Post by Steve Sinclair on Jan 12, 2019 16:24:16 GMT
Joe pulls himself up off of the floor and using the bench that is bolted to the floor he pulls himself up onto that, his face is a bright shade of red and is coughing, trying to catch his breath. He rubs his neck, Bester/OGDA leaving marks on along his neck. He could go all #Metoo right now but that wouldn’t help anyone right now. After a minute Joe is able to breath correctly. He spits on the floor, which on its own is disgusting enough but add in that Joe spits up a little blood and it takes it to the next level of gross.
Soon the locker room will fill up with everyone as the main event of Death March is wrapping up. Rather than have eyes upon him and a dozen or so questions, Joe begins to leave. Just before he gets to the door, he stops. He looks over his shoulder, and then slowly turns around. That is when he spots the Craze title laying on the floor.
“Shit.” Joe says as he quickly retrieves that. Leaving that on the floor will surely spread rumors. Scooping it up, Joe quickly exits the room before anyone spots him and the title…….
Spartacus is sitting on the hood of OGDA’s 1968 Honda CVCC wagon, curled up trying to suck some warmth from the engine through the hood. It’s past midnight on the beach and the breeze coming off of the ocean is, is, well it’s a tad chilly even for a cat. He is curled up in a tight ball just trying to keep warm.
OGDA is down on the beach by the waters edge. It has been a week since Death March and OGDA has kept a low profile. Even with Christmas just around the corner hasn’t changed his mood. What happened at Death March has left him a sour mood. He has shut out the outside world has much as he could and you’d be surprised just how good of a job he has done with that.
Joe has called him, several times. OGDA has ignored all of them.
James has called him. Ignored him as well.
James even stopped by the apartment. He knocked on the door for over an hour. OGDA sat without moving a inch on the couch for the entire hour, getting more and more angier the more James knocked and pleaded through the door for him to open the door.
Even the promise of hookers couldn’t get him to open the door.
Not that sort of thing would have made OGDA, grumpy or not, open the door.
His own mother, who he hasn’t talked to in the past 5 years, she even called.
OGDA just chalked that up to that she needed money or something.
Spartacus curling up on his lap and purring away wouldn’t cheer him up.
He even watched ELF and that movie always cheers him up. It is his favorite movie of all time and that movie couldn’t break him out of this funk.
Hoping to get some sort of answer, OGDA drove to the beach in middle of the night and here he is, looking out into the vast ocean pondering life's mysteries.
And then it came to him.
OGDA turns and heads back to his car, much to Spartacus’ delight as he hoped that OGDA would open the door and he could jump inside the car and get out of the wind. This was just too much for his tiny kitty bones.
As OGDA gets closer to the car, Spartacus stands up and meows basically saying “Pick me up! I need body warmth!” But OGDA, he doesn’t pick up his bestest buddy in the whole wide world.
“It’s time Sparky. It’s time.” OGDA says. Spartacus takes this as “You mean take me home so I can curl up by the heater? Then yes, it is time. Let’s go!”
OGDA reaches up and pulls off his mask. He holds it in both of his hands and looks down at it. Sparky, head butts OGDA in the hip, not caring about about anything other getting warm.
OGDA then drops the mask in the sand. He then reaches out and scoops his beloved kitty kat.
“Thank fucking god!” runs through Sparky’s little kitty brain. He is so happy right now, he doesn’t even notice that OGDA steps on his mask as he makes his way around the front of the car towards the driver’s side door. A couple of minutes later, OGDA starts up the engine, turns on the lights, puts the car in reverse and backs off of the beach leaving his mask behind……..
“Do you know what really happened at Death March?” OGDA says in a calm voice.
“I surrounded myself with a class of losers.” But not sounding like the OGDA we all know and love.
“On paper. Boy it all sounded like a great idea didn’t it? On paper, I’d get the OCW Tag Team Champions. Then I’d get perhaps the best female on the roster and we would be this unstoppable force that would just lay waste to everyone at Death March. Man, on paper. This was a rock solid plan. No one could stop us.”
