hotr (part 1)

[chaos lite]

”there is a house in new orleans
they call the rising sun
and it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy...
and god, i know i’m one...”

nov.30.twelve 6:58pm

I’m not sure what you guys know about Aubrey J. Parker. It wasn’t until recently that I decided to follow her and what I’ll refer to as her “journey” through professional wrestling. I wouldn’t say I’m particularly a fan of the sport. I mean, maybe when I was a kid, but not so much now.

We don’t know each other. You guys and I. I’m Josh Cantor. I’m twenty-two years old. I’m frail. Pale. Redheaded. Virgin. I thought I’d be a best-selling author by now, but instead I work three part-time jobs that I despise.

Currently, I wear a fat suit, a wig, and a fake beard, disguised as Santa Claus in the mall. I wouldn’t say I’m particularly great at that but that isn’t the point. That’s where we are now, and it was around 7:00 that Friday evening that I saw her. Many did, and many recognized her, but I remembered her.

Aubrey J. Parker, standing alongside her equally as familiar but confused-looking friend. They stuck out like sore thumbs; young women in the line typically reserved for toddlers and small children-- and trust me, many soccer moms were giving them sideways glances for their presence.

I’ll never forget her. And from the way she was staring at me (I know, because it’s rare that girls even look in my direction), I knew she remembered me.

It was her turn.

”Hi.”

Casually, she eased into my lap and slinked an arm around my shoulders, giving me a broad smile... And although it was faint, I could detect the alcohol on her breath. It was oddly sweet. Sugary.

”Well, ho-ho-hello there!”

I’m contractually obligated to say that.

”And what’s your name, young lady?”

She smiled and leaned close to my ear, speaking just above a whisper.

”You’re not really Santa.”

”Hahahaho-ho-ho! That’s ridiculous!”

Aubrey backed leaned back so she was face-to-face with me and smirked, looking deep into my eyes.

”You know my name.”

”I’m Santa, so I suppose I should, right?”

”Mmhmmm...”

”Aubrey.”

Her smile grew a little wider at it and by her positioning, I predicted that any responsible parent with a good view of the situation would be sure to complain.

”Have you been good this year?”

Aubrey raised an eyebrow at me and said very matter-of-factly...

”I’ve been great.”

”And what can Santa get you for Christmas?”

”I want the APW Tag Team Championships.”

”Whooaa-ho-ho! That’s a little oddly specific.”

”I want to beat Michael Callahan and the GI on Meltdown on Monday. I want to have the strength and skill to beat them, and then beat two other teams at Christmas Chaos to win the Tag Team Titles. I know my partner can do it... I just want us both to.”

At the mention of “partner” my eyes darted over to her friend.

I quietly decided that I wouldn’t pass judgment.

”Callahan’s one of the best wrestlers I’ve ever seen and his partner’s a crazy. Like, really insane... and Logan and I would need a Christmas miracle to get past a focused War Ensemble, Santa. Before this we haven’t had to face anybody of that caliber. Michael Callahan has beat Kurt Noble. He beat Sally Talfourd.”

”I-”

”I want those titles, Santa. I never ask for too much for Christmas...”

She gave me another coy smirk, but I couldn’t determine her intentions. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe she was being a tease.

”What if I can’t get them for you?”

”Well, I think I’d be really disappointed.”

”...If you want it, you got it.”

She smiled at me and placed her hand in mine, moving something into it. A slip of paper.

”I like you, Santa.”

Aubrey climbed off of my lap and only spared one more glance as she and her friend made their exit. I glanced into my hand, viewing the predictable, yet satisfying ten digits that were scribbled across it. It felt good to be remembered.

”Ho-ho-ho, who’s next?”


nov.30.twelve 10:24pm

[rec •]

”Video diary... Entry six... November thirtieth, twelve.

I saw Aubrey J. Parker today and she remembered me. She gave me her number and I’m going to call her soon and see if we can catch up or talk or... Something. I haven’t seen her in three years. I don’t know if she realizes how much I looked up to her. How much I always looked up to her.

And it’s weird. I met her in kind of a strange place. Ha, I’ll never forget it, right off the corner of New Orleans Boulevard and 3rd Street. The House of the Rising Sun. It was the only retro record store in Pleasanton really. I was maybe thirteen and she was sixteen. I hung around there because there was nowhere else for me to go. And they let me.

Aubrey was a part of the popular clique. They did things I wasn’t into, really. Listened to music I didn’t like. Did drugs I didn’t do. Talked to people I wouldn’t really talk to. But I did it anyway. I did it to fit in-- and Aubrey, she knew it. She was really the only one that accepted me for who I was, and she told me to always be myself, even if everybody else ‘fucking hated that’ as she said.

