Golden Pro Wrestling Commissioner Parker Meloche twisted in his bed trying to get comfortable, but it felt impossible tonight. He had even tried all his usual tricks to fall asleep.

Two Manhattans before brushing his teeth? Check.

Night mask? Check.

Pillow between legs? Check.

That was usually all it took, but not tonight.

He felt restless and stressed from all the work going on with Golden Pro Wrestling. He had made the commitment of a lifetime to the old man that he could get the wrestling promotion off the ground, and he was succeeding for now. But it was taking its toll, which included keeping him up at night.

Parker leaned to his nightstand and checked his phone: midnight on the dot. He sighed softly and rolled back over.

It’ll happen when it happens thought Parker. Not much longer, the warmth of sleep began to overtake his body…

Parker’s eyes opened suddenly as his bed began to unexpectedly shake.

An earthquake? In Memphis!?

As his bed shook violently, his bedroom light began to flicker, flashing on and off every other second. The shaking was getting stronger, and Parker clutched his soft sheets in panic. The light above his bed finally burst sending glass across the room, which forced Parker to instinctively squeeze his eyes shut.

The shaking suddenly stopped. But something was different; Parker’s bed didn’t feel soft underneath him, and he no longer felt sheets clenched in his hands. Instead, he felt solid, cold, uncomfortable metal under his body which sent a chill up his spine.

When he opened his eyes, they dilated immediately to a light directly above his face. He attempted to move his arms, but they were inexplicably stuck in place next to his sides. Grunting with effort, Parker came to realize any attempt to move a part of his body was futile.

Panic set in.

Parker’s heart began to thump through his chest, as his bewildering predicament became more absurd. Besides the bright light shining above him, he could make out a dark room in his peripheral vision; there were metal panels lining the walls with pulsating, glowing blue lights randomly dispersed. A soft hum permeated in the background.

“I mean you no harm, hu-mahn.”

The voice was deep, powerful, mechanical, and modulated. To Parker, it almost wasn’t even a voice at all. It was an attempt at a voice.

The cold metal that Parker laid upon began to buzz, and the entire platform lifted and tilted forward. As it completed its forward tilt, Parker faced the immense being in front of him.

Just like the voice, the being who had spoken to him was powerful and mechanical in stature. It stood tall and solid, wearing a blue and gray outfit. Its long black hair fell behind its back and over one shoulder; its solid black eyes stared forward directly into Parker’s scared gaze.

“You will not speak, for now,” the being said. “I have travelled many years to reach your ‘Earth’ and the one they call ‘Golden Glen Miller’.”

Still shocked, Parker didn’t yet have the courage to speak. He felt the urge to shake from fear, but even then, his body was unable to move.

“Your world began sending transmissions to my home, Draconia, for the past twenty Earth-years,” it said. “We have studied the legendary achievements of your champion, and we have accepted your challenge.”

What? Parker thought to himself.

“Draconia has sent me, its greatest warrior to reject your message of superiority,” it continued. “When this ‘Golden Pro Wrestling’ begins, I will defeat all of those you place before me.”

Is this real? No, this isn’t real.

Parker, still shocked, wanted to deny this was happening; maybe it was the Manhattans before bed causing a ludicrous, visceral dream.

The being walked closer to him, still betraying no outward emotion, still staring at Parker with his dark eyes. It was then that Parker realized this was too real for it to be a dream.

“I am the Draconian,” it stated flatly. “I will monitor transmissions indicating my time to compete and arrive at that moment. Do you understand, hu-mahn?”

Instantly, Parker was able to move his jaw, which he realized had been clenched this entire time. He moved it laterally to loosen its muscles before he cleared his throat to respond.

“…where am I?” Parker asked, sheepishly and nervously.

The being stared back at Parker momentarily before responding. The soft hum continued in the background.

“You are aboard my vessel.”

Parker hesitated, still attempting to grasp his situation.

“And you want to… wrestle?”

“Hu-mahn,” said the being in his deep, modulated voice. “I have already explained the terms of my arrival and expectations. Do you understand?”

Parker shook his head and tried to replay everything back through his mind.

I’m in an… alien vessel? … and this alien expects to wrestle? … what the FUCK? …

“Hu-mahn,” it said again. “Do. You. Understand?”

Without any better response, Parker nodded slowly. Then a question came to his mind.

“What do I… we… call you?” he asked.

“You will call me the Draconian.”

“And… you will abide by our rules?” asked Parker, who was now somehow collecting his thoughts. “No lasers shooting out of your eyes?”

“We defeated the Lasorians thousands of years ago,” the Draconian flatly replied. “No more questions. You will see me again when my first combat begins.”

Before Parker could respond, the room went completely black. The soft background hum ceased, and Parker found himself laying in his bedroom again.

Was that… real?

On his bed, all around Parker were the pieces of glass from the broken light above.