Post by Kid Dynamo on Feb 5, 2012 17:44:31 GMT -4
I want a divorce.
No you don’t.
Yes, Brad, yes I do. I’m just…I’m SICK of it!
Rebecca…
No! Shut up! I’m sick and tired of it!
Of what?
“Of what?” Really, Brad?!? You don’t listen to a GOD-DAMN word I say!
that’s not true.
BULLSHIT it’s not! Do you think I’m an idiot?
No.
YOU MUST! I told you “don’t EVER go back to wrestling”, DIDN’T I?!? I told you to quit because your kids need you. But do you listen? Do you care? Do you GIVE A SHIT?
Of course I do.
No, no you don’t. You don’t if you are doing that SHIT.
Rebecca…
No! We’re done! You made a choice. You made a choice and you will have to deal with your choices.
I’m not…
Yes you are, Brad. I told you to quit. You went to the doctor and he said your neck looks bad, and it might break if you keep going.
Rebecca, I’m under contract.
Bullshit, Brad. I’m not stupid. I know how much money we have. Don’t give me this “I have to” shit.
…
I mean, how stupid are you? You get told that your neck looks just like it did when you broke it the first time and you fight in a 70-man match?
86…
Shut the fuck up! I don’t care anymore! You don’t want to be there for your children, fine. Fuck you.
Rebecca…what do you want me to do?
You know what? Do whatever the FUCK you want, Brad. Or “Kid Dynamo”. Whatever. You were never a god-damn thing except a wrestler. You weren’t a father. You weren’t a husband. You weren’t anything. So go. Be free. Go break your neck. Fuck it.
I don’t want…
I don’t care what you want, Brad! I…I don’t care. You had the chance to care. You had a MILLION chances to care. I told you to care when you went to resign, and you chose to care more about your work buddies than the five of us. So, whatever, Brad. Go have fun.
…I don’t know what to say…
Nothing. Just Go away. I don’t ever want to see or hear from you again.
Rebecca, I…
(click)
…love you.
Our hero pulls the iPhone from his ear and pushes the red “End” button. The screen turns black momentarily, but almost immediately, his phone resurrects and reads: “Rebecca Christopher: Text Message”. He slides his thumb across the unlock bar to open the message:
No you don’t.
It was like a ghost of his past slapping him across the face. Of all the demons Our Hero flees, this was the one he was sure was gone. Then again, Our Hero thought he could win Survive and Conquer. Furthermore, he thought his arrival in APW signaled the dawn of a new era.
In other words, he’s been wrong before.
He couldn’t blame the sign for his loss, as he didn’t notice it until after Johnny Rebel opportunistically eliminated him. His feet on the floor and a ref yelling at him to evacuate, Our Hero took one look out at the crowd, selfishly hoping for some reaction, some proof that the fans gave a damn that the “end of the world” had, well, ended.
And what he got was that sign.
The one person proving to him that she knew who he was…mocking him. Not just with a name pun; God knows Our Hero has heard them all. But THAT one, THAT’s the one. THAT’s the one word that is like a pinprick to his very soul.
Donkeymo.
I’m the narrator and I wince at letting it out.
Our Hero should thank her. Like the parallel universe equivalent of a nightmare, she brought Our Hero out of his dream world. She saved him from his continued belief in his hyper-relevance. She helped him look past the light...
...and see the tunnel.
Our Hero bathed in his irrelevance that evening. Sure, to people passing through, it looked like an ice bath being used by an older wrestler who just went through 12 minutes of anarchy.
Wait. That’s it? A fifth of an hour and he had to soak in an ice bath? Where’s Our Hero’s pride? Couldn’t he have waited until he got home to boldly portray his weakness?
Sure, but he didn’t.
And no one cared.
Not one wrestler walked by and uttered a response. There was no “I know how you feel” or “what a pansy”. Just an invisible man soaking in an ice bath.
Welcome to the undercard.
Maybe Our Hero can begin to call himself the “Undercard Hero”.
Wait. Nope. That’s ANOTHER demon from the past.
These disjointed memories swirl through Our Hero’s brain as he struggles to find the words he needs to say. Since the camera for his PromoStream self-interview is rolling, this is becoming increasingly awkward to watch. Finally, he looks forward, far from the look of a wannabe champion, and begins to speak.
Next Sunday, round 2 of the Tapout Challenge commences. Two winners compete to determine a new frontrunner, two losers compete to keep pace, and then there’s my match. I, a loser in the first wave, face not only a winner, but the early frontrunner, Chaz Dillinger. I should be flattered that this match got top billing, but I’m sure that’s more about my opponent than myself.
