Brutus Beefcake goes to Hell

You didn't expect to go out this way. But, of course nobody ever really does. Of course, it's difficult to escape the wrestling curse. You either die far too young or far too senile. It's almost a guarantee that your last few years will be spent suffering and rotting away slowly. And yet, you thought that somehow the curse would avoid you. That you were somehow different, somehow special.

What will happen when you get to St. Peter's heavenly gate? Will he allow you into the Lord's kingdom or will he simply spit in your face and send you on your way. In your mind, you believed that you were a good guy. Sure, you had made a few mistakes in your life – but who hadn't? You knew that you had things to answer for, the drugs, the booze, the steroids, and of course... that anthrax accident. God damn, it always came back to having to explain the anthrax accident. You were just another wrestler who partied heavily and struggled to overcome your addictions. And in most ways, that was your final straw, your coming-to-God moment. You finally saw the universe for what it was and God's light had finally penetrated your soul. You were born once again as one of God's children.

You had done your best to be a good person, a good friend, a good husband, and a good father. Some of your closest wrestling associates considered you not only a good friend, but also a brother. From Hogan to Finkel, to Jimmy Hart – all of them had been integral to some of your finest moments in life. Your first relationship failed, but as with most things in life, you continued to do your best. On your second marriage to Barbara, you got things right. It was here that you became who you would always be first and foremost, a father. Nobody could ever deny that everything you did, in its own way and style, was for your daughter, Alana. Poor Barbara...poor Alana.

The wrestling curse comes slowly. It starts with a twinge in your arm, a crick in your knees, an issue in your shoulder. After awhile, it creeps up even more. Your mind and facilities start to vanquish. You become accustomed to the pain, you become content with the pain. You stop noticing the things that others would.. a spasm in the body, slurring of the words, heavy breathing, etc. Finally, others start to become numb to noticing these issues too; they've given up on alerting you that things are getting worse, that your health is suffering, and that nobody is going to be surprised when you don't wake up one day. It'll happen sooner rather than later for all of us...

How long have you been diminishing without even the knowledge of doing so? Your health the last few months had been decent. You were getting up well-rested, your diet had improved, your drinking had been minimized – and yet, it was too little too late. You spent your final day with a nice lunch with your daughter before spending your final evening watching television with your wife Barbara. Barbara went to bed around eleven pm that night and you made sure to give her a goodnight kiss as you had done for the previous twenty-one years. You had no clue that this would be the last time that you would ever see your lovely wife. You had simply expected to continue watching television for another hour before hitting the hay and sleeping soundly. You got up from your recliner and turned off your television for the final time at 12:11 pm.

Two hours later, you woke up to use the restroom. Nothing seemed too out of the normal, and yet before you knew it – the room started to spin as things went dark and then light and then dark once again. Your head was spinning and this scene continued to play out. Your ears started to ring louder and louder, before finally exploding in an enormous erupting sound. And then again – just like with your eyes, the sound came in and finally went out - completely out. Everything was dark, everything was silent, and that's when you felt the ultimate rush. You felt an overwhelming sense of euphoria, you felt weightless, you felt more content than you had ever before. You were no longer in any pain – and then you saw the light. It was the brightest light that you had ever seen. The light continued to increase as you felt yourself lifting towards the skies.

The following morning your wife woke up and noticed that you were missing. She had assumed that like normal, you had just fallen asleep in your recliner. However, when she went out to the living room- she noticed that this wasn't the case. Perhaps, you had gotten up early and went to visit the gym. She knew that every once in awhile – you and Hogan got together to still work out. Occasionally, Barbara had lamented that you were still working out at your age, but she relented to your desires. She always was a good woman and partner. She didn't deserve to see what she was about to see... then again, nobody ever deserves to find a loved one like that.

Barbara normally didn't like to talk to Hogan, she knew that her husband liked having his free space and alone time. However, she had a gut-wrenching feeling that something about today wasn't right.. that today was somehow different. She grabbed her phone and dialed Hogan.

The phone rang once, twice, three times – no answer.

