PREPARATIONS FOR SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM ❇ ☆ ☄ ☾

The warm breeze blows through the windows of ole’ Volkswaggin’, Bronx Goldie’s favourite and most reliable form of transport, his Volkswagen Kombi. The aging yet still glimmering old, customised bus travels at a decent speed down the road as Bronx Goldie holds the top of the steering wheel and soulfully sings the classical tune of “Just Dropped In” by Kenny Rogers. Now if you know Mr. Bronson well enough then you’ll know he’s got no talent in the singing department whatsoever. It’s quite atrocious singing basically. 

The instrumental solo comes in and much to the front seat passenger, Brett Carson, Goldie takes his hands off the wheel and starts air guitaring while nodding his head in a slow pace to add emotion to his strumming of the air guitar. He stops strumming as the chorus reaches it’s climax. 

“Yeah...yeah...Oh yeah what condition my condition was in.” Goldward bellows before he throws his hands up in the air and starts to softly punching the roof to the soft rock tune of the song, although based off of his actions, he’s rather exaggerated it into something of a heavy metal song. 

“Would you focus on the goddamn road, I have some necks to break and heads to drop this week and I’d much prefer if I were 100 percent to damn well do it!” Brett scolds, before flicking the station to a quieter news station. 

The bus swivels and turns sharp corners and through the hustle and bustle of a small little town as Goldie grumbles and focuses his attention to the road. The town itself is quiet in areas that, at this time of day, shouldn’t be quiet, places like cafes, restaurants and shops. Carson momentarily stops rubbing his temples to think a little about his opponent, the quiet of the ride suggests that it’s as good of a time as any to plot strategies in his head. Starr has out of this world strength so overpowering him is a silly move, he supposedly owns extreme speed so he’d most likely keep up with any fast pace that Carson would throw at him not to mention Starrkadian has practically unlimited amounts of energy as seen in his previous match, but what Brett possesses that Starr does not...is his ability to technically wrestle, his overall ring smarts and the rather rare experience edge. That’ll all play to his advantages this Tuesday night in St. Paul...Speaking of which…

Brett looks out the window, and watches as the town quickly fades behind and the road leads them into farmland and old weathered barns.

“Where exactly are we, BG? This is a waste of time and so far looks like it ain’t gonna help my cause…” Brett asks in a bewildered tone, looking towards his advisor/manager awaiting some nonsense answer to be sent back.

“I told you, kid...We’re on a road trip, the last darn stretch of it actually.” Goldie replies, as he takes one hand off the steering wheel and fiddling in his pockets before pulling out a cigarette and popping it in his mouth. He then brings up his lighter and lights the smoke before taking a long drag. He rolls the creaking window down to let some of the smoke out before he places his hand out in a gesture of relaxation.

That little action there shows how many times Bronx has lit up a cigarette with one hand while travelling the road, from city to city.

“On a road trip to where exactly…?” Carson asks a follow up question, a blunt look once again sent to his mentor’s face.

Goldie’s eyes remain planted firmly on the road as he begins to pull up in front of a relatively newly built building. The building is glimmering with bright purple, blues and yellows...all in metallic of course as a large tilted statue of the planet, Saturn sits on top of the building as added decoration. A large neon sign sits on “the rings” of Saturn and the sign reads:

“CIRCUS GALACTICA”

As Brett scans the building, Goldward answers his question, “We’re in Stephen, Minnesota…” He pauses for a moment to allow Carson to grunt in annoyance at the name of the city, “...Home to approximately 600 plus people, one of the smaller and lesser known towns in the North Star state. Recently opened up one of their biggest attractions to date, Circus Galactica. Space themed arcade with amateur cheap arcade games but theres a few gems in there...Space Invader and what not.” 

Brett stops as he gets out of the bus, slamming the door angrily, “Hold it...We drove six damn hours from Minneapolis to get to this crappy little town...to play fucking ARCADE GAMES!?” The anger in his tone is obvious as he runs his hand through his hair and shuts his eyes for a moment, calming down.

