Post by The Last Real Man on Jun 23, 2016 19:00:42 GMT -5
June 19th, 2016
Hillsborough, California
“If you were that pressed to see him you had all week to do so,” Kharissa complained as usual, as I came by her loft unannounced and well after hours - which is the sort of behavior she once enjoyed.
But things are different now.
“You know he was sick all week,” she spat, closing her robe as I practically let myself in through the front door. “But you’d know that if you answered the phone, or a fucking text message.”
I spent the week on airplane mode, as I always do whenever I'm preparing for a championship match. No internet. No television. Pad and mat work during the day, film during the night. No alcohol. No smokes. Just me and my goal.
“You told me you would take him to the zoo on Father’s Day. This was your day. He cried for Daddy all day, even crawled over to the door waiting for you to walk through.”
It hurt. Although I pretended to be impervious to it all, it felt like a gut punch. Every broken promise. Every lie. Every time I said I'd be there but didn't make good on my commitment. To hear the anger and sadness in her voice, it wasn't something I enjoyed.
But it was necessary.
“I had plans, John. I've got a life too. I've got dreams too. But I'm the only one who has to sacrifice. You're the only one who’s important,” she continued as I crept up the stairs, and opened the door to the nursery. “Leave him be it took me hours to get him to sleep.”
I could hear the fatigue in her voice. Her eyes were black and tired. A mother having to work a double shift due to an absentee father.
“William,” I said, picking up my son, holding and cherishing him like my last breath, “Daddy’s here son,” I whispered into his little ear. “He’s here to tell you he’s sorry he’s been away. Sorry he couldn't take you to see the Giraffe, and all your other favorite animals,” my emotions rush to surface, my voice trembling. “I know I haven't been around like I'm supposed to. I know Daddy’s always working. But Daddy’s been chasing something for a long time, and he’s finally within striking distance.”
“John-” Kharissa spoke up, knowing she had heard my story a thousand times but I couldn't stop. I meant it this time.
“I’m doing it for you, son. Everything is for you. You’ll understand one day,” a tear came down my cheek as I kissed him on the crown of his head, “your old man’s gotta go now. But when I come back, I’ll be your champion.”
I put him back down in the crib ever so gently, staring at him for a moment before turning to leave. As I brushed past Kharissa she grabbed me by the arm.
“John…” she said as I turned to look her in the eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Just win.”
With teary eyes I nodded, and went on my way.
She's done so much in my absence, I owe her that much. I owe it to William more than anything.
I can't let them down.
This is my chance to change everything.
And she’ll be watching too. If I can do this, pull this off, maybe we can reconcile. Maybe she'll come back to me.
Maybe.
Just maybe.
*************************************************************************
It's A Long Way To The Top If You Want To Rock And Roll
The scene opens up to a small white room, with a man sat in a chair, his form casting a black silhouette across the white walls. As we close in on the table, we see a shot glass, a bottle of Armand de Brignac Rosé, a Cohiba, a lighter, and a poster advertising the now defunct promotion EXODUS Pro Wrestling’s “EXPRO on FX #15” event, and more importantly, a Main Event showdown between Andreas Lasiewicz and Johnny Cannon. In the center of all of this is The British Mamba himself, dressed to perfection in a black tuxedo from Burberry with a bow-tie to match.
“My name is Johnny Cannon.”
Starts the Brit in his most rugged tone whilst he pours himself a shot of pink wine.
“This Saturday I will be headlining the Main Event of All Star Showdown V, as I compete for an opportunity to become the FGA World Champion,” he states, as he grabs his glass, holding it up in front of his sullen, wrinkled eyes. “Saturday will mark the first time that I’ve challenged for a World Title in 829 days.” He says somewhat melancholic, as he downs his shot. “829 days,” He repeats.
“That's the equivalent of two years, two months, and twenty nine days,” he says, shaking his head in slight amazement. “In that time frame, the bee population has decreased, a few llamas went rogue, you know all the important stuff,” he recants, quickly pouring himself another shot. “It doesn't feel like it’s been that long, but in reality it's been forever - forever since I’ve called myself champion.”
