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Tears of a Clown

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Offline howardcosell

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Tears of a Clown
« on: April 18, 2014, 06:22:24 AM »
"The Scientist" by Coldplay

Come up to meet you,
Tell you I'm sorry,
You don't know how lovely you are.

I had to find you,
Tell you I need you,
Tell you I set you apart.

Tell me your secrets,
And ask me your questions,
Oh let's go back to the start.

Runnin' in circles,
Comin' up tails,
Heads on a science apart.

Nobody said it was easy,
It's such a shame for us to part.
Nobody said it was easy,
No one ever said it would be this hard.
Oh take me back to the start.

I was just guessin',
At numbers and figures,
Pullin' the puzzles apart.

Questions of science,
Science and progress,
Do not speak as loud as my heart.

Tell me you love me,
Come back and haunt me,
Oh, what a rush to the start.

Runnin' in circles,
Chasin' our tails,
Comin' back as we are.

Nobody said it was easy,
Oh it's such a shame for us to part.
Nobody said it was easy,
No one ever said it would be so hard.
I'm goin' back to the start.

“When you find out how big of a joke the world is, being the comedian is the only thing that makes any sense.”~~ Charlie Chaplin

Tears of a Clown

Present day

If I don’t kill myself, I’m coming for all of them. They speak venom with their forked tongues and baptize it in words that taste like almond milk and strawberries. They prance around this world with so much chaos inside them, and they hide the chaos in morals and values they don’t believe in, a god they don’t believe in because they’re steady stealing and sinning. No one bothers to stop the feeding frenzy and these hypocrites are elevated and called heroes. I’m coming for your heroes. I’m coming to expose them and destroy them, because I know the fear that lurks inside of them. I know the pain they suffer when no one is around. I know their darkness because I am darkness and when it’s all said and done… your heroes will fall and the chaos will rise, consuming you all in the piss and shit of the forgotten, the ones you stepped on and drowned in your stale, poison milk. They will rise and claim you along with those you worship. And precious children, my precious children… don’t fear the darkness. You have no reason to… for you are already blind.

Beth stands in the ring. For a girl who’s been through what she’s been through, she’s got great posture. The blue and silver OPW Television Title belt shines bright as the fans chant her name and Girl Wrestler Joanne is coming around after being defeated. Beth is 5’ 100 lbs, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a round face in a blue one piece with bare feet and blue toenail polish. She’s the twin sister of Hall of Famer Marie B., but you wouldn’t know it because Beth has had reconstructive facial surgery after spending time in the special forces. She’s been winning her matches and has gotten almost as popular as her sister was. They’ve really elevated her. She looks like that girl from the tv show “Nashville” now. What’s her name? Hayden something?

{alt}

I watch the blonde girl take the microphone in her hands as Joanne rolls out of the ring…

Beth- It’s just a couple of weeks before OPW Armageddon and my title defense against Dynamite Quinn. I just want you to know one thing, Dynamite. I know you’re a Gold Medalist. I know you’ve been to jail. I know you’ve got a Bachelor’s and a Master’s Degree. I know you’re as tough as they come. But I didn’t get this title by a stroke of luck. All 5’ 100 lbs of me is going to be coming at all 5’1” 120 lbs of you. I’ve fought all over the world and while you are a worthy opponent, I will do everything in my legal power to leave Madison Square Garden with this title belt still around my waist.

And now, it’s my turn to chime in… the lights go out and my face, with the black and white face paint and red tears coming from the eyes, appears on the big screen…

“Hello, Beth. It must be nice to be so popular, huh?”

Beth- You again? What do you want this time? And why are you always hiding in the back? Why can’t you come out here and show yourself?

The crowd cheers her challenge. That’s nice.

“Because I’m so afraid of the little lily white girl with the perfect skin and the perfect face and the perfect blonde hair and blue eyes; that’s why. You know, Beth; you won’t have to wait much longer for me. You, and the rest of the so-called role models of OPW won’t have to wait much longer for me.”

Beth- You know what I think? I think you’re just a coward (crowd cheers). If you were any kind of real woman, you’d come out here and face me right now, in Tulsa, Oklahoma!!

“That’s right, Beth. Appeal to the fans; appeal to the people. That’s what the goody two shoes does, right? But when you go home and you take your clothes off and get in bed, how easy is your rest for all the people you killed, carried out the orders of right wing American and Canadian terrorists? How many of those drones you watched fly away in Afghanistan and Iraq dropped bombs on houses that didn’t have terrorists? How many fathers did you shoot or grenade? Do you ever think about their children, or are you too busy playing wrestling hero to care? But forget what I’m saying. Just keep speaking the people’s gospel. You’ve got the look. You say all the right things. Most don‘t know you were military and most don’t care. But to me, you‘re just another false hero… because there is no such thing as a hero.”

Beth- You don’t know anything about me. And since you don’t want to come out here and say all this to my face, maybe you’re just not good enough to be here in OPW anyway.

Not good enough? That’s what she said. Not good enough… I’ve been hearing that all my life. “Not good enough” is what brought me here and what made me put the clown face back on. Not good enough is what I heard when I interrupted Kayla, the 5’9” 140 lb, black haired, green eyed South African Sassafras a week before…

“Kayla, Kayla, Kayla… former OPW World Champion, right?”

Kayla- That’s right, tee hee! Who the hell are you? Bozo the Bitch? Hahaha!

