Last night I was backstage listening to a dude wearing nothing but thick glasses with no lenses and a jock strap telling “Viking” Dan Man Mountain about a technique he uses with the women that he calls fire dick.
Sometimes I think the boys forget that I’m around. Or if they’re not looking directly at me they forget that I’m a woman. I can’t blame them for that, I have a manly silhouette.
Probably it’s neither of those things. Probably they just don’t care that I’m there. For all I know that’s part of the thrill.
George the police chaplain met me at the show after the match. People call him Lab. He didn’t say why. He said that he hadn’t been to a wrestling show since he was in college. He was excited. Over excited I would say.
George reminds me of Laura a little bit. Some good people are actually assholes somehow despite being good. Then there’s the good people who you wouldn’t mind grabbing a beer with. Then there’s the Lauras and Georges of the world. Some good people kind of make me sick they’re so good.
I’m not proud of it but there it is.
Lab is a sworn officer, has various degrees in mental health treatment, runs programs for at-risk youth, raises money for school lunch programs, works with the foster program and on and on. Best of all for a chaplain he’s not super Jesusy.
I told him my prepared lies about how I was trying to find out more about Andrea’s brother in law’s death to help her in some undefined way. He saw right through me. Not a shock since he’s someone whose job it is to listen to people and know what they’re going through.
He chuckled and said that he didn’t believe me for a minute. Like it was no big deal that I lied to his face. He must get that a lot.
I asked him if he believed in demons. Literal demons, not demons like drug addiction or sadism or thinking that woman have rights or Bible stuff. Demons that can grab you and scare the shit out of you. Literally for real.
He didn’t answer right away but the look in his eyes said that he believed.
Only too well.
Rocket Cat 