The Adventures Of Bonesaw McGraw

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Spider Matthau

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1



“Bonesaw Is Ready!”

The strobe lights flicker alive, the building’s walls a seizure of green. Dry ice plagues the floors, lifting witchlike into the crowd’s faces like cauldron steam.

An angry garbled diddy plays you out. You walk the ramp, a jet-black platform that inclines up to the ring apron for easy access. You step between the ropes and raise your microphone to your mouth.

“Bonesaw waited 2 years! 2 years of downtime. But New York has wrestling again!”

You gesture at the ring itself, now occupied by a world championship title resting upright on a Grecian column.

“I own it! Every bolt and wire, every roll of duct tape at the Nurses' Station, it’s mine! NYWL is mine! And we’re goin’ nowhere!”

Sometimes we are happy the people speaking to us are happy, and that was the feeling of the crowd. They cheer. You nod approvingly.

“And I found the hottest free agents from all over the world. A world title deserves diverse cultures, OH YEAH!”

The audience agrees in their confusion.

Inaudible rap erupts. The Great Muta comes out in a poofy white jacket. He has 3 suited wrestlers with him: there is the muscle, which is Masato Tanaka, the gaunt Sumie Sakai, wearing sunglasses indoors this evening, and the suave Steve Corino. The one who speaks better Brooklyn introduces themselves.

“We are The Great Council. We look after Keiji Mutoh’s personal assets, and before you go any farther, let me remind you that as hot as the free agents are in the back…they’re moons pulled into The Great Muta’s orbit.”

A metaphor lost on the crowd. Perhaps it's because they speak Bronx, which was not Brooklyn. Steve pursues the wordplay.

“The Great Muta is the brightest star a New Yorker can see, though that may be because of the pollution.”

He chuckles at his joke. The crowd boo because nobody likes twerps who laugh at their own jokes. The twerp continues.

“A star comes with demands. When Muta signed his contract, it stated The NYWL would allow The Great Muta creative input before tonight’s scheduled showtime. Moments before these New Yorkers walked through those back doors The Great Council and your board of directors had a meeting about the title.“

Gasps from the seated folk. You stumble around the turnbuckles like you're evading a swarm of hornets. A heavy blow to the forces of good. Corino tells the listeners they all agreed The Great Muta would be crowned The King of New York.

“Let me tell you something, Steve. My word is law, not no contract. Bonesaw respects The Great Council, but you will respect Bonesaw back!”

The Great Muta grabs Steve Corino’s shoulder and plants himself between you two. The 41-year-old takes the microphone from Steve’s hand and tells you, the owner of NYWL, how he knows you are not the Bonesaw from 2 years ago. Muta knows the story of Spiderman. Near-immortal superbeing with psychic powers and sticky rope upstaged the champion who was booked to fight the entire night against untrained walk-ons. But at least they were human. The fight exposed NYWL as lowbrow theater and broke you physically and mentally. Now word on the street was Bonesaw converted to Zen Japanese Buddhism, which sort of explains why you signed The Great Council. That’s why you won’t do shit. This was what Muta said.

Your turn.



You admit to your new lease on life, but this is pro wrestling and you found a guy who could help keep the peace for you instead.

Guitars clang somewhat melodically when Jeff Hardy appears. He is in his best Criss Angel apparel. He slides in, which is a weird thing to do when the ramp elevates up into the ring.

Jeff immediately gets pummeled by The Great Council. All the ruckus upsets the ground, causing the column to rattle and The King of New York belt to topple over. You flee the scene, but not before getting the last word.

“You think you’re bad, Muta? Bonesaw will show you bad. Hardy got guts, be he ain’t my big helper. Say hello to Bonesaw’s insurance policy!”

The crowd mutters in bewilderment. Rock music with horns farts through the arena. LA Park ambles towards The Great Council with a steel chair. He swings, missing every single one of them, but the message is sent. The Great Council leaves of their own accord while Park helps Jeff back to his feet. Together they milk the crowd with their charismatic enigma.

The world title lies forgotten on the mat.



