My friends and I are in an on-again/off-again writing club where the rules are simple. Every two weeks you have to submit three short stories that it took you 20 minutes or less to write. These are the results.

In the Neighborhood of Rick Luxury

They’re at it again, God damn it. Throwing each other around that shitty ring in their backyard. There should be zoning laws or something against this, but the cops have told me that there’s nothing they can do about some asshole doing flips and fake fights on their property. If I had known that there was going to be a professional wrestler moving next door to me when I first bought this house 20 years ago, I never would have come here.

Calling him a professional is a stretch, isn’t it? He calls himself Rick “Wrestling Personified” Luxury. With a crappy name like that, it’s no wonder he’s not on TV. From what I’ve heard, he only wrestles in gyms and bars around the area, trying to make it big. Good luck with that, buddy.

I don’t know anything about being a good pro wrestler, but I know a thing or two about being a good neighbor. Setting up a ring in your back yard, and spending the weekend with your buddies throwing each other around isn’t the best way to ingratiate yourself. The constant slamming noise from the ring is one thing, but the people that it attracts is what bugs me most. All these young, tattooed up young thugs with their little costumes…what kind of example is that to set.

I’ve made it a point to keep my eye on them from my window. I’m waiting on them to make one screw up – something like roughing up an underage kid or doing drugs back there. So far, the worst I’ve seen is them having some beers afterwards, but they probably know I’m watching so they do all the worst stuff inside the house.

Been watching their little shows for a few months now, and I’ll admit that I can see improvement. Not that I’d know what the hell makes someone good in this fakey sport, mind you. They’re doing full matches now, treating the whole thing like what you’d see at a real show, I guess.

Hate to admit it, but I’m starting to get into their bullshit. I even crack my window a little so I can hear their little speeches. That way I know who the good guys and the bad guys are, and can hear the flea-brained fairy tales they cook up about each other.

You know what I hate most about Rick Luxury, though? I’m jealous of him.