Characters You've Never Heard Of: K.D. BACCHUS

FATHER ROBERT: What in the world...

[The "nun" whips off her habit, revealing the battered, bruised K.D. Bacchus beneath.  He's still shirtless, dressed in his black tights and wrestling boots.  His blond hair is matted with blood, but he's smiling like an idiot.  He grabs the priest's hand and shakes it vigorously.]

BACCHUS: Father Bob! Pleasure to meet you!  The sisters told me so much about you.

FATHER ROBERT: What is the meaning of this!?

MOTHER SARAH: He was a kind, lost soul we picked up in the chaos of the mob, Father.  It was only Christian for us to lend him a helping hand.

FATHER ROBERT: Don't you think it's rather unseemly for a bus full of sisters to be traveling with a... [He looks Bacchus up and down, appraising him.] handsome, sweaty half-naked man?

MOTHER SARAH: But Father, he is the guardian angel I told you about it!  He helped protect us more than once as we made our way through the riot.  We only dressed him in the habit to sneak him across the border, as he lost his belongings and identification in the chaos.

BACCHUS: Don't worry, Padre, I repaid the sister's Christian charity ten fold, believe me.

[The nuns shuffle their feet.  Someone giggles.]

FATHER ROBERT: Son, we do not expect repayment for... wait, what are you talking about?

BACCHUS: Don't judge them too harshly, Bobby. Most of these women haven't been with a man in years, if ever.  After being stuck on a bus with such a fine specimen as myself for hours, I'm sure even big J.C. would approve of what happened.

[The nuns look really embarrassed now.  One of them hides her face.  All of them look down at the ground.  Several are praying, but the giggles are now growing louder, too.]

FATHER ROBERT:  Are you... are you implying you had relations with the sisters?

BACCHUS: I know you might find it hard to believe, but there are real women under those shapeless dresses.  You've probably forgotten what to do with them after all these years, but if you just pretend they're altar boys...

FATHER ROBERT:  ALL OF THEM??

BACCHUS: No, no, not quite.  Sister Nicola isn't into sausage, but fortunately Sister Eleanor swings both ways, so she took care of her and I just watched.

* * * 

Two fake wrestlers in a row, but that's just the way the letters fell.

K.D. Bacchus is one of my favourite characters, period. He's another classic example of "asshole done good," but he's played the range from villain to hero depending on the situation. No matter what the incarnation though, he's always a self-centered, oblivious, narcissistic drug- and sex-addict. He's over the top and self-destructive, but he has a good side that makes him lovable in a frustrating way.

He's the kinda guy you either want to f*ck or punch in the face.

He can go either way.

The excerpt above if when he snuck aboard a bus full of nuns to escape a riot after a wrestling show. He's had a violent, mortal feud with another wrestler when Bacchus left his dog with the other guy's girlfriend and then the guy gave it to his grandmother to take care of. Bacchus got the dog back but was incensed that it smelled like old lady. He also went through a phase where he was obsessed with bedding Kate Middleton, and may or may not be the father of Prince George.

His issues seem to stem from his family problems. His mother died when he was young and his father kicked him out of the house. He traveled the world learning his trade as a wrestler but eventually returned home penniless, and still his father wouldn't let him back. He lived on the street for awhile until he was picked up by a kindly old man named Pete, who tried to put the wild young man back on the straight and narrow. Bacchus took advantage of his generosity but still came to respect Pete as he was the only father figure he had. That didn't mean he listened to him any better than a real father, but at least Pete was there to bail him out of jail and to keep him from getting himself killed.

Bacchus is very much the inspiration for the Fitz' best friend Dee in my current work in progress. In that version he's not a famous, world traveled superstar but just a lowly wannabe who is really good  in the ring but held back by his own bad decisions and zeppelin-sized ego.  He's just as much of a screw-up as Fitz if not more so, but the difference is that Fitz recognizes he's a loser while Dee thinks he's the shit. He's an idiot and a jerk but he's so much fun to write.

Characters You've Never Heard Of: JOHNNY BISHOP

~September 6, 1978.~
  
 The crowd was dispersing from the cinema after the film, animatedly discussing Gary Busey's portrayal of Buddy Holly.  Most agreed he had done a bang-up job - he was certain for an Academy Award nod for that performance.
  
 It was a cool but beautiful late summer evening. Two couples - Paul and Linda and Keith and Annette, exited the theatre from the backstage door to avoid the reporters and autograph hounds gathered in the lobby.  They quickly walked down an alley and across the street, hoping not to be recognized.
  
 "Blimey, that was a fine film," Paul said cheerfully.
  
 "Indeed!" agreed Linda.  "That Busey fellow shall go far!"
  
 The other man, Keith, was looking haggard.  He was leaning heavily on his girlfriend Annette, who looked embarrassed in her pretty dress with her disheveled, red-eyed man hanging off of her. 
  
