An Unwanted New Beginning

Done.

The career life expectancy for a professional wrestler can vary.  Some guys fizzle out quickly and others continue on and on, far outstaying their welcome, still pulling their boots up over their wrinkled calves far beyond the logical quitting point.  

I don't really fall in either of those camps.  I'm 28, nearing 29, still in my physical prime.  I definitely haven't hit my decline physically.  I'm also not the wash-out.  I achieved things in this business.  I've co-owned a company and been World Champion of one of the biggest wrestling companies on the planet before I hit age 30.  I reached the summit.  I was the man.  The top dog.  I'd cheated and bullied my way to the top of my business.  Nothing could be sweeter, right?  It had to be all gravy from there.

Wrong.

The underhanded tactics I'd used to achieve my status ate at me.  I'd rather not have the belt at all than carry something I didn't deserve.  Truthfully, I was never going to get a fair shake in New Edge Wrestling, so I evened the odds.  I could justify that at first.  But, in the end, it wasn't who I was.  The dastardly deeds of Phoenix were fun at the time, but after a while, it becomes hard to look at yourself in the mirror.

So I dropped the title to Hazard, a man who was my superior in the ring.  One of the toughest bastards I've ever faced.  I've lost to Hazard when I was at the top of my game before, but this time my heart wasn't in it.  I needed a rebirth.  I needed to wash clean of all of the dirty shit that came with getting that belt.  So I did.  

I lost the belt with the promise that I'd take time off and come back and do it the right way.  I'd come back and prove myself in the ring as a competitor.  I'd win my matches and I'd work my way to the top.  No more underhanded tactics, no more bullshit.  Just blood, sweat, and tears.  I came back like a house of fire and won.  And won some more.  And I was rewarded for my hard work by being placed into the lowest division possible by New Edge ownership.  I knew I wasn't a Youngblood.  I'd proven at least that much.  I thought I'd have to work my way back up to the top, but being placed there was degrading.  It was a slap in the face.  It was intentional.

So I decided to roll with it.  I won that Youngblood belt and I defended it every single week.  Ownership still refused to move me up the card.  I defended that title successfully more times than anybody in the companies history.  And instead of moving me up where I belonged, where I'd earned being, ownership dropped experienced World Title level competitors like Seth Iser and Ryan Omega down in order to get the belt off of me.  They wanted me to lose a Youngblood title and start the process all over.  They threw me in bullrope matches and ladder matches against terrific competition.  And I won every match.  I gave a big 'fuck you' to ownership.  I proved myself and rightfully earned my spot higher up the card. 

At least I thought I did.  Instead, ownership stripped me of the Youngblood title.  They intended to keep me at the top of the card, this time with nothing to work toward.  Nothing to aspire to.  They wanted me to flounder there forever, making them money but never achieving any real substantial success again.  This was their power play.

So I turned my back on a multi-million dollar wrestling contract and I left.  I retired from wrestling in my prime, on a winning streak.  I was devastated at first.  Wrestling was my life.  It was what I used to escape from the gay porn industry.  I created a life for myself with my own hard work.  I proved the many doubters wrong.  And now that was over.  I have no intention to wrestle again.  New Edge Wrestling killed the idea of the wrestling business for me.  I couldn't go back there, and I really didn't want to start that process of finding a new company again.  I'd done that many times already in my short career.  Starting over is just too much work.

So I accepted my new career path: retired professional wrestler.  I hit the convention scene, signing autographs, doing a little public speaking.  Between the porn fans and wrestling fans together, I made a modest living for myself.  It wasn't the glamorous life I'd been used to.  But I was content.  

And then this shit happened...

“Your energy drink, Mr. Backdoor...”

“Grape?!” an agitated Bobby Backdoor replied.  “Do I look like I drink GRAPE flavored things?”

“Uh...I didn't know...” replied the timid assistant.

“You're paid to know these things!” Bobby exclaimed, slumping his head down into his harms.  These early call times at wrestling convention autograph signings were always hard to wake up for.  You had to be in the building and at your table before the throngs of obese, sweat-stained fat guy wrestling fans in holey sweatpants could enter the building.

“I'm sorry Mr. Backdoor.  Why is it you don't like grape?” asked the assistant.

“Why do you think?” Bobby asked, annoyed.

“Because you're not black...?” the young white assistant asked.

“What?!” Bobby asked.  “NO!  Uh...that has nothing to do with it!  Are you a racist?!  Why would you even say that?!”

“NO, I'm not a racist!  I swear!” exclaimed the assistant.  “I just thought that's what you were going for when you said you don't like grape...”

“So you thought I was a racist?” Bobby said.

