I plop down on the couch and immediately fall asleep. The last few days on this trip have been brutal. Not only have I faced Trent Gein, and won, but now I have faced Trent Gein AND Daniel Malcolm and, yes…I have won. But after running around like a chicken with my head cut off, my legs are DEAD tired and so I use the recliner position and immediately let out a rebel yell of ecstasy. I look over at the luggage that I took on my trip to “Philadelphia” (or in the luggage’s case, West Virginia...and then…shit, I forget where it went). I shake my head as I turn on the tube and flip through the channels and turn off the TV and throw the remote away…I begin to lean back…but my back aches with every movement…not one of those best feelings I have had..that is for sure.
Once I reach the pillow with my head, I close my eyes…when I open my eyes…I am in a different place. More like outside…I look at my hands…a baseball bat is in my hand. I look down…I notice that there’s a home plate by my feet. It’s clean besides one skid mark of dirt made by a cleat. I look out on in the distance and noticed that the bases are empty and there is no one there but me and the pitcher…this is going to be easy. First pitch, ball one…bottom inside corner of the plate. Second pitch, ball two….bottom outside corner of the plate. Third pitch, ball three…top outside corner. Forth pitch…nose high and inside…how do I know? I could definitely feel the bridges of the baseball skimming the brim of my nose.
I stroll over to the empty base…no one covering. I try to steal second…but there is some force holding me back. Like, a giant invisible wall that’s blocking my way to get to second base. I look to see who is coming up to bat…Trent? Trent comes walking out with a thin stick and a smile on his face looking dead into my eyes. His eyes are as cold as they are when you stare in them in real life. I hang my head in shame as Trent swings wildly at the first pitch…he fouls it off down the third base line. It was a hard shot too…it went out of the park and into a giant forest. Trent’s smile gets even bigger…as the stick gets smaller and smaller…the pitcher winds up and pitches the ball right down the middle and Trent smacks it as it goes all the way behind him and out of the park behind home plate. He hit that ball sky high too and I see this white leather with red trim begin to float down from the sky and fall at my feet. I try and pick up the leather from the ball…ZAP! What the hell? Was that lightning that just struck this leather? I look up at the sky…it’s blue across the sky…not sure why I felt a shock like it was lightning.
I notice seeing Trent look at me and look at the pitcher and nod in the direction of the pitcher. The pitcher looks at me, his brim covering the top of his face but leaving room for me to see his sly grin on his face.
Ok, you’re going to steal on this pitch and you’re going to make it. I look over to my left side and notice The Director staring me right in the face. My jaw drops…but when I turn around I notice the ball moving in super slow motion coming towards me. I look down at my feet…the base turned into cement….my feet are stuck. I try moving out of the way of the ball but Trent and the Director begin to laugh…their laugh is pretty creepy in slow-mo. As soon as the ball gets to me, I close my eyes…and when I open again…I notice the ball…now just rubber and strings laying down in front of my feet. I also notice that there is no baseball field, no Trent Gein, no pitcher, I look over to where the Director was….there was no Director….there was no grass. It was just me…the outside skin of the ball and the rubber insides of ANOTHER ball.
I bend down and grab both the inside and outside of the ball. I place the ball in a cupped portion of the leather and notice that it covers it perfectly. However, as soon as the two ends of the ball connect…I quickly begin to fall and wake up.
When I wake up, I notice I almost fell off this damn couch and my reflexes were the only thing to make this a good idea to have in my legs.
I have fucked up dreams.
I managed to get pissed off by two legends that wound up in the same faction that I am in. One I was supposed to get pissed off at and the other…well..let’s just tell you right now…it pissed me the fuck off.
Let’s start in order, shall we? The X-Rated Icon, Dynamic Dynamite walked out to that ring…holding the X-Treme championship…I title that I won an astonishing seventeen times…something that no other man has done in recent X-Treme Wrestling Federation history. It was me who held that title through the rough parts, it was me who held that title in main event matches, and it was me who brought stars like Dynamic Dynamite and others into the damn X-Treme division and made that title worth something, something that…when I didn’t have it…wound up back on the back burner and forgotten…until I WON it again.
So…to my surprise, I watched as Dynamic Dynamite said the line “Greatest X-Treme Champion of all time.” Let me go Kanye on you guys. OF ALL TIME! Those were his exact words. But the drama doesn’t end there, folks…oh no, no, no. It ended when Dynamic Dynamite took that belt, the belt that I helped make FAMOUS, threw it on the ground and, then, spat on it.
