Back in the locker room, the wrestler walks, awaiting his match. He sees many characters in costume, a couple making out in the shadows, doesn’t know if it’s regular or mixed.
Walking, he greets everyone as he goes by. Wrestling is a family, you see these people nearly every day of your life. You have your friends and acquaintances; you have your business partners and inside guys. It is a world in itself. It is a true circus.
You are a successful independent promotion, successful for three years in a row, but have been around for decades, mixing, inheriting from previous promotions and shit.
You walk into the bathroom; you hear a rookie headliner doing blow in the bathroom stall. You ask him…
Wrestler: What are you doing, kid? Sounds like your having a hell of a party in there.
Kid: It’s cool.
Wrestler: I get it, Kid - but I don’t get it. Why would you wanna do that shit before the match? It doesn’t enhance anything except the burning flesh.
Kid: A bump for a bump.
Wrestler chuckles expecting Kid to be gone in a month, maybe less. Outside he sees the man he needs to see; the head of talent Johnny Hill.
JH: Ay, big guy, what’s going on?
W: Not much, man. Ay, Kid’s in there blowing snow, man.
JH: God damnit, Johnny hissed what sounded like both anger and relief simultaneously.
Well, he was losing tonight anyways. This’ll be his last match. He’s doing a pay per appearance anyway. Dumbass.
What else going on?
W: Nothing much, shaking his head. Just waitin. Already stretched out, hit the ropes. Just waitin for muh music.
JH: Alright alright. Good luck, have fun. Good what you told me bout Kid. We got enough problems round here, don’t need more a that shit. Good lookin out W.
W: Likewise.
Now what?
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