Golden Assets, Chapter 4: Hot Tube Time Machine

The Golden Boys, well they were on a losing streak, and losing streaks were the worst. Losing streaks clung to you like bad body order on unhygienic acme-cratered teens. Retched. Back in the good ol’ days, there used to be troves of eager groupies that lingered around the back entrances of the arena to take a shot in the dark and go home with one of the night’s many winners. But there was a certain economy, when the big guns lost, you saw a dearth of these zero-self-respect-bearing women. Those they still showed were absolute zeros, the ugliest dogs imagined about, there faces mangled. Some still flocked today, though society has changed. Slightly seasoned, with their blurry, faded tramp stamp. Adam saw the dullness in their aged eyes, souls chasing after a long absent joy. But even those starved cougars take one look at the defeated Golden Boys, slipped out into the darkness of the parking garage. While even Adam had his standards, and those slim pickings weren’t it. He couldn’t help being offended by being snubbed by those old hags.

They were usually so eager, so desperate.

Damn, he needed a change of scenery, a change in pace. The Golden Boys needed to regroup, reenergize their batteries! It’s obvious to everyone, but how?

He heard about this ‘grooming’ game that was popular with the younger talent. They would select a young, naïve fan from the signings or even from Instagram, offer some free wrestling lessons. Adam suspected most of them were underaged, bona fide jailbait, but he had been told it’s okay, age’s just a number and it’s part of their culture. He didn’t know exactly whose culture they were referring to, but he wasn’t a sociologist, his studies had been dedicated to the art of professional wrestling and pornography. He had always debated preying on the young, but they were the most volatile cocktails, chocked full of piss and vinegar. Plus, nowadays, they all reminded him of his daughter. They were her age. And unlike some Hall of Famers and former Presidents, that that did not excite Adam. The last thing he wanted to think about when balls deep into a woman was his daughter. After all, Vanessa was a cunt. A blight on humanity. A perfect representation of her horrible generation. He wished she was never born.

Still, the normal fare wasn’t cutting it anymore. Adam lost the thrill. He once described himself as a sex addict, feeling the upmost camaraderie with Tiger Woods; after all, they were both the best in their respective sports, shunned by the prude society and harassed by ex-wives. But we all know why they were hated on, the rest of the world simply wished they could command as much ass as they could. People were so petty when they got jealous. Still, he believed his latest adventure into pornography, forced or not, would have been a blessing in disguise. He hoped it would open up a new world of depravity and perversion. And it did. He experienced the rush of water sports, the splendor of Eiffel Towers, and even the mythical TAP up close and personal. But now to get aroused, he had to go to the extremes, not Xander Valentine or Chad Evans extremes, he wasn’t that sick. No, he thought of the weird, the bizarre. He even went as far to debate hiring midgets to spin on him like a top. But small people creeped him out. Plus, in the back of his head, he feared he’d become addicted to the raw ecstasy of having a weird boner.

Adam had enough shameful kinks. He didn’t need another.

So a man resorted to what he had to in order to cling onto the last semblance of sanity, he started some pet projects. Forget about interior design or gardening, Adam’s new favorite guilty pleasure was tormenting Alistair. After all, if you weren’t irritating them, could you really call yourself a dad? He had forced his way back into Alistaire’s life in order to make up for those many years of abandonment. Alistaire might claim he wanted nothing more to do with Adam after Peyton poisoned his mind with such outrageous lies. But Alistaire couldn’t do anything about the fact they became neighbors when daddy bought all the land be his country estate.

Hidely fucking ho, neighborino!

First, Adam started with crop circles. A happy face. A middle finger. A pentagram. But Adam never knew if Alistaire noticed his creative landscaping. If he did, he never gave any sign. Next, Adam fired off fireowrks every night, at the stroke of midnight, for three weeks straight. The dogs responded, wild and domesticated, howling from the woods and from the nearby farmhouses. Still no response from Alistaire’s camp. Adam expected at least Claire to march up onto the property and give him another lecture, another kick to the balls. But he learned Alistaire hadn’t been home for all those three weeks. Instead, the village board wrote a strong worded warning to stop the fireworks, his antics bothered his other neighbors.

