Post by FUZ on Mar 16, 2022 6:17:43 GMT
Don't think that I won't pin you down...
-- ELVIS PRESLEY, "ANIMAL INSTINCT"
And so it begins. A bare ass in the Emerald City. Rain City Goosebumps they call them. Jet (and pump) City. Where sometimes there’s more than just rain and coffee. Seattle, Washington, where when you’re a wrestler, and you’ve got time to kill while you’re not wrestling, sometimes you can buy something more than just art off the wall of the coffee shop. Seattle, the “going home with a barista” capital of the world. At least that’s the way Eddie Kingston will remember it.
Tonight, Eddie is joined by a female companion in a motel room. It’s not a particularly nice place. Not the place you would normally take a lady. But you didn’t come here for that. It isn’t storytime. Anyway, King doesn't like playing games of kiss and tell.
Eddie reaches forward. His fingers look beat up but not broken. A couple of rings rest just above King’s swollen knuckles on two of his fingers. A bandage looks recently applied to the tip of his thumb. Eddie’s touch, it’s gentle. Or at least he intends it to be. His calloused fingertips lightly graze and almost scratch the woman’s ass.
King clears his throat to speak.
“‘Ey, babe. I ain’t leavin’. Jus’ steppin’ out for a smoke.”
The woman hears him, but says very little. She shifts slightly in the bed then reaches down to pull the bedsheet up and over part of her legs. She moans out something that is best described as a mumble in response. Her skin smells sweet, like the perfect combination of sweat, coffee, and cigarettes.
Seconds pass and the woman speaks. She must like him. She strokes his ego by calling him by his preferred name, King. She whispers something like, "King, can you get me a sprite?"
Kingston smells like cheap cologne. He’s a man who has gotten lucky more times than he’s deserved. A man who has never understood anything but breaking bones and bleeding in the ring breeds success. He’s a man and he smells like it.
King throws a button-up shirt on but doesn’t button it. Thankfully, it covers up much of his shirtless upper frame. From the waist down King is wearing a pair of oversized basketball shorts and a pair of work boots. He slides his hand across the top of the motel's tv stand, a few quarters, and some other loose change falls into his opposite hand. He pats himself down, makes sure he has his room key, lighter, and a pack of smokes. Then, he exits the room.
Several moments later. Maybe a minute or more. Kingston is outside. Standing in the Motel 6 parking lot, his back to and some ways away from, his room door.
Again, he clears his throat and begins to speak.
“‘Ey yo.”
“It’s the voice of war.”
“It’s yo’ boy. Born and bred. Made and molded to be the Mad King. WLCW’s wild card.”
“It’s me, it’s me… it’s E…I…DD…IE. Eddie Kingston.”
Kingston reaches into his pocket. There’s the sound of loose change. He fumbles out his pack of cigarettes and lighter. King puts a smoke in the corner of his mouth like someone oozing with machismo might a toothpick. For the moment, his cigarette is for the look. He doesn’t light it. Instead, he continues to speak.
“You know what’s on my mind? You know what’s been botherin’ me?”
“Everyone has been askin’ me, ‘Yo, King… are you one of the good guys now?’”
Seattle, home of the Space Needle, real-life superheroes, the world's largest floating bridge, the world's first gas station, and so-on. It’s a place that Eddie’s been to, but not very often. Traveling this far west for one thing and one thing only… for work… for business… to lace up, suit-up, and pay his dues (or collect someone else’s).
“You know, Elvis was here?”
“I don’t know. Don’t ask, it’s just one of those stories, you know?”
“People have always said, in life, you’re either a fan of the Beatles or Elvis… Well, you already know where your boy, Eddie, stands with that situation. Fuck ‘em both. They was, but they ain’t shit. Not to me.”
The Motel 6 Eddie is currently holed up in doesn’t have much, but guaranteed, somewhere in their unattended front office lobby (if you can even call it that), there is almost certainly a poorly attended collection of brochures filled with all sorts of fun-facts about the city, such as the one that Eddie is sharing now.
