CONTENT

Title: Coin Flip
Featuring: Bobby Dean
Date: 1/8/2020
Location: Backstage at Pandemonium 5
Show: Pandemonium V



Flip.

Catch.

Flip.

Catch.

You know, maybe Two-Face had the right idea. If you leave important choices up to fate, then you can’t really go wrong. Should I eat healthy and lose weight? Or should I feast at the nearest buffet and gorge myself happily?

Flip.

Catch.

Reveal.

Happy and fat it is.

Should I succumb to my friend, Doozer’s wishes and join the FWF? Or should I remain retired for the umpteenth time?

Flip.

Catch.

Reveal.

Well, we know which won there, don’t we, eh Dooze?

A lot of people don’t know this about me, I’m a man filled with self doubt. I second guess every decision I’ve ever made. You name it, I have second guessed it. It’s kind of odd though. You can’t change the past, so why even give one iota of your time even thinking of past decisions. It’s completely useless. But, yet, I do it every single fucking time.

Not anymore though. I’ve got my lucky coin here, given to me by a stripper in Las Vegas. When I say given to me, I mean, she chucked it at my face one evening when I tried to slip it in her g-string. I was running low on ones and figured, maybe she wouldn’t notice this quarter…

Needless to say, I managed to slide it into her slot. She obviously knew it wasn’t the denomination that she would normally accept, and took umbrage to it. Removed it, reared back, and let fly. I was sitting there, grinning, because, it’s been awhile since I made it to third base with a woman, so I was pretty fucking ecstatitic. So when the piece of silver hits me in the forehead and slides down my face, leaving a bit of a slime trail and lands in the glass of water in front of me, let’s just say I haven’t let it leave my hand since.

So here I sit. The night of Pandemonium. Doors set to open in about 3 hours. New and familiar faces milling the halls. Guys with headsets scrambling around like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to fix any myriad of issues that crop up on game night. And here I sit, a conundrum before me.

Flip.

Catch.

The Hardcore title belt sitting in my lap as I look down at it fondly. I can’t remember the last time I had a title belt, my very own title belt. Sure the eGG Bandits had the tag team titles not too long ago. But I never felt that I did much to win them. I always credited those to Cancer and Doozer, and they just let me cart them around for them because they were the best friends a guy like me could have.

But this title? This title I won with hard work and a dedication to my craft. No one can take it away from me. I think a lot of people have to nod their heads in appreciation to the amount of work I put in to get this title to fit around my waist. And no one is going to take this title from my grubby stubby fingers any time soon.

Certainly not Danielle Leslie!

I’ve faced my fair share of women in my career. The Queen of the Ring, Lindsay Troy. The pornstar turned wrestling MJ fucking Flair. And, well those are the only two worth mentioning. Now if I were to face either of those ladies, I’d probably be shaking in my boots and preparing my next retirement speech.

But Danielle Leslie!? She’s no Lindz. She’s no MJ. So should I really be worried about losing something I’ve worked so hard to achieve?

Flip.

Catch.

“Come on guy, what’s it gonna be?” the man asks, standing before me and looked rather put out. “It’s not that hard a question.”

But it was. It was a very hard question to answer.

“Man, I gotta fill out this bio of yours, and I’ve got to get it done within the next couple of hours.” he says in frustration. If he added a little stomp of the foot and a pout, he’d look like a child throwing a classic tantrum.

“Heel?” he begins to ask for the hundredth time. “Or face?”

There it is. To be or not to be.

A lot of people know me as the fun loving teddy bear, looking to make ya giggle while I jiggle. What a lot of you don’t remember is the guy with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove. I could talk the talk, and walk the walk. Then I got fat and realized it’s so much easier to talk than to actually walk. But the FWF is a new playing ground for me. Maybe it’s time I change things up for once?

Flip.

Catch.

Maybe it’s time for me to sit back and let fate decide. Heel? Or Face?

Flip.

Catch.

“Guy?” the man asks, this time with a foot stomp included. “Come onnnnn.”

Flip.

Catch.

Reveal.

Showing the coin to the guy, I begin to smile. He looks at the coin, then up to my face, then back to the coin.

“What the fuck does that mean!?” he asks, throwing his hands in the air.



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