How a butterbucket probably ruined a young pro wrestler last night. Last night, I worked an indy show as a favor for a friend of mine, who has a friend who was promoting his own show.  I haven't wrestled in many years but I wanted to help out a young indy promoter because there just aren't too many in this neck of the woods.  I was at the merch table doing a meet and greet, but maybe 10 people had any interest in anything I had to say, so I was helping the other guys at the table out by pitching their merch for them.  As I was steering the beer-filled masses towards the size 3X shirts and trinkets, a butter golem (BG) that must have been 350 lbs. came up and introduced himself to me.  He was fairly polite, even if he spit when he spoke, like the Tasmanian Devil.  I tried my best to be polite to him, since I was once a young guy just starting out.  Only this guy was REALLY just starting out.  Tonight was his first match, against a young future star (FS) I've seen before that's about 170 lbs.  Would I do BG a favor and watch his match and tell him what I think?  Feeling awkward at this point, I said "sure," because I'd be watching literally every match since I'm being paid to be there. BG's match with FS was in the middle of the card.  The bell rang, and the shit show began.  BG couldn't run the ropes without complaining that they were too tight and hurt him, and there was a reason for that we'll get to later.  FS was doing quite well doing what a pro wrestler should do:  making strikes and moves look brutal without actually hurting the opponent.  BG was a different story.  It became quite clear that BG was working stiff.  In pro wrestling parlance, that's not pulling punches and actually hitting your opponent.  About 5 minutes in, FS's face was a swollen mess.  He was starting to bleed profusely and his legs got wobbly, but FS stayed professional and soldiered on.  Meanwhile, BG was blown up.  I've never seen a man actually turn purple in the ring.  I've seen guys gas before, but never like this.  A few more minutes, and some nauseated groans from the crowd, and the ref told them to bring it home.  Evidently, the finish was to be BG winning via a "Vader Bomb."  It's a common choice for a finishing move for many big men, because of its relative ease and the brutality of its appearance.  Here's Big Van Vader, a legendary pro wrestler doing the move that is his namesake:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JKk4YSMPo3k BG's "Vader Bomb" was an unmitigated disaster.  This fat fuck was so gassed after about 8 minutes of action that when he grabbed the ropes and made his leap, he didn't get his body parallel to the mat.  Not. Even. Close.  He ended up stomping squarely on FS's sternum.  You could hear the CRACK of the bones and FS promptly passed out.  BG got the pin, and the crowd went dead silent.  BG started trying to get a reaction from the crowd, but the house was silent other than a few shouts of "get the fuck out of here, lardass!"  Not good.  In pro wrestling, cheers are good.  Boos are good.  Dead silence?  Well, that's the worst thing that can ever happen to you.  BG scrambled to the back as he finally got a crowd reaction:  the crowd chanted "cut his ass!  Cut his ass!" The show ended, and the promoter told me what had happened.  BG lied about being trained as a pro wrestler.  He was a shitbucket off the street who has never had a match, and never trained a day in his life.  He claimed to be trained by the Monster Factory, a well regarded school for big men, and no one actually called and checked.  When he got to the back and the EMTs flowed to the front, everyone from the promoter to the boys asked him what the fuck that was all about.  He replied that he put out "a five star match" and that if FS "couldn't take simple strikes, he shouldn't be in the business."  He then told the promoter that everyone had to admit he "had a hell of a first match." "First match?  When I booked you, you said you had 20 matches under your belt and 2 years at Monster Factory." "Uh....what I meant was..." "Go get showered and get the fuck out of here.  I'll see to it you're never booked anywhere within 500 miles of us, ever again!" I guess when BG stripped off his gear and got in the shower, the other workers grabbed his gear, his bag and his street clothes, soaked them down with water, and threw them into the single-digit weather outside.  When BG got out of the shower, 6 of the other workers, who were big men, but int the swolebro way, told him "okay, get the fuck out of here." "But I need my clothes!" "They're out by the dumpster.  Go out and get dressed.  This dressing room is for real workers, not dangerous scumbags like you." "But I'll freeze!   You can't do this!" "Better thaw your shit out fast then.  And yes, we can.  We are right now." The SwoleBros grabbed BG and literally threw him airborne out the backdoor of the venue.  I guess when he hit the ground, everyone had a good laugh about how he bounced and skidded a good distance until he had scrapes all over him.  The Bros closed the door, and after a few seconds of BG pounding on the door, he finally gave up and left. FS ended up with a few broken ribs and two very bad black eyes.  He was supposed to be released today, but I haven't heard a thing yet.  I hope the kid's okay.  No one deserves to be mauled by an untrained fatass who's trying to make a name for himself, ignoring all safety and common sense. BG never did ask me what I thought of his match.  Good thing, too!