I wrestled for fifteen out of the eighteen days, and basically beat the crap out of everyone (in a working fashion). I was like a piranha in a guppy tank. I had chewed up and spat out every former and current AWF champ on the roaster: Tony Mack, El Fuego, Jaguar, Joey Knight, Robin Nightwing, James Champagne, even Tracy! I would have loved to stretch Miss B. Haven (also a former AWF champ) as he/she/…it sat annoyingly at ringside in overdue retirement. I was unstoppable. The only wrestler to give me any sort of competition was that crazy redneck, Fabian Stokes.

Ron put me in the ring with him repeatedly, knowing Stokes was the only chance the AWF had to teach me a lesson in curbing my heelish ways. I was a dark poison to the Apocalypse, but Stokes drank at least a whole keg of dark poison every weekend! Sometimes he’d win and sometimes I’d win! Surfer’s Leg Drop! Hell-bow! Sometimes Stokes would get kicked in the head, courtesy of me! And sometimes I’d get smashed with a fuckin’ surf board, courtesy of him! He was crazy and I was methodical, we were polar opposites, but equally as brutal. Then something strange happened…

A mutual friend had begged us to stop our feud and team up. She said that we’d be unstoppable. Team up? Fabian Stokes and Sinn? Well, even the other babyfaces thought that Stokes was insane and didn’t want any part of him. And all of the other heels sure as hell didn’t want to play any of my reindeer games. In a fucked up sort of way, our mutual friend, Tracy had a good idea. She had joked and called the team of Sinn and Stokes, ‘High Maintenance’. Stokes was definitely high and me, being the miserable-artsy-type, was definitely maintenance. Or maybe she called us that because she was our sugar momma and bought us everything? I think that she only pushed for the tag team in an effort to protect her own skin from the rest of the AWF boys. They were all hot at her for attaining the AWF strap. She wanted protection and knew that no AWF wrestler would dare mess with her while she had High Maintenance around.

Ron hated the idea of Stokes and I tagging. Stokes was Ron’s only defense against me. Sinn and Stokes tagging would have been like Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader tagging! He couldn’t let his only hope cross over to the dark side! Plus, in true evil promoter fashion, I know in my sick and twisted heart that the old perv wanted to protect Tracy himself. Tag team or no tag team, we watched over her like hawks and continue to do so to this day, even though the rugged bitch is tougher then nails. By the way kids, when you see Tracy at a show, remember - she loves to be called ‘Tank’!!!