As the weeks go by, LA Park becomes your own personal chair-swingin’ freak. The Great Council vow to never come back if this is the welcome they’ll receive. The crowd likes it, but it’s 2004 and wrestling chatrooms begin to suspect truth in the script. You try to squash them, but it only makes viewers more suspect. People are dumb sometimes, what can I tell you? Nobody cares to correct the tiny problems anyways because supervillains exist, so the rumors stay alive among the fans who take violent burlesque seriously.

Though it may work in your favor. Consumers love uncertainty, which your plan seems to propagate. Tickets for your January event, Dead Man’s Party, are flying out of HQ by Week 2.

Week 3 you hit a snag creatively. Your biggest stars are LA Park and Muta, and it’s too soon to pull the trigger. So what you had written down was this: Have Gangrel beat Blue Meanie in the Opening Match of Week 1, Gangrel bites Meanie in the neck with a lovely blood show for those ECW-loving savages, Week 2 has Gangrel cut a super duper short backstage promo about whatever is spooky in pop culture right now (It’s Saw, so he starts his dialogue with “I vant to play a game” because he’s as intimidating a talker as a homicidal cancer patient would be), then he abducts LA Park in Week 3, locking him in a coffin. The Great Council runs amok on the go-home show until there is a 4 man group who come out to save the day (Jeff Hardy, Mike Awesome, Sabu, and Sara Del Rey to balance out Sumie Sakai). It sets up a 4 on 4 Intergender Tag Match. This will also be the night LA Park breaks out of the sarcophagus, setting up a Casket Match between him and Gangrel. Bada boom, you got your main event with Muta’s posse and a few promising babyfaces while building Park up in a nice gimmick match. It’s a Dead Man’s Party, who could ask for more?

The best-lain plans of mice and men fucks you over. Awesome/Tanaka would have had an explosive encounter if left to germinate. The pop in the multi-man went like the snapping of fingers. You gave the women much-needed heat but it's a small positive compared to earlier that night.

In making Gangrel a credible monster, you gave the world The Red Meanie.

red_meanie_293784242234_465_304_int.jpg


Gangrel’s minion storms the ring at the event and assists with sticking LA Park in the casket. That’s fine, that’s part of the show, but Red Meanie gets carried away with his new character and slams the lid on Park’s skull too fucking hard. Your insurance policy goes unconscious in the encasement.

The referee has no choice but to give Gangrel the victory. He’s not a great actor so he paces around with his hand over his mouth, shaking his head, and showing every sign of what had happened wasn't intended. Red Meanie makes it worse by crawling on all fours, licking the vampire’s boots, and whatever else kayfabe servants of darkness do that's not kosher for a Book This.

Red Meanie is open to many perverse improvisations as you'll be reminded in garage interviews for years and years to come.

You book LA Park to beat Gangrel in a regular match the following week. Now both men have the momentum of a beached whale. You salvage what you can by pitting Muta against Jeff Hardy, Mike Awesome, and then Sabu for the following months but you’ve lost your booking spirit by the time LA Park is hot again.

After a few months you give New York Wrestling League to well-off but stupid mafia types and live your days sweating over stained photographs of yourself at stuffy conventions.

What? You knew this would be the bad ending, didn't you? I didn't give a hint as to what would be bad? I'll do that next time. :)





You remind Muta how we all grow as individuals and once growth is scoffed at, spiritual discourse dies. This throws The Great Council into a frenzy, Japanese arguments clashing between the lot.

You grab the NY King title from the column before their ox-like behavior makes you some future asshole’s gamer music compilation.

Muta stares you down right before you tell whoever is watching backstage to come out and protect NYWL in its time of need. Your wild improvisation conjures a storm of athletes, from names like Dustin Rhodes and Monty Brown to local talent. They fill up the outside.

The Great Council drops their alpha shit and makes a retreat.

The visual of a full ring sticks with many fans that evening, and some would find inspiration by the scene. They would go into photography, and others to wrestle professionally. One will be given the spark to write a TV series about the ripe drama of the squared circle. It'll be called Thumb Wrestling Federation and it will air on Cartoon Network.

But your plans are now shot to shit. Making a grand gesture put you in a corner, and the only way to right the wrong would be to set up a Battle Royal at Dead Man’s Party by Week 2. The Great Muta himself could be a competitor, ergo The New York King Championship the prize. When you speak to The Council outside of kayfabe you learn your current champion is splitting his time between the East Coast and Japan. The less amount of work for your champ at this conjuncture the better.

