Post by logansky on Jul 7, 2024 21:24:18 GMT
“Are ya sure ya don’t want some of my milkshake Uncle Tim?”
“Oh I’m sure Kurt. Nice as that might feel now, I can tell ya having that much ice cream and then working out in the sun won’t feel very good at all. You’re lucky ya get to work in the office after lunch.”
Kurt considered that as he reached down to pluck the bright red cherry from the whip cream it was sitting on.
“I suppose that makes sense.”
The two of them were seated at a small diner that was located near the work site that they were working at for the week. They had just wrapped up eating and Kurt was trying to keep himself from squirming in his seat as his uncle added a spoonful of sugar to his coffee and slowly stirred his spoon in the mug. Unable to keep quiet anymore he leaned forward.
“So ya said my mom had said you could talk a little bit about grandpa?”
“Oh did I?”
“Come on Uncle Tim!”
His uncle chuckled as he took a sip from his coffee before he reached over to his briefcase and popped the latches and took out an only, worn scrapbook. He set the scrapbook on the table, tilted to the side so they could both look at it easily. He flipped it open to reveal the words ‘Tim’s first Wrestling show’ complete with some sticker stars on it.
“I don’t remember this too well myself. I was about Courtney’s age when it happened. But your grandma put this together so that we’d have something to look over for it.”
“You were only four when you went?”
“Ya… I was.”
Kurt watched his uncle chew his lip for a moment as a dark expression crossed his face. But then his uncle shook his head and turned the page. Kurt saw a picture of his grandma holding a young boy, clearly his uncle Tim, with a young girl around Suzy’s age. The three of them all wore simple t-shirts reading ‘The Machinists’ and the girl had half her face painted in red and black lines. It took Kurt a minute before his eyes bugged out slightly and he looked up at his uncle.
“Is that mom!?”
“Sure is, sport. She used to be wild about this stuff. Way bigger into it then I was. Course she got to watch it more than I did.”
“That’s crazy…”
“It really is. She’d go nuts for it. These were the new shirts he had made. Had a local company he paid to print them up and sold them at shows. Course we got the first ones.”
Kurt watched his uncle run his fingers over the picture before he flipped the page to reveal a few more photos of him and his mom standing in the ring before the show, walking around the stage, and talking with other wrestlers there. He turned the page again revealing a picture of his grandpa, so much younger then he was used to seeing, on his knees and hugging both his uncle Tim and his mom.
“You guys looked so happy.”
“Ya, it was a good time. He’d been working a normal job so he was home a lot more. He hadn’t really started traveling as much and things hadn’t gotten real bad. Not yet anyways.”
His uncle flipped through the scrapbook, revealing more pictures of other wrestlers in the midst of their match, his grandmother’s neat penmanship listing their names and the results. Kurt frowned slightly as each page went on without any sign of his grandfather until towards the end of the book. Finally his uncle showed up. His gear was different, wearing only a pair of red and black trunks. But the face paint was the same, except it traveled down the whole side of his body. The next page revealed a masked luchador, wearing a belt with a Star center piece. It was only when the picture showed the back of his uncle’s head, looking on in awe to the center of the ring as a referee held up the belt between his father and the Luchador that it clicked for Kurt.
“This was a title match?”
“That’s right. It was a belt they called the Lone Star Championship. Defended across a few different promotions in the San Antonio area. Probably your grandpa’s biggest match in his career.”
“And you were there for it?”
“I was.”
Kurt leaned over the scrapbook before he slowly looked up at his Uncle, who had the dark look in his eyes again.
“Ya were there for story.”
“Ya. Ya I was.” His uncle reached forward and closed the book before he leaned back and took a sip from his coffee. Kurt shifted in his seat slightly before he leaned forward to take a drink from his milkshake. The two sat in silence for a moment before Kurt glanced up at his uncle.
“Did he win?”
“He did. I’ll give him that, he never let us be used in things where people’d see us upset. He tried his best to be a good dad, but his best was usually not good enough. That’s the problem with a lot of this stuff. It can hurt the people you care about and they use them as props.”
Kurt digested that thought as he took another sip from his milkshake.
“I suppose. But it blends real life with the fake one. I guess that helps. And he did want you there for something important.”
His uncle sighed slightly before he smiled.
“He did, ya. It’s just kind of bitter now looking back on it after everything that happens.”
“Uncle Tim, you’re drinking coffee. You like bitter.”
“Sport, you are to damn precocious for your own good sometimes, ya know that?”
“That’s what mom says.”
“Well she’s right. Besides, I take it with sugar.”
“Could just drink something that tastes good already.”
“I hope you like papercuts, son. I got so many files for you to organize.”
~_~
Logan is sitting in a cedarwood sauna, a towel wrapped around his waist. His torso shows all the signs of a near 4 decade long career in the professional wrestling business. There are still signs of athletic fitness to him, but his body shows signs of his age. It does not repair as fast as it used to and it does not hold muscle mass as it once did. But the intensity in his eyes remains as he rests his head back against the wooden wall.
