“Loverboy” Vinnie Lane sits in a coffee shop, scrolling through his cell phone and mumbling to himself as he stares at the screen intently.

“Swipe left… swipe left… UGH! Definitely swipe left… Hmm… this is a maybe.”

Looking at the vintage Swatch watch on his right wrist, Loverboy looks around the room impatiently.

“Hey, barista chick, you seen a pudgy Canadian who looks like he’s ten minutes away from suicide?”

The “barista chick” scowls at him as she walks up and deposits his foamy cappuccino next to his phone hand.

“Dude, we’re in Boston. Everyone here looks like that. Also, you should swipe left on that basic bitch right there.”

“Oh shit, good call. I’m guessing you’re not from the area?”

“Hell no. I’m from New York. I just hooked up with some lame Southie at a party one day and ended up moving here somehow. You?”

“I’m from New York, too! Well, I’ve lived in Florida for a long time now… and I travel all over the place with the XWF. I’m sure you recognize me.”

“Uh… yeah, no. I don’t know what XWF is, is that like a football team? I don’t do sports. I’m an artist.”

“Yeah, of course you are. Every chick I every coffee shop is an artist. But seriously, I’m an artist too. I make poetry, you know? Both on a rock stage and in a wrestling ring. I have a title match this week in L.A., I’m just meeting a friend here for a bit before heading out to the west coast.”

“Well, when you get to me… swipe right. Deal?”

“Depends. Are you a unicorn?”

“A what?”

“A unicorn. A chick who doesn’t mind swinging with a couple.”

“Well… I can make exceptions for the right couple, I guess.”

“Swipe right it is. Thanks for the coffee, babe.”

As the barista walk off to get back to work, the door to the coffee shop opens up and in walks “Hot” Todd Moschitti, looking back and forth sheepishly and trying to cover his face with his skull beanie.

“Todd. TODD. Over here, dude. Jesus, like I don’t stick out in this loser crowd. TODD!”

Finally, the pale blob spies Loverboy in his corner seat and waves like an excited at his first day of waving class. With all the grace of a dying manatee, Todd makes his way over to the chair opposite to Loverboy and drops his sad sack of an ass into it, grinning nervously and singing ‘All About That Bass’ under his breath.

“I’m bringin’ booty baaaack… Hey Vinnie.”

Loverboy reaches across the table and slaps Todd hard in the face.

“OW!”

“Never sing that song.”

“Sorry… jeez… It’s been stuck in my head. Gator made me listen to it.”

“I know. I saw. It was lame. That’s one of the reasons I called you here while I was passing through town.”

“Yea, I was pretty nervous about coming here to meet you. I feel like Deep Throat.”

“What the fuck? You trying to get your dick sucked in a coffee shop, dude? I mean, I admire the audacity, and I definitely don’t blame you for thinking I’m hot, but I don’t swing that way, dude. Gross.”

“No, Vinnie, you know – the guy who gave all that info about Nixon to the press and stuff?”

“Oh, oh. Weird that you’d have that trivial U.S. knowledge in your noggin, considering your froggy origins.”

“I’m NOT French Canadian!”

“I meant to ask you about that, actually dude. Why is that weirdly familiar-looking wannabe cameraman Rodd talking all French and shit when you said you’re the one from Montreal?”

“Um…”

“I mean, Ottawa is barely a French-speaking city, but Montreal is the largest city in Quebec, right? It’s, like, basically the home base for French Canadians.”

“Uh… well…”

“It’s just weird, dude. It feels like you’re lying to me, man, like you’re using an assumed identity invented by some guy who has no idea how Canada works. Did Gator tell you to say you were from Canada? Are you really from, I don’t know, Worcestershire or something?”

“No! I’m from Montreal! I root for the Expos!”

“Dude, the Expos don’t even exist anymore. You’re so full of shit that your breath smells like Scarlett’s yeasty snatch. Bitch needs to Summer’s Eve that loaf of bread out of there if she thinks she’s gonna scissor with Roxy.”

“What are you talking about Vinnie? You’re really confusing me. I thought you wanted to talk to me about working at the club?”

“Yeah, dude, for sure. First though, you should know that I record all of my interviews. It’s just business, man.”

“Like Backroom Casting Couch?”

“EXACTLY like Backroom Casting Couch, dude, only I’m not gonna bend you over a desk and nut on your face or anything. Cool? Cool. Cambot?”

BEEP BEEP.

“Turn on, dude.”

The round mechanism rises up from under the table with tis green ‘on’ light lit, whirring quietly as its turbines hold it steady in mid-air.

“Vinnie! What the heck! I’M a cameraman!”

“Are you sure? I mean, I voted for you, of course, because we’re cool and all, but can you even trust Gator? By the way, did you bring my shirt like I asked?”

“Oh, right. Here, I have it.”

Todd hands Loverboy his cool new ‘Team Todd’ shirt, and Loverboy immediately pulls out a pair of scissors from somewhere and starts cutting.




“What are you doing?!?!”





“There we go, dude! I prefer my tees to be a little less restrictive, you know? Sleeves are annoying, especially when you have arms that look like they were sculpted by Botticelli like mine. And my abs make Michelangelo’s David look like… well, you.”

“Well, ok. But I’m glad you like it. And that you voted for me. I really want to stay Gator’s cameraman!”

“Dude… why?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you want to stick around with Gator? I mean, really?”

“Gator’s my best friend, Vinnie! He takes care of me! He protects me!”

“Does he, dude? Every time I look at Gator’s promos he’s treating you like crap, man. Do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is? Are you like a fat, bald Patty Hearst?”

“It’s really not that bad, Vinnie. Gator’s a good friend.”

“Are you sure about that, though? I mean, I thought me and Gator were friends too. Did you see the stuff he said about me?”

