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(Part 2) The stylin, profilin, limousine riding, jet flying, kiss-stealing, wheelin & dealin son of a gun: Ric Flair [WON, 01/03/94]

1990 - The young face chosen by all was Sting, who was supposed to win the title in February in Greensboro. That was no problem since Flair himself was more than willing to put Sting over. Problems would have erupted afterwards since booker Flair's plan was to eventually regain the title from Sting for the record-tying seventh time, while others in the company simply felt Flair's time at the top was over and there should be no No. 7. Having passed the magical age of 40 was largely cited, plus WCW's inability to draw younger viewers was supposed to be somehow remedied by putting Sting, its top attraction with whatever limited number of kids watched, on top. However, two weeks before the match, Sting's knee was blown out doing an angle with Flair in Corpus Christi, TX. Luger, then a heel, was turned emergency face to feud with Flair while Sting was on the mend. Flair, burned out by the constant in-fighting, just after delivering a weekend of 4.0 and 4.4 ratings on Saturday and Sunday, resigned as booker. Shortly thereafter, the new booking committee and Jim Herd decided to put the title on Luger, which Flair refused to do citing a controversial contractual clause which gave him veto power. When Sting came back on July 7 in Baltimore, he finally won the title from Flair, and at that point it was well known that it was the end of the Ric Flair era as champion, that there would be no record-tying No. 7, and Sting gave Flair a sendoff speech to a largely confused Baltimore audience by calling Flair the greatest champion in wrestling history. It was well-known, except it wasn't the case as some who understood what the business really was and what would happen knew beforehand. It was evident that no matter whose fault it was, that the promotion was doomed as a major force since only 8,900 fans paid to see a match that by all means should have been an easy and automatic sellout if Sting really was going to be the answer. Sting's weaknesses showed through in the spotlight, as it was obvious they would when put under a microscope. Crowds and interest continued to fall despite the title change. This time it was Sting unfairly getting the blame. The company at this point was largely in a shambles, but still in a far stronger position than they would be in years later.
1991 - Sporting a new haircut, Flair regained the title for the record-tying seventh time on January 11 at the Meadowlands in New Jersey. At this point, the title's name changed from NWA to WCW. Sting's frustration was epitomized as he did little in the match that was memorable more for the snowstorm in New Jersey that night that kept the crowd to 5,000 than for anything that happened in the ring. Sting was largely booed by the live crowd even though he was pushed in the top face position as fans wanted Flair back on top after the failed reign. Just days later, Flair's old nemesis, the Dream, returned as booker, with inside rumors saying priority numero uno was to gain revenge on the person he felt largely cost him his booking job two years earlier. A disputed title switch took place when the Dusty finish made its way to the Tokyo Dome on March 21 in a match with Tatsumi Fujinami before a sellout 64,500 fans, which is still the largest wrestling crowd and indoor sports crowd ever in Japan. Fujinami pinned Flair to gain the title, but the decision was reversed by the over-the-top rope DQ being called moments before the pin by a second referee after a ref bump. The NWA title still was regarded as the No. 1 belt in Japan because of historical reasons going back to the days of Lou Thesz, and Fujinami becoming champ was huge news. In Japan it was billed that Fujinami was NWA champ, albeit without a belt, and Flair was WCW champ. On May 19 in St. Petersburg when Flair pinned Fujinami, he regained the NWA title and the belts were as one. In the United States, it was simply viewed that it was a DQ finish and no title changed hands. But the tension continued, since the super booker and self-proclaimed genius was unable to turn around business, so once again it was Flair's fault. Actually by this point the company was on such a downward slide, no single person was to blame and no single person could stop the fall. Flair was scheduled once again to drop the title to Luger in July in Baltimore and the Great American Bash "for the final time." At this point a major contract dispute came down between Flair and Herd, with Flair wanting a contract extension in exchange for dropping the strap cleanly. Herd also wanted to negotiate down an existing year on Flair's contract, which at the time was in the $700,000 per year range. Negotiations came down to the wire, and the decision was made to instead drop the title two weeks before the PPV, at a television taping in Macon, GA to Barry Windham. It was touch-and-go whether Flair would show up at the taping, but officially before the taping he most likely would have no-shown, Flair was fired by Herd. With Flair off the show, the Bash turned into the "We Want Flair" protest show and was quite possibly the worst PPV show in wrestling history. Technically, Flair retained the NWA title as its paper board refused to go along with Herd, as the NWA/WCW were having their own disputes at the time. That meant nothing in reality other than it showed the NWA and WCW title weren't one and the same. After years of coming close to making the move, Flair, who sat out the summer while being paid his $14G's per week by WCW, was finally in the WWF in September. By October, the long-awaited Ric Flair vs. Hulk Hogan series of matches took place. They opened to big crowds, but the crowds didn't sustain and overall this series didn't come close to achieving expectations either in match quality or at the box office. It was largely felt the WWF blew it by rushing Flair into the mix as a WWF performer rather than keeping the illusion of him as a separate entity.
