Welcome back, readers!
I know I’ve promised you a more fruitful week this week here on my blog, but truth be told, I’ve just started something that I hope will help my writing career take off further than it has yet. Of course, as those of you who have been following my blog since my first day here already know, I’m an author, and already as of this past spring, I’ve put three books out on the market: two novels (Kyle Summers, Booker and Best of Luck, Jeff Babbage!) and one poetry anthology (The Sun Shan’t Set on Me! Poems from My Younger Days (Ages 16 to 23)). Not only that, but I’ve posted time and again where to find my books so that prospective buyers can take a look at them, download them, and hopefully enjoy them. Such websites include the following:
My books are even available on iTunes, for those of you who are interested—something that I probably should have mentioned earlier, but hopefully you all know now. Regardless, the fact is that my books are on the market, and though there are but three at the moment, that is about to change in the near future, for just yesterday, I have finished writing a project of mine that I had mentioned on May 30—a project that I felt necessary to bring up on account of it being more or less my venture into the realm of women’s literature. That project, of course, is entitled UWWX: The Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperiment. For a solid month-and-a-half, I have been promising you people that I’d have this project up and ready on the market by this coming September, and I am committed to keeping that promise—particularly in view of the descriptions I’d given this novel in my Twitter account announcement from July 13.
A new breed of women’s professional wrestling emerges form the ruins of the long-desecrated pro wrestling industry with the promise of bringing back the respect that women’s wrestling has long lost.
For far too long, wrestling promoters have treated women’s professional wrestling like little more than a glorified burlesque sideshow featuring beautiful women dressed in outrageous and provocative outfits while reciting horribly lowbrow comedy skits and engaging in simulated catfights with one another. Such is exactly how Ladies’ Wrestling League veteran “Chainsaw” Charlie Bradshaw feels, leastways, especially when approached to become a part of yet another novelty women’s wrestling organization called WrestleKittens. Needless to say, once she hears about an opposing and equally newly formed women’s wrestling promotion—the ragtag, gritty, and aptly named Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperiment—she jumps ship the first chance she gets. However, even with this new federation’s promise to reinvent women’s pro wrestling and hence bring some respect back to the sport as a whole, Charlie still finds herself up against many a challenge, such as coexisting with certain rivals on the UWWX roster and learning to cope with the unorthodox management and on-the-fly booking style of the promotion’s founder, Katherine Flynn. Nonetheless, it is up to Charlie to rise up to the occasion and become the locker room leader that her newfound home needs to help spur it to the top of a crippled industry and win the hearts of an increasingly jaded mainstream wrestling audience. Only time will tell, then, if she is indeed up to such a task or if the UWWX will remain nothing more than a pipedream for everyone who has become sick and tired of a venue with little more to offer than cheesy costumes, tacky humor, and flagrant chauvinism.
Seeing as I’ve just now finished writing the thing, however, I still must edit it to make it presentable to potential purchasers. In the meantime, though, I have provided here in this post the first chapter to my upcoming novel as a sample of the kind of story you can expect to read. Without further ado, then, here you go!
“You have got to be kidding me!”
I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard come out of the guy’s mouth, and by “the guy,” I meant the fat, disgusting middle-aged slob in the deep blue Jerry Clower tuxedo—complete with pink cummerbund and bowtie—whom Commissioner Fielding had invited me into her office to meet. I turned my head briefly to the side to see what she herself thought about what her guest had just told me, and from the way she was palming her face, I could tell that she was pretty embarrassed, and rightfully so. Sadly, as I turned back to the man, he showed no signs at all of either shame or guilt at what he had just said, much to my dismay. In fact, he managed to keep a straight face as he dared to repeat that which he had just said.
“Actually, Ms. Bradshaw, I’m quite serious,” he said. We want you to be a part of our show. It’ll actually be a great opportunity for you, what with us finally getting a television deal and all this year. You’ll finally be able to garner some exposure with the casual wrestling audience—something every wrestler in the independent scene dreams about. Who knows? You might even become a huge star.”
“Yeah, at the cost of my own dignity and identity,” I countered. “Forget it, pal. I don’t want anything to do with your precious little comedy fetish smutfest.”
The pervert only chuckled and retorted, “Why, what’s the matter? Are you afraid we’ll be suiting you up with the worst gimmick we can think of?”