The field succumbed to winter, but without the corn stalks blocking his view, Adam became able to keep tabs on his son’s activities with his gigantic telescope. Screw the stars, Adam hoped to unearth some savory blackmail material in order to leverage his way back into Alistaire’s life. But it was depressing when all he ever saw was Alistaire’s struggle to move around on clutches, limping along pathetically, relying on Claire’s help, back and forth between the house and the gym in the barn. Every weekday, a physical therapist that must had been a male cheerleader in high school, showed up and left after a few hours. No wonder Alistaire’s recovery has been slow, he showed have hired a hottie to work him through the agonizing process of rehabilitation. He did get a good line of vision right into Claire’s bedroom. He hoped seeing her bare flesh would rejuvenate his soul, but when he saw her nude frame, he reminded himself he had already seen her goods, and in a much more intimate fashion too. He hated reruns.

When the Golden Boys had to go back on tour, a fence had been erected. The fence soared high, blocked all view of Alistaire’s property. So, Adam did what he had to remedy this problem. He called his cousins in Rochester to bring out a payload of timber. Paid them with dirty money. He would not be denied. Not only did Adam build an even bigger fence to show that he was the dominant parternal figure in his relationship with his son, he then erected a tall, glorious watch tower. Installed on the underbody of the hut on top were cameras, all capturing every nook and cranny of Alistaire’s propery. He then hung a banner that read: ‘God’s Not Real’.

That must have incensed Alistaire, because shortly after, Adam watched Claire climb up onto the barn’s roof to hang a banner that read, ‘Go Away, Dad’.

That evening, celebrating his victory, Adam sat in his new hot tub, drinking from his mug of vodka. He sensed the underlying restlessness. He wanted more fun. This obsession consumed him. All winter he had been thinking of more clever ways to antagonize his crippled son. That sounded a lot worse than he thought when he thought about it. Bison came jogging from the house, holding himself, shivering mightily before slipping into the water, sending a tidal wave, that wish wash up onto the deck. Adam found his tag partner adorable at times, almost childlike, always cold, needing to borrow Anastasia’s hoodies to drape over himself to keep himself warm. He did not do winter.

“It’s so damn cold. It’s winter! Why didn’t you install this baby inside? You Northerners are nuts!”

“Bison, you’re from Michigan. Did the drinking water really corroded your brain as a child?”

“Dawg, come on. We in Detroit knew winter meant staying indoors, not out. And when were were forced to leave home, we bundled up like intelligent, sentient beings. You white people and your god damn love of white winters. You don’t see many of my people skiing all over the side of mountains, crisscrossing over snow, freezing our asses off, do you? No, we don’t enjoy torturing ourselves like that,” Bison’s protect eroded into a grumble, as usual. Adam had made sure that the hot tub was very, very large, with Bison’s massive size in mind. The custom tub might have been expensive, but this was all on the dime of their Russian overlords, and they were trapped overseas at the moment due to travel restrictions.

What they don’t know, don’t hurt them. The wisest adage ever spoken.

But the jumbo-size jacuzzi had been essential. While on the road, Adam became excited when they were upgraded to the bridal suite. His old wicker body had been stiff, muscles sore all over, and his joints swollen from wrestling.  But when Adam entered the room, eager to let hot water soothe his agony while letting the jets tickle his prostate, he waltzed right into a disaster zone. Water was everywhere. Bison, the source of the calamity, bore a shit grin. His huge frame shrugged over, his fat ass stuck in the small vessel. Thank god, they always carried an ample supply of lube or they might have to call the fire department to cut him out.

“I don’t have a response that can’t be misconstrue as racist, so for once, I’m going to be politically correct and keep my mouth shut.”

“That’s not like you. Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I am in debt to angry Russian mobsters, my favorite meal ticket is now crippled, the only sex I’ve had has been with Anastasia during our shoots, and we are just going through the motions, and worse yet, we’ve become the laughing stock of the Tag Team Division,” Adam tried to rid the shameful burn with a large gulp of vodka, but that was just adding fuel to the flames. It was official: He was indeed in a rut. Nothing’s going his way. He guessed if it wasn’t for his firsthand exposure to the self-destruction of some colleague, he’d stumble into downward spiral, sticking a needle in his arm, chasing the dragon.  But no, he dealt with far too many crack whores and coke heads to take such a route. Too many wrestling greats had checked out before they faced real adversity. Adam wasn’t a pussy. He was better than the Jake Starrs and the Jay Golds. No, he wasn’t washed up. No, his career took a temporary stumble, but he’d right the ship.

“It is your fault, after all.”

“What’s my fault?”

“Our recent success or lack there of. You’re ghosting us man, zero effort. You’re distracted. Here, instead of training, you’re trying to dick over your poor son. On the road, your sole focus is not strategizing for our next opponents, but where you can find your next drink and the price rates for some local prostitutes. Then you pass out on their thighs after crying about your lot in life, like some bitch,” Bison said, armed with a too-satisfied smirk puckering on his lips.

