masksovermasks

[bookerman]

i

am

NOT 

madman szalinski

my life is a lie

"....what the fuck is this?"

[bookerman]

"....I know, right girl?"

"...yeah, I'm gonna stay for another season. I kind of like it, don't you...?"

"You're just jealous you can't cover me."

"Mmmhmmm. Try that shit sometime and see what happens..."

"HAHAHA!"

"Oh, my God..."

"...yeah. I miss him too."

"Of course I still fuckin' loved the guy. Couldn't you tell?"

"...he wouldn't tell me. He didn't tell ANYBODY, chick. He just kept it hidden...for so long."

"If I had to guess, he had to have known for at least three years. That's the only way it could have spread so fast..."

"...hey....listen....I found this..."

"what?"

"Tell Tammy I said to go choke on six dicks."

"HAHAHAHA! MISS YOU TOO BITCH!"

"....oh yeah, we definitely gotta do that sometime soon..."

"okay, so before I go...."

"...I found this...note...cleaning up that room."

"Yeah, I finally got the nerve to do it."

"....honestly? Two ounces. Two ounces worth of shake around his bed. And he was only in it for what, a couple months?"

"That's insane. And all those butter tubs? I'll never need to buy Tupperware again."

"I know, I know...but the man was so god damn high his entire life, I don't know how he stayed that stoned. When he went to Heaven, he literally walked into the Pearly Gates. Promise you."

"..but anyways...I found this note...it looked like just a bunch of scribbles...right? Just a bunch of random shit. It looks like he was barely able to write. He had to be close when he wrote it..."

"...well, hey...I looked closer, and it looked like there was something else on there..."

"It's an address."

"...fuck no, I don't know who lives there. I don't even know where it is..."

"Yes, I searched it on Google Maps. It wasn't there..."

"....that's right! He always used Bing instead."

"....I know. He was troubled."

"....I think it's a valid address."

"...4212 Wild Horse Court, Apartment 13B, Denver CO."

"I don't know anyone who lives in Denver, I didn't know he did either. Do you?"

"Well, yeah I'm sure a lot of the Divas roster lives in Denver..."

"...really?"

"...we should pay her a visit. Do you think he was...."

"...you know...."

"I know. He got around. He fucked me, Laurel Anne, Jacqui M...I can't remember, did we...?"

"We didn't? Why the fuck not?"

"Oh. Makes sense. He told me about this one time, he took four or five Viagra and drank a fifth of whiskey. Said he never prayed so hard in his life. Straight fucked up. He thought he was having a heart attack right then and there, he was trying to write his will on the back of a Wendy's napkin..."

"He always thought he had to be better. He always thought he could do better. Towards the end, he started to get it. He wasn't just cutting the promo when he told people he lived his life on his terms. He got to take that to the grave with him."

"Yeah. But something seems weird about this to me. I don't think it was something that simple. I've found some weird stuff in here. Like, there's this picture...you gotta see it for yourself. What you doing?"

"Girl, my man owned a fucking plane. I can be there whenever the hell I feel like it."

"Yep. That's the plan. Let's all pack up and head to Denver."

"What else we got to do with our time? Just trust me. I'll bring all this stuff with me and let you look at it when I get there, okay?"

"See you in a few hours. Byeeee!"

[bookerman]

"...what if she doesn't let us in?"

"She will."

"I hope so. We didn't come all the way here for legal weed."

"I'm gonna be honest with you, Molly. I think the whole thing is overrated."

"What you mean?"

"I mean, it's all commercialized and shit now. It's all retail hipster culture shit. Like, I would just want a bag of weed. That's it. Just something I could smoke, not a whole bunch, nothing special. But you saw the shops. It's all like, 'do you want to try some of this indica chai tea with lavender spice or some bullshit like that..."

"I get where you're coming from Ariel, but you don't ever diss the chai tea. Are we clear?"

"Yeah. Whatever. So...you ready?"

"This is your deal. You knock on the door."

