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From Hick to Prick

Chris King

League Member
Apr 17, 2012
This is my new life, a life that I knew I was born and bred for. Back in highschool I used to think that life was football and only football, but those days are long gone and these new days are long overdue.

I was a superb athlete on the gridiron and then after that I gave up and joined rural class ‘Merica as a hick farmer, a redneck or good ole boy if you will. Now, pfft, now those days are behind me, much like football.

Had I actually attempted to learn what the teachers were really saying maybe my IQ and ACT scores would’ve been higher. I had all these D1 coaches calling and visiting, but my 14 on the ACT wasn’t helping me any. I re-took it three times, I got two 14’s and a 13. It was so bad the University of Kentucky said I’d need remedial classes for the next six years and I’d likely never see the football field. Hell, EKU, a D1-AA school, couldn’t help me either. DIII, Thomas More College was ready to let me enroll but I was afraid of failure to go.

Then while at the Laurel Co. Fair I saw wrestling live. It was the most glorious sport I’d ever seen. I’d seen it on TV many times but to see it this close and up front I had to get into it. I talked to a Mr. Jefferson Ellis, who was a no good swindler of a manager and a mooch. Mr. Ellis trained me well enough that I was able to use my athletic background and become his star pupil, and later enter DEFIANCE.

I wanted a better life than farming and having to say “yes or no paw” and “yes or no maw” every time I spoke to my mom or dad. It was so annoying that I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to off myself with a shotgun so many times it wasn’t funny.

This time was different, this time it was the last, so I bit down on the barrel of that chrome revolver, the brown wooden grip in my hand felt weird, but I had to do it. I cocked the hammer.


I spun the cylinder like I was spinning the big wheel on Wheel of Fortune.

“Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick!”

I pulled the trigger smoothly to make sure I got it right.


Nothing happened; I was as much of a loser at Russian roulette as I was in life. How sad was that, seriously, how sad?

I felt like such a loser. I was as dumb as I was naïve. I couldn’t commit suicide; sure two of my great aunts sons on my dad’s side and my grandfather on my mom’s side all committed suicide, but I guess I wasn’t man enough to do it. Maybe it’s because I only have one testicle and not two, so I can’t nut up to the challenge. Nut up or shut up is the moniker I live my life by now, oddly enough.

I never thought I would be a great wrestler... I never expect to be a Hall of Famer, nor do I care to be. Did I ever expect to be a multi-time world champion? Please, I just want to cause as much havoc and destruction as I possibly can in what time I have left in this business, maybe I’d like to be a world champion once, but that’s a big maybe. I wanted to murderdeathkill everyone and anything possible.

I wanted to just…

Suddenly I snapped back into reality as the waitress dropped her tray full of plates to the ground. I was back in the restaurant that I’d been in many times before, Carrabba’s Italian Grill. My appetizer of Calamari sat to the left half eaten and still warm. I picked up a piece and dipped it in the spicy Italian pepper and lemon butter sauce. Man that hit the spot. I’d been craving calamari since I demolished Don Hollywood on DEFIANCE TV 45, so now’s my time to enjoy myself.

It was a quick dinner; I don’t even remember what my main course was, even after I paid. I was full and exhausted as I left Carrabba’s. It was time to head home; settle in for the night.

My dreams brought on a whole new outlook on my life. It was truly hard to believe that I had done so much good and was being pushed around for doing what was right. My dad made me do chores to earn my keep right out of high school. Did I get a chance to go to college? No, I didn’t have a choice according to him.

So my dad was the whole reason for my good ole boy persona, he’s the one that ruined my first few years as a wrestler. Sure there were fans to shake hands with and autographs given, but that’ll only take you so far in life until you want more. That’s me, I want more. I want more money, more fame, and more exposure to the business side of the wrestling world.

“Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.”

The alarm clock woke me at 6:15am. It’s time to get my day started, but I wasn’t as ready as I thought I would’ve been the night before. I guess I hit the wine a little too hard. I didn’t really have that much, one bottle isn’t really that much for one person when you consider it. Anyway, the day must go on, it has to if I want to win in DEFIANCE and enter into BATTLEMANIA and give my all.

I rose to my feet, stretched my arms wide, I leaned back, popping my back and bent over touching my toes. That’s my pre-shower workout. You never know where injury can come from; it really can just sneak up on you like a ring rat with an STD. It’s just sickening to really think about. With that out of the way I jumped in the shower.

After my shower I got dressed for the gym but before that I have to get my morning smoothie underway. Much like with my life at one time I had no idea what I wanted in the smoothie so I grabbed all the frozen fruit I had in the freezer and started adding to the blender with a little Greek yogurt and ice. Maybe one day I’ll get all my shit together and make a definitive answer to what I want to eat, but until then, I’m fine with knowing that my wrestling career is where I want it to be.

I finished the smoothie and grabbed my iPhone, wallet, keys, and I was out the door ready to go. I put my earbuds in my ears and turned the iPhone on shuffle, then took off jogging to the gym a few blocks down the road.

There wasn’t a lot of traffic but it still gave me time to focus on my favorite subject, me.

My workout was fun to say the least. Some fat sweaty slob, who I’m guessing never entered a gym before, didn’t wipe off the equipment after he used it. The lazy fuck, yeah if you don’t know it’s one of my pet peeves. I know I’m a wrestler, we all get sweaty, but this is different, it’s called hygiene, good fucking hygiene.

