[Long] Sometimes change comes to you
Nov 6, 2021 20:51:13 GMT -5
BRAVE1, SWAT eFed, and 1 more like this
Post by Old Line Jeff on Nov 6, 2021 20:51:13 GMT -5
“Just before I say something I regret, boss, I want to ask you something. You’re not… uh, you’re not really having a behind the scenes fling with Esmerelda Vas Tricks, are you?”
Inside Ronnie’s old farmhouse in Georgia.
He’s sitting in an old brown leather armchair, a corded landline phone in his hand. Closer examination of the phone reveals that it’s a rotary phone.
It’s not old, it’s vintage.
“Well, because Steve Awesome said…”
Gus Arnold is a soft-spoken gentleman so there’s no comic double take where the phone blows up in incomprehensible static and Long winces. He does blink a couple times.
“Yeah, that’s all I wanted to know. Thanks. Sorry I brought it up.”
Click.
He turns his head to Deanna. She’d been standing behind the chair, rubbing his shoulders.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Alright sweetie. You have time to go get the fertilizer, right? Oh, pick up a ham and some greens, will you? Forgot to say, we’ve got company for dinner tonight.”
We could tell you the fascinating story of Ronnie Long making the 2 hour round trip to the Southeastern Farmer’s Co-Op in LaFayette and loading it up with bags of fertilizer, but instead, we’ll skip to later that evening, as he was driving up to his house.
‘Company’ had been an understatement. The driveway had half a dozen cars in it. And one of them made Ronnie’s blood run cold.
It was a white Mercedes Benz.
And that meant that one of the ‘guests’ was Heidi Christenson.
Now, Heidi was actually a very good friend of Ronnie’s. But, she was also friends with Deanna. When he wasn’t around, they tended to make ‘plans,’ and those plans, all too frequently, involved him being a guinea pig of some kind or other. And if you’re new here or just weren’t paying attention, Heidi’s a former stablemate of Ronnie’s, a former two time World Heavyweight Champion and one of the best mat grapplers the sport has ever seen.
None the less, he drove his pickup over to the tractor shed and walked back to the house.
“You’re back!”
Deanna said it too brightly. Way too brightly. Ronnie looked around.
Of all the guests, all of them were women. Heidi was there. Most of the rest were neighbors.
“What’s going on?” He asked.
“Ronnie…” Deanna’s voice was that too-sweet voice that any guy would recognize as the ‘I’m turning on the sugar before I ask you to do something I know you’re going to hate’ voice. “Since your wrestling comeback’s been going better than any of us expected-”
Quick sidenote. Farming communities tend to be close-knit. Every one of the Long’s neighbors know about Ronnie’s wrestling career even if they didn’t watch the promotions he was in, or weren’t fans of wrestling to begin with.
“And we wanted to throw you a little good luck party.”
“So… none of the guys came? And where do you want me to put the ham?”
“The ham is for your victory party. Or for your wake. Since if you lose to the likes of Steve Awesome I’m sure you’ll dive into the Pacific and never come up, and back in Georgia we’ll agree it was all for the best and try to remember the good times. But that won’t happen. Anyway, dinner tonight is keto burgers, you don’t need to be bloating before a title match.”
Ronnie just stood there.
“But we’ve also been talking… and we kind of decided something.”
And here it comes. Ronnie took a deep breath.
“You’ve been wrestling for 21 years, and aside from that short tag team run in IWA that we’re not going to talk about, you haven’t changed your look once.”
Ronnie looked over the women, and saw one more face that he recognized. It was Carrie Prodigy. She’d worked for Jeff Andrews in A*P, and was already planned for the DCW roster. (Prodigy was a wrestling gimmick name - her real last name was Prodoehl, but no one ever used it.) That wasn’t what turned his blood ice cold though. Carrie had two jobs. One was wrestling.
The other was wardrobe.
“And as women, we’ve decided that it’s time
for
the
trench coat
to
go.”
.
.
.
“No.”
Ronnie turned on his heel to leave.
Deanna just grabbed the collar of his shirt before he could.
“Oh don’t be like that. I already had your measurements, we did some consulting, and we just want to see you try something on, just really quick.”
Ronnie turned.
It was a leather vest. A sleeveless, cowboy type vest. It was pretty nice looking, actually - black leather (real leather), brass buttons down one side, some beadwork on the breast pockets.
“I, uh… I’m sorry but I like my trench coat.”
“Come on, Ronnie, we worked really hard on designing it for you!” said one of the women.
“The fans will love it too!” said another.
“It’s like you’re a tall slab of grade A beefsteak and you have no idea!” said a third.
And now he could feel two hot spots on his face.
