Slim Pickens vs. Steve Corino

[Steve Corino (T)]

The arena is packed with rowdy fans hyped for the next episode of Friday Night Massacre as the commentators set-up for tonight's action packed card. Much like last week, the camera feed begins to cut in and out. Static fills the screen and we get taken to a room with a television placed in the center. The screen flickers on and off before finally turning to the highlights of Zack Ryder vs. Steve Corino. The video is sped up to the part where Corino prepares for the Warrior's Dream and just as Ryder is about to crash to the mat, the video stops. A familiar raspy voice lets out a cough and clears his throat.

"Victory. That, my friends and foes, is what you call a victory. Unlike this piece of trash, I was able to back up my words. Look at the face of Ryder, the face of defeat. A word, that I'm sure is almost common to him, and a word, that I will never face in DHWA. Bragging about your looks and your questionable fame will get you nowhere in life Ryder. In fact, I take that back, I actually do recall seeing your face on a magazine. Let me see if I can find it."

A flip of a switch and the lights burst on in this once darken locker room, as the man covered in the mysterious darkness is confirmed as Steve Corino. He starts to dig into a bag and pulls out a magazine. He holds it up to the camera, the image on the front of Corino's arm being held high, while a downed Ryder lies on the mat. Steve holds the magazine up for a few more seconds before tossing it away. With a hint of a smile, the King of Old School starts again.

"Ouch, I don't think that was really your best side. Maybe next time pretty boy. Now, let's not linger on Zacky anymore than we have to, we don't want to increase his popularity with...no one. After impressing everyone backstage with my beat down of the one hit wonder, I've been given a fine spot on the card, as well as my partner, who also proved victorious last week. I face another nobody, who goes by the name of Slim Pickens. I've run across a lot of weird names back in the circuits, but you take the cake. Clearly, there is no real challenge here in DHWA. Calling himself the man ladies dream about and the man that men should fear. Pretty bold statement for a guy who hasn't done anything and most likely never will. You know, you really remind me of the kind of guy who can walk into any kind of environment, and instantly act like you're the king of everyone. You act arrogant, you look down to everyone, but at the end of the day, you have no experience, you have no talent, you have nothing, but your sad, worthless life to look to. Maybe I'll give you a break, when I beat you in that ring, you can just leave, and no one will probably ever remember who you were."

The veteran strokes the rugged beard he is sporting and lets the smile fade away. The gears appear to be turning and Corino slowly nods his head, approving of something in his head, and a flash of a sickening grin is seen, but vanishes as he looks back up into the camera. He slowly points to the scars apparent on his forehead and licks his lips to speak.

"I'm facing Slim in a hardcore match. A match, where anyone who knows the slightest about me, is one of the types I excel in. Back in the bingo halls, wrestling in front of drunken idiots, and having all types of weapons come crashing into me. I've been smashed with a chair, cut open with barbwire, and put through many tables. My blood has been drained out of me and it doesn't slow me down, it enrages me. You can come out Slim and give it your best shot, thinking that an older man like me surely can't handle the abuse like I use to when I was younger. No, no, I've just grown immune to that kind of pain. You won't have to worry about me in that ring, you'll just have to worry the doctors backstage are fast enough to stitch you back up when I'm done with you. So, before you come take the stage, you should prepare yourself, and ask yourself if you really want to try, and face me in this match. If you had any respect for yourself, you'd stay behind, and just watch the other matches unfold. Just let me warn you about one thing and you should be thankful for this really, if you really think you can handle the big dogs like myself, I'll make sure you feel the pain I've felt for nearly eighteen years. The scars I don are like personal trophies and I'll make for damn sure you get some too, I want you to remember this pain. I want you to remember who Steve Corino is and I want you to remember why you never try to take him on in a match."

Corino backs away from the camera and continues to stare into it, never breaking contact. He puts his hand away from his head and back down at his side. He breaks line of sight with the camera and reaches into the bag by his side once again, pulling something metallic out. When he stands back up, a steel chain is wrapped around his fist, and the sadistic smile stays on his face as he begins to talk once again.

