Memoirs of a melancholy millennial...



Summer time 2010:

"Fucking stupid mother fucker!"

Vanessa screams into my ear while grabbing the steering wheel of my 85' Subaru station wagon with her right arm and jerking the vehicle into the right lane of the double bridges we're crossing. I can hear the horns and brakes screeching of the car next to us as I pull back on the wheel trying to guide it back over.

"GET OFF DUMBASS! YOU'RE GOING TO GET US KILLED!"

I scream back while planting my right palm on her face trying to push her away from me. Vanessa was strong for a chick. Being of a mixed ethnicity, she had way more of her black attributes in the physical department, and where her whiteness lacked in her ghetto booty, she made up for it ten fold in her petty, attention seeking, emo bullshit personality.

Suddenly she starts sticking me, hard as fuck, with her left hand which fingers were topped with a bunch ugly gothic metal rings. The first blow must of partially got me in the eye because I lost my vision for a moment, swerving again over into the other lane. Just as I'm able to actually realize what she's doing I see her swing again, this time knocking me more into the crease between my nose cheekbone.

"STOP IT VANESSA BEFORE I FUCK YOU UP!"

She sticks me again as I swerve over into the concrete wall of the bridge on my left,

"You're a lying piece of shit, Reggie!"

That's my name if you couldn't guess, or at least one of the short versions of my long name; Reginald-Louis Owens Edgar. Terrible right? For whatever reason my hippy-dippy, pseudo educated parents decided to bestow me with not only two first names as a first name- yeah- Reginald-Louis is literally my first name- but also a first name as a last name. Can you imagine how many times I had to hear growing up: "Reginald-Louis Edgar? WHY HELL! YOU'VE GOT THREE FIRST NAMES!" Yeah, no shit Sherlock.

I don't know why that irked me so bad to the point where I resented my parents for it; I mean really it was a pretty cool name. I always just used R.L. for short anyway, yes like the children's author, and people real close to me would tend to call me Reggie. Vanessa, the scorned mixed emo girl teeing off on my head, and I were really close. I hated her, and honestly that's being too kind.

Vanessa and I initially started dating back in 2007. I had been returned from a brief stint living out in California for a few months and found myself in some pretty serious trouble with the law in my old Ohio hometown of Cincinnati. To avoid what I knew was going to be my inevitable arrest for some truly juvenile bullshit, I started staying with and taking care of my old paraplegic friend, Kenny Howard over in the Thorn Hill area. Obviously, in hindsight, leaving California was probably one of the worst mistakes of my life. I was working my ass off out there sure, but I had a decent little pad that I shared rent on with a few roommates and I had started dating this smoking little blonde chick who shared most of my tastes in music named Keshia. But I was young and dumb, and I got homesick. I missed my friends back in Ohio so I found myself broke and on a greyhound headed back home after only nine months of California dreamin'.

Anyway, excusing the digression there, when Vanessa and I met like I said I had been kinda' hiding out from the police while living with Kenny Howard, an old friend of mine who suffered from multiple scleroses. Kenny was a good dude, but was constantly being fucked over by people who would move in claiming to help him, but would just use him for the painkillers he refused to take, Kenny was more of a pot guy, and would leave him laying in his bed all day. That shit would piss me off. I mean in my own right I was kinda' using Kenny too for a place to lay low, but I would always get him out of his bed every day, make sure he had some food to eat and actually go to work as a part time janitor and doing odd jobs on the side with a few friends.

I know Kenny appreciated me, and I appreciated him. I couldn't imagine how shitty it had to of been for the guy; he lived relatively normal just like you or I for all of his life, but one day in his mid-twenties he woke up and couldn't use his legs anymore. He was popular, good looking and had a cozy state job... but through no real fault of his own, every bit of that went away and he found himself living in white-trash hell getting constantly taken advantage of by one junkie on a mission to change his life after the other.

Damnit, wandering again... anyway, I had been working all day doing a side job hauling old cast iron furnaces to the scrap yard. With a fresh, tax-free wad of cash in my pocket I was high on the hog, sitting out on Kenny's front porch with a cold Bud Ice in my hand watching the passerbys on Noel Ave. Usually I would be drinking Natural Ice, but I was feeling a bit foggier than usual. I had worked hard and earned a good two hundred bucks in just a few hours. I remember it being pretty warm that night, it was mid-August and I was just wearing a dirty ol' wife beater, shorts and a pair of sandals. Then I saw her walking up the street...