Excuse me, I believe this knife is yours Dynamic Dynamite. Seriously? First you call yourself the “Greatest X-Treme champion of all time”, which is a full blown lie, and then you wind up throwing the belt that made you the “greatest”, which you are not, and spit on its legacy? A legacy that is, let’s face it thick with information on MY title runs? A legacy that is chalk full of information about yours truly. A legacy that I single-handedly made time and time and time and time again and you disrespected me. Something that you, of all people, should know never to do.
Perfect example, me kicking your ass all over the place one on one.
However, I go from something unexpected…to something that, I believe, everyone and their momma expected was going to happen. Not only did I get that series tying win last Thursday night. Not only did I even up the series and push it to the rubber match of the series. Not only did I say what I was going to do…but, Trent, I made you…snap. I did it! I made you pissed off at me so much that you took a camera and you ba…
Wait…that wasn’t you, was it? What did you do, Trent? You just got beat. The Director hit me with a stupid handheld camera and hit his stupid little move and you, Trent, stood there LOOKING pissed. You were LOOKING like you were going to do something. You had that look in your eye…you had that pain, that suffering, that pissed off look in your eye…but, Trent, if you were the old Trent Gein…it wouldn’t have mattered if I was in the same group or in the same match as you. The old Trent Gein would have tried to rip me limb for limb and I wouldn’t have made it to Bad Medicine. The old Trent Gein wouldn’t have to stand behind The Director. The old Trent Gein wouldn’t hesitate. The old Trent Gein would have thrashed through Dynamic Dynamite and Nick Ryan to get to me. The old Trent Gein wouldn’t give a damn what happened to him…because the old Trent Gein would take “punks like” me out cold.
Trent, I don’t want that Trent that hides behind some stupid looking fool holding a stupid looking camera. I hope you know that. I don’t want the NEW pussy that you turned Trent Gein into. Trent, I want you. I want the GOD DAMN PSYCHO THAT BRINGS A FUCKING CHAINSAW TO THE FUCKING RING! I WANT THAT TRENT GEIN THAT WOULD PUT FEAR IN THE EYES OF EVERY MAN, WOMAN, CHILD, AND WHATEVER THE HELL FRED L IS. Why?! Because winning that X-Treme championship seventeen times, Trent, I saw crazy shit and seeing crazy shit makes me want it more…and more…and more…and MORE! Trent! You thought you were crazy last week? You thought that you wanted to end me right then and there? Well, let me tell you something you little son of a bitch…next time, don’t wait. Next time, don’t try and hold anything back. I want that Trent Gein! Because THAT Trent Gein will give me an even match. THAT Trent Gein would put up a fight that I never, ever would expect. THAT Trent Gein, Trent, would be right there with me.
This Sunday, I expect to see THAT Trent Gein in the ring. I expect THAT Trent Gein! Because I expect to bring my X-Treme title holding prowess and get just as sick, just as twisted as you do. I tend to get in that ring, stare you right in the face and do something that YOU COULD NOT DO!
Trent…you held back. You showed remorse. The old Trent has no remorse. The old Trent would have put me out of business for good. Where is that Trent? Where is your killer instinct…or did you get soft? Did you lose that toughness that made Trent Gein the most feared man that ever walked the face of the X-Treme Wrestling Federation? Because I know, like I said numerous times in this very promo, the old Trent would have sent my appendages in different places in the arena. The old Trent would make damned sure that a man that pissed him off would never see the light of day again. The old Trent would not do what the new Trent did.
But Trent…if you want, bring the Director. Bring the camera. Make sure he gets a clean tape. I don’t want him to miss the ass kicking that I am about to give you this Sunday. I want this Director of yours to be the one that captures the moment when I hold up the United States championship. I hope the Director gets a good shot of me holding that title over you, Trent, and that image is shown all over the X-Treme Wrestling Federation. The image of the once unstoppable Trent fucking Gein….stopped. The image of me standing over the unstoppable force. The Image of me becoming the United States champion…on your expense.
Whoa, Trent…I can see you now. That last sentence…that last sentence about me becoming the champion…on…your…expense. Because, Trent, this past month I have learned something about you. You don’t like being a stepping stone. You don’t like it when people, like me, beat you to get ahead of you. Well, Trent…this Sunday…I don’t want you to be a stepping stone in my path to legendary status…however, the cards have been drawn and the attacks have been implemented and the anger level of the both of us is at it is only a matter of time before you become that stepping stone you fear that you are going to be and there’s nothing that you, the Director, the Producer, the Camera guy, the Boom Mic Operator and anyone else you want to put in your posse can do about it.