"This is a very special memento to me. If you look close enough, you can see the blood stains that it has encountered. Some of it mine, some of it belongs to whatever poor bastard was in the ring. The steel chain is a very interesting weapon and personally my favorite. You can use it in many, many ways. I could strangle you with it, use it to tie you up to the ropes while I bash your skull in with a steel chair, or I can just wrap it around my fist and see how long it will take before you blacked out when I start trying to cave your skull in. Slim, I'd suggest you pack your bags, and head on home where, I assume, someone will be there to take care of you, most likely your parents, and I'll stay here, wait for a while, and then you can decide if you really want to take on the King of Old School. I don't give a damn who you think you are, who you may actually be, but all I know is that when it comes time to face you in the ring, it will be nothing, but a walk in the park for me. You may enter the ring as Slim Pickens, but I promise, promise, PROMISE you will not leave the same man. I'd be surprised if you'd be able to get up on your own and leave the ring. There will be no mercy for the weak like yourself. I don't care if you believe in a God or not, you better start becoming a religious man, because you'll meet the large man in the sky soon enough. I guess I'll be seeing you pretty soon kid. I hope you're ready for the fight of your life."

Corino flashes a final smile at the screen before turning into the emotionless shell that he is known to be and unwraps the steel chain from his fist, letting it drop on the floor. In similar fashion of last week's appearance, he leaves the room, turning the lights off as he exits. The camera zooms into the television screen, focusing on an image of Corino having his arm held high in the ring by a referee for a few seconds before fading back to the camera feed in the arena with the crowd letting Steve know their hatred for him.

EORP

[Slim Pickens (H)]

Welcome wrestling fans, welcome to the land of sugar and spice, the land where men are men and women do as they’re told. Yes, I’m talking about beautiful Independence, Missouri! Independence for the most part is a quite little town with the majority of the folks enjoying life and doing whatever to support their town. This is the home of the high school state football champions and a high school wrestling team that placed third in the nationals. Yes, sports are at the top of the list here in Independence and that is why they support one other man that lives in this town. He is a professional in his field and some say he is “THE BEST THERE IS.”

Surrounding the backyard of this lavish four bedroom brick home is an eight foot tall, made from solid oak, wooden privacy fence. It’s not there for security because everyone in town knows who owns the home and no one would be silly enough to try and break in, no, the fence is there to keep some of the goings on inside the fence from being seen by just anybody passing by.

From the door that leads to his den we see a rather large, well muscled man walk out wearing a bright red thong that looks like it’s filled to the max. He stops for a moment, standing on the hand laded stones and looks across the beautifully landscaped yard to see his lovely wife, a vision beyond compare, Kelli, laying on a well padded lounge chair, nude, soaking up some sun. He stands and looks at her as she sits up and then stands before walking over to the oval shaped in ground pool and dives in. He walks over to his handcrafted outdoor bar and reaches for a crystal glass to which he pours four fingers of Jack into it. He swirls the Tennessee liquor slowly before raising the glass to his lips and downing the contents. He walks over to the edge of the pool and reaches down with both hands and takes Kelli’s hands and lifts her up out of the pool and stands her next to him.

“Kelli my darling, it is but mid morning and you are looking more radiant than ever!”

“Oh Slim, you always tell me that whenever you want something but it’s not going to work this time. I have to finish working on my tan so I’ll be ready for your up-coming match.”

She turns and walks back to the lounge chair while Slim strolls across the patio and goes into his workout room. There are many many fitness gyms that have all kinds of exercise equipment but none can compare to the state of the art equipment that Slim has. He crosses the room and goes into the back where he changes out of his thong and puts on a pair of red, white and blue striped spandex trunks. He then puts on his white sweat socks with the letters “SP” on the outside of each one and a pair of red leather Air Jordan jogging shoes. He walks back into the workout room and puts on a pair of black, fingerless leather gloves. He starts with a few warm up exercises before moving over to the weight bench for some intense exercising. After finishing with the bench he moves to the body bag for more punching and jabbing workout before moving over to a five gallon plastic bucket that is filled almost to the top with white beach sand. Now you may be wondering what he’s going to do with this bucket of sand and you will very soon find out. With gloves still on he straightens his finger out and starts jabbing them into the sand, first one hand and then the other. At first glance one would guess that he might be manicuring his nails but trust me, there is a much better reason that you will soon find out. With the passing of a couple of hours he heads to the back for a long, hot, shower before putting back on his red thong and walking back out to his patio bar.

