The Fish and The Lure Chapter 2: The Clownfish Conundrum

I was there: where were you.

It’s not the State of Utah I hated on October 18th.

It was the state of self.

Unbeknownst to anyone I had shown up, but I wasn’t there for myself. I was there incognito decked out in a gray champion hoodie with the hood up with matching sweatpants. It was that time of the year I had heard from several women while I was shopping for clothes. I supposed they understood when someone wanted to be left alone. The only looks I had received that day were to my pants and not my face.

“Nice print.”

I just nodded, happy to be on the correct side of fashion for once. But the smile always faded when the gloom took over again. I tapped my foot like I was morse coding SOS for over two hours outside the Medical Room. The Doc had assured me that he had spoken to Jack about Jack's physical and drug test so he could finally get his manager’s license.

I heard “O Fortuna,” begin to play and I gripped the phone in my pocket realizing how late it was. I whipped it out and rubbed it no doubt and furiously began to type a text message, spelling be damned and sent it.

I turned heel and stormed out of the Arena. This was a place for wrestlers and that was the furthest thing I felt I was at that moment.

--

Do you remember?

I remember the times I sat sweating after a workout, the dingy mats dirt sticking to my skin and laughing about it as I stared at the ceiling fan moving at a snail’s pace.

I don’t.

I remember looking for reassurance from the trainer about a hold I was unfamiliar with and getting a short response about discipline. I would lower my head but then feel a familiar slap on my back. I would turn and see the goofy grin below the red tinged eyes of Jack Marley.

I…remember some of that.

I was always looking for someone to approve of what I did. I wanted them, him, her, they, ANYONE to look at me and say, “good job.”

What’s someone else’s opinion when their opinion is stoked in their own selfishness?

Without Jack Marley though, I may have given up on the dream of being a wrestler.

Countless chances have left me waning when it comes to winning title matches. A dream deferred is just a nightmare later. The crashing thoughts of not being good enough. Not being smart enough. Not being what you could have been just torments you for the rest of your life. Jack Marley cannot lift me out of that. He cannot tell me how to win a match or how to overcome the odds.

It was never better to never try though. I would rather say I gave it my all then have just never attempted it. The nightmare is thinking about everything you should have done, not everything you failed at. Every time you fail, you learn something new. Jack was always there to make you know that there will be a next time. It isn’t about what he could do, it's about what he made ME believe what I can do.

It is fine to remember that fondly but what about him not showing up to Utah?

It isn’t always about me though…

I…

It is weird being reprimanded by yourself. I am not even allowed to wallow in self-pity.  It hurts though. Such a moment of exuberance, of pure joy inside the ring. Just one second away from winning the Alias Title to have it ripped from my hands by that snake Scott Hunter and a timeout. It was like a stake being thrust into my heart and I had no idea how to react.

I had no defense.

…It is also about those who support me.

I am not responding to this. Maybe I am not taking the loss of Jack as seriously as I should be, but he made his choice to hang out with his new friend. Nothing that occurred against Kuroyama would have changed because I am the one that was easily thrown off my game. It is my fault because even after all these years I still cannot control my emotions. I still…well…don’t fully grasp them either.

Clink-Clink

I tapped my left index finger against the edge of my glass. At this point the drink was so watered down I could use it to put out a scorched patch of Earth. I took a sip of the once strong Whiskey and rolled my eyes realizing I had just been staring at a blank TV for twenty minutes while I dealt with myself. I leaned over and put the glass on the coffee table. I grabbed the remote and turned it on. The roar of a lion greeted me as a gazelle ran as fast as it could to escape the alpha hunter.

I chuckled.

What would I be?

“Are you an animal like those on the TV?” Doc appeared with a coaster in his hand. He lifted the glass and put it back on top of it. I blinked and shrugged lazily towards him. He laughed softly towards me and then sat down next to me.

“Lost in thought again, huh?”

I sighed, that is one way to think of this, not sure how I would explain these ‘thoughts,’ though.

 I nodded to Doc and pulled my phone out and opened my text messages and opened the text thread with Jack.

“He left me on ‘read.”

His smile faded and his nostrils flared as if any minute he would turn into a dragon and spit hot fire like he was Dylan, “I told you that Chaz is bad news,” he hissed heatedly.

“I…as his…” I froze, incapable of saying it.

“Friend?”

“Yes?”

Still unable to share my true thoughts. It took all my energy to ask Don Winters to be in my corner and now I can’t say that the person that has been in my life the longest was a friend without someone saying it first.

He is MY best friend.

My eyes twitched at that.

“SHUT UP!”

“I didn’t say anything, Steve. Are you feeling ok? We never did figure out what was injected into you when you passed out. This could be a side effect to what occurred to you.”

Oops. I had said that out loud. The side effect, heh, if only he knew what happened to me after that.

“Nothing, just a memory came back to me when Jack told me he was going to be my manager,” I stared at Doc to see if he bought my excuse.

He nodded, “I assume you are talking about when you both first got to Montreal?”

Shit.

I really didn’t want to talk about that. It was all a blur after I escaped the Pit but when I crawled from underneath the landslide of liquor bottles, I would vaguely remember things and…it was very pathetic.

