Dan Felton watched through the cracked dressing room door.

    'That's the best I can do,' the old man sheepishly told the Midnight Cowboy, who was nursing his shoulder with a large bag of ice. He handed over two bills. Midnight Cowboy looked at him in a solemn glare before looking down at the crumpled paper. Water slid down his biceps and fell onto his thigh. The man left the room. Midnight Cowboy, bemused, threw the bills down on the table top next to him and shook his head.

    Felton walked in and stood in the doorway, hoping Cowboy would acknowledge his presence. He didn't.

    'Midnight Cowboy?'

    He slowly raised his head and looked Dan in the eye. He looked away.

    'Howdy,' he replied, weak. 'Been a while since I heard that name.' He winced as his arm reached out. Dan Felton, beaming, grabbed his hand and shook it firmly.

    'Dan Felton with the Pro Wrestling Insider.'

    'Well I'm Olivre Braley, representin' th'---' Midnight Cowboy muttered, before making an upwards circular gesture to reference his squalid surroundings. A verbal description would be too painful. He kicked open a cooler at his feet. 'Wanna beer?' Without an answer, he reached down and pushed one in Felton's hand.

    'Thanks,' Dan said, smiling. He leaned against the doorframe. Moments passed. He tapped on the tab of his can and impatiently stamped in place. 'So--'

    'What's a feller like me doin' in a place like this?'

    'Well, frankly, yeah,' Dan replied. 'You kind of fell off the map. PIW, FWO, now the...' he squinted at his paper. 'NAWHEF? Can't you see what's wrong with this picture?'

    'Too many letters in th' name?'

    Dan snorted, the beer surging into his nose. He grinned widely.

    'I told 'im that ain't very good P.R.' Cowboy remarked, sly. 'He don't listen a lick.'

    'Well it appears I got a story now...now that I've found the Midnight Cowboy in the backwoods of Texas!' Dan said while taking a sharp, long quaff. He was excited. 'The magazines will sell themselves-- I'll make it mythic. This is just like 'Shoeless' Joe Jackson showing up in the minor leagues after being banned in the Black Sox scandal. This is big.'

    'Well if you know me, I ain't never been too happy with the media,' Midnight Cowboy groaned. 'If you let em, they'll tell you who you are. Yer try'n to do it now. I help someone bafore an' some hairsprayed dyke calls me the Midnight Cowboy and snickers to her little light-in-the-britches male co-host...then goes home and fantasizes 'bout me railin' the shit out of her.

    Now I got you you here paintin' me like I'm Woody Guthrie or Johnny Appleseed. That's the world I was try'n to escape. I forgot who I was an' where I come from.'

    Cowboy shook his head and took a drink.

    'Luckily, I've recovered all'at an' I ain't never lettin' it go. These are my people. This is where I need to be.' He declared, adding quietly, 'This is where I want to be.'

    'It definitely didn't seem that way before I came in...'

    Silence.