Tony and Jeremy can be seen making their way in to Gray Owl Coffee in Norman, OK. Gray Owl is a hipster mainstay when it comes to coffee shops, with a mish-mashed collection of sofas, chairs, and coffee tables, making this a place where locals can have spirited discussions about mixtapes they've made and the new Flaming Lips CD (which they, of course, bought on vinyl). That's why, seeing a man like Tony Santos, of modest height and solid build, with torn jeans and black t-shirt, along with a young, nerdy kid from BU walk through the door was quite unexpected.

Tony looks to the menu and realizes that he is being bombarded with choices.



Santos: Good lord, this is what I have to choose from? I can't even tell you what half of the words on here mean, let alone if I think I'll like any of 'em.

Jeremy: Just get a medium brewed coffee. It's practically the same as anything you'd get at your typical Dunkin' Donuts. How do you take it?

Tony flashes a look of major confusion.

Santos: What do you mean, how do I take it? I drink it. You think I'm gonna inject it or something?

Jeremy: Sir, are you kidding me? Like, what do you put in it? Cream, sugar, milk, etc.

Santos: Oh! Um, not sure. I don't get coffee often, but when I do, um, I usually just ask for a small coffee.

Jeremy: So you don't put anything in it?

Santos: No.

Jeremy: Okay, fine.

Jeremy walks up to the counter. He approaches a man in his mid-20s, James Dean-esque brown haircut, a sleeve of tattoos down his left arm of various colors and designs, including, oddly enough, an ice cream cone, and studded earrings in both ears. He's wearing a gray Gray Owl Coffee t-shirt and a gray apron (with pants on, of course).

This man, clearly having heard the entire conversation, asks Jeremy...

Barista: So, I take it this neophyte would like a black, brewed medium? What about you, sir?

Tony, mistaking neophyte (which means a novice) with necrophiliac, doesn't take too kindly to the insult.

Santos: What the hell did you call me? I'm not banging no dead people! I have plenty of living hotties that do me just fine. How about I take you out back, -EDITED OUT OF TV DUE TO GRAPHIC NATURE-?!? Huh?! I will DESTROY you, you little moron!

All of the employees stand frozen at attention, looking at this crazed maniac who just threatened to, well, end a man's life and do unimaginable things to his body afterwards. The Barista takes a few steps back, ready to pick up the phone and call the cops, when Jeremy steps in to diffuse the situation.

Jeremy: Sorry everyone. My friend here didn't mean any of tha...

Santos: Hell yeah I did! To hell with...

Jeremy nudges Tony in the ribs and tells him to shut up.

Jeremy: As I was saying, my friend here meant none of that. We've had a tough few days of traveling, so we're a bit sleep-deprived.

Tony, the man called you a neophyte, not a necrophiliac. It means that you don't know what you're talking about. Also, you just sort of made yourself out to look like a necrophiliac, so... good work.

Can we just have two medium, black hot coffees?

The Barista nods and punches them in on the computer screen. However, he fails to ever ask for money due to the stress of the situation that he just presided over. He hands Jeremy both cups, to which Tony angrily snatches his cup, and they head to a quaint little seating area in the corner. The area includes a wrap-around brown sofa with a table in the middle. Perfect for just kicking back and relaxing.

Jeremy and Tony take sips of their coffees, and thankfully, Tony seems to have calmed down (and doesn't burn himself).

Jeremy: So, Sir, so far on this trip, I've never really had the opportunity to hear about you. We've spent pretty much all of our time sleeping in buses and hanging out in dingy hotel rooms while you drink and fall asleep. What's your history? What brought you here?

Santos: What's there to tell? I dropped out of college after a year at UMass Dartmouth, found my way in to some local wrestling gigs in the Northeast, and managed to make it here. What more do you want to hear?

