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B.O.B. D · (08-26-2019)

I had been disrespected, once again, by the powers that be, but I wasn't alone. My two opponents, Peter Gilmour and Mastermind, shared in my misfortune. The three of us weren't Main Eventing at this point in our careers(though one could blame that on 'Chronic' Chris Page for hogging the spotlight), but we were still FAR from being the bottom. And yet we have to destroy ourselves in the name of an Xtreme Title shot, something they had no problem handing out to unproven newcomer, Steve Justice. And though he may have won, it only goes to show that me, Mastermind, or Gilly would've ALSO become Champion under the same circumstances. And how'd that reign go? Yeah, no-one really remembers. As much as this unbalanced way of rewarding people was an issue for me, it was best left unresolved until another day. Right now, there were much more important matters to be tended to.......

"She stopped breathing!"

"Oh my God, she's coding!!"

"Someone grab the defibrillator!!!"

It was a scene straight out of Grey's Anatomy. Doctors and nurses frantically rushing back and forth, trying to save their dying patient: an elderly woman who already had her foot halfway in the grave BEFORE her heart gave out. As they went through their usual procedures, I stepped into the room dressed head to toe as if I was one of them.

"What seems to be the problem, Nurse?" I asked, doing my best impersonation of a TV doctor.

"Patient's name is Dolores Graves," a female responded, too busy putting a breathing tube in the woman's mouth to look up at me. "We tried CPR to no avail and are preparing to defibrillate."

"Dolores Graves?" I said slyly with an eyebrow raised. "Ironic."

"Who the hell are you?" another nurse asked as she turned away from her job and saw me. "Where's Doctor Sanders?"

"The colonel had an emergency," I lied, thinking about the doctor I locked in the janitorial closet. "But no need to worry, Doctor D's on the case."

"Are you certified?" she questioned, seemingly too smart to fall for my ruse.

"Why yes," I responded as I grinned under my face mask. I reached into my shirt, pulled out a piece of paper, and showed it to her. "Here's my PH............D."

"Sir, this is a piece of paper with the letter 'PhD' in purple crayon!" she scolded, not amused by my credentials.

"Lisa, we don't have time! We're gonna lose her!" the male who brought in the defibrillator exclaimed.

Lisa gave me a dirty look, before resuming her position at the patient's side. The man put the paddles against the old woman's chest, before giving the typical "CLEAR!" warning. He pressed the button and sent a jolt of electricity through the lady's body. We all looked at the heart monitor, but there was no change.

"She's flatlining worse than Peter Gilmour's career!" I inappropriately shouted.

"Come on, dammit!" the paddler grunted, determined to help this woman pull through so she could live another 2 weeks. "CLEAR!!!!" He went at it again, but all it did was move her body for a minute, not her heart rate.

You could feel the somber atmosphere in the room, as more people began to accept they had lost her. The man tasked with reviving her refused to believe it, going through the routine of shouting 'CLEAR' and shocking her at least ten more times. With each attempt, the man began to sob louder until he was crying his eyes out for the final one. Someone went over to comfort him, putting her arm around his shoulder and resting her head on him as she led him away from the table.

"I tried," he cried as he buried his face in her arm. "I just couldn't do it."

"It's okay, Henry, you did everything you could," she whispered to him as the rest of the room stood in silence.

"You guys give up too easily......" I spoke, ready to show them all up. They did nothing as I walked forward and began to hit the patient in the chest, over and over again.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!?!" Henry screamed like an absolute bitch, before passing out.

"They don't teach you this in medical schools," I explained, as I moved my punches up to her face. As I did this, I looked up at the monitor but was met with the disappointment of her heart still being deader than Mastermind's credibility. "Someone get me a chair....." I looked around the room, but everyone was frozen in place with their eyes glossed over in fear. "I SAID GET ME A FUCKING CHAIR!!!!!!"

Upon my shouting, the entire room emptied, except for the patient and Henry's lifeless bodies, as everyone scrambled to meet my request. After a moment of searching, one of the nurses bolted in and handed me a wooden chair.

