Monthly Archives: March 2004

“When I think about it… You know… I’m really sure that… Everybody deserves to be fucked”

Darn this track rocks… I’ll set the scene for you:

A newly shorn Monky kitted out in knee high cherry print socks and pink and black stripey underwear putting on a private show for an audience of one- Patrick. Grinding to Sex In Dallas doing sexxxay robot dancing (this is not a contradiction- they can co-exist- honest). Hmmm… Now here’s a project: A Lapdance playlist. I think Peaches will be high on the list. N.E.R.D. will have to be on there too. More to come…

I swear i’ve not touched any cheese:

I dreamt I was in Hawaii and was partner to a member of The Da Hui. This new member happened to be a newly tattooed Monster. I walked under palm trees watching a wetsuited Noodles and Dexter from The Offspring jumping off a pier into the turquoise sea. Noodles and Dexter would jump in, laugh profusely, swim the short distance to the shore, run up and do it again. Sharks played undersea football around them. I was wearing a dark green bikini top (yeah, I must be dreaming), shorts and flip flops with a nicely colour co-ordinated tan. I felt content with a warm breeze brushing my body and my Monster by my side. He was confidently blading along the boardwalk in Oakleys and board shorts pushing one of those trike prams.

I walked with mea aloha manô to our house by the sea where we sat together in an outdoor hot tub and watched the green flash and then the following stars. He tended the surf and turf on the outdoor grill (men get so territorial) whilst I soaked and played with Monster v1.1… Who was named Kiefer Shanahan Hicks Monster. I asked Monster if he wanted to name him his previous favourite name- Oscar (too much Ghostbusters) but he declined. My previous favourite Sean was too boring. We named him for Kiefer– a good German name; Shanahan for a personal hero and Hicks for Corporal Hicks. His first name was Dwayne and apparently we were friends with Dwayne Johnson and we thought he’d find it funny. His long, full-bodied laugh could be heard throughout our small house as it echoed from the speakerphone.

Product of the warped mind of a Monky yet I felt the ache of loss when I woke.

“I was five and he was six
We rode on horses made of sticks
He wore black and I wore white
He would always win the fight

Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down.

Seasons came and changed the time
When I grew up, I called him mine
He would always laugh and say
“Remember when we used to play?”

Bang bang, I shot you down
Bang bang, you hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, I used to shoot you down.

Music played, and people sang
Just for me, the church bells rang.

Now he’s gone, I don’t know why
And till this day, sometimes I cry
He didn’t even say goodbye
He didn’t take the time to lie.

Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down…”

Dream:

I was out shopping at a supermarket with my brother. It seemed to have the particular look of an American market: lots of packaging with lots of data on, a large fresh produce section filled with bright and glossy fruit and vegetables. Whilst me and my brother were by the freezer cabinets we bumped into Eddie Guerrero. He was out of kayfabe– no dodgy accent- and was friendly, softly spoken and had a small white dog next to him. Not a poodle, but some sort of Toy dog (I guess it would be classed as in Crufts). Not how I thought I’d see him. Eddie was wearing a close fitting red shirt and navy shorts with brown moccasins. He was shorter than I expected too- only 5’8″ (arg). His hair was a bit greyer and longer, but not to the hideous extreme of the mullet he used to carry.

I can’t remember the details of what we talked about really, but I think me and my bro asked him how he was, what he was doing etc etc. It was agreed that it was very cool to meet him and we were quite excited about it, bizarre as it was to come across him next to frozen foods. Anyway, the next thing I know we’re at a picnic by the sea. Again, it seems American; with benches, coolboxes and a giant barbeque. Lots of families and people queing to get something from the grill, kids playing frisbee. My bro and me were standing drinking out of coloured plastic beakers (Tupperware rules!) and people watching. It seemed like the picnic was an event of some sort because there were tables with people sitting behind them with items displayed around them. There was also a large helicopter nearby, a Sea King. The pilot was standing outside of it dressed in a green flightsuit and was talking to a group of people with pride and enthusiasm about his job and his aircraft.

It was warm and sunny with a gentle breeze ruffling my hair and the pine trees. I was greatly enjoying my afternoon by the sea. Eddie was there too, and I remember he was wearing a (tasteful) Hawaiian shirt, cut off combats and flip flops with sunglasses and a leather thonging necklace. He was looking good and was relaxed and jokey, talking to me and my bro about random things, not wrestling related. I remember feeling embarassed (and I still am) that I found him attractive. Latino Heat indeed. Just one of the inappropriate men of wrestling.

He seemed like a nice, normal person (ex-drug addict, recovering alcoholic) and I thought it was cool that he was so approachable. We all sat on a rug together and chatted. The pilot got into the helicopter and started it up. People stood around and watched, little kids excitedly pointing and waving to the pilot as it lifted off. As it got off the ground we noticed something was wrong, the engine sounded strained and the helicopter started to tip up and over like a Mercedes at Mulsanne.

All around us people ran screaming for cover to escape the looming aircraft. It was upside down now and the blades sliced through plastic tables and chairs before smacking into the turf in a blizzard of grass cuttings and soil. I was running as fast as I could but I fell over (as I am apt to do), and I watched in horror as the helicopter came down on me. I managed to struggle up at the last second and the wreckage missed my legs by a hairsbreath. My bro and Eddie had managed to escape unharmed but other picnicers had not been so lucky. A flag banner lay tangled amongst the metal and umbrellas lay upended and shredded like spinning tops. Eddie pulled me out from the beached machine’s shadow and we ran around checking for casualties. The pilot was pulled from the cockpit by other people. He seemed to be very shaken with minor injuries but was otherwise amazingly unscathed.

Eddie carries casualties into another helicopter and is wearing a helmet with a headset. He also sports an elastoplast on his face and I could see several more poking out from underneath his shirt. I thought that they were strange as it looked like they were made of bits of advertising posters. He had a lime green and yellow one on his chest and a red and black one on his cheek. I remember wondering if Band–Aid was made by the same company as Elastoplast and whether it should be pronounced Elahstoplahst, Elastoplast or Elastoplahst. I settled for the latter. Eddie was busy treating the patient in the back of the helicopter as we flew along. Me and my bro sat on a bench seat and watched him expertly fix as he spoke to the hospital over the radio. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing and was busy checking IV’s and pressures. Dr. Eduardo Guerrero, MD. Who’da thought it?

Then I came to.