It Started With a Kiss.... (A C-Verse Diary)

[SuperOwens]

Or so the song goes, looking back it’s hard to pinpoint how I actually got here… “So, Kid you like your wrestling?” You could say this was the defining point, the point where one choice takes you down one route, the clichéd crossroads, but no it was earlier than this. “America? Wow, id have to think about it mate. I mean there’s Cat to think of and the… “Take her” my boss interjected “Listen it will be 3 months, 6 at most. They will be putting you up in an apartment, flights paid for. You just have to cover the living expenses. There won’t even be that much work” My name is David Miller. How the hell did I get here?!

[SuperOwens]

The rain lashed down against the shear glass entrance of the Marriot’s Hotel bar. “Summer in New York baby” I slurred to myself in my best imitation American accent. “Red, white and blue the American dream and momma’s apple pie” I smiled in the direction of the big guy sitting next to me at the bar, a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. Turning my attention back to the vodka on the antique wooden surface. I chuckled to myself and downed the remnants of the clear liquid, welcoming the burning sensation as it hit the back of my throat. I looked around the old fashioned but classy room. It was late, too late to be here and doing this. But here I am, as I was yesterday and as I will be tomorrow. I made a motioning movement with my hand and tried to catch the bartender’s eye “Another” I mumbled nodding at my empty glass. There were only around 5 of us in the bar now, it had been a lot busier earlier. I looked over to the big guy on my left. Id not seen him in here before and I knew all the professional drinking crowd. He didn’t look like your typical Marriott late night drinker; he wasn’t dribbling for one thing. Id seen this guy knock back about 14 bottles of beer, nothing spectacular really, until you add the 14 bourbon chasers he threw down before each bottle. The most impressive thing was the fact he was still upright, still lucid. Staring intently ahead his left hand was balled up into a fist. “So, Kid you like your wrestling?”

[SuperOwens]

An American adventure an odyssey. That’s how we looked at it. 3 months in another country another culture. All expenses paid, I was moving up in the world. It didn’t take Cat long to decide. She had one more year of a four year degree to complete, it wouldn’t be hard to defer for a year. That was the only thing keeping her in the UK and we spent all of 20 minutes deliberating. “Right, id better start packing then” She winked A smile broke across my face as I picked her up and twirled her around. “Summer in New York, baby!!!” Love, it’s a funny old game (as my Dad used to say) You spend ages telling yourself and others that your not in love, explaining that your not that stupid, that you wont fall into that trap again, that your not looking for the heart ache. Then one day you wake up and realise you just can’t live without that person, that you don’t know what would happen if they were no longer there. It was the worst kind of love. The soppy kind, the Rod Stewart ballad kind, the kissing on the tube kind, the she lets you put things in very special places on your birthday kind… Wait, actually that’s quite cool. It really was good That was 3 years ago now. I still replay the words of my boss in my head. “Listen it will be 3 months, 6 at most. They will be putting you up in an apartment, flights paid for. You just have to cover the living expenses. There won’t even be that much work” There had been a lot of work, so much travelling. The 3 months went so quickly, then 6, then 12. I was working more and more and seeing less of Cat. She missed the UK, she missed her friends her family. Looking back on it now I realise it was actually me she missed, she missed us, the way we used to be. She’d get upset, pleading for me not to go on another 5 day trip. I started to resent her. I was doing this for us I was stuck in the States, the bastards had given my job away. My boss explained that I was needed out here, but they still needed somebody to cover my old work in the UK. I started to feel I had been setup, sent out here on false pretences. I no longer felt guilty about secretly loading up my bosses’ coffee with sugar for fun. Diabetic fits were good for team morale… Women, they love you when you take them to New York. They hate you when you make them stay in New York. On my way back from a training session in Maine, the call came she was leaving. Leaving with a Mexican called Soto. Ever since Young Guns 2 I knew you couldn’t trust them… I was devastated Drink, booze, grog, the fun juice, liquor what ever you name it, I will drink it. It started as a way to help me get to sleep, maybe a couple of beers before bed. I stared to feel happier, more mellow with a drink inside me. Id soon move on to the harder stuff, a few whisky’s to get that same buzz. It spiralled. There had been a few incidents already, id been warned, severally. I was out for a night of ‘networking’ with some Japanese clients. The night ended with me naked, attempting to make love to a cardboard box, screaming “This is how we do it in Europe Mr Hong!” My name is David Miller. How the hell did I get here?!

