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Topics - Bo Dreamwolf

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21
Supercard Archives / Expect the unexpected -- or don't
« on: April 21, 2012, 04:52:48 PM »
 I have a little confession to make.

I hate flying. I admit it was never something that I confided in to either Mister Parker or Mister Ward, but it's just not an altogether pleasant experience for me. Oh don't get me wrong. I'm not afraid of flying, or have some fear of heights. If the flight is smooth, everything is fine on my end. But when we go through a storm or that turbulence hits and the plane starts shaking, that is when I start to get uncomfortable. It's why I prefer to drive everywhere when I am booked for matches. unfortunately, when I'm booked internationally, it's just not an option.

I imagine that if I were willing to spend the money and go first class like Mister Ward and a few of the others in SCW do, then the experience might be altogether different. Who knows? It might even be, dare I suggest it, pleasant? I may not be the biggest man on the roster but at over six feet and two hundred pounds, I'm also not the smallest person on the plane either. So when I find myself cramped between two other bodies, trying to focus on my book or if I'm lucky enough to have my portable DVD player, well either becomes difficult when you have someone breathing down your neck or (not to sound rude) with considerable body odor.

This flight had both.

I walked as fast as I could without trying to appear too obvious in wanting to disembark from the lovely United Airways, but that man who would not let me read in peace without jumping in every few minutes to try and chat me up about my match coming up in two promotions over an equal period of two weeks -- gah!

I walked into the seating area of the airport and almost sighed in relief. My trip throughout Europe has been nothing short of awe inspiring, but I had hoped I wouldn't be back in the air until I saw the tour through to the end. Now before I even had a chance to defend my Roulette Championship against a very worthy challenger in Primetime Matthew Kennedy, I get a call from Mister Parker. He informs he that I have a flight scheduled to bring me back to the States -- Cleveland, Ohio to be more specific -- for a special NWA sanctioned match.

As it turned out, I had cracked the NWA Top 15 rankings, and there was someone out there who wanted my spot. A man by the name of Jackson Blaze issued a challenge to me. I could have said no. I could have passed on the challenge so that he could go after someone else, but I guess a bit of Mister Parker's pride rubbed off on me because I found myself accepting and heading onto a plane.

Perhaps I should have turned it down as things played out. Primetime Matthew Kennedy is a worthy challenger to any title in Sin City Wrestling. He's dangerous enough in a regular match. When neither of us knows what's going to happen until the spin of the wheel, it makes it all the more difficult. I want to beat Jackson Blaze, but I have to beat Primetime.

I felt the familiar buzz in my jacket pocket and fished out my cell phone. Looking at the caller ID, I could only say aloud as I answered, "Speak of the devil, I was just thinking about you."

Mister Parker's voice on the other end answered in his twang of an accent, "Ah's not sure if ah should be flattered or scared, but ah's afraid ah have a bit of bad news for ya."

"What is it?" I asked, hating the times conversations like this would start. "Is it...?"

"No, it's not yer gramma. Your sister or ah would have found a way to contact you in the air if that's what it took. No, this is bad in the form it might piss ya off."

"What is it?"

"Ah'm gonna need you to turn around and hop on the next flight back to London."

I don't mind admitting, I stopped walking as I was approaching the Burger King in the airport and my carry on slipped from my hand.

"What?"

Mister Parker said, "Ah just got a call from the boss man over in ICW. Your match has been canceled. That Jackson Blaze fella can't make the match so they had no alternative but to take the bout offa the card."

"You're kidding."

"Ah wish ah was, Bo. I know you just had a, what, fourteen hour flight. But Mark and Christian got you off the next couple of days schedule of promo work so you could relax if you get back as soon as possible. Find the first flight, call them and let them know so they can get it changed over."

I sighed and had nothing else that I could say but, "Alright. I'll call you when I get back into London."

"Fly safe boy." Mister Parker said and the call ended. I shoved the phone back into my pocket and kept heading straight for the Burger king so I could at least get a bite to eat before I went through another fifteen plus hours of hell.

22
Climax Control Archives / Joking around
« on: April 13, 2012, 08:40:16 PM »
 Berlin, Germany

Monday - April 09, 2012


I have to admit that I still feel amazed by the realization that I'm actually here.

I have to be grateful to Mister Ward and Mister Underwood in the fact they had the forethought to book the wrestlers and staff of SCW for travel between the airport and our hotel. I never would have thought of that and truth be told, if they hadn't I'd most likely have hopped into the first cab I saw and ended up back in Paris by mistake. I found myself acting like a school boy, an ironic thing being a teacher. My eyes were glued to the glass of the passenger door and they roamed everywhere as we passed person and structure alike. There was just so much to see! I knew I would be busy over the course of the coming week. There would be interviews scheduled, meet and greet with the fans and I've been scheduled for a German talk show (how that's going to work when I don't speak the language is well beyond me!), and I am probably forgetting something with the big show in London looming closely, and now I understand I'll be traveling back to the states for an inter-promotional challenge match in another NWA territory.

Wow. I don't remember ever having been so busy in the business!

The bosses, though, have promised the workers that there would be time left for socializing and sight seeing. That is what I am really looking forward to. I want to see Unter den Linden and Museum Island. My sister and grandmother also asked for pictures of Charlottenburg Palace and Park, and for souvenirs as well. So even during my sight seeing I imagine I won't be idle.

Hey! I just passed the Brandenburg Gate! And me without my camera at the ready!

\'user


It wasn't too long before the cab pulled to a stop outside of a very nice hotel called the Pullman Berlin Schweizerhof. This looked fancy, and like a place I might have stayed back in my GCW days. I reached into my wallet and pulled out what I hoped was the right amount for the fare (Hello, tourist here?) and passed it to the driver.

"Danke." I said and the cabbie smiled and nodded toward me, and repeated the same. Okay, so I told a bit of a fib when I said I knew nothing of the language here in Berlin. I'm sorry but you just don't go to another country without knowing at least the basics of hello, good-bye, and thank you!

I shut the cab door behind me, and me and my luggage made my way into this nice place that would basically be my home for the next several days. No sooner did my foot step into the foyer of the hotel than I thought surely I had to be in the wrong place. This looked more like some high rise office building than it did a hotel.

\'user


The only thing that stopped me from looking a fool and got me to walking across the expansive lobby floor was the fact I saw some others, men and women, walking about with their own luggage. I also recognized one or two of them as people who worked for Sin City Wrestling. Just as I was about to arrive at the front desk, I heard a voice speak my name.

"Bo? Bo! Over here."

I looked and felt somewhat relieved that SCW Co-Owner and a man that has been at my side for the vast majority of my career, Mister Mark Ward, was walking over toward me. No sooner did he step up to me than I offered my hand and he firmly grasped it, and clapped me on the shoulder. I don't know if I visibly winced as it was my 'bad' shoulder, but if Mister Ward noticed anything, he didn't say anything.

"Christ almighty!" He said as he took a step back to give me the once over and then surveyed the surroundings. "You're late. We were starting to wonder if you were ever going to make it."

I smiled despite myself and shrugged slightly, saying, "My plane was a bit late taking off from the connecting flight in Frankfurt. Some soldiers were returning from Afghanistan and they held it up for them. Some people grumbled until they saw who we were waiting on."

"Open mouth, insert foot?" Mister Ward smirked. "I love moments like that ... so long as it's someone else doing it."

"Of course."

"Anyway..." Mister Ward continued. "Room's ready. you know to save finances everyone is sharing a room with another?"

I nodded, "That's fine. I've been doing it on the road in the States so no harm doing it here."

"Cool." Mister Ward then turned to the desk clerk who was patiently waiting and he said quite coherently, "Herr Bo Dreamwolf's raum bitte?"

The clerk nodded and after typing something into his desk computer, turned and slipped a key card from a slot against the wall and passed it over to me.

"Thank you." I said and the clerk nodded and turned back to address the now forming line of guests waiting to either check in, or check out. I stepped aside and asked, "You speak German?"

Mister Ward held up his thumb and forefinger to indicate "little bit" and then said, "Go get settled, take a nap, do whatever. No plans for the wrestlers until tomorrow afternoon so you can probably get in some sight seeing or shopping, whatever. I have to go find Christian and iron out a few things over this show."

"Thanks." I said and he again clapped me on the shoulder as he went one direction, and I the other.

**********

It took me a brief search but I finally found the elevator and my actual hotel room hall. Like I said, tourist! I was admittedly thrilled when I saw the gorgeous swimming pool in an adjacent alcove to the lobby and decided there I'd be spending a portion of my day. I always did love swimming, and it relaxed my aching muscles when seemingly nothing else would.

I stopped at a particular door and checked my reservation slip. It matches so I slid the key card down through the reader and the small light turned green and I grabbed my bags to go inside. No sooner did I step in and start to close the door behind me, when I stopped fast. There was someone in my room, or ... someone's. At first I thought it was my roommate but then I could have sworn I smelled perfume so I hurriedly switched the light on  and almost dropped my luggage cart.

Two women were laying across one of the beds of the hotel and they were smiling rather appreciatively at me. I looked around and said something rather foolish, akin to, "Um, I think I have the wrong room."

"Hallo." One of the women said in a surprisingly husky voice, and that was when I realized that these two women -- were men! Two transvestites were in my room, laying on my bed!

"What is going on?" I asked, neglecting to take into account they probably didn't understand English. "Why are you in my room?"

The first drag queen slid his ... her, legs over the edge of the bed and looked toward her friend and smiled, "Er schaut köstlich. Verbessern Sie soviel als die Touristen, die wir normalerweise für angestellt erhalten." <"He looks delicious. So much better than the tourists we usually get hired for.">

"Mm." The other purred rather unconvincingly and turned to look me over and I think my stomach just dropped. I felt absolutely sick, and bewildered because I had no idea what was going on. Other than there was some kind of mistake. The two stood up and started to walk over toward me with a swing to their hips and I felt myself back up against the door and start reaching for the door knob to get, as Mister Ward would say ... the bloody hell out of here!

That was when the first drag queen had me pinned up against the door and she turned to her friend and cooed, "Oh sagte er, dass dieses schüchtern sein würde!" <"Oh he said that this one would be shy!">

"Ich denke, dass wir ihm helfen können sich zu entspannen." <"I think we can help him relax."> The second one said and as the first started grabbing at my shirt and unbuttoning it despite my attempts to peel her hands from my upper body, the other one had sunk to her knees in front of me, and good God was starting to do the same to my belt buckle!

"Hey!" I shouted. "Hey! Stop!" I tried to stop the second one and that just gave the first one the freedom to get my shirt wide open and start caressing my chest and as I dropped my luggage to fend the first off, the second managed to get my belt off and go for... help me! "Stop!"

"Oh mag ich dieses! Er spielt stark, um zu erhalten!" <"Oh I like this one! He plays hard to get!"> The one kneeling in front of me giggled and before I knew it, my jeans got yanked down! Okay! That was enough! Exit Bo, stage left!

My dressing room door flew open and I lunged to get out but my foot got caught and I tripped and fell flat on my face, shirt flapping open and my jeans down around my ankles! I. Was. Mortafied! More so when those two damn drag queens grabbed me by the ankles and started to drag me back into the room! I grabbed hold of the door frame and held on for dear life -- literally -- as people started to gather and watch the spectacle, and I saw a particular group up front rather enjoying themselves -- judging by the roaring laughter they were letting loose at my general direction! Nick Jones and that blasted entourage of his!

"Smile!" Nick called out and I instinctively looked up and the flash of his camera went off. It surprised me enough my grip loosened and I ended up being pulled back into the room with the door slamming shut. The last thing I heard was Nick's laughing voice saying, "Best money I ever spent!"

**********

I was fuming. I fought to try to calm down and shield myself from the embarrassment that I was going through since that ... incident a few hours ago. I can only thank God that Mister Ward and Mister Underwood heard about what was going on and came a running to my rescue. Things had deteriorated in my room as soon as I got pulled back inside. I don't want to go into any actual details for fear of losing my lunch, but to make a long story short ... I made it clear to those two I was not a client, and most definitely not interested.

I just wish I could have gotten that point across before they pretty much got everything else off that they didn't get off before -- and before I gave one a very sore jaw -- with my fist! God I know that at least someone seeing this would have read that wrong!

The second I knocked the one down called an end to this. I am sorry if I hurt him ... or her ... but this was not funny and had simply gone on for too long. When the bosses got into my room and saw me standing butt bare to the world with two female impersonating prostitutes, it took a bit of explaining to try to understand what the hell was going on. That was when Mister Ward pretty much got the idea into his head and explained to me about Nick. His insatiable need to make someone look foolish and humiliate them all in one fell swoop. I knew Nick had this past rivalry of sorts with Mister Parker, the two exchanging pranks on the other.

It seemed that with Mister Parker not anywhere around, I had inherited this legacy unwillingly. And of course neither boss could get Nick to confess to what happened. He just put on his best innocent face and said, "Who? Me?"

