New Orleans is full of such places, but I've been stuck up in Connecticut trying to maintain this beauty of a house I inherited and feeling like a fish out of water. Most of the rest of the country now hustles via the internet and I think it's a shame. Thankfully, I found UCW and the six hour trek to Philly is well worth the time and effort.
The place is owned by two guys, Michael Bodyslam (a gentleman around my age) and a hot young stud named Ethan Axel Andrews. Such father-son surrogate combos often become lasting relationships -- it's not as rare as you may think.
Getting back to what I was saying, there's this one dude hanging out here who gets me on edge every time I glance at him. His name is Eli Black, and he's sort of become the bar's de facto enforcer. I know the type. You get a guy who's popular with a lot of the customers and, if he's shrewd enough, pretty soon he takes the place over. Eli practically lives in this establishment now, and he's the henchman for the owners. Eli is like UCW's bouncer. Anyone causes trouble, Eli steps up.
Eli is in a special position at UCW and he uses it to his advantage. Truthfully, Eli can pretty much do whatever he pleases at UCW now. If some brash, young guy comes in off the streets and starts distracting the customers' attention away from Eli, Eli will deal with it. There won't be any repercussions from management, either.
Oh, I didn't need to be reminded of that. My Beautiful Precious Johnny Deep (MBPJD) -- it just breaks my heart, what Eli did to him. I need another cocktail, bartender. Alcohol gets my creative juices flowing and enables me to compose amusing blog entries for you. Otherwise, I'd get too bitter, just thinking of how Johnny was run out of this bar by that...monster.
Well, that's a relief. I guess even an old broken clock like me is correct once every twelve hours. By the way, whenever you smile I can't help but notice that tooth you chipped getting bashed into the cinder block wall just like...oh, I have to put these negative thoughts out of my mind. Ah, let me just concentrate on my drinking, shut this bar out of my mind, ignore Eli, and reminisce...
You know, the first celebrity crush Old Freddie can recall having was on a Boston Red Sox player named Tony Conigliaro. I was just a little kid then -- not even ten years old. Tony was pretty much of a kid, too -- started playing major league baseball at 19. Then he got hit by a pitch, injured bad, and it killed his career. Seems like I had a thing for handsome guys in rough situations even then. Damned near 50 years ago, and nothing ever changes. Hmm...now who does Tony Conigliaro remind me of? I'm trying to think...
Hey, it ain't nothing. Now excuse me while I kick some Spartan ass over here.
Good. I don't like that guy. I mean, I talked shit about him and then I felt bad and apologized, but I still don't like him. Oh, hey -- speaking of talking shit, that Blogger Joe guy was just in here and he called you a dick.
Huh? You talking to me?
Yeah, Aron. I was just quoting Blogger Joe. That's what he said about you. Everyone heard him.
Oh, man. Forget about it. That blogger guy walks in here, he's dead meat.
Hey, I don't blame...
Whoa! I can't believe it! Guess who just decided to stick his head into the door? His eyes aren't accustomed to the dim light, though. I don't think he sees me.
HEY, JOHNNY!!!
Johnny's looking over at Eli warily...but now he's coming inside and walking toward me. YES!!! A lot of the customers perked up as soon as Johnny walked through the door, and I can tell that's making Eli even more pissed off.
Hey, man -- I'm not supposed to be in here when Eli is working. I just came in to say hello. The only reason Eli hasn't kicked me out yet is because I'm talking to you.
Screw Eli. You're with me. Johnny, it's so nice to be able to talk to you. You ignored me for the longest.
Well, Freddie, you creeped me out at first -- the way you always stared at me. I thought you were some kind of crazy stalker. I mean, I like attention but you were giving me too much. You seemed obsessed.
No, stalkers threaten people when they're rebuffed. I could never hurt you, Johnny. You're like the son I never had.
Aw, you're a sweet guy. Now that I know you, I realize that. Hey, who's that bull in the corner though? I never saw him here before.
Oh, he's a new face -- and he's a pretty big deal around here now. His name is Jax. He's a nice guy -- maybe too nice for his own good.
Man, that belt he's wearing with all the gold and shit -- that looks familiar. Isn't that the belt Eli used to wear?
Yeah, it is. Eli gave it to him.
Huh??? Are you serious? Man, when did being nice start paying off around here?
I don't know if it will pay off, in the long run. The place is still a jungle. I worry about you being in this environment, Johnny -- and I don't like the way Quinn Harper is looking at you right now.
Quinn Harper is here? Oh, shit. I didn't see him. Where is he?
Over there by the pool table. He hasn't taken his eyes off you since you came in.
That does it. Now I know I've got to get out of here. Harper is worse than Eli. I told you about what he does to guys during fights.
Yeah, I've seen it first-hand.
You have?
Yeah. He did it to Jax when I was watching. The "oil check" thing. That guy needs to be locked up.
Well then, I don't have to explain it to you anymore. You know what I'm talking about. Listen, Freddie, it was great seeing you again. I've got to go now.
Hey Johnny, give me a hug first.
Damn. Even after that hug, it hurts seeing Johnny leave -- maybe for good. I just keep watching the door, hoping that Johnny will decide to come back.
