Post by outcast on Jan 2, 2021 10:58:24 GMT -6
Disappointment.
It’s all I’ve felt since my feet touched the floor, not just on Monday, December 21st, but the night before when my feet touched the arena floor in Kansas City. I had my f**king ribs caved in by that little pussy Jackson Hart, and then Shawn “Ice Ice Baby” Warstein tossed my broken body over the top.
F**king disappointed is what I was, and it is what I still am. I guess that is what I get for letting myself have hope. I should have known better by now. Time after time, whenever I get a little ember of hope and think a fire is about to rage, that’s when the rain comes. Like a reverse California.
I look inside myself
And see my heart is black
I see my red door
I must have it painted black
Maybe then, I'll fade away
And not have to face the facts
And see my heart is black
I see my red door
I must have it painted black
Maybe then, I'll fade away
And not have to face the facts
I sit up on the side of my bed, doing so slowly because my ribs are still killing me. I look out my window to see a mix of rain and snow, I could have told you it was going to rain by the pain in my knees. Don’t let them lie to you, getting old is the shits. I immediately reach to my nightstand and grab my bottle of pain pills I had been given for my ribs. Once again there it is, disappointment.
Disappointed in me for taking the pills, but right now disappointed that I am all out. Not even a refill, f**k me.
In anger, I throw the bottle across the room. It’s time to do something I really didn’t want to do. They tell you in rehab to sever ties with your old friends who shared the unsober lifestyle with you. I had been pretty good about that because I didn’t have any real friends. I did however still have a little black book. I guess that is the old school cat in me, numbers of ladies in different towns I used to hit on the circuit, and dealers in the towns too. Of course, I’m going to have my own hometown in there.
After a little digging around in some junk drawers, I find it crammed in the back by some triple-A batteries and old ink pens. After trying a few old numbers, one finally picks up. A meeting is set, winter clothes are put on, and I’m out the door.
I pull the collar of my leather jacket up and my beanie down as the Chicago sleet pounds my face relentlessly. I climb into my truck ready to head for Garfield Park when thoughts and emotions overwhelm me. Am I really about to give up my sobriety? I had reasoned away the thought of breaking my sobriety by saying the doctor prescribed the pills, but now I was prescribing them myself.
I sit there thinking it over, every bad decision and every bad thing that has ever happened to me running through my head as my truck warms up. I had lost everything and everyone I ever loved, I had just spent Christmas and New Year’s alone licking my wounds, and now I’m sitting in this old truck about to drive across town to score some painers. What the f**k is wrong with me?
Ah, f**k it.
I put the truck in drive and head out. Before I know it, I’m heading up the stairs of the apartment building, the elevator was broken last time I was here too, which was probably two years ago, that should give you an idea of how nice a place this is. I shoot a text to Oscar as I come onto the fifth floor and he meets me at the door of his apartment. I’d known Oscar since I was probably twenty-three, met him shortly after moving to the Chi. Over those past twenty-odd-years, Oscar had become a bigger fish, but still not the level of player he thought he was.
It’s good to see ya again essa. Heard ya cleaned up, thought ya forgot about ya boy.
Ah, I’m just trying to keep my shit together. Ya know what they say, one day at a time.
Ha, yeah brudda, one day at a time, dats how I take it. So, whatcha wanten? You back to ride the white girl?
F**k me, he’s already offering me some blow. Back in the day Oscar and I had snorted a blizzard worth of snow together, guess his memory is still good too. So much for drugs killing brain cells.
Na man, I just need a little something for pain.
Na man, I’m not looking to get hardcore. Just some tabs or perks.
Getten soft in ya old age.
Ha, yeah I guess so.
Na man, I watched that rumble. I saw how they did my boy. Them f**ken honkies lucky they ain’t pull some shit like dat here, we’d be ready to ride on um.
Oscar always thought of himself as a gangster. He thought he was a regular Tony Montana, but in reality, was more of a Matty Demaret. I have a seat and pull out a Newport, I begin to light it when Oscar shocks me.
Hey man, no smoking in here.
I pause, the flame just centimeters from the tobacco.
HA! I’m just f**ken wit ya man.
I shake my head, and give a slight laugh after lighting my cigarette.
You want a beer?
Na man, I gave that up.
Oscar looks at me a bit shocked and says, “homie, you’re here to buy some perks and you are worried about a Corona knocking you off the wagon?”.
