The phone rang. That’s a sound that hadn’t be heard in a while in the abode of Pat Evan, at least with purpose. Two rings. A sigh greeted the phone as it was brought to Pat’s ear.
Pat: “Yes?”
Pat Evans demeanour quickly changed.
Woman: “Yes, this is Katherine Farraway with human resources at Supreme Championship Wrestling. Am I speaking with Pat Evans?”
Pat: “This is him.”
Woman: “I’m going to patch you through to the boss. He wanted us to reach out specifically to you.”
Pat: “Oh-“
A click followed by the sounds of SCW theme songs were heard in the background. To start was “Natural” by Imagine Dragons, causing the former IWC main eventer to roll his eyes.
Pat: “Wannabe….”
Pat sighs as he looked around his study. It was not much of a study. In fact, it was more of a nook, carved out of a jet out in his apartment in Detroit, a far cry to his dwelling and support he enjoyed while linked to the academic system. Pat Evans once enjoyed his time learning at a now unnamed university, something Pat Evans sought to ignore, the result of his getting involved with a female student and a bad argument leading to a sour breakup and Pat’s personal reputation in tatters. Even the female student, Pat could not even remember her name, felt bad as she knew how much a connection to the university intellectually stimulated him. But she happened to share her concern to a colleague, and university authorities stepped in to remove his access. All based on a misunderstanding, even one that the accuser tried to clarify. But it affected Pat, halting his wrestling career and causing him to consider other options.
Those options led him to Detroit, where cheaper rent allowed him to find something for less, while he worked at a local bookstore, taking indy bookings to augment his book purchases. How to Hide an Empire by Daniel Immerwahr was his current book du jour.
Mr. D: “Pat?! How are you?”
Pat: “I’ve been better. But nothing, right now, that I could complain about.”
Mr. D: “Good to hear. Are you still in ring-shape?”
Pat: “Excuse me?”
Mr. D: “Are you in ring shape?”
Pat: “I suppose. I’ll admit I didn’t think I’d be on anyone’s radar, let alone SCW’s.”
Mr. D: “Sometimes that’s what’s needed. But before we go further, I need to know something. Do you feel your skills can still play at the highest level? I’m not talking wins and losses…I’m talking something else, if you get what I’m saying?”
Pat Evans got what he was saying. A smirk came to his mouth.
Pat: “You mean can I still make people scream in pain?”
Mr. D: “That’s one way to put it.”
Pat: “How about we put on a showcase? Would that assuage any fears?”
Mr. D: “I think that would work. What’s your schedule like next week? Monday?”
Pat thought about it a moment.
Pat: “I’ll need to cancel a commitment, nothing serious. Can I ask a favour?”
Mr. D: “Forward, but what are you thinking?”
Pat: “Can you cover my travel and accommodations? If it works out, then it’s a signing bonus. If not, I’ll pay you back.”
Pat could almost hear the SCW founder thinking on the other end.”
Mr. D: “I’ll get travel to set it up. See you Monday.”
Pat: “Yes…See you then.”
Pat Evans put down the phone, hanging it up on the receiver. Pat may be one of the few that still used a traditional land line. He had grown to hate cell phones, a quirk that stemmed from what he felt was the downfall of society with a focus on constant connection and immediate gratification. Little did he know that one week later, he would be signed to a contract with Supreme Championship Wrestling and with certain terms.
Fast-forward to that week later. Pat Evans, dressed in an ironed shirt with black slacks, a black tie as well, looking to make an impression, sat across from the SCW founder, now in person, but not at his office, but his home.
Pat: “You do understand what you’re asking.”
Mr. D: “I do and frankly, it’s necessary. Simply put, you can go for whatever goals you wish in SCW. All I ask is that if you’re needed to straighten someone out, that’s your priority. I’ve even written it into the contract. Consider yourself a problem solver in one way. I prefer to call you a Shooter.”
Pat: “There’s a throwback. I figured companies would shy from this.”
Mr. D: “It’s a contact sport, Pat. Sometimes people get hurt. Sure, it’s probably unwise for the owner of the company to be supporting it, but I’ve been left with few choices and simply put, I have full authority from the Board of Directors to resolve a few issues.”
