Post by Marcus Welsh on Jan 9, 2020 1:01:05 GMT -5
The Tennessee Titans was able to shockingly defeat the New England Patriots on wildcard Saturday evening. We could be witnessing the end of an era. The stake drove right into the heart of the dynasty. Nobody gave the Titans a chance. Their quarterback is used, washed up goods. But what happened? They went into the heart of Massachusetts and did the unthinkable and ripped the Patriots apart enroute to the second round of the post season. Perhaps, to the start of their own dynasty.
Someone else from Tennessee has been looked upon as used goods, washed up, and underdog for the last 10-years. And what typically happens when he’s doubted? He fucking wins, that’s what!
Who is that, you ask?
CHAD FUCKING VARGAS. The Pride of Tennessee himself. One last hoorah. Why not? The semi-retired southern gentleman has been working with the GCWA since OCW closed its doors. But wouldn’t you know it? Marcus Welsh comes a’calling when you least expect it. One last OCW dance. It’s no secret that Chad Vargas, and his agent Mr. Treat Cassidy have absolutely no love for Mr. Welsh. Say what you want about him, but Chad Vargas bleeds red, and red will always be OCW. Whenever or wherever there is a door open at Online Championship Wrestling, you can most definitely count THE CONFEDERATE ICON in. And, consider him fuckin’ in, bitches.
Welsh closed OCW with little warning back in August. Not even six months have passed, the New Year beckons, and someone is feeling nostalgic. So what does he do? He thumbs through his rolodex and reaches out to all his top players for one final dance. OCW’s swan song, if you will. But it’s fitting, because it will likely be the last time Chad Vargas laces his boots for Online Championship Wrestling. Truly bittersweet, but there’s something about it that is indescribable. All the times OCW brass have bent Vargas over the barrel, wouldn’t it be something else if he came out on top, winning the farewell bid? The crowning achievement, if you will.
The tricky, yet equally interesting part of this booking is the fact that nobody knows exactly who is going to be in the match. All we we’re told by Welsh’s goons was simply: A tournament style battle royal. An entrant comes to the ring every 30 minutes. Nobody knows how many entries there will be, and nobody knows WHO the entries are? It’s very much a different animal, but – say what you want about Welsh, he is very much the innovator of professional wrestling, he always finds a way to stay relevant, and he always finds a way to sell tickets. The caveat to that is, he likes to sell tickets on the broad back of CHAD VARGAS.
But hey, who doesn’t like to turn a profit?
The scene opens to a bar in downtown Nashville, Tennessee. Music City baby. Chad Vargas sits at one end of the bar. A bottle of Jim Beam sits before him. The crowd erupts at the site of THE CONFEDERATE ICON.
What can we say? It’s been awhile since we’ve seen someone of Vargas’ stature in OCW. With pitiful fucks such as Mike Best and Eric Dane taking front and center during the days of OCW’s closure. Vargas is a God amongst men, whilst hated by most fans, you cannot help but respect him for what he’s about, and what he’s done for the business of OCW and professional wrestling as a whole.
Vargas is dressed down this evening, with a pair of torn blue jeans and a freshly starched white t-shirt. His muscles ripped and glisten under the neon lights of the bar. For 45 years old, he looks fully in his prime. The glowing from his eyes we can tell he’s got a good buzz already going. He grabs the bottle of Jim Beam and pulls off the cap. He looks around for a glass, the bartender is busy with some broad with big tits. With a shrug, Vargas takes a haul straight off the bottle. He leans back on the bar stool, as Dwight Yoakam’s “Guitars, Cadillac’s” plays on the juke box.
What? Would you pussy Eric Dane fans rather The King of Professional Wrestling sitting at Starbucks? I figured as much.
Vargas pushes himself up against the bar and scans the room.
Vargas: Put your hair down, take off your socks, sit back and relax, I’m fixing to tell you a story. The life and times of Chad F’N Vargas!
