He dreams of walking out onto a stage in front of hundreds of empty seats and adjusting a microphone as it screeches with feedback.
He dreams of looking behind him and seeing, just as he had feared, that all of the band members were gone.
He dreams of a spotlight shining down from somewhere in the heavens and blinding him with its brilliance as he taps his foot to find the rhythm he seeks.
He dreams of a voice perfect in pitch, timbre, and volume as the words of Whitesnake’s ‘Still of the Night’ burst forth from his lungs and echo throughout the empty auditorium.
He dreams of a single set of hands clapping.
In his dream, Loverboy squints against the suddenly hellish heat of the light above and places a single hand over his eyes in an effort to find the source of the slow applause.
He never sees the face, but he knows the voice better than any other he’s ever heard.
It says…
How many times have you woken up in hospitals in your life, “Loverboy?â€
You’ve gotten so accustomed to the scratchy, cheap sheets of emergency room cots that you might as well stop buying those pricey, high-threadcount ones from the boutiques along Rodeo Drive. You’ve had more needles shoed into your arm than the average street junkie.
And why?
For a dream?
Do you really think that flying from city to city, country to country, around the world every month, just to lose a pint of blood at each stop is a DREAM?
You think it’s glamorous to break bones and bruise your brain in front of 5,000 strangers five nights a week?
Whose dream is that, Vinnie?
Who would dream of dying over and over and over again, other than a psychopath?
Well, here we are again.
IV for fluids?
Check.
Stale air that smells a little bit too much like antiseptic?
Check.
Catheter?
Fuck. Check.
Yeah, you’re in the hospital all right. Try and just sleep through it, maybe. Then you won’t have to have that moment of not knowing where the hell you are when you wake up until the all-to-familiar beeping sound of monitoring equipment soothes you back to your senses.
Spoiler alert, Vinnie; it’s not supposed to soothe you.
Waking up in an ER isn’t supposed to feel like home. You shouldn’t know the nurses by their first names or when their birthdays are. You shouldn’t have a collection of wristbands at your actual home, the one you spend less nights in than this one.
But this is what you deserve, and you know it.
Drop out. Burn out. Loser. Runaway.
You scurried off across the country to a place with lower expectations to chase a career with nothing but upside. Who would have ever known or cared if you weren’t good enough to wrestle? You could have found out you were terrible two weeks into training and then gotten onto the first Greyhound back to Long Island and enrolled in community college. Nobody would have known. No one would have held it against you.
You had to be good at it though, didn’t you?
You had to go and be a megastar or whatever the fuck you call yourself, but at what price?
“What? No, babe, they must have given you the good stuff… it’s Rox. How’s your head?â€
When his eyes finally flutter open, “Loverboy†Vinnie Lane sees the angelic face of the love of his life. Then he sees it again. Just like the last fleeting recollection of consciousness he has, it’s double vision. Two Roxy Cottons staring down at him as he looks up from a stiff hospital pillow.
“Oh… I thought I heard him… but… where’s the nurse? I think I need the nurse?â€
Loverboy struggles to roll slightly to his left, reaching for the emergency call button, but can’t quite reach it. To his amazement, one of the Roxys hands it to him while the other remains still, but for her hand stroking his stringy, blond hair.
“You need to get your extensions redone, babe. These are a wreck. I’ll call my guy later today.â€
“What the hell is going on?â€
Loverboy presses the call button repeatedly, causing a red light to blink on his monitor.
“Why am I still seeing double?â€
Loverboy looks back and forth from one beautiful blonde to the other, and then, confusing him even further, the girls look at each other and laugh.
“Oh, Vinnie, you’re so silly… I told you my sister was coming to visit.â€
“You did not!â€
“I did too! I sent it on Snapchat AND on Twitter.â€
“Dude, I don’t use those apps anymore! Ever since Gilly beat me in that tables match he’s been the most annoying turd on the internet since that Chris Crocker dude. I couldn’t handle any more links to his 45 minute long gay jokes.â€
“Well, I told you. Dani got here earlier from Canada and we just got back to the apartment when I found you out of it on the bed.â€
“Wait… you’re CANADIAN?â€
“Are you serious, Vinnie? You never listen when I talk, do you?â€
“Where did you tell me you were Canadian… Instagram?â€
“Don’t be a dick. Anyway. Now you can officially meet Dani. Say hello. She’s in town checking out schools in the area.â€
“Hi Vinnie! I’ve watched you on TV! I even saw you win the Hart Title up in Calgary in person!â€
“This is so weird, dude… you guys look like identical twins. How old are you?â€
“I JUST turned eighteen last week. I graduate secondary school in May and I’ve gotten a few acceptances in Los Angeles from USC and UCLA… I don’t know which one I want to go to but I know I want to be in Hollywood!â€
“That’s… awesome. I guess. Look, can we just get out of here? I need to start getting ready for D’Ville, and…â€
“Bullshit, Vinnie. You need to rest. And you need to tell those assholes that you aren’t wrestling two matches on that show.â€
“Two?â€
“See? You don’t even remember! Vinnie, Kirk MacClay is making you defend the Hart Title against LH Harrison on the same show that you have a 60 minute iron man match in a god damn cage against a guy nobody beats. I thought Kirk was your friend?â€
“Yeah… I thought so too… Harrison? Really? I mean, he’s really not good enough to beat me…â€
“He doesn’t HAVE to beat you, Vinnie! They just want to HURT you. He’s an Asylum guy! Doc is just pulling their strings to weaken you before the main event. You can’t just let them do that to you. Pull out of the match.â€
“Baby, if pulling out was in my vocabulary I’d save a ton of money on Plan B.â€
Roxy’s face twists in frustration as Dani blushes and giggles into her hand. Finally, a nurse shows up at the door and walks up to the bed.
