We cut backstage on Turmoil 299, where Paul Boulet is staring at the match card on the wall near catering, eating a fried chicken leg on a paper plate. He is interrupted by Cody Hagen, the 6'7" man towering nearly a foot over the portly duo-lingual.
CH: Afternoon Paul How U Doing Today Here In The World’s Most Famous Arena Madison Square Garden At Turmoil 299?
The Quebecer turns to look at him, confused.
PB: Eh? Have we met before? Why are you telling me where I am?
CH: Right Sry, I Just Wanna Say That The Pep Talk I Gave U In Your OCW Debut Match Got You A Victory Over Victor Karmine And I Saw That Me And You Are Gonna Brawl Tonight On Turmoil.
Boulet waves the chicken leg in the air in recognition.
PB: OH! Yes. You are that strange man who came to me in the locker room to wish me good luck. I was so shocked by your bizarre outburst that I stared into space for a good 35 to 40 seconds afterwards. Oui. We have a match, c’est vrai.
CH: Yea Emp Along With Her Gang Of Deranged Psychopaths Told Me When I Walked Right Into The Building That I Have A Match Against You Tonight.
PB: I don’t know why the GM thinks you’re so important you need a personal touch. Or maybe she thinks you are personally touched in de ‘ead, eh?
CH: It Could Be Because My OCW Rookie Career So Far Hasn’t Been On The Right Track Where I Need It To Be, I’ve Been Struggling In Matches, Not Focusing And Not Having The Clear Mind, Hell I’ve Wrestled Since June 15th 2017 And I’m 27 Years Old. Maybe It Could Be That I Haven’t Learned The OCW Way Of Wrestling Cause I Worked A Lot On The Indies For So Long.
PB: I have no idea why you, my opponent, are telling me all of your mental problems before we wrestle, but I will make sure to remember your lack of focus when I put you in the LOCK QUEBECOIS and make you tap! Or take the pin. Whatever works.
Paul breaks the chicken bone to emphasize! He then points the sharp end at Hagen before continuing.
PB: Let me tell you something, I was on the indies after my ‘ockey career came to an unfair end, and what I learned is how to pick the leg, how to lock a hold, and how to smack people in the face. There’s nothing more you need. If you didn’t learn that, tu es vraiment un idiot!
CH: Hockey Eh I’ve Been A Hockey Fan Hell Growing Up In The State Of Indiana My Favorite NHL Team Was The Chicago Blackhawks The 2 Time Stanley Cup Champions They Had Heart And Determination And Tonight Paul I’ll Show U And Everybody In That OCW Locker Room When You Push A Man To It’s Limits He’s Gonna Knock Your Ass Out And Make You Bleed And Tonight Paul I Will Be The One Who Will Have His Hand Raised In The End!
PB: Nowhere in that rambling, oddly punctuated tirade did you convince me, mon ami. But good luck. You’ll need it.
Boulet smugly jerks his head at the larger man, while Hagen merely walks away, snagging a water bottle from catering as he prepares for his upcoming battle.
MONSTERS BALL
RyVAUGHN vs. ANTHONY MARTIN vs. TELOS
We cut backstage to the interview area. Standing by is Stacy Clark with Marisa Welch-Mac. Marisa visibly irritated and pissed off.
She is covered from head to toe in a very understated wardrobe choice, showing no skin. Stacy looks Marisa up and down in a taken aback manner.
On the monitor there is a giant censor bar covering Marisa’s entire body up to her neck. Stacy gets annoyed and yells….
Stacy Clark: Trent! Remove this bar from Marisa. That is excessive and unnecessary!
Marisa: What the f- ..Seriously!? These haters need to put down the Haterade and hop off my ass.
The bar fades away as Stacy slowly raises the microphone to her lips and nods to the crew.
Stacy Clark: My guest at this time, the always controversial, Marisa Welch-Mac. Marisa, you requested this time. But first I just have to comment on your outfit. This is very unusual for you.
Marisa shakes her head in disgust, looks down at her outfit and flashes a fake smile for the camera.
Marisa: Well you’re right Stacy. This is actually the outfit I ran errands in today. What’s the point of getting dolled up for unappreciative people?!
Marisa: Now before I begin I just want to preface this by saying this is in no way intended for Mr. Sensation. He has been very fair and more than an accommodating Boss to work for for the most part..
