He was hot on The Wizard’s trail. The Woods of Elderdom provided little cover from the man known as Edward Mof. He moved with stealth and confidence. The dark elusiveness that was usually The Wizard’s protector would offer no such amnesty. A confrontation was brewing.

“C’mon, man! I want to help you!” Mof’s voice echoed within the Woods of Elderdom.

“No! LEAVE ME ALONE!” The Wizard screamed in return.

“Stop being such a baby!”

“I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE! I HATE YOU!”

It was true. The Wizard’s hate for this man ran deep, balls deep. His attempt at ‘helping’ The Wizard years earlier damn near ruined his life. And now...now that our protagonist’s life was back on track, Mof had returned. Like a bad penny, always showing up at the most inopportune moment.

The Wizard needed to avoid Mof. He needed to avoid the distraction Mr. Mof brought. The memory of years lost. The memory of disappointment. The memory of heartbreak.

Positivity was the key to The Wizard finding success in his burgeoning career within the sport of Pro Wrestling. XWF was the key to The Wizard locating the elusive term – happiness. In order to stride along his current path, he had to dodge, dip, duck, dive, and dodge the eager clutches of Edward Mof.

---

I didn’t want to go here. I didn’t want to revisit my previous dealings with Edward Mof. But, I feel as though it is necessary. An exorcism, of sorts. Get it out of my system before I step into the ring on Wednesday at Warfare against Bilbo and Greggo.

I’ve attempted to do research on my two opponents, but it’s been damn near impossible. My brain has been cloudy. It’s filled with corruption. The distraction of Edward Mof has left me utterly unprepared for what’s to come in less than a week.

In other words – this is not good.

Momentum is a funny thing. Harness it and you can ride your momentum all the way to the top. Lose your footing, get knocked off your stride, and it will abandon you. Once abandoned, there is no guarantee of recovery. Momentum isn’t manufactured. It isn’t scientific. Far from mathematical. Momentum is one of those unaccounted anomalies that manifest organically and, when acquired, is arguably the most powerful tool a competitor can utilize.

Right now, I have momentum. It’s building underneath me, preparing to launch my career into another stratosphere. Elon Musk levels of motivation. All I need do, at this point, is stay the course, remain focused, and everything I desire could be within reach sooner rather than later.

Winning at Warfare is a must. A loss would resemble the Challenger exploding mid-air seconds after launch. At that point, I may as well hand in my keys and adorn the blue vest once more, returning to my shitty, mundane job.

The idea sickens me. This won’t be my undoing. I will eliminate distraction en route to putting Bilbo and Greggo down on Wednesday.

---

Calvin’s absence had stretched from days to weeks to months. I’d grown sedated. Sedentary. My body would have been a rock if it hadn’t been so gelatinous. More like a shapeless orb.

I woke up one morning, could have been any morning. Without a job or any sort of direction, late-night drinking took place every night. I woke up with another horrific hangover.

With the fridge pulled open, its contents were about as depressing as the reflection I caught in the mirror near my bedside upon sitting up. A bunch of cheap cans of beer and some old Chinese food were the only items looking back at me. Oh, and condiments. I suppose even the shittiest of bachelors have condiments.

My hand reached for the Chinese food. Sweet and Sour pork. By my calculations, it should have remained fresh enough to digest. But, at the last second, I realized I wasn’t feeling it and diverted my hand’s route to the left, snaring a can of Keystone Light.

A plastic jug sat next to the sink. I filled it up with water while cracking the Keystone open. These cans were always so small in my hands. They became invisible.

I took a sip, it went down hard. I might have gagged once or twice. But will overcomes the mind, if strong enough. So, I held it down and took another...then another. The can was empty, crushed, and tossed at an overflowing trash can. It hit, bounced, and tumbled onto the floor, sending a roach scurrying for its life.

The suddenly full water jug met my dry, thirsty lips. I ached for H20. Within seconds the jug was emptied into my mouth, down my throat, before splashing into my parched belly. I sighed, feeling better. I snared another beer and found the couch...beer in one hand, empty water jug in the other. I placed it at my feet. Soon, it would transform into a most necessary piss jug. Gaming is serious shit. I couldn’t afford to get up in the middle of an intense session.

Before stumbling my way into another all-day session, I decided to inspect the damage done hours earlier. I’d enjoyed another drunken stupor, leading into a deep, dark chasm devoid of memory. That usually meant some lamentable online shit took place. Time to see if any damage which necessitated repair lingered in the annals of the online community.

So far, so good. All social media profiles were as clean as the day before. The sent box in all three of my email accounts held nothing disastrous. It appeared I’d been a good boy the previous evening.

