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A.W.E. Anthropomorphic Wrestling Entertainment

By Marcus Noble

Chapter 2

As I went through the curtain I was hit with a wall of sound. The combination of my entrance music and the cheers of the crowd filled my ears. The crowd was a mix of many different ages and species along with both genders. They filled every seat, there must have be more than ten thousand of them out there. As the music continued I started to head down the ramp, holding out my hand to the fans in the front row. I did not get to choose my music, that was another decision by A.W.E.'s creative department. Still, it is a good song and suits my energetic style.

Come on, come on. Do what you want. What could go wrong? Come on, come on, come on!

As I hit the hands that stretched over the barricade for mine, the nervous feelings I had back at the gorilla position seemed to melt away completely. I have to admit that the creative department's decisions have resulted in enough buzz about me to get a reaction this good. The video promos they played during the live T.V. shows helped too. Showing off my high flying, acrobatic, and flexible moves.

This pop probably won't be as big as the one that the main event would get, but even skeptical internet fans will notice the reaction I am getting.

At this point the voice of the A.W.E.'s ring announcer Amy Trudel filled the arena. "The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from Chicago, Illinois. Weighing 175 pounds. El Huron!" the black furred poodle said into her microphone.

As I reached the end of the entrance ramp I looked at the apron surrounding the ring. The lettering was bright silver with a red outline on jet black material. It read "AWE Monday Mayhem". The letters in mayhem were set all askew as if someone had tossed them about randomly. The ring's ropes shared the same red colors as the outline, the turnbuckle pads emblazoned with MM. A common abbreviation for the program's name.

I jump up on top of the apron before grabbing a hold of the top rope. I pull the rope down and lean back, using the leverage to catapult myself into the ring. I land on my left foot just fine, but I have to shift my weight a bit to get my right foot to land correctly. Not my best entrance but at least I did not botch it completely. I do not let that get to me. I extend my arms out and smile widely.

My character is much like myself. An energetic and fun loving risk taker but turned up to eleven. Creative describes it as being like an extreme sports athlete from the 90's. I think it is an accurate analogy.

As I turn and look at the crowd around me I see the commentators' table. It is decked out in the same colors and lettering as the ring apron. The two sitting at the table wore the same broadcast headsets as the stage hand backstage.

On the left sat "The Ringmaster". The lion was actually the same age as myself and had started wrestling in A.W.E. about a year before I did. However he suffered a severe back injury a few months into his wrestling career. Despite this, he was given a spot on the commentary team because of his great work cutting promos on the microphone. He still kept the outfit he would walk down to the ring with. A bright purple coat covered in silver sequins along the trim. His ring name made of those same sequins adorned the back of the coat. Perhaps his fashion sense was influenced by The Greaser? Considering how much he likes to talk about Greaser while commentating it wouldn't surprise me.

On the right sat good 'ol T.J. The German shepherd had been doing commentary for A.W.E. since the company started. His suit was much less flashy than his fellow commentator's. Just a regular black button down shirt and slacks. What made him stand out though was his black cowboy hat. It was given to him by A.W.E.'s live programming manager when they first started and he has worn it ever since. The middle aged German shepherd had become famous for his various Oklahoma folk sayings he would throw out while commentating.

My music stopped for a few seconds before my opponent's music started.

I'm feeling so energetic. Don't think y'all will ever get it. I'm feeling so energetic. Don't think y'all will ever get it.

Trudel introduced my opponent as he came out to a chorus of boos.

"And the opponent. Weighing 168 pounds. From Baltimore, Maryland, C Sharpe!"

The raven ignored the crowd and nodded his head to his entrance music. He wore a pair of old school style stereo headphones. The idea was that he could hear the music without the excess noise of the crowd. As he swayed his body in time with the beat I caught a glimpse of his trunks which had the letter C along with the hash symbol on the front and back in a Victorian style font. Like he ripped them off a page of sheet music.

He went around the ring to the timekeeper who sat next to the commentary table, handing his headphones over to the hyena. He wore rectangular framed glasses and like the production staff wore a black polo shirt with the A.W.E. logo embroidered on it. The raven then slid under the bottom rope and into the ring as his music faded out.

The referee, a green furred wolf stepped between myself and C Sharpe. The raven hopped from one foot to the other as the ref asked if I was ready. I smile and nodded confidently. The raven nodded as well as he stood still, staring at me. The ref called to the timekeeper to ring the bell and we started the match.

The raven held his hand out to me as if he wanted to shake mine. I shrugged and as I started to reach for it he pulled back. Smoothing down the feathers on his head as he did. The crowd booed their displeasure at this unsportsmanlike act. Which quickly changed to cheers as I moved to punch the raven square in the face. The trick is that you stop just short of actually hitting while you stomp your foot onto the mat. The raven sold the hit perfectly, jerking his head to the right and stumbling back half a step. I gave him two more before jogging backward and using the ropes to propel myself forward. Leaning forward as I launched into the raven's chest, the mat making a loud impact sound as we landed. I grabbed the raven's right leg and the referee started to count. His hand hitting the mat with each number, the crowd counting along with him.

