Post by outcast on Nov 18, 2020 12:02:16 GMT -6
WHO THE F**K IS THIS KRISTAN!?!
Who the f**k am I? Who the f**k are you?
I'm the guy in the f**king pictures on the wall asshole. I'M HER F**KING HUSBAND!
Well hell. What was I going to do? What was I supposed to do? The guy had every right to be pissed off. Sh*t, I wouldn't be half as calm as him if the roles were reversed. Truth is, I saw the photos on the wall downstairs and in the stairway. I should have said something, sh*t, I shouldn't have even been here in the first place. If I'm being honest, I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I didn't care. It's been a bit of a dry spell for me, pretty hard to get some action in rehab. That and Kristan here is pretty smoking. Clearly, it wasn't her first time doing something like this, and I had been in her shoes many years ago on the road. A good woman at home, but absence from that home leaves too much space and opportunity.
So back to my original question, what the hell am I going to do? Does this dude have a gun? Does he want to fight? Or, does he just want to yell and let off some steam? Only one way to find out I suppose. I stand up from the bed, letting it all hang out. After all, what this guy just saw me doing to his wife, I doubt seeing my junk will upset him more. Ha, maybe it'll make him feel like a bigger man.
WHAT THE F**K MAN!?!
I just want to get my pants on before whatever it is that happens next happens.
Then, the unexpected happened. He charges me and tackles me like an NFL player. I was honestly shocked, I've been enraged with people before, but never enough to tackle a guy while he was naked. I've also never had to fight someone while I was naked before either. This threw me off, I couldn't think straight at first, but a right cross snapped me out of it.
I pulled my legs up and got my feet on his thighs. I pushed him back and scrambled to my feet, ready for another tackle, but he just stopped and stood there. Was his moment of rage over already? Did the one punch extinguish his flaming anger? Or, did he just realize he was fighting a naked man? Either way, he just stood there looking at me. If he wasn’t attacking me, I wasn’t going to attack him. Besides a tackle and a fist upside the head is the least I deserved for what I had just done.
TOMMY STOP IT!
SHUT UP BITCH!
I had a feeling this was just going to keep spiraling downward and the pace at which it was spiraling was only going to quicken. I told him I’d just leave, that I was sorry, and what I got from him was a good old fashioned, “f**k you”. Alright, I deserve that too, but I wasn’t going to keep standing there naked, if he wanted to fight me, he’d find out who I was and what I was capable of. I gave him his free shot, any others would be paid for, and paid for from flesh.
No, please don’t go. If you leave me here with him there is no telling what he’ll do to me.
Well, f**k me. Why’d she have to go and put that on my conscious?
I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to divorce your ass, and I’m going to take everything. The house, the cars, the kids, the dog, you’re not getting shit.
She didn’t take that lightly, quite frankly it pissed her off. She threw the sheet off of her that she had been covering herself with and jumped to her feet. I watched this small brunette march towards her husband like she was the Incredible Hulk.
Good f**king luck Tommy. I know you’ve been screwing your secretary, and God knows who else on your business trips. I’ve already got Scott Tzinberg on retainer, and I will take you for everything you’ve got.
He didn’t take that lightly either. I watched him smack her across the face and knock her to the floor, and before I even realized what I was doing I was charging in. This wasn’t me, I wasn’t the hero type or the type to save the damsel in distress, but I was acting before I knew it. Maybe seeing it just sparked memories from my childhood of seeing my dad beat my mother senseless, or maybe deep down I have a little decency in me after all. Either way, I was already in action and a single right hook to the temple dropped Tommy.
Well, I’m in the thick of it now. I stood there for a moment wondering what to do next. Do I just get dressed and leave? Do I take her with me? Do I just kill Tommy and dump the body in the river? Yeah, definitely not the latter idea. Instead, I help Kristan up and check on her lip. Just a small cut in the corner, she’ll be fine. Checking on her though took my attention away from Tommy, then again, I didn’t really give a shit what Tommy was doing, guess I should have thought.
HE’S GOT A GUN IN THERE!
Well f**k, I guess he does have a gun. That would have been good to know before he had his hand on the chest of drawers. I moved as fast as my beat-up old knees would go. I was a little late, Tommy already had his hand on the gun when I got my hands on his wrist. What happened next was kind of a blur as it all happened so fast.
