The Majestic-Four Page Preview

8/18/2019 The Majestic-Four Page Preview

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The MajesticByMartin Sean Evans

2014 © Martin Sean Evans

Gift Art by Brian Burke

(Four Page Preview)


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Preface

Kayfabe [káy-fab]

[noun, verb, adjective]

The shared illusion that everything in professional wrestling is realand is not staged and should not be questioned because otherwise it

would be ruined for everyone.

Chapter One

It was easily the biggest and most opulent building in town. During

its grand opening at the turn of the previous century, somebody in

the back of the crowd had said out loud that God would’ve builtsomething like the Majestic Arena if he only had the money.

Many decades later, the Majestic Arena was still the biggest and

most opulent building in town, but it needed a little bit of paint and

a whole lot of love.

* * * * *

A woman who looked like a sheep came walking down Main Street

towards the old arena as carefree as a teenaged German tourist. She

was wearing an old pink sweater and faded blue jeans and steel-

toed boots. She carried a duffle bag in one hand and wore another

duffle bag like a backpack on her shoulders. She stopped and took

a long look down the street at her next destination.

This wasn’t a bad town as far as Haggis could tell. She had been insome towns that weren’t much more than modern Sodom and

Gomorrahs. But this town wasn’t one of those. There weren’t too

many locals out walking about this early in the morning, but the

ones she had met were polite and friendly and didn‘t stare at her

for too long. The town reminded her of a big fat happy cat her


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family used to have who spent most of his life snoozing on her

parents’ bed.

Well, Haggis was here to make the town purr.

The sheep-faced woman’s birth name was Wilma Deering

Wilberforce. Her dad was a huge Buck Rodgers fan and named his

firstborn daughter after Buck’s girlfriend. But Wilma was better

known these days as The Mighty Haggis by wrestling fans. Wilma

had picked up the moniker Haggis while going to a professional

wrestling school in Scotland. The other students at the school

harassed Haggis and threatened to make haggis out of her, but

Wilma just shrugged it off and wrote off the hazing as part of herpaying her dues. Months later after she graduated, Wilma started

calling herself “The Mighty Haggis” because she had the guts to

stick it out.

Haggis stopped to look at a placard stapled to a nearby telephone

pole. On it, there was a picture of Haggis flexing her muscles while

wearing a retro style red one-piece woman’s wrestling outfit. Next

to her was a busty Asian woman who was also flexing her musclesand wearing a similar outfit, but colored white instead. The placard

was an advertisement for the local wrestling federation.

The sheep woman smiled and continued walking down to the end

of the street where the horizon was pushed aside by the facade of a

whitewashed brick-and-mortar behemoth that occupied the center

of town.

As Haggis got closer to the building, she could see simple bas-

reliefs on the exterior walls that reminded her of the side of a box

of animal crackers. Ahead of her was a circus scene with clowns

and bears and monkeys. To the left of that decoration, there was a

scene of a zaftig lady wearing Valkyrie garb and waving a spear


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while singing on a stage, and to the right another scene of two

boxers in a ring throwing punches at each other. Haggis was awed

because the figures in the bas-reliefs were life-sized. There were

other bas-reliefs, but they were crumbling under the weight of time

and petty vandalism and could barely be made out.

The sign on top of the building spelled out MAJESTIC ARENA in

letters two stories tall. It looked a little tattered, but Haggis had

been told that that this building had been around since before the

Wright Brothers flew their first airplane. Haggis thought to herself

that if she was that old, she’d be a little frayed too.

Haggis stopped and sniffed the air. She could smell the pungentodor of stale urine where the neighborhood bums had been peeing

against the old building. Haggis then lowered her head and listened

to dead leaves and pieces of old and yellowed newsprint flapping

down the street as the harsh winter wind blew all around her.

Wrestling was a weird husband. Her old man had taken her to a lot

of places. Some of those places were really nice and while others

were real dives. But it never ever got boring. But Haggis wishedthat wrestling would buy her a pretty dress or some nice lingerie

once in awhile.

