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B.O.B. D · (06-01-2020)

Although my temporary retirement allowed for some much needed R&R, that was the very last thing I got. About half my time was spent giving my wife the love and attention she deserved(as well as the big D); while the other half was spent venturing into a variety of business opportunities, just like any other retired athlete looking to make a quick buck off his name. There was the Big D Waffle Iron, but we're not gonna talk about that. Then there was the Big D phone cards, but apparently nobody's purchased one of those things since 1999(except MY stupid ass!) Luckily for me, my third attempt was not only a profitable market, but also a subject I knew quite a bit about: weed.

"Welcome to Big D 4/20!" I proclaimed, opening the doors to my brand new dispensary to its first ever group of customers. The crowd momentarily cheered, up until the point they laid eyes upon me.

"Nigga, what the fuck are you wearin'?!" a young black man shouted before being joined in a chorus of laughter.

I took off my reddish-brown hat and examined it, before doing the same to my purple suit. "I was trying to be Willy Wonka," I explained in sadness.

"Well you look fuckin' gay!" an anonymous voice blurted out, raising the volume of their laughs.

"Do y'all wanna buy some weed, or not?!" I asked in irritation, instantly shutting the patrons up. "That's what I thought."

I led them through the doors and into my magical Kingdom of ganja. Their eyes glowed as they looked from wall to wall, seeing the various strains my shop had to offer. Getting back into character, I hopped and skipped down the rows of pot, looking more like Michael Scott than Gene Wilder. I probably should've laid off the product testing before doing this.

"Here at Big D 4/20, we're open four days a week, 20 hours a day!" I announced, revealing my marketing gimmick.

"That's oddly specific," a woman in the front row expressed with confusion.

I'm a firm believer in the four day work week," I proudly expounded. "And given the 4/20 association with weed, I can have employees working for ten hours a day, while another group works the other ten at night; giving them all a 40 hour paycheck and 3-day weekend. Add in the fact it allows for a neighboring business to strive for the days we're closed and it's simply a no brainer."

The crowd seemed rather impressed with the depth of my thought process. Just because my name was essentially a penis joke, despite the fact my career has had more ups and downs than Stormie Daniels, didn't mean I wasn't intelligent. I learned from the mistakes of my first two business failures, just as I had from my losses in the ring. Things were gonna be different this time around.

I led the group over to one of my newly hired employees, who was hard at work weighing out product. "This is Tad," I introduced with a pat on the back.

"'Sup?"

"He makes minimum wage, but gets all the pot he wants," I explained as Tad looked at the people and smiled, his eyes blatantly glazed over.

"You only pay minimum wage?"

"California's minimum wage is $12 an hour," I defended. "People in Iowa would KILL for that!"

They wanted to explain why there was such a difference between the two states, I could see it on their faces. Just like my opponents, Team Centurion AND the ones we'll be facing in the Main Event, these people thought of me as some kind of dunce. Maybe not quite on the level of red-X or Peter Gilmour, but close. They had no idea I, not only LEARNED about, cost of living in high school, but actually retained the information! I've been underestimated my entire career, and yet I keep on surpassing others' expectations of me. Story of my life.

I led the visitors over to a table covered with some of the newest strains. "This is our newest batch, just in time for War Games!" I picked up handfuls of each type, telling the name as I did so.

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"The Purple Fuzz. This shit's the World Champion of marijuana! Two hits and you're out, just like that!"

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"The Big Dank. It's on the same level as the Purple Fuzz, but people tend to overlook it despite it being a reliable choice."

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"The Dougie Special. Though it might not look like much, this one has the potential to hit you harder than expected."

They seemed pretty impressed by the quality of my product. Like true stoners, these people had the ability to distinguish the difference between the high grade fire and the low end shit.

"What is this?" asked a young man holding up a different strain.

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My heart sank as I realized it was the ditch weed my distributer accidentally mixed in with the good stuff.

"Oh my God, I am SO embarrassed!" I shrieked, heading over and grabbing the nugs from his hand. "This is the Centurion Surprise."

"What's the surprise?"

"It doesn't get you high!" I explained, setting it back down on the table. "It's old and lost all of it's THC. While it might be better than nothing, that doesn't make it good. Sure, it's better than the Crusty Chaos............"

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"And the Hawaiian Breeze...................."

