Post by hk on Aug 31, 2007 19:29:25 GMT -6
I had taken a few shots at myself. Not physically, but mentally. Once in awhile, everybody goes through some sort of a…change. One person may turn romantic, one person may turn insane, one person may turn homosexual, whatever. Every day I made funny jokes and rhymes. People laughed, people cried (of laughter). Hell, I still did at the time. But at night, something odd took over.
No, not some monster. No, not some alter ego. To be honest, I had no idea.
So this time, I found myself in my living room. It was at least ol’ nine thirty at night. I lounged back in the chair, the only light coming from the lit television set. The blue glow lit up the room in all of it’s glory, or whatever color you see in it. I see blue. But that’s just me.
I took a few sips of beer cans. I have no idea what kind it was, but I didn’t care. Weird shit was happening to my life and I was on the verge of breaking. I almost fell asleep, up until I saw POW on that very television set. I managed to lift myself up from sleeping. The vision I owned was blurred and not focused, but that didn’t matter. I still could hear.
Host: “POW…new event…Reck Maverick and Big…with Final…returning…Scott Lanegan and George Duke…singles match…the President in action…”
The lines were far and between, but I managed to catch that one spot about me. I grinned and tried to look at the set, but it became a snow white of static. Or, at least in my eyes, it did.
[][][][][][][][][][][]
Scott Lanegan: “Ugh…what?”
The carpet had rested underneath my stomach. I found myself on my bedroom floor, sprawled throughout the clothes and other items that lived there. I sighed and lifted myself up with my hands. I couldn’t remember much from the night before, but then again, I doubt I went anywhere anyway.
There was something that struck my mind, though. The words Scott Lanegan, George Duke and singles. I yawned and waltzed over to the bathroom.
Scott Lanegan: “Damn, me and Duke in a match? That can’t be, he’s like 75. He’s retired. I must’ve been drinking some weird shit…”
I took a piss (no details required), up until the phone rang. I sighed and slowly walked over to the phone. Every single time that damn tone went throughout the air, it knocked the door at my head. A headache was starting to produce itself. I looked at the caller ID and picked up.
Scott Lanegan: “H, what you want man? I was taking a piss.”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “Scott! What the f**k is wrong with you!? First you went and quit your match, then you told Rich to f**k off...in a way…and now you’re getting yourself drunk!? What-“
Scott Lanegan: “H! Am I facing George Duke this week?”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “Well, yeah. It’s a singles match.”
Scott Lanegan: “I knew it! But how?”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “How what?”
Scott Lanegan: “How can I face him? He’s, like, old…right? And he’s, like, in a wheelchair and retired and all that…”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “Not really. He’s actually in a decent condition.”
Scott Lanegan: “Damn. Care to meet me at James Gagne’s gym?”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “Right on, dude.”
I hung up.
[][][][][][][][][][][]
James Gagne: “So are you nervous or something?”
Scott Lanegan: “Kind of. I mean…I am nervous! I don’t want to break his old and fragile bones or anything…”
James Gagne: “Get over yourself. He isn’t a wash-up like you think.”
I kept punching the bag over and over. My first collided with the material. A punching bag is softer than a human. And it’s stationary. Those are two things that separates the two. “HK” Hunter Killer and James Gagne stood around me, watching me throw a few jabs. I took a quick break and put my hands down.
Scott Lanegan: “I’m actually pretty rusty. The last four matches…I haven’t won. Don’t you know how that feels?”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “You shouldn’t kick a few cans and drink because of it. You just have to try harder, like what you’re doing now.”
Scott Lanegan: “Yeah, you’re right man. Thanks you two.”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “Don’t turn pussy on me now.”
Scott Lanegan: “If I did, I’d be the first you’ve ever seen.”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “Funny guy.”
[][][][][][][][][][][]
Of course, wrestling was always my side job. I did it just to pay some bills and shit. But if I had my money from earlier, I wouldn’t have to wrestle. I could just sit at home and do nothing. The verge had started to form again. I wanted it back. If nobody remembers, it’s simple; my old drug runner, Jake Steele, stole all my money when I got out of rehab. He had everything while I had nothing.
Sadly, I didn’t have any leads. But the one place I could recall was that lone gas station out by the corn fields. I borrowed HK’s green Tahoe truck again. It was dark and the sun set behind the tall corn fields. The gas station was right dead center of the fields.
I snuck up behind the station and turned off the engine. To my shock, the back employee door was open. A wooden kickstand held it open for any visitors. I walked inside, and I felt a web hit my face. I brushed it aside and looked around. It was too dark to see anything, but I heard a groan.
