Post by King Richius on Sept 2, 2018 12:39:59 GMT -5
Prologue: After the Fall
Chicago, IL : July 23, 2018 : Second to None
F***ing hell.
I came so close only to have Drakz snatch victory away from me. I honestly wouldn’t be champion anymore if not for his inexplicably greater desire to maim and mutilate Michael Kyzer than take my title away from me. I’m sure he won’t mind the embarrassment I’ll have to deal with knowing that on this night I was a paper champion who only got to keep his belt by Drakz’ good graces.
Drakz giveth and Drakz taketh away.
Don’t ever let anybody say that to him because he’s already insufferably arrogant. It would put him over the top to be referenced as if he really is a twisted demi-god of the wrestling world, the ultimate puppet master who controls all of our fates.
F***ing hell.
’Bout time you found your way to the locker room. You sure made a stand out there tonight when Tugarin was throwing Drakz around like yesterday’s trash.
Wonderful. Lila Sleater. As if my night wasn’t going downhill fast enough. I am not in the mood for her s*** right now. Seriously. I’d rather stick my head in an oven. With my luck tonight it would an electric oven and all I’d get is a nasty burn.
Not that Lila’s night has to be going any better. She wanted Drakz to take me out, possibly permanently. Instead, we put on a great technical match and both walked away… at least until a certain dragon showed up to make hamburger out of Drakz. Did a pretty good job from what I saw until Daphne and I made our strategic withdrawal.
You admitting that your highly trained expert security staff isn’t up to snuff? You needed me to save Drakz from the big bad bully Tugarin Zmey?
Now is not the time to test me Frank. Besides, I only want you to walk with me for a bit. I have something to show you.
Always with the games. I’ll play along, not that I have much of a choice. She’s the boss and despite the special “Screw you Lila” clause in my contract I do have to bend the knee to her if only to keep her from getting too hellbent on my destruction. She already fed me to Drakz. I’m a little afraid of what’s next if she isn’t satisfied with my taking the L tonight.
I fall in stride beside her. Daphne moves in beside me but draws a dirty look from Lila.
Where do you think you’re going? You and your toy can wait for us in Frank’s locker room. This is more personal than business.
It’s cool Daphne. I can handle this… whatever this is.
Clearly unhappy, Daphne swings the baseball bat over her shoulder and stomps off to my locker room. I turn to Lila and smile, actually hoping that people are right when they say I look like a serial killer when I smile.
See, I’m not such a bad guy. I sent her away before she used that bat on your head like David Ortiz wailing on some Yankees pitchers.
You need to put her on a leash Frank. Mesh has a point. Daphne is a bad influence. Maybe I should revoke her manager’s license.
Daphne is my problem. I’ll deal with her. Now, you mind telling me why we’re wandering around backstage when you should probably be checking on Drakz and seeing to the incarceration of Tugarin Zmey?
Just like Daphne is your problem, Drakz and Zmey are my problem. It’s being dealt with. As for this little walk, we’re here.
Catering? You giving Billy the night off and want me to clean up for him? Not gonna’ happen.
Nothing so sophomoric. Look over there.
Lila points at a small crowd in the center of the room and I look in that direction. I don’t recognize most of them, just a bunch of suits probably talking about business s*** I don’t care about. That’s what I have Scott and Josh’s agency for.
Then I see a familiar figure, average height but much wider than normal in the shoulders and chest - from working out, not over eating - and his unmistakable bald head and tinted aviator glasses.
That’s Sammy Kendall, owner of the Guerrilla Fighting League. My former boss. I assume that’s who you want me to notice.
Indeed. You are smarter than you look.
So what? You want me to go shmooze my former boss for you. Maybe get you the inside line on future prospects who might jump from the GFL to the WFWF like I did?
Lila makes a noise that I think is supposed to be a laugh but sounds more like a chicken clucking. She clears her throat to cover the odd noise.
And then you say something stupid and ruin the good impression you just made. Samuel is here because we’re old friends. We’ve done business before and will do business again. I don’t need you to butter him up for me.
Well good for you. If it’s not that then what? I’m tired and sore so please get to your point.
It’s just that Samuel and I talk frequently. Sometimes over drinks. You know how alcohol can loosen the lips. Who knows? A few martinis in and I might forget that he doesn’t know how you moonlighted for Legacy while still under a GFL contract.
She wouldn’t. Not even Lila Sleater would stoop so low.
You wouldn’t. He could sue me and Legacy for breach of contract. I could lose millions, Legacy could fold, and you could lose your International Champion. How does that benefit anybody?
I may be exaggerating the possible outcomes of a lawsuit. My skin crawls at the thought of lawyers getting involved in my affairs and I automatically assume the worst. Probably wasn’t my best play to panic in front of Lila like that. I gave her exactly what she wanted and now she gets to rub it in my face.
Champions come and go. I can always hold another tournament. Fact is, Drakz didn’t complete the task I gave him so I’m forced to take matters into my own hands. I’m tired of wrestlers telling me how to do my job or how much I suck at it. You will play by my rules Frank. Consider this my special “Screw Frank Lynn clause”. You do as I say or I ask Samuel to join me for a liquid lunch. You get the picture?
Son of a b*tch. She’s serious. She would tank my career and drive me into bankruptcy with expensive lawsuits rather than answer my valid criticisms of her job performance. I shouldn’t be surprised. This is the same woman who put out a hit on Trace Demon and watched as it was carried out live in the ring during a WFWF show.
This bites.
Yep, clear as crystal… massah.
Now you’re being smart again. You keep me happy, I keep your secret. Do we need to shake on it?
Nope.
Hmmm… I’m not convinced. I’m going to need a show of good faith from you.
Oh joy. The sadistic b*tch isn’t done torturing me. Now that she has me on the rack she’s going to give the screws a few more turns.
Like what?
Get your manager under control.
You want me to fire her?
No. We can use all the T and A we can get on a show full of ugly sweaty men. I just want you to get her under control. I want her shaking that cute ass at ringside for our fans to drool over and that is all I want her to do. No more bat. No more interference in your matches. No more nasty tweets directed at me or the other wrestlers. In fact, I don’t want to hear a peep out of her. She’s window dressing from now on. Do it or I might get thirsty.
Is that all? Are you sure you don’t want me to make the sun rise in the west and set in the east? There’s a good chance that would be easier to do.
By your command, massah. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an overwhelming desire to take a long hot shower.
F***ing hell!
Could this night get any worse? Lila has the upper hand for now. How am I going to get myself out from under this pile of sh*t?
WFWF El Grito de Dolores RP
Tartuffe
featuring Frank Lynn
”…Religion is a crutch, and only the crippled need crutches.” - Madalyn Murray O’Hair
The Heretic
There are two topics I almost never talk about because they are sure to lead to trouble: politics and religion.
I never talk politics because the instant I hear someone admit they voted for Trump I want to punch them in the face so it’s better that I avoid the topic and not go to jail.
As for religion, I’d rather sit in a Bronks bar talking about the Red Sox beating the Yankees in four straight games after being down three zip in the ALCS than talk religion with a bunch of grandmothers at a Sunday church brunch. The Yankees fans might forgive me for being a card carrying member of Red Sox Nation since I am Boston born and bred but those churchgoing grandmothers would tear me limb from limb if they heard what I have to say about their religion.
As I sit here on the red eye back to the States following my verbal confrontation with Ante Whitner at the Tokyo Dome, I find myself backed into a corner. I have to talk about religion. The first step in defeating an opponent is understanding what makes them tick. Since religion has become such an important part of the new Ante Whitner I have no choice but to start my preparations with a long hard look at religion itself.
Take what I say with an open mind and if you feel compelled to pray for my soul because you think I’m on the fast track to Hell, please don’t. I’m doing just fine on my own thank you very much.
So let’s start with my own beliefs.
I do believe in a god. Despite the overwhelming scientific evidence supporting the Big Bang Theory (the one about how the universe was created, not the one that gives every nerd hope that they will one day marry a sexy blonde babe) and Darwin’s theory of evolution, it just strikes me that there are few too many random events and coincidences involved for there not to be some guiding force that gently pushed events in the right direction so that a planet capable of life formed and on that planet intelligent life evolved from the primordial ooze.
I also believe that whatever god put the events in motion that led to the rise of humanity has no desire to be associated with any of the numerous religions we have created in his name. This god created mankind, gave us free will, and said have at it. Then he kicked back and added “I’ve done my job and now I’m going to nap until you invent golf and alcohol so I can get eighteen holes in and drink a margarita at the nineteenth hole.”
