Dangle.
Jess, I said.
Hey. Jess.
She was talking to a cute girl with red hair in a pixie cut.
Yo, I said. Spider Woman!
Immediately, her attention snapped back.
"What's up, Knox?" she asked.
I wasn't making fun - my friend Jessica Drew wanted to do a documentary on me, twenty four hours in the life of the Marathon Man, for her final project in film school. I said sure, Jess was flaky and forgetful, but she was also smart and creative and I was glad to help her out.
But because she was forgetful and easily distracted, it was hard to get her attention. Somehow, she never heard me when I called her name, but always did when I said 'Hey, Spider Woman!' Go figure.
So, we're at a Best Buy just outside Detroit, because I was listening to Wrestling Guerillas radio a few weeks back and they talked a bit about how Impulse was a great wrestler, could bring any building to its feet, but could never be a World Champion because he keeps to himself, he doesn't really get out and see the fans, and he doesn't let anyone get to know him through any kind of traditional interviews. He's respected and admired, but not loved.
Maybe I'll never be loved, and I'm okay with being respected and admired, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't wonder.
Professional Wrestling has been good to me so far, and maybe the lip service about owing the fans nothing but the best match I can give them doesn't quite cut it anymore.
So I'm here at Best Buy, signing copies of the Russian Roulette DVD that's officially being released tomorrow, and Spider Woman is filming things. It's a great opportunity for me to pick the fans' brains and see what they really want. Also, according to Rose it's a good idea, and she doesn't really have bad ones.
On that note...
(FADEIN...
There's a really long line that's being captured by the hand - held camera, all the way out the door. I'm sitting at a table near the DVD section with a fine array of black sharpies and the Empire Pro Intercontinental Championship Belt in front of me.
Wow, there really are a lot of people on line to buy the Russian Roulette DVD. I thought everyone just pirated that stuff these days. Or maybe they're here to see me? Oh, c'mon, let's be serious.
Because of the line, the EPW representative and the Best Buy store manager have given me some ground rules over how long I can spend on any one person. No personalized autographs, no pictures, and no extended conversation. But let's be serious, I'm not actually going to listen to these people tell me what to do.
Professional wrestling is always touting itself as giving the fans what they want; well, I'm sitting at a table in front of a long line of fans, so I'm going to ask them point blank what they want. It's called progress.
And... Roll 'em, Spider Woman!)
My first people in line were a nine or so year old boy and his dad.
"Go on, son," said the dad. The boy was a little shy.
Hi there, I said. What's your name?
"Michael," said the boy, quietly.
It's nice to meet you, Michael, I said, as I reached out to take his DVD. Do you enjoy the Empire, I asked.
"Yes," he replied, still looking down.
Who's your favorite wrestler, I asked him.
"Otaku," replied Michael.
I smiled. I bet he'd be real glad to hear that, Michael. He and Karl Brown have a real tough match ahead of them at Aggression, so they're gonna need you to cheer extra hard, can you do that for them?
Finally, the kid smiled. "I will," he promised.
Great, I said, as I signed his DVD. 'To Michael, Otaku's number one fan. Let the Dragons hear your voice, Impulse.'
"Thank you very much, sir," said Michael's father, as he shook my hand.
You're welcome, I replied.
(STATIC. No, I'm not going to show you the entire line, Spider Woman edited the more interesting conversations together for your benefit.)
Hey man, I said. What's your name?
"Chris," said the short, skinny guy.
Thanks, I replied, as I signed his DVD. Who do you like for Aggression?
"Dangle Bros, all the way."
Interesting, I said. How come?
"They're exciting, I dunno."
Okay, I said, leading him.
"What?"
I seriously would like to know, I continued.
"I dunno man," stuttered Chris, "Like... You and the First are okay I guess, but Cruise and Wells are funny and dirty and... They're just cooler."
He looked like he thought I wanted to hit him. Instead I put out my hand for him to shake.
Thanks, I appreciate the honesty, I said.
(STATIC)
"Hey, Impulse, this is my girlfriend Claire," said a guy named Rick, gesturing to the girl next to - slash - behind him, "She's a little shy, but she said she wanted to meet you."
Hi Claire, I said. How are you?