Scene opens up to reveal a Bester/OGDA smiley face t shirt, neatly folded on a table and a pair of sunglasses on top of it.
“I listened to you Joe. I carefully listened to what you said was going to be the winning formula. What was going to be the plan that would see me be victorious at Death March. In what would see me claim that shot at the OCW Championship. If I got these guys, these guys with belts, with championships, just like me, and a former champion. Why there wouldn’t be a way we could lose. That is what you said Joe. Those were the words that came out of your mouth.”
“You were wrong Joe. Your idea couldn’t be any further away from the truth. And do you know what was the truth Joe? Do you?”
“The truth Joe, is that I was saddled with complete dead weight.”
“I would have done better if I picked Uber Man to be on my team. I would have had a better shot at winning if Tony the Spider was on my team. I would have made it to the next round if Jack Puffer was in my corner. Not the rejects I was stuck with. The rejects you selected. The rejects you had me write a letter to, asking, almost begging them to be on my team. And the truth of all of this Joe, is that I didn’t need them. I didn’t have to beg. It’s pretty clear that no one else was going to pick those fools to be on their team.”
“There was no outcry from no one to have Rage and Hotstuff on their team. No one was even talking about those two clowns. As far as I’m concerned, Andrea Hernandez was going to be left at home watching this event on TV because no one was even mentioning her name. You set me up to fail Joe. That loss at Death March is on you. Buddy!”
“You won’t even take blame for this unstoppable team for falling apart right before Death March even happened. Bruce Rage got himself fired. Yeah, he’s a super awesome team mate. He might has as well just have quit for all I care. Who did we get to replace him? Some random guy. I would have had better luck pulling a ten year old kid out of the stands at the event than get stuck with, whatever his name is. Both of them had no interest in winning either. As soon as they got eliminated in that match, they packed their bags, threw their belts in the dumpster and headed to Hollywood to make more stupid movies that won’t make any money. They’ll make more remakes no one asked for or wants.”
“Andrea Hernandez, she was as useful as a fart on a windy day. She was, she is, completely useless. That left me Joe, left me to face 4 guys in the hall of fame. I’m good.”
OGDA steps into the frame not wearing his mask. For the first time we can see his face. His bald head, goatee. He looks, annoyed.
“But not that good. Oh I gave it one H, E double hockey stick of a ride. I tried my darndest. I didn’t go down with leaving all I had in that ring. Those four, they had to earn that win. It’s safe to say that I was the only person on my team who showed up that night. I was the only one who cared, who wanted to win. In another word. I wasn’t there for just a paycheck. I might not have a ironclad contract, but I have a ironclad heart. I’ve got more pride than anyone on the roster. Even more than you Joe.”
“It’s your fault Joe. All of your fault. And what’s going to happen to Mike Harrison at Massacre, that will be on you too buddy. While some of you spent the holiday giving gifts, ringing in the new year. I took the time to take a look at who I am. Who was looking back at me in the mirror. And what I saw. Was a joke. Nanook was right all along. I didn’t need that mask. That mask didn’t make me. I made that mask and what I made was a joke, not as big as my so called partners at Death March, but a joke nonetheless. Like my coach at Arizona State would tell me all the time. It’s time to grow up Bester.”
“At Massacre. OGDA isn’t coming down that ramp. OGDA isn’t there to fight for the Rainbow Warriors. OGDA isn’t there to get his strength and fight through the pain with all of his Shining Stars cheering him. No more masks. No more gimmicks. Mike Harrison isn’t going to face OGDA for a second time.”
“You’re getting Bester and you can’t handle Bester. I am going to make up for what happened at Death March. I will no longer be the laughing stock of OCW. Rather.”
Bester crack his knuckles.