“Hot damn boys and girls, The Machine is fired up this week. Oh yes, he is. You see you get to sit back and watch a dream match unfold before your very eyes. Oh I know, not a dream match for any of the dirt sheets and rags. Hell, probably not even a dream match for most of you. But it’s one of mine.”
Logan picks up a ladle full of water and pours it on the rocks to elicit a cloud of steam before he leans back against the wall.
“Ya see, I remember some 20 years ago when some kid named Rob hit the scene and started tearing up the wrestling world. Some punk out in the world making a name for himself, but several of us old hands got to talking and realized this kid was gonna make something of himself. He had all the tools in the ring to be something. But more than that he had something else. That x factor. That mark that takes someone from being good to great. And god damn were we right.”
Logan slapped his leg with a laugh and shook his head slowly.
“We sure as shit were. You went on to bigger and better things while we old dogs sat around chewing the fat and working the bingo halls and legions. But I don’t hold that against ya, Rob. Unlike a lot of people that like to sit back and talk down on people like me, ya earned your spot. Ya earned it 10 times over. You are the sort that goes out here and calls yourself the greatest to ever do it and god damned if you might be right. That’s why I wanted this match. That’s why I almost went to bang down management’s door to ask for the right to be your first match back. Because I want to show that I can hang with someone at your level. Because 20 years ago I saw some up-jumped little shit that I knew was gonna go places and I wanted to get into the ring with him.”
He lowers his head and looks down at his hands before he slowly clenches them into fists and then releases them.
“No, that’s not the only reason.”
He let out a heavy breath and his shoulders slumped forward.
“I also know the pain ya feel. Hell, all of us that live and breathe this sport for as long as we have know it. I didn’t know Steve Awesome by anything other than reputation. But a loss of one of us is a loss felt by all. I can’t count the number of brothers and sisters that I’ve lost. People I’ve shared the ring with. People I’ve scrimped together change to get something to eat after a show. People I’ve crowded into someone’s van to make the 6 hour drive to the next venue. Folks that got chewed up by life and only got the memories of those that cherish them left. I know that feeling Rob. I know what you are going through. That’s why I wanted to face you the first time back. You are on a mission to prove something to yourself. A fact seeking quest to answer questions that only you know. It would be an honor to stand across from you, to stand with you as you start this journey. To do this for Steve and everyone else that we’ve lost.”
He looks down at his hands as he rubs them together for a moment before he lifts his head.
“So let's go out there and put on a hell of a show for them. Let’s show these pups what we can do, and maybe this old hoss still has a thing or two to teach you.”
He picks up the bucket of water and throws it onto the hot stones. The screen fills with steam, blocking him out before the view fades to black.
“Oh I’m sure Kurt. Nice as that might feel now, I can tell ya having that much ice cream and then working out in the sun won’t feel very good at all. You’re lucky ya get to work in the office after lunch.”
Kurt considered that as he reached down to pluck the bright red cherry from the whip cream it was sitting on.
“I suppose that makes sense.”
The two of them were seated at a small diner that was located near the work site that they were working at for the week. They had just wrapped up eating and Kurt was trying to keep himself from squirming in his seat as his uncle added a spoonful of sugar to his coffee and slowly stirred his spoon in the mug. Unable to keep quiet anymore he leaned forward.
“So ya said my mom had said you could talk a little bit about grandpa?”
“Oh did I?”
“Come on Uncle Tim!”
His uncle chuckled as he took a sip from his coffee before he reached over to his briefcase and popped the latches and took out an only, worn scrapbook. He set the scrapbook on the table, tilted to the side so they could both look at it easily. He flipped it open to reveal the words ‘Tim’s first Wrestling show’ complete with some sticker stars on it.
“I don’t remember this too well myself. I was about Courtney’s age when it happened. But your grandma put this together so that we’d have something to look over for it.”
“You were only four when you went?”
“Ya… I was.”
Kurt watched his uncle chew his lip for a moment as a dark expression crossed his face. But then his uncle shook his head and turned the page. Kurt saw a picture of his grandma holding a young boy, clearly his uncle Tim, with a young girl around Suzy’s age. The three of them all wore simple t-shirts reading ‘The Machinists’ and the girl had half her face painted in red and black lines. It took Kurt a minute before his eyes bugged out slightly and he looked up at his uncle.
“Is that mom!?”
“Sure is, sport. She used to be wild about this stuff. Way bigger into it then I was. Course she got to watch it more than I did.”
“That’s crazy…”
“It really is. She’d go nuts for it. These were the new shirts he had made. Had a local company he paid to print them up and sold them at shows. Course we got the first ones.”
Kurt watched his uncle run his fingers over the picture before he flipped the page to reveal a few more photos of him and his mom standing in the ring before the show, walking around the stage, and talking with other wrestlers there. He turned the page again revealing a picture of his grandpa, so much younger then he was used to seeing, on his knees and hugging both his uncle Tim and his mom.
“You guys looked so happy.”
“Ya, it was a good time. He’d been working a normal job so he was home a lot more. He hadn’t really started traveling as much and things hadn’t gotten real bad. Not yet anyways.”
