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The Pro Wrestling Chronicles: The Knights of Pythias (non-fiction)

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posted on Jun, 9 2004 @ 11:23 AM
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In a continuation of the Pro Wrestling Chronicles series, I present Part 3.
PWC Part 1: Amusements
PCW Part 2: Cocky Pins

This took place on 6/14/03 in Cherryville, NC.
It was our first (and last!!) outdoor show.
First, let's discuss the venue, which is of particular interest to ATSers.

It's a "lodge" for the Knights of Pythias.

We rolled up at the assigned time. It's out in the sticks, truly in the middle of nowhere. This should have given us our first hint.
There was a shabby-looking building with an inordinate number of childrens' bicycles lined up out front...no lodge rep there to greet us whatsoever. So we waited, baking in the sun and nervously joking about the place. We scouted out the field in front where we're to set up the ring and found a flat-enough area. There's a caged dog off to the side of the building. If any of us stepped within 30 feet of his pen, the thing would go absolutely batsh*t; given that our field-scouting was well within his range, it barked a whole lot. We nervously named it something unassuming like "Spot" or "Petunia," maybe "Cujo;" I really can't remember.
The lodge dude finally showed up like 45 minutes late. For some reason he took a liking to me, asked if I'd like a beer or a soda or something seein' as it was so hot. The sun must've baked the senses right outta my head, because I asked for a water. I got the first look inside this crazy place when he escorted me to the building's side entrance, the door proudly emblazoned with a home-made sign reading "PRIVATE CLUB." Spot/Petunia/Cujo barked wildly and tried to chew threw his cage. Despite that, some of the guys not-so-unobtrusively hovered near the side door while I got my water. The "private club" had a raggedy old bar, some chairs, and was absoluey STUFFED with poker machines. There must've been 20 or more crammed in this small room. I grabbed a water and left, sure I'd stumbled on some illegal gambling ring.
"Dude, this is f***ed up," I reported quietly once I escaped, water in hand.

Then the guy unlocked the main entrance of the building and welcomed us inside. He seemed quite proud of the place. We edged past an ugly-print couch without cushions and into the .... um, hall? The room where they get their Pythias on, whatever it's called. The first thing we saw were five wooden "thrones" at the front of the room. They had words carved in them....words like "honor" and "charity" or some crap like that. They had red velvet cushions that had most definately seen better days.
Then we saw the little pedestal-like table in front of the thrones.
There was a Bible with a machete-sized sword laid across it.
Like we weren't freaked out enough as it was, ya know??? A bible with a sword on it, what the f*** is that all about?? As the lodge rep was standing there with us, all we could do is look at each other, wide-eyed, and whisper suggestions that we shoudl vacate the premesis immediately.
So we got to ring setup. It's like 95 degrees out and there's not a cloud in the sky to block the sun. We were all walking around coated in sunscreen and not real happy with the circumstances of the day thus far. I'll be honest, we were all freaked out and I think everyone just wanted to leave.

But we had a show to do, so a show we did.

The "hall" thingy was our locker room, so we got to sit in the thrones and speculate about the Bible/sword combo while we waited.
Was this something Satanic?
What do they do with a sword and a bible?
Their electric hookups were whacked, so our DJ equipment kept dying. This is not a good thing when you have to make the astoundingly long walk from building to ring without your entrance music, as Sycho and several others can attest. (think Wrestlemania III-long, or so it seemed.) It got to the point that some of the fans actually sang our entrance music when the audio cut out so we didn't have to make the walk it silence.
The heat and sun made wrestling damn near impossible, but god dammit we stuck it out and kept going.
We were miserable and upset, but we kept going.

We got to the match between Scott and Will. This was a big match, as it was the day Will turned heel (became a bad guy).
(in hindsight, we probably should have done that in front of a bigger crowd, but he's certainly not suffering for it today. The bastard. The fans hate him.)
Our newest ref, Chuck, was officiating. If I recall, he hadn't been reffing very long at this point, but certainly tried hard.
So the boys do their thing and beat each other up and threw each other around when Mr. Driver engaged in a little hair-pulling.

Scott grabbed Chuck and made the universal wrestling signal for "He pulled the hair!!" : grabbing your own hair and jerking your head back. It's usually coupled with shouts of "He pulled the hair, ref!!" (cuz refs are blind, ya know?)
Not this time.
Scott makes the hair-pulling motion right up in Chuck's face.
"I've got cheese in my pants."
Chuck froze, utterly froze in place.
*motion* "Ref! I've got CHEESE in my pants!"
You could see Chuck's mind racing as he tried to figure this out. Is it a code?
*motion* "No, you don't understand!! I have CHEESE in my PANTS!"
Were it possible, smoke would have poured out of Chuck's ears at this point. Is he trying to tell me something?? Does that mean I have to do a certain thing?? What??
"REF!!" *motion* "I've got CHEESE," *motion* "In my PANTS!!!" *motion*

And as he stood there with his mouth hanging open, Will attacked Scott and the match got back underway.
To end the match, Sycho was to come out with a chair, intending to hit Scott. Will wrestled the chair away from Sycho and beaned Scott across the head....
only the chairshot went wrong and split Scott's head open like a ripe canteloupe.

They finished the match with Scott bleeding all over the damned place and then rushed to the back. Will was distraught at having cracked his buddy's head open, everyone was tending to Scott and making preparations to get him to the ER, and in the middle of it all....
Chuck wandered around asking if he'd screwed up because he didn't know what it meant when Scott had cheese in his pants.

Cheese. In his pants.

What could have been another pinnacle in the world of cracking became a loved war-story because Chuck didn't understand until much later that it was a crack.

Scott wound up with 13 stitches in his noggin.
Like good wrestlers, while he was being tended to in the ER we went to one of the guys' houses and drank the misery of the day away.

It's still a toss-up as to who fared worse that day;
Scott and his 13 stitches,
or Justin and his poor bald sunburnt head that looked like a tomato by the time the drinking got underway.

So now, nearly a year later, when you say "Cherryville" to any MWFer who was there, you are guaranteed the following:
A bighuge eyeroll and groan
"NEVER AGAIN!!!"
The story of how Scott got the scar on his forehead
Giggles about Justin's sunburnt head
.....and, of course, hearing the "I've got cheese in my pants" story as told how only wrestlers can tell a story.

F*** Cherryville.




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