Post by Dallas Bonham on Oct 15, 2013 22:03:31 GMT -5
The Giants were 0-6, the government was shut down and I was an undefeated pro wrestler. Hell must've frozen over.
My head was pounding. Everything hurt. It had been a long time since I woke up feeling like this. It was… great.
"DALLAS!"
"God damnit," I said to myself as I pulled up to a sit. My ribs were killing me. "WHAT?!"
It was Houston. He had a six pack of Pabst. The sun gleamed off his fancy new gold watch. Although it was probably eighty degrees outside of Pop's old trailer Houston had a full suit and a nice pair of Justin's on. I stood in the doorway in all my tattooed stark naked. This was a great commentary on our relationship.
"Congrats, man. I was thinking you might not pull it out there at the end."
I snorted and spit. Fuck him. Here I am out here training, lifting, running and fighting all these assholes and this guy thinks he's a fucking clown. It pissed me off enough that I reached out and slugged Houston in the arm without even thinking about it. My true nature- I couldn't escape it.
"Fuck you, bud. Next time you go out there."
"No thanks! I'll leave the grappling to you. I'm sure you feel right at home after your stint."
I smiled before grabbing Houston's suited arm and pulling him into a half nelson.
"Motherfucker I will break your neck if you ever bring that up again."
"I got your… ugh.. check," Houston gasped through the pain. I was taking it easy on him- I knew how gentle of a man he was.
He puled a check from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and held it out in front of us. It was the largest I'd seen in over a decade. I simultaneously let him go and grabbed the check. Houston moved out of the way as I stood there admiring my winnings.
"I got you another match," Houston rubbed his neck.
I cracked open a beer. It was maybe ten in the morning and Houston shook his head at me.
"Oh, YOU are going to judge ME? Look at your two bit suit. You look like an ambulance chaser. Do I need to check your back seat for a neck brace?"
"Fuck off. Anyways, man, it's a tag match against the two guys you beat."
"The fuck is a tag match? All this is too ridiculous. I just want to fight."
"It's you and some new guy against those two."
"The two pretty boys? Christ, if I wanted to fight off sexual predators I would've stayed in prison."
We shared a laugh. It was becoming a more frequent occurrence and I appreciated it. Although my random acts of violence didn't really stand witness to it.
"You ready to train?"
I took a swig of the cold beer and let it burn my throat in the odd October heat. The trailer never had AC- Pop believed it made you weak and lazy.
"I'm always ready to punch you. Let's go."
It was a gruelingly hot day for October. Bill made me wrestle in sweats- said I needed to lean out a little. If he weren't so old I would probably have head butted him. Houston and I circled one another in the ring, both of us worn down from the thick, stagnant heat.
"Look at you two pieces of shit," Bill chewed through his cigar, "you're moving like two kids who shat their pants. Get on with it."
I had to admit that Houston was getting better. Not that it wasn't easy to beat him like Vincent Hale beats his… well, you know- it was just getting to be more of a challenge. See, that's what pissed me off most about being put in the ring with these two tool again- I like a challenge.
"Bill this should be an easy week! I beat BOTH of these guys by myself last week."
"Yeah, well Vegas odds ain't on your side so far," Bill called out.
"You're shitting me," I dropped my guard and turned toward Bill. Houston socked me in the gut. Without having time to flex it really smarted. Fucker tried to take another shot, but I was ready this time and knocked his hand out of the way before slapping him around a few times. He got the point.
"There ya go, boy. Hell, we should just send Houston in each match to piss ya off. Only time you're worth a shit."
"Where's that fucking camera?"
I grabbed the camera from my locker and went to the bathroom to drop a deuce and complete my interview. It chapped my ass that anyone would pick those two over me in any way shape or form.
"I really don't understand all this wrestling business. Beat two guys at the same time and the next week they team them up to fight you and some random. Fine. Whatever. I got these two guys and they both know it. I'm sure they'll cut an "awesome promo" telling everyone that you have to "know yourself" and eat your vitamins and then you can be anyone you want. Whatever. You can't beat Dallas FUCKING Bonham because there ain't nothing any WRESTLER can do that someone else ain't already done. You want to kick my ass? Go ahead, I been getting my ass kicked all my life. Ain't nothing I can't take and come out on top."
"Hit me with a baseball bat, run me over with your car, break my bones. You might could fuck me up a little bit, but you cannot kill me. It's just my nature."
The feeling coming over me was unprecedented. I felt wild, like an uncaged animal. This wrestling shit was actually starting to stick to the wall.
"Vincent- you're weak. Go back into retirement. Immediately. Sometimes you just need to know when to call it quits there old man. Sure, you somewhat kept the pace with me, but I'm not even a wrestler- I'm a fighter! I've been at this for a few weeks. How long have you got under your belt… what, ten years? I don't want killing an old man on my conscience. So please, old head, get some Activia and some raisins and stay the fuck out of the ring this weekend."
"And Marco. I don't even know. You belong in some god damned black and white Calvin Klein commercial or something. Not in a ring with me. You know that. I'm not even going to go on a big spiel about you because you just don't cut it. Keep partying, it fits you much better than fighting You keep it up in the ring with guys like me and you won't be so pretty anymore. And that's about all you've got going for you, Mr. AWESOME Personality."
"So what are you two going to do? Will you listen to the voice of reason and stay the fuck out of ring this Saturday night OR am I going to have to smack you two around again? Now I'm going to wipe my Hale and flush this Marco."
