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Date Posted: 15:16:10 12/30/02 Mon
Author: Curtis Mayhem
Subject: My Long Awaited Arrival.

After being hired by the CWF, Curtis Mayhem decided to take a quick vacation to Spain to soak up some much needed sun. Seeing that his match will take place in Egypt, Mayhem thought that Spain would be a “must stop” vacation spot.

Needing someone to interview him, the CWF staff sent a reporter on a charter plane to hopefully find the success rising superstar.

How will I find him, the reporter asks. With an aggravated look on his face, the man simply says, look for the women, pinhead, it can't be tough findin a guy with golden hair wearing tight pants with hoards of women around him at all hours of the day.

The reporter lowers his head like a guilty child that just got caught stealing cookies from the jar and heads out to find Curtis. His destination is Madrid. A city known too well for it’s exotic sites, and exotic women.

Stiff and sore from the long bus trip that lasted around ten hours, the reporter begins his quest to find Curtis. Thinking like a pro, the reporter heads for the nearest five star hotel that has an outdoor pool.

Twenty minutes later, the reporter arrives at the front desk of a very well established hotel. I'm lookin for a man, Curtis Mayhem. Has he checked in yet?

Yes, the lady at the front desk says. He's in room 428.

Could you direct me to the outdoor pool? I'm pretty sure that's where he'll be. Speaking with a tone of certainty in his voice, the man awaits for a response. If you'll go down the hall here, she says, pointing to her left, there'll be another hallway off to the left, and it's just behind that door.

The reporter nods, and heads down the hallways that he was directed. He quickly rounds the corner and sees the door that holds behind it his sole purpose for arriving to Spain.

Jackson! Over here bro! Just as quickly as the reporter swung open the door, Curtis hollers out at him to accompany him as he basks in the sun, surrounded by women.

Isn't this a nice day or what? Sun beatin down, crystal clear water in the pool, tight bikinis on all these beautiful wonders of the world, Curtis says as he looks at all the women surrounding him.

But I suppose you're here for an interview? Curtis looks at all the ladies with a look of sorrow on his face. Sorry ladies, me and the nerd with the tie need to talk for a few minutes. So if you'll excuse us, I'll get back to all of ya later tonight.

Their eyes still upon him, Curtis watches as six pairs of beautiful legs and curved bodies slowly walks away from him. Look at that. Great tan, cute face, tremendous body. And how about those chicks, huh Jackson? Curtis's attempt to get the reporter to stop staring worked, as he slips back into reality and pulls out a tape recorder to begin an interview.

That's more like it, let's get this over with. Push the button and fire away, I'm always ready.

With that said, the reporter pushes the record button and initiates the interview.

Curtis, you’re new to the CWF, and instantly you’re being put in a title contenders match. How does that make you feel?

After brushing his hair off of his shoulders, Curtis stares off into space and begins to speak his mind.

Well, this is a "high risk" match. If I win, I start off a great debut, no doubt. Plus I go further into the title tournament. But if I lose, everyone’ll just think “oh, he’s just another hot shot rookie with an attitude.”

Have you heard comments from John Bistiza?

Is that how you pronounce his name? Obviously, a hint of sarcasm is heard in Curtis's voice.

Well, truth be told, I haven’t heard anything outta this guy yet. But again, it could be one of two reasons. He could either be scared, and doesn’t wanna show up to fight me. Or, he most likely thinks that I’m just another rookie, takin falls for anyone. But rest assured I’m not like that at all. And I think Johnny B is gonna find that out a little too soon.

Curtis sits up from his lawn chair and puts a white towel over his shoulders, letting it stop the blaze of the sun from hitting him.

Now apparently, this match is to qualify for the P.R.O. Championship belt. I don’t even know what P.R.O. stands for, but as long as there’s a title involved, I’m in! Now apparently, Johnny B has the size advantage over me. No problem…in fact, that’s great! They’ll see little ole me in one corner, dancing around like I’m one of the Pointer Sisters or somethin, and in the other corner, they’ll see Bistiza. Mean scowl on his face, like he choked down one too many six packs of Busch and needs to flush a few personal problems. At first glance, yeah, I’d put my money on the ape with the mustache. But when that bell rings, forget it. I’m Curtis Mayhem. They call me “the best” for a reason.

Upon hearing that, the six women that were at Curtis's side pop their heads up from their own conversation and stare at Curtis with wanting eyes. Curtis merely smiles and nods.

Hey, keep yer eyes on me Jackson. You aren't gettin paid to look at what I rightfully deserve. Now if we can continue, I wanna continue to focus on the big drink of water we call Bistiza.

The background check on this guy looks like a criminal case. Doesn’t get along well with others, emotions change wildly from one extreme to the next. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that I hafta fight a pregnant teenager.

Background laughs can be heard as Curtis continues his role of trash talking.

And one thing I couldn’t help but notice was the fact that this guy sees himself as a failure. Supposedly that fuels his fire. I’ve never known a loser to be so intense. But don’t get me wrong, it’s not like Johnny has a losing record at this point in time.

Curtis reaches into a bucket that is sitting next to him. He pulls a bottle of whiskey into view and begins to twist off the cap. Like some? Curtis asks the reporter, but gets a non verbal reply of a shaking head. Curtis shrugs and takes a drink from the bottle. He puts the cap back on and places the bottle back in the bucket of ice where he got it from.

What's next Mr. Talkative? Should I keep goin?

The reporter nods, a surprised look on his face, and replies, well yes, if it’s no problem.

Curtis stares out into space with a blank look of disbelief on his face and shakes his head. Simply amazing. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you’re interested with what I’m saying!

Johnny doesn’t seem like he’s THAT angered and troubled. For a guy that supposedly is against the world, he seems to be a soft spoken individual. I’ve been walkin around the CWF offices for the past two weeks, and I didn’t see any chairs busted in half, or fist marks in the walls. Now that I think about it, Bistiza doesn’t seem like he’s that tough of a guy at all.

Curtis stands up and stretches, yawning loudly so that everyone around him can hear. He then presses out the wrinkles in his red shorts and cracks his knuckles.

Given it’s my debut match here in the CWF, I don’t wanna hold anything back. And hopefully, Bistiza doesn’t either. He can lumber his bulky ass over to me, look me in the eyes, grunt at me like he’s a primate, and start swingin like he’s “Smokin” Joe Frazier. That’s what I want. I want a good fight. If JB’s gonna just be a pushover, well, consider that P.R.O. title mine.

Curtis picks up his drink and heads for the door back to the hotel. The reporter leans over and hits the stop button on the recorder as he sees six women dart for the door as if they were in the Olympics racing for "The Gold."

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