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“Listen, I’m not used to this ring, and the lighting is off. And…”
“Okay, now that you have the excuses shelved, how bout you tell me what’s really going on here?”
I raise my head and shoot him a look. One not so friendly. I’m ready to defend myself, God only knows why.
“How ‘bout you tell me what you think of my character, then? I mean, everyone else is in the line giving me their two cents worth.”
“Honestly?”
“Is there any other way?”
“You’re holding onto a ghost. Archimedes was a great intro for you. It got you passionate about the sport. It used a moral code you could live with. A character that made your parents proud. But it’s time for a change.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“You heard about my blow-out with Marty. What was easy about that? And I’m still facing brand ruin if I screw things up. All I’m saying is that sooner or later, we all have to let the old go to ring in the new.”
I smirk. “Lame.”
“What’s lame?”
“Ring in the new.”
We chuckle.
“Okay, Ms. Smarty Pants. Now tell me about this new character, Disastra.”
And with that invitation, I drone on and on about my arch-villain. Ronan finally puts his hand up to stop me talking.
“You know, my first character was a mess. I was an obsessive fan of The Hulk. What orc boy isn’t at some point, right? And so, my dumb-as-a-post self basically copied The Hulk in a scrawny frame. When I tried to flex my pecs, nothing happened. There was nothing to flex. And my bestial growl sounded more like a pink flamingo caught in a bear trap. Orcs may grow into their hulking figures but not at the age of fifteen they don’t.”
I visualize this pathetic display, and I howl. Ronan’s eyes spark and he chuckles.
“Okay, enough with the visuals. Are you ready to train? I mean, really train?”
I happily nod. We climb back into the ring.
“Show me one of your classic Archimedes moves but perform it as Disastra.
I stand there gobsmacked.
“Hey, you there. Yeah, you. In the shadows.”
“Yes, sir.” A man in overalls approaches the ring.
“What’s your name?” Ronson asks the man, who I’m assuming must be part of the janitorial staff.
“Jerry, sir.”
“Okay then. Hey, Jerry, could you do us a favor? We need your opinion on a move we’re about to make. Could you sit there? Yeah, there, high up. And tell us what you think?”
“Sure thing. Hey, you’re not…”
Ronan smiles and nods.
“Holy cow! Wait ‘til I tell the boys at the bowling alley. Can I have your autograph? I have a paper towel here.”
Ronan nods. “Yeah, sure, pal. Just watch, okay?”