“Slim, I just love looking at your body after you’ve been working out; every muscle is bulging and feels as hard as steel.”

He walks behind the bar and sets the blender up on the bar before getting six farm fresh, brown eggs out of the frig and cracking them into the glass container. He adds a small can of sardines to the eggs for more protein before pushing blend and mixing the contents to an even consistency. He places a large crystal glass on the bar and pours the contents of the bender into it. He raises the glass and drinks the contents before blotting his mouth with a soft bar towel. He places both hands on the bar to steady himself before expelling a rather large blast of methane gas from his back side. The blast was strong enough to force the strap of his thong that runs down the crack of his backside to shoot out and snap back with enough force to leave a red mark and cause him to jump a little.

“Dam that was good but I very much dislike the aftershock.”

He walks over to the door leading to the den and opens it and enters, closing the door behind him.

”Have you ever seen a den that when you look at it, it just explodes with richness? Look at the quality oak panels that cover the walls and the hand crafted oak shelves that where cut with precision, sanded smooth as glass and then finished to a mirror like gloss the sparkles as your eyes pass by. If the sheer beauty of the craftsmanship doesn’t amaze you then continue to feast your eyes on all of the championship trophies that adorn the beauty of the wood along with all of the championship title belts that are mixed in along the way. World Title belts, Hardcore Title belts, why somewhere up there is a belt that I used to hold my pants up, so you see I have won belts for just about anything that you could imagine. Now some of the doubting few may ask how one man could win so many different titles and once again I would respond by saying, it’s because I’m the “BEST THERE IS! WOOO!!!”

He reaches over the desk and turns on his gateway computer before going over to the bar and pours four fingers of Jack into a crystal glass. He walks back over to the desk and sits down in the high back black leather rolling chair, takes a small drink of Jack and looks at the computer to see who he’s wrestling next. The name Steve Corina appears next to his and as he reads on he finds out that this will be a hardcore match. He leans back in his chair and drinks the rest of the Jack that was in the crystal glass.

“Who in blue blazes is this peckerwood named Corina?”

Slim starts laughing out loud at the thought of another hardcore match. Does the management not know or understand just who he is? Does Corina think this match is going to be a walk in the park?

” They say it’s harder to defend a title belt than it was to win it but I’m not so sure that is true. When you have so many young peckerwoods coming and going every day and each one of them thinks they’re better than you, then each and every match I must be at the top of my game and make sure I’m one step ahead of them. I must do whatever it takes to be the last man standing when the final bell rings. I’m stronger than most of these young peckerwoods and I have more ring experience. I know every square inch of that wrestling ring and I know exactly what to do at any given moment that I’m in that ring, you want to make this a hardcore match, well I say bring it on tough guy, I’ve been in a few and again, when the bell rings I’ll be there with a few surprises of my own.”

Slim stands up from his desk and walks over to his handcrafted oak bar and pours another four fingers of Jack into his crystal glass.

”You might say that I’m a lot like this bottle of Jack. Just when the old bottle releases its last few drops of the Tennessee liquid and you think that you are out, you just reach for another bottle, crack the seal and presto, you’re back in business again. I’ve had to crack the seal on a new Slim Pickens a couple of times and each time I have to do it, out comes a new and improved Slim that no one can even come close to. Let me be perfectly clear, there are many more seals for Slim Pickens and I just get better with age.”

Slim picks up a bottle of Jack in one hand and with the other hand he reaches down and takes a hold of the mammoth bulge in his thong.

“This is my bottle, this is my gun, one is for drinking and one is for fun.”

Again Slim laughs out loud before setting the bottle of Jack back on the bar.

“Yes my young peckerwood or should I say Steve Corina, you are about to be put to the test. The test that may and could decide on whether you ever wrestle again or if you will have to watch future matches from a wheel chair at the top of the ramp. It’s not too late to buy a bus ticket and get the hell out of Dodge. It’s not too late to show the wrestling world what a yellow, chicken shit coward you are and that you truly are afraid to face me. But remember this peckerwood, once you climb your punk backside into the ring the only thing that will be left is the crying. Yes, you on your knees in front of me crying and begging for me not to hurt you anymore, but I won’t stop punk. When the bell rings I become a different person in the ring. I only focus on destroying my opponent whoever that may be.”