“Hey, I have sex with them first.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Then you’re telling me I’m wasting all my money for a warm lap? I mean, it’s still better than resorting to those body pillows with animal girls on it, but I don’t know how much better.”

“You’re out of control, man. You’re always drunk. You’re always high. It’s a problem. We need to focus on finding success or your friends are going to cut us out. We need to win. I can’t do this on my own. I need your help,” Bison pleaded. Adam found himself with a smile, Bison finally admitted he needed him. That made Adam feel so much better. It was the truth though.”

“It’s a slump. We all have slumps. Let’s not be throwing stones when living in glass houses. We’ll come back strong. New year, new slate. Don’t your worry curly pubes, this will be out year,” Adam stood up. He placed his hands on his hips, held his chin high, George Washington crossing the Delaware. But the only thing waving in the wind was Adam’s shriveled dick. Bison immediately covered his innocent eyes with both his bear hands. Shivering, Adam quickly ducked back down into the warm caress of the hot tube.

“Boys, boys… have you been waiting long for me?” Anastasia strutted across the patio deck. She donned a thick fur coat, but her feet were bare. She stepped one after another, letting the coat drop to her feet, revealing her nude body. She winked at Bison, not Adam, but Adam accepted the gesture on Bison’s behalf. Bison scooted closer to Adam, retreating from the advancing Anastasia. Adam pushed his tag partner back to little success. She dipped her toe into to water, hissed playfully before pulling back her full lips into a grin. She lowered herself, releasing a moan of ecstasy. But she did not float over to Adam’s side, but instead to Bison’s. This started the beginning of a game of cat and mouse, resulting in a circular motion by all three parties. Bison moved closer to Adam, away from Anastasia. Adam pursued Anastasia but she kept chasing Bison. A small whirlpool started to form in the middle of the hot tub. The silly game finally ended after a few minutes, when Anastasia finally gave up and anchored her fine ass in one spot. Adam claimed victory in the proceedings by putting his arm around the blonde nymph.

They shared stories that Adam failed to remember the next day, because they also started sharing cups of vodka. But Adam remembered one thing though, Bison blame this losing streak on him, and that grinded his gears. He was never the weak link. All of his previous partners failed him, not the other way around. Bison was the one slacking. But that was a given, but Adam planned on showing him up, carrying Bison to the promised land.

Adam found his motivation.

————————–

Adam stumbled into the bathroom. A rash had formed all over his legs, even on his ball sack. He needed the calamine lotion to ease his suffering. To his great dismay, Bison stood there, his big chungus slinked over itself, one foot planted on the toilet seat. Bison had the calamine lotion, rubbing it all over his legs as well.

“I’m going to kill you,” Bison spoke, making eye contact with Adam. He motioned towards his irritated skin. “You did this. Didn’t you?”

“I could very well say the same.”

“I don’t fuck porn stars or whores.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Look, I’m not the only sexually active person to have been in the tub last night. You and I could be victims of Anastasia’s promiscuity,” Adam argued. Bison narrowed his eyes, not trusting Adam’s word for a moment. Adam went to snatch the bottle away from his tag partner, but Bison held it away. Adam started having to jump and down, trying to reach the bottle. “Come on, you’re not the only one suffering here. My crotch is on fire.”

“Serves you right.”

“Don’t think I won’t climb over you. I’ve been involved in enough orgies. I’m not afraid of crossing swords.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Adam cracked his knuckles, before raising his hands, fingers spread, nails pointed towards his enemy. Kung-fu tiger claws, waah. He began to prance, a cat on his hindlegs, about to whine his battle cry. Bison stood up proper, stone wall Jackson, raising the bottle even higher. Adam stepped forward, turning his feet deliberately. Then he hopped up, hopped up, grunting each time, trying to snatch the bottle all while cursing his lack of height and avoiding accidental touching. Of course, the towering giant won that battle but that didn’t stop Adam from trying. He had Napoleonic pride.

The bathroom door squeaked open. Adam and Bison froze. They slowly turned to Anastasia, who leaned against the door frame now, a bemused face. Bison and Adam both cleared their throats, trying to act normal. Anastasia cocked her head, her bright blonde locks cascading on both side, but its her arched eyebrow that judged them both.

“Listen, babe, this isn’t what it looks like,” Adam started. “Before you get the wrong idea-…”

“We’re- I- god damn it,” Bison didn’t offer any support, struggling to formulate words.