And defending a title this early and against the locker room no less is silly-billy-Jennifer-Tilly.

Week 3 goes by uneventfully. Interest in your big event dwindles. Nobody believes you’re taking it off Muta, and the people who are grabbing tickets are guaranteed to be the sort who come not for the billed stars, but for themselves.

That’s dandy. You begin to learn chaos is the true cash cow here, and the go-home show is when you bring it all to focus. No, you can’t put your NY title on the line. It’s supposed to be a B event anyways. You announce a 10-Man Weapons Battle Royal instead. Muta will face the winner at the next event in February - Video Nasty. The branding starts to sell itself. This gives you time to build up solid challengers while giving the crowd something to feast on.

Sabu wins the Weapons Battle Royal. Mike Awesome had the most eliminations, and rounding off Final Four was LA Park and Jeff Hardy, solid acts for a future title booking.

You don’t make much money, but that was not the goal.

Your reboot catches the attention of others in the wrestling community. Kevin Nash would make an appearance after Dead Man’s Party to challenge Mike Awesome. He didn’t put Mike over in a match, but he does take Awesome Bombs for 2 weeks, helping to get the move over. Now you will have several hot challengers for Muta.

Video Nasty looms, but you are content like The Buddha.



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The Adventures Of Bonesaw is an idea that stemmed from playing Journey Of Wrestling’s 2004 scenario. Every wrestler and personality featured is a free agent not attached to a company’s in-game roster. Some liberties were taken in the name of Gonzo booking. Please follow for more shenanigans.

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NYWL Fan Mail


Q: Where did Bonesaw get the finances to reopen NYWL?
A: A friendly donation.


Q: Where are The Bone-ettes?
A: Commentary and ring announcing.


Q: Will we see superheroes?
A: Of course, this is pro wrestling. Do you mean mutants? Nah.


Q: Did Bonesaw’s husband make his outfit?
A: No. Gay marriage is illegal in NY for another 7 years, as that doucherachnid knows. Bonesaw's life partner made it.




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I have a set roster of 40 individuals, but I wish to write with a 2004-era mystique and not share it. Wild card!

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Spider Matthau

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2



Bonesaw is ready for upper midcard booking.

Quick recap, Dead Man’s Party ended with Sabu being the last man standing in the 10-Man Weapons Battle Royal. Sabu vs. The Great Muta is slated for Video Nasty. He is guaranteed to give your King of New York Championship a little prestige, being the first opponent Muta faces for it.

With your Main Event gaining momentum with the likes of Jeff Hardy, LA Park, Mike Awesome, and The Great Council, you focus your attention on the Midcard talent with Main Event potential.

At least you would if not for mundane management. Record keeping. Phone calls. Meetings that could’ve been handled in a company email. The days of dropping elbows on pencil pushers are behind you now. You’re the one taking memos.

GM Office settings suck.

You get up from your table. The leopard print carpet goes well with your leather chairs. But what really ties the room together is your zen garden.

It’s not a shitty paperweight that’d leak sand over everything on your desk. We’re talking about an installation dead center of the room with boulders and a wooden rake. What monks probably spend their time on when they're not meditating.

You grab the rake. You make big erratic lines. Everything starts feeling zen.

There’s a knock at your door.

Percy Pringle has dyed his hair blonde. Dustin Rhodes comes in wearing a Stetson cowboy hat and a duster coat. You want to laugh but remember you’re paying these people to look ridiculous.

“Booonesawww,” Percy says, sounding like somebody’s Southern grandmama, “My boy wants Sabu, champeen or not. Dustin has been in 2nd gear his entire career. What will it take to git The Natural on the right level?”

Dustin grunted pleadingly.

You tell them how business shouldn’t be conducted in the office, but in the ring. You lead them out. Fans may think this is a waste of time, but remember they’re paying you people to be ridiculous.


Once inside the ring, you grab a microphone.

“Let me make one thing clear…”

You are interrupted by a medley of nu-metal mistakes. Monty Brown comes out with Woman. They are dressed like your office carpet.

