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2 - The Man from Detroit - 01-29-2016

I find myself at the edge of salvation and damnation. Though, I must admit this is much more normal for me than it should be. I taste both possibilities; the bittersweet knowledge that this very well could be it for be and the sugary sweet sensation that tells me it won't be. Combining the two makes for a very disgusting mixture, I note as I gag on a mouthful of spit. I look down at myself; my word I look like a mess. Blood on my cuffs and splattered across my shirt and sport coat. Face red. Meticulously styled hair now a wild mess.

Not to mention the dead man on the floor in front of me.

Such is the life.

To think, all this started with a simple request from my boss to me.

Meet with the Woman from Seattle.

In hindsight, I should have expected this.

2 Days Ago

"You must be the woman I've been expecting," I say to the jittery woman standing at the doorway of my hotel room. She doesn't look me in the eyes, instead focusing her attention on the floor. The first think I notice about her is how small she is. Wasn't sure what to expect, given some of my colleagues but I was certainly not expecting this.

I look down at the ring on my left hand, and wonder what the missus would think about this.

"Yes," she responds, nodding rapidly before muttering something under her breath. Both of her hands are in her hair, twisting it around her fingers. One of the socially awkward ones, I take it. She looks like she'd rather be anywhere else, but she doesn't look back towards the door. No, she keeps her eyes on the floor in front of her. She doesn't want to even put the option of walking away in her head is my guess.

"You don't get out much, I take it."

She certainly didn't look like she did. She was pale as a ghost and skinny as a rail. The bags under her eyes tell me she hasn't slept in days, weeks maybe. She seems to float on her feet, constantly awkwardly shifting her weight. When she did look up she stares off blankly into space, before shaking her head when she notices what she's doing.

I can't help but wonder what my boss had in mind when she wanted me to meet with this erratic mess of a person.

"Oh," she finally mumbles when she sees me looking right at her. "Did you saying something?"

I nod. "I voiced a concern that maybe, you don't get out as much as you should."

What? If I'm getting the chance to repeat myself, I might as well clean it up a little. Less rude that way.

"You're probably right."

She mutters to herself again.

"So," I begin to ensure we don't drift off into another awkward silence, "do you have any idea why she'd want us to meet?"

For the first time, the Woman from Seattle smiles at me.

"You're the one joining the XWF, right?"

I nod.

"That's why."

I raise an eyebrow at her, and she smiles right through me until she realizes she hasn't really answered my question and her eyes widen. Her hands go right back into her hair. A shame. We were really getting somewhere here.

"Sorry, got ahead of myself. I have, let's just say experience, with the XWF."

"Is that so?"

"I think she wants us working together on this."

There's much more to this gig than our boss is telling us. Or maybe it's just me. Though I doubt she'd trust someone as seemingly twitchy and impulsive as my colleague with any more information than absolutely necessary. For the first time in a long time, I'm left wondering what's really going on. That doesn't last long however, as I shake the thought out of my head and clear my throat.

"Really? Well then, tell me everything you know."

Now it's her turn to raise an eyebrow at me.

"You sure? Because it's a long story, and I really only like telling it in five minute intervals."

She's not muttering to herself anymore. I'm not so sure it's a nervous tic.

Despite my sinking suspicions, I smile warmly and nod.

"I have all the time in the world."


Why hello there, Crysta. Did I get your name right? I hope I'm not coming off as facetious, I am very much concerned about that considering I haven't known your name at all since we've first interacted but I think I finally got it.

I have to say, Crysta. I don't get you. Not one bit. You ostensibly have one job and one job only, communicate for your friend Natasja. You'd think that in order to keep this job you'd have to be, you know, good at it. Though the more you talk the more it's evident that Natasja is too blinded by sentiment to do the thing that will help advance her career.

Let's just go down the list.

Strike through everything she says, no matter how off the wall and ultimately irrelevant they are because her scatterbrained little head thought they were the most awe-inspiring words ever spoken.

She must think she's supremely clever.

She isn't.

Which isn't an indictment on her. I've found that very few people are actually as clever as they think they are.

But, come on Crysta. Did you even listen to the words I said? I know you heard them, but did your brain actually absorb and analyze them or did they just go in one ear and right out the other because I have to say I'm leaning towards the latter. If you actually digested what I had said instead of rushing to get a response out as soon as possible, you might have actually been on base with literally anything.

I break down your words, the insecure false bravado you project, your abusive, dismissive behavior towards your own friend, and all you have to fire back with is "but you're a virgin and women don't want you!"

The same childish bullshit spewed forth by a childish, petty, poor excuse for a speaker.

But I'll play along for a second. I'm a married man, Crysta. So much for that brilliant display of wordsmithing. I'm sure you were sure you had a solid shot there.

You didn't.

Oh, it was your decision to choose the match stipulation that's in place? A complete unilateral decision from the person not competing? Did you even consult it with your so-called friend or did you just decide it because it's what you wanted to see?

You know what a bitch is, Crysta? Or as it is the more appropriate word, a coward?

It's you.

Someone who sends someone else into a situation they wouldn't dare to venture into.

You want a hardcore match? A death match? You want to see that ultraviolence? Then why aren't you the one I'm facing? Sure, you can hide behind the fact that you aren't a wrestler all you want, but you aren't really even in the business aside from speaking (very poorly) for a wrestler, so where do you get off choosing the stipulation?

Right, by abusing your appointed position as her speaker to get what you want. You've already admitting to making the decision on your own accord. Hell, even if Natasja communicates on Twitter about how she's on board with everything Crysta says, how can we even be sure that it's actually Natasja?

We can't.

But, I'll move on from that.

To Crysta unironically perpetuating the use of her gender as an insult. See, you'd think her and Natasja would be challenging the stereotype that girls can't do what men do or that girls are inherently weaker but no. They feed right into it. But then immediately say women can do what men do on the same level.

So, which is it?

Better yet, if that is true and since being mute has no real impact on wrestling in the slightest, how would losing to a mute woman make me look like a bitch? Oh right, it's because you're verbally abusing your client and she's too mentally weak to challenge you on it. She just goes along with it.

It's sad, really.

It's for this reason and another major one that I doubt your claims that Natasja is more "intellectual" than you or I.

If she was, she'd be smart enough to kick you to the curb, you toxic, miserable person.

Am I sanctimonious? Yes, I won't deny it. But it's hard not to be when you're standing across from a mouthpiece who's forcing herself more into the spotlight than the actual wrestler she's representing.

Lastly, I'd like to return to the Twitter thing real quick.

Remember how I said there were other reasons for why I doubted the claim that Natasja is more intellectual than me?


If this really is her and not Crysta stroking her own ego at her "friend's" expense, then she's a fool.

Listen to this again.

And remember that Crysta's farewell was as childish as the rest of her rant; the video equivalent to sticking your fingers in your ears and shouting "I'm not listening" over and over again.

Thank you Crysta, for showing me the light.

I'm sorry this is going to be as big of a blowout as it will be, Natasja.

You can thank Crysta too.