A bar outside of Las Vegas
Something like 5 months agoIt’s just another one of those goddamn nights, mang. Boring, eventless. I went in to Underground with my Underground Championship, and guess what? I walked out with it too. I teamed up with Halo Williams to take on two former champions, Powershock and Ivory Sullivan. Or was it Shelby Holt? One of The New Foundation bitches who’s time passed a long time before this match. It just went to prove why a new era was on the horizon, homes.
I remember I walked into the bar with my title still on my shoulder, no one even takes a second look, except the bartender who saw me as soon as I entered the joint. It was packed. Some drunk chick was singing “Zombie” on karaoke and the people was going loco for it. I sat down at the bar and pulled out a celebration cigar even though it didn’t feel like a time to celebrate. The bartender saw my title and he walked over to me and leaned on the bar.
Bartender: What can I get ya, champ?
Tonight was gonna be a long night, so I had to figure out if I wanted to get peda’d and black out, or did I want to take it slow?
Me: Jose, por favor. Keep it coming.
He winked at me and walked over to the shelf and brought back a bottle of silver Cuervo. He slammed two shot glasses down and poured them. He picked one up and nudged the other toward me.
Bartender: This one’s on me.
Being the Underground Champion, things like this was not out of the usual, so I picked up my glass and together we slammed it back and slammed our glasses back on the bar. It was smooth for Cuervo. No Don Julio, but I’ll settle for it. He puts down another for me and I hand him my credit card from my wallet. I continue to stare down at the cigar in my hand and I suddenly smell this smell. It’s definitely not pleasant. Like some fine hierba, you know what I’m sayin’ homes? But also like a bitch ain’t showered in a minute.
Me: What the hell do you want, Filth?
I hear a deranged chuckle. Like it was effortless, not loud. But sinister. I look over to her and her black lips are parted into an equally deranged smile. She flicked her tongue out at me and I just place my hands over my face and wipe down.
Me: Ay dios mios, what the fuck do you want perra?
Filth places her hand on my chest and she begins to play with my nipple. Before I can even react, she twists it and I jump out of my chair.
Me: ¡Ay! ¿Qué demonios, perra?
Now she laughs for real. She loves to fuck with people, but she ain’t ever fucked with me before. She leans in and looks over at the tall bartender.
Filth: He doesn’t know it yet, but he wants you, hombre.
Me: And why exactly do you think I would care? That goofy midwestern motherfucker in a big city, tending bar is probably way too nervous to handle me even if I wanted it.
Filth: But… you do. I felt it from your chest.
I laugh as I down my next shot of Cuervo and I tap the bar with it. In seconds, the bartender is back to refill my shot glass. He is about to say something but someone at the other end of the bar waves their hand and he rushes off down to them.
Me: Yeah, because you’re some fallen angel, rejected by God, but you still know anything and everything.
Filth: Please. Your nipple was rock hard and your chest was beating a mile a minute. You licked your lips, and you looked at his ass every time it was in view.
Me: Look, mami. I ain’t gay!
Filth: I never said you were. I could lean you back in that barstool, lift up my skirt, and ride you until your head exploded, and believe me, it would explode. And as repulsed as you are by me, you would enjoy every second of it just because you don’t want to enjoy it. Just like you don’t want to enjoy laying with a man. Sex is shameful to you, and that is exactly why you are addicted to it, no matter who it is.
I had enough of it by now. I pound my fist on the bar and stare at her with fire in my eyes. I was seeing red, literally. I grabbed onto her jacket and pulled her nose to nose with me.
Me: You don’t know anything about me, bitch. Let me be loud and clear when I say this. You can fuck off and leave me alone right now unless there is some other point to you harrassing me. You fuck with everyone else, but I ain’t them, comprende?
Filth moaned and her blackened tongue licked her black lips, with that pink edge sticking out in the bar lighting. Her eyes rolled back for a second, I swear. And then she licked my lips. I let her go, shocked. She turned herself on the stool to stare at me as I threw back the tequila, even if only to wash her off of my lips.
Filth: You’re fun. I like you. And that’s exactly why I picked you before anyone else. But you really need to pull that fucking stick out of your ass.
Me: I am not interested in you, or the bartender. So you can go pick someone else, and I’ll take home the KFC chick singing “Before He Cheats”. She lookin’ finger lickin’ good up there.
