The following is an excerpt from the blog “The Shorty Bounce” by Devin Tyler
[font color=red]Blast From the Past is just around the corner and there’s lots of names out there returning for this show and it seems like there’s a lot of hype ahead of them. I can’t wait to meet some of them. Call me a fan. Not a fan of them, but a fan of this sport, and a fan of the opportunity to take them down one by one.
People have been asking me, “Shorty, why are you popping up here for a chance at a title that you have no chance of winning? It’s a bad bet.” Fuck you because I can. Exposure is exposure and right now I need it. Do you take me seriously? I didn’t think so. 3’11” and 165lb. I’m built like a goddamned pit bull and just as vicious.
My entire career I’ve been told that I’m just another little person and I will be nothing more than the butt end of every joke. I will not accept that. I am bigger than my height. I am more than my limitations. What I lack in size, I make up for with bite. While you’re laughing at me, I’m going to kick your ass with speed and strength, and you will find yourself on your back for three, bitch. Lights out.
Back to the question of why I’m here. I’m here because people don’t expect me to be. I heard there was an open invite and I figured why not? If I find myself an audience, I’m going to perform for them. They might not like what I have to say and they might not like what I’m about to do, but that’s their problem and not mine.
Vegas hasn’t ever seen someone like me. “Midget wrestling” isn’t new to the city or the promotion. I looked shit up and it’s happened before, but it wasn’t something serious. It was the piss break of the night, or the comedy relief after a hardcore Roulette Rules match. It wasn’t the highlight of the night.
So it looks like I got a little bit lucky when I got teamed up with last years winner. Let’s see if Lady Luck is on my side, or if it’s a case where lightning won’t strike twice. It’s Hunger Games out there bitches and as it stands, the odds are forever in my favor. I look forward to seeing what Sin City is able to throw at me.
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Thursday, April 12th, 2018; Cornerstone Classic Steakhouse - Gold Coast Casino Las Vegas
It’s a cloudy day in Las Vegas, but the city is never dark. The neon lights shine bright enough for the darkest of nights. The highlight of it all right now is the Gold Coast Casino, the home to Sin City Wrestling, the site to Climax Control 1 and Climax Control 201. Fans of the promotion are flocking for the return show and no former star is safe from the mob of flashing cell phone cameras and sharpie pens.
That is where Devin Tyler is safe. He walks from the elevator and walks to the Cornerstone Classic Steakhouse dressed in a dark grey tailored suit with a blue striped dress shirt that is unbuttoned down to half way down his torso. He has a smile on his face as he watches returning stars trying to dodge the masses, and others who use it to feed their egos, all while he whistles and walks up to the restaurant.
He steps inside and admires the red, black, and tan tile of the floors and the wooden facade. The neon blue lighting of the underside of the bar glows across the first few tables, jam packed with people, save for one. Devin looks over to the hostess, who doesn’t even seem to notice him there. He clears his throat as he licks his thumb to brush it over his eyebrows and he smiles.
“Oh, sweetie, are you lost? Should I try to page your parents?”
Devin’s face sours quickly when he hears this and he stomps his foot.
“I’m not a damn child! I’m a grown ass man, and I have a reservation!”
“Do your parents know that you use such language?”
The hostess asks as she leans over the counter and her top shows off her ample cleavage.
Devin flicks a quarter on there and then rubs at his chin.
“Yo, Milk Bubbles. It's Devin Tyler. Got a reservation for two. Chop chop.”
The hostess opens her mouth at Devin’s comment and he reaches up to lift it to closed. She is stunned but grabs two menus as she leads him to his table. She places the menu down at the bar style table and places the other menu across from him. She starts to walk off when Devin clears his throat again. He looks over at the table and then to her. She is confused for a second.
“Are you freakin’ serious? A bar table for a man that isn't even 4 feet tall?” Devin shrugs his shoulders as he tries to figure out the logic in all of this.
The hostess taps her chin as she tries to figure out a solution.
“Do you need a booster seat?”
Devin’s jaw drops to the floor practically before his eyebrows drop in the middle out of anger and he waves her away. He climbs up the chair, struggling as he tries to gain his footing on the rung of the chair. He gets up to the seat and his legs kick as he tries to swivel around.
“Goddamn bitch asking me if I need a fucking booster seat? What do I look like a four year old or something?”