Haggis then started walking around the old Majestic, looking for

the back door. She passed an old oak tree, the only tree still

standing for blocks around. Haggis looked up and noted the many

tattered plastic shopping bags stuck high in its bare branches.

“Witches’ knickers,” she thought as she walked underneath it.

A moment later, Haggis heard crows cawing behind her. Haggis

turned around to look. In the branches of the oak that she had just

passed under there now sat crows. Big crows like the ones back


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home in Nevada who swoop down on desert tortoises, pick them

up, and then drop them onto rocks from hundreds of feet up to

shatter their shells so they could get at the tender, tasty meat inside.

Haggis started counting crows and remembered what her motherhad said about crows:

One's unlucky,

Two's lucky,

Three's health,

Four's wealth,

Five's sickness,

Six is death.

There were six crows sitting in the tree looking down at her. They

were plainly sizing her up like a bunch of rowdy teenaged boys

working themselves up to play the knockout game with the first

easy mark to come their way.

Haggis gave out a deep sigh and matter-of-factly said out loud to

the birds, “Crow, crow, get out of my sight, or else I’ll eat thy liverand lights.”

The crows suddenly stopped in mid-squawk and stared at the

sheep-faced woman below as if she was getting ready to gun them

down.

Haggis then followed up her charm by shouting, “Pluck you!” over

her shoulder at the crows as she turned around and continued to herdestination. A few moments later, as Haggis crossed a street, she

heard a little child cry out loud, “Look mommy! Look at the baa-

baa!”

Haggis was used to it.


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* * * * *

Nobody could ever decide if Haggis was ugly or beautiful. The

worst thing Haggis had ever been called was a “fugly sweater” bya blonde bimbo whose wardrobe seemed to consist solely of Misfit

t-shirts, yoga pants and stripper heels. The best thing that Haggis

was ever called was “lamb chop”, although technically Haggis had

lost her lamb status the night of her senior prom.

From the neck up, Haggis was what you would call different. But

she wasn’t so different that when she smiled, you knew that things

weren’t as bad as you thought they were, and that maybe there wasan outside chance that while you were looking for spare change

between the couch cushions, that you might find a Spanish

doubloon.

Haggis had a face and head that looked a lot like a sheep‘s. Her

nose was long and bifurcated. Her pointed ears stuck out on either

side of her head. Her forehead was prominent, almost bulbous. She

didn’t have normal hair on her head. She had a thick white curlyfleece instead. Haggis looked a lot like a woodland creature from

out of Greek mythology and would not have been out of place

working as a barmaid at Dionysus’ Bar & Grill.

From the neck down, it was a whole different story. A lot of

women, mostly the ones she fought in the wrestling ring, hated

Haggis for her outstanding figure.

A lot of people don’t think that you can be 5’8” and have a DD or

F sized bust and still weigh a buck fifty-four. But Haggis’ breasts

were wide and extended across the upper part of her chest so that

they were always perky. Haggis’ ribcage then angled inward a

little more sharply than most women’s and created the small waist


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that is coveted by so many. As a result, most of Haggis’s weight

was redistributed to her breasts, hips, and butt.

Muscle weighs more than fat, so when Haggis pushed her

workouts, she could gain more weight, but look thinner as a result.But the Ewe of Destruction had to be careful because it was those

curves that paid her bills. It was also those selfsame curves that

helped drive her rivalries. Haggis didn’t get a lot of love from her

female competition. Depending on which side of the fence they

stood on, the jealous bitches either called her fat or told everybody

in earshot who couldn’t plug their ears that she has fake boobs. But

there was a special Hell on Earth reserved for those bellyachers.

Ten minutes inside the wrestling ring with The Mighty Haggis.

* * * * *

The little girl ran from out of nowhere and pointed up at Haggis for

the convenience of her mother who was trying to chase after her

daughter with two arms and three overloaded sacks of groceries.

The woman stopped short of colliding with the sheep-faced woman

and forcing Haggis to make a heroic dive to catch one or more

bags of groceries.

Haggis smiled. The woman couldn’t help but smile back. The

woman then looked at a nearby placard which featured the sheep-

faced woman and the Asian woman. She then asked, “Are you thatwrestler?”