One.

Two.

The raven's shoulder shot upward just before the ref's hand hit the mat for a third time. No squash match for my debut it seems. Very well, I haven't gotten to really show off my moves yet. I stand up and move away from the raven telling him to get up a few times as he slowly rises to his feet. I rush at him again before he wraps his arms firmly around my waist. Pulling me close to me he whispers into my ear

"Suplex."

As he says this I brace myself against his body as he throws himself backward, and me along with him. My shoulders impact with the mat and he lets go, my lower body falling down to meet the upper half. The raven quickly made it back up to his feet. I grabbed a hold of the ropes to help myself up. I was feeling just fine, but that move looked like it had a big impact and I wanted to sell it well. I stopped at the middle rope and exaggerated my breathing. Before I could turn around I heard the steps of the raven's boots coming toward me. He grabbed a hold of the top rope and hopped up onto my back, pulling on the ropes to force his feet into my back.

I didn't have to work to sell this. The pain radiated from the upper part of my back and into my shoulders. The pain and anguish on my face was readily apparent as I caught short glimpses of the crowd's reaction. Through the mixed noise I heard various words of encouragement along with the sounds of the ref counting again. This time he made it to four until he pulled the raven off of me. The ref gave him a stern warning that if he made it to a five count he would be disqualified. I made it up to my feet as they talked, leaning back against the ropes for support. The pain started to fade away as I saw the raven glare at me.

As soon as the ref moved away from the raven he rushed at me. I pulled down on the top rope and he tumbled forward over it and onto the floor. I looked down to make sure he landed okay. He fell on his side as he landed on the padded floor outside of the ring and rolled onto his back. Now it was time for a big move. I vaulted myself onto the top rope and jumped off, my chest landing square on top of the raven's. Knocking the wind out of both of us. The raven pushed me off of his body and rose to his feet. I started to stand up as well, still feeling a bit groggy I leaned against the apron.

The ref had started counting as soon as I landed on top of the raven. He was up to six at this point, so I grabbed a hold of the bottom rope and pulled myself into the ring. I still wanted to sell that I was hurt, so I stayed laying face down as the raven followed me into the ring as the referee reached a count of nine. He grabbed a hold of my head and held it under his arm before slamming it down for a DDT. I let my body go limp as he turned me over and pinned me. Lifting up my left leg as the ref started to count.

One.

Two.

I threw my arm up before the count of three and the audience went crazy. I could see the look of frustration as he argued with the ref that I didn't get my shoulder up in time. I got up and walked over to the raven and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and I kicked him in the chest. Just like the punch you pull back just before you hit, but you let the opponent sell the impact. He did this by leaning forward like he was doubled over in pain. I gave him a DDT of my own before pointing to the turnbuckle. I grab a hold of the ropes and vault to the top. Facing away from the raven I see the flashes of several cameras as I jump backward, flipping through the air before landing on top of him. The crowd cheering loudly as I turn him over and pin him. The ref counts as I lift his leg.

One.

Two

Three.

The bell rings and my entrance theme music starts. Trudel's voice comes on through the arena as the ref raises my hand over my head to signify my victory. "Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, El Huron!"

The crowd's roar is deafening as I go up onto the same turnbuckle I jumped off of earlier. More camera flashes and cheers welcome me as I hold out my arms, taking it all in. This is what I have worked for all my life, and it was just my first night. I jumped down to the mat and made my way out of the ring. As I walk back up the ramp I graciously hit the hands that the fans offered to me. Was I taking too much time? I turned back to the ring as I got to the top of the ramp to see C-Sharpe glaring at me. I just gave him a shit eating grin right back before heading back through the curtain to the gorilla position. I had no reason to feel nervous out there any more.

---

I went into the back of the arena. The adrenaline still flowing through me. I could barely tell where I was or where I was going. I just followed the smell of food until I reached the area where catering had been set up. A few of the other wrestlers were there sitting at circular tables as they enjoyed the local food. Since we were in Boston local food was mostly lobster centered dishes and New England clam chowder. I didn't pay attention to any of that. I just grabbed a bottle of water and moved to sit at one of the empty tables.

The water felt cool and refreshing as it helped relax my body. The exciting feeling from before starting to wash away as I heard the voice of my opponent from earlier C Sharpe. "Hey Huron, mind if I join ya?"

It took me a second to realize that he was talking to me. I still had to get used to being referred to by my ring name rather than my real name. "Go ahead." I said as I motioned to a chair on the other side of the table.

C Sharpe had an interesting accent that I had never heard before. Just like Trudel said during his entrance, he is from Baltimore. Occasionally throwing around Rs where there wouldn't be one or leaving out or changing consonants entirely. I guess being that I learned English at a young age I notice these things more readily than most. That and it allows me to turn my Mexican accent on and off at will.

