My first DTW match signed, sealed, and delivered.
Thank the gods! It felt good to wrestle how I'd wanted to, without limitations, without rules, without sanctions put in to take away everything that makes me special, and without motherfucking stage hands in black grabbing all the shit I intended to use to beat the fuck out of people with and spiriting it away to the back.
I'm singing "Grandma Got Run Over By a Dragon," a little tune of my own composition and am folding my ring gear up and putting it in my bag when something is wrapped around my neck and tightened.
Hmm. I think it's barbed wire attached to two wooden handles, which are meant to be crossed over behind my neck and twisted tighter and tighter, either increasing the choke, or breaking my neck.
For perhaps the first time since being forcibly dragged from my home world to this bland, boring backwater of an uninspired orb-shaped realm (whose creator being is obsessed with beetles), I was actually feeling like I was back home.
Unfortunately it wasn't the "being happily left alone without having to adventure, left to run my tavern/inn/pizza parlor in peace" sort of home-y feeling, but rather the "being dragged to big social gatherings put on by the rich and powerful and competing for silly prizes in any of a thousand various ridiculous dog and pony show events" sort of home-y feeling.
Much to my sorrow the day's festivities lacked my favorite event. I was just as loud and vocal about my displeasures back home as I was when given a microphone and an international television audience, so I had a tendency to piss people off. But alas, no one had challenged me to an honor duel or attempted to kill me.
