While my guitar gently weeps

[JST 0]

Wednesday. May 14th, 2008. 9:54PM EST.

 

Within the corridors of the 1st Mariner Arena in Baltimore, Maryland; we can hear the faint tunes of the main title track of 'A Clockwork Orange', combined with the roar of a mighty crowd that had an evening's worth of action. This is 'Damaged Doors Don't Come Cheap', and the main event is about to go underway. Every fan in the crowd is glued to their seats. Every member of the staff try to get as much of a peek as possible through the curtains. Every member of the SWF roster scramble to find a TV monitor to check out one of the most vicious feuds in company history culminate in a brutal cage match.

 

Except one.

 

Tod James Stuart sits atop an anvil case, alone with his thoughts. Resting next to him is his trusty "Bessie Lou", which he'd used earlier in the evening in a moment of relaxation of sorts. But we see the total opposite of the calm and jovial man we saw earlier in his dressing room. If his face was a canvas waiting to be filled with an image, the result would most likely be of M.C. Escher-like proportions. His face undecypherable, he's oblivious to what surrounds him for the moment.

 

"Yo, Tod The Bod!"

 

He doesn't react right away to his name being called, but our able-eared fans will be able to recognize the voice and attribute it to their World Heavyweight Champion; the Insane Luchadore. Spotting his long-time colleague, he couldn't resist walking over for a second to greet him.

 

"Tod, man, what's up!" greets the World Champion with a slap of the shoulder.

 

Finally rousted from his thoughts, Tod looks up and greets the man he's shared a locker room with for some time now with a polite smirk. It's the Insane Luchadore, SWF World Champion, fresh off his match earlier in the evening.

 

"What's up, man." says Tod.

 

"Dude, the chicks are about to beat the fuck out of each other in the cage. You comin'? Don't tell me you're pullin' the loner act again!" says The Ill one with a chuckle. "Sweet guitar, dude. Heh, mind if I borrow it?"

 

"Andrew..." begins Tod, shifting positions by getting off the case and up to his feet, leaning on the wall with arms crossed. "...how long have we known each other?"

 

"Pffff... like, five or six years, I think?"

 

"Goes all the way back to the Junior Leagues."

 

"Yeah man, with the old gang! You, me, Z, Frost, Taylor, Danno, Xero... We're the last remnants of an old generation, bro." jokes Andrew.

 

"But we didn't get called up at the same time, if I recall. We didn't pursue the same path, so to speak."

 

"Shyeah, I guess so. What's with the brain talk, Plato? Annie's music is playing and she's got that fucked up outfit! Come on!"

 

Tod enjoys a good fight like anyone else, but anyone will be able to tell that the main event is the last thing on his mind. Especially with what has been going through his mind for the past few minutes.

 

"I don't think I've congratuled you personally yet on beating Alexander. I've moreless seen you from the beginning and you made it all the way up top. I'm proud of you, man."

 

Andrew's tone changes from eagerness to watching the mother of all catfights, to modesty and a slight bit of pride at his recent accomplishment.

 

"Heh, thanks man. It's been one wild fucked up journey! Back then, I didn't even know a drop toehold from a frickin' dropkick. Shit, if we're talkin' journeys, look at you, man! Last year you were down in the shits losing to nobody and everybody, but now you got your ass into gear, got a f'n BEAST of a partner and now my man Tod's BACK! We're talkin' the guy that beat fuckin' FALLOUT in only his second SWF match!"

 

According to Tod, this conversation has reached the appropriate amount of small talk. It's time to veer toward the intended subject...

 

"... I've just been informed that I have a match at the next show. I guess walls have ears, because I was just talking about this with Dan. This could potentially be the most important match of my career so far here."

 

"All right, bro. I know you can do it. Can't wait to see which sad motherfucker's brain will go splat. Hell, I just might feel brave or stupid enough to defend this bad boy!" says Andrew, tapping with his hand the gorgeous championship belt that's been resting on his shoulder all this time.

 

"You won't."

 

"I--... What?"

 

Andrew initially furrows his brow at the statement... but then notices that Tod's been staring at the belt for the better part of these last few minutes.

 

"What are you sayin', bro?" rightfully asks the champion, puzzled that he's not the first to know about his own potential bookings.

 

"You have a non-title match at the next show." says Tod, who then finally locks eyes with the man in front of him. "... With me."

 

Tod's demeanor seamlessly changes from a face that was impossible to analyze, to the look of a determined competitor who's dead set on proving himself.

 

"...Is that right." says Andrew, the first thing that comes from his mouth. His stare now matches Tod's.

 

"These days I look at some of the staff and wrestlers around here. And I see how they look at me, Andrew. Some of them see the same piece of shit they were happy to see suffering a forced retirement three years ago. I'm trying real hard to prove I'm not that guy anymore. I'm trying to prove I can win and earn my way up there. To this... To you." says Tod with a slight head motion towards the belt. "You've been a hell of a champion so far and I'll say it again. I'm damn proud of you for that. But I've just been handed the mother of all opportunities to redeem myself. You've beaten everyone as champ so far, you're on a roll!... But I will not... be next." he enunciates, the intensity rising with each word. "I respect your journey, Andrew. And I respect you. But I have a journey of my own. And I'll get to the end of it, even at your expense if I have to. Andrew... I have to beat you... And I swear on the head of my little girl and to God himself... I will do absolutely everything that I can to do it."

 

Only God Himself could break the tension surrounding both competitors with His mightiest blow. Tod throws one last glance at the title belt that he now envisions in his future... and one last look at the man who wields it on his shoulder. The Ill One feels he should at least say something in reply lest he appears, gasp, intimidated at the challenge. You and I know that is far from the case, but no catchphrase or witty one-liner would be enough to conclude this exchange.

 

"...I'll see you in two weeks, bro."

 

With this last offering from the Insane Luchadore, SWF World Heavyweight Champion, Tod backs away slowly towards the comfort of his dressing room. His gaze never leaves the champion.

 

...

 

SWF.com

[Toxxic 0]

This is goodness. I approve.

[The Ill One 0]

I liked it, especially since it set up my follow-up promo (read it, motherfuckers, read it).

 

Seriously though, this one will be fun.