The Time Bandit....Bad News For "Bad News" Allen

Monty HeldtContributor IJanuary 8, 2010

So, I hopped into the TimeMachine, and found myself in the middle of nowhere in Harlem, somewhere in the mid seventies.
As I looked around I could see an old, abandoned warehouse, which said in bold letters across the front…”Harlem School of Judo”.  Without a moments notice, I saw a large, bald, black man, “escorting” a younger black man out of the door.  He literally had a hold of the man’s belt with one hand, and the scruff of his neck in the other.
“Get the hell outta here!” yelled the large man.
“What did I do?”  Inquired the smaller man.
“Your best isn’t good enough.  You aren’t trying!  You will never be a Judoka”
The Large man’s eyes began to bulge out, as he threw the second man, onto his head, right amongst the trash in the streets.  A closer look revealed it to be “Bad News” Allen Coage.  (Bad News Brown in the WWF).
“Uhhh, Sir?”
“Yeah, what do you want honky?”
“Honky??”  I wasn’t sure what that meant.  I knew it was a bit of an old school slur, but had never been applied to me.  I thought it was funny actually, but was too scared to laugh.  In particular, I noticed how easily he spit it out.  This was an educated man, who could scare you to death.  He was large, about 6’5, maybe 240 lbs.  He had a bald head, and a large black beard.  He was “Kimbo Slice”, before such a man had even been born.
He wore a black gi, and had a black belt on around his waist.  He was the instructor here, but it looked as though he had thrown out his last student.
“Yeah, that’s right, you little twerpy honky.  And what the hell is this accent you speakin with?”
“I am a Canadian.  From Northern Alberta.”
“Northern Alberta?  What the hell are you doin here?”
“Well, truthfully, I travelled back in time to get here.”
“Back in time?  I mean, do I have a sign on my head that says stupid on it, boy?”
“Well, the machine I go in, doesn’t tell me where I am going.  I just get in, and push the button.  Somehow I land somewhere near interesting people.  Usually Pro Athletes from the past.”
“I am too broke to be interesting.  I just won two gold medals and a bronze for this country in Judo.  But still, I can’t find no students.  I can’t make no money, to get up outta here.  And the people, well, they ain’t quite ready for a big black man to be in charge of anything.  So I am stuck here, in Harlem, trying to teach Judo, to these weak willed punks.”
“Well, things change in the future.  Where I am from, it’s not ok to be a racist a##hole, and hold people down based on color.  At least, it’s better than it is now.  Black people are popular, and have the same jobs as white folks.  We are all trying as a society, to reverse the trends of the past.   Hell, there is a black presiden…”
“See, now, you are playin with me, man.  That is a dangerous thing to do.  Black President…yeah right kid.  They are gonna put you with the other beerbellied sharecroppers in the loony bin, if you keep talking like that.”  Allen interrupted.
“Beerbellied sharecroppers?  That is a statement you need to remember.  It will serve you well in the future.”
“Future?  I am trying to pay my rent…future?  What future.”
“Well, actually, your personality will make you one of the best heels, ever to grace the pro wrestling ring.”
Pro Wrestling?  I can’t wrestle man, I am a Judoka!  What the hell is a “heel.”
“A heel is a bad guy.  And there is no money in Judo, dude.  Where I am from, you probably could have been an awesome MMA fighter.”
“MMA??  What the hell is this MMA?”  He was getting angry.  "I AM a bad guy..."
“Mixed Martial arts tournaments, from every discipline of fighting.  Wrestling, Karate, Jiu Jitsu, Boxing, and of course, Judo.”
This interested him.  He was actually quiet, and didn’t look like he wanted to rip my head from my body.  It was only for a brief second.
“Hey, cmere...”  Bad News said as he grabbed my arm.  He pushed me inside of the time capsule, the door shut, and he hit the button.  Lights churned and burned, and smoke started to come out of the floor.  The capsule wobbled, back and forth a bit, and then POOF!  There was a loud bang. ”We are going where you are from.  I hate it here anyway.”  He said.
The door opened, and out I stepped.  We had gone nowhere.  I then heard my own voice say…”What the hell is this man?”
I, in turn replied…”I have never tried two people before.”  My voice was deep.  I sounded like Bad News Allen.  I looked down at myself, and I “was” Bad News Allen!”
And Bad News was me.
“The Tachyons, must have sped up too much, causing a dramatic shift in our photonic layout, and dna chemistry..”
“Quit talking shit man.  We switched places….I am you, and you are me.”  The previous “me” said to the new me.  “Change this shit back…”  Even though he was a little white Canadian, he still spoke with a Harlem Accent. 
“Ummm…change it back?”  I didn’t want to go back.  I was Bad News Allen.  “What are you gonna do about it, Honky?”  I still spoke with a Canadian Accent.  It sounded deep, but funny nonetheless.
He grabbed my arm, and started bulging my eyes out…”Now you listen here Mutha f*cka…”
I pushed the little 175 pound white guy off of me.  This little guy couldn’t do anything about anything.
“Shut up, Bad News.”  I said.  “Get the hell off of me.”
“Bad Wha?”
Your ring name, Bad News Allen.  You become, particularly up in Calgary in the Stampede territory, probably one of the greatest heel characters of all time.  It must not have been hard for you to play a bad sumb*tch.  You are a bad sumb*tch!  Well, actually, now I am, and I am going to go into Pro Wrestling, and raise three times the hell you ever did.  I am going to make Archie “The Stomper” Gouldie look like a nice guy now!.”  I was getting used to this.  I loved the sound of my voice.  I couldn’t wait to meet the Harts, Ed Whalen, Davey Boy Smith, the Cuban Assassin, Gerry Morrow, JR Foley, and the gang from Stampede Wrestling.
“No, No , No…not a chance.  You are going to stay here, and protect my little white ass, while I figure out how to get out of this mess.  How do you walk around like this anyway.  I feel weird, man.”
“No little white guy, I am not doing anything.  What are you going to do.  I will beat you up in the process.”  I started walking to the time machine...I was going back, to start cementing a new legacy.  I was going to change the events of time, and alter the space time continuum.  I would be the greatest Wrestling heel of all time, and I too would use the “Ghetto Blaster” as my finishing manuever.  I would beat up faces, stab people with forks, throw them through tables.  It was definitely gonna be good news, for the “Bad News”!!
But as I got closer he grabbed me…and pushed us both into the machine.  He shifted his weight ala Judo, despite his size, perfectly, and in I went, with no choice in the matter.  He was swift, and steady.  A real pro.
He hit the button, and again, everything started to shake, and rattle.  Smoke billowed, lights churned, and sounds of beeps and boops came from the mainframe computer.  The door opened and out we stepped.
“Honky?  I never did get your name…”  I heard Bad News say behind me.  I was Monty again.
“It’s Monty, dude.  I am going home, to see my old lady, and dog, and do some snowboarding I guess.  My life was good, but not quite the life of someone like Allen Coage. 
“See ya, and I wouldn’t want to be ya…”   Exclaimed the real Bad News Allen as he shoved me back into the machine and pushed the button.  The Machine quickly evaporated into thin air.  I was headed to my next destination.  He was heading towards a successful career in Pro Wrestling.
And so on…