Gordon Fury [vs.] Flex Johnson

A Step at a Time

Scene One
What more could I possibly do?

That the question I ask myself all the time.

My path to becoming a successful wrestler wasn’t easy—not one bit. Ha, you know I still remember the first time I told people about my dreams. I told my friends first; I was 10 or so at the time. My other friends talked about being firefighters, police, doctors, great army soldiers. I talked about being a professional wrestler. When I told my friends, I was met with silence, initially. But, after the silence was lifted, laughter ensued. They thought I was ignorant—crazy even!

But they were wrong.

I also recall the day I told my parents. My dad, well, he didn’t seem to care much. Or, should I say, he wasn’t opposed. He would have been happy as long as I got out of the house and tried to do something. But my mom, she believed in me. She told me that I could do anything that I wanted. Now, she did tell me it was going to be a struggle, a fight—but she knew that I could do it.

It’s crazy, because although my mom’s encouragement helped, it wasn’t what kept me pushing. It was all the doubters that drove me to be the best. It was my friends who laughed at me, it was the guidance counselors who laughed at me—THOSE people lit a fire under me. THOSE people’s word resonated with me when I wanted to give up, when I wanted to quit.

Look at me now.

But even though I’m a nine-time champion, I STILL seem to attract doubters. Imagine that. Now why am I talking about doubters? Well, because this week I take on Gordon Fury for the High Impact Championship. A lot of people think I don’t have a chance in hell of winning this match. And, maybe their perception isn’t flaw at all. Gordon Fury has been the company’s “Golden Boy” ever since he signed here. He has held the High Impact title for God knows how long. In essence, he embodies the spirit of IWF.

But you see, I have my own perceptions as well.

Gordon, this is our second meeting in the ring. The last time you and I met was at the pay-per-view; and if you recall, I was this close to beating you. I’m not going to mince words or make excuses; that night I put on a good show, but I didn’t get the job done.

But this week is going to be different.

You want to know something? I’ve been dreaming about this match, ever since I lost at the pay-per-view. A singles match between Flex Johnson and Gordon Fury was bound to happen, the only question was when it would happen. And, why have I been dreaming about this match? A title shot is important, but it’s not the MOST important reason. The fact of the matter is, I’m a prideful man Gordon. You see, I’m proud of where I’ve come from. I came from nothing; but, I worked hard, and now I’m one the business greatest stars. And, when you beat me a few weeks ago, well…it did something to me. Gordon, I KNOW I’m better than you. I’ve wrestled all over the world for nearly a decade; you’ve only been at this a year or two. I know that I’m better than, and I know that I should have beaten you. THAT is the reason why I’m determined to beat you this week—title or no title!

Now Gordon, I know you are talented—but you want to know something? Talent is a double-edged sword my friend. Talent can get you far; talent can bring you fame and fortune. But, talent can also bring you criticism; talent can bring you hatred.

Where do I fall on this spectrum?

Gordon, I don’t hate you because you’re a “good” wrestler. I don’t hate you because you can do crazy monkey flips. I hate you because you don’t live up to your FULL fucking potential! Look at the push this company has given you! Look at the support that the fans have shown you in your short time here! Gordon, you should king of this place. But, look at you—you’re no king. But, you are a jester aren’t you? Or, at least that’s what you want us to believe. Oh yeah, you walk around here making silly little jokes—acting an ass and being douche. But if you applied yourself, and took yourself seriously, then you could OWN this company!

But alas—you settled! You never strived to be the best. You have been “comfortable” being the High Impact Champion; you’ve never strived to be anything else. That’s where my hatred for you steams from. What if I would have “settled”? What if I would have strived to be mediocre? If I didn’t strive to be the best every night, every match, then I wouldn’t be standing here! God knows where I’d be—I’d probably be stranded in the ghetto somewhere.

But, my distain for you doesn’t end there Gordon; let’s not forget the fact that you are a coward. Oh, what am I talking about? Well, I wanted everyone to recall the last Battlegrounds. During the main event match, Gordon Fury broke Jaci Sovereign’s arm. Now it’s no secret; Jaci and I have our difference—we are nowhere near friends. But, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t respect her. And what you did, intentionally shattering her arm, and trying to hide behind the facade of “competition,” that’s cowardice Gordon! I’ve done some questionable acts in my career; I’ve seen some questionable shit go down. But never have I seen something so despicable.

This week, I’m going to defeat you sir. I’m not doing it for gold; I’m not doing it for Jaci. I’m going it for ME. You aren’t better than me—and I’m going to prove it once and for all, in front of everyone!