Slim pours one more drink and slams it down.

“Walk away peckerwood before it’s too late!”

[Steve Corino (T)]

The camera feed cuts directly back into the locker room of one Steve Corino. The television from earlier still in the center of the room. The image on screen is the man debuting against Corino, Slim Pickens. The still image of Slim stays on the television before the power is taken away. An angry Corino appears, pacing back and forth in front of the television, mumbling angry words under his breath. He stops in front of it and looks to the camera, a menacing look in his eyes. He turns his head away for a brief moment as he brings his fist back, wrapped in the steel chain from earlier, and drives it right into the television screen. Glass explodes from the impact and shatters all around the floor as well as the stand the television was once on. The frame falls backwards and the crunch of the frame is heard. Corino brings his hand up, still wrapped with the steel chain, but blood is seen, slowly dripping from his fist onto the chain. He uses his free hand to pick up a shard of glass and brings it up to the camera, letting the camera focus on it. The camera follows the shard as Corino begins to carve into his forehead, drawing even more blood out of his body, and adding another scar to his collection. Every time he takes the shard away, he tears some of the skin left behind, and pulls the skin as it cracks from the glass. It doesn't take long for the dark red substance to cover his face and Corino puts all of his attention to the camera as he starts to speak.

"A coward? A coward. That's what you think I am? The scars on my body do not represent just some poor bastard who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. No, these represent each and every battle I've been in. What do you have to show? Some fake replica belts? Calling yourself the best there is. You've got nothing punk, you are nothing! You got that? I want you to make damn sure of that. Just because you have some money to throw around doesn't mean you're better than anyone else. I've been around this globe a few times and learned a few lessons, seen a few first hand. The richest of men always crash the hardest and are always the scum of the earth. You're no exception to that Slim. You act like you're some king, but just because you say you're king, doesn't make you one. You're nothing, but another fan boy who thinks just because he has some money, he can become some star, or some stupid fantasy. When the bell rings and the matches begins, it's already over for you. Showing off will get you nowhere, you got muscles? That's great, I've got experience. Brain over brawn and you're the prime example of that. Just another fool who thinks feeling strong will make him strong, but no, it just doesn't work like that kid. My body may not be what it was when I was younger, hell, let's face it, it will never be like that again, but I know how this wrestling thing works. Another meathead straight out of the gym, using some steroids, I mean, extra help, to become a man. The biggest of muscles, the tiniest of...well, you know the rest. I bet you drive a Hummer too."

The last line cracks a small smile from Corino and even a bit of a chuckle, but it doesn't last long as he turns his emotions off yet again. He using the sleeve of his white shirt to collect the blood around his face and manages to get rid of enough to where you can see the white skin of Corino, but there is still a lot of blood covering the rest of his face. The once white shirt sleeve had turn into a dark red and the camera looks down toward his covered fist, blood still dripping down onto the floor. The camera snaps back up to Steve's face and he prepares to speak.

"You say you know hardcore. I AM HARDCORE! I was one of the original guys in that bingo hall, putting my body on the line, and I was use to getting stiffed out of my paycheck for that night, but I came back. Every time I came back. They were nothing without me, when I left, only a few months after they closed down. I mean something to people, Slim, what about you? Do the hookers you know count? I don't think so, just supporting their drug habits, one client today, another tomorrow. I bet that's what you're like Slim. One day you've got some poor woman in there with you, the next I'm sure you got some little guy there with you. Makes you feel like a man huh? What was that you were saying earlier? Let me think. Something about you coming out a new Slim Pickens? I think that's right, I'm proud for you Slim. Embracing a new lifestyle, not embarrassed to come out, and put on those little red thongs for all the boys down at the clubs. Good for you! Just don't get any ideas when we're in that ring together, I don't want to know any of your secrets, and I for sure don't want any surprises from you. I'm sure your world class tactics helped you win those belts. You think you can impress me? You think you can threaten me? I'm Steve fuckin' Corino! I don't care if I break my neck in that match, I just want you to remember that name, I want that to be the name you remember in your sad, worthless life. I could win, I could lose, I don't give a damn anymore. I want you to remember me and I promise, I guaran-damn-tee you will. I'll carve my name right into your fake body if I have to."

