The Simpsons: Bart

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- El Barto lifts Mustang Blanco Jr. to the third rope! - a luchador in a white and blue mask with a black horse head on his forehead.

- Whoa!

- With one leap, El Barto jumps onto the third rope by himself! What athleticism!

- Boo!

- But what is this?! Instead of a brainbuster from the third rope, Mustang Jr. fights back with elbows! El Barto is holding on with all his might, I think he's going to whoop.

- Whoo!

- HURIKENRANA OFF THE THIRD ROPE!

*♪ Clap ♪

*♪ Clap ♪

* Clap * * Clap.'

- And after three strokes from the referee, your winner is EL BARTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

- Whoo!

The referee raised my hand while sweat trickled off me after a fifteen minute match under the infernally hot spotlights.

As I looked at the Mustang rolling out of the ring, I felt envy and hatred, as he was already gulping down water while I was still celebrating and leaving, punching all the spectators in the face.

- Yeah.

But on one palm, I'm a little frozen.

- Go El Barto.

Just like my wrestling days, Becky was in the audience. With enthusiasm and a happy smile, reaching out to me like so many other spectators.

- Defeat that stupid Captain Lucha!

And while I accepted the encouragement, shoulder pats, and handshakes from the rest of the audience with a smile, quite sincere given the desert in my throat, when I slapped Becky's palm, the corners of my lips could not rise.

Naturally, once in the locker room, the first thing I did was blow out about ten litres of liquid.... I stupidly drained the tankard, not caring whether the liquid got into my mouth or doused my heated body.

Judging by the moisture on the floor, on which I almost slipped, I was not the first greedy drinker. Oh, and on the sidelines, the veterans are shouting all over the back area at the promoter for poorly organised lighting.

- Hey, good game for a Yankee pretending to be a Mexican.

A man in a blue and white mask clapped me on the shoulder. Who raised his hands sharply in the air and smiled as I looked at him....

- Whoa, whoa, easy. I'm from Chile myself.

Apparently I look like I'm from Chile, if the veteran beamer thought I was ready to start a fight over a few words. I'm just a little upset about my parting with the can.

Speaking of the man who approached me, he's one of the stars of the indie scene. Azteca Prince. Unlike a lot of other guys, he's built like a bodybuilder. Which begs the question, how is he still not in Mexico's premier promotion?

- You know, in GILL. - a promotion out of Guadalajara. Which is on the other coast of the country, and about an hour and ten hours drive from Monterey. - Lately, more and more women have been...

If OLLIE exists because of its old history. 'EMLL is about its comic book concept. 'EILL is about regional dominance with all the perks that come with it. It seems that GILL is kept afloat by a group of fans who want to see female wrestlers in a promotion with at least some budget for filming and organisation.

So it's pretty weird that Prince is having this conversation with a note of discontent.

- Oh, and that dumb idea to drop the split into Rudo and Technico.... - another GILL feature. - It will always be interesting for the viewer to watch the good guy beat the crap out of the bad guy. Certainly more interesting than all this sort of sports nonsense about personalities fighting for titles.

You know those weird conversations where you don't understand what you're missing in all this? That's the feeling I'm getting right now.

- So what does this have to do with me? - which I voiced.

- Huh? - which surprised, if not even frightened the Aztec Prince with its presence. - Well, El Maestro. - founder of GILL. Ended his career not a legend, but a respected veteran of lucha libre. - Usually asks us to watch the guys for the show.....

- I'm in. - without even asking for a salary, I agreed. Lately, my heart has been pounding with the desire to work, so money isn't that important.... As long as it covers the trip to Guadalajara..... And the food. I'd buy some ice cream to celebrate.

- When I saw you, I realised who would be the perfect opponent for you. Someone you're sure to steal the show with. - with a big smile, Prince pointed two thumbs at himself.

- ...I already said I'm in. - and it doesn't really matter to me who I go up against.

- All right. - Azteca patted me on the shoulder.

And everything would have been fine, except... Why isn't he going anywhere?

- Are you coming to Guadalajara with me by car? Or will you drive yourself? I'm warning you, half the petrol is on you.

The car is a pretty tempting offer, but-- Can I handle a ten-hour journey with the Aztec Prince?

-The next day-

No.

I couldn't take it.

In the course of the trip, I killed him.

