-Look, I’ll be honest with you, the main reason that I’ve been letting you rattle on is that it’s the night of the C and F show and for us what usually happens is that the night of the show everything stops. Everyone is either at the show or watching on TV at home or in bars or whatever. It’s the day of the year where we have the least crime. So we don’t usually have much to do. Once the show is over, however, all hell breaks loose as a bunch of your rowdy drunken fans spill into the street.
So why are you here? Why aren’t you at the show? Are you here to tell me who killed Mickey? And if you are why tonight?
-I’m not at the show because Davey was supposed to be watching me but he wandered off to get some coffee, and while he was away I convinced one of the roadies to let me loose. We have a lot more staff wandering around back stage during a C and F show, so I played it cool and got one of the new guys to let me loose so that I could use the pissoir. Then I ducked out the back. Like I said before, it was a toss-up whether I went to a bar and got drunk or come here and talk to you.
Yeah, I know who killed Mickey. It suddenly has become a lot more relevant than t ever has ever before.
-OK, before we go any further let me tell you what I think happened. That day back in Seventy Seven, you came back from the ring in the Forum and went back to take a shower. You ran into Mickey who had the knife in his hand that he had taken from a hand. You had an argument. Maybe Mickey made a pass at you, maybe he owed you money, maybe you were buying drugs off him. You fought over the knife, it ended up stuck in Mickey’s side. You panicked, you were what sixteen? Seventeen? You went back to the locker room to figure out what to do. René Martin walks into the shower and finds Mickey with the knife in his side. He pulls the knife out, Mickey starts thrashing around and Martin screams. You run in and get splattered with blood holding Mickey down, which covers up the blood that splattered you when you stabbed Mickey originally.
-Ummm… no. I had no reason to kill Mickey. I didn’t start drinking and doing drugs until I hit St-Louis and started running with the Clancy’s. They were the hard drinking, pill popping crowd. It was Rory who got me drunk the first time, and it was Junior who gave me my first pain pill, one night when I was too stiff to wrestle. And I’m straight and Mickey was very straight, he had a young son, not even a year old, he didn’t even look at other women.
-Not to mention another good reason why you couldn’t have done it.
-Mister Tessier, my name is Renard Adams, Captain Renard Adams. I’m the Captain in charge of Robbery Homicide here. I have been listening to your story and I have received a couple of documents that I would like to ask you about.
-Nice to meet you Captain. You were saying that I couldn’t have killed Mickey? Not that I need to be told that. I mean I know that I didn’t do it, I was there, I know I didn’t do it, but why couldn’t I have done it?
-Well, take a look at this…
-Huh. This looks like a medical report about Mickey’s body. In French. Having trouble translating it?
-I have a translation. I thought that I would give you the original.
-Well, it says here that Mickey was stabbed by someone standing in front of him and they stabbed him in his left side nicking a vein going to the heart. Blood pooled for between ten and fifteen minutes until the knife was pulled out. This is nothing new.
-There is an important detail however. I’m not a wrestling fan like O’Reilly here. I have never seen you in the ring. But I notice that when you have been in this interrogation room, Mister Tessier that you fidget, you toy with that pencil, you have been unfolding those pencil clips and when you do that, you do it almost exclusively with your left hand.
-Yeah, I’m a south paw.
-Of course, you’re a southpaw. Shooter Lou always talked about your unorthodox style baffling your opponents because you were attacking them from the left. Gentlemen Jim called it something special, what was it? -Le Main Sinistre. Translated literally, “The Sinister Hand”. What does me being left handed have to do with it?
-Michael Chakerian was stabbed from the front in his left side. If you had stabbed him with your left hand, you would have stabbed him in his right side. The wound probably wouldn’t even have been fatal. The killer was right handed.
Chapter Thirty-Three: “Ray, I Need Your Help”
-Ray, I need your help.
-Katy, it’s great to hear from you. Of course. If you need my help, I’m there for you. Just don’t ask me to rob a bank or anything.
-No. No banks. Ray, I need you to find my husband. Eric Tessier, the Rattler?
-I though you were divorced?
-We are. I still need you to find him. He was supposed to wrestle tonight but he vanished from back stage. I’m worried about him. He’s, Ray, he’s a recovering alcoholic. I’m worried that he’s gone off the wagon. I’m worried that he might be drinking. I’m worried that he might be hurting himself.