“Now darlings, if you two were going to be having such fun, why aren’t we filming it? Are we only making a buck off me? I bet you both would be moneymakers. You’d two be a hit. Broke Ass Mountain.” Anastasia made a rectangle screen out of her hands, snapping an imaginary photo of the two. She then swirled her finger, approaching both men, who she left speechless. They both desperately searched for an explanation, a way out of this.

The situation was worse than you think. Russians were the most homophobic people you ever going to meet. Hell, in some places in Russia, they rounded up the gays and made them disappear. Adam didn’t want to be a victim of such a magic trick. Plus, if Petya found out, Adam would never hear the end of gay jokes and insults. If Dimitri found out, that might be the final straw. He seemed closeted enough to make an example out of the two in order to protect his heterosexuality. This wasn’t simply clearing up a misunderstanding, this was defusing a ticking time bomb.

But first, Adam had to correct her, “It’s Broke Back Mountain.”

“But neither of you are rich, are you?”

“Touché,” Adam surrendered. Adam and Bison exchanged looks, both succumbing to the awkwardness. They gave up. Adam leaned against his partner, releasing a defeated sigh. Bison did the same. It wasn’t that Adam doubted his sexuality, he always felt comfortable in the presence of other men. Locker room. Sex clubs. Swinger parties. His iron grip on his sexuality was what made him the perfect director for adult videos after all. While they both searched for a way out, Anastasia had snatched the bottle from the now lowered hand of Bison. She waved farewell with the hand that clutched the bottle, frolicking out of the room and slamming the door.

“You stop right there, you cold-hearted Siberian bitch!”

“Damn!” Bison called out.

They hurried to get the door opened to pursue Anastasia to recover the lotion. But in their eagerness, they collided, now fighting over who will open the door, both their hands on the door knob. By the time, Bison pushed Adam out of the way, she was gone. Bison took a few futile steps into the cold, empty hallway.

“You still don’t believe me, huh? She definitely gave us this rash.”

“She’s evil.”

—————————————————————-

“It’s been a while since we had to turn one of these in,” Bison grumbled, setting the camera up on the tripod. He looked around at the winter wonderland, shivered in his fifteen layers of clothes. They were out on the patio, steam floating off the bubbling hot tub. A bright blue sky conquered the day. Behind the Golden Boys, you could see a snowy field and a line of snow-covered pine trees.

“I ran out of excuses.”

“’Dog ate you homework’ didn’t work, eh?”

“I tried blaming it on Sasha’s dearth in secretarial skills, said she must have lost our submissions, but that only angered her more,” Adam confessed. He had not been on good terms with corporate for some time. He suspected there were some prudes on the board, who didn’t like Adam’s side hustle. They were technically still independent contractors! They shouldn’t have any right to say what Adam does with his fame in the meantime. Afterall, those women were consensually forced to participate.  

“We’re on thin ice, man. Don’t fuck this up for us. I like the steady pay. It helps a lot when you have child support due.”

“Calm down, as long as you’re with me, you’ll be set for life.”

“I’m not so naïve girl, so easily convinced by your lies. I know exactly what you have, and that’s nadda.”

“Shut up and film. I’ll do the talking. I don’t want SCW to continue to think we’re the two stooges looking for Curly,” Adam ordered. Bison grumbled some curses under his breathe before pressing the play button. He didn’t enter the scene, letting the supposed smooth talker do all the jawing.

[REC]

“What is this? 2021, and we have a lesbian power couple appearing on the tag team scene, looking to take SCW by storm,” Adam paused, lifting up his hand, trying to control his laughter. He waved at the camera, catching his breathe. “A little too late to the party, aren’t you ladies? That marketing gimmick might have been vogue in 2012, but now? It’s overplayed. Beaten. Molested. Chewed up and spat out. Don’t you know? The ‘W’ in SCW stands for ‘woke’. We’ve been progressive since the beginning. I won’t tell you what the ‘S’ and the ‘C’ stands for, but it sounds awfully close to ‘uts and ‘unts.”

“But it’s tired news. You ain’t Dark Fantasy, you’re just imitating!” Adam shook his head, disappointed. The folly of youth. History repeated itself. Yada yada yada.

“But before I linger on this embarrassing topic too long, I want to sing my own praise. If anyone is a master at sex appeal and mass marketing, it’s yours truly, Wrestling’s Enlightenment, The Renaissance Man, Adam Allocco. Fun fact. Didn’t you know shortly after I bailed on SCW when I was the undefeated SCW United States Champion, and still am, might I add, I was off performing the queer Cinderella story of this century out in the frozen tundra of Mother Russia. I broke through barriers and orchestrated the pinnacle of lesbianship. If you want to be sexy, if you want to be the perfect amount of edgy, then you simply have to steal from my playbook, my magnus opus, the Soviet sensations, the lesbian lolita twins, ahhhhh… whatever their names were, they were cute, feisty, spitfires that could keep a tune! I brought them to number one in the music rankings for all of Eastern Europe. Success on a level that you two will never come to understand.”

