Return Of The Mack
Sept 10, 2020 15:48:16 GMT -5
Blair Buchannan-Stylez, somethingwicked, and 3 more like this
Post by Vhodka Marie on Sept 10, 2020 15:48:16 GMT -5
[ Disclaimer: Vhodka Marie Industries and it’s handlers are not responsible for loss of job, loss of romantic partnerships, recurring nightmares, alienation of friends & family or any mental breakdowns that may occur while reading the following mostly fictional material. By proceeding forward you acknowledge you are in a healthy emotional space and consenting to receive this information. No take backs. ]
Funny the way the world works, one minute you’re here, the next minute you’re there. People who only existed in the darkest recesses of your mind now stand right there before you awash in vivid technicolor - for better or for worse. That was what it felt like being in the ring for the first time after all these years, like black and white violently bursting into color. Internally, a sudden click and a new thought emerges: what would happen if someone pushed just a little?
As I moved through the back of the venue largely unrecognized by the predominantly newer talent, listening around corners and on the other side of closed doors, something became very clear to me. OPW is sick. There is a weakness here, a sickly sweet smell floating through the air to be sucked into the ventilation system and shot in a million directions all over the arena for everyone to breath in and take inside themselves. The untested (re: newer) talent is sick with undeserved ego, the old also suffers from that affliction but more than that the old spins in place like the wheel of a truck caught in a muddy ditch. Never getting anywhere, never really making any forward progress. Just waiting for someone to come along and pull them out of the mud.
There are those that could be left stranded along the side of some desolate road and the business would be a better place for it. But there are a few that might be worth hitching up to and pulling out, perhaps if they could only drive a while the engine would work out the kinks and the mud would pull away from the wheel wells and then, well, maybe then we could have a race? And so it was with these thoughts that I went out and made my little speech, an invitation, if you will. Would you want to race again, old friend?
Maybe the stuck-in-the-mud analogy was born from the feeling of my foot on the gas and the wind in my hair as the old Cougar flew down that deserted stretch of road while I made my way to the second stop of the grand Vhodka homecoming tour. The landscape slid past in a blur of burnt orange and brown, crowned with the blue of the overhead, nothing of man in these parts only of nature. I never did understand why she wanted to live out here. The only benefit was the time that it afforded me to think about all the things fluttering around inside my head. No one had made contact after my little speech so I left the venue that night unaccosted which was a bit of a surprise if I can be honest with you. I figured surely someone, anyone, would have something to say? But maybe it was a good sign, maybe it meant that they were taking this seriously and weighing the options. Friend or foe, friend or foe, friend or foe. Could there be a thread of truth to ol’ V? When I started this journey I felt like I had a lot of explaining to do but now not so much. How much of myself are these people really entitled to anyway? Not as much as I had previously thought.
It wasn’t all bad though, OPW did have some real comedy going for itself even if the comedy wasn’t in on the joke. That would be okay, I thought, I’ll help explain the punchline to them. There were the obvious acts like Tommy Kain with his Zima and what I am truly hoping turns out to be a legitimate goat but there were also acts who didn’t seem to realize yet what a joke they actually were. Now, V, stick to the plan. There will be plenty of time down the road to play with the children, right now you have real work to do. That’s always been an issue for me, you see. Getting sidetracked, involved in things that don’t suit the greater purpose but amuse me in some way. I like to be amused, you’ll find that out once we get to know each other better. Amusement has actually been one of the consistent threads of my long career, what starts out as a joke becomes something more and the path that diverges and forms is something no one ever saw coming. And then again, sometimes amusement is just amusement.
I hadn’t had much amusement in the last ten years, not like before and not like what I’ll have now. In the real world there are clear lines that all players must strictly adhere to lest they be punished. The wrestling world isn’t like that, in the wrestling world I can amuse myself as much as I want. You’ll see that I can be pretty amusing if you only keep watching.
The plan, V, the plan. Oh yes, that. Sometimes I forget things, my memory must look like a piece of swiss cheese. But this was something I wouldn’t forget for long, there was too much that needed doing and much too much at stake. I threw the Old Lady into park in front of the sprawling ranch style house, only casually taking note of the two cars parked to the side. Speaking of amusement, here was another opportunity as I rapped on the door.
The heat from the desert was washing over me more thoroughly than before as I stood flat footed on the porch, sweat trickling down the back of my neck to disappear under the white tank top. It had been hot in the car of course, but the air from the open windows had helped then. Here, standing still, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the heat squeezing around you like some giant hand. A merciful wash of good ol’ american made air conditioned air washed over me as the front door jerked open, loud music assaulting me just as surely as the heat had in the moments before.
“Jesus Christ, you look like shit.”
The years had been kind to Alexis. She was still thin but shapely in the areas that counted, her face a little more weathered than it had been but it was a good face, one that was aging gracefully without the help of cosmetic procedures. Rare these days that women let the march of time march across their face in the same way that Alexs did but then again, she had always been one of the rarer people in my life. We had met on my first trip outside of the economically disadvantaged town that I called home, I say trip as a kinder way of saying “the first time I ran away”. Alexis was…. transcendent. That was really the only way to describe her at that time. We were both so alive, so full of life, so ready to take on anything the world could possibly throw at us. And boy, did the world throw us some real fuckin’ curve balls. I wouldn’t know it then but she wouldn’t just be my friend or road partner, she would be the sister I never had. She leaned into the doorway, one elbow resting on the frame above her head, the hand of her opposite arm still resting on the door handle.
“Can I interest you in purchasing some Tupperware? Or maybe tell you the word of our lord and savior Satan?”
Alexis rolled her eyes and turned to disappear back into the house expecting me to follow. I closed the door behind me as Ace Of Base pummeled into my psyche and sucked my will to live as we padded into the kitchen where I swung a leg over a barstool resting my elbows on the island and my chin in my hands. She quickly resumed her place behind the stove after procuring a carton of eggs from the refrigerator, swaying her hips and nodding her head along to “The Sign”. That was my cue to start making THE SIGN to turn this goddamn music down. Who still listens to Ace of Base? Where am I, Aisle 5 of the grocery store?
“You’ve clearly taken too many hits to the head if you’ve reached the point in life where you enjoy Ace of Base”
“Excuse me, I won’t tolerate Ace of Base slander in this house. That’s right up there with slandering Abba. Keep it up and it’ll be a Cruel Summer for you.” She shook an egg in my direction for effect.
“Please stop.”
Alexis returned to her work at the stove, beginning to crack egg after egg after egg into the heated pan on the stove with a small sizzle. I took in the kitchen then, noticing a rather large plate of crispy bacon and at least a dozen fresh homemade biscuits off to the side in a small wicker basket. We’re not alone, V. Tread lightly.
“Awful lot of eggs you’re making there, Alex.”
The words hung untouched in the air and I knew she was thinking of a way to avoid the question before she swiveled back around to me, hands flat on the counter beside her.
“Not that I’m not always thrilled to see you but you never show up without a reason. What gives?”
My turn to let something marinate. Alexis had accepted the role I foisted upon her with the same grace and nonchalance that she handled aging but we never spoke of it too directly - the role I bestowed upon her that is, just to make sure you and I are clear. We didn’t talk about the night I arrived on her doorstep and handed her the most important thing in the world to me and in the years past we had never discussed why I did it. She just accepted it and plowed forward, as was her way. On the list of no-no topics would also be her brother, my ex husband, and the business I left behind. And here I was getting ready to check a big one of those naughty topics off the list.
“I’m going back.”
“Back.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I thought about that for a moment and let all the different reasons run on a loop in my head. It was all of them and none of them. Why was I doing this? Did I even really know? It wasn’t the money, I had that, not that anyone would ever suspect it. It wasn’t for anyone else, though if I was going back anyway I might as well make myself useful. Boredom maybe? Was that it? If you figure it out before me, maybe you can let me know. In this moment however salvation came in the form of a petite woman, lithe body crowned with a short pompadour hairstyle. The arms that showed from her baggy black t-shirt were covered in tattoos much like my own and her face was bare of makeup but that did nothing to retract from the sensuality of her features. Most women of her stature make you think of delicate words like ethereal and pixie but there was something harder to the woman who slid an arm around Alexis’ waist, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek as she used a spatula to fiddle with the eggs.
“I’m sorry babe, I can’t stay. They’ve got an emergency at work I need to go deal with.”
“Is this an all day emergency or can I expect you back later on?”
The woman looked up at Alexis who stood a good three inches higher and gave her a smile that managed to be both predatory and playful at the same time.
“You can bet on it.”
Oh my god, this is painful. Is there anything worse than those couples who go hardcore on the public displays of affection? Like seriously, no one gives a shit about your sex life please god stop subjecting us all to it. I rose from the stool and started making my way to the knife block next to the stove.
“Alright, that's it, give me a knife. I'm going to end it all if I have to sit here and watch you two play kissy face.”
The woman extracted herself from the equivalent of my sister and nodded in my direction as she grabbed an apple from a fruit basket on the island.
