Knockin' On Hell's Door...

[Karl_Kitsch]

[CENTER][B][SIZE="5"]Knockin' On Hell's Door And The Bouncer Won't Let Me In[/CENTER][/SIZE][/B] There's something about wrestling. The lights on a ring, be it in New York City or Amarillo, Texas, set against a sea of people. Faces, yelling, cheering, booing, laughing, chanting all set against the blackness of the crowd. The alternating stick and crunch of your foot as it steps on soda and popcorn and concrete. In the end, it doesn't really matter who's watching, how many of them there are, just that they do. It's this that gets me out of bed in the morning, no matter how much my body says no. Today, it was my elbow. The left one that went out in a match in... Well, it went out somewhere in the South. I was swinging a chair at some ex-high school football player. I swung wide, so there was no risk of actually making contact with his melon of a head. The chair, gray as the concrete the arena was built from, hit an opened chair, took a strange bounce and my elbow was bent in a most peculiar way. It was dislocated and it never healed right. As if anything heals right. I got out of bed, meaning I rolled off my ex-wife's couch, and landed between it and the coffee table. A half empty pack of cigarettes was under my knee and fully ruined. Damn. At least there was enough Jim to get me going. I took an extra swig, for luck, and tied up my two- bit sneakers. Jogging is never truly pleasant, but hung over with a smoker's cough around noon, jogging is down right nasty. I huffed and puffed down the block, around the corner, and back to the house I bought her before she realized what a no account loser I really am. That's what she calls it, at least. The house he bought me before I realized what a no account loser he is. At least she lets me sleep on the couch I bought for the living room in the house I bought her. She's a peach like that. You see, at the end of the day, she might be right. After all, have you ever heard of me? Didn't think so. Sincerely, the Black Hand

[Karl_Kitsch]

They called me a paper tiger in 1996. A fraud, even. My career was over at 18. Well, mostly. What had happened was... well, it was a misunderstanding. At 14, I left home. I'm not sure anyone noticed. I won't bore you with the specifics, but it wasn't a good place to be. I know, a pro wrestler with a broken marriage, alcohol problems, and a crap childhood. You're probably expecting me to tell you my pop was a wrestler. He was. Not the best the world ever saw, Black Hand Billy Bones was a fixture in 70's Texas rasslin' and a fine enough hand to get work until his knee finally blew out in 1984. He was a hoss, if you will. This fact, as with all other minutea of his pro wrestling career were drilled into my head from an early age. By six, I knew exactly how many times he held the Abilene Heavyweight Title. It was three. I ran away from home with $40, a couple CDs to sell, and a chip on my shoulder. It was a good thing I was already 6'3", otherwise, I might have ended up selling myself in a Dallas bus station. Instead, I met Jim Horn. For those unacquianted with Texas wrestling, Jim "Long" Horn was a legend from Louisiana to New Mexico. You, know, where it matters. Jim Horn ran Abilene Championship Wrestling from, well, before I was born, until 1991. After that, he ran the Jim Horn School of Grappling. Three hours after I left home, Jim saw me at a grocery store, stealing a bottle of booze. Four years later, and I was his prized pupil. Sincerely, the Black Hand

[Karl_Kitsch]

In 1996, I was young, talented, and out of control. Jim "Long" Horn had created a monster. I was 6'10", although they dubbed me 7' even, 300 pounds, and full of whatever it is that makes an 18 year old an 18 year old. It seems strange nowadays that I wasn't immediately picked up by one of the bigger promotions weeks after my 18th birthday, but those were different times. There weren't bittorrents and YouTube to distribute matches. Nope, all the SWF ever saw of me was a few black and white pictures in the wrestling magazines and a video tape of me and Dazzling Dave having a match. So, they sent a scout. The truth is, I was already something of a star. People came from all over the great state of Texas to watch me beat down some poor sap making $100 a show. The wrestling magazines slobbered over me. 'The Next Runaway Train?' one magazine asked. I think we know the answer to that one... Anyway, the SWF sends out this scout to watch me, but they do it on the sly and don't tell Jim or anybody that someone's coming down to watch. So, the night before, I go out with the boys and we get hammered. No, seriously, HAM (pause) MERED. We're talking wake up in Mexico drunk. We got so drunk, half the boys didn't even make the show, a Sunday afternooner in Lubbock. The ones who did show, myself included, were in no shape to perform, but the show went on. I had a squash with some kid from Amarillo and it was mediocre at best. The finish was simple: he'd go for a DDT and I would reverse it into the Star of Texas Suplex, a modified Northern Lights. So, this kid kicks me in the stomach and... well, you can imagine what happens when a hung over 18 year old with a stomach full of cheap Mexican food gets a gut kick. Some say that kid was so disgusted with being vomited on that he left the business forever. To put it mildly, the SWF never considered calling me again. I had to carve my own path. Sincerely, the Black Hand

