Dante pulls me to my feet. Fuck it! I thumb him in the eye, blinding him. Typical Dante. He thought he had me, so I take advantage. I can’t afford to screw this one up. I heave him at the ropes and drop him to the mat with a toe-hold. Just that quickly, I lock in the “Total Restraint.” He gives it the old college try, but he just can’t hold on. The battle between him and Kyle Shane is still too fresh. The ref calls for the bell as he taps out. I let him go and get to my knees as the zebra hands me my first World Title strap. As I celebrate, I notice that the crowd is actually cheering for me as well.
A buxom blonde enters the ring, clad in a swim suit that might have very well be made up of only band-aids for all it covers. She cuddles up next to me, sending happy feelings down my spine and other places. Softly, she nibbles my ear lobe as ticker tape and balloons fall from the ceiling. A man dressed in a suit ambles into the ring with a medal of some kind and drapes it over my neck. It’s a Nobel Peace Prize. On the back are inscribed the words, “For ridding the world of another Dante Anglais title reign.”
