IYH 2: RIC FLAIR VS. THE MOUNTIE

Sun, surf and sand.

Ric Flair deserved a vacation, what with all the waiting and the frustration during the week between when he was signed and his official debut on Monday Night Raw really took it out of him. So he took some of his considerable signing bonus and took a trip down Honolulu way.

The plane ride was top-notch, of course, the lovely flight attendants all knew who he was and the pilots wanted their pictures taken with the world’s heavyweight champion. He wined and dined through the long flight and touched down at about 3 local time, arriving to dancing girls and leis being strung around his neck. He was whisked to the finest hotel money could buy, and that’s where time catches up to him. He currently finds himself at the mercy of a line of people looking to check in, he using the time to go through his suitcase and make sure everything is still there. Extra Rolex? Check. Extra pair of shades? Check. TRUE World Heavyweight Championship Belt? Check, of course. Contracts that have been drawn up for personal appearances, merchandising rights, likeness and all that? He has them but his lawyer’s coming in tomorrow to look them over and get them done.

All that there is left to do is work on his tan and dread going to Boston in the middle of winter. Slush, snow, ice, pissed off Bostonians and a crowd of drunken holiday hooligans that hate Ric Flair’s guts even more than they hate the Yankees. Ric Flair lounges by the pool in the Maui sun and simply enjoys being Ric Flair. Unfortunately his reverie is interrupted by a shadow that falls over his steadily-bronzing skin. He slivers an eye open at what appears to be a gangly young man, no older than 20, awkwardly holding an autograph book in-hand. Ric takes his time and exhales as he pushes himself up to a seated position.

RIC FLAIR: I’m gonna guess you want an autograph, or you wouldn’t be standing there.

Ric stands and adjusts the waistband on his shorts, the kid taller than him but considerably lankier. He signs his name on the first available page and hands it back. The kid hems and haws about something and Flair nudges his sunglasses down his nose.

RIC FLAIR: You got something else you wanna ask me, Jack?

SOME NERD: Well, I’ve always wanted to get into pro wrestling. Everyone in the WWF seems like they’re really in-shape and I don’t have the faintest idea where to start. So I figured I’d ask you while I have the time--

Ric puts a hand up as the nerd talks. His smile is easygoing and only slightly patronizing.

RIC FLAIR: I’m gonna stop you right there and tell you that cardio and conditioning are absolutely everything when it comes to being a professional wrestler. So this is step one.

Ric puts his hands down and performs a perfect Hindu Squat, all the way down and then back up in a smooth motion. The nerd in question takes mental notes. Ric does another, and when he comes back up he nudges his shades up his nose.

RIC FLAIR: That’s called a squat. Uses gravity and your body weight to train your legs and your heart. When you can do five hundred of those without stopping, you find yourself a good wrestling school and you let them whip you into shape--Oh, look, right on time, haha.

A camera crew rolls up as if by magic, a local affiliate for the news which has been tasked with getting a few words from the World’s Champion. He grabs his towel and settles it across his shoulders around his neck. The camera whirrs to life and catches the Nature Boy in all his glory.

RIC FLAIR: MOUNTIE! As you can see, I’m right here in sunny Hawaii because that’s how the Nature Boy lives. Nothing but first class all the way! Island vacations, fine ladies, imported wines and private jets! I’m not sweating you, and I’ll tell you why. And it’s not the reason you might think!

Ric removes his sunglasses and holds them in his left hand, pointing at the camera with his right with wild eyes on full display.

RIC FLAIR: See, you and me, we’re the first match! Jerkin’ the curtain! And that ain’t a place to put the REAL world’s champion. It’s a SLAP IN THE FACE! But that isn’t gonna stop the Nature Boy, WOO! That isn’t gonna stop me from stylin’ and profilin’ and stealing the show! And I’m not sweating you, Mountie, and it’s not your badly tailored outfits. It’s not the stupid hat! It’s not the dime-store boots! I could give that all a pass if you had that one thing that great wrestlers share. I’d give that ALL A PASS if you had the GUTS to go toe to toe with the REAL world’s champion. The powers that be in the WWF have decided they don’t like Ric Flair shaking up the status quo, so I’m gonna have to fight my way up the card until the WWF president has NO CHOICE but to recognize that Lex Luger and whatever tomato can he’s wrestling this month for that paper title don’t STACK UP to Ric Flair. WOO!

A sharp exclamation that’s trademark Flair. He laughs and wipes his forehead with his towel before tugging it off his shoulder to show to the camera.

RIC FLAIR: The Nature Boy! Struttin’ and sweatin’ in the Maui sun! But definitely not sweatin’ you, pal. Because when you step into the ring with Ric Flair you’d better be a HELL OF A MAN, and unless you shock the world and stand across from me ready to shake the foundations of heaven you’re gonna get sent to the pay window in the RUNNER-UP SPOT! SO SHOW UP AND GET READY FOR THE FIGHT OF YOUR LIFE, IF YOU’VE GOT THE GUTS! WOOOOO!