My brothers and I were professional wrestlers. We didn’t work for the WWF or WCW. We produced our own show- DWF- the Ditzel Wrestling Federation.
The DWF did not have pre-scheduled matches. They happened spontaneously. One match was called “You Took My Seat”. We were watching “Gilligan’s Island” or “The Munsters” after school. My brother got up to go to the kitchen. I sat in his chair. He returned with some milk and a slice of cake.
“You’re in my seat.”
“You got up.”
“I went to get some milk.”
I didn’t respond and stared at the TV.
He grabbed me out of the chair and another DWF match was on! An announcer called the action:
“Chris pulls Joe out of the chair and throws him against the couch. Joe regains his balance and climbs on top of the recliner. He’s on the turnbuckle. He’s airborne! Boom! He flattens Chris against the coffee table. Chris quickly takes control- he’s got him in a headlock. He’s picking Joe up now- pile-driver! OUCH! That had to hurt. Joe is taking the worst of it here.
Wait a second! Joe is making a tag with his brother John. There’s the tag. Here comes BIG JOHN! A crowd of neighbor kids has gathered and they are going crazy, chanting, ‘BIG JOHN! BIG JOHN!’ John and Chris are squaring off now as they size each other up. John makes a quick move down low- leg-sweeper! He’s got Chris on the canvas now. He picks him up. Look out. Here comes the airplane spin. One. Two. He throws Chris through the front window. CRASH! Wow, what action!”
There was one DWF match called “You Ate My Pizza”. One summer I was home from college and my friend and I found a pizza in the fridge. We thought it was my Dad’s so we ate it- oops, it was my brother’s. My brother was not too happy about this development. Apparently I was not too apologetic because he suddenly smashed me in the nose. He hit me so hard blood shot from my nose and sprayed the white wall near the stairwell.
Everybody was suddenly quiet while we stared at the huge blood splatter. It looked like a painting.
My brother said, “Hey, it looks like a farm scene. Here’s the barn and here’s the silo.”
Holding my nose with one hand I added nasally, “Yeah. Here is the tractor and some cows.”
I really didn’t feel the pain. Until the next day. AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! My nose had swollen to 100 times it’s normal size. It was the size of a beach-ball. I went to the linen closet and pulled two king-size bed-sheets and stuffed them in my nostrils.
Life was different with my giant nose. When I went to the movies I had to buy a ticket for myself and a ticket for the seat in front of me so I had somewhere to put my nose. I had to buy antihistamine in 40 gallon drums and shoot it my nose with a garden hose.
To keep my nose from getting sunburned I covered it in zinc oxide. It looked like a giant cue-ball. The doctor made me wear a hat. Not a baseball cap- a sombrero. At the bus stop little old ladies would stand under my nose to get out of the sun.
Soon I developed a new DWF persona: “Welcome to the Ditzel Wrestling Federation. Today we have a return death cage match between VODKA BASHER and his rival BIG NOSE JOE!”
Just so he doesn’t use the dreaded nostril hold.