Marisa:
However, he has some bad egg executives and investors underneath him in his ear..who I’d dare say don’t have his best interest at heart.
Marisa: You see, after the lingerie contest, which I clearly would’ve won, I was told to tone it down by “the powers that be” in talent relations.
Marisa:
Quite comical if you ask me. What I do here in OCW is child’s play compared to what I did in my former career. If you think I’m extremely risqué then you don’t know what that even means and I feel sorry for you.
Marisa:
Sheltered much! Besides, last I checked we weren’t broadcasting on FreeForm, The Disney Channel, or PBS.
Marisa: See, I didn’t make a name for myself being a BORING little good girl cookie-cutter mold smark Wrestling bitch! I made a name for myself being myself, my authentic self no matter who it pissed off and I did it fearlessly.
Marisa:
And for all the jeers there are triple the cheers. But you see some people don’t like unapologetic in-your face authenticity. It bothers them, Stacy.
Marisa: It eats away at their core and reminds them of everything they’re not or can’t have. And that’s a them-problem, not mine. I am an entertainer first and a wrestler second.
Marisa:
Secure in what I do. Management knew exactly who I was when I signed that SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT contract. I was hired to entertain. And I have done just that.
Marisa:
I have drawn asses to these seats, eyes to those screens, and money into the pockets of the very people who want to censor me!
Marisa:
This is pro-wrestling, a sport built around violence. This isn’t your grandparents’ product. I think some of these white collars are in the wrong profession.
Marisa: I am a grown ass woman! An adult, a professional, a money maker! I am not going to cater to some immature, prude, toxic executives who are triggered by the way I choose to express my femininity!
Marisa:
Because the world doesn’t revolve around them and their opinion isn’t the word according to sweet baby Jesus! They can spin the narrative and package it however they like, cause I won't back down and I refuse to be something I’m not.
Marisa: I am not a threat to OCW. The only threat are the ones who champion OCW to be stale, stagnant, and boring. Gatekeepers afraid to evolve. Close minded in their views. I won’t be silenced or manipulated by a charade I see right through.
Marisa: E V E R Y type of woman needs representation. The way I dress has nothing to do with my talent inside the squared circle!
Marisa:
Sexy never hurt anybody and everybody who is comfortable and liberated in their sexuality shouldn’t be labeled as problematic.
Marisa:
So instead of trying to control me they should be focusing on how to profit even more off of my image and likeness! If my husband; yes I am a married woman, not a hoe, even though people like to act as if they know my body count.
Marisa:
Two words, Merriam-Webster. But I digress. Now, if Iceman Nate Mac doesn’t have a problem with how I operate then nobody else should.
Marisa: I have been SELFLESS in entertaining the fans and I work my ass off everyday for this company. So this will be the last time you see The Sex Metal Barbie censored.
Marisa:
Don’t like it hoot, tough! FIRE ME! Cause I’m damn sure my services will be appreciated elsewhere! Marisa is Marisa!
And just like that Marisa snaps her fingers at the camera lens and storms away, her heels stomping the cement floor ferociously. Stacy stands there nodding with a smirk on her face as the scene fades away.
The bustling airport terminal buzzed with activity as travellers hurriedly navigated their way through the crowd. The air was filled with a symphony of clinking luggage wheels, distant announcements, and infrequent laughter.
Amidst the chaos, a payphone stood in a corner, its presence almost forgotten in the age of smartphones.
OWEN stood in the hefty line for non-residents to enter the United States. He glanced at his wristwatch impatiently, anxiety growing with each passing second.
He removed his cellular phone from his pocket, opened it up and looked at his contacts list. With the upward strike of his finger, he went to the bottom of his contacts until it stopped at the contact he intended to dial: Sheldon Tremblay.
Moments passed as OWEN stared at his phone. The voices of fellow travellers faded into the background, leaving OWEN alone in the airport's bustling hub.
He closed his eyes, summoning the courage to press the phone icon and initiate the call to his friend. As he waited for a response, OWEN felt as if time stood still, willing Sheldon to answer the call to shatter the silence and offer the reassurance he sought.
But the phone remained stubbornly silent, the connection severed in an unspoken divide. A sense of abandonment washed over OWEN, mingling with the thrum of disappointment.
The airport resumed its symphony of bustling sounds, oblivious to the unanswered call that echoed in OWEN's mind. But as he took a few steps in the queue closer to the airport officials, OWEN wondered if Colby’s was right.