“Hey Vhod. Almost didn’t realize you were here, you must have showered recently.”
I sneered at her then, because she expected it and that was what the situation called for but my heart wasn’t truly in it. Despite how it may appear to you, I actually really like Bobbi (that's short for Roberta, I’ve been told.) she’s good for Alexis, treats her well and she has her own money so I know that her motivations to do so don’t stem from a lack of resources. But more than that she takes no shit - not Alexis or mine, for that matter. From what I’ve been told Bobbi grew up forced into every Little Miss beauty pageant across the nation, not because she wanted to or enjoyed it but at the behest of her former beauty queen mother. I guess her mother had spent her childhood shoved into the world of pageants by her own mother (Bobbi’s grandmother, do try to keep up) so that was all she knew when Bobbi came along. The difference was that her mother had at least enjoyed it and Bobbi so did not. As the story goes, Bobbi hit her teen years hard - getting into minor teenage troubles before giving one gigantic middle finger to her mother by way of coming out of the closet. She chopped off all her hair, traded in frilly dresses for oversized mens t-shirts worn exclusively with ripped up jeans and started hanging out in biker bars where she learned to ride a Harley. You can obviously see why I like her.
“Get out of here kid, us men have business to attend to.”
Bobbi was already halfway out of the kitchen when she turned and held up her middle finger with a smile, all while walking backwards out the door.
“Sit and spin, Vhodka.”
Alexis clicked her tongue in our general direction like a mother hen chastising two bad chicks as she plated enough scrambled eggs (ironic, huh?) to feed the large army of a small country.
“Still weirds me out Sexi Lexi became Sexi Lezzie.”
“No it doesn't, you just like the back and forth with Bobbi. You don’t watch it and she may start thinking you have a crush on her.”
I rolled my eyes at the notion. Though, Bobbi would have been an improvement over my current track record of psychopaths and criminals.
“Sure is a lot of food for two people, Alex.”
“Sure haven’t told me why you’re going back, Vhod.”
Stalemate. We’d been down this road a million times before and we both knew the other would die before they broke first. At this rate we’d be sitting here staring each other down over cold eggs for days and I’d miss the opportunity to embarrass Mr. Beano and the Amazing My Chemical Romance Duo. Choices, choices.
“Alright, fine. I don’t have time to win this war as SOME of us around here have a match to prepare for.”
“I know that was a dig at me and I don’t care. I’m happy. I have no reason to go back to that life.”
“If you start in about your title runs I’m gonna stick my head in the oven.”
“You’re just jealous.”
Alexis moved to hop up and plant her ass directly on the edge of the counter, hands gripping the edge behind her. She looked at me, her face plainy saying “talk”. Here we go, the interrogation begins.
“I called Damon, he told me about this place called OPW. The pack is there. Well, some shadow version of The Pack is there. Vinnie, Voo, Damon, there are others too of course. Alley Cat’s all grown up now with a family of her own and challenging for the tag belts.”
“You’re telling me things I already know to make it seem like you’re actually saying something. I didn’t desert everyone in my life and drop off the face of the planet for the last ten years, you did. I talk to our friends frequently.”
“Not really all that sure they’re “our” friends anymore. Might just be your friends at this point.”
“You know that isn’t how it works.”
“I kinda sorta possibly maybe called them out. I mean, not scorched earth or anything, it was only a little call out. Hardly even counted.”
“You’re a strange woman, you know that? You disappear for years and the first thing you decide to do upon your return is call out the only allies you might actually have?”
“Have you been watching the shows?”
It was a trick question, I knew the answer already. Alexis shifted uncomfortably where she perched on the counter and cast her eyes down to the floor, suddenly very interested in the state of the polish on the tips of her toes.
“I’m out of the business.”
“That's an evasion, not an answer. Do you watch the shows?”
“Yes, hardass, I watch the shows.”
“Then you see what I see.”
“I won’t speak against our friends.”
“I’m not asking you to. But you know as well as I know that something is wrong, this isn’t them. I know I don’t have room to roll into town and start throwing my weight around but I can’t just sit idly by and watch them self implode into a million little pieces. I won’t do that. If I have to prod and poke at them until they break open and the rich creamy center spills out then I’ll do it for the greater good.”
“I hope Vincent has as charitable of view towards the greater good as you do, for your sake.”
“He’ll understand. I know him. He needs this, Alex.”
“And I’m just saying, I don’t think you know what Vincent needs at this point.”
Was she right? Was I out of touch and chasing after a vision of a man I knew in a different lifetime? And what about his wife, his VooDoo? How would she like being called a pet? Well, she wouldn’t like it, that was the entire point of doing it. Sometimes change, real change, can be painful. Sometimes it’s like pulling teeth or peeling off strips of skin to get down to something different, better, harsher. That's what they needed now, harsher. Since I had made the decision to return I had thought a lot about The Pack and the current state of the world. It wasn’t that I was desperate to join them or anything, only that it pained me to see people I held in such great regard walking around like distant memories of the people I knew. Color exploding into black and white. Even more so, it confounded me. Why? What had I missed? What pieces of them had been hacked away while I was out there somewhere? Was I partially responsible? Hell, maybe I’m giving myself too much credit. That’s another thing I have a habit of doing that you’ll do well to notice. I think pretty highly of myself, after all.
“I have a match this week. First one.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Couple of escaped circus performers and a rapist. That's not a joke, I think the guy, like, legitimately raped someone.”
“One on three and one’s a rapist? Man, you already pissed someone off that badly?”
“No, no, no. I have teammates. A gigantic amazonian named Ariel Shadows and some dude they call KOP. Which I hope is just a clever nickname and not a former profession.”
“So, six man tag. Someone didn’t get the memo that you're a disruptive influence on normal society.”
“There is also this Price Is Right thing to it. So, my team, aka The Winners will face the community clown college selectees and when we win we’ll go on to face each other in a three way later in the night. Whoever wins the three way gets to pick from three briefcases that contain handsome prizes. Or what I’m told is handsome prizes, anyway. Winner gets first pick, runner up gets second, weakest loser gets whatever is left over.”
“What are the prizes? A blender and toaster oven combo?”
“Beats me. I’m told they contain - and I quote - a unique prize or opportunity”
“Well, that’s….vague.”
“Yeah, I don’t really care what’s in them. I'm just hoping I get the chance to play Plinko.”
Voices carried in from the other room moving our direction, masculine and feminine. Ah, the mystery of the egg eaters is soon to be solved. Alexis suddenly made herself very busy doing anything and everything to avoid looking at me or our approaching guests. Strange. A young woman in her twenties with dark hair pulled back into a long ponytail moved into the room, laughing over her shoulder at a very clean cut all American twenty something in a red polo and khaki pants. The woman turned and I swear to god all the color drained from her face as I made finger guns at her. Fuck, off to a great start.
“Mother.”
“Kamilah.”
She visibly stiffened at the sound of the name, the man behind her still smiling but sensing something was wrong.
“Kami. It’s Kami now.”
“As you like…..Kami.”
“Why are you here?”
The words were practically spat in my face, or I guess they would have been if she was more like me and less like her Aunt Alexis. Kami would never do good vitriol, she was too good natured for it. Another of my failures as a mother.
“I came to see Alex, I needed to talk to her. And why are you here, pray tell?”
“I was invited. Cal and I were going to have lunch with Aunt Alex and Bobbi.”
“Is that poindexter?”
The boyscout moved around the invisible forcefield of resentment rolling off Kami in waves and came to stand in front of me extending his hand. Really, dude?
“Hi, you must be Vhodka. I’ve heard so much about you - not bad things of course, good things! I’m Kami’s fiancé Calvin, but everyone just calls me Cal.”
Now it was time for the color to drain from MY face. Fiancé? She was getting married? How could she be getting married? She’s just a kid for christ's sake! Kids can’t be running around just getting married all willy nilly with no oversight from anyone. What the hell kind of shitshow was Alexis running around this joint? You understand where I’m coming from, right?
“You’re engaged to a man that wears khaki?”
Could have sworn I heard a snort come from Alexis who’s back was still turned, trying to pretend a car crash of gigantic proportions wasn’t occurring three feet from her, right in front of the poor sweet innocent eggs nonetheless.
“I can see you haven’t lost that deep intellectual wit that I so remember from my childhood. Or what little I had of one.”
“He’s not a Mormon, is he?”
“Jesus Christ, V!”
Oh yeah, sure, now she wants to pipe up. Calvin smiled awkwardly as he finally dropped his hand, accepting that a handshake wasn’t on the menu today.
“Episcopalian, but don’t hold that against me!”
This kid was like everyone's favorite golden retriever - big, dumb and so very desperate to be liked. Part of me didn’t know if I should scratch behind his ears and give him a treat or slug him in the face for talking my daughter into something as stupid and life wrecking as marriage. I had to get out of here before I fucked it up even more.
“I’m out. The Brady Bunch vibe is making my fingernails hurt.”