“No...I mean...maybe...uhhh...I don't know...” the assistant stammered.

“Well, I'm not a racist!” Bobby shouted.  “I'll have you know that I don't like grape flavored things because it reminds me of church communion and the religious sect in my hometown that rejected me when I came out of the closet!”

“How am I supposed to know that?!” the assistant asked, flabbergasted.

“You haven't read my autobiography?” Bobby asked.  “I gave you a copy when I hired you.  I even personalized it with hella smiley faces and some x's and o's and all that jazz.”

“I haven't had time!” the assistant said.  “I swear, I will!”

“Don't bother!” Bobby huffed.  “You're fired!  I refuse to have racists on my payroll!”

“You haven't paid me yet and I've worked for you for months!” the assistant exclaimed. 

“That's cause I knew you were racist all along!  I had a premonition!” Bobby yelled, pointing at the assistant.  “I just couldn't prove it.  Now I know you're a racist, so no money for you!”

“You're so full of shit!” the assistant screamed, grabbing his jacket off of the chair and throwing it over his shoulder.  “I didn't want to work for your faggot bum ass anymore anyway!  I'm a New Edge guy, and you're washed up!”

The assistant stormed off, leaving Bobby there alone at the autograph table.  The fans started filling into the building at this point, them edging nearer and nearer to Bobby.

“Well I dodged a bullet there.  Racist AND homophobic!” Bobby said to himself, with a chuckle.  “It's so hard to find good help these days.  I miss...Dan...Dan?!”

As Bobby spoke, his old friend/assistant/lackey Cameraman Dan walked by the booth, carrying a camera.  He noticed Bobby saying his name and tried to pretend like he didn't hear it.  Dan kept on walking as Bobby screamed.

“DAN!  DAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!  DAN, IT'S ME!  IT'S BOBBY!”

Dan kept walking and the first couple sweaty, obesity-riddled wrestling fans reached the front of Bobby's autograph lined.  The first one reached into his sweatpants pocket and pulled out a wad of junk.  He carefully removed a wrinkled 20 dollar bill from the mess of McDonalds receipts and slid it over to Bobby.

Bobby looked up at the fans.

“Tell you what, guys.  This autograph is on the house if you go get that scrawny little cameraman and bring him to me.”

The two fans smiled and happily agreed and bounded over to where Cameraman Dan stood.  They each grabbed him under an arm and started to drag him toward Bobby.

“Hey!” yelled a startled Dan.  “What the hell!  Who are you?!” Dan yelled, without a response from the two fans.  The fans pulled Dan closer and closer to Bobby, overpowering him.

“This is bullshit!” Dan screamed.  “You can't just kidnap a person in public like this!  What are you doing?!” Dan asked.  “Are you going to rape me?!  RAPE!”

Dan's screams of rape happened just as the two fans got him back in front of Bobby at his booth.

“Shut the fuck up, Dan!” Bobby said in half-hushed tone.  “Nobody is EVER gonna rape your scrawny ass.”

“What the fuck, Bobby?!” Dan asked, irate.  “You can't just have a person dragged over to see you!  This isn't fucking Iran!  You're not some sort of Shaikh here, above the law!”

Bobby started to sign the fans autographs as he talked to Dan.  

“If you would have just come when I called you, I wouldn't have had to go to those lengths, Dan.” Bobby said.  “I know you fucking saw me.  Why didn't you stop?”

“I can't keep doing this Bobby,” Dan said.  “My associating with you ruined my life.”

“That's bullshit!” Bobby said, as he continued to sign autographs for the fans, taking their 20 dollars and throwing it into a cashbox as he did it.  “You experienced some awesome shit with me!  We had some great times!”

“You DRAGGED me along on some crazy shit I had no desire to be a part of!” Dan said.  “And then you left New Edge and disappeared.  After that, life was hell for me at NEW.  I was associated so much with you, and they HATE you there, so they made my life a living hell.  I had to do all of Jesse's bitch work and be degraded the entire time.  When you were there, everything was okay.  They wouldn't mess with me because they were afraid what you'd do.  When you left, I was a sitting duck!”

“Whoa...” Bobby said, hit hard by Dan's words.  “Dan, I had no idea.  I just had to get out of there.  I didn't think...”

“You didn't think about how your actions affected anyone but yourself!” Dan yelled.  “It's always Bobby before everyone!  I was always just the afterthought sidekick!”

“Oh come on, Dan...” Bobby said.  “We're friends!”

“Bullshit!” Dan yelled.  

“Excuse me!” said an overweight female goth fan, face caked in makeup.  “We're PAYING you for an autograph...shouldn't you be conversing with the fans?”

