Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

B.O.B. D · **05-07-2019, 08:58 PM**

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

I groaned as I started to wake up, feeling the intensity of everything my body had been through. As I turned off the alarm, my whole back, legs, and arms all throbbed in pain.

Before I came out of retirement, I had already began to feel the ache of growing older. It started off subtly, taking more time to get up in the morning, or needing to stretch more to get limber. But with the added pressure of wrestling every week, sometimes twice, my body was starting to feel like hell.

I got out of bed and headed straight for the shower, making it nice and hot to relax my muscles. As I stood there allowing the water to flow down, I thought about how close we were to Warfare. This was the first time I wasn't fully recovered for my next match, putting me at a big disadvantage. No matter how much ibuprofen I took, how many hot showers I had, my body wasn't entirely ready for what tomorrow was gonna bring. And that simply was not acceptable.

The pain may have been intense, but it wasn't enough to make me quit. It never would be, not when I had so much left to accomplish. Some people might tell me to cherish my body, walk away while I still could walk. They'd say to take pride with my 3 title runs and go back to enjoying retirement. I have nothing left to prove.

Those people would be wrong, though. While I did take pride with the titles I've held in XWF thus far, it was nowhere near what I set out to do. The whole point of coming out of retirement wasn't to win a few belts nobody respected, it wasn't to have a couple comeback matches and fade back into nothingness. I came to XWF to leave my mark on it. Like a dog would pee on his favorite spot, I was hear to take a piss all over the XWF, metaphorically, of course. I came here because I intended on etching my name in the history of the company.

In the NWF I was a Hall of Famer, but nobody cared when I arrived in XWF. It was like my career started over again. While winning 24/7 Championships was a nice start to it, no-one gave a fuck. There were plenty of people who'd come and gone holding these belts, but those names were all ghosts of XWF's past. The wrestlers who got the recognition I seek did more, much more.

It was a good way to begin with my title reigns, but it wasn't enough to be remembered 10 years from now. Being Captain of a War Games team was another step in cementing my name in the legacy of XWF, but that in itself shouldn't be my defining moment. I need to ensure we WIN that match, otherwise all of our names will fade, and it will be my fault.

As important as winning War Games and a Universal Title shot was, it wasn't the current task at hand. Right now I had to focus on Griffin McAlister and the God of Grapple, and getting into the match for a Hart Title shot. Even though this match wasn't FOR a direct shot, it felt as though the winner of this match was gonna be the favorite to get the opportunity.

Griffin McAlister had been a mechanic, a profession of manual labor. I was very familiar with hard work, having been a janitor growing up. We both worked jobs that most people would look at and scoff. I've had to deal with privileged people who think they were above me based on what I did to put bread on the table, and I'm sure he has to. I took pride in what I did, always rising above the assholes and doing the best I could. I'm not ashamed of that past, and Griffin isn't either. He is SO proud of what he did, he took on his job as his moniker, something even I didn't do.

And then there was Double G. I didn't know anything about his past or even who he was now. This man was a true mystery. The only thing I really had to go off of was his name: God of Grapple. What the hell could I do with that? I thought about the dream I had where I interrupted him, and wondered if he was just a fraud. Even though it was just a dream, alot of people believe dreams hold truths in them. So for all I knew, Gable dubbed himself a 'God of Grapple' without ever really proving himself. I may not have known, but I was gonna find out tomorrow.

After about 40 minutes of just standing there, I quickly got myself cleaned and turned the water off. As I dried myself off I thought about what I was gonna do with the day. I never trained the day before a match, in the past I would, but then I'd be too blown up to be as effective in the ring as I wanted. With the way I was still feeling after my loss to Lux, I could use the extra rest before my Wednesday night showdown.

After getting dry and dressed, I went back to my room and sat on the bed. I reached for the drawer in the nightstand by my bed and pulled out the first pipe I ever bought. It was black and yellow, with the Iowa Hawkeye head in a glass ball on the front. I still remembered the day I bought it, naming it after one of my favorite Hawkeyes of all-time, Quarterback Ricky Stanzi.

Stanzi was a legend in Iowa, constantly overcoming obstacles on the field to lead the team to victory. He played alot like Tim Tebow did in the NFL, being down for a good portion of the game, only to step it up in the 4th quarter and drive the offense to a win. It was a constant heart attack, but we were all proud of his ability to overcome adversity and pull through when it mattered. There was one specific game against Indiana where Stanzi threw 3 or 4 picks in one quarter and got booed out of the stadium. But in spite of the hate, the fact everyone wanted Coach Ferentz to put in the backup, Ricky went out and threw 2 TD passes on his next two plays and we went on to defeat the Hoosiers to stay undefeated.