And she did. Comfort food was written all over her. Doe eyed, petite blonde, endowed like God himself created that chest, and that little sundress was only betrayed by her fuck me pumps. Filth looked up to admire her as well.
Filth: She looks like she wouldn’t be that hard to corrupt. She likes to be choked. But that’s not what I meant. I chose you because I see your demons and I know you want what we want. A change in the way things are going in SCU. With you and me leading this change, and Gianni playing the backstage politics, we could easily make that happen.
Me: Oh. You mean I can make it happen as the Underground Champion. Do you know how many perdedores come to me wanting to join forces with me? Damn near every pendejo backstage. And they at least have a case. I mean you? You haven’t done shit but steal a title from Angel Kash and then lose it on your first defense. You got nothing on me, mami.
Filth grabbed onto my hand. For the first time ever, I felt compassion and even kindness from her. I was fucking weird. I looked into her eyes and saw the compassion. I even felt a surge of energy coming over me that made me happy and want to cry all at the same time, like God just gave me a hug or something.
Filth: I chose not to do anything. I was promised something when I joined Sin City Underground. I was told that it was going to be a hardcore heaven for me to rule over. Those were Tad’s exact words. Chaos and mayhem would reign supreme. Blood would flow like wine, and screams of agony would sing a chorus. I would be the queen of it all. I had to wait for the right moment, he said. Then, I was told to take the belt from Angel Kash by any means necessary. But, I was just a pawn in Tad’s little revenge scheme against Angel Kash. Once I took the belt from her, and she found a loophole to get it back, Tad ordered me to keep going. I refused.
Filth let go of my hand and she points to my empty shot glass and then to the empty spot in front of her. The crew cut giant comes up and fills me up and then fills up a glass in front of Filth. I just listen.
Filth: He tried punishing me by making me fight people like Delia Darling and Valentina, people who represented the exact opposite of what I do. Putting on mundane wrestling programming to appease Mark Ward and Christian Underwood. I was waiting for my contract to expire when Gianni approached me.
Me: Why Gianni?
Filth shrugged her shoulders as she savored the harsh flavor of the Cuervo, lapping it up with her tongue like a cat or something.
Filth: Why not? The last thing this company saw that even remotely resembled chaos was the Bad Boys. I took what he said into consideration. He made some good points. I need to assemble a team of people who can’t stand to see the Angel Kash’s and Veronica Taylor’s and Good Shepherds running around here, shitting on everything that we tried to build. And you as the Underground Champion should want to be a part of this too. These assholes are shitting on you, too.
Filth slams the rest of her shot and then she grabs onto my shoulders and it’s almost like I’m hypnotised or something.
Filth: I saw the way you walked into this bar. You aren’t happy with the way things are going in SCU. You’re bored and you’re complacent. This is work, not a career for you. And I know you came to Northern Lights Wrestling with the same promise. And when the move happened, you thought you were going to get that thrill that you used to get under the Ahuevo mask because it was going to be hardcore. You’re part sadist and part masochist, just like me. You want to kick ass or get your ass kicked. You want to draw blood and you want to bleed. There’s two people that I don’t fuck with, and that is because I see myself in their eyes. And you’re one of them. I know you better than you know yourself.
How could she when we never spoke a word to one another before tonight? But she did. She said out loud everything that I was thinking when I walked into this bar, and then some. I still shake my head because she can’t possibly know all of this just from a look in my eyes.
Me: You got the wrong guy, Filth. It ain’t me. I’m just enjoying the high life as the champ. I’m not gonna risk my job here for some deathmatch fantasy you and Gianni cooked up.
Filth: Gianni is in good with the owner. You could walk right up to Tad and Donna and spit in Tad’s face, and Trump treat Donna and still come into work the next Thursday. True story.
I can’t help but laugh at that. Even if she isn’t telling me the truth, the possibilities were endless now. Filth makes the grabbing from beneath motion and I just shake my head. Filth then extends her hand out to me and I look at it.
Filth: So, are you in? Will you help me assemble the guerillas?
I think about it for a second before I take her hand and give it a shake. She pulls me in for a hug. She pats me on the back and then she holds up her hand to the bartender.
Filth: Hey Rory, put my shit on his tab.
