The third defense.
Not unlike the last.
But Gust is gone.
That fantasy is over.

Now I'm faced with the fantasy that is...
The Infamous...

Seth Dryden
Johnny Lukas.
Two sides of the same coin.
Only that coin no longer reads:
"No Cash Value"

The focus is on the Gold.
The Universal Title.
It's off me.
But...

I'm still in their way.
Smack dab in the middle.

No Cash Value
Vs.
The Infamous.

How about that.

____________________

DIRTY AMERICAN DREAM
"Fellowship."

I like to park outside Churches on Sunday and watch all the happy people come through. All theses god fearing Christians march together to the doors for fellowship and peace of mind. They love each other and you can tell—right? They’re all so certain of their fates I actually find myself questioning my own policies on faith and death as a result of their confidence. I wish, like them, I felt that I had it all figured out. I wish there wasn’t spots in the story for me—unknowns. I guess that’s why I park outside Churches on Sunday. I live vicariously through them. I feel the same swell of pride they do but not because of certainty they feel—because of my own.

I am certain there is no god but the ones we make ourselves.

One time I found myself in this same spot only I had arrived just as church was letting out. I saw something different. I saw these united people part ways. I saw them talking amongst smaller groups about people from the other cliques. They call it fellowship only as they’re going through the doors together. Now they’re looking out for themselves. I see wives glancing around at husbands that aren’t their own. I see people lighting up cigarettes. I hear them cussing.

Every week they come here and somehow re-up themselves. They ready themselves for another week of judgment and isolation. These Christians and their isolation are not unlike the cliques formed in Fight One. The Infamous lay judgment upon others and then turn it on each other… That bickering and self destruction exists on other side of the camera, not unlike the safety of a locked car waiting to muffle cursed judgments.

One day I’m going to go inside. I’m going to have the fellowship. I’m going to have the resentment cast behind my back but it will be pure—because it’s not out of spite and vanity. They aren’t looking at a hated champion, lusting after his title. They’re merely being the same kind of Christians you see on Fox News. They’re fitting in.

I glance at the Universal Title in the passenger seat and smirk—Bronwen must have put it there to remind me what’s keeping me warm tonight. Her way of making a statement without words even though it screams out loud: LET ME GO!

What if I were just another wrestler again? What if I walked out on the other end of Priceless without the title the moniker of “Protector of the Ring” and didn’t give a fuck? What if I have already done everything I need to do in Fight One? What happens when this “Fellowship” I have with the Universal title ends?

I look in the rearview mirror and imagine Seth Dryden sneaking up on me from behind. That blank-slate look in his eyes—framed by that god forsaken James Gemini mask. I scoff. I see Seth Dryden’s lips mouthing out the words “it’s your fault.” I shake my head and fire up the engine.

What if it is all my fault?

I throw the Challenger into gear and raise the attention of the loveable but hateful Christians. They know my car. By causing a ruckus I unite them once again.

United, just like all of you.

United in your hatred for Shane Clemmens.

My cell phone rings and I pick it up.

“What’s up?” I ask.

The voice on the other end is surrounded by screams and other garbled bullshit. He’s yelling over the roar.

“Just wanted to check in—make sure we’re go for Priceless!”

“Of course we’re go for Priceless.” I shift gears and rock the Challenger around a corner, “Have you gotten everything set on your end?”

“Yep. Good to go. I’m still in, right? You’d better not fuck me.”

“No fuckin. None whatsoever.” I jest, “Listen, you still got it. Only lesser girls get fucked.”

“Damn right I’ve still got it. How’d they take it?”

“Hook. Line. Sinker.” I assure.

“Fuck yes.” He pauses, “Listen I gotta go, can’t have this shit overheard.”

“Good. We’ll see you at Priceless.” I nod, “Peace.”

“Word.” The connection goes dead.

I toss the cell phone into the passenger seat but it rings again instantaneously.

The last three cell phones I’ve owned have gone sailing out the window. I should buy stock in fucken Motorolla. What I don’t get is why in the hell someone thought it would be a good idea to always have a fucken phone on the go. Ring fucking ring. Yeah. I shouldn’t have picked the Disco Inferno ring tone.

“Hello?!”

“Shane?”

Bronwen…

“Hey babe.” I soften my tone, “Expected someone else.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m coming home.”

“No. Where are you?”

“Baby?”

“I’m right along side you nigger!”

I turn to my left and see Dominique right beside me in a beast of a Lincoln Continental.

She veers the car across the line and slams it into the Challenger. The rearview mirror is crushed flat against the paint. I wanna cry. Frankly. I do a little.

“Oh you bitch! Constantly gotta fuck up the car!” I scream into the phone.

“Like my Bronwen impression, numbnuts?!”

“No! It fucken sucked!” I growl, throwing the phone out the window at her.

She catches it before it hits her and throws it right back, pegging me in the fucken temple. I see stars.

