Post by "The Peoples GOAT" James Raven on Jul 29, 2012 15:04:28 GMT -5
It didn’t take long for the tide to turn against me. It never does.
You’d think by now people would have caught on that I lose occasionally. More importantly, you’d think they would have realized that when it happens, I tend to come back stronger. You’d be wrong. Instead, I deal with reporters calling my wife to ask if she thinks my career is over. I deal with other wrestlers calling me and asking if I’m going to permanently retire at the age of 22, and thanking me for my contributions to the sport. It’s almost funny.
The key word there was “almost”.
RAVEN: I’m sorry, what magazine did you say that you wrote for?
I listen carefully as the voice on the other end of the line tells me ‘Pro Wrestling Insider’. I shake my head in disgust, wondering why that rag is always the one leading the charge to end my career.
RAVEN: Great. I’m going to give you a quote to use in your story. Are you ready? “The staff at ‘Pro Wrestling Insider’ has the journalistic integrity of a high school yearbook committee. They get paid $40,000 a year to write shit about the popular kids, whether it be factually accurate or not. James Raven is not retiring. James Raven took an unfortunate loss, and there’s nothing more and nothing less to the story. We apologize for reporting on this garbage, and for attempting to manufacture our own news within the wrestling industry. We at ‘Pro Wrestling Insider’ strongly recommend that you put down this sh!tty magazine and start getting your news from the internet like a normal person”. Did you get all of that?
The voice on the other end of the line gets agitated, and even hurls a few four lettered bombs my way. Their venom warms my heart, and brings a smile to my face. They finish with a dramatic huff, and I give them a moment to regain their composure before responding.
RAVEN: I know you are, but what am I?
My ear drums nearly explode, but before they can get more than three words out I hit the glowing red button on my Android and slide the phone back into my pocket, the grin still prevalent on my face. Mia sits on top of my desk, shaking her head in equal parts amusement and disapproval.
MIA: That was mean…
RAVEN: No, them calling me and expecting anything else was mean. What the fuck am I supposed to say, Mia? Am I supposed to whine, and bitch about Star screwing me over? Fuck that. I’m not giving that cunt the satisfaction of knowing that she got under my skin.
MIA: James, she knows that she got under your skin. She knocked you unconscious in the main event against a guy that everyone expected you to beat. She put a blemish on your near sterling record… she made you look stupid.
RAVEN: Helping or hurting, Mia? Helping or hurting?
She sighs and holds her hands up in the air, submitting the fight before it even begins. She stands up from the desk and walks around to my chair, standing behind me and rubbing my shoulders gently to relax me.
MIA: I’m just saying… you’d have to be the most even tempered person in the company to not be pissed at what she did… and we all know that you’re not the most even tempered person in the company.
RAVEN: Fine! She knows that she got to me, but I don’t need the rest of the world knowing that she got to me too.
MIA: Fair enough, babe. Let’s just change the subject.
I chuckle condescendingly, shaking my head from side to side and staring distantly at the floor.
RAVEN: Change the subject? To what, Mia? The weather? The Olympics? What are we going to talk about that’s going to take my mind off the fact that the stupid ghetto slut who I all but handed the World title to bent me over and ass raped me in front of 25,000 people in Norway, not to mention the millions watching on TV? FUCK! I lost to BILL FUCKING BLAKK, MIA! What part of this are you not fucking understanding?! FUCK!!!
She lets go of my shoulders and backs away slowly. I know, I know… I shouldn’t have snapped at her like that. I’m taking shit too seriously, and all she’s doing is trying to help. News flash, true believers, this isn’t the first time I’ve been an asshole to her, and it won’t be the last. We look at each other, neither knowing what to say next, but our focus is broken as the door to my office suddenly bursts open and Big Shank enters the room.
BIG SHANK: Everything alright in here?
RAVEN: Fuck no. What kind of dumb ass question is that?
BIG SHANK: Mia… is this one of the times where I have to give him a free pass, or is it fair game for me to kick his teeth down his throat?
MIA: Free pass. Sorry.
BIG SHANK: God damn it. Well, can you guys keep it down in here? I’m trying to teach Nathan and Tristan some catch techniques… you know… since James is in here throwing a temper tantrum instead of managing his school and training his students.
I pick a book up off my desk and throw it across the room, but Shank deflects it easily and watches it sail into the corner. He looks back at me with a toothy grin, but there’s a small measure of anger in his eyes.
BIG SHANK: Careful, Raven. That “free pass” only goes so far…
MIA: Thanks Dustin. We’re fine, and we’ll keep it down. Sorry.
Shank walks out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Mia looks back at me, her gaze now dripping with disapproval.
MIA: This is going too far, James. I tried to let you get through it on your own, but now you’re starting to piss people off. How many times do I have to give you these lectures before you start putting things together on your own? You lost a match. Big fucking deal! You’ve lost before and you’ll lose again, what makes this one so bad? Star screwed you? You’ve screwed people before, and can you honestly say you’d have been above doing the exact same thing to her if your roles had been reversed?
RAVEN: Yeah, but-
MIA: But? But what? You lost nothing from this match, James. You had a World title shot in the bank regardless of what happened against Bill. What’s changed since the loss? What did you lose?
I feel my neck grow hot, my cheeks flushing to a bright red as I look away sheepishly. She’s right, of course. She’s always right. I’d never tell her that of course, but she knows.
RAVEN: You were right, we should definitely change the subject.
MIA: Fine.
She smiles victoriously, but doesn’t say anything else. She’s nice enough to leave my shame in the dust. In this moment I remember why I married her.
RAVEN: So… what else can we talk about?
MIA: Oh, the subject I had in mind doesn’t involve a lot of talking.
She circles around to the front of my chair, pushing my knees apart and kneeling down between them, her fingertips running from my chest down to my belt buckle and fumbling with it slowly.
RAVEN: Oh… so, sex is going to help me win a World title?
MIA: Why wouldn’t it? It worked for Camden…
RAVEN: Touché.
FADE TO BLACK
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