So much potential,
So little follow through.
Will today’s attempt be fortuitous or shameful?
Their guess is as good as yours.
The Bible thumping heart throb only works in the red,
His skill set is weak, still stumbling in to miracles.
Sure, we can run,
But prefer to take a step back.
A clusterfuck of mediocrity.
* - P.O.V. –The pillagers, who sit next to the electricians, “leaders,” and untamed nags.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
First Match
It’s what we do.
We don’t find jobs, we find careers. That’s what dad said, and it begins tonight. Here. Now.
“Professional wrestling refereeing is in our blood, son. It is a damn honorable choice for a career.” He said.
“It’s what we do.”
First match. A dark match, but a match nonetheless. A match to begin a career. Here come the introductions now.
Wow, look at this guy. He’s a monster. OK, I know he’s not really a monster. They don’t exist. Still, I bet if you go further down his family tree, you would find at least some monster blood. You know, from when they did roam the earth. Boy, are the people here not afraid to shout. I might be inclined to do the same, were it not for the high probability of monster ancestory. Have to drown that fear, right now. Call it down the middle. Still, it is nice to see that his management recognizes the need for professionalism in the workplace. Dressed for success, he seems to be shining his way down to the ring. A man of principles if ever I saw one.
I’m getting twenty five dollars for my work tonight. I wonder if they will be writing me a cheque? What does our company letterhead look like? Maybe I should frame it. The first cheque of a long career. It’ll be a conversation starter.
His opponent. All muscles and smiles. It looks like these people have found their monster slayer. Hundreds of people are high fiving and cheering. Well, a hundred and a half of people maybe. Can’t let them sway my rulings. “Right down the middle. That’s how we call it.” Dad always said, “It’s a code we maintain in this glorious career path we take.”
Twenty five bones. Maybe I will buy my dad a steak dinner. Yeah, that’d be nice. Show the old man what the new career can bring. Show him just how much I have grown. How much I can provide.
Time to get to work. Step one: check the fighters for foreign objects. We will start with the big one. Get it out of the way. It’s always the tights first, followed by the two wrist tape jobs, and finally the boots. The well-dressed man is up on the apron.
I appreciate your input, sir. Thank you. If you will just let me check your man for objects that he could conceal about his person, I will then do the same to his opponent, and this contest can begin.
Tights are ok. Always the first place you check.
Sir! I will check the other combatant once yours has been deemed fit to fight. If you will just take your place at ringside, I will continue with my duties.
Nothing in the tape on the right hand. So far, so good.
Look, I understand that you want me to get to him. I will. There is a procedure we have to follow at this level of athletics, my good man. Without it, we would have anarchy, and I am sure that this is not something desired from a fellow of good standing like yourself.
Left hand’s tape is safe. Almost through with this behemoth.
I will not say it again! I have a responsibility to the sanctity of this bout and that begins with an assurance of the safety of the two individuals involved! Please, sir. Step aside and let me finish the professional obligation to which I have committed. Thank you.
Right boot. Seems OK.
Obviously I am not making myself clear. If I do not complete this exercise, then we do not have a match. This is clearly a--- I will get to him! Don’t worry about it! He is surely losing patience, just as you are right now. Your man came here to fight, so did he! It only happens when I declare it so. Your interruptions only serve as confusing distractions at this point! I cannot see why you would wish this. Please. For the sake of competition, go to your designated corner on the outside of the ring. Thank you!
What’s this? The giant. Offering up his last boot for me to check. What a breath of fresh air. I may have been wrong about his upbringing after all. Thank you. Final boot, the right one. Checked. Moving on.
Wait a minute. What am I going to eat tonight? Maybe I could get something that I could share with my father. Yeah, that’d be nice. A dinner together as I begin to walk the same path he once took. It’s almost like a metaphor.
Ol’ smiles is no problem with the foreign object check. I seem to notice a sense of doubt in my abilities as I give him the once-over.
Down the middle, fighter. Nothing more nothing less.
Alright, let’s get this going. Step two: call for the bell. Keep it clean, lads!
They’re locked up. The happy guy has definitely got some strength, but the abnormality that he faces has at least two feet on him. It only makes sense that he should get the first move off. Oooh! And he does. A hard body slam to the canvas. The joy has left the smaller one’s face for a moment. Colossus is in control.
