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B.O.B. D · (02-05-2021)

Did I make a mistake?

I'd asked myself that question over and over again since my declaration to never compete for the Universal Championship if I lose to Chris Page. It didn't hit me at first, the weight of such a decision, but when it finally did, it hit me HARD.....................

I found myself at some random bar, in some random town, drinking my problems(and likely my career) away. I didn't know anybody in there and they didn't know me, but considering how much of an ass I was making of myself on karaoke, that was probably a good thing.

"Here I am, I'm in the wroooooooong bed again
It's a game I just can't win
There you are breathin' soft on my skin, yeah
Still you won't let me in

Why save your kisses for a rainy day
Baby let the moment take your heart away

Have you ever needed someone so bad? Yeeeeeah
Have you ever wanted someone
You just couldn't have
Did you ever try so hard
That your world just fell apart
Have you ever needed someone so bad

And to the BELT I gotta haaaaave
I gotta have you, Uniiiiiiiiiii..............."

And that's about the time I broke down in tears, unable to finish the song. Luckily, two Southern gentlemen were there to whisk me away from the microphone and over to a bar stool. Unfortunately for me, I was too drunk to realize there was no back to my seat, causing me to instantly fall over as I tried to lean backwards. The bigger of the two, a burly lookin' fella who resembled Squirrely Dan from Letterkenny, bent down and reached underneath my armpit before lifting me up with one hand.

"Upsie Daisy!" he sputtered, placing me back on the stool.

Before I could fall over again, the other one put his arm around my back and held me in place. "Gotta find your footing, son!" the elder man, who looked like a drunken hobo, suggested.

I did my best to follow his advice, only to fall, face first, into the counter. With my head resting there, I raised my hand and requested another drink I most certainly did NOT need. "Another Blue Moon, good sir."

"There's no-one there," the younger man informed me. "She went out for a smoke."

"Probably a good thing, too," the older one added. "Cuz the way you's was actin' might've gotten gotten ya a cab called................ Or the cops, depending on Susan's mood."

I began banging my head against the counter in an attempt to beat out all the horrible thoughts the alcohol was making me have. What if I DON'T beat Page? What if I really AM done challenging for the big one? Should I go back on my declaration? CAN I go back on my declaration? What the fuck was sober me thinking in making such a bold statement?!? I remembered how awful it felt to know I'd never reach the ultimate culmination in WWF, was that REALLY something I wanted to feel for the rest of my career????

"Who hurt you?" the Norm of this bar asked, disrupting my pity party. "Your girlfriend? Wife?"

"Boyfriend?" the fat one butted in, receiving a Ric Flair style chop across the chest. "What?! Maybe he's one of dem homo Sapiens!!!"

Finally, I lifted my head up and looked between the both of them. "No man, no womnan," I slurred, receiving confused looks from them. "This ziz 'bout a belt!"

The men glanced at each other and then back to me. "You one of them sickos who's attracted to inaminant objects?" the older gentleman questioned with an eyebrow raised.

"Noooooooooo," I buzzed, all the while wondering who was making the room spin? "I'm a profshifa.................... professionalllllllllll 'rassler!!!!" Man, words were hard!

The bigger fellow didn't seem to understand. "Professional wrestler?" he repeated, alot clearer than I'd originally said it. "I thought that stuff was fake?"

"Do these tears look fake?!" I burst out, pointing to the wet streams running down my face. "Do my emotions seem artificial to you?!?"

They sat there in silence for a moment before the old man curled his lip slightly and spoke in disgust. "Maybe he IS some kind of homo."

"Oh, I'm gay alright," I admitted, but with a twist. "For the Universal Championship!!!"

The two of them stared at me, taking a sip of their respective drinks with judgment. I didn't expect the average bar patron to understand what I was going through, hell, I wasn't even sure I could comprehend the slew of emotions running through my body. All I knew was that I needed another drink.

"Jesus, what's this bartender smoking, a Cuban?" I impatiently blurted out before looking around and noticing everyone in the bar was preoccupied except my two drinking buddies. "Guess I gotta Rick James this shit!" I reached over and grabbed a clean mug from behind the bar, before proceeding to angle my body, awkwardly, in order to pour myself a brew. Before I could make any progress filling my glass, I lost my balance and did a front flip over the counter, onto the employee side where I crashed hard on my ass. The guys I'd been talking to leaned over to check on me, but I managed to pop to my feet immediately as if my I hadn't been drinking at all.

