[The Good Shepherds]

Revelations (Part
Church of Heathenous Shepherds; Las Vegas, NV 7/39/2021

People talk. It’s what they do.  They want to follow your life like it’s a damn soap opera.  I’m a wrestler, and that’s not my top priority.  I was told by my sister that I was featured on TMZ.  Fucking TMZ! I didn’t sign up to be a celebrity.  I signed up to fight people and to put on a show in a gritty underground setting.  Pride made me go to the big time brand.  And for a while, I was able to avoid tabloids.  As an Indy wrestler, I never really put much thought into my own celebrity.  Or, maybe it’s the celebrity of the salami I’m smuggling in my back pocket.  Either way, I didn’t expect to see a ten second snippet of me on a rumor show.  I also didn’t know that I was being recorded.

”News of Brother David Shepherd, formally of the Church of the Good Shepherds, was seen entering the cabin of MMA specialist, “Fenris”, Kristjan Baltasarsson’s cabin late one night on the SCW summer extravaganza, Summer XXXTreme IX.”

There is footage of David walking past the door, and then stopping to turn back around.  It shows him contemplating knocking before finally doing so.  As the door opens, it shows him pushing Fenris into the room, but nothing further.

“Reportedly, nearby cabins complained that they couldn’t get any sleep as these two spent the night together.”

We come into focus on David’s sister, Esther Azarov, standing by with her husband Andrey.  A microphone is held to her mouth.

Esther:  At certain points, it sounded like The Arbitor dying in Halo 3.  Other times, it sounded like there was a rabid dog squeaking around in an old bed.  How two human beings can force us to believe that anything else was going on is beyond me. Kudos.

The view switches back to David leaving the room well in the afternoon, his shirt hanging around his neck, his belt dragging on the ground behind him, and his pants unbuttoned, looking disheveled as he walks to his cabin and closes the door.

“Other complaints stated that children were heard running around the boat, yelling ‘How do you like that, bitch?  Wait, I don’t care!’  and MAV called for the immediate cancellation of David Shepherd.  While it is unclear as to whether he will face the cancel culture movement or not, SCW has booked him in a match this weekend against Shane Borderlands, so it appears that David will not be going anywhere soon.”

We move back to see Andrey Azarov rubbing the back of his head, looking confused as he centers his sights on the camera.

Andrey:  I don’t understand question.  Am unsure what smuggling salami in back pocket means.  Perhaps pocket is too small for log of salami?  If this is metaphor of me winning SCU Combat Championship, then yes.  I am of smuggle a lot salami in back pocket.  And I will continue to smuggle salami in back pocket for long as pocket can take salami.  No further comments.

Before Andrey can move away, he finds himself playfully slapped with a log of salami, right against his mouth.  TMZ replays this is slow motion as we watch the moment of impact jolting Andrey’s features to his right.

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Then the camera moves slightly to see Jamie Staggs standing by, holding the log of salami.

Jamie:  Heh, that’s not the only place this salami is going.  You just got Dick’d SON!!!

They record scratch on the actual feed of the show, and then remix Jamie’s words

Jamie:  You just got… *Skkkkkkkratch* You just got…. *SKKKKEEEERATCH*  Just got, just got, just got DICK’D SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!!!!!!

As I play this on the monitor behind me, the congregation gives a mixture of laughter and annoyance.  I stare out amongst them, my features chiseled firmly onto my face as I admire the growth of numbers.  Big players, and street thugs.  The homeless, and the fortunate.  All drawn together by their darkest desires, and their will to live within them.  The video begins all over again, and as it plays, I study each and every person in this 140 member congregation, one by one.  I see their energies, and I know their intentions.  And as a collective, I feed off of it.  I feel it powering me up in a way that I’ve never been powered up before.  Not only by strength, but determination, charisma, and overall spirit.  I feel the icy fire coursing through my veins, and it gets me ready to speak.

Me:  I’m not one to kiss and tell, but allow me a minute to bang and brag.  Yes, me and Fenris went… all… night… long…

Crowd:  HELL YEAH!!!

Me:  We did it on the bed!

Crowd:  TELL ME MORE!

Me:  We did it on the floor!

Crowd:  TELL ME MORE!

Me:  We did it on the counter!

Crowd:  TELL ME MORE!

Me:  Then we did it some more!

Crowd:  TELL ME MORE!

Me:  We did it for an hour!

Crowd:  TELL ME MORE!

Me:  Then he hit it in the shower!

Crowd:  TELL ME MORE!

Me:  We did it under the moon!

Crowd:  TELL ME MORE!

Me:  We did it while he was big spoon!

Crowd:  TELL ME MORE!

Me:  We did it in the mouth.

Crowd:  TELL ME MORE!

Me:  Then we went back south!

Crowd:  TELL ME MORE!

I am about to speak again, when I stop myself.  I hold my hand up to them and I look around, as if I were stunned by this behavior, even though I’m really not.

Me:  WE…! You’re a bunch of filthy fuckers, aren’t you?  Well, with his track record, there will be a taped leaked soon.  I just hope they got my good side.

Crowd: FENRIS HAD YOUR GOOD SIDE!

I can’t help but laugh a little at that one.  I look back at my ass and shrug my shoulders, because, well, they’re not wrong.

