Promo- "Annie's the lesbian."

[The Ill One 0]

I had intended to bring Dagda back right after Luchador but I kept puttin' it off, but you could always count it as the millionth hiatus. (Yeah, do the time warp and pretend it happened a few days ago, too.)

 

--

 

Flesher uncomfortably sits on the subway that had eased to a halt and now the riders cram into the elusive spaces left. He was simply zoning out, not exactly loving this mode of transportation versus most others, and kept a paper near his face in hopes to avoid any conversation. He can feel the person plop down into the seat next to him and he simply neglects the person until he can feel the stare, he suddenly knows where this is going.

 

“Oh. My. God.”

 

Tom Flesher’s head briefly whips up from the paper and he recognized those words, he hadn’t heard them as frequently recently but still, it leads to the inevitable-

 

“Tom? Tom Flesher?” They ask before blurting out, “Everybody, everybody look! It’s Thomas Flesher of SWF fame and he’s in Newark on the Subway, what a middleclass guy! He’s, like, he’s like, the Bruce Springsteen of the wrestling world to me!”

 

Flesher finally lifts his eyes from the paper before giving up the charade of neglect by replying, “Dagda, shut the hell up.”

 

“Newark, Tom? Wow… maybe New Jersey isn’t a complete dump!”

 

Flesher narrows his eyes and shoots back, “Danny, you told me to meet you here before I caught my flight over at EWR.”

 

Dagda simply smiles and says, “That’s really meaningful to me, Tom, sincerely… and utterly, utterly sincerely.”

 

Tom Flesher, despite knowing he shouldn’t, takes the bait. “And why’s that, Dagda?”

 

Danny laughs, facetiously slapping his knee for emphasis. “Come on Tommy, come on. I was an absolute jobber during my short run, honestly, and here you are- desperate enough for the SWF’s sake by coming back to me? I mean, shit, I’m not blaming you for having faith, I was the classic case of wasted potential.”

 

“You lost to Candace,” he simply levels with an inattentive Dagda who reaches into his pockets, exaggerating on not finding what he needs. He grumbles as he pulls out a Bic lighter but acts baffled to where, presumably, his smokes were supposed to be.

 

Flesher begrudgingly reaches into his pack of Camels and brings the pack close to Dagda.

 

“Thanks.” He glances at the cigarette and remarks, “Oh, a Camel… how exotic. Well, I mean, a smoke beats no smoke so thanks man.” Flesher turns his head to watch Dagda reach into a different pocket, pulling out his own pack of Kamel Reds, and shakes it to dislodge a cigarette before fishing it out with his mouth. He glances up at Flesher with a shameless smirk before he put Flesher’s Camel into his pack.

 

“So, Danny, you led me to believe there’s a purpose to this.”

 

“Can’t just spend a little time with Daddy Dagda?” He asks while sniffling and trying hard, too hard, to squeeze out a single tear.

 

“Danny, look. The SWF is in a rough period and apparently even you can pick that up, alright? I’m supposed to be heading to Germany in a few hours while being exhausted and stuck in New Jersey, got it?”

 

“Germany? No shit?” He sincerely comments while lighting up his cigarette, blowing smoke into Flesher’s face. “At least there’s beer…”

 

“Most likely, I’ll be in a stupor,” he flatly replies before finishing, “So I don’t want or need to be dealing with your shit.”

 

Dagda grunts and finally relents by saying, “Your Hardcore Division sucks, man, I mean it sucks in ways that Annie simply can’t fathom.”

 

“Annie’s the lesbian.”

 

“Oh, okay, so the other one… but it blows hard, I mean really hard…”

 

“I get it, Dagda,” Flesher bluntly interrupts.

 

“But you’d agree with me, right?” Dagda hardly pauses before continuing, “Right. So now I’ve heard a rumor about Insane Luchador being out? Normally that doesn’t mean a damn thing, in a lot of ways it still doesn’t, but that leaves a staple spot in the hardcore division, yes?”

 

“He could be back in a matter of weeks,” Flesher says.

 

“So? What has he done for you recently, or ever? Honestly.” Dagda replies. “Exactly what I thought. So consider your options- this nutty, white-yet-lucha-luch-a-dor, no... luchadorian returns and vegetates in that division, possibly squares off with Jimmy the Doom for, hell, the millionth time.”

 

Flesher slowly nods and reflects on an old friendship with Andrew Rickmen but Tom Flesher is simply a business man. “Okay, so what’s your solution?”

 

Dagda snorts before saying, “Let me in, put some fresh blood into it, come on, I never got a damn chance my first time through. Here’s mine, no, our window of opportunity- take a small risk, let me return, and then be amazed at Daddy Dagda’s work.”

 

“What if Daddy Dagda,” Flesher begins before pausing to reflect on how awkward that sounded. “What if you don’t get the job done, huh?”

 

Danny Dagda shoots a look of absolute –feigned- shock. “Ye’ of little faith, Daddy Dagda always gets the job done! But. If I get crippled or something then just get that crazy lil’ Luch out of the Institution for a return to complete the stale cycle.”

 

Flesher sighs and glances at his watch. “I need to get going.” He pauses and watches Dagda stand up as well, staring him straight in the eyes in anticipation

 

“Come on, you know it’s worth a shot… it’s a small risk, Tom, it’s a small risk that could pay out big. Dagda draws, man, Dagda draws.”

 

Flesher keeps a poker face and slowly turns around, standing up and slowly shuffling towards the doors prematurely as it begins to grind to a halt. “I don’t have the time, Dagda, I have to get to Germany… and…” he pauses before reluctantly finishing, “You probably should get going too.” The doors slide open and he leaves without any acknowledge as Danny Dagda can’t help but to simply laugh.

 

“Holy shit, that was too easy,” he muses as he carelessly flicks his cigarette into a throng of people before shoving his way out.