[ReapeR]

[QUOTE=SuperOwens;488881] the she lets you put things in very special places on your birthday kind… Wait, actually that’s quite cool. It really was good [/QUOTE] Ahh, birthdays, yes. Preach on my friend, preach on.

[SuperOwens]

“What?” I tried looking at the big guy, but it was hard to focus. I remember reading something somewhere. Try concentrating on one single point with one eye open, it stops the spinning. So there I was squinting and staring intently at the point of his nose as he turned to me… “I said, you like you’re wrestling kid?” Kid? I’m 27 years old I thought, or am I, maybe this is all a dream. Maybe im not really here. Its possible the fabric of time and space has broken down, leaving a wormhole of epic proportions that has transferred me to an alternate reality. Maybe somewhere Cat still loves me, maybe there is a reality where she didn’t run off with a taco selling b*****d. All these complex thoughts ran through my head as I answered “Sa’good nose y’haveee there” The big guy stared at me. I tried a weak smile, tried being the operative word, it looked more like a growl. “God damn it kid, you one of those homo’s!?” I could see his left fist bunch even tighter his eyes narrowed to slits and his jaw line tightened as his teeth were crunched together. When I was a lad, I was in a band. We weren’t very good. We used to practice at the bass players house, practising involved getting fairly drunk. Once I was playing with his dog, I must have hurt it or something. It bit me. Blood everywhere. I remembered that even though I was still drunk, I sobered up as well. It was some sort of clear thinking drunkenness, a combination of adrenaline and booze. At the time I thought if I could bottle this I’d make millions. Looking at this big neanderthal in an upstate 5 star New York hotel, was only the second time in my life that I experienced this sudden clearing of an alcohol haze. “You mean the Greek philosopher? No mate I’m from England” There was a look of intense thinking and then a big grin and an extending of his hand. “Glad to meet ya, My name’s Peter Valentine”

[SuperOwens]

[QUOTE=ReapeR;488884]Ahh, birthdays, yes. Preach on my friend, preach on.[/QUOTE] Lets take a moment, to give the humble birthday the respect it deserves Okay, on with the show.

[SuperOwens]