Dammit, we were supposed to go to Toronto and yet we ended up in Montreal and it all went downhill from there. I escaped a pit to end up in a fucking canyon of my own creation.

“Yep,” I mustered out of my lying mouth, my tongue clicking the back of my top two teeth. It wasn’t a tell but it probably sounded odd.

“Ok, so how should we move forward?” he either didn't notice I was lying or knew it was time to move on from the subject. Before I could reply his smile faded and he continued, “I did the math and we should be able to finish paying off the debt by the end of the year, but our costs are rising because of the farmhouse and its inhabitants here.”

Oh…yea alllllllllllllllllllllllllll that.

Let me unpack it all and then suffocate myself in the wrapping.

Breath, I kept yelling to myself inside my head, the words reverbing down to my chest as my heart beat quicker and quicker.

“Has that asshole even responded to any of our recent payments?”

He squinted his eyes and sighed, “does a halo emoji count?”

He took his phone out and showed me the last response. It was from two weeks ago and what the living fucks, it was a damn halo emoji. I groaned, “this guy.”

“He’s dangerous, Steve. This could be a threat, I-I-I…just don't know,” he responded with a slight crack in his voice showing more worry for me than my own family ever did.

I rubbed both my temples with the palms of my hands and closed my eyes. It was time to think because what Doc was saying was unfortunately…correct. I looked up at the TV to see a Cheetah drift by a Zebra and muted it. I put the remote down and turned back towards my confidant, “I should go see if Jack is ok, shouldn't I?”

Doc stood up from the couch as fast as his old legs could and looked down at me, “I will pull the car around.”

I put my hand up and shook my head, “no, I can do this myself.”

“Are you sure?”

I stood up slowly and stretched my arms out, my right elbow cracking as the cartilage squeezed out the air that had infested it. I shook my head. I would never get used to that feeling but it was harmless Doc always told me. I guess everything is until it's not. “This is my responsibility, and I don't want to put you in any danger.”

Doc pulled the keys to the car out of his pocket and held them out to me. I went to grab them, but he pulled his arm back a little, hesitating to follow through with letting me go. I motioned with my left hand to hand it over and he dropped his head and finally handed them over to you. “Call me if you run into any trouble.”

I smirked, “what are you going to do old man?”

He cracked a smile himself, “still lit as the youths say.”

I walked towards the door and turned to see him rubbing his hands as his smile had faded and his look of concern had returned, “take care of things here.”

I headed out.

LET'S GO!

I'm going, I'm going.

This was my duty, and it was time to take control of the family. No longer could I hide my head in the sand and pretend all was fine.

It wasn't.

I finally understood that.

–-

We are not what we show.

The Clown wears paint.

The Doctor wears gloves.

The Athlete wears a uniform.

The Pontiff wears a white cassock.

A Sage Pontiff wears a clusterfuck of cultural appropriation for his own egotistical means.

This isn't about what one wears though. This is about how everyone puts on something in an attempt to hide their true self. It is obvious though when you give yourself time to really look at someone.

Sage…you openly admit to being a phony. A charlatan. A man who steals from a peaceful movement to trick them into not seeing the blood you just wiped on your pants after beating someone unconscious who dared to question your insanity.

Heh.

A lost person in a world where Neverland is filled with fascists and tyrants trying to use your ignorant rage for their own benefits. Sounds familiar.

It does…

…I know it well.

Miracle Enterprise used to be a vehicle for me to triumph and gain stature in that same world. I wanted to prove my father wrong, so I did whatever it took to make money. I scammed, I lied, I ran away from debts, and I genuinely hurt everyone around me. I was hated, but to me that meant I was doing something right.

I was getting what I wanted: publicity.

He will finally see what I am capable of.

How blind I was.

Still am?

That's for others to decide because all I can do is continue to walk down this path of redemption, I have been attempting to traverse for upwards of three years.

Have I failed?

You betcha.

I crawl back on that path, scars and all and I continue to trudge along because people like you, Sage, the cowards, the shams, they don't get to tell me who I am and what I can accomplish.

You sit there and continue to fail in your ‘enlightenment.’ What you see as a means for your violence I see as a means for my transformation back into who I once was.

But, hah, let's not kid ourselves: I still enjoy a fight for survival inside that ring. Like you, I have failed time and time again in title matches. We might not be so different, but our paths have diverged, and I have tried to see failure as a learning tool.

I continually get back up because it isn't all about me anymore. I have others that rely on me, and I am still learning about how big a responsibility that is, but I accept it.

I will give you props for your sobriety though. I know it is tough to follow through with but by the looks of it, it hasn't made you a better person. I hope you continue down that path because over time your mind will be clear and maybe you will recollect on what you have done wrong and try to make amends.

Trust me…it takes a long time for people to accept it.

If they ever do.

This isn't about the future though, Sage. This is about both of us trying to get a win after a recent loss. I am not playing around anymore. I suppose I have said that before but that just means my confidence has not been shattered yet. The voice is loud, and it will push me back on my feet every time you hit me.