Pat: “You realize I will not be taking prisoners.”
Mr. D: “It’s why I wanted to make sure you were in-ring ready.”
Pat: “I hope I put any fears there to rest.”
Mr. D: “You have a contract.”
Pat: “I do.”
Pat looked at it. At first, he was unsure of what to think. The last time he wrestled on the world stage was years ago, for IWC, and he was within inches of walking out World Champion. The name Johnny Kingdom, one of the names he willingly refused to forget, still a source of anger, but one he used for motivation. But for Pat, this was not about even aiming for a title. This was something else. An opportunity, not for glory, but for vengeance. He had been given a bad hand years earlier. A rebirth showed itself.
Mr. D: “So, care to sign it?”
Pat: “I want one additional clause if I could. It will be an odd one.”
Mr. D: “Try me. You’ve seen some of the program. I at least hope you watched some of the recent programming.”
Pat: “I did. That’s a whole different issue. This is much more simple. I’d like a standing charge card of $250 a week.”
Mr. D: “That’s a bit unusual. Care to explain why?”
Pat: “I’d like to use it to buy books. Others can go out to the bars and drink. I go to my hotel room and read.”
Mr. D: “Interesting…it is an odd one. But for that, I’ll arrange it.”
Pat: “Thank you. In that case, I’ll sign.”
Mr. D: “Hold on, I’ll have the new paperwork drawn up-“
Pat: “With all due respect, I’ll take your word for it. Because either you give it to me and I do as asked, or you don’t, or forget, and I forget how good I can be. I know you’d understand that.”
Mr. D: “Fair enough.”
Pat grabbed the contract, using the pen on it, and quickly signing it. He then looked it, a feeling of relief over him. This was not unnoticed by the SCW founder.
Mr. D: “Are you okay?”
Pat: “Sorry, just…a moment of tranquility.”
Mr. D: “I won’t ask more unless you want to shar.e”
Pat: “Thank you. I suppose you could call me a taxi?”
Mr. D: “Of course. Thank you for meeting me here. One additional thing…keep this under wraps.”
Pat: “Of course.”
Moments later, Pat was leaving the home of the owner of SCW, in a standard yellow cab. He had surprisingly returned to a new form of normal he could live with. A love of wrestling never abated. But more importantly, he had his outlet, his reading, his intellectual stimulation. Perhaps this is the opportunity for something new, exciting, memorable. And with a tinge of vengeance. Adding to the whirlwind of emotions, Pat was told of another facet to the plan of the SCW founder. He would work with Josh Hudson. Pat Evans was unsure of what to think of that.
-------
A bit of a blast from the past. I don’t expect anyone to know who I am. Sure, I’ve had a few whiffs of what Supreme Championship Wrestling is. A couple of colourless runs, no one should or would like to remember. But enough to leave an impression. That is why I am here.
Impressions are everything. Are they not? So what are my initial impressions of this group that has formed, seemingly over their group feeling of underappreciation? Tommy Valentine was a former World Champion and now has become the equivalent of a sex-starved teenager. Kandis, a woman whom frankly I cannot understand any appeal she offers, from her blown up assets to her overly caked on makeup on her face. I understand she can hit a kick as well as anyone. I’ll happily judge that in the ring. I’ll also hold one well-placed kick will dwarf my ability to wrench the knee and cause one to second guess any strike.
Oh, and Tommy, consider the lack of attention I’ve otherwise given you as an indictment. I hope your knee does improve at some point. I also hope your attitude does too. Sorry, I don’t make the rules. I merely was told to leave a lasting impression. Your limp should last long enough that it will leave some impression. Consider it also a warning. If we meet in the ring, I may look for something a bit more permanent.
Is that me or the broader context? The desire to teach lessons? That’s up to you to determine.
But now back to my evaluations.
