Guest story: Confessions of a Jobber Kid

Hey gang. As anyone who has seen this blog knows, my output is not exactly prodigious. So to help fill the void, a fan of the site wrote in with his own story and wondered if I’d post it. I’m happy to here. It’s a nice tale about a jobber who gets some…Bad News. Thanks to Christopher for the contribution. Apologies for the paragraph formatting, it wasn’t letting me get double space.

CONFESSIONS OF A JOBBER KID
By Christopher

A surge of excitement pumped through me. Here I am, a fifteen-year-old kid, in my first pro wrestling bout. I wore a black leather jacket along with purple and green wrestling trunks. The mat was cool to my bare feet, but I would get used to it. I heard some taunts coming from the crowd that sounded like, “Loser,” and “Scrub”. I was taken aback by such words, but I could not afford to let my emotions get the best of me. I had a job to do.

To my relief, I heard a few cheers. I turned around and saw that some of my classmates and friends were sitting in the front row. I waved to them, smiling. Good to have some encouragement. “Ladies and gentlemen,” began the ring announcer, “This match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, standing on my right, he weighs in at one hundred and ten pounds. He hails from New York City, New York!” I began to remove my jacket as my heart beat faster. I kept my eye on the announcer as he continued, “Here is Asher…..” The ring announcer stopped in mid-sentence. I just barely got my jacket off when something clasped onto my right ankle. “What the…..?” I exclaimed in surprise.

My leg was jerked backward, causing me to fall flat on my face. I dropped my jacket and looked behind me. I jumped in fright as I realized who my opponent was. This was Bad News Brown, and from what I have seen and heard, he lived up to his name. He looked at me, scowling. I was surprised as I didn’t even hear him come in. I knew that he was  older than me by more than thirty years. He looked muscular and I frantically guessed that he was taller than me by almost ten inches.

I pulled at my leg and kicked at his hand, but all I could give were small, pathetic kicks. “Let me go!” I cried, fear in my voice. Bad News Brown finally succeeded in dragging me out of the ring and onto the floor. As soon as my feet hit the floor, he turned me towards him and clocked me with his fist, right to the side of my head. I stumbled backwards and fell to the floor.
Boos emanated from all over the arena, but they did not help me any. He grabbed the back of my neck and slowly pulled me to my feet. I looked up at him and he returned my gaze, still scowling. Bad News Brown wore black wrestling trunks with matching boots and gloves. He reared back, and nailed me with another right hand to the side of my head, causing me to fall to the floor once again. I rubbed my head, hoping to alleviate the pain somewhat. I could have sworn that the arena started to spin. I had no time to recover as Bad News Brown pulled me to my feet and spun me around, making me face the steps that led up to the ring. Those weren’t made of steel, were they?
I whimpered as he forced me forward and slammed the side of my head into the steps. I bounced off and stumbled onto the floor. At that point, I was totally dizzy and I couldn’t focus my eyes. I moaned as he grabbed my black hair and pulled me to my feet. He removed his hand from my hair and grasped the back of my neck. “Walk!” he barked. I reluctantly walked forward, with his hand still grasping the scruff of my neck. I kept walking until he told me to stop. My jaw dropped with horror as my vision cleared. He forcefully turned me to my right side and forced me to my knees. He just stopped me in front of my friends. My friends looked at me with worried expressions on their faces. “Help me,” was all I could mutter.
Standing behind me, Bad News Brown cried, “Now, this wimp is gonna smile!”
I let out a soft whimper as he inserted two fingers in either side of my mouth and pulled back, stretching the lips as far back as they could go. I screamed and screamed in pain and flailed my arms about at the same time. Never in my life had I been in pain this excruciating! My friends watched helplessly. Some of them called out my name, while some yelled at him to stop. While he was stretching my lips, I heard him yell to them, “See this, you white brats!? This is what happens to any of you punk kids that step into the ring with me.” To my relief, he took his fingers out of mouth. I was out of breath from all that screaming. Before I could get my breath back, however, Bad News Brown shoved me face first onto the floor. I have never been this humiliated in my life. I would never hear the end of this once school starts again.
Just as I began to rub my already sore cheeks, two hard stomps landed on the middle of my back in succession. As I reached behind me to feel my back, I felt my hand get swatted away. I let out a small yelp as I felt something sharp press into my ribs. What was he planning to do now? A sharp, stinging sensation erupted across my back. It felt like fingernails being dragged across it. I let out another shriek as my opponent repeated the process. I could not rest as he pulled me to my feet, this time by using my trunks. He rammed my head into the ring mat, causing that dizzy feeling to return again. I barely even noticed as he rolled me into the ring. The bell had rung, which took me by surprise. I thought that the match had already started when he dragged me out of the ring. I grabbed my head and banged my toes on the mat, letting the crowd know that I was still alive, at least. A stomp descended on my back and I flopped like a fish. He pulled me to my feet and threw his knee into my gut twice. He threw me into a corner and spun me around such that my back was touching against the turnbuckle.
Bad News Brown kicked me twice in the stomach and lifted my chin up. He called me a wimp and a loser and I could not disagree. He slapped my face twice and backed away. As I looked down at my feet, I was totally drained. What was the point of fighting back anymore? Was it a mistake for me to sign up for Pro Wrestling?

I heard running and, as I looked up, I realized all too late that Bad News Brown was charging towards me, full steam ahead. I cried out in pain as Bad News Brown crashed into me. He must have outweighed me by more than one hundred pounds because my ribs were feeling sore. He was not done with me yet, however, as he pulled me to my feet by grabbing my hair. He wrapped my right arm around his neck and reached between my legs. He reached around my back and lifted me off the ground, holding me upside down.

The blood rushed to my head and I kicked at the air, all to no avail. He held me for about a minute before slamming me back-first on the unforgiving mat below. I was spread-eagled on the mat, with my eyes focused on the ceiling lights. But, it was not over yet.

I heard Bad News Brown run towards the ropes and back towards me. I gave out a scream as he splashed against me, his whole body almost covering mine.

I was too sore to move at this point, nevertheless, he slowly pulled me to my feet and backed away slowly. The last thing I remember before blacking out was a sharp blow to the back of my head

About humiliatedjobber

From Southern U.S.. Have always been fascinated with wrestling, specifically jobbers who are embarrased and degraded in the ring in their trunks. Always wanted to have my trunks yanked on as the crowd laughs and the evil heel dominates me, in the WWF or WCW. Contact me at rookiejobber@yahoo.com
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One Response to Guest story: Confessions of a Jobber Kid

  1. JorgePR says:

    Thanks Christopher!
    A great story! Thank God humiliatedjobber accepts collaborations in between his deliveries! (I’ve been thinking on sharing one but it’s too long and still unfinished… Maybe someday).
    I wish Asher wouldn’t have lost conscience and been taken to the locker rooms by BNB where he turned him into his white bitch, but imagination can fell that void LOL.

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