We are not small guys. I expect an exchange that will leave us both bloody but as the Suplex Saint I will leave you petitioning to whatever new age God you pretend to believe in for me not to damage your neck too badly when I toss you repeatedly on that noodle your imbecilic head is attached to.

When all is said and done, Sage, the words: IT’S A HARRACLE will be the last thing ringing in your ears.

Alavida.

–

The Bowl of the Clownfish

After several wrong turns and almost accidents I made it to the apartment of Jack Marley. Canada was not his cup of tea, so he had moved back to his hometown of Burlington, Vermont a few months ago. It didn't stop him from always having Doc bring him to the farmhouse, but it isn't very far away, and Doc enjoyed the Green Mountains. The temperatures had begun to drop but the snow hadn't yet engulfed the area off the Champlain Lake yet. That was a positive for someone who doesn't drive that much these days.

I parked the car and as one does when they feel paranoid most of the time, I slowly walked towards the apartment checking behind, to the left, to the right, every which way but down for threats.

I knocked.

No answer.

I knocked again.

NO ANSWER.

I tried my key and it wouldn't fit in the keyhole anymore. I checked the apartment number and raised my right eyebrow, confused with what was happening.

KICK THE DOOR DOWN!

I took a few steps back and then moved as quickly as I could in that small space towards the door and with my right leg kicked with all my power into the door. The door flew open smashing against the other side.

I took one step in and shut the damaged door behind me and was met with a smell that made my eyes water.

“What the fuck.”

The place was a mess but at the same time it looked like people were recently there. The trash hadn't been taken out and dirty dishes and glasses covered the coffee table. One glass though had visible condensation on it which utterly befuddled me.

If someone had just been here, why the hell would you leave the place looking like this?

Could he not smell all the fast-food wrappers falling out of the trash can?

I did not want to touch anything but then something caught my eye near one of the windows. I walked over and saw a few droplets of what could have been blood. I bent down to get a better look when my phone went off.

I jumped up, the timing of the call reminiscent of a horror movie scene.

I didn't recognize the number but since this whole situation had left me disoriented, I answered it anyway.

“Yea?”

“Steve, long time no talk, you are looking good for a man who owes me money.”

Fuckkkkkkkk.

I put the phone on speaker and looked around the room. I tried to compose myself because this was not a call I expected and his words made it sound like he could see me, “Ah-ha, great to hear from you, where are you?”

“Maybe you should have put the hood up on that sweatshirt before you busted through the door.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Wave towards the surround sound speaker in the corner.”

I turned to look at it and then walked over and stared up at it. I could barely see a small camera on top of it staring down at me. “Why…”

“Do I have a camera in your friend's apartment? Or how did I find him? Or how did I get it in there?”

I froze.

ALL OF THAT.

“Yes,” is all I responded with.

“Oh, Steve, I was hoping for more emotion out of you. Seems you have matured since the last time I saw you.”

“What is the meaning of this? Where is Jack, did you take him?”

“There it is and of course not, I am not dumb enough to kidnap someone and bring them to another country.”

I took a deep breath, walked over to the coffee table and picked up a glass. I tossed it softly in the air catching it back in my left hand and then walked back towards the speaker where the camera was and threw it as fast as I could with all my anger breaking the glass against the speaker. The speaker fell to the hardwood floor. I looked at the camera and stomped on it repeatedly until it was nothing but pieces of plastic.

“That wasn't nice, Steve, I will have to add that to what you owe me. Are you ok? You are breathing quite loudly.”

“What. Do. You. Want?”

“My money, you failed wrestler. I want it or this stupid clown you call a friend will be unrecognizable to you…forever.”

I grit my teeth so hard I thought the crown on my right back molar was going to crack. “We have been paying you, by my calculations we only have four more payments to make.”

“Hahahahahahaha.”

“What?”

“The debt doubles when it isn't paid back in a year's time. How long has it been, Steve?”

“Bullshit.”

“You really were a bit out of your mind back then weren't you? Well, you can blame that missing idiot of yours who read the contract for you.”

I balled both of my hands into fists. I wanted to punch something…anything, but this apartment was disgusting. “Where is Jack?”

“Heh, I don't know, did he ever tell you when he tried to barter with me? I pistol whipped him so good that he became this easy to manipulate. I can get to him at any time which means I can get to you.”

Before I could respond, he had hung up. I stared at the phone, and it slipped from my hands and fell to the floor. My hands had begun to sweat from that call, and I imagined my blood pressure had risen high enough for a doctor to be worried.

I sat down.

I didn't care what I sat on, my mind was spinning me into nausea.

“DAMMIT!”

DAMMIT!

This isn't a game…I had lost sight of that just like I had lost sight of what was going on with Jack.

What a great friend I was.

What am I gonna do?

—

“Lilac rain, unbroken chain

Song of the saw-whet owl

Out on the mountain, it'll drive you insane

Listening to the winds howl

Unbroken chain of sorrow and pearls

Unbroken chain of sky and sea

Unbroken chain of the western wind

Unbroken chain of you and me,” 

Unbroken Chain RIP Phil Lesh