Apparently the god I believe in is Chevy Chase from Caddy Shack. I’m okay with that. He seems like a fun, easy going kinda’ guy.
But I digress. This rant isn’t about god. It’s about religion. Despite what most believers would say, the two have very little in common.
Religion is a creation of mankind. For every religion whose origins may have been noble and pure they all inevitably end up being manipulated by the men in charge. (Why is it always men? Why not a female pope?) The goals of the Church get twisted, no longer about piety but instead about power. The religious leaders wanted to instill their rules on the people but they didn’t have the authority so they co-opted the one power higher than royal bloodlines to give the authority to their ideology.
They gathered their followers based on fear. We are the only ones going to Heaven. Non-believers go straight to Hell, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars. That’s a damn effective sales pitch. Join or be tortured in the pits of Hell for all eternity.
It worked because it is all based on faith. That excuses the church from having to provide any proof. The only way to know for sure is by dying and when that happens its too late to change your mind. How many of the faithful were really non-believers hedging their bets, playing a part because it is better to be safe than sorry?
The system is pretty f***ed up if you ask me. It lends itself to its biggest flaw.
Religion is power -> Power corrupts -> Religion is corrupt
How else do you explain the crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, Salem Witch Hunts, turning a blind eye to the Holocaust, and worst of all the rampant child molestation and subsequent cover ups?
I’ve heard that the Vatican has the world’s largest porn collection. No surprise as the ones who aren’t molesting twelve year old altar boys are probably hiding in the basement rubbing one out to the special big bouncing titties issue of Hustler.
And let’s not even talk about 9/11. Different religion, same result. Love thy neighbor unless he believes in a different God. In that case, plow a couple of 747s into your neighbors’ tallest buildings and kill tens of thousands of people who aren’t really people because they are infidels. Holy war is still war. It disgusts me.
It’s a good thing the church specializes in absolution because they are quite good at sinning.
Framingham, MA : August 25, 2018
Compromising Positions
The workout with Billy went better than I expected. It really helped me to focus. Training Billy for his match against Shuggy has inadvertently helped me focus for my match with Ante.
It was too easy to work myself into a rage against Ante. We already have a history that includes him virtually ending the wrestling careers of both Joe Bishop and Daphne. Then there’s his whole attitude that he is better than me because that stupid sh*t LeeRoy Jenkins saved his ass at SuperBrawl, conveniently forgetting that I hold as many wins over Ante as he does over me… and my wins are more recent.
And now there is his born again schtick. I doubt he realized what a hot button issue that is for me, how it would trigger me in ways that few things could. I hate hypocrites and most of these religious nut jobs are the biggest hypocrites in the f***ing world. They can be the worst of humanity for six days a week and it’s all okay because on the seventh day they confess their sins to a preacher who says all is forgiven if you say a few Hail Marys.
Hypocritical mother f***ers, each and every one of them.
Makes it all the easier to hate Ante Whitner. But that hate could blind me to the real matter at hand - beating Ante Whitner in a one on one wrestling match. A loss of control equals a loss of my title. I need to stay focused on what really matters: outwrestling the dumb son of a b*tch.
And that’s where Billy’s presence has been such a boon. Working with him has given me my focus back. I’m ready to wrestle Ante Whitner and beat him. If that doesn’t satiate my anger, we can always have a knock down drag out fight in the parking lot after the show is over.
Now all I have to do is deal with Daphne. No matter what I asked of her, she hasn’t been able to keep from interfering in my matches. The Drakz match was the final straw. I was ready to fire her as my manager.
Then along comes conniving Lila Sleater with her blackmail scheme. Now I have to find a way to keep Daphne out of my matches without firing her.
Why don’t you go back to the house and grab a shower. Tell Sarah we’ll be ready to eat in an hour or so if that’s good for her.
I don’t even bother to wait for a reply from Billy. He’s been all business today and is smart enough to know that our business is done for now.
I head over to a far corner of the gym where Daphne has been spending most of the day doing cardio and working with a few new Legacy recruits. They’re also wrapping up for the day so Daphne is alone toweling herself off.
Hey Daphne. Got a minute?
Sure. What’s on your mind?
Slightly cold. Daphne knows there’s been tension between us for months and that it has to reach a head soon. Like right now. Batten down the hatches boys. We’ve got some rough water ahead.
I’m getting tired of having this conversation so I’m going to cut to the quick. You have to stop interfering in my matches BEFORE my opponents do anything wrong.
I’m just watching out for your best interests, like any good manager.
It’s not in my best interests. Every time you try to “help” me, it distracts me… takes my mind off the match. You aren’t helping me to win matches. You’re helping me to LOSE matches!
That’s not true.
Okay, that’s a little delusional on her part. Since I took the title from David Brennan, she hasn’t helped me win a single match. In fact, the only wins I’ve had are the ones where she was sent back to the locker room or forced to sit down and shut up.
You know it’s true. I was ready to fire you. It’s been that frustrating working with you lately.
You can’t. You need me! And.. and… wait… “was”? As in you’re not going to anymore?
Yes, “was” as in I can’t fire you now. Circumstances have changed.
They have? Does this have anything to do with that psycho-babble about letting out your inner Mr. Hyde?
No. Psychiatry isn’t an exact science. The therapist had it all wrong. He had me ready to embrace my inner cheat because I just knew Drakz was going to break the rules. But Drakz didn’t! He came at me like a man. He was the better wrestler. I had an epiphany. I wasn’t having nightmares because I needed to let out Mr. Hyde. I was having nightmares because I had already let him out and couldn’t lock him back up.
An epiphany I had a little too late to save the match with Drakz. All the loss means is that Drakz was the better wrestler. I’m still the better man and one day soon my skills will catch up to Drakz.
You need that hard edge to win and stay a champion. You have to strike out preemptively before the cheaters steal the match out from under you.
I can have a hard edge without cheating... except as an absolute last resort against a truly despicable opponent.
So you’re gonna’ ignore your therapist, the "expert" who told you what you needed to do.
Daphne must be desperate because she’s the last person I would expect to side with a “purveyor of psycho-babble”. I wonder what he might say in diagnosing her.
Daphne is exhibiting classic transference syndrome. She wants to be a wrestling champion but can’t so she is living her dreams through Frank. It’s not enough to be at his side supporting him either. She has to be actively involved in the act of winning so that she can claim some of the credit. She needs validation that she is achieving something on her own.
That’s how my untrained mind imagines it. Now how do I make Daphne believe that she can be an important part of my success without having to constantly interject herself into my matches?
I better figure it out if I want to keep both Daphne and Lila happy.
Honestly, he was bit of a quack. I figured that out at out at my last session. He read my Heretic essay. Turns out he’s a devout Christian who never misses a Sunday sermon. He spent our last session preaching at me, telling me I was going to hell if I didn’t find Jesus. I told him exactly where he could go find Jesus, which he did not appreciate one bit. Not that I blame him. I was a wee bit harsh. Let’s just say he isn’t my therapist anymore and I’m done with therapy for now.
It’s an exaggeration but only a small one. He had read my essay and was offended, but he didn’t preach at me nor did I actually tell him to go find Jesus in his nether regions. I may be a heretic but even I won’t go that far. I just said it to make it very clear to Daphne that the psychiatrist and my mental state is a non-factor in this discussion.
So what? I’m telling you based on my years of experience in the business, you simply cannot be Mr. Nice Guy and remain the International Champion. There are some very bad men coming after you. Ante Whitner is just the first.
I can beat them. I don’t need to cheat nor do I need you to do it for me. You will be there at my side as my manager giving me instruction and warning me of trouble. That’s a huge advantage. It’s all I need from you. No more interference. No more bat. This is the way it has to be.
Or you’ll fire me?
Yes!
No!
Goddammit...
I can’t fire you no matter how much I want to.
Now I’m confused. You’re not making sense. Are you having a stroke?
I don’t want to tell Daphne about Lila’s blackmail. She loves to go off on Twitter too much. I hate to say it but I don’t trust her to keep the secret.
Thanks to Lila I don’t have a choice.
I can’t fire you because Lila won’t let me.
Since when do you care what Lila wants?
Since she threatened to tell the GFL that I wrestled for Legacy while under contract with them.
Silence while Daphne processes what I revealed. It takes a few moments but finally she figures it out.
You never told the GFL that you were El Tigre Blanco! You had contracts with both the GFL and Legacy at the same time!
Could you shout a little louder? I don’t think they heard you in Connecticut.
Lila is blackmailing you. Hijo de puta! She could take down all of Legacy. Dozens of wrestlers and hundreds of staff put out of work just to satisfy her ego. Puta madre!
