Post by Mike Machado on Aug 14, 2013 21:07:13 GMT
A flight attendant moves down the aisle with ease, even through the light turbulence that currently threatens Mike Machado’s Spanish breakfast. He’s sitting in a row by himself, in the middle seat; looking toward the window seat and talking to Wes Wachado; or thin air, if you happen to not share in his hallucinations.
“Would you like pretzels or crackers, sir?”
Machado snaps out of his current conversation he’s having with himself, and looks back at the flight attendant for long enough to dismiss her with a wave. She eyes Machado cautiously and moves on. He turns back to Wes and continues his… conversation.
“You did what you had to do to put yourself in a better place.”
“I skipped an IWF obligation to lose in the main event of a second-rate international company.”
“I didn’t tell you to lose, dumbass. Maybe you should listen to my advice from outside the ring next time. Maybe then you’ll be the one with the handful of tights, and the victory to go along with it.”
Machado looks down into his lap pensively.
“I’m not a handful-of-tights kind of guy, Wes. What the hell is it about a handful of tights that gives you leverage, exactly?”
“I don’t know what it is about a wedgie that causes a man’s shoulders to stay on the mat, but it’s science. You think you won’t need that advantage against Bushido?”
“You don’t think I can beat him?”
The flight attendant hesitantly approaches Machado once more, this time with a drink trey.
“A drink, sir?”
Machado spins, quickly rebuking the attendant.
“Can’t you see that I’m busy!?”
“I… I’m sorry sir, it’s just my job…”
“I understand that. Please, if I need anything I will ask. Thank you.”
The attendant nods and turns to the aisle across from Machado.
“Slap her on the ass.”
“What!? I’m not slapping her on the ass!”
“They love that stuff man. Just slap her on the ass.”
Machado sits on his hands.
“Not slapping her on the ass, Wes.”
“Fine. I will.”
Despite Mike’s best efforts, Wes reaches over and slaps the attendant on the ass. Good thing he’s just a hallucination.
“EXCUSE ME!”
The flight attendant spins and faces Machado, murder in her eyes.
“Did you really just do that?”
Machado tries to sink into his seat and disappear to no avail. Wes steps in and speaks for him.
“I thought we had a connection. I guess I was mistaken.”
“A connection? I swear to God when we land this plane I’m going straight to security – you can’t just do whatever the hell you want, you psycho. Who the hell do you think you are?”
Machado looks completely taken aback. He looks at Wes, then back up at her, then back at Wes. To Machado’s chagrin Wes answers her.
“I’m Mike Machado; you little, insignificant, self-absorbed bitch. I’m a professional wrestler with enough clout to make sure that when we land this plane, you do not leave Tokyo with a job at this airline. I would reconsider my position if I were you.”
Machado’s lower jaw drops to the floor. The flight attendant looks like she wants to snap back at Wes, but instead closes her mouth and hurries off toward the back of the plane. Wes shrugs it off.
“Works thirty-three percent of the time.”
“But how did she… you’re not real…”
“You think I slapped her ass and called her a bitch?”
“I saw you…”
“You think you’re a great measuring stick for reality right now? Listen, Mike. We’re going to do this. This is what you want. You wanted to slap her ass. You want to have people listen when you talk.”
“I don’t want to be you.”
“Do you want to beat Bushido?”
Machado grows silent for a moment, staring off into nothing.
“I do. I want to beat Bushido, and call that cruiserweight title my own more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. You know, sometimes people will say “I don’t want this, I need this, or something to that effect; but that doesn’t do this justice. To just say that I need to beat Bushido would take away the yearning that I have deep within me for that title – for the recognition that I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember.”
“It’s what you’ve always wanted, Mike. It’s why you started wrestling, remember?”
“I do remember. I’ve never forgotten that. How could I? It’s always been there, somewhere in the back of my mind. The questions about whether or not I’m a legitimate wrestler, a legitimate threat to win important matches.”
“You can put all of those questions to rest at Legacy, Mike.”