[Karl_Kitsch]

The day after my Roman match, I packed up my things and hit the road. It didn't take long to pack. I would like to tell you I traveled the world and jobbed for such luminaries as Dan Stone Jr. and Steve DeColt, but I didn't. Hell, I spent a year getting my face punched in by Whistler's over enthusiastic punches in Brooklyn. I lost a tooth in Sneer's hell hole of a promotion down in Florida. Thing is, I got paid, and that was all that matters. Just have to keep thinking that. Sincerely, the Black Hand

[Karl_Kitsch]

So, you might ask yourself how I keep in shape. I mean, I am a 'professional wrestler' so I must be in great shape, right? While I won't win any bodybuilding competitions, I can promise you one fact: If you and me ever got in a fight, I would lick you. Not a boast. Not a threat. That is fact, son. F-A-C-T, fact. 16 years of running the ropes, tossing around medicine balls, and getting punched in the face by near sighted local toughs have made me something you will never be. Tough. Not kid with a switchblade in his bag and hopped up on drugs tough or son of the promoter tough. West Texas roughneck tough. Leather skin, scarred knuckles, work non-stop with cracked ribs tough. Of course, tough doesn't keep your dad from dying in his sleep before you made peace. It doesn't make the woman you love not leave you. Basically, tough doesn't prepare you for the real world. Remember that. Sincerely, the Black Hand

[Karl_Kitsch]

When the phone rang, I was still asleep. It was only noon. Missy, my ex wife and current landlord, woke me up with her screaming. "Ja-ACK! Ja-ACK! You've got a phone call!" That's how she always said my name: Ja-ACK. Leave it to me to make it all the way from Abilene to New York City and find just the perfect woman to drive me insane. "What is it, Missy?" I stuttered, still a little asleep and a lot hung over. "It's some guy calling himself Cody or something. I don't think he's American." I ran through every single person I know in the business, but there weren't any Codys, even 'foreign' ones. I grabbed the phone. "'Black Hand' Jackie Bones, what can I do you for?" "Mr. Bones? Hello! This is Koji Kojima, from World Level Wrestling. How would you like a job?" "Where, Mr. Kojima?" "Well, Mr. Bones, how would you like to live in Tōhoku, Japan?" I stopped, put the phone down for a second, and looked over at Missy. She made a face at me and asked what I was looking at. "One question, Mr. Kojima. How soon can I leave?" That is how I ended up in Japan. Sincerely, the Black Hand

[Karl_Kitsch]

"No offense, Kojima-san, but you have to be out of your mind!" I said, holding the box that Koji Kojima had me fly to Japan to see. It was not exactly what I expected. "What's wrong, Jackie? You don't like the costume?" Kojima said slowly. He spoke English well, but methodically. I couldn't stifle the laughter in my voice when I replied. I love Kojima's enthusiasm, but, in all seriousness, he is completely insane. "Koji, sir, I appreciate the thought, but, seriously, this is just not going to work out. I mean, really, you can't be asking me to wear that in public, can you?" I knew the answer when I saw Koji's face. I had never felt so awful in my time in the business, but this was not going to work out, no matter how good the intentions. "Kojima-san, I thank you for your invitation, but I am going to have to decline. I sincerely hope you find the right man for that... umm, suit." With my peace said, I handed Koji his box back, picked up my bags, and took the long walk back to the airport. I needed time to think. Sincerely, the Black Hand

[Karl_Kitsch]

When I got back to the States, I decided to take my time getting back to New York. The last thing I needed was my ex right now. So, I went home. I went back to Texas for Christmas. The Greyhound ride to Amarillo was as inoffensive as possible. When I got into town, I went to the Big Texan and ordered the 72 oz. steak. I didn't realize how popular that thing was. Or that I wouldn't be the only person in the business eating one. My waitress came to the table with a pitcher of sweet tea. "Sir, the guest on that table"- she pointed to a large man and a blonde girl on another table- "have invited you to eat with them." "No thanks, sug. I eat alone." "Sir, do you know who that is?" she said with the hushed tones of reverence you rarely hear these days. I took a second and really looked. The wide shoulders, the huge arms, the distinctive male pattern baldness. "On second thought, sug, I think I will be joining Mr. Strong for dinner." She smiled and said alright. "Oh, and miss, put me on his check." This was going to be a Christmas Eve to remember. Sincerely, the Black Hand

[Karl_Kitsch]