1992 - At the Royal Rumble, on January 19 in Albany, NY, Flair was given the WWF title. He was the second man in the Rumble, and focal point of the entire match, going 60:00 before everyone else was eliminated and he joined Buddy Rogers as the only wrestlers to hold both the NWA and WWF singles title. He held the title until April 5 at Wrestlemania at the Hoosier Dome in Indianapolis to Randy Savage. Flair regained the title from Savage on September 1 in Hershey, PA at a TV taping in a match that went 15 minutes, then was stopped because Vince McMahon didn't like how it was going, and they were sent out and re-did the match about a half hour later. Business was going great guns during Flair's first reign on top of the WWF, although it wouldn't be anymore fair to give Flair major credit for it than to blame him for all the periods business wasn't good when he was on top for various companies. There were various reasons WWF business plummeted after Flair lost to Savage, and that title switch would be very low on any list. However, when Flair regained the title, business dropped again. At this point two of the company's top babyfaces, Davey Boy Smith and Ultimate Warrior both left within days of each other. At this point the company was forced to create an immediate babyface superstar to carry the promotion. In a rushed fashion, and with almost no notice, Bret Hart, considered an excellent worker, but someone who never would have even been considered for champion by previous WWF title standards got the nod and the title from Flair on October 12 in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. The Hart vs. Flair rematches didn't draw although many of the matches were great. Despite the fact the matches were well above typical WWF main event quality, it started a legit feud between the two because of heat on who would call the match and what they'd do during the matches, which resulted in Hart claiming Flair was the most overrated wrestler ever privately while he was still in the promotion, and publicly the following year after Flair had left. By the end of the year, it was obvious Flair's days on top in the WWF were numbered, which in the WWF meant a significant decrease in pay. Although no doubt he'd always have a key position since both his workrate and interview ability were still second to none, he would not be a headliner, thus not get main eventer money. At the same time, Bill Watts was running WCW and under much pressure to get something going. The "We Want Flair" chants, which started almost immediately upon Flair's departure some 18 months earlier, continued unabated. Watts opened negotiations for the home run move of bringing Flair back. After TV ratings on Sunday showed a marked increase when the company aired re-runs of the 1989 Steamboat series with Flair, TBS, looking at ratings first, saw Flair getting Flair to return as something important once again.