The rage is building and can be seen on Corino's face, causing more blood to pour out of the gash in his forehead. He takes notice of the blood and reaches into a bag off screen, coming back with a small tube labeled "Super Glue". He unscrews the cap and applies some to where the cut is and the bleeding slowly comes to an end. His face turns sour for a brief moment before he shakes his head, releasing any blood that had attached to his hair, causing a few sprinkles of crimson to stain the white walls. Steve uses his free hand to slick back his hair and wipe the dark red liquid from entering his eyes. The twisted grin appears, but like all of the ones before, it lasts for only a few moments before Corino prepares for his next statement.

"Now, I could be like you, I could just spend all day bragging about my past. I could lie about my past, I could do many things, but I'm not. I'm real, I'm not afraid of anybody, but you, you are very different Slim. When the bells rings you'll turn into a different person. That's pretty funny, I've heard a lot of people say that in the past, but one thing I always remember. It's never the case. No, no, they always seem to let their guard down, because they think they have already intimidated me or scared me. I've seen everything there is to see inside of wrestling, no one can do any real damage to me. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Even as a rookie, I was prepared for the future I was going to face, I fought some of the toughest while you were still at home, watching your soap opera wrestlers go around spitting whatever catchphrases earned them the most cash. While I was actually wrestling, actually entertaining the people who wanted to see real wrestling, and as for the money? It was there, not what the superstars were getting paid, but I was getting paid in something they'll never have, respect. I've been lucky to never get branded with some stupid gimmick I could never live down. I've been myself, I've been Mr. Wrestling, and I'm proud of what I've done. My son is proud of his dad and he is going to be a hard worker just like me. No shortcuts, just work. While you, Slim, get to live in luxury, while everyone else is being better than you. When you fall, I'll be there to laugh at you, I would never help someone as low as you. You'll see that inside of the ring. You'll beg for mercy, you'll beg for help, you'll beg for God, but no one will save you. You talk a big game, but I know for a fact you can't back it up. I won't be the one crying when the match is over. You can just go home after the match, nurse your wounds with some Jack Daniels, and cry yourself to sleep, knowing that you're nothing, but a no good, piece of trash, loser. I'll continue being undefeated and you can go talk up someone you could probably beat. I almost feel bad for what I'm going to do in your home state of Missouri. Head back to your home in shame, knowing that the people are disappointed in you, but really, no one gives a damn who you are. No one likes you, I don't like you, but inside of your giant ego, you think you're the best there was, the best there is, and the best there ever will be. After the match, if you still think that, good for you I suppose. I guess we won't really know the true victor of the match until the curtains open up and we're standing there in the center of the ring, going all out. I'll be a little bold though and predict another win for the King of Old School."

Corino looks away from the camera, unwrapping the steel chain covered in his blood, and dropping it onto the floor. He rips off the blood stained shirt and throws it on the ground. He reaches into his bag for what is to be assumed as another shirt, but instead a box containing blonde hair dye. It looks like the blonde King of Old School will be making a return. A sinful laugh erupts from an off screen Corino as he slowly returns to the camera with a smirk.

"Oh and before I forget. I got one more thing for you Slim. Shut the fuck up before I make you."

With that, Steve leaves the screen with a smile on his face, actually lasting for once. The camera zooms out, showing the damage done by Corino. The smashed television frame around shattered glass, red stains covering parts of the floor, and the red steel chain. The camera stays on that scene before fading to black.

EORP

[Slim Pickens (H)]