“Let ME make one thing clear Bonesaw, as The Alpha Male my spot ain’t in the back like these rodeo clowns.”

Monty pointed at Percy and Dustin in case a fan wasn’t sure who he meant.

“It’s at the head of the pack. Don’t make me wait until March. Give me your best, Bonesaw, and I’ll do better!”


Your turn.




Logic dictates the hypermasculine are perfect for a temporary tag team. You tell them as much, getting cheered for every word you say because it’s 2004 and you’re the most hypermasculine man alive.

“And I’m gonna put you against a team tonight…The Pitbulls!”

The spectators beam with childish delight.

“No, no, The Havana Pitbulls. Rocky Romero and Ricky Reyes.”

Everybody awws including your talent.

Later that evening, Monty and Dustin work together to win. The Alpha Male reaches out to give The Natural a handshake afterward, but Dustin doesn’t take it. This is rectified in Week 2 when Bonesaw orders the duo to bond outside of the arena.

Monty Brown visits The Rhodes Ranch.

He is shown how to make a lasso but ties himself up instead. Milking cows leads to a hilarious-for-its-time segment with a bull. But then comes the horse riding scene in Week 3.

He rides the speckled palomino around the fences, trotting along with the sort of expertise that gives Gene Autry a hard-on. But when it’s time to coax Lil’ Whitey into the stable stall, she bucks and sends Monty flying.

He is hurt, but nothing serious until Week 4, when Monty launches Dustin through a table using no safety precautions.

Now your Upper Midcarders are banged up before they have a Tables Match at Video Nasty.

The match goes on, Monty goes over, and he makes a damning statement weeks later on a local radio station. His month of build leads him to think the work conditions at NYWL are tough. His blabbering gets more eyes to the product, from the hardcore fans of ECW, XPW, and everybody else who enjoys the letter X up until its appropriation in 2023.

Slowly the casual fan becomes the smart fan.

They clamor for more blood. More tits. More technical wizardry. More everything you can’t give without reaching deeper and deeper into your pockets. NYWL isn’t WWE or TNA. Finances eat away at everything until the entrance curtains are replaced with garbage bags. Your homegrown stars find bigger fortunes elsewhere after their contracts are up. Over-the-mill megastars with huge price tags swoop in to give the program a small blip in popularity here and there, but they don't linger. Eventually, your last true blue chipper is Teddy Hart, and he leaves when he figures out his worth too.

It’s no longer a company you recognize or have much heart for. But you stick with it and don’t go out of business until the pandemic forces you to.

Yay?




You don’t team them up. That’s for the checker players. You make them look for tag team partners like the 3-D chess master you are. Now you’ve got 4 hopefuls instead of 2.

Week 1 they search for the right partner/opponent. Monty takes on The Havana Pitbulls with Woman extending an invitation for anybody who has the balls to team up with a man they know will kick their ass later that month. The invite was answered by Mikey Whipwreck, and the duo show promise as a regular team against Rocky Romero and Ricky Reyes.

Week 2 they bond over how much Mikey Whipwreck likes getting thrown around. Skits of Whipwreck going through drywall, dusting himself off, and shouting “Again, Monty! Again!” give them likable chemistry.

By Week 3 the sad reality hits them when they’re pitted against each other in the main event. Monty keeps the upper hand, slamming Mikey, and Mikey tells him to do it again, louder and louder with each toss and turn. The Alpha Male hesitates with each act of violence. Woman orders him to finish Whipwreck off, but he ignores her. Mikey crawls to his feet using his opponent for balance

The Alpha Male hugs him.

Your target audience eats it the fuck up because they're edgy, not heartless.

Together your new team walks out of there, both being counted out as Woman looks on in frustration. Monty And Mikey enter the tag division, but that’s a booking for another day.


Dustin Rhodes and Percy Pringle chose a more active approach to partner hunting. On the same night you told them to search up a partner, they arrive at the end of a tame Necro Butcher vs. New Jack match. New Jack wins, and Pringle tells Jack if he really had courage he shouldn't have a problem meeting up with The Natural out in the country Week 2.

New Jack visits The Rhodes Ranch.

He is shown how to make a lasso but makes a noose instead. Milking cows leads to a hilarious-for-its-time segment with a farmer’s daughter. Then came the horse riding scene.