I finished my business and walked out of the room with all the adrenaline in the world flowing through my bulging veins. It felt good to be alive.
My head was pounding. Everything hurt. It had been a long time since I woke up feeling like this. It was… great.
"DALLAS!"
"God damnit," I said to myself as I pulled up to a sit. My ribs were killing me. "WHAT?!"
It was Houston. He had a six pack of Pabst. The sun gleamed off his fancy new gold watch. Although it was probably eighty degrees outside of Pop's old trailer Houston had a full suit and a nice pair of Justin's on. I stood in the doorway in all my tattooed stark naked. This was a great commentary on our relationship.
"Congrats, man. I was thinking you might not pull it out there at the end."
I snorted and spit. Fuck him. Here I am out here training, lifting, running and fighting all these assholes and this guy thinks he's a fucking clown. It pissed me off enough that I reached out and slugged Houston in the arm without even thinking about it. My true nature- I couldn't escape it.
"Fuck you, bud. Next time you go out there."
"No thanks! I'll leave the grappling to you. I'm sure you feel right at home after your stint."
I smiled before grabbing Houston's suited arm and pulling him into a half nelson.
"Motherfucker I will break your neck if you ever bring that up again."
"I got your… ugh.. check," Houston gasped through the pain. I was taking it easy on him- I knew how gentle of a man he was.
He puled a check from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and held it out in front of us. It was the largest I'd seen in over a decade. I simultaneously let him go and grabbed the check. Houston moved out of the way as I stood there admiring my winnings.
"I got you another match," Houston rubbed his neck.
I cracked open a beer. It was maybe ten in the morning and Houston shook his head at me.
"Oh, YOU are going to judge ME? Look at your two bit suit. You look like an ambulance chaser. Do I need to check your back seat for a neck brace?"
"Fuck off. Anyways, man, it's a tag match against the two guys you beat."
"The fuck is a tag match? All this is too ridiculous. I just want to fight."
"It's you and some new guy against those two."
"The two pretty boys? Christ, if I wanted to fight off sexual predators I would've stayed in prison."
We shared a laugh. It was becoming a more frequent occurrence and I appreciated it. Although my random acts of violence didn't really stand witness to it.
"You ready to train?"
I took a swig of the cold beer and let it burn my throat in the odd October heat. The trailer never had AC- Pop believed it made you weak and lazy.
"I'm always ready to punch you. Let's go."
Two hours later
It was a gruelingly hot day for October. Bill made me wrestle in sweats- said I needed to lean out a little. If he weren't so old I would probably have head butted him. Houston and I circled one another in the ring, both of us worn down from the thick, stagnant heat.
"Look at you two pieces of shit," Bill chewed through his cigar, "you're moving like two kids who shat their pants. Get on with it."
I had to admit that Houston was getting better. Not that it wasn't easy to beat him like Vincent Hale beats his… well, you know- it was just getting to be more of a challenge. See, that's what pissed me off most about being put in the ring with these two tool again- I like a challenge.
"Bill this should be an easy week! I beat BOTH of these guys by myself last week."
"Yeah, well Vegas odds ain't on your side so far," Bill called out.
"You're shitting me," I dropped my guard and turned toward Bill. Houston socked me in the gut. Without having time to flex it really smarted. Fucker tried to take another shot, but I was ready this time and knocked his hand out of the way before slapping him around a few times. He got the point.
"There ya go, boy. Hell, we should just send Houston in each match to piss ya off. Only time you're worth a shit."
"Where's that fucking camera?"
I grabbed the camera from my locker and went to the bathroom to drop a deuce and complete my interview. It chapped my ass that anyone would pick those two over me in any way shape or form.
"I really don't understand all this wrestling business. Beat two guys at the same time and the next week they team them up to fight you and some random. Fine. Whatever. I got these two guys and they both know it. I'm sure they'll cut an "awesome promo" telling everyone that you have to "know yourself" and eat your vitamins and then you can be anyone you want. Whatever. You can't beat Dallas FUCKING Bonham because there ain't nothing any WRESTLER can do that someone else ain't already done. You want to kick my ass? Go ahead, I been getting my ass kicked all my life. Ain't nothing I can't take and come out on top."
"Hit me with a baseball bat, run me over with your car, break my bones. You might could fuck me up a little bit, but you cannot kill me. It's just my nature."
The feeling coming over me was unprecedented. I felt wild, like an uncaged animal. This wrestling shit was actually starting to stick to the wall.
"Vincent- you're weak. Go back into retirement. Immediately. Sometimes you just need to know when to call it quits there old man. Sure, you somewhat kept the pace with me, but I'm not even a wrestler- I'm a fighter! I've been at this for a few weeks. How long have you got under your belt… what, ten years? I don't want killing an old man on my conscience. So please, old head, get some Activia and some raisins and stay the fuck out of the ring this weekend."
"And Marco. I don't even know. You belong in some god damned black and white Calvin Klein commercial or something. Not in a ring with me. You know that. I'm not even going to go on a big spiel about you because you just don't cut it. Keep partying, it fits you much better than fighting You keep it up in the ring with guys like me and you won't be so pretty anymore. And that's about all you've got going for you, Mr. AWESOME Personality."
"So what are you two going to do? Will you listen to the voice of reason and stay the fuck out of ring this Saturday night OR am I going to have to smack you two around again? Now I'm going to wipe my Hale and flush this Marco."
I finished my business and walked out of the room with all the adrenaline in the world flowing through my bulging veins. It felt good to be alive.
FIN