Oh. Sorry. I forgot. You guys need a narrator. It's been a while. So here's the story. I flew from Columbus OH to Los Angeles, and dragged Molly Cyrus with me to Denver. Here, I'm looking for some chick that Madman met a few years ago from Cincinnati. He tried to get her into the wrestling business, but she didn't want to do it. She did like the idea of playing pro women's football though, and she signed up with the LFL. She's now one of Denver's enforcers on defense. And I think she knows what Madman was trying to tell us before he died.

"....here we go..."

This is so crazy. I've never met this woman without a helmet on. I know nothing about her. And here I am, standing in front of her apartment door with Molly. I'll just give the door a light tap. 

"Knock harder than that, you kidding me? That woudn't wake up my cat." 

There. I knocked again. Just a LITTLE bit louder. Better? I guess not. I see you squaring up like you about to throw hands with a fuckin' metal door, are you kidding me?

"Here. I'ma show you how to roll up on a bitch-"

"Excuse me?"

Awwww shit. I am so glad I am not directly in front of this door. 

"Oh, there she is..."

"Can I help you two? Don't I know you...?"

"You know the back of my jersey because I'm too fast for your pilsner stout ass..."

"Molly..."

What the fuck? Did this chick just crack Molly in the face with a pasta spoon? That's what it looks like. Better grab it from her just to be sure...

"Calm down..."

"Fuck you! Get the fuck out my build...ing..."

Okay. So you know wrist control. This will not be as easy as I hoped. You're also pretty strong, so I'm gonna need foot position...no, no, you will not sweep my legs...okay...and now we're going into your apartment....SHIT!

"Not today!"

Okay. Let's recap. I just got my eye cracked with a god damn metal pasta spoon. It is now bleeding. I have no clue where Molly is. This bitch just locked me inside her apartment.

"You picked the wrong one..."

Great. I am now in a life or death fight with Hollie Michaels.

"..."

This is not how I wanted to start my day.

[bookerman]

Hey.

I know I've been out on the road like mad, babe.

Here's some money to pay on some of the bills until I get home.

They might use me for a TV taping soon. That's good. 

I really hope that this Madman gimmick gets over. I hear the fans talking, and some of them think that wrestling is starting to get lame. Too many musclehead dweebs. And I hear the bookers talking too. They know the fans like seeing the smaller guys do the more athletic stuff. They especially like that one move I do where I do a backflip, but I'm jumping forwards. I got told not to do it anymore. I think that means it's special or something.

Anyways, hopefully the next time you see me I'll be a TV star.

And maybe 1990 will be better to us than 1989 was. 

I love you.

[bookerman]

"BITCH!"



Oh yeah, that's right. I'm being shoved over a couch by a fucking defensive linewoman.



"Calm...down...this...isn't..."



"ISN'T WHAT?"



That's IT! I've had enough!



"What...it..."



Oh, this is great! Okay guys, I'm gonna take over here so y'all know what's going on. Oh, it's Madman. Yeah, my spirit is in the room right now. No, I can't tell you why I haven't crossed over yet. Anyways, back to the show. So Hollie's about to jam the handle of this spoon right into Ariel's eye. right? Ariel's all like "I don't wanna fight!" But Hollie's all like "FUCK YOUR SHIT!" So yeah. Ariel just flipped Hollie over the couch, into the floor, and she's throwing her coat off. Oh yeah. Shit's about to get real...



"I don't want to fight you, Hollie..."



"Then what the hell is going on here?"



Ariel's gonna kick her, I bet she's gonna kick her!



"Hollie...settle down..."



"How did you know where I live?"



"I found your address in Jer...Madman's things..."



"Yeah? What? You two were divorced! So what if we had sex a few times back when he was getting my deal signed with the LFL..."



"I don't care about that...we used to pick up third wheels all the time!"



That we did, my dear. That we did. So it looks like things might be chilled out for a second...



"Excuse me?"



"I'm sorry, that came out totally wrong...I didn't mean to...."



"You better start giving me some answers right now..."



"Okay, okay..."



OH MY GOD HOLLIE HAS THE FISH TANK



"NOW!"



