The Fish and The Lure Chapter 3: The Reef and One Less Tentacle

The Bleaching of The Clown Fish’s Coral Reef Act 1:

The Megalodon had found himself listening hourly. It had become sheer entertainment for him. He would pour himself a glass of Crown Royal and grin like a madman as he listened to the mindless conversations started by a fish who hadn’t realized it had fallen into the belly of a predator.

“Chaz…Chaz…Cha…ZZZ…Hey!”

The money lending leviathan groaned, “what an idiot this Jack Marley is. I pay Chaz good money to not respond to this.”

“What, Jack?”

“Dammit Chaz!”

“Hey, hey, hey…I evertellyouaboutthattime?”

“What?”

“Oh, you know, mon, you KNOW!”

“I really don’t, you think it might be time to eat?”

The Megalodon slowly took a sip of his Crown and hissed through his teeth as he swallowed. He slammed the glass down hard onto the Oak Table in his Office. It shattered causing liquor to leak down the table and onto the Persian Rug it was placed on top of. “Why is he being nice?”

He picked up his phone and angrily stabbed his right index finger to his phone.

--

One Less Tentacle 

The voice left with a whimper that day. It couldn’t even celebrate what it had wished for: a win. I apologized to myself when I sped out of Reno because nobody got to celebrate that night. I wanted to be the type of person to pump my fist and breathe in the crowd cheering me on, but it was just theatrics and noise. This is my job not my obsession.

It was very difficult to keep my focus on the match with Sage and I suppose I let everything I was holding in out in one interview with Simon as I left the arena. The responsibilities are heavy.

So heavy.

Sigh.

In the past I would just ignore them because there was no way I could carry them. Now I cannot just turn a blind eye to them. I have people who rely on me, and I have spoken about how I finally understand that. The issue is that things happen…to me…of course, which are very difficult to comprehend and move forward from.

The voice’s naivety is something I could grasp on to because it meant I wasn’t a lost cause. There was still that light inside me that was optimistic and could find the love for this sport again. But there are things it cannot deal with which is where my years of dealing with pits, death, brainwashing, yadda-yadda, and broken hearts can come in handy.

That’s sad to say out loud.

That’s sad to fucking think about.

This is where the intensity I let out, the sheer anger I have felt since that asshole called me can give me carte blanche on what happens next.

I was not talking in riddles.

I was not giving an empty threat to YOU.

The Doc likes to tell me that I have people that can…no, that want to help me. I would laugh when he said that because it all sounded like empty platitudes.

I am still laughing.

But not smiling.

I always doubt that someone would willingly help me because I have done so many things in my life that I feel are unforgivable. Maybe I am harder on myself than I should be. Then again look what has transpired because I fell apart when the calendar turned to the year twenty-twenty three.

It is my fault, and I am starting to boil and soon enough that lid will fly off and I will not be held back any longer.

The chains, right?

They have rusted and it will only take another flick of my wrist for them to crumble to the floor.

Heh-heh.

“He’s on his way, Steve.”

Excellent.

“Let’s talk, Doc.”

--

The Bleaching of The Clown Fish’s Coral Reef Act 2:

The Megalodon stared daggers at his phone as it rang several times without being picked up. As a man who believes respecting him means picking up the phone right away regardless of time or place this was not something he was enjoying.

“Sir?”

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, CHAZ!?!?.”

“I'm following your directions, boss.”

 He stood up quickly, his face becoming red in anger. His hand shook as he clenched the cell phone even tighter in his right hand.

“Asking him to eat something is the opposite of what I said. He needs to be a primordial puddle of goo, with no help of rescuing.”

“I…uh, what?”

The sea monster of legends muted his phone and yelled towards the ceiling fan that was slowly moving above his head, his slicked back hair showing a stronger wind would be needed to move it from its position.

“Just give him the pills, Chaz.”

“I thought you wanted him to be alive?”

“Barely is fine.”

He hung up and slumped back into his chair. He poured himself a new drink and took a small sip.

He stared at the receiver for the bug in the room he had been listening to and a smirk returned to his face.

His fangs showing.

He was hungry.

“Get me a steak, Clarice!”

–

November 20th, 2024.

Long Beach, California

The water was on boil.

I was standing, leaning against a closet door.

I stared at the hot plate, the pot resting perfectly on the burner. If I was going to heat water on a hot plate in a motel that had more rat traps per room than towels, then I would at least do it well.

I had a difficult time leaving Montreal again. I felt like I was running away from a mission that I single handedly accepted. Doc told me during our flight to Cali that there was no point in overthinking this because HE wouldn't be in Canada for at least another week. It was reassuring that another chess piece could be added to this game but at the same time, the guy was unpredictable and not a longtime associate of mine.

The Searle Motel wasn't known for being a high-class place to stay. It was old, it was falling apart, meth heads got together in the parking lot, but it had vacancies, and it was cheap. I only cared about the last two as I didn't want to sleep on the street and my funds were exhausted weekly because of the debt. Paying that made me fume but it was the only thing I knew would keep Jack alive at this point.

Well…that is what I told myself at least.

There is no promise for tomorrow, right?

“Do you want chicken or beef?”

