Route 69 S202: Kansas City MO

THUD! OOF!

Dude goes, "Fucking watch where you're going, rook."

I step back then go, "Sorry, dude. Didn't see you."

"Didn't see me? DIDNT SEE ME? I'm 6'2"/230-lbs. How the fuck don't you see me?"

I'm headin' to workout. I was puttin' my earbuds in when I bumped into this dude walkin' outta the shower area. We hit shoulders. Total accident, nobody's fault, but dude's pissed. He's goin' off on me, callin' me a stupid blond bimbo, blind, retarded, a moron and all kinds of crap. Just for bumpin' into him. If he was bigger, I'd figure it was roid rage, but he's my exact size, except he's got five extra pounds of fat on him, so he's not as shredded as me.

I wouldn't just take it, except that this guy's the Ring of Wrestling Global Heavyweight Champion. He's got the rugged badass character I want - dark cropped hair, beard, black leather gear, bad boy entourage and a hot valet. I wanted that, but they made me a prettyboy heel called The Natural - wavy blond hair, bright gear, big ego, cocky attitude. It's cool and I've only been wrestlin' in ROW for a couple of months, so I can't bitch about anything.

Anyway, I'm tryin' to break through, so pissin' off the Champ ain't smart. Politics is the shitty side of the business, but it's the most important part. ROW is just one step below the WWL and AWL, the two top pro feds with the big weekly cable shows, pay-per-views and big arena shows. So, I take his shit like a bitch.

Until dude pushes me.

I run my hands through my hair, keepin' calm. I put up my hands, tryin' to be cool. "I said I was sorry, dude. It was a fuckin' accident. Don't make a federal case outta it. And don't push me, dude."

Champ's like, "I'm not 'dude', I'm the fucking champ! I'll show you sorry. Dude." He's sayin' dude like he's makin' fun of me. I don't give a shit, but then he pushes me again, back into the lockers. That does it. I push him back. We start messin' around then break. Champ looks pissed. He points at me, "In the ring. Five minutes." Guy storms over to his locker, grabs his bag and walks outta the locker room buck-naked.

In the Ring

I get to the ring area fast, lockin' the door behind me. Champ's already in the ring, dressed and pacin' around like a fuckin' cat. He's in his typical black trunks, pads and boots. Dude looks good, muscles are pumped and he's got his game face on.

When he sees me, Champ's like, "What the fuck are you wearing?" I don't get what he's askin'. I'm in plain black pro trunks and pro boots. "You're wearing black in my ring? You think you're gonna beat me in my own look? You stupid fucking poser piece of shit. You got no fucking respect."

I'm like, "Yeah, like you invented black fuckin' gear. Look Champ, I don't get why you got a beef with me, but respect works both ways. I got nothin' but respect for you. Now you're gonna get some for me."

I climb into the ring, bouncin' and stretchin'. I reach back, grab the top rope and stretch out my shoulders and sides. The muscle heel doesn't wait. He sneaks up and kicks me in the stomach. OOF! Champ grabs hold of my hair and trunks. He whips me around and throws me across the ring. I manage to roll with it gettin' into a crouch in the corner.

When Champ moves in, I tackle him down to the mat. We go for top, but it's pretty even. I'm in control then he is. Arm holds, leg holds, you name it. Nothin' sticks for long, but we're both breathin' hard and sweatin'.

I finally get Champ on his stomach. I'm on his back, with him locked in a choke. I can't figure out if I should put him out or not. He's a big deal in ROW. Maybe I should give him a chance to quit. Stupid. I'm thinkin', but he's still fightin'. Dude throws me off before I do anything. We go at it again. I lock him up in a head scissors, his face buried in my crotch.

I go, "How you like my black trunks now, Champ? Gettin' a good look at ‘em, Champ? How do they taste, Champ?"

Dude is swearin' a lot, but not givin’ or anything. Way too early for that. The muscle heel's head is dark red, so I know he's feelin’ it. He pushes up, liftin’ my legs, but I muscle him onto his side. I keep up the pressure, but Champ gets loose. He rolls away, sittin’ near the far corner and shakin’ out his head. I get up and move in.

When I get close, Champ kicks his right boot up. I'm a rookie in ROW, but I've been wrestlin’ in and outta pro rings for nine years, since I was 16. I see it comin’ a mile away. I grab his boot and drag him outta the corner. I step on his left ankle then twist his right foot hard and sharp. He yells out, so I do it again. ARGH! I take my foot of his left ankle and kick the back of his right leg. STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

Dude whips his left foot into my legs and kicks back with his right, trippin’ me. I fall on my butt and he escapes. We get up at the same time, but neither of us charges. We just circle. The muscle heel's workin’ out his leg, so I move in. This time, he's the one who's ready. Champ runs at me and wraps me up around the shoulders. He lifts and flips me, slammin’ me to the canvas. WHOMP! I land real hard on my back. He gets up fast then stomps my pecs and abs. STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! Fuck, I'm feelin’ this.

