Adam Ellis
The Night After ReVival 36:
The neon sign of PBR St. Louis glowed in the night, welcoming patrons into a world where cowboy boots met dirt and cold beer flowed like rivers. The inside of the menu read:
Get ready to experience the ultimate thrill in St. Louis! Step into the electrifying world of the toughest sport on the dirt at the city’s most stunning country bar. With live country and southern rock music, ice-cold beer, and hard drinks, you know you’re in for a wild ride! PBR is every cowboy and cowgirl’s nighttime oasis, complete with a colossal dance floor, a cozy lounge area, private outdoor balconies, and multiple bars. But that’s not all, the showstopper of the club is the world’s meanest mechanical bull that’ll take your breath away! Get ready to have the time of your life at PBR!
The sun had long since set and the shadows of night had taken over as a quaint country bar suddenly sprang to life. Indeed, rustic wooden beams crisscrossed overhead inside, their warm tones complementing the dimly lit space. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and cheap cologne mixed with sweet aromas from the kitchen as a live country and southern rock music pulsed through the speakers. Laughter and spirited conversation filled the air, punctuated by the occasional whoop and holler from the dance floor.
At the heart of it all, the imposing silhouette of the world’s meanest mechanical bull stood ready for battle, daring anyone brave enough to try their luck. Surrounding the dance floor was a soft-seating lounge area with plush armchairs and tables perfect for those needing a break from dancing or bull-riding. Private outdoor balconies offered a breath of fresh air for those wanting some respite, while multiple bars spilled onto an expansive patio below. The usual suspects gathered around: Stacee Perry, Redneck Bill Dickinson, R.G. Jenkins, Melanie Jenkins, Mark Hendry, Sunny O’Callahan, and of course Ginny Ellis along with her husband Adam.
“Happy 21st birthday, Ginny!” Ray McAvay announced loudly, clinking his glass against everyone else’s in celebration.
Everyone cheered, raising their glasses in a toast to Ginny, who sat at the table, her red hair slightly mussed as she clutched the PBR Birthday cup that came with the Buckin’ Birthday package, which included:
50% off domestic drafts, Deep Eddy, Una Vida, and Skrewball for your group 8-11p, A birthday card & $25 gift card, Stadium bag, PBR Birthday Koozie, PBR Birthday cup, Skip the bull line voucher, DJ Shout out, $5 bday shot with sprinkle rim, 50% off bottles when purchased after 11p, Complimentary bottle & VIP booth upgrade for 10x or more 8-10 people.
Ginny had already suffered through quite the weekend. She and Adam had been welcomed by a trio of Enemigos upon their entry to Enterprise Center for ReVival 36, courtesy of her buckbombing Victoria McGill and Jill Berg Enterprises’ dressing room last Saturday at a Missouri Valley Wrestling house show in Peoria. The reason? Vindication for Tori McGill’s Gutwrench Facebuster that had sent Ginny to the hospital the week prior. The three enemigos followed her every step of the evening, most of which was spent in PRIME CEO/President Lindsay Troy’s reserved suite that she provided for Ray and his MVW team at the show. Everywhere Ginny went, they were there – a looming reminder of her actions.
After arriving at PBR St. Louis with the rest of the group after a luxurious birthday dinner at the Ruth Chris Steakhouse, Ginny received her swag from the bartenders and spent over two hours at the table, sipping her domestic draft beer, which was only half gone. It was clear to everyone around her that she was already quite drunk. This was amusing to them, as they knew that due to her strict Baptist upbringing, Ginny was not familiar with drinking alcohol, except for the occasional sip of wine for communion at church. Her rosy cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled with mischief as she grinned wide and let out a small hiccup.
“Thanks, y’all!” she drawled, her distinctive Kentucky/Appalachian accent drawing a few smiles from the group. “This is one helluva party!” Ginny covered her mouth in shock as she realized what she had said, immediately looking into the air with an apologetic expression on her face. “Sorry, Lord.” Taking a steadying breath, she took another small sip of beer from her glass before carrying on. “Thanks y’all. This has been fun.”
“Aw, shucks, darlin’,” ‘Redneck’ Bill Dickinson drawled in his typical deep Texan twang as he leaned back in his chair with a smirk spreading across his face. “We ain’t even started yet.”
“Really?” Ginny exclaimed in surprise, her voice lilting with excitement as she suddenly sat up straight in her seat and looked around the room eagerly. “What else is there?”
“Only one thing left, Ginny,” Melanie Jenkins piped up from across the table with a naughty glint in her eye. “You’ve got to ride that bull.”