I’m not the only one who assumes the worst if and when lawyers get involved.
Exactly. That’s why you have to stay on as my manager and you cannot break any rules. Lila has me bent over and ready to be f***ed.
Oh crap. I’m sorry Frank. I didn’t realize the stakes. Of course I’ll do it. Whatever you need. I couldn’t hurt you… Abe… Legacy… It all means too much to me.
After all these months, I finally found Daphne’s soft spot. Legacy. Maybe Lila did me a favor.
Nah. She’s a b*tch.
Thank you. And please don’t tell anyone else. The more people who know I was in breach of my GFL contract, the greater the chance it all blows up in my face.
Should I make her swear on a bible? No, I think I clearly established that means less than zero to me. Maybe a pinkie swear. Nah, last time I checked we’re both adults. Scout’s honor? Pretty sure Daphne wasn’t a Boy Scout.
Aw crap. I’ll just have to trust her. Damn, I’m breaking out in a sweat. Maybe I am having a stroke.
Why is nothing ever easy?!?!
Of course. My lips are sealed. Madre do dios! How are we going to get back at Lila? Somebody needs to slap that zorra.
I don’t know. I’ll think of something. She wanted Drakz to finish me off but he didn’t. Who knows what incentives she’ll dangle in front of Ante. Beating Ante Whitner clean in the center of the ring is a good start.
Then you better get used to me being right at your side. I’m going to get you in the best shape of your life, both mentally and physically. Ante won’t stand a chance. And once we’re done with him, we’ll deal with Lila Sleater.
That went better than I expected. Instead of driving us apart, Lila inadvertently pulled us together. We’re on the same page again. It actually feels good.
Hopefully Daphne can channel her enthusiasm into constructive assistance. One slip up from her and everything will come crashing down.
The Heretic (continued)
So if the church is a corrupt institution why do people continue to flock to it and remain steadfast in their beliefs?
I think most church goers are the casual type who get a sense of comfort and assurance from the community but their so called beliefs turn on the moment they step foot into church on Sunday morning and turn off as soon as the preacher calls for the last “Amen” and everyone files out to their cars to go eat brunch at the local Denny’s. In other words, people who are covering their bases just in case the church got it right; a.k.a. hypocrites. Want proof? Follow one of those families to Denny’s and see if they say grace before chowing down on a pile of pancakes. They’re mostly harmless though so as long as they leave me alone I’ll do the same.
Then there are the true fanatics, the men and women who are so weak of mind and will that they need something to give them purpose and direction. The church fills that gap in their lives and sends them out to convert the rest of us by knocking on our doors at 8 am on a Saturday morning, trying to catch us at our weakest so we are more susceptible to their special brand of bullsh*t. Those are the f***ers I despise. Annoying S.O.B.s like Ante Whitner for whom simply believing isn’t enough; they need everyone else to believe right along with them.
I warned you that this is a touchy subject and some of what I said might piss you off. There’s one thing Ante got right at the contract signing. I am a heretic. Sorry, not sorry.
I’m not going to let someone tell me how to think or act based on a two thousand year old book that may or may not be the word of God… but most likely isn’t because why would an omnipotent being need a small army of ghost writers. He made EVERYTHING! Surely it would be an easy job to make a few leather-bound copies of The Official Word of God appear out of thin air.
That’s faith for ya’ man. It makes people believe all kinds of wacky sh*t. (Ever meet a Flat Earther? Woo, talk about crazy stupid because of blind faith.)
Which all brings me to Ante Whitner, who has returned from his latest journey of self discovery having found God. He went from sinner to the worst kind of fanatical born again bible thumping true believer, the so called Redeemer of the WFWF here to save our souls.
Redeemer my ass. He’s just a very weak man with an addictive personality who has moved on from drink and drugs to religion. God is his high now and oh boy is he tripping balls.
He can’t even open his mouth without regurgitating some quote from the Bible. Did he actually memorize it all or did he swallow one of those electronic Bibles that you see advertised on late night TV?
He can quote all the scripture he wants. I’m not buying it. Ante has always needed a crutch in his life to support him because the truth is that he can’t get the job done on his own. He has failed time and time again in his WFWF career. He’s the poster child for unfulfilled potential.
No matter what crutch Ante is using to prop himself up for one of his many comeback tours, it’s always the same story. He’s a tough guy who can talk circles around you without actually saying anything and he is sure to come up short when its time to fight. The problem with being dependent on crutches is that they only help you to walk. When it comes time to run, jump, climb, or fight you’re f***ed.
Ante’s on a mission to redeem every lost soul in the WFWF. He should start with the man in the mirror.
If he thinks he has been saved and he is on a righteous mission in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost then he’s reached a new level of delusion. Religion is just as bad if not worse for him than every PCP laced blunt he smoked, line of coke he snorted up his nose, or needle full of heroin he shot into his veins.
If Ante had any faith in himself he wouldn’t need any of the crutches he’s leaned on throughout his pathetic life.
I have faith in myself. It’s what has propelled me to levels of success in two short years that Ante Whitner could only dream of achieving in five… ten… twenty years. Ante has to see that and the jealousy eats away at him. He needs to beat me to save himself, not me. Another loss to Frank Lynn could be too much for Ante’s fragile psyche to survive.
Ante, stop trying to save me. As I said, I’m doing just fine and don’t need any help. Don’t waste your prayers on me.
God isn’t listening anyway. He’s playing golf.
Framingham, MA : August 25, 2018
The Janitor cleans up
Sarah is bent over the sink washing the dishes from dinner. Next to her, Billy Broom stands at the ready with a towel to dry each dish.
Thank you for helping while Frank changes Laura.
No problem. I’m used to it. Back home my daughter does the cooking and I do the cleaning. I think it’s in my DNA.
I’ll refrain from any janitor jokes. I bet you’re tired of hearing them.
Aye-firmative. I grin and bare it but you wouldn’t me hear complain if they stopped.
Enjoy the moment. You’re gonna’ pay the price soon enough when Frank comes back with a full report on the odor, color, and consistency of Laura’s latest diaper bomb.
Been there done that too. Jenny made some real impressive poos in her time.
Sarah laughs at the burly Billy making use of the term “poo”. There’s a very sweet man hiding underneath that gruff exterior.
So can I ask you something? It’s sort of personal.
Sure. Fire away.
Why did Frank go off on religion? Ante Whitner is coming after his belt, not the Vatican. Why piss people off?
I warned Frank that his anti-religion tirade might make him some enemies but he stuck to his guns. Actually, I think it might have been good for him.
How so? Does he really want the Pope pulling for Ante Whitner?
Sarah almost drops the plate she is washing as she breaks into uncontrollable laughter.
Hahahaha. Sorry, I had this image of the Pope in his plexiglass bubble at ringside cheering for Ante Whitner. Funny stuff.
It’s a stretch but you get my point, don’t you?
Sarah’s voice takes on an almost professorial tone as she answers Billy’s question. Billy listens intently hoping to get some insight into the mind of a champion, one of the reasons he came to Frank for training.
I do. And that’s exactly why I think this was good for Frank. He’s usually so wrapped up in trying to please everybody else… Joshua Dean, Joe Bishop, Daphne, the fans… even me. He’s so busy trying to please others that he forgets who he is.
Whatever his reasons are for tearing the church a new one, he doesn’t care what others think or say. Love it or hate it, this is Frank dropping the facade and being himself.
I dunno. It’s risky. I ain’t the most religious person and even I was slightly offended.
A loud cough interrupts them. Frank is standing in the doorway. Sarah and Billy aren't sure how long he was there and it shows in their tentative silence.
I felt my ears burning.
Sorry Frank. I didn't mean to pry. It's just that I think you’re one of the good guys but the way you ripped the church to get at Ante… it didn’t feel like something a good guy would say.
I’m still a good guy… I hope. I think my fans will see that and whether they agree or not with what I said, they’ll still support me.
Don’t you think you took it a little too far? Sure, the church isn’t perfect but it does a lot of good too.
Not enough good. Never enough.
Frank pauses, rubs his temples as if fighting off a migraine.
There’s something I should tell you. Sarah, you deserve to know. As for you Billy, I think I can trust you to keep it under your hat.
As a kid, Mom and I attended church every Sunday. Mom was always on the look out for male role models and Father Patrick fit the bill. He was a good guy, always had the time to talk to me down whenever my temper almost got me into trouble. I respected him. Then… I’ll never forget. I’ll never forgive.