“And I remember it ever so vividly,” he says, quickly chugging his shot. “I still smell the stench of the RIMAC arena. Still smell the anguish and anticipation that created the atmosphere of my very first World Title match. I called that company home for two years, ran through every marathon, every battle waving the company flag pridefully with a smile on my face as I grabbed every brass ring and accolade imaginable - only to be asked to do more or wait my turn.” He says, gritting his teeth.
“Had to publicly demand an opportunity, just an opportunity to prove not to EXODUS, or Jon Collins but to MYSELF that I was everything I claimed to be. That I was the best. And I did that,” he claims, before downing another shot. “I stepped into the ring with Andreas Lasiewicz, The Morning Star, the living legend. And we traded haymakers. I mean, we brought the heavy artillery, the AR-15s, the bazookas, couple nukes too. We left it all in the ring, fighting for what felt like an eternity, but when it was all over I was the only man standing. I was the MAN.” He boasts.
“That was the greatest moment of my life.” He says candidly. “The world stopped and I was the one on top of it. King of Olympus. But that's just it, it was just a moment, a mere flicker in time. Before I knew it everything I had worked hard to build, everything I created was taken away a month later by Christum Furor and I never recovered,” he confesses, tossing the shot glass as he grabs his wine bottle with a vice grip. “My pride never recovered. After that my career spiraled and I felt myself being flushed down life's toilet. I was so desperate to get back to the top that I was willing to do anything, even willing to betray my friend and partner Abby Park because I thought it would rekindle that championship flame.”
“But it didn't.”
“She embarrassed me in a number one contender's match, and went on to win the World Championship. I pretended to be happy for her, but the truth is I was jealous and angry - angry that I let the window of opportunity close shut. When I heard it slam it sent me over the edge. I went off trolley. Picked fights with men I didn't have the mental wherewithal at the time to battle. Ended up on Collins’ shitlist and got myself fired. Wrestled my final match against, well Lasiewicz of all people, and like a great Greek Tragedy he ended my suffering, bringing my life and career full circle.” He says, chugging straight from the bottle now.
“In less than a year I went from living the dream to collecting unemployment. Rock bottom. I was so broken that I went off the grid. Washed up on South Beach one day full of booze and all the cool drugs the pop stars rap about these days,” he says, taking another swig. “I was ready to lay there forever. And I did. I laid there for months, just waiting for the pain to end. Then one day Goodrich found me. Dragged me back to the condo, cleaned me up, and told me he had something on the table - but he wouldn't pull the trigger unless I could answer ONE question.”
“Is this how you want it to end?”
Cannon looks down at the table now in deep reflection. “I could've just retired. Could've let the story end there. But I didn't. Couldn't let my legacy be defined by those failures.”
“I refused to be the forgotten man.”
“So we negotiated with FGA, got the numbers right, and here we are,” he smiles, “Here we are, Zero. I've climbed out of the gutter, and up the ladder, and now I've got but one rung left to ascend. And you're a blithering idiot if you think I've come this far to be denied.”
“Let's be honest here, McHannon, I despise you and everything you stand for. You're a phony, and a front runner. You hold your cock out when you've got everything going for you, but as soon as adversity hits you make like Costanza and blame your shrinkage on the pool. But the truth is you never had one to begin with because you're not a man,” he says. “What you are is on borrowed time. And what you’ve got is a big mouth, and an even bigger ego. Well, you've also got the FGA World Title, but how you came in possession of it is a separate issue entirely.”
“Don't get me wrong though, despite my immense disdain for you Two Face, you're an excellent wrestler. It pains me to admit it, but you're one of the men at the top of this business. I've been in the ring with you. You're no slouch. You can bring it. So with that said, why is it that I, Tony, half of FGA, and majority of the wrestling community continue to call you a fraud,” he asks. “It's because you didn't win the FGA World Championship in either one of your two title victories, you simply were given it as a consolation prize for not losing.”