Champ drags me up by my hair and pushes me into the corner hard. CLANG! He fires off some hard pec chops that got me moanin’. CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! He goes full out and chest turns red pretty damn fast. Dude switches to knee lifts into my abs. THUD! OOF! THUD! OOF! The corner keeps me up, ‘cause I'm gettin’ winded by his fast, hard attack.

The muscle heel doesn't give me a second to rest. He flips me over with a hip toss. PLOP! I land on my ass, bouncin’ a couple of times into the ring. Champ kicks my back, right between my shoulder blades. AGH! He follows up with a knee then he grabs my chin with one hand. His knee digs in when he pulls back, stretchin’ my neck back. The muscle heel slams his forearm down across my chest. WHAM! He does it again. WHAM! Champ lets go of my chin then brings his arm around from the side. He drives it across my head, flattenin’ me to the mat. CRACK!

Champ moves on top of me. He ties his legs around my left leg then wraps his arm behind my head. He moves my arm up, holdin’ my wrist behind my head. I'm tied up tight, squirmin’ under him. When he cranks up on my neck, I groan in pain. He really bends my arm, lockin’ up. With my leg trapped, I'm fucked.

I can't move much, but if ain't givin’ either. I fire my free hand into his body and try to roll us. Champ knows this ain't doin’ much, so he moves on. He unties his legs. When he comes up my body, dude puts a knee into my balls. FUCK! The muscle heel locks me in a side headlock. My head gets squeezed and my face is in his pec. I grunt every time he cranks it tighter. His bicep is flexin’ right into my temple.

I grab dude's trunks and roll him over my chest. When Champ goes over, I pull out my head. We're both sweatin’ like pigs, so it slips right out. We both get up, but I dive from my knees, tacklin’ him down. I kneel beside him and start droppin’ my knee into his abs. THUD! THUD! THUD! I cut right into ‘em, so I follow up with big punches into his gut. POW! POW! POW! Dude's stomach is red and he's coughin’.

I force dude onto his side then drop my knee into it, right below the ribs. I find the soft spot, so it sinks right in. Champ manages to roll away. When I crawl after him, he's on his back. He swings his legs up and gets ‘em around my head. Dude pulls me forward into a head scissors. I roll on top of him and match his move. I'm on top, with us locked in a 69 head scissors. We're both squeezin’. Champ adds a bearhug, bringin’ his arms around my waist, but he can't do much more than control me.

I fire in body shots into his sides. THUD! POW! Champ gives up on the bearhug. Wasn't doin’ shit anyway. He matches me shot for shot, poundin’ my body. WHAM! POW! THUD! After a few shots, Champ's legs loosen up. I get my head out then sit up. His head's still trapped under me. Now I'm sittin’ on his face, so I force a fart out. PWWPP! The smell's gotta go right into his nose.

Champ screams, "Aw man, you dirty fucker!"

"Fuck you. You did a ball shot."

"Asshole!"

"Yeah, that's what you're lookin’ at, Champ! Get used to it!"

I laugh then I start poundin’ down on his body again. Champ lifts his legs, but I catch ‘em. I fold him in half. I count the pin. ONE! TWO! Dude pushes and rolls, topplin’ me off before I get to three. The muscle heel lands on me, so he gets in a few gut shots. THUD! THUD! THUD! He rolls back and locks on a side head scissors. Champ grabs my left wrist and pins my arm under him. I use my right hand to try to pry his boots apart, but he's got ‘em locked.

Champ breaks the scissors on his own. He lifts his right leg then brings it down on my face. WHACK! He does it again, slammin’ the inside if his leg into my nose. WHACK! ARGH! I'm kinda outta it, so dude takes advantage. He gets up then grabs me by the hair. Champ drags me up into a scoop slam. WHAM! I arch my back then get dragged up by my hair again.

Dude whips me across the ring into the corner. I bounce out right into a stiff clothesline that send me back to the fuckin’ mat. Champ loves my hair, ‘cause he drags me up by it again. He uses my hair to shove my head between his legs. When he reaches around my waist, I stand up. I flip Champ over top, sendin’ him on to his back. I stagger forward into the opposite ropes.

I feel like I need a second to think, but Champ is up fast. I charge at dude with a shoulder block. THUD! We hit, but neither of us goes down. The muscle heel runs back into the ropes and comes off with his own shoulder block. THUD! I got time to brace, so he bounces off me. We circle around, starin’ each other down. Dude's chest is heavin’. Mine is, too. But neither of us are gonna ask for a break.