Me:  Truth!  Though, I’ve heard that my mouth is a very close second.  Anyway, we’re not here to talk about my sexcapades.  We’re here to discuss how healthy some *air quotes* “sins” are.  Like lust, which I’ve finally freed myself from the prison which denied me of this.  Stealing.  Cheating.  Violence.  Gluttony.  They are all guilty pleasures, because we have been trained that these acts are immoral.  We deny ourselves pleasure because a bunch of people with sky daddy complexes who wrote the world’s oldest fan fic tell us that we should.  The real “sin” is holding back from everything that you deserve!

Crowd:  YEAHHHHHH!!!

Me:  The truth of the matter is that there is only one sin to be aware of.  And that is the sin of pride.  You should be proud of what you acquire, what you accomplish, what you take back from this cruel bitch we call life.  But, pride is used as a weapon.  It has become synonymous with guilt.  It is used to instill shame if we feel any form of pleasure that isn’t chemically induced by a pill from your doctor.  It coerces us into working jobs that we hate just to barely make ends meet, pulling overtime for pennies on the dollar while the fat cats sit above us and laugh at our little rat race, waiting to pick us up, one by one, and swallow us alive.  Pride, in the wrong mindset, kills.  It destroys the soul, far worse than catching a little premarital strange, knocking a guy out with a steel pipe, or lifting a candy bar from the local corner shop.  Pride stops us from being who and what we truly are.

The crowd murmurs as they take in everything that I’m saying.  I nod my head, giving them time to drink it up.  I can hear the certainty in their voices as they level out.

Me:  There comes a certain age when your body tells you to “stop”.  Especially in professional wrestling.  You’ve taken too many bumps.  You’ve broken a few bones.  Arthritis begins to set in.  You can’t live a functioning life without pain pills.  Your body knows better.  It hasn’t been trained into an illogical loop of self destructive behavior like your mind has.  Again, the world is cruel, fucked up, and will swallow you whole.  Like I did to Fenris…

There is a bit of a chuckle from the crowd, but I’m on a roll, so I continue.

Me:  And yet, pride, the kind that keeps us trapped inside of this machine, forces our brains to think it proves something to ignore the call of the body.  We can’t give up, or it means we’re a p*ssy.  We have to keep going because we have some idiotic point to make by nearly killing ourselves for the benefit of our rich bosses.  We have become indentured servants, but not bound to it by law.  Bound to it by our minds.  It is precisely why my opponent, Shane Borderlands, is set to take me on.

I stop and look around, finding that the crowd is still interested in what I have to say.

Me:  He thinks he still has to prove something, to someone, somewhere, somehow.  He doesn’t.  This truth shall set him free.  But, because his feeble mind refuses to acknowledge that he’s no longer needed, nor wanted in this sport, that he has to become relevant or something.  He feels like there’s still more for him in this sport.  He ignores the doctors telling him that he’s well past his prime.  He pushes through the pain, the agony, the self doubt, because that’s all he knows.  Without purpose, we fade away long before we’re dead.  As a man, we are taught to leave our mark on this world.  Many in this business, who don’t suffer from some sort of mental incapability or disability, find that we leave our marks by being a macho man.  Casting pain aside.  Masking the pain.  Telling ourselves that we “have to”.  No, we don’t.  There’s no shame in letting the younger generation take over, Shane.

I shrug my shoulders.

Me:  No need to feel guilty.  You’ve done your part.  You’ve made your point.  Anything else is just going to tarnish your record, and embarrass you.  Much like I plan to do on Sunday at Climax Control.  Don’t get me wrong, I love a solid fight.  I don’t mind kicking your ass all over that ring.  And I won’t feel guilty about it, because it’s time for me to leave my mark.  But, I’m going to do it my way, and my way only.  See, I’m not going to buy into the machismo.  I won’t run around here, flaunting my toxic masculinity.  I’m just going to enjoy the fact that I get to rub up on men, cause them pain, knock them out for three seconds or force them to submit to my dominance, and do it all over again next week.  Not because I think I need to prove something, but because I want to, and my body isn’t nearly as worn down as yours, Shane.

And with that, I take a break, letting my congregation rally behind me, along with the video of TMZ still playing behind me for irony’s sake.

Me:  You paved the way for the younger generation.  And for that, I admit, I’m thankful.  But you really need to heed my warning.  Whether it is now or a month from now, you need to hang up the boots.  Maybe manage a bright young talent and show them the way.  Someone who needs pointers, at least.  Someone not smart enough to figure this business out on their own.  Someone I can humiliate inside of the ring, just for the helluvit.  That way, for my own amusement, I can prove that I would’ve beaten you back in your hay day too.  Your cerebral attacks are nothing to me.  Your skills are as dated as your face is in this business.  Your mouth only writes out checks it can no longer cash.  You’re not just washed up, you’re the fossil that fueled my car ride up here.  Now, if you’re looking for a purpose in life, I can help you with anti-spiritual advice to get your life where you want it to be.  Are you a hedonist?  A sadist?  A masochist?  It doesn’t matter.  I’ll take you there, free of charge… unless you would like to donate to the Church of Heathenous Shepherds, or course.  Now, be a pal and subscribe to my channel, would ya, Shane? And for the viewers at home, I’ve added a donation button below.  Be a part of something real.

And with that, I tip my invisible hat to Shane and my other viewers.  I step down from the podium upon the charred altar, and I shake hands with people as I pass along.  I also punch one guy, tongue kiss another, and refused to touch an ugly baby.  I hold my hand up as I make my way to the exit, turning once more to watch the salami slap Andrey across the face in slow motion, getting a chuckle before leaving.