“Check ‘dis out. I just learned it, right? In the sixties, right? Seattle was home to the World’s Fair. It was a big deal, but the biggest deal was Elvis. I guess, from what I read, the King, Elvis, had the town all shook up when he showed up. I am talkin’ it was huge. For something like nine or ten days, there were thousands of people following him around. Everywhere in Seattle he moved, they moved. Shit. And to think… some of the boys get excited if they’ve got two rats waitin’ around behind the VFW after their match.”
Kingston runs his bandaged thumb across the top of his Bic lighter.
“Now, I don’t know what that's like. You know, I ain’t never been besieged by thousands of adoring fans. But, I can tell you this… I besieged one lucky lady tonight, and that’s somethin’ I know she’d be willin’ to testify about. Now, as you can tell by where I am stayin’ I ain’t seen nothin’ this fancy, but supposedly, around here, various hotels, restaurants, and attractions Elvis visited proudly still advertise ‘Elvis Was Here’. Now, I may not be the next Elvis in Seattle… but these days, ‘round here… and everywhere I go… I am the KING. I am Eddie, last of a dyin’ fuckin’ breed, Kingston. I am yo mom’s new salami.”
“Ya, heard?”
His lighter flicks. It sparks. But it doesn’t light.
“You know, let’s talk about Matt Cardona.”
“God bless his young and vibrant soul… he thinks of this place, talkin’ about the WLCW, he thinks it revolves around him. And, you know what? Who gives a fuck? Maybe it does. But… I can tell you one thing… Eddie Kingston revolves around nobody. For that matter, my partners should consider themselves fuckin’ lucky that I am lettin’ them, for one night out of their bullshit-ass-lives, revolve around me.”
“Now, it’s not just Cardona I’ve heard talkin’. I gotta admit, you know… I heard some things... some other things from some others this week too. I heard a few things about Atticus Cogar and what he’s been going off about. Now, it remains to be seen… rather… it remains to be FELT in the ring, Wednesday night, but maybe… maybe this guy is somebody. Yeah, somebody that people… a lot of very important people… they’re going to say things about this guy like, ‘You should look out for him’ or ‘This guy is going to be the future of WLCW’s X-Division.’ But, you know what… I don’t fuck with that. I don’t subscribe to that fuckin’ logic. Nah, I ain’t like that.”
“You see, the way I see it is… I don't turn my back on nobody… I don’t sell nobody shorter than they sell me… and I treat every night, every match, every opponent the same damn way… they’re as tough as I am frail. They’re as strong as I am weak. Losin’ ain’t about how good they is or they ain’t. Losin’ is about how hard I go when I hit the ring. Losin’ is about the Mad King’s music hittin’, me walkin’ to that ring, and when that bell rings, me makin’ a decision… how’s it going to be… how hard am I going to let them hit me… how hard am I going to fight for it… how hard am I going to hit them back…? I guess I suppose, that depends. Am I gettin’ paid either way? ‘Cause, if so… sounds like I am a winner either way. I mean, right? Am I wrong?”
“Cogar licked his lips, adjusted his hips, and blew so much smoke up my skirt, it tickled my taint and my ass. Hell, he flattered me more than I do myself when I am standin’ in front of the mirror. I mean, he talked me and my partners up so much that if I didn’t know better, and thank God I do, but if I didn’t know better, I’d think he wanted to fuck us. Three titans of professional wrestling. That’s what he called us. Before he went on to try and make sense out of why Eddie Kingston is here, battin’ for a team other than his own.”
“Tell me, why has taggin’ on the right side never felt so wrong?”
Mark the date. Remember this moment in wrestling history is going to be significant. It's going to lead to defining moments in not just the company's history but the lives and careers of Eddie Kingston, CM Punk, and Prince Devitt. The PRINCE, the PUNK, and THE KING fighting on the same side.
And with that, the scene begins to fade.