Some preppy kid sitting a couple seats down from Vargas turns around and rolls his eyes at him. He smirks arrogantly, but before he can turn back to face the bar, Vargas BITCHSLAPS him as hard as humanly possible. This poor kid falls backwards onto the floor. His eyes are now rolled back into his head fully as he begins convulsing on the floor. Everyone in the bar totally no sells the situation as everyone goes about their business while this punk ass frat boy lies on the floor having a seizure. A drunk hillbilly local named Ronnie laughs and spits his chaw on the sorry sack of shit.
Ronnie: GET ‘EM CHAD!
Vargas smiles accordingly.
Vargas: As I was saying. This is going to be a hell of a match up to finally put my OCW career to bed. It would be a dream come true if I could finally go out on top. I’ve been fucked so many times, I can honestly say without hesitation that it’s an unlikely scenario. Matt Meyhu and Ian Bishop, the two golden boys will be hard to beat if they’re apart of this dance, of course not based upon work ethic or talent, but because they have those beautiful DSL’s. And we all know how Welsh likes a nice pair of DICK SUCKIN’ LIPS! Come to think of it, I don’t think neither Meyhu OR Bishop has ever worked a day in their pitiful lives. I’m talking assholes and elbows. The real deal. Head down, ass up – beating the fuckin’ pavement, busting your ass all fucking day. Blood, sweat, and tears. The whole nine. NO. Neither of those two ---gots ever worked a day in their lives. It makes me sick. And Ian Bishop, that pathetic motherfucker is clueless in the real world. That bitch is so soft. Liberal bleeding heart bitch. I pray he’s in this match so I can finally break his jaw. Thinks he’s something else because he pretends to do cocaine…
Vargas laughs uncontrollably as he takes another shot of Beam.
Vargas: That dumb motherfucker wouldn’t know what coke was if it came up and grabbed him by the balls! What a fucking poser! He’s the type of pussy that gets married and takes his wife’s last name! Or, WORSE! Hyphenates his! Matt Meyhu is the same. Meyhu is the type of guy that rehashing the same old shit everytime he’s in front of a microphone. Good God, I’d rather slice my own throat then ever listen to anything he has to say!
Vargas watches some obese slam pig blonde walk by. She smiles at him showing off her missing front tooth. As grossed out as he is, Vargas musters a friendly nod.
Vargas: God damn. Now that’s Ian Bishop type real estate right there. Holy fuck that bitch is dog ugly. I would say the same about Eric Dane, but that cocksucker would rather be fucking a skinny jean hipster ---got. Someone once told me his pathetic son was a homosexual that’s why he was so butt hurt about the F word. Fuck? No sir, ---got. He lost his mind when I quoted Leviticus. You know Leviticus? Yes sir, that’s right. The Lord and Savior Jesus Christ despises ----. So what’s that mean exactly? Well, he hates Eric Dane’s ---got ass son AND he sure as fuck hates Dane equally as much for raising such a limp wristed fairy. DEATH TO ALL QUEERS!
Vargas says the last four words a little too loud, at first he’s a little nervous but then he realizes he’s in Tennessee. He pounds his first as everyone in the bar pops.
Ronnie: FUCK ----!!!
Jimbo: DEATH TO ALL HOMOS!!!
Bartender: HETRO PRIDE!!! EVERYONE GETS A ROUND ON ME!!! ALL HAIL CHAD VARGAS!!!
Vargas smirks arrogantly, soaking in all the Tennessee love.
Vargas: That means you too, Dangerous Dan. Kill your fucking self!
There’s an awkward silence for a couple of seconds, as if Vargas may have crossed the line.
Crowd: Nah…
Bartender: Ay, Chad – What bout Mike Best? Ain’t he supposed to be summin’ special? What if he in the match? Worried?
Vargas laughs.
Vargas: Who?
Bartender: Mike Best? Think that his name?
