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Crippler RP
Topic Started: Feb 13 2011, 08:25 AM (148 Views)
Canadian Connection
sVo Superstar
[ *  *  * ]
Prologue
 
One hears the phrase, “boys will be boys” quite commonly used by exhausted parents to excuse the questionable, often reprehensible acts of two male siblings toward one another-- wrestling in the dirt, punches on the arm, barbed wire chair shots… the usual brotherly love.  In professional wrestling, to hear this phrase is almost a creed of passage in the backstage culture, while it is simultaneously treated as strict taboo in the ring— to insult your wrestling family by turning your back on your siblings for the world to see is perhaps the deepest wound you can cut.
 
I’ve exacerbated my share of those wounds in the past.  When I was beginning my long journey to wrestling prominence, I couldn’t be bothered to worry about the welfare of anyone but my “Perfect” self.  I swindled, turned coat, stabbed backs, and had a grand time doing it, if for no other reason than I didn’t know any better.  As it turns out, you only ever make one, maybe two close allies in this business—your brothers.  They’re the ones who, even when you cut them between their fingers time and time again, they’ll still come back to fight another day by your side when they heal.  Admittedly, with each new day, I only hope the cut isn’t becoming permanent…
 
Crippler welcomes you.
 
Act I
 
Suburban Minneapolis, 10:23am
 
Linda: “Blood Brothers?”  This big kid with the yellow teeth doesn’t look a thing like the other one…are you sure they’re brothers?  And why is he wearing all that makeup?  Is he one of those “metrosexual” people Rhonda and Jean tell me about?
 
At 57 years of age, my mother, Linda, had seen her share of the world… perhaps fortunately for her, her share mostly consisted of a small corner of Minnesota, chock-full of friendly faces, hard-working, God-fearing folk, and the occasional trip into the Twin Cities, though she never stayed long for fear of spending too much money or seeing too many sights that she didn’t fully understand.  Such a sight was now lying in front of her on the coffee table in the living room of her quaint country home—a copy of an SVO programming guide, featuring an illustrated article on Beautiful Shame and my opponent this week, Reaper.
 
Linda: Crippler, I hope these people aren’t trying to hurt you.  The last time Shay called and told me you were in the hospital after that wrestling thing, I practically had the whole town on the phone trying to find out where my darling son was being held!
 
Crippler: You make it sound like it was a prison, mother.  …But no, I’m fine…Perfect, even, so don’t worry.
 
A lie, of course.  As I stretched my legs across the blue fabric of the comfy living room couch, I could see the concern in my mom’s eyes, creating fresh wrinkles in her unusually age-defiant youthful skin.  She hated to see her kids in danger.  When Shay and I bolted for New York many years ago, she demanded that we write her letters every three days or so, just to make sure my sis wasn’t getting assaulted and I wasn’t getting stretched too hard by Mr. DiMarco and my fellow trainees…even though most of them couldn’t wrestle their way out of a paper bag if I showed them the exit.  All the same, that was one value we always cherished about our mom—she kept the family together, no matter how much distance came between us.
 
Crippler: Mom, the house looks great.  How long did it take them to replace all the carpets?
 
I attempted to change the subject, but as we all know, family matrons tend to have none of such attempts.
 
Linda: Crippler honey, I’m calling Manuel and getting you out of there this instant!
 
Manuel was, in fact, the president of my former employer, XWF, but I didn’t bother to correct her.
 
Crippler: Mother, trust me on this one.  I’ve wrestled a lot of so-called “monsters” in my career, and I’ve fought even more “Goths,” “emos,” and “dark” ignoramuses.  I know how they work and I know how to beat them…in fact, I’m a former Tag Team Champion…
 
I knew that generalizing and blowing off Reaper was usually a sure fire way to get one’s body broken in half.  Luckily, I also knew that dumbing things down for my mother was the only way to get her off my back.  I wouldn’t tell her, but my concerns had been on this match ever since Anderson put pen to paper Tuesday morning, thanks to me buying a shot at the Las Vegas Title.  Despite our differences, I had come to respect Reaper as an athlete, and tried to show him a sign of respect by challenging him for the title.
 
