The Soviet Bull

 Igor Zarkov, the Soviet Bull, glared into camera 2 and began growling what people in his profession call a promo.

“You Americans make me sick! You think you are the good guys and everybody else are the villains! Land of the free? Home of the brave? Your President is such a coward that he will not send your puny athletes to the Olympics! Just look at this!”

The large man with the shaved head and goatee held up a newspaper. The headline read “CONGRESS APPROVES ADDITIONAL FUNDING FOR DISABLED VETS”.

“What a fraud! In my homeland, the Soviet Union, when a man is in the armed forces, he serves until he dies! They don’t quit and cheat the government out of money like they do in this pathetic country!”|

The Soviet Bull spat on the concrete floor.

“That’s America down there! No, America is even lower than that!”

At that point, the audience in the TV studio, about 50 people seated in folding chairs, roared. A blonde haired, muscular young man, dressed in camoflauge pants and combat boots, climbed into the ring!

Dane Kovacs, the bookish man in the blue, double breasted suit, who held the microphone for Igor, pointed to the ring.

“Mr. Zarkov, Sgt. Jack Majors, is here!”

Majors began to stomp his foot and clap his hands. The studio audience, mostlly kids and elderly people chanted “USA” to the rhythm that Majors provided.

Zarkov grabbed the microphone from Kovacs’ hand.

“I see you, Gomer Pyle!” He pointed to the glob of saliva on the floor! “That’s where you belong, too!”

Zarkov ran to the ring! He climbed in and the fight was on! The two beefy men threw rights and lefts like two prizefighters in a boxing match. Zarkov threw a wild right cross at his opponent, Majors ducked under the punch, grabbed the Soviet bull around the waist and lifted him into the air! Majors then dropped Zarkov down so that the Bull’s tailbone connected with the Sargent’s knee! Zarkov stumbled foraward and then tumbled over the top rope and landed on the floor. Remarkably, Igor was standing when he made his landing.

“Ladies and gentelmen,” Dane Kovacs said breathlessly, “ Sgt. Jack Majors, the decorated marine and American hero, will faced Igor Zarkov, the brutal Soviet Bull, tonight! In a Boot Camp Match! The ring will be surrounded by barbed wire! There will be no disqualification, no stopping the match for any reason until the referee counts one man down for the count of ten! That’s at 8 PM at the Greer County Memorial Stadium in Fowlersburg! That’s the main event of an all star night of Southern Pro Wrestling! Tickets are $6 for general admission, only $8 for a ringside seat!” Zarkov stumbled his way out of the studio into another room. Usually, this was where the local news and a country music show was taped, but on Saturday mornings it was a dresing room for the stars of Southern Pro Wrestling. The Soviet Bull sat down on a folding chair and began unlacing his boots. The promoter and owner of Southern Pro Wrestling, Dougie Varnado, walked in. Short, chubby, crew cut, and wearing coke bottle glasses. If a wrestling fan was told this was the man who bossed around the wrestlers and decided the winners and losers, the fan would have laughed out loud.

Dougie didn’t bother addressing Igor Zarkov, the Soviet Bull. He spoke to Stu Ragland, decorated Vietnam vet, native of Mobile, registered Republican, Southern Baptist, and father of two beautiful girls,

“Hey, Stu, you’re the best hel in the business,” Dougie began. “In fact, you’re too good!”

“What do ya mean by that, Hog Jowls?” The accent had gone from ersatz Russian to genuine Alabama.

“Look, some FBI guys were here. They had received complaints about a Russian commie badmouthing the good ol’ USA. They were asking questions. I kayfabed’em pretty good. I told them that rasslin’ is a real sport, but if you guys mat wrestled like in college or the Olympics, we wouldn’t draw a dime. So we have to add some dramatics to the show. You have to act like you hate America, for example.”

“They buy it?”

“Yeah, they seemed to.”

“Do they wanna talk to me?”

