Monkey Wrench (20 page)

She remembered the next bit though. She came down with a knee-drop to my throat.

‘Aaaagh!' I screamed.

And she flung herself on me in a cross-press.

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,' yelled the crowd. ‘Kill her,
do
it to her! Smash her skull!'

It was like having a mattress drop on you. I could've dealt with a mattress, but this mattress had elbows, and she wasn't clever enough to get them out of the way before she landed. And she landed on my chest.

‘Fucking ow-ow-ow-ow!' I yelled, for real. Well, really! I don't know what you'd say with ten tons of teenage meat on top of you with its elbows grinding into your tits.

So instead of doing the usual bridge and escape I hauled my arm off the canvas and whacked her in the side of the head.

‘Nnnf!' she went. But she didn't get off me tits. Grind, grind, grind.

‘Bury her!' shrieked the crowd. ‘Break her legs!'

I hit her again. I got her in a bear hug. I pushed, pulled, squirmed and then rolled her over. When I was on top I banged her head on the canvas, jumped up and did a knee-drop on
her
tits.

Usually when you do this you pull out just when you're landing. It's the other knee on the canvas which comes down – thud. Ladies parts are sacred. You protect your own and you try not to damage your oppo's. If you didn't, it'd be out and out warfare. It's the same with the blokes. If they really landed any of those kicks to the goolies there'd be real murder and real blood on the canvas.

But accidents do happen. 'Specially when you're fighting a clumsy great pumpkin. It was her own fault – grinding on my painful parts like that. She got me so narked that when I knee-dropped on her I didn't quite pull out in time.

I'm not a sadist. I didn't do the full business on her. But I didn't let her off either. I gave her a bit of a clip where it hurt – where she'd hurt me. She needed a lesson. She needed learning not to be so clumsy.

She doubled up, rolled in a ball, howling, and the ref dragged me off.

And that's when I got me third public warning and disqualification. Which was a pity really. It was supposed to end with a pile-driver. I like pile-drivers. They're nice. Spectacular.

But we couldn't carry on with her rolled in a ball going, ‘Wmf-wmf-woomf,' and rubbing her tits the way she was. I could've been rubbing mine, but I had more pride.

A woman in the audience started shrieking, ‘Lesbian! You should be ashamed to call yourself a woman!'

And a bloke yelled, ‘If your face looked as good as my wife's bum-hole I wouldn't feel so sick.'

I yelled, ‘A bin-bag's got more brains than you!'

‘Mouth like a cat flap!' someone else shouted.

‘Mouth like a garbage truck!' I said.

‘Barn door!'

‘Grand Canyon!'

Ooh, they was really wetting themselves out there.

‘Good show,' said the ref. ‘Now get your arse out of here. You're holding up the programme.'

So I climbed out the ring and dodged handbags, walking sticks and flying food all the way back to the games room door.

Pumpkin came tottering along behind, sweating and whimpering. I wasn't feeling at all tired now, but I had mustard in my hair where a hot dog hit me.

There were two blokes in the games room waiting to come on. One was Bob ‘Hacker' Smith who I don't know well because he doesn't train at Sam's Gym. The other was California Carl.

Bob said, ‘Some wind-up! What were you doing out there – swinging from the ceiling?'

Bob's a bit of a villain himself so he wasn't being rude.

But California said, ‘Sure, that's what big ugly apes do. They swing from the ceiling, pick their arses and screw each other in public.'

‘And you'd shag sheep – if they'd let you,' I said, trying to push past. I didn't want to talk to him. I was feeling good, and his eyes were on the boil again.

Volga Olga came in behind me and stood there looking like lost luggage.

California said, ‘Who's that with her head in a bag? You should take a tip from her, Eva – it's the only way you'd ever get a man.'

‘What dick-drip says I want one?'

‘All you slits want one,' he said. He had acid oozing out of every pore, and his eyes were on fire.

‘Nniff?' said Volga Olga.

Bob said, ‘Ease down, Carl.'

I said, ‘You got a mouth like an open drain, you got as much talent as a coat hanger and I see better manners than yours scrawled on the lavvy wall.' And I bulled him out of the way and went to the changing room with Olga tagging along behind.