It’s a beautiful morning in Independence, Missouri, there is a soft breeze blowing and all of the birds are singing their own special songs. It’s early in the morning, somewhere after six and most of the towns people haven’t even thought about waking up. All accept the Great Slim Pickens who rises early every morning. He turns his head and looks across the four poster king size bed at his lovely wife Kelli and watches her sleep for a few moments before swinging his legs out over the side of the bed and putting his feet on the carpeted floor. He slips one foot and then the other into a pair of deer skin lined bedroom slippers and rises to his feet. Standing at attention and pointing the way is his long time friend Monte. Monte is bald headed but a fierce competitor in his own right, but for now, Monte is telling Slim that he needs some relief. Slim puts on a white terry cloth robe with the letters “SP” in red on the back. He walks slowly across the master bedroom and enters the super large master bath. He raises the commode seat and with both hands pushes Monte down towards the cold blue water. After what seems like an hour, Monte finishes and Slim hides him back away under the terry cloth robe. He walks out of the master bath and heads down the hall towards the kitchen. He reaches around the corner and turns on the recessed lights that are mounted in the ceil over the cooking area of the kitchen. He opens one of the walnut cupboards and takes out a crystal coffee mug with the initials “SP” on the side. He pours a cup full of the steam hot black magic, the liquid that seems to bring a lot of folks to life every morning. He sits down at the breakfast bar and takes a sip of hot coffee as his body and mind starts to come alive.

“So Sally Corina thinks he’s a tough guy! Very interesting!”

Slim chuckles to himself as he remember matches in the past thinking they all think they’re tough guys until the bell rings. Slim walks over to the stainless steel sub-zero refrigerator and opens the door and takes out a carton of farm fresh large brown eggs and a package of thick sliced hickory smoked bacon. He puts a skillet on the large electric eye of the stove and turns the control to five. He opens the package of bacon and separates each slice before placing them in the skillet. The bacon starts to sizzle as he reaches for his coffee cup, drinks the last bit and then re-fills it. When the bacon is cooked to perfection he takes it out of the skillet and lays it on a paper towel and then puts in three eggs that he cooks sunny side up. He makes a couple of slices of multi-grain toast and puts a spoon full of peach preserves on each slice. Finally he sits down at the bar to enjoy his first meal of the day. Just as he puts the last bite into his mouth down the hall comes Kelli all blurred eyed and still half asleep. She walks up to Slim and runs her hand up his leg under the soft terry cloth robe and takes a hold of a soft Monte.

“Oh my gosh Slim! He’s soft and lifeless! I think Monte is dead!”

A rather large smile comes to Slims face, one that reaches from ear to ear.

“No, he’s not dead he’s just resting and getting ready for when he’s really needed. Now go back to bed before Monte wakes up and finds out you’re just teasing him.”

Kelli gives Slim a gentle kiss on the cheek before turning and going back down the hall to the master bedroom where she pulls the handmade comforter up over her head and drifts back to sleep.
Slim leaves the kitchen with a hot cup of coffee in his hand and walks out to his work shop where he sets his coffee down and puts a baseball bat up on his work bench. He takes an old Pepsi Cola bottle and wraps it in a towel and then breaks the bottle with a ball peen hammer into small pieces. He picks up a bottle of gorilla glue and squeezes out an ample amount to cover the big part of the bat. With the glue on the bat he rolls the bat in the broken glass making sure the glass sticks to every part of the bat. He stands the bat up to let it dry and picks up a pair of fingerless leather gloves which he again coats the outside of the gloves with gorilla glue. Again he presses the gloves into the broken glass and lays them aside to dry. He then gets his white wrestling boots and sits them on the bench. He loosens the laces and opens a box of thumb tacks. One by one he pushes a thumb tack, every inch or so, through the laces so the point is sticking straight up. He does both boots this way before returning to the baseball bat. He takes a long piece of barb wire and wraps the bat securing each end to the bat with a sheet metal screw.

”So tell me Sally Corina, are you sure you want a hardcore match with me?”

He leaves his work shop and walks out by the pool where he pours two fingers of Jack into a crystal glass. He takes his drink and walks over and sits down in one of the lounge chairs.

“Bingo Hall! What the heck is a bingo hall? Is this the best you have to offer? It sounds like a place that little old ladies and peckerwoods go to show how big and bad they are. Which one are you Sally, are you a little old lady or are you a peckerwood? My opinion of you Sally is that you must be a peckerwood but don’t feel too bad about it because I think you’re the biggest peckerwood I’ve encountered in this fed. As far as you being a coward, well Sally, you said it!”

He swirls his drink and then takes a big drink from the crystal glass. He stands up from the lounger and walks over to the bar. He picks up the bottle of Jack and holds it up for anyone to see.

“Do you see this bottle of Jack Sally? Look at it very closely, focus on it with your little pea brain because there’s a message behind the bottle just for you.”

Slim lowers the bottle until his hand is exposed with his middle finger sticking up.