“And know, don’t worry, I’ll sign your autographs after the show.

“But I get it. You’re not here to listen to my accolades outside the ring, you’re here to try to steal the Golden Boys thunder with your tired cliché that has appeared in comic books, spank banks, and professional wrestling for years now.”
 
“And we’re not going to take it. No, we’re not going to take it,” Adam nodded towards Bison, hoping he gets the reference. Bison doesn’t show any signs of doing so. Adam shrugs and begins to walk along the railing of his back deck.

“Now you’re probably going to respond to this and tell us that it’s just happenstance that you two are two wrestlers that became a couple who decided to make your relationship stronger by teaming up and challenging the rest of the stacked division in SCW. But sorry ladies, Breakdown isn’t meant to be a date night. The tag team division isn’t Cosmopolitan and we for sure don’t offer relationship advice! And hell, I might even concede that you two were well known entities in your own rights in your own circles, selling out high school gymnasiums and dingy Mexican coliseums. But those were bush league. You might have talent, but listen this is SCW, everyone has talent. No, you have to stand out! You have to go big or go home! It’s all about blood and guts and god damn glory!”

He kept circling until he approached the camera. He swiveled the camera around to catch him punching Bison lightly in his gigantic oak barrel chest. “And us?! We know all about going major league, baby! We made an entrance into this company! We made a first impression! And if it wasn’t for the ill timing of my poor son Alistaire’s accident, we would have been in the final four, we would have competed tomorrow night against the likes of A/C Unit, the Pyschenuns, and the other slapdashed abominations in the finals. And we would have been suiting up at Retribution, getting ready to shove our boots right up Lucas Knight’s and Chris Cannon’s majestic tight asses! We would have finally gotten our hands on that sweet sweet Tag Team Gold!”

“But no, tragedy struck! SCW refused to grant me time off to help my son through his difficult rehabilitation process. At the same time, Bison got injured because of an almost lethal wound, a big, fat ugly mole on his hairy ass that COULD have been cancerous. He had to get it removed!”

“Hey man, don’t be telling them that!” Bison quipped. He pushed Adam away before returning behind the camera.

“But no, neither of us got the reprieve we desperately needed. But I get it! I really do. Don’t forget, I was once the coldhearted dictator of a successful professional wrestling machine. I know the demands. The pressures that Sasha is experiencing in the captain’s chair. She has to deal with the Networks! The ratings! She can’t very well advertise the Tag League without including the Golden Boys, the stars of the show!” Adam waves his finger all over the place in front of the camera., “No, she couldn’t! So we soldiered on through our hardships, our handicaps, and we might have dropped a few, but we didn’t lose. No! We did not! We proved that we’re still a tough challenge for anyone and everyone!”

“Now in the new year, the Golden Boys are back! We regrouped. We had a spa day. We worked out all the kinks, all the negativity that were holding us back. We’re back in business, baby! Oh, yes, we are! And we’re going back to our patented winning ways. And you two lovely birds aren’t going to be able to stop us from jumping in the fast lane, high tailing past you two, straight back into the Tag Team Championship scene. We’re going to breathing, incessantly, down the necks of the winners of the Tag League and Suited and Booted. We’re not going to relent. We’re not going to stop because we’re primetime, we’re revved up, and we’re fast tracked to success!”

Adam stopped. He slapped his hands on his knees. “Doom and Groot? Whimper in the Darkness? Those names will be forgotten, because we’re the shiner, better tag team. We’re two rockets, heading straight to the moon… the MOON! And you two are simply fuel for our ship!”

Adam threw his hand now in front of the camera. He counts down while he spoke his finishing line: “Breakdown is takeoff! Three… two… one!”

[/REC]

“What did you think?” Adam asked.

“Man, you be lying. Lying. Lying. Won’t they pick up on the fact that we lost a lot of matches recently?!”

“Look, it’s okay to lie. Everyone does it. Even the corporate shills like Selena lie. It’s all about presentation, it’s all about the magic. No one cares about the truth, not even the major news networks,” Adam explained. He really wanted to tell Bison that his pervious question was rhetorical, but he had to respond to the stupidity that came from his tag partner’s mouth.

“Still doesn’t feel right.”

“If you ain’t feeling exposed, naked, and alone, then you’re not trying hard enough. This is show business.”