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Rey Mysterio Oblivious to Information Age

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After failing a drug test and being notified of an impending 30-day suspension last week, Rey Mysterio revealed to the professional wrestling world at large that he owns a rotary telephone and it is his understanding that the evening edition of the newspaper is the fastest way news can be disseminated.

Returning from Europe on Wednesday, Mysterio disembarked from his stateroom hauling a steamer trunk adorned with stickers of the foreign lands he has visited (Morocco, Tangiers, Hong Kong).  Upon reaching the dock, he was greeted by a page sent round by WWE, who breathlessly relayed the news that he'd failed a recent drug test and that a suspension was imminent. 

Angrily jamming his fedora atop his bemasked head, Mysterio flipped two bits toward the page to see his trunk to the Ritz-Carlton and hopped on the nearest trolley, bound for Stamford to plead his case to Mr. McMahon and the WWE.

When he arrived at WWE offices, Mysterio was informed that he had til Thursday to prove that the failed substance was deposited in his bloodstream via prescription rather than imbibed in an opium-soaked basement with red velvet drapes.  Mysterio spluttered with disbelief.  This being Wednesday, he queried, how in God's name did WWE expect him to raise his doctor several states away, scrounge up his prescription for the elixir (certainly this confidential information is under lock and key!) and submit this paperwork to WWE officials in Stamford in ONE SCANT DAY?!

"Perhaps," said Mysterio when reached for comment, "They expect me to be in possession of some system of magical boxes, wherein a document may be placed in a box at my doctor's office, and a...some sort of a...facsimile be retrieved at this end?!  Preposterous!"

Knowing there was no way that information could be passed over hundreds of miles with 24 hours' notice, Mysterio set about determining how best to perform some damage control vis a vis his kid-friendly image.  He snapped his fingers when an idea overtook him.

"Of course!  The foreign land from which I hail!  The country of Mexico!  I shall hasten to the international reporters pool at once!"

He snatched his coat from the hook, doffed his hat graciously to the blushing secretary behind the mahogany desk, and hailed a cab to The Leaky Pen, a juke joint where beat reporters of varying renown were known to unwind with a highball at all hours.

On the twenty-block taxi ride, Mysterio rubbed his hands together anxiously, licking his lips.  He knew full well that all interviews and the subject matter thereof must be pre-approved by WWE, but Mexico wasn't even in the United States!  What's more, the populace of Mexico didn't even speak English!  No one in WWE would hear about this interview for a decade at the earliest.  Why, there were scores of people in the company who would never hear about this for the rest of their days.  Mysterio thought hard.  Apart from the mid-sized fellow with the riotous shock of hair (whom he affectionately referred to as "Apple Jimmy"), Mysterio could not think of a single person who spoke the dextrous tongue of "Spanish".

Arriving at The Leaky Pen, Mysterio asked around and, in short order, found himself at a corner booth with Salvador Rodriguez, a scribe for the Mexican daily The Record.  Throughout the better part of four Old Fashioneds, Mysterio held forth about his opinions regarding the WWE drug policy and the unfairness thereof.  He explained how he was over a barrel quite against his will, and that he was a good man, an honest man, caught up in a case of mistaken identity.  Rodriguez scribbled furiously on a notebook until his pencil was worn down to a nub.  When Mysterio finally finished his diatribe, feeling wholly vindicated, Rodriguez excused himself to the bank of telephones at the rear of the bar, where he placed an international call to The Record. 

Mysterio smiled as he could catch bits of the Rodriguez's frantic dictation of the interview.  He sipped his drink.  The perfect plan had gone off without a hitch.  He was an innocent man facing insurmountable odds.  It was far too late to prove his innocence before his suspension went through, but in his home country, where he was a hero, his innocence was assured.  and no one would ever be the wiser.

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(many thanks to my good friend Justin, who assisted with inspiration for this piece)