Love Down For The Count

By Willie T. “Don’t Squeeze the” Sherman
Special Correspondent

MADISON SQUARE GARDEN -- All Gunner McKickass ever wanted was love. As a teen, he would spend hours trying to get his massive bulk off his bed and move over to the window so he could see his neighbor’s daughters playing jump rope outside.

Unfortunately, Gunner was simply too massive to make it outside the door to his room and spent the days languishing is his prison. His only solace was the lead-based paint chips he’d find on his windowsill. Eating them made him happy.

At the age of 17, Gunner could no longer stand being cooped up. He had grown strong having to heave his bulk around the confines of his 20 x 20 foot room, padded for his protection. With his now Herculean strength, he shoved the door jams apart and squeezed out of his house. Only looking back once to see his parents on the lawn, thanking God that their freakish son was no longer a part of their life.

That was Gunner McKickass’ curse. A huge bulk of freakish muscle that not even a parent could love. The ground shook as Gunner stomped out of town. Not that he was that heavy, but the ground seemed as adverse to his touch as everything else in his life.

And that’s when he came upon his salvation – the carnival.

It’s a little known fact that there are only two carnivals in the entire world. They travel opposite to each other, for they are deadly enemies and were they to meet the very fabric of reality could begin to unfold.

Gunner had never spoken to anyone other than his parents and his mode of communication was poor at best. So, when the head Carny came out to see what Gunner was doing by throwing little children into the bell at the top of the test-your-strength pole, it took sometime for him to understand what was going happening. Eventually the carny, Jack Jackonson, understood Gunner and got him a job cleaning up the Freak Show cages.

Jack Jackonson and his collection of freaks.

Years passed. Gunner learned to love the carnival even though most of the visitors would throw peanuts at him, or worse the townspeople would form an angry mob and attempt to burn him to the ground. Despite that, he learned to deal with it. He built up an immunity to peanuts – he was deathly allergic, and always carried a bucket of water with him.

One day, in 1983, after Gunner turned 23, the carny pulled into an out-of-the-way Texas town. Gunner was uprooting trees with his bare hands to make room for the Gut Truck, when he was shot with a tranquilizer. He stumbled, his amazing bulk amazed that it was stung, and he passed out. He was never to see the carnival again.

When he awoke, Gunner was sitting in the corner of a ring. There were ropes around the outside edge and diagonally across from him was an evil looking, mustachioed man, leering at him evilly.

“I don’t care who you are, freak! I will crush you!” the mustachioed man said. “Crush you!”

Gunner heard screams of fear, boos and smelled excrement. It was like the carnival, only worse. He looked around him and realized there were throngs of people sitting in bleachers cheering and booing at him and the mustachioed man.

In the middle of the ring, a man wearing a black and white stripped shirt motioned for Gunner and the evil man to come to the center. Gunner did so, but the evil man stood in place until the zebra man moved over to him and pulled him by the ear.

“Look both of you,” said the little man, “I want a good-looking fight. Tony, try not to end it too soon. New guy, I sure hope you can take a beating.”

With that, a bell rang and Gunner was immediately smacked across the face by Tony’s amazingly large ham-like fists. He was thrown against the roped, he rebounded and Tony’s huge feet smacked him in the chest.

This cycle of abuse continued until, finally, Gunner passed out from exhaustion. It was the fight of the century and the crowd went wild. Never before had one fight lasted four days, three hours, 19 minutes. Many people in the crowd died from dehydration.

After the fight, Gunner was led to a small, smelly travel trailer. It was the kind used to haul horses. A little mattress had been thrown in there. A man wearing a pin-stripe suit walked to the back of the trailer once Gunner was secured inside.

Gunner’s arch rival, Tony Littlescrotum.

“I am Vincent O’Mahon. I run the WWWWW: the World Wide Wrestler’s World of Wrestling. You had better learn how to fight back buddy, ‘cause you’re scheduled to fight Tony Littlescrotum again. For the next 10 nights, in fact. That long ass fight put us way behind schedule. It better not happen again.”

O’Mahon then stabbed Gunner with a needled filled with elephant tranquilizer and left Gunner to sleep.

The next day, Gunner awoke tired, cold and sore. He was released from his cage and assured that escape was impossible because of an explosive device implanted in the soles of his shoes. As he had never worn shoes before, and was now, it was enough to scare him into staying.