Devin stops himself from moving for a second when he hears footsteps approaching behind him. He goes limp as he turns around to look at Evie Baang coming up behind him, cameras flashing in the process.
“I guess I should be thankful that our upcoming match isn’t a ladder match because then we would really be fucked.”
Evie flashes a devious smile in his direction as she pulls out her own seat and sits down. She lifts up the menu as she tries to pretend she is giving Devin the courtesy of trying to hide her laughter, but she gives him a peek.
Devin finally finds the momentum as he swings his legs in front of him and twists to scoot onto the edge of his chair.
“I could say the same about a math contest, Sugar Tits. I took the liberty of ordering you a salad when I saw how fat ya ass has gotten since last year. You’re welcome.”
Evie bites at her bottom lip as she lets a laugh escape. She reaches across the table and gently pat’s Devin on the top of his head.
“It’s so cute that you are trying to play wrestler right now, but what do you really want to be when you grow up? A Veterinarian? Firefighter? Marine Biologist?”
Shorty flips his menu open as he tries to pretend that he’s not paying attention to her, but the vein in the center of his forehead popping out says the exact opposite.
“Maybe I should have ordered the fish for you. They say it helps brain function. It must be exhausting repeating the same fucking midget schtick you keep spitting at me, ma. A real workout for the brain.”
As Evie is about to respond, a set of fans approach and ask for an autograph from Evie. Evie smiles for the camera as the fan leans in to catch a selfie.
“Amy look! It’s Evie Baang, and she’s like having lunch with her baby nephew or something. It’s so cute.”
Devin slams his fist against the table so hard that it knocks over the empty water glasses sitting out.
“I’m not a fucking child! I’m twenty-six years old for crying out loud! Why don’t you assholes go get a life and stop bothering this has been?”
The fans gasp at the outburst from Devin and they walk off having been offended. Evie feels a mix of aggravation with the “has been” comment and relief that Devin cleared the pestering fans away from her.
“I could have handled that myself.”
“And I guess you couldn’t have done it before they pissed me off to the point that I had to. Damn, I hope we have better chemistry in the ring than we do right now, because you leave a lot to be desired.”
“You are making this too easy and I’m no longer having fun with it, so let’s cut to business, shall we?”
Evie folds the menu down in front of her as the waitress comes over for introductions. She looks to Evie first. “New York strip, medium rare and a loaded baked potato.”
Evie sets her glass upright as the waitress fills it to the top. She sets Devin’s up and fills it as she smiles at him.
“One thing that we agree on. That’s a start. Let’s make it two baked potatoes because I’m hungry A.F. right now.”
“Honestly, sweetheart, I just don’t know where you put it? Even with a hollow leg, am I right?”
Evie jests with the waitress, doing only so to upset Devin, and it works. She shares a laugh with the waitress who takes her leave from the group as Evie looks back to Devin.
“I thought it was getting old, but I was wrong.”
“That’s what you get for thinking, honey bunny.”
Devin takes a few gulps of his water as his cold blue eyes stare at her like a rattlesnake who is waiting for his prey to get just where he wants it.
“I know you think I’m a fucking joke. That’s not news to me. Ever since I tried breaking out four years ago, and got laughed out of my promotion, I realized that no one is ever going to take me serious until I made up for my size with an attitude of a seven foot giant. We can waste all of our time going back and forth with this childish bullshit, or we can try to make ourselves get along and we might actually stand a chance in this tournament.”
Evie listens with an almost absent sparkle in her eye, tuning out most of what Devin is saying until it somehow becomes relevant to her.
“Boo hoo, cry me a fucking river. People laughed at you so you think you’re a twice your size because of your attitude. I’m not trying to give you some kind of tough love because I want to see us succeed. I’m actually offended that they stuck their last years winner with someone like you. It goes to show that Mark and Christian want me to fail. I’m not pretending to be pissed off to break the ice. I’m really pissed off.”
“That’s great, because I am too. I’m angry that they expect me to get along with someone who already had their fifteen minutes of air time because they know how to sinch their waist to show off their ass, and knows a little more than two moves. I already feel like an outcast in Sin City, and I’m only here for the tournament, which I’m guessing is just for the week since we’re already settled on losing.”
Devin growls this under his breath so not to cause a scene in the restaurant, due to the growing awareness around them
Evie sips on her water, listening to Devin speak. She doesn’t know what’s coming over her but she gives him the opportunity to speak. Once he is finished, she responds in a bitchy sort of way.