I set my phone back down on the bedside stand and leaned back in the cushioned chair in front of the blank screened television. Despite the best efforts of my roommate, other wrestlers and Mister Ward, I have not set foot outside of this room since what happened ... happened. Too many others saw and I was just too embarrassed. It was Mister Parker I had actually just gotten finished talking to and when he stopped laughing (!!!), he told me the only way I was going to get some sense of satisfaction was if I would just give Nick a taste of his own medicine.

That was just something I couldn't see myself doing. It's not my style, never has been. After I talked to my mentor and friend, I opted to spend the evening channel surfing ... on German television? Maybe the headache would help me forget what happened. I couldn't do anything in kind to Nick. All I needed to do was just ignore him and he'd go away.

Right?




"You know what is the hardest part about speaking your mind in one of these promos that can make or break a wrestler's career? The simple fact it's a cheap way to try and get into your opponent's head with insults and derogatory claims. The vast majority of wrestlers use these moments to do one thing, and one thing only; talk trash. I always knew that interviews and promotional appearances were a big part of any wrestlers career. Heck, one might even say that they themselves make a man or woman's career inside of the ring as much as their skills do. As talented and skilled an athlete as someone might be, if they can't talk on a microphone and push themselves into the eyes and hearts of the fans, and make staff take notice, they're going to have a much tougher hill to climb than someone who can talk and make themselves heard. I just find it somewhat disheartening that a wrestler can't focus on his match and confront his opponent without being hateful and insulting. It's as Mister Parker once told me; these men I'm working with are in the ring to do the exact same thing I am."

"Living a dream, and supporting a family."

"Of course some of these men take it to the extreme and carry themselves in a less than stellar light. Those are the kind of men you find yourself getting worked up against and wanting to talk trash about. But what happens when you find yourself in the ring without someone that, although you don't like, you don't hate either? Or more harder, what do you do when you're in the ring with someone you have genuine respect for and want nothing more than to have a great match? That makes things difficult for someone who tries to see the best in everyone as I  was raised to do. Even when I'm against someone who could be considered an 'enemy', I never liked just talking smack and insulting the man's skills and record when it wasn't warranted."

"I have sat back and listened to a lot of wrestlers make their jokes about Casey Williams, and how he's not as tough as he likes to believe, or how his skills as a wrestler are not as impressive as his imposing physical presence. I really don't know how anyone can sit back, watch one of this man's matches, and say these things with a straight face."

"I look at Casey Williams and see one of the best big men in the business. I mean, the man wouldn't be a champion otherwise. There's a saying Mister Parker once told me and I take it to heart in this business; if you're going to be successful as a professional wrestler, you not only have to dish it out but you better be able to take it. It's words to live by, and Casey Williams lives by them in word and deed. I admit things he's done in the past probably aren't exactly what you would call reputable, but he has had success, and nobody can deny that without making liars out of themselves."

"AWA International Champion. AWA Television Champion. The Pryde Tag Team Champions and yes, here in Sin City Wrestling he paired with Jordan Williams and won the SCW Tag Team title in their first try together as a team. Make your jokes, crack the insults, but the simple fact is you can't be successful in the ring, without being a success. Anyone who can't  bring themselves to acknowledge what Casey has done, and can do, is either jealous or a fool."

"Is he big? What are you, blind? Is he technically sound when it comes to taking care of business in the ring? Well now, I wouldn't exactly say that. The man has skill, but I think he prefers to throw the power moves around and use his size to overwhelm the men he goes up against. And that's fine. If it works for him, all the better! I'm not saying he isn't capable, I just think he's happier tossing someone through the air with a gut wrench suplex than he is in applying a Boston Crab. This is where Mister Parker's training is really going to come in handy, as is the experience I've earned in the ring over the past few years."

"I can't go into this match and think I'm going to be able to throw a punch at Casey without getting my head taken off. I'm man enough to admit that if we traded punches, I'd be laid out and left on my back, staring at the lights in seconds. Quite simply, in a brawl the man would kick my butt. In a straight up wrestling match, that's a different story. Everyone who wrestles a big man says the same thing; take him to the mat and there goes his size advantage. I can tell you honestly that's a crock. You might be able to take the big man down, but keeping him there is a different story. And what happens if you take him down and that big man is able to reach you?"

"You're toast."

"This is where a key strategy comes into play. Think of it as a Casey Williams puzzle, but only in reverse. Instead of taking each separate piece and putting it together, I'm going to be taking the whole picture, and begin breaking it down, piece by piece."





Wednesday 04/11/2012...

I walked up to my hotel room door and almost felt pretty paranoid, I have to admit, thanks to that most unwelcome surprise at the hands of Nick and those odd friends he hangs around. The only solace I could find to soothe myself mentally was that as immature as his pranks are, he wouldn't go for the same one twice.

He wouldn't, would he?

I slid the key card down through the lock and as soon as I heard the soft click to alert me that the door was unlocked, I grasped the handle and turned it only slightly to open it a crack. I peeked inside and saw nothing to alert me. I opened the door a bit further and stuck my head inside cautiously and still, nothing. Okay, so Nick had me paranoid. So what? If you had went through what that prankster put me through you'd be looking over your shoulder constantly as well. How Mister Parker endured this for all those years they worked together in the same promotions is beyond me.

Satisfied that everything was clear, I slipped inside of my room and shut the door behind me, making certain to lock it. I dropped the key card in the dish on the dresser beside the door and stepped further in, looking around. Everything looked the same as when I left, save for the linens being changed by the hotel staff and a new package of coffee set on the counter, ready to be made of use early in the morning.

Like I need the help in staying awake. My problems sleeping have been growing worse ever since that security guard at the airport confiscated my pain meds. I haven't been able to replace them since I've been to Europe and it's made my time here an absolute hell as opposed to the unique and fun experience that I know it should have been. I could probably visit a doctor but word would most likely get back to the staff of SCW, and thus get back to Mister Parker in the States. Not a risk I'm willing to take the way Nick and his cronies have been following me off and on, I imagine trying to find openings to set me up for yet another of their practical jokes. I know I should follow Mister Parker and Mister Ward's advice and just give him a taste of his own medicine to get him off of my back, but it's just not my style. So it looks like I'm just going to have to suffer for the rest of this trip on both accounts, until I get back to the States, get to my doctor and as far away from Nick Jones as I can possibly get.

I walked over to my bed and looked at the clock and saw that it was a little later than I expected. Just after 11PM and my room mate still wasn't back from doing ... whatever it was that he might be doing here in Germany. Probably sampling one of the ten thousand different brands and flavors of beer I hear that they've made famous. I can only hope he doesn't sample the wares too much, or else he might bring back some eager young fan and the two might put on a show I have little interest in watching. I myself stayed out long enough. I'd prefer to just go straight to bed.

I turned at the waist to head for my dresser and a pain went up along my side and I winced. The feeling settled in my left shoulder blade and just stayed there, a heavy sensation that just bordered on throbbing. I wasn't in agony per se, but it was annoying. And if I didn't do something to relax it before bed without my pain killers, then by morning I'd think I was in agony. I had some aspirin I could take, so that with a scalding hot shower should do the trick.

I hoped.

I slid out the drawer at the end table beside my bed and grabbed the bottle of Ibuprofren. I walked over to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I took the small courtesy glass and filled it with water at the sink, then popped the cap off of the aspirin bottle and tossed the maximum dosage into the palm of my hand. I shoveled the pills into my mouth and washed them down with a heavy swallow of the water. There was nothing else to do but jump in the shower and wait for the meds to kick in while the hot water (hopefully) worked a minor miracle with these aches.

I pulled my shirt off over my head and hung it on the hook on the back of the bathroom door, then looked at myself in the mirror. Earlier this evening at the club I got dragged to by some of the guys, a couple of young German ladies, shall we say ... asked to be my company for the evening. Not to sound modest but I'm not really seeing why, but if I have to be truthful, part of me is kicking myself that I didn't take them up on the offer. I know having those after-show flings that so many other guys do on the circuit do hasn't been a regular thing in my resume, but there are times I ask myself, "What would be the harm so long as it's done safely?"

Oh well, such is life. It's not something I can turn back the clock on so let's call it a night, shall we? I finished getting undressed and stepped into the shower, pulling the curtains closed. I turned on the hot water and then just a hint of the cold, holding my hand under the water to judge how hot I would be able to withstand it. Satisfied, I then turned the knob in the center for the full blast of water from the shower head and ... nothing happened. I frowned and grasped the knob and made certain I had turned it in the right direction, but the fact that the water was no longer flowing through the faucet was a good enough sign as any. The shower head had to be clogged, which was strange as it was fine before.

I looked up and saw something bright blue was leaking out slowly through the small holes when suddenly the last thing I can recall seeing was a hot blast of something bright blue gushing directly in my face!

I let out a rather sharp and surprised shout. I fell back hard against the wall of the shower and landed right on my backside, luckily without getting hurt or further aggravating my injury! I started to get up rather hastily and whatever this was, I slipped and fell right back down.

"Son of a....!" I shouted as I struggled for a few moments to get my footing, spitting rather audibly as this foul tasting stuff was running down my face and getting in my mouth! I couldn't even open my eyes as they were stinging pretty badly and this stuff while wet, felt strangely thick! I slid over onto my knees and reached blindly for the shower knobs and turned all three off before I finally got to my feet, and practically fell out of the shower and onto the bathroom floor.

"Damn it!" I called out hoarsely and a fresh stream of this... whatever it was, ran into my mouth, prompting me into a fresh act of spitting. That was when I heard the raucous laughter emanating from outside the bathroom door and in my room.

I groped blindly (again!) and found one of the many towels the hotel provided and snatched it and started to wipe at my eyes as best I could. I tested my vision and my God did my eyes sting! I had to keep squinting and even that wasn't fool proof. My vision was blurred for the moment and I looked down, and saw to my embarrassment, that I was covered from head to toe with blue ink or blue paint ... well whatever it was, it was blue! The laughter was ongoing so I managed to stand up and wrap the towel around my waist as best I could.

For the record? For such a nice hotel these towels don't leave much to the imagination!

I opened the door to the bathroom and didn't have to see it to know a camera flash went off.

"Gee Bo, why so blue?" A voice called out which instigated a fresh wave of shrieking laughter. I didn't need to be able to see to know that voice belonged to my blasted tag team partner and current tormentor, Nick Jones.

"Nick..." I started to say but kept spitting the fouls tuff from my lips. "Why do you have to act so damn much like an immature brat!?" (I spit again.)

"Because it's funny man!" Nick's voice filled with merriment answered me. I then heard another voice say.

"I didn't think it's work boss! Ha ha! Paint beads in da shower head! Brilliant!"

"Well I hate to brag..."

"Since when?"

"Hm, touche'! Ha ha ha!"

I had enough. "Get out!" I yelled as loudly as I possibly could. The laughter stopped, surprised by I could still hear the subdued snickering. "Get out before I call security!"

A female voice said, "Someone needs to go souvenir shopping and get themselves a sense of humor."

"C'mon guys." Nick's voice said. "This picture is so going online!"

The laughter died out behind the sound of my hotel door closing. I squinted and managed to see for myself that my little group of tormentors had indeed exited my room. I stepped back into the bathroom and pulled my towel off and again tried to wipe at my face. I then slowly lowered the towel from my face and stared hard into the mirror.

I've had quite enough of Nick Jones and his practical jokes.




"Seriously. What can be said about the ring legend that is Jordan Williams that someone else hasn't said already? As a fan, I've seen photos in magazines and news websites of his trophy case at his house. The man has held more championship gold than almost anyone I can think of. Including multiple reigns, the man has had fifty six championship belts around his waist. Fifty six! That is unheard of. It bests records held by such legends as Ric Flair and Bret Hart. The only others I know of that can match that record or best it would be the tag team dynasty of TSSA, Chippendale and Thunder."

"I watched Jordan's career for years. Not to crack an age joke but I was still in school when he was at the height of his ring career and I watched many of his matches. I still recall the match where Mister Parker defeated Jordan to score the GPW Intercontinental Championship. It was an interesting match to watch because the two have had a long and distinguished past together, dating back to the old IWA. It was interesting to watch them in old school territories, where in one match they'd be tag team partners, and the following week they'd be fighting each other for a championship. When Mister Parker dropped his old ring moniker of 'Romeo' and went by his given name (and took on a somewhat tougher role in the ring), the days of their teaming together was over and when they met in the ring, it was as opponents, not partners."

"It feels somehow nostalgic now, to find myself in the ring against a former partner and opponent of the man who trained me to enter the business. Almost like I inherited the mantle Mister Parker once shared against the man. I have heard different people voice the opinions that this respective history will give one or the other an advantage when we meet in the ring. The trick is, who has that advantage?"

