A Drive Down Memory Lane

The last couple of days had not been a hell of a lot of fun for Sharc. He was used to being the one doing the tormenting, not being tormented. But now, his pain and misery had a name.

Trey Vincent.

Even now, Sharc was in a bar. So was Trey.

'Dude, you thought you could escape me IN a bar?' Trey said taking a seat beside Sharc at the bar. 'If they didn't close these damn things, I'd never leave. Though, I guess, I'd have to go to work once a week too. Man, I could be like Scott Hall. Wait, I already am.'

'What are you doing?'

'Aww, c'mon. Us heels are supposed to be unified, brutha.'

'What do you want to know? What have you learned in the last couple of days following me around?'

'Well, first of all, you really should visit more porno shops. I'm sure they have some nice aquatic porno. The things they do with fish and blow holes these days. It's quite fantastic.'

Sharc sighed. 'They do have porno on TV these days. No need to go out.'

'Eh, that's just the softcore stuff. While it's good, sometimes, softcore just ain't good enough. Besides, you're Mr. Hardcore, aren't you? You must love porno. I bet you love to see girls getting it in dark, naughty places. Me? Trey Vincent prefers chicks.'

'Ah, so you visit the barnyard porn section?'

'Huh? Oh, ha-ha,' he said sarcastically. He pointed at the bartender. 'You see her? Look at those breasts.'

'Yeah?' Sharc said, expecting more from the P.I.

'Nothing... Just look at them. Fantastic. Granted, it looks like somebody tried to embalm her. But that's why somebody created light switches. But enough about me. Tell me, Rich. Why do YOU think Trey Vincent is following you around?'

'You don't have anything better to do? And why do you talk in the third person sometimes, but not all the time?'

'Oh please. Do you know how hard it is and how retarded you sound sometimes when you do that? That and once I've had a few…what was I saying?'

'Not important. Well, I think somebody is checking into my past…well, I did make quite a few enemies in TWW.'

'TWW you say?'

'Yeah. Tidal Wave Wrestling. I had a lot to do with that place closing.'

'Why?'

'Oh come on. I thought you were a private investigator Trey? Didn't you do your homework.'

'I wanna get YOUR side of the story. I know you kidnapped some dumb blonde who happened to be the owner's daughter. I know you conspired with some idiot vice president to be TWW's version of the glass ceiling. Which, may I applaud you for,' Trey says, clapping softly and slowly shaking his head left and right. 'Impressive ego trip you had there that October. Why aren't you doing that anymore? Your buddy isn't in PIW, is he?'

'No,' Sharc said, but didn't elaborate. 'Yeah, while I was there, me and the vice president worked together against the owner. Hell, the VP booked me from curtain jerker to main eventer like a month it seemed like. But I deserved it anyway.'

'But you made some enemies.'

'Andy Extreme. Epitome of Evil. Dysan. Syth. CorX. Nobody wrestling there liked me, but like I cared. I hated it there. That's why I made enemies at every turn. I ended careers. But you know what? I stole the show. I nearly blinded a man with a fireball, I broke bones, I tried to convince someone to commit suicide, I beat countless losers unconscious with chair shots, and I dropped on unfortunate soul through flaming tables. I also put out the best promos in the federation.'

Trey banged on the bar. 'SERVICE. This guy is boring me! I need some booze. Buddy, for the record, NOBODY does promos better than Trey Vincent.'

'And what were YOU doing in 2000?'

Trey got a puzzled look on his face. Then the bartender came over. He ordered a 'Kamikaze. Stat… But, you never won a title, DID you?'

'No. But I am a champion now.'

'Hardcore Champion. The word on the street, a.k.a., the PIW Fan Board, is that you should be in contention for the PIW World Title. Well hell, since J-Con is your champion, ANYBODY could compete for that worthless piece of tin.'

'Well, why don't you come in and challenge him then?'

Trey's drink arrived and he paid with a $50 bill. 'Jim Johnson isn't hiring.'

