Post by Moss Works Jericho's Schedule on Oct 8, 2009 23:32:57 GMT -5
Marshall Harding and his cousin stepped into the high school gymnasium. He had hoped to remain incognito in his black Dawn of the Dead tee and baggy jeans, going undercover as a hipster. Grace for her part had moved her hair into a simple ponytail, and much like Superman it appeared as if she was never recognized without her glasses on. They received a few suspicious glances, but managed to move through the small crowd without incident. They were immediately recognized, however, by Steve. For the last five years, Steve has taped LCWO (Lower California Wrestling Organization) shows for DVD release. These DVDs have no menu screen, and cost five dollars new. But Steve's proud of them just the same. He waves at the Hardings and they exchange gestures along the lines of
"Hey, can we pop in the back?"
"Sure! You guys are always welcome."
"Thanks, Steve."
"Damn, girl, you still look good."
"Steve, don't make me mace you again."
Marshall steps into the classroom serving as an office this evening, the office of independent promoter Alan Christenson, who carries wallet sized photos of the wrestlers he's "made." Alan blinks silently for the moment immediately following Marshall's entrance. "You look like a damn hippie!"
The large man gingerly pushes himself out of his chair and embraces both of his former stars. "Good to see you, kids. What's going on?"
Grace slides back out of the group hug. "We're scouting."
Marshall nods. "The front office has been playing with their dicks instead of finding me a partner, so I'm doing it my own damn self. Think any of those guys out there are ready to be called up?"
Alan waddles back to his desk. "So I don't hear from you in over a year, not since you were big shots at OVW. And now you waltz in ready to steal ANOTHER person from me? Well, you're in luck, because tonight is our Frightful Brawl. I'm sure you remember those."
Indeed they did. Every October, LCWO held a hardcore tournament, 16 wrestlers in, only one comes out the winner. It's the single bloodiest night of the year for the promotion.
So Marshall and Grace stand along the wall, watching match after match. First a bearded, shoeless hobo swinging a trashcan at a fat guy named Hoof Arted. "Look Grace, Peter Damascus is in fact alive and well. Guess Hanson was right."
"I don't think that's Damascus sir, he's not drunk enough."
Later, a karate man taking on a little guy in a mask. Alan slides over along the wall. "That's the Jumping Bean, very big with the Latino crowd. Got some good jumps."
Marshall shakes his head. "I don't need another me. I already have a me. Hell, I'm me."
The rest of the first bracket had garbage brawlers and suicidal risk-takers, but no one jumped out until the final match of the prelims.
"Coming to the ring, from The Garden State, this is The Classic, Colin Davis!"
The large man shot a huge smile that engulfed the entire crowd. Then he got into the ring and manhandled the gimp mask wearing psycho who was waiting for him. He countered every offensive move. He tossed the man around effortlessly. Marshall began to lean forward off the wall. "Grace, do you see that man?"
"Sir, I can see THROUGH that man."
For four rounds of the tournament, Marshall watched this red-headed stranger put on a helluva show...and never once touch a weapon. Even when he got nailed with a chair, or a light tube, or a waffle iron. The man didn't retaliate with hardware. Instead he rallied, drawing energy from the crowd to hit a dropkick or a forearm smash. Then he would bring his big elbow directly down between their eyes and it was lights out. The hobo had to pull a Mountie and hit him with a cattle prod to score the final pin and win the tournament. But Colin was about to win a bigger prize.
-----
Moss Edwards steps into the makeshift locker room. "Heck of a show out there, sir."
Colin looks up, sweat mingling with blood on his forehead, the smell of burnt hair still lingering slightly. His eyes widen. "Whoa, awesome, wow, thanks. Wow, I've never had an actual wrestler see the show, I mean obviously we're all actual wrestlers, but you, you're on television, of course you already knew that, isn't it hot in here, it's a little hot in here, I can go get you an ice water? I'll go get you an ice water."
The red-headed stranger is already almost out the door when he collides with Grace Harding. His entire body flushes red. "Oh, I am so sorry miss, so very sorry. Are you okay, I was going out to get an ice water because it's so hot, do you need an ice water, I am so sorry, please let me buy you an ice water?"
Moss. "Mr Davers, have you ever seen A Star is Born? No? How about Rookie of the Year? Or that movie with Matt LeBlance and the monkey? Mr David, are you ready, to become that monkey?"
"Oh, gee, I don't know, sir, I've never been a monkey before."
Moss jams his fingers into Colin's chest for emphasis. "Well, it's CCR time Colin, because you better run through the jungle and guess who, no, what is on the other side, here's a hint, it breathes fire. That's right Courtney, we are marching straight into the dragon's mouth, and when that jaw closes, I need to know I'm standing next to someone strong enough to pry it back open. Mr Davers, are you a bad enough dude to fight a dragon? And his easily distracted sidekick?"