The funny thing about the lopsided appearance of this contest is simply the lack of statistical backbone to it. Sure, Chaz has a much better record than I do, but I’m pretty sure Chaz never beat Dan Quinn or Lester Only, and we both lost Survive and Conquer.
Furthermore, when the stats of the match were released, the similiarities are eye-catching. We both eliminated two competitors. We both lasted 12 minutes in the ring, and neither of us outlasted our position. So, in the only apples-to-apples barometer of our wrestling equality, equality is in fact the word of choice.
And yet, the conclusion of this match is foregone. I won’t say I'm destined defeat – stranger things have happened. But who expects a victory for the outsider who twitter-bombed his way to getting crushed by Level One to beat the deputy of Cult of Personality? Hell, I bet Havok doesn’t even show up to support his sidekick. That’s confidence.
If I was Chaz, I'd certainly be confident. His amateur background makes the TapOut Challenge a perfect opportunity to score that first APW championship. His bloated bank account also saves him from having that sense of urgency that could cause him to make mistakes. I don’t have that luxury. At 0-1, this is must-win for me, and that’s one more obstacle I have to overcome to defeat Chaz Dillinger.
So why even show up? Why think I can win? Well…
Our Hero pauses longer anyone would find comfortable.
…I don’t know. I don’t really know. I mean, I have the speed advantage over Chaz, and he isn't going to crush me like a bug. Maybe I can play the hit-and-run game and get him to lose focus and start making mistakes.
One thing for sure is that gone are the days when I assumed my superior knowledge and ability to diversify my style would assure victory. Dan Quinn made me tap, Level One damn near broke my neck again, and Rebel sent me packing with a ridiculously mediocre -7 rating in Survive and Conquer. That's a great start...
…if I want to be a laughingstock forever.
See, I'm not like the Bailey’s and Callahan’s that are revered as future World Champions. I'm not like the Rodell’s and Bochner’s that are valued midcarders. I am neither. I am not a future top champion, I am not considered an APW mainstay.
I know what people say about me. They snicker “end of the world” to each other as I come back from the ring after another loss. They pause their conversation as I come up to the water cooler so they don’t worry about me blasting them on Twitter. They laugh as my promo comes on the television claiming that I'll beat Level One and win Survive and Conquer. They talk big to each other about how I’m either “not worth their time” or that they’ll be the one to put me in my place, to understand that I am on the floor holding the ladder, waiting for my opportunity to START climbing.
So which one are you, Dillinger? Am I a waste of your talents or are you going to knock some sense into me so that I run back to 2005 when I actually used to matter?
Hell, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, now. What’s your plan for the promo? Intimidate me by claiming that all the backhanded praise I have heaped on you is accurate? Well, that’s a waste of time to hear. Are you going to promise to end my career? You would be the sixth person to do so. Get in line. Are you going to playback that last statement that “I didn’t get the message that wrestling doesn't want me around?” Yeah, I suck at taking that message. I didn’t take it when my backstage antics got me thrown out of MVW. I didn’t take it when Jake Blood broke my neck. I didn’t take it when I beat the xW World Champ only to have the President change the match so that his legacy wouldn't be marred by my name engraved on his title. I didn’t take it when OWF threw me a “thanks for your long career” World Title shot only to have my ass handed back to me by the champion. I didn’t take it when my wife threatened to divorce me twice because the man privately known as Brad Christopher could not overcome the man publicly known as Kid Dynamo.
So what are you going to do, Chaz? Beat me? Great. You’re the fourth person in a month’s time. Injure me? I have a great surgeon in San Diego. Run me out of APW? I think I pissed off Phoenix Wrestling enough that they’d let me in only to shut me up. “Kid Dynamo” just keeps coming back.
Why?
Because for reasons I can’t even comprehend anymore, I still have fans. I have fans that remember what Specter used to call me because, despite being a complete goofball, he didn’t respect me. I have fans that cheered me even though I was facing the franchise of APW. I have fans that were rooting for ME to win Survive and Conquer, or at least to take the "Gates & Knuckles" award for being the unexpected member of the Final Four. I’ll be honest, when I look in the mirror, I don’t see a wrestler who should assume he’s going to ever win another match in a loaded company like Action Packed. But they do. They believe. They think I can be the next TapOut Champion.
They think I can beat Chaz Dillinger. Maybe that’s all that matters.
