Buffalo Rose Restaurant It was wrestling night in Golden again. I was sitting backstage (upstairs) across the table from Zeke and Dan plotting out the night's various feuds and dissensions. We were completely surrounded by food as usual, one of the perks of working a venue that serves food. I already had a couple of plates of jalapeno poppers while we were mapping out the book (the way the night's matches would run). In a few hours we would all be at odds with one another in the ring as Chicago Zeke, the Magnum Man and the Reverend Black. But right now we were just three friends working out the story lines that would sell tonight's show. No one knew that tonight was my return to the ring, so we were setting up the angle (reason) for my re-entrance. Chicago Zeke and the Magnum Man had been having a power struggle for control of the CWO for a few shows now. I myself was dealing with the power struggle between some hot wings and cheese sticks, but that's another story. The majority of the wrestlers had broken off into two factions behind one or the other leaders. Zeke had expressed an interest in my coming over to his side upon my return, but Dan had an idea that involved a twist (deception), which always sells an angle better. There was a match that was booked toward the end of the show between one of Zeke's and one of Dan's guys. It was slated for a screw finish. (There would be interference that would allow the loser to win at the last minute.) Dan was giving me the rundown. "I'll slide in at the last minute, and take the Kendo stick (a bamboo cane) to Kid Justice (Zeke's guy). I'll give him a few kicks and chops and set him up for a power bomb (put his head between my knees while in a standing position)." Why that made me think of onion rings I don't know but I grabbed a handful as Dan continued. "Then while I'm drawing heat (taunting the crowd) you come in and pull me off of him." That's where I stopped Dan, mumbling around a mouthful of cheeseburger, "So am I with Zeke after all?" Holding up a silencing hand he continued, "No, that's the twist, everyone will think you're pulling me off to save him, really play it up, face me off, push me, whatever, then once you have him, take him out." Then he snaps this french fry in half that he had been using as a pointer to illustrate the story. Eyeing the breaded fish filet in my hand I said, "Do you want a high spot (a succession of moves trading off between wrestlers) or just a finish (one final move to end the match)?" He was already in deep conversation with Zeke, who was busy devouring a grilled chicken breast, so I figured I'd just do whatever came to mind. Some of the other wrestlers were showing up and tearing into the mound of pepperoni pizzas in the dressing rooms, so I headed in to see if I could help. Showtime was getting closer, everyone was in gimmick (character/costume), and I was almost ready for a nap! I had been eating steadily for the last 4 hours, not the thing to do before a match, but I figured I wasn't really going to take any bumps (land hard on the mat) so it wouldn't matter. We had been through a few matches and an intermission when I realized it was going to matter. A lot! A few minutes before my run on (coming out without introduction) I had tossed down my usual pre-match motivational supplements (kids, don't try this at home) Blue Ox, Creatine, Androstene, Nor-Diol and Niacin. The problem was it was creating a strange chemical reaction with the gargantuan mound of partially digested fried madness already in my stomach. I could actually see my belly growing as I waited for my entrance. As I headed out into the spotlights I remember thinking that this wasn't going to end well. I went through the spot like clockwork, right up until the part where I started getting physical, that is. I raised my leg to kick my opponent in the head and a gaseous eruption ensued. The crowd was too noisy to hear it but Kid Justice looked a little panicked. Then as I picked him up for a body slam it happened again --by now, an indescribable stench permeated the ring. The Magnum Man backed away with a bit of a gasp, appearing to be surprised but actually looking for fresh air. After I tossed Kid through a table the commentator tossed me a mic. When speaking in the voice of the Reverend it comes deep and resounding from the diaphragm. So with each verbal inflection, more non-verbal eruptions occurred until finally we were driven from the ring gasping for air and trying not to laugh. As we left the edge of the spotlights Dan started to comment on the horrendous turn of events, I stopped him by simply pointing to the ring. Kid Justice lay motionless amidst the remains of a broken table. "Dude, either he's still selling (feigning injury) or he's asphyxiated." Between uncontrollable fits of laughter we sent someone out to retrieve him from the rubble and I headed for my car. "A quick exit from the venue is the mark of a seasoned professional," I yelled on my way out the door. I think I heard someone say something about my having seasoned the entire building, but I was already on my way. All Rights Reserved © 2001 Go-Go Media, LLC