“Oh, no, are you sure you wont stay for brunch? There’s plenty of food and it would give us a chance to get to know each other better and we could even talk about the wedding!”
“No, Cal, let her go. After all, running away IS what she does best.”
“Thanks Cooper, but I have business to attend to.”
“Oh, it’s Calvin. Cal.”
Too late though, I was already on my way out the door headed to the front of the house to make my exit as Alexis struggled to keep up with me.
“Vhod, wait. Just wait a damn minute.”
I reached out to grab the knob of the front door as a hand appeared above my head slamming the door shut in front of me. You give someone one World Title twenty years ago and suddenly she thinks she’s the boss. Typical.
“What.”
“You’re going to have to face this eventually.”
“No I’m not, I plan to avoid it for the rest of my life by moving to the jungles of Madagascar and learning to weave baskets out of my back hair.”
“Make your jokes but mark my words, the day when you have to grow up and get your shit together is rapidly approaching.”
Alexis removed her hand from the door and crossed her arms over her chest as I yanked the door open and made a rush for freedom. Outside, in the heat of the car, I was finally able to let out a breath I’d been holding. I rolled the engine over and hit the gas that would take me far away from here and all the uncomfortable conversations that Alexis warned me would soon take place.
Here’s the truth about me. I’m a fuck up. In every sense and meaning of the word, always have been. For the most part, people find this to be one of the more endearing aspects of my personality. But sometimes you fuck things up so badly, that it stops being funny and starts to get kind of sad. That’s where I was at with the kid. She deserved a hell of a lot better than me and her father. But, despite it all, she was thriving. I was actually kind of proud of her even if I couldn’t say the words out loud. Something sprung from my loins had her shit together, go figure.
Hard to say how far I drove with the desert landscape sliding along beside me, lost in thought about all of my many shortcomings. I couldn’t do this now, not now, I had to get myself ready for Stairway. There could be no doubts or self introspection until after the match, besides, this was something that I WAS good at. Though it might be shocking I was actually pretty damn good in the ring, and I was even better on the mic. Taking particular delight in getting to read down someone for their flaws instead of focusing on my own for a change. The Stairway match would go back to that amusement aspect we talked about earlier, there was a lot of material there for me to amuse myself with. If I had any sort of a heart I might actually feel bad about the poor dumb bastards they were feeding me. But then again, guilt wasn’t something anyone had ever accused me of.
I pulled into the first sign of civilization that I saw which just so happened to be a gas station. I wanted to talk about the match, my teammates, the sacrificial lambs they were feeding to us. I wanted to talk about it and I wanted to do it directly, I wanted to make sure that the whole world got to hear what I had to say. There would be no misunderstandings between myself and the rest of the so-called Outlaw Nation. After I had met with Damon a brand new iPhone had suspiciously turned up in a gift wrapped box on my doorstep, the note inside read only “for my comfort more than yours.” Message received, good buddy. I clicked on the video feature and sat it on the dashboard, keeping myself in frame.
“Hey, me agai- fuck.”
The phone tumbled off the dash, bounced off my thigh and landed on the floorboard. Goddamn technology. Why don’t they make these things stand up on their own? Put some sticky tape on the bottom, glue a few sticks together and make a tripod, hell, I’m a professional wrestler not a scientist, man! I reconfigured the phone on the dash and took a calming breath.
“Alright, lets try this again. Stairway 2 Heaven, Price Is Right Showcase Showdown match. It’s got everything! Chicks, dudes, cops, escaped mental patients, guys who have relations with barnyard animals plus there are fabulous prizes. Or at least what I am assured are fabulous prizes but who really knows with the people around this place - if Johnny Stylez picked the prizes things could get pretty questionable pretty fast. I hope they let Blair do it, at least she’s got taste. Plus maybe she’ll give us her hand me down Gucci.
The only potential downside is the fact this is going to start off as a team based match. I don’t know about the rest of you guys, but I have never scored very highly on works well with others and I hazard a guess that neither have the rest of you. I’m told I’ll be teaming with Ariel Shadows and some guy they call The King of Pain. Hey, sidecar here, why is everyone in this place The King this or The Queen that? There’s The Mafia Queen Bitch, The King of Pain, Lord King, The Crimson Queen, The Queen of the Dead, King Quari who is doubled kinged by also using the King of the Millenials, The Outlaw Queen, The King of the Felony and that's just the ones I know off the top of my head. Was this some weird bylaw in the contract I didn’t read? Or is everyone just super duper unoriginal? If it’s in the contract that I have to be royalty I want to be known as The Queen Of That Taco Bell Over Off Third Street or something real classy like that.
Anyway, back to the point at hand. I don’t know Ariel or KOP and to be honest I really don’t care if we’re bosom besties. I’ll work with them, I’ll be professional, I’ll do what it takes to assure that we come out on top in this match. I don’t need to know them for that, all I need to know is that we can all put aside whatever differences we may find that we have and work together as professionals. KOP, I’ve got no history on this guy but I did see him beat the holy hell out of that Dolores Claiborne freak at Showcase so at least I know he knows how to fight, I can work with that. Ariel Shadows I have a bit more information on, she’s won a few matches and seems competent in the ring, she also seems to have some teeth to her which I can appreciate as a toothy woman myself. So, we’ll chat, we’ll get it out there on the table and put our hands in the middle like a little league team. Go Bears! But once we’re done putting the slop from the bottom of the dumpster back where it belongs - all bets are off. It’s nothing personal to KOP and Ariel, I’m sure they’re great at what they do. My winning and taking home that sweet sweet toaster over/blender combo? It’s just business.
Time for the real brass tacks though, our challengers, if you’re feeling charitable enough to call them that. Starting off the B-Team we have RedRum aka Dolores Claiborne. Where oh where do I even begin to start on this guy? Aside from the fact he’s clearly in violation of trademarks owned by Stephen King and probably facing some hefty court costs in the near future what is there really to say about him? I mean, I guess he doesn’t call himself King of anything so that’s a mark in the pro column. That seems to be about where that ends. RedRum like his oh so original name would suggest is a total loser, literally. In the short time that OPW has been open he’s lost matches, had the shit kicked out of him and from what google tells me - was actually buried alive. And now you want to feed him to me? Maaaaan, I don’t know who this guy pissed of but it’s not looking good for you ol’ Rummy. See, you don’t know me. I know what you’re probably thinking as you sit in that dilapidated boiler room watching this on the souls of the damned or whatever weird edgy shit people like you come up with. You look at me and you see an unknown variable, but more likely, you see a woman with a big mouth and no discernible track record. That’s actually not really all that incorrect but I am so much more than that, Rummy. See, I’ve been around this racket a long time, as much as these other kids in the back like to pretend they’ve been. I’ve seen a lot of things, beaten a lot of people. Every single one of those people was more of a threat than you’ll ever hope to grow up and be. I’m just flat out better than you, not that you’re to blame of course. It all comes down to a little thing called natural selection. Nature decided to make me the biggest baddest fish in the pond and it decided to make you lunch. You’ll hoot and you’ll holler and you’ll make all the appropriate noises about how wrong I am and throw in some cliche lines about blood but at the end of the day you’ll see and just like your last stint here at OPW you’ll leave Stairway nothing but a beaten down loser that I buried alive in front of the entire world.
Speaking of beaten down losers that’s a nifty segway into the other of the Insane Clown Posse twins, John Reaper. John Reaper has something in common with another person in this match and that's that he has a weird and uncomfortable relationship with a small child. Ceno, I’m lookin’ at you buddy. I’ll get to him in a minute though, I want to make sure that Reaper feels he’s been given the proper attention from Big Daddy V so he doesn’t get his feelings hurt. Now guys, John Reaper is a spooky boi. Probably don’t need to tell you that if you’ve seen his big ass lurking around like the world's worst wacky inflatable tube man. I hear that Mr. Spooky Boi gets off on fear - okay weird, but we don’t kink shame in this house. The only problem with that Mr. Boi, is that I don’t have any fear. I was married to Bryan A. Dyamond, there is literally nothing in this world scarier than that. So unless you want to produce my crazy deadbeat ex husband and cause my vagina to shrivel up more than it already has, I’m not really sure what tactics you could bring against me. I don’t give a flying fuck about ghosts or blood or weird ass demon children, been there, done that, seen it done ten times better. The truth about you Johnny Boy? You’re a sideshow act. You’re something that sells t-shirts to the disgruntled goth crowd. You’re a sad parody of a badly acted B-Movie. The one thing you do have going for you is that you’re built like a giant. Luckily for little ol’ me, I have my own giant by way of Ariel Shadows. While she may not be as big as you, honey, I’d bet my giant against you any day of the week.
I really don’t want to waste all day talking about Thing 1 and Thing 2 when there is someone so much more fun just waiting to be talked about. I know he’s sitting there just dying with anticipation to have me give him even a smidgen of attention, it’s almost enough for me to turn this video off and say nothing just to screw with him. But I am a woman of my word and I do have a few things to say that I would like to say directly and publicly to James Ceno.