I like getting the last word. I like winning an argument. I bounced on my toes, feeling good.

Olga tore the black mask off. Underneath, her face was sopping, and if she'd been any redder she'd of stopped traffic. More fool her for wearing the sodding thing.

She'd forgotten about the bumps on her lumps or the lumps on her bumps. She said, ‘Who was that man in the gold lamé?'

‘California Carl,' I said.

‘What's the matter with him?'

‘Hormones.'

‘Eh?'

‘Steroids,' I told her. ‘It's enough to make any whore moan.'

‘Eh?'

I couldn't be bothered to explain. I wanted a shower. But she said, ‘He's serious. Isn't he? The way he looked at you like, y'know, like he could've killed you. Like he's really truly dangerous.'

I didn't want to talk about him. I kept remembering the Eva mouse.

‘You keep clear of him, girl,' I said.

‘But he's gorgeous,' said Pumpkin, and sighed. The girl was a giant eejit. She was much too young to be taken out of her vegetable patch. She needed advice from someone older and wiser.

So I said, ‘Take a cold shower, fool. California's a psycho – don't even think about him.'

I stripped down and went to the shower. My own lumps and bumps needed hot water. The elbow was swelling up again, but I was quite chuffed with tonight's show. It'd been very short, but I'd shown what I could do against the odds. That pillock, Mr Deeds, handed me a know-nothing baby whale to fight against, but even so, I gave the crowd something to shout about. It could've been boring, but it wasn't. Okay, so I had to get myself disqualified so that it didn't look like a one-sided mess. But I'm prepared to make sacrifices for my art.

Olga must've got into the next stall because I heard water. And after a bit, through the splashing, this pitiful little voice went, ‘I was awful, wasn't I, Eva?'

Which was a good sign. At least she didn't think she was all right.

‘Hey, Eva?'

‘What?'

‘I said I was awful.'

‘I heard you.'

‘You mean you thought I was awful too?'

I was feeling generous, so I said, ‘Everyone got to start somewhere.'

When I got out of the shower Olga was already nearly dressed. She said, ‘I don't know if I could take it.'

‘What?'

‘All that, y'know, what those people say to you. They're so, like, angry. And rude. I don't know if I could bear it.'

She didn't know
nothing
.

I said, ‘It's being a villain. It's how you know you done good.'

She couldn't even think about being a villain if she didn't understand that.

‘But, out there, the people
hate
you.'

‘What are they supposed to do?' I said. ‘Pat me on the head? It's what a villain's
for
. To be hated.'

‘But I don't think I want to be hated,' said Olga from the Volga, KGB agent. ‘I don't like people not liking me. It really upsets me.'

Maybe God actually exists! Maybe He, She, or It was rewarding me for doing a good show.

I said, ‘Then don't wear black, don't wear a mask. That's what villains wear. If you want to be a blue-eyes, wear pretty colours and lipstick.'

‘But Mr Deeds…'

‘You tell Mr Deeds a good villain's born, not made. You can't be a villain 'cos someone tells you. You got to want it.'

That fight with Olga had been better than cash in my pocket. That fight showed Olga she couldn't have what's on my plate. She couldn't have what I wanted. She didn't want what I wanted.

I could've
told
her, but she wouldn't of believed me. So I had to show her. I express meself best out there in the ring. And out there in the ring I showed her she couldn't have what was mine. She wasn't up to it.

I won by being disqualified.

Maybe, when Mr Deeds saw Olga in her veggie patch he said to himself, ‘She's big. She ain't pretty. I'll train her up and she'll do as a villain.'

Maybe he thought, ‘I'll use her as a stick to beat Eva with.'

Wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong. I showed him how wrong he was. And I showed Olga how wrong he was.

I won.

I was going to tell her the difference between villains and
blue-eyes but just then we heard a great kerfuffle in the corridor. It sounded really interesting, so I opened the door.

The corridor was full of St John Ambulance men faffing around, telling each other what to do. They were carrying a stretcher but I couldn't see who was on it. I didn't know if someone was really hurt, or if someone had pulled a gag. I thought what a perfect night it would be if California Carl slipped on an ice cream cone and broke his neck.