“I know that doesn't make sense to someone like you, so let me put it in a language that a whippersnapper possessing your limited comprehension can comprehend,” he says with a light chuckle, “you didn't earn it.” He claims. “You and I have a different definition for that word, Zero. You see, when you insult me by saying I haven't earned my way into this match, that I've talked my way into success or that I've rode Tony’s coattails it's fucking rubbish. Just trash coming from a trash human being.”
“I earned my way, Zero. Nothing has been handed to me. I've fought tooth and nails from day one. Clawed my way up the card, and I've bounced back from every setback. I'm as real a challenger as it gets. You don't think so? Well, let me run off some names on the hit list,” he says, sipping more wine. “Johnny Karma, Fujiko Mine, put both Evangelista and Chris Bond on the shelf, got tag wins over Sean Sands, Noelle Smith and Izzy Anders, single handedly beat the current Tag Champs, have wrestled in more Vertigo Main Events than ANYONE in FGA, oh and last but certainly NOT least I knocked YOU the fuck out!” He brags.
“I probably should have lead off with that,” he shrugs, “I know you have amnesia when it comes to that match. Must have been a side effect of the Cannon Driver. Something else you conveniently forgot, I did ALL those things WITHOUT Tony Carmine. SSTC didn't lend a finger. In fact, the only thing Carmine has done for me is give me someone to share the spotlight with because both of us alone are higher up in the pecking order than you, the glorious two-time World Champion.” He scoffs.
“I belong here, Zero. You on the other hand, well, your success comes with an asterisk. You became number one contender after winning a makeshift tournament. That's fine. You wrestle who they put in front of you, I understand that. The thing is, you didn't go through ME, and you didn't go through TONY. You didn't beat the New Kings on your path, you simply bested a bunch of paper challengers to get to Scott. You didn't fluke your win in the title match, no, I'll give you more credit than that. You merely had good timing. You were there at the right time, caught Chandler not at the height of his powers but at the end of his rope. He was worn out from dominating FGA. Streaks are meant to be broken after all. You simply swept the leg of a man who was already on his last one.”
“I've seen that story before, Zero. You did the same thing in EXODUS. You were just there in that Triple Threat. Adrian and Heather provided enough chaos for you to escape with the gold. And back then, just like after you beat Chandler, you talked your big game, acted like you were the greatest thing since sliced bread when you're nothing but the ends of the loaf that nobody eats, and you put on your “Fighting Champion” hat - but when the competition came knocking you got dropped.” He recalls.
“You lost to Cindy Parker in the exact SAME fashion. Wrote a check your big bloody mouth couldn't cash, and she thrashed you. Proved you were nothing but a placeholder. But once again you benefited from that perfect timing in the re-match. The stars aligned for you, Zero. You got to face a Cindy Parker who knew she was done with wrestling. She had finally lived her dream in FGA, and went into that match defeated, already knowing she was heading out the door. When she fell, you picked up the pieces.”
Cannon grabs his Cohiba now, pointing it at the camera. “You're the most famous dustpan in professional wrestling, Zero. When the glass breaks you pick up the debris. When the greats fall you're there to reap the benefits. Well you won't be reaping anything but what you've sowed, Saturday. Now, you've gotta deal with PRIME Cannon AND The Scandalous One. As talented as you may be, or think you are, you know deep down you're up against the wall. That's why you tried to tear us apart, hoping you could divide us. But that's what's funny.”
“Because Tony and I have said hundreds of times we’d gladly fight each other for the throne, so there goes your whole shtick right there. Better re-write that promo.” He says nonchalantly. “And we’d much rather see the other leave with the belt than to see you stay on top.”
So when you see me celebrating at night's end Tony, I suppose it's safe to assume there won't be any hard feelings, because that's exactly what's going to happen.” He proclaims. “Because I'm not walking out empty handed. I've waited too long for this, worked too hard for this.”
