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The Origin Story (Pt 1)
Tulsa, OK; August 27th, 2013
I remember it like it was yesterday. The moment everything happened. I was on my knees, looking up at the cross before me, and I felt something stir inside of me.
Wait, let me back up a little bit, because there’s way more to the story that I need to get to.
Two weeks before this moment, I found myself in some dimly lit club I’d never heard of before, meeting up with some friends for drinks. I know I was only 17, but if you knew my dad back then, you would know that this was nothing new for any of us. I’m wearing my leather pants, a red and black tank top over a fishnet shirt. And lots of glow sticks all over my body. I have a pacifier in my mouth that blinks red, along to the beat of the music. Oh yeah, and I’m feeling sensations I’ve never felt before. The sweat of a dozen other people drips down my body as I dance to the music.
My phone is on vibrate, so I don’t hear it when my friend tries to call me. I feel it, but at this point, it’s hard to tell what I’m actually feeling, and what the drugs are doing to my body. Jerry and Tom brought me here tonight, but they found their way to some older gentlemen who should not have been wearing leather vests and chaps over tight jeans. But, you could see exactly how fat their wallets were, so I understood what was going on. I later found out that they went viral, in more ways than one, via XTube and HPV.
They told me that Jack was going to be there tonight, but he was not. At first, he was running late, and then he just never texted or called… until I had already decided to numb the pain in other ways. I was riding the bull when I started to lose control. I stumbled back against the wall, and my vision started to blur. I fell down to the floor, feeling overheated. I tried to ask for water, but everyone just nodded their heads and laughed, because they knew what I had done. It’s almost funny how ignorance and sin go hand in hand.
But that was not the wake up call. No, not by a long shot. What woke me up, I still don’t know exactly. I just remember waking up in a puddle of my own vomit, next to several used rubbers and empty bottles of Southern Comfort and Jack Daniels. When I looked over next to me, there was a man who was about my dad’s age, in all of his naked glory, pale skin practically glowing in the morning sunlight.
His face was dripping with vomit too, and I can’t honestly say whose it was. All I know is that I got up and left, and swore that this secret would go to the grave with me. I took oaths a lot less serious back then. Turns out, Harold Lemann died in his sleep, choking on his own vomit. And without getting into the gory details, I had a bit of a battle with the law. My DNA was very present, and there was no denying that I was there the moment he died.
Shame filled me, and I almost couldn’t stand to bare the Shepherd name. And at that time, that really said something, because my whole family was victim to their own personal vices, except little Esther. She hadn’t been screwed up yet, or so we thought. My family damn near booted me out of our home. I got called every name in the book, no matter how much I swore I was not one of those fairies.
Turns out, I was. Was, being the key word. I was plagued by my own vice, just like my daddy and his liquor and weed, and my momma and her pain pills. My vice was lust. Lusting for men. Just days before the moment I spoke of at the beginning, I found myself on my knees, crying, and begging for God to help me through this. If this went to trial, I would be tried as an adult. I was in it deep. I asked Him to cleanse me of my sins. I accepted Him as my Lord and Savior. I was literally down on my knees, willing to throw myself at His mercy. And why should he listen to me? A possibly murderous homosexual, deranged thanks to the use of illegal and immoral substances. Why would I deserve any kind of mercy?
Because I truly meant it. I asked for forgiveness, and He gave it. I asked for mercy, and a new lead in the case put someone else there, and they admitted to the whole thing. Epicac oil in the Jack. I slept on my side, Harold did not. I realized at that very moment as I stared up at the cross, that I had truly been saved. And dad told me all about his conversation with an up and coming author, now known for his famous book, Yes You Can. He brought me to this old, dusty building, just begging for us to help breathe some life into God’s temple. And boy did we ever. More than just a new coat of paint. Splintered hands from refinishing the cross I’m kneeling before, and the pews. We put our hearts and our souls into it, even as momma laid up in the attic with Ginny, detoxing from the pain pills. And once we were ready to open those doors, momma was right as rain.
We put our vices aside to set a good example for Esther. To be better people ourselves. To spread the message of God to the masses. But now I’m getting too ahead of myself. I’m down on my knees, praying with everything I’ve got, thanking the Lord for his mercy, when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn back to see dad standing there.