“Yes I am,” said Haggis. “I’m also a certified air conditioning

repairperson, a massage therapist, and an ex-McDonald’s

restaurant manager.”


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“Why don’t McDonald’s French fries taste like they used to?”

asked the woman.

“The vegans made us take the beef tallow out of the fry oil,”replied Haggis.

“And she’s a baa baa!” cried the little girl.

Haggis leaned down and kissed the little girl on her forehead

before saying, “I’m a big baa baa, aren’t I?”

“Momma,” said the little girl who was dancing as she talked, “Canwe get some mint jelly for the baa baa please?”

Momma blushed tomato red. Haggis looked up at her and said with

a sigh, “I get that a lot.”

Chapter Two

It took awhile to walk around the huge building, but Haggis finallyfound the backdoor entrance of the Majestic. It was as big as the

door to her garage and as formidable looking as the portcullis of a

medieval castle. Haggis saw a hand-lettered sign that said, “Please

RING the Bell.” Haggis smiled and knocked on the door instead.

A few minutes later, the big door slowly swung open and an old

wizened gnome wearing a white Colonel Sander’s suit and using a

walker stepped forth into the sunlight and smiled broadly uponseeing the sheep woman.

“Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool?” sang the wizened old

doorkeeper, “Yes sir, yes sir, two big funbags full!”


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Haggis’ vision went bleary for a moment as she leaned forward and

carefully hugged her old friend and former tag team partner Rotten

Randy whose real name was Stepan Svoboda who was an

immigrant who used to have a Russian accent as thick as last

week’s borsht. Back in the good old days when Greeks could passas Iron Sheiks and Irishmen as Texan oilmen, Randy assumed a

Southern gentleman’s persona and the gimmick later became his

life. But the good old days had unfortunately passed and the man

who used to be a walking mountain of muscle was now a fragile

molehill who still wore white Colonel Sander’s suits and now

needed canes and walkers to get around.

“How long has it been, little darlin’?” asked Randy.

Haggis wiped the tears from her eyes and said, “Too long, Randy,

too long. I missed the Ovaltine.” And then she hugged him again

and for a moment, Randy thought that she was never going to let

him go.

“When you said you bought a wrestling arena, I thought that

maybe you bought an abandoned Wal-Mart or Target Store, saidHaggis.

“I’m sentimental. This was one of the first places I ever wrestled

at,” explained Randy.

“How were you able to afford this place?” asked Haggis.

“I brought it at a foreclosure sale with my life savins,” repliedRandy. “My daughter helped me out a little. She’s a good girl.”

Randy placed an hand on Haggis’ shoulder and gently guided the

sheep-faced woman through the bare utilitarian back of the house

which was notably nondescript and through some rather elegant


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wooden double doors and into an even more elegant hallway lit

solely by skylights from three stories above. The walls were

polished wood and the floor was made up of glazed and unglazed

yellow and pink bricks.

“I think I’ve been here before,” said Haggis.

“Every visited the Bradbury Buildin’ in Los Angeles, sheepy?”

said Randy.

“No, but I’ve seen the Bradbury Building in movies and on TV,”

said Haggis. “You know my favorite movie is Blade Runner .”

“You still goin’ to those Star Trek conventions?” asked Randy.

“You bet. And Carrie Fisher is right, if you want to get laid good

and proper, ask a nerd. Okay, continue with the tour big boss man,”

said Haggis.

“The man who built the Majestic got the idea for it after visitin’ the

Bradbury Buildin’ after it opened in 1893. He thought that thistown was destined for greatness and he wanted the Majestic to be

his legacy. He used the family fortune to pay for it, but the town

never got any bigger and he lost his shirt. He had to sell the

Majestic and he drank himself to death afterwards,” said Randy.

“He didn’t build this place on top of an Indian burial ground, did

he?” asked Haggis.

“Naw. We ain’t sittin’ on top of no pet cemetery either. The man’s

problem was that he was the only warm body around here to have

big dreams. This town is just startin’ to catch up to those big

dreams. In a few more years when other towns start to spillover

into this one, I’m pretty sure the Majestic will get the respect it


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deserves,” said Randy.

