There’s A New ‘Wrestling Guy’ At Work, And He’s Way Cooler Than Me

I was always the ‘Wrestling Guy’ in my office. At the water cooler, I’d regale my coworkers with stories of wild indy shows I attended, impressing them with my deep-rooted insider knowledge … all until Ken showed up. Fucking Ken, with his pictures of his cute kids in wrestling costumes and his hot wife.

Defending My Territory

Wrestling was my thing. What am I saying? It still is my thing. Ken doesn’t even follow the indies. You think that’s bad? Last week, I asked him what he thought about RAW and you know what this mark said? He liked it. He LIKED it. I’m sorry, but if I ask you what you thought about RAW and you respond positively, you’re not a wrestling fan. If I’m the Road Warriors, this guy is the Ascension, and the fact that he’s ascending the social ladder at work is driving me crazy. I didn’t fight, scratch, and claw my way through wrestling message boards so Ken could just waltz on in and claim my title of Office Wrestling Guy.

But enough bitching. Champions don’t bitch, they take action. On Friday, we were set to have a company party at Finnegan’s Grill, the perfect location for a match. But first, I had to cut a promo on him, and Wednesday at the Water Cooler was the perfect place to do it.

I had already paid $39.95 for an online promo-writing class from X-Pac – at least, he said he was X-Pac – and I wasn’t going to let that go to waste. I told my boss my cat died, took off from work, and began crafting a promo that would put butts in office chairs. When Wednesday arrived, I got up early, ate three raw eggs, threw up the eggs, and listened to Daniel Bryan’s entrance music for the entirety of my 63-minute commute. I arrived at the office disheveled and sweaty, but ready for battle. When everyone gathered around the water cooler, I cut a promo that would make Paul Heyman proud.

I tore Ken up and down over his fair-weather fandom, but, most importantly, I made sure to promote. I closed with the go-home line, “And THIS Friday, at Finnegan’s, you’re gonna be eating 2-for-1 apps through a straw!” and stormed off. My music didn’t hit, because we were in an office, but my pipebomb was palpable. Everyone was cracking up, so it must have been good. In fact, from that point on, my coworkers stayed away from me. I think they finally learned to respect a true wrestling guy. But if they thought that was impressive, they were in for a treat on Friday.

Friday at Finnegan’s

I told my boss my cat died again and took off from work on Friday. When it came time to go to Finnegan’s, I put on my La Parka mask and grabbed a steel chair. I pulled up to the restaurant, took a big fat rip from my inhaler, and ran inside. Ken was easy to find; he always lights up a room. Unfortunately for him, this was my moment. I ran up behind him, reeled back, and smacked him in the back of the head with the chair with a tremendous THUD.

I was immediately tackled by several Finnegan’s employees and promptly arrested. It was a dream come true. “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, Becky Lynch, and now, Me. I was part of an exclusive club. And sure, I may have lost my job and got hit with a severe lawsuit. And sure, Ken may have banged my mom the next night as “revenge”, but that was after the match. That won’t count in the wrestling history books, whenever they end up writing those. Nobody’s going to remember that part. No way. All anyone will be talking about is how I retained my title of Wrestling Guy, even if I lost my job. I won, and that’s what matters the most in scripted sports.

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