[CENTER][SIZE="5"][COLOR="Red"][SIZE="3"]The Giant Homo[/SIZE][/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] “So, you still haven’t answered my question. You a wrestling fan or not kid?” Valentine had continued with his Herculean drinking escapades and tried bringing me along for the ride. Let’s be honest here, where drink is concerned I don’t really need much pushing. I was well on the way to blissful ignorance once again. I picked up my bourbon, and swilled the dirty gold liquid around the glass, making the ice crash together with a satisfactory clink. “Nah, that’s for kids, right? I mean, I’ve not watched it for years. There was that huge guy, the giant? I was scared of him in my youth!” “Bruce is a homo” “Oh, right… Bartender!!” [CENTER]* * * * * *[/CENTER] So it turns out that Valentine is a wrestler, one of the best ever apparently. I wasn’t lying, when it came to wrestling I knew nothing. I thought it was all fake, fake punches and kicks with pantomime good and bad guys. Mentioning this to Valentine was a mistake. “Listen kid, the business has taken my best years, taken my blood, my sweat. Dontcha ever say that to me again, I won’t hesitate to knock you the f**k out. I seen people messed up, people dead in the bathroom because of this s**t. I’m old school baby and you need to treat the game I love with respect. I’m Peter Valentine for f**ks sake” I could handle him screaming at me, I could handle shouting. I was so wasted, I could even handle a punch. But they way he held my eyes with his steely gaze and softly snarled those words sent a shiver down my spine. I absently wiped my hand down and across my mouth. What the hell was up with this bloke, I mean wrestling, its aggressive ballet for god sake. Time for a change of tact it would seem. “So you’re saying it’s a full time job for you? It’s the way you make your money? I didn’t realise that was even possible, I mean, I thought…” I slumped forward onto the sleek wooden bar, I was tired, dog tired. I looked up into my face reflected by the shiny metal surface of the optic carriages. I looked terrible. I looked old, a lot older than my years. My eyes had red rings around the outer edges. My skin was dank and slimy, sweat mixed with booze I ran my hands through my hair, closed my eyes in an attempt to blot it all out. “I dunno what to think anymore…” Valentine erupted into a huge belly laugh, and I jumped at the shock of it, realising that he was still there. “Money? Kid, I’ve made plenty. More than you will ever see I reckon. I’ve travelled the world and ****ed a woman from every country. You don’t know what to think? Of course you don’t son” He swung his bear paw of a hand and clasped it tight around my neck and laughed again. “Kid, I’m starting to like you”

[SuperOwens]

[CENTER][SIZE="4"][COLOR="Red"]Social Drinkers[/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] I’d made a friend in Peter Valentine it would seem. Well friend would be to strong of a word really, much too strong if I’m being honest. Drinking partner would be more accurate. Well, being even more accurate, he put up with me as I paid for my fair share of rounds. We’d been hanging out at the bar most nights, drinking way into the night and sleeping it off during the day. Rinse and repeat. We both had rooms at the Marriott. One good thing came from my American experience. My wallet had grown a lot. Not having to pay rent or bills and clients picking up expense certainly helped save the pennies. It wouldn’t last for ever though, and I was burning through my savings fast. The hotel room rates and bar prices were seeing to that I suppose it was good to have somebody to unload on, even though I didn’t like the person that much. The guy is a dinosaur, but there is something quite satisfying about someone who’s only responses to the mess that is your life, apart from audible grunts and curt nods is: “I would’ve hurt that bitch, I would have smashed the bitch in the face, nobody is going to do that to me. I’m Peter Valentine for f**k sake” Valentine himself wasn’t drinking to forget. It was more for something to do. Sad to admit this, but I respected him for that. He was currently on gardening leave. There had been some sort of incident with the company he was working for. He didn’t go into detail, and I didn’t care enough to ask. “There will always be a place for me in the business kid” The big man was in one of his more reflective moods. Leaning back on his stool and using his feet as leverage against the bar. He drained the remnants of his double Jack, belched then continued. “See, you have a lot of different workers kid. You have the guys that can talk, the guys who can work. Hell you have the guys who can’t do **** but scare the **** out of 14 year old girls. Me, I’m what they call an all rounder. Great in the ring, great on the stick, and great with my d**k” He slapped me on the back with a palm the size of Texas, smashed down a $20 note on the bar and yelled at the waitress. I cringed at the mental image that had just invaded my imagination. I shook my head hoping to cast off the thoughts before they took root. “Aye, and your one of the most modest, grounded and empathizing people I have ever met. I’m surprised that you’ve not been snapped up to front your own day-time TV show” Valentine looked over at me with a thoughtful expression. Thoughtfulness turned to confusion and back again. “You know what kid, I could do it. I could do it, and id be great. Id be the best, better than that Winfrey guy” I picked up the newly poured Jack Daniels the waitress had deposited in front of me. “Oprah is a lady mate” “Don’t try and rib me kid”

[SuperOwens]