Where to even begin with Beano. This is a guy who was fired from his last job for sexually harassing the female workers, there’s some heavily discussed rumors he’s into pedophilia and beastiality. Now, I’m not pulling this shit out of thin air - he personally addressed it in his little get to know me introduction a few weeks ago and the rest is in his bio so handily available right on the Outlaw Pro Wrestling website under talent. Why he didn’t just go away, reinvent himself and come to OPW as a “new man” so to speak? Beats me. But he’s here now and for whatever reason he’s seemed to take a shine to ol’ Vhodka here. I guess that must just be in part to my sparkling personality. Now, James, I know this much attention from me is probably getting you all hot and bothered but do please try to keep up with me here.
The first thing I want to make crystal clear is this: the shit you pulled at your last job? Ain’t gonna fly here, buddy. As of this moment I am making a public declaration for you and for anyone else watching this, the women of OPW are under my protection when it comes to creepy unwanted behavior from James Ceno. Now, now, before you girls get your maxi pads in a wad let me say that most of these ladies sure as hell don’t need me to protect them. I’ll expand on my meaning for you.
Do you know about spotted hyenas, James? And I don’t mean about fucking them you creepy freak so try to keep your mind out of the gutter. Here’s the thing about the spotted hyena, it’s one of the animal groups that is run by alpha females - not entirely unlike OPW. The females do the majority of the hunting, dictate the social structure and raise the cubs alone. The highest ranking male hyena in the group is still subservient to the lowest ranking female, a fact I’m sure really pisses off the male hyena. Unlike most animals, any given female in the clan knows the other females in their society on an individual level and if the one member of that society is attacked, well James, the rest of the females put aside dominance battles and ban together to take out the intruder. Am I making myself clear to you, James? I know many of the alpha women here in OPW and even though we have our differences I can tell you one thing - if you creep around backstage or slide into someone’s DMs and make them feel uncomfortable then we’re all coming for your neck. Blair, Ani, VooDoo, Le’Andra, me, all of us. All working together in one common goal, protecting the clan from lesser males. I don’t know, I’m honestly kind of worried that you may not be smart enough to get this if I just sit here and tell you. Come on, Vhodka, think. How can you get the point across to James? Wait wait wait, I’VE GOT IT! Hold on let me find him.”
Man, I really amaze myself sometimes with the things that I come up with. The thing about Ceno is, he’s not particularly very smart so I really didn’t have any faith that just telling him would do any good. So, I thought about it for a while and then as I was having my morning bowl of Lucky Charms and surfing through the channels it came to me in the form of Elmo. The perfect way to teach an old dog a new trick. I turned around to the backseat fumbling in my bag on the floorboard looking for the learning aid I had lovingly crafted to be as realistic as possible. When I turned back around I held him up for all the world to see. In this case “him” was an extremely realistic rendering of James Ceno by way of a very small, somewhat pasty, dildo with some googly eyes glued on the head and wearing the ring gear off a wrestling action figure from the discount section of K-Mart. I’ll be honest with you since I trust you. A couple of times when I passed by him I scared myself because I thought James himself had broken into my house and was sitting on the counter waiting to slip me a roofie. It was that lifelike. I held Little James up for the camera, time for your close up lil guy!
“Okay kiddies. This is Little James. Hi Little James, how are you doing today?”
“Hi Miss Vhodka, I’m feeling a little sad today.”
“Oh? Why is that Little James?”
“Well…. everyone is just so mean to me all the time, Miss Vhodka! It makes me want to cry!”
Little James begins to shake and cry. If he had arms he would use them to cover his face but since he is a sentient penis he does not have arms.
“Little James please don’t cry! Would a hug make you feel better?”
“Oh yes Miss Vhodka a hug would make me feel happy again!”
I smiled at Little James as he moved in to hug me. But instead of going for a hug Little James immediately tried to ram himself down my shirt. You little shit! Now, V, keep your cool. The kids are watching. I pried Little James away from my chest and shook a finger at him.
“Little James that wasn’t very nice! I offered to give you a hug bec—-“
Little James suddenly launched himself towards my mouth trying desperately to shove himself between my lips mid sentence. Again for the second time I pried him away and faced him down.
“LITTLE JAMES! You are being a very naughty boy! You can’t just come in someone’s mouth without permission.”
“I can’t Miss Vhodka?”
“No, Little James. Have you ever heard the word consent?”
Little James paused and squinted his little googly eyes in deep thought.
“I’ve never heard that word Miss Vhodka. Whats consent mean?”
“Consent is when you ask someone for permission to do something or you both make a mutual agreement that something is okay”
“I don’t know… that sounds kind of hard.”
“It’s really quite easy, bud! Let’s practice, okay?”
“OKAY! I like to practice! Some people say I’ve spent my entire career practicing so that maybe one day I can be as good as someone like you!”
“That’s very sweet, thank you buddy. Okay, let’s practice consent. What’s something you want to do with Miss Vhodka?”
“I want to rape you and stalk you and wear your skin like a dress!!”
“That’s a bit dark. Consent doesn’t really work with any of those things, can you think of something else?”
“Hmmm… how about… a kiss?? I’ve never kissed a girl before unless you count my mom.”
“A kiss is a great idea, Little James! Now say you wanted to kiss me, what would you do?”
“I’d force myself on you and make you kiss me!”
“See, now, that’s the issue Little James. People don’t like it when you do things to them without asking first. It makes people very sad.”
“It does? Wow, I never knew that Miss Vhodka. So what should I do so that they don’t get sad?”
“That’s what consent is for. So, to ask consent means that you would ask me permission to give me a kiss and then I would get to decide if I wanted to give you a kiss or not.”
“Oh man, now I’m never gonna get a kiss!”
“Don’t be negative, Little James. Maybe if you can learn about consent more girls will want to talk to you and then maybe one day one of them will even want to kiss you! Hey, maybe they’ll ask you for YOUR consent!”
“You really think so, Miss Vhodka?”
“I do! Now let’s practice it, okay? You want to kiss me but you need to ask for consent. So how would you do it?”
“Uhh… well, um.. Miss Vhodka?”
“Yes Little James?”
“I think you’re the prettiest girl in the whole wide world and you’re super good at wrestling, way better than me! Do you think I could give you a little kiss?”
“Very good Little James!! Congratulations! You just asked for consent!”
“I did!?”
“Yes!!! Now, anytime you want to do something and it involves another person you should remember to ask for consent.”
“I will Miss Vhodka, I will!”
“Oh Little James, I’m so proud of you. What a smart boy you are!”
“Thanks! But what about my kiss?”
“That was just practice Little James, remember?”
“What do you mean Miss Vhodka?”
“I mean we were just pretending. I don’t want to really give you a kiss right now Little James.”
“You no good lying bitch! You tricked me Miss Vhodka! You’re just like all these other whores! I’m going to make you pay!”
“Oh dear. Little James we’re out of time for today but I can see we’ll have to have another lesson soon.”
“Don’t walk away from me you slut!”
I hastily threw Little James back in the bag behind me, giving it a few good whaps to get him to settle down. Man, good thing he doesn’t have arms and can only get around by hopping or else he could be a real problem.
“Now that the lawsuit in the room has been addressed let’s move on, shall we? James Ceno, or as I like to call him the circumcised dick that became sentient, I’ve seen you in the ring, I watched your match last week. You really hope to impress people by telling them you beat King Quari? Congrats man! You beat a kid that’s not particularly good! What a superstar you are! Oh but wait, next you’ll tell me how old you are and how long you’ve been in the business - as if that’s something that should impress me. Here’s the thing about being in this business Beano: you can be in this business fifty years and still not be any good at it. It comes down to natural talent, some people have it and some people don’t. You’re one those who just don’t have what it takes to go the distance and that’s why you find yourself here in your umpteenth fed having to be publically humiliated by me, Mr. KOP and The Giant Ariel Shadows.
I’ll take delight in this match for a lot of reasons, it’s my first one back and there is the element of possibly winning a new car or Blair’s used socks but I think the thing I’ll take the absolute most delight in is shutting you the fuck up. At least for a few days until your jaw heals and you can talk again but hell, I’ll take what I can get.
In the words of the almighty Wu Tang Clan, protect ya neck cause Vhodka Marie ain’t nothin’ to fuck with.”
I felt somewhat satisfied as I ended the video and threw the phone in the seat next to me, putting the car in gear to get the air circulating again as the sweat ran freely anywhere sweat could spawn from. It wouldn’t always be like this of course, but for my first match back I felt like I needed to make a loud statement. It was time to let the youngbloods here know that it was a new age in OPW and in this digital age they’d have to listen, the video would be retweeted and shared and their curiosity wouldn’t let them scroll on by. There would be time for subtly later on, but this wasn’t it. Maybe you can keep this between the two of us but if I’m totally honest with you I have to admit… it felt good. It felt good to talk-the-talk and it felt good to call people on all their bullshit and irrelevance. An old truck was broken down on the side of the road up ahead and it reminded me of a thought I’d had before, wouldn’t it feel good to race again, old friends? After this, I’d have to get myself focused on the plan but for now, for this one moment, I could just enjoy knowing that I was the biggest dog in the fight and there wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do about it. Woof woof.