Gerald: You’re doin’ great, son. Just five more minutes kneeling on that rice, and God will have forgiven you.
Me: Just five? I feel like I owe so much more than that, father.
Dad smiled. He rubbed my shoulder and allowed me to pay my penance for as long as I felt it right.
Gerald: You’re a good boy, David. Honestly. You just got tangled up with the wrong crowd. People who wanted to see you stoop to their level. Misery loves company, and in this world, we’re all in good company. That is, until we reach up and ask for His help.
Me: Amen. He has delivered me from the hellfire, by His own divine mercy. I’m not worthy of His mercy.
And that’s when dad stopped rubbing my shoulder. He knew I would not get up yet, because three hours kneeling on rice was not nearly long enough to atone. He knelt down and tilted my head to look at me.
Gerald: You stop that right now. Jesus himself muddled through the crowds of sinners, saving them. Don’t you think that he can forgive us our trespasses, son?
Me: I…
I paused.
Gerald: He chose me, for whatever reason, to speak through. He chose you, your momma, Esther, Ginny, and Andrew to spread his message. He brought us together through trials and tribulations so that we could become strong enough to carry that burden. As long as you can keep yourself out of the arms of another man, you can handle it. Long as I can keep the bottle away, I know I can handle it.
I looked up into his eyes and there was no taking “no” for an answer. I nodded my head because I didn’t even have the words to speak at the time. Dad got up and left me to it. And when I saw the literal glow of the glory of the cross, it made all the pain, all the suffering, all too worth it. I shed a tear. After a couple more hours in silent prayer, I got up. The rice was embedded in my knees, and blood trickled from the punctures. I stumbled through the pain, because it was all too worth it. I heard a commotion downstairs in the basement of the church, and I made my way downstairs. And what I saw, I just couldn’t believe. A wrestling ring.
I was confused. I was excited. I was terrified. I was… happy. My dad took me under his wing, and he trained me how to fight. And not the way he had ten years earlier when his only advice was “Kick ’em in the nuggets” or “punch 'em dead center in the nose”. He had taken much time to teach himself the art of professional wrestling, and he shared all of his tricks with me. He had mom do the same, and she shared her tricks with Esther and Ginny. We were one big happy family… until we came to Sin City…
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Conflicted Faith
November 15th, 2020; Saxon Hotel - Las Vegas, NV
Why do I always do this to myself? God has a purpose for me, and it’s so much greater than I can even dream. So why do I always yearn for the past? The way things used to be? It’s good to remember one’s roots, but if you’re not careful, you’ll wind up going into the clay, and you might never get out.
Yet, here I stand, in front of room 2702 of the Saxon Hotel, debating on whether or not I should knock on the door. I smell that old familiar smell of weed trickling from under the door, and I find myself in silent prayer for Esther. Never once do I doubt my own faith, but I find myself wondering why Esther wasn’t strong enough to resist temptation. She was the most pure of us all.
Before I have the chance to knock on the door, a strange man pushes a yellow GRIME mask over his face. I don’t even get to see his face in time to make out whether I know them or not. They laugh and step to the side for me to enter. A firm grab of the buttocks gets my attention before he leaves and closes the door.
Andrey: Brother! Welcome to our humble abode. Please, make self comfortable.
I glare at the man who was responsible for my sister’s fall from grace. She is curled up in his lap, moaning as she turns to look at me. A sheepish smile comes over her face.
Esther: David…! Did you finally see the light?
Me: I saw the light seven years ago. When I fell to my knees in front of the cross for the first time, and truly believed in what father was saying. When I saw his miracles before my very eyes.
Esther: Bullshit. I call bullshit. You got lucky, and daddy dearest talked you into believing that it was a sign to not be yourself. To choke back who you really are.
I find myself getting angry, and as much as I try not to yell, I know that I won’t make it out of this room without shouting at her.
Me: Who I am is not who I was. I was an unrepentant sinner. I lived this life that you’re clinging to right now, only I found myself in the company of other men.
Esther: Too ashamed to be yourself. Look, I’ve tried just about everything once at this point, and I can assure you, I have yet to burst into flames with my soul ripped down to the fiery pits of hell. You’re buying into a bunch of hogwash, brother.
Andrey: And who is to say company of others, man or woman, or man and woman, or man and man, or woman and woman, or…
I hold my hand up because I can literally feel my stomach churning as he speaks. His eyes dancing across my body, and my own sister just letting it happen. It’s enough to make me sick.