Vargas: OHHH that fuckin’ guy. The guy that is supposedly some wrestling elite yet still lives in ma and pa Best’s basement. He’s supposedly something special with his one liners and his long winded rants. I’ve taken shits more intimidating then that bag sniffer. I hope Mike Best is actually a part of this match so I can rip his larynx out and eat it right in front of him, and then fuck his mother in her fat ass while he struggles to speak without his voice box. FUCK Mike Best!
Man, Chad Vargas is in rare form tonight. Vintage.
Vargas: If OCW rebooted full time tomorrow, there would be nobody man enough to carry the company into the roaring 20s. Nobody strong enough to go out night after night and put their bodies on the line. These young bucks ain’t got the work ethic, they ain’t got the charisma. They ain’t got the cock size either. Chad Vargas will always be the face of OCW. 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, or 2035. Chad Vargas is OCW. You don’t like it? Then tune into Mike Best’s shitty promotion and watch him book his boyfriends in title matches week after week. Nobody can EVER belittle my accomplishments because I did it the old fashion way. I fought tooth and nail to climb the ladder of success. I gave it my all every night of the week and left it all out in the ring. There’s nobody that can say any different. Past or present. A lot of people don’t like my methods or agree with my way of thinking, but there ain’t NOBODY in the industry that can say I’m not the hardest working motherfucker behind the curtain. I go the extra mile each and every time my name is on the card, whether I’m on top or bottom of the show. WEAK ASS BOOKING or not, I’m the one constant and I will always be remembered for that. If I died tomorrow my epitaph would read:
‘DILIGENT HARD WORKING SOUTHERN BAD ASS. KILLER OF MEN’
Don’t believe me? Muckle on and see what the fuck happens. I AM The Jesse James of Professional Wrestling. Public Enemy #1, ain’t no one can hold a candle to my fucking skill. Not Matt Meyhu, Big Bifford, Mack O’Connor, NOOONE.
Vargas is working up a sweat, getting carried away and very much intense with the way he’s talking about his career. He takes a deep breath, and wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead as he takes another haul off the Beam bottle. He takes another deep breath. Before he can continue, a sharp dressed man walks into the picture and smiles at Vargas. Vargas can’t help but to crack a smile and remove himself from the seriousness he finds himself in. Treat Cassidy walks up to the bar and takes a seat next to Vargas. The two shake hands. These two have been through thick and thin with one another. Say what you want about either man, but there has never been a bounced check between either men.
Bartender: Hi, sir. What can I get for you? A friend of Chad’s is a friend of mine.
Cassidy is almost offended that this hillbilly fuck doesn’t recognize him.
Cassidy: Yes sir. I’ll have a dirty thirty please. Less ice.
The bartender is completely taken back. He looks at Chad, who shrugs and then back at Cassidy. He is staring holes through Cassidy really not knowing what to think.
Bartender: A dirty thirty? Uh…
Cassidy scoffs.
Cassidy: Gin and cranberry juice please, light ice.
Vargas: What a fuckin’ ---. You’re embarrassing me!
Cassidy smiles.
Cassidy: Please and thank you.
Bartender: Uhh… No sweat. Coming right up.
The bartender eyes Vargas as if to say ‘Whats up with your friend’? He quickly fucks off to fix Treat’s drink.
Vargas: Don’t come in here and order that fruity homo shit Treat, what the fuck?
Cassidy: I see you haven’t changed any. It’s 2020, Chad. Your distaste for gay people really should dissipate. Don’t be such a homophobe. Plus, it’s delicious.
Vargas: A homophobe?
Cassidy: Yes, it’s a person with dislike or prejudice against gay people.
Vargas: Well I hate ----. So count me in.
Cassidy shakes his head in disgust.
Cassidy: What else is new? Anyway, as much as you despise gay people, I absolutely despise this town and this state, so let’s get down to business.
Vargas: I oughta knock you out for that. Ain’t nowhere better then MUSIC CITY. But, I’ll let it slide this one time.
Cassidy laughs.
