What A Dream Is A Supposed To Be

Simon took out his phone and called his brother,

“Bruce, I’m coming home. Are you holding up okay?”

Bruce’s monotonous voice came through, “Yes, I’ve just been watching the tele …”

Simon frowned with concern,

“Bruce… Bruce is everything okay?”

“... You got your arse kicked, didn’t you? You’re doing that growling thing with your voice,”

The concern turned to annoyance, “Shut up,”

“Let me guess, you were bullying the rookies and one of them fought back,”

Simon let out a deep growl.

“Since I guessed correctly, you have to buy me some eggrolls,”

Simon’s eyebrow twitched as he kept growling,

“It was a lady, wasn’t it?”

“How the hell could you possibly know that?”

“The growling is breaking up to match the eyebrow twitching,”

“That’s beyond creepy,”

"I finally understand why you're still a virgin,"

Simon blushed and grit his teeth, "You-"

“Why do you keep doing this? They’re going to get rid of you at some point,”

Simon narrowed his eyes, “You know why,”

“Taking it out on everybody isn’t going to make him go away. I’ve said it before, you’re better than this,”

“... See you in a bit,” Simon quickly hung up and kept walking,

“I already know that,” He muttered.

1 year and 6 months ago.

An orchestral theme was playing with angelic voices humming in harmony. The crowd within the Madhouse arena in the city of Cognac loudly booed as the arena darkened save for a single spotlight in the middle of the ring.

"Oooh, yes!" Rejoiced colour commentator Dominga Alvarez. A short, slender Dominican woman in a red dress, "Here comes the best part of the show,"

Within that spotlight strutted a blonde-haired, blue-eyed man standing 1.88 m in height with skin so pale he was practically invisible under all that light.

He wore white trunks with thick red-line patterns on the sides, knee pads that were the inverse and white boots that were red from toe-tip to heel.

He was wearing a curved hexagonal championship belt with red leather and three silver plates. The centre plate had a globe in its own centre. A small PSW logo was visible on the top. The words TELEVISION and CHAMPION were above and below the globe respectively.

At the bottom of the centre plate was a nameplate that read DENNIS ZÁZRAK.

"Sure, for a bathroom break," Seethed colour commentator, Aazif Shamoon. A pudgy Arabic man in a yellow sweater and blue jeans, "Since he's about to go on and on about how great he is for the 1000th time,"

"He's been the television champion for nearly 9 months," Stated lead commentator, Alf Balducci. An old, fit Italian man in a black waistcoat, white dress shirt and dark grey pants, "As tiresome as it is, he's earned the right to brag,"

Zázrak raised a microphone to his smouldering lips. He spoke softly and seductively,

"Ladies... Gentlemen... witness perfection,"

He raised his arms as the spotlight vanished, but the light did not leave his chiselled form for a full minute as the crowd continued to boo and hiss.

"Glorious," Alvarez gushed, clasping her hands with red cheeks and stars in her eyes,

"Optometrists in this city are about to make a fortune," Shamoon commented, shielding his own.

Eventually, the light faded from his form, as the lights in the arena came back on. He continued to hold that pose for what felt like ages, before speaking again,

"For just 270 days, Zázrak has been your World Television Champion,"

"Booooo!" The crowd yelled. Zázrak chuckled,

"Are you people still in denial? Zázrak has defeated every so-called 'challenger' who stepped up to the plate. When will you realise that the hero you have called for has been standing before you all along?"

He points at the titantron which displays a golden timer counting down from 01:00:00,

"In less than one hour, Zásrak will become the longest reigning Television Champion in PSW history and then Zázrak's reign will continue, and continue, and continue..."

The crowd continued to boo as he spoke,

"... and continue, until you have learned to appreciate the perfection that Zázrak, and when you do, when Zázrak is sufficiently satisfied with the respect that he is owed, Zázrak will ascend..."

He stretched out his free arm and looked up at the ceiling,

"... to even greater heights, leaving the rabble to fight for the scraps of the legitimacy and the prestige that Zázrak and only Zázrak has brought to the World Television Championship,"

"Oh come on now," Balducci said,

The crowd booed even louder. Zázrak shushed them and spoke with a whisper,

"For these remaining 56 minutes and 30 seconds, Zázrak demands absolute silence as we wait for history to be made,"

Balducci was in disbelief, "He can't be seri-,"

Alvarez shushed him.

Zázrak stood with his hands behind his back and silently watched the titantron as clock counted down.

00:55:46

00:55:45

00:55:44

00:55:43

00:55:42

00:55:41

00:55:40

00:55:39

00:55:38

The crowd was growing rowdy,

"Silence!" Zázrak ordered, "You should all be grateful to be present for this moment,"

"They paid to see wrestlers wrestle," Said Shamoon,

"And now they're getting something better on top of it," said Alvarez, "Now shush,"

00:55:31

00:55:30

00:55:29

00:55:28

The crowd started chanting “Boring!”

“Qui-et!” Zázrak snapped again, which only made the crowd chant louder.

00:55:22

00:55:21

00:55:20

00:55:19

00:55:18

00:55:17

The crowd then chanted “Zázrak sucks!”

