dreamszilla

A young man with ambitions to be a wrestler attends his local low-grade match, and has a more adventurous evening than he expected. Image generated with OpenAI It was only the third time the wrestlers came to town, first since I'd left high school, where such events were always hosted. We got the dregs here. Like, our main event would be a bathroom-break prelim at a big arena show, and on that night both our main eventers no-showed anyway. But tickets were cheap, and the matches gave us an excuse to revisit our old stomping grounds, where I hadn't stomped since they'd asked me to leave for the last time, two years prior, placing this around 1991, '92 at the latest. "Hey, look, it's Rocky Coast," I said. "Out mingling with the marks." Yeah, I was hip to the talk. A few years earlier, I had replied to an ad in one of the newsstand magazines and bought some out-of-market matches on homemade VHS tapes; my vendors had pointed me towards some insider s...

Jordan wishes to prove his masculinity by hiring a sailing boat, and discovers something unexpected about himself. Image generated with OpenAI "Yeah mom, I'm only renting the boat for a few days," Jordan said into the phone. The thick sea air met with the slap of his shoes on the wooden boards of the dock. Gulls perched themselves above, their cacophonous cackling calls confirming his entry. The skies were clear - no clouds, no blemishes. The only real danger came from the milquetoast design of Jordan's plain collared shirt and shorts, perfectly colored to scream beach like a wailing babe alongside his sandals. He wore a pair of generic khakis, ruined by a bright blue coloration and a pink - pardon, salmon - colored shirt. The only thing worse was his hair; flopped to one side that would have been dashing on someone more fit, or more interesting. But as it was, it made him suitably unique in his forgettability. The suitcase trailed behind him, its wheels groaning a...