1. SMARKRAGE I sit at my personal bar down in my basement slash big ass screen TV room, watching SportsCenter and having a beer with “Mr. Barman” Bruce D’Amico. Yeah, there’s not really much going on here…I look at Bruce and then back at the TV. There’s something on my mind that I should just spew out right now. It’s just bugging me to high holy hell…been bugging me since I saw him on the plane for the first time. I don’t know how to say it, I don’t want him to get pissed off at me or anything. Screw it…I can’t take it anymore.

I take a huge swig of my beer before turning off the television. I spin around on the chair and look directly at him. I don’t know how I should say this…it’s just very weird.

Bruce…can I ask you…a huge question? A question that’s been bugging me for a long, long time? Because, as I remember, you kind of didn’t give me a direct answer back at the bar, or in the van…

…You mean that time where you almost killed me inside that van?

…Well, if I wanted to kill you, Bruce, I would have done it already. You got lucky…but you are missing the fucking point here.

I get up and start pacing back and forth. I start to feel beads of sweat beginning to build on my forehead. My heart begins to beat faster and faster.

Holy shit, Rizz…what’s going on? Are you on crack or something? You look like you are about to hyperventilate or have a stroke or heart attack. Tell me, what’s wrong big guy?

I take a few deep breathes….my heart begins to slow down a bit…I look down at my hands…color, that was in the midst of turning white, begins to return to my skin. I have a seat back on the bar stool and take another swig of beer…I believe this one swig was bigger than the last swig.

Um...Uh…Alright, I got to ask…why were you on that plane…dressed in a disguise? I mean, the beard…the trench coat, the sunglasses, just seemed weird if you were just going over there to talk to authorities, if you know what I mean.

Yeah, I know what you mean, Rizz. But you got to believe me…I was over there to talk to authorities of the F.B.I. It was not my choice, but it was something that I had to do…something that, to be honest, had to be done. I mean, you saw those guys, right? If a word that sounded like “snitch” was uttered they were going to shoot you in one leg, if two people think you said the word “snitch” they will shoot you in both kneecaps, if you DID say “snitch” not only will you get shot in both kneecaps…your ass will got shot right between the eyes.

I take another swig of beer with a confused look on my face.

Wait, how do you know all of this? I mean, you were just a bartender.

Heh, being “just a bartender” you heard things no normal man or woman hears in a regular bar. Hell, right behind the bar there was the “interrogation room” and, normally, when two people walk into that place…only one walks out on two feet. Well…that’s not true…the second guy does come out…eventually…leaving a trail of blood, which is why they now had a floor rug covering that spot up, or in a body bag. It’s not really one of the best views in the world to be sitting behind a bar seeing someone crawl out of the room or see a black bag, kind of like a garbage bag, taking out someone you were JUST talking to at the bar.

Ok, that’s not my question though…we’re getting off track…you are my boy, Brucie, I need you to be honest with me. I know you were not there JUST to speak to authorities. I am sure these guys wouldn’t give you “time off” just to go out of town without knowing EVERYTHING about what is going on. So, again…I ask of you…Bruce….why the FUCK were you on that plane with me? I’m pleading with you to be straight with me, man.

Bruce, now, begins to lose color in his complexion. He begins to sweat, I had him a napkin and he dabs his head dry.

Alright, just breathe dude. No one is going to tell your secret…just calm down.

Ok…um…I DID go see the authorities…however, I didn’t get a good reception when I told the guys that I was going there to see friends…they wanted me to do…something.

Something? Like what? Rob a bank? Get a bookie to pay his dues to you guys? What?

Well…um…no. I…I killed a man.

I was just about to put the bottle in my mouth…and I just stop dead in my tracks…did I just hear him say that he KILLED a man? Like, how…he’s not violent at all.

Wait, hold the phone. You did what?!

I…shot a man dead. Well, that’s not really true. I shot AROUND the guy…who then ran into a thick tree…who’s car wound up exploding like it does in a movie…it was really interesting to watch, actually. A nice sight to see. Very awes…

WAIT! YOU KILLED A MAN?! ARE YOU INSANE, BRUCE!? I’m harboring a criminal! I could go to jail for this. I could go to jail for a long, long time. Why did you do that?!

What was I supposed to do, Rizz? Lie to the biggest organization of murderers and spies there are in the United States?

YES! That’s exactly what you do!

