Warriorversary July 2019

The sights and sounds of a good old-fashioned American carnival. Blinking lights, ringing bells, slide whistles and a lot of laughter. Rickety rides with long lines of people waiting to only sort of enjoy themselves on them. A loopty-loop was looping its loops. A merry-go-round made its merry way round and round again. Carnies called kids over to stalls to try their tiny hands at winning oversized stuffed animals in obviously rigged games, and the parents bankrolling it all felt an ache in their wallets. Everywhere, the air smelled of hot dogs and popcorn and freshly spun cotton candy. Well, everywhere except for inside the funhouse, which stunk of cigar smoke.

Kids coming around the corner at the end of the hall of mirrors were being startled by a very real, not at all animatronic clown standing there smoking a cigar. Sometimes he’d hear the kids coming and stand still as a statue, wait until the kids were right up next to him, then grab one and scare the shit out of them. More often than not, he’d be oblivious to the children who were nervously darting around him as he dug around in his ear or scratched violently at his crotch as though he was alone in his own living room.

Obnoxio the Hardcore Clown had come to the funhouse to get some serious thinking done. It was the kind of place that really put him at ease, made him feel in his element, and he felt he’d had some epiphanies already while hanging out in there that evening. But kids exiting the funhouse had been complaining to their parents about the creepy clown smoking cigars in there, which is why one of the carnies had come to give him the old heave-ho.

“Whattayamean I can’t smoke in here?” Obnoxio yelled incredulously in his deep raspy voice. “You already got a smoke machine sitting in the corner over there fogging up the place, who the hell cares if I add a little bit more?”

The overweight dropout in the orange reflector vest who’d come to eject him was having none of it. “Rules is rules. No smoking in here. We already told you that ‘bout five times tonight. You gotta leave, buddy.”

Obnoxio looked the guy up and down, reading what was showing of his t-shirt in the opening between the two flaps of blinding neon orange. There was a picture of a muscular man with a painted face and a few words beneath it.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Obnoxio asked, pointing his cigar at the exasperated man’s chest. “Is that a goddamn Machine Gun Mayhem shirt? Did you actually pay money for that hideous thing? I’m surprised Warrior Pro could afford to print a goddamn t-shirt in the first place. What, you shop at Salvation Army or something? That’s some homeless couture you got going on there. HAHAHAHA YOU GET IT? Haute couture, homeless couture. Meh, you're clearly not smart enough to get a sophisticated joke like that, I shouldn't have wasted that dandy on you. So anyways: why in the hell would anyone wear something like that in public? Might as well take a sharpie and write ‘DUMBASS’ across your forehead in great big letters. Dumbass.”

The ride attendant’s face went red with rage at this overwhelming onslaught of insults. He momentarily considered clocking the clown, but even in his big billowy clownsuit it was quite clear that Obnoxio was a rather large and muscular man, so the carnie reconsidered. Instead, he tried his hand at an insult of his own.

“I bet MGM could kick your stupid fuckin’ ass, you sorry old clown.”

Obnoxio clutched his belly and spit out a cackling laugh that sounded about as convincing as a shopping mall Santa’s ho-ho-ho. “That’s just about the funniest damn thing I ever heard, kid. You’re a bit of a nut, you know that? You’re just about as nuts as that idiot Machine Gun Mayhem!”

Suddenly, the clown’s free hand flashed out and snatched the man by the throat, pulling him close so they were now nose-to-nose. Obnoxio’s face instantly went from a gleeful grin to a frighteningly grim and grave expression.

“But you know what, kid? You know who’s even more nuts than both you and your hero Machine Gun Mayhem combined?”

The carnie gulped and nodded affirmatively as best he could with Obnoxio’s vicelike grip still clamped around his neck.

“That’s right. Me.”

And with that, Obnoxio stumped his burning cigar out on the man’s forehead. The poor guy kicked his feet and flailed his arms but he just couldn’t escape the crazed clown’s clutches. He screamed bloody murder as the flesh of his face sizzled, emitting a stinking odor. The clown finally threw him down to the floor and he scurried away like a kicked cat. Alone again, Obnoxio took a deep inhale from the cloud of that sickening scent now hanging in the air and cackled his crazy head off.

Tank: Welcome everyone to the official press conference for Warriorversary. This show will celebrate the one-year anniversary of Warrior Pro Wrestling, and we have plans for this to be the biggest show we’ve ever had. We have a truly stacked lineup for you guys headlined by a huge main event of John Logan vs Doc Wyatt for the Heavyweight Championship. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg:

Its only fitting that I lace them up and participate in this big event. I’ve called up my friend El Macho, who you all know has some free time on his hands right now, and we’re going to tag team it against two baaaad men: Johnny Sixnames from TIPWF, and the legendary Kerry Texan from AAW.

Doc: Seven.

Tank: What?

Doc: Seven names. Johnny Sevenname. This has been established.

Tank: Anyways… Brick and Roy Carter are going to face off at the request of both men to settle beef. And while I don’t condone how this match was hyped…. Machine Gun Mayhem will get his match against the hardcore clown Obnoxio. There may be further match stipulations to that one, but that will be announced at a later time.

Besides the heavyweight title, we will have two other titles on the line. The newly crowned Tag Team Champion Gears of War will face off against the Baron Family. We've also received word from iWe owner David Harley that Rampage Hunter’s first iWe Intercontinental defense will be against King Nyabinghi.

And finally, my nephew Lefty McDaniel will be facing off against a mystery opponent that will be revealed later this week.



Our official card:







Warrior Pro World Heavyweight Title Match: "Gentleman" Doc Wyatt (c) vs John Logan



We’ll now open the floor for questions…

Reporter: Tank, do you have a comment on the Wonderland situation?

