Post by Hammerstein on Mar 5, 2018 1:48:00 GMT
Hammerstein sits on the back porch of his rental home in Los Olivos, California. Its short, two hour drive to Los Angeles, makes it a nice alternative staying in an
L.A. hotel when he wrestles for GoL. He looks out across the vineyards that surround the home.
Whatcha thinkin’ bout, Hammie?
Holly, Hammerstein's wife, brings him a glass of iced tea and kisses him on top of his head. Hammerstein looks at her with a smile.
You kidding me? You should be sitting here, with me bringing you tea.
Holly rolls her eyes.
I'm pregnant, not disabled. There's still plenty of time for you to wait on me hand and foot, Hammie.
They share a laugh, then Holly leans in and the two share a kiss.
Hammerstein leans back, allowing Holly to sit on his lap. The couple look out at the beautiful views as the sun sets over the vineyards before them.
Hammie, you how much I love living in Canada, but I could get used to this kind of you at sunset. And I'd love to raise our little one... or little ones...here.
Okay. Let's call the lawyers and everything rolling. I'll start getting the plans together for a nursery.
Wait? You?
Yeah. I did construction when I first started wrestling. I can handle building a nursery. Plus, my tool belt is all I'll be wearing while I'm working.
Holly laughs and slaps him upside the head. She looks her husband in the eyes, her face is now serious.
I don't want you to think you've got to stay on the road to build a bigger nestegg for us. But I also don't want you to feel like you have to come off the road to stay here with me.
Hammerstein looks down into his glass of tea.
know I've said it over and over, Holly, and everything I've ever done since we've been married, has been for you. It's been for us as a couple. And now, everything I'm doing is for you and that little one. It's for us as a family.
I'll never be the most popular wrestler again, and if I can set up things for you and the little one to where neither one of you have to worry about anything, I'm good with being the bad guy.
Holly wraps her arms around her husband.
You'll always be the most popular wrestler to two people at least.
**********
I don't believe in heroes.
Faster than a speeding bullet?
More powerful than a locomotive?
Able to leap a tall building in a single bound?
Bullshit.
A boy's first hero is supposed to be as father. When my old man left me out in the Arizona desert to die when I was a newborn, because I wasn't “Red” enough.
I don't believe in heroes.
In this sport, the ones that train you, teach you everything you need to know about surviving in this Cutthroat business, these are mentors. These are the heroes to the upstart wrestler.
The guy that trained me, had me running ropes for 4 to 5 hours a day while he sat on his fat ass and watch Japanese porn on his VCR, all while taking every bit of money I had. In my first show, that he set up for me? My big break? He took the money they paid me and skipped out of town. I got a cold hot dog in a warm beer as my payment. The asshole even took my clothes, so I had to hitchhike home, a hundred and fifty miles, in my wrestling gear.
I don't believe in Heroes.
After I established myself in this sport, I found a friend, a running buddy. A veteran who’d been up and down the roads a bit and became my idol. My hero. You may know him, cuz he's in the GoL Hall of Fame. His name is Tiger mask Red. We were thick as thieves, Tiger and I. He trained me, and I mean really trained me. Then one day, because he didn't like my girlfriend, my hero demanded I dumped her and our trios tag team partner. I told him no, and my hero threw a fireball in my face. We've been trying to kill each other off and on ever since.
I don't believe in Heroes.
So imagine my disgust when I came to the Guerreros of Lucha and was teamed with Superhero Roxi, one half of Team Hero. Part of me wanted to wretch, while another part of me wanted to rip her spleen out through her nostrils. But I couldn't, because I was considered to hero also. Not a superhero like Roxi, but a hero just the same.
And I played the part as best I could. I mean, I really tried. I wanted to be the hero. I wanted to represent the people. But as time went on, I started seeing through the facade. The slight of hand was slowing, and the misdirection was getting sloppy. I saw heroes engaging in very unheroic behavior, and what was worse, I saw the fans reacting positively to it. Lewd, perverted displays, acts of cowardice, arrogant and petulant speech, from those who stood probably on the pedestal the people put them on.
It was right then and there that I realize that the heroes were frauds, and those who idolize them were truly worthy of real heroes.
