Post by Duce Jones on Nov 7, 2019 16:12:56 GMT -6
Majority of the time when someone goes to Vegas, they want to experience that Vegas life. You know, drinking, drugs, gambling, the shiny lights, women… Whatever there was to offer, Vegas had it at its fingertips and for a twenty-three year old young man, such as myself, I should be out there living my life to the fullest. Especially with nine days before my birthday, I should be running around living my best life.. turning the fuck up, ya know?
However, this wasn't my first trip and let's just say that things got rowdy the first time that I was here or maybe it was Atlantic City… Who knows.. I've smoked since then..
Either way, all of that shit wasn't up my alley.. I wanted to be in peak condition for my Unsanctioned title defense this coming Sunday at High Rollers. Which, by the way, I didn't think all the way through. Who'd figure that you can't technically put a title on the line in a match that's not sanctioned.
I guess after hearing Savage's offer, it kinda made everything turn red for me. You know, that tunnel vision shit where all you wanna do is fuck a muthafucka up.. yeah that shit.
Needless to say, I was more than upset with not having an actual match this past Tuesday against Nathan Paradine. So what better way to let off some steam?
Backyard Bare Knuckle Fighting..
I mean sure, I could've kept all of that pent up frustration inside and just took it out on Savage but I’ve already got enough legal troubles. So throwing hands with some of the toughest muthafuckas in Vegas was in my mind, the best release of frustration that I could find.
I could tell you the location but that’s really against the code, ya know? First rule of FIght Club… well you know the rest.. But if you personally knew me, you’d know that I really can’t keep my mouth shut about certain things. Besides, this shit is spiritual like for me and you’re bullshitting me if you don’t have anything that you do to get your release.
Masturbating doesn’t count.
There I stood across from a heavily tattooed hispanic man with a low buzz cut. The host for the evening stood between us and explained the rules for the bout, which I could give a fuck about because I was intent on knocking my opponent out within minutes of him moving the fuck out of the way.
He finally did, giving us the signal to go as we left our corners and circled the makeshift ring. Seriously, it was four metal posts, hammered into the ground with three sets of what looked like water hoses intertwined around them to I guess, signify ring ropes maybe? I don’t know, I don’t judge and to each their own. Hell a hustle is a hustle in my book.
We move in towards each other, he rapidly fires off six wild punches that connect in their own unique places. Trying to fight through his offense I swing back with a forearm which he easily avoids, connecting with countless shots to my body in rapid succession. I try my best to cover up as he forces me back into the corner.
Damn, you’ve been a wrestler so long, you forgot how to fight?
Watch out for that right cro…
Shit! This guy was faster than he led on to be and seeing as how I was only allowed to use my hands in this fight, by this time, I figured I may be fucked. But I ain’t no bitch!
Fuck no, you’re not!
There’s nothing wrong with admitting that someone is getting the better of you.
Fuck all of that! Go in on this muthafucka! You can do it.
I began to swing for the fences as I try to fight my way out of the fucked up predicament. Some shots connect, some don’t but as hard as I’m swinging, this guy is eating them like its lunch.
Did you read the manual before getting involved with this shit?
There was a manual?
It’s not the time for this, I’m seriously getting the shit kicked out of me right now..
Hell, swing back!
What the fuck do you think I’m doing over here!?
About to go night, night…
Wha…
…..
….
“Aye man, you alright?”
“Damn.. I think you killed him..”
“Hell naw, he can’t be dead! How’re we gonna explain this shit!”
“Take him to the border and dump his body.”
“What about border patrol?”
“Don’t worry about all of that.. Just take him, they’ll know what to do..”
Are they talking about dumping my body? What the fuck happened?
“Aye, aye, aye, muthafuckas! Y’all ain’t doin’ shit wit my body!”
“Oh shit, he got back up..”
“What.. ya neva’ seen a muh’fucka have a near death experience befo’?”