"No, no, this won't do!" I complained, tossing the chair aside. Henry just so happened to be regaining consciousness at that moment, only to be knocked back out by the chair crashing over his head. As that happened, a different woman ran in with exactly what I needed: a metal folding chair. "PERFECT!"

As the medical staff filed back into the ER, I prepared to make one last effort to save their patient. I lifted the chair high above my head and used all the force I could muster to bring it down against the old woman's face. Everybody screamed in horror at the sight, but there was another sound that was almost drowned out by their voices.

Beep..........

Beep........................

BEEP...................................

They all went silent as we listened to the wonderful sound of her heart monitor as it beeped with life. Slowly, the woman opened up what she could of her eyes and sat up with a look of shock on her face that matched the rest of the room. She had bruises all over and a black eye, but she was all smiles even IF she was now missing a few of her false teeth.

"I......... I.......... I've never felt better in my life!" she exclaimed with glee as the doctors and nurses cheered. They began hugging each other, shaking hands with congratulations. A few of them even did this to me, which was only right as I DID do all the hard work.

"Good luck with your remaining days, Betty," I said to the patient, before turning to walk away.

"It's Dolores!" she corrected, but I ignored.

"Do me a favor, nurse, and clean up this room," I instructed a nurse. "And mop up his sorry ass, too." I nodded my head towards Henry's still motionless body.

"Yes, doctor," the nurse responded as I walked out the door. I was immediately greeted by another nurse, who presented me with the chart of another patient while walking beside me.

"Dr. Sanders' next patient is Tommy Johnson," she said as I looked over the chart, despite not knowing what the hell any of it meant. "As you can see, Tommy suffered a broken back about a month ago and has been coming here for his checkups and rehab......."

"Kid's back is broken AND he's on drugs?" I questioned as I handed the chart back.

She shook her head at my joke, before leading me to the window of the boy's room. As I looked in, my heart sank down to the pit of my butthole. Sitting in a wheelchair beside the bed was none other than the kid who got injured at the school I visited before Leap of Faith. He looked as scrawny and wimpy as ever as he waited for me to enter and hopefully give him some good news. Luckily for me, my face was still covered by my surgical mask so there was no way for him to recognize me.

"Hi, I'm Doctor D," I introduced myself with a hand out for him to shake, which he didn't.

"He can't move his arms or legs," the nurse whispered in my ear, causing me to awkwardly lower my arm back towards my side.

"It's nice to meet you, Tommy," I greeted. "Where are your mom and dad?"

"They're at the racetrack," he managed to speak, despite not being able to move his lips much. "They're trying to win money so they can pay off all my medical bills."

You could see the nurse's heart break at his words as she covered her mouth and held back tears. I kept it together, knowing one of us had to, might as well be the person who DIDN'T go to med school.

"Nurse, what kind of treatment has little Tommy received?" I asked, because I legitimately had no clue what a doctor would do.

"He had surgery to realign the bones in an attempt to prevent spinal chord and nerve injury," she informed me as she continued to show sympathy for the child. "Unfortunately, his condition has shown no signs of improvement thus far."

I placed my hand on my chin, trying to figure out the best remedy for the situation. This place was littered with expensive pieces of equipment, but none that could get this kid walking or even write his own name. There was countless minds, an endless supply of medical professionals who get paid out the wazoo and not a single one of them could help this kid? That was just simply unacceptable.

Without another word, I approached the kid and wrapped my arms around his waist. Almost effortlessly I hoisted him up out if his chair and high above my head. The nurse screamed in almost the same pitch that Henry did, as I violently thrust Tommy's body down onto my knee.

*CRUNCH*

As his back was met with my knee, you could hear the sickening crack of bones. It was the same sound that filled the classroom when his classmate broke his back in the first place. I let go of him and he rolled onto the floor, as a crowd of doctors and nurses flooded into the room.

"He just attacked the patient!" the nurse that had witnessed everything yelled with a finger pointed at me.

"Well he isn't ACTUALLY a doctor," another one snarked as the mob began to make their way in my direction.