I remember us wrestling around, I didn’t want to let go of his hands or the gun, probably the only smart move I had made all night. I heard a shot go off, and so did the neighbors. Hearing a gunshot in Chicago isn’t uncommon, but hearing one in this neighborhood is. The shot was random and unintentional, but it killed that vase in the corner that it hit.
I was able to get Tommy down with a little hip block, arm drag, but stayed on top of him to control the weapon. Probably wasn’t a perfect, or even pretty executed move, like I said it was a blur. What wasn’t a blur though was the sound of someone screaming to freeze, and looking up to see the barrel of a .45 pointed at me and a boy in blue doing the pointing.
That is how I found myself sitting here in the back of this cruiser waiting for everything to be sorted out. So, when I ask myself “how do I get myself into these situations”, the answer is pretty clear, by being an unthinking inconsiderate asshole. Or, maybe by thinking with my little head instead of my big head.
Heart pounding fever pitch
Blood pumping fury
Two-fisted dynamo
Eager to strike
All guns, all guns blazing
Blood pumping fury
Two-fisted dynamo
Eager to strike
All guns, all guns blazing
(Outcast finishes pouring the second glass of Johnny Walker and sits the bottle back down. His head is down starring at the two full glasses and the third dirty one. He slowly raises his head and looks to the camera.)
Who’s the odd man out here? Is it the one who doesn’t have any gold in E.W. Montgomery? Is it the IFBB Pro wannabe who looks like he never had a carb in his life in Enforcer? Or, is it the wildcard, the man who asked for a fight and got blindsided, the man who has seen more in his forty-some years on this Earth than most men will ever see in their lives in me, the master of pain? The hours slowly tick away until we will find out who the odd man out is, and who will be leaving with a championship.
Or, perhaps there is another scenario where there are two men who are left as the odd men out. Earl, Enforcer, try and wrap your minds around this so that when it happens it doesn’t push you over the edge. Wrap your minds around me winning both championships, because my mind is already set on it. I may be the small man in the valley of monsters, but to once again using an old cliché, it’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.
(Outcast smirks and picks up the third glass and begins cleaning it as he has the previous two.)
If you’ll allow me just one last cliché, let me use this one, this isn’t my first rodeo. It’s not the first time I’ve been the smallest man in the match, not the first time I’ve been the underdog in a match, and it won’t be the last time I hold two championships at the same time. I’ll openly admit I’m a bit long in the tooth, with quite a few miles on me, but Enforcer and Earl, you’re no spring chickens yourself. We may be the oldest match at not only Darkness Falls but in the history of GCWA
We are all three old gunslingers, and all of us have only a few shots left to shoot. That is why I am personally going into this match guns a-blazing. Every opportunity I get now, I know I may never get again and I need to take full advantage of the opportunities that present themselves. I may never get another shot at becoming a double champion again in my life, so when I shot this shoot, I damn sure won’t miss the mark.
(Outcast sits the third glass down and pours the Johnnie Walker into it, and once again sits the bottle down. Outcast fixes his eyes on the three glasses.)
Whether he fails alone. Whether he fights alone. Whether he swims alone and sails alone. Decisions made in his vineyard, being a lone fighter, all are his. He is a servant of all. He is a born radical. He is a defender of the truth. He is but a stammerer. As bold as a lion. He is only but a lone fighter. Not that he is a loner, nor an enemy of the multitude. Not that he is a scorner. Nor a bloodsucker. For he loathes praise singer. That is why he is a lone fighter.
(Outcast picks up the first glass.)
Here is to the old cowboy on his last leg with his last bit of sight about to fade away as he watches me hold both the television and the unified X-division championship as the darkness falls on his sight and his career.
(Outcast slowly pours the whisky out onto the ground and sits the glass down. Outcast picks up the next glass and holds it up.)
Here’s to the old criminal who is still trying to carve out a living for himself and his family. I hope you can hold onto that family better than you can the television championship because that gold will soon be slipping through your fingers as darkness falls on your championship reign and all of your hopes and dreams of glory.
(With a wicked grin Outcast pours the second shot onto the ground and places the glass down and with a heavy sigh and a moment of hesitation picks up the third glass.)
Here’s to the lone fighter, who has always been a loner and always been an outcast. To conquering demons and men, and to the glory that is still to come, even if it is paid for with a pound of flesh.
(Outcast places the glass to his lips but pauses. He smirks and shakes his head and then pours the third glass out onto the ground and slams it onto the table as darkness falls on the scene.)