“D’you know where my nickname ‘King of the Bittermen’ came from, Euge?”

[You have three guesses as to where Jeff Andrews is right now, and the first two don’t count.]

[He’s in his brown leather armchair.]

[Of course.]

[His T-shirt says Baltimore Ravens on it, his pants are made of denim, and the green and yellow mesh John Deere trucker’s cap is placed atop his head exactly as it should be.]

“I know you’re a nerd.”

“And funny thing is, that’s not exactly an insult.  You got any idea how many of us guys who’ve been in the business were nerds before we got into pro wrestling?  Or maybe even, got into pro wrestling in the first place because we’re nerds?”

“Whatever. I feel secure in admitting – nay, BRAGGING – about it, because I’m the World Heavyweight Champion of the greatest promotion the wrestling world has ever seen, and that makes me, officially, the baddest sonofabitch on the face of the planet.  The baddest sonofabitch, who just happens to carries his D&D books with him on tour and trades MMORPG references with his opponent on twitter.”

“And who in their right minds is gonna give me a wedgie or an Indian burn or something?  They do that and I’d beat the shit out of them on the spot.”

[With a deep, happy sigh, Andrews leans even further back in his armchair.]

“But back to the main question, Euge, did you like wrestling before your brother convinced you to give it a try?  Did you watch the CAL, and did you watch the old IWA and OLW and NPW and MSWA and such?”

“See, I have an elephant’s memory.   I remember the name of every single person who worked for me in my old fed IWA, even though I closed it in 2004.  I remember who beat who, when, and where.  I can keep my own career continuity straight, and I’ve got an on-again off-again girlfriend, and a best friend turned enemy turned boss turned enemy turned friend working in my stable with me.”

“And most importantly, I remember every single wrong that was ever perpetrated against me.”

[Suddenly, the smile, and the relaxation are gone.]

“I don’t get over things, Eugene.”

“If someone does wrong to me, I will never forget it.  It will be forgiven when, and ONLY when, I choose it to be so.”

“And one of those CAL feds I was name dropping earlier, MSWA, it had a main commentator turned columnist named Marion “Stern” Shamrock, and he was the guy who first coined the name – after hearing me rant about something a guy named Sam Carnage had done to me 3 years ago.”

“Well, that was 8 years ago. I still remember.”

“I remember every single time I had to remove myself from active competition because my feds needed my full time attention.  I remember every single time I stepped back so one of the guys who worked for me could have the glory.  And that was when I worked for myself.  But, you know, since I was the boss, I had the option of closing them.  I never took it.  I loved what I did.  But did I ever resent having to put my personal glory aside?  All the fucking time, Euge, all the fucking time.”

[With a scowl, Andrews lowers the brim of his hat.]

“But you know what was really intolerable?  Eric Dane being all ‘I demand you put your shit on the back burner and do all my work for me so I can go indulge my ego in NFW and by the way I’ll humiliate your girlfriend and hold you responsible for it if she doesn’t start being perfect’.  That was it, man.”

“Then, of course, I took over the place, and awarded myself the championship I’d already deserved anyway, you know how that went.”

“So why’d I pick you and your two victories over Bronson Box to be my next opponent?”

“Because you stabled up with someone I hate.”

“Because you’re good enough to be worth my time.”

[Nodding his head.]

“I want the glory, Euge.  I want the glory that fate and assholes alike denied me. I want the glory that I willingly passed on seizing for myself time and time again.”

“You’re tough.  I’m not looking past those two wins over Box, not even a little bit.”

“But you’re not unbeatable.  Adam Waterman proved it.  Claira St. Sure proved it.”

“Then you look at me, and what I do when I’m not busy sacrificing myself for someone else’s good.  I clean house in Ultratitle.  Three people out of forty-two thought I could beat Justin Voss, and I beat him in the middle of the ring.  Then I went up against a man named Sean Stevens, who’s supposedly EPW’s godking or something, and I smeared him all over the ring.”

“Food poisoning beat me, not Joey Melton.”

“When I don’t feel like losing, no one beats me.  NO ONE.”

“And I’m going to prove it, by pinning you and your gutbucket with the Ultraglide, and then I’m going to gloat about having done so.”

[End.]
 

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