Frank wrings his hands together and paces around the kitchen, more nervous than he ever appeared in the ring before a big match. Sarah and Billy stop washing the dishes and give him their full attention. Frank's voice cracks at times like a teenager going through puberty.
I was twelve, one year into my training at Paulie’s gym. I’d been in a couple of fights during the week with a bully who wouldn’t leave Ricky alone. At my mother's request Father Patrick pulled me aside after Sunday school to talk to me in his private chambers. It started out normal. He talked to me about turning the other cheek, being the bigger man… all the usual cliches that I can easily see through now but held a lot more weight for an impressionable kid.
Then Father Patrick started talking about loving everyone, including your enemies. How love was the greatest power of all. He was sitting next to me on the couch, his hand on my knee. While he continued to tell me about how we need to accept love in all its forms, his hand was working it’s way up my thigh, massaging me in a way that was clearly not platonic.
Mom was a nurse so she had given me an extremely detailed and graphic talk about the birds and the bees. I knew exactly what was going on. I put Paulie’s training to work, grabbed Father Patrick’s wrist and twisted it all the way back, broke a couple of his fingers.
Billy slaps the counter loud enough to startle both Frank and Sarah.
Hot damn Frank! You did that to a grown man? Good for you!
Well, Father Patrick was a little man who hid from violence behind his collar. I was a big kid with some self defense training under my belt. It wasn’t even close to a fair fight, not that I cared.
Anyway, he was more shocked than hurt. Outraged actually. He honestly didn’t think he had done anything wrong and was shouting that I really was a bad boy who would end up in Hell for rejecting his love. I had let my mother, him, and Jesus down.
I told him “F*** Jesus!” He fell to his knees begging the Lord to forgive me. TO FORGIVE ME!
It was disgusting.
Again Frank pauses, on the verge of tears. Both Sarah and Billy make move towards him to offer comfort but Frank pushes them away so he can finish the story, taking a deep breath and speaking in a voice that is no longer cracking.
I stormed out and once we got in the car I told my mother everything. She hugged me for a damn long time and told me it would be all right. I had a hard time believing her as the tears streamed down her face.
We had been betrayed in the worst possible way. I think it hurt my Mom more than it did me. It was truly unforgivable. Needless to say, we never went back.
Sarah and Billy look on in grim silence. Everyone hears stories of pedophiles in the church but to meet a victim really drives home how truly wrong it is. Sarah goes over to Frank and gives him a hug, whispering into his ear.
I’m so sorry.
That’s some rough sh*t Frank. No kid should have to go through it.
Frank separates himself from Sarah and sits at the kitchen table, taking a deep breath while once again rubbing his head.
It gets better. Father Patrick was investigated by the archdiocese. I wasn’t the first kid he tried his crap on and most went through a lot worse than me. The church punished him… by transferring him to a new post in Sicily!
That’s all kinds of f***ed up. No wonder you want to kill Ante now that he’s born again.
I did. Ante picked the wrong banner to carry into battle. I was ready to go medieval on his ass. His newfound holiness was one more reason to despise the bastard.
That’s why I have to thank you, Billy, for being here. Working with you reminded me that I should be focusing on a wrestling match to defend my title. Beating the crap out of Ante won’t change what happened to me when I was twelve. I can't get wrapped up in fighting for another cause. We all know how that worked out for me the last time I tried.
You’ve helped me a lot too. I’m glad I could return the favor.
The heaviness of the moment lifts as quickly as it fell. Neither Sarah nor Billy would ever hold Frank’s rant against him. Nobody who knew the whole story ever could.
Maybe you should cut a new promo, one without the religious stuff. Bring the match back to being about you, Ante, and the International Championship?
Sounds like a good idea.
Nah. Let Ante think I’m going in pumped up on emotion. He’ll think that gives him an edge. Hmmm, that gives me an idea. Maybe I can play into it even more and really throw him off his game.
If you say so. I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand the mind of a wrestler.
Me either… and I am one!
Frank’s demeanor was back to business as he slapped Billy on the shoulder reassuringly.
Well, if Sarah doesn’t mind doing the rest of the dishes alone, let’s go watch some film so we both come out on top against Ante and Shuggy.
Sarah nods approvingly, giving both men a hug and peck on the cheek.
Go ahead boys. I’ve got this.
She watches them head off to Frank’s man cave, checking the baby monitor Frank left on the table to hear Laura snoring lightly in the bed room. She may have inherited her mother’s looks but she got her father’s sinuses.
Sarah wonders what else little Laura would inherit from her father. His drive - hopefully yes. His temper - hopefully not. His chosen profession - please no, anything else but professional wrestler.
The Heretic (continued)
The irony of my rant isn’t lost on me. Just a few months ago I was the one preaching from the pulpit about the sad state of the WFWF and how I would lead people to a better WFWF if they would just follow me.
But there is a big difference between my brand of preaching and the Bible thumping load of crap that Ante Whitner is currently engaged in. Mine was based in truths and reality while his… isn’t.
All you had to do was open your eyes and you would see what I saw: a WFWF full of ultra violence that had more in common with a drive by shooting than a test of skill in combat sports. I wasn’t so obnoxious as to think I was saving anyone’s soul. I was trying to save the WFWF itself so that everyone from the most pious to the most psychotic could wrestle here safe in the knowledge that win or lose, there would always be another match in their future until they decided to hang up their boots and walk off into the sunset.
It was Ante who showed me the futility of my cause. At Back to Basics I urged Ante to make something of the Golden Opportunity. He chose the coward’s way, admitting he was afraid to cash in on David Brennan because it would be suicide. Then he attacked me.
That was the moment I realized there was no saving the WFWF. There is only surviving the WFWF.
The revolution died at Back to Basics but from its ashes I arose as a true Lethal Weapon. I learned very quickly how to not only survive but to thrive. I took the Golden Opportunity from Ante Whitner and then the International Championship from David Brennan later that same night.
All thanks to Ante Whitner being an a-hole. I stopped worrying about everybody else and started taking care of myself.
I am more than happy to return the favor and show Ante the futility of his cause in Mexico City.
Ante says he found religion.
Hip hip hooray!
I don’t buy it.
This is the same man who was spitting anti-semitic insults and engaging in a human barbecue match that he demanded last winter. Doesn’t sound like a very holy man to me. Doesn’t even sound like a man with any hope of redemption.
People can change but not that much. Ante Whitner has been a self serving, deluded piece of sh*t for too long. There’s no way any man of the cloth shined that sh*t into something beautiful in a few short months. They’d need a lifetime and would still fail. There’s no redeeming Ante Whitner.
His religious zealotry is just an excuse. He’s the same piece of sh*t he’s always been but hey, he’s serving God now so it’s okay, right?
I may be a heretic but he’s a hypocrite. A delusional one too.
From as far back as our very first face to face meeting with his false claims that I smashed his precious bottle of scotch (his crutch of choice at the time) right up to our meeting at Under the Dome where he confused my manager not showing up because I didn’t have a match with her lacking confidence in me and my allegedly shriveled up nut sack, Ante is always making crap up to suit his own personal f*cked up world view.
His new religious fervor is just the latest attempt to make the world fit his skewed view rather than man up, accept reality, and adapt to it - something I did after losing to him at SuperBrawl which lit a fire under my ass and continue to do as I accept and adapt to what the WFWF is and what I have to do to survive and thrive in it.
That’s why I’m the International Champion and Ante Whitner is a whiny little b*tch. That’s right Ante, you’re the one crying all the time, not me. I didn’t whine my way to my success like you claim. I earned my opportunities by putting my money where my mouth is, offering up a deal to Lila Sleater that she couldn’t refuse which led to me beating Trace Demon and getting my way.
(Did you ever beat Trace Demon? I did. Twice! Just sayin’…)
Nobody gave anything to me because it was my birthday or because I cried until they couldn’t take it anymore. I scratched and clawed to get what I wanted. Plenty of blood and sweat but no tears.
Ante likes quotes. Here’s one for him:
Dread it. Run from it. Destiny arrives all the same. And now, it's here. Or should I say, I am.
It’s been my destiny ever since the ladder match at SuperBrawl to keep improving until I beat him and have my moment standing over him waving MY championship in his face.
Are you with me now Ante?
The WFWF.COM writers called you my greatest rival. I call you the monkey on my back that I will finally and irrevocably remove in Mexico City.
Thanos killed half the universe. I’ll be satisfied with killing your faith, your hopes, and your dreams. There will be no redemption for you.
Bring your crucifix and rosary beads to Mexico City. I’ll bring the fight.