“I can. If I beat Bushido at Legacy, all of those questions are answered. I won’t have to listen to people say what I could be, or what potential I have, or how I can improve and take it to the next level. I can tell all of those people to kiss my absurdly-hairy ass.”
“You could shave that ass. Then if you wanted a woman to put her tongue-”
“Stop. That’s enough for today, Wes. I… I need to think.”
Mike brings a hand up to his troubled forehead and massages his temples
Before our match last week you told me that these are the moments where you shine, and where I flounder.
Before our match last week, I guess you were right.
I’ve never been able to seal the deal. I’ve yet to hold a singles title, I’ve yet to be ‘the man’; and you? You’ve firmly established yourself as the best cruiserweight in the world. Last week, despite my best efforts – you managed to beat Alpha & Omega in a 2-vs-1 match.
But I was the one that was shining. It was my triple homicide that stole the headlines. My message to you that was at the forefront of the match. The change in my attitude is what fans are talking about. Not you. I hope that you enjoyed holding that title up over your head on Sunday night, because it will be the last time. There won’t be another victory celebration – because that title will be mine.
I have no interest in your harem, I have no interest in you. You could be anyone in the world to me. You are holding something that’s mine. Two months ago, when we met in that ring, I wanted that title that you’re currently holding.
This month I’m taking it.
These are the moments where I used to flounder.
These are the moments that make champions who they are, that make legends who they are.
These are the moments where we have an opportunity to establish a legacy.
This time I’ll shine. And you will know what it’s like to flounder.
Wes and Mike walk side-by-side through a packed, neon-lit Japanese boardwalk. Mike is dressed in jeans and a tucked-in comic book t-shirt, and it seems as though Wes Wachado only appears in full wrestling attire. Wes glances around excitedly – enjoying the ‘scenery’.
“Man! I see why Bushido has this harem thing going on. They’re all over the place here!”
Wachado spins around as he admires a Japanese woman dressed in a maids outfit. There are dozens of these scantily clad women scattered throughout the crowd. He whistles to himself before continuing on.
“If you insist on constantly hanging around me, could you at least be a little more discrete?”
“I do insist on hanging around you – you insist on it. I only exist because you want me to, remember?”
Machado breathes heavily in frustration.
“You keep saying that, but what I wanted from this trip was to try to learn how to wrestle, and what I’ve gotten from this trip is a bunch of headaches, and bad tips for picking up women.”
“It’s a percentage based thing, Mike. You have to wait for the numbers to even out. Sure, you’re going to get slapped a bunch, but you’re also going to get laid a bunch. From what I’m seeing here, that means some sweet roleplay stuff. I’ve always wanted to dress up like Godzilla and go ham on like 10 women at the same time…”
Mike shakes his head in a combination of disbelief and disgust. He looks to the side and a shop catches his eye. It’s very tall, six or seven stories, and it looks like it specializes in DVD’s.
“Wes – you wouldn’t happen to speak Japanese…”
“Do you speak Japanese Mike? What makes you think I know things that you don’t know.”
“I don’t know. I’m not quite sure how this whole thing works. In fight club Brad Pitt knew how to make soap-bombs.”
“I know how to make soap-bombs! Do you wanna go make some soap bombs!?”
Machado shakes his head again and walks toward the shop. He enters the store and gapes at the incredible selection of DVD’s. From floor to ceiling, there are DVD’s everywhere. Game-show DVD’s, kung-fu DVD’s, anime DVD’s, …wrestling DVD’s?
“Wes! Look! A wrestling section! Maybe this trip can be productive after all!”
Machado hurries over to the wrestling section of the store and immediately begins to thumb through DVD’s, turning them around and looking at the back of them. Wes wanders up behind him and picks up a few as well, turning them over and inspecting them.
“They all look the same, man.”
“Jesus, can you please at least not be overtly racist?”
“I meant the DVD’s! Also, if I’m racist then..”
