These were the days when I traveled donkeyback across the Sun-cracked stretches of the aptly-named Ole
Mexico Badlands as a member of the clandestine carnival troupe, Lucha Peligrosa. They called me El Bandolera
and I wore a mask before foolishly wagering it in a Mask vs. Mask match with the irrepressible Super Caló. It
was a different time and place. Gunfire was used in place of ring bells and what we lacked in crowds, we made
up for in cacti. The oft-treacherous treks wore on men of weaker constitution but, for me, it was all made
worthwhile when I would return to the hacienda outside Monterrey from which I rented a room to find a young
Mexican maiden with rosy cheeks named Santita holding a bowl of freshly-made queso. Incidentally, she resembled
a Latina Veronica.
As I contemplate the rapidly-approaching "High Noon," I am reminded of the multitudinous midday showdowns
I witnessed during that time. Colt Cabana picked the wrong gunslinger when he wandered into the CHIKARA Saloon
and challenged Mariachi Archie to a duel. You fear very little when you have seen a man thrown down a well
because he ate the last bite of coyote before offering it to one of the veterans.
Señor Cabana makes it seem as if he is upset with the treatment of March Madness’ newly-acquired mascot,
Colt Cabunny – a thinly-veiled façade if ever there was one. After all, I ask you – when has the proprietor
of coltmerch.com ever cared about anyone but himself? Clearly, his loss to me at King Of Trios 2011 is eating
away at him like a Tijuana tapeworm.
What I do with Colt Cabunny is no one’s business but my own; I bought him hare-and-square. But I will say that
any accusations of animal cruelty are patently absurd. Cabunny will attest that I treat him as if he were my son.
Why, just yesterday I added padding to the harness he wears when pulling the plow. And he loves the way I decorate
his fur for the holidays with chewed wads of bubblegum.
On 13 November, live on iPPV for all the world to see, I will not hesitate to break that chip off Colt
Cabana’s shoulder. My only regret will be in not having some of Santita’s famous queso to dip it in.