Cassidy: So I reached out to the OCW front office, nobody is giving anyone much information. The payout is 20K just to show up, with an additional 50K to the winner. I couldn’t get any information from Mack if he is participating or not, when I reached out he told me to go F myself, so I’m assuming he will likely be apart of the match. It’s a good payday win or lose, and we both know he’ll do anything for a buck.
Vargas: Okay so, maybe a Mack O’Connor sighting. He will likely be my stiffest competition.
Cassidy nods in agreement.
Cassidy: He is technically still the reigning OCW champion. If you were to take this home, I dare say I would petition the OCW to present you with the OCW championship. Chad Vargas being the final OCW World Heavyweight championship would sure be an alluring thought. Talk about going out ON TOP. But, no, I haven’t gotten any information from Marcus Welsh or Mike Zybala. I even reached out to Jock Reasoning.
Vargas: What did Jock say?
Cassidy: His number has been disconnected. This is a real top secret operation, I’m not sure what’s gonna go down. Nobody has even revealed the venue. Word has it Welsh and his associates have reached out to 20-30 of OCW’s best for their participation. Past and present.
The bartender comes back with Cassidy’s drink. He presents it to him on a napkin and slides it over to him with his finger.
Bartender: There you go, sir. Your…uh… dirty thirty.
Cassidy smiles widely as he takes a sip from the drink, out of a straw of course.
Cassidy: Mmm delicious!
The bartender and Vargas exchange looks. Vargas shakes his head.
Vargas: What a ---!
Cassidy: Whatever. I have expensive taste, sue me.
Vargas laughs.
Vargas: Uh huh, WHATEVER. What about Bob Grenier?
Cassidy: What about him? Last I heard he was in jail and homeless. When I got word he got locked up, I sent a guy up to Canada to bail him out but whatever he did was bad enough to not be granted bail. I lost track of him, whether he’s still in jail or not I’m not fully sure. So, it’s possible he could be there.
Vargas nods.
Vargas: Why ain’t you been to any of my GCWA matches?
Cassidy rolls his eyes as he takes another sip off his fruity drink.
Cassidy: Let’s not get into this here. You never consulted with me when signing your contract. Plus from what I hear from Lincoln Burrows, you’ve been VERY flaky. You could be GCWA champion, but your head isn’t in it. I’m surprised you accepted this offer, even. You need to get your head in the game.
Vargas: No, you need to get YOURS in the game! Shows what you know, some mastermind you are, I’m facing Bob Grenier next Friday night on GCWA’s show, Inferno. He’s NOT in jail, fucker!
Cassidy looks down at the bar and runs his hand through his hair, taking another draw off his drink, clearly embarrassed.
Cassidy: OK. Fine. You got me there. Let’s see how you do with this, I want you to get back into the game fully. Even with this one off match, you can admit you haven’t given GCWA your full attention. Let’s see how this goes, and maybe I can negotiate you some more cashflow within GCWA.
Vargas nods.
Cassidy: There could be a lot of big names in this match. You need to be ready for anything.
Vargas: Nobody threatens me. This is my climax. It doesn’t matter, win lose or draw, this is the last chapter of the book of Chad Vargas. Mack O’Connor or Bob Grenier. Doesn’t worry me much, as good as they are I’ve beat them both hundreds of times. Any of these new people, I’m not sweating them either. That little hoe Lilith? If she’s in the match I’ll pinch her titty and drop her with THE STROKE right off the rip.
Vargas and Cassidy share a laugh.
Vargas: Lurrr, Paul Paras, Mario Maurako, Pryde, Silver Freak? I would be forever grateful to share the ring with them boys one more time. It doesn’t matter if I stick with GCWA or find a new place to hang my hat, my career really lives or dies with OCW. So to me, this is it. I ain’t getting no younger, and I ain’t got nothing else to prove to anyone else. Ain’t nobody ever gonna hear me say this publically, but I want to know I can still get the job done for myself. I want to line up the big names and put ‘em down. So, Treat, let’s finish up these drinks and get on the plane and head on down the road to see what this mysterious OCW show has in store for us. And hey, KING KONG AIN’T GOT SHIT ON ME!!!
