Post by PIC on May 18, 2022 19:57:46 GMT -5
.::Well, it happened. I actually never thought I would do this again. I never thought I would let myself be exposed for all eyes to see after the events of the past. But, I had to. There wasn’t much choice. Call it fate, call it the Holy Spirit, call it what you will, but I know there is a guiding force beckoning me to emerge from the shadows. I thought wrestling was behind me, that it was this black mark on my past that could be erased and never mentioned again. But then OCW came to Africa, to the place I’ve called a home away from home these past few years, and I knew, the time for running was over. A new age in wrestling has begun…the age of Dogeron.::.
~Our scene opens on the same wide African plains we saw on Massacre this past Monday. The forest trees rustling in the wind behind a beautiful farm. We get a fuller picture than before, as we can see multiple hut-like structures scattered throughout the flatlands. Women and their daughters are busy working the gardens as before, but this time there are no children playing. It’s morning, it’s a week day. They’ve all walked the mile and a half to a one-room school house built by the Baptist missionaries, something fairly uncommon in a predominantly Muslim region. Two men are seen sitting in front of one of the huts on either side of a small fire. One man, bald with black skin, is wearing a gray polo shirt and jeans. He is lanky but not emaciated but his hands are cracked and weathered from years of physical labor. His feet are fitted with a pair of flip flops as he sits hunched over eating rice from a plate with his bare hands. Though difficult to determine, the multiple lines and cracks on his face suggest he’s in his late 50’s at least. The other man, the one we now know as Amick Dogeron, also sits eating rice from a plate of his own. He wears the same white beater and khakis we saw before, though this time is barefoot. The scene shows him from behind so we can’t get a good look at his face.~
African Man: Comment as-tu été mon ami ?
(How have you been my friend?)
Amick: Mieux vaut maintenant que je suis à la maison.
(Better now that I’m home.)
African Man: Domicile? Mon ami, tu es loin de chez toi.
(Home? My friend, you are a long way from your home.)
Amick: En anglais, on dit... la maison est là où le... rein est.
(In English, we say... home is where the... kidney is.)
African Man: Rein? Hahaha! Kidney! Home is where the kidney is?
~The African man begins to laugh hysterically. Though we can’t see Amick’s face, he shakes his head and smacks himself on the forehead.~
Amick: Ok, ok. We both know my French needs work. No need to laugh at my expense, Chima.
Chima: I, I thought I taught you better than that! Hahaha!
Amick: Well seeing as how you seem to know more English than I do French, maybe I’m just a better teacher.
Chima: Or a worse student!
Amick: Touché.
Chima: So you did learn something!
~Amick shakes his head again as Chima begins to belly laugh again. Amick reaches his hand across the fire and pats Chima on the shoulder.~
.::Trying to explain how I got here would take more time to explain than I could ever have. But I am here. Djibouti, Eastern Africa in general, has become my home away from home. I love the people, the sense of community that I get as I travel from village to village. It makes this world mean something. After what happened, I needed a break. I just never dreamed that break would last over 10 years. Now I find myself back in a world in which kindness and generosity are met with contempt. Where people who call themselves “The Dirtbag Kid” actually have some sort of a following. It’s sad what mainstream society has devolved into. If nothing else, I see this opportunity to return to the ring as a chance to bring light and positivity into a world that has seen nothing but darkness for far too long. I will use my strength, my wisdom, the growth from past mistakes and use them to find success on levels I’ve never been able to achieve in the past. At 41 years of age, it’s now or never. I look forward to seeing what this Dirtbag has to offer, and even more to pinning his shoulders to the mat for the 1…2…3.::.
~Chima laughs to the point of almost choking on his rice, spitting some out in the process. He takes a drink from a thermos sitting next to the fire as Amick lets out a laugh of his own.~
Amick: See, that’s what you get!
~Chima coughs a few more times, takes another drink, then sits his plate on the ground.~
Chima: Ok, ok! I have learned my lesson. No more…heckling?
Amick: I AM a better teacher!
Chima: Perhaps, but the man I first met all those years ago has come a long way, has he not?
Amick: I have. I have learned so much from you and your people. Though I came here to bring the good news to you, it was a time that I needed healing the most.
Chima: That is how the Father works. He brings the right people into our lives just when we need them. He works…
Amick: …in mysterious ways. You didn’t get that one from me.
Chima: No, I do not believe that is something that needs to be taught, just learned. I am proud of you though, Amick. I am proud of the person you have become, and I do think you are ready for this journey back into the wrestling world.
Amick: That makes one of us. I’m just not sure if this is the right move. I’ve spent years trying to erase the past and here I am about to jump right back into the same situations as before hoping to somehow reach different results.
Chima: You are not the same person you were before. You have grown.
Amick: Have I?
Chima: The man I met was broken but you, you have been redeemed.
Amick: I want this to work. Next week I’ve been booked in a match with someone who calls himself “The Dirtbag Kid”.