Konrad Raab – one half of my opponents for this week and clearly the weaker half. I say this not to attack your wrestling ability. You clearly have skill. I’m speaking of your intellect, your person, your ethos. You’re merely a follower now, again, just like Tommy Valentine. Why are men such weak creatures? At least I can understand your motivation. Then again, I suppose the same could be said for Tommy. A younger woman, an experience that may not be had again. Either way, it doesn’t make it any less pathetic. The difference though for you Konrad is that you simply no longer have free will. Counter this point all you wish. The fact is that you are intricately tied to Minerva. Your past glories are nothing now as a result of the one moment Minerva will be synonymous with, at least until her demise, or until she attempts a repeat. And with individuals like Minerva, there is always a repeat. They become driven by the attention. You Konrad, meanwhile, are driven by nothing more than giving Minerva something to be happy with. A few dollars for a new trinket, a new coat, a new phone. And then you try to make her happy by being her tool. Any man who willingly devolves to that position simply is not worth my respect. And Konrad, you are not worth my respect.
Nor is Minerva for that reason. Undoubtedly, she will tell me how much of a mistake that is. Then again, I also have no illusions of what she’ll likely think of me. A relic from the past, past their prime, probably going to make some comments about her hyper-sexuality, or her propensity for violence.
I do not care.
I consider myself a history buff and I’ve seen this story told repeatedly. An individual, a state, a group, whatever, they consider themselves outside of the system and use a grand moment, a big surprise, intense violence to gain attention, arouse the masses, and attempt their ill-gotten program for greatness. They all fail. Every last one. You will fail too.
I have no allusions about Peyton Rice. I do not know her. I do not care about her. That’s not my fight. I have a specific purpose. To come to this ring, with my tag partner, Josh Hudson, and ensure you and Konrad understand this will not be tolerated. That you feel regret. This would require Konrad to be anything more than a sexual courgette in this relationship with you. But you are the focus. Let’s be plain here. Bring your violence. Josh, I know, has faced violence in its purest form. I have too. And we aim to stand up to your challenge.
You spoke big last week. Talking about your focus on David Helms. Cancel your plans. In fact, start considering what item you’ll have Konrad purchase for you in order to make you feel a bit better. Things have changed in the short time you’ve been in SCW. And it is the goal of Josh and I to make that as clear as humanly possible. Your end has already come. Perhaps you can reinvent yourself as Konrad has, as a human bank machine. Instead of intense violence, you can reinvent yourself as a competitor.
…
What am I kidding? The violence only respond to violence and they are too simple to understand anything else. Be insulted by this statement. I look forward to testing this theory.
Pat: “Yes?”
Pat Evans demeanour quickly changed.
Woman: “Yes, this is Katherine Farraway with human resources at Supreme Championship Wrestling. Am I speaking with Pat Evans?”
Pat: “This is him.”
Woman: “I’m going to patch you through to the boss. He wanted us to reach out specifically to you.”
Pat: “Oh-“
A click followed by the sounds of SCW theme songs were heard in the background. To start was “Natural” by Imagine Dragons, causing the former IWC main eventer to roll his eyes.
Pat: “Wannabe….”
Pat sighs as he looked around his study. It was not much of a study. In fact, it was more of a nook, carved out of a jet out in his apartment in Detroit, a far cry to his dwelling and support he enjoyed while linked to the academic system. Pat Evans once enjoyed his time learning at a now unnamed university, something Pat Evans sought to ignore, the result of his getting involved with a female student and a bad argument leading to a sour breakup and Pat’s personal reputation in tatters. Even the female student, Pat could not even remember her name, felt bad as she knew how much a connection to the university intellectually stimulated him. But she happened to share her concern to a colleague, and university authorities stepped in to remove his access. All based on a misunderstanding, even one that the accuser tried to clarify. But it affected Pat, halting his wrestling career and causing him to consider other options.
Those options led him to Detroit, where cheaper rent allowed him to find something for less, while he worked at a local bookstore, taking indy bookings to augment his book purchases. How to Hide an Empire by Daniel Immerwahr was his current book du jour.
Mr. D: “Pat?! How are you?”
Pat: “I’ve been better. But nothing, right now, that I could complain about.”
Mr. D: “Good to hear. Are you still in ring-shape?”
Pat: “Excuse me?”
Mr. D: “Are you in ring shape?”
Pat: “I suppose. I’ll admit I didn’t think I’d be on anyone’s radar, let alone SCW’s.”
Mr. D: “Sometimes that’s what’s needed. But before we go further, I need to know something. Do you feel your skills can still play at the highest level? I’m not talking wins and losses…I’m talking something else, if you get what I’m saying?”