They all look at me confused, until I crack a shit-eating grin. My face felt as if a Mack truck ran into a freight train and by some fate, both of them bitches crashed into my face while I was lying down. My former opponent helps me up to my feet, shaky as they were but being the good sport that he was, he kept me from falling..
“Dude, you need to calm that anger if you ever plan to go anywhere with this shit bro..”
Looking at him through my right eye, because my left one had been closed shut, I nodded in affirmation, opting not to speak because my jaw was feeling a bit jacked up as well. But I showed respect in defeat, something that I never had any problem with doing. Not every night, you’re gonna go out there and stand tall in victory, unless you’re a super fucking connected muthafucka who sucks dicks to get to the top. That’s gender neutral by the way, hell it’s 2019 almost 2020.. Like they say in damn near every hood that I’ve been too, everybody’s fucking everybody.
But who am I to judge, if that’s how they wanna work they’re way too the top, that’s they’re business. I’d rather earn it like I’m supposed to, like I’m sure Tony did in his seven years of working himself into a brand name. But if I kept letting my emotions get the best of me, I was going to be somewhere that I didn’t want to be… like hospitals. I fucking hated hospitals, there was no way I was going back to another hospital to be hooked up with tubes, IVs, monitors and other shit.
Like, what do you expect when you’re a professional wrestler?
Shut... the fuck up… please! Just one time for me, can ya do that?
Hahahaaa.
You can shut the fuck up, right along with him.. I’ve been through enough and the criticism from you two is starting to drive me up a wall. Why y’all can’t be like the other one and just keep y’all thoughts to yourselves?
Because we're not trying to see you get fucked off out here in the world.
Sounds good, it really did but I knew the true reason why the third voice was always silent.
“Do you think that you’re gonna be alright?” The host of the backyard fighting event questioned. “That eye really needs to be looked at..”
Rubbing my sore mandible, I nodded my approval as I turn and climbed out of the ring. Stumbling to my rental, getting inside, I look into the rear view mirror to observe the damage to my face. My left eye way a horrible purplish color and swollen shut but it was nothing a bag of ice wouldn't cure or maybe some Vicks Vapor Rub but that's an old family remedy.
The reflection that stared back at me was one of relief, not a man with a bruised ego and just had his ass kicked.. Because I was taught that a real man could take an ass whooping and grow from it.
The next day..
After booking a basic room at the Westgate Las Vegas Casino and Resort for the week at about fifty bucks a night.. They were kind enough to give me a free upgrade to the Lanai Suite. Now this room was fucking amazing.. it was huge, a blessing to the eyes with two giant TVs, a private sitting area, king size bed, a real dope black, white and red decor.. Private balcony with chaise lounge and that’s where I sat, looking over at the Las Vegas nightlife. I wasn’t used to being in a city so bright but it was the perfect place for anyone with insomnia like myself and the Alien Dawg weed that I still had left, had me paranoid beyond belief. Did I mention the multitudes of conspiracy theory YouTube videos that I consumed really didn’t do my psyche no favors. When you’ve been through what I’ve been through, they slowly become more fact than fiction. But you know what they say about opinions..
The GCWA North American Champion rested on the end table to my right as I gazed into my camera that’s set up on its tripod in front of the banister. I stare off into the cool, Nevada skies as I contemplate what I wanted to say. The swelling in my left eye had gone down significantly since yesterday but I still sported a dark purple shiner. I finally shift my attention to the camera, beginning to address my upcoming North American Championship title defense against Tony Savage.
“Do ya feel dat Tony?”
I look back up at the sky before training my eyes back towards the lens.
“What did Trump call it? Tha calm befo’ tha storm.. Can ya feel it? Those butterflies rumblin’ in ya stomach, tha flutterin’ sensantion dat makes it feel like ya heart ‘bout ta do tha electric slide right outta ya chest? Dat feelin’ dat somethin’ big is about ta go down.”
I shrug my shoulders.