“Yeah, yeah... if you’re racist I’m racist, or whatever.”
“Now you’re starting to get it. Hey, I wonder what’s on the other floors of this place.”
Wes puts his DVD back on the shelf and begins to scour the room, looking for a set of stairs. He spots them in the corner of the store and makes a beeline.
“Wes…can we please stay close?”
Wes waves off Machado’s plea and continues for the stairs. Machado reluctantly places his DVD back on the shelf and hurries after Wachado, hoping to catch up before he causes any damage.
I started this ‘tour’ so that I could learn different techniques from different cruiserweights around the globe. I’ve travelled the world these last few weeks, and I’ve had the opportunity to wrestle for a few different international organizations. It’s truly been a wonderful experience for me, but I’d be lying if I said I learned any new wrestling techniques.
What I’ve learned is that the people that are at the top in this business are all there for a reason:
They worked hard to get there;
and then they worked even harder to make sure that no one else got there.
I see a lot of the same in you, Bushy. I watched how hard you worked to win the cruiserweight title match. I even admired you a little back then. Now, all I see is a man that will do anything to stay where he is. What you did to Brad Kane was despicable. You should have been removed from this organization the day that it happened.
You speak a lot about honor, and respect, and dishonor. The fact that you retired the closest thing this sport has to a legend speaks a lot about your honor. It wasn’t enough to beat the man, you had to make sure that he didn’t come back around to challenge you a second time. Your spot at the top of the cruiserweight division is worth more to you than another man’s passion, another man’s career.
I’m taking that from you, Bushido. No one in this whole damn company will work harder than me to get to the top… and let me tell you this:
Once I’m there – no one in the whole world will work harder than me to keep the rest of this division down.
Your reign is over, your opportunity has ended – and you will not get another.
Machado hurries up the stairs, and when he gets to the top the first thing he sees is Wes Wachado ascending to the third floor.
“God Dammit Wes, slow down.”
Machado rushes through the aisle toward the next flight of stairs, but stops abruptly when he notices that he is completely surrounded by Japanese porn. The entire room, floor to ceiling is covered with shelves and shelves of porn.
“My God. It’s… it’s ….glorious.”
Machado hesitantly leaves the porn-room and heads up the stairs, where once again Wes Wachado is a step ahead of him – going up to the next floor. This time Machado immediately realizes that things have been brought up a notch.
“This is… …glorious?”
It’s still porn, but it’s getting a little weird. The DVD’s here are based around fetishes – you know, foot fetishes, bukkake, midgets, hentai tentacle porn – you’ve been on the internet before. You get it.
“Wes… I don’t know if we should keep going up…”
Machado hurries toward the stairwell, he cringes a bit in anticipation of what he’s going to find, but he wills himself up the stairs to the 5th floor of the shop.
“Oh God. Oh no. This is…”
That is not chocolate ice cream folks. Wes stands in front of a shelf full of poop-porn with a huge poop-eating grin on his face.
“Mike. Mike, come look at this. Look – there are little bits of corn in it.”
“No… Wes… this isn’t okay…We need to leave.”
Wes looks at Mike, and then looks at the final set of stairs.
“No. No. Nope. I’m not going up there. I don’t even want to know.”
“Mike – we have to know.”
“We do not have to know. Nope.”
Wes smiles one last huge smile and makes a dash for the last stairwell, Machado dashes after him – reaching desperately – trying everything in his power to stop Wachado from reaching the stairwell. They zoom past a man that looks suspiciously like Gib in a trenchcoat, and he looks on, probably puzzled by just what in the hell is wrong with Machado. He shrugs it off and continues to peruse the porn-o-poo. Machado lunges in a last ditch effort to stop Wes, but comes up short.
“WES, PLEASE!”
Despite Mike’s best efforts, Wes reaches the stairwell. He launches himself up the stairs. Machado gulps, takes a deep breath and follows him up. The camera stays where it is. All is quiet for a few brief and suspenseful moments…
And then Machado tumbles head over heels, backward down the stairs. He hits his head on the wall and a pile of poop-porn falls on top of him. He lays unconscious and the Gib look-a-like rushes over to see if he’s okay.