"Knowing Mister Parker for as long as he has, he probably knows that my style in the ring pretty much reflects his own. And knowing Mister Parker for so many years, Jordan might have an edge in knowing what I might be capable of or what I might be about to do against him in a match. On the other hand, knowing Jordan for as long as he has, it's just possible Mister Parker has shared a number of secrets and strategy sessions that would benefit me against this ring peer."

"Now, you have to wonder .... who's right? Between you and me, I can't wait to step into that ring and see just what can be done against one of the best this business has ever produced. I've been told a number of times by a number of people that as skilled as Jordan Williams is, he's just as arrogant in knowing it. Well, I imagine that it's hard to be humble when you're a proven commodity in the business. His record and arrogance (if it's true), only tell me one thing; I have to be ready. I have been in the ring with legends already, Tom Dudely for example. I came out on top then, and I intend to come out on top now."

"I refuse to give Nick Jones the satisfaction of holding it over my head if our team were to go down in defeat."




It obviously paid to be a close friend of one of the bosses, or maybe it's because he's the Champion, I don't know, but now that I'm standing inside of Nick's hotel suite all I could think of was ... wow. Most of the other wrestlers, myself included, were sharing rooms to save on finances, and I imagine Nick fit that entourage of his somewhere in here but I imagine the majority of the comforts were for His Majesty. I looked around, indulging myself as I heard the shower running behind closed doors, and marveled that the size of this hotel room was about as big as the entirety of the first floor of my own house. It wasn't as tidy or well kept though. Clothes and bags, DVDs and the like were strewn about, probably waiting for the hotel staff to clean up for them.

How dare someone even think that the Champion should clean up after himself!

The nicest part of this hotel was the fact it had a sliding door the led to a patio outside, right on the boulevard of the busy German city street. I had admired this when I first arrived here and now I understood how probable it was from the very beginning that this room would have been booked ahead for Nick's own use. It was superficial. It was frivolous.

It was perfect.

The shower suddenly stopped so it was now or never. I hurried over toward the wicker curtains and drew them over the patio door so that Nick would not see outside of it, and tucked myself behind the wicker room divider that was set up just to the left of the door. I reached out and gave the glass a hard knock.

"What the..." I heard being mumbled audibly behind the bathroom door, so I did what anyone in my position would do. I knocked again on the glass.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" The now angry voice called out and I heard the bathroom door open and the heavy footfalls of the champ emerging from the bathroom, the steaming misty rising through the door frame. "Can't a man have a god damn shower to relax without... B you better not have lost your key to get in here!"

I watched the shadow pass across the room and toward my position. Nick walked up to the patio door and in his haste, did not even bother to draw aside the curtains to see when he swung the patio door open and I knew a cue if there ever was one.

"B, you miserable little..." But the last thing to escape from his mouth was a yelp of surprise as I came out from my hiding spot, and with one hand yanked the towel off of his body, and with the other, shoved him right outside onto the patio! I quickly slammed the patio door shut and with a flip of the wrist, locked it.

Nick spun around, instinctively covering himself (thank God), and his stunned expression spoke volumes. I just met his gaze and waved "buh-bye" to him and calmly let the curtains fall back into place. I walked toward the door, leaving the banging against the patio and angry shouting in my wake. it was alright if he told Austin or Mister ward, or whomever else he wanted to tattle on me to. It's not like he'd get anywhere.

Bo doesn't do things like that.

23
Climax Control Archives / An unexpected turn
« on: March 30, 2012, 08:18:54 PM »
 
\'user
Bo Dreamwolf


I stood in line at the security check for the Tulsa International Airport and couldn't help but feel just a little surprised at how many people were there, like I was, waiting to get through the security clearance and make their way to their respective terminals. It doesn't seem to matter how often I find myself traveling for a wrestling show, I never really tire of the atmosphere of the airports and the people milling about inside. Curiosity bites at me, wondering silently who these people are, and where might they be going?

I had to admit, I was pretty excited about this trip to Europe. It would be a short tour, only four shows. No, I wouldn't be competing on all of the programs, but I would be in each location, which meant some ample time to explore and do some sight seeing. I've been competing for a fair few years now, but outside of Japan and North Africa, I haven't had much worldwide experience past my own borders. The chance to see places such as Paris and London is too much of a temptation for even the hardiest of hearts -- of which I have not. Traveling had always been a big part of why I entered the sport of professional wrestling.

However I had to admit that I had reservations. My Grandmother, being the main one. I truly disliked the idea of leaving her alone for such long periods of time, and to be gone for over a month would not leave me resting easy until I arrive home and know all is well. That is until I spoke with my younger sister, Abigail. She told me she would pack her bags and come stay with Grams until I returned home from Europe. That plan didn't go over very well with her husband, as I understand it. It's one of the rare few times Abigail put her foot down with that preening peacock fool, Darius. Family still means a great deal to her. It's something my grandparents instilled in the both of us, and for that I am ever grateful. At times such as these when I have to leave town, I know I have a sister who I can depend on, and more importantly, who Grams can depend on. Even a control freak like her husband could not drive that from my little sister's head. I wasn't certain what would be brought up when the two discovered Grams had already placed the family home in my name, as I knew Darius had his eyes on the property value. Darius, was, well to say upset would perhaps be an understatement. Good. I am sorry. It is an awful thing to say about a man who is family. Of course, it's Abigail's fault he's family, but still. The point remains. I do not like the man.

Things had remained frosty at best for a time after Grams's birthday, but it was Abigail who had called me afterwards and we talked. It was the first real long conversation we have had in years. She admitted to me the disappointment in the transfer of ownership of the house, and how it was handled behind her back. Yet deep down, she understood why Grams did it. She understood why it was me to whom the house was left. She just wished Grams and I could have been more up front about it. Understandable. I explained to her it was only done this way, not out of a lack of trust in her, but to avoid any confrontation or hassle with Darius in an attempt to stop it or talk Grams out of it.

I did not have to heart to tell my sister that if Darius had tried to interfere, I personally would have knocked him on his pompous ass.

Abigail and I came to an understanding, and one for which we were both pleased. I would never let anything come between the bond we had forged as children growing up, and despite her vows of marriage, neither would she. She and Grams, who had gone along for the ride, had just dropped me off at the airport. They wanted to come in and see me off, but truth be told, there wouldn't be much point as they wouldn't be allowed past the security check. So we said our 'fare thee wells' so to speak and here I am.

I set my carry on bag onto the carousel and opened it just enough to pull out my laptop and Kindle, as well as the few DVDs Abigail had bought for me to pass the time on this long plane ride that was to come. I wasn't certain I would need either, as my mind was full as it stood.

Many might not be aware of this, but back in the days of the GCW, I won the North American Championship, a title I technically have still to this day. Reason being, the promotion folded activity before I was given the opportunity for a single defense. That is a blemish on my record I would never really gloss over, despite my friends and family's attempts to speak otherwise. This tour was going to give me the chance in Sin City Wrestling that I never got there. The first program would be in Amsterdam, and I was booked in the main event of all spots, defending my championship for the very first time.

I set the Kindle, computer and DVDs into the tub, and my bag onto the belt that would take it through the X-Ray machine. I then slid my shoes off (thank you Grams for reminding me to wear clean socks!) and placed them in the tub as well. I turned and waited as there was only a couple of people ahead of me.

I could see why my title defense was the final match on the show. The excitement of the Roulette division was based around the fact nobody knew what exactly the match would be until it was practically time for the introductions. Not even the staff such as Mister Ward or Mister underwood had any knowledge beforehand. It was all left to a spin of the literal Roulette wheel and from there, who could know what could happen?

My opponent? I'm glad to say that he earned the chance to compete for the title, much as I did. I earned my right to challenge Lucian Frost in a battle royal, and Bobby the Convict Cage defeated a monster of a man in Damon Synn to get the right to wrestle me for the same opportunity.

It's strange at times like these when the proverbial shoe is on the other foot. You scratch and claw for a chance to wrestle a champion, then all of a sudden, you're a champion and you're sitting there, watching these other men tearing each other apart to get the right to wrestle you. It can really put things into perspective. I was the referee in that match where Bobby Cage beat Damon Synn. It was my hand that slapped the mat three times to declare him my number one challenger. I was talking to Mister Parker backstage after that match and he knew as well as I did, that being the official in that match gave me a great advantage going into this defense, no matter who had won. Not because they had competed and I had not. No, because standing there at the ready as the referee had given me the prime opportunity to study both men close up, size them up, and try and spot their weaknesses.

Bobby Cage has weaknesses. He might not know it, then again, who knows? he might. But he does have them. I have no intention of my first title defense also being my last. So I have to do what any other competitor would do; take those weaknesses, and exploit them. The Convict earned the right to challenge me for my Roulette Championship, but once that bell rings, he's going to be sent back to the bottom of the ladder. He'll have a long road ahead of him if he plans to earn another chance at gold.

"Excuse me, sir."

The voice of the guard caught me by surprise. I turned and looked at two men in their TSA uniform, and the one who had spoken beckoned me over with a wave of the arm.

"Oh, hell." I silently cursed. I had read enough horror stories about these so-called security checks that seemed more like rape violations by these people to know I wanted no part of one. If I was going to have my lower regions grabbed and cupped, I'd rather it be by the female of the species and one of us had better be buying dinner for the other, first.

As I approached, I should have realized that was not the case. Not when I saw the second guard holding a little brown bottle in his hand. My prescription. I could have cursed myself. Of all the things to forget to remove from my bag.

"Sir, could you explain this please?" The one guard said as he held the bottle up.

I closed my eyes briefly and shook my head. "I have no explanation." I admitted. "It was a dumb oversight on my part, and I apologize. I forgot to remove them from my bag with my electronics."

The man holding the bottle frowned as he looked at the label. He said, "RMS MS Contin?" He looked at his partner. "Morphine." He looked back to me. "That's pretty strong stuff."

"Yes sir." I answered. I had nothing to hide so no reason to start now. "I injured my back and shoulders, and it was prescribed to me. I'm a professional wrestler and at times we tend to take a bad bump and..." I shrugged and nodded toward the bottle. "A necessary evil, you might say."

The first guard spoke up and asked me, "Do you have your doctor's note to go along with this?"

Doctor's note? I frowned and shook my head. "No, I wasn't aware I'd need one." I looked from the one guard to the other. I felt like other eyes were watching me, and they probably were. Others passing by security were probably growing curious as to why the guards had taken aside one individual. I continued my explanation, "I travel enough around the country by plane and car and was never asked for a paper from a physician for these. The prescription label had always been sufficient."

The first guard looked almost sympathetic as he said, "Yes but when you travel outside of the country, you do need official papers for medications this strong."

I felt my stomach lurch as the man holding my pills set them out of reach and said, "I'm sorry but without the papers, we can't let you take these into another country."

"Please tell me you're joking." I said, and prayed silently that this had to be a joke. There were times those pills were the only answer to me getting to sleep or even being able to bend at the waist without wanting to cry out.

"I'm sorry, no." The second guard said. "You can either go on without them and a family member can speak to your doctor to get them sent legally to your destination, or perhaps you can catch a later flight and your doctor can fax the papers here and then you can take them on flight with you."

I frowned as I tried to think. this had caught me completely off guard. Unfortunately, neither option was viable. I was under a time table and shook my head, "I hate to say this but I may have to just do without."

"Are you sure?"

"No." I admitted. "But I'm catching one of the last flights to Amsterdam to make my show. I wouldn't be able to take another and wait for my doctor to send the papers, as this flight was provided by a third party." And although it went unspoken, I didn't want to contact Grams nor Abigail either, as neither was aware I was on any medication, let alone that I had been working with these injuries for months.

I looked at the guards and sighed, but forced a smile. "Thank you."

They nodded and made to dispose of the pills that I had come to depend on to get me through some painful times -- literally. I walked over to the conveyor and grabbed my bag and the tote and carried them over towards the row of chairs to get settled.

Life seemed to be full if challenges. This was just a new one, but one I was not sure how i would deal with.

Amsterdam, here I come.

24
Climax Control Archives / What makes me angry
« on: March 09, 2012, 04:13:26 PM »
 The hard smack of my fist against the punching bag reverberated along the empty walls of the gym I had been a member of since I was a teenager. I didn't actually intend to find myself here, at the Cherokee Nation Male Seminary Recreation Center. I wanted to treat myself to a day off from training so hopefully I'd be able to go to sleep tonight without those aches that have been plaguing me for what seems like forever. They've been growing steadily with their intensity. Not a crippling pain mind you, thank the Spirit, not yet. But they've been throbbing, a nagging pain that at the wrong times, would catch me unaware with a sharpness to them I would not be prepared for. To date, I've tried controlling this pain by taking precautions that I am none too proud of, but given my personal responsibilities, I would have to be willing to look the other way when my conscience would be a factor.

This was why I had wanted to just stay at home today, and maybe keep busy by doing the chores around the house that needed done. Unfortunately things don't always go according to hopes and desires, do they?