“I don’t kno’ maybe I still get those rookie jittas every now an’ then.. But don’t dare fo’ one second thank dat it’s associated in anyway wit bein’ neitha’ nervous or afraid. Naw.. it’s mo’ anticipation than anythang else. But if ya couldn’t tell from tha way dat my eye..”
I point to my bruised left orbital.
“I’ve already learned a few thangs ta help grow inta a betta’ fighta, competitor.. A complete fuckin’ warrior mane. But I get it, ya look at me as some knucklehead who’d ratha do shit tha ole fashion way instead’a gettin’ wit tha program.”
I laugh at the audacity.
“Dat’s just not how I get down but come dis Sunday night at High Rollas.. Ya gonna get a first class lesson in how I really get t’fuck down. Y’see Tony, ya say you’ve been keepin’ up wit what I’ve been doin’.. So you would kno’ dat dis match was right up my muthafuckin’ alley! I’ve been in chambers, cages, cells, concrete pits, you name it.. In my short time in dis business, I’ve spilled tha blood’a many warriors inside’a dat rang. Tha only difference was back then, I did it fo’ fun.. dat intense feelin’ dat I feel when I’m inflictin’ an’ receivin’ pain..”
I chuckle again.
“It just makes me feel alive.. So if I can do dat just fo’ fun, just imagine what tha fuck I’m gonna do to ya when my services are on tha line.. Ya betta’ go ask Dylan Thomas how shit goes when I’m allowed ta do what I please.. I got somethin’ big planned fo’ us an’ I do hope ya like surprises cuh we about ta have us a good ole time.. Come Novemba 10th, there won’t be no exchangin’ of services nor my Nawf American Championship. Only dat two hunnit an’ fifty bands inta my bank account an’ a nice Christmas gift fo’ Pops.. See, Tony, I don’t need a brand ta stamp my name in dis business.. Neva’ have an’ neva will, hell I’ve been doin’ just fine wit’out anyone else in my pockets besides tha companies dat sign my checks.. Ya see it was neva up ta me who I faced.. hell I neva really gave a fuck.. It was an equal oppurtunity type thang an’ whoeva stepped up, stepped up.. Just like you an’ when dat bell rangs an’ every thang is legal.. I’ma show ya how a real savage gets down..”
With that, I rise from the chaise lounge and walk to the camera, bringing the feed to an end.
However, this wasn't my first trip and let's just say that things got rowdy the first time that I was here or maybe it was Atlantic City… Who knows.. I've smoked since then..
Either way, all of that shit wasn't up my alley.. I wanted to be in peak condition for my Unsanctioned title defense this coming Sunday at High Rollers. Which, by the way, I didn't think all the way through. Who'd figure that you can't technically put a title on the line in a match that's not sanctioned.
I guess after hearing Savage's offer, it kinda made everything turn red for me. You know, that tunnel vision shit where all you wanna do is fuck a muthafucka up.. yeah that shit.
Needless to say, I was more than upset with not having an actual match this past Tuesday against Nathan Paradine. So what better way to let off some steam?
Backyard Bare Knuckle Fighting..
I mean sure, I could've kept all of that pent up frustration inside and just took it out on Savage but I’ve already got enough legal troubles. So throwing hands with some of the toughest muthafuckas in Vegas was in my mind, the best release of frustration that I could find.
I could tell you the location but that’s really against the code, ya know? First rule of FIght Club… well you know the rest.. But if you personally knew me, you’d know that I really can’t keep my mouth shut about certain things. Besides, this shit is spiritual like for me and you’re bullshitting me if you don’t have anything that you do to get your release.
Masturbating doesn’t count.
There I stood across from a heavily tattooed hispanic man with a low buzz cut. The host for the evening stood between us and explained the rules for the bout, which I could give a fuck about because I was intent on knocking my opponent out within minutes of him moving the fuck out of the way.
He finally did, giving us the signal to go as we left our corners and circled the makeshift ring. Seriously, it was four metal posts, hammered into the ground with three sets of what looked like water hoses intertwined around them to I guess, signify ring ropes maybe? I don’t know, I don’t judge and to each their own. Hell a hustle is a hustle in my book.