Tank: (sigh) No… not really. The offer to take over Training Grounds has not been officially accepted or rejected, at least to the best of my knowledge, though “get bent” can certainly lean in one direction. I have been unable to talk to Wondy since he won his match. It has been tough to be honest, because I consider Austin Baron a close friend- and I never wanted to create this situation given his- and his family’s- impeccable history training young wrestlers. I have some fences to mend to be sure, and hopefully this situation works itself out over the next couple of weeks.

Reporter: John- how do you feel heading into your rubber match with Doc?

Logan: I feel great. I feel confident. My win over Doc last month showed the world that not only can I beat Doc, but right now I can beat anyone in the world. I’ve worked real hard for this moment. There’s no question in my mind that come July 18th, I’m walking away from this arena with that belt.

Doc: I’m sorry… Are you kidding me? Did everyone have a giant brain aneurism and forget who the champion is? Me. It’s me knuckleheads. I’m the champion. And I’ve been the champion for the better part of the last year. I’ve literally beat every single person thrown in front of me. How about you start showing me some god damn respect. Someone ask me a question. You- in the front row, ask me a question.

Reporter: Uh… are you confident you’ll.. uh.. bounce back from your loss in the G2 tournament?

Doc: Is that seriously your question? Seriously Tank are you grabbing local high school reporters? Are you really asking ME if I’m confident?

Logan: You seem to be answering questions with more questions.

Doc: Fuck you John. There, that was a statement. Fuck. You. John. That better? They’re fucking rhetorical questions. Of course I’m confident. How many times have you seen me lose to someone two matches in a row? Answer the question high school reporter.

Reporter: Uhh…

Doc: Zero. The answer is zero idiot. I have never lost to someone two times in a row. Because I don’t lose matches twice in a row. This belt isn’t going anywhere. Write that down high school reporter. This…belt… fuck you write slow. This hack next to me can assume that a non-title match win guarantees that he beats me for the belt. That’s fine. It will make it that much sweeter when I humiliate him next week. Again. Remember last year when you all wanted to anoint him the star of the promotion? How did that turn out? (turns to Logan) That’s a god damn rhetorical question John, it doesn’t require an answer.

Logan: (calmly smiles at Doc and turns to the reporters) Doc’s game has always been to get in his opponent’s head. But this time he can’t. Because Doc is scared. He lost the Lone Star Championship, he lost the G2 Tournament, and his big man back up, Brick, seems to be sick of his bullshit and is now gunning for him. Those distractions will cost Doc Wyatt. I have no distractions. I am solely focused on beating Doc Wyatt. The match goes over and over in my head, me dropping him on his head and the ref counting 3. On July 18th, you all are going to get to see it too.

Lance Marshall is a legend. A legend. That’s why I chose him as my opponent. I know nobody thinks I can win. You’d be crazy to pick me over Lance. Lance has done it all in this business and is still in his prime. But… what if I did? What if I beat the former Phoenix Rising champion? The former AAW champion. It’s not lost on me that I wasn’t booked in the G2. That my name has seemingly vanished from the title picture. Maybe if I take out a cowboy, I can earn my own shot at that Warrior Pro belt. So everyone can keep doubting my chances on Thursday. Keep telling me I can’t win. But if I were Lance, I wouldn’t listen to it. Don’t step into that ring expecting a friendly exhibition to promote your fed. I’m out to prove a point and make a name. You better be ready for a war.

This is a long time coming. The game passed Brick by. That backwoods Montana redneck has been riding my coattails for long enough. He’s old, he’s slow, and he was holding the group back. Doc saw it, and now I see it too. In two days, you’re going to see me break off Brick’s fat ass arm and beat him over the head with it until he retires. Its time for me to step up, and its time for Brick to go home. Go home Brick. Go home.

The scene opens, apparently inside of some sort of cloud by the look of things, with pulsing reggae as musical accompaniment. A dense dark smoke swirls in front of the camera until a gust of air causes it to dissipate, revealing a rastaman with an impressive head of dreadlocks and arguably an even more impressive joint in his hand. He’s sitting cross-legged in some grass, shaded by a nearby tree.

KING NYABINGHI: *chuckling mirthfully* Wha gwaan, breddahs and sistahs? I and I admit: me got a big kick out of seeing Duke Dirk the big Dutch baldhead go down to Rampage ‘Untah the uddah day. Everyone knows King Nyah-mon love a good dutchie from time to time, but Dirk ain’t exactly the kinda dutchie me like, nahmean? So it was all irie with me, seeing Dirk get his comeuppance, but once him match was over I and I took some tokes from me chillum and got to tinkin’. Nyah-mon can no stand idly by and let a stranger from some bumbaclot promotion like Warrior Pro hold the i.W.e. Intercontinental title like it a hostage. No no. Na uh. So me on a mission to liberate that belt from the clutches of Babylon, bredren. Rampage ‘Untah, the King Nyah-mon gonna come pay you a visit, and me not even gonna bother packing me peace-pipe for the journey neither. Nahmean?

Shit. Rampage ain’t sweating King Nyabooboo. Who he a king of anyways? Huh? Motherfucker comes out of nowhere talking shit and he ain’t even beat anyone. Rampage the champ right? Rampage beat the champ. Rampage been the Warrior Pro champ. Who he a king of? Rampage the real king around here. Nyabooboo can talk all he want about liberation and peace pipes and shit. All he wants. Thursday gonna come, and he gonna have to deal with the real king. The real champ. Pay me a visit. See where that gets you. Its gonna get you a face fulla fist. Its gonna get you lifted high in the air, and a hard crash to canvas. Lights Out man. That’s it. Lights. Out.