I have no doubt that will be more than enough for me to walk out still the International Champion.
Chicago, IL : July 23, 2018 : Second to None
F***ing hell.
I came so close only to have Drakz snatch victory away from me. I honestly wouldn’t be champion anymore if not for his inexplicably greater desire to maim and mutilate Michael Kyzer than take my title away from me. I’m sure he won’t mind the embarrassment I’ll have to deal with knowing that on this night I was a paper champion who only got to keep his belt by Drakz’ good graces.
Drakz giveth and Drakz taketh away.
Don’t ever let anybody say that to him because he’s already insufferably arrogant. It would put him over the top to be referenced as if he really is a twisted demi-god of the wrestling world, the ultimate puppet master who controls all of our fates.
F***ing hell.
’Bout time you found your way to the locker room. You sure made a stand out there tonight when Tugarin was throwing Drakz around like yesterday’s trash.
Wonderful. Lila Sleater. As if my night wasn’t going downhill fast enough. I am not in the mood for her s*** right now. Seriously. I’d rather stick my head in an oven. With my luck tonight it would an electric oven and all I’d get is a nasty burn.
Not that Lila’s night has to be going any better. She wanted Drakz to take me out, possibly permanently. Instead, we put on a great technical match and both walked away… at least until a certain dragon showed up to make hamburger out of Drakz. Did a pretty good job from what I saw until Daphne and I made our strategic withdrawal.
You admitting that your highly trained expert security staff isn’t up to snuff? You needed me to save Drakz from the big bad bully Tugarin Zmey?
Now is not the time to test me Frank. Besides, I only want you to walk with me for a bit. I have something to show you.
Always with the games. I’ll play along, not that I have much of a choice. She’s the boss and despite the special “Screw you Lila” clause in my contract I do have to bend the knee to her if only to keep her from getting too hellbent on my destruction. She already fed me to Drakz. I’m a little afraid of what’s next if she isn’t satisfied with my taking the L tonight.
I fall in stride beside her. Daphne moves in beside me but draws a dirty look from Lila.
Where do you think you’re going? You and your toy can wait for us in Frank’s locker room. This is more personal than business.
It’s cool Daphne. I can handle this… whatever this is.
Clearly unhappy, Daphne swings the baseball bat over her shoulder and stomps off to my locker room. I turn to Lila and smile, actually hoping that people are right when they say I look like a serial killer when I smile.
See, I’m not such a bad guy. I sent her away before she used that bat on your head like David Ortiz wailing on some Yankees pitchers.
You need to put her on a leash Frank. Mesh has a point. Daphne is a bad influence. Maybe I should revoke her manager’s license.
Daphne is my problem. I’ll deal with her. Now, you mind telling me why we’re wandering around backstage when you should probably be checking on Drakz and seeing to the incarceration of Tugarin Zmey?
Just like Daphne is your problem, Drakz and Zmey are my problem. It’s being dealt with. As for this little walk, we’re here.
Catering? You giving Billy the night off and want me to clean up for him? Not gonna’ happen.
Nothing so sophomoric. Look over there.
Lila points at a small crowd in the center of the room and I look in that direction. I don’t recognize most of them, just a bunch of suits probably talking about business s*** I don’t care about. That’s what I have Scott and Josh’s agency for.
Then I see a familiar figure, average height but much wider than normal in the shoulders and chest - from working out, not over eating - and his unmistakable bald head and tinted aviator glasses.
That’s Sammy Kendall, owner of the Guerrilla Fighting League. My former boss. I assume that’s who you want me to notice.
Indeed. You are smarter than you look.
So what? You want me to go shmooze my former boss for you. Maybe get you the inside line on future prospects who might jump from the GFL to the WFWF like I did?
Lila makes a noise that I think is supposed to be a laugh but sounds more like a chicken clucking. She clears her throat to cover the odd noise.
And then you say something stupid and ruin the good impression you just made. Samuel is here because we’re old friends. We’ve done business before and will do business again. I don’t need you to butter him up for me.
Well good for you. If it’s not that then what? I’m tired and sore so please get to your point.
It’s just that Samuel and I talk frequently. Sometimes over drinks. You know how alcohol can loosen the lips. Who knows? A few martinis in and I might forget that he doesn’t know how you moonlighted for Legacy while still under a GFL contract.
She wouldn’t. Not even Lila Sleater would stoop so low.
You wouldn’t. He could sue me and Legacy for breach of contract. I could lose millions, Legacy could fold, and you could lose your International Champion. How does that benefit anybody?
I may be exaggerating the possible outcomes of a lawsuit. My skin crawls at the thought of lawyers getting involved in my affairs and I automatically assume the worst. Probably wasn’t my best play to panic in front of Lila like that. I gave her exactly what she wanted and now she gets to rub it in my face.
Champions come and go. I can always hold another tournament. Fact is, Drakz didn’t complete the task I gave him so I’m forced to take matters into my own hands. I’m tired of wrestlers telling me how to do my job or how much I suck at it. You will play by my rules Frank. Consider this my special “Screw Frank Lynn clause”. You do as I say or I ask Samuel to join me for a liquid lunch. You get the picture?
Son of a b*tch. She’s serious. She would tank my career and drive me into bankruptcy with expensive lawsuits rather than answer my valid criticisms of her job performance. I shouldn’t be surprised. This is the same woman who put out a hit on Trace Demon and watched as it was carried out live in the ring during a WFWF show.
This bites.
Yep, clear as crystal… massah.
Now you’re being smart again. You keep me happy, I keep your secret. Do we need to shake on it?
Nope.
Hmmm… I’m not convinced. I’m going to need a show of good faith from you.
Oh joy. The sadistic b*tch isn’t done torturing me. Now that she has me on the rack she’s going to give the screws a few more turns.
Like what?
Get your manager under control.
You want me to fire her?
No. We can use all the T and A we can get on a show full of ugly sweaty men. I just want you to get her under control. I want her shaking that cute ass at ringside for our fans to drool over and that is all I want her to do. No more bat. No more interference in your matches. No more nasty tweets directed at me or the other wrestlers. In fact, I don’t want to hear a peep out of her. She’s window dressing from now on. Do it or I might get thirsty.
Is that all? Are you sure you don’t want me to make the sun rise in the west and set in the east? There’s a good chance that would be easier to do.
By your command, massah. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an overwhelming desire to take a long hot shower.
F***ing hell!
Could this night get any worse? Lila has the upper hand for now. How am I going to get myself out from under this pile of sh*t?
WFWF El Grito de Dolores RP
Tartuffe
featuring Frank Lynn
”…Religion is a crutch, and only the crippled need crutches.” - Madalyn Murray O’Hair
The Heretic
There are two topics I almost never talk about because they are sure to lead to trouble: politics and religion.
I never talk politics because the instant I hear someone admit they voted for Trump I want to punch them in the face so it’s better that I avoid the topic and not go to jail.
As for religion, I’d rather sit in a Bronks bar talking about the Red Sox beating the Yankees in four straight games after being down three zip in the ALCS than talk religion with a bunch of grandmothers at a Sunday church brunch. The Yankees fans might forgive me for being a card carrying member of Red Sox Nation since I am Boston born and bred but those churchgoing grandmothers would tear me limb from limb if they heard what I have to say about their religion.
As I sit here on the red eye back to the States following my verbal confrontation with Ante Whitner at the Tokyo Dome, I find myself backed into a corner. I have to talk about religion. The first step in defeating an opponent is understanding what makes them tick. Since religion has become such an important part of the new Ante Whitner I have no choice but to start my preparations with a long hard look at religion itself.
Take what I say with an open mind and if you feel compelled to pray for my soul because you think I’m on the fast track to Hell, please don’t. I’m doing just fine on my own thank you very much.
So let’s start with my own beliefs.
I do believe in a god. Despite the overwhelming scientific evidence supporting the Big Bang Theory (the one about how the universe was created, not the one that gives every nerd hope that they will one day marry a sexy blonde babe) and Darwin’s theory of evolution, it just strikes me that there are few too many random events and coincidences involved for there not to be some guiding force that gently pushed events in the right direction so that a planet capable of life formed and on that planet intelligent life evolved from the primordial ooze.
I also believe that whatever god put the events in motion that led to the rise of humanity has no desire to be associated with any of the numerous religions we have created in his name. This god created mankind, gave us free will, and said have at it. Then he kicked back and added “I’ve done my job and now I’m going to nap until you invent golf and alcohol so I can get eighteen holes in and drink a margarita at the nineteenth hole.”