Ginny’s eyes widened comically like saucers as she glanced over at the mechanical beast looming menacingly in the corner, and a mixture of fear and exhilaration washed over her entire body. She felt nauseous but determined all at once – this was it; this was the ultimate test of her courage on her 21st birthday.
“Alright, I’ll do it!” she declared, pushing back her chair and rising unsteadily to her feet. Adam Ellis, her husband, chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her.
“Easy there, babe,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with affection. “Remember, you’ve got that skip-the-line voucher. No need to rush.”
“True,” Ginny admitted, leaning into him for support while still trying to maintain a determined look on her face. “But I ain’t gonna let no mechanical bull scare me off.”
“Of course not,” Sunny O’Callahan chimed in confidently, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “That’s our girl.”
“Alright, everyone!” Stacee Perry announced emphatically as everyone began to gather ’round. “Let’s cheer on our birthday girl!”
Ginny’s heart pounded in her chest as she stood facing the gigantic mechanical bull that could easily have a mind of its own. She looked around at the buzz of people encouraging her with anticipation and knew she couldn’t let her fear show – not when everyone was watching. As Adam saw the terror in his wife’s eyes he gave her a reassuring hug and whispered softly in her ear, “You can do this honey, I know you can. Show that bull who’s boss!” Ginny smiled bravely up at him before taking a deep breath and standing firm.
“I will”, she declared loudly, before swaying slightly on the spot. “Don’t forget this.” Adam quickly handed over the voucher to skip the line before Ginny started making her way towards the mechanical bull, yelling drunkenly over her shoulder, “Thanks honey! I luv youuuu!”
The commotion of the bar seemed to die down as Ginny confidently strode towards the mechanical bull.
“Are we really sure this is a good idea?” Melanie asked, uncertainty in her voice. “Hasn’t Ginny ever done anything like this before?”
“Nah, she ain’t never been on a mechanical bull,” Adam replied, not taking his eyes off of his wife as she moved with determination toward the line.
“Ah, it’s just a mechanical bull, ain’t no big deal!” Bill Dickinson scoffed, rolling his eyes skeptically.
Adam clenched his jaw as Ginny handed the man her voucher and lifted herself onto the infernal machine. Ray McAvay began to laugh boisterously and clapped his hands in anticipation.
“Ginny’s a tough girl, she can handle this!” Sunny O’Callahan shouted excitedly before guzzling down some Southern Comfort from her open bottle.
The bull began to buck with Ginny’s slender frame swaying gracefully on top of the metal beast.
“See? What could possibly go wrong?” Sunny asked rhetorically.
Well…
Adam’s eyes suddenly bulged as Ginny flew through the air like a projectile catapulted from a ballistic device.
Sunny choked on her drink. “Oh,” she mumbled, now regretting her role in this unfortunate enterprise.
The crowd fell into hushed silence and shock and awe spread through the onlookers as she soared majestically through the air in what seemed to be slow motion until Ginny finally crashing down to the ground in an embarrassing heap.
A suffocating tension filled the room. The shocked faces around the table glowed blue in the moonlight, illuminated by the window behind them.
Finally, Bill Dickinson stood up and cleared his throat. His chair clattered loudly against the floor, filling the eerie silence with a loud crack.
“Um, we should probably go get her now.” he said.
A few more seconds passed.
“Yeah,” R.G. Jenkins said reluctantly as he checked his watch before pushing himself away from the table.
October 17th– The New Sportatorium in Downtown Dallas
The sun cast its warm rays on the New Sportatorium, sitting proud on the corner of S. Riverfront Blvd. and Cadiz Street in downtown Dallas. A fresh October breeze brushed past the vibrant red brick facade that gave the building a sense of timeless appeal. At first glance, one could see that the rejuvenated Sportatorium was a smaller, more intimate venue compared to the vast arenas that had swallowed up so many wrestling memories. With a seating capacity of just two thousand, every seat promised an unobstructed view of the action, making it the perfect place for fans to immerse themselves in the world of professional wrestling.
Adam Ellis leaned up against the cool exterior wall of the Sportatorium. Taking a break from an arduous workout conducted by Adam’s trainer Charlie Blackwell. Adam looked down at the stone bordering the building and did a little reflecting.
“Growing up in Warrensburg, Missouri, my parents raised me with a strong Methodist upbringing. They instilled in me the concepts of heaven and hell early on, but never with the same fire and brimstone intensity as Ginny’s Baptist parents. Instead, they were firm believers in their faith, guiding me with love and understanding.
