Post by Casanova English on May 15, 2021 19:24:44 GMT -5
Carnage Wrestling Presents
A Casanova English Original
Big Fish
You think I would be happy after putting the first win on the board for Carnage Wrestling at a super show…
But it just made things worse….
Got me caught up.
Lost my championship to some demonic toy reincarnated.
It all just put it in perspective for me. I’m a big fish… and well Carnage Wrestling is… eh, fuck it.
What is it they say about actions speaking louder than words?
It must have been a culture shock when Casanova English waltzed into CW, hell… even Trent Steel is a former World Champion.
******
Detective Tony Burns’ lips were dry, a sole cold sore was forming on the upper one. It happened every time he was stressed.
“You are going to show her this video,” the voice on the other end of the phone ordered.
“They want to put a burning card outside of your place. We are literally going to fight fire with fire.”
Burns nodded his head, though the detective on the other end of the phone couldn’t see.
“I can handle it,” he said, although he’s been living out of an undisclosed hotel in the Baltimore area.
Burns was worried English would come back to where he lived if any more issues arise, but he was getting paid well. He had a few more risks in him before fully shitting his pants -- and Burns needed that payday -- bad.
“I’ll visit Voodoo, I’ll tell her the truth,” Burns said.
******
I paced my living room smoking a cigarette. It was a normal look for me these days. I feel like I am racing to a red light at Carnage Wrestling. Feel like I’ll gain a title in just enough time to be cemented as the last champion. Destine to become another relic in a dying industry on life support.
“We haven’t heard from that detective in a while,” Ransom said. “Does that make you nervous? You know, it seems a little too quiet.”
“Maybe they just got the message,” I said, throwing one cigarette down on the floor, stomping on it, only to quickly light another and place it between my lips.
“Feeling naked without a championship,” Ransom asked.
“Nah, you know those things never meant much to me despite how they magnetize,” I said. “I lost to a fucking doll last week… that could have something to do with it. I am better than that, but I slipped.”
“It’s bound to happen, we know the ladies have always been a weakness of yours between the ropes.”
Ransom wasn’t wrong. It was all because of my mommy issues. The desire to bring women pleasure rather than pain, the deep seeded need to be loved. A weakness I’ve tried to shake, winning my first world title off of the toughest person I’ve ever faced, barely putting her down for a 10 count to gain glory, I thought I had managed to jump that hurdle… I was wrong.
“Yeah, but I am tired of using that as an excuse.”
I fell back into a chair and let out a sigh. I toss the cigarette into the ashtray on the end table beside me.
“Maybe it’s time we start tagging, maybe you need a bit of a break on the body and mind.”
Ransom was probably right, but I didn’t want to waste his talent at Carnage the way I felt the industry was on a downturn.
“This week I just have to prove Steel isn’t bullet proof. I need to use him to reestablish myself, get back to that hot streak. I don’t even care if I secure the position as the top contenders for the Baltimore title. It’s about blood and guts this week. It’s about sending another message in in bold red crimson”
“You have something in common,” Voodoo said walking into the living room, her dreads resting on her shoulder.
“You and Trent both walk with death, both are nearly there. I can see it in your eyes. You both are bad dogs… longing for a wolf to come along and put you out of your misery.”
Voodoo was always reading my energy, always trying to council me with her black magic.
“Every time I draw an oracle card for you it comes up as death, a constant indication you are locked into rebirth… locked into constantly finding who you are and reinventing yourself to become who you think you need to be. You need to embrace the smell of death, the pain that lives inside of you. Have you truly let it out like you wanted?”
Before I could tell Voodoo had glided across the room and slid her hand down over my eyes forcing them closed.
The images came quickly. My mother's corpse. My first championship win. Blood running down my face, into my eyes. My father’s open neck wound chuckling. Staring up at the spotlights.
My eyes open and I’m gasping for breath.
My home is dark, Ransom and Voodoo long gone.
First time I slept in weeks.
*****
Murder… something my opponent and I have been familiar with. Death spewing from the tip of our tongues, but I didn’t go the garbage wrestling root. I didn’t cut myself to feel worthy, nah, I’m going to make the world work for my suffering.