"I'm okay," she replied.
"Didn't you want to ask him something?" asked Rick.
Claire shook her head.
C'mon, I said. What's up?
"Can I... get a picture with you?" she asked.
The Empire representative started to say no since there was a long line, but like I said, I don't really care. Claire came to the other side of the table and put her arms around me, and I put the Intercontinental belt on her shoulder and showed my metal horns with my right hand for effect.
Speak up for yourself, kiddo, I said, as I gave her a hug.
"Thanks, man," said Rick, "We really appreciate this."
Any time, I answered.
(STATIC)
"You should've done what Dis said and taken the strap from Anarky," said Malcolm, "then we would've been spared some mediocre Champion time."
Maybe, I replied, but you just can't do that. Unless you're a household name like Randalls, or Troy, or Stevens - you need to earn your spot everywhere you go. If Nark came to the New Frontier and immediately demanded a match with Joe or Castor or whoever might be holding the belt after Futureshock he'd be laughed at, punked, and forcibly removed and he would've deserved it, and the reverse is also true.
Malcolm looked away and smirked. "Aight kid, maybe. But it don't mean it wouldn't'a been cool."
(STATIC)
You're missing the forest for the trees, I explained, trying my best to make the hackneyed cliche sound less hackneyed. First didn't get lucky because time ran out, and Trip wasn't 'screwed' because of it, either. You go sixty minutes and walk away, you just did something about ninety percent of wrestlers currently active can't do. That's not something to be happy or sad about - that's business.
"Not at all," said Paul, "Trip would'a had it with five more minutes."
I shook my head. We can't actually know that, I said.
(STATIC)
"Really appreciate this," said George, as he shook my hand, "you've been my favorite wrestler for a long time."
Thanks, I replied, handing him his signed DVD. That means a lot.
"I mean it too," he continued, "You're the best pure wrestler to hit the biz since Mike Randalls, and it's like you took his brawling insanity and traded it for even more mat wrestling skills. Please shut the Dangle Brothers up at Aggression."
I laughed. I'll do my best, I said.
(STATIC)
"DADDY'S GONNA KICK YOUR ASS!" shouted the guy whose name I never got. He apparently waited on line for an hour or more just to tell me that, didn't buy a DVD, and ran out of the store.
I really couldn't do anything. The people behind him on line watched him go, almost hypnotized.
"If I were you," said a woman two people back, "I'd be more concerned that that guy is calling a large man that he isn't related to 'Daddy.'"
Which, of course, broke everyone up.
(STATIC)
"So how do you feel?" asked Spider Woman, aiming the camera at my head.
Tired, I admitted. But it was overall a lot of fun. I might have to venture out among the fans more often.
We were on our way back to the hotel. I sprang for the big room because I was traveling with friends. Tomorrow, Jess would be headed back to Brooklyn while I stayed in town to do press for Aggression.
I know, right?
Besides that, I am now officially banned from the Dearborn Best Buy because my conversations held the store - and the manager - until almost three in the morning. I regret nothing.
It was really eye opening.
So, from what I was able to gather from this small cross section of wrestling fan, most of the Empire fans think I routinely wrestle in the best match on any given show. They think I'm innovative and creative and a lot of fun to watch, which was the best thing I could've hoped for. And a surprising number of them think I should be a World Champion already.
The wrestling fan who thinks Jared Wells is going to leave with my title is essentially the frat - boy type who looks for the next thing to yell out when he's at the bar.
As far as I stand with the typical fan, they seem to like me. And while it doesn't make me a 'bad guy' to disagree with and openly dress down the other fan favorite types, it evidently doesn't do much for their getting behind me. I suppose it's one of those things, just because I can say something doesn't mean that I should.
One fan, ironically enough named Randy, told me it didn't make me any less of what I hope to be by getting into the muck and mixing it up in a character debate, but that I had nothing to gain and everything to lose when it didn't concern me.
He was right, of course.
So we'll see where things go from here, and I hope to find answers to the Empire's two burning questions over the course of the next few weeks.
One, why does Jared Wells insist that we call him 'Daddy'?
And two... what, exactly, are he and Cameron Cruise... dangling with each other?
Shudder.
(FADE)