Funny the way the world works, one minute you’re here, the next minute you’re there. People who only existed in the darkest recesses of your mind now stand right there before you awash in vivid technicolor - for better or for worse. That was what it felt like being in the ring for the first time after all these years, like black and white violently bursting into color. Internally, a sudden click and a new thought emerges: what would happen if someone pushed just a little?
As I moved through the back of the venue largely unrecognized by the predominantly newer talent, listening around corners and on the other side of closed doors, something became very clear to me. OPW is sick. There is a weakness here, a sickly sweet smell floating through the air to be sucked into the ventilation system and shot in a million directions all over the arena for everyone to breath in and take inside themselves. The untested (re: newer) talent is sick with undeserved ego, the old also suffers from that affliction but more than that the old spins in place like the wheel of a truck caught in a muddy ditch. Never getting anywhere, never really making any forward progress. Just waiting for someone to come along and pull them out of the mud.
There are those that could be left stranded along the side of some desolate road and the business would be a better place for it. But there are a few that might be worth hitching up to and pulling out, perhaps if they could only drive a while the engine would work out the kinks and the mud would pull away from the wheel wells and then, well, maybe then we could have a race? And so it was with these thoughts that I went out and made my little speech, an invitation, if you will. Would you want to race again, old friend?
Maybe the stuck-in-the-mud analogy was born from the feeling of my foot on the gas and the wind in my hair as the old Cougar flew down that deserted stretch of road while I made my way to the second stop of the grand Vhodka homecoming tour. The landscape slid past in a blur of burnt orange and brown, crowned with the blue of the overhead, nothing of man in these parts only of nature. I never did understand why she wanted to live out here. The only benefit was the time that it afforded me to think about all the things fluttering around inside my head. No one had made contact after my little speech so I left the venue that night unaccosted which was a bit of a surprise if I can be honest with you. I figured surely someone, anyone, would have something to say? But maybe it was a good sign, maybe it meant that they were taking this seriously and weighing the options. Friend or foe, friend or foe, friend or foe. Could there be a thread of truth to ol’ V? When I started this journey I felt like I had a lot of explaining to do but now not so much. How much of myself are these people really entitled to anyway? Not as much as I had previously thought.
It wasn’t all bad though, OPW did have some real comedy going for itself even if the comedy wasn’t in on the joke. That would be okay, I thought, I’ll help explain the punchline to them. There were the obvious acts like Tommy Kain with his Zima and what I am truly hoping turns out to be a legitimate goat but there were also acts who didn’t seem to realize yet what a joke they actually were. Now, V, stick to the plan. There will be plenty of time down the road to play with the children, right now you have real work to do. That’s always been an issue for me, you see. Getting sidetracked, involved in things that don’t suit the greater purpose but amuse me in some way. I like to be amused, you’ll find that out once we get to know each other better. Amusement has actually been one of the consistent threads of my long career, what starts out as a joke becomes something more and the path that diverges and forms is something no one ever saw coming. And then again, sometimes amusement is just amusement.
I hadn’t had much amusement in the last ten years, not like before and not like what I’ll have now. In the real world there are clear lines that all players must strictly adhere to lest they be punished. The wrestling world isn’t like that, in the wrestling world I can amuse myself as much as I want. You’ll see that I can be pretty amusing if you only keep watching.
The plan, V, the plan. Oh yes, that. Sometimes I forget things, my memory must look like a piece of swiss cheese. But this was something I wouldn’t forget for long, there was too much that needed doing and much too much at stake. I threw the Old Lady into park in front of the sprawling ranch style house, only casually taking note of the two cars parked to the side. Speaking of amusement, here was another opportunity as I rapped on the door.
The heat from the desert was washing over me more thoroughly than before as I stood flat footed on the porch, sweat trickling down the back of my neck to disappear under the white tank top. It had been hot in the car of course, but the air from the open windows had helped then. Here, standing still, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the heat squeezing around you like some giant hand. A merciful wash of good ol’ american made air conditioned air washed over me as the front door jerked open, loud music assaulting me just as surely as the heat had in the moments before.
“Jesus Christ, you look like shit.”
The years had been kind to Alexis. She was still thin but shapely in the areas that counted, her face a little more weathered than it had been but it was a good face, one that was aging gracefully without the help of cosmetic procedures. Rare these days that women let the march of time march across their face in the same way that Alexs did but then again, she had always been one of the rarer people in my life. We had met on my first trip outside of the economically disadvantaged town that I called home, I say trip as a kinder way of saying “the first time I ran away”. Alexis was…. transcendent. That was really the only way to describe her at that time. We were both so alive, so full of life, so ready to take on anything the world could possibly throw at us. And boy, did the world throw us some real fuckin’ curve balls. I wouldn’t know it then but she wouldn’t just be my friend or road partner, she would be the sister I never had. She leaned into the doorway, one elbow resting on the frame above her head, the hand of her opposite arm still resting on the door handle.
“Can I interest you in purchasing some Tupperware? Or maybe tell you the word of our lord and savior Satan?”
Alexis rolled her eyes and turned to disappear back into the house expecting me to follow. I closed the door behind me as Ace Of Base pummeled into my psyche and sucked my will to live as we padded into the kitchen where I swung a leg over a barstool resting my elbows on the island and my chin in my hands. She quickly resumed her place behind the stove after procuring a carton of eggs from the refrigerator, swaying her hips and nodding her head along to “The Sign”. That was my cue to start making THE SIGN to turn this goddamn music down. Who still listens to Ace of Base? Where am I, Aisle 5 of the grocery store?
“You’ve clearly taken too many hits to the head if you’ve reached the point in life where you enjoy Ace of Base”
“Excuse me, I won’t tolerate Ace of Base slander in this house. That’s right up there with slandering Abba. Keep it up and it’ll be a Cruel Summer for you.” She shook an egg in my direction for effect.
“Please stop.”
Alexis returned to her work at the stove, beginning to crack egg after egg after egg into the heated pan on the stove with a small sizzle. I took in the kitchen then, noticing a rather large plate of crispy bacon and at least a dozen fresh homemade biscuits off to the side in a small wicker basket. We’re not alone, V. Tread lightly.
“Awful lot of eggs you’re making there, Alex.”
The words hung untouched in the air and I knew she was thinking of a way to avoid the question before she swiveled back around to me, hands flat on the counter beside her.
“Not that I’m not always thrilled to see you but you never show up without a reason. What gives?”
My turn to let something marinate. Alexis had accepted the role I foisted upon her with the same grace and nonchalance that she handled aging but we never spoke of it too directly - the role I bestowed upon her that is, just to make sure you and I are clear. We didn’t talk about the night I arrived on her doorstep and handed her the most important thing in the world to me and in the years past we had never discussed why I did it. She just accepted it and plowed forward, as was her way. On the list of no-no topics would also be her brother, my ex husband, and the business I left behind. And here I was getting ready to check a big one of those naughty topics off the list.
“I’m going back.”
“Back.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I thought about that for a moment and let all the different reasons run on a loop in my head. It was all of them and none of them. Why was I doing this? Did I even really know? It wasn’t the money, I had that, not that anyone would ever suspect it. It wasn’t for anyone else, though if I was going back anyway I might as well make myself useful. Boredom maybe? Was that it? If you figure it out before me, maybe you can let me know. In this moment however salvation came in the form of a petite woman, lithe body crowned with a short pompadour hairstyle. The arms that showed from her baggy black t-shirt were covered in tattoos much like my own and her face was bare of makeup but that did nothing to retract from the sensuality of her features. Most women of her stature make you think of delicate words like ethereal and pixie but there was something harder to the woman who slid an arm around Alexis’ waist, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek as she used a spatula to fiddle with the eggs.
“I’m sorry babe, I can’t stay. They’ve got an emergency at work I need to go deal with.”
“Is this an all day emergency or can I expect you back later on?”
The woman looked up at Alexis who stood a good three inches higher and gave her a smile that managed to be both predatory and playful at the same time.
“You can bet on it.”
Oh my god, this is painful. Is there anything worse than those couples who go hardcore on the public displays of affection? Like seriously, no one gives a shit about your sex life please god stop subjecting us all to it. I rose from the stool and started making my way to the knife block next to the stove.
“Alright, that's it, give me a knife. I'm going to end it all if I have to sit here and watch you two play kissy face.”
The woman extracted herself from the equivalent of my sister and nodded in my direction as she grabbed an apple from a fruit basket on the island.
“Hey Vhod. Almost didn’t realize you were here, you must have showered recently.”