“Adam, you know life is full of choices my father used to tell me and he’s right. Some are easy, some are hard, but ultimately, it’s up to you to decide which path you want to walk – one that’ll lead you to heaven or one that’ll take you down to hell. As I stand here, thoughts swirling around my head like a tornado, I realized just how true those words were. My career in professional wrestling had been a series of choices – each one shaping who I am today. From the moment I stepped foot in Missouri Valley Wrestling, to my appearances at High Octane Wrestling, and finally signing with PRIME, I had been choosing my path, seeking my own personal heaven in this business.
“I thought about the choices that led me this place in time, and the lessons I’d learned along the way. It wasn’t just about winning or losing in the ring; it was about staying true to myself, my beliefs, and my faith.”
We get a close up look at his bruised and bandaged face.
“Once upon a time, I made some appearances at High Octane Wrestling. It wasn’t what I expected or hoped for but I’ll admit it did teach me some valuable lessons. Back then, I wanted nothing more than to work for HOW, y’know? I busted my ass trying to get that contract, but it never came. And now, well… I wear a reminder of what happened Sunday night when I was asked to show up at HOW’s Chaos 47 show by HOW for what was supposed to be a contract signing between myself and my former mentor John Sektor.
“But apparently, that wasn’t the plan.”
(Sunday Night- High Octane Wrestling’s Chaos 47)
Agents of EPU are quickly securing the entrance when Adam Ellis appears, and they quickly pounce on him.
WHACK
WHACK
WHACK
As the camera steps back we see Lee Best holding the head of Ellis up as the HOTv Champion John Sektor is at his rightful place……side by side with the GOD of HOW.
Lee and Sektor lean in as they motion for the camera to zoom in….
Lee Best: The Man of the Year, Lindsay Troy, and I already came to an agreement that Sektor versus Ellis was going to take place at the show in Miami so we appreciate you showing up here tonight JUST TO GET YOUR ASS KICKED!!!
“Yep. It was all one giant setup. Charlie Blackwell warned me not to go and I should have known better. Charlie read me the riot act for letting a pathetic snake, lying piece of shit in Lee Best conning me into showing up. But in the wreckage of what happened Sunday night, I could feel the answer taking root – clear and resolute. The choice wasn’t between heaven and hell; it was between integrity and selling out.
“Working for a megalomaniacal asshole like Lee Best would’ve been pure hell. He would have treated me like fodder for his Alliance like he wanted to do to Joe Bergman. Lee is a lying piece of crap, and I refuse to be cannon fodder to his all-powerful stable of wrestlers. When Dead or Alive came about last year and Lindsay Troy made me the offer to come to PRIME, I know it was time to seize control of my destiny, and that started with aligning myself with people who shared my values.
“PRIME Wrestling and Lindsay Troy gave me the chance I needed. They believe in what I bring to the ring and they’re not just using me as a pawn in their twisted games.”
He paused.
“Oh. And they put with Ginny’s occasional lapses of judgment.”
Adam cracked a wry smile and continued.
“It was clear now – the path before me led to where my heart truly belonged, and I was ready to walk it without fear or hesitation. I’m a pro wrestler. I’ll leave the sports entertainment nonsense to the likes of Lee Best who panders to the mouthbreathers, the tattooed pot-bellied, chain-smoking asshole whipping a hissing rattlesnake around like Prince’s mic cord while screaming in unintelligible tongues leaving a trail of slime behind them as they rise up from the bottom scrapings of the primordial gene pool to show up at a HOW show…
“Thank you, Dennis Miller for the sub reference.
“I have lifted the weight of indecision and doubt from my shoulders. My journey will no longer be dictated by Lee Best and his Final Alliance of traveling carny half-wits he rescued from the Island of Misfit Wrestlers. Now, it’s time to forge my own path in the world of wrestling – one built on skill, passion, and integrity.
“And speaking of someone who epitomizes skill, passion, and integrity…
“Eddie Cross.
“Eddie Cross has more class in his fingernail than the rest of HOW combined. I’ve pictured the man I’ll be facing in the ring this Friday night. He’s a true technician in the ring, a catch wrestler who was trained by the legendary Dave Gibson. A man who values skill over showmanship, technique over trash talk. The kind of wrestler I respect – and the kind of wrestler I want to become. Cross is a classic grappler and likes to grapple and wear his opponents down, pinpointing injuries and exploiting them. He prefers submission finishes, using pressure points, joint attacks, and precision strikes to set up his victories.