We move in towards each other, he rapidly fires off six wild punches that connect in their own unique places. Trying to fight through his offense I swing back with a forearm which he easily avoids, connecting with countless shots to my body in rapid succession. I try my best to cover up as he forces me back into the corner.
Damn, you’ve been a wrestler so long, you forgot how to fight?
Watch out for that right cro…
Shit! This guy was faster than he led on to be and seeing as how I was only allowed to use my hands in this fight, by this time, I figured I may be fucked. But I ain’t no bitch!
Fuck no, you’re not!
There’s nothing wrong with admitting that someone is getting the better of you.
Fuck all of that! Go in on this muthafucka! You can do it.
I began to swing for the fences as I try to fight my way out of the fucked up predicament. Some shots connect, some don’t but as hard as I’m swinging, this guy is eating them like its lunch.
Did you read the manual before getting involved with this shit?
There was a manual?
It’s not the time for this, I’m seriously getting the shit kicked out of me right now..
Hell, swing back!
What the fuck do you think I’m doing over here!?
About to go night, night…
Wha…
…..
….
“Aye man, you alright?”
“Damn.. I think you killed him..”
“Hell naw, he can’t be dead! How’re we gonna explain this shit!”
“Take him to the border and dump his body.”
“What about border patrol?”
“Don’t worry about all of that.. Just take him, they’ll know what to do..”
Are they talking about dumping my body? What the fuck happened?
“Aye, aye, aye, muthafuckas! Y’all ain’t doin’ shit wit my body!”
“Oh shit, he got back up..”
“What.. ya neva’ seen a muh’fucka have a near death experience befo’?”
They all look at me confused, until I crack a shit-eating grin. My face felt as if a Mack truck ran into a freight train and by some fate, both of them bitches crashed into my face while I was lying down. My former opponent helps me up to my feet, shaky as they were but being the good sport that he was, he kept me from falling..
“Dude, you need to calm that anger if you ever plan to go anywhere with this shit bro..”
Looking at him through my right eye, because my left one had been closed shut, I nodded in affirmation, opting not to speak because my jaw was feeling a bit jacked up as well. But I showed respect in defeat, something that I never had any problem with doing. Not every night, you’re gonna go out there and stand tall in victory, unless you’re a super fucking connected muthafucka who sucks dicks to get to the top. That’s gender neutral by the way, hell it’s 2019 almost 2020.. Like they say in damn near every hood that I’ve been too, everybody’s fucking everybody.
But who am I to judge, if that’s how they wanna work they’re way too the top, that’s they’re business. I’d rather earn it like I’m supposed to, like I’m sure Tony did in his seven years of working himself into a brand name. But if I kept letting my emotions get the best of me, I was going to be somewhere that I didn’t want to be… like hospitals. I fucking hated hospitals, there was no way I was going back to another hospital to be hooked up with tubes, IVs, monitors and other shit.
Like, what do you expect when you’re a professional wrestler?
Shut... the fuck up… please! Just one time for me, can ya do that?
Hahahaaa.
You can shut the fuck up, right along with him.. I’ve been through enough and the criticism from you two is starting to drive me up a wall. Why y’all can’t be like the other one and just keep y’all thoughts to yourselves?
Because we're not trying to see you get fucked off out here in the world.
Sounds good, it really did but I knew the true reason why the third voice was always silent.
“Do you think that you’re gonna be alright?” The host of the backyard fighting event questioned. “That eye really needs to be looked at..”
Rubbing my sore mandible, I nodded my approval as I turn and climbed out of the ring. Stumbling to my rental, getting inside, I look into the rear view mirror to observe the damage to my face. My left eye way a horrible purplish color and swollen shut but it was nothing a bag of ice wouldn't cure or maybe some Vicks Vapor Rub but that's an old family remedy.
The reflection that stared back at me was one of relief, not a man with a bruised ego and just had his ass kicked.. Because I was taught that a real man could take an ass whooping and grow from it.