“Ow!” I dodge oncoming traffic with the bitch right on my tail.

I can hear her tiny voice squawking out of the phone. I try to break it but it only muffles it before she screams back to life.

“Oh I am so going to take that virgin ass of yours!” Dominique hollers.

The Lincoln comes right up on me and It’s jammed up ahead. I wince as I know shit’s about to get rough. It’s times like these I wish I used guns. Goddamn I could aim out the back window like Dirty Harry and BAM blow her brains out and be done with it. Fuck nevermind, we already tried that. I slam on the gas and roast around a semi truck, narrowly avoiding an onramp barricade.

“You are so gonna get it!” I growl.

“I heard that!” Her wiry little phone voices makes me furious! Goddamnit!

“Die you fucken phone!” I reach a foot over into the passenger floorboard and stomp the shit out of the phone. “Die! Die! Die!”

I look up and I’m fucken Gonzo bro. Good god. I’m headlight to headlight with a semi.

“Driving drunk is bad for a guy!” Dom’s voice comes out of the phone garbled now.

I shake my head, my vision blurs I yank the steering wheel and send the Challenger sailing through the air.

“Fuuuuck.” Dominique wails.

The Challenger slams hard into the ground and fucken bottoms out. I throw open the car door and fall out… I can hear that Lincoln pull up. I look up at the sky—it’s dark. Did I lose time? I turn as Dominique gets out of her car. She closes her cell phone and smiles as she approaches me.

“Now, how about that fuck?” Dominique licks her lips.

I fall back. My body’s numb.

 

DIRTY MANIFESTO
"In your Honor."

Let me tell you a little something about make-believe. I’m talking about when Disney Cartoons leave the television and become reality. Those of you into hallucinogens appreciate this world but it takes a true crack head to believe it’s true. With that in mind, I introduce you to Johnny Lukas, one potential leader of the blind. He is King of his own little make-believe world where he is ruler of The Infamous.

He’s not completely living in oblivion because he sees some of the writing on the wall. He knows that Seth Dryden is not the type of guy to be upstaged by another swinging dick. He’s alpha in whatever group he runs in. He had the same reason for strapping on that silly mask and coming after me. Johnny Lukas sees that Seth cannot be trusted but what does he do? Instead of confronting Seth Dryden in private and settling things the right way, he spits out some bullshit to Seth about who runs things.

On that note, why don’t I share some NCV business? The secret to NCV Version Two’s success some say… It goes like this--Johnny Lukas and Brett Lukas wanted Seth Dryden the hell out of No Cash Value. It was an on going thing for real. Brett gave me an ultimatum a number of times and frankly I know that all three of those bozos think they caused the original NCV to rupture.

Yeah Brett wanted Seth out of NCV because of all the shit he said. Johnny wanted the same but had his preoccupation. That’s right kids. Johnny Lukas, Brett Lukas, and Seth Dryden had nothing to do with the reformation of No Cash Value. Nope. It was Serenity Becker.

The leader of The Infamous caused No Cash Value to reform. The only one of those swinging dicks that have all the others by the fucking balls. The minute I saw Brett and Johnny fawning all over Serenity I knew they had to go. When I saw Seth and Serenity talking over their pathetic little alliance and kicking Havoc to the curb I was glad Seth was fucking gone. Serenity Becker came in and changed the entire game. All you need to get the attention of a bunch of dopey swinging dicks is a set of fake tits and collagen blasted duck lips.

Serenity Becker forced Johnny Lukas into this make-believe world he’s become King of. She’s changed the man into a slobbering jackass that barely holds a candle to the man he once was. Ha. Yeah Johnny Lukas wants to warn me about telling him about how I’ve changed. He contends that I’m always saying I’m better than I use to be and this and that. Fuck you Johnny. Fuck you for projecting your own fucking issues on to me. Yeah, you and I use to be the hit bruisers on the street and that’s changed. Now? Look at you now. This has nothing to do with where I’m at in my career man, it has everything to do with how you’ve changed into a fucking shadow of what you use to be.

Serenity Becker and I don’t know each other. I mean maybe she’s breezed by me in the backstage area and got her girl cologne up my nostrils but we’ve never talked and after seeing her match with Brett Lukas I know why. I’m not blaming her for everything here though. She’s just another pretty face. Johnny Lukas is the one to blame here for letting a little bit of tail pull him away from protecting this ring. Shortly after Johnny Lukas turned into “three times a bitch” we got to stare down Brett Lukas make a farce out of the Vendetta Title. I’m glad though, Aries made that strap seem like a prestigious belt.

So really the only thing I have to say to Serenity is, “Thanks for making that belt a jobber title again.”

But to you Johnny? What I have to say to you now has nothing to do with words and covergirls. All I have to say to you now will be done at Priceless. You’re going to be at the mercy of your nitwit cousin when you come into this Towel match.

Oh and keep believing Gust is going to screw me over at the Pay Per View. Keep on believing. It’s quite cute.