Let’s just pull the band aid right off.
That was just the icing on the cake of a fucking miserable weekend for me. Oh, you thought I had a good Saturday night. Come now, Miracle Marks you know better than that when it comes to my life.
“Nice, hotel room.”
I entered Rebecca Hines’s hotel room with thoughts of strawberries and chocolate followed by some debauchery. I usually pay the women to go away after the deed is done. I mean the hotel room was a hotel room, but small talk is small talk.
“I know I have been a little standoffish this week,” she said to me as she sat down on the couch and crossed her legs.
“Wasn’t just me, huh?” I said following it with a small laugh.
I sat down next to her but not quite too close as I wasn’t trying to scare off but close enough where I could grab her if a romantic kiss was on the menu.
“So, what’s up?”
She looked me in the eyes, her hands folded on her lap, “I was speaking with Sandy…”
“I know, I know. I have been meeting with a private investigator though.”
I gave her a confused look and slowly responded, “o….. k, what does this have to do with anything?”
“Sandy had mentioned your mom had been missing since you were a kid and so for helping me get my life back I hired an investigator to help find her.”
I stood up as I began to shake, my smile fading quicker than my hairline when I was at the barbershop. I am bald and beautiful of course so suck it, haters. She looked up at me still smiling at me not yet realizing that I was shaking from confusion and anger not happiness. I took a few deep breaths as I attempted to get my mind back from where it was going to hide but it didn’t work. It wandered into a place I forgot existed. I shook my head and looked down to the carpet.
Rebecca finally noticed something was wrong, “what’s wrong?”
I turned my back as I shook my head and walked out of her hotel room leaving her staring at my back with what I could only imagine a confused look on her face.
What a great prologue to a weekend.
I went in with high hopes and was left incredibly mind raped with a new thing I had to worry about. I know now that she was trying to help but at that moment I had no interest in a mom I hadn’t seen since I was ten.
I wanted Rebecca.
I wanted to be her.
I was left with nothing, so I got on the elevator, got off and ended up at the hotel bar.
I sat down at the bar and ordered a drink from instinct. I wasn’t sure what I said but I also did not care what I was about to drown my sorrows in. The bartender put a drink in front of me and I took it to my head within ten seconds. I wiped my mouth and sighed as I began to get a grip of myself again but the only thing that truly bothered me was Rebecca not my mom. That is a whole other book I didn’t want to open, and it had been on the shelf so long I had forgotten a lot.
The Bartender pointed at my empty drink, “You drank that really fast.”
I shrugged, “the only problem is that it is empty.”
He poured me another drink and I nodded at him and stared at the ice cubes inside the drink. Thankfully my instinct was whiskey. This wasn’t how I thought tonight was going to go and now I was doing something I should have stayed away from the night before my big match with Christopher America. At that point though I didn’t care because I am a big guy, and I would be fine for tomorrow regardless because my adrenaline would be through the roof.
I was shot.
I was 0-1.
I drank it down.
The ice clinked down to the emptiness like my knee brace when I tossed it on the floor after a workout.
The bartender gave me a look and pointed at the drink, “might want to slow down, that is two in less than five minutes.”
I stared at him as he cleaned the bar with a rag in front of me. “I am 6’4”, I can handle my liquor so how about you handle that bottle and pour me another.”
He nodded and grabbed the bottle and poured me another drink. “Look, man you seem down, there might be some women in here who could…help with that.”
I looked around the bar and noticed some women circling around talking to random guys. I rolled my eyes and looked back to the bartender, “what’s your take?”
He put his hands up, shocked at what I said, “whoa man, I just know them.”
“Sure,” I responded and then took a smaller sip from my drink. “I just want to drink and forget about the night because tomorrow I am going to be back on top of the world regardless.”
I was sure working with foresight there.
He laughed back at me, “big business meeting, huh? Nothing wrong with celebrating early, you know.”
I grunted and shook the ice around in my drink. “Not supposed to gotta keep the energy intact.”
“That’s weird, dude.”
