Matt Finney

Being Chris Benoit  by Matt Finney 

I wanted to be Chris Benoit. I didn’t have any tights so I borrowed some black Lane Bryant stretch pants from my mom. I didn’t shave all week. I greased myself down with baby oil. I was the spitting image of him. All except my 200 pounds of pure fat instead of muscle. I got a copy of his theme music and played it everytime I came out of the kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom. I kept the look of a caged animal on my face at all times.

My dad said “I thought you quit that whole pussy wrestling shit when you were 12!” I had no choice but to put him in the Crossface. My mom tried to get me offa him. But she knows the rules, he’s gotta tap. He did… just like they always do. Who wouldn’t? I’m the Rabid Wolverine!

My dad’s a pretty sore loser though. He got all my clothes and posters and threw them out on the lawn. He told me I wasn’t gonna pull anything like that under his roof. Our rivalry has always been too big for pay-per-view. And there I was, in my mom’s stretch pants, my skin glistening in the sun. Now if I only had a wife to strangle

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