Loco Mask II

Saliva, or Drowning Pool, or something kicked me in the dick through a shitty PA system as a big son-of-a-bitch announced as Loco Mask II—wearing a sequined blue hood with crazy yellow dragons stitched onto the sides—charged through the curtain and down the aisle towards a shoddily built ring. On his way there, an old woman in the crowd lobbed a plastic cup of beer at him. It exploded against his greasy pectorals.
Mom said to me, “That’s Jack. He’s what you call a ‘heel’—a bad guy.”
Jack, the heel, stopped to get in the old woman’s face. It looked like he was about to clock her one. The crowd booed.