“I never said I wanted to lose. I said that I wanted a different partner. You are shit, and I even tried to find one way to spin having you as a partner. I really did try, but all I found was you punching people in the dick and bitching and moaning about not being taken seriously. I can’t see us winning. I just can’t.”
“I want to do more than punch people in the dick. I can do more than that. Comedy sells, but it doesn’t pay the bills. I’m not even angry anymore. I’m kind of depressed that I wasted my time for a cool grand to compete in this thing. I could have showed more of my skill, but instead, I’m teamed with someone who has just as little faith in me as I do in them.”
Devin draws with his finger on the condensation on the glass.
Evie rolls her eyes as she brings her phone out onto the table, trying not to show any reaction to Devin’s comments. Devin takes notice and sighs as he takes a drink from his cup. He looks over toward the ordering station to see if their food is close to coming so that he can escape this miserable meeting. With no such luck, he shakes his head.
“You know it’s a real shame that you are so set on this outcome, because we’re not up against the impossible. Sure, Roxi Johnson might be able to wipe the floor with you, but O’Malley is an inexperienced hack who won’t get far against me. He’s arrogant and thinks he knows better than I do when I have years of experience he doesn’t have. There’s a team strategy. Why don’t you sit on the outside of the ring and look pretty while I do the grunt work and put that asshole O’Malley on his back for three?”
Devin flashes an arrogant smile across the table at Evie, who doesn’t look the least bit impressed by the shot he threw in at the beginning.
“Roxi Johnson, the Bondage Queen of Twitter? Right. While I cannot deny that I look hot outside of the ring, I am twice as hot inside of the ring. Maybe we can get a little five piece suit, a wig, and a giant lollipop. ‘We represent the Lollipop Guild, the Lollipop Guild.”
Evie pretends to be enthusiastic as she sings the song from the iconic movie, but Devin slams his fist on the table again. Evie stops and stares at him as he glares back at her. Soon enough, both of them start laughing. Devin shakes his head.
“I have to admit, that was good. Not intelligent, but unexpected.”
“I’m good for that now and then. At least now we know that you can take a bloody joke.”
Evie puts her phone away as she sighs, trying not to crack a smile once more. Devin rubs at his face to try to wipe the smile off of his. Just as he is about to look around once more, their order arrives promptly. Devin wipes his forehead with relief as the two share a meal. With the initial animosity aside, they talk and get to know each other a little better, becoming more and more comfortable with each other, sharing a few laughs in the process, and forming a bond that could very well grow to be unbreakable within time, should they be given such an opportunity.
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Friday, April 12th, 2018; Gold Coast Casino Las Vegas Auditorium
The Sin City Wrestling Fan Fest is in full effect this evening as the crowds finally get their chance to get all of the autographs that they could ever want. Champions with their belts, and their favorite challengers lined up at tables. It was a wrestling fan’s dream come true. Sin City Wrestling was gracious enough to allow the non-contracted wrestlers to have their own tables. For a second, it felt nice to Devin to sit back and receive the star treatment. That was until hardly anyone came up to his table, and if they did, it was to give him “aww’s” and snapping pictures in his face. He shakes his head in disappointment as he kicks his feet up on the table and leans back in his chair.
“At least there’s some hot bitches up in here. Summer must be just around the corner.”
Devin smiles to himself, thinking about it. However, a crowd of people come up on him, and he is surprised to see these faces. He leans back down and gets ready to stand up for a fight until he sees the ring leader.
“Hey yo, Shorty what’s happening?”
The tall, muscular “Iranian Crusher” Kader Hasheem, star of Honor Wrestling approaches the table wearing a shirt that looks like it could rip if he moves any of his rippling muscles the wrong way. Shorty jumps over the table into the arm of his very unlikely friend.
“Motherfucker, what are you doing all the way down here? Alabama is a far cry from Vegas!”
Devin laughs as the only person who is allowed to make short jokes to him cradles him like a baby for a second before setting him back down.
“You didn’t think I wouldn’t support my little friend like this? I’m hurt asshole. Of course I would bring the cheering party, Devin.”
“Hey! With the audience, it is ‘Shorty’ and only ‘Shorty’. Do not call me Devin.
Devin looks around at the group in front of him. The misfits of Northern Lights Wrestling have come along with the Honor star to show support. The obscure such as Queen of Apathy and Drew Masters are there, and the unlikely faces that are not new to Sin City Wrestling, such as Mz. Holly Wood and Celeste North, who receives some of the darkest stares as she smiles in return.