Haggis followed Randy out of the hallway and into the main lobby.

Besides the polished wood walls and the colorful bricks, there was

now wrought-iron filigree. She saw a couple of birdcage elevatorspaired together and a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling

that was wider than most of the rings that Haggis had wrestled in.

“This looks like the set for an old fashioned detective movie,

Randy,” exclaimed Haggis.

“I like to think that maybe one day we can rent out the Majestic to

a movie company. It’s a sorry shame the old girl hasn’t been in amovie even once,” said Randy. “Now hold tight, sheepy, ‘cause

gravity is about to fail.”

Randy steered Haggis over to the far wall where there was a half a

dozen double doors. Randy smiled and with a little effort, threw

open the closest door. Haggis peered inside.

“Randy, it looks like a cathedral in there!” exclaimed Haggis.

“Sheepy, if God was a wrassler, this would be where he would be

workin’,” proudly said Randy.

The arena was huge. It could seat thousands easily. And like the

hallway and the lobby, the walls were polished wood, the floor was

yellow and pink bricks, and wrought-iron was everywhere. But theceiling soared to a height of five stories and all of it was lit by

natural light.

“Randy, this place is a cathedral,” said a genuinely gobsmacked

Haggis.


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“You haven’t seen the bathrooms yet,” said Randy.

“…,” murmured Haggis.

“The original owner was tryin’ for an all-purpose convention

center. Besides this auditorium on the ground floor, we have a

restaurant I’d like to reopen as soon as I can modernize it and

there’s room for shops aplenty,” said Randy.

“What’s on the other floors? This place is five stories tall,” said

Haggis.

“The second floor is mostly dressing rooms and offices. The third

and fourth floors are also empty spaces, for the most part never

used. Let me show you what’s on the fifth floor, sheepy,” said

Randy.

Haggis followed Randy across the lobby and over to the birdcage

elevators. This time Haggis pulled open the elevator door and

waited patiently as Randy stepped inside before she joined him.Randy then flung some levers on a device that resembled an ocean

liner’s bridge to engine room telegraph and the birdcage elevator

immediately began to ascend, rattling every inch of the way.

The birdcage elevator arrived at the fifth floor and shuddered as it

came to a stop. Once again, Haggis pulled open the door and

waited for Randy to leave first before she exited. Randy then

stopped and turned around to face Haggis.

“You were the best valet I ever had, sheepy,” Randy said softly.

“Aw gee whiz, Randy,” began Haggis, “You were the best at

showing me how to be a heel. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be a


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baby face jobber,” replied Haggis.

“Or a housewife,” Randy added.

“That’s not as bad as most people think,” said Haggis, “But I don’tthink that’s the life for me just yet. Maybe never.”

“Still can’t get pregnant?” asked Randy.

“Not for the lack of trying. Okay, now show me what you want to

show me,” said Haggis.

Haggis followed Randy as he led her down a balcony that ran allaround the open air space. At one point, Haggis leaned over an oak

and wrought-iron railing to look downwards. After Randy

admonished her not to spit, the sheep-faced woman pulled herself

back and stepped back in line behind Randy.

“Here we go,” said Randy as he once again flung open a pair of

elegant wooden doors. Haggis then stepped inside and was

immediately transported back to the 19th century.

Chapter Three

Haggis and Randy sat in comfy overstuffed chairs set before a

mammoth fireplace with their feet up on ottomans and drinks in

their hands. Randy was nursing a club soda and Haggis was

drinking a ginger beer. Randy was gesturing at a painted picture

hung over the mantle of the fireplace. Haggis studied the picture asif she was going to be quizzed on it later.

“So that’s the guy who built the Majestic?” said Haggis.

“Yep. When he was livin’ here he called himself John Miscellany,


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but he had other names too. People in these parts liked him. He

always chewed his own tobacco and you could always count on

him givin’ you somethin’ a little extra under the table if you had

done good. He used to have a fortune before buildin’ the Majestic,”

said Randy who then took a long sip of club soda.