“I’ll make you the laughing stock Mike. You’ll wish you stayed away when I get my hands on you. I will make you question your life again when it is all said and done! And, you’ll have no one but yourself to blame.”
Bester picks up his glasses and slides them on. They are vintage Raybans.
“Bester is coming and I’m not making new friends. I don’t need none of you.”
Fade out.
Soon the locker room will fill up with everyone as the main event of Death March is wrapping up. Rather than have eyes upon him and a dozen or so questions, Joe begins to leave. Just before he gets to the door, he stops. He looks over his shoulder, and then slowly turns around. That is when he spots the Craze title laying on the floor.
“Shit.” Joe says as he quickly retrieves that. Leaving that on the floor will surely spread rumors. Scooping it up, Joe quickly exits the room before anyone spots him and the title…….
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spartacus is sitting on the hood of OGDA’s 1968 Honda CVCC wagon, curled up trying to suck some warmth from the engine through the hood. It’s past midnight on the beach and the breeze coming off of the ocean is, is, well it’s a tad chilly even for a cat. He is curled up in a tight ball just trying to keep warm.
OGDA is down on the beach by the waters edge. It has been a week since Death March and OGDA has kept a low profile. Even with Christmas just around the corner hasn’t changed his mood. What happened at Death March has left him a sour mood. He has shut out the outside world has much as he could and you’d be surprised just how good of a job he has done with that.
Joe has called him, several times. OGDA has ignored all of them.
James has called him. Ignored him as well.
James even stopped by the apartment. He knocked on the door for over an hour. OGDA sat without moving a inch on the couch for the entire hour, getting more and more angier the more James knocked and pleaded through the door for him to open the door.
Even the promise of hookers couldn’t get him to open the door.
Not that sort of thing would have made OGDA, grumpy or not, open the door.
His own mother, who he hasn’t talked to in the past 5 years, she even called.
OGDA just chalked that up to that she needed money or something.
Spartacus curling up on his lap and purring away wouldn’t cheer him up.
He even watched ELF and that movie always cheers him up. It is his favorite movie of all time and that movie couldn’t break him out of this funk.
Hoping to get some sort of answer, OGDA drove to the beach in middle of the night and here he is, looking out into the vast ocean pondering life's mysteries.
And then it came to him.
OGDA turns and heads back to his car, much to Spartacus’ delight as he hoped that OGDA would open the door and he could jump inside the car and get out of the wind. This was just too much for his tiny kitty bones.
As OGDA gets closer to the car, Spartacus stands up and meows basically saying “Pick me up! I need body warmth!” But OGDA, he doesn’t pick up his bestest buddy in the whole wide world.
“It’s time Sparky. It’s time.” OGDA says. Spartacus takes this as “You mean take me home so I can curl up by the heater? Then yes, it is time. Let’s go!”
OGDA reaches up and pulls off his mask. He holds it in both of his hands and looks down at it. Sparky, head butts OGDA in the hip, not caring about about anything other getting warm.
OGDA then drops the mask in the sand. He then reaches out and scoops his beloved kitty kat.
“Thank fucking god!” runs through Sparky’s little kitty brain. He is so happy right now, he doesn’t even notice that OGDA steps on his mask as he makes his way around the front of the car towards the driver’s side door. A couple of minutes later, OGDA starts up the engine, turns on the lights, puts the car in reverse and backs off of the beach leaving his mask behind……..
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Do you know what really happened at Death March?” OGDA says in a calm voice.
“I surrounded myself with a class of losers.” But not sounding like the OGDA we all know and love.
“On paper. Boy it all sounded like a great idea didn’t it? On paper, I’d get the OCW Tag Team Champions. Then I’d get perhaps the best female on the roster and we would be this unstoppable force that would just lay waste to everyone at Death March. Man, on paper. This was a rock solid plan. No one could stop us.”
Scene opens up to reveal a Bester/OGDA smiley face t shirt, neatly folded on a table and a pair of sunglasses on top of it.