Pat Evans got what he was saying. A smirk came to his mouth.
Pat: “You mean can I still make people scream in pain?”
Mr. D: “That’s one way to put it.”
Pat: “How about we put on a showcase? Would that assuage any fears?”
Mr. D: “I think that would work. What’s your schedule like next week? Monday?”
Pat thought about it a moment.
Pat: “I’ll need to cancel a commitment, nothing serious. Can I ask a favour?”
Mr. D: “Forward, but what are you thinking?”
Pat: “Can you cover my travel and accommodations? If it works out, then it’s a signing bonus. If not, I’ll pay you back.”
Pat could almost hear the SCW founder thinking on the other end.”
Mr. D: “I’ll get travel to set it up. See you Monday.”
Pat: “Yes…See you then.”
Pat Evans put down the phone, hanging it up on the receiver. Pat may be one of the few that still used a traditional land line. He had grown to hate cell phones, a quirk that stemmed from what he felt was the downfall of society with a focus on constant connection and immediate gratification. Little did he know that one week later, he would be signed to a contract with Supreme Championship Wrestling and with certain terms.
Fast-forward to that week later. Pat Evans, dressed in an ironed shirt with black slacks, a black tie as well, looking to make an impression, sat across from the SCW founder, now in person, but not at his office, but his home.
Pat: “You do understand what you’re asking.”
Mr. D: “I do and frankly, it’s necessary. Simply put, you can go for whatever goals you wish in SCW. All I ask is that if you’re needed to straighten someone out, that’s your priority. I’ve even written it into the contract. Consider yourself a problem solver in one way. I prefer to call you a Shooter.”
Pat: “There’s a throwback. I figured companies would shy from this.”
Mr. D: “It’s a contact sport, Pat. Sometimes people get hurt. Sure, it’s probably unwise for the owner of the company to be supporting it, but I’ve been left with few choices and simply put, I have full authority from the Board of Directors to resolve a few issues.”
Pat: “You realize I will not be taking prisoners.”
Mr. D: “It’s why I wanted to make sure you were in-ring ready.”
Pat: “I hope I put any fears there to rest.”
Mr. D: “You have a contract.”
Pat: “I do.”
Pat looked at it. At first, he was unsure of what to think. The last time he wrestled on the world stage was years ago, for IWC, and he was within inches of walking out World Champion. The name Johnny Kingdom, one of the names he willingly refused to forget, still a source of anger, but one he used for motivation. But for Pat, this was not about even aiming for a title. This was something else. An opportunity, not for glory, but for vengeance. He had been given a bad hand years earlier. A rebirth showed itself.
Mr. D: “So, care to sign it?”
Pat: “I want one additional clause if I could. It will be an odd one.”
Mr. D: “Try me. You’ve seen some of the program. I at least hope you watched some of the recent programming.”
Pat: “I did. That’s a whole different issue. This is much more simple. I’d like a standing charge card of $250 a week.”
Mr. D: “That’s a bit unusual. Care to explain why?”
Pat: “I’d like to use it to buy books. Others can go out to the bars and drink. I go to my hotel room and read.”
Mr. D: “Interesting…it is an odd one. But for that, I’ll arrange it.”
Pat: “Thank you. In that case, I’ll sign.”
Mr. D: “Hold on, I’ll have the new paperwork drawn up-“
Pat: “With all due respect, I’ll take your word for it. Because either you give it to me and I do as asked, or you don’t, or forget, and I forget how good I can be. I know you’d understand that.”
Mr. D: “Fair enough.”
Pat grabbed the contract, using the pen on it, and quickly signing it. He then looked it, a feeling of relief over him. This was not unnoticed by the SCW founder.
Mr. D: “Are you okay?”
Pat: “Sorry, just…a moment of tranquility.”
Mr. D: “I won’t ask more unless you want to shar.e”
Pat: “Thank you. I suppose you could call me a taxi?”
Mr. D: “Of course. Thank you for meeting me here. One additional thing…keep this under wraps.”
Pat: “Of course.”