Maybe we can split a nice pasta. Those restaurants seem to have healthy servings, right? We will enjoy a hearty pasta and revel in the new career afterglow. “Like father, like son.” He’ll say. Just like that old movie from the 80’s.
The ogre of unusual size is continuing his dominance. A series of hard lefts have put his opponent in to a grin-less daze. Those were borderline close fists.
Watch the punches, my ample friend.
He throws the brawn toward the ropes. A bounce back in to… a sleeper hold! This could be over quick! “When a submission hold is applied, only you are on their side.” I’m on it, Dad.
Have you had enough son? No shame in submission. It’s your livelihood we are talking about, here.
He says no. I shall inform the scorekeeper as much.
No submission!
How about now? Shall we call it a match? How about it? Hedge your bets and return to fight again someday? Do you give, sir?
He expresses once more in the negative. The color is beginning to leave his face.
The combatant has chosen to remain in competition!
The fancy suit shouts. He wants me to call for the bell. He must be under the misconception that the man being choked is wishing to concede. I can only call the match once he does or once he seems to have lost consciousness. At which point I will—oh! He’s out. It’s three lifts and drops of his arm now. Only after the arm has fallen for the third time do I deem the match over. First arm grab. It drops.
Who was in that 80’s film LIKE FATHER LIKE SON again? I can remember bits and pieces only. Something happens where a dad and son switch places somehow. They have to find a way to get back to their regular bodies. Hilarity ensues.
Second arm grab. Lifeless, it drops again.
Judge Reinhold and Fred Savage. One of them is suddenly having to deal with paperwork and the day-to-day grind for the first time, and the other with puberty… again. It writes itself.
Third arm grab. I let go. Inexplicably, he has found new life. The hundred or so in this community hall have begun to cheer him on. The manager is beside himself. He believes I should have called for the bell by now.
Only after three drops of the arm, kind sir! Surely you know this to be the ways of our sport!
The fan favourite has returned to his feet, but the beast keeps his hold. An elbow to the gut, and it is loosened slightly. Two more has broken him free. He runs to the ropes. Bouncing off, he hits the large half-creature with a flying clothesline. As the mass of meat falls, the beam returns to the other one’s face. He begins to work his opponent over some more. The tide of this match has clearly turned.
Wait, I think that may have been another film with those two. Same plot though. I can see the movie poster. Judge Reinhold on a skateboard jumping through the office of a disapproving Fred Savage. VICE VERSA, I think it was. What movie was I thinking of? Didn’t Tom Hanks become a kid somewhere as well?
Boy, this blissful brawler is really taking it to his counterpart. A series of exciting, fast and high flying moves have really thrown this crowd in to a frenzy and put him in the driver’s seat. Should be getting ready for a pin count any minute now. Oh my! He’s pointed to the turnbuckle. A desire to jump off the top perhaps? A legal move, this much is true, but it is still a very high-risk maneuver. If he can pull it off, we would not only have some real fireworks, but it may be enough to make it curtains for his—
Hey! Sir! Please get down from the ring apron! If you are to interfere in this match right now, you will leave me with no other choice but to disqualify the challenger that you represent here tonight! No! I do not want to hear any more from you! I can tell you quite honestly, that whatever your intentions are, pure as they may be, you are only causing havoc with my ability to call this match! I mean you no disrespect, clearly a man of your disposition should be able to see my point of view! Why are you even up here right now? I cannot discuss matters with you any further, as once again, you are only providing more of the confusing distract--…
****************
I’ve got it. It was Dudley Moore. Dudley Moore and Kirk Cameron. That’s who was in LIKE FATHER LIKE SON. We saw it for my twelfth birthday together.
What’s happened? I blacked out for a moment there. Oh right, the match. Why is that enormous left boot sitting on the floor of the ring? So dazed. Wait, the savage has his adversary rolled up in a pin. Must… make… the count. It is my job, no my career. Down the middle. It’s what we do.
One. “Shoulders on the mat, is when you start to tap.”
Two. My first match, dad. The start of a real career.
Three.
I call for the bell. The crowd is irate. I only did what was asked of me. The shiny suit wears the smile that the hero of the eighty something people here once did. I have to raise the half-demon’s hand in victory. My head is killing me. He raises his fist before I can grab it.
Fine! You are the victor! Congratualtions!
Man, these people are upset. They seem to be directing their venom at me. What have I done except call things fair and square? I need to lie down. Maybe after I stop at the pasta place. Dad’s going to be so proud. We’ll rent a movie maybe. Not sure about those 80’s comedies though. I doubt that anyone is naïve enough to believe such nonsense.