Me: I get the picture. You better be lucky that I don’t walk over there right now and drag your worthless ass off of that couch and teach you a thing or two about fighting, and not just throwing hands.
Andrey: We can teach each other many things, brother-in-law. Many, many things. But to teach someone, their minds must be open to learn. Your father has minds closed all around him.
Esther: I love it when you talk bad about my dad…
Esther turns over and slides up Andrey’s body. She wraps her arms around his neck and she begins kissing on him. I’m at a complete loss. I… I… just don’t know what to do. I walk over and I pull my sister off of her husband and turn her around to look at me.
Esther: What the hell, David?
Me: Exactly! What the hell is going on here? The things shared between a man and his wife is meant strictly for bearing children, and strictly for behind closed doors.
Andrey: Doors are closed. Maybe man and his wife can share you? And we can learn a few things?
Esther: Andrey! Gross. This isn’t the 1700’s, nor is it Arkansas. But, boys will be boys, and I gotta take a piss and check my Twitter. I never get on that fucking thing, so I might be a while.
Esther sneers at me. I think part of her knows that I never would. But another part of her wants to exploit my greatest sin and my greatest vice to punish me for being the favored child of our father. She disappears into the bathroom, so tactless, and reminding me of our mother before our revelation. I glare over at Andrey as I sit back down on the couch. He slides a bottle of vodka in my direction, but I ignore it.
Me: I don’t even really know why I’m here. It wasn’t to break bread with you, heathen.
Andrey shrugs and takes the bottle back. He unscrews the cap and drinks at it like water. He slams it down on the table and shakes his head as he screws the cap back on.
Andrey: I think you know more than you realize, brother.
Me: I am not your brother. One day, Esther will see what she is to you, and what you do to her, and she will come back to us.
Andrey: If being loving husband, full of adventure and excitement, who wants only to see her real self makes me bad person, then slap cuffs on wrists now.
Andrey puts both fists down on the table, glaring at me to handcuff him. Part of me wonders if it’s a euphemism or if he’s being sincere about loving my sister.
Andrey: I will not apologize for loving your sister, ever. To set someone free is most loving thing one can do. To unlock the chains around heart and let run wild is love. Not putting locks and chains around hearts. One thing O’Malley said which is much truth.
Me: Trying to save someone’s eternal soul is the hardest thing to do. Love is hard, and it takes discipline. It’s painful, but it’s for one’s own good.
Andrey smiles as if indulging a child who doesn’t understand what he’s saying. He reaches across the table to put his hand on top of mine.
Andrey: If this is how you love, then you are doing love wrong, brother.
I pull my hand away and glare across the table at Andrey. He looks sad for me. How dare he look that way at me. I don’t need or want his pity. I get up from the couch and he gets right up with me. He steps in front of me before I can do the same to him. I go to push him, but he grabs onto my wrist and stares with those cold, dead blue eyes. But, they aren’t actually that dead. There’s a spark in the back of them, signifying life. But it’s not enough for me to care.
Me: I love just fine, thank you. I’m an engaged man, so I must be doing something right. And if you ever dare to insult my father again, or call me your brother, I will break you in half.
Andrey: You can try your best, David. I’ll be waiting for this moment.
Esther: Are you guys done yet? I forgot no one ever gets on Twitter except Kelli Torres, H.B. Carter, and Dave’s Characters!
Esther peeks from behind the door to see that we’re fully clothed, and she enjoys watching me tense up in anger. She moves in front of Andrey and wraps her arms around my neck, giving me a peck on the cheek.
Esther: I love you, bro. But you really do need to loosen up. Just because you replaced random dicks with a giant stick up your ass doesn’t mean eternal salvation. You’ll see that soon enough.
