Last night I was invited to go with my brother (the wrestler) to
My brother has been wrestling for maybe 6-7 years. He started off in a small town in TN. I'd frequently catch his show just to heckle him. There's nothing like yelling "Break his arm!" at family members wearing spandex and maneuvering under other spandex-clad schweddy guys. He's performed at several other small organizations throughout TN and northern AL. Recently he's been at Full Throttle Wrestling, my personal fav.
I have been wrestling (haha, get it?) a cold for a few days with the peak of it being yesterday...or last night...awesome!
So we venture to the northern side of
Finally we come up to "Dumas Walkers Café and Saloon." I swear this is the name of it. Located between two seedy hotels off the interstate, I couldn't wait for the show. How can a café be a saloon? This was the question I pondered until...
We pulled into the parking lot to see a wrestling ring set up outside on the patio of this fine establishment. After gazing over the locals, I realized this one was going to be a story that I must tell for generations. The locals consist of very large women wearing short denim shorts and gentlemen wearing camo from head to toe. I'm not talking one type of camo, no no no, I'm talking light green camo on top with dark green camo on the bottom. Local favorite attire also consisted of the open short-sleeved button-up with the locks of their cascading mullet gently caressing their chests. Mmmmmmm. So sexual.
My brother meets up with the promoter and I'm stuck to myself. I walk up to see a bar outside with no cover charge. Awesome. Being sickly, I venture to the women's room located inside. I knew this was a four star "café and saloon" because of the Valentine's Day heart streamers neatly wrapped around the mirror located inside. Just enough of that special touch.
Outside I find a seat ringside. This wasn't hard as there were probably 25 seats set up. I got stares as I sat down near the end. I looked around and found no serenity in the heat. I sat there for probably 45 minutes, not saying a word. People filed in to sit. Small children were running amuck...in this café and saloon. One particular boy decided he was going to do flips off the rope to the ring. He was probably 9 or 10 and was landing these moves. My brother came out to hand the music to the dj and I signaled him to get his phone to get my text. I text him "aren't you glad you wore your camo?" as he had donned camo shorts. Probably 2/3 of the people had on camo. He replied "they are my fans." Watching shorty in the ring doing his moves I replied "Who invited Rey Mysterio?" At the same time I was texting he sent me one saying "619" (for all of you who are not wrestling savvy, the 619 is Rey's move). Yes, we do that sometimes.
I decided to go inside and get me some food. As I'm standing at the bar, some lady looking like a brunette Brett Butler walked up to me rather close saying something about her contact. She then popped out some fake black and white nails on a tray and said she'd sell them to me for fifty cents. Hmm. I turned them down. Then, as if by magic, she had a set of hoop earrings dangling from her left hand for one dollar. Again, I turned them down. Finally, a pair of jeans, one size up from me, was for sale for two dollars. I was tempted then as I could possibly wear these jeans around Thanksgiving or Christmas when I gain my holiday weight. I again turned her down. She got frustrated and said something about wanting money for cigarettes. Sorry Brett, I ain't having it.
So I get my
Outside I grabbed a seat, along with the next-door hotel residents who pulled up their chairs outside of their rooms. Nobody told them it was free anyway.
First match happens. Usually the good/bad guys come from different dressing rooms, or from one centralized place (WWE). Well, this one, being classy and all, decides the good guys come from the bar inside and the bad guys come from...you guessed it...behind the building.
The first contestant is named "Shady Grady" and comes out to Paul Wall. His opponent comes out to some Slipnotastic song (which coincidently becomes almost everyone's theme music). Match starts in this very small ring with duct-taped turnbuckles. I have nothing against the mighty tape of the duct, but turnbuckles are supposed to be somewhat padded. The bell consisted of a guy yelling ding ding.
Shady and other guy "rassle". It's looking almost backyard wrestling to me. No moves, just clothes-lines and body punches. Oh dear, and there are both wearing tennis shoes. The mat is super-padded so it's a damn quiet match. Then the crowd gets involved yelling "Go Shady Go"...yes Shady..go.
Match is over and I'm overwhelmed by the lack of talent. One by one, each match consisted of the same thing. Young rasslers (one named Cooter and another named Heavy Metal) that can't do any moves. One particular match had several coming from the back and beating up the guys in the ring. One guy almost breaks anothers neck by over-rotating his legs, leaving him to land on his head. Not good. I find out later my brother got onto these guys for this move. They answered back "We did it to look better." Yeah, ok. Their belts looked like ones you can get off the net, donning mailbox stickers saying Tag Team or NCW.
As I sit in the smokey heat, I am having problems breathing. Awesome, I can't wait to have a continuous headache!!!
I venture back into the café to order a burger and onion rings for $6.50 and to get a refill on my
His match was the best one. He and his opponent actually did moves...like hip tosses. These aren't hard moves to do but no one else did any of that. He gets the crowd riled up and I get in some heckling. Match is over and he's been beat. YAY I'm ready to go.
Waiting out near the truck, I see Brett and her pimps waiting out by their car. She goes back up to the café and saloon to solicit more things like cowboy boots. Her pimps just wait at the car for her return for cigarette money. I watch carefully, making sure they were not going to try to pimp me. They all load up in their car and head out.
Brother finally gets to leave and we say so long to the café and saloon. On the road up ahead is Brett, standing along the street, looking for a date. She must really be needing those cigarettes.
____________________________________________________
Mom's Neighbors
My mom has the goofiest neighbors. No matter who moves in across the street, either in the trailer or the house, whoever they are...they are complete idiots.
I remember when the trailer first landed on the property across the street. A nice guy lived there. Turned out he was a cocaine dealer who drowned kittens. Not so nice now.
The previous family in the white house consisted of a mother (a former stripper) with her five sons with different last names, ranging of ages 10-19. You could hear her yelling at them constantly. As the police investigated calls regularly, I became stealth in my ways to see what is going on. Mom would have me belly-crawl to the bushes to see what I could hear. Maybe I missed my calling. Sure wearing all black helps.Sadly they moved out and the police blotter has decreased.
Recently a new family has moved into the trailer. A husband and wife who constantly come over to see my mother. My mom isn't bed-ridden or in poor health or anything...she's rather busy. They come bearing gifts, such as spaghetti or the newspaper. It's a constant bother for her to entertain and listen to these people. The husband is jobless, yet gets tattoos nearly every week. The wife just got fired from her job for not showing up...not the best of people to befriend my crazy mother. Needless to say, they have become "friends" whether my mom likes it or not.
Usually I leave the room when I see them making their way across the street. Last night, however, they snuck up on me.
Enter hubby and wife. The husband, who's waist is probably a 26 and who's speaking voice is that of Helen Keller, sits down next to me on the sofa. His wife gets the comfy chair that is my usual resting place. She's the loud mouth. Constantly arguing, this couple makes me want to put an end to all of our lives. Slowly.
Of course wifey has to tell my mother some gossip about her family (in which my mother knows no one). Something along the fact of her brother, the alchoholic, was put in the hospital the night before with a blood alchohol level of 10. Yes 10. My mom, being the brains of my family, asks "Are you sure it wasn't point something...like point 8?" No, 10.
People like this piss me off. Dumb idiots who don't know common sense and think they know what they are talking about. This is why I should have left the room.
10.
After they left, we had the usual conversation. "They are complete idiots."
No comments:
Post a Comment