BARK! BARK! WHINE! I KNOW PEACH! I'M SCARED TOO!



"HOLLIE, CALM DOWN! HOLY SHIT HOW MUCH DOES THAT THING WEIGH FILLED? YOU'RE GETTING WATER ALL OVER THE FLOOR! I THINK YOU LOST YOUR BETA!"



PEACH NO! BARK! BARK! Great. The ghost of my dead dog just ate a live beta fish. How the hell is that even possible?



"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"



"I found something else in his room...and I think it told me to come here..."



"What? I don't have anything! I get paid 40K a year to play football in volleyball shorts!"



"..."



Don't tell her Ariel makes 55K.



"No, no, no.....not like that...."



"He didn't give me anything, I swear! Just 25K and a mask....that's it..."



Ariel, can you take back over for me please? Come on, Peach. Time to keep wandering this plane of existence doomed as a lost soul until someone figures it the fuck out.


"....a mask....?"



"Yeah. It's right over there..."



Hollie nodded over to a shelf. I didn't think now was the time to tell her to put the fish tank back.



"On top of the bowling pin. He always tried to tell me I should have been a wrestler. I said no thanks. I hate fighting. I swear."



"Yeah, you could have fooled me..."



"I'm sorry. I was already on edge today, and when Molly said something..."



"You know Molly?"



Hollie finally puts the fish tank back, albeit without much of its water and one of its fish. I went ahead and sat down on her surprisingly unblemished white leather couch. Hollie went over to the shelf, looking for something other than the plainly obvious black and orange Madman mask. I remember that mask. Cincinnati Gardens, 2012.



"Well yeah. We've obviously played each other a few times. She's fun as hell to drink with too. And a lot smarter than she looks. A LOT. I don't blame you for bringing her with you. Whatever you're looking for, I bet you anything she could help you find it."



"Do you know what Molly did before she started playing football?"



"I saw some old YouTube stuff. Have you never heard the term 'playing your part'? That's all I'm gonna say."



Hollie turned back to face me, holding a folded piece of white paper.



"This is what he gave me with the mask. Here."



I unfolded the paper, and went to read it aloud. I think we both heard his voice read it.



"Hey Hollie. I know you don't want to get in the ring. That's cool. I still love ya anyway. But I have to find a new host and I'm running out of time. Whatever you choose to do, I know you will kick ass at it. I'll be watching. Jeremy."



When I looked back up, Hollie was about to cry. I didn't know I was too until I did.



"He changed so much since I first met him...he would have never been this positive. Never."



"I'm so sorry, hon..."



"...before he became Madman, he didn't believe in anything. It's like....that mask made him who he is."



"What the hell did he mean by find a new host...?"



BAM.



"Shit, you called the cops?"



"Hell no! What are you worried about? Weed's legal here!"



"I'm not holding...I gave my shit to-"



BAM!



"WHAT NOW BITCH?"



OH MY GOD MOLLY. NO. NO NO NO NO!



"OPEN THIS DOOR AND GIVE ME BACK MY FRIEND BEFORE I..."



"Go ahead and let her in. She's cool."



"She acts up, I'm throwing her scrawny little ass out the god damn window."



"Maybe I should be the one to open the door..."



"Go for it."



I get up. I go to the door. Molly's still talking shit. I open the door. Molly shoves me over, leaps into the air with both feet, and is poised to drive both of them straight into Hollie's chest...



"BITCH..."



Oh, this is beautiful. I gotta break this down in slo-mo. Molly's coming in hot, right? Two feet, double dropkick, WHAT DID YOU SAY? Molly's coming in...Hollie grabs her by the feet....over her head...and dumps Molly straight into the fuckin' fish tank! And to make matters worse, it falls back off onto the floor, water eveyrwhere, Molly everywhere...



".....damnit."



Now we gotta clean this up.

[bookerman]

"Hey girl."

"No, we didn't find anything."

"Yeah. Something about a new host. Whatever that means."

"...sssh...keep it down about that!"