[CENTER][SIZE="4"][COLOR="Red"]Me Myself and Valentine[/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] I was on my own tonight. Valentine hadn’t made it to the bar. It was probably for the best. Maybe I could slow down a bit. My appetite and tolerance for alcohol had increased since meeting the big man. I was an addict and I was a mess. “Can I get a beer please?” I could see the pity in the barman’s eyes as he passed over the chilled bottle, pity and disgust. I watched a single drop of condensation travel down the neck of the bottle, smudging the perfect frosty sheen. Valentine for his part wasn’t an addict. He could probably stop and go back to his normal life tomorrow. That’s the difference between us, this is my normal life. Valentine was just playing bum for a while. He’s be back chucking around sweaty men soon enough I looked across at a blonde lady sitting alone at a table. She was about 50 or so made up within an inch of her life and wearing a black dress with a plunging neckline. I caught her eye and tried my best winning smile. She quickly turned her head and made no move to acknowledge me. Being turned down by the definition of mutton dressed up as lamb is not an ideal confidence booster “F**k Miller, you really are in trouble” I whispered to myself as I picked up the bottle by the neck and downed the contents in 3 large gulps. “Probably wouldn’t be able to get it up anyway” [CENTER]****[/CENTER] The door of the bar smashed open, it sounded like the hinges may have been ripped off. In walked an enraged Valentine. He had a soaking wet grey raincoat wrapped around his massive frame and a light brown stepson resting crookedly on his head. It reminded me of the private eyes seen in those old film noirs “Tequila” Valentine squeezed into the stool next to mine. The bartender maybe disgusted with me but the guy wasn’t stupid. He had the shot glass down and filled within 3 seconds. “Leave the bottle” I watched from the corner of my eye as Valentine bolted the shot. He crashed the glass back on the bar so hard I thought it might smash. He refilled the glass from the bottle and repeated the process. On the third attempt I noticed a slight grimace on his granite features as the liquor hit his throat. After 2 more refills and 2 more slams Valentine turned to me expectantly I met his eyes and gave a little nod. “Nice hat”

[Sons of Kohral]

This is great! Keep it up.

[SuperOwens]

[QUOTE=Sons of Kohral;489401]This is great! Keep it up.[/QUOTE] Thanks mate :) That was really appreciated.

[Hyde Hill]

Great backstory so far very curious where it wil lead us. UVF/W maybe? Ultimate Valentine Federation/Wrestling. Where wrestlers with more overness then skill meet a direct competitor for USPW.

[SuperOwens]

[QUOTE=Hyde Hill;489673]Great backstory so far very curious where it wil lead us. UVF/W maybe? Ultimate Valentine Federation/Wrestling. Where wrestlers with more overness then skill meet a direct competitor for USPW.[/QUOTE] Cheers bud :) Hmm, maybe or maybe not. ;)

[SuperOwens]