Scene Two
Flex pulled into a moderately filled parking lot. He scanned the cars as he pulled in—there were a lot of Hondas and Toyotas. Flex pulled his Audi A7 into an open parking space, next to an older BMW. He got out of the driver’s side and hit the trunk release button. He walked to the trunk of the Audi—the trunk was clean, with the exception of a small file folder.

Flex grabbed the folder and closed the trunk; he then began to walk towards a large brick building. As he was walking, he passed a sign that read “The Lange Foundation.”

About a month or so back, Flex had approached Mya with an interesting idea. Flex had been fiddling around with the idea of purchasing a dog—it was something that he had always wanted. When he was younger, his family didn’t have the money to afford one. And, when Flex first broke into the wrestling business, he was frequently traveling—he didn’t have time for a dog then.

But now, having already established himself, Flex didn’t have to travel as much. Sure, he had to fly out to Battlegrounds every week, but besides that, he didn’t have to do many appearances unless he absolutely wanted to.

At first, Mya was against the idea of getting a dog. She brought up the point that Flex travels a lot, and that she often has to travel for weeks on end. “Who would watch the dog?” she asked during one of their conversations. However, later she had a change of heart. Actually, she thought a dog might help him get over his bad dreams and sleeping problems—so, she gave him the ok.

Then there was the question of what type of dog. As stated before, Flex had wanted a dog since he was young. But, at a young age, he discovered that he was allergic to certain types of dogs, specifically dogs with fur. His allergies weren’t enough to kill him, but they would make his life every uncomfortable. Flex did some research and came up with a list of hypoallergenic dogs that wouldn’t really aggravate his allergies.

He narrowed his choices down to a Maltease, a Yorkie, or a Dachshund.

Mya suggested that Flex go to a breeder; he thought about the idea, but decided that he would pick up a rescue or adoption. Flex seemed dead-set on the idea, so Mya left it alone.

Flex reached the front of the building; he opened the door and entered. There was a receptionist desk near the entrance. There was an older lady seated behind the desk; she appeared to be in her late 50’s. She was reading a novel; Flex couldn’t make out the novel.

As Flex approached the desk, the lady sat the novel down.

“Hello there,” she said. “How can I help you today?”

“Yes ma’am.” Flex opened his file folder and handed the papers to the lady.
“I have an appointment.”

“Oh yes, you are the man who would like to view some of our hypoallergenic dogs.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You look like a strong, handsome man,” the woman said with a smile. “I’m shocked that you have such allergies.”

“So am I,” Flex said with a bit of a laugh.

The woman looked over the papers. “Maggie, can you get those dogs ready for me? The ones I told you about this morning.” She then handed them back to Flex as she got up out of her seat. “Come with me Mr. Johnson, it’s time to meet your new best friend!”

…

The older lady took Flex to a small room in the back of the building. The walls in the room were eggshell white; off again the left wall was soft red chair. The lady asked Flex to have a seat in the chair, which he did.

“So, here is how things are going to work—one by one we are going to bring the dogs in. You can talk to them, play with them a bit. It’s a chance for both of you yall to connect.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The older woman smiled. “I never got to ask you, but I’m curious, why did you decide on adoption?”

“Dogs that are rescued and up for adoption are the ones that people over look. As a child I was underestimated and overlooked. So, I thought it would only be fitting if I picked a dog that came from the same background as me.” Flex laughed. “Sounds crazy huh?”

“Not all,” the woman said with a smile.

There was a light knock on the door.

“Come on in,” the older woman said.

A young blonde woman entered the room holding a brown fluff ball. She sat dog down on the floor and exited. The looked up to the older lady her with enlarged eyes. Timidly, the dog started to walk towards the woman and Flex.

“Hmm, what’s her story?”

“This is Fluff—she is a Maltease. Fluff actually got rescued from a very abusive situation. Her old owner lived in a very rough neighborhood. He bread dogs on the side, but didn’t take care them at all. He fed the maybe once and week, and there is evidence that he kicked the dogs as wall.”

“Aww, she’s just a puppy.”

“Yes. Fluff wasn’t kicked, but many of her litter mates were. They were very hesitant to approach humans, just like she is now.”

After what seemed like forever, Fluff made it over to where Flex was sitting. Flex got up out of his chair and then sat on the ground. Slowly, he petted the dog; Fluff didn’t shy away, but she didn’t seem particular thrilled by the petting either.

“I’d imagine Fluff would need some rehab and training to get over everything?”

“That’s right.”

Flex continued to pet her, but after a while Fluff backed away and just stared at him.

“She is a beautiful dog, but I don’t think she is going to work.”

“I understand,” the woman said. “Maggie! You can bring in the next one.