1993 - Flair and WCW put together a deal, with Flair losing a loser leaves town match to Mr. Perfect to end his WWF reign on a Monday Night Raw which drew a shockingly low 2.6 rating. Flair arrived as a full-fledged babyface in WCW just days after Watts was given the heave-ho, to a king's reaction in Asheville, NC. Although he was doing interviews weekly on television in March, his debut was held back until June 16 in order to draw a Clash rating, a strategy that failed miserably with a 2.6 rating for a tag match with he and Arn Anderson against Brian Pillman and Steve Austin, the lowest rated Clash in history. His number of title reigns became completely unclear, often referred to at this point as nine WCW title reigns. In reality, he finally broke Harley Race's record to absolutely no fanfare since the record he chased his whole career was simply forgotten. The record-breaker was never even acknowledged in a July 18 NWA title win over Barry Windham, a disappointing match in Biloxi, MS. He lost that title on September 17 to Rick Rude in Houston in another disappointing match. Despite having several strong matches on television during this time, the back-to-back below standard matches and Flair's chronological age caused more talk than ever that he was through on top. With the exception of a few increased television ratings, Flair's return to WCW, while causing initial major commotion, was handled poorly, meant little as far as television ratings and nothing as far as PPV and house show business. He was in the process of being phased down and out, with Starrcade, the event he built which at one time was the premier wrestling event of the year, taking place in his home town and he was scheduled third from the top in a tag match with long-time nemesis Steamboat against the Nasty Boys, a positioning that would have made any singles comeback even more difficult. While many, even most, considered Flair still among the top five or six workers in North America, when someone has been No. 1 in the world for ten years and considered by many as the greatest ever, any fall from that vaunted greatest position and from the top of the card when the big event is in his home town is going to be noticeable to everyone. Somehow, as happened in 1988 when he was blamed by a booker who ruined the title and all the core towns with screw-job finishes for not being able to draw; as happened in 1989 when management deemed him too old and blamed him for not being able to draw with management that didn't know the first thing about the emotions that put fans in the seats; as happened in 1990 when he was finally removed from the top; as happened in 1991 when the same management that gave up on him and blamed him put him right back on top; as happened again in 1991 when that same management fired him, and as continued to happen, when he was written off as being past his prime and having outlived his usefulness, he somehow was back on top in very short order The ultimate irony was not that Ric Flair's finest hour as a professional wrestler came many years after numerous people in management, and even many fans had come to the conclusion his days as a key performer were over. It was because a man with every obvious sign of disaster written all over him going in was still being handed the company's top star position by a new management team that somehow understood even less than the previous inept management, freaked out and nearly killed Ric's best friend in real life, that all this took place. With nowhere to go, as happened time after time when the ideas that were going to save the company failed and the saviors self-destructed, the only idea left was to go back to Ric Flair. Somehow, this time the end result was the greatest production and greatest performance in the history of the company.
The rest of the show:
A. Terry Taylor pinned The Equalizer in a dark match. DUD
  1. Paul Orndorff & Paul Roma beat Too Cold Scorpio & Marcus Bagwell in 11:45 when The Assassin gave Scorpio a loaded head-butt and Orndorff pinned him. First disappointing match on the show as Scorpio & Bagwell were nowhere near the level they'd reached on previous major shows or even normal television matches. *3/4
  2. Shock Master pinned King Kong in 1:34 after a bodyslam. DUD
  3. Steve Regal retained the WCW TV title going to what was billed as a 15:00 draw, which actually went 13:10, with Rick Steamboat. Another disappointment. *3/4
  4. Cactus Jack & Maxx Payne beat Tex Slashinger & Shanghai Pierce in 7:48 when Jack pinned Pierce with a double arm DDT. Match was uneventful until Jack tried a Lucha Libre move of being backdropped over the top rope by Payne and turning it into a plancha dive, which looked like it nearly killed him. *1/4
  5. Steve Austin won the U.S. title in a 2/3 fall match with Dustin Rhodes. This was the second best match on the card. It was worked old-style early, but the blows were all stiff and everything looked solid. Rhodes was DQ'd in the first fall in 13:32 when he whipped Austin into Rob Parker, and Austin went over the top for a very cheap looking finish. Rhodes posted Austin between falls and Austin juiced heavy. Austin got the second fall pin out of nowhere using the tights in 1:28 and was announced as new champ. Since when does a title change hands when the challenger wins a fall with a DQ finish? Good thing it's wrestling so you can change storylines and rules at will. Speaking of changing storylines, how many people seeing Ric "Family Man" Flair with his wife and kids are confused from all the months of seeing Flair with Fifi on television? **3/4
