RAW #005: LEX LUGER VS. RIC FLAIR

Cut to the hotel room the night of Monday Night Raw, live from the Mall of America in Minneapolis. The mall itself didn’t have any locker rooms or real accommodations so Ric Flair had to haphazardly pile himself into a limo that brought him to his hotel. He wasn’t able to shower until he got to the hotel so he ruined a perfectly good pair of slacks and a shirt with his sweat, and when he finally does get a shower it doesn’t help his mood any. When he went into the match against Vader and Hogan he was one hundred percent positive he’d just win the match easily once the two of them turned on each other and got worn out. But the worst outcome happened, even worse than losing the match… He had to share the win with Vader. The big stinking wall of fat and muscle is quickly becoming a thorn in his side when his view should be set squarely on Lex Luger and the world championship.



Once he steps out of the shower and wipes the condensation from the glass of the mirror he locks eyes with himself. He stares a long few seconds as if he doesn’t recognize the face, before he squints and rakes fingers through his mane of bottle-blonde hair.



Ric Flair: Don’t look at me like that, Ric. I’m not the one who got us into this mess. I’M not the one who threw everything but the kitchen sink in our way getting to that title belt. I’M not the one who decided he was first in line like that bucket of lard Vader. We are--I AM--Ric Flair. Best to ever do it. Real world’s champion. Sold out arenas from Tucson to Timbuktu. They wanted the best when they signed me, WOO, and the best is what they’ll get! And nobody will stand in my way! Haha!



Pep talk to himself out of the way, Ric feels better. He gets his things and heads to the airport where the plane is waiting for him, it’ll be a few hours to the next town and the next house show. Hopefully he’ll find a good gym in the intervening time.



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The next day, Ric does indeed find a gym. This one has a Stairmaster in it, which is what he was looking for. So the day finds him, after eating a continental breakfast, on a stair climbing machine doing his cardio for the day. And no sooner does he pass the fiftieth flight of stairs than some weasley pimple-faced kid makes his way into the gym with a camera and a notepad. He side-eyes him and waits for the inevitable autograph request, but instead the kid introduces himself.



Interviewer: Mr. Flair, hello. My name is Ned Jones and I was told to get a short interview with you for WWF Magazine, since you’re now the number one contender. We were hoping to get a few shots of you in the gym, a few words about the WWF and the current champ in Lex Luger.



Ric gestures for the kid to have a seat on a nearby bench press, a smile playing over his face. See? They eventually have no choice but to come around and acknowledge Ric Flair.



Ric Flair: Well when it comes to workouts, today is cardio. I walk up 100 flights of stairs, twice a week. That’s a thousand stairs on this machine, two thousand a week, hundred and four thousand a year. That gives me better cardio than anyone in this business, with the exception of maybe… MAYBE a couple guys. I’d be hard-pressed to have to use both hands to count them. And when it comes to being the best, you need cardio. You have to have a gas tank to hang with the best in the world. And when it comes to the current WWF talent? Not a one of them can hold a candle to the Nature Boy. Not a ONE of them can hang with me for an hour in that ring. You can tell THAT to your readers.



Ned takes his time to write down a lot of what’s said, then he takes a couple action shots of Ric doing his routine. He takes a few extra shots of the gym as well before he turns back to ask a further question.



Interviewer: Talking about my readers, a lot of them are new to Ric Flair and the “real world heavyweight title.” Can you tell me about the background to it, where it comes from?



Ric Flair: If you’d done your homework you’d know exactly where it comes from, Ned. I defended that title all over the world and I’ve held it more times than anyone else alive today. I’m not gonna name names and give your readers the scoop, but they didn’t fulfill their end of our bargain and I took matters into my own hands. Now that belt is mine until someone’s man enough to take it from me, and it’s not gonna be that jacked-up meathead all decked out in Old Glory, Lex Luger. And he’s not gonna look down his nose at Ric Flair, I’ve been in this business since 1972. I’ve been wrestling since that spray-tanned gorilla was learning multiplication in junior high. And neither him or that other stinking gorilla Vader are gonna stop the Nature Boy’s march toward the WWF title. I’m not just the real world’s champion because I have my title belt, I’m the real world’s champion because I bring something to the title that neither of them could ever bring.



Furious scribbling follows his words, then Ned furrows his brow and looks back up.



Interviewer: And what’s that, Mr. Flair?



Ric Flair: Style. WOOOO!



The exclamation unnerves the dorky reporter, and he excuses himself before he leaves. By the time everything’s said and done Ric’s got his 100 flights in and towels himself off before it’s time to his the bench.