Before anyone could lay a finger on me, though, the kid began to stir. Tommy slowly began to crawl to his knees as everyone looked on in complete disbelief. This young man had been paralyzed just minutes before and now, one backbreaker later, was moving his arms and legs like nothing ever happened.

"It's.......... it's a miracle!" the boy shouted as he pulled himself back up into his wheelchair. "I can feel my toes, I can wiggle my fingers!"

The entire room of staff looked from the boy to me, jaws dropped open in amazement of what was sure to be dubbed the 'D Technique' in future medical books.

"How did you pull it off?" one of the shocked doctors asked, pulling out a pen and pad for notes.

"Look, sometimes you gotta think outside the box," I answered, tapping my head with a finger. "Don't limit yourself to the things you were taught, otherwise you'll never discover new ways to solve your problems."

Impressed by my advice, more of the professionals pulled out writing utensils and paper to jot stuff down. I turned my attention from them to little Tommy, who was no longer confined to a chair for the rest of his life thanks to me.

"I want you to smoke a couple joints a day for any lingering pain," I ordered, before playfully slapping him on the shoulder. "Now go on and get out of here, ya little bastard."

Pleased with my work, I exited the room and made my way down the halls of the hospital. As I did so, another nurse hurried to catch me. You could tell there was something urgent that needed the attention of St. Luke's newest, most amazing doctor.

"Doctor D, we have an emergency," she spoke with haste. "You're needed in Room 13 immediately!"

"Lead the way, nurse!" I responded, before we both began to run for the room as quick as we could.

The two of us arrived to see an older gentleman laying back on the bed, moaning in agony. He was dressed in his old Vietnam uniform, decked out with medals for all his service to this country. There was a sheet over his lower half and something was blatantly sticking up from under it.

"Patient's name is Gerald Nixon," the nurse announced as the man continued to complain about his condition. "He's had an erection lasting more than 4 hours and we need to relieve the pressure before it reaches a point of no return....."

"What?!" I exclaimed, not believing what I was hearing.

The nurse pulled back the blanket revealing the old man's penis, swollen to a point I've never seen before. It was the size of Peter Gilmour, not his super dick, but his BODY itself! Maybe even fat Gilly, it was that big.

"We have to act now, doctor!" the nurse insisted, holding a needle out for me. "You'll have to give him a shot to reduce the swelling."

Not sure if I was more disturbed than disgusted, I took the needle from the nurse and went to roll up the veteran's sleeve, only to discover quite the shock.

"He doesn't have any arms!" I yelled, thrown off by the revelation. "Why do you even have sleeves?!"

"Doctor, we don't have time for this!" the nurse insisted, as the man continued to groan. "The shot is meant for the penis. If you don't act now, Mr. Nixon could lose it!"

Knowing how much my own life would be ruined by such a tragedy, I hesitantly moved my hand towards the veteran's junk. My hands began to shake as they got closer and closer to Mr. Nixon's taint, until finally I could take no more and pulled away.

"Yeeeeeeeah, I'm not ACTUALLY a doctor," I admitted, placing the needle back in the nurse's hand. "You guys should probably get better security, maybe even doctors if you have to rely on a professional wrestler to do your jobs......."

"But....... but........"

"Look, bitch, I ain't touchin' no dick," I insisted, throwing my hands in the air. "But I'm sure it's not the first one, nor the last one for you. So, good luck, and I hope it works out for you."

Giving the Nixon peace signs, I strutted out of that room with the confidence of Robert Main wrestling Chris Page for the millionth time. I made my way through the hallways, a nuisance to some and a hero to others. I may not have been an official doctor, but that didn't stop me from doing a better job in one day than most of them did all year.

As I walked out the entrance to the hospital, I lit up a victory joint. I puffed on the sweet herb, melting all of my stresses away for the moment.

"Hey, you can't smoke that within 100 feet of the doors!" an angry nurse hollered as she wheeled a patient passed me.

"It's okay, it's not tobacco," I replied as I began to walk away from the building.