“What kind of World Champion were you, Kayla? These people cheer your every move, worship your sexual drive, but what kind of woman has to run around taking off her clothes and dry humping her opponents to get attention? Weren’t you an Olympic athlete? Didn’t you compete in classy competitions? Now look at you. You’re not even that good of a fighter. You’re just another prop puppet out here, clucking and squawking and doing whatever makes these people smile.”

Kayla- And this is coming from somebody hiding in the back, wearing clown makeup? I’ve had so many people talk bad about me. It doesn’t matter what you say. You’re not good enough to matter.

And the 5’8” 140 lb lemon blonde, hazel eyed Justine Credible a week before that.

“Justine, you used to be something special. You used to headline pay per views and you held every title in this company. What happened to that Justine Credible? What happened to the human highlight reel? Now, you’re a lapdog in a stale stable of wannabes. Now, you’re nothing but two catchphrases and a limp.”

And Laurie Breeze the week before that…

“Another little fat cheeked wrestler, who we can’t even call a wrestler because she doesn’t know a wristlock from a wristwatch. But you people cheer her on anyway. Laurie Breeze, the cheery intelligent former lifeguard. Well, cheery and intelligent except when she’s fighting. When she’s fighting, she becomes so dumb, she loses control and loses the match.”

And every time I did this, with my makeup on and my brown twists hanging around my face like a literally weeping widow, they each called me a coward and said I wasn’t good enough. All these heroes and icons, with their perfect bodies and blind sheep fans. It wasn’t always this way, was it? Wasn’t there some time when things weren’t so cheap?

I used to go to wrestling shows twenty or even thirty years ago. I’m 38 now, going on 39. Every time I’d show up at a show, I’d hear the same thing… “Is that her? Is that Precious Jackson?”… “Yeah; that’s her. That’s the bastard.”… “Is she going to wrestle tonight? You gotta think with her genes, she’ll be great!”

Hacksaw Digger Gray was my father, but if you asked him, he’d deny it. He’d had so many affairs, he couldn’t keep up with how many kids he had. He had enough with his wife, ten to be exact. He was a tall, strong man who looked like Bill Withers, light brown skin, and his wife was fair skinned.



I can’t say I knew that much about him. I knew he was a famous wrestler who couldn’t get a title shot because of the racism in the business back then. But he was a racist himself. He was racist against his own kind. My Father didn’t like women with skin as brown as his or darker. He only liked women with light skin, the lighter, the better. Those were the women he’d end up marrying. He had four wives before he died, all of them, light skinned. But my Mother, she was different. I am the daughter of Your Majesty Sophia Jackson, another now famous fighter who was blackballed because she was Black. She was the female fighting equivalent of Jack Johnson and she looked like Josephine Baker (see my story “The Last Queen and The First Lady” for more on Sophia). Because I was the result of his affair with her, that’s why they call me his “bastard daughter.”

{alt}

He was so upset at my Mother for getting pregnant with me, and even more upset when my skin ended up being darker than his, he refused to let me have his last name. I guess she could’ve named me after him if she wanted to, but I realize now that a name is an important thing to my Mother. And if he didn’t want me to have his, she gave me hers. She named me “Precious” as a reminder to always value myself… but I guess that backfired big time. My Mother is a legend, and I’m glad her story is getting it’s just due attention. But when I was very young and she fell on hard times with the law, and a depression, she did what she thought was best. She sent me to live with my cousins in Maryland while she went to Europe again. She told me a few years ago that she was hoping I would forget about her and become a lawyer, doctor, all that cliché stuff. And as outspoken as my Mother was and still is, she kept me a secret. That didn’t stop me from learning about her and learning about my Father, from the television and from magazines.

I didn’t understand why either of them didn’t seem to want much to do with me. I’d talk to my Mother at least once every other day. She’d always apologize to me for not being around. My Father never was a Father. I’d get child support checks and they’d get smaller and smaller as he got older and had more kids out of wedlock to divide them with, other than the ten he had with his wife. I just didn’t understand it, but the more I read about fighting, the more I wanted to see what it was about. I’d become a real black sheep. All my cousins were scholars and tops of their classes. I was smart, but I loved the alcohol, the weed, and that became the cocaine and the heroin, the lsd and sex. I went to so many raves and slept with so many guys and girls, they started calling me Precious Pussy. One day, I packed my bags and left. I got in my little car and drove across the country, and what made me do it? My Father.

I’d seen him on television, advertising a wrestling promotion that was coming to town. When I tell you I followed them from town to town, that’s what I did. I got to see him wrestle and I always dressed in tight clothes back then. I’d show a little tummy or a little cleavage or leg. A lot of the male wrestlers and I would do it in their trailers. I became a groupie and everybody wanted the sassy Black girl with the Afro twists. That was me. If I could say who I look like then and now, probably Tracie Thoms. With a Father who was 6’2” and Mother who is 5’9”, I ended up being 5’10”

{alt}

{alt}

{alt}

I could never quite muster up the guts to go up to him and tell him who I was and ask him why he wasn’t there. Then one night, we were in Wichita, Kansas. I’d traveled all the way out there, and he got totally beat. He was well passed his prime and it was clear that he was still wrestling to get those checks out. I walked up to him in my cut off t-shirt and miniskirt, and looked him over. He had two black eyes, and he was covered in sweat. His nose was bleeding and some geeky looking man was putting stitches in the back of his head, right where his bald spot was, and he was sitting there like he couldn’t feel a thing, drinking a whiskey.