He rides the appaloosa with the tenacity of Clint Eastwood staring down the sun. But when he returns Big Whitey to the stalls, the animal rears and drops him to the ground.

Thankfully he’s a hardcore icon and brushes it off.

In Week 3 he pulls out a Branding Iron he stole at the Ranch. It has a giant R. New Jack tells Dustin the R doesn't stand for Rhodes, but for Respect. He respects Dustin's way of life, but only if Dustin respects his. The rule of a Branding Iron Match is whoever gets burned with a perfect R first loses. The winner will meet Sabu in the Tournament's Opener.

Dustin Rhodes accepts the stipulation Week 4 and promises to become King of New York before the year is over.

Between Sabu vs. Muta (now a No Holds Barred Match) and New Jack vs. Dustin Rhodes, Video Nasty has the extreme feel you’re looking for without drowning in the culture.

Next month is Envy, The Singles Tournament. The reward is a Jade Ring and a contract to face the champion in June. No sweat. Tourneys run themselves, and you’ve got a good idea of where things are going. The odds-on favorite is LA Park, your little helper. Jeff Hardy is another face floating around with an upside against Muta. Either way, your guys are in a good spot for now.

So it’s time to give The Queen of New York your tender loving care.


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Scheduled Events Leak

Dead Man’s Party

January/New Year’s Eve Theme

Video Nasty
February/Hardcore Theme

Envy
March/Singles Tournament

All Jester’s Eve
April/April Fools Theme

School’s Out
May/Academic Theme

War At The Shore
June/Envy Winner Vs. Champion

Liberty Brawl
July/American Theme

Subway Slam
August/Urban Theme

Princes Of New York
September/Tag Team Tournament

Howl O’ Rama
October/Halloween Theme

Table Manners
November/Thanksgiving Theme

WrestleWave
December/Season Finale Theme


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Spider Matthau

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Your Lunch With Luna




Bonesaw is ready to reminisce about his younger days.

Part 1: October 1985


You were in the studio arena for Championship Wrestling from Florida. It was evident you were destined for grappling glory even then, but due to a wild weekend with a crooner with Cuban mafia ties, you didn’t get screen time down there. Instead, you were an idea guy, and one particular choice will bear fruit decades later.

Kevin Sullivan paced the production control room, cigarette in mouth. A much younger Woman (for over-arching narrative purposes won’t be called Fallen Angel) leaned against the talkback board, twirling hers between her fingers. You were also smoking. It’s the 80s and if there’s a scene to write it should honor this custom or I’d question its authenticity.

“Okay,” Woman said, exhaling smoke, “We’ve established the Trudy Herd character as a symbolic Lamb, right? Our Lucifer causes the Lamb pain, outrage achieved, evil looms, yada yada. But where do we go from there?”

Trudy/Angelle Vachon sat in a controller’s swivel chair. The 19-year-old swiveled maniacally. Nobody kept kayfabe like her.

Kevin Sullivan flicked ash into the Mcdonald's ashtray he brought in. “Well, one must first question who we are at our source. Who is The Army of Darkness to the loyal viewer? If we are evil, what makes us evil? Break us down to our theatrical purpose, and the audience shall connect. Who are we to them? Are we not Youth, corrupted in our Faustian sensibilities?”

You scratch your beard, responding with a question that answers their questions, asked with such zeal it inspired you to wear a beret for a few months.

“What is something old people bitch about young people having?”

Kevin pondered like a seasoned critic of the performing arts.

“Better music?”

“No no, they got that point already.”

“Nicer tits?”

“That’s who the other heels are. We sold our souls. Devil worshippers carry pretty like a title we’re fated to lose.”

“Check out the poet over here.”

Vachon’s golden curls bounced around like Alice’s down the rabbit hole. It got on your nerves to tell the truth.

She scratched her head. You told them they ought to shave her.

Woman went silent in thought.

Kevin glanced at Vachon, at you, and then at the cocaine baggie he also brought in. It’s Miami and if there’s a scene to write it should honor this custom or I’d question its authenticity.

You pitched a scenario where Trudy came to The Army Of Darkness after being slapped because it made her feel something she never felt before. That “something” was arousal. Old people hate the act of life-giving and young people do be giving lives like they’re being told to stop.