The fact remained that the thought of him sent a surge of pure ice up my spine—not of fear, but of personal disgust, made worse by his blowing people off.  The ice seemed to dissipate for a brief moment, as I let the “new” Crippler take charge and just wrestle my very best. 
 
Reaper was another story.  I had never faced him man-to-man, but I know that he hits like a brick…and has the mental capacity of one.  He is simply a pawn of his own psychopathology, and not at all the kind of person I need to be around if I was to continue making strides in my own personal life—Resper’s strides were weighted by concrete shoes.
 
Immediately I felt a sense of unease, my usually-cocky smile contorting into a sort of subdued half-frown.  Sure, Rey Rosario and I were and always have been tag team icons in the wrestling world, but given the questionable events at Destiny and his utter failure to return my phone calls of late, I felt like another dumb rookie trying to convince the world that I’m the best around.  Mom noticed the stagger in my voice right away and stood up from her Lay-Z-Boy chair, taking a seat on the armrest of the couch I lied on, and putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. 
 
Linda: You’re right.  I know you and Rey always do your best, and I’m sure everything will turn out fine.  I love you and just want you to be safe.
 
She was a good mom.
 
Linda: And don’t forget to take out the trash on your way out.
 
Okay…she was a decent mom.
 
Crippler: Way out where, exactly?
 
I quickly made my way to my feet as my confused facial expressions were mirrored by my maternal unit.
 
Linda: …To Rey’s niece’s birth at the hospital.  Today is Candy’s due date.  Weren’t you headed there?
 
Her words felt like stainless steel nails slowly protruding through the soft flesh of my spinal column, one by one.  I recalled all at once the tragic events surrounding the Rosario family.  Martha, Rey’s dear mother, suffered a heart attack at the dinner table, leading to her eventual passing away in January.  Lost in this was the event that preceded it: Rey’s brother, and sister-in-law, Candy, announcing that they had become pregnant.  Nine months had since passed and apparently today was the big day.  Not that I would know…
 
Crippler: I…I wasn’t invited, apparently.
 
Linda: Oh…but how could that be?  Rey's father just called me a few months ago and asked if you would be in town.  They must have forgotten to call you is all… you’ve always been like a brother to Rey, you know?  You’re practically family, just like he is to us.  Why don’t you head down there?
 
Being brothers is a large responsibility, and part of that includes supporting one another in whatever efforts one partakes in.  I stood, still in disbelief for a moment, then picked my cane up off the freshly-carpeted floor, dusting off a few fibers.  I was the best man in Rey and Jade’s wedding, attended his brother's and Candy’s, and was there for his son being born… as Rey’s brother, it was time for me to support him in becoming an uncle.
 
I knew mom was right-- while Beautiful Shame and Reaper may not be getting along as brothers, no minor wrestling politics were going to destroy the Canadian Connection brotherhood.
 
Crippler: All right, that’s what I’ll do.  I’ll send regards from you, Shay, and Ryan.
 
I pulled my mirrored shades from the collar of my maroon University of Minnesota t-shirt, put them on, and headed for the door as I prepared myself for another week of spiraling thoughts, as most had been of late— keeping hold of my newfound fulfillment, despite fighting Reaper… battling the SVO Las Vegas Champion… fighting in front of my friends and family for the first time in years.
 
Linda: Oh, and Crippler…
 
I halted, as the sound of a mother’s voice tends to cause one to do.
 
Linda: Please be safe, for your old mom, okay?
 
Crippler: Sure Mom…if anyone tries to burn me alive or I get attacked by metrosexuals, you’ll be the first to know.  Love you.
 
Mom’s face showed a combination of surprise and confusion as I smirked and closed the door behind me.
 
Act II
 
United Hospital, St. Paul, 11:58am
 
Upon inhaling the unmistakable scent of freshly-waxed floors covering halls once marred by blood and bile, it occurred to me that every time I visit United Hospital, a feeling of gratefulness for my health overcomes me.  Certainly, I had been lucky thus far in my 11 years as a wrestler to only come away with one or two major injuries that landed me extensive stays under hospital bed sheets.  As it turns out, the last few times I visited United, it was for business before a big match…most of them against Raven.  Needless to say, they knew me here.
 