Chima: Dirt bag? Sac à poussière?
Amick: Not literally. It is a term in English used to describe a low-life. Basically someone who lies, cheats, steals, does whatever they want without any thought of how it will negatively affect those around them.
Chima: Connard?
Amick: Well, I wouldn’t exactly use that kind of language, but yes, basically. I don’t even know anything about the guy. Joining a company on a whim because of some Divine inspiration will do that I guess, put you in a position of walking into the lion’s den without knowing what is going on. It would be hard enough starting in a promotion where everyone is on an even playing field. I’m 41 and light years behind these others.
Chima: You are saying you are not confident in beating this… dirt bag?
Amick: Of course not. I may have a good bit of ring rust, but I’m certainly not scared of this guy, or anyone for that matter. I’m just saying it’s difficult to jump into something that brings up so many bad memories when you don’t know anyone.
Chima: We both know that is not true. I think there are several that would remember you if you would let them. They would embrace you for who you are, who you really are. It might be time for P…
Amick: I’m going to stop you right there. When I got my second chance in this life, that person was left in the past. Amick is here now.
Chima: For now, perhaps. But I believe soon, very soon, you’ll be asked to let down the mask once and for all and let them all see who I’ve been able to see all along.
Amick: I don’t know. I’m not ready for all of that. I just want to make it to Monday Massacre and take care of business with the Dirt Bag. All that other stuff can wait.
~Just then, the sound of children talking, singing, and laughing can be heard in the distance.~
Chima: Ahh, school is out! Are you ready?
Amick: Pour mon premier match retour, ou ces enfants ?
(For my first match back, or these children?)
Chima: Tous les deux!
(Both!)
~Chima sits back laughing once again as the sounds of the children begin to get louder and louder as they draw closer. In the distance, a cloud of dust begins to rise and through it bursts the faces of several wide-eyed, beautiful African children full of life and energy. The smiles on their faces and the chatter in their voices says more than a thousand words. They all make a bee line straight for Amick, who gathers as many as he can into his arms. A larger boy wearing a green and white striped shirt and khaki pants leaps into his arms, causing Amick and all of the children to fall backwards to the ground. Everyone is laughing, playing, and having a good time as our scene slowly fades to black.~
.::Last night marked the entry point of Amick Dogeron into Online Championship Wrestling. Where this ultimately goes is anyone’s guess. But I do know this. Next Monday, The Dirt Bag will be the first to feel defeat at the hands of Dogeron. It’s got nothing to do with him personally, but I am here for a reason, and that reason goes far beyond petty wins and losses against inferior talent. I’m aiming high, looking for opportunities to secure my legacy while bringing a sense of truth and nobility to a profession that has thrown those values away many years ago. It’s all about to change for the better. There will be a Massacre on Monday, and Dogeron will be ready.::.
~Our scene opens on the same wide African plains we saw on Massacre this past Monday. The forest trees rustling in the wind behind a beautiful farm. We get a fuller picture than before, as we can see multiple hut-like structures scattered throughout the flatlands. Women and their daughters are busy working the gardens as before, but this time there are no children playing. It’s morning, it’s a week day. They’ve all walked the mile and a half to a one-room school house built by the Baptist missionaries, something fairly uncommon in a predominantly Muslim region. Two men are seen sitting in front of one of the huts on either side of a small fire. One man, bald with black skin, is wearing a gray polo shirt and jeans. He is lanky but not emaciated but his hands are cracked and weathered from years of physical labor. His feet are fitted with a pair of flip flops as he sits hunched over eating rice from a plate with his bare hands. Though difficult to determine, the multiple lines and cracks on his face suggest he’s in his late 50’s at least. The other man, the one we now know as Amick Dogeron, also sits eating rice from a plate of his own. He wears the same white beater and khakis we saw before, though this time is barefoot. The scene shows him from behind so we can’t get a good look at his face.~
African Man: Comment as-tu été mon ami ?
(How have you been my friend?)
Amick: Mieux vaut maintenant que je suis à la maison.
(Better now that I’m home.)
African Man: Domicile? Mon ami, tu es loin de chez toi.
(Home? My friend, you are a long way from your home.)
Amick: En anglais, on dit... la maison est là où le... rein est.
(In English, we say... home is where the... kidney is.)
African Man: Rein? Hahaha! Kidney! Home is where the kidney is?
~The African man begins to laugh hysterically. Though we can’t see Amick’s face, he shakes his head and smacks himself on the forehead.~
Amick: Ok, ok. We both know my French needs work. No need to laugh at my expense, Chima.
Chima: I, I thought I taught you better than that! Hahaha!
Amick: Well seeing as how you seem to know more English than I do French, maybe I’m just a better teacher.
Chima: Or a worse student!
Amick: Touché.
Chima: So you did learn something!
