You Broke My Heart (with a Spinning Toe Hold)

So I'm working on a lil country tune about wrasslin.

When ya took on Ronnie Garvin
I was right there by yer side
And I watched as The Butcher
Took a fork to yer precious hide

But when they made you champ
And went to Memphis on your own
I was left heartbroken
Here in Parts Unknown

Chorus
You Broke my heart
with a spinning toe hold
ya broke my heart
when ya turned around
ya broke my heart
Way down in Texas
So I burned the sportarorium to the ground.

Locked a cage with Bruiser Brody
I thought for sure that you'd be dead
And your bouts with Buddy Rodgers
Put scars upon your head

Being trapped in the Texas cloverleaf
You rather die than quit
But if you mention Terry Funk again
I'm burning all your shit

Chorus

I was your quiet geisha
When we toured all through Japan
I even took a chop or two from Inoki's big right hand.

I knew that things were ending
And That my goose was cooked
When you told me "Workers only, and you just ain't been booked"

Chorus

You always said I'm more
than just a ring rat.
then I heard you tradin tales
With Jake the snake.

I knew it all had changed when ya said
It was Miss Lacy that you banged
So I paid a guy in Dallas to have you shanked

Chorus x2

Dead Bunnies via Samoa

Poor bunnies, Chris Richters last victim
The gore, it defies description
I heard him scream into the night
"I knew I was right!
Rabbits explode when you fist them!"

Another dirty poem

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A dirty limerick

"Dirty" as in pornographic, but well within the limits of things you can say if your drunk in public at the state fair 
 
You have been warned

I thought for this girl, I had feelings.
our love making was peppered with squeeling
until I saw her face on a box
surrounded by cocks
and guzzling masked strangers semen

Monogamous Larceny

I'm no good at stealing, I don't have the nerves for it.
I can be complicit, I'm good at that.

Always choose the big corporate, VOLUME = Value places, that's a given.

Out of the side of my mouth I say "If you get one more stupid magazine.."

"Or WHAT?" she barks, just loud enough for the next 2 check out lines to hear.

I clear my throat.
Chambering the next round of this verbal skirmish
"I just don't like you reading so much"

I let the venom of my words sizzle in the air as the eyes of eavesdroppers narrow to slits.
Their daggers, all aimed at me.

But her only retort is to apply some lip gloss and dutifully place our purchases on the moving black belt.

*beep* Tuna fish
*beep* Dish soap
*beep* Whole grain bread that I hate
*beep* That FUCKING MAGAZINE

Seething and with the offending periodical in hand I turn to face my obstinate beloved.

A beloved now transfixed at the tiny glowing screen of my phone.

One of her eyes twitches, this is bad

"WHO IS ROSIE?" She screams
"AND GWEN?!"    the fury building in her as she scrolls past names on my phone
"MY SISTER?!"    I raise one eyebrow as if to say "That's a new one" but only for a second

Her voice breaks as she tries not to laugh
"YOU BASTARD"

I set my face to stunned and fumble with a response that never comes.


The sharp thud of Hand to Face reaches all the way down to Home Furnishings.

I stand in silence, clutching my cheek as the *beep * beep * beep * marches on.

She calmly grabs her purse and walks to the door. 

Stopping just short of the exit she turns 

and addresses me over the top of her sunglasses

"Get home quick, 

because all your shit

is gonna be in the street

or ON FIRE"

and then she is gone
  

  I think I hear some clapping a few registers over, but no one seems to hear the security alarm.

                                                                   And no one will ever stop a woman that pissed off    

At home she kisses my face

Tell's me "I'm Sorry"

and then shows me how much an Ipad goes for on Craigslist.

 

Mc Rib

Just the name itself can illicit a response. Go ahead, say to someone “McRib.” If they say “Huh? What?” say it again but in a loud clear voice. Their response is either “Eww” or “It’s Back?! Where! TELL ME!” and sometimes “I am from an alien world and do not know what you are talking about.” Personally I LOVE the McRib. It belongs in the Pantheon of Historic Sandwiches alongside the Monte Cristo, Pork Roll Egg and Cheese and the local favorite “The Italian Stallion” from Jimmy’s Foodstore. But the McRib is more than a mere sandwich. It is a sensory experience. Its look, simple and streamlined. The tangy smell of BBQ sauce arouses the nostrils. As you lift it to your mouth notice the heat radiating from it. Then, before long the long dormant lizard part of your brain takes over and you don’t so much eat but devour it, in the most primal sense of the word. All you are left with are the saucy remnants on your face and hands and the aching lust for more. McDonalds thrives on this lust. Just as you start to believe, nay KNOW that finally the McRib is back to stay, like the elusive Sasquatch it slips away.



Good bye my tasty friend.

200 Words about Pro Wrestling

In Texas its not called "Wrestling" we call it "Wrasslin'", and for a time Dallas was one of the 7 wonders of the Wrassling world. We had the Sportatorium and the Von Erich clan. In those days what we in the business call "kayfabe" was alive and well. Basically it means you carry the suspension of disbelief with you at all times. That meant that Faces and Heels never traveled, socialised or were even seen together. You lived your gimmick any time the public saw you. What that meant if you were a heel was that you could be an asshole to strangers and they loved you for it. That time has come and gone; sure current wrestlers will most likely respond to you in character but we all know The Undertaker isn't really a dead man and I doubt you would ever see Abullah the Butcher stabbing people with a fork at Golden Corral.

I am going to set the record strait once and for all. Yes, the outcome of the match is predetermined but the action IN the ring are as real as they can be without violating the laws of physics or crippling someone. Let me put it to you like this, you can always plan a way to loose a match and still come out on top, you never plan on getting a concussion. Hell i had 4 concussions in 3 years, I went blind once and have accidentally broken peoples noses, wrists, ribs and fingers all in a "fake" wrassling match. Oh and I loved every minute of it. In real life I have only ever been in one fight and I was 12 years old, but when I was Josh "The Inferno" Sterno or Gavin Arliss Young I was a white hot grease fire of pure entertainment. I kicked ass and talked trash. It was SO much fun knowing that for a few hours every weekend that all 135 lbs of me could be considered a force to be reckoned with. All the frustration and stress i had inside I could let out in a flurry of kicks, punches, dives and suplexes and also provide a modest amount of showmanship to my loyal fans. Hindsight IS 20/20 and had I know that now at 29 I would walk like an old man and my hips would bother me when it rains I might have changed my path, but the chances are slim.

I LOVED being part of the crazy circus that was Texas Indy Wrasslin in the 90's. I will always carry the scars and stories i acquired during my brief time in the squared circle with pride. I still hope against up that one day, even if its just one more time i can step back into the ring and still give the people a match worth watching