Apparently the god I believe in is Chevy Chase from Caddy Shack. I’m okay with that. He seems like a fun, easy going kinda’ guy.
But I digress. This rant isn’t about god. It’s about religion. Despite what most believers would say, the two have very little in common.
Religion is a creation of mankind. For every religion whose origins may have been noble and pure they all inevitably end up being manipulated by the men in charge. (Why is it always men? Why not a female pope?) The goals of the Church get twisted, no longer about piety but instead about power. The religious leaders wanted to instill their rules on the people but they didn’t have the authority so they co-opted the one power higher than royal bloodlines to give the authority to their ideology.
They gathered their followers based on fear. We are the only ones going to Heaven. Non-believers go straight to Hell, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars. That’s a damn effective sales pitch. Join or be tortured in the pits of Hell for all eternity.
It worked because it is all based on faith. That excuses the church from having to provide any proof. The only way to know for sure is by dying and when that happens its too late to change your mind. How many of the faithful were really non-believers hedging their bets, playing a part because it is better to be safe than sorry?
The system is pretty f***ed up if you ask me. It lends itself to its biggest flaw.
Religion is power -> Power corrupts -> Religion is corrupt
How else do you explain the crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, Salem Witch Hunts, turning a blind eye to the Holocaust, and worst of all the rampant child molestation and subsequent cover ups?
I’ve heard that the Vatican has the world’s largest porn collection. No surprise as the ones who aren’t molesting twelve year old altar boys are probably hiding in the basement rubbing one out to the special big bouncing titties issue of Hustler.
And let’s not even talk about 9/11. Different religion, same result. Love thy neighbor unless he believes in a different God. In that case, plow a couple of 747s into your neighbors’ tallest buildings and kill tens of thousands of people who aren’t really people because they are infidels. Holy war is still war. It disgusts me.
It’s a good thing the church specializes in absolution because they are quite good at sinning.
Framingham, MA : August 25, 2018
Compromising Positions
The workout with Billy went better than I expected. It really helped me to focus. Training Billy for his match against Shuggy has inadvertently helped me focus for my match with Ante.
It was too easy to work myself into a rage against Ante. We already have a history that includes him virtually ending the wrestling careers of both Joe Bishop and Daphne. Then there’s his whole attitude that he is better than me because that stupid sh*t LeeRoy Jenkins saved his ass at SuperBrawl, conveniently forgetting that I hold as many wins over Ante as he does over me… and my wins are more recent.
And now there is his born again schtick. I doubt he realized what a hot button issue that is for me, how it would trigger me in ways that few things could. I hate hypocrites and most of these religious nut jobs are the biggest hypocrites in the f***ing world. They can be the worst of humanity for six days a week and it’s all okay because on the seventh day they confess their sins to a preacher who says all is forgiven if you say a few Hail Marys.
Hypocritical mother f***ers, each and every one of them.
Makes it all the easier to hate Ante Whitner. But that hate could blind me to the real matter at hand - beating Ante Whitner in a one on one wrestling match. A loss of control equals a loss of my title. I need to stay focused on what really matters: outwrestling the dumb son of a b*tch.
And that’s where Billy’s presence has been such a boon. Working with him has given me my focus back. I’m ready to wrestle Ante Whitner and beat him. If that doesn’t satiate my anger, we can always have a knock down drag out fight in the parking lot after the show is over.
Now all I have to do is deal with Daphne. No matter what I asked of her, she hasn’t been able to keep from interfering in my matches. The Drakz match was the final straw. I was ready to fire her as my manager.
Then along comes conniving Lila Sleater with her blackmail scheme. Now I have to find a way to keep Daphne out of my matches without firing her.
Why don’t you go back to the house and grab a shower. Tell Sarah we’ll be ready to eat in an hour or so if that’s good for her.
I don’t even bother to wait for a reply from Billy. He’s been all business today and is smart enough to know that our business is done for now.
I head over to a far corner of the gym where Daphne has been spending most of the day doing cardio and working with a few new Legacy recruits. They’re also wrapping up for the day so Daphne is alone toweling herself off.
Hey Daphne. Got a minute?
Sure. What’s on your mind?
Slightly cold. Daphne knows there’s been tension between us for months and that it has to reach a head soon. Like right now. Batten down the hatches boys. We’ve got some rough water ahead.
I’m getting tired of having this conversation so I’m going to cut to the quick. You have to stop interfering in my matches BEFORE my opponents do anything wrong.
I’m just watching out for your best interests, like any good manager.
It’s not in my best interests. Every time you try to “help” me, it distracts me… takes my mind off the match. You aren’t helping me to win matches. You’re helping me to LOSE matches!
That’s not true.
Okay, that’s a little delusional on her part. Since I took the title from David Brennan, she hasn’t helped me win a single match. In fact, the only wins I’ve had are the ones where she was sent back to the locker room or forced to sit down and shut up.
You know it’s true. I was ready to fire you. It’s been that frustrating working with you lately.
You can’t. You need me! And.. and… wait… “was”? As in you’re not going to anymore?
Yes, “was” as in I can’t fire you now. Circumstances have changed.
They have? Does this have anything to do with that psycho-babble about letting out your inner Mr. Hyde?
No. Psychiatry isn’t an exact science. The therapist had it all wrong. He had me ready to embrace my inner cheat because I just knew Drakz was going to break the rules. But Drakz didn’t! He came at me like a man. He was the better wrestler. I had an epiphany. I wasn’t having nightmares because I needed to let out Mr. Hyde. I was having nightmares because I had already let him out and couldn’t lock him back up.
An epiphany I had a little too late to save the match with Drakz. All the loss means is that Drakz was the better wrestler. I’m still the better man and one day soon my skills will catch up to Drakz.
You need that hard edge to win and stay a champion. You have to strike out preemptively before the cheaters steal the match out from under you.
I can have a hard edge without cheating... except as an absolute last resort against a truly despicable opponent.
So you’re gonna’ ignore your therapist, the "expert" who told you what you needed to do.
Daphne must be desperate because she’s the last person I would expect to side with a “purveyor of psycho-babble”. I wonder what he might say in diagnosing her.
Daphne is exhibiting classic transference syndrome. She wants to be a wrestling champion but can’t so she is living her dreams through Frank. It’s not enough to be at his side supporting him either. She has to be actively involved in the act of winning so that she can claim some of the credit. She needs validation that she is achieving something on her own.
That’s how my untrained mind imagines it. Now how do I make Daphne believe that she can be an important part of my success without having to constantly interject herself into my matches?
I better figure it out if I want to keep both Daphne and Lila happy.
Honestly, he was bit of a quack. I figured that out at out at my last session. He read my Heretic essay. Turns out he’s a devout Christian who never misses a Sunday sermon. He spent our last session preaching at me, telling me I was going to hell if I didn’t find Jesus. I told him exactly where he could go find Jesus, which he did not appreciate one bit. Not that I blame him. I was a wee bit harsh. Let’s just say he isn’t my therapist anymore and I’m done with therapy for now.
It’s an exaggeration but only a small one. He had read my essay and was offended, but he didn’t preach at me nor did I actually tell him to go find Jesus in his nether regions. I may be a heretic but even I won’t go that far. I just said it to make it very clear to Daphne that the psychiatrist and my mental state is a non-factor in this discussion.
So what? I’m telling you based on my years of experience in the business, you simply cannot be Mr. Nice Guy and remain the International Champion. There are some very bad men coming after you. Ante Whitner is just the first.
I can beat them. I don’t need to cheat nor do I need you to do it for me. You will be there at my side as my manager giving me instruction and warning me of trouble. That’s a huge advantage. It’s all I need from you. No more interference. No more bat. This is the way it has to be.
Or you’ll fire me?
Yes!
No!
Goddammit...
I can’t fire you no matter how much I want to.
Now I’m confused. You’re not making sense. Are you having a stroke?
I don’t want to tell Daphne about Lila’s blackmail. She loves to go off on Twitter too much. I hate to say it but I don’t trust her to keep the secret.
Thanks to Lila I don’t have a choice.
I can’t fire you because Lila won’t let me.
Since when do you care what Lila wants?
Since she threatened to tell the GFL that I wrestled for Legacy while under contract with them.
Silence while Daphne processes what I revealed. It takes a few moments but finally she figures it out.
You never told the GFL that you were El Tigre Blanco! You had contracts with both the GFL and Legacy at the same time!
Could you shout a little louder? I don’t think they heard you in Connecticut.
Lila is blackmailing you. Hijo de puta! She could take down all of Legacy. Dozens of wrestlers and hundreds of staff put out of work just to satisfy her ego. Puta madre!