~Amick shakes his head again as Chima begins to belly laugh again. Amick reaches his hand across the fire and pats Chima on the shoulder.~
.::Trying to explain how I got here would take more time to explain than I could ever have. But I am here. Djibouti, Eastern Africa in general, has become my home away from home. I love the people, the sense of community that I get as I travel from village to village. It makes this world mean something. After what happened, I needed a break. I just never dreamed that break would last over 10 years. Now I find myself back in a world in which kindness and generosity are met with contempt. Where people who call themselves “The Dirtbag Kid” actually have some sort of a following. It’s sad what mainstream society has devolved into. If nothing else, I see this opportunity to return to the ring as a chance to bring light and positivity into a world that has seen nothing but darkness for far too long. I will use my strength, my wisdom, the growth from past mistakes and use them to find success on levels I’ve never been able to achieve in the past. At 41 years of age, it’s now or never. I look forward to seeing what this Dirtbag has to offer, and even more to pinning his shoulders to the mat for the 1…2…3.::.
~Chima laughs to the point of almost choking on his rice, spitting some out in the process. He takes a drink from a thermos sitting next to the fire as Amick lets out a laugh of his own.~
Amick: See, that’s what you get!
~Chima coughs a few more times, takes another drink, then sits his plate on the ground.~
Chima: Ok, ok! I have learned my lesson. No more…heckling?
Amick: I AM a better teacher!
Chima: Perhaps, but the man I first met all those years ago has come a long way, has he not?
Amick: I have. I have learned so much from you and your people. Though I came here to bring the good news to you, it was a time that I needed healing the most.
Chima: That is how the Father works. He brings the right people into our lives just when we need them. He works…
Amick: …in mysterious ways. You didn’t get that one from me.
Chima: No, I do not believe that is something that needs to be taught, just learned. I am proud of you though, Amick. I am proud of the person you have become, and I do think you are ready for this journey back into the wrestling world.
Amick: That makes one of us. I’m just not sure if this is the right move. I’ve spent years trying to erase the past and here I am about to jump right back into the same situations as before hoping to somehow reach different results.
Chima: You are not the same person you were before. You have grown.
Amick: Have I?
Chima: The man I met was broken but you, you have been redeemed.
Amick: I want this to work. Next week I’ve been booked in a match with someone who calls himself “The Dirtbag Kid”.
Chima: Dirt bag? Sac à poussière?
Amick: Not literally. It is a term in English used to describe a low-life. Basically someone who lies, cheats, steals, does whatever they want without any thought of how it will negatively affect those around them.
Chima: Connard?
Amick: Well, I wouldn’t exactly use that kind of language, but yes, basically. I don’t even know anything about the guy. Joining a company on a whim because of some Divine inspiration will do that I guess, put you in a position of walking into the lion’s den without knowing what is going on. It would be hard enough starting in a promotion where everyone is on an even playing field. I’m 41 and light years behind these others.
Chima: You are saying you are not confident in beating this… dirt bag?
Amick: Of course not. I may have a good bit of ring rust, but I’m certainly not scared of this guy, or anyone for that matter. I’m just saying it’s difficult to jump into something that brings up so many bad memories when you don’t know anyone.
Chima: We both know that is not true. I think there are several that would remember you if you would let them. They would embrace you for who you are, who you really are. It might be time for P…
Amick: I’m going to stop you right there. When I got my second chance in this life, that person was left in the past. Amick is here now.
Chima: For now, perhaps. But I believe soon, very soon, you’ll be asked to let down the mask once and for all and let them all see who I’ve been able to see all along.
Amick: I don’t know. I’m not ready for all of that. I just want to make it to Monday Massacre and take care of business with the Dirt Bag. All that other stuff can wait.
~Just then, the sound of children talking, singing, and laughing can be heard in the distance.~
Chima: Ahh, school is out! Are you ready?
Amick: Pour mon premier match retour, ou ces enfants ?
(For my first match back, or these children?)
Chima: Tous les deux!
(Both!)
~Chima sits back laughing once again as the sounds of the children begin to get louder and louder as they draw closer. In the distance, a cloud of dust begins to rise and through it bursts the faces of several wide-eyed, beautiful African children full of life and energy. The smiles on their faces and the chatter in their voices says more than a thousand words. They all make a bee line straight for Amick, who gathers as many as he can into his arms. A larger boy wearing a green and white striped shirt and khaki pants leaps into his arms, causing Amick and all of the children to fall backwards to the ground. Everyone is laughing, playing, and having a good time as our scene slowly fades to black.~
.::Last night marked the entry point of Amick Dogeron into Online Championship Wrestling. Where this ultimately goes is anyone’s guess. But I do know this. Next Monday, The Dirt Bag will be the first to feel defeat at the hands of Dogeron. It’s got nothing to do with him personally, but I am here for a reason, and that reason goes far beyond petty wins and losses against inferior talent. I’m aiming high, looking for opportunities to secure my legacy while bringing a sense of truth and nobility to a profession that has thrown those values away many years ago. It’s all about to change for the better. There will be a Massacre on Monday, and Dogeron will be ready.::.