“Would you like pretzels or crackers, sir?”
Machado snaps out of his current conversation he’s having with himself, and looks back at the flight attendant for long enough to dismiss her with a wave. She eyes Machado cautiously and moves on. He turns back to Wes and continues his… conversation.
“You did what you had to do to put yourself in a better place.”
“I skipped an IWF obligation to lose in the main event of a second-rate international company.”
“I didn’t tell you to lose, dumbass. Maybe you should listen to my advice from outside the ring next time. Maybe then you’ll be the one with the handful of tights, and the victory to go along with it.”
Machado looks down into his lap pensively.
“I’m not a handful-of-tights kind of guy, Wes. What the hell is it about a handful of tights that gives you leverage, exactly?”
“I don’t know what it is about a wedgie that causes a man’s shoulders to stay on the mat, but it’s science. You think you won’t need that advantage against Bushido?”
“You don’t think I can beat him?”
The flight attendant hesitantly approaches Machado once more, this time with a drink trey.
“A drink, sir?”
Machado spins, quickly rebuking the attendant.
“Can’t you see that I’m busy!?”
“I… I’m sorry sir, it’s just my job…”
“I understand that. Please, if I need anything I will ask. Thank you.”
The attendant nods and turns to the aisle across from Machado.
“Slap her on the ass.”
“What!? I’m not slapping her on the ass!”
“They love that stuff man. Just slap her on the ass.”
Machado sits on his hands.
“Not slapping her on the ass, Wes.”
“Fine. I will.”
Despite Mike’s best efforts, Wes reaches over and slaps the attendant on the ass. Good thing he’s just a hallucination.
“EXCUSE ME!”
The flight attendant spins and faces Machado, murder in her eyes.
“Did you really just do that?”
Machado tries to sink into his seat and disappear to no avail. Wes steps in and speaks for him.
“I thought we had a connection. I guess I was mistaken.”
“A connection? I swear to God when we land this plane I’m going straight to security – you can’t just do whatever the hell you want, you psycho. Who the hell do you think you are?”
Machado looks completely taken aback. He looks at Wes, then back up at her, then back at Wes. To Machado’s chagrin Wes answers her.
“I’m Mike Machado; you little, insignificant, self-absorbed bitch. I’m a professional wrestler with enough clout to make sure that when we land this plane, you do not leave Tokyo with a job at this airline. I would reconsider my position if I were you.”
Machado’s lower jaw drops to the floor. The flight attendant looks like she wants to snap back at Wes, but instead closes her mouth and hurries off toward the back of the plane. Wes shrugs it off.
“Works thirty-three percent of the time.”
“But how did she… you’re not real…”
“You think I slapped her ass and called her a bitch?”
“I saw you…”
“You think you’re a great measuring stick for reality right now? Listen, Mike. We’re going to do this. This is what you want. You wanted to slap her ass. You want to have people listen when you talk.”
“I don’t want to be you.”
“Do you want to beat Bushido?”
Machado grows silent for a moment, staring off into nothing.
“I do. I want to beat Bushido, and call that cruiserweight title my own more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. You know, sometimes people will say “I don’t want this, I need this, or something to that effect; but that doesn’t do this justice. To just say that I need to beat Bushido would take away the yearning that I have deep within me for that title – for the recognition that I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember.”
“It’s what you’ve always wanted, Mike. It’s why you started wrestling, remember?”
“I do remember. I’ve never forgotten that. How could I? It’s always been there, somewhere in the back of my mind. The questions about whether or not I’m a legitimate wrestler, a legitimate threat to win important matches.”
“You can put all of those questions to rest at Legacy, Mike.”
“I can. If I beat Bushido at Legacy, all of those questions are answered. I won’t have to listen to people say what I could be, or what potential I have, or how I can improve and take it to the next level. I can tell all of those people to kiss my absurdly-hairy ass.”