Me: Hey, wait a minute…
Rory walks over to the register and closes out the tab. He brings me the slips to sign and when I slide it back, Rory holds onto my hand for a second. I look up into his eyes and then I push his hand off of mine. Me and Filth walk over toward the emergency entrance and we walk out. Before I leave, though, I look back at Rory and nudge my head toward the door. He speaks to a girl that just entered behind the bar. He takes his apron off and walks toward the door in a hurry.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rawson-Neal Psychiatric Hospital
This eveningI always imagined psych wards to be crazy, people running around pulling they hair out and shit, screaming in high pitched voices that aren’t their own, like Arkham Asylum or something. But this one? It was just depressing. Bright lights, quiet, people visiting with they familia and compadres. Bandaged wrists. A couple people who couldn’t afford the fancy rehab joints, scratching theyself. Nothing like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.
I walk over to a table where a lonely woman in a hospital gown sits. Her dark makeup is smeared to almost non existence. Her chin is stained in black tar or whatever it is that she spits in people’s faces. She is playing cards with herself. Not Solitaire either, but full on like somebody else was there. I walk over and I pick up the empty hand sitting across from her and take a seat. She looks up at me and it’s like she’s looking right through me.
Me: Hola chica. ¿Como te sientes? (Hey girl, how you doing?)
Angel of Filth looks up at me and there’s something off about her. Something… normal. I tap the table and she hands me another card. An ace to match my facing queen, but the four in my hand says I should bluff.
Filth: Me siento mejor de lo que estoy segura. (I feel better than I look, I’m sure.) How is the group holding up without me?
I sigh and she puts down her card to show a King and a seven. I show my 17 to her and she pulls the cards back in.
Me: You know how it is. They do what they do no matter who’s around. It’s why we picked them, isn’t it? Red and Choir Girl Gone Bad can’t keep they hands off each other. Crimson sits in contemplation all the time. Rory tries to hit up Crimson. Raab is rubbing that damn belt in my face.
Filth: I’m sure he is. Or, maybe you should put on a gown and stay the night here, because you’re paranoid. Raab does what Henry tells him to do. I don’t see Henry saying that he should taunt you.
I shake my head as Filth deals me in. I get a Ten facing up, and a nine down. I motion for a hold. Filth slaps down a seven to match her queen. Then she slaps down another card.
Me: I ain’t paranoid, mang. I’m just so used to holding the top belt. But, it is nice not to have it while I’m going through this Blast From the Past shit. It lets me focus on what it’s like to be in SCW for a minute, because it’s the only way GRIME will get representation for real in the main brand.
Filth: They treat us like a cancer. But who can blame them? We kind of are. If it wasn’t for Tad jumping ship at the last second, we would not be around Sin City at all anymore. Until the Blast From the Past tournament came up.
I see her put down one more card and a wicked smile comes over her face. She turns over to match a showing ace along with her 2. I take the cards from her hand and I shuffle them good.
Me: I still don’t see why you wanted me to get in on this tournament. And getting teamed up with a puta like Kate Steele? Do you really think we’re going to get far?
Filth: Kate Steele doesn’t know her bitchface mouth from a gloryhole. She’s idiotic, indecisive, and will stab you in the back the second someone dangles a golden carrot in front of her face.
I put down a Four and she gets an Eight. Face down, I got a Six. She taps for another card.
Me: I’m not hearing any positives here. To me, you’re just telling me how pointless this whole thing is for us and for me, Filth. She’s unreliable and she’s wishy washy.
Filth: But who amongst us isn’t? Who isn’t such a rotten bastard that they shouldn’t be trusted by anyone, ever. And don’t say yourself, Ahuevo. Out of any of us, you are the most rotten bastard, and that’s exactly why I wanted you to join this army. If GRIME ever spilled over to SCW, I would be rushing to Kate Steele’s locker room to sign her up. Aside from being the Internet Champion, she is married to a misogynistic former crossdresser who said anything with a vagina should be in the kitchen. And her friend, Crystal? She would, and has, slapped her own wife just for a shot at the title. She turned out underage to pop out a little cum pet named Brittany, who was so horrendous that she got fired from SCU. We’re revolting, and we haven’t even been fired! This is the kind of company Kate keeps. Heathens! Like you, like me, like the rest of GRIME. Shut your pussy lips for five seconds and see where your advantage is here.
If this bitch wasn’t in a psych ward right now, and if the seven guards posted randomly around weren’t here… I glare down at the cards when she calls for another card. She gets a Three and holds. I put down a Nine for myself.
Me: So you’re saying that I should count my lucky fucking stars that I got paired up with Kate Steele? There really is a first time for anything, isn’t there?