“Ladies, I”
“I know it’s tough to embrace change after twenty one years.” Deanna had the honey tap opened to full dispensary. “Just please, please try it on.”
Ronnie stammered. All he could manage was a head shake.
“Well, we tried the easy way.” Deanna said, her voice now hiding a laugh. “Heidi?”
“Ronnie, how would you like to make a bet?” Heidi said, as she stood up.
“I wouldn’t.”
“Well, tell you what. I’ve been watching your matches, and I noticed you’ve actually trained grappling a little bit. You actually used a neck crank against Windsor. SO proud of you, I know it’s not your style but learning it can’t hurt. But since you have been practicing, how about this. We set this clock to 120 seconds. And then we roll. And if you’re not wearing the vest at the end of the 120 seconds, you don’t have to.”
“C’mon girls let’s move the couch!” Said another neighbor. A few seconds later, most of the living room was clear.
“I think my flight’s about to leave.” Ronnie said.
“No.” Deanna said.
Ronnie Long took one deep breath. He looked at his trench coat, hanging from the coat rack at the door. He looked at the leather vest, dangling from Heidi’s hand, and at the wide open living room.
And he decided to face death with as much dignity as he still could.
“Alright. Fine. Bring it.”
Exactly 94 seconds later.
“See, I TOLD you it would look good.”
Ronnie looked at his reflection in the full length mirror.
It… wasn’t terrible. Ronnie Long had never had a ton of muscular definition, but switching to the keto diet and not starting a ‘supplement’ cycle had leaned him up more than he had been during “those days” in the IWA.
“And it goes with the jeans, so it’s not like you have to get used to wrestling in trunks, let alone briefs. Though I personally wouldn’t complain.” Deanna was very pleased with herself, saucy even, as she strolled around him, inspecting. “A new look for a reinvigorated talent on the eve of the greatest triumph of his return to date. I think this is going to go over just fine.”
“I really thought I could last the 2 minutes.” Ronnie rubbed his neck.
“You’ve improved a lot. Back in DEF I could’ve done it in 30.” Heidi was now relaxing on HIS armchair.
“Listen to me Ron.” Deanna only used his shorter name when she was serious. “You look great, and you’re to go back to Halifax, absolutely fucking kill it, and bring a big gold belt home with you for us to admire, and I’ll make ham with peach glaze for dinner. Now own it, and go kick some ass.”
And the assembled women - even Heidi - let off a big round of applause and cheers. There might’ve been a few catcalls in there, but only good natured ones.
So Ronnie took a big formal bow, and vowed to hit Steve Awesome in the face a couple extra times for the sake of anyone who thought talking shit was a good idea.
Inside Ronnie’s old farmhouse in Georgia.
He’s sitting in an old brown leather armchair, a corded landline phone in his hand. Closer examination of the phone reveals that it’s a rotary phone.
It’s not old, it’s vintage.
“Well, because Steve Awesome said…”
Gus Arnold is a soft-spoken gentleman so there’s no comic double take where the phone blows up in incomprehensible static and Long winces. He does blink a couple times.
“Yeah, that’s all I wanted to know. Thanks. Sorry I brought it up.”
Click.
He turns his head to Deanna. She’d been standing behind the chair, rubbing his shoulders.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Alright sweetie. You have time to go get the fertilizer, right? Oh, pick up a ham and some greens, will you? Forgot to say, we’ve got company for dinner tonight.”
We could tell you the fascinating story of Ronnie Long making the 2 hour round trip to the Southeastern Farmer’s Co-Op in LaFayette and loading it up with bags of fertilizer, but instead, we’ll skip to later that evening, as he was driving up to his house.
‘Company’ had been an understatement. The driveway had half a dozen cars in it. And one of them made Ronnie’s blood run cold.
It was a white Mercedes Benz.
And that meant that one of the ‘guests’ was Heidi Christenson.
Now, Heidi was actually a very good friend of Ronnie’s. But, she was also friends with Deanna. When he wasn’t around, they tended to make ‘plans,’ and those plans, all too frequently, involved him being a guinea pig of some kind or other. And if you’re new here or just weren’t paying attention, Heidi’s a former stablemate of Ronnie’s, a former two time World Heavyweight Champion and one of the best mat grapplers the sport has ever seen.
None the less, he drove his pickup over to the tractor shed and walked back to the house.
“You’re back!”
Deanna said it too brightly. Way too brightly. Ronnie looked around.
Of all the guests, all of them were women. Heidi was there. Most of the rest were neighbors.
“What’s going on?” He asked.
“Ronnie…” Deanna’s voice was that too-sweet voice that any guy would recognize as the ‘I’m turning on the sugar before I ask you to do something I know you’re going to hate’ voice. “Since your wrestling comeback’s been going better than any of us expected-”
Quick sidenote. Farming communities tend to be close-knit. Every one of the Long’s neighbors know about Ronnie’s wrestling career even if they didn’t watch the promotions he was in, or weren’t fans of wrestling to begin with.