I swung my fist into the punching bag, then backed up three steps and kicked my leg up and delivered a blow to the bag with my foot that would have scored me a win in any match, had the bag just been a wrestling competitor. I'm a black belt in savate. A lot of people might not know that because I try to refrain from using these maneuvers in my matches, unless the man I am booked against is known to do the same; in Japan for example. The simple fact is, if you start using martial arts kicks in your matches, your legs and feet will become a stellar target to any opponent and that is just begging for an injury. Like a great, big neon sign getting attached to your legs that says, "Cripple me, please!" And besides, given what we put our bodies through in that ring with the scores of debilitating moves in the average wrestler's arsenal, a martial arts kick kind of pales in comparison. Contrary to what so many young kids that want to break into the business believe, knowing a little karate will not make you invincible.

So why am I here, instead of at home with my grandmother, like I wanted? Well, I have to admit it's not something that I'm terribly proud of.

I get asked a lot of questions by a lot of people. The majority would, of course, be wrestling related. At other times, the questions have less to do with the sport itself and more to do with me in the sport. One of the most frequent questions is how I can maintain such a level of calm and respect, when wrestling itself is a harrowing business that tests the limits of one's mentality as well as morality. The answer is always the same; family. My grandmother has always kept me grounded when the influences of traveling starts to wear on me.

Do I have a drink now and then? Of course. It's common knowledge after any wrestling show, the guys and ladies all gather at a local club to celebrate together a show well done. It's a tradition I initially wished no part of, but after a fair number of years in the game, and being hassled quite often by Mister Parker and Mister Ward to let loose a little, I realized it's not as bad as I made it out to be inside of this hard head of mine.

Do I do the drugs that have plagued this business for so many years? Absolutely not. Cocaine and the like never appealed to me. I was never curious about these so-called effects, and if I was ever offered, the one doing so was lucky I just slapped the package from his hand rather than the taste out of his mouth. Plus I never understood why a wrestler would risk his very life with steroids. one just need to look at me to know that's a drug I never sampled. I only weigh roughly 215 pounds for crying out loud! I would never be able to handle the disappointment in my gramma's eyes if I would have fallen down that path. Bad enough that I now found myself taking drastic measures to ease the pain I've been in. She doesn't need to know about that though.

Do I indulge in those femme fatales known demeaningly as ring rats after the shows? That, my friends, is nobody's business.

To make a long story short (I know, I know -- too late!), I do get upset and lose my temper. It's only human and it doesn't make me any less respectful towards those around me when it happens. I just try not to do so too often. Unfortunately, this time I have to admit the loss of my temper had little to nothing to do with the business, and everything to do with my family.

Have I ever introduced you to my sister, Abigail?

>


No, I imagine I haven't. I've only mentioned her a few times, and never by name. Not because I don't love her, God no! I just don't want her exposed to any part of this business's negativity, and yes, there can be a lot of that. Abigail is my little sister by three years, and my only sibling. She and my Grandmother are my only surviving relatives. Notice I didn't include Abigail's husband, Darius. I know this isn't a very nice thing to say, but my sister could have done so much better for a mate. (Like I'm one to talk, single as I am.) The best way that I can describe Darius is, Fred Flintstone with a better car. He works in  banking, and money means a great deal to him. More than it should in my own humble opinion. He's the one who convinced my sister to move clear out of state and all the way to Texas. Plus, I greatly dislike the way he seems to have taken an interest in the family homestead. He's mentioned more than once the market value of the house that's been in our family for a few generations. Grams has noticed it as well, and took precautions she wanted kept secret, but as I said before, things don't always go according to desires. This one was my fault.

Today was my Grandmother's 84th birthday. A few years ago, she had suffered a hard case of pneumonia and doctors weren't sure how many years she had left, but did not think it would be as many as she's had. She always did enjoy proving people wrong, and if it's a doctor, so much the better. Her health made a near complete recovery, albeit she would start to tire earlier in the day than she used to. Still, 84! Wow!

Abigail and Darius ventured from San Antonio to spend the weekend at the house and celebrate Grandmother's birthday proper. (Something tells me it was Abigail's idea, and she most likely had to twist Darius's arm to get him to agree.) Mister Parker and his family were unable to come, but they did send the birthday girl the most gorgeous shawl. Mister Ward also knew of my Grandmother's fondness for the old sit-com, the Golden Girls, so he sent her the complete series on DVD. I don't think she's stopped watching the collection since she unwrapped it. (I'll get you for that Mister Ward!) So along with a few close friends, it was a pleasant birthday gathering of mainly family -- and Darius.

It was Abigail's honour to bring in the two-tier cake as Darius dimmed the lights of our dining room. It was only right as Abigail was the one who baked it, along with making the full birthday dinner. My sister was a beast in the kitchen, where as I could probably set fire to a pan of water. I sat in my chair at Gram's left, and watched her aged eyes light up with the brightness of a little girl when the cake was set down in front of her as we sang 'Happy Birthday' and gave her a moment's pause to make a wish before she blew out the single candle. Each of us was wearing one of those silly party hats you often see at kids' parties, but  imagine it took some needling on my sister's part to get Darius to don his own. Today was her day, and even Mister Parker would have been smiling at the way she carefully unwrapped each gift so she could keep the paper intact. 84, nothing. I can only hope birthdays still mean as much to me if I'm blessed enough to reach her age.

Which brings me to what had caused me to lose myself, especially on a day where no ill will should prevail. It was caused quite by accident, but I'm glad for it to have been so. I had managed to overhear a phone conversation of Darius's when he was in my study, and I don't mind telling you that it was a good thing my Grandmother was still awake or else he and I would have had immediate words. That came later once Grams went to bed and I found myself in the kitchen with Abigail, doing the evening meal's dishes. I guess Darius was off doing something that bankers did, and soiling his smooth hands with dish water something unheard of.

The day had gone by better than I hoped. Even Darius put on the air of a man enjoying himself. He was probably watching television or doing some business over the phone again, as I stood to my sister's right in the kitchen and dried the dishes that she briskly washed and passed off to me. Once each dish was wiped dry with the dish towel, I would set it aside and accept the next. Putting them away always came last. We worked without talking very much, enjoying each other's company while exchanging tidbits of personal gossip. She told me of her and Darius's plans for children hopefully in the next year, and I kept her up to date on my teaching job as well as my competing inside of the ring. When you were as close as Abigail and I had been, words were not fully necessary. I missed her, and I put full blame on her husband that we do not have as much contact as we once had.

Abigail had fallen silent for the past few minutes, and the dishes were almost finished. I stole a look now and then toward her and I could tell she had something on her mind, and if my hunches were correct, i knew exactly what it was that she wanted to talk about.


"Bo..." Abigail started, handing the last porcelain cup over to me, before she looked at the kitchen window and I just held the cup, not bothering to dry it yet as I saw the moonlight cascade across Abigail's eyes. "Can we talk?"

"Isn't that what we've been doing for the past thirty minutes?" I quipped before I proceeded to finish my own task and I set the cup onto the dish rack and scooped up a handful of the plates to put in the cupboard.

Abigail turned away from the window and rested her back against the counter, drying her hands on a towel. "No, I mean talk, like we..."

I interrupted her, "We're not selling the house."

She could not have been more surprised had she been slapped. I calmly closed the cupboard door and turned back to see her watching me with a look like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming 18 wheeler. I was going to continue putting the dishes away but I figured, if we're going to do this, might as well give it my full and undivided attention. I leaned my side against the counter with my elbow on the edge and watched her. She fidgeted, and looked down at the tan linoleum floor for but a moment before returning her brown gaze back to her older brother.

I answered the unasked question, "I overheard Darius on the phone, talking to, I imagine, one of his banker buddies. He was discussing the house's market value for I believe the umpteenth time..."

Abigail sighed and shook her head, taking a step toward me, but the next thing I said stopped her.

"I believe the words 'retirement home' was also brought up."

Maybe I said this with a harsher tone than I intended to, but I didn't care. Those two words were an abomination in my own humble opinion, especially when they were being used in reference to my own grandmother! I watched her, and she knew that her older brother was angry. No, more than angry. I don't use this language too often, but her older brother was quite literally, pissed off.

"Let me guess." I said before she could speak up in her husband's defense. "This was Darius' idea, and he put it up to you to bring the topic up to me."

"Bo..."

"The answer is no, Abigail. And you can tell that misbegotten mongrel you call a husband that our Grandmother will get her fondest wish which is to die in the very same house her own grandfather built!"

Abigail's eyes briefly flashed back with the same righteous fury I had been proud to see years ago. She snarled, "Don't you dare speak of my husband like that...!"

I fully accepted her challenge and took the gauntlet thrown my way. I asked her, "What else would you call a man that wants to pull an old woman from her home and lock her away in an old age community just so he can get his hands on her house?"

"Bo, it's not like that." Abigail tried to reason but she was already in a losing battle. She just didn't know it yet. "Darius is just thinking of Grandmother's best interests."

I scoffed openly and shook my head in disbelief with a sardonic smile.

"He is!" Abigail protested. "Bo, she's 84. She's not a young woman any longer."

"I am well aware of that."

"Are you? You promised to make sure she was well cared for when I moved but you went and became a wrestler and leave her for days on end when god knows what could happen. From what she told me, you even spent two months in Japan and left her..."

"I left her in the care of two good people who she adored as her own family. I had no intention of even going to Japan had it not been for her convincing me to do so!"

"Still," Abigail challenged. "Here you are now, dragging her around the country to go to these little wrestling shows like you would someone half her age..."

I frowned and shook my head. "Don't try to turn this against me. I asked Grandmother to go to a show or two with me, to keep me company on the road. Even her own doctor said she was up for it, so long as she took it easy. He said it was better for her health than just sitting here in her rocker, watching television all day!"

Before she could speak up, I held up my hand to stall her and continued, "And do not think to use my traveling as an argument for why this should happen, little sister. After all, aren't you the one who moved several states away, when you could have also stayed in the same city to help care for her?"

"Darius..."

"Darius." I repeated, perhaps in something akin to a nasty tone. "Yes, I'm sure he put his foot down with you and you had no other choice but to do as he said and move. He said more than once that this town was a dead end to his career. Family be damned so long as there's a dollar to be made."


"I can't believe you just said that."

"I can't believe you want to drag our only family out of this house and drop her off at some old folk's home Darius probably saw on an episode of Hard Copy!"

"That's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair Abigail!" I scolded right back. "So you can just convince your husband of that when he finds out he won't be making a fast dollar on this house!"

Abigail frowned and a nasty light shone in her eyes, one that I did not like to see in someone I loved so dearly. Something else to blame that bastard Darius for. She said, "You understand with my husband as power-of-attorney..."

"He's not." I interrupted, smoothly. "Not any more."

"What?"

I said, "Grandmother isn't as feeble as Darius thinks her as being. She knows where his interests in this house lay. That's why she took precautions to keep his hands out of the cookie jar." I pointed a finger to my own chest. "I have power-of-attorney now. Grandmother stays in this house, and this house remains in the family."

"Bo," Abigail stammered, tears welling in her eyes. "Darius will fight that."

I shrugged. "He can try but it won't do him any good. Grandmother transferred the house into my name."

"What?" Abigail practically spit. "Why... when?"

"Almost two years ago." I answered. "But then again, you would have known that if you visited more often."

Abigail was stunned. I could see it in her eyes, if not her face.

"I don't believe it..."

"If you don't, then tell your husband to bring this to court." I answered. "That should prove it, and I can tell you now I have two friends who have a long list of lawyers ready for me that would just love to take Darius apart in front of a judge."

"Bo..."

"The house is in my name, Abigail, but it is still Grandmother's as far as I'm concerned." I picked up a stack of dried plates and turned to the cupboard. "That is the end of this discussion." I did not need to hear the sound of her footsteps leaving the kitchen to know that she had taken her leave. Most likely to inform her husband of the news. Good on him, but not so for her. As I said, I adored my sister. I just so happened to hate the man that she was married to.


I swung another fist into the punching bag but I wish that I hadn't. Ill-timed or ill-positioned, a sharp pain went right up my side and across my back. I froze, and almost cried out. It. Hurt. I rested against the large bag, with my arms wrapped around it and my sweaty forehead rested against it.

I knew that my prescriptions were running out, and would need refilled soon. I also worried that someday, this would come back and bite me in the ass.

"I have to admit that this match has me excited. When I was the final man remaining in the battle royal at Blaze of Glory, i didn't know what to think or expect in the coming weeks. I only knew that the match had secured me an opportunity to go up against a champion in probably one of the more unique wrestling divisions since the infamous XXX division in the old ASFW in years gone by. That's not saying that I am hoping for this Roulette title match to be in the mud or jello or whatever other god forsaken matches Mister Underwood has cooked up in that devious mind of his. The comparison is more to the unique nature of the Roulette championship, and the man that has hold of it and to whom I will be facing this Sunday.