Jeremy sighs in disappointment. So far throughout this trip, Tony's shown himself to be somewhat aloof. Jeremy knows that there's more to this man than he is putting out, and he's determined to get that information. If he's going to get anything from this summer internship (which he's already realized isn't much in the way of photojournalistic knowledge), it's a deeper understanding of a man who is so incredibly guarded.

Santos notices Jeremy's sincere desire to understand more about him, so he throws him a bone.

Santos: Alright, so here's a quick rundown. I worked for a young promotion based out of Providence, RI a week or so after I dropped out of school. I basically scoured Craigslist ads online, found an opportunity, and took it. Hell, my parents were p*ssed at me for wasting a year of their hard-earned cash on an education that I didn't care for (even state college wasn't cheap, especially for my parents, who weren't in the best of financial straits to begin with), I had no love life, and no real friends.

This was the perfect opportunity to step into a ring and get noticed by someone. I was always pretty athletic, having played for the local baseball and football teams my entire life, so I figured, what the hell? I can do this. Sure, I was never the star athlete on any of my teams, but I was a pretty damn good supporting player.

Anyways, I stepped into the ring, and I got my a*s handed to me, night in and night out. I was this punk kid who thought he could step in the ring and immediately start dropping elbows and winning matches. I busted up my face too many times to count, tore muscles in my upper body or legs, and got more concussions than I could ever count. It was definitely rougher than I imagined, but I worked my way through it.

Tony looks down at his coffee and gives a look of disgust.

Santos: This coffee is terrible, by the way. Horrible suggestion, Jeremy.

Jeremy shakes his head but chooses not to divert Tony's story.

Santos: ANYWAYS, I spent a year and a half with this promotion before it folded, like so many others, and then found myself shuffling my feet at different stops in the Northeast. Honestly, it was the same old song and dance for a few years. I hit up a bunch of different promotions, gradually got better and won knock-off title belts, and then the promotions would fold. I made crap for money and my love life was hell. I met Laura in the middle of all of this, made some bad decisions, and we ended up with Troy.

At some point, I honestly started to wonder whether I truly loved this, or if I was only doing it because I didn't care to try anything else. I hate failing, but I've re-enforced my failures by running away as soon as I failed, never allowing myself to eventually succeed. It was like I'd fail at something because of my fear of failing.

Jeremy: Ah, a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Santos: A self-fulfilling what?

Jeremy: It's sort of where you allow something, like a fear or prediction, to become true simply by accepting past examples where it has occurred, and thus make future predictions true out of fear that it will happen again...

Jeremy realizes that he has lost Tony and thus waves his hand in a "never mind" fashion.

Santos: Well either way, after messing around with plans on doing something else back and forth in my head, I came to the conclusion that I needed to do this and succeed at it. Not just for me, but for Troy, Laura, and Shannon.

Jeremy: Who's Shannon?

Santos: My current girlfriend back in Boston. She's a babe, man. You'll meet her eventually. Those curves... well, never mind. Someday.

Anyways, XWF took an interest in me, and here I am. I'm finally getting the opportunity to make some real money and kill it out here. And I must say, it never gets old cutting some killer promos and making people feel bad about themselves.

Tony flashes a smile.

Santos: Anyways, I don't want this garbage anymore. Let's head out. Just grab your coffee and let's roll out. We need to find a McDonald's or an IHOP or something. I need some breakfast food.

Jeremy: Fine with me, sir. I'm actually finished with my coffee. I'll call a cab.

Santos: God, kid, did you chug that sludge? It tasted like motor oil.

Jeremy: You've tasted motor oil, sir?

Jeremy meant that as a snide jab at Tony's remark, but Tony, of course, took it seriously.

Santos: Well, yeah. It's not good, so just don't ever try it. Let's head out.

Jeremy: Probably pre-concussion, too...

Santos: What was that?

Jeremy: Nothing! I've got the door!

The scene fades to black.

September 2013 and May 2019 Star of the Month
1x Hart Champion
1x Television Champion
1x Xtreme Champion