- You know, it's easy to make money. I've had so much money. And the women? Oh, women, they're all whores who don't look at nice guys like you and me...

Well, inside your head. I've killed him many, many times. Azteca Prince was one of those insufferable people who are schizoid and boring as hell.

It's impossible to follow any kind of logic in what he says. And if it comes out of my mouth, that's saying a lot! Like what he's saying now?

- Ninety-nine per cent of people are inherently hypocritical scum.

Nice. Crinjowo, unless you're fourteen, of course. But the problem is.

- How likely are you to be a scum?

- Me?!' the Prince said with obvious offence. - Why are you insulting me?! I have principles and understanding!

- So you're one per cent? That doesn't sound hypocritical at all.....

.....

- When's the next bus to Guadalajara?

Eventually, Azteca Prince dropped me off in the middle of the road... Naturally, after charging me for petrol. Of course, as a decent and moral man, he demanded to pay for the whole journey, as an apology, but....

Since I'm taller than him and have good musculature. The prince shut up pretty quickly.

At first, waddling along the road in not the freshest of trainers was so-so. But after a while, after first enjoying the silence and then putting a relaxing heavy rock tune in my ears, it became kind of pleasant.

The people I passed by looked at me with a little interest. I stand out, after all. And I'm obviously far from the tourist route.... judging by the state of the local railway station.

But it's also quite amusing. Sitting in the station waiting for your bus. So many stories happen before my eyes.....

Here's someone getting off with a heavy sigh. Looking around before adjusting his bag. Apparently, the person is having a hard day.... Or is it life? Well, I wish him luck.

Here's a child skipping down the stairs, holding his parents' hands.... A sweet and innocent sight, which in itself makes you smile.

Here's a couple kissing. The guy puts his hand on the girl's shoulder and she in turn intertwines her fingers. A sight that brings a somewhat tart feeling inside.... When it seems like you should be glad for someone else's happiness, but you can't help but regret the fact that you're deprived of such a thing, and... It's not meant to be, is it?

- That's why nobody likes real people, heh.

After waiting for my bus with my dead phone, I threw my loosely packed bag on my shoulder and continued on my way...

.....

- You will have a match against Aztec Prince. - Upon arrival at the arena, a bald man in his fifties, aka El Maestro, said.

- That's great. - I remember saying that I don't care who I'm up against, right? So why now, I can't get my palm off my forehead.

- Your match will be after the Blue Empress of Death and Antonia Andreas. It will be a squash. - a short match showing the dominance of one wrestler. - So I'll give you a decent amount of time... Thirteen, fifteen minutes. Keep him busy with something fun.

El Maestro looked at me and the Aztec Prince, asking if we knew what he was talking about. I don't redeem at all. But the Prince nodded, so the owner GILL moved on:

- About the winner...

- It'll be me. - I said confidently, showing a complete lack of desire to hear any other options.

It may seem like I'm being selfish, etc., but the fact of the matter is that I have a match with the Captain of the Rays for the main event championship in my home promotion. Therefore, before that match, I need to look as strong as possible to come off as anything but a legitimate opponent for the almost two year old champion.

- I have no problem with that. - shrugged his shoulders at the bald man in sunglasses. - What about you, Azteca Prince?

- ...Like I said - ninety-nine per cent of people are grim.....

- Is there a problem? - I clapped the Prince on the shoulder.

- No, I was just thinking. - to which he tilted his head with a smile.

.....

A few hours before the show, when I was about to leave...

- So you know how to use a phone after all?

I accidentally pressed the green phone when Isabella called.

- How about we talk after the show?

Is she in Guadalajara?!

- Yeah, I'm in Guadalajara. - Can she read minds?! - No, Bart, I can't read minds. It's just so easy to see exactly what you're thinking.

... Ninety-one? Can she guess the number?

- Bart, I'm not going to guess the numbers you guessed. - ...! - Instead of cluttering your head with nonsense. Think about what I should tell Alison and Lisa.

What do you want me to tell them? Do I have anything?

- Bart, you do realise you can't run around forever, right?

...

- I'm sorry, Easy, but I've got a show to do. I don't have time to talk right now.

- Bart, excuses don't get you anywhere--

Before Isabella could finish, I hung up the phone. I put on my mask. I put on my hood. I headed outside. I've got a match tonight, I don't have time to think about stuff....