“I told’em that your English ain’t so good and that you get nervous when you have to have long conversations with Americans…”

“What if they bring in a translator who speaks Russian? Somebody like that would see right through me. They’d figure out I can’t speak Russian! Then, they’d start digging and find out I have medals for killing Commies over in ‘Nam! Then, there goes my career!”

“The agents really didn’t take the whole thing that seriously. They said it was mainly some hysterical senior citizens. They almost winked and nodded at me.”

“ OK, don’t sound like nothing to worry about.”

“It ain’t Stu, it seriously ain’t!”

At that moment, Stu’s best friend in the world walked in. The people in the studio called him Sgt. Jack Majors, American hero. Back here he was Elmer Stidham, high school buddy of Stu Ragland. Instead of going to war like Stu did, he’d headed to Canada, and stayed there until Gerald Ford had made it ok for him to return.

“Hey, comrade, good show out there!” the two old friends high fived, then Elmer sat down. “I say we’ll probably sell out that football stadium tonight. “How many seats is that, Hog Jowls?”

“Right at seven thousand, “ Dougie replied.

“That’s gonna be a sweet payoff!” Elmer said. His grin revealed a few missing teeth. He had a military gimmick, not a pretty boy one, so the missing teeth were an asset.

“Hey, do you have a finish, Stu?” Elmer asked.

“Yeah, I came up with something. First of all, we’ll need a bunch of blood tonight, right, Dougie?”

Dougie smiled.

“You know it, comrade!”

“Ok, I’m packing two blades. That way if I lose one, I can still get color. You better do the same. The good guy needs to bleed more to get sympathy from the crowd.”

“No doubt, Stu.” Elmer had both of his boots off now and was stripping off his socks. “The finish?”

“Here it is: I’m gonna have the chain and I’m gonna beat you half to death with it. You start taking off one of the combat boots. The people will be screaming at you to fight abck and wondering what the heck you’re doing! When you get the boot off, I’ll whip you to the rope and try to clothesling you with the chain. You duck and hit me right in the face with the combat boot! One...two...three..and we’re home free!

Dougie applauded.

“If that place had a roof on it, those marks would blow it off!”

Elmer pointed a finger at Stu.

“Best finish man in the business, Hog Jawls!”

“Aw, shucks!” Igor responded in his Russian accent. He stood, now stripped to his underwear and curtsied. It looked ridiculous and everybody in the room laughed.

“You bums git showered and I’ll buy yer lunches, “ Dougie said. “Of course, you can’t eat at the same place and risk being seen together.”

“I wouldn’t eat lunch with this commie if he was the last rassler on earth!” The Sarge proclaimed.

###

It’s after midnight. A navy blue Chevy Nova that has seen better days pulls into the driveway of a modest brick home. A large man exits the car and enters the house, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. The big man unlocks the door and enters the living room of the house. There is a lamp on and a tiny woman is curled up on the couch reading a book. She has, long, jet black hair and is deeply tanned. She is dressed in pajamas . She sees the man enter the house, smiles, and puts down her book. She arises from the couch and pads over to the man. He drops the bag to the floor, wraps his arms around her and lifts her up to where his lips are waiting for hers. They have a long passionate kiss.

“Ah, my Soviet Bull,” she purrs in a terrible Russian accent.

He responds in a more practiced accent, “The Americans are inferior except for the women. The women are amazing.” They share another long kiss.

“Was my Bull victorious? And why are there so man band-aids?”

Now, he’s back to being Stu: “Naw, the draft dodger cheated me, but the check that ol’ Hog Jowls handed me afterwards made me feel a whole lot better! Lots a bleeding tonight because of the barbed wire.”

She winced at the last sentence.

”Why don’t we head up to bed, my Bull?”

“That’s the best idea that I’ve heard all day. Go on to bed. I’ll be there as soon as I look in on my babies.”

And with that, the Soviet Bull’s lady heads to his bed while, the most hated wrestler in Southern Pro Wrestling goes to check on his two year old and four year old