“Whew,” I sighed, “looks like I might be maturing.” I downed my second Keystone Light. It was almost ten in the morning.

Calamity in the morning’s rearview mirror, I turned my focus to my console. It was time to KICK SOME ASS.

RING! RING!

“The fuck?” I froze. It was a sound I’d never heard. I waited. And waited. AND WAITED.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Okay, there was a sound familiar to my ears. Somebody was at my door. But who? I wasn’t expecting anyone. I didn’t really have any friends. Since Calvin left, I’d successfully transformed into, arguably, the world’s largest hermit.

I even used Door Dash to purchase my beer.

Rent was paid up. Utilities were current. What family I had lived a few states away.

My neighbors hated me. But, not enough to bother me.

This was weird.

Maybe they’d go away.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Damn. A third knock in that second set.

Okay, maybe NOW they will go away.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

A fourth…

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

UGH! I stood from the couch, super pissed that I was forced to use my legs earlier than I’d hoped. I marched for the door, slamming my feet into the ground, informing the world that I was very angry.

With the locks removed, I yanked the door back and met – HIM.

“Can I help you?” I eked through gritted teeth.

The man looked me up and down. He plugged his nose, “Phew! It reeks in there!”

My eyes rolled. I tried to shut the door but he stuck his foot out, using it as a jam.

“Hold on a minute there, buddy!”

Curious, I pulled the door back, eyeing him. He looked to be near six feet. Pretty tall for most, but woefully short in comparison to the near seven feet I stood.

While his stature may have seemed minuscule compared to mine, his confidence soared. He stepped ahead, pushing past me and into my apartment. I was too nonplussed to stop him. I’d never witnessed such casual confidence in my life. The man acted as though he owned the place.

Standing amidst the burgeoning landfill that was my living room, he placed his hands atop his hips and deciphered, “You made the right call, friend.”

“Call?” Again, I had no idea who this dude was or what he was doing invading my personal space.

It didn’t take him long to catch on. “You...you don’t remember booking my services last night?”

I didn’t.

He laughed, “Haha, makes sense. The request did come in at around four in the morning. But, no worry, your payment went through so I’m yours for the time being.”

“M...Mine?”

He stepped forward, extending his hand, “Edward Mof – Professional Wrestling Dating Coach.”



“Dating Coach? Professional Wrestling?”

“Mhm,” he wiped his palm against his pants at the conclusion of our handshake. He surveyed the rest of my place, “You found my ad on Reddit. Said you needed help and, well, judging by what I’m seeing, you most certainly do.”

“I...look, man. I don’t need any help and, even if I did, it wouldn’t be about dating. It’d be about my career, my life...stuff like that.”

He turned his back to me, looking into the kitchen. He walked forward while responding, “I get that. It’s all apart of being a dating coach. I don’t just snap my fingers and produce a woman. We have to work on you, first. Only then will a woman you desire feel the same.” He opened my fridge. “Whoa! Something in here has gone bad!”

A few seconds later the sweet and sour pork found their way at the apex of my trash mountain. Shame, they were going to be my lunch.

Mof stared at the mountain of trash. He observed the critters crawling in and around it. I opened the fridge, obtaining a Keystone. He spun around, watching me down it in three sips.

Lunging forward, he slapped the empty can from my hand and jammed his knee into the fridge door.

“What the hell, man?”

“No more! Alcohol isn’t helping things!”

“It’s my day off. So what if I want a few drinks?”

“Judging by what I’m seeing every day is your day off.”

“That’s kinda harsh, man.”

“It’s the truth!”

I could have pulled the door open and thrown the man across the kitchen. But, I wasn’t prone to violence. Deep down, I understood I reached out to this man from an honest place. The idea of being a better, more productive person sounded great. The act of getting there was what left me hesitant.

“Get a shower.”

“A what?”

“A shower!”

“But, why?”

“We’re going out. First thing’s first...we need to get you out of this apartment and into the world. I think you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a human being.”

I grumbled but acquiesced, heading toward the bathroom.

---

Burrowed underneath a couple of thick bushes, The Wizard listened to the silence. He hoped this meant Mof had given up but, in his heart, knew better. No man was more relentless than the Professional Wrestling Dating Coach. He had to be. Hooking wrestlers up with women was no easy task.

Reliving the story of how they met brought the twinge of impending pain. Like most stories, it started off innocently enough. It even hit a few high notes. But tragedy ultimately struck, leaving the protagonist to wade in a pit of melancholy. The Wizard’s story was no different.