I’m not the only one who assumes the worst if and when lawyers get involved.
Exactly. That’s why you have to stay on as my manager and you cannot break any rules. Lila has me bent over and ready to be f***ed.
Oh crap. I’m sorry Frank. I didn’t realize the stakes. Of course I’ll do it. Whatever you need. I couldn’t hurt you… Abe… Legacy… It all means too much to me.
After all these months, I finally found Daphne’s soft spot. Legacy. Maybe Lila did me a favor.
Nah. She’s a b*tch.
Thank you. And please don’t tell anyone else. The more people who know I was in breach of my GFL contract, the greater the chance it all blows up in my face.
Should I make her swear on a bible? No, I think I clearly established that means less than zero to me. Maybe a pinkie swear. Nah, last time I checked we’re both adults. Scout’s honor? Pretty sure Daphne wasn’t a Boy Scout.
Aw crap. I’ll just have to trust her. Damn, I’m breaking out in a sweat. Maybe I am having a stroke.
Why is nothing ever easy?!?!
Of course. My lips are sealed. Madre do dios! How are we going to get back at Lila? Somebody needs to slap that zorra.
I don’t know. I’ll think of something. She wanted Drakz to finish me off but he didn’t. Who knows what incentives she’ll dangle in front of Ante. Beating Ante Whitner clean in the center of the ring is a good start.
Then you better get used to me being right at your side. I’m going to get you in the best shape of your life, both mentally and physically. Ante won’t stand a chance. And once we’re done with him, we’ll deal with Lila Sleater.
That went better than I expected. Instead of driving us apart, Lila inadvertently pulled us together. We’re on the same page again. It actually feels good.
Hopefully Daphne can channel her enthusiasm into constructive assistance. One slip up from her and everything will come crashing down.
The Heretic (continued)
So if the church is a corrupt institution why do people continue to flock to it and remain steadfast in their beliefs?
I think most church goers are the casual type who get a sense of comfort and assurance from the community but their so called beliefs turn on the moment they step foot into church on Sunday morning and turn off as soon as the preacher calls for the last “Amen” and everyone files out to their cars to go eat brunch at the local Denny’s. In other words, people who are covering their bases just in case the church got it right; a.k.a. hypocrites. Want proof? Follow one of those families to Denny’s and see if they say grace before chowing down on a pile of pancakes. They’re mostly harmless though so as long as they leave me alone I’ll do the same.
Then there are the true fanatics, the men and women who are so weak of mind and will that they need something to give them purpose and direction. The church fills that gap in their lives and sends them out to convert the rest of us by knocking on our doors at 8 am on a Saturday morning, trying to catch us at our weakest so we are more susceptible to their special brand of bullsh*t. Those are the f***ers I despise. Annoying S.O.B.s like Ante Whitner for whom simply believing isn’t enough; they need everyone else to believe right along with them.
I warned you that this is a touchy subject and some of what I said might piss you off. There’s one thing Ante got right at the contract signing. I am a heretic. Sorry, not sorry.
I’m not going to let someone tell me how to think or act based on a two thousand year old book that may or may not be the word of God… but most likely isn’t because why would an omnipotent being need a small army of ghost writers. He made EVERYTHING! Surely it would be an easy job to make a few leather-bound copies of The Official Word of God appear out of thin air.
That’s faith for ya’ man. It makes people believe all kinds of wacky sh*t. (Ever meet a Flat Earther? Woo, talk about crazy stupid because of blind faith.)
Which all brings me to Ante Whitner, who has returned from his latest journey of self discovery having found God. He went from sinner to the worst kind of fanatical born again bible thumping true believer, the so called Redeemer of the WFWF here to save our souls.
Redeemer my ass. He’s just a very weak man with an addictive personality who has moved on from drink and drugs to religion. God is his high now and oh boy is he tripping balls.
He can’t even open his mouth without regurgitating some quote from the Bible. Did he actually memorize it all or did he swallow one of those electronic Bibles that you see advertised on late night TV?
He can quote all the scripture he wants. I’m not buying it. Ante has always needed a crutch in his life to support him because the truth is that he can’t get the job done on his own. He has failed time and time again in his WFWF career. He’s the poster child for unfulfilled potential.
No matter what crutch Ante is using to prop himself up for one of his many comeback tours, it’s always the same story. He’s a tough guy who can talk circles around you without actually saying anything and he is sure to come up short when its time to fight. The problem with being dependent on crutches is that they only help you to walk. When it comes time to run, jump, climb, or fight you’re f***ed.
Ante’s on a mission to redeem every lost soul in the WFWF. He should start with the man in the mirror.
If he thinks he has been saved and he is on a righteous mission in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost then he’s reached a new level of delusion. Religion is just as bad if not worse for him than every PCP laced blunt he smoked, line of coke he snorted up his nose, or needle full of heroin he shot into his veins.
If Ante had any faith in himself he wouldn’t need any of the crutches he’s leaned on throughout his pathetic life.
I have faith in myself. It’s what has propelled me to levels of success in two short years that Ante Whitner could only dream of achieving in five… ten… twenty years. Ante has to see that and the jealousy eats away at him. He needs to beat me to save himself, not me. Another loss to Frank Lynn could be too much for Ante’s fragile psyche to survive.
Ante, stop trying to save me. As I said, I’m doing just fine and don’t need any help. Don’t waste your prayers on me.
God isn’t listening anyway. He’s playing golf.
Framingham, MA : August 25, 2018
The Janitor cleans up
Sarah is bent over the sink washing the dishes from dinner. Next to her, Billy Broom stands at the ready with a towel to dry each dish.
Thank you for helping while Frank changes Laura.
No problem. I’m used to it. Back home my daughter does the cooking and I do the cleaning. I think it’s in my DNA.
I’ll refrain from any janitor jokes. I bet you’re tired of hearing them.
Aye-firmative. I grin and bare it but you wouldn’t me hear complain if they stopped.
Enjoy the moment. You’re gonna’ pay the price soon enough when Frank comes back with a full report on the odor, color, and consistency of Laura’s latest diaper bomb.
Been there done that too. Jenny made some real impressive poos in her time.
Sarah laughs at the burly Billy making use of the term “poo”. There’s a very sweet man hiding underneath that gruff exterior.
So can I ask you something? It’s sort of personal.
Sure. Fire away.
Why did Frank go off on religion? Ante Whitner is coming after his belt, not the Vatican. Why piss people off?
I warned Frank that his anti-religion tirade might make him some enemies but he stuck to his guns. Actually, I think it might have been good for him.
How so? Does he really want the Pope pulling for Ante Whitner?
Sarah almost drops the plate she is washing as she breaks into uncontrollable laughter.
Hahahaha. Sorry, I had this image of the Pope in his plexiglass bubble at ringside cheering for Ante Whitner. Funny stuff.
It’s a stretch but you get my point, don’t you?
Sarah’s voice takes on an almost professorial tone as she answers Billy’s question. Billy listens intently hoping to get some insight into the mind of a champion, one of the reasons he came to Frank for training.
I do. And that’s exactly why I think this was good for Frank. He’s usually so wrapped up in trying to please everybody else… Joshua Dean, Joe Bishop, Daphne, the fans… even me. He’s so busy trying to please others that he forgets who he is.
Whatever his reasons are for tearing the church a new one, he doesn’t care what others think or say. Love it or hate it, this is Frank dropping the facade and being himself.
I dunno. It’s risky. I ain’t the most religious person and even I was slightly offended.
A loud cough interrupts them. Frank is standing in the doorway. Sarah and Billy aren't sure how long he was there and it shows in their tentative silence.
I felt my ears burning.
Sorry Frank. I didn't mean to pry. It's just that I think you’re one of the good guys but the way you ripped the church to get at Ante… it didn’t feel like something a good guy would say.
I’m still a good guy… I hope. I think my fans will see that and whether they agree or not with what I said, they’ll still support me.
Don’t you think you took it a little too far? Sure, the church isn’t perfect but it does a lot of good too.
Not enough good. Never enough.
Frank pauses, rubs his temples as if fighting off a migraine.
There’s something I should tell you. Sarah, you deserve to know. As for you Billy, I think I can trust you to keep it under your hat.
As a kid, Mom and I attended church every Sunday. Mom was always on the look out for male role models and Father Patrick fit the bill. He was a good guy, always had the time to talk to me down whenever my temper almost got me into trouble. I respected him. Then… I’ll never forget. I’ll never forgive.