“Buddy, knowing you and that braindead sidekick of yours—who, just for the record, hasn’t had an original idea in his thick skull since he last booked Max Diamond’s little hole-in-the-ground promotion ten years ago—you two couldn’t come up with anything close to being good even if you actually tried. I still remember that last project of yours, that corny-as-all-hell Hotties of Wrestling show that you made for the Loads of Laughs network, and all I can say is thank Heaven and Hell both that LOL had the good sense not to showcase that farce on their beloved channel. Honestly, your little project must have been that big of a disgrace if even they wouldn’t air it, especially considering the kind of garbage they’ve hosted before.”
“Listen, Charlie, I know that this latest project of ours doesn’t sound very promising, but J.V. and I have been assured by this current network that our deal with them I secure.”
“Yeah, for the first month-and-a-half. Then the ratings will go through the floor thanks to the lack of decent advertising and a crapload of much-deserved negative feedback from the Internet crowd, and the next thing you know, you two ass clowns and each and every self-loathing money whore who’s desperate and stupid enough to sign with your little joke of a company will be back out on the street where you all belong, and those of us who chose to stay true to true to who we are will be laughing our asses off at your stupidity while the promotions we work for—this one included—will stay standing thanks to our loyal fanbases. Granted, Fielding here might take in some of your strumpets and stick them in the job squad out of little more than pity, but you and Hart would sure as all else be out of a job. That anyone can guarantee.”
I didn’t bother to redirect my attention to Fielding, but I didn’t need to know that she was nodding her head at my sentiments, regardless of how gruff I was being with our “honored” guest. Honestly, I could have figured out from the way she had initially called me in and introduced me to the wannabe Hugh Hefner that she, too, hated the bastard every bit as much as I did, if not more so, which would have been saying something in and of itself. Even so, she managed to keep her cool as she at long last had her say about the idiot and the skanky schlockfest he was insisting I become a part of.
“You’re only wasting your time with us, Mr. Bellasarus,” she informed him. “The idea you’re proposing has already been done before back in the 1980s with Wrestling’s Most Glamorous Ladies, which only succeeded for as long as it did because the masses back then didn’t care about whether or not what they were watching was real or not and as such were much more able to sit back and just enjoy pro wrestling for what it was, regardless of how downright phony their favorite product could be.”
Bellasarus’s fat ugly mug suddenly twisted into a disdainful scowl. “Now, just a moment, Ms. Fielding,” he retorted. “I don’t appreciate you insulting my promotion the way you are now.”
“Let me finish, please,” Fielding scolded before continuing. “I am not intentionally insulting WrestleKittens, but let’s be honest: Not only do you have a program that’s enough of a niche product as it is, being a women’s wrestling show and all, but you have made it into even more of a niche product by elevating the sexuality and taking away your wrestlers’ identities by dolling them up in the raciest costumes the industry has ever seen and having them play cheesy, over-the-top, embarrassing characters that wouldn’t exist in any way, shape or form outside the realm of ‘sports entertainment.’ On top of all that, the network that will be broadcasting your show is virtually unknown to the general public, which basically spells suicide for a product like yours that already lacks appeal and staying power as it is. Be honest with us, now: Do you truly expect today’s wrestling fans, as jaded and as demanding as they are, to buy into such pageantry—especially considering how the majority of them have been yearning for a more serious, sports-oriented wrestling product for years now? Seriously, the only wrestling fans who would dare to watch such a show are those with a morbid enough curiosity to tune in to one episode just to see how campy it is and later make an issue out of it on a forum or even their own blog.”
“Okay, well…where’s the harm in that? At least we’d still be earning a rating. Who knows? That one person might come to like our show down the road, even if he or she doesn’t initially, and spread the word about how great we are to the point of possibly even getting the rest of the so-called Internet Wrestling Community to check us out-especially when they find out whom we have on the roster.”
“Yeah, a big bunch of money-grubbing sellouts and a handful of dumb-bunny goofball bimbo model-types who have no business even being near a ring, much less in it,” I horned in. “Really, who gives a crap whom you’ve managed to weasel onto your payroll if the booking sucks and makes even the talented girls look like bumbling buffoons? I’ve seen what Hart’s booking looks like in action, and believe me when I say that even his best work is so sloppy and poorly thought out that it makes that idiot Sal Struthers look like Antoine d’Amore in comparison. Forget it, Bellasarus. You’re not conning me to join your stupid little Vegas sideshow. I refuse to turn my back on the people who made me who I am, and I definitely refuse to drop a match to any scrawny, braindead, no-talent model twit you might have me try to make look good.”
