Charlie is wrapping his knuckles up with tape as he looks around the haphazardly constructed 'locker room' in the back room of the bar. There are some half-broken stools, some light reading material, and a few bottles of complimentary booze.

'Well....at least there is booze' Charlie thought to himself as he looked on the positive side of things.

Just as Charlie is about to reach for the bottle a dejected wrestler comes into the 'locker room' carrying a half-empty can of trash. The man is dressed in a black singlet and boots. The wrestler's hairy right nipple is peaking out of his singlet. Very sexy. Charlie raises an eyebrow at the small statured man as he takes a somber seat along the side wall. The man in the singlet sighs, a clear aura of despondency emanating from the man with the garbage can.

"What's your problem?" Charlie asks, more so out of curiosity than concern.

"No one wants to see the Trash Man wrestle!" the man responded quickly.

"What do you mean?"

"The gang says no one wants to see garbage wrestling! They won't book me for singles, they'll only book me for a tag match tonight! But nobody's seen my partner, Chawlie!"

Nickles raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the Trash man as he continued on.

"They said 'oh no, no one wants to see garbage in the ring! no one wants to see a fat, out of shape, nearly homeless man fight! They said this show was for the troops, and the troops don't want to see garbage like me!'"

"Screw them! Our kind of wrestling, hardcore wrestling, "garbage" wrestling....it's exactly what the troops want to see! The blood, the chaos, the destruction....they love it. They crave it. When the boys get back from Iraq, Afghanistan...they need to relive those great moments. All they saw was bloodshed over there. They need to see it here, too. Keep them grounded. Remind them of the familiar comforts of gunfire and dead bodies. Give them a little freedom from the bullshit monotony of everyday life back here in the states."

The Trash Man looks at Charlie Nickles with concern.

"I don't know about that....but have you seen Chawlie tonight? Good kid. Does the janitorial work around the bar. Tough kid, too. Especially when he's got that crow's milk in him! The gang said if I can get Chawlie to agree to suit up, I can fight the pigeon boys!"

Charlie Nickles smiled as he shook his head from side to side. He thought he had been booked to fight in a triple threat match against Da Maniac and The Talibum, but shit, Charlie was wrong more often than he was right.

"You found just the man you were looking for. I'll fight the...pigeon boys?....with you, jack." Charlie smiled as he nodded at the man in the singlet.

The Trash Man rubbed his eyes before cocking his head to the side.

"You're not Chawlie!"


"Uh...yeah, I am."

The Trash Man stood there dumbfounded for a few moments. He closed his eyes and rubbed them one more time, but the same Charlie stood before him after his eyes opened.

"Well damn! That smack Pondy got me must have been better than I thought. You look different, Chawlie! Bigger! Meaner! I'm sorry the gang kicked you out of the pigeon boys, but we'll be a great team! Dennis and Mac have been going crazy ever since they got on that Lacklan pigeon feed bullshit. Makes you fly like a bird my ass! All it does is shrivel your balls and turn you into a little girl! "

"Smack?"


"Yeah, I got the good stuff! I got some in this trash can somewhere. You want me to dig it out for you? It's good stuff, Chawlie!"


Charlie Nickles froze in contemplation. His mind was racing at a million miles per hour. A few beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His hands twitched slightly as he licked his lips. Charlie hadn't done any dope since he was readying up to face Robert Main in the gorilla position last Savage Saturday Night. Charlie knew he wanted the dope. All the pleasant memories of the drugs shooting through his body came to the forefront of his mind. All he could think of was the sweet taste of angel dust. The tingling feeling of a needle pressing into his vein. The satisfaction of watching the rock melt on top of a steel spoon.

"You want some, Chawlie?"


The Trash Man started digging through the trash, looking for his stash of smack. As he dug through the trash can he tossed out various items, from empty condom boxes to half-eaten subway sandwiches. Meanwhile Charlie remained fixated on his memories. The love he felt for the high was overwhelming. All the good times, all the midnight rushes, came flooding back.

"No, I can't..." Charlie shook his head from side to side as he quietly responded. At the forefront of his mind all the good times were still there, but in the back of his mind the chilling recollection of all the lows was still present. And there was a little bit of Jesus, too.

"Whacha' mean, Chawlie?"

"I can't get sucked back into that dark hole again. I can't let myself fall into that pit. Next time...I might not be able to climb out. There was a time when I'd throw it all away for a quick fix. I'd steal from my kids just to go buy a dime bag. I was a sick man. But then I found God...and now, I only drink." Charlie grabbed a nearby beer bottle and smashed the stem against the table it was sitting on. Glass went flying, some of it falling down into the contents of the bottle. Charlie didn't care. He chugged the entire beer, trying to wash away the desire for the hard drugs that had been gnawing at him, eating away at his soul for the last decade.

"Suit yourself, Chawlie! More dope for me!" The Trash Man stated as he shrugged, pulling his arms out of the garbage can. He watched as Charlie drank the entire bottle of beer, glass and all. He continued to watch as Charlie grabbed another nearby bottle of beer and did the exact same thing, smashing the stem against the table and all. As Charlie finished up his second beer, Dennis and Mac entered the locker room fully decked out in their ring attire.


Dennis and Mac walk over to the Trash Man and begin circling around him, flapping their makeshift wings every few seconds.

"Caw! Caw!" the two men say in unison, repeatedly.