Dynamo gives a half-hearted smile and cuts the scene.
No you don’t.
Yes, Brad, yes I do. I’m just…I’m SICK of it!
Rebecca…
No! Shut up! I’m sick and tired of it!
Of what?
“Of what?” Really, Brad?!? You don’t listen to a GOD-DAMN word I say!
that’s not true.
BULLSHIT it’s not! Do you think I’m an idiot?
No.
YOU MUST! I told you “don’t EVER go back to wrestling”, DIDN’T I?!? I told you to quit because your kids need you. But do you listen? Do you care? Do you GIVE A SHIT?
Of course I do.
No, no you don’t. You don’t if you are doing that SHIT.
Rebecca…
No! We’re done! You made a choice. You made a choice and you will have to deal with your choices.
I’m not…
Yes you are, Brad. I told you to quit. You went to the doctor and he said your neck looks bad, and it might break if you keep going.
Rebecca, I’m under contract.
Bullshit, Brad. I’m not stupid. I know how much money we have. Don’t give me this “I have to” shit.
…
I mean, how stupid are you? You get told that your neck looks just like it did when you broke it the first time and you fight in a 70-man match?
86…
Shut the fuck up! I don’t care anymore! You don’t want to be there for your children, fine. Fuck you.
Rebecca…what do you want me to do?
You know what? Do whatever the FUCK you want, Brad. Or “Kid Dynamo”. Whatever. You were never a god-damn thing except a wrestler. You weren’t a father. You weren’t a husband. You weren’t anything. So go. Be free. Go break your neck. Fuck it.
I don’t want…
I don’t care what you want, Brad! I…I don’t care. You had the chance to care. You had a MILLION chances to care. I told you to care when you went to resign, and you chose to care more about your work buddies than the five of us. So, whatever, Brad. Go have fun.
…I don’t know what to say…
Nothing. Just Go away. I don’t ever want to see or hear from you again.
Rebecca, I…
(click)
…love you.
Our hero pulls the iPhone from his ear and pushes the red “End” button. The screen turns black momentarily, but almost immediately, his phone resurrects and reads: “Rebecca Christopher: Text Message”. He slides his thumb across the unlock bar to open the message:
No you don’t.
It was like a ghost of his past slapping him across the face. Of all the demons Our Hero flees, this was the one he was sure was gone. Then again, Our Hero thought he could win Survive and Conquer. Furthermore, he thought his arrival in APW signaled the dawn of a new era.
In other words, he’s been wrong before.
He couldn’t blame the sign for his loss, as he didn’t notice it until after Johnny Rebel opportunistically eliminated him. His feet on the floor and a ref yelling at him to evacuate, Our Hero took one look out at the crowd, selfishly hoping for some reaction, some proof that the fans gave a damn that the “end of the world” had, well, ended.
And what he got was that sign.
The one person proving to him that she knew who he was…mocking him. Not just with a name pun; God knows Our Hero has heard them all. But THAT one, THAT’s the one. THAT’s the one word that is like a pinprick to his very soul.
Donkeymo.
I’m the narrator and I wince at letting it out.
Our Hero should thank her. Like the parallel universe equivalent of a nightmare, she brought Our Hero out of his dream world. She saved him from his continued belief in his hyper-relevance. She helped him look past the light...
...and see the tunnel.
Our Hero bathed in his irrelevance that evening. Sure, to people passing through, it looked like an ice bath being used by an older wrestler who just went through 12 minutes of anarchy.
Wait. That’s it? A fifth of an hour and he had to soak in an ice bath? Where’s Our Hero’s pride? Couldn’t he have waited until he got home to boldly portray his weakness?
Sure, but he didn’t.
And no one cared.
Not one wrestler walked by and uttered a response. There was no “I know how you feel” or “what a pansy”. Just an invisible man soaking in an ice bath.
Welcome to the undercard.
Maybe Our Hero can begin to call himself the “Undercard Hero”.
Wait. Nope. That’s ANOTHER demon from the past.
These disjointed memories swirl through Our Hero’s brain as he struggles to find the words he needs to say. Since the camera for his PromoStream self-interview is rolling, this is becoming increasingly awkward to watch. Finally, he looks forward, far from the look of a wannabe champion, and begins to speak.
Next Sunday, round 2 of the Tapout Challenge commences. Two winners compete to determine a new frontrunner, two losers compete to keep pace, and then there’s my match. I, a loser in the first wave, face not only a winner, but the early frontrunner, Chaz Dillinger. I should be flattered that this match got top billing, but I’m sure that’s more about my opponent than myself.