“Where did he get the idea for the Majestic, Randy?” asked Haggis

before taking a drink of her ginger beer.

“John Miscellany said the spirits of his ancestors told him to do it

through an Ouija board,” said Randy.

Haggis spit out her ginger beer in surprise and looked at Randy asif he had just driven over her foot in a Lincoln Continental.

“What’s the matter, sheep?” asked a concerned Randy.

“An Ouija board? Oh hell no!” sputtered Haggis.

Inevitably, around her birthday and Christmas, somebody always

gave Haggis a Fry Daddy® and somebody else would give her anOuija board. Haggis kept the Fry Daddies® because who didn’t

like French fries or a Blooming Onion® at four in the morning?

Haggis had a whole shelf full of unopened Fry Daddies® in her

garage. They weren’t going anywhere.

On the other hand, the Ouija boards immediately went into her

backyard where Haggis would salt and burn them. Haggis was one

of the few people who had an idea how really dangerous an Ouijaboard could be.

Using an Ouija board is like dumping a big bag of breadcrumbs out

in the middle of a city park hoping to get one special pigeon.

Except with an Ouija board, you could get a flock of hungry


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pterodactyls instead. Haggis had found that out for herself a long

time ago.

“Randy, please tell me there aren’t any Ouija boards around here?”

asked Haggis.

“Don’t worry little darlin’, I know how you feel about them things.

I looked high and low and I ain’t seen so much as a dad burn

‘planchette.’” said Randy.

Haggis visibly relaxed.

“Don’t worry your pretty head, sheepy. The only Fox Sisters wehave around here are named Marge and Lois and they‘re on the

television,” added Randy.

“That’s good. I am so loving this chair,” said Haggis.

“Most of this furniture is older than my babushka,” said Randy.

“At this one indy fed where I worked at, they had a thing called thecomfy chair match where all of the female jobbers and valets

would get together in the ring all at once and fight for the right to

sit in a comfy chair at ringside. They would put the comfy chair in

the middle of the ring and whoever could sit in the comfy chair for

a ten count won the right to sit at ringside with the color guys for a

month,” recounted Haggis.

“You ever plant that big old ass of yours in that there comfychair?” asked Randy.

“I got as far as an eight count before some skank snuck up from

behind and chloroformed me,” said Haggis. “That’s when I started

carrying around some of my own foreign objects.”


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“If I had funbags as big as yours, I’d carry a machinegun,” said

Randy.

“Sometimes I could one. So this was what a gentleman’s club usedto look like before double-you double-you eye? I don’t see any

stripper poles. Is there a champagne room around here

somewhere?” asked Haggis.

“No, but I have more books here than the public library. Maybe

more than the closest university, said Randy.

“You’re reading books now?” asked Haggis.

“I can’t sleep more than a few hours anymore and my fingers aren’t

nimble enough to play them video games. After the original owner

died, somebody kept addin’ books and magazines to the collection

here up to the middle 1980s. Then somebody locked the doors and

people forgot about this place,” said Randy.

“You think there could be secret rooms?” said Haggis.

“Not on purpose. Solly and I counted windows again the other day

and…,” began Randy.

“Solongo’s here?” exclaimed Haggis.

“I thought I’d wait awhile before tellin’ you that she’s here. She’s

in the office on the other side doin’ the books and probably havin’herself the mother of all hissy fits again because I spend too much

money,” Randy confessed.

“Well, I’m going to run over there and see her,” said Haggis.

“Besides, I wrestle hardcore matches now, Randy.”


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“Ain’t nothin’ as hardcore as a Mongolian havin’ a hissy fit,

sheepy,” said Randy out loud while watching his sheep-faced

friend getting up and race out the double doors.

“Woolly rascal,” Randy said out loud to himself.

Chapter Four

Solongo was Randy’s daughter. Years ago, Randy had met a

beautiful Mongolian woman on a Eurasian wrestling tour. They

flirted, they danced, and then they mated. Twenty years later, long

after the tour had ended, an Asian cutie with a battered suitcaseknocked on Randy’s Winnebago’s door and introduced herself as

his daughter Solongo. Randy’s first reaction was to offer her a

great big mug of steaming hot Ovaltine with marshmallows in it.