So I decided that if they weren't worthy of a hero then they were obviously worthy of a monster. So I became just that... The American Monster.
It's amazing to me that I'm painted as evil by most people. I'm lots of things, but evil I'm not. But I do know why people paint me as the villain... and why they hate me.
I'm the mirror that you all look into uncomfortably, because you know you'll see the truth. You'll see the you that's willing to do the shady things that need to be done. You'll see the you that's willing to get their hands dirty to achieve the goals set before them. You'll see the you that you don't talk about in polite company, but that you know is always there, safely hidden behind the facade.
I'm the you that doesn't hide behind the disguise of a hero, while doing unheroic things.
I'm the true moral beacon in the GOL, because the greatest moral virtue is truth, and not only do I speak the truth... I AM the goddamn truth.
I stand here, hated by those that live comfortably in the darkness because of the facade people like Honey, and Roxi, and you, Keira, have built. But when I beat you... And I will beat you, Keira, that facade will fall, and they'll all know the truth. And the truth... shall set them free.
**********
Hammerstein stops at The Flying J Travel Plaza in Lebec, Ca, to fuel up his vehicle as he drives towards Los Angeles and The Labyrinth.
As he exits the vehicle, he's spotted by several wrestling fans who come up to him, asking for autographs and selfies. Hammerstein complies, more to avoid an awkward situation than to satisfy the fans. He makes his way into the store, pays for his fuel and a couple bottles of water and heads back to his car. He's almost to his vehicle when a young voice calls out to him, stopping him in his tracks.
MR. HAMMERSTEIN?
The American Monster turns, ready to shut the fan down Probably wanting me to sign something to sell on eBay,
he thinks to himself before he sees the source of the voice.
It's a young blonde girl, probably eleven or twelve. She's wearing a Honey Sunshine t-shirt, and could likely pass for Honey's little sister. The only thing keeping Hammerstein from denying the girl's request is the fact that she is in a motorized wheelchair. The girl’s smile is absolutely infectious. Hammerstein actually struggles to not break into a grin.
Mr. Hammerstein, I'm your biggest fan! I've been a fan since you were in Pollomania. Can you autograph a photo for me?
Hammerstein closes his eyes and answers.
Yeah, gimme a second, let me go get a promo pic for you and I'll sign it, ok?
It's okay, mr. Hammerstein. I've got a picture already. And don't worry, I won't sell it on eBay or nothing.
Yeah, right,
Hammerstein thinks to himself as he takes the picture from the fan. He looks at the picture, which is of Hammerstein as he used to look, with spiked bleach blonde hair, funky clothes, and about sixty extra pounds. Hammerstein winces when he sees the “old him.” What strikes him more than that is that the picture is of him kneeling next to the same girl in the same wheelchair.
This picture was taken at the Christmas brawl in 2016, where you help team tecnico win the match. I was so happy you guys won, but I was even more happy when you took this picture with me. That was the best Christmas present ever! I still like you, Mr.. Hammerstein, I just wish you weren't so mean to Honey in those matches and promos. Papa says you're just acting, and I hope he's right.
Hammerstein swallows hard as he signs the picture. He hands the picture back to the little girl, whose eyes open wide in amazement.
No way! You remembered my name!?
Of course. I always remember my best fans, Jenn. Hang on a sec. Do you have a phone?
The fan hands him her phone. Hammerstein kneels down next to her and snaps a selfie with the overjoyed fan.
WOW! Thanks Mr. Hammerstein!
Jenn opens her arms and Hammerstein hugs her.
Just call me Hammie, okay? Shoot me that pic, okay?
But how? I don't….
Hammerstein pulls out a Buck-U Enterprises business card and writes his phone number and email address on it he hands it to Jenn.
I want you to shoot me that pic. And, I want you to call, text, or email me anytime you want or need to, okay?
Okay, Mr. Ham…. I mean Hammie!
Jenn hugs Hammerstein tightly around the neck.
I got to go, okay, Jenn? I got to go wrestle. This is meant more to me than you'll ever know, Jenn.
Okay, Hammie! I'm your biggest fan!
Hammerstein the looks the girl in her sparkling blue eyes.
I'm yours, Jenn.