I walked toward the camera through a row of tombstones at a Baltimore graveyard in the middle of the night. The burning ember of my cigarette coming more and more into focus until my face is finally well lit in front of the camera.
“Trent Steel I guess this is a fitting place for me to be considering we are both no strangers to walk beside death. That’s your specialty isn’t it, death matches and staple guns to the forehead,” I said smirking, shaking my head.
“I guess it’s kill or be killed, but you know a lot about that don’t you kid. And when you are in that ring with me, and my demeanor dwarfs your confidence, you are going to revert right back to that scared starry-eyed little 9-year-old boy… and we’re going to see if you still got it in you. We’ll see if you are still a fucking killer.”
I puff my cigarette slowly, pacing back and forth between the narrow pathway before sitting atop of a thick stone.
“I’ve got this theory when it comes to wrestling names. Trent Steel eh, people like you always have that last name that makes them seem hard, edgy, but how thick is that shell. How much rust has it accumulated over the years? How many dents are in that armour, after all you’ve been doing this a long time. And me, I’m not aiming to just do a little more damage… I’m coming to pierce and crack that shell, to snap it open and get to the core of who Trent is.”
I pop up off the gravestone and walk toward the camera once more, tapping ash off my cigarette letting the embers strike the burial of people which don’t matter to me.
“If I have to reopen every scar to get to know you, if I have to peel back every layer of skin to get to the bones… I’ll do it. I’m hungrier than ever. I’m tired of being the lap dog for this company so early in. Slapped in main event after main event on a weekly show to be tossed an opener at a super event against someone who didn’t even have a championship. This industry takes and takes and takes from men like me. I’m not going to sit out here and suck the dick of Carnage wrestling management, I’m not going to fluff the fans asses. That’s not who I am… love it or hate it… I am the true dose of REALITY in an industry often called fake. I’ll tell you… the moves aren’t, the injuries aren’t, but these fucking people are. And it’s so damn uncreative. I’m up against the guy who’s gimmick is ‘The Son of A Bitch.’ Fuck, I didn’t think there was anyone in this company with more mommy issues than me.”
I laugh, only shutting myself up by pushing the cigarette back between my lips. I take a long inhale before blowing a big plue into the camera. I gesture casually at my body, cancer stick between my fingers.
“I know I don’t have the bronze muscle god body you all like, I know I don’t have those velvety smooth words that get the blood flowing to your nether regions, I know I don’t have the wound, the years… like Trent Steel… but I’m doing what you boys and girls had been trying to do for the last 30 years… make wrestling great again. Make it relevant. Make people give a fuck beyond the two hours you bore them with dry promos and squash matches.”
“I’m not asking you Trent, I’m telling you, if you can’t leave that traumatized 9 year old at home, if your intellectual puberty has been inhibited by concussion after concussion… no worries… when you step in that ring with me, I’ll make you feel like a man…. Boy.”
“I’m the Modern Day Messiah, but at Chaos you pay for your own sins Trent.”
I literally spit my cigarette from my mouth as the camera fades to black.
******
Detective Burns' hand was shaking so bad he knocked on Voodoo’s apartment door four times instead of three.
He didn’t hear any footsteps before the door swung open and the small dreadlocked woman glared slightly up at him.
“Detective Burns,” he said.
“I know who you are, I know everything.”
“No,” Burns said gulping. “Not everything.”
He held his iPhone out, his hand shaking but Voodoo could see the video. It was the church she trained wrestling at. The place where she and Ransom met, where they became close friends.
It was burning, becoming consumed quickly.
Voodoo knew what happened next… to an extent… she made it out… English ran in to save her.
But she noticed the door was still closed, no one had rushed inside.
BOOM
Busting through the door, there she was, slung over Casanova English. Ransom outside the blazing church in a car. After arguing, Ransom and English load V’s nearly lifeless body into the back of the car.
She just shut the door on Burns and stepped backward inside the apartment.
It was the first time she thought… maybe he’s too dangerous.