But it wasn't California on the stretcher. It was Bob ‘Hacker' Smith.

When the corridor cleared Flying Phil came over. He said, ‘Shit, Eva, poor old Bob. He'll be on the dole for a few months.'

‘What happened?'

‘California Carl,' Phil said. ‘He went crazy. I don't know what actually happened – maybe Bob said something – but Carl lost his rag. Bob's got a torn groin and a broken leg. He'll be out for ages.'

When everything was all over I went out into the night. There was a bunch of fans waiting by the door, and some of them had come to see
me
. Crystal and the gang were there too – but I didn't mind any more. I was glad they were there, 'cos they had to wait, see. They had to wait and watch me sign programmes and pictures.

Nobody bothered to ask Olga for her autograph. But they asked for mine. And bloody Bella saw them asking. That way she knew how important I was. So next time she thinks of some sarky thing to say, maybe she'll think twice. Because now she knows I'm someone who signs autographs, and I'm not to be pissed around with.

A little kid tugged my sleeve. She didn't say nothing – she just gave me her pen and programme. She was a wiry little thing with wanty blue eyes. I almost took her for a boy, but the bloke with her said, ‘Get a move on, Peggy.'

I signed her programme with a flourish – making sure Crystal and Bella could see. The little kid didn't go away. She stood there wanting more. But she never said nothing.

‘Come
on
the bloke said. But she never, and I got on with a couple of other fans.

‘Do what you're
told
!' the bloke said and made a grab for her. But she dodged round the other side of me, and there she stayed till I was ready to go. She didn't say nothing, she didn't ask for nothing but she definitely wanted more. I know that look. ‘More,' it says, ‘there isn't
enough
!'

Well, there isn't, is there? 'Specially when you're a kid. You got to get big and strong and shout very loud if you're going to get more. No one just gives it to you.

I snatched her programme back and I scribbled, ‘Stay bad,' under where I'd wrote my name. Then the bloke grabbed her and dragged
her away. I could see him giving her a right verbal. And I could see her not listening.

‘What did you write?' Olga said. She'd been hanging around breathing down my neck although she was in my way and ought to be gone home.

‘That's private,' I said. Then I said, ‘I told her to be good.' And that was my secret laugh.

Then Crystal said, ‘Kath's Billy brought everyone in his van. Want a ride back?'

So we all piled in his old Ford Transit and left Olga waiting for Mr Deeds outside the sports centre. Gruff Gordon and Pete Carver watched us go. They were still poncing around for the fans. They're a terrible pair of diddleoes but the fans don't know that, and they're a lot more popular than they deserve.

‘You were monster,' Kath with the bosoms said to me. ‘When you came in a little kid near me wet hisself. I mean really wet.'

‘Yeah,' I said. Maybe Kath wasn't as daft as she looked.

‘I'd forgotten what it was like,' Stef said. ‘I ain't been to the wrestling for years.'

‘It's a good night out,' said Kath, nodding. ‘Takes you out of yourself.'

‘That California Carl's a gorgeous animal,' Mandy said. ‘A real animal. The way he threw that Hacker Smith out of the ring! It made my hair stand on end.'

‘What happened?' I said.

‘Didn't you see?' Mandy said. ‘Well, there was a lot of needle. You could tell they hated each other. Old Hacker was really winding Carl up.'

Which is what Hacker's paid for.

Mandy said, ‘And then the time came when Carl couldn't take no more. He'd been a real gent up till then – y'know, taking the abuse and the cheating. So he picks Hacker up and held him way above his head.'

‘We was all cheering and shouting,' Stef said.

‘And then he threw him right over the ropes,' Mandy said.

‘And he sort of caught one of Hacker's ankles as he was flying out the ring.'

‘So he flew out like a starfish,' Stef said. ‘It was ever so dramatic. It looked like his leg was getting tore off. I swear I could hear something tearing – even where we was sat.'

‘Bollocks,' said Bella. ‘It's all a fix. They learn all that in wrestling school. Don't they Eva?'