-Katy, this is going to be a pretty easy favour. He’s in our main interrogation room. He’s been talking the ear off my partner O’Reilly for the last few hours or so.
-Oh God. Is he drunk?
-Sober as a judge.
-Are you sure?
-Sure as shooting Katy. He was sober when he got here. And I can promise you that he hasn’t had a drink since. He might be a little twitchy from all the coffee, because that’s all we have to drink here.
-Oh thank God. He once made me pinky swear that I would stay away from him if he had as much as one beer. Said that he never could have just one beer.
-Pinky swear. Seriously, Katy?
-Wrestler’s taking pinky swears seriously, Ray. Did he do something? Is he under arrest?
-No, he came in under his own power. He’s just been telling stories. Old stories.
-I’m going to come get him. Can you convince him to stay until I get there?
-You’re leaving the Checker? The show isn’t even over.
-I know how the show ends, Ray. I wrote it.
-Funny. Listen, Katy. Eric isn’t going anywhere. But I do need to know how the C and F is going to end.
-Trying to win some bets?
-No, Katy this is serious.
-Mickey Two is going to put Billy into a full nelson for the submission. Billy is going to be stubborn about the tapping. He’s going to get stretchered out.
-Right. And Mickey Von Hess the Second. His real name is Michael Chakerian?
-Michael Chakerian Junior. Yeah.
-OK. Thanks Katy.
Chapter Thirty-Four: “The Captain’s Theory”
-Maybe you would like to hear my theory, your Captain’s theory about what happened?
-Sure Captain, go ahead.
-What the hell.
-Maybe, Mister Tessier, you would like to translate another document for me?
-Sure, what’s this?
-It’s a statement in French, from a witness to the murder. At least she HEARD the murder.
-Oh yeah. That’s odd there weren’t any women back stage.
-There was a girl. She didn’t give her statement right away.
-Sylvie Cloutier who’s she? I’ve never heard of her.
-Really? The night of Mickey’s murder she was giving you a blow job when Mickey was busy getting murdered.
-Holy Fuck. I didn’t. I mean I never knew her name.
-Maybe you could read the statement, Eric.
-It says here that the statement was taken in Ninety Seven. “Avec les programmes qui parlaient du vingtieme anniversaire du meurtre du Mickey, je me suis sentais mal…”
-Maybe, just speaking for myself, here, English would be better.
-Hmmm? Oh yeah sorry, Captain Adams. The translation is going to be pretty fast and loose, OK?
-Sure. I have a translation, I just want to see if it matches up.
-OK. “With all the programs, all the stories about Mickey’s murder twenty years ago, this is the twentieth anniversary, I was feeling bad. Like I should have come forward back then and said something. I just didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. I didn’t want to get into trouble myself. At the time I was too young to be doing what I was doing. I hung around with the wrestlers and I would sneak into the dressing rooms and have sex with the young wrestlers, the good looking ones. I was too young to have sex, but no one forced me. In fact, one of my rules was that the wrestler’s couldn’t touch me, I was the one allowed to touch them. They weren’t allowed to touch me back. The little mouse they called me. Too scared even to squeak. But I could make those big men do whatever I wanted. I liked that, the power that I had over them. The night of St-Jean Baptiste, I got in free as usual in the morning. I watched them set-up. I watched Mickey and Rattler practice their match. They were two of my favourites. Both so good-looking. Both tall, athletic. Both kind. I watched their match. Mickey won and I felt so bad for Eric in the ring having lost. I mean I know it’s fake, I watched them lay out the match, but he looked so young, so hurt having lost.”
You know it’s funny, I remember that night having this huge disappointment, this huge let down after I lost. Even though I knew I was going to lose, hell I suggested the finish myself. Stupid.
“I was in the back near the entrance for the wrestlers. I watched Mickey walked past me and some idiot tried to knife Mickey in the side when he walked past. Mickey took the knife away from him and broke his wrist doing it. I heard the snap. When Eric finished talking in the ring, I slipped into the back and waited for him. We didn’t talk, we never talked. I just started giving him a blow job, to make him feel better. While I was doing that, I could hear Mickey taking a shower somewhere behind me. I knew it was him because he was humming. Mickey always hummed a song a Johnny Cash song in the showers. Sometimes he whistled, sometimes he hummed, sometimes a bit of both. Someone came into the shower to talk to him. They were speaking in English, so I don’t know what was being said. They were arguing though and I think it was about money and Toronto, they were shouting about Toronto. Then Mickey gave this big grunt and they stopped arguing. Eric started to get up and I pushed him back down. A while later, at the time I was very good at making a guy last and Eric had a lot of stamina, a while later, I heard someone go into the shower and scream out. It was René Martin screaming. I recognized his voice. This time Eric got up and I left him. When I heard that Mickey had been stabbed, I realized what had happened, what I had heard and I ran away home. I didn’t want the police to find me back stage.”