Well, what if they found out, Rizz? I wouldn’t be on that plane to see you. I wouldn’t be at that bar I sent you to. Hell, I would be up in heaven right now living with Randy and playing Yahtzee. So, hell no…HELL NO…I was not going to go through that…and I know you would have too…

No…I wouldn’t have…because I wouldn’t have put myself in that situation.

Bruce slams the bottle on the bar and storms out of the room and out the front door. I run up to chase him…but, as soon as I get outside I hear tires squeal and the car jet off. What the hell just happened?

---===We Will Be Right Back===---

I’m not going to lie, I am in severe pain…

…and I don’t want to say anything right now. I mean, I am going to say something in a little bit…but I believe I have said everything that I have to say to Jordan Penn the last five to ten times he has attacked me during my return in the X-Treme Wrestling Federation…but this, right here, took the cake. The fact that he took a kendo stick…A FUCKING KENDO STICK…ow…and whacked it numerous times to the facial region…busted me open…and did everything that he could to knock me out…and almost succeeded. However, I am still standing…for the one hundredth time he had attacked me, I have never got any time off after getting my ass kicked from Jordan Penn. So…what happens next? He gets the services of the legend herself, TOMOKO!...ow…and SHE began to try to knock me the fuck out…saying it is just business…saying that it’s not personal.

Tomie, let me just say this to you. When you attacked me, I don’t care what you wanted to prove. I don’t care who you were after or what purpose you had for joining the numbskull that is Jordan Penn and whoever the fuck this Oren guy is…probably someone who is just along for the ride….someone who just wants to be important enough to get from behind that curtain jerking phase and be placed in something that he knows that he has no business in coming in to. Honestly, ME…ow…talking about Oren is probably the highlight of this poor kid’s life…and it will be the only highlight of this poor kid’s life because, let’s face it, once Zero CONFORMITY…ow…makes Tomoko retire, yet again, it will just be Oren and Jordan Penn…and we all know that Oren isn’t going to be around knowing that one of the top groups in ALL…ow…of the X-Treme Wrestling Federation is breathing down his neck. We all know that Oren is going to be tucking his tail between his legs and hit the bricks before I get my hands on him…

Then, there is only ONE…ow…man left…and that is you, Jordan…and when it’s three on one…your chances DROP faster than the drawers of a ten cent hooker getting paid a 20 dollar bill. Now, that I got you out of the way…It’s my turn to turn to THIS..ow…week.

That attention turner is to my former compadre in one of the shortest lived stables of the X-Treme Wrestling Federation, the Devil’s Rejects, Trent Gein. You know, a lot of things changed since he and I have been on the same team, like the Devil’s Rejects. You look at me…in the Devil’s Rejects…I had brown hair…a goatee…a bandanna…and was kicking ass and taking names. Look at me now! Blonde hair…clean cut…no bandanna…and, yet, I am still here in the X-Treme Wrestling Federation and STILL kicking ass. Now, Trent…you have changed as well.

I mean, let’s look at the previous you, shall we? You were a chainsaw wielding…mask wearing…rustic looking…psycho who had no remorse for human life. Now? You’re a chainsaw wielding…rustic looking…psycho who has no remorse for human life. See? You changed! You’re not wearing a mask! See? Even psychopaths, like Trent, have the tendencies that normal people, like me, to change!

Is it for the better? You look at the recent instances since the change…I think it has. I mean, not only have I won seventeen X-Treme titles, a Universal title, AND gained control of the GM spot of Thursday Night Anarchy…but also…I have beaten my former Devil’s Rejects partner, Trent…that’s you, time after time after time after time.

But I said it was good for the both of us, myself AND TRENT…ow…so what has Trent done? He’s been on one of the biggest rolls of his life…and he has been in the X-Treme Wrestling Federation for a long, long, long time…longer than I have been, I believe…and what does he have to show for it? The UNITED STATES CHAMP….ionship. That’s right, the United States championship. Not the World title…not the Universal title…BUT the United States championship.

You know what happened when I was on a roll, Trent? I took DOWN a legend…I took DOWN one of the biggest men that the X-Treme Wrestling Federation had and will ever have in this sport…and THAT IS JEM FUCKING WILLIAMS……..FUCK, THAT HURT! But do you get that? Do you get where the difference is, Trent? Your roll, United States title win. My roll, Universal title AND a win over one of the TOP legends in the game TO DATE…OW! I need to stop yelling until the swelling and pain goes down.

