A long….long…time ago, I was a little kid. In my small brain was an infinite universe of imagination and I used it often. Those days seem like a blur now, except for a few things. People for certain have not faded, although I’ve just always had a good memory for faces and names (until recently). Every so often life has a funy way of re-introducing people from your past back into your feild of vision or…more directly.
One old “friend” made an unexpected appearance the other day. A vicious, mischeavous, devious, evil twat who’s name shall forever be etched in memory: Mr. Pillowman.
I know it sounds rediculous, but thats his name….or at least the name I’ve always known him as. About a week ago, he came into our home and found my daughter.
I first met Mr. Pillowman when I was 6 or 7 years old. At the time my brother, 9 years my senior, and I had quite a passionate love for professional wrestling. It was at the height of the “Attitude Era” in the WWE (then called WWF until they were sued by the World Wildlife Foundation) and we were deeply entrenched in the culture. Not having the means to go to actual events, and being to young to be involved in the first place, we created our own mini-universe that actually got quite serious.
That’s when my enemy, my nemesis, made his first appearance.
As my brother stood off the one side of my Grandparents’ king size bed, in his usual roll as “color commentator”, I was perched at its end ready for the coming challange. At the other end of the bed was that evil fucker. Mr. Pillowman. Cheap shots, low blows, illegal holds and illegal high-flying moves were his specialty. We battled many times that season.
Was he actually a construct of our combined imaginations whose physical presence was mearly that of a pillow being handled by my brother in a puppeteering fashion and my own abilities at physical comedy? Perhaps. But the emotion was there.
Not unlike the fameous fight between Cheech & Chong and the Invisible Man (you can find it on YouTube), our fights were extensively physical, mostly on my part. But he was more than just a pillow…..he was a force to be overcome, and Ben “The Masher” Mullen (as the color commentator referred to me as) wasn’t going to tread lightly in it’s presence.
All these years later, unbenknownst to me, he would make his return in a stunning fashion. As my daughter and I wrestled in bed, I was losing quite badly. Having been layed out from the start of the “fight” I was casually tread upon many, many times as well as kneed, kicked and chopped. Until fate stepped in, and I was saved by none other than my nemesis from the past.
In a dramatic moment I reached in desperation for something, anything to help gain a bit of ground in this battle……and there he was. Like a warrior of old, perched on the “top rope”, my hand found Mr. Pillowman.
And he did layeth the smackdown.
Emma “The Marauder” Mullen had no idea such a force could exist. In the end though, she conquered us both and as she napped peacefuly later that night, Mr. Pillowman and I had a good chuckle. He gave me one good punch in the face and I gave him one more “Stone Cold Stunner” before he retired to wherever men like him go. Will he return some day? I’m sure of it. When and where? No idea.
That devious prick can show up anywhere…..