Vargas kills the rest of the bottle of Jim Beam and slams it onto the bar. He raises his arms in the air as if he just won a match, and the crowd in the bar hoots and hollers and cheers for their God.
Someone else from Tennessee has been looked upon as used goods, washed up, and underdog for the last 10-years. And what typically happens when he’s doubted? He fucking wins, that’s what!
Who is that, you ask?
CHAD FUCKING VARGAS. The Pride of Tennessee himself. One last hoorah. Why not? The semi-retired southern gentleman has been working with the GCWA since OCW closed its doors. But wouldn’t you know it? Marcus Welsh comes a’calling when you least expect it. One last OCW dance. It’s no secret that Chad Vargas, and his agent Mr. Treat Cassidy have absolutely no love for Mr. Welsh. Say what you want about him, but Chad Vargas bleeds red, and red will always be OCW. Whenever or wherever there is a door open at Online Championship Wrestling, you can most definitely count THE CONFEDERATE ICON in. And, consider him fuckin’ in, bitches.
Welsh closed OCW with little warning back in August. Not even six months have passed, the New Year beckons, and someone is feeling nostalgic. So what does he do? He thumbs through his rolodex and reaches out to all his top players for one final dance. OCW’s swan song, if you will. But it’s fitting, because it will likely be the last time Chad Vargas laces his boots for Online Championship Wrestling. Truly bittersweet, but there’s something about it that is indescribable. All the times OCW brass have bent Vargas over the barrel, wouldn’t it be something else if he came out on top, winning the farewell bid? The crowning achievement, if you will.
The tricky, yet equally interesting part of this booking is the fact that nobody knows exactly who is going to be in the match. All we we’re told by Welsh’s goons was simply: A tournament style battle royal. An entrant comes to the ring every 30 minutes. Nobody knows how many entries there will be, and nobody knows WHO the entries are? It’s very much a different animal, but – say what you want about Welsh, he is very much the innovator of professional wrestling, he always finds a way to stay relevant, and he always finds a way to sell tickets. The caveat to that is, he likes to sell tickets on the broad back of CHAD VARGAS.
But hey, who doesn’t like to turn a profit?
The scene opens to a bar in downtown Nashville, Tennessee. Music City baby. Chad Vargas sits at one end of the bar. A bottle of Jim Beam sits before him. The crowd erupts at the site of THE CONFEDERATE ICON.
What can we say? It’s been awhile since we’ve seen someone of Vargas’ stature in OCW. With pitiful fucks such as Mike Best and Eric Dane taking front and center during the days of OCW’s closure. Vargas is a God amongst men, whilst hated by most fans, you cannot help but respect him for what he’s about, and what he’s done for the business of OCW and professional wrestling as a whole.
Vargas is dressed down this evening, with a pair of torn blue jeans and a freshly starched white t-shirt. His muscles ripped and glisten under the neon lights of the bar. For 45 years old, he looks fully in his prime. The glowing from his eyes we can tell he’s got a good buzz already going. He grabs the bottle of Jim Beam and pulls off the cap. He looks around for a glass, the bartender is busy with some broad with big tits. With a shrug, Vargas takes a haul straight off the bottle. He leans back on the bar stool, as Dwight Yoakam’s “Guitars, Cadillac’s” plays on the juke box.
What? Would you pussy Eric Dane fans rather The King of Professional Wrestling sitting at Starbucks? I figured as much.
Vargas pushes himself up against the bar and scans the room.
Vargas: Put your hair down, take off your socks, sit back and relax, I’m fixing to tell you a story. The life and times of Chad F’N Vargas!
Some preppy kid sitting a couple seats down from Vargas turns around and rolls his eyes at him. He smirks arrogantly, but before he can turn back to face the bar, Vargas BITCHSLAPS him as hard as humanly possible. This poor kid falls backwards onto the floor. His eyes are now rolled back into his head fully as he begins convulsing on the floor. Everyone in the bar totally no sells the situation as everyone goes about their business while this punk ass frat boy lies on the floor having a seizure. A drunk hillbilly local named Ronnie laughs and spits his chaw on the sorry sack of shit.