"Tada!!!!!" I exclaimed as I noticed a little bit of blood trickles down my face. Curious, I reached up and felt a shard of glass poking out of my forehead, which I yanked out as if it was nothing.

"I think I'm gonna be sick!" the husky one gagged, covering his mouth in an attempt to keep himself from puking.

I could feel more blood pour out of the open wound, but I was too drunk to care. "Moe, Larry, want a drink?"

"What the hell are you doing?!" a feminine voice shouted from behind, causing me to drop(and break) the new glass I'd just grabbed.

I turned around and was met, chest to chest, by a woman who was at least TWICE the size of Squirrely Dan Jr. The shock of seeing her caused me to jump backwards, flipping back over to the other side of the bar and landing on my ass, once more. Apparently I'd been so drunk, I didn't realize the entire Sons of Anarchy rolled into one had been serving me all night.

"I hope you plan on payin' for those!" she demanded, grabbing a broom and dust pan to clean up my mess.

"Yes ma'am!!!" I agreed, feeling myself sobering up from the adrenaline rush. "I'd also like to buy my buddies here a round of shots," I added, pulling out a fifty from my wallet. "What sounds good, boys?"

"How 'bout a 3 Wise Men, since we're 3 wise men?" the older one suggested.

I thought back to the first time I ever had the horrible concoction of Johnnie Walker, Jim Beam, and Jack Daniels. I'd just turned 21, and my buddies made me try it for my free birthday shot at the local pub. Apparently it was some sort of sick tradition to make the birthday boy puke, and it certainly worked. But considering the sad state of mind I was in realizing my mortality as a Universal Title contender, I wasn't gonna say no.

"You son of a bitch, I'm in!"

The three of us drank shots and partied like it was the end of the world, which, for me, it very likely could've been. If I found myself on the losing end come Warfare, not only would I miss out on EVER becoming Universal Champion, I'd also lose the final thing in XWF near and dear to me................. the World Title. I couldn't bear the thought of what Page might possibly do to a belt nobody, aside from myself, respected. Would he carry it around as like some sort of trophy commemorating the time he put Big D in his place, or blow the damn thing to smithereens? I had no idea, but I certainly didn't wanna find out.

Despite my personal demons, it was nice to hang out and be one of the guys. I kept handing Ron and Bob, the names of my two new friends, drink after drink and tossing Susan $1 bills like she was a poke dancer(though thankfully she never tried doing so). It reminded me of the time I drank with Noah and Fuzz heading into Lethal Lottery. It's amazing how a few drinks could bring people together who'd normally NEVER associate with one another under regular circumstances, the proof being the fact they screwed me over the next round.................... of Lethal Lottery, not beers.

"So you're tellin' me, if you lose yer match Wednesday night, you won't be World Champion no more?" Bob, the heavier set one, belched.

"A week from Wednesday, but yes," I responded, using my glass to point at him, spilling beer everywhere.

"But I thought the other guy was the World Champion?" Ron questioned while downing his 5th 3 Wise Men.

Before I could correct him, Bob did, instead. "No, no, no! He's the UNIVERSAL Champion, not World."

Ron made a disgusted face reminiscent of Clint Eastwood when he was still racist in Gran Torino. "What's the difference???"

"The Universe is bigger than the World, Ron," Bob informed his pal before slamming down a shot of his own. "Everybody knows that!"

"Apparently not Ron!" I joked, receiving a round of laughter from Bob and Susan as the old man glared at us.

Just then, a familiar tune filled the air, making it's way over from the karaoke area to where we were sitting. As the instrumental opening played, I couldn't quite put my finger on how I recognized the song, but I knew It was something I'd heard ALOT. Once the little stereotypical Asian voice put lyrics to the music, it became even clearer, almost as if it were................................... someone's entrance theme!!!!!!

"You are bewtiful on the inside
You are innocence personified
And I will dwag you down and sell you out
Wuuuuuuuuun aaaaaaaaaway

I am cold like December Sno.......... WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!?"

The Asian man shouted like Uncle Roger and cowered in fear as I approached him with my bar stool. However, instead of hitting him with it, I swung my seat like I was Champ Sportsman and smashed it against the speaker, causing it to crash to the floor. Despite this, I could still hear Chris Jericho's voice taunting me as if he were CCP himself.

Is there something left of me to save in the wreckage of my life?

I bashed the stool over the speaker once more, breaking it the exact same way Tommy Wish broke a Kendo Stick over my back at Snow Job. The half that wasn't in my hands flew back and nearly decapitated Susan, who had the wherewithal to tilt her head to the side just enough to avoid it. Even after this second shot, Y2J continued to harass me through the damaged speaker.