Scott Lanegan: “Hm?”
I slowly walked to the front door, where some of the moon was shining in. I saw a dark figure on the ground, sprawled out. It was at the counter, straight ahead of me. I slowly walked over…and kicked it in the shoulder lightly.
Voice: “Ahh!”
It was a high pitch female voice. She quickly crawled back and up to the counter. The figure was shaking but I still couldn’t see who it was.
Scott Lanegan: “Who the hell are you!?”
A sigh of relief came out.
Voice: “I know you. Scott Lanegan. Thank god.”
Scott Lanegan: “Huh?”
The figure picked herself up and walked calmly to the wall. A light flickered on and the empty room was filled up. I covered my eyes; they weren’t adjusted yet. I saw before me a young women. She had blonde hair, a thin body and a skimpy outfit on. I recognized her right away.
Scott Lanegan: “You!”
Once again, not everybody remembers (not even me) so I’ll stop here for a second. A few weeks back, I had bow-chicka-bow-wow with a prostitute. The next morning, I found out she had worked for good old Steele himself, and she took all my shit. Fast forward to now.
Chick: “It’s not what ya think! I was left for nothing. Nothing! That son of a bitch scammed me, took everything I owned!”
Scott Lanegan: “A friend of mine, Earl…he calls it karma. I think that’s what got you.”
Chick: “I only did it for the money. The money! I was doing double duty and needed it. And now…I got nothing…”
She started a quick sob.
Scott Lanegan: “Hey, don’t try to hit symphony on me girl. That shit doesn’t take affect on me.”
Chick: “Uhh…right. Can we just get out of here? I’ll help you find Jake tonight.”
Scott Lanegan: “No can do. I got a match with an old guy soon. I can’t go hunting for some f**ker right now.”
Chick: “Well, can you just take me back to my place?”
[][][][][][][][][][][]
After following a confusing set of directions, we arrived at the other side of the industrial zone. It was late at night, and nobody was on the streets. We stopped at a tall apartment; it was a shit hole. She sighed and looked at me.
Chick: “Listen, I’m not gonna try to get you to come upstairs-”
Scott Lanegan: “I can’t trust anybody anyway.”
Chick: “So why did you before?”
She tilted her head.
Scott Lanegan: “Well, shit hits the fan and I can’t take cover.”
With that last line, she sighed and exited the truck. I sped off down the street. I had better things to worry about, such as POW. That’s how I was getting my bills paid, anyway.
No, not some monster. No, not some alter ego. To be honest, I had no idea.
So this time, I found myself in my living room. It was at least ol’ nine thirty at night. I lounged back in the chair, the only light coming from the lit television set. The blue glow lit up the room in all of it’s glory, or whatever color you see in it. I see blue. But that’s just me.
I took a few sips of beer cans. I have no idea what kind it was, but I didn’t care. Weird shit was happening to my life and I was on the verge of breaking. I almost fell asleep, up until I saw POW on that very television set. I managed to lift myself up from sleeping. The vision I owned was blurred and not focused, but that didn’t matter. I still could hear.
Host: “POW…new event…Reck Maverick and Big…with Final…returning…Scott Lanegan and George Duke…singles match…the President in action…”
The lines were far and between, but I managed to catch that one spot about me. I grinned and tried to look at the set, but it became a snow white of static. Or, at least in my eyes, it did.
[][][][][][][][][][][]
Scott Lanegan: “Ugh…what?”
The carpet had rested underneath my stomach. I found myself on my bedroom floor, sprawled throughout the clothes and other items that lived there. I sighed and lifted myself up with my hands. I couldn’t remember much from the night before, but then again, I doubt I went anywhere anyway.
There was something that struck my mind, though. The words Scott Lanegan, George Duke and singles. I yawned and waltzed over to the bathroom.
Scott Lanegan: “Damn, me and Duke in a match? That can’t be, he’s like 75. He’s retired. I must’ve been drinking some weird shit…”
I took a piss (no details required), up until the phone rang. I sighed and slowly walked over to the phone. Every single time that damn tone went throughout the air, it knocked the door at my head. A headache was starting to produce itself. I looked at the caller ID and picked up.
Scott Lanegan: “H, what you want man? I was taking a piss.”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “Scott! What the f**k is wrong with you!? First you went and quit your match, then you told Rich to f**k off...in a way…and now you’re getting yourself drunk!? What-“
Scott Lanegan: “H! Am I facing George Duke this week?”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “Well, yeah. It’s a singles match.”
Scott Lanegan: “I knew it! But how?”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “How what?”