I don’t have an answer for that, and even as I try to logic it to myself, I know he is right, but I don’t say anything and just take a drag.
Alright, whatever ya need homes. I’ll hook ya up, how much ya need?
Twenty, tens.
Ight, I got ya.
I watch as Oscar walks down the short hallway into his bedroom, and as the door opens, I see a sight that shakes me to my core. A young black female appears to be chained to the bed. The door shuts quickly and I wonder to myself if I really just saw what I think I saw. I stare at the closed door and keep thinking it over as I take another drag from the Newport.
The door opens and Oscar slides out quickly, not opening the door any more than he has to. Oscar comes down the hall holding up a clear bottle full of Percocet and gives it a little shake.
Two bills my man.
I hold the Newport with my lips while I pull my wallet out and try to shove the sight I just saw to the back of my mind. I hand the $200 to Oscar as I put my wallet back in my pocket.
Hey man, what was that back there?
Oscar smiles, but it is a nervous smile. I may not have seen him in a while, but I still remember the smile he gives before he lies right to your face.
Nothen you’d be interested in man, that’s high roller shit back there.
Yeah, you’re probably right.
I hand Oscar the money, and he hands me the bottle. I immediately pop one in my mouth and chew it up so it’ll hit me faster. I dry swallow the pill, and as the chalky crumbs slide down my throat, I look down the hall to the bedroom door.
Ya know what man, I think I will take that beer.
Oscar grabs a bottle from the fridge and hands it to me with a real smile on his face this time. Honestly, I never much liked Corona, give me a PBR or a Dos Equis Amber over a Corona any day. It’s alright, not like I’ll be drinking it anyway. As Oscar hands me the bottle I take it by the neck and flip my Newport into Oscar’s face.
This caught Oscar by surprise as he throws his hands up trying to protect his face. He never saw it coming, the bottle of Corona slams against the side of Oscar's head. Oscar goes down hard and fast and is out cold. I pull my $200 from his pocket, and an extra $300 he had in there as well. I march to the end of the hall and kick the door open with a well-placed boot right where the lock meets the jam.
What I see causes me to pause. Not just one, but two young black women beaten and handcuffed to the bed. What the f**k happened to you, Oscar? You used to be a simple weedman, but this is something entirely different. They are both awake, but clearly drugged out, and I think what the hell am I supposed to do? What do I just call the cops and tell them I came to buy some drugs and found out my drug dealer is also a human trafficker?
What the f**k am I going to do?
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I say “I saw” because you could have been a big star here, you could have risen through the ranks to the upper echelon. But now that will all come crashing down in flames like the Space Shuttle Columbia. And I am your fiery descent back to hell. You had a bright future, but now that our paths are crossing you will go supernova. You are the progenitor who will collapse into the black hole as you fade away.
Since your ignorant ass probably doesn’t understand astronomy either, I’ll break it down further and put it in layman’s terms for you. You were on your way to being a top player here in GCWA, but now you are facing me for my Unified X-Division championship, and that is where your rise to the top stops. I’m going to beat you so bad, that your ass is knocked back down into the depths of hell and you never crawl out again. I will personally shovel the dirt on top of that hole you crawled out of and make sure you never dig your way out again.
At the risk of sounding cornball as shit, if it has an ass I can kick it. So, whatever you are, I truly don’t care because I will beat you just like I have beaten everyone else I have stepped into the ring with. Busted ribs be damned, I asked for a fight because I got some mental sh*t I need to work out, and you just so happened to be the unfortunate soul put in my path. The old cliché of it isn’t personal it’s just business doesn’t apply though, because to me anything in that ring is f**king personal.
I’m as petty as a middle-aged Karen who's upset about her Chik-Fil-A order being messed up. I said no f**king pickles, how hard is that to get? You wanted to throw some shade my way to get the hype train behind you for the rumble, and I’m holding onto that shit. I guess you can say we will exercise that demon on Friday and isn’t it all a bit poetic.
Also, a bit poetic that I see life on Earth as punishment, that life itself is hell. I believe my existence is punishment. The fact that I have had to watch everything I care about crumble and die is hell. Yet you rage from hell to come back to this world and do so on a weekly basis. Maybe you don’t know what hell really is, and maybe you need to learn what it really is. And maybe, I am the man to show you that… shit, I am definitely that man.
You think you know of hell, but at Inferno, you will truly learn what hell is. Existence is punishment, living is hell, and you will discover true hell as you burnout under my hands. As your star collapse into my darkness.