Colin stands up tall and nods his head. "Sir, I think I'd like to try. I can't make any promises, but I will give it the old college try. I mean, I never went college, but you know what I mean."
"I think I do, Mr Davis. I think I do."
"Hey, can we pop in the back?"
"Sure! You guys are always welcome."
"Thanks, Steve."
"Damn, girl, you still look good."
"Steve, don't make me mace you again."
Marshall steps into the classroom serving as an office this evening, the office of independent promoter Alan Christenson, who carries wallet sized photos of the wrestlers he's "made." Alan blinks silently for the moment immediately following Marshall's entrance. "You look like a damn hippie!"
The large man gingerly pushes himself out of his chair and embraces both of his former stars. "Good to see you, kids. What's going on?"
Grace slides back out of the group hug. "We're scouting."
Marshall nods. "The front office has been playing with their dicks instead of finding me a partner, so I'm doing it my own damn self. Think any of those guys out there are ready to be called up?"
Alan waddles back to his desk. "So I don't hear from you in over a year, not since you were big shots at OVW. And now you waltz in ready to steal ANOTHER person from me? Well, you're in luck, because tonight is our Frightful Brawl. I'm sure you remember those."
Indeed they did. Every October, LCWO held a hardcore tournament, 16 wrestlers in, only one comes out the winner. It's the single bloodiest night of the year for the promotion.
So Marshall and Grace stand along the wall, watching match after match. First a bearded, shoeless hobo swinging a trashcan at a fat guy named Hoof Arted. "Look Grace, Peter Damascus is in fact alive and well. Guess Hanson was right."
"I don't think that's Damascus sir, he's not drunk enough."
Later, a karate man taking on a little guy in a mask. Alan slides over along the wall. "That's the Jumping Bean, very big with the Latino crowd. Got some good jumps."
Marshall shakes his head. "I don't need another me. I already have a me. Hell, I'm me."
The rest of the first bracket had garbage brawlers and suicidal risk-takers, but no one jumped out until the final match of the prelims.
"Coming to the ring, from The Garden State, this is The Classic, Colin Davis!"
The large man shot a huge smile that engulfed the entire crowd. Then he got into the ring and manhandled the gimp mask wearing psycho who was waiting for him. He countered every offensive move. He tossed the man around effortlessly. Marshall began to lean forward off the wall. "Grace, do you see that man?"
"Sir, I can see THROUGH that man."
For four rounds of the tournament, Marshall watched this red-headed stranger put on a helluva show...and never once touch a weapon. Even when he got nailed with a chair, or a light tube, or a waffle iron. The man didn't retaliate with hardware. Instead he rallied, drawing energy from the crowd to hit a dropkick or a forearm smash. Then he would bring his big elbow directly down between their eyes and it was lights out. The hobo had to pull a Mountie and hit him with a cattle prod to score the final pin and win the tournament. But Colin was about to win a bigger prize.
-----
Moss Edwards steps into the makeshift locker room. "Heck of a show out there, sir."
Colin looks up, sweat mingling with blood on his forehead, the smell of burnt hair still lingering slightly. His eyes widen. "Whoa, awesome, wow, thanks. Wow, I've never had an actual wrestler see the show, I mean obviously we're all actual wrestlers, but you, you're on television, of course you already knew that, isn't it hot in here, it's a little hot in here, I can go get you an ice water? I'll go get you an ice water."
The red-headed stranger is already almost out the door when he collides with Grace Harding. His entire body flushes red. "Oh, I am so sorry miss, so very sorry. Are you okay, I was going out to get an ice water because it's so hot, do you need an ice water, I am so sorry, please let me buy you an ice water?"
Moss. "Mr Davers, have you ever seen A Star is Born? No? How about Rookie of the Year? Or that movie with Matt LeBlance and the monkey? Mr David, are you ready, to become that monkey?"
"Oh, gee, I don't know, sir, I've never been a monkey before."
Moss jams his fingers into Colin's chest for emphasis. "Well, it's CCR time Colin, because you better run through the jungle and guess who, no, what is on the other side, here's a hint, it breathes fire. That's right Courtney, we are marching straight into the dragon's mouth, and when that jaw closes, I need to know I'm standing next to someone strong enough to pry it back open. Mr Davers, are you a bad enough dude to fight a dragon? And his easily distracted sidekick?"
Colin stands up tall and nods his head. "Sir, I think I'd like to try. I can't make any promises, but I will give it the old college try. I mean, I never went college, but you know what I mean."
"I think I do, Mr Davis. I think I do."
x2