She called back and listened to the phone ring loudly time after time. Still, there was no answer. She knew that Hulk was up, he was always up by now. She began to get increasingly nervous.. perhaps something had gone wrong, perhaps with Hulk or perhaps with her husband. Maybe, they had gotten into a car wreck or maybe some kind of terrible accident had occurred while they were working out. Perhaps, today was the day that her husband had finally exerted himself too much during a workout.

Little did she know that this had taken place just a few hours earlier.

On her third attempt to call Hogan, he finally answered his phone in his rough and boisterous voice -

"Beefcake, what the hell are you doin brotha – Why the hell are you callin me this early. We aren't working out today brotha."

"Terry, can you repeat what you just said? Did you say that Edward is.. oh god, is Edward not with you?"

"Barbie – is that you? I haven't seen Beefy or heard from him in a couple days. I've been busy making other appearances recently. You know how it's been the last few months, trying to rehab my image and everything. I've been absolutely swamped and we haven't had the time to work out in awhile. Is there.. something wrong?"

"Oh Terry... I haven't been able to find Eddy anywhere today and I just have the worse feeling about that. The last time I saw him was last night... he seemed perfectly fine before I went to bed.."

"I'm sure things will be fine brotha, knowing Beefcake he is probably just dicking off somewhere around the house. Ya know how he is Barbara – always tinkering with this and that. Did you look everywhere in the house already?"

"I have only checked the living room, the only spot I've found him in lately is that god damn recliner of his. Always just sitting in that recliner, watching hours upon hours of wrestling on the television. Always watching the WWE Network. I swear if I didn't know any better, I would think that he is trying to relive his glory years once again. Hell, with the way he has been taking care of himself lately... it wouldn't even surprise me if he was thinking about getting back in the ring again."

"Barb, brotha, it's been fifteen years.. there's no way that is what Ed- ... "

With that - Hulk's voice was cut off by a shriek. A panicked-stricken and obviously disturbed Barbara quickly got back on the phone, her voice trembling: "Hulk – I think it's bad... I just noticed that not only is the bathroom light still on, but the sink appears to still be running also.. in fact, I can see a huge puddle starting to form on my floor."

"I'll be there as soon as I can Barbara, wait for me please. You don't want to do this alone."

Within ten minutes – Barbara heard a loud blaring noise outside. It was a loud customized car horn blaring throughout the neighborhood and she immediately knew that it had to be Hogan. He blared his custom horn again and a loud "Brotha" was heard. Barbara briefly laughed, as this momentary reprieve was comforting. After all, Hogan had always been about flash and substance and Barbara had long grown accustomed to Terry's proclivities. She was never surprised that he would have a custom car horn or that he would roll up to her house in a red and yellow convertible. But what she was surprised with was the look and expression on Terry's face.. he looked absolutely panicked.

Barbara tried lightening up the situation as she joked - "Terry, what's wrong with you? I've never seen you with such a ghastly expression on your face, in fact you look extremely pale... almost like a ghost and I don't think that I've ever seen you without a bandanna. Now you are really frightening me.. T-Terry."

"I've seen this shit Barbara, far far too many times. And yet it never gets easier. The god damn curse of this industry. I have to tell you Barbara, what is in that bathroom is not going to be pretty. Are you sure that you can handle this? It's not good."

Her voice began to break as she was flooded with a sense of overwhelming sadness. She finally managed to tremble out.. "N-n-no Terry, I-I am not r-r-r-ready but I'm likely never going to be. And we have to know what happened."

The two then walked through the house and proceeded through the kitchen towards the bathroom. As they got within a few feet of the bathroom door, they began to trounce through puddles of water. The sink must have been running for hours now. Now, just a mere few steps from the door Hogan once again turned to Barbara and he asked her if she was ready. She boldly stated that she had to be. As they peeked in the door... it was as they confirmed.

Something tragic had happened in the night. Something that would effect both of their lives. Brutus Beefcake was laying on the floor with his mouth agape and his eyelids closed. His body was completely passive; it was obvious that no breath was being expelled anymore. The man who had entertained so many people for so many years would no longer be entertaining anyone.

Edward "Brutus The Beefcake" Leslie was dead at age 58. Dead in his own bathroom and discovered by his wife and his best friend. Nobody deserves to go out this way, but we all do. The wrestling curse comes for us and strikes us all down. We never even see it coming.