Solongo drank the Ovaltine in two big gulps and asked for more.

Randy knew instantly that she had to be his genuine daughter.

Solongo traveled with Randy in his Winnebago as he went from

booking to booking. In a few months, Solongo became Randy’svalet. In a few years, Solongo became an accomplished wrestler in

her own right copying her father’s rough and tumble style of

wrestling.

Solongo had about as much disrespect for political correctness as

other wrestlers, and as a result, she wasn’t afraid to use Asian

stereotypes to bring in the fans. She refused to adopt ring personas

as blatantly offensive as Tojo Yamamoto and other 1940s inspiredJapanese caricatures, but Solongo’s repertoire included a Japanese

automobile executive, a sword-wielding schoolgirl and a

thoroughly unlikable old school Maoist communist working for

some mysterious unseen boss known only as “The Duke.”

Solongo’s current ring persona was a ditzy gravure idol with a


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pixie cut whose voluptuous body was poured into a white one-

piece “Power Girl” costume that showed plenty of cleavage.

Again, Solongo had little regard for political correctness, and that’s

what helped paid the bills around here. But Solongo had doubtsabout herself as a wrestler. She had killer looks, but nobody except

for her father respected her wrestling ability. She felt had to prove

herself to the audience before she could assume the persona that

she had wanted to be the most: herself.

That was when his father used his life savings to buy the Majestic.

He had always wanted to start his own wrestling federation, but

now he also wanted his little girl to be a star. The problem was thatmost of the other female wrestling talent in this state was second

tier eye candy. The last halfway decent wrestler Solongo had

fought called herself “Honey Badger” and wore a black and white

costume that included a lifelike badger-head headdress.

When that slobberknocker of a match was over with, and security

had finally pulled the two combatants apart, Solongo and her father

both agreed on that the semi-delusional Honey Badger must havebeen nibbling on mushrooms prior to bell time.

That was where Haggis came in. Her father had heard that the

wrestling federation in Nevada his old woolly friend had been

working for had folded and that she was at liberty again. So he

made a few phone calls and got back in touch with the sheep-faced

wrestler and asked her for help in getting his fledgling wrestling

federation off the ground and more help giving his daughter abigger push with the crowd than he was able to provide.

Haggis couldn’t refuse. She had gotten sick and tired of the desert

and working as a session wrestler to make ends meet. Solongo was

exuberant when her father gave her the good news. She loved the


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sheep-faced woman on account of something she said to her once

that made everything alright.

Solongo and Haggis were about the same size. Solongo had a little

more muscle befitting the descendant of horseback warriors.Solongo also had her Russian grandmother’s huge bust, befitting

the descendant of Russian ballbusters. The only thing Solongo had

that was bigger than Haggis’ was her eyes. Solongo had big lovely

brown eyes. Too big maybe. Solongo used to stare into the mirror

and bemoan the fact that she had huge cow eyes, but then one day

when Haggis was visiting her father before he got ill, the sheep-

faced woman made everything okay by telling Solongo that she

had bunny eyes instead.

Amazing what a few kind words can do, huh?

Haggis sprinted to the other side of the fifth floor and saw a sign

over a hallway that said OFFICES. Haggis went down the hallway

until she came to a door. The sheep-faced woman stopped and

knocked on the door.

Haggis then heard a familiar chirp.

“Worp?”

Haggis opened the door and walked boldly into the office and saw

Solongo sitting at an old fashioned roll-top desk wearing a

Spongebob Squarepants tee shirt and Daisy Dukes. On top of the

roll-top desk was an overfed in-basket and an underfed out-basketsitting side by side. Solongo then spun around on her antiquated-

looking office chair and launched herself at Haggis, knocking her

down on the floor.

“Worp!” chirped Solongo who sat on top of her woolly friend like


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a great big happy Siamese kitty.

“I love you, Solly,” said Haggis.

Solongo leaned over until her nose almost touched Haggis’ andthen said softly, “I love you twice as much.”

Chapter Five

To be continued…

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The Majestic-Four Page Preview