(Eric Dillinger enters Cathy’s Wholesale through the backdoor. The wooden door still holds a rough shade of blue that’s faded over the decades the building has stood. Nearby the sounds of cumbia can be heard thumping as people stand in the dirty alleyway. Kitchen staff, mostly speaking Spanish with an English word hurled in, laughing and having a good time before heading back inside next door. Inside Cathy’s Eric passes through a long corridor of shelves lined with bagged clothes and kid’s toys before coming to another door and a turn in the hallway. Around the corner is the front of the shop. Racks upon racks of clothing sit in the dim-dark of the California night broken up by streetlights breaking through cracked store front windows. Eric looks out into the store and peers at a homeless man coughing, bent over in front of the shop windows. The man looks worse for wear.)
(Eric turns the knob and enters in to find a Johnny Rage laughing with a woman who is maybe twenty years his senior. Presumably, the woman known as Cathy has her gray hair is pulled back by a hair band. Each finger has a ring on it, each with a lavish, hippie look of different stones and metals. She wears a flowing white sun dress that’s not common at this time of year. Johnny, meanwhile, wears a pair of blue jeans and a gray t-shirt that says COLLEGE across it. The room, warmly lit by lamps with glass shades and colored light bulbs, is full of rolls of fabrics and sewing machines.)
Johnny Rage: And that was the same night Styles got so drunk he ended up in his NEIGHBOR’S house, passed out on the couch. Luckily, I showed up the next day just in time with the van ready to drive to LA for the show that night. Now, Kara, his neighbor was this single mom, lived alone, three kids, all that… Comes running out of her house when I pull up next door. Poor woman, scared to death—
Cathy: And what did you do?
Johnny Rage: I didn’t say anything, I was too embarrassed. I was 21, 22, still young… I just walked into the house, scooped him up off the couch, and put him the back of the van. Drove off and, I should add, we won the next night.
Cathy: And him? Planning any crazy nights like that with him?
(Cathy nods to Dillinger. Johnny looks over at him and shakes his head.)
Johnny Rage: No, those nights are long behind me. The kid is going to have to get into trouble all on his own. By the way, Cathy this is Eric, Eric this is Cathy.
Cathy: Nice to meet you.
Eric Dillinger: Likewise, ma’am.
Cathy: He’s got manners. Unlike you at his age.
Johnny Rage: Different generation. Also, he comes from the Navy. I’m sure they beat some bit of discipline into him during his time.
Eric Dillinger: Something like that.
Johnny Rage: Still wears those little shorts they gave him, too.
Eric Dillinger: The ladies love ‘em.
Cathy: Maybe they do, but they’re not exactly ring tights are they? Come on over, we’ll get you sized up and I’ll make you something good.
Johnny Rage: Now, Cathy has been making tights and trunks for guys in the San Diego area for decades. You should feel lucky she’s taking you on such short notice.
Cathy: You two were signed in a matter of weeks? Not normal in most cases. Usually, it takes months to get contracts and all that done…
(She motions for Dillinger to come forth. He takes a few steps forward. Cathy, with measuring tape ready, gets to doing what she does best. She coughs and takes a moment to clear her head, hand to temple, before continuing on. Eric takes notice.)
Eric Dillinger: You all right?
Cathy: I’m fine. It’s just, you knowwww…
Eric Dillinger: I do. You ever think about getting out of here?
Cathy: And leaving Chula Vista? Beautiful sunny California? What about you? Why haven’t you two left?
Eric Dillinger: I guess because I’m not feeling the effect… I’m just expecting my asshole to fall out decades from now.
Cathy: As long as you get time. And you, Johnny?
Johnny Rage: Radiation affects everyone differently. I’m not feeling it.
Cathy: Be that as it may, things will get better. Some of us will suffer in the interim, but it will get better.