That man is Lucian frost, although as I understand it, he pretty much prefers to go just by Frost when he's inside of the ring. Why? I don't know. The name Frost doesn't fit the man as he is constantly setting the ring on fire with this style that he has made all his own. The man who has made the Roulette championship, his own. What else can you say about a man that walked away from the ring as the inaugural champion, and who has this uncanny ability to adapt his style to fit whatever match the wheel spins and lands on? It speaks volumes about his ability, let me tell you. Frost isn't a man that is hindered by his lack of size against men so much larger than he is. At only 5'7" and 165 pounds, he's a man that is towered over by other men in a sport where seemingly giants rule. Yet it's to the masked man's credit that although he is small in stature, he is a giant in his mind. He fights with the mentality and will to win that men three times his size do not possess.

I respect that. And I respect him. Frost, it is an honor to be the next in a long line of challengers that you've faced and defeated. Yet it is also a rather dubious honor to say that I will also be the last challenger you defend that championship against. I don't know what's going on inside of that head of yours, but I can hazard a guess. You're guessing that this time, you're against a man that isn't a high flyer or a power wrestler, but a man that was trained to simply take you apart at the seams until your body would not cooperate to fight back any longer.

That's me. that's what I was taught to do, and what I will do. It's very rare for me to be inside of the ring with a man smaller than I am. At 6'0" and just 217 pounds, I'm far from being the largest man in the business, but I've been able to take those bigger than me and break them down, bit by bit. If I can do that to men bigger than me, try to imagine what I'll do to someone smaller than my own stature. Oh don't get me wrong. I know it won't be easy! You didn't get to where you are right now by being a push over. Actually, it's quite the contrary. You got to where you are by simply being a formidable man. Then again, so did I. I got to where I am to this day with a fire in my heart, and a trainer that would kick my tail if I ever turned away from an opportunity. And what better opportunity can there be than challenging a man of your caliber for his championship belt, and winning it to boot?

When that opening bell rings, I will offer to shake your hand, and I will do the same when the closing bell goes off as well. But in between the sound of the bells? All bets are off, and it becomes business. I respect you Frost. I hope that you can say the same for me."

25
Supercard Archives / Roulette Battle Royal RP #1
« on: February 16, 2012, 07:19:57 PM »
 I imagine that a lot of people don't realize that my hometown of Tahlequah is the Cherokee capital of the United States. It's a fact that my family instilled in me since I was a boy. My grandparents took every opportunity to educate me on our lineage in the Cherokee Nation, a line of over three hundred thousand members, both young and old. I mention this only because there is another small tidbit of information about me that you probably don't know. I mentioned it in passing to Mister Parker a couple of years ago.

You see, when he was interviewing me all those years ago, he had asked me if I had any education or anything that I could fall back on in the event my wrestling career didn't take off as I planned, or if I, God forbid, suffered some form of injury that would put me out of the ring and end my career. I did. I had studied for two years at Northeastern State University, and during my off seasons wrestling I took online courses to continue my education to do what it was that really interested me outside of the wrestling business.

"Okay, it's about time for everyone to head home." I said to the gathered teens that filled the room. "I'm going to want you all to read chapters seven through nine and be ready for a small quiz come tomorrow morning."

I listened to the groans that always seemed to accompany the announcement of a test. I know. I used to make those same feeble noises when I was at the other end of the spectrum. The bell rang outside in the hallway and the sounds of chairs being scooted back eagerly for the kids to make their departure from the classroom were all I heard as I sat on the edge of the desk and watched them make their exit.

I imagine you by now have guessed what other little fact about myself I was referring to by now.

Teaching. I'm a teacher, or rather, a teacher's assistant with the Sequoyah school program. I specialize in United States history. It's something I've always been interested in. I fondly recall a few trips to our Nation's capital in Washington D.C. that my grandparents took my sister and me on when we were kids. I think that's perhaps what started my interest in our country's history, and my own as well. It was also what ignited the fire to want to pass this knowledge and information along to others. It didn't work out too well as a kid. I mean, what kid wants to hear other kids dictate to them what they should be learning or listen to them spout off facts when there were sports to be played and girls to be chased?

But now that I was older, they seemed to be more willing to listen to me when I stood at the front of a classroom and recite to them tales from America's history, be it good or ill in the history of our own people. Granted this country has left a less than desirable taste on the tongue of the average Native American. We simply were not treated right, and in many ways, still aren't. I'd like to take it upon myself to do for them what my own family did for me; remind them of our own past. Our trials and tribulations, and how looking to the future would benefit us in the long run as opposed to brooding about the past. They listen to me well enough, but I am gathering that it might have a great deal more to do with the fact I'm a bit of a celebrity in their midst.

I know some of the boys in the class are loyal fans of professional wrestling, and if I have to be honest, so are a fair few of the girls, too. I know they've seen me compete a time or two so that bit of evidence is clear. They've chatted me up once or twice about my matches and experiences. I even "allowed" them to distract me throughout an entire period talking about nothing but wrestling. Funny thing was that I turned it into an actual lesson and they were none the wiser. One of the other teachers tried to tell me it didn't hurt that I was "easy on the eyes" but I'm a bit hesitant to use that as an excuse for why my students pay attention in class. I'd prefer to think it was my cute buns. Joke, joke.

The last of the students dropped their report onto my desk and made their exit with a soft 'goodbye' to me. I smiled and gave my head a light nod in the young man's direction and turned back to the desk. Thirty two book reports, all on the same topic; the Trail of Tears. Thirty two reports I would have to read tonight and grade before morning. I sighed. It looked as if I wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight, not that I normally do anyhow as of late. It seemed that every time I stayed too still for too long, my back and shoulders would seize up and I'd end up in terrible pain. It was all I could do not to cry out if I moved too suddenly or turned the wrong way until my medications would kick in. I came close a few times to Grams finding out but I refused to let that happen. She had quite enough to fret over with her grandson off in the rough and tumble world of professional wrestling, without having to find out what some of those bumps I've taken over the past few years have done to my body. She'd most likely insist I quit, and when I refused, she'd cry. Then I'd have no choice but to quit. Nothing is worse than Grandma Guilt.

I finished packing up the reports, sliding them inside of the folders I had ready and placed those in the briefcase Mister Parker and his wife gave me for a congratulatory gift. Hefting the briefcase up in hand, I switched off the classroom lights and shut the door behind me as I called it a day. Some of the teachers stayed behind for a short amount of time to converse and compare notes on their day. I've only done that once or twice. Today I had a couple other chores to do for Grams and that took priority over socializing.

"Bo."

The voice called my attention to behind me and I turned to find the superintendent of the school, Mister Montoya. He was a man in his late fifties but he looked like he could be anywhere ten to fifteen years younger or older. One just couldn't tell. His face had a dark, tanned tone to it, and although there were slight streaks of gray in his hair, you couldn't see any wrinkles of age in his face or hands. Actually the only time you can see even a hint of his age is when he smiles and those creases appear at the corners of his eyes. Mister Montoya was tough on the students, but always fair. I listened to them gripe and complain about the man, but the fact was he was tough on them because he wanted them to be prepared for the world once they were no longer protected by the walls of this school.

I extended my hand and he grasped it in a firm handshake, asking me at the same time, "I was just wondering if you'd be joining us after school. We're going to be giving Miss Locklear a small birthday party at Applebees. I was hoping you'd like to come along."

I smiled and raised an eyebrow and said, "You mean you were hoping Miss Locklear and I would take a little bit of time to get to know each other better."

Mister Montoya narrowed his eyes but the smile creeping up on the corners of his lips betrayed that little bit of emotion. I knew I had him. He and a few of the other teachers had been trying to find reasons to get Miss Locklear and me together seemingly since I started working at the school. Nothing can be worse than a match maker with a goal. I swear, if Grams ever found out, I'd have a real problem as she'd be helping them along!

"Yes well," Mister Montoya chuckled finally, rubbing his jaw. "You can't blame me for trying. So, will you be joining us?"

I sighed, "Much as the thought of dinner sweetens the pot, I'm going to have to take a rain-check sir. I have a lot of reports to read and grade, and I need to run a few errands for my grandmother today as well."

He nodded and said, "That I can understand, then. Family first. I also needed to ask what days you'd be traveling to Las Vegas for your ... other occupation."

He said 'other' with something akin to venom laced into the words. I knew he and several members of the staff did not approve of my second job. They thought it was dangerous and that the sport itself was a bad influence on America's youth. That's fine. They're entitled to their opinion, but it doesn't change my own.

I replied, "The show is on Sunday, the twenty-sixth of this month, but I'll need the Thursday and Friday prior off for traveling and promotional purposes. It's a big show and I was asked to make a few autograph appearances. Plus Grams is going with me so I'll need some extra travel time. She wants to go by car and see the country. Last time we went by plane."

Mister Montoya smiled, "Your grandmother is going with you? I think that's commendable. A lot of youth today would balk at taking their grandparents with them on any form of little adventure."

I laughed and reached back to scratch the back of my head. I immediately felt a jolt of pain go through my shoulder blades but fought to hide it. I shouldn't have even bothered trying. Mister Montoya was an observant individual.

He frowned and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yes sir." I answered in a bit of a half-truth. "I just pulled a muscle and it acts up every so often."

He nodded, accepting this explanation. He patted me on the back and led me to the parking lot, "Well I won't lie and say I'm sorry you won't be at the party to keep Miss Locklear entertained, but we'll manage. I'll put in the paper work for your travel days and find a substitute for you. You'll be returning...?"

He raised his eyebrows in questioning as we arrived at my car and I said, "Wednesday, sir. We'll be leaving early Monday back for home but it'll still take us awhile."

"Wednesday." He repeated. "That's fine. I know of a few teachers who can take over the class for that amount of time."

"I appreciate it." I said, and I meant it. I was very lucky to have a teaching position where the faculty, although not approving of my second job, supported my decision to do it and helped me out in small ways so that i could continue doing what I loved.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I started to think about the match that Mister Parker told me I was to be competing in. A battle royal in the roulette division, and apparently if I can win the match, I'll be deemed the number one challenger to the Roulette Championship. Easier said than done. I don't know much about this division, except that every match is a mystery. A spin of the wheel and surprise! It could be anything from hardcore rules to blindfolds worn by every wrestler to wrestling in a kiddie pool filled with mud.

(Please don't let it be the mud pool match! I'm all for trying new things but that would just be obscene! I bet Grams would get a good laugh out of it though.)

Whatever the rules might end up being, I know that a battle royal is still a battle royal. Over the top rope eliminations instead of pinfalls or submissions. That puts me in a bind because I truly do prefer regular wrestling competitions. Something this unique puts me at a serious disadvantage, and with six other men going for the same goal, it makes the entire event unpredictable. I spoke to Mister Parker at length over the phone about this match. he and I agreed that one-on-one, against any of the men entered in this match, I could walk away the winner. But when it was a battle royal and every man for himself, that made things more difficult. I could still wrestle a man and try to break his body down like I would under normal circumstances, but once he was down on the mat, I'd still have to pick him up and try to dump him out of the ring. And that's providing one of the other men doesn't decide to stop me or attack me when I'm working on someone else. I don't think there are any partnerships in this match but that doesn't mean any won't form between the men to try and get the eliminations secured, easier.

I pulled my Ford Fiesta into the parking lot of the Kroger grocery and switched off the engine. I was anxious to get home, but Grams asked me to pick up a few things for her and I needed to refill my ... my prescription.

I locked the car and grabbed one of those hand baskets and started into the store. Best to get this done and over with. As I made my way through the aisles, trying to avoid the crushing crowd of after-work shoppers, I started to let my mind wander again to the match fast approaching. Or more so, the different men in it. I see that my old "tag team partner", Old Skool, is one of the entrants. I wasn't that thrilled that he lost our match and embarrassed me in front of my own grandmother, I don't mind telling you. I brought her all the way to Vegas to see me win at least once but it didn't work out the way i had hoped. It'll be interesting to see what happens should he and I decide to lock up. I'm not looking for any more tag team partners so a battle of the former partners? Might make a few sit up and take notice.

I finished grabbing the milk and hamburger Grams asked me to get for her, then made my way to the pharmacy and dropped off my prescription. The pharmacist told me that it'd be about thirty minutes so I had a seat and waited.

Primetime Matthew Kennedy is another wrestler from London. Sometimes I wonder if they have a breeding ground in England for wrestlers because we've had a slew of them arrive in Sin City Wrestling. This guy is cocky. He talks a good game but so far he hasn't been able to back it up in the ring. This might make him more dangerous and unpredictable going into this match because he's going to want to get this win secured and get off of this slump he seems to be in. The Jackel Adam Smith is going to be the wildcard of the entire match because it's his debut. This is going to be a big chance for him, to walk away in his SCW debut as the number one challenger to a championship? If he were to accomplish this, it would solidify his status with the fans and the staff. Problem for him is that I'm betting he'll be the target of the eventual pairings to make certain it doesn't work out that way. The last two men were actually opponents on the last card. Bobby the Convict Cage and Brandon Medeiros. As I understand it, Bobby is a veteran of sorts with the business, and came out of retirement to join Sin City Wrestling. I can see why the staff has their eyes on him. All due respect to Brandon, Bobby tore him a new one. I imagine Brandon might be going for a bit of payback in this match which should make things interesting if I were just on the outside looking in. But no, I'm going to be on the inside of the ring, right smack dab in the middle of all that chaos. With my grandmother right there in front row watching and cheering me on. And you know something?