And just like that, without realizing it, I’m outside of the hotel room door. I don’t know if I walked outside by myself, or if she pushed me, or even worse, if he pushed me. But, there I stand, cold and alone. More alone than I’ve felt in quite some time. And the sinister chill going down my spine just screams… something that I can’t comprehend. And that’s when I feel that itch in the back of my head. That buzzing of the brain. The old demon has come back to try to deter me from my path of glory. What starts as a buzz, a scratch, a whisper, slowly becomes a pure shock, a clawing, and a guttural scream within my head. Something that I just can’t shake like I always had before. I stood there, having thoughts of what would have happened if I had shoved him down on the couch, punched him in the face, and then leaned down and kissed his lips. A blush floods my cheeks, as my mind takes me deeper and deeper into the sinful and immoral thoughts placed in my head by the serpent himself. The painful pleasure. The sizzling lust. Feeling the blood course through my every vein. I only redden my cheeks more by slapping myself across the face. I walk down the hallway as I pull my phone from my pocket. Immediately, I dial Ginny.
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A Higher Purpose
November 16th, 2020; Saxon Hotel - Las Vegas, NV
A man does not show weakness by crying. He does not break. He is to be made of stone, and never let anyone see a single emotion besides anger. That’s what it means to be a man. So what I’m doing right now is the exact opposite of that. I am lying in my own room at the Saxon Hotel, on the couch, tears rolling down my cheeks. Ginny has my head in her lap, stroking my hair as she just shakes her head.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not blubbering. But, there’s a few tears stained on my cheeks. I’m going on about everything that happened when I made my visit to Esther’s room. She babies me, which admittedly feels nice. She looks down into my eyes, and she wipes a tear away for me. She smiles, a smile like I’m not used to seeing on her face, ever. She leans down and kisses my forehead. She waits for me to explain everything… except for the carnal desires. I’m not that distraught right now to not be able to realize that it’s just a wicked temptation. But, once I’m done, Ginny continues to brush my hair out of my face, the mess that I am.
Virginia: Hun, can I be brutally honest with you?
Me: Definitely. I need to hear this. I am strong enough to take it.
Virginia: You should never have gone to see your sister. I’ll spare you my thoughts on that bratty little troll doll, but there is a reason Father Gerald is not pursuing her return to the flock. You have to trust in that.
Me: You don’t know her the way I do. We grew up together in a messed up situation. We looked out for each other the best we could. We’re just as much a part of how things turned out as my mother and father. There would be no Church of the Good Shepherds if not for us
Ginny stops rubbing my head. She stiffens up and I know this is my time to sit up. She folds her arms across her chest as she looks off into the distance, pretending I’m not even there. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what has gotten into her.
Me: Would you talk to me, please, Ginny?
She turns even more away from me to let me know that she won’t. I shake my head because I don’t have time for this. I stand up and I walk over to the only thing that has made sense to me over the last year or so; The Good Book. As I pick it up, Ginny looks back to me with a smile on her face.
Virginia: That is why there is a Church of the Good Shepherds. Right there in your hand, hun. Don’t be such a megalomaniac. Humble yourself to His divine word. Have your little bout with injustice, take on O’Malley, and return to us. Your father simply thinks you’re being ridiculous, and I have to agree.
I turn to look at her, because I can’t believe she’s just said that.
Me: And that’s a problem, Virginia! I am your future husband, and you should believe in my mission. You should stand by my side and support me. Yet, I had to call you, having a mental breakdown to get you to show your support.
Virginia: Don’t you paraphrase scripture at me, David Michael Shepherd! You have my full support, but I am also devout to the words in that book, and I have a duty to perform. So why don’t you be a man and do what needs to be done. Separate the wheat from the chaff and leave Esther be, ya hear?
Me: Don’t bark orders at me, and do NOT call my masculinity into question again, EVER! “Ya hear?”
Mocking her with the last part, I turn back away from her. I need the Word right now, more than I have in ages. The images continue to flood my head, and there’s nothing else I can think to do to stop them. Ginny is only making me want to go back to 2102 and tongue wrestle Andrey into submission, and I ffffff-rickin’ hate it!
Virginia: Then be a man and suck it up, buttercup. We don’t need no regression, now do we?
I ignore her, because if I say anything else, it will be “Go to hell, but leave my engagement ring by the door.” I can’t afford that kind of stress right now. I continue reading the word with all of my might, hearing it echo inside of my head. Ginny waits uncomfortably for me to say something, anything, but I won’t. I can’t. Finally, she comes up and puts her hand on my chest.
Virginia: Come on now, baby. We both got tempers. I am sorry for sayin’ that. I just want to motivate you to do what needs to be done, to listen to reason. Esther is a lost cause. SCW is a lost cause. You don’t belong there, and you’ve only gone there to try to prove your worth to your father, which is… insane. He knows your worth.