“Oh trust me...It’s to prepare you for that fucking death, vomit encouraging, rotating carry of doom that the roided up walking neon sign. Stupid move but it was just as effective as a splash or piledriver back in my day.” Goldie preaches as they make their way towards the building

“We seriously couldn’t just kidnap Cameraman Dan, dump him in the washing machine, switch it to spin dry and observe...That’d would’ve been humorous and a much better use of our time…” Carson jokes, a smirk appearing on his face. 

They walk up to the relatively small line made up of kids and their redneck, farm owning parents. They step over the guardrail like fencing they’ve placed, to originally control the line but Carson and Goldie are in no mood for waiting in line. The line immediately becomes rowdy as a few try to push in front, realizing that in front of them is the legendary Bronx Goldie and… ‘that anti-faggot guy who wrestles up in Saint Paul’...a redneck’s specific words...while others couldn’t care less who they are and simply are far too pugnacious (pug not Pugh) to even comprehend. 

They walk in to Circus Galactica and are immediately impressed with the amounts of arcade games and rides there are in the large facility, classics like Space Invaders, Star Wars and Halo Arcade demos sit in corners of the building while against the wall are classic arcade games with a twist, games like “Whack-A-Wookie!” where the hammer is a blue lightsaber instead. They finally turn their attention to a large, realistic looking spacecraft, smack dab in the middle of the building. A lanky Napoleon Dynamite looking, Circus Galactica worker is rather over excitedly assisting the kids in the line so each can get a turn on what they call:

“Circus Galactica’s Galactic Gyration Circuit Spacecraft”

The machine allows for one person to comfortably lay down, belly first on a see through glass at the bottom of the aircraft before being spun around in however many rotations the Galactica assistant enters in, regularly that would be 5-10 rotations for kids aged 9-12 and 11-20 rotations for kids aged 13-16...or at least that’s what the roughed up board said. Brett stared at the massive spacecraft in sudden realisation of what he was about to endure.

They walk up to the counter where a young chubby gentlemen sits behind the counter, “Hi and welcum to Sirkiss Galakthika…” The gentlemen greets with an unfortunate lisp in his voice, “...How may I halpew?” He finishes off as particles of saliva shoot out of his mouth like missiles.

Goldie chuckles slightly as Carson watches on from the side, “Thwho Sirkiss Galakthika cahds please, sihr…” Bronx mocks, sticking his tongue out and rudely replying while purposely making noises with his lip and tongue while shooting droplets of spit out too.

“The Next Level Athlete”chuckles crudely as the now distraught gentlemen with a lisp quickly makes up two arcade cards for the two of them. Bronson chuckles before lifting up the two cards off the glass token prize showcase cabinet that also works as a counter. They turn their attention away from mocking the poor kid with a lisp and back to the death machine that’ll prepare Brett for Starrkadian’s Space Time Continuum. The two much like before, exert their dominance and physical superiority over the kids and their lanky thing parents as they force their way up the platform that leads to the spacecraft. There they meet the assistant, whos in charge of running this part of the arcade…

“Excuse me...uhh...gentlemen….but these uh...uh this ride is off limits to...uh….adults. Sorry for any in-i-in inconvenience.” He stutters out, clearly intimidated by the sudden presence of the two larger than average sized men who are both professionally trained in breaking people in half.

“Well, hey...There’s a first time for everything, right….” Goldie stops his intimidation act momentarily to read the name tag of the worked, “...Ian? I mean,hey...My buddy over here is six foot nil and is two hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle, he can snap you like a twig…I’m sure this kiddy ride won’t mean shit to him.” Bronsons lightly grins as Carson smirks behind his manager. 

There’s a reason Goldie was hired, for his mouth (get your mind our of the gutter, V!)...as much as Bronx Goldie was able to walk the walk inside the squared circle, he was also just as able to talk the talk with the best of him. 