I said, “Hi, I‘m Precious.”

He didn’t even look up. He told me, “Aren’t you all?” with so much sarcasm, I could tell he didn’t want to be bothered.

“I’m… I’m…here to see you… and I need to tell you…”

“What?” he said, still not looking up, “You’re gonna make me feel good? You got something that gonna ease my pain? Girl, get outta here. You ain’t no different than any of the rest of em. Maybe yours smells fresher. Maybe you can suck the chrome off a tailpipe. Maybe you can do all this stuff. I’ve heard it all before and that’s why I’m all fucked up now.”

“That’s not why I came here.”

“Then what you come here for?” he was still not looking at me, and he and the geek doctor were laughing, “What you come here for, girl? What you been coming here for? I seen you sucking off all them boys. You just didn’t see me. I figure I was too old for ya. But I guess they got tired of you and now, they threw you down to me, huh? Girl, I got kids your age. I got, I got, I got kids old enough to be your momma. Ha ha hahahaha!!”

I didn’t say anything else. I turned around and walked away. I wasn’t ready. I got in my car, picked a road and drove until the gas ran out or I blacked out at the wheel. Some men came by and gave me gas, after the pulled my car out of the woods. I had enough to drive to a motel parking lot and fall asleep in my car. The next time I saw my Father was on my birthday. I had traveled to Duluth, Minnesota to see him. The year was 1993 and Siena Blaze’s OPW was about to pass WWF, WCW, and the various boxing conglomerates as the biggest fighting promotion in the world, except OPW was real fighting. Siena had a show and the promotion was still co-ed. It hadn’t become female only like it is now. My Father was no longer a wrestler. He was a bookie for a smaller federation, LPW, and LPW would host smaller shows in the towns on the outskirts of the big cities OPW would hit. They followed the bigger promotion around, trying to draw in the diehard fans who wanted to see some of the other stars and younger potentials. I could tell female fighting was about to seriously explode again, like it did when my Mother was fighting. Alicia Christmas had been the great white knight of the business. But Siena had beaten her and the shock of that sent the business down some, while she went on a tour, buying up all the smaller promotions and bringing in their top female stars, while beating the champions. There was also a girl who was going around, participating in youth and adult martial arts tournaments, and beating everyone she faced. She was gaining tons of popularity too. Her name was Rachel Raheid, but she changed it to Rachel Apache.

In the middle of the LPW show, I went right up to him. I looked him right in the face and I said,

“My name is Precious Jackson. I’m your daughter.”

I’ll never forget his response.

“So? What do you want?”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Am I paying for you?”

“Yes, but--”

“Then we don’t have nothing to say to each other then.”

“What about the time that--”

“The court said I had to pay for you. That’s what I am doing. That’s all I need to do. If you want time and all them years back, you not getting them back. I’m not giving them to you either. I got one of you coming up to me with that Where was I when this that and the other shit happened stuff now for years. When you all gonna learn that I put you here, I pay your mommas and that’s it?”

I looked at him and the tears were welling up in my eyes, “I can’t believe a proud woman like my Mother, Your Majesty Sophia Jackson, would have spread her legs for a piece of shit like you!”

“If I’m a piece of shit and you came from me, what that make you? A piece of shit bastard from a piece of shit Daddy.”

I slapped him and he laughed. One of the other wrestlers walked up to him and said, “Having a hard time with the ladies tonight, huh Hacksaw?”

“Yeah, they all can’t ride the big thing,” was his response. I sat down in the bleachers and smoked a joint laced with cocaine. I downed it with Bud after Bud and then had a few cans of Lite to go with it. I was drunk and high and I had a mad on. I looked in the ring and one of the girls from OPW, Lady Justice, was in it. Some of the OPW people were at the show on loan to help LPW. I was so pissed off, and looking at this blue haired, blue eyed, six foot tall thing in the ring, in some yellow and blue superhero outfit, running her mouth about good deeds and good morals and all that Hulk Hogan John Cena kiddie bullshit… that only made me more upset. I jumped the rail and got in. She was tall and she looked strong, but I went right at her.

{alt}

Now, I didn’t know much about wrestling or fighting, other than what I’d seen on television and the few fights I’d gotten into. I was more of a striker, like my Mother. I swung at this blonde and she dodged every punch I threw, asking me every time what was wrong with me. I was in tears, I was so pissed off. I was hoping that my Father was somewhere watching me beat this bitch’s ass… and that’s when it happened. She ducked a punch, tackled me and took me down. Once she was on top of me, I didn’t know it, but it was over. Lady Justice was a world class wrestler. She could’ve beaten the hell out of me or put me in a submission hold, but she didn’t. She just kept me from getting up. At first, people thought it was all a part of the show, but security came and got me. I could hear her telling them that she had it all under control, but they weren’t hearing that. I was struggling to get free and they maced my eyes. I screamed at them while they carried me to the back, yelling at them that I was Your Majesty Sophia Jackson and Hacksaw Digger Gray’s daughter, and they didn’t know who they were messing with.

When I got to the back, I was stopped by my Father. There was a woman who might’ve been around my age or a little older with him. She was about my height too and she looked like Thandie Newton, one of my favorite actresses.