Anyways, Trent… we have been in the ring numerous times…from teaming up to facing each other. From having brown hair to having bleach blonde hair. From having a mask to…not…having a mask. But…there is one thing that hasn’t changed. You and I…are going to go into that ring…no rules…no regulations…and will take each other to the limit. However, I will show you that things never changed between you and me as I will walk out victorious…and, in the process, give you, Trent Gein, another…in the loooooong list of times I have given you this….”Welcome to the Big Tyme” moment!

---===Welcome BACK to the Big Tyme===--- ---===No Smoking, please.===--- I have been driving around for about an hour now…there is not even a sign of Bruce anywhere. I have tried many places, bars…restaurants…mutual friends, heck friends who I thought were mutual who had no idea who the fuck I was talking about. I am going pretty slow, cars are passing me up. They either flip me the bird, say something nasty, or…in very rare cases…tell me where a lost dog or cat was found.

Man, there are tons of lost dogs and cats around this place. I come up to another bar…a bar that we frequented almost every other week. I pull out my membership card, yes they have membership cards to keep the crappy people out from their late night excursions. I don’t know why. I enter the building and tap the bartender on the shoulder and he turns around…I hold in my laughter from the bartender looking like Don Vito from Viva La Bam.

Hey, you remember Bruce?

The bartender looks at me confusingly.

Bruce? He has, like, a balding head…he frequents here often…with me?

The bartender pulls out the big book to sign in your dues on. I close my eyes and sigh.

I don’t want to sign the book! I want to know if anyone came in here…maybe to soak up in a beer? He has a rough day…I cannot get into the details…but he’s in severe trouble if I don’t get to him…

…This is like talking to a brick fucking wall. You know what? No, a brick wall would be a lot more interesting than you. I would like to talk to a brick wall…maybe he can talk more.

I notice the guy who owns the place snickering at the sight of me arguing with him…I stare a hole in him and, all of a sudden, the man tugs on his ear and mouthing “HE CAN’T HEAR.” I sigh deeply as I blow him off and exit the bar and get back into my car and drive off.

What the hell is going on here? Bruce is very unstable, as I just recently found out in his “trip” to meet me. I mean, he just uppin walked out on me. I noticed that my gas tank is at E…I had it at a quarter of a tank…if I knew it was going to take this long to find someone, I would of filled it up until it wouldn’t be able to fill up any more. I get to the gas station and get out of my car. I slide in my card and put the nozzle in the gas tank and the gas begins to enter the car to give it some more juice. I noticed a few people pointing and waving at me…I guess they knew who I was…but I don’t have time to say hi to them.

Mr. Rizza?

I turn around and there is this man, not Bruce, but just a man that is standing in front of me. He’s a plus sized guy…mid thirties…mixed…

May I help you?

You don’t remember me? I was in your short-lived wrestling clinic…I couldn’t continue because of my knee and, honestly, I don’t think I would have made it because I was, and still am, a short chubby dude. You know, it’s weird…I just was talking to the athletic trainer that was there…I was talking to him about st…

…Bruce? He found Bruce? Man, this guy is very talkative…maybe I should just cut in…

Wait, you saw Bruce? That man’s still alive?!

Ha! Yeah, I saw him go towards the location of the wrestling school. Not sure why he went there…he hated that place, if I remember. Hey where ya goin?

I top off the gas, hit “NO” for the receipt and speed off before he can continue. I haven’t been there in ages…I go to where I thought was the school…but there’s nothing. Just…weeds…All of a sudden, I see Bruce’s rent a car. I park the car and get out of it and slowly walk down , through the thick weeds that were out grown after the destruction of the building. I see Bruce’s legs swinging back and forth on the hood of the car.

Hey, you found me. Thought the cops were coming…didn’t want to take any chances.

Chances? What do you me…

I look in the back of the car and notice a pretty large duffle bag….honestly, I don’t want to know.

…ooooh I got you. Look, Bruce I wasn’t going to…

I can’t believe it…they tore this place down, eh? I mean, it was this spot where we came to escape the hustle and bustle from all that burdened us. It was our great escape, I guess you can say. This, right here, is one of the calmest place you, me, and even Randy came to get away from all that troubled us. It just doesn’t seem right, though. There’s nothing to do here…there’s no walls to keep us protected from the thoughts and all of that shit that we were talking about when this place stood. Man, I wish I could just get rid of all of that pressure in my head…now, I got nothing.

You got our place, Brucie, you know that.

You’re right…man…something wrong with me?

Nope…However, there is one thing I need you to do…for me…please, leave all of your weapons here…I’ll see you back at home.