I sneered at her then, because she expected it and that was what the situation called for but my heart wasn’t truly in it. Despite how it may appear to you, I actually really like Bobbi (that's short for Roberta, I’ve been told.) she’s good for Alexis, treats her well and she has her own money so I know that her motivations to do so don’t stem from a lack of resources. But more than that she takes no shit - not Alexis or mine, for that matter. From what I’ve been told Bobbi grew up forced into every Little Miss beauty pageant across the nation, not because she wanted to or enjoyed it but at the behest of her former beauty queen mother. I guess her mother had spent her childhood shoved into the world of pageants by her own mother (Bobbi’s grandmother, do try to keep up) so that was all she knew when Bobbi came along. The difference was that her mother had at least enjoyed it and Bobbi so did not. As the story goes, Bobbi hit her teen years hard - getting into minor teenage troubles before giving one gigantic middle finger to her mother by way of coming out of the closet. She chopped off all her hair, traded in frilly dresses for oversized mens t-shirts worn exclusively with ripped up jeans and started hanging out in biker bars where she learned to ride a Harley. You can obviously see why I like her.
“Get out of here kid, us men have business to attend to.”
Bobbi was already halfway out of the kitchen when she turned and held up her middle finger with a smile, all while walking backwards out the door.
“Sit and spin, Vhodka.”
Alexis clicked her tongue in our general direction like a mother hen chastising two bad chicks as she plated enough scrambled eggs (ironic, huh?) to feed the large army of a small country.
“Still weirds me out Sexi Lexi became Sexi Lezzie.”
“No it doesn't, you just like the back and forth with Bobbi. You don’t watch it and she may start thinking you have a crush on her.”
I rolled my eyes at the notion. Though, Bobbi would have been an improvement over my current track record of psychopaths and criminals.
“Sure is a lot of food for two people, Alex.”
“Sure haven’t told me why you’re going back, Vhod.”
Stalemate. We’d been down this road a million times before and we both knew the other would die before they broke first. At this rate we’d be sitting here staring each other down over cold eggs for days and I’d miss the opportunity to embarrass Mr. Beano and the Amazing My Chemical Romance Duo. Choices, choices.
“Alright, fine. I don’t have time to win this war as SOME of us around here have a match to prepare for.”
“I know that was a dig at me and I don’t care. I’m happy. I have no reason to go back to that life.”
“If you start in about your title runs I’m gonna stick my head in the oven.”
“You’re just jealous.”
Alexis moved to hop up and plant her ass directly on the edge of the counter, hands gripping the edge behind her. She looked at me, her face plainy saying “talk”. Here we go, the interrogation begins.
“I called Damon, he told me about this place called OPW. The pack is there. Well, some shadow version of The Pack is there. Vinnie, Voo, Damon, there are others too of course. Alley Cat’s all grown up now with a family of her own and challenging for the tag belts.”
“You’re telling me things I already know to make it seem like you’re actually saying something. I didn’t desert everyone in my life and drop off the face of the planet for the last ten years, you did. I talk to our friends frequently.”
“Not really all that sure they’re “our” friends anymore. Might just be your friends at this point.”
“You know that isn’t how it works.”
“I kinda sorta possibly maybe called them out. I mean, not scorched earth or anything, it was only a little call out. Hardly even counted.”
“You’re a strange woman, you know that? You disappear for years and the first thing you decide to do upon your return is call out the only allies you might actually have?”
“Have you been watching the shows?”
It was a trick question, I knew the answer already. Alexis shifted uncomfortably where she perched on the counter and cast her eyes down to the floor, suddenly very interested in the state of the polish on the tips of her toes.
“I’m out of the business.”
“That's an evasion, not an answer. Do you watch the shows?”
“Yes, hardass, I watch the shows.”
“Then you see what I see.”
“I won’t speak against our friends.”
“I’m not asking you to. But you know as well as I know that something is wrong, this isn’t them. I know I don’t have room to roll into town and start throwing my weight around but I can’t just sit idly by and watch them self implode into a million little pieces. I won’t do that. If I have to prod and poke at them until they break open and the rich creamy center spills out then I’ll do it for the greater good.”
“I hope Vincent has as charitable of view towards the greater good as you do, for your sake.”
“He’ll understand. I know him. He needs this, Alex.”
“And I’m just saying, I don’t think you know what Vincent needs at this point.”
Was she right? Was I out of touch and chasing after a vision of a man I knew in a different lifetime? And what about his wife, his VooDoo? How would she like being called a pet? Well, she wouldn’t like it, that was the entire point of doing it. Sometimes change, real change, can be painful. Sometimes it’s like pulling teeth or peeling off strips of skin to get down to something different, better, harsher. That's what they needed now, harsher. Since I had made the decision to return I had thought a lot about The Pack and the current state of the world. It wasn’t that I was desperate to join them or anything, only that it pained me to see people I held in such great regard walking around like distant memories of the people I knew. Color exploding into black and white. Even more so, it confounded me. Why? What had I missed? What pieces of them had been hacked away while I was out there somewhere? Was I partially responsible? Hell, maybe I’m giving myself too much credit. That’s another thing I have a habit of doing that you’ll do well to notice. I think pretty highly of myself, after all.
“I have a match this week. First one.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Couple of escaped circus performers and a rapist. That's not a joke, I think the guy, like, legitimately raped someone.”
“One on three and one’s a rapist? Man, you already pissed someone off that badly?”
“No, no, no. I have teammates. A gigantic amazonian named Ariel Shadows and some dude they call KOP. Which I hope is just a clever nickname and not a former profession.”
“So, six man tag. Someone didn’t get the memo that you're a disruptive influence on normal society.”
“There is also this Price Is Right thing to it. So, my team, aka The Winners will face the community clown college selectees and when we win we’ll go on to face each other in a three way later in the night. Whoever wins the three way gets to pick from three briefcases that contain handsome prizes. Or what I’m told is handsome prizes, anyway. Winner gets first pick, runner up gets second, weakest loser gets whatever is left over.”
“What are the prizes? A blender and toaster oven combo?”
“Beats me. I’m told they contain - and I quote - a unique prize or opportunity”
“Well, that’s….vague.”
“Yeah, I don’t really care what’s in them. I'm just hoping I get the chance to play Plinko.”
Voices carried in from the other room moving our direction, masculine and feminine. Ah, the mystery of the egg eaters is soon to be solved. Alexis suddenly made herself very busy doing anything and everything to avoid looking at me or our approaching guests. Strange. A young woman in her twenties with dark hair pulled back into a long ponytail moved into the room, laughing over her shoulder at a very clean cut all American twenty something in a red polo and khaki pants. The woman turned and I swear to god all the color drained from her face as I made finger guns at her. Fuck, off to a great start.
“Mother.”
“Kamilah.”
She visibly stiffened at the sound of the name, the man behind her still smiling but sensing something was wrong.
“Kami. It’s Kami now.”
“As you like…..Kami.”
“Why are you here?”
The words were practically spat in my face, or I guess they would have been if she was more like me and less like her Aunt Alexis. Kami would never do good vitriol, she was too good natured for it. Another of my failures as a mother.
“I came to see Alex, I needed to talk to her. And why are you here, pray tell?”
“I was invited. Cal and I were going to have lunch with Aunt Alex and Bobbi.”
“Is that poindexter?”
The boyscout moved around the invisible forcefield of resentment rolling off Kami in waves and came to stand in front of me extending his hand. Really, dude?
“Hi, you must be Vhodka. I’ve heard so much about you - not bad things of course, good things! I’m Kami’s fiancé Calvin, but everyone just calls me Cal.”
Now it was time for the color to drain from MY face. Fiancé? She was getting married? How could she be getting married? She’s just a kid for christ's sake! Kids can’t be running around just getting married all willy nilly with no oversight from anyone. What the hell kind of shitshow was Alexis running around this joint? You understand where I’m coming from, right?
“You’re engaged to a man that wears khaki?”
Could have sworn I heard a snort come from Alexis who’s back was still turned, trying to pretend a car crash of gigantic proportions wasn’t occurring three feet from her, right in front of the poor sweet innocent eggs nonetheless.
“I can see you haven’t lost that deep intellectual wit that I so remember from my childhood. Or what little I had of one.”
“He’s not a Mormon, is he?”
“Jesus Christ, V!”
Oh yeah, sure, now she wants to pipe up. Calvin smiled awkwardly as he finally dropped his hand, accepting that a handshake wasn’t on the menu today.
“Episcopalian, but don’t hold that against me!”
This kid was like everyone's favorite golden retriever - big, dumb and so very desperate to be liked. Part of me didn’t know if I should scratch behind his ears and give him a treat or slug him in the face for talking my daughter into something as stupid and life wrecking as marriage. I had to get out of here before I fucked it up even more.
“I’m out. The Brady Bunch vibe is making my fingernails hurt.”
“Oh, no, are you sure you wont stay for brunch? There’s plenty of food and it would give us a chance to get to know each other better and we could even talk about the wedding!”
“No, Cal, let her go. After all, running away IS what she does best.”
“Thanks Cooper, but I have business to attend to.”
“Oh, it’s Calvin. Cal.”
