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Thread: Creative Works

  1. #81
    The Brain
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    Loaded with symbolism, really. Intriguing stuff.

    Wrote another short play for my sister's students to perform. It's a bit cheesier than OTHGODS but I like it just the same.


    Punchforce Five


    CAPTAIN UPPERCUT The leader of Punchforce!

    BROCK SLABJAW A member of Punchforce!!

    SQUISH BONECRACKER A member of Punchforce!!!

    BOOM McDYNAMITE A member of Punchforce!!!!!

    KEVIN He’s a nice person.

    AUTHOR’S NOTE: PUNCHFORCE means all but Kevin. For costuming, Kevin is dressed like a normal young man. The members of Punchforce can be dressed as normal kids, “cool” kids, or outlandish battle gear, director’s choice.

    SETTING: Anywhere young men congregate.

    AT RISE: KEVIN is alone onstage. He is holding a basketball.


    (KEVIN looks up and carefully studies an unseen hoop, measuring his shot. He’s focused and meticulous. He’s taking his time. He thinks he can make the shot. He knows he can make the shot. He’s going to take the shot. Just as he takes the shot, CAPTAIN UPPERCUT enters at full speed and violently smashes the ball out of his hands! UPPERCUT starts doing an obnoxious dance! KEVIN is more taken aback than upset.)

    UPPERCUT
    Rejected!!! Ohhhhhh, in your face!!! Boys, get in here!

    (PUNCHFORCE enters, whooping and hollering!)

    BROCK SLABJAW
    Captain! Did you just school this fool?

    UPPERCUT
    Right in his face!

    SQUISH BONECRACKER
    Ohhhh, look at him! What a loser!

    BOOM McDYNAMITE
    Dude, what is it even like to lose your whole life like that??

    UPPERCUT
    Oh yeah boys, you know what to do!

    PUNCHFORCE
    Punchforce victory dance!

    (PUNCHFORCE do a synchronized taunting dance towards KEVIN! They end and pose dramatically!)

    UPPERCUT
    Aw yeah, what do you think of us now boy?

    KEVIN
    Uh… that’s a very nice dance. Did you practice it very long?

    (PUNCHFORCE doesn’t like this comment! UPPERCUT walks away angry, and ends up retrieving the basketball.)

    BROCK
    Uh, it’s not a dance, moron? It’s a victory dance.

    SQUISH
    Big difference. We don’t just dance, that’d be weird.

    BOOM
    And it’s not nice! And we didn’t practice, we’re just that good!

    KEVIN
    Well, it’s very impressive.

    (UPPERCUT gets in KEVIN’s face, looking tough)

    UPPERCUT
    Yeah man. Yeah, we are impressive. As in, you better be impressed.

    KEVIN
    (Pleasantly) I am!

    (UPPERCUT suddenly walks away angry! He doesn’t like how KEVIN is reacting! He comes back and gets in KEVIN’s face again!)

    UPPERCUT
    Hey man. You want your ball back?

    KEVIN
    That’d be great!

    UPPERCUT
    Hey guys, baby wants his ball back!

    SQUISH
    You gonna cry, baby?

    BOOM
    Oh wow, what are you gonna do about?

    BROCK
    He ain’t gonna do nothing!

    UPPERCUT
    You want your ball back, huh? Then I guess you better take it back then, huh? Huh?

    KEVIN
    Ok, sure!

    (KEVIN reaches out and UPPERCUT yanks the ball away)

    UPPERCUT
    Oh, you gotta be quicker than that! You gotta be-

    (KEVIN reaches out quickly and smoothly and takes the ball back while UPPERCUT is gloating)

    KEVIN
    Thanks, I’ve been working on my ball stealing skills. This is good practice.

    (PUNCHFORCE is very still. UPPERCUT is frozen in rage for a moment, then he violently yanks the ball back! He stalks upstage and starts pacing in a muttering fury!

    BROCK
    Oh wow… you shouldn’t have done that, son!

    KEVIN
    What did I do?

    SQUISH
    You messed with the captain… you should never mess with the captain!

    BOOM
    You mess with the captain, we mess with you!

    (BROCK, KEVIN, and SQUISH advance on a still cheerful KEVIN!)

    KEVIN
    He’s a captain? Captain of what?

    (UPPERCUT abruptly stops and screams dramatically to express his manly rage! He then hurls the basketball offstage and gets back in KEVIN’s face! KEVIN remains cheerful as PUNCHFORCE menaces him. Suddenly, UPPERCUT becomes pleasant as well!)

    UPPERCUT
    You’ve got good moves, kid! Not just anybody can get the drop on me!

    (The rest of PUNCHFORCE quickly follows his lead!)

    BROCK
    Wow, real slick man, you could be something special.

    BOOM
    Like lightning man! I could barely see you move!

    SQUISH
    You must have trained like a madman to get one over on the Captain!

    KEVIN
    Well thanks, I’ve been working pretty hard. I find that practice makes perfect!

