Story Preview: May 2019 (Warning: SPOILERS!)

It's the end of April, which can only mean one thing. It's time for May spoilers. Enter if you dare to see what's on the horizon ...

Okay, spoiler-lovers ... let's see what's up for May.

5/1: Fan Fiction 2: The Zodiac Saga Chapter 1

Brody, Ram.

For the first time ever, one of my regular story slots will be occupied by another author! Yes, I'm ceding the 5/1 story to the second Fan Fiction story. Brody and Ram are back (you might want to check out the five Fan Fiction 1 stories to see how their friendship developed). This is the foundation for a rather ambitious idea guest writer Anonymous has in mind, but is self-contained.

Friday, Approximately 11:30pm

Brody’s 30-year-old Ford pickup truck struggled up the winding mountain roads surrounding the Los Angeles basin. Although the vehicle didn’t exactly meet California’s strict emissions standards, it was old enough to be grandfathered into the state’s laws and had been Brody’s only means of transportation since he first learned to drive. It was also the very truck in which he packed what meager belongings he had 16 years ago and set off for the big city, fleeing his harsh and judgmental parents and the life of mediocrity he was destined to lead if he remained on his family’s farm.

Just 19 years old at the time, Brody had big dreams of what city life would bring, and although things hadn’t worked out nearly as well as he’d hoped since moving to L.A., the old pickup truck had been his constant companion throughout his struggles to make ends meet. It wasn’t just his meager income that forced him to keep the vehicle running since he couldn’t afford a new one – it was also a sense of pride and loyalty he felt to his truck that caused him to do everything he could to extend its life, which helped him become an expert mechanic. He’d known the old rust bucket almost as long as he’d known his best friend, Buck, but Buck hadn’t joined Brody in L.A. until just a few months ago and wasn’t around for some of the most difficult times of Brody’s life like his Ford had been. There were several occasions when the pickup had even served as Brody’s “apartment” when he was temporarily unable to afford the exorbitant rent prices in the City of Angels. Unfortunately, keeping the vehicle operational was becoming more and more difficult as it sputtered and chugged its way up the towering hills of some of Southern California’s most expensive real estate.

“The rich people who live in these mansions are probably gonna call the cops on me for disturbing the peace,” Brody thought to himself as the engine and muffler growled. “Either that, or they think I’m here to take care of their landscaping.”

It was approaching midnight, and Brody struggled to locate the address he was looking for in the dim streetlights that dotted the twisting road ahead of him. He’d been to the place a couple times before, but only during the day. The area was much darker at night but offered a spectacular view of the city below – its grid of white, amber, and purplish lights resembling a giant circuit board, with the skyscrapers of downtown L.A. visible in the distance. Brody also couldn’t help but notice the sheer number of stars visible overhead in this mountainous location, far above the air pollution and smog of the city. He hadn’t seen so many stars since he left his family’s rural farm those many years ago.

Brody finally came upon a section of roadway he recognized and soon located his destination. He pulled into the driveway entrance and up to the stone walls and giant black gate barring his path. After entering a code into the keypad located outside the driver’s side window, the gate smoothly and soundlessly opened, allowing Brody access.

Brody drove past the lush foliage surrounding the gate and up the long winding driveway that was lined on either side with small white lights until he saw the residence at the top of the hill before him, the very sight of which caused him to utter, “Whoa.” He’d seen this place during the day, but seeing it now at night – the ultra-modern minimalist architecture featuring sharp rectangular angles and several exterior walls made of glass, all set into the rocky hillside overlooking the city below and illuminated by landscape lighting and the full moon – was truly a sight to behold.

Brody parked his old pickup truck in the driveway next to several very expensive-looking exotic sportscars and luxury sedans and grabbed his gym bag from behind the passenger seat. He made his way to the massive double front doors of the home and rang the doorbell, which sounded with actual chimes instead of a cheap electronic tone. It took a moment before he heard the doors unlock and saw one of them open.

Standing in the doorway was the familiar face of Brody’s dreams: The chiseled jaw, the gleaming blue eyes, and teeth so sparkling white that they rivaled the stars above.

“Hey, buddy!” Ram exclaimed, pulling Brody into a bro-hug. Brody happily returned the embrace.

5/15: Rival Pro Wrestling 5: El Presidente vs. Flyboy Fiero

Flyboy Fiero, El Presidente.

While the first story of May is all about friendship, this second story is not. It's 1982 and El Presidente's shenanigans have rubbed many Rival Pro Wrestling stars the wrong way. Now, one young stud has had enough and he's not going to take the boss's bullshit anymore.

New series take time to develop. RPW hasn't been too popular, but I'd love for you to give it a try if you normally wouldn't. I shared this story with a friend and he said ... "This was spectacular ... It will be a landmark story ... Beautiful work. I think it’s going to be huge. You’re going to make new fans for Rival ..." Please let me know what you think (on or after 5/15)!

Narrator: Slim Jim Bartlett

Down the hallway, I see Flyboy Fiero. The 18-year old masked superstar is pacing. He’s still in his sexy pro wrestling gear. His smooth muscular 5’9”/170-lbs body is still pumped from his earlier match. As a third-generation Lucha Libre wrestler, he never appears in public without his mask, which is red with gold and orange leather patches that look like fire around the eyes. It has deep significance to him, even though it obviously covers a handsome face.

I have to just admire the young star for a moment. Fiero’s tight red trunks are adorned with fiery wings on the front and yellow fringe that runs from the waistband at his hips diagonally down in front to his prominent pouch and in back to the middle of his cute bubble butt. His red knee pads have matching wings and fringe that hangs down over his red leather pro wrestling boots. As a high-flyer, the fringe dances like flames when he jumps around the ring. The last bit of adornment are red straps that cut over his sculpted biceps.

Yes, Flyboy Fiero is a beautiful young man, but don’t mistake his flawless muscleboy body, youthful exuberance and commitment to fair play as signs of any kind of weakness. He is a fighter, able to go toe-to-toe with anyone, which he proved earlier today against the rough-and-tumble brute Butch Jansen. The young wrestler still looks hot under the collar. No wonder. He only lost because the boss of RPW, El Presidente, interfered and cost him the match.

Being Rival Pro Wrestling’s main announcer, I can’t resist the urge to see what’s up. I wave the cameraman my way and get my mic ready.

“Flyboy! Flyboy! You look upset. Care to explain to all the RPW viewers what’s going on?”

“Hey, Slim Jim. You really need to ask? This place is a joke. No one gets a fair shake. The best are held back while cheaters and liars thrive. I had that beast Butch Jansen down. I had him pinned. Then that no-good lying bastard El Presidente distracts the ref and I lose?”

“I hear you. We all saw El Presidente’s dirty trick. We all watched in horror as you were knocked out by Jansen’s signature lariat move. His boot on your mask while the referee counted 1-2-3. Then how he hogtied and dragged you to the back like some calfling from his ranch. It was a crime. Are you okay now?”

“No, I’m not okay! If it wasn’t for my damn contract, I’d be outta here!”

Behind us, we hear a reply along with a deep raspy laugh, “But you do have a contract, little boy. An unbreakable contract.”

Alex