I'm looking forward to it.

26
Climax Control Archives / The beginnings of regret
« on: January 20, 2012, 10:00:55 PM »
 I guess it's only human nature to look back into the past and wish you could change things that did not go according to your own designs. It's common knowledge that people tend to hold onto their bad memories longer than they do good. I don't know why that is. maybe it's because when something good happens in our lives, we bask in the warm glow and live in the moment. As anyone will tell you, any glow, no matter the brightness, fades after a period of time. Shadows endure. When something bad happens, it tends to stay with us. We find ourselves reflecting back on those bad moments relentlessly, wishing we could change them.

I've been going through that ever since my first round match in the Lethal Lottery tournament at December 2 Dismember. I know I shouldn't be upset with my partner at the time, Old Skool. But I can't help but feel that pang of regret every time I think back to that match against Sean and Wyatt.

Bo moves towards his corner, as does Wyatt. Both men reach out to their corners and their partners tag themselves in. Both Bo and Wyatt lay on the outside as their respective managers check on their condition, concern on both their faces. In the ring, both Nightmare and Old Skool change at each other. Old Skool takes Nightmare down with a huge clothesline, Nightmare quickly spins and jumps to his feet but Nightmare trips Old Skool, forcing his throat to bounce off the top rope. Nightmare jumps to his feet and drops Old Skool with a reverse DDT. Nightmare raises his arms in the air and looks around.

Simone: I think Nightmare is looking to end it!

Adams: Best time to do so with Bo Dreamwolf down!

Nightmare drags Old Skool to his feet and hooks him up with a suplex and nailing him hard with a Jackhammer

Simone: Self Destruction!

Nightmare hooks the leg and Patton makes the count

1...
2...
3!


I was stunned. I just felt ... stunned. The end of the match came from out of nowhere. I didn't even really have a chance to recover or catch my breath after tagging out before the match had ended and I had ended up on the losing side. I shouldn't have been upset with Old Skool.

But I was, and am.

See, that match wasn't just about the possibility of championship gold. It had personal significance to me because I had a very special lady outside watching from the front row. It took some pestering and needling on my part, but I had managed to convince my grandmother to make the journey to Los Angeles with me. She had never gotten to see me compete in person, always on television or recordings. So I take great pride that I managed to guilt this wondrous woman who can't be guilted into anything else to take a little adventure with her grandson and watch me compete in person. Oh I was convinced it would be a great little trip, where we could drive over all those states, stop to see a sight or two. Eat wherever we wanted and stay in some nice hotels. And it was nice, up until the night of the match.

"Hey Bo!"

I heard the call of my name as I finished zipping up my jacket. I reached for my bags as I turned around and saw a couple of the other guys approach me. It was getting late, the show was over and had started letting out roughly twenty minutes ago. I reached down and zipped up my tanned jacket when Gabriel of the Seven Deadly Sins group approached me with his friend, Shane Boswell.

"Hey man," Shane said. "A bunch of us are going to get together at the Avalon soon as we leave. You in?"

I smiled. For a group of men and women who pride themselves on living life through the philosophies of the seven Sins, they had good hearts, unless they were trying to get me drunk or pull a fast one. Mister Parker and Mister Ward warned me not to put it past them, so I always managed to remain on my guard. Especially with that manager of theirs, Synn. That guy makes me uncomfortable just looking in my general direction. I think I once caught him trying to look up under my loin cloth, but I can't be sure. I never felt comfortable in asking.

Besides I had other company, and another problem.


"No, thank you." I said as I shook my head. "I appreciate the offer but I'd rather not."

"C'mon man." Gabriel said, giving my arm a light cuff. "You get asked by the guys over and over to hang out at the clubs and the only times you go are when Austin or Mark are around. Don't you trust us?"

I would normally give them some reassurance but that wicked smile on Gabriel's face gave me reason alone to halt my initial response and raise a brow in questioning.

"It's not that I don't trust you Gabriel." I said. "Of course that's not saying I do either."

Both men laughed at that. Maybe I have been hanging around Mister Parker and Mister Ward too much?

I continued, "Besides, I know you guys usually just hang out at those places to get a little company for the evening."

"Touche'." Shane smiled. "And when you went last time around with Mark and Austin, you weren't doing too badly. Had a fair number of beauts competing for your attention."

Gabriel added, "That is until you got up and went back to your hotel alone."

"If he went back alone." Shane murmured, leaning into Gabriel's ear to whisper. "We never really did see him leave."

"True." Gabriel nodded, that smile returning. "So...?"

"So...what?" I asked.

"So come with us!" Gabriel reiterated, rolling his eyes. "This is LA! The bevy of babes you could score with would be pretty amazing!"

"Thanks fellas." I said, somewhat disturbed by the attention they seem to be taking on whether or not I get laid. "But I'm afraid i already have the company of a beautiful woman this evening."

"Oh really?" Gabriel raised his brow, clearly not believing my 'excuse'. "And do we know her?"

"I'm not certain." I answered as a smile crossed my lips. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

I nodded my head, directing their attention behind them. Both Shane and Gabriel looked behind them and blinked. My grandmother was sitting just about ten feet down the hall on a small chair, quiet as a church mouse. She was dressed snugly in her winter jacket and the scarf I bought her around her neck. She was watching the pair with a smile on her face and i could just see the twinkle in those brown eyes.

"Grams?" I said aloud, making certain Shane and Gabriel knew of whom I was addressing. The flush to their faces was charming as I walked over and offered her my arm. She took it and I helped her from her seat and escorted her over to the now two very awkward gentlemen. I presented her and said, "Grams, I'd like for you to meet Shane and Gabriel. Guys, this is my grandmother."

Both Shane and Gabriel stammered a couple of hello's and offered their hands to her which she graciously accepted. It wasn't easy to hide the smile that I knew was threatening to expose itself on my face. But it is amazing that the biggest and most confident of men can become timid youths when faced with a man's grandmother.

When her purse slipped from her shoulder and landed on the floor, I thought I was going to start rolling when both of them reached pretty quickly to get it for her. Gabriel snagged it first and offered it back to her and she thanked them for their 'kind manners' and referred to them both as being a couple of 'good boys'. That only made their faces go even redder. I can't imagine the last time either Gabriel or Shane Boswell were called 'good boys'. So I offered her my arm and escorted her out of the building, giving both guys a look I hope they understood.

I was happy as I was.


Now I find myself driving into the city of Las Vegas again, this time alone. i tried to get her to come with me again but I guess a grandson's guilt just isn't what a grandmother's is made to be. She said maybe another time but she didn't feel like making the trip. Of course, that didn't stop her concerns and making me promise to be safe, and to call her when I got in, and after my match, and when i was setting out to leave... well, you understand.

The lights on the interstate were dazzling. It was pretty early in the morning. the clock on the dash of the car was reading just after four in the morning. I probably should have stopped somewhere to sleep, but the little pains I've been experiencing lately have been working my sleep pattern something fierce. I probably should talk to Mister Parker about it. I would go to a doctor but somehow grams would find out and In don't need her growing concerned over something that was probably nothing. Little aches and pains in my back and arms, but ones that have been building up over time. Mister Parker would be the one to go to, but someone else passed along a little help. Help I wasn't too sure about but I just need to keep grams from finding out her grandson's body feels like it's starting to break down. If i went to Mister Parker, well... with everything his body has been put through that even ended his career, he might not even want to hear it. Compared to what happened to him, my pains are nothing.

Now if I could just get my mind off of that one loss, I would be all set, because this match I have signed won't be a cake walk by any means of the phrase. Mister Parker told me as much as he knew about Blade Alexander, and I watched all I could of him.

I turned off of the interstate and was driving along the city roads and I continued to think as I watched for any signs that would direct me to the hotel where Mister Parker's wife had a room reserved for me.

Wrestling Blade will be a serious detriment, especially given the fact that I'm working against him in his own hometown. That only means that he's going to try even harder so he doesn't lose in his own hometown. losing in such a place that you call your own is perhaps one of the worst embarrassments a wrestler can suffer. You think those people had come to see you, to see you compete and to watch you win. Sending them home after watching you do the exact opposite can't be a good feeling. Thank goodness I never had to experience something like that. I don't even think they ever had a professional wrestling event in Tahlequah.

Bingo.

I saw the hotel sign in flashing neon and I made my turn and pulled into the drive.

Don't get me wrong. The fact I'm facing the man in his hometown isn't going to make me try and less harder to pin his shoulders to the mat or make him shout uncle. I want this win. I didn't come into the business of wrestling to tank a match just because I felt bad for someone. Blade Alexander is one of the top challengers to the Heavyweight championship, and is set to face Nick Jones to determine that very title. That speaks highly for the man's skill, and for how the staff sees him as a future for the company. But me? That makes me see him as the man to beat. It's just a shame I'm going to have to do it in front of all of his family and friends.

A quick check in later and I was good to go. I slid the key card down the lock on my room door, and actually had to do it two or three times before I heard the click and the tiny light lit up green to let me know that I could go in. I miss actual keys.

I dropped two of my bags right inside of the door to my room and flipped the switch on and the lights turned on brightly. I adjusted the nob and let them dim down a bit as I carried my third bag over to the bed where I dropped it and sat down beside it. I stretched and yes, winced as the strain in my arms and back flared up again. I sighed as I knew then the night would go by slowly and with little rest.

Unless...

I unzipped the bag and started to rummage around inside of it.

No, the loss bothered me, but when it comes to regrets, my grams said it best when she told me, 'Life is all about risks and it requires you to jump. Don't be a person who has to look back and wonder what they would have or could have had. No one waits forever.' I had to get over it and move forward if I wanted to advance my career. I had to look at Blade as exactly what he was; talented, but little more than a simple road block. Mister Parker would skin me alive if he knew...

I sighed and pulled the small brown bottle from the bag and I stared at it. Mister Parker? Grams would whip me clear into tomorrow, but the pain is just getting to be too much. I never told them because I just didn't want anyone worrying about me, or thinking me weak.

I popped the cap off of the bottle and dropped two caplets into the palm of my open hand and glanced up as I tossed them into my mouth.

But nobody needs to know.

27
Supercard Archives / The art of tag team wrestling
« on: December 10, 2011, 10:36:34 PM »
 
THE ART OF TAG TEAM WRESTLING


<img align=left src= "http://www.scwrestling.net/events/matchimages/bodreamwolf.jpg">“I don’t mind telling you that I was not exactly thrilled when I was told by Mister Parker that my debut in Sin City Wrestling would be as part of a tag team tournament. The first thought that crossed my mind was “Why?” I am not a tag team wrestler. I had never been part of a tag team before, I never had the interest of standing out on the ring apron while another competed in the ring. So why do it now?

The answer was fairly simple; the SCW wanted to build interest in the tag team division so it decided on a unique way to crown the first ever champions by pairing all of the members of the roster together randomly. I have to admit I do not agree with this tactic, but I can see the logic behind it. The championship, in my opinion, should not have been determined until there was a more stable division of tag teams competing. But the thought behind the tournament was that this ‘Lethal Lottery’ event could actually end up creating teams that would not only gel well with one another, but could also go on to great success.

My participation in this tournament has not exactly been stellar. Yes, I did advance to the semi-finals with my partner at the time in Kid Karma. Yet this partnership was short-lived because he had been injured after our match and Mister Ward said he wouldn’t be able to go on. So now I find myself with a substitute partner in Old Skool who I know even less about than I did my original partner. How Old Skool managed to get chosen is beyond me, but I need to look past that . The situation does not put me in a very good position to walk away victorious, but I still intend to work my hardest to get to those championship finals.

I had made my opinion clear about my path so far in SCW, and what was happening over the process of determining the first champions. So why then was I making the attempt at gold in a division I admit I held very little respect toward?

Mister Parker.

It’s as simple as that. It doesn’t matter how many years have passed since he first began my in ring training, thus taking me under his wing. I’ve come to understand between us that for him, I will always be his pupil, and for me, he will always be just what I refer to him as; Mister Parker.

Tag team wrestling had been around for decades. As I was told, the first tag team match was held in San Francisco, California in 1901, and the first tag team championship was crowned sometime in the 1950’s. When you’re a student of Austin Parker, you find yourself learning a few things.

For instance, were you aware that in Japanese pro wrestling circles, tag team matches are vastly used in order to determine which superstars to promote to singles competition?