  6. Rick Rude retained the WCW International World title pinning The Boss (Ray "Big Bubba Bossman Rogers" Traylor) in 9:08. Bossman crotched himself on the ropes and Rude pinned him with a sunset flip. Not nearly as good as their television match. Rude got a good heel reaction coming out, so some people haven't caught on. They should not even worry about unification, they should just make this belt disappear. **
  7. Sting & Hawk beat Nasty Boys via DQ in 29:11. Missy Hyatt gave Hawk a black rose before the match. Although sloppy at times, in some ways it wasn't that bad. But they were out their far too long to have such a weak finish. They did the Road Warrior finish on Knobs and Sting put him in the scorpion when Missy Hyatt interfered for the DQ. I'm in the minority on this but I didn't think the match was that bad, although the idea of them going that long for such a weak finish was awful. This may not have been the scheduled finish as they may have booked it to go the full 30:00 but Sags was injured and hospitalized after the card and they may have done a quickie impromptu DQ finish that didn't work. **1/2
  8. Flair pinned Vader in 21:11 to win the WCW title. Tremendous storyline and psychology. Pretty much everyone "knew" that Flair was going to win, so Vader just destroyed him early to the point it raised serious doubt. Whenever Flair would get an advantage, Harley Race would interfere and turn the tables. A Vader clothesline busted Flair's lip, mouth and tongue and loosened some of his teeth and he was bleeding badly the rest of the way. After kicking out of a superplex, Flair made a comeback working on Vader's knee, wrapping it around the post and hitting him with a chair. It turned into some great brawling outside the ring. After another Vader cutoff, he missed a splash and Flair got him in the figure four but Vader made the ropes. Finally Vader missed a moonsault, Flair went for the cover, Vader kicked Flair off and at the same moment 50-year old King Harley came off the top rope with a diving head-butt and hit Vader. Flair tried a tackle, but he was the one who went down. As Vader turned his back, Flair clipped Vader and schoolboyed him for the pin. ****1/2
submitted by deejaysea to TheDirtsheets

Chapter Eight

Susie and I took the ledgers back to her house and scoured them. Skanka had recorded everyday we'd been in the lot and the smallest details, the weather conditions of the day, what we were wearing, and what sort of soda we had with our lunch. Then rated our day with what she referred to as 'sharrs'. Five sharr dancing - four sharr day. In my short life of crazy shit, it was the craziest shit I'd ever seen.
I was both looking forward and dreading school the following Monday. She'd know by then what Susie and I did at the store, and she'd know that it was us. I was thrilled that I'd get to see her reaction, but she was a snitch. Always, about everything. I didn't want to get into trouble at home, I didn't care if they sent me off, but my home was already a living hell and I didn't want any additions being built.
As I waited for the bus, Fifi showed up in a mustard colored beater. His brother, David (suicide - 08), driving. No hi. No how are you. "Where'd you that hickey?"
"Not in front of her." I hissed at him.
Sybil was there and already hopping around squealing. "I knew it. I knew it." Followed by her all time favorite. "I'm telling. I'm telling on you." Luckily the bus was coming over the hill, I shoved her on and stepped back as the doors closed. At that I received the first of many disapproving looks from Charlie (heart attack - 92) my school bus driver.
"Well?" He demanded.
"Well, what?" I rolled my eyes at him. "You are too old to be hanging around, why don't you find someone your own age."
"Well, I have. I have a bunch of girls my own age."
"Well, good. Go bother them and leave me alone." I responded.
"You need to apologize to me."
"For what?" I paused. "You need to apogolize to me."
"Wait, what. I don't do that."
"Me neither! And, I didn't do anything."
"Heeeeaaaatttthhhheeeeerrrrr, why are you like this?" Fifi had a terrible habit of whining whenever he didn't get his way, it was only slightly less endearing than his need to always be right no matter how in the wrong he was.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"I came over here so you could say you're sorry." By this point, David was fully out of the car, standing inside the open door, leaning on the roof with this incredulous look on his face.
"I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry about anything."
"Well, you should be." He said.
"Well, you are. Sorry assed mother fucker. Why don't you leave me alone." I tried to walk down to the secondary bus stop, but he grabbed my arm. I just pulled sharply down and released myself. He shouldn't have been shocked, he taught me how to do it. Then he grabbed me by my middle. Dropped like a sack of potatoes and squirmed away. He also taught me a lot of basic self defense. I don't know why he kept trying.
"Okay, fine. I won't try to hold you here. It was wrong of me to do that." He stared at, waiting. "I apogolized just now and you didn't. I said it, now you have to."
"No, I don't. You're going to make me miss the bus."
"We'll take you, right David?" He called to his brother.
David called back. "To the highschool?" I nodded no, while Fifi hung his head. "Jesus Christ, you can't hang out with eight graders!"
"Sixith grade. I'm in the sixith grade."
