An “Atomic Skull-Crusher” of a Life

28 Mar

Wrassling was a young man’s game. It helped if you were stupid, too. But as the years went by Hans only got smart enough to realize what a cruddy way this was to make a buck.

Lately, he’d just been scraping by. Hans wasn’t handsome enough to play one of the good guys so he really suffered. He caught a lot of colds from fans spitting on him in drafty, should’ve been condemned years ago arenas.

One day Hans got the bright idea of wearing a cape to spruce up his act. He didn’t make one extra nickel for doing so and now he had to dry clean it after every match or the other wrasslers complained. Stupid, really stupid.

Hans slipped on his tights and got a run in the left one. Shoot and these were right out of the package.

With a sigh he did his John Wayne amble into the tunnel to face another night of boos, hisses and a downpour of hostile saliva. Still it beat being a politician.

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