Ashley Gray/Thandie Newton

He looked at me and slapped me right in the mouth.

“You went out there and embarrassed me!!” he shouted, “Who the fuck are you and why do you keep saying you’re my daughter?!!”

“I am your daughter, you fucking pig!” I shouted back, and he grabbed me around the throat with both hands, starting to choke me,

“I have ten kids, you hear me?” he was gritting his teeth, but still managing to spit in my face, “Ten kids with my wife! I don’t have no other kids!! You not my daughter, you hear me, you little cxnt?!! You not my daughter?!!”

I kicked him right in the spot he denied help make me. He squealed and let me go. The other woman moved close to him and we made eye contact.

“And who are you?” I said, getting to my feet, “Another one of his whores? Did the boys in the back throw you down to him too? He likes them light skinned. You‘re a good fit!”

“No, you crazy bitch,” she said, “I’m his daughter. You‘ve been going around, spreading lies about my Dad. You and a bunch of other women, ruining his reputation. I‘m Ashley Gray and I‘m his daughter.”

We circled each other and I said, “How stupid can you be? How many women have come up to this man claiming to be his daughter, and you still think we‘re all lying.”

“My Daddy is good to me,” she said, “You’re not good enough to be his daughter.”

She lunged at me, but I popped her right in the nose and she went down. I stood over her and stared at him.

“I’m never coming back here,” I told him as she got to her feet, “I’m never coming back here ever again. I spent years of my life, YEARS OF MY LIFE, looking for you, trying to get you to acknowledge me, for what?”

“I’m not your Daddy, girl,” he said, “You too damn ugly to be my daughter. Fuck her up, Ashley.”

Her fist hit me right in the jaw and my head turned. I was starting to come down from the high and everything was spinning when she hit me. I didn’t go down, even with six beers in me. She hit me with a left to my jaw and a right to my nose and I was backing up. I was trying to steady myself to block her punches, but as soon as I got my footing, she drove her foot right into the pit of my stomach and I let out an “OOOUUUGGGHHH!!!” and went down on my knees… then my hands and knees. For some reason, the kick made me react differently than I thought…
“Ow fuck!! You kicked me in my fucking stomach, you bitch!!”

“Beat her ass some more, Ash” my Father said, and she tried to get on top of me, but I pushed her off and scrambled to get to my feet. She must’ve been taught martial arts or something, because this little light skinned prim and proper looking thing was getting the better of me… or maybe it was me being drunk and high and depressed. Maybe I wanted to lose. I took so many shots to the face, and every time she hit me in the stomach, I’d bend, but I wouldn’t go down. Nobody was breaking it up. I could see the other wrestlers watching and betting on who was going to win. I got her with a shot to her mouth and she staggered. I barely tagged her, but I had power in both hands. I threw a hook into her stomach and she spit all over my arm, then I grabbed her by her shoulders and kneed her in the stomach hard enough to lift her off the ground.

“You sure you’re his daughter?” I whispered in her ear, “You don’t fight like one.”

“Bitch!” she yelled and dug her nails into my stomach, clawing me and forcing me to let her go. I pulled my shirt up and saw the markings around my tiny upside down triangular shaped in sticking navel, that I had just gotten pierced a month before, since that was becoming the popular trend. As soon as I looked up, she hit me in the face, right on the nose and I went down on one of the tables, knocking cups of Gatorade everywhere. She grabbed me by my throat, but I put my foot on her stomach and overpowered her, gripping her arms and using them to pull me up to standing position. I kneed her in the stomach and I heard the air go out of her. Then I hooked her head under my arm, grabbed her leg and tried to suplex her on the table. I had seen that move done before and I knew I was probably too messed up to beat her with fists, so I tried a wrestling move. But it didn’t work out the way I wanted it too… in a good way. I slipped on the wet floor and it became a DDT suplex combo, her head was driven right through the table and she was knocked out. People ask me where I got my finished, The BBT, that’s how. They think I call it BBT as Brainbuster DDT, which is what it sort of is, but I originally called it the Bloody Baptism Takedown.

My Father went right at me, but Lady Justice stepped in front of him. For some reason, he didn’t advance any further. I guess he knew that if he attacked somebody from OPW, he’d blow it for the people in LPW and their chances to do business with the bigger fed. So, he picked his daughter up off the table and he walked away. She turned around and looked at me.

“I don’t know what all that was about,” she said, “But you are one immature girl. You have so much growing up to do.”

“Are you gonna lecture me like you were lecturing those kids out there?” I said, spitting my blood on the floor

“No,” she said, “I’ve got kids of my own and I’m not done having them. If you want to be a professional fighter, there are better ways to do it than showing up at a show and jumping in the ring. I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I’m going to give you my number. If you want to learn how to do it the right way, you call me. My name is Lara Jones.”

I took her number. I didn’t even tell her who my Mother was. And I didn’t call Lady Justice either. I had the LPW promoter come right up to me and offer me a contract as soon as LJ walked away. I was going to be a wrestler in LPW and my Father would be forced to book my matches. That was revenge enough, or so I thought. They came to me with an idea of me wearing blackface clown makeup and calling myself Jemima the Raggedy Wrestler. They said I had to come out and tap dance and they wanted me to incorporate dance moves into my fighting style. I didn’t like it at all. This is a business where you can lose your life. Dancing in the ring wasn’t going to win me any matches. But I did it and I won. I’d tour with them and open the shows. Every night, I burned cork into the blackface and put it on, as humiliating as it was, it was my Father and his hatred for brown skinned women that brought it out of me. I’d make it darker and darker and darker. I would take lipstick and make red teardrops and come out to circus music, but wrestle and strike with vicious intent. My Father and I would sometimes be in the same room, and he wouldn’t even look at me. He still messed around with his whores and every once in a while, a girl would show up claiming to be his daughter, and if she was light skinned enough, he’d talk to her.