The funny thing about the lopsided appearance of this contest is simply the lack of statistical backbone to it. Sure, Chaz has a much better record than I do, but I’m pretty sure Chaz never beat Dan Quinn or Lester Only, and we both lost Survive and Conquer.
Furthermore, when the stats of the match were released, the similiarities are eye-catching. We both eliminated two competitors. We both lasted 12 minutes in the ring, and neither of us outlasted our position. So, in the only apples-to-apples barometer of our wrestling equality, equality is in fact the word of choice.
And yet, the conclusion of this match is foregone. I won’t say I'm destined defeat – stranger things have happened. But who expects a victory for the outsider who twitter-bombed his way to getting crushed by Level One to beat the deputy of Cult of Personality? Hell, I bet Havok doesn’t even show up to support his sidekick. That’s confidence.
If I was Chaz, I'd certainly be confident. His amateur background makes the TapOut Challenge a perfect opportunity to score that first APW championship. His bloated bank account also saves him from having that sense of urgency that could cause him to make mistakes. I don’t have that luxury. At 0-1, this is must-win for me, and that’s one more obstacle I have to overcome to defeat Chaz Dillinger.
So why even show up? Why think I can win? Well…
Our Hero pauses longer anyone would find comfortable.
…I don’t know. I don’t really know. I mean, I have the speed advantage over Chaz, and he isn't going to crush me like a bug. Maybe I can play the hit-and-run game and get him to lose focus and start making mistakes.
One thing for sure is that gone are the days when I assumed my superior knowledge and ability to diversify my style would assure victory. Dan Quinn made me tap, Level One damn near broke my neck again, and Rebel sent me packing with a ridiculously mediocre -7 rating in Survive and Conquer. That's a great start...
…if I want to be a laughingstock forever.
See, I'm not like the Bailey’s and Callahan’s that are revered as future World Champions. I'm not like the Rodell’s and Bochner’s that are valued midcarders. I am neither. I am not a future top champion, I am not considered an APW mainstay.
I know what people say about me. They snicker “end of the world” to each other as I come back from the ring after another loss. They pause their conversation as I come up to the water cooler so they don’t worry about me blasting them on Twitter. They laugh as my promo comes on the television claiming that I'll beat Level One and win Survive and Conquer. They talk big to each other about how I’m either “not worth their time” or that they’ll be the one to put me in my place, to understand that I am on the floor holding the ladder, waiting for my opportunity to START climbing.
So which one are you, Dillinger? Am I a waste of your talents or are you going to knock some sense into me so that I run back to 2005 when I actually used to matter?
Hell, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, now. What’s your plan for the promo? Intimidate me by claiming that all the backhanded praise I have heaped on you is accurate? Well, that’s a waste of time to hear. Are you going to promise to end my career? You would be the sixth person to do so. Get in line. Are you going to playback that last statement that “I didn’t get the message that wrestling doesn't want me around?” Yeah, I suck at taking that message. I didn’t take it when my backstage antics got me thrown out of MVW. I didn’t take it when Jake Blood broke my neck. I didn’t take it when I beat the xW World Champ only to have the President change the match so that his legacy wouldn't be marred by my name engraved on his title. I didn’t take it when OWF threw me a “thanks for your long career” World Title shot only to have my ass handed back to me by the champion. I didn’t take it when my wife threatened to divorce me twice because the man privately known as Brad Christopher could not overcome the man publicly known as Kid Dynamo.
So what are you going to do, Chaz? Beat me? Great. You’re the fourth person in a month’s time. Injure me? I have a great surgeon in San Diego. Run me out of APW? I think I pissed off Phoenix Wrestling enough that they’d let me in only to shut me up. “Kid Dynamo” just keeps coming back.
Why?
Because for reasons I can’t even comprehend anymore, I still have fans. I have fans that remember what Specter used to call me because, despite being a complete goofball, he didn’t respect me. I have fans that cheered me even though I was facing the franchise of APW. I have fans that were rooting for ME to win Survive and Conquer, or at least to take the "Gates & Knuckles" award for being the unexpected member of the Final Four. I’ll be honest, when I look in the mirror, I don’t see a wrestler who should assume he’s going to ever win another match in a loaded company like Action Packed. But they do. They believe. They think I can be the next TapOut Champion.
They think I can beat Chaz Dillinger. Maybe that’s all that matters.
Dynamo gives a half-hearted smile and cuts the scene.