The next day..
After booking a basic room at the Westgate Las Vegas Casino and Resort for the week at about fifty bucks a night.. They were kind enough to give me a free upgrade to the Lanai Suite. Now this room was fucking amazing.. it was huge, a blessing to the eyes with two giant TVs, a private sitting area, king size bed, a real dope black, white and red decor.. Private balcony with chaise lounge and that’s where I sat, looking over at the Las Vegas nightlife. I wasn’t used to being in a city so bright but it was the perfect place for anyone with insomnia like myself and the Alien Dawg weed that I still had left, had me paranoid beyond belief. Did I mention the multitudes of conspiracy theory YouTube videos that I consumed really didn’t do my psyche no favors. When you’ve been through what I’ve been through, they slowly become more fact than fiction. But you know what they say about opinions..
The GCWA North American Champion rested on the end table to my right as I gazed into my camera that’s set up on its tripod in front of the banister. I stare off into the cool, Nevada skies as I contemplate what I wanted to say. The swelling in my left eye had gone down significantly since yesterday but I still sported a dark purple shiner. I finally shift my attention to the camera, beginning to address my upcoming North American Championship title defense against Tony Savage.
“Do ya feel dat Tony?”
I look back up at the sky before training my eyes back towards the lens.
“What did Trump call it? Tha calm befo’ tha storm.. Can ya feel it? Those butterflies rumblin’ in ya stomach, tha flutterin’ sensantion dat makes it feel like ya heart ‘bout ta do tha electric slide right outta ya chest? Dat feelin’ dat somethin’ big is about ta go down.”
I shrug my shoulders.
“I don’t kno’ maybe I still get those rookie jittas every now an’ then.. But don’t dare fo’ one second thank dat it’s associated in anyway wit bein’ neitha’ nervous or afraid. Naw.. it’s mo’ anticipation than anythang else. But if ya couldn’t tell from tha way dat my eye..”
I point to my bruised left orbital.
“I’ve already learned a few thangs ta help grow inta a betta’ fighta, competitor.. A complete fuckin’ warrior mane. But I get it, ya look at me as some knucklehead who’d ratha do shit tha ole fashion way instead’a gettin’ wit tha program.”
I laugh at the audacity.
“Dat’s just not how I get down but come dis Sunday night at High Rollas.. Ya gonna get a first class lesson in how I really get t’fuck down. Y’see Tony, ya say you’ve been keepin’ up wit what I’ve been doin’.. So you would kno’ dat dis match was right up my muthafuckin’ alley! I’ve been in chambers, cages, cells, concrete pits, you name it.. In my short time in dis business, I’ve spilled tha blood’a many warriors inside’a dat rang. Tha only difference was back then, I did it fo’ fun.. dat intense feelin’ dat I feel when I’m inflictin’ an’ receivin’ pain..”
I chuckle again.
“It just makes me feel alive.. So if I can do dat just fo’ fun, just imagine what tha fuck I’m gonna do to ya when my services are on tha line.. Ya betta’ go ask Dylan Thomas how shit goes when I’m allowed ta do what I please.. I got somethin’ big planned fo’ us an’ I do hope ya like surprises cuh we about ta have us a good ole time.. Come Novemba 10th, there won’t be no exchangin’ of services nor my Nawf American Championship. Only dat two hunnit an’ fifty bands inta my bank account an’ a nice Christmas gift fo’ Pops.. See, Tony, I don’t need a brand ta stamp my name in dis business.. Neva’ have an’ neva will, hell I’ve been doin’ just fine wit’out anyone else in my pockets besides tha companies dat sign my checks.. Ya see it was neva up ta me who I faced.. hell I neva really gave a fuck.. It was an equal oppurtunity type thang an’ whoeva stepped up, stepped up.. Just like you an’ when dat bell rangs an’ every thang is legal.. I’ma show ya how a real savage gets down..”
With that, I rise from the chaise lounge and walk to the camera, bringing the feed to an end.