A few hours had passed in the Leslie household, as the news began to spread to family members and friends. People had begun gathering already and paying their respects to the man who was known as the Beefcake. If it wasn't under these circumstances that the people were gathering, the gathering could almost be called pleasant. Many wrestlers and friends had gathered including Howard Finkel, Brian Knobbs, and Jimmy Hart.

The coroner finally confirmed what we had all expected. That night, when Beefcake was using the bathroom, his heart had finally given out. He officially died of a heart attack at 2:24 am on October 7th, 2015. In his bathroom, on the floor.

His body continued to float throughout the atmosphere. It soared higher - before it finally came to a screeching halt. Just then, Brutus heard a loud crashing sound and noticed a white light coming from above. Suddenly he saw a gigantic man with a long-flowing beard. His voice boomed out:

"Edward Leslie – I am Saint Peter."

"Sa-Saint Peter? But aren't we suppose to meet each other at the pearly gates of Heaven? Wasn't this what the bible foretold of? One final judgment right outside of God's kingdom..."

"We promised something similar, but don't accept everything that you read in the bible. We've decided to streamline things – what kind of company did you expect us to be? Even in God's kingdom we are always adapting to changing climates..."

Brutus stared at the bearded man with a blank look on his face. He was utterly confused and incredibly shocked. His vast feelings of euphoria had suddenly vanished; they were replaced with trepidation. Finally, Beefcake found the courage to speak out:

"But Peter, I'm not sure I understand what you mean. I have done my best I could with my li- "

"SILENCE" - Peter let out in a booming voice. He continued: "I met you at purgatory for a reason. You didn't make the cut. It was too little, too late – goodbye Edward."

Instantly he began to free fall – completely overwhelmed - as everything became a blur. And then a sizzle, an instant blood-curdling sizzle, and then it felt like his complete body was on fire. Yes, he was sure of it now. He was burning for the rest of eternity. He was now trapped in Satan's fire pits of Hell. This is the end of Brutus the Barber Beefcake for sure. Through all of eternity, he would remain trapped in hell.

He tried to compose himself. He didn't know what was next – he tried to get use to the flames. As much as you can get use to the flames. He briefly started to tear up and he released that even his tears were now nothing more than droplets of fire. He panicked, he laughed, he stood there silent – unsure of what would happen next.

He then thought back to some of the parables that he remembered from his bible. Parables that told of the many ways one would suffer in Hell. He specifically recalled 2 Thessalonians 1:9 which read:

"They will be punished with everlasting destruction and shut out from the presence of the Lord and from the majesty of his power."

Damn. That's the only word his mind kept circling back to. Damn it. He began to slowly wander what kinds of tortures would be coming his way. He wouldn't have to wait very long to find out. Another loud booming noise was heard and a large goat-looking man soon appeared. He carried his trademark pitchfork with him. The Barber knew that he was now facing the Devil. His most difficult opponent ever. Brutus thought to himself that if maybe, just maybe he showed enough courage and braveness Satan would be slightly easier on him.

Beefcake began to cut the promo of his life right there in front of ole Beelzebub himself. He began in his biggest and most booming voice he could:

"Satan, I know not what I've done to live in this god damn place and I frankly don't give a damn. If I am going to suffer in this forsaken place for the rest of my life then I'm at least going to do it my own way. If you ask me, you are just another son of a bitch. Well listen, I've faced tons of SOBs in my life – so if you think you are just going to have your way with me, then I have some news for you."

Satan merely laughs. In fact, he is so amused by it he merely responds: "Listen Edward, you can give whatever impassioned speech you want – in fact, I enjoyed that nice one that you just gave. I've always been a fan of yours. But, if you think that you have any control of stopping me from having my way with you don't be mistaken. And yet... you are in luck. I'm in a very festive little mood this time of the year. That's why I will give you only one opportunity to escape from Hell and return to Purgatory. However, I warn you that you will not like it."

"I don't care what is is. I'll do anything!" - Beefcake responded with desperation in his voice.

"That's what they all say, don't they?" - Satan began once again chuckling. "And I bet when I tell you the next part – you will be doubly as excited. Sure, keep thinking that."