Me: Oh? Did his attitude change since the last time I saw him, in the box seats at Underground a month ago? Has he suddenly seen that I am more than just a deacon to him, but a true messenger of God? Ready to carry out His will in any way necessary, including slaying the ego of that contemptuous O’Malley?
Virginia: Well, no, but…
Me: But nothing. We really should re-evaluate things. My father is content with staying in SCU, but the dream was always to expand to SCW. The company that has been around for nearly a decade now. The reason any of us have jobs. We were always meant to come here.
Ginny rubs my arm, but I pull it away. A little more sass enters her voice.
Virginia: We still are meant to enter SCW… when we’re ready. Do you honestly think you’re ready?
Me: I’m not the man who lost the Hardcore Tag Team Championships because of an irrational fear of rhinoceros. I’ve won my fair share against the roster there.
Virginia: And you’ve lost your fair share as well. You are not the champion because you lost to O’Malley, remember?
Like a stinging slap to the face, I clearly remember that loss. I can’t even rebut that. So, instead, I just continue reading The Good Book, finding my peace there.
Virginia: You are gonna make one hey of an SCU Underground Champion. And an even better SCW World Heavyweight Champion. Some day. When you’re ready. Your father just wants what is best for you. He doesn’t want you to get embarrassed by overshooting this thing with O’Malley. We kinda already saw how that played out last time.
Me: My father created me. He lifted me up from the cesspool of sin I was living in. He trained me how to fight. He built me to be a soldier of the one true God. For him not to believe in me is for him not to believe in himself. Even if I don’t always agree with my father, I do want to make him proud. But it stings that none of you believe in me whatsoever. It makes me feel alone going into this fight with O’Malley.
Ginny nods her head. It’s her turn to sit by quietly while I preach the truth. She just wraps her arms around me and leans her head in.
Virginia: You’re right. I can’t argue with you there, hun. I just wish you could see that he loves you, and what he’s doing is for you. He wants to lay down the righteous path for you, so that you can carry the torch when he’s gone. And he doesn’t wanna see you get hurt.
Me: It’s funny. I see a fork in the road in front of me. The one where I hear him tell me what’s right, what’s wrong, and who I’m supposed to be. And then I see two choices. One where I humble myself and trust that he knows what’s best for me, and fall back in line. And one where I rebel against everything he’s taught me, like Esther did.
Virginia: And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t talk with Esther again. She will tempt you down the wrong path. You are right, you’re on a righteous path, and you see the light ahead of you. And you see your sister trying to hold up a small lantern in the darkness down the other path. That’s what I been trying to tell ya, hun. That’s what your father’s been trying to tell ya too.
It makes sense. I cannot deny it. This is the part where I have to truly say goodbye to Esther. This time, I don’t let Ginny see me shed a tear for my sister. She is dead and gone, and all that remains is her seized soul, tormenting me, and only me. She is truly the walking dead now. Gone forever. The tear falls onto the page with Psalms 23.
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Outrun the Past
November 18th, 2020; Floyd Lamb Park - Las Vegas, NV
The weather is lovely this morning, so I find myself outside, enjoying all of God’s glory. The cool breeze from the lake along the trail is a great way to clear my mind, and get focused on my upcoming match. It is time to push the anger and hatred out of my heart, and focus on the task at hand.
I put on my gray sweatsuit before leaving, and a pair of sunglasses, accompanied by my white sneakers for the attire, hoping to blend into the crowd more. I didn’t really feel like being noticed, because I wanted to get out and get a change of scenery. My disposable mask clings to my face as I run against the breeze.
A mother and her children go the opposite way on bicycles, laughing and smiling as they, too, enjoy the day. It brings a smile to my face, under my mask. I give a nod to a man who jogs behind them, until I notice the markings on his skin. Something called “Slipknot” with a devil star on his upper arm. And already, the rage is boiling inside of me. I clench my fists together as I weave around an elderly man enjoying a morning walk.
I see a homeless man asleep on the park bench. I go off the path to check on him. He smells of rotten urine, cigarette butts, and rust. I reach into the pocket of my jacket and pull out a few bills, and I set them in his pocket. He jumps up and grabs onto my arm, trying to pull me over, but his attempt is feeble at best. I pull back and he sputters in his toothless way.
