Q: Are We Not Human? A: We Are Corpses! #Wattys2015

V.

The month raced by like a teenage dream. Andrew McCarrick brought in professional wrestlers from the now defunct ICW to train Alan. When Alan saw them walk through the door, he nearly had a heart attack. Barricade, Dusty Drifter, and Stronghold, in the flesh!

"I'm sure you know who these fine gentleman are," McCarrick said, spreading out his arm to them. Allow me to introduce—"

"Dusty Drifter," Alan exclaimed, reaching for the incredibly buff man's hand. Dusty wore a cowboy hat and had some of the clearest green eyes God ever created. The pro squeezed Alan's hand with an intensity that made Alan squirm.

"So you're the one who put us out of work," Dusty said. His gruff, Australian voice surprised Alan. Dusty always had a Texas accent in his ICW days.

"So...sorry," Alan squeaked. Dusty released his hand and a smile spread between his stubble. He slapped Alan on the back with jolts of electricity.

"I'm only screwin' with ya, mate. I ain't mad."

"Dusty will not only be your training partner," McCarrick said. "He'll also be wrestling in the UWF."

Alan's joy of meeting one of his idols dissolved as he looked at the other two wrestlers behind Dusty. "Wait. All of you will be in the UWF?"

They nodded.

"Absolutely," Dusty said. "We're back on the saddle."

"We're going to have an exhibition match by the end of the month to show the fans that we're back in business," McCarrick said. "And these three will be there to wrestle our corpses."

Alan gulped. Not only were these behemoths going to be throwing him around like a rag doll in the next few minutes. They were also going to be a major part of the federation he helped establish.

"So where might these corpses be?" Barricade looked around. He stood seven feet tall and had biceps like cannonballs. Unlike most wrestlers, his chest was hairy, which was a no-no in pro wrestling as nobody wanted to grapple a hirsute man. He noticed Alan's stares and rubbed his chest.

"What? This old thing? I figured what's the point of shavin' it if I'm only gonna be wrestlin' zombies."

Alan winced. If that jobber the other day could bring him so much pain, what was a monster like this guy going to do to him?

McCarrick rubbed his hands together and then clapped several times. "Okay, let's show him the ropes, boys. Wreslting 101. Class is now in session."

***

Alan ran against the ropes, and just like he made Livewire do a few days ago, he threw his arms over them. But Stronghold, who was only 5'7 and sported a potbelly, didn't fall for it like the jobber. Instead, he ran right for Alan, whose eyes went wide with fright.

"Now, just like we practiced!" McCarrick shouted from the sidelines.

Alan jumped and leaned back on the ropes just as he had been taught to do. But he did it too early, so not only did it show how fake wrestling was, it also allowed Stronghold to clothesline him right in the crotch. Alan howled in pain as he flipped over the rope and fell face first on the floor.

All three wrestlers and Mr. McCarrick ran to him as Alan writhed on the ground. When he looked up through tears, he saw that they were all grinning.

"I don't see what the hell's so funny," Alan grumbled as a chill reverberated in his lower abdomen.

Andrew McCarrick twirled his finger. "Let's do it again. We're going to teach you how to wrestle, even if it kills you."

Dusty snickered. "And then, we'll add you to the zombie squad!"

They all laughed.

Alan curled up into a ball. This was not at all funny.