Ronnie: GET ‘EM CHAD!
Vargas smiles accordingly.
Vargas: As I was saying. This is going to be a hell of a match up to finally put my OCW career to bed. It would be a dream come true if I could finally go out on top. I’ve been fucked so many times, I can honestly say without hesitation that it’s an unlikely scenario. Matt Meyhu and Ian Bishop, the two golden boys will be hard to beat if they’re apart of this dance, of course not based upon work ethic or talent, but because they have those beautiful DSL’s. And we all know how Welsh likes a nice pair of DICK SUCKIN’ LIPS! Come to think of it, I don’t think neither Meyhu OR Bishop has ever worked a day in their pitiful lives. I’m talking assholes and elbows. The real deal. Head down, ass up – beating the fuckin’ pavement, busting your ass all fucking day. Blood, sweat, and tears. The whole nine. NO. Neither of those two ---gots ever worked a day in their lives. It makes me sick. And Ian Bishop, that pathetic motherfucker is clueless in the real world. That bitch is so soft. Liberal bleeding heart bitch. I pray he’s in this match so I can finally break his jaw. Thinks he’s something else because he pretends to do cocaine…
Vargas laughs uncontrollably as he takes another shot of Beam.
Vargas: That dumb motherfucker wouldn’t know what coke was if it came up and grabbed him by the balls! What a fucking poser! He’s the type of pussy that gets married and takes his wife’s last name! Or, WORSE! Hyphenates his! Matt Meyhu is the same. Meyhu is the type of guy that rehashing the same old shit everytime he’s in front of a microphone. Good God, I’d rather slice my own throat then ever listen to anything he has to say!
Vargas watches some obese slam pig blonde walk by. She smiles at him showing off her missing front tooth. As grossed out as he is, Vargas musters a friendly nod.
Vargas: God damn. Now that’s Ian Bishop type real estate right there. Holy fuck that bitch is dog ugly. I would say the same about Eric Dane, but that cocksucker would rather be fucking a skinny jean hipster ---got. Someone once told me his pathetic son was a homosexual that’s why he was so butt hurt about the F word. Fuck? No sir, ---got. He lost his mind when I quoted Leviticus. You know Leviticus? Yes sir, that’s right. The Lord and Savior Jesus Christ despises ----. So what’s that mean exactly? Well, he hates Eric Dane’s ---got ass son AND he sure as fuck hates Dane equally as much for raising such a limp wristed fairy. DEATH TO ALL QUEERS!
Vargas says the last four words a little too loud, at first he’s a little nervous but then he realizes he’s in Tennessee. He pounds his first as everyone in the bar pops.
Ronnie: FUCK ----!!!
Jimbo: DEATH TO ALL HOMOS!!!
Bartender: HETRO PRIDE!!! EVERYONE GETS A ROUND ON ME!!! ALL HAIL CHAD VARGAS!!!
Vargas smirks arrogantly, soaking in all the Tennessee love.
Vargas: That means you too, Dangerous Dan. Kill your fucking self!
There’s an awkward silence for a couple of seconds, as if Vargas may have crossed the line.
Crowd: Nah…
Bartender: Ay, Chad – What bout Mike Best? Ain’t he supposed to be summin’ special? What if he in the match? Worried?
Vargas laughs.
Vargas: Who?
Bartender: Mike Best? Think that his name?
Vargas: OHHH that fuckin’ guy. The guy that is supposedly some wrestling elite yet still lives in ma and pa Best’s basement. He’s supposedly something special with his one liners and his long winded rants. I’ve taken shits more intimidating then that bag sniffer. I hope Mike Best is actually a part of this match so I can rip his larynx out and eat it right in front of him, and then fuck his mother in her fat ass while he struggles to speak without his voice box. FUCK Mike Best!