[CENTER][SIZE="4"][COLOR="Red"]A Story Of Sam[/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] It turns out that Valentine wouldn’t be going back to his normal job just yet. He’d been let go by the company he worked for. By now he’d shared the tequila bottle and I saw my night of moderation go out the window. We sat there drinking and talking. Valentine had had some problems with the law. He didn’t go into detail but his company had shipped him out. “It aint Sam’s fault really, USPW is all about the family, there cookie cutter. I know he fought for me but the sponsors threatened to pull out, bastards left Sam with no choice” I nodded having no idea who the hell Sam was. Now didn’t seem like a time that I should be talking. “Reckons I can come back when all the fuss has died down, maybe a year or so. It will be good for me, I can heal up. Come back better than ever” Valentine smiled but his eyes remained hard and passive. I could tell a year out was not something he’d been expecting. Valentine had regaled me with stories from his years in the business. He told me often enough how great it was to be one of the boys. How much he enjoyed the camaraderie. He once recited a story about when he and some guy called Rip had been in Japan on a yacht. They had been drinking all day and Rip decided he needed a dump. Instead of going to the toilet Rip had decided to go over the side. Valentine had apparently held onto Rip’s hands so he could get his balance and squat over the edge. This wouldn’t have been too bad if it had gone into the water, problem was the yacht was three-tiered and they were on the top tier. The Yacht owner’s wife had been sunbathing until she was roused by something interesting hitting her from above… “Im sure you’ll get an offer from someone else mate. Like you’ve been telling me your one of the best”” Valentine wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Yeah” He checked his sleeve absently, presumably for some sort of lip detritus, before continuing. “Thing is kid, this cop s**t aint helped my popularity, and I wouldn’t go back to TCW without Sam anyway. Those bastards dunno how to book an icon. SWF is headed by a homo and the son of a homo. I couldn’t go to anyone else, to many people look up to me. Im a hero to the marks, aint gonna kick ‘em in the teeth by working for some crap-hole company run out of a bedroom. I’m Peter Valentine for f**ks sake” I could understand where he was coming from, respect is a big thing in life. I thought Cat had respect for me, even when things weren’t going so great, id always thought the respect was there. That notion disappeared the day she ran off with that bloody Mexican. I grabbed the tequila bottle and took a long pull. I didn’t want to start thinking about her right now. I coughed as the acrid fluid made its way into my stomach. Valentine looked at me with raised eyebrows but said nothing. I waved at the bartender “Were gonna need another bottle over here”

[SuperOwens]

[CENTER][SIZE="4"][COLOR="Red"]Wet Girls and Haircuts[/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] “You can’t be serious mate? Me? Wrestling? What!?” It was later, much later. We’d hit it hard tonight. Valentine wanted a session and I was along for the ride. In more my more lucid mindset I wondered what the hell I was playing at, I was successful in drowning these errant moments of doubt out with liquor. I’d been successful for a long time now. Tequila, finally a drink that made Valentine look like a normal man, a drink that could bring him down to his knees, metaphorically speaking of course. I still doubted there was a substance know to man that could keep the great gorilla on the floor indefinitely. “Kid, it’s all gone to s**t. Its all good looking kids, throwing Hollywood punches, getting 16 year old girls wet in there bedrooms” Valentine was slumped forward resting on the bar, his hat and raincoat had long been discarded. “The business is all the same these days, its sports entertainment everywhere. Recycled storylines with shareholders and sponsors telling ya when ya can p**s, how you can p**s. Wrestling was never meant to be F***ing PG” The last words were spat out with venom. Valentine was a body language expert’s dream. He lived every word, hands constantly on the move. He balls his fists, grinds his teeth and flexes his shoulders animatedly “There aint nothing wrong with angles, good angles that paint a picture, tell a story. But where’s the blood? Where’s the intensity? If I want to say f**k I should be able to say f**k!” I started to laugh, the drink fuelling my mirth. “I’m not sure how anybody would ever be able to stop you from saying ****, it comes out every other word” “Kid, I’m serious!!” Valentine slurred back at me. He was slowly refilling our glasses. I held my hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay….” Valentine passed me over the shot glass and we slung them back in unison. “I don’t expect ya to understand kid, you don’t know the business. You aint sweated blood and lost friends just to see it all to be forgotten for a kid with a good haircut and a repeatable catchphrase” He sighed and went back to the task of refilling our drinks. Probably, for the first time since I had met him I felt some pity for the big ape. Valentine handed me the glass and continued. “You know Rip has got it right, back to basics forget all the bull****. Be your own boss….” I was ready to down my drink, but Valentine was just staring at me. His eyes had lit up like a dog’s at the sound of the tin opener working. “You drinking?” I threw the question out there to break the silence and hopefully get those cold steely eyes off mine. “I’m gonna start my own Company, and kid, your gonna help me”

[SuperOwens]