Maybe that’s why I’m still trying to be a writer even if I know that career isn’t taking off right now. Ha. Maybe that’s why I’m still stuck working three jobs in the mall.

There’s so much more I could say, but it’s getting late... I think... I’m gonna call her.”

I continued to look back at the webcam, unsure of myself. It took seconds to convince myself to pick up my phone, glancing at the paper to dial each one of those ten deathly-looking digits. My heart slammed relentlessly against my chest as I lifted the phone to my ear.



dec.1.twelve 2:15pm

You know the awkward feeling you get when somebody tells you to just walk in their front door?

Imagine when that person is an internationally known entertainer, former North American Champion, and quite possibly the next World Heavyweight Champion. I wasn’t sure who AJP thought she was to just casually keep her door unlocked-- so I quickly locked it behind me before making my way up the staircase toward her room as instructed.

I had the embarrassing, doubtful thought that perhaps I was wrong. What if I got the time wrong? Or what if it was the wrong house entirely?

Those demons in my head were silenced when I heard her voice once I reached the top of the stairs. I cautiously made my way down the hallway which was only lit through the cracked blinds at the end. Her voice became clear as I reached the last room and gently pushed the door open.

”...So for everyone that’s curious, yes; Logan Alexander and I are still a team. M&M is still a unit and the Tag Team Titles are still our primary reason for existing in APW. We never lost sight of that, and what the world saw a few weeks ago was a rough patch that was overdramatized and exploited by everybody and their mother.

When something as big as the North American Championship is on the line and you have people jumping around corners trying to kick your head off, some skepticism is warranted. When all is said and done, I decided that I trust my tag team partner. He’s all I have in APW, and likewise. He’s one of my best friends, and a jealous, unprofessional GM won’t come between us.

Or the Tag Team Titles.”

Her eyes moved toward the door for a second and she smiled upon seeing me, holding up a finger instructing me to wait.

”And neither will War Ensemble.

Michael Callahan is one of the greatest wrestlers in the world. The GI is an unknown factor and I have no specific way to prepare for him. We’ve barely seen what he can do, and if I can make a judgment based off of him mumbling to himself, I’ll stray as far to say that he’s a loose cannon. Is that fair to say?

I don’t know if Logan and I can outwrestle or outsmart them in the ring. I don’t know if Michael Callahan is going to take that baseball bat when the ref’s distracted and try to crack one of our skulls. I would like to say that we’re going to have a fair tag team match by Callahan’s made it impossible to assume something like that, so here’s my solution...

M&M is showing up to Meltdown in Hartford ready to play dirty. If you’re ready to swing, boys, be ready for us to swing back.”

I smiled a little. She was the same feisty girl she was nine years ago.

”I’ve already had an opportunity taken away from me because of foul play and you’re fuckin’ lost if you think I’ll allow it to happen again. You may be able to get Noble, TJ, and Sally with the Banzai Strike but if you come anywhere near Logan or I with ‘Martinez’ we’ll break your arms.

Then we’ll beat the hell out of you with your own baseball bat.

I respect what you’ve done, Michael, and I respect what the GI is capable of in the ring and I won’t act like we’ve been Asylum main event mainstays like you, but the Tag Team Titles are the reason we came to APW. If there’s anything that drives us or motivates us, it’s that. Whatever business you have with Anthony Bailey or the Dying Breed is none of my business, but I hate to tell you that your resolution won’t be attached to the Tag Team Championship match on December 23rd.

I mean, this is the kind of match that could headline a pay-per-view. War Ensemble and M&M are breathing life into the tag team division but there’s always only been room at the top for one number one, and for so long, Michael, you’ve had the chance to be that top guy.

And so many times, you’ve fucked it up, with no recovery in sight.

So while you wait in line for another shot at World Heavyweight gold-- gold that’ll soon be in M&M’s camp-- you try to rise to the top of the tag team division with the GI by your side. I don’t want that to happen. I want the Tag Team titles to be that-- titles. Not personal trophies that are disregarded and held by a man that’s only in this business for himself and his own personal accolades.

At Christmas Chaos, Logan and I will get what we’ve been pushing for since the summer. We’ve gone through more than anything you or the GI could possibly put us through.

We’ve gone through each other. We beat each other half to death and we’re still here. We’re still a team. We’re still going to become the APW Tag Team Champions, and that starts with beating... you two.

I don't expect you or anybody else in APW to believe that. It's been a hobby of everyone's to try to pit us against each other, and they've done a hell of a job. Achieving glory by yourself? It's appealing, trust us. We're no strangers to that.

But it takes two strong individuals to achieve glory as a team, boys.

Two.”

She paused and then walked to the tripod, turning off the camera. It seemed like an eternity, but finally her eyes traveled up to me and a smile crossed her face. She walked forward and parted her lips to speak...

But this is a story I’ll tell you later.

fin.