Scott Lanegan: “How can I face him? He’s, like, old…right? And he’s, like, in a wheelchair and retired and all that…”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “Not really. He’s actually in a decent condition.”
Scott Lanegan: “Damn. Care to meet me at James Gagne’s gym?”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “Right on, dude.”
I hung up.
[][][][][][][][][][][]
James Gagne: “So are you nervous or something?”
Scott Lanegan: “Kind of. I mean…I am nervous! I don’t want to break his old and fragile bones or anything…”
James Gagne: “Get over yourself. He isn’t a wash-up like you think.”
I kept punching the bag over and over. My first collided with the material. A punching bag is softer than a human. And it’s stationary. Those are two things that separates the two. “HK” Hunter Killer and James Gagne stood around me, watching me throw a few jabs. I took a quick break and put my hands down.
Scott Lanegan: “I’m actually pretty rusty. The last four matches…I haven’t won. Don’t you know how that feels?”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “You shouldn’t kick a few cans and drink because of it. You just have to try harder, like what you’re doing now.”
Scott Lanegan: “Yeah, you’re right man. Thanks you two.”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “Don’t turn pussy on me now.”
Scott Lanegan: “If I did, I’d be the first you’ve ever seen.”
“HK” Hunter Killer: “Funny guy.”
[][][][][][][][][][][]
Of course, wrestling was always my side job. I did it just to pay some bills and shit. But if I had my money from earlier, I wouldn’t have to wrestle. I could just sit at home and do nothing. The verge had started to form again. I wanted it back. If nobody remembers, it’s simple; my old drug runner, Jake Steele, stole all my money when I got out of rehab. He had everything while I had nothing.
Sadly, I didn’t have any leads. But the one place I could recall was that lone gas station out by the corn fields. I borrowed HK’s green Tahoe truck again. It was dark and the sun set behind the tall corn fields. The gas station was right dead center of the fields.
I snuck up behind the station and turned off the engine. To my shock, the back employee door was open. A wooden kickstand held it open for any visitors. I walked inside, and I felt a web hit my face. I brushed it aside and looked around. It was too dark to see anything, but I heard a groan.
Scott Lanegan: “Hm?”
I slowly walked to the front door, where some of the moon was shining in. I saw a dark figure on the ground, sprawled out. It was at the counter, straight ahead of me. I slowly walked over…and kicked it in the shoulder lightly.
Voice: “Ahh!”
It was a high pitch female voice. She quickly crawled back and up to the counter. The figure was shaking but I still couldn’t see who it was.
Scott Lanegan: “Who the hell are you!?”
A sigh of relief came out.
Voice: “I know you. Scott Lanegan. Thank god.”
Scott Lanegan: “Huh?”
The figure picked herself up and walked calmly to the wall. A light flickered on and the empty room was filled up. I covered my eyes; they weren’t adjusted yet. I saw before me a young women. She had blonde hair, a thin body and a skimpy outfit on. I recognized her right away.
Scott Lanegan: “You!”
Once again, not everybody remembers (not even me) so I’ll stop here for a second. A few weeks back, I had bow-chicka-bow-wow with a prostitute. The next morning, I found out she had worked for good old Steele himself, and she took all my shit. Fast forward to now.
Chick: “It’s not what ya think! I was left for nothing. Nothing! That son of a bitch scammed me, took everything I owned!”
Scott Lanegan: “A friend of mine, Earl…he calls it karma. I think that’s what got you.”
Chick: “I only did it for the money. The money! I was doing double duty and needed it. And now…I got nothing…”
She started a quick sob.
Scott Lanegan: “Hey, don’t try to hit symphony on me girl. That shit doesn’t take affect on me.”
Chick: “Uhh…right. Can we just get out of here? I’ll help you find Jake tonight.”
Scott Lanegan: “No can do. I got a match with an old guy soon. I can’t go hunting for some f**ker right now.”
Chick: “Well, can you just take me back to my place?”
[][][][][][][][][][][]
After following a confusing set of directions, we arrived at the other side of the industrial zone. It was late at night, and nobody was on the streets. We stopped at a tall apartment; it was a shit hole. She sighed and looked at me.
Chick: “Listen, I’m not gonna try to get you to come upstairs-”
Scott Lanegan: “I can’t trust anybody anyway.”
Chick: “So why did you before?”
She tilted her head.
Scott Lanegan: “Well, shit hits the fan and I can’t take cover.”
With that last line, she sighed and exited the truck. I sped off down the street. I had better things to worry about, such as POW. That’s how I was getting my bills paid, anyway.