Man: Tryin’ to get fresh with me, sonny boy? I don’t do any of that stuff, not for free!
I wretch a little in my mouth. I pull the bills back out of his pocket and sneer at him. Ye of so little faith. Though, I don’t want the money anymore, because it had been infected by his filth, so instead, I tear them up and throw them in the trashcan next to him. I pull out a bottle of hand sanitizer, and I apply it, letting him see the disgust as he walks over to the can to try to collect the pieces of the twenties I disposed of.
The old me would have called him a jackass, but instead, I just think it as I go back on my jog. I go around the entire park twice, and the fatigue is setting in. But the truth is that I can’t give up yet. I have to work on my speed training. Of course, a few of the most devout stop me in my tracks and they hold out their copies of The Good Book for me to sign. One woman even asks for a baptism in the lake, which I am more than happy to oblige. Once the excitement is over, and the woman leaves anew, I go back to jogging. Before I know it, I have gone for 4 hours, stopping very little. Hungry, cold, and tired. But, I keep going. I continue to jog faster and faster until it turns into a sprint, and then a full on run. In the back of my mind, I find myself thinking the same thing.
“I’ve gotta catch’em. I’ve got to be able to keep up.”
Over, and over. O’Malley has outrun so much in his life that it is time one of his problems catches up to him. Before I even know what’s happening, I run from the park. I run all the way to… I don’t really know where I’m going. Not until I get there, at least. There is it, though, glaring me right in the face. A flowered cross by the side of the highway. As I reach it, I find myself knelt down right in front of it. I can’t help but stare those haunting blue gray eyes head on. That darker than midnight hair, faded only by time and age.
Me: Gosh damn it! Why did you have to leave us so soon, Misty?!
I shed a few tears, wiping them away as the wind picks up, blowing my hair all around, and sending a chill through my legs and feet from the wet clothes. I pull the picture off of the cross as I fall into the cross. I lean against it as I catch my breath and hold back the flow of the tears.
Me: You were so young, with so much potential! Victim of an accident on a rainy, slick highway. You left behind two children. Eden Staggs, who is taken care of by her abomination of a father. And an orphaned Owen O’Malley, taken care of by your family, because his own father couldn’t stand the thought of raising him without you. Or at all.
I shake my head as I bring the picture closer to my face to see it more clearly as it flaps in the wind.
Me: Spike Staggs is a horrendous human being. We all know that. But, he has two things your widower does not. A successful career, and the spine to raise his bastards to adulthood. He owns his mistakes in life, including you. He wins top tier championships. He handles his obligations, to the point that he breaks bones for them, or gets kicked in the testicles for them. Thinking back, you probably did him a major favor.
I’m smiling, and I know it. So I force a fake cry as I hold the picture close to my chest, sobbing without tears as I look up at the sky.
Me: WHYYYYYYYY?!?
And then I pull the picture back out so that I can look at it again.
Me: But, God has a way of evening the score. You missed out on a mutual life of sin with Spike, but he got a wife that is responsible for at least seven point eight million sock babies, while you got stuck with… Hmmm…
I hope that she knows who I’m talking to, because I don’t have the heart to say his name out loud right now. Not during this tender talk.
Me: … you know… But, you bore a beautiful baby boy into this world, and with the help of a man who is the man of your dreams. At least I would hope, because why else would you fornicate and marry to cover up the bastardization of your then unborn child? That’s beyond me, honestly. But, either way, you and your husband shared the glorious gift of life. Owen O’Malley. Such beauty, right?
I nod, because I know she would absolutely agree with me.
Me: And after just a couple years, it all ended so abruptly and unexpectedly. Social media was shocked for days, at least for the nerds who pay attention to wrestling Twitter. It was probably trending, right? It’s not like Delia Darling was a thing at the time… ohhhhh…. Sorry…
I suck air through my teeth, trying to apologize to Misty for being so forgotten and lost in the shuffle. The same way C.S. Lewis was forgotten when JFK was mowed down on the same day.
Me: Your husband decided he wanted to honor you by training to wrestle. That’s noble, right? I mean, yes, but it would’ve been more noble not to abandon your son with your family while he’s off fornicating with some chick who tried to erase your memory entirely. Or, do I just not truly understand my fellow man? They’re engaged to be wed, did you know? Gosh, I can be such a gossip.
