In my last match I fought a guy called Mandonna. He was a big ugly mug that looked like those guys you see on every police show who play the mob guy that stands in the back with the other mob guys and never says anything. His ring gear was crazy white lingerie with rocket boob points. This guy was definitely memorable but I found out it was a reference to some old singer. If you’re going to do a gimmick like that maybe reference someone that people still know.
I actually got to win this match too. The Mandonna is a character so hated even I was allowed to beat him. I’m not sure how many matches I’ve had exactly now, more than 30 but less than 50 I think, and this was my first win. It’s stupid how good it felt. I guess there’s something to be said for winning a fixed fake fight.
My loop through the south has been a good one, I really should thank the guy in Pine Bluff. Aside from seeing the inside of a guy’s elbow the shows have all been without incident and I’ve gotten some good paydays. Relatively speaking. Flush with cash, very relatively speaking, I stopped at a diner outside of Macon. That’s my current barometer, when I can afford food things are going well. When I can afford crappy diner food things are going great.
It was an all-night place and there was no one else in there at 2:17 in the AM besides the waitress/cook who looked like Regina Hall if she gained a hundred pounds. We made small talk while she made me some soggy bacon, burnt toast, a pretty good grilled cheese, and some tomato soup that was weird and thick. I’m not great at small talk, or any other kind of talk. She told me about how her son and his friends were in trouble for stealing a hearse to use in a video for some social media platform I had never heard of. I lied and told her I was a college student. I could see her wanting to ask about my scars and telling herself not to.
After she brought me my food she said she had something to do in the back and I should give her a shout if anyone else came in. While I sat alone I realized how jumbled the layout of the place was. The booths were at a funny angle and there was a beam in the middle of the counter that looked very out of place. I walked around chewing on some wet bacon and dry bread and the more I looked at the place, the more off it seemed.
I moved down the counter to the stool next to the beam to finish my food and after a few minutes there was a very weak but noticeable feeling – the feeling I get when I’m working magic. When I was finished eating I looked around some more and the tile on the floor, the paint on the walls, the ceiling – all of it was in a very unusual pattern. From looking at maps I’ve thought that maybe the highway system is laid out to channel magic – this was like that, only I could feel it, it wasn’t just an idea.
I sat down on the floor by the beam and I could feel the energy more clearly, it was very weak, but it was unmistakable. The waitress came out and asked me what I was doing. I told her I was studying architecture and I was curious who built the place. She said that she didn’t know. I asked her who owned the place and she didn’t know that either. I asked her if she could give me her manager’s phone number and she said that she didn’t feel comfortable doing that. She clearly thought I was a loon. I tried to convince her that I thought the place had been built by a famous architect that I made up but if she believed me she didn’t care. I’m not very good at convincing people of things.
I feel like I should investigate this place, but what can I do? Where do you look up who owns something? I hear that we have no privacy anymore these days and everyone’s information is online, how do I make that work for me?
Rocket Cat 