Fucking with their heads is a young person’s favorite emotional outlet too.

Boom. Youth corrupted by Lucifer. Someone oughta stop that dastardly Kevin. If it means pulling their wallets out to bear witness, those loyal viewers will devote more time and money to him than any cult ever could.

You’re so smart you may wear a beret all year.

But the truth was …you were shooting from the hip. Total improv. That handsome Cuban baritone from earlier? He gave you lice. Tough break.

You could’ve come clean I suppose, but being honest is what faces do.

Vachon instigated a game of “Billy Goat” with you before the brainstorming session. You know, that game where two players butt heads with the goal of making the other player not play? Look buddy I don’t know what to tell you there wasn’t a helluva lot to do on our downtime before computers fit in our pockets. We were primates even in 2004, bumping knuckles and cutting our hands with quarters to feel something.

That “something” was arousal.

“I’m a little worried about some of your story’s undertones,” Vachon spoke up.

You tell her you don’t give a fuck if she goes out in a ballgag and nazi spandex. It’s theater. Satan’s slave ain’t supposed to be a comforting role.

You're standing there worried about an outbreak. Actors, man.

“Giving up hair is all well and good,” Kevin Sullivan said, “But she can't keep that Trudy Herd name. It doesn’t scream Satan like mine and Purple Haze does. ”

"Why not Angelle? It's right there."

"Bonesaw, we aren't in the making sense business, we are in the creating business business."

“Call her Moaning Mona then,” You say facetiously. Pfft. Undertones. FOH.

“She doesn’t look the moaning type.” Woman replied. “How about Luna? Short for lunatic. She kinda has that aura."

Luna scratched herself wildly.

And so your Women’s Division was born.




Part 2: March 2004

You take a subway downtown to Cafe des Artistes. It’s a high-end restaurant famously seen in My Dinner With Andre…even though as a cinema patron you know they faked the setting and shot in Virginia… but alas. You commit to the bit, unlike those phonies.

Luna is waiting for you at the bar. She leaps from her barstool and jumps into your arms.

“Bonesaw! It’s been ages. What have you been up to lately?”

And so familiar pleasantries and harmless small talk commence. She tells you she was baptized by Nikita Koloff recently. You think she's being a batshit fibber, but you need her right now so you congratulate her. You tell Luna your new responsibilities with NYWL and propose she works with your fledgling women’s division.

She agrees. Yes, just like that. Before you sit down to order. What can I say? She earns her name.

You immediately go into the plan. During the first women’s match, Luna will come out carrying the title. She’ll have an old ally, Woman, at her side. To catch Vachon up, you tell her Woman recently left her client Monty Brown because he lacks the balls to dominate (having aligned with Mikey Whipwreck). So Woman turns to a woman who is tougher than a man.

This delights Luna Vachon.

Luna enters a feud with Sara Del Rey, a good worker with no unique character traits other than she’s not blonde. That's where you come in. You become Sara's mouthpiece. Luna gives her a rub when she drops The Queen of NY Championship to her and takes on the role of mentor to young talent. She mentors “The Bombshell” Macaela Mercedes, a stout blonde who shows promise in the ring as well as the mic.

While Luna coaches her protege, Sarah feuds with Sumie Sakai. By the time Macaela is warmed up for the title encounter, there will be 3 young stars with upside and Luna keeps her momentum even without a belt.

At least that is what you tell her before ordering your meal. You had lobster ravioli in mind all morning, but now you have a sudden desire to grab salmon tartare...even though Luna told you it gave her the runs the last time she had them. What is a boy to do?

Your turn.




You order the lobster ravioli and it was exquisite.

Days later, New York Wrestling League airs The Great Council’s feud with LA Park, Hardy, and Awesome is reaching its conclusion on the main card. The Tournament at Envy is approaching. Your attention is on the women, and the fans’ attention is on you.

Woman and Luna storm the arena in the middle of a match between Sara Del Rey and Macaela Mercedes. Luna taunts both women with The Queen of New York title. It’s Sara who is most distracted and loses off of a roll-up.

Luna slides in and smacks Del Rey in the back of the head with her belt. She climbs the turnbuckle and taunts the crowd. Woman demands a microphone.

