Back in Stockton, sitting on the edge of his couch, Braddock is leaning forward and taking a hit from his bong. It is resting on his extra large ottoman that matches his “L" shaped couch. It’s a little after four in the morning and he has been home from his travels for just a few hours. On the television, “That 70's Show” plays on Peacock, absent-mindedly in the background. When he stops to figure out what is happening on the screen, “Kelso" has just cheated on Jackie and Braddock loses his interest
The thought of laying in his bed, his head nestled down in one of his pillows while sleep pulls him down into its depths. Instead, he stretches out and places his head on one of the “Dwight" throw pillows given to him as a gift. The show goes to commercial and he is asleep before it returns.
He awakens to the smell of bacon cooking and the sounds of it frying in a pan. His head swims with sleep and he has to shake his head a few times to try and clear the cobwebs. His vision doubles, triples, and he rubs his eyes to clear them. When he looks to the kitchen, his vision is mostly clear but a little fuzzy around the edges.
His brother, Tyler, is handling several pans on the stove top with ease. He is wearing an apron over the top of a blue wife-beater and looks at home in the kitchen. When he sees his brother stand up and sway a bit, he scoffs and shakes his head. ”Bro, you really gotta slow down on the partyin. You look rough, man.” he says while keeping his focus on the stove top.
His brother replies by extending the middle finger on his left hand before shuffling down the hall to the bathroom. He doesn’t bother to shut the door and if someone were within earshot they would hear him taking a piss. When he’s finished he washes his hands, and then splashes some cold water on his face, before returning to the living room. Once there he collapses back onto the couch.
”I wasn’t partyin, asshole. I had a match in Knoxville on Saturday for one company and the Tulsa on Sunday for another company. I got home late as fuck last night. I’m tired is all…” he says, saying his defense. Tyler mouths “Sure" at him but it goes unseen.
Tyler finishes up breakfast while his brother dozes on the couch. He fixes a plate for each of them before bringing it out to the living room and placing them on the ottoman. He nudges his brother and, after a couple more tries, he wakes him up.
They eat while Ridiculousness plays on the television. Neither of them speak while they are eating and not a word is said until they are finished. ”When are we moving in to the new shop?” Braddock asks, still rubbing sleep out of his right eye with one of his meaty knuckles.
”Wednesday. I hired a couple girls I know who were wanting some free, or discounted, ink. They’re going to pack up the old shop, clean the old and new shop, and then get all our shit into the new place. We will be slingin ink by the weekend!” he says while loading a plate with eggs, bacon, and hash browns. ”When’s your next match?”
Tyler brings two plates out to the living room and sets one in front of his sleepy brother, on the ottoman, before setting his own down as well. He heads back to the kitchen and, when he returns, he is carrying a couple segments of paper towel and a fresh PBR. He takes the beer from Tyler, pops the top, and guzzles half of it before letting out a rumbling belch.
Tyler flips through some channels and ultimately stops on a rerun of “Revenge of the Nerds.” It’s the scene where they first find the dilapidated house that would become the Tri-Lambs fraternity house. They eat while half-heartedly watch the flick and surf their phones.
”Who the fuck is that guy you’re facing this weekend? Is this some kind of joke? Are you being punished?” Tyler asks, holding up his phone so that his brother can see a graphic for the match. It shows both men, one on each side of the Pic; BBRADDOCK is yoked out, tattooed and screaming. His opponent looks like one of the fans in attendance, rather rotund, hr is wearing a Grey Cardigan over a plain white t-shirt.
Braddock shrugs. ”I think he is, to be honest. Some chick won ‘Queen for a day’ or some shit at the pay-per-view, and scheduled this match. I’ve never met her so I’m guessin this match is to fuck with him.” he says with another shrug of his thick shoulders. ”Doesn’t matter; I'ma beat the fuck outta Tons-of-Fun…” he says, standing up and taking both empty plates to the kitchen sink.
”Fuck dude! Have you gotten a text from Traci?” Tyler asks and by the tone of his voice, Braddock knows something is wrong.
”Not in, like, twenty minutes or so. Why? What’s up?” he asks, exiting the kitchen and into his living room. He sees the look on Tyler’s face and grabs his phone. There is a text; it’s from the girlfriend of one of his oldest friends.
”Brad. I don’t know how else to sat this w/o blurting it out. Jerry died last night in his sleep. They think it was a heart attack. I will get hold of you soon. Traci"
He looked to his brother, Tyler, who is staring off into space. Shock leaves his mouth agape and his head slowly pivoting from right to left and back again. Braddock drops onto the couch, thinking back to the last time he saw him.