“And Sunshine let's not kid ourselves, it's no secret you don't see me on equal footing with you. I'm just a springboard to help elevate you to that World Championship level. Zero called me your lackey”, he scoffs. “Two weeks ago you said a lot of things about me when McHannon approached you, and though they may have been to fool the fool, all jokes contain truth. You DO think you’re the head honcho here, and you SHOULD.”
“The reason I agreed to this partnership was because I saw something in you that I once saw in myself back when we wrestled for the Pride Title. Deep beneath the spectacle, and the entertainment value, the glitter and glam - deep beneath everything I saw the hunger”, he says as he lights his cigar. “The hunger to not be great, but EXTRAORDINARY, which is the drive I’ve seen in the legends. I've seen it in men like Andreas Lasiewicz, and Chris Strike - that desire to reach your potential at all costs. It's the most important ingredient, along with talent and dedication.”
“And you’ve got ALL the tools”, he says, puffing on the Cohiba. “But you haven't put them all together YET. That's because you don't know how. Or at least you didn't until you lost to Chandler, and decided to fly with me. In Scott and myself you have two sides of the equation; in the former you had a man operating at peak efficiency, and in the latter, a man who had been to the mountaintop before. You’re smarter than you look, I mean isn't that why you’ve surrounded yourself with greatness?”
“The Frat Daddies. The New Kings. Different entities, but they serve the same purpose to you. Not tools to do your bidding, rather tools to help push you over that threshold. You learned as much as you could from Chandler, then you challenged him, only to realize you didn't become the master yet. Well I'm here to tell you that you've still got much to learn young padawan.” He jokes. “We BOTH know YOUR feet hit first at Gold Rush. And we BOTH know had you not tried to sneak me I would have eliminated you. I don't blame you though, it was a desperate tactic by a desperate man. However, I'm just a little bit more desperate than you which makes all the difference.”
“I’m so desperate that I was willing to join forces with YOU, my enemy to conquer the landscape in FGA.”
“And now that I'm within inches of reaching the summit, what makes you think I'm not willing to do ANYTHING to get there?
“Because I am.” He stresses. “I don't have many chances. Unlike you and Zero, I don't have the future to look forward to if I don't get this done. McHannon’s just entering his prime, at what 30-31? You're younger than us both, which means you’ve likely got another 10 maybe 15 years to compete at this level. I do NOT.”
“I don't have the luxury of time on my side. I'll be 40 in a few years. With all the money I've made in my life I still can't afford more time. That's why this is so important to me. It's a long way to the top if you want to rock and roll, and I've waited a long time for this fucking opportunity - this chance to play my GREATEST HIT! 829 long bloody days and I won't waste it.”
“While you may see this as me trying to steal YOUR glory Tony, this is just me recapturing MINE. I don't want to be World Champion, I NEED to be, because without it I’m NOTHING.”
“Without it I’m just a bad father.”
“Without it I’m just a cheating boyfriend.”
“Without it I’m just another guy.”
“I have to win because I need the JUSTIFICATION. I need to justify EVERYTHING! Every sacrifice, every mistake, every second in the gym, every second spent watching film - I need to justify it all with the biggest victory in my career. I need a story to tell my son in 10 years. I need this for my legacy.” He takes a hard pull now.
“You're going to be the World Champion someday, Tony. That day will not be at All Star Showdown V, because this Saturday you and McHannon will be caught in my raging inferno. My fighting spirit has never shined brighter, the flame has been REIGNITED. On June 25th, in front of THOUSANDS in the Lakeland Center and MILLIONS around the world I'm coming to BURN YOUR DREAMS TO THE GROUND. I'm coming to set the place on FIRE,” he declares, taking a long pull before blowing a massive cloud of smoke into the camera which engulfs the picture, “and when the smoke clears only ONE man will be standing amidst the scorched earth, unscathed and unburnt, holding the greatest prize in professional wrestling.”
As the picture clears we see Johnny Cannon staring right into the camera, unblinking, as the feed slowly fades out.