A rough first step, but a first step regardless. Things can only get easier from here, right? Tonight I began my career.
It’s what we do.
We don’t find jobs, we find careers. That’s what dad said, and it begins tonight. Here. Now.
“Professional wrestling refereeing is in our blood, son. It is a damn honorable choice for a career.” He said.
“It’s what we do.”
First match. A dark match, but a match nonetheless. A match to begin a career. Here come the introductions now.
Wow, look at this guy. He’s a monster. OK, I know he’s not really a monster. They don’t exist. Still, I bet if you go further down his family tree, you would find at least some monster blood. You know, from when they did roam the earth. Boy, are the people here not afraid to shout. I might be inclined to do the same, were it not for the high probability of monster ancestory. Have to drown that fear, right now. Call it down the middle. Still, it is nice to see that his management recognizes the need for professionalism in the workplace. Dressed for success, he seems to be shining his way down to the ring. A man of principles if ever I saw one.
I’m getting twenty five dollars for my work tonight. I wonder if they will be writing me a cheque? What does our company letterhead look like? Maybe I should frame it. The first cheque of a long career. It’ll be a conversation starter.
His opponent. All muscles and smiles. It looks like these people have found their monster slayer. Hundreds of people are high fiving and cheering. Well, a hundred and a half of people maybe. Can’t let them sway my rulings. “Right down the middle. That’s how we call it.” Dad always said, “It’s a code we maintain in this glorious career path we take.”
Twenty five bones. Maybe I will buy my dad a steak dinner. Yeah, that’d be nice. Show the old man what the new career can bring. Show him just how much I have grown. How much I can provide.
Time to get to work. Step one: check the fighters for foreign objects. We will start with the big one. Get it out of the way. It’s always the tights first, followed by the two wrist tape jobs, and finally the boots. The well-dressed man is up on the apron.
I appreciate your input, sir. Thank you. If you will just let me check your man for objects that he could conceal about his person, I will then do the same to his opponent, and this contest can begin.
Tights are ok. Always the first place you check.
Sir! I will check the other combatant once yours has been deemed fit to fight. If you will just take your place at ringside, I will continue with my duties.
Nothing in the tape on the right hand. So far, so good.
Look, I understand that you want me to get to him. I will. There is a procedure we have to follow at this level of athletics, my good man. Without it, we would have anarchy, and I am sure that this is not something desired from a fellow of good standing like yourself.
Left hand’s tape is safe. Almost through with this behemoth.
I will not say it again! I have a responsibility to the sanctity of this bout and that begins with an assurance of the safety of the two individuals involved! Please, sir. Step aside and let me finish the professional obligation to which I have committed. Thank you.
Right boot. Seems OK.
Obviously I am not making myself clear. If I do not complete this exercise, then we do not have a match. This is clearly a--- I will get to him! Don’t worry about it! He is surely losing patience, just as you are right now. Your man came here to fight, so did he! It only happens when I declare it so. Your interruptions only serve as confusing distractions at this point! I cannot see why you would wish this. Please. For the sake of competition, go to your designated corner on the outside of the ring. Thank you!
What’s this? The giant. Offering up his last boot for me to check. What a breath of fresh air. I may have been wrong about his upbringing after all. Thank you. Final boot, the right one. Checked. Moving on.
Wait a minute. What am I going to eat tonight? Maybe I could get something that I could share with my father. Yeah, that’d be nice. A dinner together as I begin to walk the same path he once took. It’s almost like a metaphor.
Ol’ smiles is no problem with the foreign object check. I seem to notice a sense of doubt in my abilities as I give him the once-over.
Down the middle, fighter. Nothing more nothing less.
Alright, let’s get this going. Step two: call for the bell. Keep it clean, lads!
They’re locked up. The happy guy has definitely got some strength, but the abnormality that he faces has at least two feet on him. It only makes sense that he should get the first move off. Oooh! And he does. A hard body slam to the canvas. The joy has left the smaller one’s face for a moment. Colossus is in control.
Maybe we can split a nice pasta. Those restaurants seem to have healthy servings, right? We will enjoy a hearty pasta and revel in the new career afterglow. “Like father, like son.” He’ll say. Just like that old movie from the 80’s.
The ogre of unusual size is continuing his dominance. A series of hard lefts have put his opponent in to a grin-less daze. Those were borderline close fists.