'All you have to do is tell him how much you hate Action! Wrestling or the fWo and I'm sure--'

'Yeah, but Trey Vincent is under contract to sports entertainment federation.'

'Just a one-shot deal.'

'Trey Vincent ain't a fed whore. And the fWo DOES suck. Because Trey Vincent isn't there. But who gives a crap about the fWo. If they're dumb enough to continue to overlook the greatness of Trey Vincent, they deserve to continue having nobody post about them on those little Web site discussion forums.'

Sharc ordered another Red Death after the bartender brought back Trey's change.

'I understand you banged a pretty hot chick too and didn't use a rubber?'

Sharc laughed in disbelief at that question. 'You mean Chelsea?'

'Oh, was she the only one?' Trey asked, as if surprised she was the only one EVER. 'You wanna stick by that story?'

'Yes.'

'You sure?' Trey asked with a smile of disbelief.

'Yes.'

'Sorry to hear that my man. Damn, I bet you can actually remember every chick you've been with.'

Sharc was silent.

'One hand?'

'What?'

'Could I count all of Sharc's conquests on one hand?'

'Women are the least important thing in this world.'

'Ah. Here we go. I'd heard you have some 'issues.' What's wrong, your mommy not love you enough? Don't tell me your another sports entertainment cliché.'

'Nah. Problem was never my mother.' His drink arrived and after paying, he went on. 'Problem was every fucking bitch other than my mother. My whole life. Selfish, self-centered bitches. The better looking they were, the dumber they were. Not that the ugly ones were much smarter. They're all idiots. Sometimes…it seems like it would be best if there never were women in the first place. Cuz, it's like…you enter into something, you're cautious, and then once the caution is gone, you've got all these complicated, messy feelings, where everything's been mixed up together like an emotional blender. And everything that happens fucks with your head. Every day. Every time you're together. Every time you're not together. Every phone call. Every important date.'

Trey scratched his head. 'So you're into this whole relationship farce, huh? Poor bastard. I was dating this beautiful model last year, about this time. Right before jOlt. Yeah, must've been a year now. We got along great. Sex was great. Then, BOOM, she gets mad when Trey Vincent tries to be Trey Vincent. So I move along. Trust me, life is much easier without all that crap. You still love her?'

He paused.

'Poor bastard,' Trey said shaking his head and taking a long gulp.

'So, you working for one of those guys I mentioned?'

'Maybe. Maybe not. So let me guess. You're that quiet kid from school who everyone insulted. Never had a date. Lusted after chicks way out of your league and probably cried yourself to sleep at what a pathetic excuse of a life you're leading, being afraid you're going to die alone, even though you yell about how you'd rather die alone than be with some bitch you don't love. You say you don't want a woman, but why is it, everywhere you've wrestled, you keep finding yourself with women valets?'

Sharc shrugged.

'Is it a lack of charisma that the booker hooks you up?'

'No. It was usually my idea.'

'Yeah, that women beating really gets over.'

'It got ME over, didn't it?' Sharc said with an edge.

Trey shrugged. 'You ain't no sports entertainment icon. But I guess you're good enough not to make everybody turn the channel when your face comes on. But it looks like your usefulness to PIW has come with a curse. For the person who is now employing me to help bring you down saw you on 'Massacre.' And felt like getting a little vengeance.'

Sharc finished off his drink.

'Let's go for a drive.'

'Drinking and driving. I like your style,' Trey said bouncing to his feet. 'Let me just get rid of this,' he said picking up his Kamikaze and downing it. 'Woooga. Let's go.'

Sharc was already at the exit.

'Damn it. Wait up!'

Sharc flipped TV off as he headed outside.

Trey laughed and took a few unsure steps before finally finding his balance as the liquor settled. He headed outside. It was time for another game: 'Follow the loser,' Trey said rushing toward his car. 'Where you gonna take me next?'

NEXT CHAPTER: Vaffunculo >>

©2002 John Leary