BACKSTAGE AT HELLBOUND

Posted by J. Rish

Reggie T. Rascal was caught backstage at Hellbound, the footage brought to you now as a CWF.com exclusive!

The music was blaring loud, the speakers shaking the floor for the first few feet around it. In the center of the dance floor, a black man with a puffed-out afro was grooving to the music, almost dressed to match a disco dance floor, with sequined collared shirt, bleached blue jeans and retro-style Adidas sneakers. It was the only thing that made him stand out against the crowd, and it was retro night at this particular dance club.

 

There wasn’t even a bar, in the traditional sense anyway. It served non-alcoholic beverages.

 

It was a dump. But it wasn’t to the guy who owned the dance floor in his sequins. Even as the people started to funnel out into the morning light, hours later, the kid was still moving and grooving to the more wholesome of modern party music. Especially now that the floor was all his, he was moving with a lot more flair, with waving arms, dips and the splits: moves that would end up assaulting the other patrons.

 

Of course, there were some people who fell asleep and couldn’t be moved, and they woke up to him dancing like a maniac.

 

??

“Hey, Reggie...”

 

The unknown man walks up to the dancing Reggie, grabbing his arm.

 

RR

“Yeah, bro, what’s up?”

 

??

“Don’t call me ‘bro’ when I’m your actual brother, man.”

 

Reggie laughs and pats his brother’s hand.

 

RR

“Sorry, René. What is it?”

 

REN

“Do you have any idea what time it is, you fool?”

 

Reggie blinks and wipes his eyes a bit. He takes his older model iPhone out of his pocket and looks at the time: 8 AM.

 

RR

“Oh shit! I’m late!”

 

REN

“Late? Late for what?”

 

RR

“Maaaaaaan I am NOT dressed for this!”

 

Reggie runs out the door, leaving his brother René behind.

 

Reggie T. Rascal was late alright, but he needed something more important than timely arrival; he needed a change of attire.

 

Today was his tryout for CWF.

 

By the time he arrived at the office for his tryout, Reggie ran into the building and was told to just stay in what he was wearing: exactly what he was wearing in the club. He hadn’t had a chance to shower or brush his teeth or anything, not to mention he had nothing prepared.

 

??

“Reggie Rascal?”

 

RR

“Yes?”

 

Reggie turned to face the voice: a stern woman who was dressed to be in the office, but at the same time, she was ready to hit the road at a moment’s notice.

 

??

“I’m the local talent manager assigned to your area, and I’m going to be dealing with you today.”

 

RR

“Dealing with me?”

 

Reggie laughs it off and places a hand on his chest.

 

RR

“I am very sorry for being late, ma’am. I got so excited for today, I just had to hit the club’s retro night and dance off the jitters!”

 

TM

“Right, but you don’t smell of anything except bad cologne.”

 

RR

“Budget stuff from the dollar store, unfortunately: it sours on the senses very quickly. And it is actually a non-alcoholic joint that was jumping.”

 

TM

“No such thing. Now, come with me.”

 

Before Reggie could say anything, he was being led to a small locker room setup. The interviewer was a run-of-the-mill guy: looked, felt and did nothing special.

 

TM

“He will be asking you some questions to build you up. You are basically setting up for your debut, Reggie; don’t screw it up.”

 

Reggie swallows a caterpillar-sized wad of phlegm back as the nerves shock him.

 

RR

“Y-Yes ma’am.”

 

Taking a couple deep breaths, Reggie starts to shuffle his feet. He had to get into his character. He had to get a hold of himself.

 

It’s time to party.

 

IN

“Alright, CWF, this is it and here he is. He is CWF’s new contract signing and it looks like it will be a star-studded appearance.”

 

The camera pans over to show off the new star, Reggie.

 

IN

“His name is Reggie. T. Rascal.”

 

RR

“WOO WOO!”

 

IN

“Woo woo?”

 

RR

“Yeah, bro, it’s time to run that groove train through CWF like a madman!”

 

IN

“You mean soul train, right?”

 

RR

“Dude, no! I’m not going to steal that. That’s a protected copyright; this is the GROOOOOOOOOOOVE TRAIN!”

 

Reggie laughs to himself and claps his hands.

 

RR

“Yes sir, that’s right. This is the man, the myth, the future legend here: Reggie T. Rascal. I’m looking to dance, laugh and lose my mind in that squared circle, brother man. Ha HA! But you ask yourself one question, I know it: well, who is Reggie T. Rascal?”

 

The interviewer nods and Reggie plays off of it.

 

RR

“Reggie T. Rascal is the new star of CWF, a former MMA fighter. Trained in MMA and wrestling by a Mr. Anon Ymous...”

 

IN

“Anonymous?”

 

RR

“Don’t ask questions until I stop talking, please.”

 

Reggie claps his hands and gets back into his rhythm.

 

RR

“The man knows his technique, I’ll tell you what; shots in the dark were never so accurate. He always wore a Mistico-style mask and boy oh BOY was he good at what he did. He made me into a lean, green, demolition machine, mah friend! WOO WOO!”

 

Reggie starts to do a dancing boxer’s shuffle as the interviewer takes control back.

 

IN

“So you don’t even know who he is?”

 

RR

“Man, he moved through the air as well as he slithered like a snake, but enough about him: this is about me, remember? This is about the man known as Reggie T. Rascal.”

 

Reggie slaps his chest and clenches a fist, holding it towards the camera.

 

RR

“This fist has put a man down before, and I can’t wait to show CWF what this fist can really do, I tell you what. I’m so excited; I just can’t fight it! It doesn’t matter who stands in my way first, especially since I know none of y’all, but I can’t wait to learn what it takes to lay y’all out, one at a time, or two at a time. It all depends on what the boss does in the books and how the cards are played.”

 

IN

“That is correct, and who is one person you would like to address?”

 

RR

“Well who else than Ms. MJF herself, man? She is the world champion of CWF and if she’s as smart as she is pretty, something tells me that we will have one hell of a slobberknocker together.”

 

IN

“A great match in the making, possibly in your future.”

 

Reggie laughs, and stops.

 

RR

“We’re talking a wrestling match, right?”

 

IN

“Um, well... yeah.”

 

RR

“MAAAAN! ME TOO!”

 

Laughing off the jitters, Reggie gets back into his jovial little shuffle.

 

RR

“But my target right now is that Paramount Championship, held by a Mr. Jarvis King, and there is nothing more special than to be called PARAMOUNT in any business of combat sports. Expect me to knock on your door, man, because I will start by climbing over you!”

 

IN

“A challenge in his first few hours of being signed, Reggie T. Rascal...”

 

The interviewer extends his hand and Reggie, beaming, grabs the man’s hand and shakes it before he does the electric slide out of the frame. Reggie leaves the set and starts throwing up in a trash can in another room, breathing and sounding like a camel.

 

TM

“Good job. We have an open segment at the pay-per-view for you.”

 

Reggie yelps in panic and looks at the talent manager.

 

RR

“Um, thanks. I’ll... Where is it?”

 

TM

“I’ll email you. Your brother is outside to pick you up. What did you say about budget?”

 

RR

“Well he’s rich; I’m just his brother.”

 

TM

“Right. We’ll be in touch.”

 

Reggie goes to shake her hand, but he stops and offers her a fist, which she bumps, before they go their separate ways.


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