I shook the cobwebs from my head as my eyes had stared so long at the hot plate that everything looked fuzzy. I sighed softly and looked up at Doc who stood in front of me with two packages of Top Ramen, a look of confusion on his face. “I feel like I owe you an apology?”

Doc shook the bags at me, a small smile appearing around the wrinkles on his face, “are you asking me a question or are you apologizing?”

I pointed at the ramen, “fine…I meant to say: I probably should apologize for forcing you to stay in this motel and eat the king of foods for the penniless or drunk.”

Doc pulled up an old wooden chair that looked like it housed more termites than a forest of trees. I moved a bit towards him as he sat down on the chair just in case the legs snapped, and the old man fell on his back. He put his hand up and sat down safely, “come on Steve, I am not so old I cannot sit down by myself.”

I opened my mouth to reply but Doc had other ideas and continued, “also, you did not force me to do anything.” He looked at the back of the Ramen package, “Oy vey, I was going to say this is just a new experience for me, but it might be my last experience as I look at this sodium count.”

“Ha-ha-ha,” I couldn't help but laugh at that sentence as I nodded towards him. “Hey, we are living that penniless college life…as grownups, what I would give to see the look on my dad’s face.”

“Too bad you don't have anything to give,” he responded quickly, following it with a chuckle.

I nodded in agreement, “ain't that the truth, man. But if you are sure, you are ok with these circumstances then I won't ask again. I must admit I find it strange you have stuck with me for this long, you know you don't have to feel guilty anymore about what my dad did when you worked for him, right?”

Doc pointed at the packages of Top Ramen again, “going to choose?”

“Oh yea, chicken is fine.”

He opened the pack and then looked back up to me. I had gone back to my leaning position near the closet because I did not trust the other chair. Its legs looked like it had been dipped in a pool of blood. “What if…now hear me out with this…what if, we combined it all into one pot?”

It was at this point that it became obvious to me that he was trying to change the subject. I put my smile back on because over time I had mastered the art of being fake. “Sure, I am down with a little artificial flavoring cross breeding.”

He tore open the other packages and tossed them into the pot. I was going to tell him to add the flavoring after, but he put them to the side before I could say anything. I sometimes forget that only Jack would need help making ramen.

I almost missed having to explain everything to him. Maybe, it made me feel important that someone needed my help so often.

I am but a man wanting to be accepted after all.

He stirred the pot a bit and then looked back towards me again, his smile had faded, and it had been replaced with a look of trepidation. “Are you doing ok though? I know I made the call to him but are you ok going down this path again?”

I crossed my arms and moved my left arm up and stroked my chin. This was not a question I had expected but I understood what he meant. “The last time I made a call like this the person died, is that what you are getting at?”

“I heard about him.”

I slowly nodded towards Doc and then walked over to the hot plate and where the noodles were now boiling along with the water. He unplugged the hot plate, and a small spark flew from the socket. It didn't make an impression on us because we both assumed anything could happen in this run-down roach motel. “I don't want this to sound like a cliche but sometimes you have to fight fire with fire. I no longer have reservations about doing whatever is needed to be free from him and rescue Jack.”

Doc poured both flavor packets into the pot and began to stir it. Without looking up at me he continued his mix and match ramen and said to me, “what if it bleeds into how you wrestle?”

Hmm, I thought to myself. It was an interesting question from Doc because he normally does not seem too interested in wrestling. “I don't need you to care about wrestling, Doc.”

He stopped stirring the pot and put it to the side, “as a retired doctor that question is about your health. Are you mentally prepared for a match when revenge is the only thing in your head?”

I waved his comment off, “it is all a hodgepodge of plans, Doc. If I succeed in wrestling the faster I can pay off the debt. The faster I pay off the debt the more comfortable he gets and then we can swoop in and finish HIS game. If I snap in a match…I can always apologize. It isn't like anyone will accept it anyway but at least mentally I can forgive myself.”

Doc let me finish and then looked down at his phone. He stood up and walked over to the small sink and turned the water on. “I don't think we can drink this, Steve.”

“What and what's so important on your phone?”

He looked again at this phone and then turned, “oh sorry, I wanted something to drink before I responded but…this looks darker than a Coke.”

I squinted at him as I pondered all the changes in the flow of our conversations. I looked at the water and he wasn't lying. I had already noticed it when I put the water on boil but it was probably undrinkable straight from the tap. “Your thirst is the reason you keep changing the subject?”

He turned the water off and paused with his right hand on the faucet. “I was just thinking that if you allowed me, I could have gotten us a nicer place to sleep and I was having trouble trying to bring it up with you.”

I put the palms of my hands on my forehead and rubbed them down my face as I attempted to fight off an oncoming headache caused by his comment. “I just said I was sorry to make you stay here and you brushed it off. Now you say that?”

He shook his head, “no, Steve, you don't need to apologize but you do make it difficult for people to help you. It isn't just about this motel or eating ramen, it is everything. I don't have a problem using my money to make us—YOU, more comfortable.”

I am not a charity. I wanted to yell loud enough that the rotting joints of this motel would collapse. Instead, I gritted my teeth and spoke as calmly as I could through my teeth, “I am not a charity, Doc.”