Hasheem looks around at his surroundings, raising his nose at it before putting down money for an autograph from Shorty.
“Some of us are your friends and others are your enemies, but Northern Lights stick together, even though I got called up to Honor, we are still brothers. We come out here to Vegas to cheer you on when you take this tournament by storm.”
“That's if I even make it past the first round. You are acting like I have this in the bag.”
Devin says when he looks out to those who are there to support him. They all shake their heads refusing to listen to it.
Celeste moves forward and sits down on the edge of his table folding her arms over her chest as she looks down at him.
“Coming from someone who made a career here in SCW out of being the underdog let me tell you that you can't lose faith in yourself. You just can't. If you lose faith then you won't have anyone believing in you and you will be defeated by yourself. Go out there and win this match, and then the next, and then the next. Take it one step at a time.”
Mz Holly Wood steps up next dressed in her finest drag suitable only for the Las Vegas Strip.
“Baby boy you need to take a look at who you are facing. You got a semi-retired wrestler slash superhero, and a rookie who wants to cling to the tit of his dead wife’s career. You have experience and determination to win this damn match.”
“You know what? You're right. Me and Evie are not the jokes in this match. It's our opponents.”
Devin signs an autograph for a fan who walks up to his table. He shakes hands with them as they pose for a picture. The fan walks off and Devin shakes his head.
“I have spent all this time worrying about embarrassing myself and letting my partner Evie down, but the fact is that I'm not going to let her down. I'm not going to let myself down either. I'm a skilled competitor. I might be short but I can definitely pack a punch. I know what I'm doing inside of the ring. I just finally found a promotion that let me come in to prove that I'm capable of kicking ass.
“Let's talk Roxi Johnson. I have seen a few of her highlights and I did my research on this company. A Grand Slam Bombshell Champion. One of the biggest names to ever set foot in the Sin City Wrestling. I should really be intimidated going up against someone like that right?”
Devin looks right into the camera and he waits a second for someone to respond. However, no one does. Instead, he gets a few strange looks from his fellow wrestlers.
“Maybe, but I'm not. Roxi Johnson is like oh so many before her and even more since. She thinks she is the best. She thinks she went out on her terms and that she could come back at any time and regain her throne. It is too bad that she is delusional because that's not going to happen. Even if I weren't in this match, there is no fucking way that Evie would sit back and let that happen. This is still her time. She really can come back and take the throne. She isn't the champion because she didn't want to be the champion. Well guess what she wants now? What Mikah has. And that means exactly what you think it means, that she is ready, willing, and very able, to storm right through the goodie two-shoes heroine of this tale. I get the pleasure of having the best seat in the house while she does so.
“Evie and I had a really long talk, and we’ve gotten on the same page about things. We are ready to take on whatever Roxi and O’Malley want to try to throw our way. Evie has been spending most of her time in the gym, and I have been no different. We come correct to this party. I’m not going to sit here and say that we’re better, because I don’t really need to. We trained together, and we’ve been keeping in contact about our strategies. We might actually be the most in sync team that is in this tournament. Since we’re in Vegas, I’m just going to say it. A smart man would put their money on Evie and Shorty to win the entire thing.”
Devin won’t apologize for being blunt about this as he signs a few more pictures for fans who are starting to gather around the Northern Lights Wrestling star, and his company that has joined him all the way from Canada to be here.
“Roxi is a thing of the past. That much is already known by everyone but her, and even I think that she knows it’s the truth somewhere deep down inside of her. How could she not? She hasn’t been seen in this company actively in a while. She has just shown up for the odd appearance for special events. That’s not the makings of a superstar, but a legend. I’ll give my respect to Roxi, because she truly is a legend. Without her, there might not have been some of the greats in Sin City Wrestling. People like Mikah and Delia Darling and Crystal Hilton would have nothing to come to in order to make this company a better place. They couldn’t improve something so easily if someone like Roxi had not set down a shitty path for them to follow. Odette Ryder and Vixen couldn’t hold it all up on their own, and neither could Misty.”
Devin covers his mouth as he looks at the crowd that is shocked that Devin even muttered such words. They gasp and cry out and some even cheer for the Bombshell who has since gone on to a better place. However, Devin waves his cooth goodbye and continues on.