Ian, the head in-charge for Circus Galactica’s Galactic Gyration Circuit Spacecraft, tried to stand his ground by taking a small brave step forward toward a bigger, meaner more intimidating Bronx Goldie.

“I...I-I...I can’t uh le-...” He takes a deep breath as BG and Carson watch on in amusement as the kids all around listen and hope that their temporary hero can rid them of the bastards, “I can’t let you do that, sir…This is a kid’s only ride.” He keeps his foot firm on the ground, only momentarily however as Bronx mockingly flicks Ian on his forehead before inserting his arcade card into the slot that pulls out however much money is needed for the game. 

“Brett, get in the rocket ship…” Goldie demands as he points to the ship, warily.

“It’s a Galactic Gyration Circuit Spacecraft….” Ian innocently intervenes, striking his light of expertise on the arcade game.

“Ian, I couldn’t give a fuck about what that damn name of the damn UFO is…” Goldie fires back, sternly as he enters in a simple thirty rotations now, “...Brett, Alexander whatshisface got delivered 100 something rotations last week from that Airplane Spin.We’ll try and reach that point...

Brett hops in first as he barely fits inside the case. Goldie threatens poor Ian who fastens the belt around the large waist of Carson. Brett looks back at his manager, a look of part annoyance and the other part of the look is something like a “Are you f’n kidding me right now?” look.Either way the door to the spacecraft eerily shuts before it starts to slowly spin.Once the rotations reaches five the speed bumps up, then ten….then fifteen, then twenty...the speed is picking up as it then reaches twenty-five and after five more spins it slows down to a halt. The kids roar in approval of the 30 rotations…they’d only ever seen 20 done by the “big kids”.

The spacecraft opens and funnily enough the real test begins here as Brett stumbles out and wobbles for a moment.

“Stand still and keep your eyes closed Brett...Starr’ll be just as dizzy as you, remember that!” Goldie bellows out commands as Carson follows up by standing still with his eyes closed. He maintains his balance before opening his eyes...he wobbles a little but is able to move forward.

Ian nods, “Very nice, now you’ve gotten what you wanted...N-now go!” He orders, only to be ignored by a starstruck Bronx Goldie who has an eager look on his face.

He swiftly inserts his card in and leaps into the spacecraft, “Belt me up, Ian...I’m gonna have a go at this bad boy.”

And with that Ian obliges, belting up the legend of the international independent scene. Bronx yells out fifty, the number of rotations he himself wants to sit through, and once again Ian goes ahead with it, the geek can quite clearly sense the danger but can’t wait to see what’s coming to Mr. Goldie.

Five rotations…

Ten rotations…Bronx starts to react with excitement, unexpectedly enjoying the ride.

Twenty rotations…

Thirty rotations…Goldie chuckles a little as the rotations start to affect him.

Thirty-five rotations...The color of his face starts to change to something rather pale as he starts to lightly shout.

Forty rotations...He starts to groan in there as Brett’s eyes widen immediately trying to figure out how to stop the rotations.

Forty-five rotations...BG’s bitten off more than he can chew as he physically starts to silence, sickness settling in. Ian grins wickedly as the kids stand and watch in awe.

FIFTY ROTATIONS...The rotations slow do to a halt before the amazing vomit encouraging machine stands up vertically allowing for a sick Bronx Goldie to stumble out and practically vomit up last nights Arby’s and muffins all over the floor and all over the shoes of poor Ian.

Kids back away and clench their noses as the stench of Arby’s, muffins and probably chocolate milk fill the air...as the scene fades to black all you can hear is the final regurgitation from “The Golden Child”. Will Brett be able to handle the numerous amounts of rotations from Starrkadian’s Space Time Continuum or will Starrky Airplane Spin his way into another impressive win? Stay tuned.

“One more time...I’ll conquer this thing...I swear.”