Well, I guess more than just being left handed clears me of Mickey’s murder.
-It clears you of having killed Mickey, but it doesn’t clear you of the guilt right.
-You have known all along who killed Mickey haven’t you? And you have kept quiet over it all of these years because you feel guilty like you could have saved him haven’t you?
-I thought that Mickey had been knocked out! Cold-cocked or something? I thought he’d been knocked unconscious not murdered.
-But you know who did it right?
-And you’ve kept quiet all these years?
-There has to be some guilt in there.
-Of course there’s guilt. My whole life might have turned out differently if I had gone up to check on Mickey. Everything good and everything bad in my life, starts there with me getting a blow job from a twelve year old while I let Mickey bleed to death.
-Right. Well, let me ask you. The man who left the shower and the man who came back were one and the same, right? René Martin stabbed Mickey and left him for dead. Then he came back to the shower to “discover “ Mickey’s body. Only Mickey wasn’t dead yet and René finished off the job by yanking out the knife. Maybe he knew that would kill him. Maybe he was planning on stabbing him again. Maybe he thought Mickey was dead and he just wanted to get rid of the knife, and he screamed when the “dead” Mickey started thrashing.
-Well, it’s a nice theory Captain Adams, ruined by only one ugly incontrovertible fact: It wasn’t René Martin who stabbed Mickey.
Chapter Thirty-Five: “The Two Chakerians”
-No, it wasn’t. Eric, I think that it’s time that we talked about the two Chakerians.
-Rattler, this is my partner, Detective Lieutenant, Ray Stevens.
-So you’re the tough son of a bitch who took out Dan Chokra and Alen Holiday?
-Yeah, wasn’t that hard, they were both stoned out of their minds and besides I snuck up on them from behind.
-Best way. What do you press two ten?
-Bit more. Not that I make a religion out of it.
-Liar. Don’t try to kid a kidder. Those shoulders didn’t happen by accident.
-Maybe, maybe not. How long have you known about the two Chakerians?
-Couple of weeks. Ever since they did the official in-ring signing for the C & F main event. I suspected before, but then I knew. Fucking Darryl, lying to people by telling them the truth but doing so that everyone thinks that he’s lying when he tells the truth.
-Maybe someone needs to explain to me about the two Chakerians.
-Seriously, Ray? What’s going on?
-Mickey Von Hess was Bruno Von Hess’ nephew. Bruno’s real name is Bruno Schmidt. His sister Alice Schmidt married David Chakerian. Her son Michael became Mickey Von Hess. That’s the first Michael Chakerian, the one who ended up dead, stabbed to death in the locker room of the old Montreal Forum, Do I have it right so far Eric?
-Yeah. Mickey’s real name was Michael Chakerian.
-And Mickey Two’s real name is Michael Chakerian Junior right? He’s not just some guy who took the Von Hess name. He’s the oldest son of Michael Chakerian, the son, the heir of Mickey Von Hess.
-Yeah Mickey Two was born in Seventy-Six, he was barely a year old when his Dad died. Once again, Darryl fucking around with people’s lives by telling them the truth but they think that he is lying to them. He told everyone that he and Von Hess were giving the Von Hess name to Mickey’s “son”. So everyone assumed that he was lying, that Mickey Two was just a good looking kid that they decided to kay fabe into being a Von Hess.
They fooled me.
-Until you saw the contract?
-Wouldn’t it be a fake contract?
-Well, yeah. But it said Mickey’s name was Michael Chakerian Junior. If they had wanted to fake it, they would have put Mickey or Michael Von Hess Junior or Michael Von Hess the Second or something. But Michael Chakerian Junior? Why would they put that if it wasn’t true? Plus I remembered that beck in Montreal in Seventy Seven, Mickey had shown me a photograph of his baby son, barely a year old, nine or ten months or something like that.
-So, the main event tonight was a shoot?
