Post by Charles Lee on Jan 15, 2012 11:43:28 GMT -6
Still breathing somewhat heavy, from it all, Charles Lee sits in his locker room. He got caught up in a series of moves with Jackson, and after the backbreaker followed immediately by a very powerful F-5, the lights were turned out. In some ways, many ways, he felt as if he fared better than expected. But defeat was always that stuck with him for a good while. Charles Lee’s biggest problem was that he was so sure that success was imminent.
He had already showered, but just sat half-dressed really wondering if he came back for the right reasons. His mentor/trainer/closest confidant warned him, when she balked at a return. Liz Ryan believed there was nothing left to prove. That what they did in the early 2000s would be enough to be forever etched in the annals of professional wrestling history. Was she right? Perhaps, if one were to open up a pro wrestling encyclopedia. But the fact of the matter is, people do have short memories. And the impact that was left eight years before, was not large enough in the wrestling universe.
Charles Lee could have been wrong, but Bossier City, Louisiana gave a very nice reaction when he first came out, but then somewhat went away during the match. He was used to the chants, the cheers, the boos and the interaction. He sighed to himself.
“It was, what it was.”
Charles Lee got up, having finally allowed his breathing to settle down, despite the entire show having been over for nearly an hour. Pulling on an old shirt, he glanced at himself in the mirror.
The smile seemingly gone, but what he did notice was the T-shirt. It was from 2000. Three figures on the front, himself in the middle, to his left, a technically sound wrestler from the projects near Chicago, named Titykaka, the other a female wrestler from Atlanta, named Electra Rivers. With this, the trio was known as Sugar Tits. It was one of those cutesy things. Something that Charles had thought up back then.
He looked at the shirt a moment longer, before taking it off. The past was obviously moot now. All he had left that meant anything too him were his memories. And a few more F-5’s and those perhaps would be gone too. Lee opted to put on a button down with his jeans, but did not button it up. It was warm, even for this time of year in Louisiana, and he’d soon be back in his car anyway to take the 4 ½ hour drive back home to Houston.
Stepping out of his lockerroom, he turned and nearly ran through a female in the hallway. The female caught off guard, glared back at him, catching her balance.
Female Wrestler: “Excuse you.”
Charles Lee looked at the woman. Definitely dressed like her ‘Punk Princess’ persona. He nodded.
SPF: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t see you there.”
Charles Lee having studied the NCW before showing up, knew that this wrestler was Amy Marshall. And her glare softened a bit.
Amy: “Well, no harm, no foul. I’m Amy, by the way. Amy Marshall.”
She extended her hand, and he looked down at it before taking it and shaking it.
SPF: “Charles Lee. Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Marshall.”
Amy: “Please, just call me Amy, using a title like Ms., makes me sound like an old lady.”
SPF: “Clearly you aren’t."
In fact at that moment, Charles Lee felt like the oldest person in the NCW, maybe even the world. He continued.
SPF: "Well, I better get going. Good luck in your match tomorrow night.”
Having studied both the Trauma and Collision cards, he knew that she was in a good match on the NCW’s other show, Collision. Definitely impressed that she came the arena the night before, perhaps to get the layout of the arena, or whatever the reason she was there, he just assumed it had to do with her match the day after. And with that, he exited the arena and got into his car, for the long ride home.
He had already showered, but just sat half-dressed really wondering if he came back for the right reasons. His mentor/trainer/closest confidant warned him, when she balked at a return. Liz Ryan believed there was nothing left to prove. That what they did in the early 2000s would be enough to be forever etched in the annals of professional wrestling history. Was she right? Perhaps, if one were to open up a pro wrestling encyclopedia. But the fact of the matter is, people do have short memories. And the impact that was left eight years before, was not large enough in the wrestling universe.
Charles Lee could have been wrong, but Bossier City, Louisiana gave a very nice reaction when he first came out, but then somewhat went away during the match. He was used to the chants, the cheers, the boos and the interaction. He sighed to himself.
“It was, what it was.”
Charles Lee got up, having finally allowed his breathing to settle down, despite the entire show having been over for nearly an hour. Pulling on an old shirt, he glanced at himself in the mirror.
The smile seemingly gone, but what he did notice was the T-shirt. It was from 2000. Three figures on the front, himself in the middle, to his left, a technically sound wrestler from the projects near Chicago, named Titykaka, the other a female wrestler from Atlanta, named Electra Rivers. With this, the trio was known as Sugar Tits. It was one of those cutesy things. Something that Charles had thought up back then.
He looked at the shirt a moment longer, before taking it off. The past was obviously moot now. All he had left that meant anything too him were his memories. And a few more F-5’s and those perhaps would be gone too. Lee opted to put on a button down with his jeans, but did not button it up. It was warm, even for this time of year in Louisiana, and he’d soon be back in his car anyway to take the 4 ½ hour drive back home to Houston.
Stepping out of his lockerroom, he turned and nearly ran through a female in the hallway. The female caught off guard, glared back at him, catching her balance.
Female Wrestler: “Excuse you.”
Charles Lee looked at the woman. Definitely dressed like her ‘Punk Princess’ persona. He nodded.
SPF: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t see you there.”
Charles Lee having studied the NCW before showing up, knew that this wrestler was Amy Marshall. And her glare softened a bit.
Amy: “Well, no harm, no foul. I’m Amy, by the way. Amy Marshall.”
She extended her hand, and he looked down at it before taking it and shaking it.
SPF: “Charles Lee. Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Marshall.”
Amy: “Please, just call me Amy, using a title like Ms., makes me sound like an old lady.”
SPF: “Clearly you aren’t."
In fact at that moment, Charles Lee felt like the oldest person in the NCW, maybe even the world. He continued.
SPF: "Well, I better get going. Good luck in your match tomorrow night.”
Having studied both the Trauma and Collision cards, he knew that she was in a good match on the NCW’s other show, Collision. Definitely impressed that she came the arena the night before, perhaps to get the layout of the arena, or whatever the reason she was there, he just assumed it had to do with her match the day after. And with that, he exited the arena and got into his car, for the long ride home.