Edward Newton

Edward Newton stands in the middle of a dark and dingy cave. Slapped over his shoulder is the OSW World Championship, barely visible in the darkness. Edward speaks softly, as if not to disturb anything or anyone.

“Knowledge is power. Information is liberating. Education is the premise of progress, in every society, in every family, in every person.”

He scoffs.

“Yet only one of us supposedly rules the free world.”

“You like to talk, Mr. President. You find power in standing upon that podium, knowing that the world is watching. That is why you’re here, isn’t it? Because inside that ring, you can paint a picture for the world that not even words could sufficiently illustrate. If actions speak louder than words, I speak for us all when I say; we cannot hear you, Mr. President. However, when you stand upon that podium, and spread your propaganda and deceit, it is not that we cannot hear, it that we choose not to listen. It is that we’ve heard it all before.”

He adjusts his glasses.

“So, riddle me this, Mr. President; It repeats only the last word you say. The more it repeats, the softer it gets. It cannot be seen but it can be heard. What is it, Mr. President?”

“Every four years, another sharply dressed man stands before us and proclaims great change for the United States of America. They stand before us a puppet to a regime even they cannot control. Their words are hollow, and empty. They mean nothing. Each time, we hear someone else’s sentiment, regurgitated with a side of arrogance and deceit. Those words bounce around people’s menial little lives, giving them meaning.”

Edward shakes his head in disgust.

“Only, we’ve heard it all before. Every single one of you repeats what the last one has said. You promise to effect change, but you only succeed in gaining power. You claim that this term will be different to the last, but in four years, the little ants you rule over scurry back to the same booths and cast their ballot in a new direction. Therefore, when I ask you to answer my riddle, Mr. President; I don’t expect you to know how. Because unless someone had asked you once before, or written down the answer, there’s no blueprint for your response.”

He suddenly becomes louder.

“You are an echo, as is the answer.”

And the answer repeats itself.

“And on Monday night, when you step into the ring with Edward Newton, I too will be an echo. I will be an echo of twenty-three other victories that occurred in the very same place you stand. I will be an echo, doomed to repeat myself repeatedly, until someone finally stops me. I’m certain that you understand me, Mr. President. It may take this weak and uninspired society four years to atone for the mistake of your arrival in office, but it will take me only three seconds to echo and repeat my victories.”

He grins.

“You may be the President of the United States of America. You may be the most powerful man on the planet. But in this ring, you are a subordinate to Edward Newton; the Commander in Chief and Champion of Old School Wrestling.”

God bless Edward Newton.”

“The only star in the Star Spangled Banner worth singing for.”