I flash a bit of a smile, but then I return to my heart to heart with Misty O’Malley.
Me: He ran from your memory instead of honoring it. He ran from your son to pursue his career and his new love interest. He ran from Ben Jordan until he got called out on it. He ran from my father. He ran from SCU. He just ran. Sort of the way your car did, from the actual road. Yours is much more tragic, because you didn’t have control… unless you actually meant to do that?
I give her a sideways glance.
Me: I sure hope not, because that would be a mortal sin, damning your soul to hell for all eternity. Not wise. But, at least it would be understandable. Your career was in the tank. You were with a second string while your first string was off fornicating Mikah, and putting a ring on that. Delia had the spotlight. Mikah had your man. And so did Delia, I hear. Everyone but you had him. He’s like the rich man’s Kristopher Ryans. So I get why taking the easy way out would be so appealing. Especially when you realize that you’re trapped by O’Malley. You’re a victim of his, really. I mean, how quickly did he move on once he was established as a wrestler? I clung to your name until it’s meaning faded, and then he clung to the GO Gym’s reputation for as long as it would carry him. He used you as a stepping stone, just like Drake Green did. Just like Spike did. Just like Delia, Odette, Roxi, and Vixen did. Being used up until there’s nothing left isn’t a good feeling, I’d imagine.
I sigh as I give her a nod. But then, I shrug my shoulders.
Me: Well, too bad you killed yourself. Now you reside in Hell with Satan. But, you were kind of destined to get there anyway after the whole “Queen of the Damned” thing. P.S. screw you for leaving us to deal with Ruby. Why couldn’t she have been in the car instead of you? Or even with you? Life is so unfair. Anyway, I hate to cut this short, but I need to get back to training. I have to keep up with your deadbeat husband.
And just like that, I step back and let the wind take the picture, right into a mud puddle. I’d help her out of the pit, but it’s too late at this point. I resume running along the side of the highway.
(https://68.media.tumblr.com/af4527bf52b0e23f4720048f2d8cadfa/tumblr_oiedrbpBEj1tuyf8ho1_250.gif)
Revelations (Pt 1)
Undisclosed date, time, and location
The room is dark, barren of any sort of light. The only sound is that of a dripping pipe. If you could see anything, it would only be the dampness of this underground bunker. I turn on a light in the center of the room once I find the string to pull on. You can see that the walls are lined with shelves containing anything one would need to survive a nuclear blast, or worse. Food, water, blankets, pillows, lanterns, batteries of all sizes. Then, in the middle of the room, is a cot that I’m standing next to. It’s not glamorous, but it is practical.
Me: Welcome to the end of times. The bunker for those who will not be lucky enough to feel God’s love through the rapture Me? I don’t need to worry about surviving, because I already know I will be called to everlasting life.
I shrug, because I know it’s not a popular opinion. But, it is what I truly believe in my bones.
Me: Others, who have not repented for their sins and made things right by God, will need to worry. They will find themselves living in this environment, underground, hiding from the world outside. That’s a very common thing, isn’t it? Hiding from stuff. People do it through sex, drugs, drinking, fitness, mindless wandering through satanic dribble that comes out of Hollywood, or molests our ears through the radio… Oh, and avoidance.
I nod because this one is very important. I can’t help but let the audience know that by cracking a bit of a smile. My eyes light up as I point at the camera.
Me: Hey, speaking of avoidance, I have a match coming up against O’Malley. You know, the king of avoidance. The perpetually yellow-bellied, quicker than lightning, faster than a speeding train when it comes to obligations. Contracts. Children. Honoring his deceased wife. The list goes on and on. The man is a real piece of work.
I turn to look at a jar of dehydrated meat, and I can’t help but to be distracted by the fact that this is probably the most disgusting, unnatural thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
Me: This looks very valuable to the dwellers of the underbelly. I’m going to just leave this right here.
I put the jar back on the shelf and I turn to see all of the equipment made to make life easier after society collapses. As I tinker with it all, I continue.
Me: People have been asking me a lot of questions lately, like they are just now realizing that I exist. But the biggest question, and the one that just digs deep into every last nerve of mine is this; “Brother David! Why did you attack O’Malley?” Shoot, it was even in the preview released to the public. Do people just not pay attention to anything that doesn’t cause a ding on their phone? Are people really that fricken vapid? I will give you a little lesson that should go a long way.
