I can’t think of a good title – something about ringworms?

I’ve occasionally had to cancel a show.  Due to magical curses and near-deadly beatings.  You know how that goes.  I’ve never refused to work once I was at the venue.  I’ve seen people do that a couple times.  And somehow I’m the one with a “bad attitude”.

I almost walked away from a show last night.

I work shitty venues.  And when you work shitty venues, you work in some shitty rings.  Boxing rings.  Scratch-built garbage rings.  Rings that were old when Reagan was president.  Rings that are too small.  Ropes that are too far apart.  All sorts of rings.  Sometimes the ring is the most dangerous part of the booking.

You ever see the wrestlers dance around each other in a big circle at the start of a match?  They’re looking for the dead spots in the ring. 

Until last night, the worst ring I ever worked in had “ropes” that were garden hoses.  Hoses.  But last night took the cake.  The guy had built the ring himself out of a garage door.  He pointed and said “don’t step over here, this is where the windows are”.  And the ropes were actual rope. 

I thought it might be a joke.  Pranks are a big thing in wrestling.  You know like shitting in someone’s shoes or smashing all the windows out of their rental car or drugging their girlfriend.  Pranks.  But this moron was not kidding at all.  He wanted us to perform on this piece of shit. 

I was all ready to walk out on the gig, but I decided to go through with it.  I told my opponent, who was having her first match ever, we wouldn’t even get in the ring.  We’d just fight around it.  She asked how the match could end if we never got in the ring.  I told her my main concern was not taking a bad step and putting my foot through a fucking garage door window.


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