“Well… it’s business, right?”

“To an extent, man, but there’s such a lack of respect in this business as it is, you know? I figured me and everyone’s favorite Gator could have a clean match, but he went and started slamming me like Frodo’s husband/wife did to Caroline Burchill. He even went after me being skinny. Frodo thinks I’m fat, Gator thinks I’m skinny. Is it like a cultural thing, do you think? It’s just weird. I watched and cheered Gator on while he talked about Heartsford’s lame attempts to insult him, calling him out for using the same tactics everyone else does. I popped for that promo because, even though Heartsford is a friend of mine, Gator was right about it. But then what does he do? He comes after me about my look, like everyone else does. Next he’ll probably call me a tranny or a woman. It’s unoriginal.”

“Wait, are you trash talking Gator to me?”

“No. I don’t really do that. I don’t feel the need to heel it up every time I get into a match, dude. It’s not my style, and I don’t need to degrade myself to that level. I’m the hero in this story, man. I’m a role model to kids all over the world, and they don’t need to have the example set for them that calling someone a homo a bunch of times is how you win fights. They need to see that working hard and being great at what you do gets you ahead, not being a smartass and wearing a mask to hide your identity.”

“You’re totally trash talking.”

“No I’m not! I’m just worried about you, dude! Look, I’m telling you, Gator goes through friends like Peter Gilmour goes through body parts. Look, check this out. This is from Relentless, when Gator and I were hanging out backstage together before his TV Title win over Davids. I was trying to keep him relaxed and stuff, because I know from our time together in J-Pro how worked up he’d get before his big matches. Dude’s got real anxiety. Check it, it’s proof that we were buds. I quizzed him on American geography.”

Loverboy hands Todd a crumpled piece of paper and watches as Todd smooths it out and looks at it.




“Wow, Gator really sucks at geography.”

“Seriously. I’m pretty surprised he managed to get you guys to Boston. Does he even know what state Boston is in? Hell, do you?”

“Uh… Montana?”

“Christ on a stick. Look, the point is, Gator was my boy. Then, just because we had a match a few months back – a match I won, by the way – he started trashing me. I let it go like I was an ice princess in a Disney movie and we were cool again for a while. Now I’m up against him again and what happens? He’s running his mouth like Frodo Junior. His true colors are coming out. I bet he never expected his partner Justin Sane to televise those texts from him where he called me a Barbra Streisand wannabe, either. Just goes to show you.”

“Gator takes the TV Title really seriously, Vinnie, don’t take it personally. And he beat you once before, too. Remember Love It?”


"Seriously Todd? Do you remember any 'wrestling' happening in that match? Be real. I knew he would bring that crap up like it was something to be proud of."

"Okay, okay. But you know trash talking and making jokes is the best way to get people on your side in the XWF!"

“Dude, he attacked my character! My essence! He said I was settling down and starting to let go of my passion for wrestling? Is he crazy? Why do you think I’m in Boston, Todd?”

“Uh… to catch a Bruins game?”

“No. Fuck Boston sports. I’m here because there was a local XWF event, and I’m always the guy who volunteers to headline those shows and do the meet and greets. You guys are in town, are you going to be there?”

“No.”

“No. Of course you’re not. Because Gator doesn’t give a crap about the fans, he doesn’t give a crap about wrestling, he doesn’t give a crap about the TV Title, and he doesn’t give a crap about his friends – especially you and me. I bust my ass day after day because I love what I do. Gator has always thought he deserves everything handed to him because that’s how his daddy trained him. Same shit in J-Pro when every night was main evented by Gator regardless of if he earned it. And why does he think I can’t go in the ring? I’m in the best shape of my life. Do you see how fast I move between the ropes? I can fly, dude! I’ve taken some bumps and bruises, sure, but Gator has angina! Which sounds like ‘Gator has a vagina’ for a reason, man. That guy is like one deep breath away from dropping dead in the ring like Apollo Creed.”

“Don’t say that, Vinnie! It’s a serious condition!”

“Hey, if he dies, he dies.”

“Vinnie!”

“I’m just kidding, damn. I don’t want Gator to die. I’m just saying he’s more likely to miss time due to illness or injury than Ghost Tank. He’s also more likely to lose than Ghost Tank, which is really saying a lot, but come on. Look at me. I’m flying high again, man. I stomped Frodo at the Shove It and totally redeemed myself from the bad breaks I’ve been catching recently.”

“Gator won the gauntlet at the Shove It! He pinned the Universal Champion!”

“Big deal, he also lost to the Universal Champion earlier in the same night. And it’s just Davids. I could beat Davids easy. I’ve beaten four different former Uni Champs! And Gator only won that gauntlet because I drew such an early number. I took out half the playing field before he ever even got in. I’m supposed to be impressed that he dug deep and beat Cain? Come on, dude. The worst of it is, he had the nerve to trash Roxy. Roxy's never hurt anyone, dude. I mean, she won the HMW Title from Lame Boy, but then she tried to just give it to Gator to be nice... and he let you come and molest her! He wants to call her a cheater like she's some kind of sexual deviant? Well, I know a secret about Gator's sexual proclivities, dude. He told me his favorite sex position was the JFK.”

"Well, what's that?"

"It's when he splashes all over the girl while she screams and tries to climb out of the car. You made a Nixon joke earlier, I figured you'd like this one.

“See, I knew this was going to be trash talk. You tricked me.”

“Like that’s hard to do. Thanks for the shirt though, dude. The bill is on you, though. You still owe me for what you did to my couch.”

Loverboy walks off from the table, tossing the tattered shirt over his shoulder and returning to his Tinder adventures with the floating cambot following close behind. Todd spins in his chair and screams as Loverboy leaves the coffee shop.

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!!!!”