[COLOR="Blue"]"Jackie Bones, how the Hell are you, boy? I haven't seen you since..."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Red"]"It's okay, Sam, you can say 'Since the funeral.' It's been two years, I have come to accept my father's passing."[/COLOR] Sam, who rarely isn't in control of a conversation, looked a little out of sorts. That lasted half a second before the Strong charm kicked back in. [COLOR="Blue"]"Of course, of course. You remember my lovely daughter, Alicia, don't you?"[/COLOR] Of course I did. Alicia Strong had all of the strength of her father, all of his charisma and bearing. And none of his looks, thank God. I nodded towards her. [COLOR="Red"]"Alicia, you look lovely tonight."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Green"]"Thank you, Mr. Bones. My father told me all about you and your father. It must be tough getting along in the business without his help?"[/COLOR] Sam shot me a worried look as I cleared my throat. I smirked, just a little bit. [COLOR="Red"]"Oh, it has been quite hard, but I think I'll manage. So, what brings you to Texas, Sam?"[/COLOR] The trademark Sam Strong smile spread across his lined face. Sam was now officially "on". [COLOR="Blue"]"Well, Jackie my boy, I'm in the beautiful state of Texas looking for a few hands for the ranch, so to speak. As you know, the USPW is a growing operation, and it needs more boys to work the soil, if you know what I mean."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Green"]"What Daddy means is, we're here looking for some new talent. And a book--"[/COLOR] Sam cleared his throat and lost his smile for a second. Alicia quickly stopped talking. She knew his signals quite well. [COLOR="Blue"]"What Alicia means is, that we are taking the company in a new direction and we need a new captain for the ship. So, what are you doing in Texas, Jackie?"[/COLOR] Sam had this way of making every conversation seem conspiratorial. It keeps you off guard and keeps him in control. The same Sam Strong my dad had so much venom for was in full effect. Personally, I found him kind of funny. An old man in a young man's game, completely unaware how old he really is. [COLOR="Red"]"Actually, Sam, I'm between jobs, at the moment. I just came back from Japan. I had a meeting with Koji Kojima, from World Level Wrestling, but it went... south."[/COLOR] Sam Strong laughs like he does everything: big, loud, and with an edge that lets you know he is in complete control and can stop at any time. Alicia smiled like she knew a secret. [COLOR="Green"]"He tried to get you to wear that suit, didn't he?"[/COLOR] [COLOR="Blue"]"That suit! Hahahaha!"[/COLOR] [COLOR="Red"]"So, I'm not the first one he tried that on?"[/COLOR] [COLOR="Blue"]"Jackie, my boy, he brought over half my roster trying to find a fool to wear that get up. Who is he going to get to wrestle in a 50 pound rubber Frankenstein costume?"[/COLOR] The three of us sat there laughing so hard every eye in the place was on us. I think all three of us were used to that. More to come... Sincerely, the Black Hand

[Karl_Kitsch]

After eating 4 and a half pounds of meat, a feat which all three of us managed to accomplish, Sam leaned back in his chair. [COLOR="Blue"]"So, I take it you want the job, Jackie. Any chance you can wrestle, too."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Red"]"What job, Sam? I think I must have missed something..."[/COLOR] Alicia put her hand on mine and looked into my eyes. [COLOR="Green"]"Why the head booking job, silly Billy. You would be perfect for it!"[/COLOR] I was struck silent. Sam Strong was offering me one of the best jobs in North America. I was flabbergasted. Sam stood up and pulled on his sport coat. He put one of his hands on my shoulder. [COLOR="Blue"]"So, what's it going to be, Jackie Bones? The head booker of USPW or Koji Kojima's Frankenstein?"[/COLOR] Alicia wrapped her hands around mine. She was like a faerie or an angel, sometimes she could be such an adult and sometimes she acted like a four year old girl. She was smiling, but it was a fragile smile. [COLOR="Red"]"Well, Sam..."[/COLOR] I stood up and looked him square in the eye. I reached out my hand to shake. [COLOR="Red"]"When can I start?"[/COLOR] Sam grabbed my hand, his grip was Anaconda like. [COLOR="Blue"]"See you Wednesday in Memphis. Bring your boots."[/COLOR] Alicia smiled at me as she picked up her purse and dropped a $100 bill on the table. Sam whipped out his cell phone. [COLOR="Blue"]"Peter, bring up the car. No, I didn't have a doggie bag. You can get a taco or something on the road."[/COLOR] Sam turned his back to me and whispered the whisper of someone who has been on TV too long. [COLOR="Blue"]"He's in."[/COLOR] Why did I feel set up? Sincerely, the Black Hand

[Karl_Kitsch]