Too late though, I was already on my way out the door headed to the front of the house to make my exit as Alexis struggled to keep up with me.
“Vhod, wait. Just wait a damn minute.”
I reached out to grab the knob of the front door as a hand appeared above my head slamming the door shut in front of me. You give someone one World Title twenty years ago and suddenly she thinks she’s the boss. Typical.
“What.”
“You’re going to have to face this eventually.”
“No I’m not, I plan to avoid it for the rest of my life by moving to the jungles of Madagascar and learning to weave baskets out of my back hair.”
“Make your jokes but mark my words, the day when you have to grow up and get your shit together is rapidly approaching.”
Alexis removed her hand from the door and crossed her arms over her chest as I yanked the door open and made a rush for freedom. Outside, in the heat of the car, I was finally able to let out a breath I’d been holding. I rolled the engine over and hit the gas that would take me far away from here and all the uncomfortable conversations that Alexis warned me would soon take place.
Here’s the truth about me. I’m a fuck up. In every sense and meaning of the word, always have been. For the most part, people find this to be one of the more endearing aspects of my personality. But sometimes you fuck things up so badly, that it stops being funny and starts to get kind of sad. That’s where I was at with the kid. She deserved a hell of a lot better than me and her father. But, despite it all, she was thriving. I was actually kind of proud of her even if I couldn’t say the words out loud. Something sprung from my loins had her shit together, go figure.
Hard to say how far I drove with the desert landscape sliding along beside me, lost in thought about all of my many shortcomings. I couldn’t do this now, not now, I had to get myself ready for Stairway. There could be no doubts or self introspection until after the match, besides, this was something that I WAS good at. Though it might be shocking I was actually pretty damn good in the ring, and I was even better on the mic. Taking particular delight in getting to read down someone for their flaws instead of focusing on my own for a change. The Stairway match would go back to that amusement aspect we talked about earlier, there was a lot of material there for me to amuse myself with. If I had any sort of a heart I might actually feel bad about the poor dumb bastards they were feeding me. But then again, guilt wasn’t something anyone had ever accused me of.
I pulled into the first sign of civilization that I saw which just so happened to be a gas station. I wanted to talk about the match, my teammates, the sacrificial lambs they were feeding to us. I wanted to talk about it and I wanted to do it directly, I wanted to make sure that the whole world got to hear what I had to say. There would be no misunderstandings between myself and the rest of the so-called Outlaw Nation. After I had met with Damon a brand new iPhone had suspiciously turned up in a gift wrapped box on my doorstep, the note inside read only “for my comfort more than yours.” Message received, good buddy. I clicked on the video feature and sat it on the dashboard, keeping myself in frame.
“Hey, me agai- fuck.”
The phone tumbled off the dash, bounced off my thigh and landed on the floorboard. Goddamn technology. Why don’t they make these things stand up on their own? Put some sticky tape on the bottom, glue a few sticks together and make a tripod, hell, I’m a professional wrestler not a scientist, man! I reconfigured the phone on the dash and took a calming breath.
“Alright, lets try this again. Stairway 2 Heaven, Price Is Right Showcase Showdown match. It’s got everything! Chicks, dudes, cops, escaped mental patients, guys who have relations with barnyard animals plus there are fabulous prizes. Or at least what I am assured are fabulous prizes but who really knows with the people around this place - if Johnny Stylez picked the prizes things could get pretty questionable pretty fast. I hope they let Blair do it, at least she’s got taste. Plus maybe she’ll give us her hand me down Gucci.
The only potential downside is the fact this is going to start off as a team based match. I don’t know about the rest of you guys, but I have never scored very highly on works well with others and I hazard a guess that neither have the rest of you. I’m told I’ll be teaming with Ariel Shadows and some guy they call The King of Pain. Hey, sidecar here, why is everyone in this place The King this or The Queen that? There’s The Mafia Queen Bitch, The King of Pain, Lord King, The Crimson Queen, The Queen of the Dead, King Quari who is doubled kinged by also using the King of the Millenials, The Outlaw Queen, The King of the Felony and that's just the ones I know off the top of my head. Was this some weird bylaw in the contract I didn’t read? Or is everyone just super duper unoriginal? If it’s in the contract that I have to be royalty I want to be known as The Queen Of That Taco Bell Over Off Third Street or something real classy like that.
Anyway, back to the point at hand. I don’t know Ariel or KOP and to be honest I really don’t care if we’re bosom besties. I’ll work with them, I’ll be professional, I’ll do what it takes to assure that we come out on top in this match. I don’t need to know them for that, all I need to know is that we can all put aside whatever differences we may find that we have and work together as professionals. KOP, I’ve got no history on this guy but I did see him beat the holy hell out of that Dolores Claiborne freak at Showcase so at least I know he knows how to fight, I can work with that. Ariel Shadows I have a bit more information on, she’s won a few matches and seems competent in the ring, she also seems to have some teeth to her which I can appreciate as a toothy woman myself. So, we’ll chat, we’ll get it out there on the table and put our hands in the middle like a little league team. Go Bears! But once we’re done putting the slop from the bottom of the dumpster back where it belongs - all bets are off. It’s nothing personal to KOP and Ariel, I’m sure they’re great at what they do. My winning and taking home that sweet sweet toaster over/blender combo? It’s just business.
Time for the real brass tacks though, our challengers, if you’re feeling charitable enough to call them that. Starting off the B-Team we have RedRum aka Dolores Claiborne. Where oh where do I even begin to start on this guy? Aside from the fact he’s clearly in violation of trademarks owned by Stephen King and probably facing some hefty court costs in the near future what is there really to say about him? I mean, I guess he doesn’t call himself King of anything so that’s a mark in the pro column. That seems to be about where that ends. RedRum like his oh so original name would suggest is a total loser, literally. In the short time that OPW has been open he’s lost matches, had the shit kicked out of him and from what google tells me - was actually buried alive. And now you want to feed him to me? Maaaaan, I don’t know who this guy pissed of but it’s not looking good for you ol’ Rummy. See, you don’t know me. I know what you’re probably thinking as you sit in that dilapidated boiler room watching this on the souls of the damned or whatever weird edgy shit people like you come up with. You look at me and you see an unknown variable, but more likely, you see a woman with a big mouth and no discernible track record. That’s actually not really all that incorrect but I am so much more than that, Rummy. See, I’ve been around this racket a long time, as much as these other kids in the back like to pretend they’ve been. I’ve seen a lot of things, beaten a lot of people. Every single one of those people was more of a threat than you’ll ever hope to grow up and be. I’m just flat out better than you, not that you’re to blame of course. It all comes down to a little thing called natural selection. Nature decided to make me the biggest baddest fish in the pond and it decided to make you lunch. You’ll hoot and you’ll holler and you’ll make all the appropriate noises about how wrong I am and throw in some cliche lines about blood but at the end of the day you’ll see and just like your last stint here at OPW you’ll leave Stairway nothing but a beaten down loser that I buried alive in front of the entire world.
Speaking of beaten down losers that’s a nifty segway into the other of the Insane Clown Posse twins, John Reaper. John Reaper has something in common with another person in this match and that's that he has a weird and uncomfortable relationship with a small child. Ceno, I’m lookin’ at you buddy. I’ll get to him in a minute though, I want to make sure that Reaper feels he’s been given the proper attention from Big Daddy V so he doesn’t get his feelings hurt. Now guys, John Reaper is a spooky boi. Probably don’t need to tell you that if you’ve seen his big ass lurking around like the world's worst wacky inflatable tube man. I hear that Mr. Spooky Boi gets off on fear - okay weird, but we don’t kink shame in this house. The only problem with that Mr. Boi, is that I don’t have any fear. I was married to Bryan A. Dyamond, there is literally nothing in this world scarier than that. So unless you want to produce my crazy deadbeat ex husband and cause my vagina to shrivel up more than it already has, I’m not really sure what tactics you could bring against me. I don’t give a flying fuck about ghosts or blood or weird ass demon children, been there, done that, seen it done ten times better. The truth about you Johnny Boy? You’re a sideshow act. You’re something that sells t-shirts to the disgruntled goth crowd. You’re a sad parody of a badly acted B-Movie. The one thing you do have going for you is that you’re built like a giant. Luckily for little ol’ me, I have my own giant by way of Ariel Shadows. While she may not be as big as you, honey, I’d bet my giant against you any day of the week.
I really don’t want to waste all day talking about Thing 1 and Thing 2 when there is someone so much more fun just waiting to be talked about. I know he’s sitting there just dying with anticipation to have me give him even a smidgen of attention, it’s almost enough for me to turn this video off and say nothing just to screw with him. But I am a woman of my word and I do have a few things to say that I would like to say directly and publicly to James Ceno.