I raise up my hand with one finger.
Me: The Sin City Network is a great thing. That’s probably how you’re watching this promotional video right here. You can watch Climax Control every week. And Super Cards like High Stakes X. You can access all things Sin City Wrestling. It’s great, right? Maybe a bit lewd, but once I get past O’Malley, I’ll help take care of that for y’all. But, if you just drop down a few categories, you will find this thing called Sin City Underground and GRIME. Equally as lewd and disgusting, but my father, mother, fiancee, and good friend, Andrew Borg are working on that as we speak.
My second finger is now up and my other hand is wrapped around it. The sarcasm is rolling thick off of my tongue now, even through my attempt to educate.
Me: Now that I’ve told you where you can find all things SCU and GRIME, how about you take advantage of that money that you could be tithing to the Church of the Good Shepherds, and pay some fucking attention to the sister company, and I wouldn’t have to waste my time explaining why I attacked O’Malley. I mean, seriously. You don’t even have to watch the show. Just knowing it exists, and a few highlights would tell you why I went after O’Malley. Do you even follow his Twitter? Or are you too busy fawning over the half naked bombshells to pay attention to literally anything?
I catch myself yelling now. I pinch the bridge of my nose, because I want so badly to hurt somebody right now. Some sinner, any sinner would do. But, here I am, all alone with a camera and a bunch of survival gear and supplies.
Me: Okay, now, since I know how little my word means to you, which should have been obvious enough by the total disregard for His almighty word, I’ll back it up a little bit. O’Malley used to be the Underground Champion. Shocking, right? His time as the champion even overlapped with his abysmal Roulette Championship reign. Does that ring a bell? Some of you? Good. So, people fought him for the title for three months, where he acted like he couldn’t even be bothered to show up, let alone carry the belt with integrity. He defended it, and sometimes GRIME caused him to retain by mobbing everybody in the ring at the time. Then, in God’s very own, well, thought out plan, He destined my father, Father Gerald Shepherd for those who are too worried about giving into their sins and vices to know that, to be the one to take the belt off of O’Malley. Do you follow?
I clap my hands together for the idiots watching this that might, mayyyyybe, understand what’s going on. For the majority, though, I continue.
Me: Once O’Malley wasn’t able to just walk around with two titles and not put any work into being a champion, let alone a double champion. So he made up some tired excuse about focusing on his other title in SCW. Well, we all saw how that turned out, right? Right. So, he never made an effort to come back to SCU, instead focusing on SCW, the “main brand”. My father seemed to get a good laugh out of this, because he spent a month telling everyone what a coward O’Malley was, and he took it a step further and dropped his SCU contract just as quickly as he dropped custody of his son to his dead wife’s family. I didn’t find it so comical.
I shake my head. There is so much more than anything I could ever say inside of my head at this moment.
Me: I took offense to that. He got to go to SCW to wrestle while my father, and the members of my congregation were delegated to the “basement brand”. I wasn’t going to stand for it. And I even said that on Underground. So I showed up to get O’Malley right where I wanted him. And it worked. Because on Sunday, I get to make an example of O’Malley, and show just how far the reach of The Church of the Good Shepherds really goes. And you can count on that, as God is my witness.
I bring my hands down to my side as I come closer to the camera.
Me: I’ve said all I want to say about O’Malley, because he doesn’t even deserve that much mention. He couldn’t be bothered to mention anyone in his time as the SCU Champion, except Ben Jordan. You know, the man he blindsided with a briefcase and stole the SCU Championship from him, and then couldn’t even own his actions. That’s how little he is able to commit. If I were Darcy, I’d be worried about that little fact. Even that Jezebel deserves better than that, and that says a lot. But, if God decides to have mercy on her, O’Malley won’t be able to walk out of that ring. I just might end him altogether, but only if it is God’s will.
I want so badly to leave off the last part, because it is almost more of a guarantee than a request. But, as a good Christian, I just can’t.
Me: In closing… “May God have mercy on your soul, because I sure as hell won’t.”
And with that, I turn the camera off, leaving all to look forward to my match with O’Malley on Sunday, November 22nd, 2020, live on the Sin City Network.