“Shut up!”

They then started chanting “A**hole!” and his pale skin was becoming red with rage, but then he calmed down and even laughed,

“You know what? Keep chanting. Keep hurling your petty insults. There’s nothing you can do to change what’s happening. There’s nothing anyone can do to alter the fact that Zázrak is here to stay as your World Television Champio-”

The titantron changed from the clock to black and white ripples with two green eyes staring ahead as a deep, complex progressive rock instrumental started playing and the crowd erupts in delight.

“Well, business has just picked up,” Balducci said with a smile,

The sliding doors on the stage opened to reveal Simon and they became even louder. He seemed genuinely startled by the response he was getting. He looked around at the screaming crowd taking it all in.

He was wearing a red jacket with black tassels, black MMA gloves and a black bowler hat over his hair short, slicked-back hair dyed a light brown. He had red mime makeup on his eyes and mouth.

Shamoon bowed his head and closed his eyes, “Thank you, Allah”

"That's quite an ovation," Balducci observed,

“The nerve of this guy," said Alvarez indignantly, "Who the hell does he think he-"

"HOW DARE YOU?!" Zázrak screamed, his pale face becoming beat red, "Who are you to interrupt Zázrak?"

Simon tried to speak but was cut off,

“This is Zázrak's moment!”

“I’m-”

“Zázrak's time!

"I'm so-"

“Zázrak's-"

"I’m sorry!” Simon exclaimed with his free hand in the air, he then started pacing around somewhat nervously with his gaze averted, “I-It’s just… You were talking... and then I fell asleep…”

A few people in attendance laugh and chuckle. Zázrak narrowed his eyes. Simon continued,

“... a-and then I woke up and you were still talking and I thought... It's just I really needed to tell everybody about the phenomenal dream I just had,”

The crowd popped upon hearing his catchphrase. He stopped, raised his head, widened his eyes and smiled,

“Would you like to hear it?”

“No,” Said Zázrak, making Simon sad.

“Yes!” Exclaimed the crowd, which made Simon happy.

“No!” Zázrak retorted to fans on his right,

“Yes!” The crowd responded again,

“NO!” Zázrak said to the fans on his left,

“YES!”

“NO! NO! NO! NO! NOOOO!!!!” Zázrak screamed at the fans in every direction, his face getting red again.

“YES! YES! YES! YES YES!” The crowd chanted loudly, overruling him.

“The customer is always right,” Balducci chuckled,

Alvarez gagged.

Simon shrugged and enthusiastically recounted, “In my dream, I was standing in front of a full-length mirror… wearing the World Television Championship,”

Simon paced around again, slowly,

“And I must say,” He stopped and smirked, “It looked quite fetching around my waist,”

Zázrak’s eyes widened as the crowd popped in anticipation. Simon continued pacing, with his finger in the air,

“Now I have a question for everyone,” Simon said, before pausing, and looking up at the crowd, “Do you think we can make that dream a reality?”

The crowd let out another roar in approval.

“Whatever it takes to shut him up for good,” Shamoon said,

The lights went out and then came back on. Simon was standing in front of the champion, towering over him.

"I hate when he does that," Alvarez moaned.

"Admittedly, so do I," Balducci agreed.

"Ditto," Shamoon added.

“What say you, Mr Zázrak?” He asked slowly, with wide eyes and an even wider grin, 

"Shall we make history tonight?”

Zázrak stumbled back, then gathered his bearings. He chuckled and nodded,

“You know what? Fine,” He said with a smug smile, as he got in Simon’s face, unintimidated by their difference in size, “Another victory will further cement Zázrak’s reign and will serve as another example to these people and the worms in the locker room that Zázrak…” He took the championship off his waist and raised it over his head, “... is perfection,”

The crowd roared once again in anticipation.

“We have a championship match here tonight!” Balducci beamed,

Simon stepped back and took off his hat and jacket,

“That’s new,” Shamoon remarked upon seeing Simon’s angel wing back tattoos. Alvarez shook her head,

“Typical. Thompson will do anything if it makes him look cool,”

Simon turned his back to hand his things to a crewman as a referee made his way out from behind the sliding doors.

"Oh no," Balducci uttered.

"Rookie mistake!" Crowed Alvarez.

Zázrak dropped the belt and reared up for an attack, causing the crowd to start booing and screaming to get Simon's attention.  The champ attempted to kick Simon in the balls. Simon caught his foot by closing his legs.

"What?!" Exclaimed Alvarez

"That's something you don't see every day?" Shamoon said with a laugh,

Before Zázrak could think, Simon opened his legs and backhanded him in the mouth, sending the champ stumbling back into a corner. The referee slid into the ring to check on him.

"Zázrak's championship reign may be in jeopardy," Balducci said,

"Thompson just got a lucky shot, that's all," Alvarez argued,

"That tooth the champ just spit out says otherwise,"

Zázrak looked at the tooth in his hand with horror, which became rage as he stared a hole through Simon. The Dream responded with a cheeky smile and thumbs up.

The crowd popped once again and the bell rang.