The girl turns her chair around and rolls away as Hammerstein gets in this car drives off.
A few miles down the road, Hammerstein's phone pings with a text message. He pulls over and checks the text message. It's Jenn, who has texted the selfie to him.
The American Monster wonders if she noticed the glistening in his left eye has it cheered up. He saved the picture to his phone, tossed it into the passenger seat and drove away.
**********
Hammerstein stands behind a card table a deck of Bicycles in his hand. He shuffles the deck and cuts the cards. He lays three cards, face-down, on the table, then asks the cameraman to choose one. The cameraman chooses the card in the middle, and Hammerstein flips it over, revealing it to be the Queen of Hearts. Hammerstein moves the three cards around, then asks the cameraman which card he believes is his. The camera man chooses correctly, as Hammerstein flips the card over showing it to be the Queen of Hearts.
Hammerstein flips the card back over, removes the other two cards from the table, then taps the cameraman's card three times. He flips the card back over, and to the cameraman's surprise, it has changed to the Ace of Spades.
The America Monster flicks his left wrist and the Queen of Hearts falls from inside his shirt cuff.
You see, heroes are like magic card tricks. Magic tricks aren't magic. They're just... tricks. I'm not actually causing the atomic structure of the Queen of Hearts to convert itself into the Ace of Spades.
I just make it look like I am.
Heroes aren't the fine upstanding moral beacons that they’re made out to be.
They just make themselves look like they are.
See, every magic trick ever performed is just slide of hand in this direction. A story to keep everything moving in the keep the audience's eyes off the actual trick. It all comes off as supernatural, super-powered, superheroic. But it's not that at all. It's all trickery, pre-arranged decks, marked cards, bent cards, fake flips, etc etc. It's all cheap tricks that fool the ordinary ones.
But I, dear Keira, and not one of the ordinary ones.
I see through the slide of hand. I see through the misdirection. I see through it all.
I saw through sweet little Honey Sunshine….and I beat her two out of two times.
I see through Roxy superhero Act... And thereby see through yours too, Keira.
See, Keira, all the superpowers you possess mean nothing when held against the cold hard light of truth that I possess.
And that truth is this:
There are no Heroes... In life, the monsters win.
L.A. hotel when he wrestles for GoL. He looks out across the vineyards that surround the home.
Whatcha thinkin’ bout, Hammie?
Holly, Hammerstein's wife, brings him a glass of iced tea and kisses him on top of his head. Hammerstein looks at her with a smile.
You kidding me? You should be sitting here, with me bringing you tea.
Holly rolls her eyes.
I'm pregnant, not disabled. There's still plenty of time for you to wait on me hand and foot, Hammie.
They share a laugh, then Holly leans in and the two share a kiss.
Hammerstein leans back, allowing Holly to sit on his lap. The couple look out at the beautiful views as the sun sets over the vineyards before them.
Hammie, you how much I love living in Canada, but I could get used to this kind of you at sunset. And I'd love to raise our little one... or little ones...here.
Okay. Let's call the lawyers and everything rolling. I'll start getting the plans together for a nursery.
Wait? You?
Yeah. I did construction when I first started wrestling. I can handle building a nursery. Plus, my tool belt is all I'll be wearing while I'm working.
Holly laughs and slaps him upside the head. She looks her husband in the eyes, her face is now serious.
I don't want you to think you've got to stay on the road to build a bigger nestegg for us. But I also don't want you to feel like you have to come off the road to stay here with me.
Hammerstein looks down into his glass of tea.
know I've said it over and over, Holly, and everything I've ever done since we've been married, has been for you. It's been for us as a couple. And now, everything I'm doing is for you and that little one. It's for us as a family.
I'll never be the most popular wrestler again, and if I can set up things for you and the little one to where neither one of you have to worry about anything, I'm good with being the bad guy.
Holly wraps her arms around her husband.
You'll always be the most popular wrestler to two people at least.
**********
I don't believe in heroes.
Faster than a speeding bullet?
More powerful than a locomotive?
Able to leap a tall building in a single bound?
Bullshit.
A boy's first hero is supposed to be as father. When my old man left me out in the Arizona desert to die when I was a newborn, because I wasn't “Red” enough.