-Yeah, that’s why I’m here.
-A shoot fight that only one guy knows is a shoot?
-Like your fight with Chris Lening?
-Who the fuck is Chris Lening?
-The guy who broke your nose. And blacked your eye. In Truth and Consequences, New Mexico. Chris, the Grizzly. You broke his ankle.
-Oh, him. I never knew his family name. I don’t think I even knew his first name was Chris. Every one just called him Grizzly.
-You found him?
-Yeah Captain. We were looking in the wrong places. We were looking around Truth and Consequences, New Mexico. The match took place in Truth and Consequences, New Mexico. Hiding the truth by telling the truth, huh Rattler.
-Something like that.
-So, if I have this figured right, tonight Michael Chakerian Junior is fighting the man who killed his father, and he knows that William Clancy Junior killed his father, but Junior doesn’t know that Mickey Two knows. Is that the way it works?
-Something like that.
-Wait, some one needs to explain this to me. William Clancy Junior killed Mickey Von Hess in Montreal?
-Yeah, Captain. Let me break it down for you. Unless you want to tell this story, Eric?
-No, you tell it and I’ll fill in the blanks. This is kind of like the end of an Agatha Christie novel where the detectives are explaining what happened.
-OK. I’ll try and Poirot this out. Back in Montreal, in Seventy Seven, Bill Junior is the booker of the Quebec chapter of the NWA. He’s doing it for the experience, he’s been sent by his father. At the same time, he’s sleeping with René Martin, probably fallen in love with him. Mickey Von Hess is supposed to win the NWA title pinning his boy friend, his lover for the title. And René is desperately unhappy about this. He doesn’t want to lose the title in the Forum on St-Jean Baptiste. Probably René has started to become his character to a certain degree. Now, it doesn’t really matter whether René asked Billy Junior to do something or whether Billy Junior was just upset that his lover was upset. All that mattered was that he decided to do something about it. He went to the shower to talk to Mickey.
I’m guessing that the switch was planned well ahead of time. Old Man Clancy probably knew about it. The whole NWA Board of Directors approved of it. Mickey was brought up into wrestling old school, he’d probably been taught by Von Hess and Cage how to avoid being pinned when someone starts shooting on you, tries to steal the match. Plus he’s been training to come back from breaking his back in that plane accident. So, when Bill Junior walks in on him in the shower to try and convince him to not take the belt later that night, Mickey doesn’t react well. He’s probably freaked out just from the fact that Bill Junior walked into the shower. I’m guessing that when Sylvie Cloutier heard Toronto, that she heard Bill Junior trying to convince Mickey to wait until a show in Toronto, probably the July First.
The knife is probably just sitting in the soap dish in the shower. Bill Junior grabs it, stabs Mickey, runs out of the shower. He tells René that he’s killed Mickey and René comes back to check and probably to cover up his lover’s crime. He finds Mickey crumbled up in the shower with the knife in his side. He pulls out the knife, maybe to get rid of the evidence, maybe to stab Mickey some more, maybe because he knew that pulling out the knife would actually kill Mickey, but when he pulls out the knife Mickey revives and starts thrashing around as he bleeds out. René screams, you come running Eric.
Then, when you came back here to St-Louis over the last little while, the main event to tonight’s show becomes Mickey Chakerian Junior against William Clancy Junior. Now you know that Bill Junior killed Mickey Junior’s Dad, but you figure that other than Bill Junior and René, you are the only one that knows, but the reason for the match becomes that Mickey Junior believes that Bill Junior killed his Dad. And it turns out that that is actually true. Cage and Von Hess and Mickey Junior all believe that Bill Junior killed Mickey Von Hess in Montreal. And they are all hiding the truth by telling the truth.
-Yeah, Darryl’s old trick.
-And in the main event, Mickey Junior is supposed to beat Bill Junior and in the process injure him with a full nelson. Only it’s going to be a real injury, isn’t it?
-Yeah. They’re going to hide a real injury with a pre-planned fake injury.
-So, you came down here because even though you hate Bill Junior’s guts, you don’t think that it’s right that he walks into an ambush? So how close did I come?
-Well, you’re better at getting into people’s heads than I am. I know that I’m supposed to be the guy that’s good at getting into people’s heads, but that’s a work. It’s the writers that come up with that shit. The truth is I have a hard enough idea figuring out why I do what I do. I know what I know; I know what I saw; I know what I heard; I know what I did; I know what people told me; I don’t know why other people did what they did; I don’t what they thought.