Man, Chad Vargas is in rare form tonight. Vintage.
Vargas: If OCW rebooted full time tomorrow, there would be nobody man enough to carry the company into the roaring 20s. Nobody strong enough to go out night after night and put their bodies on the line. These young bucks ain’t got the work ethic, they ain’t got the charisma. They ain’t got the cock size either. Chad Vargas will always be the face of OCW. 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, or 2035. Chad Vargas is OCW. You don’t like it? Then tune into Mike Best’s shitty promotion and watch him book his boyfriends in title matches week after week. Nobody can EVER belittle my accomplishments because I did it the old fashion way. I fought tooth and nail to climb the ladder of success. I gave it my all every night of the week and left it all out in the ring. There’s nobody that can say any different. Past or present. A lot of people don’t like my methods or agree with my way of thinking, but there ain’t NOBODY in the industry that can say I’m not the hardest working motherfucker behind the curtain. I go the extra mile each and every time my name is on the card, whether I’m on top or bottom of the show. WEAK ASS BOOKING or not, I’m the one constant and I will always be remembered for that. If I died tomorrow my epitaph would read:
‘DILIGENT HARD WORKING SOUTHERN BAD ASS. KILLER OF MEN’
Don’t believe me? Muckle on and see what the fuck happens. I AM The Jesse James of Professional Wrestling. Public Enemy #1, ain’t no one can hold a candle to my fucking skill. Not Matt Meyhu, Big Bifford, Mack O’Connor, NOOONE.
Vargas is working up a sweat, getting carried away and very much intense with the way he’s talking about his career. He takes a deep breath, and wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead as he takes another haul off the Beam bottle. He takes another deep breath. Before he can continue, a sharp dressed man walks into the picture and smiles at Vargas. Vargas can’t help but to crack a smile and remove himself from the seriousness he finds himself in. Treat Cassidy walks up to the bar and takes a seat next to Vargas. The two shake hands. These two have been through thick and thin with one another. Say what you want about either man, but there has never been a bounced check between either men.
Bartender: Hi, sir. What can I get for you? A friend of Chad’s is a friend of mine.
Cassidy is almost offended that this hillbilly fuck doesn’t recognize him.
Cassidy: Yes sir. I’ll have a dirty thirty please. Less ice.
The bartender is completely taken back. He looks at Chad, who shrugs and then back at Cassidy. He is staring holes through Cassidy really not knowing what to think.
Bartender: A dirty thirty? Uh…
Cassidy scoffs.
Cassidy: Gin and cranberry juice please, light ice.
Vargas: What a fuckin’ ---. You’re embarrassing me!
Cassidy smiles.
Cassidy: Please and thank you.
Bartender: Uhh… No sweat. Coming right up.
The bartender eyes Vargas as if to say ‘Whats up with your friend’? He quickly fucks off to fix Treat’s drink.
Vargas: Don’t come in here and order that fruity homo shit Treat, what the fuck?
Cassidy: I see you haven’t changed any. It’s 2020, Chad. Your distaste for gay people really should dissipate. Don’t be such a homophobe. Plus, it’s delicious.
Vargas: A homophobe?
Cassidy: Yes, it’s a person with dislike or prejudice against gay people.
Vargas: Well I hate ----. So count me in.
Cassidy shakes his head in disgust.
Cassidy: What else is new? Anyway, as much as you despise gay people, I absolutely despise this town and this state, so let’s get down to business.
Vargas: I oughta knock you out for that. Ain’t nowhere better then MUSIC CITY. But, I’ll let it slide this one time.
Cassidy laughs.
Cassidy: So I reached out to the OCW front office, nobody is giving anyone much information. The payout is 20K just to show up, with an additional 50K to the winner. I couldn’t get any information from Mack if he is participating or not, when I reached out he told me to go F myself, so I’m assuming he will likely be apart of the match. It’s a good payday win or lose, and we both know he’ll do anything for a buck.