"Hope I didn't hurt ya too bad." The raven said before taking a sip of water.

I shrugged my shoulders. Relaxing as I put my hands behind my head. "Nah I'm good. Nothing I can't handle. Thanks for letting me do the backflip for my finisher. The birds I have worked with before can't take a bump like that."

The raven finished the rest of the bottle of water in one gulp and effortlessly tossed it into a nearby recycling bin. "Well if you'll excuse me, I need to warsh up. I'm needed to be in the background for a segment that is being taped. Good luck!" he waved as he left. I waved back and finished up my water.

Was "good luck" really the right thing to say? I remember that when you were performing saying that is actually bad luck. Since performing is what we do wouldn't it be more appropriate to say "break a leg"? Maybe I am just reading too much into it, so I decide to try the same thing C Sharpe did. I toss the empty bottle towards the bin. However it bounces off the rim and onto the floor.

Not wanting to litter I walk over to the bin and leaned down to pick it up. As I did a dark figure seemed to leer over me. As I looked up and saw that bedazzled jacket, I knew exactly who it was before he spoke. "Bent over like that, seems like a natural position for you boy." The Greaser said condescendingly.

I leaned back up and tossed the plastic bottle successfully into the bin this time. I take a deep breath and let it out. Just letting his lewd comment hang in the air for a few moments before speaking. "That's it? You have the perfect opportunity to make a joke at the rookie's expense and you go for the gay joke?"

I shake my head and sigh. He really couldn't come up with something better than that? "Sorry Greaser, but that was old when I was in high school." I gave a sly grin, hoping that would tell him that I was joking too. Seems that in these situations it is best to play against the joke rather than ignoring it.

His lip curled a bit and he let out a single, deep chuckle. "Well I guess I can come to you when I need help thinking on the fly. Congratulations by the way. You actually looked pretty good out there. Still need to work on that landing during your entrance though."

"Yeah, first time I did it in a ring that size in front of a crowd. May need to find some time to practice before a show." I decided to keep my tone there subtle. I know that practicing in the empty arena before a show was a privilege reserved for the main eventers and older wrestlers like the one standing before me. Maybe he'd be nice and let me have that opportunity at the next show?

The Greaser rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Maybe someday boy." he said as the brown rat stage hand from earlier walked up beside him.

"Greaser. You're on in five minutes for the spot to end the show." He turned and Greaser kept in step behind him. Adjusting the lapels of his jacket as he walked. The way he just left without another word, it was as if I didn't matter to him. Which to be fair, was true. In any case I was done for the night and I needed a shower.

---

After showering with some of the other wrestlers I went up to my locker to grab some casual clothes to change into. I saw on my cell phone that I had missed a call. The phone I had was a slightly older clamshell style one. I wanted to upgrade to one of those smart phones, but with so many other things on my mind I just didn't have the time. After changing into a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt with the A.W.E. logo on it, I packed the things I had into a duffel bag and left the arena. Hoping that without wearing my mask and my relative obscurity as a rookie I could make it to a cab and my hotel room unacossted.

I got into a cab at the taxi stand outside of the arena. I told the tan furred feline cabbie the name of the hotel where I was staying. As he dove off I opened my cell phone to see who called me. It was my brother Hector. I considered waiting until tomorrow to call him back. Even with the one hour time difference in Chicago it would still be pretty late and he would probably be sleeping so he could get a head start on his work at my family's restaurant the next day. Still, I should at least let him know I appreciated that he called in the first place. So I found his name in my phone's list and pressed the send button.

There were two rings before someone answered. "Hola hermano! Como estas?" Hector answered in his big, booming voice. He always sounded so welcoming and friendly. It is why madre had him as host.

"Bien. I think my first match went over well." My voice sounded doubtful. Though that was probably because I was starting to feel tired.

"You should have seen it Frederico. Everyone in the cantina was cheering for you man. The roof nearly came off the place." Hector always had a thing for hyperbolic statements. Still, he always knew just what to say in order to keep my spirits up. That and hearing him call me by name was just that small slice of home that kept me sane while on the road.

"Is that what you called to tell me? I figured you could at least wait to stroke my ego until tomorrow morning." I know the joke came off a bit forced, but I did like talking to him.

"Everyone needs some encouragement sometimes hermano. Even if you need to practice your landing." He got the criticism out quickly as if he didn't really want to say it.

"I appreciate it Hector. Though being an entertainer I consider criticism to be more useful." I couldn't help but think I sounded cold and dismissive of his kind gesture. He did at least deserve some gratitude. "But gracias hermano."

"De nada" I could almost hear him nodding on the other end. "I will just have to get used to you having late nights like this."

The cab pulled up to the hotel. "Well it is part of the job. I need to get some shut eye. Hasta luego."

"Hasta luego." said Hector before he hung up.

I gave the cabbie his fare and a generous tip. He tipped his Red Sox ball cap to me before wishing me a good night. It was a good night, and after getting some sleep I would look forward to more.