That was when I bolted up out of the chair I had been sitting in and started storming out of Fielding’s office. Before I could so much as open the door, however, Bellasarus thrust his hulk in front of me and blocked me from exiting.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” he blurted out. “Hold on a second, would you?”
I stood there with my hands on my hips, tapping my foot impatiently for whatever the portly pimp had left to say to me. Seeing me standing in front of him the way I was, he chuckled nervously before daring to continue.
“You honestly think I’m going to job you out to any of our homegrown talents? Because if you do, I can readily assure you that such is not the case at all. You may question my business practices, Charlie, but even I know better than to make a woman of your skill and girth forfeit a match to—”
“Excuse me?” I interrupted as I grabbed the bastard by the collar and pinned his shoulders up against the nearest wall.
“Charlie—” Fielding protested as she stepped out from behind her desk and hustled her little keister towards us.
Bellasarus only giggled nervously in my face and swallowed hard. “Um…err…sorry about that. I suppose I should have used the term ‘mass’ instead. You’re clearly not fat by any means…‘buxom,’ perhaps, or even voluptuous, given that you’ve got an all-natural bus that most women would kill to have and a nice tight booty to match. In fact, if you’ll pardon me for saying so, I’d be willing to bet that out little promotion would have several fans—if not, in fact, several hundred fans—who would pay dearly to see you squeeze your sensuously full figure into a bikini—”
Bellasarus’s piss-poor attempts at flattery only warranted a stiff backhand from me that nailed him so hard that his blubbery body fell to the ground with a thud. Luckily for him, he remained conscious, especially of his fat, swollen, crimson cheek that he promptly put his hand on as he struggled to his feet. Naturally, I didn’t bother lending the horny little toad a hand up and instead stood with my arms folded across my “buxom” chest, glowering menacingly while Fielding tried helping him lift his bulk up off the ground. Eventually, Bellasarus was back on his feet and still holding his swollen cheek in a manner that made him look as if he had a nasty toothache that needed immediate dental attention. Truth be told, I was actually a bit disappointed in the fact that I hadn’t knocked any of his precious pearly whites out of his fat ignorant mouth, but hey, maybe the sting he was feeling was satisfaction enough for me , although his little admission of defeat only made the whole deal sound even sweeter.
“Well,” he blubbered, drooling all the while as though he had just emerged from his dentist’s office after a very invasive root canal, “it seems as though I’ve overstayed my welcome here. I’m terribly sorry, Ms. Bradshaw, that we couldn’t work anything out. If you change your mind, though, please don’t be afraid to drop me an email sometime, and perhaps J.V. and I can write up a contract for you that would be to your liking. Until then, ladies, good day to you both, and good luck.”
Hmph! “Good luck,” huh? With what? Unfortunately, it looked as though I would never get the chance to find that out, seeing as how Fielding managed to lead Bellasarus out of the office and close the door behind him before I could bring myself to ask him. Then again, the whole thing didn’t really matter all that much, especially when I had Fielding shifting her gaze toward me with her own arms folded in front of her to signify how disappointed she was with me at the moment. She was not afraid to give voice to her feelings right then and there, either, and pretty readily gave me a piece of her mind.
“You didn’t have to take it that far,” she said as she shook her head.
“Give me a break, Fielding,” I scoffed. “What I did to him was nothing compared to the righteous ass-kicking he really deserves.”
“No matter. That still doesn’t give you the right to lay a finger on him. He can very well now turn around and press an assault and battery charge against you, and trust me when I say that I don’t want that to happen to you in the least. After all, if we want people to know that our promotion is the one worth investing in, we can’t afford to draw the slightest bit of heat, even if we do get a few particularly rowdy supporters on our side on account of actions like yours.”
“So what are you going to do about it? Let your brother get some sort of partnership with these idiots? You just said yourself that their joke of a product has no staying power, and believe me—it would make me sick to my stomach to see any of our other gals trek on over there for any reason and join the ranks of all the other glorified hookers who’ve given up on what wrestling is supposed to be.”