Back home after showering and getting dressed, I sat in the recliner with a glass of ice water wasting time before I made my big trip down to New Orleans, Louisiana to demolish Henry Keyes once and for all.

The road to BATTLEMANIA may look long and hard, but I’m game. I’m ready to crush whoever enters. I don't care who they are or what they think they’ve done in the wrestling business. It’s pointless unless they’ve won BATTLEMANIA before, which I doubt any of us have. Its 30 people who all think they have a chance at winning, but only one...one of us will get our hand raised in victory.

It may be nice to one day say I won this huge interfederation event, but if I can’t, it’s no hair off my sack. I’ll still go through life as my jolly ole asshole of a self like I normally am.

Thinking to myself I realized that maybe I really was just a day dreamer. I could be, but I doubt I am. I live in the now, I try to make my future brighter and wallet fatter than it normally would be.

Many times I’ve been told I could never make it in life due to where I came from and how much of an education I didn’t get. I did the bare minimum just so I could play football, which could be the reason I was 1st team All-State offensive guard and 2nd team honorable mention nose tackle. So to everyone that ever doubted me, I’ve shown them all how wrong they were. I graduated; I’ve done something with my life and followed my dreams of being a pro wrestler. Now, I’ll prove my doubters wrong once again by having the best showing I possibly can at BATTLEMANIA.

Here I am just arriving in New Orleans, the home of DEFIANCE Wrestling for my match with that fucking moron Henry Keyes. He’s the man that had the nerve to step to me and act like a real man. You could say he nutted up to the challenge, but he’s nothing more than a pussy.

I’m ready for this match with Keyes, more ready than ever. He’s the one who wanted this so he’s going to have to live with the outcome. This is his sacrifice to the “Blue Eyed Devil”. I’ll be sure to take his soul as payment for his wrongdoings against me.

Now tonight one man will crawl out the victor, that’s a given.

So yeah, to night sucked. I didn’t get the win but I did get a forearm between his eyes. It felt great, anyway time to leave now, goodnight DEFIANCE Wrestle-Plex. See you again soon.

Another day, another dollar, and another hotel room bed.

Fuck, my head’s spinning. All I can hear is “Just Dropped In” and the radio in the limo isn’t even on. I wasn’t BELL CLAPPED so that’s the best news possible, but why am I so damn dizzy?

I managed to make it to my room with a little help from the bellhop. I got in the mini fridge and grabbed a $6 bottle of water to see if it would help with my twirling mind as I sat on the edge of the nicely made bed looking out the huge picture window into the dark night illuminated by the stars in the sky.

I wondered what my mom and dad were doing back in Bloody Harlan Co. I missed seeing them but I wanted this life. I wanted to be out on my own and to see what this world had to offer me. I wanted to be this big shot money making monster of a cold hearted bastard in the wrestling business, just like Edward White told me, “You can fuck over some people all of the time. You can’t fuck over all of the people all of the time, unless you’re the president of the United States, then you can fuck everyone over every time”. I think that’s pretty accurate and holds true.

Laying down sometime after 2am and tossed and turned until my 9am wakeup call bounced off the walls deafening me.

“Ring! Ring! Ring!”

“Aw fuck, hello?”

“Mr. Turner this is your 9am wake up call.”

“Yeah, no shit, is there a volume switch on this 1920’s phone for peat sake? Never mind, whatever, thanks.”


I was wide awake now. If I thought my head was spinning last night, fuck let that phone ring ten times and it’ll wake those walking dead fuckers.

“Damn phone, fucking pricks.”

I struggled to get out of bed on that little sleep, but I had to. I forced myself up and stumbled around on my way to the bathroom to piss like a racehorse. I washed up after and had a hot shower. Called room service and ate. Now I’m ready for whatever the day brings, I think.

The car was loaded with my bags as I rode to the airport.

What’s next doesn’t matter to me. Whether it’s BATTLEMANIA and those other 29 jokes that want to be in their words immortalized or if it’s me verse Henry Keyes in a no DQ falls count anywhere match?

Why does it even matter?

Henry Keyes knows that when I see him our match will be the best one on the show and his head will be on a platter so he’ll never be able to go after another title in DEFIANCE like my soon to be Southern Heritage Title. I’ll take risks in the ring no one would think I’d do and kill Keyes just for another shot to win it.

Why must I waste my time giving anyone of those 29 people a single thought that none of them deserve? Sure I could get on the internet and play Indy wrestling bully and type up and post bad reviews on some of the retards in BATTLEMANIA but what does that prove? It wouldn’t boost my ego like it does some of them. They even reply with capital, bold or colorful not so witty retorts. At times it makes me think this business is just fucked if left in the hands of some good ole yard-tards.

Fucking morons think they’re the best when they couldn’t even lace anyone in DEFIANCE’s locker room. You can look down the list and notice a few names that might fit in DEFIANCE but they wouldn’t and couldn’t last.

The limo stopped suddenly, quickly bringing me back into the now. My door opened and I exited.


“You’re welcome Mr. Turner, enjoy your flight.”

“Yeah, thanks bro.”

I gathered a few magazines as I waited to board the plane. I’m ready for this next task at hand, the Jungle, for BATTLEfuckingMANIA.

What’s winning the damn thing when I have all the funding necessary to pay every single wrestler in the ring to jump over the top rope and crown myself the winner?


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