He decided to block out the memory. Reliving past trauma suddenly seemed a fool’s errand. He sought to return his active mind on the positive path, focused on XWF and his upcoming match.

“I JUST WANT TO TALK!” Mof’s voice rang out.

It was unavoidable. The Wizard’s mind lept back into the past.

---

“Nice shirt,” Edward Mof commented, eyeing my most recent purchase. It was a t-shirt which read ‘Not Your Average Dave Matthews Band T-Shirt’.



Unsure if he was mocking me, I replied, “Thanks.”

We departed. Mof drove an old, anachronistic brown car. It displayed wood panels. It made me wonder what kind of successful man drives such a vehicle. But, I was cleaned up and dressed, so I went with it.

The ride featured a one-sided conversation. Mof filled the inner atmosphere with positive platitudes, idealistic idioms, and playful parlance, all in the hopes of improving my muddy demeanor.

A gym was our destination.

“Oh man, I don’t think I can work out. My stomach isn’t feeling so great.”

Mof looked at me, “Why put off for tomorrow what you can get done today. C’mon, kid!”

I followed him inside.

We walked straight up to a grizzled, old wrestling promoter/trainer. Mof did the talking. He explained my plight, stating I’d thought and even inquired about becoming a pro wrestler, but had yet to really follow through.

The trainer eyed me. He was impressed with my size but equally soured by my lack of motivation.

Mof vouched for me, “I got his back, man. I’m his shadow from this point forward. He won’t miss a session.”

“Well, alright. But I need to see something right now. A show of faith. Kid, I want you to get in there and run the ropes for five minutes.”

Mof’s eyes widened. I smiled, “Sure.” I had no idea how difficult a task I’d been assigned.

The place came to a silent halt. Everyone watched as this youngish, giant, overweight man lumbered into the ring and began running. The trainer clicked his watch. We were underway.

On the verge of collapse, I yelled out, “How much time is left?” I was sure we were nearing the four-minute mark.

“We just passed one minute.”

“ONE MINUTE?!”

I considered quitting until I heard all the other wrestlers laugh. There was no way I could quit. I felt Mof watching me, pushing me forward with his hopeful gaze. My speed slowed, my legs felt unstable.

“Now?” I asked, hoping we were further along than I feared.

“Just passed two minutes!”

“SON OF A BITCH!”

More laughter. I was panting, wheezing. My heart fluttered, on the verge of throwing in the towel. Death, at that moment, seemed a realistic option.

And then, I don’t know how...I fell into a place. A dark, peaceful place. It managed to block out the pain, the torture, the physical trauma. I hit a zone.

“TIME!”

I collapsed. My body drenched. My new Dave Matthews Band T-shirt forever soiled by sweat. The lights looked down upon me, almost in appreciation. As soon as the crippling fatigue subsided, I felt achievement.

Mof reached in, under the bottom rope, tugging at my leg. “C’mon, kid.”

Rolling out, I hit the floor...all fours. The trainer stood over me. Feeling his presence, my head looked up. “Slow. Sloppy. Barely able to finish.” My head lowered. I was ready for a giant scythe to lop it from my shoulders. “But, you did it. That says something...what, exactly it says, I don’t know. Come back tomorrow and we’ll do some more.”

Eureka! I struggled to my feet, wobbling side to side. Mof helped steady me. “Thank you, sir.”

He had no reply, turning his back and resuming teaching the other students. Mof helped me toward the door. “Good job in there, kid!”

“Th...thanks.”

Mof opened the door. The exterior breeze felt wonderful. “I’m surprised you didn’t…”

Before he could finish, I projectile vomited all over a fairly recently purchased black truck.

---

Mof’s footsteps grew closer and closer. The Wizard, hoping the bushes would provide the necessary protection to avoid Edward’s investigation, realized he’d have to move. Willing to spend the night in those bushes, the idea of picking up and relocating was an unwelcomed one. Yet, it triumphed over the idea of spending time with Edward Mof.

He waited, anxiously. Waited for the moment when Mof’s proximity rendered a dash.

And, that moment was upon him!

The Wizard burst through the bushes. His beard getting caught in the branches. Ripping his beard free, he put his head down, the tip of his cap pointing forward, and sprinted away from Mof. The dark visage of Mof spun around, hearing The Wizard’s escape.

“Hey!! Where are you going?! C’mon, man! I just want to talk!”

Mof took off, chasing after The Wizard.

---

“How do you take your coffee?” Mof asked, with two purchased coffees already in hand.

“Uhh, with lots of cream and sugar,” I replied. I wasn’t much of a coffee drinker but, when I did partake, I liked it sweet. Kind of like a dessert.