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"But that doesn't mean it's the best, or anywhere NEAR it!" I spat out, blurring the lines between the weed itself and it's namesake. "At one point in it's lifetime, the Centurion Surprise was the #1 Choice by any smoker, but sadly it's way past it's prime."

After allowing for a moment of grief, I announced a deal that was too good to pass up. "To celebrate the store's Grand Opening, we're running a special: get a free gram with your very first purchase!" Everybody began murmuring with excitement, causing me to break out into song. "Can't you seeeeeee, all this weeeeeeed? It's a field of pure perculation! See these buds? I smoke them cuz they give me.........."

"A buzz?" one of the customers blurted out, unimpressed by my lyrics.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I yelled in frustration. "You know what? Forget it." I sighed as the rest of the crowd whined in disappointment. "I had this entire program planned out! There was gonna be singing, dancing, smoking; I even had these things called the Weedle Leedles.........."

All of a sudden, out of a small door in the wall, the handful of midgets I paid to dress like little potleafs enter the room singing. "Weedle, Leedle, Smokety Smoke.........."

"Oh no!" I interrupted. "If I don't get to do MY songs, you don't get to do YOURS!"

The Weedle Leedles looked at the floor in disappointment, before making their way back to the door in the wall. Before the last one, a black man with a potleaf shaped Afro, could go back into the wall, he turned to me, with a sad look on his little face. "Ah, man, not even the part about nigga lippin'?" he asked in a VERY deep voice.

"I know, it was the best part!" I concurred, shooing him back into the wall. Before I could close the door, he popped his head through the crack and delivered one final question.

"Do I still get my half minimum wage?"

"YES!!!!!" I answered, slamming the door shut. When I turned around, everybody was staring at me in shock. "He gets half wage because he's half a person," I explained. They gasped in horror, as if I'd just committed some sort of politically correct crime, which I attempted to set straight. "Because he's a midget, NOT because he's black!"

Everybody looked at me like I was the worst person in the world. At this point, I just wanted to get away. "If you folks will excuse me," I said, making my way over to a storage closet. "I have some business to tend to. If you need anything, just ask Tad or one of the other associates."

Everyone turned away from me as I entered the closet, probably relieved to be away from the ridiculousness. I was pleased, too, because it was about that time to get in the zone and prepare for War..............

"For once, Centurion speaks some truth. He's correct in saying it's bullshit that all the other, lesser, teams, got replacements while we were left in the dust. But, unlike him, I'M not gonna complain about it. I can only imagine management made that call because they knew we were the two teams capable of overcoming such adversity.......... and they'd be right! As far as I'm concerned, less competitors means a quicker match, allowing for more rest heading into the Main Event."

"But go ahead and cry, Cent', we all know the only reason you're bitching is because you're screwed! That's why you're so angry at Robbie for ditching you, because you knew he was your ONLY hope, which is pretty sad in itself. He was your FIRST ROUND PICK! You wanna run your mouth about how, if I hadn't been a Mystery Competitor, I would've been picked in the last round?!?! Guess what?! Even if that HAD been true, at least my Team Captain would've been able to RELY on me! Because, unlike others have done to ME in the past, I REFUSE to let my teammates down!"

"Which brings me to Tula...............

I paused for a moment, thinking long and hard about what she said to me about betraying my Captain.

"You certainly live up to the ruthlessness required by your other occupation. Don't think I didn't see what you did there. Reverse Psychology is the oldest trick in the book, bitch. That cowardly request only shows you feel as backed into a corner as Centurion does. You're just like the rest of 'em, some smarty pants who doesn't realize what I'm TRULY capable of!"

"I'm not a fuckin' idiot, Tula, despite whatever you or the rest of the world thinks of me. The only thing turning on Fuzz'll do is make me look like a bigger pussy than you for asking me to help your team! If the prospect of going to war frightens you THAT much, maybe you should bail like Robbie Bourbon and tuck yourself away behind the comfort of your desk, hidden within the safety of your office. Because when I step into the Cage with you and the others, all bets are off! If you're as smart as you portray yourself to be, you'd take your own advice and turn on YOUR teammates; afterall, stabbing people in the back is what politicians do best! Your mind games are just exactly that: games, ones I intend to win!"

"Tula isn't in my league and, if I had my way, she would've gone and jobbed to another team so I didn't have to be the one to put her in her place.............. just like I did to Atara!