I don't believe in heroes.
In this sport, the ones that train you, teach you everything you need to know about surviving in this Cutthroat business, these are mentors. These are the heroes to the upstart wrestler.
The guy that trained me, had me running ropes for 4 to 5 hours a day while he sat on his fat ass and watch Japanese porn on his VCR, all while taking every bit of money I had. In my first show, that he set up for me? My big break? He took the money they paid me and skipped out of town. I got a cold hot dog in a warm beer as my payment. The asshole even took my clothes, so I had to hitchhike home, a hundred and fifty miles, in my wrestling gear.
I don't believe in Heroes.
After I established myself in this sport, I found a friend, a running buddy. A veteran who’d been up and down the roads a bit and became my idol. My hero. You may know him, cuz he's in the GoL Hall of Fame. His name is Tiger mask Red. We were thick as thieves, Tiger and I. He trained me, and I mean really trained me. Then one day, because he didn't like my girlfriend, my hero demanded I dumped her and our trios tag team partner. I told him no, and my hero threw a fireball in my face. We've been trying to kill each other off and on ever since.
I don't believe in Heroes.
So imagine my disgust when I came to the Guerreros of Lucha and was teamed with Superhero Roxi, one half of Team Hero. Part of me wanted to wretch, while another part of me wanted to rip her spleen out through her nostrils. But I couldn't, because I was considered to hero also. Not a superhero like Roxi, but a hero just the same.
And I played the part as best I could. I mean, I really tried. I wanted to be the hero. I wanted to represent the people. But as time went on, I started seeing through the facade. The slight of hand was slowing, and the misdirection was getting sloppy. I saw heroes engaging in very unheroic behavior, and what was worse, I saw the fans reacting positively to it. Lewd, perverted displays, acts of cowardice, arrogant and petulant speech, from those who stood probably on the pedestal the people put them on.
It was right then and there that I realize that the heroes were frauds, and those who idolize them were truly worthy of real heroes.
So I decided that if they weren't worthy of a hero then they were obviously worthy of a monster. So I became just that... The American Monster.
It's amazing to me that I'm painted as evil by most people. I'm lots of things, but evil I'm not. But I do know why people paint me as the villain... and why they hate me.
I'm the mirror that you all look into uncomfortably, because you know you'll see the truth. You'll see the you that's willing to do the shady things that need to be done. You'll see the you that's willing to get their hands dirty to achieve the goals set before them. You'll see the you that you don't talk about in polite company, but that you know is always there, safely hidden behind the facade.
I'm the you that doesn't hide behind the disguise of a hero, while doing unheroic things.
I'm the true moral beacon in the GOL, because the greatest moral virtue is truth, and not only do I speak the truth... I AM the goddamn truth.
I stand here, hated by those that live comfortably in the darkness because of the facade people like Honey, and Roxi, and you, Keira, have built. But when I beat you... And I will beat you, Keira, that facade will fall, and they'll all know the truth. And the truth... shall set them free.
**********
Hammerstein stops at The Flying J Travel Plaza in Lebec, Ca, to fuel up his vehicle as he drives towards Los Angeles and The Labyrinth.
As he exits the vehicle, he's spotted by several wrestling fans who come up to him, asking for autographs and selfies. Hammerstein complies, more to avoid an awkward situation than to satisfy the fans. He makes his way into the store, pays for his fuel and a couple bottles of water and heads back to his car. He's almost to his vehicle when a young voice calls out to him, stopping him in his tracks.
MR. HAMMERSTEIN?
The American Monster turns, ready to shut the fan down Probably wanting me to sign something to sell on eBay,
he thinks to himself before he sees the source of the voice.
It's a young blonde girl, probably eleven or twelve. She's wearing a Honey Sunshine t-shirt, and could likely pass for Honey's little sister. The only thing keeping Hammerstein from denying the girl's request is the fact that she is in a motorized wheelchair. The girl’s smile is absolutely infectious. Hammerstein actually struggles to not break into a grin.
Mr. Hammerstein, I'm your biggest fan! I've been a fan since you were in Pollomania. Can you autograph a photo for me?
Hammerstein closes his eyes and answers.
