“Hulk Hogan, it’s been a long and winding road to this steel cage match with Darren Wilson, the cop who killed unarmed teen Michael Brown,” Gene Okerlund the WWF interviewer held the microphone to the oil bright Hulkster, “Your thoughts?’
“It all stops here brother,” Hogan glared into the camera, “All those Hulkamaniacs are ready for a new start in a new year. And this steel cage is a dead end for Mr. Wilson. My blood turns to ice cold water, brother, when I think of you killing that unarmed teen. We got a lot of problems in America, a lot of traitors man, a lot of police in our nation destroying black lives for kicks. It ends today. Black lives matter, brother and your life is in my hands Wilson, see these 24-inch pythons, these are gonna’ squeeze the racism out of your raggedy body.”
The Hulk flexed his arms, popping his bicep into a hard ball of muscle that he kissed then stared at the camera. Stalking off, the Hulkster left Gene who smirked, “Well there you have it folks, a fight for the soul of the country begins here.”
Hours later, cameras swept over a stadium packed with people. Hogan slapped hands with them as he stomped down the red carpet to the steel cage where Darren Wilson paced back and forth in his cop uniform. Fans held their palms up and chanted in a one pulsing voice, “Hands up! Don’t Shoot!”
The Hulkster leaned over the announcer’s table, grabbed a microphone as they tried to snatch it back and yelled at Wilson, “You said you felt like a five-year-old being grabbed by Hulk Hogan before you killed Michael Brown. Well now you’re going to feel the real thing.” He threw the mic down and ran into the steel cage, ripped off his red shirt, threw it as a rag to the canvas. Wilson charged the Hulk, hitting him with his police baton, splitting the Hulk’s forehead and blood sprayed out.
Stumbling backward the Hulk teetered on his feet as Wilson grabbed the ripped red shirt and began strangling him. Eyes rolling up, the Hulk pawed blindly for air as the fans booed the killer cop.
“This isn’t going well for Hogan,” the announcer said. “He’s going to lose consciousness and the match after that is over.”
The Hulkster dipped down and flipped Wilson on his back. “It’s a reversal! The Hulk dropped Wilson and is now picking him up,” the announcer yelled as Hogan hoisted Wilson up and threw him. The cop hit the floor hard, screamed and turned on his side, grabbing his back. Standing over Wilson, Hogan put his hand to his ear and beckoned the crowd who roared to finish him. Hulk gripped the limp officer, balling his uniform by his fists when from behind, a man rushed into the steel cage, leapt on Hogan and locked his neck in a chokehold.
“NYPD cop Daniel Pantaleo has rushed to the aid of Darren Wilson,” the announcer stood up and pointed at the men knotted on the ring floor, “He’s got Hogan in the same chokehold he used to kill Eric Garner, an innocent black man in Staten Island. Could this be the death of Hulk Hogan?”
An eerie silence fell on the stadium then a voice shouted slowly, “I…can’t…breathe!” The fan made a megaphone with her hands, repeating it as another person stood and chanted with her. Row after row of people stood and yelled, “I…can’t…breath!”
Out of the crowd, the famous black wrestler, Junkyard Dog, whipped his trademark steel chain, climbed the cage, jumped down and rushed Pantaleo. Hogan rolled on the floor, gasping for breath as over him, the Junkyard Dog and the cop swung fists at each other’s faces. Hogan stood up, grabbed Wilson by the neck threw him against the ropes, waited as he bounced back and clothes-lined him with a hard arm.
“This match is pandemonium,” the announcer screamed and wiped his face, “Absolute pandemonium as the Junkyard Dog and Hulk Hogan take on two killer cops. It’s like a Benetton commercial on steroids.” They bent the cops like pretzels on the mat, the referee slid low on the ground, eyed if the shoulders were touching floor, slapped the canvas once, twice and the third time the bell rung.
Wild cheers rocked the stadium. Hogan and the Dog wearily stood up, took the ammo clip from the cop’s guns, threw the empty weapons aside and began force feeding the bullets, one at a time, into their throats. “This is for Sean Bell. This is for Ramarley Graham. This is for Eric Garner. This is Michael Brown. This is for the Middle Passage.”