It was a night in California when things turned a bit. I was about to burn the cork, and my Mother, Your Majesty Sophia Jackson, walked in. She wasn’t happy with me at all and I could see that on her face.

“Precious, what the hell are you doing?” her look was stern. I had barely any contact with her since I started following LPW. Cell phones were way too expensive, and I couldn’t even afford a car phone or cordless phone.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, “I haven’t seen you in years. Why should you care what I‘m doing anyway? You didn‘t bother to tell me how much of a fucking whore my father was!!”

“Let me answer your questions in the order you asked them,” she said, “We talked every day when I was overseas or touring. You disappeared. So, I didn’t stop looking for you until I found you. I care because what you’re doing is disrespectful and wrong. You know my story and you know what I’ve stood for. I spent years and years fighting racism in the fighting business, getting death threats and it ruined a bunch of my relationships with people. Now, my daughter is strutting around a ring, wearing blackface and tap dancing after matches. Do they make you eat fried chicken and watermelon too? Do you have to sing Negro spirituals or clean the shitty ass toilets or shine shoes for all the fans?”

“I…I…”

“You’re better than this, Precious,” she said, “I know I could’ve been a better Mother to you. I know I could’ve been there and I’ve made some stupid mistakes. Obviously, one of those mistakes led to you being born. But no matter what you think of me, you know I’m right. Let’s leave this stupid ass place and get you some help.”

One of the strongest moments in my life came when I got up and walked out that door with her. It took every fiber in me to forget about it and keep going. On the way out, we saw my Father. My Mother didn’t even look at him and neither did I, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see him looking at us. That would be the last time I’d see him alive. The promoter asked my Mother if she would make an appearance and she walked passed him without saying a word. We were gone. She brought me to Destiny Brown’s California home, where she was visiting. I’d met Destiny Brown before, and I knew her sons and daughters. In her prime and beyond, Destiny was the greatest female fighter of all time. She was 5’9” 140 lbs, with light brown skin and she was the most beautiful woman, looking so much like Dorothy Dandridge. The next morning when I woke up, my Mother was gone. She left me a letter, and in that letter was a bank account number that was in my name, a car title and keys to her Jaguar, and a couple of keys to safety deposit boxes. The letter only had two words in it: “Get clean.”

{alt}
Destiny Brown/Dorothy Dandridge

I’m not a mushy person, so I’ll move it on. Dorothy’s youngest son Tyson and I got along well while I was getting clean. He was really the first man I’d ever met who treated me right, and he had the nicest brown skin and such a great body. They always say that girls who have daddy issues end up looking for men who are like daddy, and I’d done that. But Tyson was a gentleman and genuinely cared about me. Once I realized that and I was clean, it was time to leave. Destiny had suffered so much in the ring, that she wasn’t always coherent. This woman fought EVERYBODY and Siena Blaze should’ve been tarred and feathered for making Destiny come out of retirement and fight her, the same way she made Dina Majors and others who were well in their late thirties, forties, and fifties come out of retirement and fight her for obsolete title belts they retired with, when she bought out their feds.

That morning when I knew I was clean, I got up, and left. Ten months later, I came back with Tyson and I’s baby girl, who I named Michelle, and I gave her to him. I told him that we couldn’t be together and that there was so much I had to do for myself. The year was 1996 and I hardly gave him a chance for a rebuttal. I got in my car and sped off. But the truth was, I was afraid. I was afraid to love Tyson the way he deserved to be loved, and I was afraid of what kind of Mother I’d be. Withdrawal was killing me and there was only one way I could think of to save myself from myself. I debuted in OPW with a new name and no blackface. Now, I was known as Prophecy and I’d wear grunge style clothes and come out to “Come Out and Play” by the Offspring. I’d stolen this act from ECW wrestler Raven. I really thought he was cool and grunge music appealed to me because I was always depressed. I was always thinking of killing myself. I didn’t know what or who I was. My Mother talked like she cared and she gave me things. When we were together, she made me feel like I was truly worth it. But she was hardly ever around. My Father… well by now, you know what he thought of me.

You know how the story goes once I become Prophecy and get famous, right? I had Horizon, my blue haired Selma Hayek looking valet. If you think we were girlfriend and girlfriend in real life, you’re right. Horizon was Jackie Chavez. She’d made a lot of money in Mexico wrestling and she joined OPW, but hardly ever wrestled on television until after I got fired by Siena Blaze. We met in OPW and hit it off. We knew we had to form a stable and we did.
{alt}

Later on in 1996, Rachel Apache won the OPW World Title from Siena Blaze and put the first loss on the boss’ record. That was a game changer. On that card, I fought Lady Justice… and I retired her. She had tried to be a mentor to me, even when I was in the locker room. She remembered me, but I wasn’t hearing what she had to say. I remember feeling a little sad when I beat her. The match was very competitive and there were times when I thought I was going to lose for sure. There were times when I thought I wasn’t good enough to beat her. But I did beat her. I reversed her power slam and hit her with the BBT for the 1,2,3. By then, we were flying high. Horizon and I were in love, and through 1997 into 1998, I had won every title in OPW except the World title.

