BAAM!!

The sound assaulted my ears, blurring my vision. The lights above were spiraling in and out of focus. Why do I keep doing this?

-ONE!

Why do I keep willingly hurting myself, being exposed to ridicule and hate? And probably trading comfort in my golden years for a life of pain and maybe even regret?

-TWO!

Those were my thoughts as I got ready to grab the hulking mass of a man that was on top of me at that point, pinning me down in the center of the mat while the ref was counting to three; the crowd was expectant on what was going to happen, could I keep going on? or that last suplex from the third turnbuckle was enough to pin me down? So I lifted the one shoulder that the 290-pound beast of a wrestler right over me had very graciously left unmolested so that I could do precisely what I just did, lifting my hand to the air with a closed fist while leaning to the side, to avoid the three count.

-AND HE IS NOT DONE YET! What resiliency are we witnessing here? Listen to the crowd!!!!- Said the local live commentator over the outdated and rudimentary implemented PA system.

Oh right! The cheers and excitement from the crowd were a few reasons that kept me doing this, but it could be worse. I stood up, still a bit groggy from the fall; falling upside down from the top turnbuckle is a harrowing experience, let me tell you! It is an experience that I would highly recommend to all the people who say that "wrestling is fake" and then dare them to keep saying it.

I looked back to my opponent, who was already running towards me after pushing himself through the ring's ropes. I was about to receive what looked like a nuclear lariat on my face! So I did what anyone in his right mind would do at that point, I got under his arm and past him, immediately turned around, and jumped as high as I could while he was already returning after having used the ropes on the other side of the ring to gain momentum, only to receive my massive angel drop kick right to his chest.

Instead of going for the pin after one of my signature moves, I put myself back together and ran toward my corner. Still, I was not OK, or at least that is what I was trying to convey to the crowd since I was limp running while grabbing the back of my nogging. A couple of feet from my corner, there it was, a hand, a bonafide NBA-sized giant hand, extended towards me.

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In contrast, the hulking giant that was the owner of said hand was jumping and screaming, encouraging me to reach out to him, so again, I did the most logical thing that anybody would do at that point, the thing that 120 people were waiting for, a crowd that was about to go bananas, this was what they paid for, the children were silent in wait, the women were going crazy, the men were getting ready to stand up from their seats, so I jumped forwards, extended my hand, and gave my "little" brother the tag slap.

He did not wait for me to get out of the ring; hell, he didn't even wait for me to fall flat on my face! He just jumped over the third rope, passed over me, and went running like a madman straight for the guy that, until then, had spent the last 6 minutes bullying and manhandling his older brother, picked him up from where I left him in the mat by grabbing the back of his neck like if the 290 pound, 6'2 tall mad man called, well, The Madman, was just a little kitten, turned him around so he could face my brother, grabbed his neck and lifted him, only to immediately slam him down in one of the most potent chokeslams that I have ever seen in my life, it was beautiful, poetry in motion, as soon as The Madman's body hit the mat, I did a small jump behind my corner, and so did The Madman's partner, to create the illusion that my brother's chokeslam was that much more damaging and overall fantastic than it had been.

-WHAT A TURN OF EVENTS! IS THE MADMAN EVEN ALIVE AFTER THAT!!!!- Said the live commentator over the PA to add color to the fight; the children were jumping on their seats, the men had their arms up in the air, and the women swooned all over.

The Madman's partner illegally entered the ring in a misguided attempt to avenge his partner and hit my brother's back from behind, which, of course, did not even faze him, which in turn made The Scarecrow, that was his name by the way, give a step back in shock, taking his arms to his head to signify that he could not believe what was happening, my brother slowly, very slowly turned around to face the Scarecrow, who turned around trying to scape my baby brother's righteous fury but before he could start running away, said baby brother grabbed him by the belt, turned him around, and plastered his body to the mat with a lariat that sounded way worse than when I fell from the earlier suplex.

My brother then looked over to the crowd and tore his shirt apart "Hogan" style while flexing his oiled muscles, which led to an old lady fainting and the crowd's noise reaching previously unheard levels, only to go back to The Madman, lifting his sorry ass from the mat, tucked The Madman's head in between his tights, only to immediately lift him for a resounding powerbomb, my brother looked over to me and grinned, while placing his foot on The Madman's chest for the

-ONE!

-TWO!!

-THREE!!!

The bell rang, people cried out their support, and I went into the ring to have my hand raised by the referee along with my brother's; at that moment, I allowed myself to look to a particular corner of the seats, where four people were delighted, clapping their hearts out and jumping up and down, celebrating, while the ref attached a fancy while cheap looking silver belt around my waist.

We were the new tag team champions of the local Indy wrestling promotion.