We lock up again. I power him into a headlock then flip him onto his back. I stomp his abs with my boot. STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! After a few, I drop down with an elbow drop to the gut. OOF! I hook Champ's right leg and fold it up. I slap the mat for a pin, but he kicks out fast. When he lifts his shoulder, he rolls onto his stomach.

I move down Champ's body, foldin’ his legs so his heels touch his ass. I use my body to pin ‘em down. Dude slaps the mat. I reach for his chin, but he blocks me with his hands. That's cool with me. Gives me the chance to grab his wrists. I bend his arms up his back, pushin’ his wrists up to his shoulder blades.

"Fuck!" Champ screams.

I push harder. I know his knees and shoulders gotta be hurtin’, but he won't give. I move his arms so they're straight and pointin’ up at the ceiling. I push ‘em forward. Dude just grunts and swears. I hold this for a long time, but it ain't doin’ shit. I let go, but I dive on his back before he can move. I wrap him into a full nelson then roll us onto my back. I wrap my legs around him in a body scissors. ARGH!

I crank on both holds, really squeezin’ and stretchin’. Champ's chin is diggin’ into his chest. I'm pressin’ as hard as I can. I hear him whimperin’, so I know he's feelin’ it. But dude's tough. He's holdin’ out. And he's a dirty bastard. He bends his arm down then feels for my face. One second later, the heel is rakin’ my eyes. ACH! SONOVABITCH! It's enough to let him push his arms down and break out.

Champ rolls off me. When I sit up, he surprises me with a forearm across my chin. It sends me back, stunned. He grabs my hair, drags my head up then pulls down, slammin’ the back of my head into the mat. WHACK! I'm seein’ double and almost out. Dude gets up and grabs my ankle. He drags me to the corner by one boot. I wanna stop him, but I'm too dazed.

Dude lifts me up by my left leg, puttin’ it over the top rope. I'm hangin’ down by one leg. The muscle heel keeps me there while he steps onto the apron. He drops to the floor, pullin’ down on my boot. I'm thrashin’ and goin’ crazy, ‘cause my knee feels like it's bein’ torn up! Motherfucker!

Champ bounces me, really sendin’ the pain through me. I can't do nothin’, but I don't give. He finally lets go and lets me fall back into the ring. I'm holdin’ my knee, practically cryin’. Shit that hurt. Dude stays outta the ring. He grabs my ankle and drags me to the corner. He pulls my leg out, linin’ up my knee with the ringpost. Champ slams my leg into the corner. WHACK! He does it again. WHACK! ARGH!

I can't do anything while he rolls back into the ring. Champ kneels over my head. He's cocky now. Dude slaps my head, tellin’ me I'm nothin’. He grabs my hair and drags me into the middle of the ring. He moves away outta sight. I try out my knee, figurin’ I gotta get up fast. Before I can do much, I look up and Champ is back. He's holdin’ his belt.

"This is as close as you'll ever get to a belt like this, rook!"

Champ drops down, slammin’ the face of the metal belt onto my knee. CLANG! ARGH! Oh fuck, my knee's killin’ me now. Champ stands up. He steps over my waist then puts the belt around his waist. I try to slide back on my ass, figurin’ he's wastin’ time, maybe I can come back.

The muscle heel flexes over me, but he doesn't let me escape. He grabs my bum leg and drags me back to the middle of the ring. He steps over it and bends my other leg. I sit up, aimin’ for his head, but I miss. My fist whiffs. He flips me over and sits down, lockin’ on a sharpshooter. Fuck! My back and knee are screamin’ now in the killer crab-type hold.

Champ puts his 230-lbs of muscle into it, makin’ me really feel it. I hold out, but he won't let up. After a minute of the hold, he fires fists into my knee. That's it; I gotta admit I'm done.

"GIVE! I GIVE!"

Champ lets go, lettin’ my legs fall down. He kicks me onto my back and sits on my chest, pinnin’ me down. I look up at him, belt and all. He's flexin’ his biceps, showin’ off the muscle that beat me.

"You need to learn how things work around here, rook. Respect is everything. You don't respect me, I ain't gonna respect you."

I tell him, "Look, I respect you, Champ."

Champ rubs his chin, "I'm not sure you learned your lesson, yet. Stay here, rook. You move and I'll really make you pay."

I don't say nothin’, but I don't move either. I wonder what he's gonna do?