“You could shave that ass. Then if you wanted a woman to put her tongue-”
“Stop. That’s enough for today, Wes. I… I need to think.”
Mike brings a hand up to his troubled forehead and massages his temples
Before our match last week you told me that these are the moments where you shine, and where I flounder.
Before our match last week, I guess you were right.
I’ve never been able to seal the deal. I’ve yet to hold a singles title, I’ve yet to be ‘the man’; and you? You’ve firmly established yourself as the best cruiserweight in the world. Last week, despite my best efforts – you managed to beat Alpha & Omega in a 2-vs-1 match.
But I was the one that was shining. It was my triple homicide that stole the headlines. My message to you that was at the forefront of the match. The change in my attitude is what fans are talking about. Not you. I hope that you enjoyed holding that title up over your head on Sunday night, because it will be the last time. There won’t be another victory celebration – because that title will be mine.
I have no interest in your harem, I have no interest in you. You could be anyone in the world to me. You are holding something that’s mine. Two months ago, when we met in that ring, I wanted that title that you’re currently holding.
This month I’m taking it.
These are the moments where I used to flounder.
These are the moments that make champions who they are, that make legends who they are.
These are the moments where we have an opportunity to establish a legacy.
This time I’ll shine. And you will know what it’s like to flounder.
Wes and Mike walk side-by-side through a packed, neon-lit Japanese boardwalk. Mike is dressed in jeans and a tucked-in comic book t-shirt, and it seems as though Wes Wachado only appears in full wrestling attire. Wes glances around excitedly – enjoying the ‘scenery’.
“Man! I see why Bushido has this harem thing going on. They’re all over the place here!”
Wachado spins around as he admires a Japanese woman dressed in a maids outfit. There are dozens of these scantily clad women scattered throughout the crowd. He whistles to himself before continuing on.
“If you insist on constantly hanging around me, could you at least be a little more discrete?”
“I do insist on hanging around you – you insist on it. I only exist because you want me to, remember?”
Machado breathes heavily in frustration.
“You keep saying that, but what I wanted from this trip was to try to learn how to wrestle, and what I’ve gotten from this trip is a bunch of headaches, and bad tips for picking up women.”
“It’s a percentage based thing, Mike. You have to wait for the numbers to even out. Sure, you’re going to get slapped a bunch, but you’re also going to get laid a bunch. From what I’m seeing here, that means some sweet roleplay stuff. I’ve always wanted to dress up like Godzilla and go ham on like 10 women at the same time…”
Mike shakes his head in a combination of disbelief and disgust. He looks to the side and a shop catches his eye. It’s very tall, six or seven stories, and it looks like it specializes in DVD’s.
“Wes – you wouldn’t happen to speak Japanese…”
“Do you speak Japanese Mike? What makes you think I know things that you don’t know.”
“I don’t know. I’m not quite sure how this whole thing works. In fight club Brad Pitt knew how to make soap-bombs.”
“I know how to make soap-bombs! Do you wanna go make some soap bombs!?”
Machado shakes his head again and walks toward the shop. He enters the store and gapes at the incredible selection of DVD’s. From floor to ceiling, there are DVD’s everywhere. Game-show DVD’s, kung-fu DVD’s, anime DVD’s, …wrestling DVD’s?
“Wes! Look! A wrestling section! Maybe this trip can be productive after all!”
Machado hurries over to the wrestling section of the store and immediately begins to thumb through DVD’s, turning them around and looking at the back of them. Wes wanders up behind him and picks up a few as well, turning them over and inspecting them.
“They all look the same, man.”
“Jesus, can you please at least not be overtly racist?”
“I meant the DVD’s! Also, if I’m racist then..”
“Yeah, yeah... if you’re racist I’m racist, or whatever.”
“Now you’re starting to get it. Hey, I wonder what’s on the other floors of this place.”