[CENTER][COLOR="Red"][SIZE="4"]Booker Man[/SIZE][/COLOR][/CENTER] “You can’t be serious mate? Me? Wrestling? What!?” The Tequila had affected Valentine more than I thought. The bloke was delusional. I looked down at the floor, slightly shaking my head. “It makes perfect sense” Valentine growled “Perfect sense!? Perfect sense!? It makes no sense! Sense has packed his bags, picked up the wife and kids, locked the windows and doors and headed off for a 2 week holiday in south Wales” Valentine’s brow creased and an annoyed expression came over his scarred face. “Kid, listen. I have years in the business. I have the contacts, and I know the workers we could trust.” Valentine was staring at me with something like a half-smile on his face. “We have me, id be the best ****ing worker on the indies. They will be marking out all over the Tri-state.” The grin had turned into a full blown toothless smile and Valentines massive head was nodding furiously. “Great. Sounds fantastic for you mate. One question though, you have the contacts, you know the wrestlers. Why do you need me?” Valentine’s smiled faded as he looked at the floor. He slowly caressed his beard with his right hand, the left went for the double Jack on the bar. “Thing is kid, when you’re the best, people wanna pull you down from the top. They’ll do the politicering, run there mouths, talk there s**t. I cant be seen to be the booker man kid, nobody would sign up. I can guran-damn-tee the jealous bastards will try and turn it all into crap” I looked hard at Valentine. I’d picked up a few things about wrestling from out time spent together. He often would talk about the backstage politics and perils of bad booking “You want me to book matches!? Mate, I don’t know the first thing about wrestling and you want me to be a booker?” The smile returned to Valentines face. “In name only kid, in name only.”

[SuperOwens]

[CENTER][SIZE="4"][COLOR="Red"]A Life Less Ordinary[/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] My pulse was racing and my head felt fuzzy, like I was relaxing in a bath and completely submerged in the water. “It couldn’t fail kid, my head for the business and your head for…for…math” Valentine had been going at me gung-ho. The tactic seemed to be a combination of battering me with words and getting me battered on booze. I really was wasted to the point of thinking the rapid pulse was a sign of impending heart failure. “Maths?.... What are you talking about? Maths….D in my GSCE…S’not my’s fault Mum” I was mumbling and fairly incoherent. I tried rubbing my head to shake out the fuzz. “You know kid, math, numbers, accounting all that lawyer stuff. That’s what you’ll bring to the party, the head smarts. Yeah, you can work the numbers, just like you did for that job of yours” I tried to get to my feet but just succeeded in slumping further onto the bar stool. For some reason my body wasn’t listening to simple directions Not having the energy to correct Valentine I refrained from correcting him, my job was in IT “Listen Valentine, I’m hammered but not that hammered. Its not happening” I could feel the indignation pouring off of him. I was starting to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, this bloke probably had over 100 lbs on me. Angering him is not the way to go. “F**k you kid, you need this. You need this more than anyone I know. What the f**k are you going to do with your time? Drink yourself to death in some god damned snob bar? Sit here, pickle and shrivel up like some sort of f***ing worm?” The words hit home. I said the same things to myself countless times before. My life had turned into some badly written road crash movie. Wiping my head against the bars wooden surface, I closed my eyes. “Let me ask you one think kid, why ya still here? Why y’not packed up and shipped yourself back to the UK?” The words filtered into my brain but I was past listening. Sat slouched with my head on the bar I was thinking about the past. Images of happier times were dancing in front of my eyes. “I’ll tell you why kid, you’re embarrassed. You don’t want nobody seeing you like this, seeing what you’ve become. Hell, id be embarrassed too, wouldn’t even want my 4th wife seeing this f***ing mess” I could see Cat now, an image burned in to my psyche. There she was, frozen in time smiling back at me “You wanna show your woman? That Cat, you’re always running ya mouth about” Something snapped inside me as Valentine mentioned her name. I looked up at him “What are you talking about, what about her?” I was glaring at Valentine now. I could feel the anger begin to prickle away at me. “She likes wrestling, you could show her. You could rub it all in her face” “What? No she doesn’t” “Believe me kid, any bitch that would run off with a Mexican, likes wrestling. Libre Luchon and all that. She probably has tapes from Japan too” “What sort of tapes?” “The worst kind kid, bootleg” I tried to take all of this information in, bootleg tapes from Japan? That didn’t sound good. “Imagine though Kid, you set up your own company. Really rub it in her face, she may be f***ing a Lone Lachadon, but your name will be on the marquee.” “But…..but, im a mess. I have a big drink problem and possibly the start of a slight drug addiction” I looked up at Valentine, the last of my resistance waning. His face lit up like the Blackpool lights at the height of summer and cuffed me on my back with his bear paw of a hand “Kid, you’ll fit right in”