That night, Gunner faced Littlescrotum again. And again, they fought for hours. This time, Gunner attempted to fight back some, but he had no chance against someone trained in the art of wrestling as Tony was. Eventually the ref called the fight when Gunners head was split open against an open turnbuckle. His blood painted the ring canvas. O’Mahon took the cost of cleaning out of Gunner’s meager paycheck.

This went on for a year. Gunner waking up in a new town. Fighting someone he didn’t really know. But as time went on, his skill grew. At the end of that year, he was an unstoppable force of destruction. Even his archrival Littlescrotum could not defeat him. He was the scourge of the WWWWWW. He was even given a new Jetstream Trailer.

But he still thought back to his young days. Looking out the window at his neighbor’s daughters. Admiring the women at the carnival and how they managed to survive solely on funnel cake, corn dogs and orange soda. And now, he would watch the women in the audience and the female wrestlers. His longing for love deepened. But he knew in his soul it would never happen for a freak like him.

One day, a stingingly cold December day in Wisconsin, Gunner saw a woman who stopped his heart. She was in the audience, with a tray of cigarettes, working the crowd. Her sequined outfit caught his eye. Her shapely form caught his imagination. His mighty erection crushed his opponent of the evening.

After the match, Gunner immediately moved to the audience to try and get her attention. Unfortunately, her mass of curls masked her vision as she reached across passing out packs of Camels to paying patrons. Gunner, unfazed, pushed apart the crowd and walked straight to the cigarette girl. Sweaty, bloody and with a huge erection he faced her. Women throughout the audience ran away or passed out in disgust, but not the cigarette girl. She jumped on him and began licking and kissing him, pressing the cigarette tray between their bodies.

Stumbling to his Jetstream Trailer, he and the concession girl fell over each other passionately. He stopped long enough to open his door and asked, “Name. You?”

“Hildy,” she said. “Hildy Volstagg.”

The only known photo of Hildy at the time.
This was taken when she applied for the
position of cigarette con-cession girl.
Right before the casting couch.

Their passion was so loud the entire city of Green Bay was up until two in the morning. When all was said and done, Gunner needed a new Jetstream.

The next morning, Gunner awoke to find that his microwave was stolen, his trailer had collapsed from all the activity and Hildy was gone. Her cigarette tray left and a pack of Camel lights were that was left. Not even a note. Gunner emitted a guttural cry of agony and shame, the like of which is said to make anyone within hearing range immediately evacuate their bowels in fear and disappointment.

Gunner was never the same after that night. He still wrestled, but he no longer enjoyed it. In fact, he began to take a sadistic pleasure in beating his opponents. Unfortunately, one night it went too far. Gunner and long-time enemy Tony Littlescrotum were in a caged grudge match. Tony pushed Gunner too far by spitting in his eye. In a blind rage, Gunner ripped Tony’s little scrotum off and shoved it down his throat until Tony died gagging on his own blood and member.

Fortunately for Gunner the match was being held in Mexico and Tony had long been wanted for stealing a shipment of rare Tequila. He was hailed a national hero, but nothing could cure his depression. His heart was heavier than his belly.

Gunner still worked for the WWWWWW, but no one would wrestle him and his inability to speak meant he couldn't be a commentator. He was reduced to, once again, cleaning cages. This time for the lower billed wrestlers.

One night, nearly in October 1986, in Flagstaff, Arizona, a wonderful thing happened to Gunner. Hildy Volstagg showed up. Even though Gunner was elated to see her, he could tell that she wasn’t there to get back together with him. It wasn’t in the cards for him. She beckoned to him to follow her and she led him to her truck.

He looked in the passenger’s side and saw a car seat with what appeared to be a one-year-old baby in it. “Look, Gunner. It’s yours. I can’t have a kid with me. Not with my lifestyle. Look, I’m just not in a place to have a kid. His name’s Gonna. Gonna McKickass.”

Gunner, with tears in his eyes, took his son and waved after Hildy. “Love you!” He yelled after her.

Gunner and son, Gonna, during better days.

Realizing that the wrestling world wasn’t a place for a young child, Gunner decided to leave. That night, he stole the truck that pulled his trailer. He drove off into the Arizona desert.

Gunner and Gonna lived happily in Phoenix for many years. Gunner opened a fitness club and had great success teaching people to wrestle. His pupils include: Sgt. Slaughter, The Iron Sheik and The Ultimate Warrior.

One day, after Gonna’s 10th birthday, Gunner was climbing a telephone pole to mount and anti-aircraft artillery piece when the explosives in his shoes mysteriously and finally went off. Pieces of Gunner were painted across the landscape. Legend says that Sun Valley, Arizona was purposefully not named for Gunner.