Uh…yea I suppose it is but not worse than No Nut November.
I rubbed my face as this bartender began to annoy me in hopes it would calm me down again. This night was just heading down faster then FTX but hey nobody I know is dumb enough for crypto…right? “I could you twist you into a pretzel without breaking a sweat so maybe watch your tone with me. “
“Hey-hey-hey. I am just trying to help, man. You know, give that bartender friendly advice.”
I pointed at the glass as I put it back on the bar, empty once again. “Your advice would sound a lot better with a full drink.”
That is how the night went for me until I vaguely remember the bartender waiving a woman over and me looking her up and down like she was an antelope and me a Lion. The Bartender smiled all his teeth showing like he was some sort of comedic genius for getting me drunk enough to drool over some whore.
Well, something worked.
The next morning, I woke up and I wasn’t alone. The sheets were all over the floor and I literally laid on my back and looked down to still see a condom on my cock.
Hey…safe when drunk, good job I thought.
I had failed again. No willpower I thought as I looked to my left and saw a woman smiling at me. She was a pretty blonde thing, so I figured I was about to be out of the petty cash I had in my wallet.
I sighed and looked back at the ceiling, “uh…”
“Jackie, I am guessing you are asking my name?”
Oh, that was embarrassing. “Uh…yea, so I am surprised you are still here.”
Her smile faded, “what does that mean?”
I looked over the edge of my bed and saw my pants. I pulled my wallet out and took every piece of cash out of it. I turned over and put the money out. “This should cover it…I am sure it was…uh…memorable.”
Her mouth opened in surprise, and she slapped the cash out of my hand and got up and grabbed her clothes and got dressed faster than Bobby Dean running towards a buffet. I stared with the cash flying everywhere and my hand still sticking out. “Sorry?”
She got to the door and turned as she opened the door, “Fuck you.”
I grabbed my head and lied back down. I looked to the right where the table sat with the clock. It was 9AM, I still had time to get my shit together for Rumble at the Rock.
Please don’t take that as an excuse. I have no excuse for losing at Rumble at the Rock. This is therapy for me at this point because my life is so ridiculous. There is never an end point, there is always something next to mess with my life. There is no happy ending just me struggling to pick up the pieces of a glass I fucking broke in the first place.
Christopher America you were the smarter man at Rumble at the Rock and as you can see I am getting dumber.
I thought I could only go 0/2.
I took three fucking L’s in less than 24 hours.
I wish it had been me, but I hope Clay Byrd knocks that smug grin off that big head of yours. I despised every step I made last Sunday when I walked out to hear Clay call you out. I may have been drunk, I may have been depressed, but rest assured I was only there in the physical sense.
I will see you again.
This coming Sunday I am going to welcome my precious back into my open arms. I had missed those wonderful tag titles, but I had something else I had to concentrate on and I failed horribly there. I suppose they missed me, and can you blame them?
Bobby Dean has spilled nacho cheese every day on them.
Doozer is…a guy I guess.
Then we have Cancer Jiles.
I know The Highwaymen find him a revolting disrespectful asshole…and that’s the good things.
Canned laughter please.
That is all true, but he is also a part of the G’Odd Couple and that isn’t something the eGG Bandits can just splat away. Jiles has come back to HOW a conquering hero—to himself. He has won the big prize in PRIME and since coming back he has claimed the tag titles and been destroyed by Steve Solex. None of us are perfect, I know that better than anyone. This will be the first time I have seen him since I defeated him after he was kicked out of The Best Alliance. That was also my last match in HOW until I came back this January, because with that win I was able to have knee surgery.
I will be honest I was hoping the next time I saw this arrogant shithead I would be holding the HOW Title. It wasn’t meant to be though so I will take this match to prove that if Lindsay Troy ever gets over her hatred for me I am just a call away to showing up I PRIME and taking YOUR title, Jiles.
Trust me I know that is an impossible request so unclench your fists, Arthur Meme Jiles.
It doesn’t matter if we are friends: we aren’t.