Fielding only sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said simply. “Believe me, if I had full ownership of this company, I’d do everything in my power to make sure we would never have to deal with the likes of Bellasarus and Hart. How I’d go about it exactly, I’m not sure…try to acquire a respectable television deal of our own, I suppose, or perhaps work out some sort of agreement with the Global Wrestling Corporation whenever they themselves start treating women’s wrestling with respect like they used to instead of putting on the glorified ‘boobs and booty’ show that they’re now putting on with their women. Unfortunately, Colt has convinced himself that this current recession our industry has been going through has affected us even more than it actually has, and he’s desperate enough to try anything to preserve the Ladies’ Wrestling League regardless of the fact that we’re not faring that much worse since the day he and I first founded this humble little promotion.”
“I take it, then, that you haven’t been able to get it through that knobby little skull of his that he’s full of more crap than an overflowing colostomy bag?”
Fielding shot me a look of disapproval. “Don’t talk about my brother like that!” she scolded. “You know just as well as anyone else that Colt means well, no matter how foolish he can be. Granted, even I get exasperated with all the times he has let his ambitions get the better of him and all the flighty notions and harebrained ideas that pop into his head on account of them, but even then, his interests are still for the betterment of the LWL.”
I snorted. “Whatever,” I grumbled. “If he ever gets the idea of buddying up with that dirtbag Bellasarus and forking over any of our gals over to him to become live action burlesque cartoon characters, I’ll beat so much snot out of him that he’ll have all the room in the world to finally stuff some sense into him. I don’t care what kind of motive he’d have to pull such a stunt, either. Even he should know by now that pro wrestling is a sport—a worked sport, maybe, but a sport all the same. That’s why I became a wrestler, after all. I wanted to become an athlete, not just an actress.”
“Point well taken, Charlie, but listen,” Fielding insisted as she tried to calm me down. “You’re just letting this whole ordeal get to you now. Tell you what, then: Why don’t you relax for the rest of the evening? Just head on back to your hotel room and unwind. We’ll be heading on out for Chicago first thing tomorrow morning, so you’ll definitely need your beauty sleep.”
Now had come my turn to shoot Fielding a look. Seriously, though, “beauty sleep?” Did she really have to use that term with me? Especially considering how much she knew about my personal hatred for such uber-girly bullcrap vernacular, which she immediately became reminded of once she caught sight of me giving her the evil eye.
“Sorry…” she said with a gulp, “…but you know what I mean. You just need to cool off, is all I’m saying. Trust me—you’ll be in a much better frame of mind for tomorrow’s show.”
I shrugged my shoulders and admitted, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll take you up on your offer, then.”
“You promise?” Fielding demanded, eyeballing me suspiciously. “I don’t want you ‘venting’ over what just went on here and getting yourself in trouble because of it.”
“Ha! And you’re telling me that I’m the one who needs to relax. Take it easy already, Fielding. I may be rough and tumble, but even something as flat-out asinine as WrestleKittens isn’t enough to send me flying into a psychotic rage, so don’t expect me right away to be roaming the streets in the middle of the night looking for losers whose skulls I can cave in. Check you later, then.”
Having said, that, I sauntered off out of the office and back to the locker room to grab my gear and head back to the hotel. On my way out, I could feel Fielding’s eyes watching me, and without so much as taking the slightest glance back at her, I could guess what she was thinking: Honestly ,just what kind of trouble is she going to get into? Of course, I really was in no mood to get into any kind of trouble. Sure, there was a certain someone whom I wanted to stick it to again, right along with all the morons he surrounded himself with, but honestly, I was too tired to do anything about that at the moment. Ah, well…there’s a time for everything, I guess. For the moment, though, all I really wanted to do was take a load off and be fresh for yet another busy day.
Well, folks, there you have it: the first official chapter of my upcoming women’s literature book, UWWX: The Underground Women’s Wrestling Xperiment. Hopefully, you all have enjoyed it and will keep an even closer eye on my author page at Smashwords.com in order to see just when I will be able to publish it there. Also keep an eye on Amazon.com’s Kindle store, as you will most likely see a second copy of this very novel pop up there after it appears on Smashwords. In the meantime, for those of you who have been and might still be looking forward to the latest installments of either of my “In Relation to My Work” mini-series, please be patient, as the editing process for UWWX will be preoccupying much of my time. Meanwhile, for everyone who has supported my work one way or another, thank you, and I hope that you will enjoy my writing for years to come.
Dustin M. Weber