PRO SERIES: Driving To Canada On A Whim Part 9: Damned Ol’ Dirty Talk

 

After a solid night’s rest at our Winnipeg home base, i.e. a local wrestler’s house, Sigmon and I woke up early-ish, i.e. before noon, and went to work out at the gym, i.e. lift a little, but mostly sit in the YMCA’s hot tub.

WWE Announces Date For Hell In A Cell 2021, MITB Reportedly Scheduled With Fans

 

For the first event this tour, we weren’t in a hockey arena. Instead we were wrestling in a Catholic elementary/middle school.

 

I was quite excited to find that this venue, like the one the night before, came equipped with children’s gymnastics mats that I could use to practice my flippy sh__, as my trainers might call it.

 

That night I was wrestling “The Zombie Hunter” Mentalo, a masked wrestler from Winnipeg that is highly respected as one of the best wrestlers from/in the area, with Japan and Mexico on his resume to boot.

 

Mentalo lived up to his helluva-wrestler reputation and I really enjoyed competing with him.

 

During this time, the Winter Olympics were in full swing. Which, as one might imagine, is a pretty big deal in Canada. So, more for my own entertainment, rather than the crowd’s, I had taken to yelling “U-S-Ayyyy!” after one of my big moves, once a match. In the Mentalo match I yelled it early on and the crowd turned on me fiercely.

 

“F__k off, ya American f__k!” Yelled one friendly Manitoban gentleman.

 

“America can suck my d__k!” Yelled one sweet woman of the Great White North.

 

More of the same hardcore heckling rained down like hellfire on me throughout the match.

 

Huh. And I thought it was awkward, just getting changed in a Catholic school cafeteria. Now, I’m getting talked dirty to, by a buncha strangers in one. All over three letters. Amazing. I thought to myself.

 

After the match, I got a respectful applause from a small minority of the crowd, but a lot more middle fingers.

 

I took a moment to appreciate the novelty of being the classic wrestling archetype, bad because they’re not one of us, before leaving the upstairs gym-cafeteria to get undressed in the downstairs gym-cafeteria.

 

After the event we went to an after party where nobody was giving me free drinks. So, I was already miserable when the promoter/matchmaker came up to me and yelled, over top of 99 of Jay-Z’s complaints, “You have been having great matches all week… So, I got high expectations to see if you can pull a watchable match out of Brian Rich!”

 

“Who’s Brian Rich?” I asked in a volume only slightly louder than Jigga Man explaining that he wasn’t referring to women when he used bitch in it’s current context.

 

A guy standing beside the promoter, looking sad, raised his hand and said something not as loud as H-To-The-Izzo’s sympathy for males having relationship issues with females.

 

I raised my eyebrows.

 

The sad fellow leaned in, as if to give me a shy kiss on the cheek, and yelled “I’m Brian Rich!” at the precise moment that he didn’t need to yell any more.

 

The non-wrestling people around us stared like they expected him to add bitch to the sentence and smack me. The wrestlefolk around us laughed their tight-wearing asses off.

 

“Ah… Cool.” I said with the enthusiasm of a child receiving candy corn on Halloween.

 

“I got some ideas if you want to hear them.” Brian Rich told me, before the next song started.

 

Is this motherf__ker really going to try to talk to me about a match, at a damn danceclub? I thought.

 

He seemed to read my mind and said, “I’m sorry. That’s dumb of me. You probably won’t like the ideas anyway.”

 

I felt bad about his self-defeating attitude, so I wanted to be nice. “It’s all good, bro.” I said, trying to think of a way to tell him that I sure as post-poutine sh__ wasn’t about to discuss wrestling with him at 1:00 am in discotech, in a nice manner, when I was saved by Ke$ha telling us how she feels upon waking.

 

“Sorry. Can’t hear too well in here.” I said way lower than required to hear, at that moment, to prove the validity of my sentence. Then I made a face like I remembered something important and I f__ked right off.

 

The promoter who had been quietly studying this whole encounter began to laugh hard.

 

Alright, you sonuvabitch, challenge accepted. I thought to myself.

 

While Ke$ha tik-tok’d her chorus, I was counting down the seconds till I had match of the night with Brian “I Got Some Ideas” Rich, in this bitch.

Get exclusive combat sports content on Fightful Select, our premium news service! Click here to learn more.
From The Web