Dear Readers,
This column is not meant to be sacrilegious. It is simply a way for me to present my memories of the wrestling business in a humorous fashion. I hope you enjoy it.
--Tinker Todd
I made my way to the Kingdom of Tennessee. The life of the Rednecks was hard, but their hearts were good. I lived amongst them, drinking of their powerful drink, and eating of their food called grits. After a year of this suffering, a voice told me to go to the West, to the town of Nashville, into the province of the Sam Davis Hotel.
As I walked into the lobby of the Sam Davis, there sat about a hundred men, young and old, all in rags. They had a pious look on their face. I walked amongst them, asking many questions, and was told that they were the Brothers of Pain and Suffering. They had dedicated their lives to this. At the stroke of nine, the doors to a magnificent office opened. We filed in with our heads bowed and our hands clasped together. There before us, behind a magnificent desk, sat a majestic figure.
I was told that he was King Nick Gulashi, the great High Priest Bitch. He was dressed in a five-hundred dollar suit — with alligator shoes on his feet and diamond rings on his fingers. He rose and held out his arms. As he came to the front, we prostrated ourselves before him. He shouted out the words, "Welcome, Brothers. My blessings on you." We rose and walked forward, crowding in front of him, offering the gifts that we had brought. My gift was danish and coffee, with two sugars.
King Gulashi then said these powerful words, "Why did the chicken cross the road?" There was silence as no answer came to our mind. Then he said, "To get to the other side of the road." A look of wonder came upon everyone's face and we all burst into great laughter. The echo from the slapping of knees resounded from the great walls of the great room. Tears of laughter ran down the cheeks of many. This was truly a modern Solomon who stood before us.
He turned his back to us and bent over as he dropped his trousers. We silently crept forward in twos, each of us placing a light, gentle kiss on both sides of his buttocks. Some were so devoted, especially among the older disciples, that they kissed in the middle. When I kissed his buttocks, I felt this tingling in my lips. I knew then that my lips were purified and, from that day forth, I could not lie.
There was much sobbing amongst the disciples as he walked amongst us, placing his hands on bowed heads, saying, "Nashville ... Knoxville ... Memphis ..." and all the great cities in Tennessee. This brought much joy to those whom he offered those blessings.
To others, he said, "Dog Patch ... Rabbit Run ... Union City ... Johnson City." Their heads dropped in grief, but they were young in body and spirit, and accepted it gracefully. The disciples rose, and in twos, silently left the room.
The High Priest then returned to his desk, picking up some of the gifts of cake, pie and coffee. As he turned, it seemed like he noticed me for the first time. The cake dropped out of his hand. The coffee splashed to the floor. These words left his lips. "It is he. As has been prophesied, he has come to us." He ran towards me.
Two young men, who stood to his left and right, followed quickly in his footsteps. The one on the left was large of nose and thin of hair. He looked like a friend that I met later in life ... Len Rossi. But it was not he. To his right, with a most joyous smile on his face, and even thinner of hair, was a man from the Far East, who I also came to know later in life, by the name of Tojo Yamamoto. But it was not he.
The High Priest placed his hands on my shoulders and said, "My son. Art thou willing to accept this life of pain and suffering?" I dropped my head, with tears in my eyes, and said, "Yes, your eminence." He said, "From this moment, you shall be known as my son. You shall be known as Son of Bitch."
"These are the things you shall do whilst in the Kingdom of Tennessee."
"You shall prostrate yourself on the mat, with your shoulders firmly pressed to the canvas. Extend your arms out from your side, palms up, your feet together. With this action, you will be known throughout the nation, and you will be loved by many promoters in many lands. But remember, my son. When you are in the ring with the Unbelievers, they will kick thy body, and punch thy face, and kick thy face with their boot. And they will attempt to pull thee up by the hair."
"But resist them. Firmly press your shoulders to the canvas, and move them not until the count of three. Then in disgust, my son, they will leave the ring, and you will have triumphed. You will be known for this and welcomed into many kingdoms."
"These men, known as the Unbelievers, are giant men. Their only desire is to get into the ring to beat and kick the young disciples. Their intent is to win their match at all costs. They will revert to much evil. However, these men will be soft of body, for they dwell in the places called Hotels. They sleep on soft beds, sometimes between silk sheets, and dine on the finest of food. They will eat steak, lobster, pie, wines, beer, and smoke many cigars."
"However, those luxuries will be a curse to them. As they sleep on the soft beds, they will suffer with indigestion and heartburn. But you, my son, will never suffer these things, because you will live on bread and fish, and small tins of sardines. You shall not dwell in the hotels. Is it not written that you should go into a small place to meditate and pray? This small place will be the back seat of your car. There you will pray, meditate, and sleep ... each night. And your lips will cry out with thanks to these great promoters who brought you such joy."
We proceeded back into the great hall, where he picked up a suitcase. He said, "My son. I will now make a penance on myself by going to the land known as Florida. For forty days, I shall lay on the hot sands during the daylight hours. The sun will beat down on my back, but this I will endure as I pray and give thanks for thee and the other young disciples." With that, he left the building.
As he walked through the lobby, both the young and old disciples threw themselves at his feet. Then a young man with the beautiful smile walked up, a young man who looked like Dick Steinborn, but it was not he. He said, "Son of Bitch. At dawn on the day after the next, you shall return to this Great Palace of the Tennessee High Priest, upon which time I will read to you from our sacred papers."
If I may suggest some alternate readings until we meet again, dear Reader, you might consider "The Scriptures According to St. Thesz."
