumping the shark?”
“The fuck do you mean?” Capone asked Murdock entirely too seriously.
“Dude, you don’t need to do all of this. You don’t need to tell Adrian you want to violate her like a parking meter. You don’t need to find your son drawing his French teacher’s big ass tits for no reason other than he obviously wants to jerk off. You don’t need to try to reach out to anyone to prove your worth. You’ve made it to High Octane Wrestling!”
Murdock shook his head.
“I was just fucking with you before. I know how much you wanted to get that re-debut win against Jace Parker Davidson for the HOTv Title.”
“You don’t get it Murdock,” Kevin started, shaking his head himself. “While everyone is worried about either making some sort of quirky ass joke or not bothering to show up ‘til the last possible second..No clever, witty comment..just truth, I’m here just trying to get a match on the fucking card..Ok like a Tommy Lee-Pamela Anderson sex tape last possible second if you get the reference…Oh Pamela..Had to, for HOW sakes..Anyway, how could it be possible that a fucking newbie wants this more than even the most seasoned of vets.”
“God-damn kid, they’ve…we’ve been around the loop for the past six months,” Murdock responded, in a raspy, veteran-imitating voice.
“Funny don’t draw money, Murdock. That ha-ha humor has its place, but when you’re trying to draw money and sell tickets, it’s gotta be real. If you can back it up in the ring and you can offer a product that can offer both, then that’s a perfect package. Who the fuck is that on the roster at this moment?”
“Fuck it, somebody has to say it.”
August 23rd, 2021
“He got it, ok, he got it. He got the fucking message.”
“So HR …”
“It’s Daytona vs. Kevin Capone at HOW Bottomline in a dark match.”
People talkin’ it but ain’t livin’ it. You had a problem with facing Xander Azula at Refueled because of his ranking? I don’t give a fuck how you feel about facing me in a dark match at Bottomline. You want to get to the top? If you’re hungry like me, you won’t care where you’re placed on the card or if you get a shiny gold sticker in the official win column IF you win…Daytona.
Show what you’ve got. The battle of the rookies. Throw these pups a bone and see who devours it. This is about proving who wants it more.
This chick name Daytona from Daytona, when I was young, I want to bone her. But now I only hit chicks that win beauty pageants. NO..This isn’t gonna to be that. You can try to make it about being jokey jokey, but I’m not Xander Azula. This ‘you worship a hooded woman so I’ll dress like a hooded woman to fuck with you’ won’t mean dog shit to me. Go ahead and make light of what I say. I’m here to fight, all the rest is preamble. So, you’re a former navy pilot who wants a new challenge? You can kill a man with your bare hands? So maybe you can turn a man to powder with just a fart? What else? Maybe you can bring a man to tears with a godly orgasm? Man, woman, or gender-fluid, you’re gonna get Kevin Capone up your ass. Wait, wait…
Hide your woman when I’m around…matter of fact, hide your husband and father too…
Is that LGBTQ+ enough for HOW?
Enough of this shit.
Daytona vs. Kevin Capone at Bottomline. Maybe we can remind the rest of the card what’s needed of them to sell the program. None of this pussy-footing shit and ‘I don’t want no last minute man.’ From where I stand at this minute, the show is far from sold out. I don’t give a fuck what you identify yourself as or what your gender is, you’ll be in the ring with me, Kevin Capone. So, give me the best you’ve got. It will be the Locked and Loaded vs. The Scenic Route. It will be the Kamikaze Dive vs. the Quick and Painful. The best wrestler will come out on top. All in the name of making a name for ourselves in High Octane Wrestling.
See, this card talent laden. What a card Lee Best put together. Bottomline features the likes of World Champion Sutler Reynolds Kael vs. Conor Fuse. Clay Bird vs. LSD Champion John Sektor…But where are they? Nowhere to be found. I’m an itty-bitty man in the lure of HOW, but at least I’m here. I hope you make it too, Daytona. Apparently, there needs to be some blood transfused into HOW at Bottomline. Some of mine, some of yours…But new blood will be shed. It needs to be shed. No choice, seemingly. The company is sick and weak this month. So, you’ve talked about wanting to face everyone, especially the champions. You want to get to the champions? You’ve got to get through me. Not because I’m special. Not because I’m a contender.
Because I’m here. Right now.
Which is more than I can say for most of the boys and girls on the roster at this moment. It may be hard to handle but you’re no better than me right now, Daytona. You looked down on your last opponent but, you’re in the same place as me. Worse probably. The difference is I’m a realist. I realize I have to fuck you up to show that I belong in a match above you. Then maybe Lee Best will acknowledge me as a guy to look out for. You have to eat what’s in front of you and you – you? I doubt I bit off more than I can chew. I can look you in the eyes and see you don’t want it like you say you do. I can only hope you do because I want to give the fans a show in our dark match. I singled you out for a reason. Because I figured you’d be starving as much as I am, but something tells me you’re just talk. Mere fluff. A pretty packaging that I’m going to rip asshole apart – yay wide (holds hands a good distance apart).
I reached out eight days ago about wanting a match with you at Bottomline and just now heard from HOW officials about your agreement. Took you long enough to respond…Pfft. You don’t want this shit like I thought. I break chicks like you in bed. In the ring? I’m going to give a show even Lee Best can see in HD. Did I say something wrong?
Prove me wrong!
Even if we only do it for those who make it early enough to see us bear our guts.
The Curtain Jerker