“And we wanted to throw you a little good luck party.”
“So… none of the guys came? And where do you want me to put the ham?”
“The ham is for your victory party. Or for your wake. Since if you lose to the likes of Steve Awesome I’m sure you’ll dive into the Pacific and never come up, and back in Georgia we’ll agree it was all for the best and try to remember the good times. But that won’t happen. Anyway, dinner tonight is keto burgers, you don’t need to be bloating before a title match.”
Ronnie just stood there.
“But we’ve also been talking… and we kind of decided something.”
And here it comes. Ronnie took a deep breath.
“You’ve been wrestling for 21 years, and aside from that short tag team run in IWA that we’re not going to talk about, you haven’t changed your look once.”
Ronnie looked over the women, and saw one more face that he recognized. It was Carrie Prodigy. She’d worked for Jeff Andrews in A*P, and was already planned for the DCW roster. (Prodigy was a wrestling gimmick name - her real last name was Prodoehl, but no one ever used it.) That wasn’t what turned his blood ice cold though. Carrie had two jobs. One was wrestling.
The other was wardrobe.
“And as women, we’ve decided that it’s time
for
the
trench coat
to
go.”
.
.
.
“No.”
Ronnie turned on his heel to leave.
Deanna just grabbed the collar of his shirt before he could.
“Oh don’t be like that. I already had your measurements, we did some consulting, and we just want to see you try something on, just really quick.”
Ronnie turned.
It was a leather vest. A sleeveless, cowboy type vest. It was pretty nice looking, actually - black leather (real leather), brass buttons down one side, some beadwork on the breast pockets.
“I, uh… I’m sorry but I like my trench coat.”
“Come on, Ronnie, we worked really hard on designing it for you!” said one of the women.
“The fans will love it too!” said another.
“It’s like you’re a tall slab of grade A beefsteak and you have no idea!” said a third.
And now he could feel two hot spots on his face.
“Ladies, I”
“I know it’s tough to embrace change after twenty one years.” Deanna had the honey tap opened to full dispensary. “Just please, please try it on.”
Ronnie stammered. All he could manage was a head shake.
“Well, we tried the easy way.” Deanna said, her voice now hiding a laugh. “Heidi?”
“Ronnie, how would you like to make a bet?” Heidi said, as she stood up.
“I wouldn’t.”
“Well, tell you what. I’ve been watching your matches, and I noticed you’ve actually trained grappling a little bit. You actually used a neck crank against Windsor. SO proud of you, I know it’s not your style but learning it can’t hurt. But since you have been practicing, how about this. We set this clock to 120 seconds. And then we roll. And if you’re not wearing the vest at the end of the 120 seconds, you don’t have to.”
“C’mon girls let’s move the couch!” Said another neighbor. A few seconds later, most of the living room was clear.
“I think my flight’s about to leave.” Ronnie said.
“No.” Deanna said.
Ronnie Long took one deep breath. He looked at his trench coat, hanging from the coat rack at the door. He looked at the leather vest, dangling from Heidi’s hand, and at the wide open living room.
And he decided to face death with as much dignity as he still could.
“Alright. Fine. Bring it.”
“See, I TOLD you it would look good.”
Ronnie looked at his reflection in the full length mirror.
It… wasn’t terrible. Ronnie Long had never had a ton of muscular definition, but switching to the keto diet and not starting a ‘supplement’ cycle had leaned him up more than he had been during “those days” in the IWA.
“And it goes with the jeans, so it’s not like you have to get used to wrestling in trunks, let alone briefs. Though I personally wouldn’t complain.” Deanna was very pleased with herself, saucy even, as she strolled around him, inspecting. “A new look for a reinvigorated talent on the eve of the greatest triumph of his return to date. I think this is going to go over just fine.”
“I really thought I could last the 2 minutes.” Ronnie rubbed his neck.
“You’ve improved a lot. Back in DEF I could’ve done it in 30.” Heidi was now relaxing on HIS armchair.
“Listen to me Ron.” Deanna only used his shorter name when she was serious. “You look great, and you’re to go back to Halifax, absolutely fucking kill it, and bring a big gold belt home with you for us to admire, and I’ll make ham with peach glaze for dinner. Now own it, and go kick some ass.”
And the assembled women - even Heidi - let off a big round of applause and cheers. There might’ve been a few catcalls in there, but only good natured ones.
So Ronnie took a big formal bow, and vowed to hit Steve Awesome in the face a couple extra times for the sake of anyone who thought talking shit was a good idea.