It was a few months ago, shortly before BRADDOCK joined the ranks of Professional Wrestling. BRADDOCK, his brother Tyler, and Jerry were all sitting in a local dive bar and the three had been tying one on for a few hours now. Jerry was their age; they met in the fourth grade and the three of them bonded over being picked on. BRADDOCK and his brother, for their secondhand clothes and for BRADDOCK’s glasses, while Jerry got picked on for his weight.
Jerry was always a chubby fellow and, as an adult, didn’t give a shit what people thought about his weight. But as a kid, it was a flashing target to all the bullies roaming the playground like sharks. But once he started hanging out with BRADDOCK and Tyler, the bullies were kept at bay, thanks to BRADDOCK’s temper and how quick he turned to violence.
More than once over the years he was kicked out of school for fighting. As usually the case, the bully who got bloodied was given the free pass while the victim who defended himself was considered the aggressor. BRADDOCK didn’t care if he got kicked out and, over time, the beatings at home came to an end. But that’s a story for another day…
Standing in his living room, holding his phone in his right hand, BRADDOCK looks to his brother who is stunned silent, sitting on the couch. He takes a seat next to his brother and drapes his left arm over his shoulders and pulls Tyler in for a hug.
”Love ya, bro.” he says, his voice thick with emotion.
”Love ya too, Asshole.” he says with a chuckle.
***
The scene opens on BRADDOCK, leaning against the drivers side door of his oh-nine Malibu. He is in a pair of cut-off black Dickies, a pair of black Adidas, and a white wife-beater tank top. His Mohawk is standing upright and his eyes are a bit glassy. A crooked smile hangs on his lips and, off in the distance, a police siren wails.
”So, someone doesn’t like ‘Tons-of-Fun,’ and she put him in a match against one of the most violent people on the roster. I got no qualms on beatin Round Boy within an inch of his life ending but, what I wonder, is it worth it? Will the fans give a sh(bleep!)t that this Mama's boy gets ragdolled?
I understand, this is the ‘Queen’ punishing this guy for some transgression that happened before I joined the company. He’ll, maybe it happened after I joined and I missed it; either way I don’t give a f(bleep!)k! I’m gettin paid whether it’s a four hundred pound sack of sh(bleep!) or an in-shape Calvin Harris. It’s nothin personal, Hell, I follow this guy on Twitter and have never met him. But a lion doesn’t meet the gazelle before he hunts it…” he says with a smirk.
The camera follows as BRADDOCK walks towards the back yard. As we get closer to the back of the house a mix of voices can be heard. When the camera comes around the corner it finds a crowd of about a dozen people, all but three of them are women in their early to mid twenties and dressed to inspire lust and desire while the few guys present are dressed in their favorite NFL teams jerseys. (Forty-Niners and Raiders for those curious.) Tonight’s game between the Chiefs and Lions is being projected onto a large sheet that has been set up as a screen. Your standard BBQ fare is present as well as plenty of alcohol and cannabis.
When the camera finally finds BRADDOC again, he has a fresh Pabst in hand and one of the blondes present on his hip. She stares at him, all doe eyed, while he is distracted momentarily by the game. Jared Goff takes the opening snap and BRADDOCK turns his attention back to the camera.
”Look, Gabe, if you got off your mom’s title, and out of her basement, you could actually have a woman like this touch your pecker!” he pauses, examining the women before turning his attention back to the camera. ”Well, maybe not like this lady. I don’t think you could pay for a woman of this caliber to give you the time of day. Get out of the basement and into the real World, buddy.
I don’t know what you did to piss the chick off who scheduled this match but, damn, she really must not like you. I know you’ve been in the company for a little bit and I got no clue what kind of beatings you’ve taken. But the one I'ma dish out…” he pauses to watch as the Lions punt the ball away. ”I'ma beat your ass like it was your Mom who caught ya surfin porn on your phone. That old saying, ‘It’s gonna hurt me more than you' don’t apply here. And I’ma take great joy in inflicting it. You’re in over your head, big boy, and you’re gonna get hurt.”
The blonde gets up on her tippy toes and cups her hand over her mouth, against his ear, and whispers something to him. Whatever it is, it causes his eyes to pop open and his jaw to drop. He looks at her with a grin and gives her a nod. She walks off as he addresses the camera once more.
”Los Angeles is just down the road from where I am right now. I’ve already proven, with that battle against Calvin Harris, that I am not anyone to slouch on. And, while you won a match recently and received so much praise for it, that win means nothing when you’re standing across from me. Be smart; make sure your Aflac is paid up or, better yet, don’t come to L.A. The only thing there is the beating of your pathetic life waiting for ya. Be smart, Jumbo.”
The blonde returns, with another blonde just as cute, and grabs BRADDOCK by the hand. They lead him away, towards the house, as the camera fades to black.