Kimberly: Hi there, Mr. Crippler.  What brings you here today?
 
Kimberly, receptionist for the 3rd floor’s Psychology and Radiology wings, knew me and my chosen profession far more than she’d ever wanted to.  Being attacked by a crazed fellow wrestler once upon a time, Kimberly was always happy to see someone with a great deal more sanity step up to her desk…plus, I’m way better looking than him, of course.
 
Crippler: Hello Kimberly, I’m here to support a tag team partner’s family as they welcome a new little one.
 
Kimberly: Oh, how nice!  Not to be a party pooper, though, but we don’t do many births up here in Psychology and Radiology!
 
Crippler: I know…while I was here, I figured I’d see about getting an appointment…
 
I bit my bottom lip and took a deep breath as, against my better judgment, I made a crack decision to walk down the psychologists’ branch.  I hadn’t spoken to Doc since I shunned him.  I had toiled over the idea of when, how, and if to get back ahold of him for the last few weeks.  I somehow imagined in my head that he would be proud of what I’d accomplished lately, not only in the ring, but in becoming what he always called a more “complete self.”  Ultimately, he was my friend, and I could use his guidance.  I neared office 310C and slowly stretched my hand out to knock on the door.
 
Kimberly: Mr. Crippler…sorry to bother you, but if you’re looking for Dr. Jacobs, he’s out on vacation for a few weeks.
 
Damn it.  Walking frustrated back to Kimberly’s desk, I realized I was going this one alone.
 
Crippler: That Doc…always there when you need him.  Kimberly, dear, could you look up which room Candice is in today?
 
Kimberly’s middle-aged face grew slightly nervous when she heard my request.  I eyed her curiously, restlessly tapping my cane against her desk, as she typed in the name on her computer.
 
Kimberly: I’m…sorry again, Mr. Crippler…but it seems the Rosario's have requested that only family members are allowed in for the birth.  They said that outsiders were allowed to see the baby next week though…
 
Crippler: “Outsiders?!”
 
I felt my face turning red as the February moon as my body began to tremble with a series of emotions—first disbelief, then realization, then anger like I haven’t felt toward family in years.
 
Crippler: I’m the freaking Crippler, Kimberly!  Nobody tells the Crippler he’s not invited to see his best friend’s niece being born!  I’m practically part of their family… This must be Candy’s doing…or Rey's brother…he always was jealous of me… or maybe it was…
 
Okay, enough…I wasn’t about to lose control.  In fact, I had just spent the last week realizing that I needed to not only keep myself in control, but to take that control much more seriously.  I had power in this situation…complete power.  Everything was fine.  I took another deep breath and cleared my throat.
 
Crippler: Kimberly, you do realize that I bought out this hospital along with the rest of the state during the election, right?
 
Kimberly: Y…yes, Mr. Crippler.
 
Crippler: Then I regret to inform you, my dear, that if you do not release that room information to me, I will be forced to shut down this entire hospital and devote my investments elsewhere.  Now…the room number, please?
 
Was I bluffing?  I knew it didn’t matter.  Kimberly, a single mother of two, couldn’t afford to lose her job or put all those patients in jeopardy.  She also knew all too well my reputation for using grandiose means to get my way… a reputation, ironically enough, that I’ve been trying so hard to live down lately…  I felt a tinge of guilt as Ms. Kimberly handed me a slip of paper with the room’s location scrawled on it.  I wouldn’t be sorry, though…this was for my family, after all.
 
Act III
 
I took the elevator down to the 2nd floor’s Maternity area.  The sounds of several screaming newborn voices throttled my eardrums as I approached the great unknown.  If there’s one thing humans know about new life, it’s that it has a certain calming influence.  My rage from a few moments prior began to subside as I watched a nurse carry two newborn twins across the hall to be washed and wrapped—brothers, sharing a bond few fully understand.  Rey and I always had that, and it went a long way toward our tag team success.  Knowing what your partner is thinking at all times is without a doubt the greatest sign of a stellar tag team.
 
