The Simpsons: Bart

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***

The box was dark and scary. After about eight hours, it started to smell bad. And if the darkness and smells weren't enough, I'm not even mentioning the rocking that started when I was loaded somewhere.

An unknown number of hours later, the box was opened. And men with fancy moustaches demanded something from me. They demanded it in Spanish, so I was left to guess.

As soon as I got out of the box, they put a middle-aged woman in it. I didn't listen to the conversations I was having with her, because I was on my way to the bathroom.

- Fuck, fuck, fuck!

From which I immediately jumped out, because its interior decoration left much to be desired.... And no, it's not the design that's the problem. Rather, it was the material that covered both the floor and the walls, which would have delighted the critics of modern art.

- Well, a new page of my life has begun.... Where will it take me? - Scratching my arse, I hope it leads to a proper loo.

After taking my first full-breath breath of hot Mexican air. I pulled out an envelope with instructions from Coach Engle on how to get to his friend's promotion.....

- ... - I never thought that after travelling in a boarded up box, regret would assail me afterwards, at the sight of....

'I don't know. Ask the locals. Just not the ones who work for the cartel.HOHOOHOO or lol, what do you youngsters leave at the end of it?'

Suddenly my search got a lot more complicated. My first thought was to go back to the people who got me out of the box and ask for directions from them..... But who more than those who transport people in crates across the border fit the mould of cartel workers?

Anyway not knowing the language, not knowing where to go, I set out on a quest that led me....

- Haa. It's nice to be fresh again. - to Subway. Whose lavatory was a standard subway lavatory. So it's a little more respectable than a sample of shit.

What I've learnt in a few hours in a new country is that I stand out a lot. That height, a lot of people here are no taller than 170, when I'm 180-something, I stand out. And secondly, there aren't many blondes in Mexico...

Wait. What city in Mexico am I in, anyway?!

.....

The place I was in turned out to be a small backwater near Monterrey, a place called 'El randomo townas'. I managed to find a bus to the city, which is.....

- American? Yankee, huh? The fare is a hundred dollars! One hundred US dollars! - where the smiling driver made me get off before leaving.

I ended up having to tie my jacket over my head and set off on foot along the deserted road in the presumed direction of the big city.

- Haa... Damn... I should have pretended to be French.... Though who-who, but they can argue in universal love with us....

The journey took me six hours. Six long hours. During which my feet have chafed into such calluses that I'm not sure my feet aren't one big blister now. And the burning of my thighs, I don't think I'm going to mention.

- Ngghhh! Ngghhhh!

Stopping in the shade of a local shop, I drained three bottles of water at once. The next second I was shivering and sweat was once again dripping off me in rivulets.

- Hoooo... Holy shit...

My legs couldn't handle the shaking in my body and I fell on my arse. Which didn't make me sad. With so much pain and fatigue throughout my body, all I could do was lean against the wall and try to remember what the experience was like.

- Haaaa... I really hope I find this EMLL quickly.....

Extremo Moderno Lucha Libre is an organisation run by a friend of Coach Engle's. If you translate the name, it goes something along the lines of 'Extreme Modern Wrestling'.

EMLL is a fairly young promotion, founded in 2012. And unlike the standard lucha libre with masked jumpers doing incredible things in the ring, EMLL has more of a so to speak comic side to the pre-match staging.... I guess it's hard to explain, you should just see it. Another big difference in the promotion is the almost complete lack of tag team matches or multi-sided matches. Every fight on the card is a confrontation between two individuals, so to speak.

EMLL is also one of the four biggest promotions in Mexico, along with the vintage OLLIE, founded in 1955; the dominant EILL, and the company with a heavy bias towards female performers CILL.

Speaking of female luchadors, EMLL has none at all. Which isn't a bad thing when you think back to my last.... No. All my relationships.

- Haaah. Well, here I am.

I managed to find the promotion office. Surprisingly, it's in a normal office building and...

- Out of my way, gringo. - said a guy in a Mexican flag mask.

Of course, I wanted to respond somehow. Especially the stranger, who is extremely observant of anti-pandemic measures, pushed me in the shoulder. But I don't think I should be pushy about getting into trouble, especially in a foreign country.....

- Excuse me, is Rey Guerrero here--

*♪ Bang ♪

Especially when trouble finds me on its own, just like a chair flying into my face before I can even finish my sentence.

