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The Simpsons: Bart

The story of Bart Simpson's growing up, which, as often promised, is not so easy and serene. But as it is supposed to be in life - stripes tend to change over time. Will Bart be able to learn from his mistakes, overcome the rocks in his path, find himself and become happy? patreon.com/FanFictionPremium

SpaceMate · Tranh châm biếm
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49 Chs

What is Wrestling?

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***

After I was done with the floors, Coach Engle sat me down in his office, poured a scotch, and proceeded to tell me a story.

Coach described wrestling as a unique art form. A representative of a rare genre - sports entertainment.

- Isn't wrestling a total setup? What does that have to do with sports? - It seems to me that wrestling only needs sports to look impressive and to be able to fall. So yeah, very sporty.....

- Haa. Bart, you know everything. Let's see you after an hour-long match.

Instead of answering my question directly. Coach Engle began by saying that there are many styles of wrestling. Which can vary from culture and territory, to the need for serious athletic training.

There is Puro, a Japanese wrestling style that is built on hard holds and drama specifically in the matches themselves. According to Coach Engle, wrestling is taken much more seriously in Japan than it is in America.

There is Lucha Libre - Mexican wrestling, built on graceful execution and tradition. Naturally, given the latter, wrestling has a cult status in the country.

There's also ultra hardcore - wrestling that builds and limits itself to only what the performers are willing to do. Set themselves on fire. Shred themselves with glass. Stick needles in your head. Drench the ring in blood. All of the above are commonplace things for ultra hardcore.

- Even American wrestling isn't as one-sided as it may seem.....

Apart from the big three letter organisation. There's indie wrestling. Which, according to Coach Engle, is all about what moves you can use to get the audience in the room.

- And Puro, British Strong Style, Lucha Libre, Lucharesu, Indie Style, even Ultra Hardcore - all these styles of wrestling require athletic training.... And to be the best in an industry far from the weakest. As frivolous as mainstream wrestling may seem at times, even it requires it, and quite insistently.

If Coach Angle says so, it probably does. Apparently I've been unfair to wrestling.

- But what does that have to do with me? I doubt I'll even be hired in any entertainment field after the Sherri scandal.

- Ha-ha-ha-ha. Bart, your scandal is that you slept with the wrong girl, cheated. You didn't rape anyone, and you didn't even cheat on your wife or fiancée. - if you open up social media, it doesn't seem that way. - Believe me, people in other countries are more decent. And they mostly don't give a damn about your personal life as long as you do your job successfully.

- Really? - Not everywhere is like America? Different attitudes?

- Well, Japan is strict about adultery in marriage, and if you get caught with drugs, you won't get a job for a long time. But I think that your affairs combined with your age will only score you points if you decide to be a hit man. Although, as a gaijin, you'll definitely be a hit sooner or later....

- Gaijin? A hit man?

- Haa... You have the face of a newborn fawn. - smiled at Coach Engle before explaining everything.

Gaijin is a rather rude way of referring to foreigners in Japan. Which when playing the role of a hil is pretty appropriate lay down.

As far as a hil is concerned, it's a dumb bad guy. Where as babyface is the good guy. In lucha, they're called Rudo and Tekniko, respectively. There's also tweener, which is like a rogue with honest motives, or a universally hated truth teller.

- Plus, the great beauty of wrestling, which many wrestlers themselves sadly overlook, is the ability to perform in a mask. Of course, outside of Mexico, it's likely to be kind of limiting, due to the minimal ability to convey expression. But on the other hand, if someone isn't lucky enough to be a star, you can always come up with a cool mask. So, Bart, you should probably wear a mask for the first time.

I wonder if there'll be a time when I can take it off.

- Whoa. I have to perform? But where? How?

- Well. I know a few people. I'll see if I can get in touch with Ray Guerrero, ask around for you.

- But I don't know anything about wrestling, do I? You've never even been in wrestling?

- You spent three years wrestling. Trust me, you're much more prepared for the ring than most newcomers to the indie scene.

- But what about the mic work? Is there acting involved?

- Like I said, wrestling varies a lot from place to place. But in most places, you won't be required to give an eloquent speech by a Pulitzer Prize-winning writer or play an Oscar nominee. You'll learn to read promos at a satisfactory level over the years, trust me.

- ...It sounds so simple. - I can't help but feel there's a catch.

- It's far from it, Bart. The world of wrestling is tough. Like any sport, it's full of injuries, often even fatal. Often even in the ring. It's hard to break in, hard to make money outside the big leagues. And it's made up of one company. Plus you have to specifically retrain for it, which... Not everybody can do that.

