Illusions... (Part 1 of 2)

[PIC]

“In a world where illusion is preferred to reality, the illusionists have the most control.” - Kent Thune

—December 16, 1981 11:15AM | Odessa, Texas—

~The scene opens on the inside of the Odessa Greyhound Bus Terminal. Travelers of all shapes and sizes go about their business, some toting backpacks or rolling suitcases. Two lines are formed of passengers waiting to purchase tickets to their preferred destinations. The scene shifts to focus on a now 14-year old Amick Dogeron holding court in the corner of the room. He sits in a chair with a box in front of him with three playing cards engaging a couple of white men who appears to be in their late forties in a game of Three Card Monte.~

Amick: Step right up, the game’s a simple one. $5 gets you a play. Find the honey and double your money.

Man: Why not? Seems easy enough.

~The man throws a $5 bill down on the box. Amick places a crumpled up $5 of his own down, then lifts one of the cards up to show the man the Queen of Hearts. He puts the card back face down and begins mixing them up. The man stares intently as Amick’s hands move the cards around at medium speed. As he stops, the man immediately fingers the card to the far right. Amick sighs as he picks it up, revealing the Queen of Hearts.~

Man: Hell yeah! I knew it!

~The man proudly looks around at the small crowd. He nudges his traveling companion.~

Man: Told ya it was easy.

~Amick grabs the two $5 bills and hands them to the man.~

Amick: Another winner. Tenth one today. What am I doing wrong?

~He sighs again, looking dejected.~

Amick: Anyone else want to try?

Man: Wait a minute, I wanna go again.

Amick: Ok, I guess. Just don’t clean me out man. I only have $100 left.

Man: So $100 is the max bet?

~Amick looks conflicted. He drops his head a bit.~

Amick: I guess. I wasn’t really wanting to go that big, but ok.

~The man smiles. He puts the two $5 bills in his wallet and slaps a crisp $100 bill down on the box. Amick digs into his pocket and pulls out a handful of wadded up bills. He counts it out and lays it down next to the $100 bill.~

Amick: Ok, here goes nothing.

~Amick again shows the queen to the man, but as he places his hand back onto the box, he quickly switches it with a card inside his hoodie sleeve. He spins the cards around equally as fast as before and comes to a stop. The man smiles from ear to ear as he fingers the middle card. Amick turns it over to show a 2 of Clubs. The man slams the box in frustration as Amick gathers up the cash.~

Man: That’s bull! I know that was the queen!

Amick: Sorry dude, guess I got lucky.

~A voice comes over the PA announcing the bus for Tucson is now boarding.~

Amick: That’s my cue. Pleasure doing business with ya.

~Amick slings his backpack across the box, knocking the cards over in the process, revealing a 5 of diamonds and 10 of spades as the other two cards. He immediately realizes he’s been compromised and takes off running.~

Man: Hey! Get back here!

~Amick hops over a group of chairs, knocking a small child over in the process as he turns the corner and runs down the terminal. He bolts out the doors and checks the surrounding buses until he sees one with “Tucson” in the window. He pulls his ticket out of his pocket and hands it to the driver as he hops into an empty seat and slinks down to keep out of sight. He’s startled by a hand tapping on his shoulder.~

Amick: Sorry, this seat is taken.

~The hand keeps tapping. Amick turns to see a security guard hovering over him.~

Guard: Not by you.

~The guard grabs Amick by the arm and pulls him to his feet.~

Guard: You’re coming with me, Houdini.

.::Illusions come in all shapes and sizes. They give off the appearance of something wholly contrary to their true identity. The illusionist’s job is to trick his mark into believing what he does has some semblance of realism, and when he does… when his creation becomes accepted as reality by the masses, he gains an unexplainable power over them. Take L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, for example. The wizard had orchestrated a world in which everyone thought he was a superior being. In reality, he was just a carny from Kansas traveling in a balloon filled with his own hot air.

Which brings me to you, Teddy. You’ve been pulling the wool over OCW eyes for well over 20 years. Your polished routine and over-the-top antics have fooled a lot of people. But you’re nothing more than a con man… a snake oil salesman peddling a bill of goods to anyone who’ll listen. You rely on smoke and mirrors to hide behind the façade that you’re a murderer, a cannibal, basically anything other than the overweight professional wrestler that you are. But Teddy, I know the truth. You’re just one of a hundred bad actors you’ve hired to stage your promotional fantasies. The Big Bifford is no more a murderer than Milli Vanilli were award winning vocalists.