- What kind of stinking bastard calls me a name?! - a man in an expensive suit and a black mask towered over me.

- Didn't Coach Engle tell you about me?

- Huh? Are you Bart? Bart Simpson?

- Yeah.

- Haa... - the man put his palm to his forehead. - Now I realise what Engle meant by calling you a maverick..... - While the man rubbed his temples through the mask, I could only rub the bump on my forehead from being hit on the head with a chair and raise an eyebrow in confusion. - El Bandito! For you! For everyone! My name is El Bandito! A name that is written in golden letters in the history of Lucha Libre, along with El Fantasma and El Patron!

- ...And you like to add 'El', don't you?

- ... - Through the mask, Re-El Bandito gave me a look of humility. - So, what will they call you in the ring? - so he could continue as if nothing had happened.

- ... - not expecting such a question, I was a little put out for a few seconds. Then my old nickname came to me, which was.... - El Barto. - motherfucker.

- Hmm? You know something about this business, son. - Really?! But dad, today's my first day!!!

.....

After introductions, El Bandito sent me out in the company of one of his sons to show me the gym/bedroom. And yes, I would have to pay to sleep in this gym, so afterwards I was set up as a dishwasher in a small family restaurant.

- I'll let you know when there's a construction job. - With those words, I was left in front of an empty room about a metre by two, which barely fit a sleeping bag.

- Am I really going to make it? - yes in the company of doubts that immediately rushed to fill my head.

.....

The first lessons consist of being taught how to fall properly and how to run into the ropes. The latter is noticeably more painful than the former.

- Wow, you're big.

In addition to the pain, another inconvenience is that besides being taller, I'm also the oldest in the group. Most of them look about fourteen years old, and there's a boy who's six!

- Thank you. Really, maybe it's too big. - the boy raised an eyebrow at my growing doubts, not understanding.

Speaking of work, though..... The idea with the counter wasn't to give me options, but if I'm hungry. Because the dishwasher's salary at El Bandito's eldest son's restaurant goes to cover the rent for a bed.

- Hurry up, Bart! Fifty more times from one side of the ring to the other!

As I'd imagined, construction work is hard enough. Despite my athletic-- Past? I can say I have no problem getting ready for practice in the morning.

- One more minute, Bart! And if you shiver or drop your knees, it's another five!

And speaking of working out. This may sound ridiculous coming from an Olympic candidate. But they're harder and more exhausting than when I was wrestling...

- Everybody circle around the stadium! Bart, you owe me five!

And every night before I go to bed, all I can think about is 'just one more week,' '... Another month,' no matter how hard and painful and hungry I get.

.....

After a month, they started teaching me how to bump. Pretty much the same thing as falling. Only do it in a way that looks spectacular and along with the right sound.

The main rules are not to put your arms and legs in front of you, falling on your shoulder blades, and on your chest. If the technique is carried out in such a way that the fall should be on the head, then you need to put your palm in front of your forehead and land like that. Of course, about the palm is said rather to teach us to deflect the body, so as not to accidentally stab into the planking, and not to break the neck. Plus, the palm of the hand creates a sense of security.....

When it comes to the rules of holds, you have to duck your chin when throwing, so you don't break your neck again.... Although there are holds in wrestling that will break your neck if you duck your chin.

- Be prepared, one day your neck will be broken! - Very approving words coach, but I already understood it all.....

.....

After two, I started to get used to life in Mexico. I even started to understand Spanish and speak a little bit of it. What is good about this country is the abundance of street food. So once a week, I allow myself to treat myself and eat something new....

Simple joy, I know. But allowing me to keep trying and getting through the day.... Which is worth something in itself.

.....

It's been six months of training. According to the locals, training usually takes about a year before you're allowed into the ring. So all I can do is keep training and wait--

- Bart, there you are. - El Bandito, aka the owner of EMLL. - Get ready for your debut tomorrow!

- Huh? How? I'm not ready!

- Don't worry, your opponent will take over the programme.

- But I don't have a suit!

- Jeans will do. Plus it'll be more useful to be wearing them with buttons. - BUTTONS?!

- I haven't even thought of a gimmick yet. - the look, the character.

- Don't worry about it.

- But how will I hook the audience?!

- Don't worry, Bart, I've got a brilliant idea.

.....

- My name is Bart Simpson! And I have two words for you-- FUCK MEXICO!