Yeah, gimme a second, let me go get a promo pic for you and I'll sign it, ok?
It's okay, mr. Hammerstein. I've got a picture already. And don't worry, I won't sell it on eBay or nothing.
Yeah, right,
Hammerstein thinks to himself as he takes the picture from the fan. He looks at the picture, which is of Hammerstein as he used to look, with spiked bleach blonde hair, funky clothes, and about sixty extra pounds. Hammerstein winces when he sees the “old him.” What strikes him more than that is that the picture is of him kneeling next to the same girl in the same wheelchair.
This picture was taken at the Christmas brawl in 2016, where you help team tecnico win the match. I was so happy you guys won, but I was even more happy when you took this picture with me. That was the best Christmas present ever! I still like you, Mr.. Hammerstein, I just wish you weren't so mean to Honey in those matches and promos. Papa says you're just acting, and I hope he's right.
Hammerstein swallows hard as he signs the picture. He hands the picture back to the little girl, whose eyes open wide in amazement.
No way! You remembered my name!?
Of course. I always remember my best fans, Jenn. Hang on a sec. Do you have a phone?
The fan hands him her phone. Hammerstein kneels down next to her and snaps a selfie with the overjoyed fan.
WOW! Thanks Mr. Hammerstein!
Jenn opens her arms and Hammerstein hugs her.
Just call me Hammie, okay? Shoot me that pic, okay?
But how? I don't….
Hammerstein pulls out a Buck-U Enterprises business card and writes his phone number and email address on it he hands it to Jenn.
I want you to shoot me that pic. And, I want you to call, text, or email me anytime you want or need to, okay?
Okay, Mr. Ham…. I mean Hammie!
Jenn hugs Hammerstein tightly around the neck.
I got to go, okay, Jenn? I got to go wrestle. This is meant more to me than you'll ever know, Jenn.
Okay, Hammie! I'm your biggest fan!
Hammerstein the looks the girl in her sparkling blue eyes.
I'm yours, Jenn.
The girl turns her chair around and rolls away as Hammerstein gets in this car drives off.
A few miles down the road, Hammerstein's phone pings with a text message. He pulls over and checks the text message. It's Jenn, who has texted the selfie to him.
The American Monster wonders if she noticed the glistening in his left eye has it cheered up. He saved the picture to his phone, tossed it into the passenger seat and drove away.
**********
Hammerstein stands behind a card table a deck of Bicycles in his hand. He shuffles the deck and cuts the cards. He lays three cards, face-down, on the table, then asks the cameraman to choose one. The cameraman chooses the card in the middle, and Hammerstein flips it over, revealing it to be the Queen of Hearts. Hammerstein moves the three cards around, then asks the cameraman which card he believes is his. The camera man chooses correctly, as Hammerstein flips the card over showing it to be the Queen of Hearts.
Hammerstein flips the card back over, removes the other two cards from the table, then taps the cameraman's card three times. He flips the card back over, and to the cameraman's surprise, it has changed to the Ace of Spades.
The America Monster flicks his left wrist and the Queen of Hearts falls from inside his shirt cuff.
You see, heroes are like magic card tricks. Magic tricks aren't magic. They're just... tricks. I'm not actually causing the atomic structure of the Queen of Hearts to convert itself into the Ace of Spades.
I just make it look like I am.
Heroes aren't the fine upstanding moral beacons that they’re made out to be.
They just make themselves look like they are.
See, every magic trick ever performed is just slide of hand in this direction. A story to keep everything moving in the keep the audience's eyes off the actual trick. It all comes off as supernatural, super-powered, superheroic. But it's not that at all. It's all trickery, pre-arranged decks, marked cards, bent cards, fake flips, etc etc. It's all cheap tricks that fool the ordinary ones.
But I, dear Keira, and not one of the ordinary ones.
I see through the slide of hand. I see through the misdirection. I see through it all.
I saw through sweet little Honey Sunshine….and I beat her two out of two times.
I see through Roxy superhero Act... And thereby see through yours too, Keira.
See, Keira, all the superpowers you possess mean nothing when held against the cold hard light of truth that I possess.
And that truth is this:
There are no Heroes... In life, the monsters win.