Oh, hey -- I just saw Damien Flawless walk past. Damien won't be coming in here, though -- that's for sure. Guys like Damien -- the out and proud, openly gay, flamboyant types -- they just don't fit in here at UCW. The only way someone like Damien could ever be accepted here would be if he was in drag -- and that's not Damien's style.
I've got Michael Hannigan sitting a few barstools away from me. Michael's pants are sagging really low and I keep sneaking glances at that cute ass of his. I don't want to make it too obvious because Michael seems self-conscious about not having a belt to wear. Michael is a real sweetheart.
Oh, wouldn't you know it? Here comes Blogger Joe again with two of his nelly-ass, pretentious friends (they're chit-chatting about "Southern Living" magazine).
What do you mean, Freddie? I love this place. It's fast, cheap, and out of control!
Well, I think you just broke your own record. What gives you the right to have such a condescending attitude toward UCW?
Condescending? Moi? You've got me confused with someone else. I stand in solidarity with the proletariat.
You're so full of shit. I am never, ever going to forgive you for calling my boy Johnny a "scumbag." Oh, and by the way, Aron heard about how you called him a "dick" last time you were in here, and he's ready to beat the crap out of you. It's a good thing Aron hasn't noticed you yet. HEY, ARON!!!
Well, I'm beginning to feel uncomfortable about all this. If I wanted to shuffle off this mortal coil, it would be in the arms of that Marcus Ares fellow, not Aron's.
Just shut the fuck up -- and get the fuck out. You need to go back to that BG Dance Club you love so much. You don't belong here.
Security! I think we need security over here!
Oh, no. Don't think Eli is going to save your sorry ass, either. Eli hasn't forgotten how you called him a "punk" and said that you could beat him in a fight. Look at Eli. Eli sees what's happening over here. Eli's laughing at you, Joe.
Oh, dear me. This is something of a sticky wicket. I believe that it's time for us to make our exit, gentlemen. Discretion is the better part of valor.
Yeah, yeah. Get the fuck. Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. Motherfuckers.
Uh-oh. Bodyslam is coming this way, looking plenty unhappy -- and he's got Eli with him.
Well, things were sounding pretty rambunctious over here. How many cocktails have you had, Freddie?
I don't know. I lost count a long time ago. Besides, that's got nothing to do with anything. You know I hate that Skull Island guy, Bodyslam.
Now, Freddie...Joe carries a lot of clout here at UCW. Joe spends a lot of capital over here. You just need to calm down. You always go too far. You're hurting my bottom line.
Hurt UCW? Me? I'd never hurt UCW. I love UCW. Shit, this is my niche. I come as close to fitting in here as I ever could anywhere. I mean, if it wasn't for UCW, where else would I go?
Yeah, that's true. We're the only ones who would put up with you.
Um...I'm trying to formulate a comeback but I'm unable to. I guess I can't argue with that. I can only say that, when the smoke clears, at the end of the day, you'll see I helped your business more than I hurt it.
What am I going to do with this guy?
(Bodyslam muttered that under his breath, half to Eli and half to himself.)
Look, Bodyslam -- it's only because I hate drinking alone. That's why I get loud and mean. Where are all the hardcore partyers, man. I need a drinking buddy. Where's Hunter?
Hey Freddie, I don't have to sugarcoat it with you. I don't have to pretend that everything is nice. You can handle it. Hunter was living life in the fast lane. Now he has to pull back and get some rest. It's the same story with so many of the other guys you've seen here in the past. You know the score.
Damn. I liked Hunter, even if he was following behind the wrong people -- getting used by people he thought were his friends.
Well, Hunter will be welcome back here, when he's ready.
Oh, man...I need to play the jukebox
What are you looking at?
You. I find you entertaining.
Yeah? What's so entertaining about me? People think I'm a comedian or something, when I'm just being myself.
Now the guy's laughing. I'm starting to get angry.
Oh, I don't mean to be rude. I wasn't laughing at you. Not really. It's just that you get so emotionally involved in everything. I even saw you here when they were doing the Thursday night oil wrestling. You seemed to believe it was real.
It is.
Oh? You don't believe it's scripted?
Look, the stuff that doesn't matter is scripted. The stuff that matters is real. You see the true personalities of the wrestlers expressed during the matches. You see who are really friends. You see which guys are jealous of each other. You can tell who's got their shit together and who's living on the edge.
Amazing. You can divine all of that information. You must be highly perceptive.
Yeah, I can divine plenty. You think those guys aren't really hurting each other? You think there's no real pain? Haven't you ever heard someone say "cut" from backstage during a match, and then the lights go dark for a few seconds before the action resumes? What goes on in the dark? It's a guy trying to regain his composure after he was pushed beyond his limits -- and it doesn't happen by chance.
Well, I guess I was talking a bit too loud. Here come Bodyslam and Eli again, and this time they're striding toward me in a purposeful, resolute manner. I better hurry up and make my point.
These UCW guys are totally objectified anyway. The best looking guys are the ones that the customers want to see suffer most -- and they call themselves their "fans." I'm not even going to start talking about the private matches in motel rooms. You think you're leaving the real world when you come here to UCW? No. You're entering the real world.
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