Where to even begin with Beano. This is a guy who was fired from his last job for sexually harassing the female workers, there’s some heavily discussed rumors he’s into pedophilia and beastiality. Now, I’m not pulling this shit out of thin air - he personally addressed it in his little get to know me introduction a few weeks ago and the rest is in his bio so handily available right on the Outlaw Pro Wrestling website under talent. Why he didn’t just go away, reinvent himself and come to OPW as a “new man” so to speak? Beats me. But he’s here now and for whatever reason he’s seemed to take a shine to ol’ Vhodka here. I guess that must just be in part to my sparkling personality. Now, James, I know this much attention from me is probably getting you all hot and bothered but do please try to keep up with me here.
The first thing I want to make crystal clear is this: the shit you pulled at your last job? Ain’t gonna fly here, buddy. As of this moment I am making a public declaration for you and for anyone else watching this, the women of OPW are under my protection when it comes to creepy unwanted behavior from James Ceno. Now, now, before you girls get your maxi pads in a wad let me say that most of these ladies sure as hell don’t need me to protect them. I’ll expand on my meaning for you.
Do you know about spotted hyenas, James? And I don’t mean about fucking them you creepy freak so try to keep your mind out of the gutter. Here’s the thing about the spotted hyena, it’s one of the animal groups that is run by alpha females - not entirely unlike OPW. The females do the majority of the hunting, dictate the social structure and raise the cubs alone. The highest ranking male hyena in the group is still subservient to the lowest ranking female, a fact I’m sure really pisses off the male hyena. Unlike most animals, any given female in the clan knows the other females in their society on an individual level and if the one member of that society is attacked, well James, the rest of the females put aside dominance battles and ban together to take out the intruder. Am I making myself clear to you, James? I know many of the alpha women here in OPW and even though we have our differences I can tell you one thing - if you creep around backstage or slide into someone’s DMs and make them feel uncomfortable then we’re all coming for your neck. Blair, Ani, VooDoo, Le’Andra, me, all of us. All working together in one common goal, protecting the clan from lesser males. I don’t know, I’m honestly kind of worried that you may not be smart enough to get this if I just sit here and tell you. Come on, Vhodka, think. How can you get the point across to James? Wait wait wait, I’VE GOT IT! Hold on let me find him.”
Man, I really amaze myself sometimes with the things that I come up with. The thing about Ceno is, he’s not particularly very smart so I really didn’t have any faith that just telling him would do any good. So, I thought about it for a while and then as I was having my morning bowl of Lucky Charms and surfing through the channels it came to me in the form of Elmo. The perfect way to teach an old dog a new trick. I turned around to the backseat fumbling in my bag on the floorboard looking for the learning aid I had lovingly crafted to be as realistic as possible. When I turned back around I held him up for all the world to see. In this case “him” was an extremely realistic rendering of James Ceno by way of a very small, somewhat pasty, dildo with some googly eyes glued on the head and wearing the ring gear off a wrestling action figure from the discount section of K-Mart. I’ll be honest with you since I trust you. A couple of times when I passed by him I scared myself because I thought James himself had broken into my house and was sitting on the counter waiting to slip me a roofie. It was that lifelike. I held Little James up for the camera, time for your close up lil guy!
“Okay kiddies. This is Little James. Hi Little James, how are you doing today?”
“Hi Miss Vhodka, I’m feeling a little sad today.”
“Oh? Why is that Little James?”
“Well…. everyone is just so mean to me all the time, Miss Vhodka! It makes me want to cry!”
Little James begins to shake and cry. If he had arms he would use them to cover his face but since he is a sentient penis he does not have arms.
“Little James please don’t cry! Would a hug make you feel better?”
“Oh yes Miss Vhodka a hug would make me feel happy again!”
I smiled at Little James as he moved in to hug me. But instead of going for a hug Little James immediately tried to ram himself down my shirt. You little shit! Now, V, keep your cool. The kids are watching. I pried Little James away from my chest and shook a finger at him.
“Little James that wasn’t very nice! I offered to give you a hug bec—-“
Little James suddenly launched himself towards my mouth trying desperately to shove himself between my lips mid sentence. Again for the second time I pried him away and faced him down.
“LITTLE JAMES! You are being a very naughty boy! You can’t just come in someone’s mouth without permission.”
“I can’t Miss Vhodka?”
“No, Little James. Have you ever heard the word consent?”
Little James paused and squinted his little googly eyes in deep thought.
“I’ve never heard that word Miss Vhodka. Whats consent mean?”
“Consent is when you ask someone for permission to do something or you both make a mutual agreement that something is okay”
“I don’t know… that sounds kind of hard.”
“It’s really quite easy, bud! Let’s practice, okay?”
“OKAY! I like to practice! Some people say I’ve spent my entire career practicing so that maybe one day I can be as good as someone like you!”
“That’s very sweet, thank you buddy. Okay, let’s practice consent. What’s something you want to do with Miss Vhodka?”
“I want to rape you and stalk you and wear your skin like a dress!!”
“That’s a bit dark. Consent doesn’t really work with any of those things, can you think of something else?”
“Hmmm… how about… a kiss?? I’ve never kissed a girl before unless you count my mom.”
“A kiss is a great idea, Little James! Now say you wanted to kiss me, what would you do?”
“I’d force myself on you and make you kiss me!”
“See, now, that’s the issue Little James. People don’t like it when you do things to them without asking first. It makes people very sad.”
“It does? Wow, I never knew that Miss Vhodka. So what should I do so that they don’t get sad?”
“That’s what consent is for. So, to ask consent means that you would ask me permission to give me a kiss and then I would get to decide if I wanted to give you a kiss or not.”
“Oh man, now I’m never gonna get a kiss!”
“Don’t be negative, Little James. Maybe if you can learn about consent more girls will want to talk to you and then maybe one day one of them will even want to kiss you! Hey, maybe they’ll ask you for YOUR consent!”
“You really think so, Miss Vhodka?”
“I do! Now let’s practice it, okay? You want to kiss me but you need to ask for consent. So how would you do it?”
“Uhh… well, um.. Miss Vhodka?”
“Yes Little James?”
“I think you’re the prettiest girl in the whole wide world and you’re super good at wrestling, way better than me! Do you think I could give you a little kiss?”
“Very good Little James!! Congratulations! You just asked for consent!”
“I did!?”
“Yes!!! Now, anytime you want to do something and it involves another person you should remember to ask for consent.”
“I will Miss Vhodka, I will!”
“Oh Little James, I’m so proud of you. What a smart boy you are!”
“Thanks! But what about my kiss?”
“That was just practice Little James, remember?”
“What do you mean Miss Vhodka?”
“I mean we were just pretending. I don’t want to really give you a kiss right now Little James.”
“You no good lying bitch! You tricked me Miss Vhodka! You’re just like all these other whores! I’m going to make you pay!”
“Oh dear. Little James we’re out of time for today but I can see we’ll have to have another lesson soon.”
“Don’t walk away from me you slut!”
I hastily threw Little James back in the bag behind me, giving it a few good whaps to get him to settle down. Man, good thing he doesn’t have arms and can only get around by hopping or else he could be a real problem.
“Now that the lawsuit in the room has been addressed let’s move on, shall we? James Ceno, or as I like to call him the circumcised dick that became sentient, I’ve seen you in the ring, I watched your match last week. You really hope to impress people by telling them you beat King Quari? Congrats man! You beat a kid that’s not particularly good! What a superstar you are! Oh but wait, next you’ll tell me how old you are and how long you’ve been in the business - as if that’s something that should impress me. Here’s the thing about being in this business Beano: you can be in this business fifty years and still not be any good at it. It comes down to natural talent, some people have it and some people don’t. You’re one those who just don’t have what it takes to go the distance and that’s why you find yourself here in your umpteenth fed having to be publically humiliated by me, Mr. KOP and The Giant Ariel Shadows.
I’ll take delight in this match for a lot of reasons, it’s my first one back and there is the element of possibly winning a new car or Blair’s used socks but I think the thing I’ll take the absolute most delight in is shutting you the fuck up. At least for a few days until your jaw heals and you can talk again but hell, I’ll take what I can get.
In the words of the almighty Wu Tang Clan, protect ya neck cause Vhodka Marie ain’t nothin’ to fuck with.”
I felt somewhat satisfied as I ended the video and threw the phone in the seat next to me, putting the car in gear to get the air circulating again as the sweat ran freely anywhere sweat could spawn from. It wouldn’t always be like this of course, but for my first match back I felt like I needed to make a loud statement. It was time to let the youngbloods here know that it was a new age in OPW and in this digital age they’d have to listen, the video would be retweeted and shared and their curiosity wouldn’t let them scroll on by. There would be time for subtly later on, but this wasn’t it. Maybe you can keep this between the two of us but if I’m totally honest with you I have to admit… it felt good. It felt good to talk-the-talk and it felt good to call people on all their bullshit and irrelevance. An old truck was broken down on the side of the road up ahead and it reminded me of a thought I’d had before, wouldn’t it feel good to race again, old friends? After this, I’d have to get myself focused on the plan but for now, for this one moment, I could just enjoy knowing that I was the biggest dog in the fight and there wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do about it. Woof woof.