Now don't get it twisted, Vanessa was always walking up the street. I saw her at least once a day going to or coming from somewhere. Man was she fine too. Just the perfect tint of brown skin that exuded of exoticism for my ol' uncultured white ass, a tiny little waist with a big bouncing booty that jiggled inside of her black Dickies and for the most part she dressed kinda' punk-rockish which I thought was sexy. I was usually a pretty shy fellow, pretty insecure though I knew I was handsome- so talking to just some random chick out in public was normally the last thing someone who knew me would expect to see me do- but again, I was high on the hog.

I walked up to my fence and hollered for her to come over, and to neither of our chagrins, she did just that. Now I can't remember exactly what it was I said to her, but it must have been charming. We were cutting up, I was flirting, she was batting her big brown eyes at me, I was coping a good buzz from the Bud Ice and wanting nothing more than to fuck this chick's brains out... and wouldn't you know?

That's exactly what I did.

Now, like I said, I was a fairly insecure guy though I knew I was decent looking, probably because I was pretty skinny and introverted. But at times I would really surprise myself with the ladies and in Vanessa's case, no more than an hour later I had her upstairs on my mattress which used the floor as a box-spring banging her. Little did I know it then, but this relationship with Vanessa was going to eventually blossom into something truly remarkable.

"It's no wonder I'm so fucking depressed! You're the reason I cut myself, I hope you know that."

"Whatever, you just do that shit for attention because you're a fucking lame!"

She turns and tries hitting me again. I stop her with my right hand while trying to focus on the road and somehow finally get us off of the Robert C. Yount bridges alive and turn my Subaru onto Wilkinson Boulevard.

"Just let me out here."

I happily slam down on the brakes right in the middle of the road, reach across her, blood dripping from the gashes on my nose, and open up her door. She doesn't budge. Just sits there like a bitch with her arms folded.

"That's what I thought, all tal-AHHHHH!!!!!!"

The crazy bitch then leaned down and latched onto my neck with her teeth, and she wasn't letting go. I undo my seat belt with my left hand and half way climb over into her seat, grabbing her by the throat and forcing her out of the car. Just as I'm getting back inside she slams the damn car door shut on my hand. We exchange middle fingers and various curse words as I peal off, leaving her to choke on my exhaust.

Driving away I couldn't help but sit there fuming thinking about the time I had wasted. Two years working a job I hated to support this girl, her habits and her laziness- I felt like the biggest asshole in the entire world. As I pondered taking all of her shit to her Alzheimer afflicted grandmother's house and leaving it on the porch, once and for all cutting ties from the chick I felt runied my life- I couldn't help but tell myself I would never be tied down by another person again.

I had my own life to live for once, and those old teenage hopes and dreams that constantly left me romanticizing the idea of finding a soulmate to settle down with- they were nothing but froth and fluff to me now. I was swearing off relationships forever. Fuck em' and duck em', that was my new M.O.

-to be continued-

promo:

For the first time in my life I'm hearing opportunity knocking and I'm finally ready to answer the door. The XWF took a chance with me, because I'm not exactly your prototypical wrestler. I'm short, I'm overweight, I'm out of shape, I smoke, and I can barely lift myself out of bed in the mornings- let alone lifting a grown man over my head.

When I signed my temporary no-fault contract with J.T. Washington he was fast sure to point out that if I get hurt out there on Savage that I was on my own. But, and it's a big but, BUT if I am able to do the unthinkable and get in that ring and win this match- then the biggest opportunity of my life will be waiting for me: a shot at the Television Title against a favorite of mine in Thomas Nixon? That's an opportunity that I'm for damn sure not taking lightly.

I'm going to be squaring up against guys who I've watched on my television, Bearded War Pig, a crazy s.o.b who is one of my favorite wrestlers, and Mezian, a fairly new face like myself who's trying to make a name too, and Luigi, who I'm actually not too familiar with, I actually think he's going to be kind of out of his element, probably get's himself worked over pretty easily.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not going to underestimate any of them, why would I? I'm probably the greenest rookie in the history of this sport. But to my opponents, let me be as clear as I can: you better not underestimate me either. All of my life I've been nothing to everybody. A nobody to anybody and I'm sick of it! I'm sick of seeing my kids looking into the eyes of a failure.

So to Mr. Washington, Mr. Matthews and the rest of XWF management team: challenge accepted. I'm ready to grab the brass and become the wrestler you need me to be, and the person I need me to be.

Enough is enough and it's time for a change. That change starts now.

Look out Saturday Savage, R.L. Edgar is the new face of your program.