B&B versus The Masked Marauders
By
The Mangler
The commissioner of the Redneck Arena was sitting in his
office doing his least favorite thing – going over the financial stuff. Personally, he didn’t care about that. As long as he could put on matches and
manipulate the wrestlers, he was happy.
The investors, however, were always looking for profits, so, even though
the Arena was profitable, he had come up with a couple of ideas about how to
make more profit but wasn’t sure if he could pull it off.
He had told his assistant Harry (“who the hell named
their kid Harry”) that he wasn’t to be bothered until his meeting after
lunch. His quite was shattered when he
heard a big bang in the outer office followed by a loud voice screaming, “I
don’t fucking care what anyone told you.
We are here and we don’t fucking wait for anyone or anything. So, tell that dickwad you work for that we
are here.”
The commissioner walked over and opened his door to see
Harry pushed back against the wall and being held up about one foot off the
floor. The masked guy holding him had
him by the neck. The guy was much larger
than Harry, who was by no means small at 175 pounds. Harry’s nemesis stood 6’3” and weighed about
260. The commissioner was excellent at
guessing height and weight from years of practice.