David got fully out of the car at that and came up to the awing of the church where I caught the bus. "What the fuck are you doing? You can't hang around this girl. She's just a little kid."
"It's not like that, we don't do anything." Fifi tried to defend himself.
"Then why are you here screaming about a hickey? And, why do you even have a hickey. You're in the sixith god damned grade."
"Well, that's not necessary. Lots of girls.." Now I'm defending myself.
"Not in the sixith grade."
"Well you can't tell me what to do." I said. "Neither of you can."
"Yes I can. You're uncle told me to watch you and i have to know where you got a hickey."
"Well, I'm not telling you." I said.
"I'm going to beat up every guy you know until someone tells me." Fifi kept on, David had that frog look.
"I didn't say it was a boy." I clamped my own mouth shut, I hadn't wanted to tell him anything.
"Mean and meaner?" He asked. I didn't respond, but my blush spoke for me.
"Tijuna's kids. How do you know them?" David asked.
"She knows everyone. Literally everyone." Fifi said. David just looked at me. "She's not what you think, and this isn't what you think." Then he grabbed and put another hickey of his own over the old one.
I shoved him off of me, and ran off to catch the bus. Susie saved our seat for once. "Tell your other girlfriend hi for me." Fifi yelled at me as I ran off.
Fifi, while we were still hanging out had been encouraging me, training me to be the youngest ever made. Someone, beat me to it. Murdering three people who molested him and framing the forth, but the seed was planted. I was going to kill that bitch. Skanka had gone on an all yogurt diet and the lunch ladies would let her store her yogurt in the milk case at school. For several days in a row I put rat poison in it. It didn't work, for whatever reason. After a few close calls with the cafeteria staff, we choose something else. We'd make her kill herself.
Skanka had been staring at me even more, which I was surprised to find was even possible. But, she hadn't told on me. Susie and I liked to bring our lunch and sit outside beneath the pine trees to eat. Susie would draw these little comics and I'd put the words in. We used the same old tablecloth we'd used in the gravel lot. Skanka and Broka starting following us out there, but just standing kinda far off and staring. It was creepy as fuck, to be honest. Skanka did at least have the sense to not do it in front of other students. Once the others started to filter out of the cafeteria and walk our way, Skanka would stop her lustful staring and shout gay slurs at us.
I don't which was worse. Again, it took her almost a week to approach us and say something. It was only just. "Where'd you get that hickey." I looked at Susie and just sighed. I was so sick of hearing about it, she laughed. She had been a little mad at me over it, too. We had a complex relationship. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. Was it your boyfriend?"
I just continued to stare back at her in silence while she stood near the edge of our tablecloth. Broka stayed back, next to the fence, not looking at us at all. Skanka then informed me that she was a cheerleader and broke out in a cheer. "No. No. Take that elsewhere. You can't do that here."
"But it's important. I help to spread school sprit and pride in the community." Rote memorization was my first thought. She said in the same tone bored students receited the pledge.
"No thanks." I said. Susie was just watching me to see what we'd do. I didn't want to get into a fight at school, especially with the slow girl. No one wants to be that kid, the one who bullies the handicapped.
Then, Susie said something that shocked me. "Spin the bottle." Guess she was still mad about it. "Heather was playing with three other girls and got a hickey."
Skanka was excited to the point of jumping up and down. "That is so cool. None of the cheerleaders will do that with me."
"Did you ask them?" I asked her.
"Just all the time, they say it's gross to kiss girls. Not for just practice." Skanka responded.
"Do you want to kiss girls, Skanka?" Susie asked her. If she tries to make me kiss her, I'm biting this bitches tongue out is what I think to myself.
"No. That makes you go to hell. You're going to hell, Heather." Skanka says.
"Thanks, I haven't heard that today." I just wish someone else would come out so she'd just leave.
"Aren't you afraid of that, you're going to hell."
"Well, if I'm already going I should sin a lot more, you know. So it's worth it." I say. Susie laughs. She always laughs at my jokes. She had kind of a Chrissy Snow laugh, like a little snort. Around that age, or maybe a little before I started having a reoccurring dream with Susie in it. We were exploring an old hoarder's house looking for something.