“That’s a name we’ve been hearing a lot about, isn’t it? The great and all powerful Misty. I can’t say that I’ve had time to look into every aspect of Misty’s career, because there was plenty to look at. Bombshell Championships galore, and a couple Bombshell Tag Team Championship reigns on top of it. She was a monster of a competitor. I’m sorry, a monster of a human being. From what I can tell, she was probably the most self-centered, conceited, glory hog. Nobody could ever measure up to her. She had to be in the middle of everything, and if she wasn’t, she hated it. She would retire and get our hopes up that finally someone else might have a chance to shine, and we wouldn’t have the same juggernaut shoved down our throats, but then someone hotter would come along, and she had to come back to upstage them.
“It wasn’t until someone actually put her in her place, that she left for good. She knew it was her time to give up. She moved on toward Green-er pastures. Drake Green. Get it? She started herself a little family since she couldn’t seem to get it right the first time, or the second time, or God knows how many other times. Then, when she finally thought she got it right, she realized that it wasn’t the family that was ever the problem. It was her. She wasn’t welcomed back, so what does she do? She drives into a fucking medium on the highway, with her own daughter in the car, with little to no regard for anyone but herself. Basically, she went out in her own personalized M.O. Selfishly, and disgustingly.
“And that’s the “legacy” that O’Malley wants to carry on? I’m sorry, but that’s more than just a little fucked up. We already sat through this program once. Do we really have to see it again? It’s tired, it’s boring, and it’s so played out that it’s not even funny. Your recycled, idiotic Irish accent isn’t any better. We’ve already seen a piece of shit Irish wrestler come through here, and he didn’t fair very well either. Name me one thing about you that screams “intimidation”? Please? Because now that I really think about it, I’m struggling. The only thing that I can come up with, and seems to be the only thing original about you to separate yourself from your dead wife, is that you are clinging onto the names and past glories of others.
“Your trainer, Gabriel Stevens. He seems to be a big deal. First ever World Heavyweight Champion. Many Tag Team Championship reigns. Leaves for sabbatical with the wife and kids, and comes back to do it all over again? That’s more like it. Why didn’t you just change your name and pretend that you had no relation to your dead wife, because Gabriel Stevens is a name that you can take to the bank, whereas Misty’s name only makes you out to be a whining, sniveling, attention-seeking pussy. You really need to learn how to brand yourself better, ‘lad’.”
The crowd is in pure and utter shock at this point as Devin doesn’t even blink or shy away from it. Even as the fans begin to throw trash at him, held off only by the Northern Lights Wrestling stars playing security for crowd control. Devin just smiles at them.
“Your wife might have accomplished a lot in this company, but guess what? You won’t. You will forever be the guy who went down for the three and caught the hands of someone who was 3 foot 11 inches and 165 pounds. You could go on and take out every motherfucker in this company after that, hold every title in this company, and that will still be your identifier. “The guy who got taken out by Shorty in his debut match”. It’s fine, because if you are anything like your wife, then we know that excuses will be your forte.
“You couldn’t get the job done because Shorty punched you in the dick. You didn’t get the win because Shorty ducked under every one of your punched. You weren’t able to save yourself from embarrassment because I cheated. And if you haven’t thought up this excuse already, then I have just hand delivered it to you. You can thank me later.
“The fact of the matter is that no amount of training from the best in this promotion, or this business, is going to save you from what I have to deliver to you, O’Malley. I hope that you didn’t actually plan to make a career out of this, because I will forever be the footnote of your career, the one who took you out in the beginning.
“I hope that I’ve lit a fire under your potato and cabbage eating ass, O’Malley. I hope that I’ve pissed you off to the point that you’re going to bring your very best, because I won’t accept anything less than that. On Climax Control #201, Sin City Wrestling’s official return, I want to steal the spotlight from the Main Event. Win or lose, I want to be remembered as more than the “short guy”. I want to be seen as a wrestler that stacks up to the competition. Now get the fuck outta my face. I got a stack of pictures that nobody wants now that I’ve spoken the truth…”
With that, Shorty begins balling up the pictures and tossing them at the audience around him, returning the favor and laughing as he nails someone with each picture. He flips off a few of them, causing the actual security team to come to his aid as he is about to get rushed. Kader Hasheem lifts him up and helps to carry him off, even as he tries to fight it. Shorty kicks his feet as he tries to still get at the fans, almost instantly making the company regret bringing him in at all.