“Well, you’re taking it black today.” He placed a smoldering, piping hot cup in front of me. I didn’t object. I felt too insecure to make a scene. Despite the evidence that my clothing was pure of vomit, I couldn’t help but feel it on me.

Plus, I still displayed signs of sweat.

Not exactly the best image to project, true or not, while seated inside a Starbucks. There were tons of young women lounging around, chatting, drinking, existing within a few feet of my, what I felt to be, nasty existence. Despite being six feet, nine inches, I felt about two feet tall.

My shoulders narrowed. I shrunk as much as I could in my seat before slowly, shakily grabbing my drink.

“What’s wrong?” Mof asked, leaning back as casually as if he were seated on his back porch.

“I...I feel uncomfortable.” I was surprised at my honesty. But, given how foreign I felt, it probably shouldn’t have been all that shocking that I reached out and clung to the nearest buoy.

“Why? We’re out. You’re releasing endorphins after a successful workout which is going to lead to a promising future. The sun is shining. This is life, my man! Bask in its aura!”

Too bad I didn’t share his enthusiasm. My lone desire was to return to my couch within the friendly walls of my apartment.

“You’ve got to get over this anxiety, man. You’re six feet nine! Women find tall guys attractive, don’t you know that? It makes them feel secure.”

I shrugged, taking another sip of coffee. The sweat on my body had gone cold. My internal temperature seemed to dip into an uncomfortable cool. The coffee, finally, tasted good.

Edward eyeballed me with tenacity. His mind ruminated, like a hand hovering over an array of weapons, deliberating over which to utilize. And then, he made his move.

“Excuse me,” he turned, addressing the nearest female. She was halfway between five and six feet tall. Brunette. More cute than sexy. More thin than voluptuous. She paused. The unexpected greeting caught her off guard.

Moving a loose strand behind her ear, she did the polite thing, “Yes?”

“Edward Mof,” he extended his hand. She shook it. “I’m sorry to bother you but my client, a professional wrestler, was curious if women found tall men to be attractive.”

She looked my way. I didn’t want to but I’m sure I blushed. I mean, my face grew hotter than a pan of frying bacon. Whatever chill I felt earlier was a forgotten memory.

Mof motioned for me to stand. I obliged. Her eyes changed. They went from unsure to impressed. “It doesn’t hurt,” she replied.

She smiled. Was she smiling at me? I was torn.

“Introduce yourself.” Mof continued to push me toward this woman. She hadn’t tucked her tail and run, yet. So, I did my best to pick my guts up off the floor and pretend to be a man.

An hour later Edward Mof drove me home. A stupid smile had taken permanent residence across my face. Mof’s fingers tap-danced their way atop his steering wheel. “See? Confidence, my man! Confidence is king!”

“I...man…” I was speechless. In the span of half a day, I went from dirty, smelly hermit to a guy with a cute girl’s number. “She even liked my shirt!” I don’t know why, but that’s the first thing that popped into my mind when replaying the recent interaction.

“Hey, there’s someone out there for everyone.” Was that a jab? Fuck it, I didn’t care.

I stepped out of Mof’s car. I thanked him for his help.

“I’ll be back at eight tomorrow morning. Be clean. Be ready to train. Oh, and tidy up that apartment. You don’t want any excuse to avoid inviting a woman back to your place.”

It made sense.

---

SMASH!

The Wizard’s frantic speed resulted in a painful crash! His head SLAMMED into a low hanging branch belonging to Jamal. His body crumbled to the ground like a pile of bricks.

Staring up, he spotted the top of Jamal. “Et Tu, Jamal?” He felt betrayed.

The footsteps rushed ahead. They stopped. The face of Edward Mof stared down at the possibly concussed Wizard.

“Hello, friend.”

---

Life is a circle.

We’ve all heard the expression.

Expressions exist because, in some capacity, they are rooted in truth.

People leave your life only to re-enter when you least expect it.

At one point I needed Mof. Now, not so much. Regardless, he was back.

Inner strength. We all possess it. It was time I utilized it. Perhaps this was a test...a test to see if I can maintain my focus in the face of immense distraction.

Facing a gimp and a lecherous lothario in my first singles match was bad enough. The inclusion of Edward Mof weighed the entire situation down into near inescapable depths of distraction.

It was up to me to maintain focus. Up to me to persevere.

A man only has so much time to prove his worth. My window was rapidly closing.

Greggo. Bilbo. My life might be strange. My act might be weird. But my focus is as pure as an ultimate in-ring technicians repertoire.

I’m coming for both of you on Wednesday.

No Homo.

I am The Wizard.

Bask in my Aura!