One thing that a lot of people might not be aware of, except for of course his friends and family, is that the basement in Mister Parker’s home is a virtual professional wrestling entertainment center. The only thing down there is a fridge, a pantry for snacks, and a giant screen television with literally hundreds of wrestling DVDs from the past several decades. And he’s always getting more from all over the world! When I was first brought to his home for training, we’d spend at least two hours every day down in that basement, watching matches from every promotion from New Japan to TNA to AAA!

Come to think of it, we never really did watch very much WWE. When it came to their wrestling, Mister Parker used to say … Well, never mind what he used to say.

The point is, is that he has a virtual history of professional wrestling down there in his library. Even to this day when I stay over, he invites me to watch as much as I want to my heart’s content. I fondly recall quite a few evenings where I’d be sitting with him and Mister Ward down there and we’d pass quite a few hours watching some incredible matches. Many of them tag team matches.

I have no qualms in telling you all right now, that tag team wrestling just is not what it used to be. Nowadays it seems as if the tag team division is compromised of teams of singles wrestlers just thrown together for the sake of having a new team. When was the last time you had a seriously great team, crafted by two tag team wrestlers who were bonded through friendship and a love for the business? It’s rare if not down right impossible.

Gone are the days where such teams as Badd Company and The Von Erichs ruled their respective companies’ divisions. The Rockers. Demolition. Legion of Doom. Midnight Express. Those were some of the best combinations that I ever had the pleasure of watching. The Motor City Machineguns are probably the only respectable team that I can admit to enjoying watching over the past year. Brian Kendrick and Paul London were another. And when we’re talking about history making tag teams, need I even bring up Twisted Steel and Sex Appeal?

Even the bosses of the SCW were parts of formidable, and memorable, tag teams. Mister Ward was one-half of the team Not and Sexy, and who could forget the Freaks with Scott Schreiner and Christian Underwood? Both teams held multiple world tag team championships. Maybe I’m over stepping myself saying this, but perhaps that bit of their own personal history is why they’re s determined to breathe life into an otherwise stale division.”

<HR>

“C’mon Grams.” I said as I took a seat opposite her at the kitchen table. “You told me yourself that you have never once been to California.”

“That I did.” She agreed, nodding her head slightly while she continued with her chore of snapping green beans and dropping them into the bowl in front of her. “But I also told you that I’m too old to do so now.”

“Too old.” I repeated, scoffing. “You’re still a young chick.”

She looked up at me and I could see the twinkle of amusement in her eyes, despite her attempt to conceal it. The idea came to me only a few nights ago. I asked Mister Parker what he thought and he could only say it was about time I made the attempt. He called Mister Ward and already there is a VIP front tow seat reserved for her at the show.

The only trick however, is convincing her to actually go with me.

She shook her head and snapped another bean, saying in amused tones, “Young chick. Bo, you’ve been hanging around that Mister Ward one too many times. I’ll tell you like I told him. I’m no young chick. I’m over sev…”

She stopped and looked at me and I couldn’t help but laugh. I leaned across the table, cupping my hand to my ear.

“How old did you say you are?” I asked.

“Never you mind.” She said with a finality I heard often enough through the years. Yeah, I do know how old my own grandmother is, but I’ve heard her say often enough that a true lady never reveals her age. And my grams is a true lady. Well, unless I made the unfortunate mistake of telling anyone just what that age is. I’m almost afraid to think about the tanning she’d lay on my behind.

Still, I was not about to yield over this.

“Grams,” I started. “It isn’t that far from Oklahoma to California. I’d do all the driving.”

“Obviously.” She added wryly.

I smiled. “C’mon Grams, think about it. It’s only about fifteen hundred miles. I could get us there in just little over a day. We could stay at a nice hotel, get out to stretch our legs whenever you wanted… everything would be fine.”

“And who pray tell, would take care of Missy if I were to agree?”

I subconsciously turned my head to look down across the kitchen where a small dish was stationed and the calico kitten was happily lapping at the cream I had just poured for her. The kitten had been a gift from the Parkers to her for her last birthday, to keep her company they said when I happened to be on the road. Grams always adored cats and when the female at the Parker’s ranch had a litter a few months ago, the gift was only natural.

Not to be deterred, I turned back around, leaning heavily in the chair. “I already spoke with Missus Brown next door. She said she’d feed her and clean her litter box while we were gone.”

“Thought of everything, did we?” Grams said, raising her brow but still, unrelenting.

“I’m trying.” I admitted. “Come on Grams. You’ve never been to one of my matches. Not once. You’ve only been to see them on video.”

“And that’s been fine…” She started to say but I felt like I was on a roll.

I interrupted, “But there’s nothing more fun than being there in person. I’m one of the first ones booked and if my team wins my first match, I’ll get to wrestle twice so you’ll get to see me twice. And wouldn’t you like to tell the grocery boy if you were right there when I actually won a championship?”

“Well…”

“Plus, I could also point out that you’ve made the trip from here to Georgia a fair few times.”

“That’s true, but that was by plane. This would be by car.”

“So? You always said you loved seeing the scenery whenever you and Grandfather went anywhere.”

She sighed. I knew she was contemplating it. I could tell that she wanted to go, but she remained hesitant. Time to pull out the big gun. I leaned against the table and clasped my hands together.

I said, “And there’s also the fact that not a week ago you had asked me what I wanted for Christmas. Well …?”

I raised my eyes just a bit to find her watching me with those warm, brown eyes of hers. She raised a finger and shook it at me.

“That is not playing fair young man!”

I couldn’t help but smile, knowing that this was the only way she could admit defeat. I raised my head to meet her eyes evenly and said, “I know. Mister Parker told me to say that as a last resort.”

“Oh he did, did he?” She snorted indignantly. She went back to snapping the beans to prepare our supper for the evening. “I will be expecting to be introduced to your friends. So just wait until I see that man.”

I smiled and asked, “So you’re coming?”

She looked up and nodded, “Wait until I see him.”

I laughed. I was beyond happy. My grandmother would finally be seeing me perform in front of a live audience instead of on a TV screen. This would be something I would treasure always. I stood up and turned around t take my leave when I heard her from behind me.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

I turned around and she clicked her fingers, pointing toward the counter where the small chicken waited to be washed and stuffed with vegetables for our meal. I raised a brow. I hated touching those things.

Maybe I didn’t get off so easily.

<HR>

<img align=left src= "http://www.scwrestling.net/events/matchimages/bodreamwolf.jpg">“This Lethal Lottery has much potential, for good or ill. Mister Parker told me that years ago another such event was held to decide tag team champions, and a few credible teams emerged from it that remained together. A combination called Kolossal Storm perhaps the most noted one. Christian Underwood actually won that very tournament with SCW’s Jason Adams as I am told. I can only hope that this event is as successful.

I was looking over the other seven men who were also going to give it their all and the names are an impressive who’s who that could easily be the first SCW Tag Team Champions. Many of them even have the advantage of tag team experience in their past. Sean Williams at one point had a pairing with Synn, and Rage teamed with Shane Boswell as well. Casey Williams is a former tag team champion, and Jamie Staggs has a wealth of experience as well.

I don’t mind telling you that I couldn’t find myself against a potentially more formidable tag team than I have in the semi-finals in Sean Williams and Wyatt Peterson.

I remember watching Sean Williams on television a few years back in the GXW. This was, of course, before he left the sport to deal with his … well let’s just say personal demons. Yeah, I’ve heard a few snickers in the dressing rooms backstage where he’s concerned, but you know what? At least Sean is man enough to realize that he’s made some mistakes in life. Most people won’t even dignify their own mortality, thinking themselves invincible. Not Sean Williams. He admitted it. Understood it, and now he’s fighting to overcome it. You can’t help but admire that fact. He wants to retake his spot in the business he obviously cares about, and he has all the necessary skill in order to do so. I’ve watched some of his matches, and he could beat the best in the business on his best day! Mark my words, one day Sean Williams will be at the top of this sport – but hopefully not before me. And the fact that he has Synn at his side again will only spell trouble. Not directly by interference, mind you. As far as I can tell, Synn only gets involved when he has to. No, I mean the fact that Sean couldn’t have found a more supportive and fierce director if he tried – with the exception of Mister Parker. I have never seen anyone as skilled in mind games as this Synn character – never. Just seeing him standing outside of the ring is enough to unnerve a person. If Mister Parker accompanies me to the ring, I shudder to think what will happen if those two were to butt heads!

Then there’s Sean’s partner in Wyatt Peterson. You might say this particular pairing makes for a bit of a grudge match. It’s Wyatt’s fault that I had to be assigned a new partner, after all. I cannot believe he actually had the gall to run in and attack Kid Karma! They obviously had a score to settle, but couldn’t it have waited? Did he give no consideration to what his actions might cause the man, me, who would be caught in the proverbial crossfire? Apparently not. Yes, Wyatt is big, but it’s as Mister Parker says; That size won’t matter much when they’re taken down to the mat and kept there. I don’t mind admitting that I have all the confidence I can do that Wyatt. I can take you down to the mat. I can keep you there, and I can make you think twice before you ever think about costing me a chance to advance in my career. Just ask your manager, Tom Dudely. Maybe he remembers me from the GCW. He and I met once in a tournament, and nobody thought I had a chance at beating a seasoned veteran and former world champion such as he. Including myself, including him. But it wasn’t my shoulders that ended up pinned to the mat that night. I won’t be out to hurt you. That’s not my style. The best way that I can send a message to you and get even for your actions, is simply walking away from our match with my arms held high. The look on your face will be satisfying enough.

The other teams in the other semi-final match have to be kept a close watch on as well.

I have never seen a man with such anger issues as this Rage. I can see why he fits the bill so easily as the so-called Sin of Wrath. The man is big. I mean B-I-G and he has all the attitude to back up his size. From everything that I’ve seen watching him, he isn’t just out there to score a win. He seems as if he won’t be happy unless he scores an injury or two against his opponent. I would hazard a guess that it’s his way of sending a message to the bosses and all future opponents. And the fact he also has Synn backing him up speaks volumes, although he certainly doesn’t need the help. I can’t help but wonder what would happen if Sean’s team and Rage’s both advanced to the finals. What would happen then on Synn’s behalf? Well, considering that I’m opposing Sean’s team, that makes that question a bit pointless I would flatter myself by guessing.

(wow I really have been hanging around Mister Parker too much!)

I’ve watched Jamie Staggs and I won’t allow myself to believe he’s as scatter brained as he seems on-screen. I’ve watched him in the ring, and you don’t perform as an athlete like he does when you aren’t capable of focusing on what you’re doing. The flying tactics this man uses are incredible, and perhaps a bit scary. Death defying might be the right way to describe the way this guy thinks inside of the ring. Hm, maybe he is a bit scatter brained if he goes and does half the things that I’ve seen him do. He also has the added benefit of having some very competent people surrounding him, one being the Bombshell champion Misty. You don’t get much better influence than another champion!

The combination of Casey Williams and Blade Alexander? I don’t find myself being as leery about them as I am the others. Oh don’t misunderstand me. As singles competitors, both are worthy of being at the top of the business. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if either wound up winning the Heavyweight championship eventually. Or both!

Casey Williams has been there. I looked him up and he has had a slew of championship gold to his list of accomplishments, both singles and tag. His size alone makes him dangerous opposition, and the fact he’s held tag gold shows he knows how to work with a partner to find the means to an end. It won’t be Casey that will be the catalyst for their team’s own undoing. That will be his partner.

Blade will certainly be right up there as a potential challenger to the SCW Champion if he doesn’t walk away with the tag gold, which he won’t. Why? His partnership with Case just won’t work in the long run. I can’t see it happening, no matter what. Blade Alexander is just too self-reliant. He’s too self-assured of his own worth to share the gory with another man. I believe it’s the Heavyweight title he is focused on, not the Tag Team, and that is going to cost his team when all is said and done.

There’s a lot to think about this coming show. Why, for example, am I so determined when I’m in an event for a title that I don’t particularly want? Simple; Mister Parker. He’d kick my tail if I didn’t give it my all. He knows full well how I feel about tag team wrestling. We’ve discussed it enough. He also knows that a chance at a championship doesn’t come every day. Tag team or singles, if I’m in it, I am giving it my all.

The fact is that I could easily find myself wrestling two grueling matches, but if I can walk out of there as the champion, it’ll be worth the effort. And who knows? Perhaps Old Skool and I will win the whole thing, and remain a team. Funnier things have happened.

28
Climax Control Archives / Giving thanks
« on: November 24, 2011, 04:58:28 PM »
 <img align=left src= "http://www.scwrestling.net/events/matchimages/bodreamwolf.jpg">"Grams, are you sure there isn't anything I can do to help?"

I asked my grandmother this same question every year as I stood in her kitchen, and every year I got the exact same answer.

"No Bo." She said. "You can help me best by scooting out of here and letting me get your Thanksgiving ready."