(Cathy goes about measuring Dillinger while he watches her work. Johnny Rage sits back, arms crossed. In his mind he recalls the years he’s known Cathy. When Styles first brought him in to get sized just as Dillinger is now, when she would show up to the local shows, and when she paid Johnny’s bail and gave him a place to stay when his wife threw him out. He’d known her for decades and, now, life was finally catching up to her. She said she’d always related to Johnny in that he had reminded her of her youngest brother who over dosed in the nineties. She had a soft spot for a man who otherwise did not deserve it and he knew it. Johnny wipes an uncontrollable tear from his left eye and stands up.)
Johnny Rage: I’m going to go outside for a smoke.
(Hastily, Johnny exits the room and leaves the pair behind. Moving back down the long hallways Johnny finds himself heading through the door and into the alleyway. Not far off the music could still be heard over the sounds of Johnny Rage’s heavy breathing as tears began to flow. The big man takes a small pipe and lighter from his pocket before bringing them up to his mouth. He pauses momentarily and takes a deep breath. “At least it wasn’t the hard stuff, not anymore,” he thought as he lights the marijuana filled pipe. He inhales, long and deep, exhaling a large cloud of smoke into the night sky. The tears stop as he wipes his nose.)
-=Life is not fair.=-
(Dillinger and Rage exited Estadio Azteca where their taxi was waiting. Dillinger, showered and stitched, wearing gray sweat pants, chucks, and a US Navy hoodie pulls a rolling suitcase behind him. Rage, meanwhile, is wearing his a gray and white pin striped three piece with brown shoes. Johnny’s rolling luggage moves at his pace to his left. Dillinger stops in his tracks and looks at Rage.)
Eric Dillinger: Give it to me straight, how bad was it?
Johnny Rage: What do you mean?
Eric Dillinger: We lost. I lost. I—
Johnny Rage: I’m going to tell you the same thing McMayhem told me once. Wins and losses mean nothing. Everyone forgets and-- and you know what… we didn’t take the loss. Maybe that blow to the top turnbuckle caused a minor concussion and you forgot, but it was the Manilla midget that took the fall.
Eric Dillinger: Mani—Ah, I see what you did there. Vanilla, Manilla… But he’s Japanese.
Johnny Rage: Yea, I don’t care.
(The two of them move onto the taxi where the drive has the trunk popped open and waiting for their luggage. None More Black hand off to him and get in the back of the vehicle. Not your typical taxi, it’s a newer BMW with a leather interior. Off in the distance the Mexican fans can be heard yelling. Dillinger and Rage quickly close the doors to prevent being seen. The windows have extra tint in them to prevent anyone from looking in. Rage, ever the veteran, learned the lesson the hard way when a fan threw a brick into the passenger window as he left an arena in South Carolina. When the fans hate you, they HATE you.)
Eric Dillinger: I looked cool with my brow busted open, huh?
(Johnny chuckles as the driver gets in. Both members of NMB look out the windows at the sea of people in the distance. The car begins to moves toward them as local police officers fight to keep barricades in place and the mob back. They are excited to see what may be Valora or incensed at the sight of the hated Sato or Boris Drago.)
Eric Dillinger: I will never get enough of this… The cheers, the boos, the love, the hate… This is a high like nothing else.
(Johnny says nothing as he looks on. He examines the faces of those as he passes by. A beautiful girl here, a young boy there, a grandmother with grandchildren. These are crowds he has not seen in years. Dillinger said it best, this was not something you could ever get enough of. The rush of being in the ring in front of a crowd was far grander than running a wrestling school in the fall out zone of San Diego. Now that he is face to face with the crowd again he realizes he can never go back to that.)
Eric Dillinger: I tell you this, though… I am going to fuck up Bob Sigro. I have no idea where the hell he gets off inserting himself into the match. We did nothing illegal. Sure, we used our numbers to our advantage, but that was the point of a four on one! They’re probably fucking secretly.
(Johnny ignores what Dillinger’s saying as he turns to him.)
Johnny Rage: I wouldn’t worry about it. We got other things to worry about next. Allen Anderson was impressed with out performance. He pulled me aside after we went through Gorilla. He slipped me a little something extra. I refused and asked for a match instead.
Eric Dillinger: You did what?