Trent, nothing that you will do will ever make me feel like I made the wrong decision. In fact, I feel even more confident in myself because, Trent, you’re not the old Trent that I knew and loved all those years. You may not know this, Trent, but starting out in this business…as a little punk kid rookie…I looked at people I thought that I could be just like some day in the X-Treme Wrestling Federation. I then…found you, Trent. I found a serial killing son of a bitch that looked menacing and all of that shit. However, after a while following you in the XWF and joining you in Devil’s Rejects…you, Trent, made me this way. You, Trent, made me this cocky, smug, trash talking son of a gun. Why? Because, Trent, I wanted to be DIFFERENT from you. I didn’t want to be the sick, twisted bastard that you were…I wanted to be…me. Honestly, by the looks of it…I am doing very well for myself. Don’t you think?
But Trent, I leave you with this…this Sunday…when I look at that entrance…I want to see you coming out…as the OLD Trent. I don’t want a Director controlling you. I don’t want anyone following you with a Flip camera and attack me. I want you, Trent, to try and attack me. I want you, Trent, to bring all your might into this match. I want you, Trent. I! WANT! YOU! Not the watered down version, either. I want the pre-legend Trent Gein...because when I beat THAT Trent Gein, I WILL be the unstoppable one and you, Trent, will be STOPPED.
I am sitting down, still watching TV (yes, I have moved from the couch…to the chair). I turn on the TV and begin to watch the Pirates game. All of a sudden, I hear a humming sound. Not like a vuvuzela humming sound but a humming sound that I never heard before. I look outside, the noise stops. I go back in and begin to sit back down…but, then, I hear the sound again. However, this time the noise is coming from a different part of the house…and sounds a lot closer than the first time I heard it.
What the?
I look outside again, but as soon as I open the door…the sound stops…again. I close the door…it’s coming from a different area of the house. I run over to the window, where I recently heard that humming sound. It sounds familiar…but I don’t know where I heard that sound before…but I just don’t know. All of a sudden, I hear the humming noise…but this humming noise was revved up. I look over to where my door is….all of a sudden, I see a chainsaw begin to run through my door. It begins to spell out something…I begin to try and kick the door in the face of the attacker…but the door won’t budge, especially with the chainsaw tearing out chunks of the door and on to the floor. Every kick begins to get harder and harder, almost like I am kicking cement…but nothing is happening. All of a sudden, the chainsaw stops and someone begins to run off and I look through the holes that he left in the door…and smile when I see he has a Rizza shirt on.
I look at what the door says and immediately jump up!
AH!
WHAT?! What happened?!
My wife whispers as I scream as loud as I can, now suffering from a major cramp in my leg. My head begins to perspire from the dream I just had. I dorsiflex my foot up to stretch out the muscle that just tensed up while I was in that dream state of mind. My leg turns numb and then feels fine as I stand up and walk around.
I had a dream…a dream about my opponent. Hell, I have had these dreams for the past few weeks. It’s got stranger and stranger.
Well, who’s your opponent? I hope it’s not someone to….
…Trent Gein.
Wait, Trent!? You’re facing THAT fucking psycho?! Are you kidding me?
Yes, I am kidding you. I’m not even wrestling anymore.Control my life oh merciful one! In case you don’t know…that’s sarcasm. Look, it’s something that I want to do. I know I can beat him. I know that I can take him. I have beaten him before and I plan on doing it again.
Yeah, but didn’t you two face each other already? Why do you have to prove yourself that you are better than him again?
Because I can, Mia. Because I can take him. He knows it, I know it, the people out there know it. I want this. I got this, Mia. I got this.
BUT apparently you’re not feeling too good right now. I mean, you’re sweating…you’re dreaming about him…you’re having nightmares.
I woke up because of the cramp, Mia. It’s something that I really hate to have in the middle of the night…but it is something that happens to people in their time. It sucks. So, you think we can go back to sleep and try to get some shut eye? I will try and shut up and hopefully not cramp up like I did.
We’ll talk about this in the morning.
I take a deep breath and turn off the lights again…now…I only see a multicolored faintly flashing word…the word is a word that I think will happen. One word that sums up this best of three series. One word that will give me courage and pride to go on and face Trent’s crazy ass one more time. That word is a word that is needed in a time like this.
That word looks like it was etched with a giant chainsaw but the door is gone and the background is black. The word comes into focus.
“PSYCHO.”
I smile as I mutter.
It’s time to get psycho with a psycho.
I begin to chuckle before I go to bed. The dreams stopped throughout the rest of the night.