“You're absolutely right, I'm sorry Miss...” Bobby said, turning to face the young woman.  “Goddamn!” he yelled, upon seeing her shocking appearance.  She was squeezed into a black t-shirt for NEW wrestler Nocturnal, which was at least two sizes too small for her overweight frame.

“Is there a problem with the way I look?” the fan asked.

“Uh...no...no...no problem,” Bobby lied.  He signed the autograph and handed it to the young woman.  “Is there anything else I can help you with?” Bobby said, slightly annoyed.

“You don't have to be rude!” the female fan asked.  “This isn't how you should treat a fan!  Nocturnal would never act like this!” she yelled, as she stormed away.

“She clearly has never met Nocturnal...” Dan says, with a laugh.

“Freaks, his fans are.  Can't ever get away from that shit...” Bobby said, as he started to sign autographs for the next fan in line.

“So you're here filming for New Edge at the convention?”  Bobby asked.  “That's weird.  This little legends convention in Minnesota seems to be way too low profile for them to give a shit about.”

“No, I got fired from New Edge.”

“Fired?  Why?” Bobby asked.

“Jesse went on a firing spree last week.  He found out a bunch of wrestlers were leaving for a new company and he fired everyone he even thought might be involved.  He even fired a bunch of us staffers, I think just for the hell of it.  I called the new company after I got fired, and I think they took pity on me.  They hired me on to be a cameraman there.”

“That's great man!” Bobby said, while posing for a picture with a young fan in a luchadore mask.  “New company, huh?”

“Yeah, Visionaries of Wrestling is the name,” Dan said.  “You know, you'd do well there.  There are a bunch of familiar faces from your New Edge days who have made it onto that roster.  Even Joka left New Edge for VOW!”

“As tempting as hanging with my old buddies is, I'm gonna have to pass,” Bobby said while looking at Dan.  “He continued to sign autographs, while not even looking at what he was signing.  “I'm retired.  I won't be wrestling for anyone any time soon, especially some new place called VOW...”

“That's not what the contract you just signed says...” said the familiar voice in front of Bobby.  Bobby's head snapped to the front immediately.  There stood a familiar foe, former New Edge wrestler Ryan Omega.  On the table was a contract with the VOW letterhead.  On the signature line was Bobby Backdoor's signature.  He'd signed it while looking at Dan, thinking it was another 8x10 picture or piece of memorabilia.

“Ryan Omega!” said Bobby, confused.  “What the hell!”  

“Bobby, been a while,” Ryan said.  “I came here to ask you to sign a contract for the company I'm working for, Visionaries of Wrestling.  Turns out, I didn't even have to ask.  Just cost me 20 bucks.  Easiest negotiations I've done yet!”

“But...but...WHAT?!” Bobby asked, confused.  “A contract?!”

“Yes, you are the newest contracted wrestler for Visionaries of Wrestling.  I would say I'm glad to have you aboard, but it wasn't my call.  With our history, I'm not sure if I want you in the company.  However, leadership thinks you bring name recognition VOW needs.  So now you're in.  Later, Bobby.”

Ryan Omega turned to walk away, leaving Bobby still sitting there dumbfounded.  He was a wrestler again, whether he wanted to be or not.

“Oh, and Bobby...” Ryan said, turning back toward him.  “You better get ready, man.  You have a match on Tuesday against Carlton Grace.”

“TUESDAY?!” Bobby exclaimed.   Like in three days, Tuesday?!”

“Yep,” Omega said with a smile.  “Oh, and in Carlton's introduction promo he said something about you being a small package, or having a small package...something like that.”

“SMALL PACKAGE?!”  Bobby yelled.  “I DO NOT HAVE A SMALL PACKAGE!  I'll prove it!”

Bobby started to unzip his jeans and Dan rushed over, grabbing his arms.

“Stop it!” Dan yelled.  

“I gotta show these people I don't have a small package,” Bobby said, struggling with Dan.

“What is it with you and pulling your dick out in public?!” Dan asked, struggling with Bobby.

Bobby stopped struggling with Dan, realizing he wasn't going to win.  He sat back down in the chair, letting the realization that he's wrestling again sink in a little bit.  

“Well, looks like I'm back!  Time to kick this Carlton Grace guys' ass!” Bobby said.

“Wow, you change gears pretty quick...” Dan said, surprised.

Bobby took some keys out of his pocket and threw them to Dan.  

“Dan, go get the party bus and pull it out front!  We got a match to go win!”

“The party bus?!  The one Patrick Jones rented?!  You still have that?!” Dan asked, shocked.  “PJ probably has a million dollars in fees and fines from that bus by now!”

“Who cares, fuck that guy!”

-END-