Men like you disgust me, and I’m not talking about your weight. Many others have taken that low hanging fruit and choked in the process. No, I’m talking about your laziness...both in and out of the ring. You stand around, using your weight to your advantage, utilizing a low center of gravity to keep your opponents from getting you to the mat. A sound strategy, perhaps, for a behemoth such as yourself. But the laziest of all might be your promo skills. Your repetitive drivel lulls your opponents into a false sense of confidence, but we’ve all heard it over and over… and over! You’re the Big Bifford. You ‘legitimized’ the title that Silverfreak didn’t defend years ago. Who gives a crap? It’s 2022 big guy. I spent over 20 years longing for one last shot at relevance with a title of this stature and now that I have it, I don’t think one bit about the past, but that’s where you live. And don’t get me started on your big match talk. You’re going to hit me with the “Biff End” and you’re going to pin me. You’re the only wrestler with a finishing move that has “end” in it. Are you eight years old? Is that the best you can come up with? Why not, “I know you are, but what am I?”

Look, I know this is going to be the biggest test in my professional career. The Big Bifford character you’ve created has been highly successful and Mike Zybala is no slouch, though I think we both know he’s punching way out of his weight class with the two of us. Thing is Teddy, I’m faster than you, I’m quicker than you, and I can strike from any point in the ring. I’ll run circles around you in that ring to get you breathing heavily. I’ll make you move, I’ll make you exert yourself past your physical limitations. Your heart rate will rise to catastrophic levels. As your face turns red, the blood will pump through your veins so fast you’ll think they might burst at any moment. And then… when I finally get you to the mat, I’ll send you into cardiac arrest with the 450 splash known as “The End Result”; fitting since that’s exactly what it will be for you and your career. On December 31 at Hardwired to Self Destruct, I’ll expose the world to the great fraud that is Theodore Bryan Benson. I will pin you Bifford. Your peril will ultimately come from the plethora of lies you’ve told. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain… he’s just a morbidly obese actor living in fantasyland.::.

—December 16, 2022 2:54 PM | Columbus, Ohio—

~A heavily bandaged PIC and his manager, Willie “Mo Mo” Peterson stand in front of the Franklin County Municipal Courthouse on a cold winter afternoon in Columbus, Ohio. The two walk up the steps and through the glass doors. After moving through security, they turn left and head down a dimly lit hallway.~

Willie: You really think they’ll tell you anything?

PIC: It’s supposedly a public case with national coverage. They’ll have to at least acknowledge if it’s real.

~The two stop in front of a door marked “County Clerk”. PIC opens the door and walks to the counter, where a slightly overweight black woman with glasses sits typing on her computer. Her name plate reads “Elda”. Elda begins speaking without taking her eyes off the screen.~

Elda: Good afternoon, how can I help you?

PIC: I was hoping you could share some information about a court case that is supposedly being tried here in Columbus.

~Elda stops typing and turns to PIC.~

Elda: I’m not able to speak on any open court cases.

PIC: I understand. I don’t actually want to know anything about it, just whether or not it’s actually happening.

Elda: I don’t understand.

~Willie slides past PIC, nudging him out of the way as he begins laying on the charm.~

Willie: Allow me to explain. My friend here is a professional wrestler, and one of his opponents for his match later this month has been airing segments claiming there is an ongoing trial for Kenny Patsasoglou. He’s apparently been accused of murdering hundreds of homeless people and grinding their meat up into chicken sandwiches.

Elda: What!?!

Willie: Right? It’s gross. Unlike your fine self. Those glasses really shape your face well. I’ve always loved a woman with glasses. Anyway, all we really have are these video snippets to go off of. No one has actually heard of this Kenny guy that we can find in real life. We’re hoping you could at least tell us if the trial is real. You could, couldn’t you?

~Willie winks. PIC rolls his eyes but somehow it seems to be working. Elda seems to blush slightly as she swivels her whole body forward to face the two of them.~

Elda: I can tell you there’s no such case being tried in Columbus or anywhere else in Ohio. Probably not the United States either. That would be front page headline news on every media outlet from here to Seattle.

Willie: That’s what we thought. Thanks cutie!

~Willie and Elda exchange a few more pleasantries before we cut to few minutes later on the courthouse steps.~

PIC: I told you, Willie. No one’s bothered to fact check Bifford in years. The guy’s been allowed to create this narrative of being a serial killer and listening to demons and all that crap. It’s fake… all of it. At the end of the day he’s just a wrestler who needs to hit the treadmill every now and then.

Willie: It seems that way.

PIC: I know it sounds crazy, but him being able to convince his past opponents of his big illusion has given him a huge advantage in the ring. But not any more. Theodore Benson isn’t some unstoppable force. He’s an average guy who’s about to find out who the real legitimate champion is in OCW.

Willie: Don’t sleep on Zybala though.

PIC: Never. Mike’s an amazing athlete. But I know what I’m getting with him. I had a feeling about Bifford, but now my suspicions are confirmed.

~PIC’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He reaches in and slides it open to a text message from an unknown sender. A shocked look comes over his face as he hands the phone to Willie to take a look.~