After she died she stopped being in my dreams, too. I was with NJ after both his parents died, he said that was the worst, dreaming of his dead parents. I don't dream of the dead. When they're gone, they're gone.
I wasn't listening until I heard Susie tell Skanka to bring a bottle in tomorrow. "Wait, what?" I asked to be clued in on what the fuck was going on.
"I told Skanka that we were going to play spin the bottle, but she needed to bring the bottle." Susie responded.
"But, it has to be glass."
"Yes, of course, it has to be glass." Just then some kids came out the 8th grade hall entrance and Skanka caught them from the corner of her eye.
"You're just a couple of dykes." She shouted at us before stomping off.
"Well, that's nice. Why did you invite her to hang out with us." I asked.
"Oh, I'll tell you later." Susie says.
The very next day after that Skanka did bring a glass sprite bottle to lunch. Then, Susie goes over the rules before we start, which is odd because I peronally like to insert the rules once the game is well underway. Everyone takes turns, kisses must last ten seconds, and if you land on yourself you get to pick, but you can't pick the same person twice in a row.
"Broka, go first." She spun the bottle and it landed on Susie. She kissed her, I guess if that's what you want to call putting your lips on someone while you count outloud to ten.
I was next and landed on Susie. Then, Susie landed on Broka. Then, Skanka landed on Broka, too. "Ugh, does this bottle only land on me?"
"Seems so. Spin" I tell her. Skanka again. I land on Broka. Susie, Broka again. I goes on and on. Neither Susie or I ever land on Skanka. She's obviously frustrated by it. At one point insists we move, there must be a root or something. Then, Susie directs her eyes down the long driveway that people usually use to walk down to the football field after lunch.
It's a boy that's in Susie's class, Able, he's an identical twin. His brother is still at Valley View. I guess their parents thought it was best to separate them for a year. Able stuck to the edge of the building, out of the center path until he got close. Kinda next to the band room.
Then, I spun. Skanka. At that point Able was close enough and I leaned over and kissed her, pushing her down. Susie joined in. After ten we stopped and Able came over and asked to play, too. Skanka was mortified that he'd seen us and ran off crying.
Broka followed after her, and then Able's friends came looking for him and he left. Susie turns to me and says. "Did Skanka have a, you know, a regular boob on your side?"
"Sure, yeah. Not as nice as yours." I laughed.
"I'm being serious. On my side she was just stuffing. Like a balled up shirt or something."
"Are you sure." I asked.
"Yeah, I know what boobs feel like. I have them. Her's were fake."
"My side felt real." I said.
"Another thing." Susie went on. "I grabbed her down there." Tilting her head like I didn't know where she meant. "She's got a dick."
"No way. Are you sure?"
"Yes. I've felt one before." I just smirked at her. "Just through his pants. I'm waiting until I'm older to, you know, do it."
I hope she didn't wait. She wasn't going to get much older.
"Are you sure?" I asked her.
"Positive." She said.
"Maybe that's why she's so fucking weird. She's a boy." Then, I paused. "But, her boob on my side was definitely real. I'm sure."
The following Monday, Able joined us and we told Skanka we had to let him play, or else he may tell. Skanka would get to kiss Susie and I again, we had planned to switch sides so I could check the stuffed one and Susie was going to confirm that the other was real. We were both going to check for a dick. We later confirmed it. One real boob, one stuffed, and a dick. We were totally clueless about what that meant.
Able been there for about a week when he asked if we wanted to see some photos he just back. In the 80's you had to wait for them to be developed. Sure, we all said. It was pictures he'd taken of Susie and I kissing Skanka. He passed them around the circle in two directions, so she'd see the pictures last.
She stood up and threw the pictures down. "If you show anyone these I'll say you lesbos raped me."
"You're the one who begged to play and brought the bottle in." I said. "Also, you beg all the girls you cheer with to make out with you. You can call us names if you want, but you're gay. Or, a boy. Why do you have a dick?"
Nothing. Just, nothing. You know the saying, like a deer in headlights. Like that, but more like a deer in a cationic state. She was just gone. Broka got up and waved her hand in front of Skanka's face, tried clapping, and finally slapped her face. Susie, Able, and I picked up all our shit and got away.