It doesn’t matter if we respect each other: eh maybe?
It doesn’t matter that we once were the most dominant tag team in HOW they had to retire the belts: that’s true.
What matters now is that YOU hold what I once again won and never lost. That isn’t an insult towards anyone because if Jatt Starr and Lee Best hadn’t hurt Bergman it would have been him and I once again bringing these back to The Boys.
Now I am teaming with the (laughs) leader of the Highwaymen, the next HOW Champion, my buddy, Clay Byrd.
I was surprised as everyone else was when the eGG Bandits came back and helped Lee not only beat but kill Chris Kostoff. It was so surprising because it makes no sense. I don’t care what reasons they give because when it comes down to it they are supposed to be an anti establishment group that has sold out for a shot at the tag titles?
Is that the reason?
You could have just asked because we don’t duck anyone especially a team that employs a barista named Doozer. This coffee boy literally helped kill his own friend because of…reasons?
…That are stupid.
You made an impact though that some Applebee’s worker enjoyed but to me it was just a—meh.
It’s Doozer, back again, guess who’s back, tell a friend…to bet on the under six months of sticking around.
This is like signing Carmelo Anthony in 2022 as a marquee signing.
It’s fucking Doozer, for god’s sake do I have to explain it to you plebians?
I have lost count how many times I have beaten this washed-up midlife crisis bizarro superman. Every time is different though and I fully understand that because Doozer might pull a miracle (boo) and tap into the year 2001 and come out fighting like it was the most important thing to him.
But let’s double back here because I am not letting you off the hook for how you sold out to Lee Best. I suppose it worked because it is so mind numbingly odd to me. The eGG Bandits are not a team of killers and yet here we are talking about them being just that. The fun-loving team has become just a group of waiters for Cancer Jiles’s arrogance restaurant. Jiles does not care about any of you succeeding because it only matters that his fern is watered, and his shades are clean, and he continues to carry that PRIME title of his.
Good job on that, Doozer. I am sure you get paid in McDonalds Gift Cards as a bonus for helping Jiles stay successful.
This is as successful as you guys are getting though.
I know you have had a ball bragging about beating Solex and Bergman but this is a completely different game we are playing now.
I am fucking livid.
I am fucking embarrassed.
I NEED to get back up and you guys are just what I NEED because those tag titles miss me, and they are just what I need to snap out of my doldrums.
It hasn’t been easy looking at myself in the mirror and seeing someone who gave up. My knee cracked and I just couldn’t handle it anymore.
Ellis was right, I am naïve.
I had the belt won and watched it leave because I didn’t keep on the attack. I am not making that same mistake this coming Sunday. If I must hurt you I will, Jiles. I told you last time I was sorry, but it didn’t stop me from dropping you on the head. The only difference is I cannot be sorry this Sunday because that is the same nonsense that has been holding me back.
I always say this when I fail. The problem is, I don’t fail often so I always begin to forget what got me to where I am. I have been too nice. I have been too forgiving. I have been too infatuated with a woman.
Is this going to be any different?
If I can hurt you, Jiles then I can hurt anyone.
Doozer, you don’t have many more neck bumps on your card, and I warned you last time it would be the last time I hurt you. Stop making me a liar because I cannot take responsibility for your family when you can no longer move.
I won’t send flowers.
I won’t send coffee creamers.
I won’t send money.
I won’t even apologize because I have told you repeatedly that there is nothing wrong with putting your boots up. I can think of tons of wrestlers you could manage or give sage advice to instead of continuing to tarnish your own famous legacy.
You have ‘rent a boat, take it out, tie the anchor around your foot, toss the anchor into the water, and drown to the bottom of the water with it,’ heat.
You have zero credibility.
The only credible thing to do is hand those titles over to me. I would respect that more than whatever the hell you are doing these days that merits mention.
It doesn’t really matter because the plan is to sober up and take every regret from Rumble at the Rock on both of you.
I am not apologizing for what I do.
The Miracle Man is standing back up.
You all bow the fuck back down.