"Because I don't know. I don't know for sure."

"Yes. Of course I still have it."

"No. You're the only one who knows. I can't hide anything from you. I won't. But you CAN'T mention this to anyone. Ever. Please."

"I know. I've never had a reason not to trust you."

"Girl, I don't know what to do. I mean, I do know what to do...but this means so much to Ariel. I don't know what to do..."

"Fuck I wish you were here."

"Fine, fine. Look...I have an idea. I think I know how everybody can get what they want."

"Get me the number for UKWF's personnel department. Just text it to me, Ariel's coming back."

"Bye girl."

[bookerman]

Christmas just isn't the same this year.

Here's what I know for sure so far.

When I inherited Madman's estate and enacted his will, I went over everything. Most of what I saw didn't surprise me. We talked about this a hundred times through the years. A bunch of people got a little bit of money. Some people got a whole bunch of money. A couple wrestling promotions got a good donation, and some kids got a free bottle of cancer treatment.

It was also written in there that he wanted a giant dick spraypainted onto the roof of Chris Callum's house.

You can't always get what you want.

He had a hell of a lot of money. In a hell of a lot of places. But it all made sense. The names made sense. The numbers made sense.

Except for two entries.

"5.5m KING, JEFF"
"5.5m PARMACELLI, VINNY - ESTATE"

Why was he giving five and a half million dollars to a dead man? And why was he giving five and half million to...YOU?

Then I began finding the notes. Like everything else in his life, they were scattered all over the place. He never liked to keep everything together. He believed in making people go on a damn treasure hunt for everything. But I know him. I know how he thinks.

He always had something inside of him that wasn't right. When I met him, he had just lost his entire family. That shook him, but he worked through it and eventually he got back to being himself. But after he started wearing the mask, he just became so volitaile...he was literally a walking anomaly of existance.

I think Jeremy began to believe that Madman wasn't just some character he thought up. He thought Madman was real. And he wanted to make sure that even if he died, Madman Szalinski would live.

He was sterile. He could never father children. Of course, we could afford alternative methods. But we spent two hundred days a year on the road. We didn't have time to start a family. No matter how much dick he slung, he could never have a child. And even if he could, he would not have lived long enough to see that child grow into his boots.

He wanted to pass on his knowledge and his skills.

Bit by bit, I think he did succeed in doing that. His efforts in GPW and UKWF exposed the next generation to his style. Artemis Kaiser and Gaia Galanos both owe their careers to him. So does Molly Cyrus. So did Darren Hughes. And the list of people who learned from him and expanded themselves is almost infinite. Madman influenced the entire business for years to come. But I don't think it was enough.

Yesterday I found this scribbled note, I think he wrote it right before he died. All it said was "I AM NOT MADMAN SZALINSKI MY LIFE IS A LIE"

There was an address on it as well. I looked it up. Tomorrow, Molly and I are going over there.

If you know anything that could help me, now would be a great time to share it. I know we never talked. I don't even know if you'll check your email and ever read this. But if you and he were truly that close, please help me get him some closure. Please help me figure out wat he was trying to tell us.

- Ariel Shadows

[Jeff King]

Ariel,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I know you have many questions but I only have the ability to give you so many answers. The first thing you should know is that Jeremy was not raised by his biological parents. You see, his parents were professional wrestlers. Around the age of three he was sent to live with a few distant family members.

Jeremy never truly wanted to be a wrestler. He fought against it often and yet, his skill proved he was one of the greatest. Some people equate greatness to championships wins and victories, but this is not what Madman was about. No, Madman was an image. A perfect vision of a wrestler that could never die.

Jeremy knew for a very long time that he was dying. It began when UTA refused to book him. You know what happened. He told me about the visit to the doctor, about the tears, about the eventual need to remove himself from this world, the world of professional wrestling.

The reason I know these facts are because I am, in fact, the father of Jeremy. I am also the harbringer of Madman.