Skanka wasn't at school for the next few days, but she did return, she hadn't killed herself as we hoped she would. However, when she returned she had a new disgusting habit. She started following me to the bathroom. Worse than that she'd stick her face up to the bathroom door, put her eyeball in the fucking crack of the stall. I did everything I could to avoid going when she'd be able to follow me, during class, in far off restrooms. She was relentless. Susie would guard the door for me in the sixith grade. Looking back, there were a lot of girls who had their friends stand in front of the crack. Maybe she was doing that to a lot of girls.
Skanka hadn't said a word about the ledger books. She hadn't approached me at all since that last day of spin the bottle. Skanka even got a boyfriend, a basketball player who was around 6'6". They were an odd pair, she's barely five feet tall. She spent a lot of time yelling at him in the hall. He spent a lot of time yelling back that they weren't dating. Skanka insisted that they were dating and that was that. His actual girlfriend wasn't overly pleased either.
She was in a higher grade, I don't know which one, but the other girl went as far to come into our first period class and yell at Skanka to leave her boyfriend alone. Skanka responded. "We're supposed to be together, he's basketball and I cheer. That's how it works."
"He doesn't want to be with you." Our teacher, Ms Furface, chasing her around trying to get the other girl out. But, she just ran around the room yelling at Skanka. "He doesn't want to be with you, you can't just decide that for someone."
The sixith grade hall wasn't that large, everyone in class knew this to be true. The basketball player himself had yelled that and the more many times that week. Skanka didn't let go. Just kept saying. "That's how it's supposed to be." Like there was a rule that basketball players dating cheerleaders and not older girls.
Then Skanka did something that would forever change the course of Fifi's life. She never asked for the ledgers, she just made two new ones. Skanka filled the two new ledgers with lies. Skanka said that I had sucked Fifi's dick in the lot and she saw it. Wrote it down. Happened all the time.
No. Never. That didn't happen. Just did not. Were we maybe a little too touchy for our ages, yeah sure. Did we hold hands. Yes. Did I spend a lot of time sitting in his lap. Yes, that happened. But, absolutely never did I suck his dick. Well, not when I was in elementary school. Didn't even see it.
But, that's what she wrote. That's what she told her father, KKK Reject. Who reported it back to my Uncles Larry and Still Alive. Fifi was away at baseball camp for two weeks, it started just after school started so the students could gather their assignments and do them while they were out.
Fifi had gotten a baseball scholarship, but he still needed to go to high school for one semester to make up some credits. When Fifi got off the bus from baseball camp, the three of them were waiting for him. KKK Reject, Uncle Larry, and Still Alive. They asked if he was right or left handed.
Lefty. One of them grabbed him by the waist, one held his left arm straight out, the third popped his elbow breaking his arm. All over shit Skanka made up in her head.
Fifi wasn't taken to the hospital, but instead to someone's garage where he was beaten by the three, KKK Reject, Larry, Still Alive and interrogated about sexually abusing me. About the lies Skanka made up.
Meanwhile, Casey Jones took Sybil to the fleamarket in Tazwell, which always meant bad news for me. They left me at home alone with John, my Granny lived across the street but wasn't home. I typically spent the weekend elsewhere, grounded for something stupid. For parking my bike on the porch in the same exact spot I always put it. The place it was required to go.
Planned. It was all planned out based on Skanka's lies. Casey Jones and John had been selling vidoes of my abuse to this guy named Dale (92 car accident) for a half an ounce of weed and an eight ball. Dale in turn gave them to KKK Reject. KKK Reject was the route manager for a major snack food company. He scheduled the truckers and their routes.
That's how he distributed the child porn. Master tapes of child porn loaded onto the trucks, the drivers were extorted to drop it off in the cities they delivered to. These tapes, master tapes, would hold about 30 individual acts. The pervert that got them at the location would take them back to his house, split them into individual videos and sell them that way. This went on for years and when the F.B.I. finally did investigate there were 32 children called in for a joint disposition. During the disposition every single adult that appeared on video committed suicide. Every last one of them, John included. Good riddance, really.
This video of me was to be special. I had overheard Casey Jones and John talking and he was pressing her to allow him to have some sort of sex with me. To her credit, she said no. Well, not until I did it on my own first. Enter Skanka with her blow job lies. Now I would be expected to do that, too.