I sighed. There was never any use trying to argue with her. Its as I said; it's her kitchen. Her domain. You simply did not go in there uninvited, and I was not invited. Thanksgiving meals were her crowning glory and now that grandfather was gone, she tried to make up for that one empty chair by stuffing me full even further. Not that I minded. Nobody cooks like a grandmother. The kitchen was alive with the smells of the banquet she was preparing just for the two of us, making me hesitant to take my leave. It was just the sight of that wooden spoon and the thought of it against my backside that finally convinced me the safer route would be to return to the living room.

Just as well. Grams had the small television in the kitchen tuned to the Macy's Parade, and as entertaining as that might be, I was more interested in getting set for the Green Bay Packers/Detroit Lions game. It promised to be a good one, and my money was firmly on the Packers to walk out of this Thanksgiving with another reason to celebrate.

I walked into the small living room and had a seat on the sofa, closer to the end table where I had a few snacks and a beer to keep me company until Grams called me to eat. I picked the remote up and started to put my focus onto the game that was playing before me, and that was when I allowed my mind to wander back to the business that I again found myself in.

There really isn’t very much that I can tell you that you might not already know about me. Then again maybe that’s a little egotistical of me to assume wrestling fans in the United States are still familiar with me. After all, I had just been in the spotlight of a major worldwide promotion like Global Championship Wrestling for less than a year. This business of ours can be an incredibly fickle one. It's always a matter of 'what have you done for me lately' syndrome.

I myself lucked out initially. I can admit that. I had been lucky enough to have met some people who had connections to help get my foot in the door.

What I can tell you is that I’m not at all ashamed to admit that when Mister Parker took me aside to tell me that Global Championship Wrestling was ceasing its operations, it felt as though my entire world had come crashing out from beneath my feet. Funny how that happens, isn’t it? One minute you’re on top of the world, the next you’re taking a nosedive with no way to break your fall.

That was me.

It was five years ago, and ironically it happened right in what is now Sin City Wrestling’s home territory in Las Vegas, Nevada. I had won a Triple Threat match against Christian and Psycho Dragon to win the new GCW National Championship, and unfortunately, I was also the last to hold that belt. It was right after Mister Parker and Mister Ward told me the bad news, and I never really got the opportunity to put that belt on the line against anyone, to defend it and prove I was a worthy champion.

I’ve had a few people in the business tell me that it was a blessing in disguise that I got to go out as an unbeaten champion, but that in itself is a bittersweet way to think about it. I was only unbeaten because any opportunities to prove myself were pulled right out from under me.

I kept the physical belt, of course. All of the champions were given that same honor. “Hot Stuff” Mark Ward and Guy Grant were co-World Champions. I’m unsure how they settled on who got to keep that one belt between them. Shane Boswell and Matt Grove kept their Tag Team belts, and Pandora kept her Woman’s title. But enough about them, I guess. You might say this story is about me and my own. That was almost five years ago, but I admit it still gives me a bit of an electric thrill running through me when I look at my gram’s mantle and see that title belt in a place of honor. I feel bad for all of the Avon ladies and Jehova Witnesses who are invited into our home and my grams, proud as can be, brags on me until their ears are ready to bleed.

Five years. Wow. It’s hard to believe that its really been that long.

Still, I have to admit there was the one blessing; I got to come home. Don’t get me wrong. I loved being on the road during my time in GCW. The sights I saw and the people I met, those were times so many wrestlers only get to dream but never experience. Yet it was like I told Mister Parker when he first interviewed me before he’d say whether or not he’d train me; family comes first. So home I went and I spent some valuable time letting (!) my grams pamper me a bit. (Yeah like I could stop her!) Luckily I still had Mister ward and Mister Parker in my corner as far as the business went. Mister Ward knew a local promotion in England was looking to import some workers and I am proud to say that he thought of me. So back on the road I went, this time for a short tour in England, then stops in France, Germany and Italy. Those were places that I never thought I'd get to see.

That was also when I learned that just because the place where you worked together might no longer exist, it doesn't stop you from being family with the men and women you worked with. While Mister Ward took care of me in Europe, Mister Parker and his wife were watching after my gram's welfare when I couldn't at the time.

I got home and spent a couple weeks with grams, and Mister Parker let me know he got me some indy bookings in the neighboring states. They were better deals than so many of my peers might get who work that scene regularly; travel expenses and nice hotels tied into the deal. I understand that I have his wife to thank for that. I worked an indy show a couple times before that, and I admit it's a stark contrast when you're used to wrestling in front of several thousand people and now you're in front of only a few hundred. Yet this to me was ideal. I could travel a few hours away from home, then after the show, return right home.

The only down side is my grams always enjoyed watching my matches on TV, and on the indy scene, that really wasn't possible unless they had a TV deal. Most didn't. So at Ms. Angel's suggestion, I did the next best thing. I bought a video camera and recorded all of my matches so grams could see them at her own comfort. I was making pretty good money, and got to spend time at home like I wanted, but Mister Parker had another plan for me in mind. He showed up at my door one morning and while my grams subdued him into her offer of breakfast, he told me that he wanted to have a tour of Japan arranged for me.

Japan.

I have no qualms at admitting to anyone that I was hesitant. Extremely hesitant. I've heard the stories about how different wrestling is in that country as opposed to what I was used to. The rings are harder. The fans are more respective toward what they're watching, and are quieter. Promotional interviews are held but it's what's inside the ring that really counts, as opposed to the shows here in the states that put segments first and wrestling second. Plus the wrestling itself was just plain brutal.

But all of that I could live with. I understood that over there, their rookies were sent on tours across the country to places like the States, Mexico and Europe in order to learn the styles and become better wrestlers. It was being gone from home and leaving Grams alone all that time that made me not want to go. According to Mister Parker, it would be a small series of tours. Each three weeks in length with a week in between each. Then I might even be able to return after those were over if the promoters took the interest. That was too long in my own opinion but that was when Grams stepped in, encouraging me to go.

She had been to Japan with Grandfather and she said it was a lovely country and she wanted me to be able to experience. plus she gave me that look that told me she was not a little girl and could take care of herself. Little did I know that she had already discussed the matter with Mister Parker over the phone and she agreed to stay at his and his wife's home in Georgia during my trips so I wouldn't worry -- so much. I was shocked she ever agreed, but I think she only did so in order to get me to go on this tour.

Like I said, family.

Then a problem arose. Mister Parker wasn't going with me. He said that an associate of his, Brandi Costantino, would be watching after me over there. She'd spent the majority of her career in Japan and was more qualified to guide me there than I was. I didn't know who she was or anything about her, so I wasn't comfortable with this. But when Mister Parker gets that tone behind his voice, I've learned it best not to argue.

Besides, how bad could it be?</color>

Bo weaved his way through the crowd between the backstage area of the Hakodate Hall in Hokkaido, Japan, and out to the ring with Brandi accompanying him. The fans on both sides of the aisle reached out to him respectively and Bo gladly accepted, slapping hands along the way. He climbed inside of the ring and at the introduction of his name, the fans applauded as opposed to answering with deafening cheers like he was used to. Streamers were even fired into the ring, covering him and his opponent, another young man that went by the moniker of Condor Sawai.

To Bo's eye, Condor looked roughly the same size as he was, if not maybe just a bit smaller in height. He figured the match would go smoothly enough. How wrong he was...

Condor sent Bo careening into the corner and came flying in after him, striking him flush in the jaw with a flying wheel kick that knocked the American grappler right down on his backside against the corner. ...

Bo was knocked out through the ropes and to the floor outside and Condor was right up atop the corner, perched like a hawk. Bo got to his feet with a small degree of difficulty and Condor jumped with a dangerous moonsault, crashing right into his opponent and wiping them both out! ...

Condor sent him into the ropes and swung at him with an attempted lariat but Bo ducked under and hit a float over DDT, driving Condor's skull into the hard mat. Bo rolled him over onto his back and hooked the leg in a cover, but Sawai kicked out just after the count of two. Bo looked completely caught off guard, as most opponents he had been against would have been kept down by that maneuver. ...

Condor caught Bo by the leg and spun him down with a corkscrew legwhip, jamming his knee painfully. Condor then went to work, brutalizing Bo's knee and locked him into an agonizing leg scissors, twisting his knee painfully. ...

Condor came off of the top, landing on Bo's sternum with a double foot stomp that took the air completely out of his body. Sawai then dragged Bo up by his braids and set his head between his knees, then lifted him up into the air in position for a crucifix powerbomb. But instead of just dropping him, Condor starting spinning in circles, building momentum, and then dropped Bo into a seated powerbomb, folding him in half for the three count!


Lesson learned the hard way. I had no idea just how powerful the ring styles of Japan could be, and Brandi met me in the backstage area afterwards, and said simply, "Are you ready to listen to me now?" I walked away, or limped rather, from that match with three fractured ribs and a severely bruised ego. I was ready to listen to whatever she had to say. It was all for the best. Ms. Costantino was almost as hard on me as Mister Parker. She gave me no leeway when she even insisted I further the development on what martial arts training I had taken in earlier years, the better to counter the same skill just about every other man in Japan wielded.

I completed that first two, competing in six matches, and walking away with zero wins. I wasn't exactly enthused about returning but I signed a contract so I had no choice. I kept up with my training and returned, and lost my first match back. But then I walked away from my next two matches with wins, and my outlook brightened. I worked harder than I ever had and finally finished the tours, admittedly with less wins than I would have preferred, but I did it. I was even asked back a few times, and went with better outlooks than I had the first time around.

My last tour ended just over two months ago, and that's when Mister Parker told me about Sin City Wrestling. Mister Ward was one of the owners starting it up, and given its light schedule, it would be the ideal place for me to work while picking up the occasional date elsewhere and watching after Grams, all in one basket.

It was perfect.

And better still, I'm being given the opportunity at a championship my first time in. A Lethal Lottery tag team tournament? I never heard of such a thing but that doesn't mean it won't work. I'll do my share of the work, and I am hoping I can say the same thing for my partner, Kid Karma. I watched his work and he's impressive. As impressive a partner as I could hope for. I really can see us going all the way and walking away with the Tag Team Championship. My opponents I think are as diverse as my own partner and me.

I've seen Stoner Scott Oliver. I remember him from the promotion, Generation-X Wrestling. He was part of a tag team as I recall so that gives him a big advantage over Kid Karma and myself in regards to how best to work in a unit. I was only in a handful of tag team matches in Japan, so Stoner has the experience in more ways than one. We're almost the same size too, but he's big on the hardcore style. As lighthearted as he seems to be in his promos, he sure does like to fight as opposed to wrestling. Usually the hardcore style seems best suited for the men bigger than he and I are. Heavyweights and Super Heavyweights. But here Scott is a Junior Heavyweight, and he's as rough as they come when the rules get thrown out the door. I've wrestled against hardcore competitors before, and the best thing I can accomplish is keep him inside of the ring, and not let him lead the charge with a brawl. Wrestling itself will hopefully be the advantage I need against him, but like I said, he has the experience in more ways than one. hardcore as he is, he might easily fool Karma and me into thinking that's all he's capable of. That isn't a trap I intend to let him lead me into.

His partner Jonathan Downs isn't what you would calla  rookie. He's had experience in other promotions besides this, and even wore some gold too. His attitude leaves a lot to be desired but the skill he backs that ego up with more than makes up for it. I am actually looking forward to stepping in there against Jonathan and seeing just who is the better all around wrestler. I haven't actually seen him personally, so his reputation is mainly hearsay. I just know if half of what I heard is true, he can't be taken lightly. Mister Parker literally beat it into me that only a fool takes someone lightly inside of the ring. It’s the first step to ending up flat on your back and counting the lights over your head. That won't happen to me. I won't allow it. I've had the better training with Mister Parker and yes, Mrs. Costantino, and the experience in on my side. It's been ages since I wrestled against such a pure wrestler so this will be an experience. I'm just sorry that we both can't have our arms raised in victory afterwards. Just me.

Yes, some of Mister Parker's influence shining through right there I guess you could say.

"Bo? Everything's ready!"

My Grams' voice broke me out of my train of thought covering my match, and I promptly shut off the television. Grams would switch the small TV in the kitchen to the game so I could watch it, now that the parade was over.

I headed into where she stood waiting for me and the smells coming were incredible. She really outdid herself, just like she does every year. The table was covered with a huge turkey, enough for six people, let alone just the two of us. Then there were the mashed potatoes, gravy, candied yams, stuffing, and god I could go on but let's just say she would have put the Indians back at the first Thanksgiving to shame with such a meal!

I looked over to her and smiled genuinely, and told her, "It looks incredible. Smells incredible too."

I maneuvered around the table where she took me by the shoulders and I leaned don so she might give me that customary peck on the cheek without the need to stretch. (When did she get so short?) I then pulled her chair out for her and helped her scoot in, and she said, "Let's just hope it tastes as good as you say it smells." and she handed me the knives to carve the turkey.

"Of that I have no doubt." I said as I started to perform the task that Grandpa used to every year.

A career that I love.

Supportive friends such as Mister Ward and Mister Parker and his family.

A grandmother I would do anything for.

For that I am truly thankful.</color>

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