Jeff's Close Shave

I wait. Dude won in the ring, so he makes the rules. I just hope whatever he does isn't too bad. I rub my knee, stretchin’ it out. No real damage, I should be good for tonight's show. Fuck, the show is tonight! This was stupid, but backin’ down woulda been worse. As I think about it, I got my eyes closed, but I hear him walkin’ back.

Champ grabs my hair again, tight. He pulls my head and shoulders off the mat by my hair. Hard. The badass muscleman gets behind me, puttin’ his knee in my back to keep me sittin’. Champ uses my hair to yank my head back over his leg so I'm starin’ at the ceiling. He looks me in the eye. Dude's got an evil look.

Champ goes, "You wanna be a fucking badass? You need badass hair, chump!" The muscle dude waves a pair of electric clippers in front of my face. I don't get it at first, but then he starts ‘em up. BZZZZZZ! I must look worried, ‘cause dude laughs. He's like, "Don't worry, I just used these clippers on my pubes. They'll cut through this shit you got."

Dude gives my hair one last hard tug before he takes it. Champ runs the clippers across my head, cuttin’ off my thick blond waves. The clippers keep gettin’ caught, but he keeps goin’. When he pushes my face forward to do the back, I see the hair fallin’. I just watch, ‘cause there ain't shit I can do about it.

Champ goes over my whole head, shavin’ it all. RRRRRRZZZZZZZ. I can't tell if I'm bald or what, but it doesn't matter. This is dude sendin’ me a real strong message. Fuck. He wants something I'm gonna remember? Yeah, I won't forget this. I won't forget it, but maybe one day I'm gonna be able to get revenge on this asshole. If I can, I'm gonna get him good.

When he's done, dude looks at the job. He's like, "Naw, you're still a fucking loser. You ain't no badass."

Champ forces me down, rubbin’ my face into the piles of blond hair. He gets up and gives me a hard kick in the back. Champ steps over my legs and bends down. He grabs the waistband of my black trunks and strips ‘em off. Dude whips my bare ass with my black spandex. THWAP! THWAP! THWAP! He's makin’ me look like a bitch, but ain't jack shit I can do about it.

Dude kicks me onto my back. He kneels beside my head, tellin’ me, "You're a piece of shit. Who the fuck do you think you are, wearing black to wrestle me? Fuck that! I wear black. Not chumps like you. Got that?"

It's tough, but I go, "Yeah, Champ. I got it."

Champ throws my sweaty trunks in my face. SPLAT! I lie there while he walks outta the ring and arena area.

I stay in there for a while, pissed at the whole deal. I just can't figure out what the hell I can do about it. I clean up the ring, grab my gear and head to the locker room. By the time I'm there, Champ's comin’ out of the showers. He looks at me, smirkin’, but he doesn't say anything more. I suck it up and go, "Hey, Champ," then look in the mirror on my way to the showers.

Behind me, I hear, "What the fuck?"

Oh shit. It's Dean. He's a big booker with the fed and he looks pissed. He asks what happened. I lie. I know nothin’ would happen to Champ, who just stands there with a shit eatin’ grin. Dean goes off on me for like ten minutes. Swearin’, tellin’ me ROW isn't amateur hour, talkin’ about my image, not to change my look without clearin’ it with ‘em first, etc. He ends with, "Got it, Case?"

"Yes sir. Sorry sir."

Dean goes, "Fuck, on top of everything, it looks like shit. Did a fucking monkey do it? You going for a psycho angle?"

In a cocky tone, Champ's like, "Actually, Dean, I think it suits him. Looks good. Dude."

I wanna go at Champ, but I ignore him. I tell Dean, "I'll get it fixed up, sir. It’ll be an even crop before tonight’s show. And it'll grow back. I'm not on a card until Nashville in three weeks. It'll be better by then."

Dean storms out. Champ walks over and rubs my head, "See you around. Dude."

I head into the shower room. I get my hair fixed and the show in KC goes okay. Nobody knows me or my character yet, so the hair is no big deal, except to the guys in charge. Even with them, it'd be no big deal if everything else was right.

The real problem is that there are some missed spots in my match. I know they're my opponent Kyle's fault, but we both look bad. We're rookies in ROW, but we're supposed to be better than that at this level. ROW is tryin’ to be big time. It'll definitely keep us off TV until we can get it right. I gotta hope that Dean and the other bookers see it my way and don't think I'm a problem.

Back at the motel, I'm tired. Just tired. What a fuckin’ shitty day. When I get in my room, my best friend Ben is waitin’. He watched the match from the audience, so he wants to know about the hair. I explain what happened. Everything. He just listens then asks, "Any upcoming matches scheduled?"

I'm like, "No, not for a few weeks."

Ben goes, "Good. Let's go on vacation."

"Sounds good to me, bro. Sounds good to me."

The End