When I went into their bedroom instead of the paddle their were about a thousand paint stirs from Ace layed out on the bed. Some taped together with electrical tape, some not. Instead of having me bend over the bed as was the usual, he made me to take off my clothes. I refused, I would not. He ended up cutting them off of me with a box cutter, leaving long, shallow cuts in several places. He told me to lay down, face down on end of the bed. Again, I fought, panicked. Refused. He drug me by my hair and forced me.
Then, he started hitting me with the paint stirs. It wasn't that bad, to be honest. He used each one until it broke. I was used to being beaten with a large paddle, the paint stirs were basically nothing. Didn't even phase me. Then, he took off his belt. He beat me from the tops of my shoulders, all the way down my back and my butt and my legs. Even the soles of my feet. Never telling me what I was being punished for. He just kept saying, "Tell me what you did."
I said nothing. Nothing. I couldn't even begin to imagine what he'd found out. Like I said, Fifi, John, Susie, and I had been completing our pettys. We stole so many stop signs it made the news. I grew to love hearing my name on the news. Well, moniker I guess. Area Vandals. That's what they always called us when our escapades made the local news.
In our defense, when the city of LaFollette ran out of money to replace the signs we'd stolen and threatened bankrupcy we returned them. One by one by throwing them over the fence at the electrical departments power house trying to cause a city wide blackout. Yeah. But, that didn't make the news. Or, maybe it did. We couldn't have had anyway of knowing, the power was out.
We'd stolen some cars from the hospital parking lot. Looking for metal bumpers and cars that sat pretty high off the ground. The city of LaFollette is a long, flat straightaway then a big hill that lead down. At the bottom of that hill, Rigg's Drugstore and a perfectly positioned fire hydrant. John would drive, Fifi in the front. Susie and I in the back, they'd make us wear seatbelts. John would gather as much speed as possible, Dukes of Hazzard that hill and try to land on the hydrant and float the car. We only managed it once when I was in the fifth grade, however Fifi and I did it several times while I was in highschool.
Made the news again, Area Vandals forced the city to relocate a fire hydrant in LaFollette. It's fun to see your shit on the news.
We routinely broke into houses of people in the neighborhood while they were at work. Just hanging out, watching T.V. and eating up all the food in the house. A couple of times, we were nice and left dinner on the stove for when they came home.
And, so much more. There was no way in hell I was saying a word. Nothing. I said nothing. Once, he finished abusing me, he drug me off the bed, again by my hair. I must have been pointed the wrong way, because he spun me around first and caught my jaw on the footboard of the bed. He drug me off the otherside from where I was facing and pushed me to the floor. Then, he said, "I know what you did with that boy. I know you sucked his dick."
I was shocked. That was one thing I had not done. My mouth must have dropped open and he fishhooked one of his fingers into my mouth and was pulling me by my mouth. I was trying to say, "No. No. I did not."
He wouldn't hear it. "I damn well know you did. I know you did." He was yelling at me while trying to undo his pants with his other hand. "After all I've done for you." That's what that fucker said to me. I saw what was happening. What was about to happen. He had to use his other hand, zipper was stuck or something. Once I was freed, I leaned way the fuck back. "That won't help..." He bagan right as I headbutted him in the groin. That backed him up. I moved towards the door to get free, not standing up but scooting backwards. He was bent over but still managed to grab an ankle and hold me there.
I was totally naked, but I no longer cared. I kicked at him with my free leg, missed his face but got his shoulder. He let go, again. I tried to get away, again, this time turning my back on him. He got me by the hair and drug me back once more and finally had his dick out. Now that that's not the first one I've ever seen, I can honestly say not much of one. It was as small as the rest of him.
One good thing came from watching the news so often. At the same time there was an elderly lady giving interviews about a break in she'd experienced. The burglar had attempted to rape her and she said she'd suck his dick. Once she got down there, the woman stated, "I just grabbed that stick and tried to twist it off in one direction while picking and pulling nuts the other." It was good advice and I'm glad I heard it.
After that, I did get away. I didn't even bother with clothes I just ran out the front door. My spinster aunts that lived across the street always had clothes out on the line regardless of weather. I grabbed a nightgown off the line and walked down to Susie's house.
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