“I listened to you Joe. I carefully listened to what you said was going to be the winning formula. What was going to be the plan that would see me be victorious at Death March. In what would see me claim that shot at the OCW Championship. If I got these guys, these guys with belts, with championships, just like me, and a former champion. Why there wouldn’t be a way we could lose. That is what you said Joe. Those were the words that came out of your mouth.”
“You were wrong Joe. Your idea couldn’t be any further away from the truth. And do you know what was the truth Joe? Do you?”
“The truth Joe, is that I was saddled with complete dead weight.”
“I would have done better if I picked Uber Man to be on my team. I would have had a better shot at winning if Tony the Spider was on my team. I would have made it to the next round if Jack Puffer was in my corner. Not the rejects I was stuck with. The rejects you selected. The rejects you had me write a letter to, asking, almost begging them to be on my team. And the truth of all of this Joe, is that I didn’t need them. I didn’t have to beg. It’s pretty clear that no one else was going to pick those fools to be on their team.”
“There was no outcry from no one to have Rage and Hotstuff on their team. No one was even talking about those two clowns. As far as I’m concerned, Andrea Hernandez was going to be left at home watching this event on TV because no one was even mentioning her name. You set me up to fail Joe. That loss at Death March is on you. Buddy!”
“You won’t even take blame for this unstoppable team for falling apart right before Death March even happened. Bruce Rage got himself fired. Yeah, he’s a super awesome team mate. He might has as well just have quit for all I care. Who did we get to replace him? Some random guy. I would have had better luck pulling a ten year old kid out of the stands at the event than get stuck with, whatever his name is. Both of them had no interest in winning either. As soon as they got eliminated in that match, they packed their bags, threw their belts in the dumpster and headed to Hollywood to make more stupid movies that won’t make any money. They’ll make more remakes no one asked for or wants.”
“Andrea Hernandez, she was as useful as a fart on a windy day. She was, she is, completely useless. That left me Joe, left me to face 4 guys in the hall of fame. I’m good.”
OGDA steps into the frame not wearing his mask. For the first time we can see his face. His bald head, goatee. He looks, annoyed.
“But not that good. Oh I gave it one H, E double hockey stick of a ride. I tried my darndest. I didn’t go down with leaving all I had in that ring. Those four, they had to earn that win. It’s safe to say that I was the only person on my team who showed up that night. I was the only one who cared, who wanted to win. In another word. I wasn’t there for just a paycheck. I might not have a ironclad contract, but I have a ironclad heart. I’ve got more pride than anyone on the roster. Even more than you Joe.”
“It’s your fault Joe. All of your fault. And what’s going to happen to Mike Harrison at Massacre, that will be on you too buddy. While some of you spent the holiday giving gifts, ringing in the new year. I took the time to take a look at who I am. Who was looking back at me in the mirror. And what I saw. Was a joke. Nanook was right all along. I didn’t need that mask. That mask didn’t make me. I made that mask and what I made was a joke, not as big as my so called partners at Death March, but a joke nonetheless. Like my coach at Arizona State would tell me all the time. It’s time to grow up Bester.”
“At Massacre. OGDA isn’t coming down that ramp. OGDA isn’t there to fight for the Rainbow Warriors. OGDA isn’t there to get his strength and fight through the pain with all of his Shining Stars cheering him. No more masks. No more gimmicks. Mike Harrison isn’t going to face OGDA for a second time.”
“You’re getting Bester and you can’t handle Bester. I am going to make up for what happened at Death March. I will no longer be the laughing stock of OCW. Rather.”
Bester crack his knuckles.
“I’ll make you the laughing stock Mike. You’ll wish you stayed away when I get my hands on you. I will make you question your life again when it is all said and done! And, you’ll have no one but yourself to blame.”
Bester picks up his glasses and slides them on. They are vintage Raybans.
“Bester is coming and I’m not making new friends. I don’t need none of you.”
Fade out.