“I am going to get some water,” Doc turned and walked out of the motel room and slammed the door behind him.

The noise seemed to scare the roaches as several came running behind the TV Stand. I sighed and looked around the room, the paint was peeling, the TV was an old Tube style, the iron stand was missing one side of its legs, and the sound of the toilet filling with water never stopped, “maybe…I am wrong?”

–

Bryan Dawkins.

Bruh.

I would be a liar if I said I wasn't a tad envious of you, Dawkins. You have this uncanny ability of letting disappointments just fall off your back instead of letting them pile on top of it. If this weight was literal, I would have the strongest legs in PRIME at this point.

Instead of you being suffocated in your own issues you just invite more into your life.

The Herald?

Max Kael?

You have been running around with that annoying twit Adam Ellis for a while as well.

Let me explain to you that doing errands for Max Kael is like dropping yourself into a blender to be drunk by him later. The Pineapple dropping off a personal item to the Hotdog is like the sequel to Sausage Party that only a masochist would enjoy. You both don't belong on Pizzas and you both may as well just put a leash on and ask The Herald if Max is going to fill your water bowls.

Thirsty for people to care, right?

I can understand it from your point of view, Bryan. Any publicity is good publicity when you are running on empty.

It would seem your time off hadn't made you any more perceptive. I won’t say you are stupid, but it would seem gullible can be applied rather easily. You want to believe in the best of people but what you seem to forget is that wrestling is full of rats all attempting to get the last piece of cheese.

While those with power and riches eat steak, I would accept but a whiff of that cheese, Bryan. I have no delusions of who I am anymore. I know it will take all my resolve and concentration to climb up the wrestling ladder. I also know that my personal life has made me nonexistent to most of the roster. I live in this depressingly gray world where any day could bring bad news.

Good news?

Heh, just winning a match is good enough for me.

I will leave you needing to sleep in an ice bath when I am done with you. In this battle YOU are the one who took Jack. Pray to whatever deity you believe in that I come to my senses before I leave you unable to walk on your own.

This is my time to vent all my anger out of my body. This is therapy for me. Bryan. I need this match because I need something to grasp onto that I can point to as a success. This gives me the confidence and the serenity to continue down this path I need to go on. There is no yellow brick road and there isn't anyone at the end of it that will grant me a wish. Unfortunately, only I can grant myself my wish.

At the end of this path is only regret but more importantly a chance for happiness. Not just for me, but for everyone who has put their trust in me.

Don't take this personally for when I bring you Enlightenment it will always be followed up with…

…IT’S A HARRACLE.

And that will be the end of your attempts at squashing my momentum.

–

The Mandarin Fish

KNOCK-KNOCK

It had only been an hour since Doc left the motel room. I had engulfed the ‘chickeef’ Ramen and washed it down with some whiskey I had in a small bottle of mouthwash that was able to fly to Cali with me in my carry-on. I was happy that I had fallen asleep during the flight because if I hadn't this flask would be emptier than the Best Arena.

The Knock made me jump from the ‘please don't black light’ bed and I walked over to the door. I shook my head and opened the door, “You don't have to knock, Doc.” I looked down and saw his hands were full, no doubt with drinks and…luggage?

“Sorry, I should have told you, but I think you need this more than you will admit.” He walked behind me into the motel room. I grabbed the bag of drinks, not understanding anything he was saying and opened one of the waters he had. I took a big sip and then watched as he walked back to the door opening and peered out the room. “Come on.”

I froze with the bottle of water attached to my lips not knowing what he was doing or talking to. He walked back into the room and behind him…

…I dropped the bottle of water. It landed on its side and the water poured out onto the dirty wooden floor.

“Uh…it's–um, great to see you, Steve.”

I nodded, unable to find the words. I looked at the Doc who smiled at me. He walked over and patted me on the back, “just talk it out.”

“I…need another water.”

I internally groaned at myself and sat down on the chair that looked close to death's door early that day when Doc was sitting on it.

I took a deep breath.

She was as beautiful as ever.

My face was red hot.

–

The Bleaching of The Clown Fish’s Coral Reef Act 3:

The Megalodon took a big bite of his Rare Steak. He liked the look of the blood and the juices that dripped off his chin were just as pleasing to himself. He had given the receiver sometime off because food was important then having to yell at the idiots he employed.

He took another bite and followed it with a sip of Red Wine that Clarice had brought to him. What a nice hire she was, he would often think. Of course, she was more of an indentured servant because of the circumstances that brought her to him, but she never complained. He figured she wanted to entrap him, so he had not taken a bite out of her…YET.

He turned on the receiver once again.

“I don't feel too good, Chaz.”

His smile got bigger, his fangs showing again, bits of steak stuck in his front teeth.

“Take another special Tylenol.”

“Ok, I ever tell you about the time I drove to Toronto?”

“No?”

“(Coughs) Well…(Coughs) it ended up being Montreal. (Wheezes and laughs).”

“Right into a feeding frenzy,” The apex says and then picks at his teeth.

“When is Steve coming?”

“Uh…”

His laugh was loud and echoed around the room, “I think I would like some desert now.”