Vargas: Okay so, maybe a Mack O’Connor sighting. He will likely be my stiffest competition.
Cassidy nods in agreement.
Cassidy: He is technically still the reigning OCW champion. If you were to take this home, I dare say I would petition the OCW to present you with the OCW championship. Chad Vargas being the final OCW World Heavyweight championship would sure be an alluring thought. Talk about going out ON TOP. But, no, I haven’t gotten any information from Marcus Welsh or Mike Zybala. I even reached out to Jock Reasoning.
Vargas: What did Jock say?
Cassidy: His number has been disconnected. This is a real top secret operation, I’m not sure what’s gonna go down. Nobody has even revealed the venue. Word has it Welsh and his associates have reached out to 20-30 of OCW’s best for their participation. Past and present.
The bartender comes back with Cassidy’s drink. He presents it to him on a napkin and slides it over to him with his finger.
Bartender: There you go, sir. Your…uh… dirty thirty.
Cassidy smiles widely as he takes a sip from the drink, out of a straw of course.
Cassidy: Mmm delicious!
The bartender and Vargas exchange looks. Vargas shakes his head.
Vargas: What a ---!
Cassidy: Whatever. I have expensive taste, sue me.
Vargas laughs.
Vargas: Uh huh, WHATEVER. What about Bob Grenier?
Cassidy: What about him? Last I heard he was in jail and homeless. When I got word he got locked up, I sent a guy up to Canada to bail him out but whatever he did was bad enough to not be granted bail. I lost track of him, whether he’s still in jail or not I’m not fully sure. So, it’s possible he could be there.
Vargas nods.
Vargas: Why ain’t you been to any of my GCWA matches?
Cassidy rolls his eyes as he takes another sip off his fruity drink.
Cassidy: Let’s not get into this here. You never consulted with me when signing your contract. Plus from what I hear from Lincoln Burrows, you’ve been VERY flaky. You could be GCWA champion, but your head isn’t in it. I’m surprised you accepted this offer, even. You need to get your head in the game.
Vargas: No, you need to get YOURS in the game! Shows what you know, some mastermind you are, I’m facing Bob Grenier next Friday night on GCWA’s show, Inferno. He’s NOT in jail, fucker!
Cassidy looks down at the bar and runs his hand through his hair, taking another draw off his drink, clearly embarrassed.
Cassidy: OK. Fine. You got me there. Let’s see how you do with this, I want you to get back into the game fully. Even with this one off match, you can admit you haven’t given GCWA your full attention. Let’s see how this goes, and maybe I can negotiate you some more cashflow within GCWA.
Vargas nods.
Cassidy: There could be a lot of big names in this match. You need to be ready for anything.
Vargas: Nobody threatens me. This is my climax. It doesn’t matter, win lose or draw, this is the last chapter of the book of Chad Vargas. Mack O’Connor or Bob Grenier. Doesn’t worry me much, as good as they are I’ve beat them both hundreds of times. Any of these new people, I’m not sweating them either. That little hoe Lilith? If she’s in the match I’ll pinch her titty and drop her with THE STROKE right off the rip.
Vargas and Cassidy share a laugh.
Vargas: Lurrr, Paul Paras, Mario Maurako, Pryde, Silver Freak? I would be forever grateful to share the ring with them boys one more time. It doesn’t matter if I stick with GCWA or find a new place to hang my hat, my career really lives or dies with OCW. So to me, this is it. I ain’t getting no younger, and I ain’t got nothing else to prove to anyone else. Ain’t nobody ever gonna hear me say this publically, but I want to know I can still get the job done for myself. I want to line up the big names and put ‘em down. So, Treat, let’s finish up these drinks and get on the plane and head on down the road to see what this mysterious OCW show has in store for us. And hey, KING KONG AIN’T GOT SHIT ON ME!!!
Vargas kills the rest of the bottle of Jim Beam and slams it onto the bar. He raises his arms in the air as if he just won a match, and the crowd in the bar hoots and hollers and cheers for their God.