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B.O.B. D · (06-21-2019)

The last couple of days had been rather rough on me. My body was trying to heal itself from the beating it took against Robert Main and Donovan Blackwater. If I was gonna be honest, though, my pride hurting a million times worse. Despite all the training and effort I put in over the two weeks leading up to the match, I just wasn't fast enough to prevent Main from pinning Blackwater. All I needed was an extra second, but I just couldn't get there in time. And now I was back to square one while Robert Main was going on to face Chris Page for the Title, as well as his vengeance. One day I would have my own revenge on the Champion, but alas that day wasn't gonna be today.

The healing process for me, physically and mentally, required alot of weed. I'd smoked myself stupid since Warfare ended and it definitely was helping. Bongs, pipes, joints, blunts, dabs, vapes; if it was a way to smoke pot, I had likely done it in the last 48 hours.

All the ganja I had smoked meant I was out and needed to resupply, hence why I was at my dealer's house. Riley was a good guy, never much of a wrestling fan though. We'd been friends for years and I always made sure to visit him when I could, whether I needed more green or not.

There we sat in his living room, taking turns puffing on the blunt he rolled. Other than Steve Sayors after my match, this was the first time I'd really talked to anyone. I had never been very good in dealing with a loss, but this particular one was the worst if my career. It even topped my match with Big Evil in WWF when I got carted away on a stretcher, after failing to become Number 1 Contender.

"You did the best you could," Riley encouraged me while passing the blunt. "The man's the best there is and you found out exactly why that is."

"I don't know," I disagreed while taking some puffs. "A Triple Threat Match is a completely different ballgame than one on one. Robert Main may have won the match, but he didn't beat ME. Anyone can argue with me all they want, I'll take the L, but I won't accept that he's better than me. Not yet."

"Not yet?" Riley asked with a crooked look. "Aren't you considering retiring, again?" I handed the weed filled cigar back to him and shrugged.

"I honestly have no idea WHAT I'm gonna do," I responded with an exhale of smoke. "Did you not see my interview after the match?"

"No," he answered. "I turned the TV off as soon as I saw you lost. I didn't realize there was gonna be an interview after."

"Neither.....did.........I," I choked out through a few coughs. "Probably should've, though, Steve Sayors likes to get on my case anytime I lose."

"So stop losing," Riley joked as he handed me back the blunt.

"Ha, ha," I sarcastically laughed. "It'd be easier if there wasn't dead weight in the match."

"Well you said your next match is one on one, right?" Riley asked.

"It is," I confirmed, unsuccessfully blowing smoke rings like a stoned buffoon. "Can't say I know too much about my opponent, though. Apparently he lost his memory or something and is trying to figure out who he is."

"And he thinks wrestling can help?" Riley questioned with an eyebrow raised.

"I guess," I responded with a shrug. "Sounds more like a problem for Oprah or Dr. Phil, but what do I know? Maybe he expects a blow to the head to get his memory jogging or something. All I know is his name is El Príncipe and I can't figure out if that stands for The Principal or The Precipitation?"

"Wow, racist much?" Riley blurted out in a half joking manner. "It means Prince, maybe you should've Googled it like you did Main's history."

"Probably," I agreed as my face turned red with embarrassment. "His name would be the ONLY thing to really find out about, everything else is shrouded in mystery. Besides his unknown past, all I've found out about the guy is he's a pale luchadore. And that's just from scrolling through his profile on XWF.com."

"That's got to be something, though," Riley suggested as he took the blunt from me. "You at least know his fighting style, right?"

"Yeah, that's a good point," I stated as I looked up at the ceiling, enjoying my high. "I've faced plenty of aerialists in my past, especially when I was WWF X-Division Champion. Back then I was alot lighter myself, and could actually keep up with majority of their moves."

"And nowadays?" Riley questioned as he roached the blunt.

"Not so much," I said as I lifted my shirt up and slapped my belly. "But that doesn't mean there aren't other ways to beat him, power is usually a big weakness for people like Príncipe......"

"Woah!" Riley busted out in shock. "What do you mean 'people like Príncipe?'"

"Calm down there," I laughed. "I only meant high fliers, stupid. Besides El Príncipe's so pale, I doubt he's even Mexican."

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh..............."

"What now?!"

"He could be Spanish, bro," Riley tried correcting me. "Kind of fucked up of you to assume he's from Mexico."

"I guess," I sighed throwing my hands up. "Hey, he might be offending himself for all we know. He's an amnesiac who remembers nothing about himself, so for all anybody knows, dude could actually identify as a woman and wouldn't even be aware of it!"

"Woah," Riley spoke, a bit shocked. "You could be right."

I nodded, pleased with my logic, before checking my phone.

"Well, I should probably get going," I said as I rose to my feet. "I'm starving and have Pancheros on the mind for some reason."

"WOW," Riley responded as he also stood up. "You just can't stop with the racism, can you?"

"Hey, it's all fun and games," I insisted as I gave my buddy a hug. "I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't shit talk my opponent. The difference between me and Robert Main though, I'll actually take my opponent seriously once that bell rings."

"That still doesn't make your comments any less messed up," Riley stated. "By the way, you got that money? I'd hate for you to forget and not get it for another month."

He had a point. Last time I bought from him, we got so fucked up I walked out with an ounce and never gave him the $200 for it. This time I reached into my pocket, got my wallet out, and gave him two crisp hundos.

"As always, I appreciate the company and product," I said, acting like a customer in a professional setting.

"And I appreciate the business," he replied with a nod. "Though I don't understand why you bother buying from me still, with all the travel you do, I'd expect you to just purchase it at a legal dispensary."

"Eh, I like to support small business," I told him with a smile. "Gotta help my friends out when I can, right?"