"Hey, back off! Chawlie and I are gonna kick your asses out there! In front of all the troops! For America!"


Dennis and Mac laugh as Charlie's vision gets just a slight bit blurry.

"Charlie's not here, you idiot!" Mac retorts.

"What are you talking about? He's right there!" The Trash Man barked as he pointed at Charlie Nickles. Dennis and Mac's eyes go wide as they realize the implication.

"No way dude! I'm not fighting that guy! He's even bigger than Da Maniac!" Mac cries out.

"It's Chawlie! You said if I found Chawlie we'd wrassle!"


"That's Charlie fucking Nickles man! I'm not fighting him! Fuck this! Dennis, let's go!". Dennis and Mac leave the locker room as swiftly as they entered it. Charlie and the Trash man turn to look at each other.

"What was that all about?"

"I don't know! They said we could fight if I found Chawlie!"

Charlie drank a few more bottles of the complimentary beer as the two of them continued to discuss the pure cowardice and dishonesty of the pigeon boys. Minutes later, The Talibum came into the locker room.


"It's all you and me tonight, Nickles. You and me. In that squared circle. I shall destroy you, and then destroy America! Alalalalalala!" The Talibum tried to sound intimidating, but just came across as a total doofus. Charlie and the Trash Man laughed at his antics.

"Isn't there another guy on the card?"


"Oh don't you worry, I took care of him! Alalalalalalalala!"

"HA! RICKETY CRICKET BLEW THE MANIAC!"

"What? WHAT?! No I didn't!"

The Trash Man and Charlie continue to laugh at Rickety Cricket. His brow furrows in frustration as his eyes narrow in on the space between Charlie and the Trash Man.

"I didn't blow him! I didn't blow him! I called his parole officer!"


The Trash Man and Charlie stop laughing as they look at each other, sharing a disapproving glance. They turn back to face Cricket with disrespect in their eyes.

"Not cool."


"Yeah, Cricket! That's bullshit!"

"Look, it doesn't matter what you think! When it's just you and me between those ropes, Nickles, it's going to be the end of you! I've been studying up on your game. Watching you. You're just a garbage wrestling! You're fat. Out of shape! You're just a JOBBER, Charlie! J-O-B-B-E-R-R! What does that spell? Charlie! You probably don't even know the difference between an atomic drop and a reverse atomic drop! You don't even know anything about wrestling. You're just a fat junkie jobber! You don't even know why REAL wrestlers like ME drop onto the ground on our bellies when our opponents are running at us! We're trying to trip them, Charlie! But I bet you don't even know that!"


"Why would you drop to your gut? Just kick em' in the face like a real man! God, I can't stand you new age wrestlers. Everything is always so artsy with you. Such fancy pansy prissy shit. That's not how this cat rolls."


"That's why you're going to lose, Charlie! That's why you don't have a chance against a real TECHNICIAN like me! Someone that has played every single wrestling video game since 1997. That's right, all of them! Even Impact Wrestling! Even WWE 2k20! I know all of the moves! I've scrolled through the move sets in the game and learned the name of every single move, and I'm ready to kick your ass!"


Charlie shrugged at the Talibum as he reached for another bottle of booze.

"Get out of here, Cricket! You smell like shit!"


"Wait....do I really smell like shit? I thought I got it all off! God damn it!"


The Talibum walked out of the locker room to go check his trousers again. As the Talibum went to prepare for the match in his own way, the way of the wrestling technician, Charlie prepared a bit differently. For the next half an hour Charlie chugged down beer after beer, shooting the shit with the Trash Man while trying to suppress the ever-growing addictive desires that had taken hold of his mind. Drink after drink, joke after joke. This went on for some time.

Somehow, someway unbeknownst to Charlie, he found himself in the middle of the ring that night. He rubbed his eyes, and sure enough, he was still in the middle of a wrestling ring! He looked over towards the woman who had announced him, and she looked a hell of a lot like Fantasia! Charlie rubbed his eyes again, shaking his head from side to side.

"I must've had too much to drink..." a wobbly and groggy Charlie stated out loud on accident.

"And I'm gonna make you pay for it!"

DING DING DING

The Talibum was running right at Charlie! Nickles stuck a big boot up, and sure enough, Rickety Cricket ran right into it. The Talibum dropped to the ground immediately upon contact, out cold.

"Didn't I tell him I was going to do exactly this?" Charlie muttered to himself as he picked the man up by his clothing. He secured the DEVIL HOOK DROP and brought Cricket down to the mat with immense force! Cricket's neck audibly cracks, and you can see his head lean extremely to the right. None the less Charlie flipped the man over and secured the pinfall!

1

2

3!

DING DING DING

The match was over as soon as it began! Charlie stepped to his feet, still groggy and confused, as he looked around the warehouse filled with cheering fans. As Charlie gets off Cricket you can see that the man's neck is bent at an extreme angle. Probably broken. Charlie doesn't notice, or doesn't care. He basks in the chanting of the crowd!

Then...Charlie woke up. The smile on his face slowly disappears as he realizes he's still in that shitty motel room. There is no audience. There are no bright lights. There are only the legions of cockroaches and ants scittering across the floor. The stench of rotted Chinese food and body odor would be sickening to most, but Charlie has come to accept it by now. He reaches for the remote on his bedside, turning off the television. He rolls over, trying to secure a few more hours of rest before his big day tomorrow at Relentless night one.