Rachel Apache had that belt on lockdown. She was picking and choosing who she wanted to face, and if she felt you were worthy, she beat you. She would vacate the title to go do other things, like film a movie or compete as a boxer or cage fighter or some martial arts tournaments. She’d win all of them, then come back and win her title back. She beat me eight times I tried to face her. She was just too good and no matter what I tried, she had an answer. That’s why I say Destiny Brown was far and away the greatest female fighter to have ever lived. Akiana Oki never took left Japan to come to the US to fight our stars, and Rachel chose who she wanted to face. Destiny Brown went everywhere and didn’t care if you were a sinner or even on something when she faced you. And she wasn’t a snob about it either. If it were possible for Destiny Brown and Rachel Apache to fight each other in their primes, Destiny would’ve beaten Rachel every single time. But Destiny Brown would’ve never beaten my Mother.

I won the Queen of the Ring tournament in 1998 and I had a series of matches with so many great fighters. Rachel’s younger sister Jasmine and I wrestled in barbed wire matches, no holds barred matches, tables, ladders, and chairs matches. Hope and I had all kinds of matches. I worked some great matches with David Riptor, Tito Blaze, and Too Sexxxy, and by then, Justine Credible and Vixxxen had joined and we were having great matches too. When Alicia Christmas returned as a solid ring competitor and not the blonde figure head she was in the 80s, we had some great, great matches. That class was the best OPW ever had and Jasmine was the best fighter I’d ever worked with. Only a very few people even knew Rachel and Jasmine were sisters. Jasmine would dye her hair green and wear a mask. They didn’t speak to each other. They didn’t like each other. Rachel wasn’t the most social person, but for a girl who wrestled in a mask, when Jazz took that mask off, she was the nicest person. So was Sarah Primetime, who had about fifty different variations of the choke slam. But every time I tried to get the World title, Rachel or Riptor had it and I couldn’t beat either of them. When Jasmine held it, we had a best 2 of 3 falls match, and I didn’t win it. That was probably the best match of my career.

I remembered an interview with Rachel, where she was asked about me and why I can’t seem to win the world title. She said, “She can’t win it because she’s not good enough. She’s an above average fighter, but she doesn’t take this seriously enough to reach the next level.”

I’d won a lot of matches over big names. Every title match I’d won was a big moment for me, whether it was the TV Title, the People’s Title, or the Tag Team Titles. I started getting depressed again because I couldn’t win the big one. I won my first big match against Lady Justice, and despite beating Jasmine, Justine, and a bunch of the others and winning multiple reigns with other belts, I couldn’t get that World title. Horizon was so supportive, but there were problems in our relationship. She wanted to leave OPW and start her own promotion, or buy the one she came from in Mexico. I didn’t want to leave and I damn sure didn’t want to go to Mexico. But soon, leaving wouldn’t be something I could control. I started to think about Tyson and my daughter and something hit me like a ton of bricks… I had been the same kind of parent to Michelle that my Mother and sperm donor Father had been to me. I hadn’t thought that much about my little girl or Tyson and as many times as OPW rolled through California, Siena’s home state, I never went to visit. I was afraid, ashamed, and when I realized that by running from love, I’d made things worse, it sent me over the edge. I had been drinking again and as hard as it was to quit the cocaine (Justine, Tito Blaze, Samantha, and I smoked weed all the time, and when Glory joined OPW, she smoked it with us too), it was easy to do lines of it. Siena Blaze was a huge drug user and abuser. She’d gotten clean, but what did she care, really?

When I lost my last OPW World Title match to the new champion, Glory, I broke my collarbone and my shin. When I came back from injury, that’s when Siena left a message letting me know I was fired.

The year was 2001... I remember like it just happened this morning…

At the tone, please record your message… “Hi, Precious. This is Siena. Look, I’ve been trying to get you to come in so I could do this face to face, but you haven’t been showing up. It’s hard for me to do this because you‘re a quality talent with great genetics, but business is business. The FBI is really cracking down on the steroid and drug uses in the fighting business. This shit with baseball and the Olympics has got them on my ass and you’re snorting cocaine lines and showing up for shows late, high, or drunk. I’m sorry, but we’re gonna have to let you go. I know you’re probably gonna say that I did all that shit myself when I was younger, and I did. But we all gotta mature, and when you’re good enough to be in OPW, the door will be open and waiting for you. But right now, I can’t risk that.”

I’d never been fired from anything before, even as much as a hard ass I was to work with. And even if Horizon claimed she wanted to leave, after we broke up and I got fired, she stayed in OPW for three more years, having some of her best matches and winning two OPW TV Championships and five Tag Team Championships. So, where was I to go. Everything I’d done, and I was still a failure, especially to the one I loved more than anything, but barely knew… my daughter Michelle.