“What’s wrong, Mister Lane? These two trollops getting your blood pressure up?â€
“Nothing’s wrong, dude, I thought I had brain damage for a second but it turns out there really are two trollops. I mean chicks. And yeah, the ol’ BP started skyrocketing as soon as Roxy got within smelling distance.â€
Now it’s Roxy’s turn to blush a light pink shade and turn away, and Dani surreptitiously takes a sniff of her sun-kissed shoulder.
Having seen the exchange, Loverboy’s mouth opens a little until he catches himself staring and then turns his attention to the triangle of bedsheet raising out of his lap like a charmed cobra.
“Look, nurse, tell my girlfriend and her doppelganger here that I’m good to go. This hospital gig is just something I do from time to time between matches, we all know it. Hell they even named a sandwich in the cafeteria after me. ‘The Loverboy’ – twelve inches of satisfying meat on an open face. You’ve had it, haven’t you?â€
“Mister Lane, you are in no shape to leave the hospital today. You could have permanent damage from your head traumas. Concussions are serious. They could lead to lifelong ailments like CTE.â€
“Yeah yeah yeah, you guys are worried I’ll put the dogs in the poolhouse, I get it, but really, I’m FINE. Look. I’ll walk myself to the bathroom.â€
“No, wait!â€
But before the nurse can intervene, Loverboy utilizes his natural, cat-like reflexes and nips up out of the hospital bed.
Unfortunately for him and for Roxy’s sister Dani, this immediately dislodges the catheter in his pecker with an audible squeak like someone making a balloon animal and a spout of megastar piss hits the young blonde right in her brand new Hollywood tits.
“Shit.â€
“Shit.â€
“Shit!â€
The nurse scurries from the room, overwhelmed by the geyser of urine turning her patient’s room into a watersport porn.
“No, I’m not into shit… but a little piss is okay. Just wait ‘til I blog this later!â€
The young strumpet bounces toward the bathroom as Loverboy settles back down onto the mattress, looking woozy. Roxy strokes his hair back and rests her head on his shoulder, looking up at him with her doe eyes and pouting lips.
“Baby… please stay in the hospital. Just for tonight. I’ll stay here with you, even.â€
“Yeah? Think we can find one of those ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ style on-call rooms and play doctor?â€
“If it’s what you want, baby. I’ll just drop Dani off at the apartment and come right back. Okay?â€
“Yeah. Deal. I guess another morning with an orange jello breakfast wouldn’t be that bad. And I do need to be in top shape for the Iron Mayhem match.
“Good. Dani, are you ready to go, sweetie?â€
Dani pops out of the bathroom with her shirt in her hand, then tosses it into the wastebasket next to the bed. Her golden globes bounce in a barely-there lace bra and she smirks at the room full of open mouths.
“What? Vinnie, you’re famous enough, but until you win the Universal Title don’t expect anyone to be willing to wear a shirt soaked in your piss.â€
“Understood.â€
“Okay then. Let’s go, Rox. I still have time to see if I can find me a potential American husband at the Viper Room.â€
As Dani leaves the room, Roxy leans over Loverboy and plants a wet kiss on his lips, then whispers something in his ear that brings a huge smile to his face before standing, smoothing her dress, and leaving the room herself.
“Man… what a lucky guy I am.â€
Vinnie says it out loud while watching the last of his pee leak out of the catheter tube on the floor and listening to the beep of myriad hospital equipment.
This is it.
This is IT, dude.
This is finally the moment that I know I was put on this planet for. This is the moment I silence all the critics, put all the doubters to bed, and answer the question I’ve had to avoid for my entire career:
Is “Loverboy†Vinnie Lane capable of being the top champion?
Can Loverboy carry the XWF, the entire wrestling business, on his back as the top draw in the industry?