With an agreeing nod, Riley walked me to the door. I exited his house and made my way for my car, a black Pontiac Grand Am. It wasn't much, but after what PETA and the LGBTQ people did to my last one, at least it was SOMETHING. Even though Pontiac's were God awful, I couldn't help but gravitate towards them. The first car I ever bought on my own was a black Grand Am and it was quite nostalgic to have one again.

I started the Big D Mobile up and tucked my bag of good-good away in the center console, under some random paperwork. It may not have been the smartest place to hide it, but the cops in Cedar Rapids were basically non-existent. With all the morons who blatantly run red lights or blow through stop signs and never pay for it, why would I get pulled over for simply driving normally?

I drove along 1st Avenue and, of course, had to deal with the usual morons. One woman(on her cell phone) swerved over in front of me, no turn signal, and then did it again to the car she was passing. I honked at her, but she just gave me a death glare like I was endangering HER. A few minutes after that, an ambulance came up behind me with its lights on, so I respectfully pulled over as the law insists and so did most people. There was one guy bumping his terrible music through his crappy speakers who just kept on going, not paying any mind to the emergency vehicle behind him. The ambulance eventually made it around the guy and on its way to the hospital, but the man not once gave a rats ass for the potentially dying person inside. And people wondered why I had become such an asshole?

Finally I managed to break free of traffic and was pretty much the lone car on the street. I cruised down the Avenue, blasting some Disturbed to keep my mind busy. After a bit of this, I saw more emergency lights behind me but no siren. Being a model citizen, I once again pulled over, but this time the lights followed me to the side of the road.

"Oh fuck......" I muttered in panic. "What the fuck did I do?" My heart was racing, I had an ounce of marijuana on me and wasn't good at keeping my cool. I may not have been black, but the fear of getting shot over a misunderstanding was terrifying. Not to mention I wasn't the most liked wrestler, so this cop could just shoot me and say he feared for his life.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?" the cop asked as I rolled down my window.

"No sir," I replied with my hands firmly on the wheel. "Compared to everyone else around here, I thought I was driving pretty good."

The cop didn't seemed to amused by my response at first, but then he took a closer look at me and gasped.

"You're Big D, right?" he questioned.

"I am," I answered, trying not to shake. "Please tell me you're actually a fan."

"Not really," he shrugged. "I'm more of a Robert Main, Tony Santos kind of guy myself. I also liked Kid Kool before he died, that guy was pretty awesome." Ugh, the police were just as dumb as the citizens. "I DO know you smoke pot, though," he digressed, making my heart stop. "That IS reasonable cause enough to search your vehicle."

"But..... but, officer," I protested, knowing I was gonna be fucked either way. "You haven't told me why you pulled me over. Also, I understand WHY you'd think I smoke pot, but you've got it all wrong. When you see me on XWF television, I'm playing a CHARACTER. All that weed you see me smoking is actually fake, it's all just an act I put on for the show."

It was the only thing I could say. He could not believe me and search, figuring out I was lying and book me for more charges. The thought of going to jail would suck, but considering I've never been arrested before, all I'd face would be a silly little fine. This was worth taking a risk to get out of.

"A character, huh?" he wondered, deciding if he should pursue his search or not. "Well, I pulled you over because you don't have a license plate, nor any paperwork saying its in transit."

Of course, how could I forget. This car was purchased from an individual and I was awaiting plates for it. Not being from a dealership, there was nothing in the window to let them know I was in the middle of acquiring the legal documentation for it.

"Well, you said you watch XWF," I began, trying to explain myself. "Some PETA members and LBGTQ people destroyed my precious ride, which I'm sure you saw."

"I did."

"Ever since then, I'd been driving mostly rentals and borrowed cars from friends and family," I continued, hoping he would care enough to let me go. "But I finally got around to buying my own car to replace the one they ruined, and am awaiting the plates and registration, which should be here any day now."

He listened to my story and stared at me for a moment. For all I knew he was about to pull out his pistol and make sure I never get another shot at his hero's Championship again. After having this terrifying thought, he smiled and slapped my car door.

"Don't say anymore," he assured me. "When PETA's involved, there's usually trouble. I saw that segment and felt bad for you, despite NOT being a fan. I'll let you off with a warning, seeing as Robert Main broke you pretty good Wednesday. Just make sure you get an 'IN TRANSIT' paper in that window so this doesn't happen again."

"Ye..... yes, sir," I agreed with a nod. "Have a good day officer."

"You, too," he responded as he walked back for his car. "Try not to lose anymore....."

"Asshole," I whispered as he got back in his car and drove off.

What an experience that was. My heart was beating faster than a race car. I had gotten lucky, much like Robert Main had been in NOT facing me alone. After sitting there for a bit to regain my composure, I started my car back up and made my way down the road.

Anyone can get lucky, whether it be in life or the squared circle. If it hasn't happened to you yet, it's bound to. I didn't know anything about El Príncipe or who he actually was(not unlike himself), but there was always that chance of luck. A roll of the dice, deck of cards shuffled in your favor, anybody could have something unexpected happen. If I don't keep my head in the game, despite my disappointment in my last match, El Príncipe could get a coin flip in his favor.

I can't afford to let anything like that happen. It was rough coming off a loss, but losing again wasn't gonna make it better. I'm not gonna overlook my opponent, unlike certain other people. The mystery surrounding El Príncipe makes him a dangerous foe. He could be an assassin or former Marine and have instincts that kick in subconsciously. Or worse.....

"He could be a cop," I said as a chill went down my spine.

All that I DID know, was El Príncipe was gonna be my opponent at Savage and I couldn't afford to lose. I had to look at this match as if it was for the Universal Championship all over again. If I can get on a win streak and show I'm not gonna slide back down the ladder, it eventually WILL be for it. And that ain't no story, it's the Cold Big D Truth.

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