Post by Bob Grenier on May 14, 2024 10:43:20 GMT -5
Bob Grenier, The King of Bong Style, trudges through the muddy fields of his farm, his worn boots sink into the earth. Winter is a thing of the past and spring is upon us. He has just returned from another disappointing match, where he was defeated much better opponents. Opponents who were younger faster, faster and desired it more. The sting of defeat still lingers, and Bob can't shake the feeling of failure.
As he approaches his farmhouse, he notices the worn wooden door creaking in the wind. He pushees it open and steps inside, the silence envelopes him. He has no one to share his sorrows with, no one to offer a comforting word. He is alone. As he has been most of his adult life.
Bob slumps into his favorite armchair, the one with the torn upholstery, A reminder of the only true friend he has ever known, His Jack Russell terrier. He let out a deep sigh and Champ runs into the room and jumps into his owners lap. He groans as he feels the weight of his dog and the 42 years of his life catching up to him.
He lovingly strokes the little dogs head as he thinks back to his glory days, when he was a champion, when the crowds roared his name, and when he was the one winning.
Now, he has become a shadow of his former self, a has-been trying to cling to the past. He gazes out his window, watching the sun set over the field and he feels the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He doesn't let them fall.
"Why can't I just win one more time?" he whispers to his dog. His voice cracking with emotion. "Just one more time, Champ."
The silence of the farm always speaks the truth and provides the answers. Bob knows he has to face the truth: his time in the spotlight is probably over. It's not due to dwindling abilities, He can still slug it out and do the moves. Age has become a factor. He is 43 years old and he just can't keep up.
With his loyal companion cradled in his lap, In typical Bob fashion he takes a massive bong rip. As he exhales, he strokes Champs fur, finding comfort in the dog's presence. The silence of the farm is occasionally broken up by the occasional barking of dogs in the distance or the howling of coyotes.
Bob's thoughts drifted back to his latest match. The marijuana may dull the pain, but it doesn't erase the memories. It doesn't erase the memory of defeat after defeat, It doesn't dull the memory of the wife who left him or the numerous tragedies that have befell his family and left him alone.
Professional wrestling is all this man has. It's what defines him. Professional wrestling is what makes Bob Grenier who he is.
As he takes another blast from his bong, His mind started racing. He looks out his window at his farm, noting the open fields, The tree line and the old barn in the distance. A sudden idea strikes him like a thunderbolt.
"Why not?" he thinks to himself, a wicked grin spreads across his face. "Why not put on a show, right here on my own property?"
The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. With retirement a real possibility, A final hurrah, a sendoff to his career, and a chance to prove to himself that he still had it in him would be fitting. He could invite all his old buddies, and they could put on a show for the ages.
Bob's excitement grows as he looks out the window and thinks of all the possibilities. He could use the barn as the locker room set, Set up a makeshift ring, and even offer a BBQ and drinks to the audience. It would be a true farewell to his fans, and a chance to leave on his own terms in front of his own people. It could also go the other way and reinvigorate his career and give him new direction. However it shall play out, All he needs to do is defeat Crash Rodriguez to win this opportunity. No easy task.
As he approaches his farmhouse, he notices the worn wooden door creaking in the wind. He pushees it open and steps inside, the silence envelopes him. He has no one to share his sorrows with, no one to offer a comforting word. He is alone. As he has been most of his adult life.
Bob slumps into his favorite armchair, the one with the torn upholstery, A reminder of the only true friend he has ever known, His Jack Russell terrier. He let out a deep sigh and Champ runs into the room and jumps into his owners lap. He groans as he feels the weight of his dog and the 42 years of his life catching up to him.
He lovingly strokes the little dogs head as he thinks back to his glory days, when he was a champion, when the crowds roared his name, and when he was the one winning.
Now, he has become a shadow of his former self, a has-been trying to cling to the past. He gazes out his window, watching the sun set over the field and he feels the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He doesn't let them fall.
"Why can't I just win one more time?" he whispers to his dog. His voice cracking with emotion. "Just one more time, Champ."
The silence of the farm always speaks the truth and provides the answers. Bob knows he has to face the truth: his time in the spotlight is probably over. It's not due to dwindling abilities, He can still slug it out and do the moves. Age has become a factor. He is 43 years old and he just can't keep up.
With his loyal companion cradled in his lap, In typical Bob fashion he takes a massive bong rip. As he exhales, he strokes Champs fur, finding comfort in the dog's presence. The silence of the farm is occasionally broken up by the occasional barking of dogs in the distance or the howling of coyotes.
Bob's thoughts drifted back to his latest match. The marijuana may dull the pain, but it doesn't erase the memories. It doesn't erase the memory of defeat after defeat, It doesn't dull the memory of the wife who left him or the numerous tragedies that have befell his family and left him alone.
Professional wrestling is all this man has. It's what defines him. Professional wrestling is what makes Bob Grenier who he is.
As he takes another blast from his bong, His mind started racing. He looks out his window at his farm, noting the open fields, The tree line and the old barn in the distance. A sudden idea strikes him like a thunderbolt.
"Why not?" he thinks to himself, a wicked grin spreads across his face. "Why not put on a show, right here on my own property?"
The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. With retirement a real possibility, A final hurrah, a sendoff to his career, and a chance to prove to himself that he still had it in him would be fitting. He could invite all his old buddies, and they could put on a show for the ages.
Bob's excitement grows as he looks out the window and thinks of all the possibilities. He could use the barn as the locker room set, Set up a makeshift ring, and even offer a BBQ and drinks to the audience. It would be a true farewell to his fans, and a chance to leave on his own terms in front of his own people. It could also go the other way and reinvigorate his career and give him new direction. However it shall play out, All he needs to do is defeat Crash Rodriguez to win this opportunity. No easy task.