His uncle flipped through the scrapbook, revealing more pictures of other wrestlers in the midst of their match, his grandmother’s neat penmanship listing their names and the results. Kurt frowned slightly as each page went on without any sign of his grandfather until towards the end of the book. Finally his uncle showed up. His gear was different, wearing only a pair of red and black trunks. But the face paint was the same, except it traveled down the whole side of his body. The next page revealed a masked luchador, wearing a belt with a Star center piece. It was only when the picture showed the back of his uncle’s head, looking on in awe to the center of the ring as a referee held up the belt between his father and the Luchador that it clicked for Kurt.
“This was a title match?”
“That’s right. It was a belt they called the Lone Star Championship. Defended across a few different promotions in the San Antonio area. Probably your grandpa’s biggest match in his career.”
“And you were there for it?”
“I was.”
Kurt leaned over the scrapbook before he slowly looked up at his Uncle, who had the dark look in his eyes again.
“Ya were there for story.”
“Ya. Ya I was.” His uncle reached forward and closed the book before he leaned back and took a sip from his coffee. Kurt shifted in his seat slightly before he leaned forward to take a drink from his milkshake. The two sat in silence for a moment before Kurt glanced up at his uncle.
“Did he win?”
“He did. I’ll give him that, he never let us be used in things where people’d see us upset. He tried his best to be a good dad, but his best was usually not good enough. That’s the problem with a lot of this stuff. It can hurt the people you care about and they use them as props.”
Kurt digested that thought as he took another sip from his milkshake.
“I suppose. But it blends real life with the fake one. I guess that helps. And he did want you there for something important.”
His uncle sighed slightly before he smiled.
“He did, ya. It’s just kind of bitter now looking back on it after everything that happens.”
“Uncle Tim, you’re drinking coffee. You like bitter.”
“Sport, you are to damn precocious for your own good sometimes, ya know that?”
“That’s what mom says.”
“Well she’s right. Besides, I take it with sugar.”
“Could just drink something that tastes good already.”
“I hope you like papercuts, son. I got so many files for you to organize.”
~_~
Logan is sitting in a cedarwood sauna, a towel wrapped around his waist. His torso shows all the signs of a near 4 decade long career in the professional wrestling business. There are still signs of athletic fitness to him, but his body shows signs of his age. It does not repair as fast as it used to and it does not hold muscle mass as it once did. But the intensity in his eyes remains as he rests his head back against the wooden wall.
“Hot damn boys and girls, The Machine is fired up this week. Oh yes, he is. You see you get to sit back and watch a dream match unfold before your very eyes. Oh I know, not a dream match for any of the dirt sheets and rags. Hell, probably not even a dream match for most of you. But it’s one of mine.”
Logan picks up a ladle full of water and pours it on the rocks to elicit a cloud of steam before he leans back against the wall.
“Ya see, I remember some 20 years ago when some kid named Rob hit the scene and started tearing up the wrestling world. Some punk out in the world making a name for himself, but several of us old hands got to talking and realized this kid was gonna make something of himself. He had all the tools in the ring to be something. But more than that he had something else. That x factor. That mark that takes someone from being good to great. And god damn were we right.”
Logan slapped his leg with a laugh and shook his head slowly.
“We sure as shit were. You went on to bigger and better things while we old dogs sat around chewing the fat and working the bingo halls and legions. But I don’t hold that against ya, Rob. Unlike a lot of people that like to sit back and talk down on people like me, ya earned your spot. Ya earned it 10 times over. You are the sort that goes out here and calls yourself the greatest to ever do it and god damned if you might be right. That’s why I wanted this match. That’s why I almost went to bang down management’s door to ask for the right to be your first match back. Because I want to show that I can hang with someone at your level. Because 20 years ago I saw some up-jumped little shit that I knew was gonna go places and I wanted to get into the ring with him.”
He lowers his head and looks down at his hands before he slowly clenches them into fists and then releases them.
“No, that’s not the only reason.”
He let out a heavy breath and his shoulders slumped forward.
“I also know the pain ya feel. Hell, all of us that live and breathe this sport for as long as we have know it. I didn’t know Steve Awesome by anything other than reputation. But a loss of one of us is a loss felt by all. I can’t count the number of brothers and sisters that I’ve lost. People I’ve shared the ring with. People I’ve scrimped together change to get something to eat after a show. People I’ve crowded into someone’s van to make the 6 hour drive to the next venue. Folks that got chewed up by life and only got the memories of those that cherish them left. I know that feeling Rob. I know what you are going through. That’s why I wanted to face you the first time back. You are on a mission to prove something to yourself. A fact seeking quest to answer questions that only you know. It would be an honor to stand across from you, to stand with you as you start this journey. To do this for Steve and everyone else that we’ve lost.”
He looks down at his hands as he rubs them together for a moment before he lifts his head.
“So let's go out there and put on a hell of a show for them. Let’s show these pups what we can do, and maybe this old hoss still has a thing or two to teach you.”
He picks up the bucket of water and throws it onto the hot stones. The screen fills with steam, blocking him out before the view fades to black.