I spent a lot of time making cheap appearances at smaller feds. I kept on using cocaine and ended up in and out of rehab centers. I’d occasionally make an appearance backstage at an OPW pay per view and hang out with Jasmine, Justine or Glory. And I watched OPW fill up with Marie B’s and Kayla’s and girls who weren’t what we were. Siena was hiring people to make short term impacts and the long term, steady competitors were being ignored. She had great wrestlers and superior fighters, but she’d bring in Tonya Harding for a match or strip Gloyr of her World Title and give it to Marie, who couldn’t fight worth a shit, and she’d lose it to Kayla, who wasn’t that good either. Siena was sacrificing the texture of the business for the popularity of the business. And the fans loved these girls, but what did they know? They loved Alicia Christmas back when she was just a blonde bimbo who’s promoter was paying people to lay down for her.

As cool as I seemed to the fans I met and to the other wrestlers I‘d see backstage, I was falling apart inside. I was dead meat on two feet, running from my responsibilities and not caring about anything or anyone, but wishing I could get the years back. I went to a show in Dallas and that’s when I first laid eyes on Taboo. She was 5’10” 140 lbs and took that name because of her resemblance to Sade. I also saw a fighter named Michelle Angel, who was being hyped as the future of the business, but I didn’t meet her or talk to her. There was something about her that made me avoid her, even though she was staring at me and seemed like she wanted to talk to me. Maybe it was the fact that even though she had the confident swagger and wasn’t afraid to say she was the best, she still did the role model hero thing for the kids.

{alt}
Sade/Taboo

She was an amazing wrestler, one of the fastest I’d ever seen and reminded me so much of Jasmine in her exotic ways and muay thai striking and submission holds. But Taboo used some power moves too. She was very strong and very consistent. I was fifteen years older than she was, and we became friends. She said she remembered me from my OPW days as Prophecy, and I told her I was glad she didn’t remember me from my LPW days. Taboo was a doctor and she’s the one I may owe my life to, among others. She said she grew up idolizing Jasmine and I because we were different; we were the weird ones, the mysterious ones. She moved me into her apartment and started the long process of getting me clean. Eventually, I woke up again, clean. But this time, I didn’t leave. I stayed. I taught Taboo almost everything I knew about the fighting business and about people, even though she was as polished and smart a woman as I’d ever met.

I ended up attending the Hall of Fame show back in 2011 and I saw Lady Justice. I also saw my Mother get inducted into the Female Fighting Hall of Fame. There’s a picture of me with Lady Justice’s daughter Lauren, who is a wrestler too, Siena’s oldest daughter Christina Munoz, Alicia Christmas II, Destiny Brown’s daughter Brett, Trinity Love II, and Dina Majors’ daughter, Diana Majors… all the oldest daughters of the great fighters from that era. Funny how none of our Mothers wanted us to be fighters, but all of us ended up that way, and half of us didn’t want to be in the picture with the others.  The hug my Mother and I shared is one I’ll never forget. We’re starting to patch things up now. We’re really working on a good Mother/Daughter relationship, because we’ve both been through so much and it’s the pain that we have in common.


Lady Justice’s daughter, Lauren/ Katee Sackoff

After the show was over, I got another moment that I’ll never forget. My Mother brought Michelle Angel over to meet me. Michelle was 5’10” and 150 lbs, just like me. She was light skinned and pretty and I could see how so many people would compare her to Destiny Brown. She looked like her, in a Paula Patton kind of way.


Paula Patton/Michelle “The Fighting Angel” Brown

We stared at each other and that’s when it hit me. My Mother didn’t say anything. I started to tear up immediately because I knew.

“Hello, I’m Michelle Jackson-Brown,” she said, “My Father is Tyson Brown. You’re my Mother.”

My jaw dropped. It was the shock of it all. Her words to me were almost the same words I’d told my Father years before, when I was her age. She was different than I was though. She was so… regal, like a down to earth duchess. She had eyes that were holding back the emotion for this moment, but were peering into me, trying to understand why I’ve been away from her for so long.

“I haven’t been well,” I told her

“Are you well now?” she asked me. I looked around and my Mother was nowhere near, but I could see her talking to Samantha.

“I think so,” I said, “I’ve had a lot of hallucinations and if this is one, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, since the day you were born.”

“I’m real,” she said, “But I’m wondering if you are. I’m wondering if you’re ready to be a part of my life. I don‘t care to judge what happened before or who you used to be. I just want my Mother in my life.”

She had every reason to hate me, but she didn’t. She wanted me in her life.

“You know,” she said, “I became a fighter because of you. I honestly didn’t think you thought I was good enough to ever come and see me, as a child or as a fighter. I’m the number one ranked freestyle fighting Olympian in the US now.”

“I can’t promise you it’ll be perfect, Michelle,” I told her, the tears flowing now

“I don’t need it to be perfect,” she said, “I just need it to be good enough.”
****************************************

Now you must understand why I hate the pretty world, the fake world, where people pretend to be what they aren’t, where people hide their flaws and mistakes behind a smile washed in milk and Holy Water. I’d been running and running. First, I was chasing, and then, I was being chased. I never stopped to look back, and that was where my biggest mistakes were. That’s where I fucked up. I had chased my Father into the business, then I ran from my daughter to be in the business, then the business dumped me. I had to sit down and figure out what I wanted. And that’s when the paint came back. That’s when I knew what I had to do and what I hated most.