"Peter Gilmour and Mastermind think they're the embodiment of extreme because they've held a Title that said so. That doesn't make them extreme. I held the WWF Dark Championship, but that didn't make me any black. I've held multiple TV Titles, but not once did I become a television from it. You wanna know what's hardcore? Hardcore is walking into a hospital and posing as a doctor for the hell of it. Extreme is rescuing an old lady from the clutches of death when no-one else could. It's going face to face with someone who's a paraplegic partially because of you and fixing their spine like you were an actual medical professional."

"I may not have an actual phD, but that doesn't make me any less of a doctor. When I get in the ring, I might as well be a surgeon walking into the ER. My technique is flawless, precision in every step I take and every move I make. Much like a doctor removes a tumor, I too make the cancer of XWF my bitch."

"I know Mastermind and Gilly aren't the cancers, though, they're both top tier competitors regardless of what anybody else might think. And that second part refers to my former War Games teammate, Peter Gilmour. When I drafted you, I had the utmost faith in you. Former Universal Champion, Xtreme Champion, you seemed like someone who had Future Hall of Famer written all over. I heard countless members of the lockeroom bashing you at the time, and I STILL hear it now. Back then, I wanted to see you prove yourself and what happened? You failed. Sure, you lasted longer than Rain but is that REALLY an accomplishment? When I watched you walk away from that Cage, Centurion's words about our team replayed in my head and I knew it was because of people like you. The performance you had in that match, along with everything you've 'accomplished' since then has proven to me I made a mistake in putting my faith in you! You're just another disgrace living off of your past accomplishments; no different than Robbie Bourbon or Barney fucking Green. I didn't want to believe it at first, but it's true. Peter Gilmour is just a has-been trying to cling on to whatever is left of his pathetic career."

"If you don't believe me, just examine our match. We have me and Mastermind, probably #3 and #4 on the Universal Title rankings behind Ned Kaye and Lux. I'd say Chris Page, but with all his failure he's only getting his shot because he HAS the belt. He IS probably higher on the list than Gilmour, though. Peter is in this match because, unlike me or Mastermind, he has the MOST to prove. Gilmour's career is swirling around in a flushed toilet, is the turd gonna be able to escape before he gets sucked too deep? Unless me and Mastermind take each other out and Gilly's still in one piece enough to cover, there's no way he can pull it off. The lid of the toilet has been put down and there is no escaping........."

"Speaking of giant toilets, that brings me to my other opponent, Mastermind. I know he took a few weeks off because of his knee, maybe it was sceptic? Perhaps he took an arrow to it? Or maybe he's spending a little too much time on them sucking Gilly's super dick? Whatever the case, his knee is a weakness and don't think I won't use that to my advantage. When you're up against someone the caliber of Mastermind, you gotta do what you gotta do. If me and Gilmour have to take turns smashing it against the ring post, you bet your ass we will! This sport isn't for the weak, and if Gilly's too weak minded to join me, then I'll do it to him, too!"

"Mastermind, we've had our own small rivalry since I arrived. It started with me trying to take the very Title we're fighting for a shot at from you, only to have you keep kicking out. And then it was War Games, where you had the pleasure of forcing me to tap out. Which I will remind you, I only did to ensure my health for my Universal Title match, a bet that worked out in the end. Most recently, we were participants in the Leap of Faith match where we both got fucked over. As heartbreaking as it was for me, I could only imagine your disappointment in winning a blowup doll that didn't even have a cock. You probably injured your knees crawling over to Vinnie to satisfy your sick desires."

"But all the jokes aside, we both know the truth about that match. The only reason Ned has that contract is because of luck, the same reason we got our 'prizes.' That match did nothing to harm us, which is why we're in a Number 1 Contenders Match despite us both taking some time off. Management knows we're the guys who will ascend to the top once guys like Robert Main and Chris Page quit hogging the limelight, and I intend to show them which of us should be THE guy once that time comes. And if you just so happen to think it's you, Warfare is gonna be quite the rude awakening. And that ain't no story, it's the Cold Big D Truth!"

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