"And on the topic of putting people in their place, who the fuck does Chris Chaos think he is? That jackass claims Doug and I would've been opening match talent back in the day. A pretty bold statement for someone who hasn't held a single Championship the entire time I've been here! In the past year, I've had TEN Title reigns compared to Chris's big ole goose egg. Even if you take away the 24/7 belts, that's STILL three, which is three more than Chris Chaos has!"

"What've you been doin', Chriiiiiiiis?" I asked, saying his name the way Satan from South Park does. "Were you too scared to challenge me for one of my belts, or not relevant enough to warrant a shot? Honestly, I don't remember! For all I know, it was YOU opening the show, while I was Main Eventing Savages as Television Champion! I'M the one who puts on a wrestling clinic with EVERY wrestler I step in the ring with. BIG D IS MONEY!!!!!!"

"But Chris Chaos isn't the only non-believer in me, oh no, the rest of the War Games participants feel the same way............... I could see it in their promos. Some of them would make quick mention of me, pointing out all the flaws that I've been constantly reminded of EVERY DAY of my life! But, hey, at least they were kind enough to say SOMETHING about me, unlike the rest of 'em."

"The fact that no-one views me as a threat only makes me that much more dangerous! I've been the underdog my entire career, this is VERY familiar territory for me. It's only gonna make victory that much sweeter when I get to look

"Well, if YOU don't wanna talk about ME, I'M gonna talk about YOU! Which is fine by me, because 95% of you won't even make it past the first match, anyway. This entire Draft was a joke! When Robbie Bourbon and Dick Powers are 1st Round picks, you know there ain't shit for options! The fact that Boris and red-X are vying for a spot only further proves my point."

"As far as I'm concerned, none of you are worth a rat's ass and will be lucky to even MAKE IT to the Main Event, let alone win it! Everyone except for Chris Page and Robert Main, of course!"

I couldn't help but chuckle thinking about my history with the Tag Team Champions. At one point we were allies, united to fight a common enemy in Shane

; but now we're not only enemies, but bitter ones at that.

"The two of you have the entire Federation shakin' in their boots. There isn't a soul in that lockeroom, INCLUDING Team

, who doesn't believe for a second that you guys WON'T advance to the Main Event. As long as TK doesn't sell his soul to the devil and lay down for Shane, you'll be fine."

"Unlike Tula, someone who would try to convince the two of you to throw the match for her own, illogical reasons; I LOOK FORWARD to seeing you guys later in the night because, quite frankly, it's time someone took y'all down a peg or two! You think you're so scary with your makeup and zombie cosplay, but the truth is I'm more afraid of Norrison than either of you!"

"Robert, I think you're a failure. You claim you could be Universal Champion anytime you'd like, yet here you are playing children's games in the form of the Tag Team Titles. Whatever happened to Apex, you know, that brotherhood you were so proud to defend when I called you out for being the selfish asshole I KNEW you were! Ned's career was never the same after you took him under your wing! Goes to show how horrible of a leader you were! At least I got him a Tag Team Title shot, what the hell did you do? Run him out of the company, that's what!"

"But don't worry, Robert, because you're not the only piss poor mentor around here; you get to share that honor with the man you co-hold the belts with, Chris Page. You see, when 'Chronic' approached me about helping with his Shane

problem, he promised to help get me to where I wanted to be: the top. But, I never got there, DID I?! No, as soon as the dirty work was done, you disposed of me quicker than bloody tampon!"

"You're pathetic, Chris, the fact that you had to latch onto Robert tits to keep yourself in the limelight. It's like the old saying 'if you can't best 'em, join 'em', right? You couldn't beat Main, so you had to be his bitch!"

"Come Sunday night, not only am I gonna walk into the Main Event alongside the Universal Champion, I'm gonna eliminate Cataclysm MYSELF! Because THAT'S how you set yourself up for a Universal Title match down the line, by tearing each and every competitor for the belt to shreds, one by one. And that's EXACTLY what I intend to do come War Games! And that ain't no story, it's the Cold Big D Truth!"

As soon as I finished, the door to the closet swung open and Tad walked in, a look of panic on his face. "We have a BIIIIG problem, D!"

"What's wrong?" I asked, concerned something terrible had happened to yet ANOTHER business of mine.

"You know the deal, get a free gram with your first purchase? Well, people are buying lighters and demanding their free grams!"

"Son of a bitch........." I replied, racking my brain for a solution until, finally, one came to me. "Give them the Team Centurion stuff!"

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