Author Note: I've been kicking this idea around for a while and finally booked a couple shows in this save. I'm going to try to book some and get a lot written out before I commit to actually doing a dynasty. I clearly draw a lot of inspiration from The Historian's diaries, and I'll feature some of the same characters, but I hope you'll see it's with a different perspective. With that said:
It was a gorgeous day in Corbin, Kentucky: the clouds covered the sun just enough to keep it cool, but not so much where you’d call it gloomy. He never really liked the town where Sally grew up, but the weather was the same every time they visited. As he walked the aisles of the local Food Mart, a familiar voice from his past called up behind him…
“Pete? Ol’ Pete Hall? How the hell are ya?”
He couldn’t believe it. It was Hank Deverell, his old buddy from high school back in Midland, and who he presumed was his teenage son.
"Hank? What are you doing here?”
“I live here! Moved out here for a construction job, met the wife, settled down and had Zippy here and made ourselves a life! I could ask you the same question though.”
“Sally’s relatives live here, and we come out every Thanksgiving. This year I burned the turkey, so here I am.”
“So what you been up to since retiring? My boy Zippy here followed you growing up. Broke his heart to see his hero retire. You know, he’s training to get in the ring himself.”
Pete did not like this question. Every time someone asked him what he’s been up to, he had to come up with something less pathetic than, “Going through two fifths of Jack and a can of Skoal a day watching old wrestling highlight tapes and thinking about days gone by.”
So, before even thinking, he blurted out, “Yeah I been getting the itch again. Dunno if I’ll ever get rid of it completely. Been thinkin’ bout runnin’ a few local shows around the old stomping grounds.”
Wait… what? Why did he say that? He had no such plans.
“A few local shows eh? The Pistol Pete I knew never would’ve stopped at a few local shows. Sounds like you got somethin’ big planned. I know my boy would love to get in there and look up at the lights to learn some from the great Pistol Pete Hall, ain’t that right, Zip?”
“Oh yes sir, we been working real hard. I may not ever be as big as you were Mr. Hall, but when I’m out there I fight like I’m ten foot tall.”
Pete took another look at Zippy. He was a bit scrawny, but he had a good frame, could probably hold another 50 pounds or so. Clearly he wasn’t shy. He sized the young Corbin native up once again before looking him in the eye and asking, “What’s your finish?”
“I hit ‘em with the prettiest spinning bulldog you ever seen.”
Pete stared for another five seconds or so, then bust out laughing, “Sorry kid, you sold it like hell but a spinning bulldog? We gotta work on that. And we will, Hank,” Pete turned to his old friend, “I promise.”
With those words, Pete walked away to finish his Thanksgiving shop, but he couldn’t stop thinking about why he promised to do something he had no intention of doing. Pistol Pete was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. Now he had a promise to keep, and a phone call to make...