We finally get to find out once and for all, don’t we old friend?
I’ll start with the politically correct answer and say that we’ll find out at Bad Medicine, which is one hundred percent true. The whole world will be watching while Doctor Louis D’Ville and I tear the house down for sixty minutes inside that hellish structure.
A lot of people, friends and fans alike, have been asking me why I would want to endure such a brutal match against someone that many consider not only one of the best of all time but also one of the most sadistic and cruel.
My answer is always the same – Doc being the best and the worst all rolled into one is EXACTLY why this match needs to happen this way. It’s EXACTLY why we need an hour. EXACTLY why we need the cage full of deadly weapons.
No excuses.
Whoever wins this match will have gone through hell to do it, and no one anywhere will be able to say he didn’t earn it.
We’re going to spill gallons of blood, leave scars on our bodies as well as our minds… and our souls. Neither me nor Doc is coming out of the Iron Mayhem cage the same way we went in. Shit like this CHANGES you, dude. It gives people PTSD. For one hour on May 23rd, the AT&T Stadium in Dallas won’t be a football stadium or a wrestling venue – it will be a warzone.
I wouldn’t have it any other way and I’ll tell you exactly why… I’ve been here since D’Ville’s first day in the XWF. I saw him debut in his little run of battle royals. I saw him impress the right people and make the right moves. I saw him win again and again and again.
I saw it firsthand when Doc beat me back last year when we pulled the curtain down on the old era of Monday Madness together. I knew what he was then, and I know what he still is now.
Doc’s special. Doc’s once in a lifetime. Doc is, without a doubt, the best.
So come the 23rd, I’ve got to do what I’ve done many times in my life before, one more time. I’ve got to be BETTER than the best. And I’m going to.
Let me explain it to you personally, Doctor, the same way I have to countless others since I’ve been calling the ring my home.
As fast as you are? I’m faster.
As strong as you are? I’m stronger.
And as close as I came the last time we squared off? Well… listen. Doc came into the XWF and he was already better than everyone around him in his first match. He got here and was already the best.
I was really damn good.
The thing is… I’ve gotten better. Every day, every week, every month since that match between D’Ville and I, I’ve spent improving. I’ve gotten better in every facet of my game. I’ve added new dimensions, new moves, new approaches and styles.
I’ve been in the ring now with yesterday’s best, and I held my own. I’ve beaten the legends of days gone by like MacAlister and Arzegotti and Duke and Pryce… I’ve beaten the up and coming stars of the future like Austin Fernando and Justin Sane… I’ve hardened my body in cages with killers and demons, and I came out of them like tempered steel from the flames of the hottest forge.
Now all that’s left is exactly what I knew was going to be the last step in the journey since I first laid eyes on him back in August. The best in the world right now, today – Doctor Louis D’Ville.
See Doc, everything I’ve done for the last nine months has been in preparation for you. Every excruciating minute of training, every extra pound on the weight bench, every extra ten minutes on the treadmill, ALL of it, since last August, has been focused on you.
Hell, Doc, I think I knew you were going to be the champion before you did.
But you see, dude, while a lot of people might rightfully say my mouth writes a lot of checks that I’m not always prepared to cash, no one knows better than I do when I’m ready.
In August, I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t good enough to be where you are.
But dude, I’m ready now.
Every cross through every day of the calendar since then has been a countdown to the day I took what was destined to be mine from the only guy good enough to make me earn it, and while I’ve been focused and concentrating on getting better every day, you’ve stayed the same.
Like I said, you were already there. You walked in on top of the mountain, dude, and there’s only one way for shit to roll – downhill. You’ve gone complacent. Stagnant, like that Sulphur swamp they say you grew out of down in the Bayou. You ain’t hungry anymore, Doc, and when you ain’t hungry you’re fat and vulnerable.
Doc, we’re about to make history together, you and I. We’re going to take the XWF and set the world on fire.
I’m going to do what’s never been done. Sure, you’ve been beaten before, barely and rarely, but I’m going to make it definitive. I’m going to make it stick. And in the process, I’m going to be the first one to ever take anything away from you.
Your title. Your crown.
Oh, no, don’t think I mean the little bauble you won back in October. You can still be the ‘king’ of the XWF until the next tournament rolls around… but when the steel hits steel and the lock snaps shut, I’M the king of the cage.
So back to that burning question.
Can Loverboy do it?
The real answer, the one that right now only you and I know the answer to but will be revealed to the whole world in a little more than a week… is absolutely, one hundred percent, without a doubt, YES.
Someone pretty legendary always said that to be the man you had to beat the man… and Doc, we all know that right now you are indeed the man… but at Bad Medicine?
I’m going to beat the SHIT out of the man.
And to think, Doc… if you hadn’t beaten me back in September, I might have never gotten this good.
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