-Wait. Can I ask a question?
-Go ahead Mark.
-I think I might have a question, too, but go ahead O’Reilly, maybe my question is the same as yours.
-Thanks Captain. When did Cage find out that it was Bill Junior that killed Mickey? Are we even sure that that is what happened? And why did Cage wait until now to do something? Why didn’t he just come to us?
-That’s four questions not one. But what I can tell you is that Darryl found out the truth on June Twenty Fourth, Two Thousand and Two, just before midnight.
-How can you be so precise, Eric?
-Because that’s when I fucking called him and told him. Twenty Fifth Anniversary of Mickey’s murder and after the Budweiser Wrestling Hour, they ran a documentary about Mickey’s murder to mark the anniversary. “Wrestling’s Original Sin” or some such shit. And me blotted out of my mind on cheap Tequila, wrestling on the Texas side of the border near El Paso, hell maybe in El Paso, I don’t know, like a fucking coward, I do something I never should have done. I call Darryl and I tell him the truth.
When he showed up two years later in New Mexico, I was convinced that it was to pop me in the mouth. I still don’t understand why he doesn’t hate me. I mean I guess sobering me up the hard way, some people might think of that as Darryl’s revenge on me, and maybe I’ve accused him of that when the two of us were alone, but the truth is he did that because I was his friend, and I don’t think I’ll never understand why I’m his friend, why he doesn’t hate me instead.
-What did you tell him Eric? What is your story?
-You want to hear my story? You want the truth? Is this where I go all Nicholson? “You can’t handle the truth!” You want the story? “What the Rattler Saw”
-Yeah, I’d like to hear this story Eric. “The Tale of the Rattler.”
-Yeah that’s got a ring to it. I’ve heard the rest of it, I want hear what makes sense of it all.
-Tell the story, Mister Tessier.
Chapter Thirty Six: “The Tale of the Rattler”
-The thing you have to understand is that’s it all my fault. All of it. Everything good in my life, everything bad comes out of a moment when instead of helping a friend dying, bleeding to death, I let a twelve year old girl finish off a blow job.
After the match with Mickey, I was backstage. From where I was sitting, I could see people walking into and out of the showers. And it’s not like they couldn’t see me, but if you are walking into the showers you have to turn your head at exactly the right moment to see into the backstage area where I was sitting, otherwise you would never see me.
So, I saw Mickey go into the shower. And I saw a few minutes later Bill Junior go in after him. They were arguing about the final. Mickey had instructions from Georgia to pin Le Patriote no matter what. Junior was offering him money to wait until Toronto. Mickey’s point was that he was supposed to win that night and if they improvised that the NWA committee might be so pissed that they might decide that Mickey wouldn’t get the belt. Plus, Mickey didn’t trust him and René to actually come to Toronto to drop the title. Finally, Mickey said something like, “I don’t care what your girl friend wants, I am supposed to pin her for the title and that’s what I am going to do.”
I heard a grunt, then Bill Junior came storming out of the shower looking pissed. I almost got up, but I was sort of pinned to my chair and I let myself be pinned by the wang if you like. I thought that Bill had sucker punched Mickey or something. At the time, I didn’t know about the knife. I knew that Mickey had had a scuffle with a fan, but I was busy giving a promo when it happened, I never saw Mickey take the knife off the fan. So, when I heard the grunt, I thought a fist not a knife. High Drama, but nothing serious. Still, I should have checked on Mickey.
A bit later, I see René going into the shower and I was relieved because I figured that Rene was going to check on Mickey and smooth things over. Then I heard René scream and I knew that I had fucked up by the numbers.
I jumped out, pulled my pants up, ran to the showers, got sprayed by Mickey’s blood. Held on until Le Monstre got there, ran for the doctor covered by Mickey’s blood, helped pull Darryl off René and later Junior still covered in Mickey’s blood. When Darryl and Von Hess split for the hospital, and Junior told me what to say and do in the ring in the new main event. When Mickey’s fucking murderer told me what to do when I went out there to replace Mickey, I listened and I nodded and I did what I was told still covered in Mickey’s fucking blood. And ever since, I wash and I wash and I scrub and I bump and I bump and I bump and I drink and I pop pills and the blood, the stain it never ever, ever, ever, ever quite comes off.