Filth: She’s got a chance at the World Bombshell Championship. That’s the biggest prize in the company. There’s no way as a champion that she stands a chance at being a double champion unless she wins this tournament with you. She’s not going to stab you in the back. If anything, she’s going to fight tooth and motherfucking nail to have your back. She’s a golden whore, and she wouldn’t think twice about dropping to her knees for you if that’s what it took to become the 2020 Blast From the Past winner.
I can’t help but chuckle. Not at the thought of Kate doing anything and everything I ask of her, but because of how true it really is. It’s indisputably true. I shake my head as I set down a Jack. to bust. Damn I shoulda paid attention to what I was doing.
Me: Kate Steele isn’t the worst partner I could have gotten, I guess. But we also know how she is about tag team matches. She doesn’t give a shit about them. When she faced London Underground a while back, they were the odds on favorites, but they phoned in that entire match and got they asses kicked. Hard. I still ain’t convinced that we’re gonna win this thing.
Filth: Then don’t show up. Leave her hanging before she can leave you hanging. It’s not like you stand a chance at taking on the main brand anyway. SCU’s Underground Champion can’t even win the Roulette Championship. You don’t stand a chance at winning a contendership to their World Heavyweight Championship.
Me: ¡Como el infierno que no! (Like fucking hell I don’t!) Mark Cross is a fake champion, and only because that little chica perra Valentina smacked me in the face with a fucking cast on her arm. Mark Cross is half the man I am, on his best day! I will go take on Dmitri and Dani Weston. I will motivate Kate Steele to put in her best effort, and we will shock the world by defeating a Rookie of the Year, former Bombshell Champion, and former multi-time World Heavyweight Champion. No one is going to see the underdogs getting out the gate on this one. I…
I look over and Filth is smiling at me. I fell right into her reverse psychology bullshit. She played me like a damn fiddle, and now she’s dancing in celebration in her chair. Which, by the way, is so fucking weird and normal of her. It’s almost scary. I set the cards down in front of her and I stand up from my seat. I’m about to walk off, but this normal Filth makes me sad and I turn back to her and grab her hand from over the cards.
Me: Thank you. I needed to refocus on what matters here. But, what about GRIME? You’re stuck in here, and… well… you ain’t getting outta here anytime soon if this place is worth it’s weight.
Filth squeezes my hand and looks away from me. She looks around the room like she’s calculating something. I try to follow her stares, but she doesn’t want me to get onto her. She looks back into my eyes with the most genuinely Filth smile I seen today and she says:
Filth: I could have escaped when they brought me back to Vegas when they ID’d me, but I’m just having a little fun. I’ve gotten out of here once before. I can do it again when I’m ready.
And with that, visiting hours are over. Everyone begins to leave and I ain’t about to get lost in that shuffle. Not like I would with my makeover, but still… I head them off and look back to see the shadow of Filth’s wings growing behind her, waving goodbye to me.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
An abandoned parking lot near the airport
NowI’m getting turned with my GRIME motherfuckers in a parking lot, just waiting for the time to catch my flight to Scotland. Of course I ain’t gonna roll up into Climax Control without at least some of my crew, especially after the shit I’m about to say. I got Yellow, Sky Blue, Andrey, and Esther to ride with me. But for now, it’s Don Julio, blunts, cigarettes, Coronas, and many other debaucherous items floating around. We chillin’ by a trash can fire with a camper, cars, and motorcycles parked all around. My people break out the stereo and blast “Heathens” by Twenty One Pilots. I guess some people think it’s out theme song.
Either way, I got Rory hanging by my right, and Green hanging by my left. They feelin’ up on my chest, passing me the cigar and the Don. I’m feeling real good right now, you know what I’m sayin’, vato? And with the slight of my hand, I pop a flame and light my own cigarette. I see SCW reporter Pussy Willow coming up on the scene and I laugh. Rory and Andrey follow my look and laugh along with me. I take my arm from around Rory and I whistle at Pussy, which is something I never got to do because it usually whistlin’ at me. She walks up and I stand up from my lawn chair and meet her in front of the fire.
Me: Hola chica. ¿Qué te trae a este lado del ferrocarril, mami? (Hey girl. What brings you to this side of the tracks, mami?)
Pussy: This is where I was told you wanted to meet for your interview? Am I too late?