As I puffed on the devil's lettuce, I realized my XWF career was comparable to Ricky Stanzi. Things may not have been going the best, but it was only the 3rd Quarter. Tomorrow night was the start of the 4th and I was ready to start throwing for TDs. McAlister and GG were my Indiana, and I had to overcome being down to lead myself to victory. And much like Ricky Stanzi had for the Hawkeyes, I was up for the task.

After finishing my bowl, I realized I was hungry so I grabbed my phone and placed an order for pizza. It was ironic, because food wasn't the only thing I hungered for. I craved having gold around my waist, being one of the top stars XWF had to offer. I was starving to have the ref raise my hand and the announcer bellow to the crowd that I was the NEWWWWW XWF Hart Champion!!!!! I could taste it, but I wasn't quite at the point where I was ready to digest it.

Before I could fix my craving, I had to place my order and have it delivered, much like my Dominos. My match against Griffin McAlister and Double G was the order I had to place. Without winning that match, there was gonna be no satiation. If I don't win this match, I don't get to move on to the delivery phase of a Number 1 Contender match. If I don't place my order for the Hart Championship, I won't stand a chance of having it brought to me. And that would never satisfy my hunger.

After about 45 minutes of waiting, I finally heard a knock on my door. I got up with my $30 and answered it. Standing there was the delivery guy, probably about college age. As soon as he saw me his eyes grew wide with recognition.

"Y-you're Big D!" he stuttered in amazement. "Oh man, they're not gonna believe this back at the store!"

"I'd appreciate it if they DIDN'T know," I responded. "I have a big match tomorrow and don't need fanboys showing up for autographs or whatnot." I hold my hand with the ten and twenty out for him, causing him to remember he had a job to do.

"Right........." he squeaked. "That'll be $20.57." He hands me the two boxes, which I set inside on the bed, before turning back and handing him the money.

"There you go," I say with a smile. "No need for change."

"Oh, okay," the guy says looking at the bills in disappointment. It didn't make sense to me, he was getting almost a $9 tip on a $21 order. As someone who also worked in the pizza business for a bit, I didn't see the problem.

"Is something wrong?" I asked with an eyebrow raised.

"No, no, I appreciate the tip," he responded, attempting to hide the fact he was upset. He didn't do it very well.

"But?........."

"Well, while $9 IS a good tip," he began. "I'm just shocked that someone in your position would be so cheap...."

His words struck the wrong chord with me. I remember when I used to deliver pizza, I NEVER complained to the customer about their tip or lack thereof. There was one regular customer who always wrote a check out for the exact amount, and when they messed up one time and wrote it for more than the amount, they said 'I guess you get a tip THIS time.' I wanted to punch that fucker, but I never did. And now this entitled punk wanted to complain about a free $9 because it came from someone he assumed was well off.

"Let me tell you something, Nate," I snarled, looking at the driver's name tag. "Just because you've heard of someone, doesn't make them a millionaire. I mean, for fuck's sake, have you realized I'm staying at a Budget Inn? Not exactly the Ritz Carlton. I make a good living, but I don't do it just to hand it all to some snotty kid who's gonna blow it out all on booze and nose candy. Now, I suggest you take your 9 dollars and change before I take it back AND tell your manager I'm NOT happy with my service."

I may have been an asshole, but I was in alot of pain and stressed. The weed was already wearing off and it wasn't helping. The driver's mouth dropped open, before he scoffed and turned away.

"You're never gonna be a World Champion again!" he shouted over his shoulder as he walked away. "I hope Griffin McAlister kicks your ass!!!"

I slammed my door shut and took a deep breath. While that kid may have irritated me, I couldn't blame him. He wanted more money in the same way I wanted more championship reigns. When someone wants something that badly, they'll do just about anything, no matter how irrational. Like snapping on a customer because they did wrong in your eyes, even if that customer could kick your ass.

Even though the service was bad, the food was good. Bread sticks were the perfect consistency of being soft, but not undercooked. The pizza had a good amount of toppings, spread evenly around the pie with enough cheese to cover the sauce out to the crust. I picked up a slice and took a bite, seeing that it tasted as awesome as it looked.

I sat on the bed, filling my belly with breaded goodness. The pizza was doing its job of solving my hunger. It was now time satisfy the other hunger I had.

I turned on the TV and put on footage of Griffin McAlister's recent tag match, where he teamed with Brian Storm. There may not have been anymore training left to do, but that didn't mean the work was all done. I would sit there and scout one of my opponents, at least, until I knew the ins and outs of his game. While I may have to wing it with Double G, I at least had something to go off of with McAlister. Hopefully it'd be enough to pull through. I couldn't let it now be, not now, after all the pain I've put myself through. Losing was not an option, just like it wasn't for Ricky Stanzi.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode I Think I'm Ricky Stanzi
Author	Message