"Excited?" - Beefcake questions the Devil.

"You will be having sex... " - Satan states calmly.

"Sex? I'm going to be having sex. That doesn't seem so bad. After all, hell I didn't even know we could still have sex in the afterlife. So who exactly will I be having sex with?"

Once again, the Devil merely laughs. He hesitates before speaking again. He wants to make the Beefcake uncomfortable for awhile. After a good three or four minutes has passed, he clears his throat loudly: "That's for me to know and you to find out soon. However, shall you refuse any one of my choices – you should know that your refusal will also condemn that person to joining me for the rest of Eternity in Hell."

The Devil then vanished and Beefcake was left there standing all alone. His mind grew frantic. He thought long and hard about all of the people that the Devil might choose. It could be absolutely anybody. It could be Vince McMahon or Adolf Hitler or a complete nobody. Somebody that he had never even met, he briefly smiled at this idea. He knew that this would be preferred, however, he knew that he couldn't heed Satan's warning. He knew that the sex wouldn't be with anybody he would ever want to have sex with.

He didn't have to wait much longer. As he continued to walk through the flames of Hell, he noticed a strange park bench with a man sitting on it. From far away, Beefcake thought that he could recognize the silhouette of the man. The bench was blazing with flames and yet that man sat there perfectly content and with a jovial smile on his face. He was a paunchy, wide man dressed in his signature black tuxedo. This man was the WWE's signature ring announcer for nearly twenty years and one of Brutus' best friends. It was of course Howard Finkel.

Beefcake once again began crying, before he remembered that even his tears were flames. He ran up to Howard and gave him a huge hug. Howard quickly and without hesitation hugged him back... and then a little bit more. Howard's hands instantly slid down to grab the ass of Beefcake.

"Howard! What the hell do you think that you are doing? Damn it man – we're friends"

Howard laughed maniacally. He then continued to aggressively kiss Brutus – on his neck, on his lips, on his chest – all while keeping his hands firmly planted on Beefcake's luscious ass. He forced his tongue in deep. And for just a second – Beefcake's mind turned to mush. He tried to just go with it.

He couldn't though. Not yet anyway. So he shoved Howard who crashed roughly into the red hot bench. Howard wasn't phased in the slightest. He laughed again maniacally and merely sent a scolding look towards Beefcake. He walked back over and shoved Beefcake towards the ground. He sat on him straddling his body and using his weight as an advantage. The Beefcake began to get scared... and he managed to let out a pitiful, but light whimper:

"Howard, why would you do this? I thought we were..."

"SHUT UP. DON'T YOU SEE THAT I HAVE NO CONTROL HERE? YOU HAVE NO CONTROL HERE. NONE OF US HAVE CONTROL HERE, EXCEPT THE DARK ONE. THE DARK LORD."

"That's not true... we can all make our decisions." - Beefcake continued to try to plead.

"No, we can't. Satan always gets what he wants. And he wants me to make you suffer. And so you will."

Beefcake knew that there was nothing that he could do anymore. His only trick was to go somewhere else mentally. To escape. And if worse comes to worse, he'd at the very least get his nut off. It couldn't be all that bad could it? After all – it wasn't the first time he had experimented with one of the boys.

Howard could wait no longer. He walked back over to the fiery park bench and ordered the Beefcake to remove his pants. Brutus did as he was instructed as he slowly unzipped the tuxedo pants. As his pants came off, a short pasty dick was flapping in the wind. The Beefcake couldn't help but think to himself - "of course, it's always the guys with small dicks that decide to free ball." Howard coughed loudly to signify that he now wanted something else to be done. The Beefcake slowly ran his hands up along the outside of Finkel's thighs, rubbing them ever so slow and tenderly. He began to rub them in large wide circles. He thought he noticed some blood begin to flow as Howard's pasty penis began to flap. He thought that Howard had to be getting hard – but it was also hard to tell. Poor Howard Finkel's penis was nothing to write home about. Not in the least. It could barely be classified as more than a microdong and on even the best of days it barely could be classified as average. Howard didn't care though – he had a greed in his eyes. A greed that had never been seen before. The devil's lust had truly consumed him.