Ricky needed a change in his life, and he needed one quick.
???:"It's hard man, it's just hard. To keep up the smiles, to keep up the waving and the high-fiving when the whole world sees you as a joke, or a safety hazard. I need to take a stand, I need to change, I need to be relevant again, or I will just end up being a nobody, or a side show... like Mister Alhazred."
We then see an empty room, it was a room for a press conference meeting at the local Hilton Hotel in Denver, Colorado. The room was decorated quite plainly to see it was a Q&A to meet Ricky Runn. Even the poster at the door said boldly. "Come meet the high flying, accidental international sensation, Ticky Tunn!" Ricky was dressed up for the day to say the least. Wearing his favorite pair of ring pants, and his WZCW T-Shirt in case anyone couldn't figure out it was Ricky standing there ready to answer questions. But the room continued to be empty. The impatient Ricky Runn checked his watch to see it had been four hours since Ricky opened up the Q&A and no one had bothered to show up. Confused, Ricky walks out of the press room and goes to check if anyone was outside, only for his eyes to catch the banner. Ricky may not have been the brightest guy in the world, but he knew how to spell his own ring name.
Taking out his phone, he quickly called up the man who was responsible for the banner. His agent, Rob. After three rings, Rob had picked up the phone.
Rob:"Oh hey Ricky, how's Denver?"
With a bit of an impatient, and upset tone, Ricky said to his agent.
Ricky:"How do you think it is going for Ticky Tunn? You know what Ticky Tunn sounds like Rob? I sound like I am trying out for a gay Sumo Wrestling meet. This isn't even bad luck just shitty job on your part!"
Rob:"Uhh Rick, I have no idea what you're talking about, but look I'm sorry. I guess their was a typo. Look, it's not that big of a deal. How many people showed up?"
Ricky:"Okay hold on let me just hold up my phone and you can hear for yourself."
Ricky then put the phone on speaker and held it out to the press room, letting the silence fill in the effect he wanted.
Ricky:"There's no one here Rob. Did you send out the invites and the press to let people know I was going to be here?"
There was a long pause, we see Rob looking over at the pile of cards and a unposted Facebook and Twitter update and rubbed his forehead and muttered.
Rob:"Oh hamburgers."
Ricky:"Now you're stealing my catch phrase? Okay man, you're really getting on my nerves."
Rob:"Okay look man, I've been screwing up, but it's just been a rough week okay, for you and I both."
Ricky sighed and placed a hand up to the head bandage on his forehead and let out a sigh.
Ricky:"Okay, okay. Look, I need you to get the license rights to the song "Thrift Shop." I want to change my theme music just for the night. I have this whole shitck I want to use against Mister this week, and that would be the cherry on top. Can you handle that?"
Rob:"Okay man, I'll get right on it. Just enjoy the day off. Go to a bar, have a few drinks, you're 21 now. Enjoy yourself."
Ricky didn't bother to say goodbye. He just hung up the phone and took in a sigh, and made his way to the bar in the Hilton hotel.
A few hours later, Ricky was sitting alone in the bar. With the hand bandage on snug, and his sunglasses hanging over his eyes, he was trying to hide the rather brooding mood he was in. Sitting next to him was a rather old man. The old man was drinking scotch from a glass. Ricky was sipping something a little less strong, a bottle of Mike's hard lemonade. The old man let out a little scoff and said to his drinking partner.
Old Man:"Drinking the hard stuff, aren't yeah?"
Ricky says back to the man in a gruff, tough voice.
Ricky:"You know it man."
Old Man:"Something been plaguing you, son?"
Ricky sighed for a moment, looking down at the bottle he was drinking from before saying to the old man.
Ricky:"Have you ever felt like you are trying to do something you love, something you can see doing for the rest of your life, but slowly, and surely that same thing you love is trying to push you away?"
Old Man:"Yeah... I know exactly what you mean, son."
Ricky then looked over with a suspicious look.
Ricky:"Really?"
The old man keeps himself composed and spoke without missing a beat.
Old Man:"Yeah, my ex wife."
Ricky had to roll his eyes from behind his sunglasses.
Old Man:"Speaking of ex-wives, how did you get that bandage on your head?"
"That's another story entirely."
The Old Man looks over to the young man he was sharing a conversation with and says with a bit of a surprised look.
Old Man:"Hey, you're that Ticky Tunn feller. I saw your poster passing by. You into Sumo Wrestling, son?"
Ricky:"Do I have the size to be a sumo wrestler?"
The Old Man chuckled and nodded his head and raised his glass.
Old Man:"You still didn't tell me what is ailing yeah, my boy."
Ricky:"I'm a wrestler who hasn't been able to string two wins together since my glory days. I'm actually a veteran now, and I haven't done squat with my career. I don't want to fade away, or vanish. I've been opening shows or jerking the curtain on Aftershock, and to top it all off, everything I touch as of late either explodes, dies, gets run over, or gets hit by a freak meteor. I'm actually a bigger mess than the biggest weirdo in my job right now, and that's saying something."
Old Man:"How so?"
Ricky:"You ever heard of a man so content with hanging out with a group of guys called Pickle, and Facecrush McSpinebasher? To top it all off, we're dealing with a man who's career revolved around the use of a glove he made to make up for his rather um-- less athletic features. I used to be a Tag Team Champion. I used to be toe and toe with guys like former world heavyweight champions and contenders. The ceiling used to be so high for me. Now I'm here, busting my ass off, for what? Dead Strippers and crushed Witch doctors?"
Ricky sighed and looked down at the bar table.
Ricky:"I need a change man, and quick. If I keep losing like this, I'll be gone, and I'll be broken. I don't want to end up like my friend Austin, as someone who had the potential to win the big one, but ended up fading away. I promised him I was going to do great things, and he believed me-- now I'm here, facing someone who has done squat."
Old Man:"Sounds like a weird feller right there. In my town, if we had anyone like that in the town. We would have had him walking around in my town, he woulda been fixed up real good."
Ricky:"I uhh-- have no idea what that means, but I'll take it as you agree with me."
The old man finishes his glass and spoke to Ricky with a more serious tone.
Old Man:"Well son, I see this is a soft ball being under hand tossed to you right over the plate. If you don't knock this outta the park, what good are yeah then, yeah know? Luck, god, curses, whatever. You need to get your shit together and win something. Or else you end up like that feller you talking about. Going mad by talking to pickles or whatever nonsense you said. In the end, you won't be remembered for the luck you had, or the silly things you did with a big coat, but what you brought to the table. When I'm long gone, people will remember me for bringing wisdom, and nothing will take that away. What will the world remember you by, son?"
Ricky listened intently to the old man and said to him.
Ricky:"Wow, that makes a lot of sense actually... thanks old man. Can we get a drink for this man on me!"
Ricky then raised his hand to pat the old man on the back, the pat was sturdy enough to the point where you heard bones pop and the old man shout in pain.
Old Man:"My Spine! You Crushed it! Ahhh!"
Ricky:"Oh hamburgers!"
We will soon find out, who is really the true spine smasher, Ricky Runn, Mister Alhazred, or the man named Facecrush McSpinesmasher.