“Unlike facing John Sektor at HOW on October 29th in Miami, going up against Eddie Cross will be an honor. And the fact that we’ll be doing it in a place like PRIME Wrestling, where talent matters more than ego… where Lindsay Troy doesn’t have a pet alliance on a leash that she puts over at the expense of the rest of the wrestlers… well… that just makes it even more special. I know the road ahead is going to be tough, but I think I’m ready for the challenge. Facing Eddie Cross won’t be easy but I’m prepared to give it everything I’ve got. No matter the outcome, I’ll walk away from that match knowing I’ve given my all for the sport I love – and that’s more than anyone in HOW can say.”
The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement as I stood outside the New Sportatorium. The electric energy of anticipation buzzed through my veins, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at being part of such a storied legacy. As the breeze picked up, it carried with it the faint scent of popcorn and sweat, a reminder of all that was to come.
“Putting on a wrestling spectacular is what I’m aiming for this Friday night. Eddie Cross and I are going to show the world what real wrestling looks like. I can already see it in my mind’s eye – the ring illuminated under the bright lights, the roar of the crowd, and the two of us locked in a battle of wills and skill. It’s going to be a hell of a test, no doubt, but I know that both Eddie and I will be up to the challenge.
“Of course, I hope I win, I know it won’t be easy. Eddie’s one of the best, and I’ll have to put in everything I’ve got to stand a chance against him. This was more than just a match – it was round one of the Almasy Invitational – it was two men wanting to move forward in the tournament and it was another opportunity to prove myself, to fight for something greater than a title or a paycheck. It was about honoring the sport I loved and showing everyone what it truly meant to be a wrestler. Even if I lose Friday night,” I continued, my voice steady and sure, “I’ve already won. Just stepping into the ring with someone like Eddie Cross is a victory in itself. In many ways, we’re cut from the same cloth, both striving for greatness and to be the best wrestler we can be.
“No matter what happens, I knew one thing for certain – together, Eddie Cross and I are going to give the fans a show they’d never forget. ”
“Good luck, Eddie. I’ll see you Friday night. “
Epilogue
The neon lights of PBR St. Louis flickered in the distance as Adam carried a thoroughly inebriated Ginny through the hotel door, her red hair falling haphazardly around her flushed face. Her eye was an angry purple from the close encounter with the mechanical bull at the Cowboy Bar.
“Alright, darlin’, let’s get you to bed,” Adam murmured, gently laying Ginny down on the hotel room bed. As he did so, her eyes fluttered open, and she grinned up at him, her Appalachian accent thick with drink.
“Adam, mah hero,” she slurred, reaching for his hand. He smiled back at her before heading over to their suitcases, rummaging for something comfortable for them both to wear. Ginny called out to him.
“Hey, big man, come lay down with me.”
Adam glanced over his shoulder, seeing Ginny propped up on one elbow, her good eye smoldering as she tried her best to look seductive. He sighed, knowing that she wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning.
“Come on, Ginny, you need to go to sleep,” he said firmly.
“Ah come on,” she pouted.
Adam’s mind drifted back to the night in August when he’d stumbled into their hotel room, drunk and looking for love, only to be met with a pillow and a slammed door. Now, the tables were turned.
“Please, Ginny,” he pleaded, his deep voice laced with concern. “Just close your eyes and go to sleep.”
She hesitated for a moment, the alcohol fumes clouding her judgment before finally relenting. “Fine, but you’re missin’ out,” she grumbled, grabbing the clothes he had thrown and slipping them on.
“Maybe another night, darlin’,” Adam replied softly, watching as Ginny’s eyelids grew heavy, her breathing slowing as she drifted off to sleep.
“Aw, hell,” Ginny muttered, her words slurred from the alcohol. She tried to roll off the bed, her arms flailing as she attempted to find her footing. “Imma get up, I swear.”
“Ah, Ginny?” Adam warned, his voice tinged with concern.
Ginny pushed herself further towards the edge of the bed and rolled. Instead of standing up triumphantly, she rolled off the bed and landed with a soft thud on the carpeted floor.
“Ginny?” Adam’s heart raced as he rushed to her side, kneeling down beside her prone form. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, relief washing over him as he realized she had simply passed out. Gently, he scooped her up in his strong arms, carrying her back to the bed.
“Good night, Ginny,” he whispered tenderly, placing her on the bed with the utmost care. Adam pulled the covers over her slender form and tucking her in. With his arm wrapped protectively around Ginny, Adam closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.