“Bonesaw! Is this your idea of women’s wrestling? Pathetic!”

Luna hops off, uttering words at the downed Sara that are too hot for TV.

“Another disappointing man. Monty couldn’t give me what I want and neither can you. Apparently, the only alphas here carry purses.”

Well now, you can’t have your man card taken away. What would the guys think? You wonder if they go to bed at night ruminating on your testosterone level, figuring it's too low to associate with. No matter how big you get your biceps, there is always somebody ready to disrespect you, and there is nothing on this planet worse than being disrespected except The Red Meanie.

You make your entrance and assist Sara back to her feet. Each week you follow her out, and for a while, it works like a charm. Del Rey is a star with you in her corner, speaking for her and getting involved in her segments.

But Sara eventually grows weary of being in your shadow. The partnership reaches its natural conclusion once she turns on you, kicking you to the curb to seek out a way on her own. Not long after, she hypocritically latches on to a heel stable. Since The Great Council have Sumie and The Queen of NY’s beef with Luna is still fresh, she is lumped in with Percy Pringle and Dustin Rhodes.

The Cali girl dons a cowgirl outfit and valets when Percy wants the night off. The Queen Of New York Championship loses its hype weeks before Macaela takes it off of her in a match that solidifies Macaela’s own turn against her mentor.

You start managing Macaela, figuring a student vs. teacher feud with Luna would make more money than starting over cold. You two have chemistry, but Macaela now faces a menagerie of characters who primarily draw from her role as a traitor.

Defending her gets old fast and fans lose interest. Macaela overcompensates by being more bombastic on the mic than you.

Perhaps this is what catches WWE’s attention, who scoops her up and smears shit on her face for a worm eater to gnaw off. I know, it sounds preposterous, but do not underestimate those freaks.

Your division struggles, but it’s not the end of your career. Sometimes booking is bad, but not you’re-stealing-copper-wire-now bad.





You ask for salmon tartare and it’s the best salmon tartare you've ever had. Unfortunately, it gives you salmonella.

When Woman calls you out, you miss your cue. You’re not in Gorilla position. You are on the can, doing all you can.

Woman stalls for time, improvising her most memorable line to date:

“Not even Bonesaw is ready for Luna Vachon!”

The crowd is visibly taken aback. A few major stars used that one on you before, but they were males. And since you do not show up, its impact lingers over to next week, where Woman and Luna take the reigns in promoting a division that’ll be “too tough for men”. In one month’s time, men are tuning in to see your women in record numbers.

A little character assassination goes a long way.

Macaela vs. Sara is a good match and you give Luna your blessing to find more capable women. They come in droves. You stay put and book from your desk.

The idea of revolving talent comes to you after watching Japan.

Picture it: A training class posing as an on-screen school for heels. A wrestling academy. And you shall call it Fatale University. The acronym sells itself. Luna coaches and aids her students, throwing them out if they prove too weak. Macaela joins and becomes its star pupil and first graduate. Woman blends in as a financier type. New signups go through training, get screen time, and if they stick around the prestige of the stable will make The FU marketable. Now and then your top faces knock it down. Ever so often a preppy heel group finds it passe. But many viewers like certainty, and very few things get the wallets open faster than revisiting popular trademarks. The internet takes off and Fatale University is often mythicized into the women's Hart Dungeon. Fair or not, the comparisons are made even to this day.

The FU will be so popular a fellow wrestler will change his own merchandise when he hears what's been brewing for the ladies. Respect, baby. Pump it in your veins.

Your main face Sara Del Rey does her own on-screen “recruiting”, but by finding athletes from all over the country. Locational skits and gimmicks keep each week fresh until rivalries get hot.

By staying out of segments you are able to put your employees' needs before your own love for the spotlight, making you a promoter people like working for. Sucks you can’t pull a division up with your pretty face, but sometimes the best path is the one you leave for another to walk.

Butting out also gives you time to focus on The Jade Ring Tournament. Hey, remember when I said tournaments run themselves?

I lied.


Early Envy Tournament Matchups:


Sabu
Dustin

Tanaka
Hardy


Awesome
New Jack

LA Park
Corino