Johnny Rage: What? You hurting for money?
Eric Dillinger: Well, no—
Johnny Rage: You can thank me later, then.
Eric Dillinger: Ok, senpai.
Johnny Rage: Stop calling me that. It’s weird. I don’t get that anime stuff.
Eric Dillinger: It’s 2020, John.
Johnny Rage: Anyway, we have a tag team match with the Reinhardts at the next show.
Eric Dillinger: Our first real tag match.
Johnny Rage: No Manilla midget or communist to weigh us down.
Eric Dillinger: Dirty commie. What did Anderson give Drago for his part in all that?
Johnny Rage: Title shot.
Eric Dillinger: Come again?
Johnny Rage: A title shot. Him and Dasha get Biggs and Huckleberry.
Eric Dillinger: Are you shit—Whatever, it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine!
(The driver is startled by Dillinger’s outburst, swerving slightly.)
Eric Dillinger: I just—Look, I was standing in the ring next to the guy and I was not impressed. I just think… He sucks. Drago sucks.
(Johnny chuckles.)
Eric Dillinger: I could wrestle circles around him. Even you in your old age—
Johnny Rage: Watch it.
Eric Dillinger: I’m just saying, I’m just saying… Your old ass was the back bone of the team tonight.
Johnny Rage: The way I had to wipe your ass for you, I know. I know.
(The rest of the trip Eric Dillinger stewed on the information Johnny gave him. The newest, hottest team on the roster were relegated to taking out Allen Anderson’s trash. The other half of None More Black, however, was satisfied. It was his first match back in ages. He looked dominant, menacing, and like he hadn’t lost a step. The cameras picked up every devastating move, every hard hit, and just how Rage was the ring general directing traffic. Sato might have done the damage, but he would have never done what he was supposed to had Rage not set him up for his attack. Best yet, neither he nor Dillinger submitted. Johnny listened to the young Eric grumble about their place on the card knowing that it did not matter. Rage had been playing the long game since he disappeared from the spotlight, waiting for his next chance. If the title shot wasn’t coming now, it would be coming soon. What was a couple more weeks?)
www.viewtube.com/rockculturewrestling
Top 10 Wrestlers Who Should Have Stayed Gone
-=Play=-
Female Voiceover: Professional Wrestling is a straaaaaaaaaange industry. It’s a sport just as much as it is a biz-nuss. Its’ larger than life performers attract fans by the millions the world over.
(Various images flash on the screen of professional wrestlers, arenas, and screaming fans.)
Female Voiceover: The wrestlers themselves are an inspiration with their feats of strength, acts of heroism, and bravery within the ring. However, for every inspirational hero there are real villains.
(The screen flashes to various heels within the wrestling industry doing their dastardly deeds within the ring.)
Female Voiceover: And I am not talking about the rule breakers who take a few liberties with rules. No, I’m talking about those who found themselves in trouble more often than not with the law.
(Cut to the cover of a newspaper article with Kid Vicious being arrested and put into a squad car before cutting to a shot of Audrie McLaughlin wearing her in-ring gear sporting a grimacing expression with her arms crossed.)
Female Voiceover: I am the venerable Audrie McLaughlin and these are the top 10 wrestlers who were real life villains. Number ten—
-=Skip to 6:43. Images of a much younger Johnny Rage begin to flash across the screen.=-
Audrie McLaughlin: Number three, Show Time Johnny Rage. Things seemed great for the young up and comer back then. Handsome, naturally gifted, and a force in the ring Johnny Rage was voted breakout star of the year during his rookie year, scored multiple title reigns over the span of five years, and gained a reputation for being a fierce competitor between the ropes. It was behind the curtain where the issues arose.
A product of his surroundings, the time frame Johnny Rage came up in was known for the rampant alcoholism, drug use, and ring rat groupies lined up around the locker room. Years into Johnny Rage’s career stories began to circulate back stage about Johnny’s substance abuse and many ring-rats, but it was the disappearance of Maria Schreiber, a twenty-two year old pre-med student—
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