[SuperOwens]

[CENTER][SIZE="4"][COLOR="Red"]Big Brother[/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] “So, were gonna tell people your from Wigan kid” Things had moved fairly quickly. Valentine had been tirelessly trying to teach me the business. I hadn’t picked much up, but I always appeared to be listening and that was good enough for the big man. A month had gone by since that drink fuelled agreement. The idea was for me to be the owner but pretend to be the booker. Whilst Valentine, would masquerade as the owner but in fact book the matches. Yeah, a sober man would have run a mile. First problem we ran into was cash, I didn’t have much and Valentine seemed ‘unwilling’ to invest any himself. $10k was going to be our starting capital We’d be bottom of the barrel. “Wigan!? Why? I’ve never even been there” I was trying to watch the ‘Viva Valentine – 20 years of successes” DVD my 'business' partner had lent me. Supposedly with the intent of showing me how a good match was constructed. “Love there wrestling in Wigan, it will give you some pull with the boys. We’ll give you a back story” “Fine mate, whatever you say” I still hadn’t turned away from the screen. Valentine was busy stomping on his opponent and making strange wheezing noises. “That’s another thing kid, get rid of all this mate talk. From now on call me brother”

[SuperOwens]

[CENTER][SIZE="4"][COLOR="Red"]What's in a Name?[/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] “ECW? Im not sure….brother, doesn’t really roll off the tongue does it? I cant see it taking off... Valentine had been explaining that a good wrestling companies name was all about the acronyms. With that in mind he’d come up with Empire City Wrestling. Id already shot down his original idea of Ultimate Valentine Federation, apparently a fan had suggested the name and Valentine had loved it. “Not the way you say it kid, you gotta pronounce it right. Eeeee Ccccc Wubbaaa” Valentines face had turned a deep violet with his effort and he took a long pull on his whisky. “Fine, Eeeee Cccccc Wubbaa it is then” I picked up my own glass and downed the contents. “So, kid. I’ve been checking out workers and made our first signing. Not only does he have a great mind for the business and can help out with booking, he also knows all the young talent from the Indies and is the single biggest prospect in the world today”

[SuperOwens]

[CENTER][COLOR="Red"][SIZE="4"]We all Dream of a Team of Valentines[/SIZE][/COLOR][/CENTER] “Casey, nice to meet you” Casey Valentine was an unassuming looking lad who his uncle assured me was the best free agent available in the market. “Casey, knows all about our setup here kid, he’s got our backs and can help you look legit” “Yeah as Uncle Petey says, I can help you out kid” Petey?? Kid?? What the hell was going on here? “Er…well good, so how old are you then Casey?” “Kid, call me Valentine. 19 years old and in my prime. Im a rocker, a roller, a big time cajoler. When I come to play the girls beg to stay. When I was born the doctor slapped my mum, yeah slapped her cos im to damn pretty. Im Casey Valentine for ****s sake” Not really sure what to say to this, I just sort of looked at him… After about 10 seconds of silence the big Valentine chimed in. “So kid, were going to have Casey on the booking team, like I said he knows the young guys and which of them can work.” “Great” I grabbed the bottle of scotch from the dresser table and tried to take in as much into my throat as possible. This was going to get confusing