I put that paint on my face, but it wasn’t blacface, not anymore. It was white, a dull grayish white. I didn’t even put it on that thick because I wanted it to crack and peel. I keep the blood red tears because I feel like my eyes have been bleeding and I’ve been crying blood for years, from the things I’ve seen and from the hurt inside of me. I picked Chris Cornell’s “Seasons” as my new theme music. The song is slow and not really a song a fighter would use for an entrance theme, but the lyrics fit me well…

"Seasons" by Chris Cornell

Summer nights and long warm days
Are stolen as the old moon falls
And the mirror shows another face
Another place to hide it all
Another place to hide it all

And I'm lost behind
In the words I'll never find
And I'm left behind
As the seasons roll on by

Sleeping with a full moon blanket
Sand and feathers for my head
Dreams have never been the answer
Dreams have never made my bed

And I'm lost behind
In the words I'll never find
And I'm left behind
As the seasons roll on by

Well I wanna fly above the storm
But you can't dry feathers in the rain
And the naked floor is cold as hell
The naked floor reminds me
The naked floor reminds me

That I'm lost behind
In the words I'll never find
And I'm left behind
As the seasons roll on by

If I should be short on words
And long on things to say
Could you crawl into my world
And take me worlds away
Should I be beside myself
Never leave or stay

And I'm lost behind
In the words I'll never find
And I'm left behind
As the seasons roll on by

I got my body in shape and I’m coming back to OPW with a vengeance. I’m bringing Taboo with me, and Horizon and I have been in contact. We’re going to take over. No more running. No more lying. No more chasing. I’m ready to stand and fight.

THE END?
"When people walk away from you... let them go. Your destiny is never tied to anyone who leaves you... and it doesn't mean they are bad people. It just means that their part in your story is over."

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Offline howardcosell

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Re: Tears of a Clown
« Reply #1 on: April 18, 2014, 08:02:23 PM »
Thank you! That was a tough one to write, but I enjoyed doing it. I hope more of the people who took the time to read it enjoying it too. I agree with your point about the pics. They do help me with some of the visuals and I'm glad they help the readers. Thanks again. Considering how good your work is, that's an honor to receive that compliment from you.
"When people walk away from you... let them go. Your destiny is never tied to anyone who leaves you... and it doesn't mean they are bad people. It just means that their part in your story is over."

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Offline Fw190 A

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Re: Tears of a Clown
« Reply #2 on: April 18, 2014, 08:20:44 PM »
Real first-class stuff! Using pictures of celebrities makes it seen like they're actresses portraying the characters in the story. This gives a movie feel to it. I don't want to speak for BH, but I know he does the same sort of thing in his. Really makes fictional characters come alive.

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Offline howardcosell

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Re: Tears of a Clown
« Reply #3 on: April 19, 2014, 03:08:21 AM »
Thank you so much! It's great to get feedback. It's always appreciated.
"When people walk away from you... let them go. Your destiny is never tied to anyone who leaves you... and it doesn't mean they are bad people. It just means that their part in your story is over."

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Offline peccavi

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Re: Tears of a Clown
« Reply #4 on: April 21, 2014, 01:08:58 AM »
impressive writing which I need to read and read again. thanks
Blondes are cool Brunettes are Hot!!

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Offline Michelle

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Re: Tears of a Clown
« Reply #5 on: April 21, 2014, 01:32:02 AM »
Very good Howie :)

I do like the pics as being part of it.....your writing is more than good enough to carry the story without it......but the pics make it that much more effective BECAUSE the writing is good and that is because the character development is pretty solid.  Pics add to that development.  It all adds up to a great entertaining package you want to pick up...read...and finish :)

Nice job....a fun read....I liked the whole concept..
"Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" - George Santayana, 18th century Spanish philosopher

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Offline howardcosell

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Re: Tears of a Clown
« Reply #6 on: April 21, 2014, 03:40:06 PM »
Thank you to both of you! You are two of the best writers on this board, so I greatly appreciate the kind words.  :)
"When people walk away from you... let them go. Your destiny is never tied to anyone who leaves you... and it doesn't mean they are bad people. It just means that their part in your story is over."

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Offline Kayla

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Re: Tears of a Clown
« Reply #7 on: April 22, 2014, 08:12:54 AM »
Oh my, little blonde Beth is just as much of a trash talker as Marie B - Tee hee!  ;D ;)

Hugs
Kayla
Naughty - but oh, so NICE! :-)

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Offline howardcosell

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Re: Tears of a Clown
« Reply #8 on: April 23, 2014, 01:22:41 AM »
Beth is a great character. I had to do something to pull her out of Marie's very big shadow lol. Who knows? OPW's had its share of sister vs sister matches. Maybe one day, it'll be Marie vs Beth lol
"When people walk away from you... let them go. Your destiny is never tied to anyone who leaves you... and it doesn't mean they are bad people. It just means that their part in your story is over."

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Offline ~Rox Erotique~

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Re: Tears of a Clown
« Reply #9 on: April 23, 2014, 02:09:41 PM »
Another fantastic portrayal. The massive depth of character draws you in from the get go and keeps you hooked throughout

Marvelous! ;D

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I'm paranoid and needy. So I think people are talking about me, but not as much as I'd like.

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Offline howardcosell

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Re: Tears of a Clown
« Reply #10 on: April 23, 2014, 09:36:23 PM »
Thanks, my dear friend. We'll be seeing more of Precious/Prophecy very, very soon  ;) Michelle Angel as well.
"When people walk away from you... let them go. Your destiny is never tied to anyone who leaves you... and it doesn't mean they are bad people. It just means that their part in your story is over."