”Now can you read the message peckerwood? Bingo Hall, you think this makes you a hardcore wrestler, well junior I have some very disturbing news for you, IT DOESN’T! All it does is show wrestling fans all over the world what a real punk you are. It tells me that our match is going to be a cake walk if bingo halls are the only experience you have. I’ve been in hard core matches where winning wasn’t the main goal, living through the match was the main thing. Yes Sally, living through the match is what you need to focus on, not winning.”

Slim reaches behind the bar and comes out with a piece of pipe about four inches long and about one half inch in diameter. Just the right size to fit in the palm of his hand comfortably.

“Do you see this Sally? Just another equalizer that I’ll be bringing with me and oh, by the way, it’s filled with lead to add just a little more pizzazz to each punch. You see Sally, I’m not going to a bingo hall to kick your dumb butt, I’m going to do it in the middle of the squared circle where all of the world can watch you lay in your own pool of blood while I stand over you with my hand raised in victory. Yes BOY, I will win this match and I will become Die Hards first champion. When all of this has happened Sally and if you are a real good boy I’ll try and get you a job mucking out toilets for the real wrestlers. Don’t be sad boy; the job includes all you can eat!”

A few hours pass by before we find our next champion sitting at his solid oak desk working with his gateway computer. It appears he is looking at the help wanted listings under the heading of bartenders.

“I’m looking for a qualified bartender to hire because I’m getting darn tired of having to get up and fixing my own drink every time I want one. I want someone who can make any kind of drink that you can imagine and also do a few odd jobs around the house. Here we go; this guy’s name is Gus and he sound like he knows what he’s doing. I guess I better give him a call and hire him because my crystal glass of Jack is getting low.”

Slim picks up his red desk phone and punches a few button and after talking with Gus for a few minutes, sets up an interview. He gently places the receiver back in the cradle before leaning back in his leather chair.

”I’ve been in this wrestling game for a good long while now and I’ve had to work my butt off to get to where I’m at now and I must say that I have no regrets! I’ve got plenty of money, a beautiful wife, a very nice home and anything else that I need I just go buy. But the one thing that I don’t understand is these punks that come in here and think that they are immediately king of the mountain. They think that they are God’s gift to wrestling and all they have to do is sit back and reap the benefits. Well let me be the first to tell all of you peckerwoods that you are dead wrong! You may get dam lucky and win a match or two against some other punk that is as bad as you, but you need to caulk that up to luck. It takes time to earn your wings so to speak. You’ve got to take your bumps and bruises just like the rest of us. Yes, I’m talking to you Sally Corina! You’re just getting started in wrestling and you think that you’re a big man because you have a match with “THE BEST THERE IS”, well let me set you straight boy. You only have this match because I said you could. You didn’t earn it, you didn’t win anything to deserve it, it’s because I said you could have this match. So what do you do first, you come in here running your dam big mouth trying to tell everyone how big and bad you are, how you were a big tough guy in a bingo hall, when everyone already knows that you’re nothing but a wet behind the ears punk ass peckerwood. Now don’t get me wrong, everyone has to start somewhere but I’ve seen you wrestle boy, and you should be starting by cleaning toilets in the women’s locker rooms. That’s right boy, you’re not very good and what makes things even worse is the fact that you’re dumb as a dam rock. Earlier in my career I had to beat the living hell out of Lucy Johnson and her dumb ass boy friend, First Degree, just because both of them where as stupid as you are. Yes sir, they were both stupid and what made matters worse is that they both kept coming back for more! Now get smart Corina and don’t make the same mistakes that those two dip shits made, get smart and find something else to do with your life before you end up getting hurt real bad or maybe even crippled for life. Get out now peckerwood while the getting is good and before I have to lay a beating on you Ajax won’t be able to wash off. Hard core is no place for the weak at heart and it’s certainly no place for you little boy.”

He gets up from his leather chair and walks out to the bar by the pool. He puts a clean crystal glass on the bar and pours two fingers of Jack into it. He places a shiny pair of brass knuckles on the bar next to his glass.

”There’s one more thing that I want you Corina and the entire fed to remember, “DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER AND SO IS SLIM PICKENS!”

He swirls the Jack in his glass before making it disappear.