1. Madman Szlinski (early 1900)
2. Madman Szlinski (1950)
3. Madman Szlinski (1950-1985)
4. Madman Szlinski (Jeremy, 1990s-late 2010s)
5. Madman Szlinski (Yet to recieve the mask)

The preciding list should be enough information for you to understand. Do a quick Google search and you'll see fans debating the existance of Madman Szlinski. The truth is that each of the men on this list suffered from a terminal disease. The purpose of the mask was to allow each of these men to live on, forever. The legacy was carried by Polish immigrants, passed on to men who knew their time was short, and in that instance whoever wore the mask became a legend.

I'm sure you have many more questions. Unfortunatly my time is short. I cannot show my face in public, nor do I own a phone. If you wait seven days I'll send you a packet of information.

It seems prior to his death Jeremy found the next Madman Szlinski.

With regards, Jeff King aka Nirvana

PS: Embrace Nirvana.

[Jeff King]

(Reposted to fix Grammar issues)

Ariel,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I know you have many questions but I only have the ability to give you so many answers. The first thing you should know is that Jeremy was not raised by his biological parents. You see, his parents were professional wrestlers. Around the age of three he was sent to live with a few distant family members.

Jeremy never truly wanted to be a wrestler. He fought against it often and yet, his skill proved he was one of the greatest. Some people equate greatness to championships wins and victories, but this is not what Madman was about. No, Madman was an image. A perfect vision of a wrestler that could never die.

Jeremy knew for a very long time that he was dying. It began when UTA refused to book him. You know what happened. He told me about the visit to the doctor, about the tears, about the eventual need to remove himself from this world, the world of professional wrestling.

The reason I know these facts are because I am, in fact, the father of Jeremy. I am also the harbringer of Madman.

1. Madman Szlinski (early 1900)
2. Madman Szlinski (1950)
3. Madman Szlinski (1950-1985)
4. Madman Szlinski (Jeremy, 1990s-late 2010s)
5. Madman Szlinski (Yet to receive the mask)

The preceding list should be enough information for you to understand. Do a quick Google search and you'll see fans debating the existence of Madman Szlinski. The truth is that each of the men on this list suffered from a terminal disease. The purpose of the mask was to allow each of these men to live on, forever. The legacy was carried by Polish immigrants, passed on to men who knew their time was short, and in that instance whoever wore the mask became a legend.

I'm sure you have many more questions. Unfortunately my time is short. I cannot show my face in public, nor do I own a phone. If you wait seven days I'll send you a packet of information.

It seems prior to his death Jeremy found the next Madman Szlinski.

With regards, Jeff King aka Nirvana

PS: Embrace Nirvana.

[bookerman]

Hello, Mr. King.

I do not expect a reply, but I feel I should tell you what's going on.

With some help, I was able to confirm what you had given me. I've spoken with the family of Vinny Parmacelli. In turn, I was given the name "Karl Nowak" as the man who passed down the mask to him.

As you can guess, Karl has long since passed. He has no relatives living. That didn't stop me from venturing to Little Poland and asking a few questions.

I found someone who knew enough English to tell me what I needed to know.

The first Madman Szalinski was a World War II resistance fighter. Nobody knows his real identity, and his existance is still up for debate. The story is that this man faced certain death against an entire platoon of Nazi soldiers, and that he managed to kill the entire squad singlehandedly before dying himself. Madman Szalinski is a fable figure representing self-sacrifice. When they speak his name, a hushed reverence falls over their words.

His mask was a modified gas mask, painted blue and red to mimic the colors of the Allies. Poland was ravaged by both Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia. There is a chance this man was never Polish to begin with. But nobody knows for sure.

If I was able to learn all of this, then there is no doubt in my mind that he knew all of this as well.

The reason that the new Madman has not stepped forward, I believe, is that Madman wanted to tell them the whole story. He died before he could do that.

I must make one more confession.

I know who the next Madman is.

I can't tell them anything that I'm doing. They can't know. I would get the living shit beat out of me if they knew I used their e-mail and pretended to be them.

But it's worth it, just to ease his pain.

Thank you for everything.

I promise, I won't let this go to waste.