Beautiful Shame and Reaper spent the last year trying to make people believe they have that bond.  Unfortunately, their unity was formed with someone else’s blood, not their own.  Each man is gifted on his own, I surmised, but together, they are little more than three great quarterbacks on a football team—one plays, the others back up, and they have no means to compliment one another until one of them falls.  This Sunday in Showdown, I knew it would be Crippler’s job to cause Reaper to fall.
 
I turned the corner to a new hall where I finally saw a familiar face—Rey Rosario’s son, walked down the hall, dutifully crashing the stylus of his Nintendo DS against the touch screen, not really paying attention to where he was walking.
 
Crippler: Hey…where are you going with that game in your hand?
 
Being young, Rey Rosario's son didn’t catch the Jimi Hendrix reference, but did startle to a halt when he looked up to see me.  Before I could even think to complete the next verse, the junior Rosario’s eyes beamed like white lightning, and he turned and ran into a room a few doors up the hall.  My eyebrows furrowed slightly at the bizarre encounter as I started to walk after him.  Before I could reach the room, a large, gray-haired man in his early 60’s stepped out into my way.  Since I last saw him at his wife’s funeral, Rey Rosario's dad looked to have aged, but gotten a good deal more muscular.
 
Rey's father: Crippler…can I help you?
 
Crippler: Mr. Rosario, it’s good to see you.  My mother told me you called her a while ago to ask if I was coming for the birth.  Well, sir, you guys have always been so kind to me, so I told her that I wouldn’t miss it!
 
Rey's father looked me up and down, visibly struggling to find the right words to address me.  Carrying around a Singapore cane will do that to people.
 
Rey's father: Sorry son, this is family business, and only family is allowed.  I have to ask you to leave so that my son and wife can have their daughter in peace.
 
Despite being the third time I’ve felt eschewed by this family in the course of one day, this time did not feel any less stingingly poignant.  I resigned to be cordial for the old man’s sake, even if I was fuming inside.
 
Crippler: I respect you, sir, but I do have to ask why all of a sudden…
 
I smirked sarcastically and ended my question early when my lifelong best friend, Rey Rosario stepped out of the room and stood next to his father.
 
Rey: Hey Crippler…ready for your big match Sunday?  Should be a real barn burner!  I hope you’re up for it.
 
I knew he was being a disingenuous smart ass, and he likely was well aware that I knew.
 
Crippler: Sure…   Say, speaking of old times, how’s our buddy Chris doing?  I bet his career is going really far with a trustworthy friend like you guiding him!
 
Yes, I played the Canadian Perfect card.  Luckily, I could be just as big an ass as he could.  Rey smiled derisively and waved for his father to go back into the room.
 
Rey: I think it’s about time you got going, eh?  I wouldn’t want to keep you from training for Reaper Sunday night.  Plus, my niece should be born within the next hour…I wouldn’t want to miss such a great event!
 
Crippler: Yeah, tell me about it.  Don’t let me keep you…
 
I gave him one more chance to make the whole thing right.  The Rey Rosario that I knew for close to 32 years couldn’t possibly screw this up. 
 
Rey: Cool, yeah, you’d better get out of here…family only, you know.  I’ll text you some pictures later.
 
…And yet, somehow, for all the changes one brother can make in his life, it’s still possible for the other to degenerate further into the tomb of his own thick skull.  The irony wasn’t lost on me-- I could level an entire state of union at my wildest whim, yet I can’t force my way into one family that rejects me at my very presence.  I watched as my friend turned and headed back into the room, the shrill sound of his sister-in-law’s screaming in pain catching his attention.  As I turned to walk away, I shot a comment over my shoulder.
 
Crippler: Hey Rey, I got to say, Candy’s screams sure sound a lot less joyful than they did nine years ago in the back of my Camaro.  Be sure to have the doctors check that out.
 
Boys will be boys.
 
End.
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