Embraced by the darkness, I'm losing the light
Encircled by demons, I fight

That was it!

I reached over and grabbed the karaoke machine itself, before lifting it up high above my head and smashing it against the floor with a Dan Slam that shattered it into hundreds of pieces, FINALLY shutting Chris up.

"What da hail?!?" the man asked with his hands in he air, the microphone still in his right one.

"Jericho can go fuck himself!" I drunkenly shouted.

"But I ruv Jericho!"

"Fuck 'im!" I emphasized, not giving a shit about my actions. "He's a fuckin' Trump supporter!"

You could almost hear a record scratch as the entire bar went silent, everyone's eyes peering at me as though I'd just insulted their mama's. I stood there for a moment, unaware what their issue was, until finally Bob stood up from his chair and addressed me.

"We're ALL Trump supporters!" he told me, the tone of his voice going from friendly to hateful. "Can't you read the sign???"

Bob pointed towards the name of the bar and it's logo, making things all too clear for me. The name of the place was "The Orange Peel," complete with a graphic of an orange with a face and Donald Trump's hairdo. I couldn't believe that I'd been so distracted by my own pity to notice I'd been drinking with a bunch of assholes.

As Susan cracked her knuckles to throw me out, I uttered my last few words before blacking out for the rest of the night. "God, how drunk AM I?......................"

"Page, you and I are alot alike, or at least we were. Two men chasing the same dream, each of whom, it seemed, would never ACTUALLY accomplish it! But that all changed at Snow Job when you were FINALLY able to step out of Robert Main's shadow and prove to the world you DIDN'T need him to carry you to a Championship. Well, I hope you've been enjoying it, Chris, because the celebration's gonna be short-lived."

"Now, I know what you're thinking, 'who the fuck does this jobber think he's talking to, Jim Jimson?' But let me assure you, I know exactly WHAT I'm saying and WHO I'm saying it to. The man who took 30 years and a million shots to finally win the big one. The man who lost to a foot DDT. The man who had to wait until his buddy was sidelined to finally win the big one, since Lord knows you'd have NEVER won it had he been Champion. You can deny that all you'd like, but the fact of the matter IS everytime you and Main crossed paths, HE was always a winner. War Games, Universal Title matches, even your Tag Team matches............. wherever Robert goes, so does the W."

"But I'm not here to talk about Main, you hear enough about playing second fiddle to him and I don't wanna be like MY opponents, repeating the same joke time and time again like it's something original. I'm sure you'll find a few lines to steal, yourself, whether it be a dick joke, Lacklan carrying me, or the fact I can't hang onto Titles............... I've heard it all, Chris. There's nothing you can say about me that's gonna hurt more than the prospect of never competing for the Universal Championship again. There's nothing you can DO to me that's gonna be any worse than leaving Warfare without either of our belts. You can sling insults, or break my bones, but NONE OF IT will prevent me from FINALLY getting my moment in the sun! When people walk through the halls of XWF Headquarters, no longer will they see me losing my job as General Manager to Karen Hunt, oh no, they'll see a portrait of a man holding, not one, but BOTH of XWF's most prestigious belts high above his head in victory! This Warfare is gonna go down in history as the night Big D silenced the critics."

"Speaking of silence, I'm kind of surprised I haven't heard from you yet. Am I not worth your time? Are you waiting to show me up in that ring? Because I assure you that would be a TERRIBLE mistake on your part, because the only thing I do better than run my mouth is wrestle!!!!! I've been proving that ever since I became World Champion! Barney Green, Tommy Wish, John Black; I essentially beat TWO MEN at once!!!! While I can admit that you're certainly not gonna be no cakewalk, you're NOT better than both T.H.U.G.S. combined. I AM."

"I've got nothing to lose, but so much to GAIN Wednesday night and I intend to fight like it! I remember how impressed people were with the way I handled myself against Main and Blackwater, even won Star of the Month for it. And while that feeling was nice, it would've been that much better had I actually walked away with the Title! I don't WANT to be talked about for putting up a good showing against you, Page, I want them to surprise them with the WIN! I want the likes of Lacklan, Fuzz, Corey, and even your injured other half to FINALLY look at me as their equal, instead of some sick little puppy waiting to be put out of it's misery! And while I have no doubt that this message isn't gonna change anyone's mind, I know the one I plan on sending on Warfare WILL!!!! So enjoy your reign while you can, Chris, 'cause it's gonna be a short one! As that ain't no story, it's the Cold Big D Truth!!!!!"

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