Moments later, Pat was leaving the home of the owner of SCW, in a standard yellow cab. He had surprisingly returned to a new form of normal he could live with. A love of wrestling never abated. But more importantly, he had his outlet, his reading, his intellectual stimulation. Perhaps this is the opportunity for something new, exciting, memorable. And with a tinge of vengeance. Adding to the whirlwind of emotions, Pat was told of another facet to the plan of the SCW founder. He would work with Josh Hudson. Pat Evans was unsure of what to think of that.
-------
A bit of a blast from the past. I don’t expect anyone to know who I am. Sure, I’ve had a few whiffs of what Supreme Championship Wrestling is. A couple of colourless runs, no one should or would like to remember. But enough to leave an impression. That is why I am here.
Impressions are everything. Are they not? So what are my initial impressions of this group that has formed, seemingly over their group feeling of underappreciation? Tommy Valentine was a former World Champion and now has become the equivalent of a sex-starved teenager. Kandis, a woman whom frankly I cannot understand any appeal she offers, from her blown up assets to her overly caked on makeup on her face. I understand she can hit a kick as well as anyone. I’ll happily judge that in the ring. I’ll also hold one well-placed kick will dwarf my ability to wrench the knee and cause one to second guess any strike.
Oh, and Tommy, consider the lack of attention I’ve otherwise given you as an indictment. I hope your knee does improve at some point. I also hope your attitude does too. Sorry, I don’t make the rules. I merely was told to leave a lasting impression. Your limp should last long enough that it will leave some impression. Consider it also a warning. If we meet in the ring, I may look for something a bit more permanent.
Is that me or the broader context? The desire to teach lessons? That’s up to you to determine.
But now back to my evaluations.
Konrad Raab – one half of my opponents for this week and clearly the weaker half. I say this not to attack your wrestling ability. You clearly have skill. I’m speaking of your intellect, your person, your ethos. You’re merely a follower now, again, just like Tommy Valentine. Why are men such weak creatures? At least I can understand your motivation. Then again, I suppose the same could be said for Tommy. A younger woman, an experience that may not be had again. Either way, it doesn’t make it any less pathetic. The difference though for you Konrad is that you simply no longer have free will. Counter this point all you wish. The fact is that you are intricately tied to Minerva. Your past glories are nothing now as a result of the one moment Minerva will be synonymous with, at least until her demise, or until she attempts a repeat. And with individuals like Minerva, there is always a repeat. They become driven by the attention. You Konrad, meanwhile, are driven by nothing more than giving Minerva something to be happy with. A few dollars for a new trinket, a new coat, a new phone. And then you try to make her happy by being her tool. Any man who willingly devolves to that position simply is not worth my respect. And Konrad, you are not worth my respect.
Nor is Minerva for that reason. Undoubtedly, she will tell me how much of a mistake that is. Then again, I also have no illusions of what she’ll likely think of me. A relic from the past, past their prime, probably going to make some comments about her hyper-sexuality, or her propensity for violence.
I do not care.
I consider myself a history buff and I’ve seen this story told repeatedly. An individual, a state, a group, whatever, they consider themselves outside of the system and use a grand moment, a big surprise, intense violence to gain attention, arouse the masses, and attempt their ill-gotten program for greatness. They all fail. Every last one. You will fail too.
I have no allusions about Peyton Rice. I do not know her. I do not care about her. That’s not my fight. I have a specific purpose. To come to this ring, with my tag partner, Josh Hudson, and ensure you and Konrad understand this will not be tolerated. That you feel regret. This would require Konrad to be anything more than a sexual courgette in this relationship with you. But you are the focus. Let’s be plain here. Bring your violence. Josh, I know, has faced violence in its purest form. I have too. And we aim to stand up to your challenge.
You spoke big last week. Talking about your focus on David Helms. Cancel your plans. In fact, start considering what item you’ll have Konrad purchase for you in order to make you feel a bit better. Things have changed in the short time you’ve been in SCW. And it is the goal of Josh and I to make that as clear as humanly possible. Your end has already come. Perhaps you can reinvent yourself as Konrad has, as a human bank machine. Instead of intense violence, you can reinvent yourself as a competitor.
…
What am I kidding? The violence only respond to violence and they are too simple to understand anything else. Be insulted by this statement. I look forward to testing this theory.