December 31st came and found me in a Memphis hotel. Sam gave me a laptop, a stack of USPW DVDs, and a credit card for ordering pizza. Three days of watching USPW gave me a headache and a pretty solid idea of what I would have to do to right this ship. My cell phone rang. [COLOR="Blue"]"Jackie, this is Sam." [/COLOR] [COLOR="Red"]"Hey Sam. What's going on?"[/COLOR] [COLOR="Blue"]"Well, Jackie, I was wondering if you needed me to call anyone. You know, to let them go..."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Red"]"I wasn't really planning on firing anyone. In fact, I was kind of hoping you could... hire some guys for me."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Blue"]"Sure, sure. We've had our eyes on Puerto Rican Power and Roger Dodger for a while now."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Red"]"No offense, Sam, but I had some other guys in mind."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Blue"]"Like who, son?" [/COLOR] [COLOR="Red"]"Well, I've had my eye on Casey Valentine from MAW. He's young, he's talented, his uncle is a major part of our roster. Plus, he has a pretty good tag team going in MAW, and our tag division is... lacking."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Blue"]"Casey Valentine? Eh, what the heck. What about his tag team partner?"[/COLOR] [COLOR="Red"]"His partner is on my list. His name is Cameron Vessey."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Blue"]"Hey Jackie, is he related to the Vessey brothers in Japan? You know, Larry and Barry."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Red"]"He's Larry Vessey's son. He's also pretty solid in the ring, Sam."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Blue"]"So, that's two. Anymore?"[/COLOR] [COLOR="Red"]"Well, Sam, remember Nemesis?"[/COLOR] [COLOR="Blue"]"Nemesis? Big cat, got all wet with Tommy on national television?"[/COLOR] [COLOR="Red"]"Yeah, that's the guy. His son is a wrestler for PSW. Goes by the handle Ash Campbell. He's a blue chipper."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Blue"]"Yeah, I'll call Naess and Chord and see about signing those kids up."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Red"]"Umm, Sam, I had one more on my list."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Blue"]"Who's he related to?"[/COLOR] [COLOR="Red"]"That's the thing. He's not a legacy, from what I can tell, but I really like his ring work."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Blue"]"I'll take your word on this one. What's his handle?"[/COLOR] [COLOR="Red"]"They call him Davis Wayne Newton."[/COLOR] By the time 2008 started, Sam Strong had signed my four youngsters to Pay Per Appearance contracts. The Farstuckers were born. Sincerely, the Black Hand

[Karl_Kitsch]

It's New Year's Day and I'm sitting in a hotel room in Memphis. Unlike the rest of the roster, I stayed sober the whole night, my mind still racing with questions. How on Earth do you save a company that acts like it wants to drown? knockknockknock [COLOR="Red"]"Come in, I'm not naked."[/COLOR] The door opened and in came Peter Valentine himself. He was wearing a suit and rubbing his reddened eyes. The night had not been kind to Peter. [COLOR="Purple"]"Heya Jackie. What's happenin'? Where were you last night?"[/COLOR] I lifted the laptop off of my legs and slid out of bed. Peter apparently never realized how tall I was. [COLOR="Red"]"What's happening is I'm trying to figure out how to save this company from imminent collapse. Where I was last night is in this room scripting tomorrow's show."[/COLOR] As soon as I said it, I realized I was being to harsh on Peter. It wasn't his fault, really. Any wrestler who became Sam Strong's best friend was destined to have a big head. I smiled really wide. [COLOR="Red"]"Did you get hammered last night, Peter?"[/COLOR] [COLOR="Purple"]"Dude, you know it! I was blitzed!"[/COLOR] Peter got a more serious look on his face and straightened his tie. [COLOR="Purple"]"Anyways, Jackie, dude, Sam wanted me to go over some uh, rules, that he's come up with."[/COLOR] Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out a napkin. [COLOR="Purple"]"First of all, dude, you're supposed to make sure we don't lose any popularity. Second of all, he wants you to make sure that you keep, Tom E. Hawk, I uh, mean Nicky Champion, super hot. I mean that kid's magic or something."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Red"]"I think I can handle that, Peter. Any more instructions?"[/COLOR] Peter smiled a wide, goofy smile. [COLOR="Purple"]"Yeah, Jackie man, Sammy wants you to make sure I'm on a hot streak. Gotta keep me pumped, ya know? He also wants you to uh, make sure you are like hiring some dudes who are a like not a pain in the neck. You know, guys with a good reputation. And uh, one more thing, Jackie dude, don't hire any of those kickboxer dudes. You know, those Maxed Marital Art guys. Don't want to make the rest of us look weak, huh?"[/COLOR] Peter put his note in his pocket. I was already working on my laptop again. [COLOR="Purple"]"Oh, yeah, dude. Way to sign my nephew! Casey's awesome!"[/COLOR] Peter gave a thumbs up and walked out the door. What did I get myself into. Sincerely, the Black Hand

[Karl_Kitsch]

(OOC: Knockin on Hell's Door is not dead! I will be updating it soon. I might even get around to a card...)