Yeah. From a craft that anyone can do, suddenly wrestling is less of a fairy tale.

- That's life, Bart. All we have to do is try things until we want to stop. - Rubbing his clenched hands together, Coach Engle smiled once again. - Maybe that's how we find our acceptance.

- D-do you think I can do this? - After so many failures, I can't help but feel nervous about turning over a new leaf.

- I don't know, Bart. I don't know. - and as befits his character, Coach Engle left me without a clear answer.

.....

Coach Engle let me sleep in the gym. Instead of going to bed, though, I took to the machines.

- Kghaaah!

I was starting to run out of steam on the treadmill. Not to mention I'm running less than half the mileage I should.

- Ngghhhh!

The weights I used to use for the workout are now difficult to lift.

- Haaah.

And for push-ups, I'm using my stomach instead of my chest.

- Will I be able to do this?

The result of the training was a rather new experience for me, although actually just forgotten, when exhausted lying on the floor and breathing heavily. I used to be able to train forever until my muscles started to ache. Now...

- I've let myself go pretty quickly.

In every way. And in my relationships with everyone.

- Haa. Maybe the lawyer's right. It's worth a fresh start.

The way my record's starting to look like that of an upstanding citizen. So maybe I should just pretend it never happened. It didn't. Draw conclusions, but stop blaming myself?

Yeah. I screwed up. Big time.

Yeah. There's a million things, going back in time, that I'd try to fix.

Yes. I've hurt a lot of people. Just like I've been hurt. So maybe...

- I should just forget about it all and turn over a new leaf.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to turn over a new leaf with Sherry, Terry, Gina, Milhouse, my parents and sisters. But you can't stay where you are forever.

- ...I think a new occupation may well help that.

.....

A few days went by, then a week. Coach Engle let me stay at the gym, where I gradually got myself into some sort of shape. Of course, you can't lose a belly and get in shape in seven days, but you can get rid of shortness of breath when you walk.

Training also helps me to get rid of cravings for substances. I wouldn't say I was going through withdrawal. Rather, the desire is commensurate with a strong desire to eat sweets. However, a certain itchiness in the mind is still there.

While I'm in training, Coach Engle has arranged a bunking - taking in a show, with an old friend of his. And finally.

- That's it, Bart, I've got a deal. - one night after closing time, the coach spoke to me excitedly.

- About what?

- You'll have nothing to worry about. They'll put you in a promotional school, give you a mask, and even help you with housing. But you realise you'll have to pay for it all yourself, right?

I nodded. I still have some savings, and there I can get a job as a loader or something without documents, so that my identity will not be checked.

- Where's the promotion? - A wrestling company. - Somewhere in the state? Or in a neighbouring state?

For a while, Coach Engle stared at me unblinking and open-mouthed. I immediately thought that was not a good sign.

- Bart. My friend's promotion is in Mexico.

...

...

- Qué?!

.....

Coach Engle promised to arrange a cheap flight so I wouldn't have to hitchhike across the country.

In the meantime, I started looking into the specifics of wrestling in the land of tacos and sombreros.... Perhaps I should have learnt more about the country itself instead? But anyway, as I was able to find out, wrestling in Mexico is a pretty tough business for a number of factors....

Firstly, rumour has it that all promotions are sponsored by cartels in one way or another, which can't help but be stressful. Secondly, aspiring wrestlers earn almost nothing because of the greed of promoters and employers. Sometimes you have to work literally for food. Thirdly, and this point is related to the second, Mexico has a strong respect for industry veterans.... Which sounds like a good thing, right? Except never those very same veterans are allowed literally anything in the locker room, and are given the sweetest spots in the show's card.

- Haa... It's not going to be easy...

At least the promotion the coach is sending me to is pretty big. The second or third biggest in the country. So maybe I'll get lucky.

- Pack your bags, Bart. You're shipping out today.

.....

- What's that?

Unexpectedly, instead of the airport, Coach Engle took me to some warehouse where a Hispanic man is banging away with a crowbar trying to open a crate.

- Catalina Cruz?

After the man opened the crate, a girl came out and after speaking in Spanish, walked off in an unknown direction.

- Now it's your turn. - Coach Engle clapped me on the shoulder in the direction of the box.

- Um...

- It's only ten quid, Bart! You can't get into Mexico cheaper than that.

With an armful of doubts, I still walked over to the crate, which was filled with fresh hay for me. Sat down inside under the smiling gaze of the Mexican who, before closing, threw me some bananas and a newspaper....

- Wouldn't it be dark for me to read?

- And this is not for reading.

And at these words, faster than I could pop back out, the lid of the box was popped shut and so began my journey to Mexico!...

...Will I get there alive?