 "Are you all right, mate?" Paul asked.
  
 "He's just drunk," Annette groaned in a thick Swedish accent.  "We should go home and let him sleep it off."
  
 "Oh, we hoped you would join us for dinner!" Linda exclaimed.  "We have reservations at Peppermint Park!  Please, it would be lovely if you come out with us."
  
 Paul looked at the other man with concern.  He knew Keith, and knew he could out drink an entire pub full of Irishmen.  The man looked ill, not drunk.  But the women would not be reasoned with.
  
 "That's sounds fabulous!" Annette agreed.  "Keith, pull yourself together."
  
 Keith nodded and trudged along behind the others as they headed across Covent Garden toward the restaurant.  They had walked for about five minutes, chatting about the film and music and mutual friends before Paul noticed the odd-looking fellow skulking along behind them.
  
 "Damn it." He grumbled.  "That's the wrestler again, isn't it?"
  
 "Why you give him the time of day, Keith, I'll never know." Annette harrumphed.
  
 "Oy, he's not that bad," Keith replied.
  
 The stalker - a short, thin fellow in a jogging suit with the hood pulled up - approached them with his hands in his pockets.  He kept looking over his shoulder as if he was afraid he was being followed.  When he got closer, they could tell he had deep bags under his eyes, his skin was sallow and his breath reeked of booze and dead things.  He looked nearly as bad as Keith.
  
 "Ev’nin boys.  Ladies." He spoke curtly, nervously.
  
 "Evening," Paul replied, looking down his nose.
  
 The hooded man glanced around again.  "Keith mate, can we talk?"
  
 Annette rolled her eyes, but Keith staggered off a few feet to talk privately with the other man while his friends waited impatiently.  "What's up, Johnny?" He asked.
  
 "Your friends don't like me very much, do they?"
  
 "They think wrestlers are filthy meatheads, criminals and drug addicts. No better than gypsies, really."
  
 "Aye, and musicians are better?"
  
 Keith smiled.  "No, no I suppose not.  What d’ye need, Johnny?"
  
 "Blues, mescaline, whatever the fuck ye got, man.  I've got the shakes, Keith, I need something - anything - bad."
  
 "Christ, Johnny, what happened to your dealer?  Most people don't go asking famous rock stars for drugs.  People usually give us drugs."
  
 Johnny kept looking over his shoulder.  "I owe Mickey two thousand quid.  And I busted Big Jim's girlfriend's nose so he cut me off, too.  I don't know anyone else, Keith."
  
 Keith shook his head sadly.  He'd been there. "Jesus. Look, I don't got nothing on me, okay?  Meet me at me flat in about 2 hours.  Nine Curzon Place at Shepherd Market.  Number 12."
  
 Johnny looked relieved.  "Thank ye, mate.  You're a saint!"
  
 "Yeah, just don't get yourself killed before then, okay?"
  
 Keith started to walk away, back toward his impatient friends.  Johnny called out after him.  "Hey Keith!  You look like shit, man."
  
 "So do you, ye dumb cunt."

* * * 

He's the first of two fake wrestlers to appear on the list.

Johnny "Bishop" in the 1970s
Source

I won't deny it, I've participated in fantasy wrestling games on and off for years. It's really just an extended writing exercise. You create a character, then write short chapters of their life how they deal with the other characters they encounter in their wrestling world (their opponents, partners, etc). Sometimes it's a simple as writing interviews or promos about how you're going to beat your opponent's ass at the next show, other times its long adventures of how your character is fighting terrorists to rescue their kidnapped kids.

Johnny Bishop was loosely modeled after a real British wrestler named Johnny Saint, but his life is a little more... weird. Bishop was born at the end of WWII, grew up poor and got into wrestling to find money and glory. In his twenties he found a small amount of success but also got into drugs and the swinging 60s party scene. He rubbed elbows with famous musicians and artists, and became good friends with The Who's Keith Moon.

The day before Moon died, he asked Johnny to do him a favour: Steal his remains and smoke his ashes. (Come on, you know Keith Moon would be into something like that) Bishop did, and spent the next thirty years slowly smoking little sprinkles of the legendary drummer, especially before big matches. He became very successful and eventually came to believe that the ashes were what gave him his power and allowed him to win.

Johnny today
Source

Bishop managed to stretch his supply for decades, but eventually he ran out and became obsessed with finding more. Though he was in his sixties and probably should have retired, some bad investments had left him broke and penniless and he had to keep wrestling to survive, and thus he convinced himself he needed more ashes to help him through it. He just need another drug-soaked dead rock star to power his comeback.

So, he stole Amy Winehouse's body and took her to a magical island in the Gulf of Mexico, but before he could incinerate her corpse the island brought her back to life.

Bishop ultimately got her pregnant and she gave birth to a son, who he named Keith Moon Bishop. And there was some wrestling mixed in here and there.

I should really write this into a full length proper story.