So after the match, I go back to my hotel room and I write a letter to William Clancy… Senior, Old man Clancy himself. And I told him what I saw because he needs to know I think. And I ask him what I should do. And he writes me back and tells me to keep my fucking mouth shut and go to Puerto Rico and fight the twins. So, I do. When I get to Puerto Rico, the twins tell me that they have instructions from their Dad to test me, to teach me, to train me and if I am any good to help get me over.
When I get to St-Louis, Old Man Clancy and I have our one and only discussion about Montreal. He tells me that if I ever ask him for money or a spot because of Montreal, he will break me, but that the twins tell him that I am good and because of that and only that he will give me a chance. I tell him that that is fine with me but he has to promise me that Junior is kept under control, that what happened in Montreal can never happen again. He promises me that and also promises me that he will make sure that Mickey’s family will get taken care of that his widow will get an anonymous contribution every month. In fact, I ask him to take a bit off my cheque for that as well. Still do, later on after money was rolling in, the Old Man and I we put some money together and set up a foundation to send money to the widow every month without us doing anything. Still exists. I get reports every month.
After that, we never talked about it ever. I had a guaranteed spot on the show, but I earned the spot. I married his daughter, but that had nothing to do with the Old Man. And when I walked away from St-Louis, that was my choice not his.
-Wait. You just told me here not two hours ago that he threw you out. Called you a drunk with a drink in his head.
-Yeah, that he did. We rigged that blow up in public. I thought that the Jim Beam was a nice touch.
-I don’t understand.
-When you have to choose between the truth and the legend, print the legend.
-But why did you walk away?
-My knee was fucked, my back was fucked, my marriage was fucked. St-Louis didn’t need me. All I could do by staying was hurt my kids, hurt my wife, hurt the show. But by leaving, I could do something to help all of them. I could fuck over the competition. I could fuck over New York like no one’s business. So the Old Man and I rigged the argument and I walked out knowing that New York would call me.
I go to New York and I wrestle at half-speed which in that promotion is all I really need to do and I wait for my chance. Finally, they give me some cover with their stupid fucking limp wrested Apollo gimmick and they put me in the ring with guy that they are banking on having for the future. So I shoot on them all, make Leather Pants look like the pathetic joke that he is, snap his ankle and walk out having crippled their future in every way I could. Ensuring my kids future in a way, you might say.
And even if I am spending too much time in a bottle, I keep myself ready to come back here to St-Louis when the Old Man really needs me to come and help spice things up. In public, we fight and he always acts like he’s been forced to bring me back, but in truth I come back when he needs me and there’s no choice. Because being back here around Katy and the kids is too painful.
And he’s never asked me too, but I keep that secret for him. Not for Junior’s sake but for the Old Man. That Old Man that I respect, that I love more even than my own father. Then Donny dies in February of Oh Two. The Old man dies in April of a broken heart as much as anything else. He buried four of his sons. Rory, the twins, Donny. He told me after Donny’s burial that he had six sons and that he loved them all, now four were dead, he had buried four and of those who were left, one was a monster, and the sixth was me and that I was a fuck up like all of his sons, but he couldn’t help me, I could only help myself. And there was Katy, but of all his children, she was the one who needed him the least. It was like he was asking me for permission to let go.
So when he died, suddenly I am dreaming of Mickey’s death and that unspoken promise to the Old Man to keep my mouth shut, it’s not there anymore and in June, I watch a documentary about Mickey’s death and I pick up the phone to call Darryl and maybe I’m drunk, but the same way that Rory knew what he was doing when he hit that divider, I knew what I was doing when I picked up that phone. All the booze did was give me permission, but I knew what I was doing.
And I waited for Darryl to come and punish me, to hurt me for keeping the truth from him for all those years. But that’s not what he did. He forgave me, and that might be the cruelest thing that he’s ever done to me. To treat me like his brother when I am not his brother.
And you would think that I would have figured out before, but it was only a couple of weeks ago that I finally figured out that Mickey Two is Mickey’s son and that Mickey and Darryl and Von Hess have gotten together and arranged things so that they can hurt Junior in the one place where no one will believe that they did it on purpose.
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Welcome to a very special edition of “Satire”. Don’t expect all sorts of columns about Smackdown from here on out, because RAW is enough for me. But without DEAN this week, I figured I might as well. (Opening Credits…) Brock Lesner is backstage!