Frank wrings his hands together and paces around the kitchen, more nervous than he ever appeared in the ring before a big match. Sarah and Billy stop washing the dishes and give him their full attention. Frank's voice cracks at times like a teenager going through puberty.
I was twelve, one year into my training at Paulie’s gym. I’d been in a couple of fights during the week with a bully who wouldn’t leave Ricky alone. At my mother's request Father Patrick pulled me aside after Sunday school to talk to me in his private chambers. It started out normal. He talked to me about turning the other cheek, being the bigger man… all the usual cliches that I can easily see through now but held a lot more weight for an impressionable kid.
Then Father Patrick started talking about loving everyone, including your enemies. How love was the greatest power of all. He was sitting next to me on the couch, his hand on my knee. While he continued to tell me about how we need to accept love in all its forms, his hand was working it’s way up my thigh, massaging me in a way that was clearly not platonic.
Mom was a nurse so she had given me an extremely detailed and graphic talk about the birds and the bees. I knew exactly what was going on. I put Paulie’s training to work, grabbed Father Patrick’s wrist and twisted it all the way back, broke a couple of his fingers.
Billy slaps the counter loud enough to startle both Frank and Sarah.
Hot damn Frank! You did that to a grown man? Good for you!
Well, Father Patrick was a little man who hid from violence behind his collar. I was a big kid with some self defense training under my belt. It wasn’t even close to a fair fight, not that I cared.
Anyway, he was more shocked than hurt. Outraged actually. He honestly didn’t think he had done anything wrong and was shouting that I really was a bad boy who would end up in Hell for rejecting his love. I had let my mother, him, and Jesus down.
I told him “F*** Jesus!” He fell to his knees begging the Lord to forgive me. TO FORGIVE ME!
It was disgusting.
Again Frank pauses, on the verge of tears. Both Sarah and Billy make move towards him to offer comfort but Frank pushes them away so he can finish the story, taking a deep breath and speaking in a voice that is no longer cracking.
I stormed out and once we got in the car I told my mother everything. She hugged me for a damn long time and told me it would be all right. I had a hard time believing her as the tears streamed down her face.
We had been betrayed in the worst possible way. I think it hurt my Mom more than it did me. It was truly unforgivable. Needless to say, we never went back.
Sarah and Billy look on in grim silence. Everyone hears stories of pedophiles in the church but to meet a victim really drives home how truly wrong it is. Sarah goes over to Frank and gives him a hug, whispering into his ear.
I’m so sorry.
That’s some rough sh*t Frank. No kid should have to go through it.
Frank separates himself from Sarah and sits at the kitchen table, taking a deep breath while once again rubbing his head.
It gets better. Father Patrick was investigated by the archdiocese. I wasn’t the first kid he tried his crap on and most went through a lot worse than me. The church punished him… by transferring him to a new post in Sicily!
That’s all kinds of f***ed up. No wonder you want to kill Ante now that he’s born again.
I did. Ante picked the wrong banner to carry into battle. I was ready to go medieval on his ass. His newfound holiness was one more reason to despise the bastard.
That’s why I have to thank you, Billy, for being here. Working with you reminded me that I should be focusing on a wrestling match to defend my title. Beating the crap out of Ante won’t change what happened to me when I was twelve. I can't get wrapped up in fighting for another cause. We all know how that worked out for me the last time I tried.
You’ve helped me a lot too. I’m glad I could return the favor.
The heaviness of the moment lifts as quickly as it fell. Neither Sarah nor Billy would ever hold Frank’s rant against him. Nobody who knew the whole story ever could.
Maybe you should cut a new promo, one without the religious stuff. Bring the match back to being about you, Ante, and the International Championship?
Sounds like a good idea.
Nah. Let Ante think I’m going in pumped up on emotion. He’ll think that gives him an edge. Hmmm, that gives me an idea. Maybe I can play into it even more and really throw him off his game.
If you say so. I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand the mind of a wrestler.
Me either… and I am one!
Frank’s demeanor was back to business as he slapped Billy on the shoulder reassuringly.
Well, if Sarah doesn’t mind doing the rest of the dishes alone, let’s go watch some film so we both come out on top against Ante and Shuggy.
Sarah nods approvingly, giving both men a hug and peck on the cheek.
Go ahead boys. I’ve got this.
She watches them head off to Frank’s man cave, checking the baby monitor Frank left on the table to hear Laura snoring lightly in the bed room. She may have inherited her mother’s looks but she got her father’s sinuses.
Sarah wonders what else little Laura would inherit from her father. His drive - hopefully yes. His temper - hopefully not. His chosen profession - please no, anything else but professional wrestler.
The Heretic (continued)
The irony of my rant isn’t lost on me. Just a few months ago I was the one preaching from the pulpit about the sad state of the WFWF and how I would lead people to a better WFWF if they would just follow me.
But there is a big difference between my brand of preaching and the Bible thumping load of crap that Ante Whitner is currently engaged in. Mine was based in truths and reality while his… isn’t.
All you had to do was open your eyes and you would see what I saw: a WFWF full of ultra violence that had more in common with a drive by shooting than a test of skill in combat sports. I wasn’t so obnoxious as to think I was saving anyone’s soul. I was trying to save the WFWF itself so that everyone from the most pious to the most psychotic could wrestle here safe in the knowledge that win or lose, there would always be another match in their future until they decided to hang up their boots and walk off into the sunset.
It was Ante who showed me the futility of my cause. At Back to Basics I urged Ante to make something of the Golden Opportunity. He chose the coward’s way, admitting he was afraid to cash in on David Brennan because it would be suicide. Then he attacked me.
That was the moment I realized there was no saving the WFWF. There is only surviving the WFWF.
The revolution died at Back to Basics but from its ashes I arose as a true Lethal Weapon. I learned very quickly how to not only survive but to thrive. I took the Golden Opportunity from Ante Whitner and then the International Championship from David Brennan later that same night.
All thanks to Ante Whitner being an a-hole. I stopped worrying about everybody else and started taking care of myself.
I am more than happy to return the favor and show Ante the futility of his cause in Mexico City.
Ante says he found religion.
Hip hip hooray!
I don’t buy it.
This is the same man who was spitting anti-semitic insults and engaging in a human barbecue match that he demanded last winter. Doesn’t sound like a very holy man to me. Doesn’t even sound like a man with any hope of redemption.
People can change but not that much. Ante Whitner has been a self serving, deluded piece of sh*t for too long. There’s no way any man of the cloth shined that sh*t into something beautiful in a few short months. They’d need a lifetime and would still fail. There’s no redeeming Ante Whitner.
His religious zealotry is just an excuse. He’s the same piece of sh*t he’s always been but hey, he’s serving God now so it’s okay, right?
I may be a heretic but he’s a hypocrite. A delusional one too.
From as far back as our very first face to face meeting with his false claims that I smashed his precious bottle of scotch (his crutch of choice at the time) right up to our meeting at Under the Dome where he confused my manager not showing up because I didn’t have a match with her lacking confidence in me and my allegedly shriveled up nut sack, Ante is always making crap up to suit his own personal f*cked up world view.
His new religious fervor is just the latest attempt to make the world fit his skewed view rather than man up, accept reality, and adapt to it - something I did after losing to him at SuperBrawl which lit a fire under my ass and continue to do as I accept and adapt to what the WFWF is and what I have to do to survive and thrive in it.
That’s why I’m the International Champion and Ante Whitner is a whiny little b*tch. That’s right Ante, you’re the one crying all the time, not me. I didn’t whine my way to my success like you claim. I earned my opportunities by putting my money where my mouth is, offering up a deal to Lila Sleater that she couldn’t refuse which led to me beating Trace Demon and getting my way.
(Did you ever beat Trace Demon? I did. Twice! Just sayin’…)
Nobody gave anything to me because it was my birthday or because I cried until they couldn’t take it anymore. I scratched and clawed to get what I wanted. Plenty of blood and sweat but no tears.
Ante likes quotes. Here’s one for him:
Dread it. Run from it. Destiny arrives all the same. And now, it's here. Or should I say, I am.
It’s been my destiny ever since the ladder match at SuperBrawl to keep improving until I beat him and have my moment standing over him waving MY championship in his face.
Are you with me now Ante?
The WFWF.COM writers called you my greatest rival. I call you the monkey on my back that I will finally and irrevocably remove in Mexico City.
Thanos killed half the universe. I’ll be satisfied with killing your faith, your hopes, and your dreams. There will be no redemption for you.
Bring your crucifix and rosary beads to Mexico City. I’ll bring the fight.
I have no doubt that will be more than enough for me to walk out still the International Champion.
I dont know good luck 