Watch the punches, my ample friend.
He throws the brawn toward the ropes. A bounce back in to… a sleeper hold! This could be over quick! “When a submission hold is applied, only you are on their side.” I’m on it, Dad.
Have you had enough son? No shame in submission. It’s your livelihood we are talking about, here.
He says no. I shall inform the scorekeeper as much.
No submission!
How about now? Shall we call it a match? How about it? Hedge your bets and return to fight again someday? Do you give, sir?
He expresses once more in the negative. The color is beginning to leave his face.
The combatant has chosen to remain in competition!
The fancy suit shouts. He wants me to call for the bell. He must be under the misconception that the man being choked is wishing to concede. I can only call the match once he does or once he seems to have lost consciousness. At which point I will—oh! He’s out. It’s three lifts and drops of his arm now. Only after the arm has fallen for the third time do I deem the match over. First arm grab. It drops.
Who was in that 80’s film LIKE FATHER LIKE SON again? I can remember bits and pieces only. Something happens where a dad and son switch places somehow. They have to find a way to get back to their regular bodies. Hilarity ensues.
Second arm grab. Lifeless, it drops again.
Judge Reinhold and Fred Savage. One of them is suddenly having to deal with paperwork and the day-to-day grind for the first time, and the other with puberty… again. It writes itself.
Third arm grab. I let go. Inexplicably, he has found new life. The hundred or so in this community hall have begun to cheer him on. The manager is beside himself. He believes I should have called for the bell by now.
Only after three drops of the arm, kind sir! Surely you know this to be the ways of our sport!
The fan favourite has returned to his feet, but the beast keeps his hold. An elbow to the gut, and it is loosened slightly. Two more has broken him free. He runs to the ropes. Bouncing off, he hits the large half-creature with a flying clothesline. As the mass of meat falls, the beam returns to the other one’s face. He begins to work his opponent over some more. The tide of this match has clearly turned.
Wait, I think that may have been another film with those two. Same plot though. I can see the movie poster. Judge Reinhold on a skateboard jumping through the office of a disapproving Fred Savage. VICE VERSA, I think it was. What movie was I thinking of? Didn’t Tom Hanks become a kid somewhere as well?
Boy, this blissful brawler is really taking it to his counterpart. A series of exciting, fast and high flying moves have really thrown this crowd in to a frenzy and put him in the driver’s seat. Should be getting ready for a pin count any minute now. Oh my! He’s pointed to the turnbuckle. A desire to jump off the top perhaps? A legal move, this much is true, but it is still a very high-risk maneuver. If he can pull it off, we would not only have some real fireworks, but it may be enough to make it curtains for his—
Hey! Sir! Please get down from the ring apron! If you are to interfere in this match right now, you will leave me with no other choice but to disqualify the challenger that you represent here tonight! No! I do not want to hear any more from you! I can tell you quite honestly, that whatever your intentions are, pure as they may be, you are only causing havoc with my ability to call this match! I mean you no disrespect, clearly a man of your disposition should be able to see my point of view! Why are you even up here right now? I cannot discuss matters with you any further, as once again, you are only providing more of the confusing distract--…
****************
I’ve got it. It was Dudley Moore. Dudley Moore and Kirk Cameron. That’s who was in LIKE FATHER LIKE SON. We saw it for my twelfth birthday together.
What’s happened? I blacked out for a moment there. Oh right, the match. Why is that enormous left boot sitting on the floor of the ring? So dazed. Wait, the savage has his adversary rolled up in a pin. Must… make… the count. It is my job, no my career. Down the middle. It’s what we do.
One. “Shoulders on the mat, is when you start to tap.”
Two. My first match, dad. The start of a real career.
Three.
I call for the bell. The crowd is irate. I only did what was asked of me. The shiny suit wears the smile that the hero of the eighty something people here once did. I have to raise the half-demon’s hand in victory. My head is killing me. He raises his fist before I can grab it.
Fine! You are the victor! Congratualtions!
Man, these people are upset. They seem to be directing their venom at me. What have I done except call things fair and square? I need to lie down. Maybe after I stop at the pasta place. Dad’s going to be so proud. We’ll rent a movie maybe. Not sure about those 80’s comedies though. I doubt that anyone is naïve enough to believe such nonsense.
A rough first step, but a first step regardless. Things can only get easier from here, right? Tonight I began my career.
It’s what we do.
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