Guys, let's do a WWE fanfic story circle. I'll start.
The man sat among the smell of sweat and hot dogs twenty rows up. Meanwhile, Dolph Ziggler and The Miz tussled in the middle of the ring. Gritting his teeth beneath his black hoodie, the man felt the rage of rejection building in his belly.
"That should be me taking shitty superkicks," he growled, perhaps a bit too loudly, spitting chunks of the Nathan's dog out between his teeth.
"You okay, buddy?" an old, grey-haired man nearby said to him.
"Just fine," the angry big man said, taking another huge bite of America. The old man leaned closer, looking deep into the recesses of the hoodie.
"Hey, aren't you?..." he began, then fell back as the man pulled back his hoodie and proceeded to tear off his leather jacket, revealing a pastel singlet with the words "The Big Guy" spray painted on.
"I used to be," he said.
