Old Line Wrestling

[Dude]

[See You Later]

[The rain softly hits the window as Mr.Dude looks out; he is in a hotel room, mostly white with pine tables just like every hotel room for the past few years. Unlike the others this has deep red sheets, like the colour of blood. He rolls over towards the window and looks out at the overcast sky. Its the biggest show he has been in for a few years now and yet he is spend most the day in bed, hardly worth writing home about is it?]

“So it’s finally happening”

[He nurses his head and takes a drink of water from the bedside table. He was out last night, drinking, partying just like in the old days. The thing was in the old days his body hadn’t taken eight years worth of bumps and bruises. He runs his hand up his arm, feeling one of the many scars. Scars are like pictures, worth a thousand words and he has plenty.]

[Each scar is another memory from the “Good old days”]

[He finally pulls himself out of bed, he’s wearing a pair of black boxer shorts, his hair a mess from the night before. He stumbles almost over to his jeans he threw off last night and pulls them on. He picks a white t-shirt from his bag. He looks down at his bag and forces a smile.]

“Well I guess after Farewell Fix that’s the end of me living in bags”

[Yup talking to yourself, one too many chair to the head shots perhaps. He pull the t-shirt over his head and grabs a near by trucker cap and puts it on. He leaves the room and walks down the beige hallway and out the front door, smiling briefly at the bored lady on the desk]

[The damp hits his face straight away as does the cool breeze, hardly the most exotic location to have your final match is it? When you grow up in the wrestling business you become part of it, he’s been in the arena and heard the other guys talking about what they have been doing since IWA, since OLW and the great jobs they have, the “real” jobs. Now it looks like this could well be the last time he wrestles in his career, what will be doing?]

[He slow walks over to the car park, digging in his pockets he digs deep and pulls a key out, he blips it and it opens a nearby parked Nissan X-Trail, things really have changed from the days of Dodge Vipers. He shouldn’t be driving, he’s still a bit drunk, but if he gets stopped he’ll do a Paris Hilton and have a small jail sentence he’ll cry and moan out because he’s a star.]

[He fires it up and starts driving; the radio is just in the background. His head is a little to sore to deal with loud music, and his iPod is broke he so he doesn’t actually like what’s being played anyway. He opens the window slightly to be get some fresh. He keeps driving along for most part the roads are quiet; it’s the back roads so they would be.]

BANG

“Oh fuck”

[He jams on the brakes and gets out of the car. He has hit something, he starts jogging over to whatever it was he it, he hit it hard and it has rolled away from him in the pain, it appears to be yellow and orange, as he gets closer it become clear what it was.]

[Hulk Hogan]

“Help and a brother, little hulkmanic “

[He can’t help but chuckle to himself]

“Stay put for a minute I’ll bring the truck over and get you to a hospital”
[He runs over and fires up the truck; he jams it in reverse and reverses fast.]

[BUMP]

[Like it he ran over a speed bump or Hulk Hogan again. He grins to himself and drives off. You should never drink and drive, next time it could be somebody apart from Hulk Hogan you hit. He arrive at his destination a few minutes later its and old house with fields surrounding it. The front windows are full off useless junk decorations. He pushes the front door open and it creaks like a scary movie, inside seems to be a reception area, he leans on the counter before a young lady comes to see him. She’s very pale almost Goth like, typical for a place like this. The net curtains allowing little light in, dull table lamps light the place up; it’s not dirty, just a little dusty]

“Can I help you sir”

[Mr.Dude takes his cap off and runs his head, maybe this was a mistake, its not too late to change his mind, he’d never been anywhere like this. No, he has to do it, just so he knows.]

“Yea I made an appointment to see Beverly”

[The lady behind the counter looks him up and down, what is a scruffy Irish bloke doing in a place like this, this far from home.]

“How did you find us?”

[He didn’t come here to be questioned, but being polite he replied anyway]

“Yellow pages”

[This excuse for a conversion is stopped, when a tall thin lady appears from behind the doorway, she has flowing blonde hair in curls down to her shoulders, with her makeup her skin would be very plain, he finger nails and eye shadow painted the same deep red as the bed sheets from the hotel.]

“Chris?”

[Mr.Dude tilts his head around; he looks confused at the lady and walks towards her.]

“Follow me”

[Well she’s the boss, she has fitted black trousers on and a black top, and this is not what he was excepting at all. He leads him into a room and sits him down at the table, it’s covered in a net dressing, the room is pretty dark apart from a few candles dotted around the place.]

“Why did you come here?”

[He thinks it’s an obvious question, but never the less]

“Same reason as anybody I guess”

[She smiles brief and sits down across the table from him.]

“Hold your hands out please”

[He does as told; she holds his hand running hers over his. It sends a shiver up his spine, she closes her eyes and mumbles under her breathe.]

“Why did you really come here?”

[No longer an obvious question, she wants to know the real reason behind it]

“To find out what’s going to be happen to me after this show, am I going to be some washed up wrestler that keeps wrestling in backwater town gyms for rent money? Will I get a real job? Could I ever get a real job?”

[She cuts in him off mid-sentence]

“What makes you think a fortune teller will be able to tell you about a real job?”

[He’s taken back from her tongue in cheek answer to his many questions]

“You should be taking your job seriously...”

[Again she cuts him off in mid-sentence]

“So should you”
[Silence befalls him; he doesn’t know how to respond to that.]

“You haven’t been as focus as you should have been about this show, the future will show its self, but you must first defeat the past”

[He goes to open his mouth, but doesn’t she keeps talking]

“This show will see you reunited with some people you should have done a long time ago, not only your partners, but your sister. You should keep in touch with your family. You many think this show will be the end of your career, but your addicted, its like a drug, you’ll be back. You can hang the boots up, you will have a real job back in England, but this will always be at the back of your mind.”

[Again silence, for a man who has spend eight years shooting his mouth off about people it’s not very often it happens, Beverly continues speaking]

“Gemma has missed having her brother around, and you must make up for that. You don’t need wrestling your money will last a lifetime, however it’s in your blood, you need to be the hero for the people to look up to. You need to be the superstar; a normal job will never be enough for you. You are a star, you were born like this. This isn’t end the end. You may think it is, but its not.”

[Beverly lets go of his hands and stands up. Mr.Dude sits there dumbfounded, Beverly walks behind him to the window and looks out.]

“Its not goodbye wrestling Chris, its see you later”

[Still nothing to say he gets up, his legs feel weak, and he leans on the table]

“I have told you what you need to know, now go, and good luck.”

“Thanks”

[He mumbles as he makes his way towards the door, he pays the girl at the front and gets back into the jeep, he looks at the window to see Beverly staring back, He looks in the rear seats of the jeep, his gym bag with his gear looking back at him, he unzips it and looks at it.]

“Guess this isn’t goodbye then; guess its see you later”

[He turns the key in the truck at drives off]