What, You Were Expecting a Match?

Pressure Point 73
Aug. 25, 2003
Starring Reed Young, Trey Vincent & Sharc

As the cameras returned to the ring, it found Sharc there. He was ready for Reed Young to come out and get his ass kicked.

"Without Me" hit. Reed Young emerged, dressed in a Most HaRdCoRe Owner EVER! T-shirt. He looked ready to go. But he paused and pulled something out from behind his back.

A big remote control.

He walked in front of the big Action!Tron and Young's entrance video changed to...umm...NBC. Ooops! Young quickly switched that off and put on, ummm...Spike TV! Aww, crap! He flipped the channel again.

The TV Channel (TVC).

And there was Trey Vincent. In a living room. Sharc looked up at the screen in disbelief. That was Sharc's living room! Sharc grabbed hold of the top rope and gripped it with all his might. If it had been a throat, the person would have been dead in five seconds, his grip was so tight.

"Hello, TV viewers!" Vincent bellowed, getting a mixture of boos and cheers from the crowd. Mainly boos. "Sorry I couldn't be there with all of you in Kansas City, but, well, Kansas City is full of the most white trash per capita in the country." Boos, of course. "Just toss some lettuce, some croutons and some dressing in the arena and you've got yourself the biggest, ugliest, white trash salad you've ever seen.

"Hey, Sharc. How are you, buddy?" Vincent said, flashing his cocky smile. "So, if you couldn't guess, I'm in Boston. Well, not quite in Boston. A little north of it. In a place you call home. And, buddy, I had no clue you had such a sordid past. How come you never shared your hellacious life with all of us? This is the stuff that dreams are made out of. This is 'Behind The Sports Entertainer' material if I ever saw it.

"And just so you know, I got in here legally. At least, according the contracts you've got and the local police department. So, hey, I hear that John Cena guy lives just a couple towns over. Me and him, we'll tear some shit up, word life.

"But, let's focus on you, Sharc. Richard Hertz. Born in 1977. The last child your mother would have. According to these records, after she gave birth to you, well, her doctors said she couldn't have any more children, isn't that right? You ruined your mother's life. It destroyed her. She wanted to have a couple more kids, didn't she?"

In the ring, Sharc wasn't fuming anymore. His anger was replaced by something else. Was that fear in his eyes? The crowd was for the most part silent, wondering where this was going.

"Well, she could never have another child. She wished you had never been born and infected her body. And how do you suppose that made your father feel, as your mommy lost her sex drive and wouldn't put out for you pop, huh?

"The whole neighborhood said your father was a hardcore alkie. Driving drunk. Running over mailboxes. A lot of yelling and screaming coming from your place. Quite an interesting police log too for your address here.

"So many domestic disturbance after your arrival. That must have been fun, having your entire family fight and hate you. Your entire life. But, hell, you were just a magnet for tragedy. That's probably the highlight of your life. The tamest part. The part where you look back at all the fighting and go, damn, that was the easiest part of my childhood. You're pathetic!" Vincent roared.

Sharc recoiled in the ring, walking backward away from the side of the ring closest the monitor.

"And then there was death. Your sister died. Everyone claimed it was suicide. But, Rich, seriously, girls don't slit their throats. They don't want to look all scarred when they die. They do some pills. They don't take the razorblade to their throat. They all know you did it. Your parents told all the neighbors you killed her. And you know what, it really wouldn't shock me. You are death to everything, Rich, whether intentionally or unintentionally.

"But that's just the tip of things. You went to school and they all made fun of you. They all said your sister killer herself because she couldn't stand being related to you."

Sharc was in disbelief. How could Vincent know all of this? He knew Vincent was a private investigator, but, Christ, this would have taken weeks or longer to find out about. Had this been some sort of disgusting vendetta against him for some unknown reason? But the main question was, why would Vincent do this on TV in front of everybody. Try to destroy him. Sharc felt powerless and scared. He collapsed in the ring.

"You were a failure in school. What a surprise. It was just a sign of things to come. You failed all the time. I saw some of your photos, buddy. Quite the fat, ugly fecker you were back in the day. Bet you thought about killing yourself. Might have been nice. Maybe I could be feuding with a real sports entertainer now. And just maybe, the fans wouldn't be so un-entertained every time you come on the screen and you're not with, me.

"Torturous life went on. Until your mommy killed herself too. Oh, and your dad blamed you. He blamed you for it all. For his lack of poontang. For his drinking. For his stupid late night job as a mechanic. For his addictions. For his misery. So he shut you off. He walked out on you. Left this, very, home, I'm standing in. Started working shitty jobs, going to college. Writing for the college paper.

"But you knew what you wanted to do. You wanted to impersonate being a sports entertainer. You had nobody. You were alone. Depressed. And then there was a girl. A girl named Georgia. You opened yourself up to her and fell in love. And she didn't even bother to dump you. Just ignored you."

In the ring, Sharc's eyes were teary. He wiped snot from his nose.

"So you went into my business. You did your little hardcore thing. Zach Gowen would have laughed at your physique. You were Zach with the talent of David Flair. But, you improved. You learned about the invention known as a gym. You worked out. Used some lovely enchancing drugs, I'm sure. Let's face it, everyone in Action has used them. I don't know why everyone's so afraid to say it.

"But anyway. You overcame the odds. Or thought you did. Then, the last member of your family died. You were estranged from him, he found himself a new girlfriend. And he left EVERYTHING to her. All the money. His big bar full of booze. She didn't care about this house, for some reason. Must be because you lived there.

"It's perfect. Except, now, history is repeating itself. Did you forget you have two kids and two exes? Christ, man, you're just as bad as your dad was. And you're going to become him. And your two little children, as soon as they realize how much you suck and how big of a loser you are, well, they're going to slit their throats too. And maybe, just maybe, you'll realize what a shitty human being you are!"

In the ring, Sharc was crying. He couldn't hide it. He couldn't be strong. Vincent had gotten to him.

"And how about all these anti-psychotic drugs you're on now, Rich? Those are the only reason you care about these fans anymore. So, at Instinct, why don't you show everybody what a monster you are. You've been a pussy lately. Toss out these drugs. You want these fans to cheer you? Fuck them! There is still hope for you. It's not in Bait, though. So, let her drop, she won't miss you at all. She'll be relieved when I'm banging her every night.

"And remember, buddy. You can't fight God. You can't fight nature. You can't fight fate. And you can't fight, Trey, Vincent!" Vincent closed, using Sharc's old catchphrase.

The segment closed on Sharc, crying, with the anger resurfacing on his face. It was time to bring pain.

NEXT CHAPTER: Whooobygod! >>

©2003 John Leary