Me: Nah, girl. You right on time. We just getting this party started. Why don’t you have a seat on Rory’s lap and we can kick this thing off. Grab a drink, stay a while!
Pussy looks over to Rory who makes kissy faces at her and pats down on his lap. Pussy looks around for another open seat, but can’t seem to find one other than mine. She looks back to me with a polite smile.
Pussy: I’m fine to stand. And I don’t drink on the clock.
Me: Well ain’t you just sweet. Following the rules and shit. What if I don’t feel like standing? What if I told you to get on your knees in front of my lawn chair and meet mi monstruo de un ojo, you know what I mean?
Pussy goes to answer, but one of my tactful GRIME members answers for her when he shouts out over the music “HIS D*CK!” and everyone erupts into laughter. Pussy scratches the back of her neck as she starts to walk backward.
Me: Whoaaaaa, where you going, blanca? You should consider that a once in a lifetime offer, perra.
Pussy: Oh, um… I forgot a cord in my car and I need to get it to start the interview.
Pussy walks over to her car as we watch her. We howl and stomp around, taking the noise level up to eleven. We get even louder when she throws it into reverse and speeds out of the parking lot. Glass bottles fly at her car as she disappears into the night. I can’t help but laugh as I watch. But then it hits me. I ain’t got no one to interview me before my big SCW debut match! Have no fear, Gemma Frost is already here! She walks up to me and grabs the GRIME Cam and brings it in just a little closer.
Me: The offer is still on the table, mamacita.
Gemma: I’ll pass, but thank you. Now take this microphone and say shit about your match before I slap you silly, you delirious little punk.
Feisty. I like that. I laugh and do as I’m told. I take my microphone and Gemma stands by, looking more bored than ever.
Me: Odelay, Sin City Wrestling! It’s that grimy motherfucker, former SCU Underground and World Nightmare Champion, Javier Gonzalez! Apparently I gotta say some shit about the Blast From the Past tournament opening round in Hamilton, Scotland this coming Sunday.
I shrug my shoulders. It’s a nice little plug. Of course I ain’t used to having to plug shit anymore, because GRIME don’t plug. We just do.
Me: But you all know what’s coming your way. Lots of randomly paired teams come together to fight to honor Luna Vachon and “Rowdy” Roddy Piper. Those former multi time champions who paved the way for people like us to do what we do best today. I would be lying if I said Roddy wasn’t one of my childhood heros and inspirations. And Luna the fireball, inspired lots of people in so many ways, to break stereotypes. Win or lose, and all machismo aside, I am honored to be honoring them.
I nod my head. Now that I got that outta the way, it’s time to do me, right?
Me: Now, I been quiet about my partner. Truth be told, I ain’t happy about teaming with Kate Steele. She ain’t who I would have picked first, but she will have to do. I coulda done a lot worse than Bitchface. Yeah, I see you lookin’.
I hold my hands around my eyes like binoculars and look around.
Me: But the problem is that we facing off against Dani Weston and Dmitri.
I raise my arms up like I’m scared, but y’all know better.
Me: Dmitri the vampire, and Dani who is just returning from injury. Motherfucker sparkles in the sunlight, or sizzles out. One UV lightbulb ray and he toasted. And with someone as sneaky as Kate by my side, do Dani really think she can take us out? Kate’s gonna be on that injury like a spanish fly on the rim of a strawberry daiquiri glass, mang. And you think I’m gonna stop that? She can treat this match like a fucking revolving door to SCW. She come back with that medical slip, then she leaves with that slip in her hands, shredded.
I shrug my shoulders because I couldn’t give a damn less. She’s just one of the stepping stones for us anyway.
Me: Dmitri got some ring rust on him too. He can claim World Heavyweight Champion status all he wants. He can claim he never lost it, but we all know how that goes. From one former World Champion to another, I wouldn’t bet on this match being your big return. The difference between us, vato vampiro, is that I will be a World Champion again, and you just gonna fade off like Lestat, into the night, lost and forgotten. We all got our time to disappear, and now is your’s Dmitri. And Dani’s. I sure hope y’all ain’t plannin’ no celebration, homes. Now ain’t the time, and I ain’t the easy target. See you on Sunday…
I was never really one for goodbye’s. I just hand the microphone back to Gemma and take my seat again. Rory hands me the cigar, and Green gets me with that Don, and I’m straight. Chillin’ before I get into that mindset to bring home the W to GRIME this week.