The blonde-haired girl opened the door and in walked a black and brown wiener dog. The dog walked up to Flex as Maggie scoped up Fluff and carried her away. The wiener sniffed Flex. After approving of the man’s smell, the dog hopped on Flex and began to lick him.

“Well this one is more friendly,” Flex said with a laugh.

“Ay yes. This one here is Chuck, a dachshund. Chuck actually came from a good home—the owner was 87 years old though. She became unable to take care of him, due to health concerns.”

“Hers or his?”

The woman laughed.

“A bit of both I suppose. Chuck is and older dog. He can move around just fine; but, he does have some internal problems. Whoever buys him will have to schedule some type of surgery for him.”

Flex began to pet the dog to return the affection.

“Surgery huh?”

“Yes sir.”

“Serious surgery?”

“Well…kinda.”

“I like Chuck,” Flex said as he continued to pet. “But, I don’t want to take him if his health is poor.”

“Well, shall we move on to the last?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Maggie opened the door and Chuck ran at her. A small brown Yorkie then walked into room. With a confident stride, the dog walked over to Flex. Flex noticed that the dog had a bandage on its front left leg. The Yorkie sat down right in front of Flex; scratched behind the dog’s hear. The dog leaned in and sighed a bit; it almost smiled as Flex showed it love.
Flex smiled as well.

“What about this one?”

“This one’s name is Toby; he’s a Yorkie of course. Toby came from a breeder; the breeder donated five or six dogs for our adoption fair last weekend. Toby didn’t get sold—as you can see, he’s kind of middle-aged; not young but not old. But, all the adopters wanted the young puppies.”

“Ok—is he well-tempered?”

“Oh yes, Toby is well-tempered. He gets along with most of the other dogs here. He is also well trained; he has only had one incident here.”

“You mean his leg?”

The woman sighed.

“Yes. A couple of days ago he got into a little fight. We have a bigger dog in the back, Butch; he’s huge. He picked on Toby and Toby decided to fight back. That’s where the injury came from. It is a small sprain; he will be completely healed in about a month or so.”

Flex nodded his head. He liked this dog; he was cool and calm, similar to himself. But, he was also a fighter. Toby reminded Flex a lot of himself. But, the best part of all—Toby didn’t seem to bother Flex’s allergies.

Flex looked up and smiled at the woman.

“I’ll take this one please.”

The woman smiled.

“Oh I figured you take this one. Now, you and Toby come with me—we’ll finish the paper work and get everything wrapped up.”


Scene Three
Mya opened the door to Flex house; her hands were stuffed with a briefcase, two grocery bags, and bag full of take-out. She leaned the briefcase against wall near the front door—that was something she did all the time. Mya walked to kitchen and sat the groceries on the table. She pulled out a bottle of Strawberry Soda—that was for Flex. She then pulled out a bottle of Moscato—that was for her.

She placed both of the bottles in the fridge and walked back to the main hallway. She took off her heals and sat them near the briefcase.

Mya walked into the living room. Flex was lying on the couch, reclined. He had his iPhone to his ear; he also had a mundane look on his face. The look smiled when he saw Mya’s face.

Toby lay on the floor with his eyes closed. In front of him sat a half-bowl of dog food.

Flex moved his legs so that Mya could sit on the couch. Toby’s ears perked up as she sat down. He opened up his eyes and turned in her direction.

Flex hung up the phone and sat it on the coffee table.

“Hey babe. How was your day?”

“It was great.”

Mya looked down. She hadn’t noticed Toby until just now. But, once she saw his face, her heart melted.

“Hi,” Mya said. She held out her arms. “Come here!”

Toby got up off the ground and walked over to her. He jumped into Mya’s arms. After sniffing her, Toby licked her face.

“Aww, you are SO cute. Are you here to stay?”

Toby let out a small “roof.”

Mya petted the dog. She turned to Flex.

“What’s his name?”

“Toby.”

“Toby huh?” Mya looked down at Toby and smiled. “I like it.” She turned back to Flex. “Hey babe, I brought home some Chinese food; I got you chicken lo-mein.”

“Aww, I was going to cook,” Flex said with a laugh.

“No you weren’t,” Mya said laughing.

“Ok, no I wasn’t.”

“Oh hey, I got a call from Lina’s office today. Don’t forget your appointment is on Thursday.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Have you done your homework?”

Flex signed.

“No, not yet. Ugh, I’ve just been so busy training; I’ll write down Sunday on the flight back.”

“Ok, don’t forget though.”

“Alright.”

“I just want my baby to get better. I know you are still having trouble sleeping. Lina is the best; she’ll get you back to normal.”

Mya stood up; Toby squirmed a little bit, but he held on the Mya.

“Shall we eat?”

Flex got up off the couch and followed Mya to the kitchen.

END