Pro-Wrestling and Fanfic Are My Jam

I stood behind the bright curtain, waiting for my cue with sweaty hands and tight ankles. My wrestling boots doubled-tripled knotted at the tops of my knees.

My tee-shirt flowing in the breeze; the tie-dye matching my white jean shorts and white bralette sparkles down the strips and a zipper in the front that's concealed by a leather strap straight down the middle. The air filled with dirty gym socks and Old Spice as the men came flying from the same curtain. I smiled blissfully with a determined look in my eyes.

My best friend strolled over with noodle legs and stringy arms. His puppy load of weight rests against me. His legs sliding from under him. I managed to catch him tightly in my arms, sitting him down on the ground safely. I whispered prayers into his ear, turning back to the curtain again with a giant smile beaming on my face.

The woman in charge called for the next two competitors to come over to the curtain. I turned my head quickly. My friend is still passed out against the wall. I smiled at him, standing up slowly and racing back over to the curtain.

Blasting through the curtain with the speakers banging the bassline with a thump, my wrestling click against the metal of the ramp. Looking over the small gym filled with people smelling of popcorn and dusty mothballs. The crowd booming with jeers as my feet drag across the metal ramp down to the black matted floors around the canvas-the square circle as we call it. But for everyone else, this is what's called professional wrestling. The fans stick their hands out to reach me on the other side of the barricade.

I smile brightly, taking a fan art drawing of myself and my tag team partner, signing it with ease. I handed it back to them with a smile wide on my cheeks. I walked around the ring, clapping more fans' hands. Sliding up on the edge of the ring, I pulled myself to my feet by the middle rope as I readjusted to stand in front of the crowd. Everyone started chanting my name; my ears felt like they were bleeding. It was so loud.

Stepping one foot through the rope and pushing myself in between, I plant my feet firmly on the ground. I spun around a quick circle so everyone could take a good look at me. I stopped in the center of the ring, raising my hands in the air and waving them at everyone.

I dropped my hands down at my sides, screaming into the air as the roar of applause continues. I stood back in the far left corner as I waited for my opponent to enter the ring.

Taking a seat on the bottom turnbuckle, I laid my back against the corner, breathing out deeply as I watched the lights go out in the gym. There was a bright pink spotlight on the stage where I stood just a few minutes ago. The air felt tight again. There was a stuffy feeling in my throat. My hands started to get clammy. I felt my legs shaking under me. That's when I saw her; my eyes almost popping out of my head.

My best friend dressed up like the she-devil; her black bralette shined with red sparkles down the straps. Her shorts are latex black, resting tight against her thighs. The winged jacket on her backsliding off of her shoulders with ease as she revealed the beautiful tribal tattoo racing up her right arm and stopping against her chest.

A wicked smirk grazed her face as her hip-swaying, thick body bounced down to the ring. She stopped in front of the ring, winking at me first and turning to climb the stairs.

My cheeks burned a dark red as I pushed myself back on my feet, still glaring her down as she did her "one, two punch" pose. Finally, we stood in the middle of the ring. She smirked at me, and I smirked, ready and waiting to wrestle.