Wes puts his DVD back on the shelf and begins to scour the room, looking for a set of stairs. He spots them in the corner of the store and makes a beeline.
“Wes…can we please stay close?”
Wes waves off Machado’s plea and continues for the stairs. Machado reluctantly places his DVD back on the shelf and hurries after Wachado, hoping to catch up before he causes any damage.
I started this ‘tour’ so that I could learn different techniques from different cruiserweights around the globe. I’ve travelled the world these last few weeks, and I’ve had the opportunity to wrestle for a few different international organizations. It’s truly been a wonderful experience for me, but I’d be lying if I said I learned any new wrestling techniques.
What I’ve learned is that the people that are at the top in this business are all there for a reason:
They worked hard to get there;
and then they worked even harder to make sure that no one else got there.
I see a lot of the same in you, Bushy. I watched how hard you worked to win the cruiserweight title match. I even admired you a little back then. Now, all I see is a man that will do anything to stay where he is. What you did to Brad Kane was despicable. You should have been removed from this organization the day that it happened.
You speak a lot about honor, and respect, and dishonor. The fact that you retired the closest thing this sport has to a legend speaks a lot about your honor. It wasn’t enough to beat the man, you had to make sure that he didn’t come back around to challenge you a second time. Your spot at the top of the cruiserweight division is worth more to you than another man’s passion, another man’s career.
I’m taking that from you, Bushido. No one in this whole damn company will work harder than me to get to the top… and let me tell you this:
Once I’m there – no one in the whole world will work harder than me to keep the rest of this division down.
Your reign is over, your opportunity has ended – and you will not get another.
Machado hurries up the stairs, and when he gets to the top the first thing he sees is Wes Wachado ascending to the third floor.
“God Dammit Wes, slow down.”
Machado rushes through the aisle toward the next flight of stairs, but stops abruptly when he notices that he is completely surrounded by Japanese porn. The entire room, floor to ceiling is covered with shelves and shelves of porn.
“My God. It’s… it’s ….glorious.”
Machado hesitantly leaves the porn-room and heads up the stairs, where once again Wes Wachado is a step ahead of him – going up to the next floor. This time Machado immediately realizes that things have been brought up a notch.
“This is… …glorious?”
It’s still porn, but it’s getting a little weird. The DVD’s here are based around fetishes – you know, foot fetishes, bukkake, midgets, hentai tentacle porn – you’ve been on the internet before. You get it.
“Wes… I don’t know if we should keep going up…”
Machado hurries toward the stairwell, he cringes a bit in anticipation of what he’s going to find, but he wills himself up the stairs to the 5th floor of the shop.
“Oh God. Oh no. This is…”
That is not chocolate ice cream folks. Wes stands in front of a shelf full of poop-porn with a huge poop-eating grin on his face.
“Mike. Mike, come look at this. Look – there are little bits of corn in it.”
“No… Wes… this isn’t okay…We need to leave.”
Wes looks at Mike, and then looks at the final set of stairs.
“No. No. Nope. I’m not going up there. I don’t even want to know.”
“Mike – we have to know.”
“We do not have to know. Nope.”
Wes smiles one last huge smile and makes a dash for the last stairwell, Machado dashes after him – reaching desperately – trying everything in his power to stop Wachado from reaching the stairwell. They zoom past a man that looks suspiciously like Gib in a trenchcoat, and he looks on, probably puzzled by just what in the hell is wrong with Machado. He shrugs it off and continues to peruse the porn-o-poo. Machado lunges in a last ditch effort to stop Wes, but comes up short.
“WES, PLEASE!”
Despite Mike’s best efforts, Wes reaches the stairwell. He launches himself up the stairs. Machado gulps, takes a deep breath and follows him up. The camera stays where it is. All is quiet for a few brief and suspenseful moments…
And then Machado tumbles head over heels, backward down the stairs. He hits his head on the wall and a pile of poop-porn falls on top of him. He lays unconscious and the Gib look-a-like rushes over to see if he’s okay.
Well howdy there pardner.