    BOOM
    Amazing!

    SQUISH
    Stupendous!

    BROCK
    Dazzling!

    UPPERCUT
    (Under his breath) Cool it guys…

    BOOM
    I mean, you’re ok.

    SQUISH
    I’ve seen better.

    BROCK
    Could use some work, really.

    KEVIN
    Good feedback, thanks for that!

    UPPERCUT
    Alright, bottom line buddy… how would you like to be a part off…

    PUNCHFORCE
    Punchforce Five!!!

    (BOOM starts to play air guitar and make rock music with his mouth, as UPPERCUT, BROCK, and SQUISH start jumping around the stage, doing action moves against invisible opponents! BOOM continues his guitar music between announcements!)

    BOOM
    Punchforce Five! The greatest team of punching fighters in the world! Meet Brock Slabjaw!

    BROCK
    (Full of intesity!!!) Punching is life!!!

    BOOM
    Brock once punched a man so hard his face flew up to the moon, and that face became the man in the moon we all know today! And here’s Squish Bonecracker!

    SQUISH
    (Pauses to be cool!) Hello, ladies!

    BOOM
    Squish once fought 37 ninjas, 12 cowboys, 7 samurai, 6 velociraptors, 3 tanks, and 1 very confused spider monkey all in one battle! And of course, I’m the great Boom McDynamite! So named because my fists and feet are like dynamite, I rent myself out to a demolition company on weekends, or I did until they all fired me for being too awesome! And here’s our leader, the amazing Captain Uppercut!

    UPPERCUT
    I’ll punch the whole world!!!

    BOOM
    He founded Punchforce Five so we could all learn the ways of the PUNCH!

    (PUNCHFORCE all hit a cool pose!)

    PUNCHFORCE
    We are Punchforce Five!!!

    KEVIN
    (Applauds) That was very good!

    UPPERCUT
    (Breathing heavily) Thanks… ah, I mean, of course it was good, it was great, because we’re great! And who are you, to stand in the presence of Punchforce?

    KEVIN
    I’m Kevin. I practice basketball.

    UPPERCUT
    Ok… Kevin. But hey, what if your name was… Blasto Von Smashface?

    BROCK
    Stomp Rumblecrash?

    SQUISH
    Hunter T Dangerblood?

    BOOM
    Max Overkill?

    KEVIN
    Ha… no, I’m Kevin. I practice basketball.

    UPPERCUT
    Kevin, buddy, my boy, my man, my son, we’re trying to ask you something very simple… how would you feel about joining…

    PUNCHFORCE
    Punchforce Five!!!

    (PUNCHFORCE poses around KEVIN for a moment in cool positions! KEVIN joins in the pose by giving a friendly thumbs up!)

    UPPERCUT
    So, what do you think?

    KEVIN
    I guess you do need a fifth member so you can be Punchforce Five, don’t you?

    SQUISH
    What do you… hey yeah, why have we been calling ourselves that?

    UPPERCUT
    (Very quickly) Shut up Squish never question your leader!

    SQUISH
    Sorry, I’m just saying-

    UPPERCUT
    (A bit manic) Well just don’t say! Ok??

    SQUISH
    Fine…

    KEVIN
    I just don’t know, you’re very kind to ask but I’m not sure I would fit in. What do you all even do?

    UPPERCUT
    Oh man, what do we do? Tell him, boys!

    SQUISH
    Ok, ok, check this out man… you know how sometimes something really sad happens, and you want to cry?

    KEVIN
    Sure, I know all about that. Toy Story 4 really got to me, I was sobbing in the theater. You too?

    SQUISH
    Um, NO! Gross man! Don’t be weird… I’m saying, if you join our group, you don’t have to cry anymore.

    KEVIN
    But what if something really sad happens?

    SQUISH
    Then you take your hand, ball it up into an all powerful fist, and punch your tear ducts until they shut up and take it like a man!

    KEVIN
    (Taken aback but trying to be pleasant) O...K. Whatever works for you, my friend!

    SQUISH
    Oh yeah, it works. It works like crazy. And the best part is, if you forget, Punchforce Five will do it for you! (Suddenly reliving a traumatic memory) Like when my mom went to the hospital.

    UPPERCUT
    Oh yeah, we punched you good that time! You were all like, wah, wah, I’m scared for my mommy!

    SQUISH
    (Dazed) Yeah… thanks guys…

    KEVIN
    But that seems like a good reason to cry!

    SQUISH
    (Snaps out of it) Uh, dude? There is NO good reason for a guy to cry! You’re only supposed to feel angry or sometimes happy, like if you just punched someone. But don’t be too happy, or it’s weird. Like be cool and happy, like (acts cool) oh yeah, good punching bro.

    KEVIN
    I’m not sure…

    BROCK
    Ok, shut up Squish, with your weird Mom stories. She was fine eventually, wasn’t she? Besides, what Punchforce is really about is totally dominating all the competition! You like sports, right? You were throwing that little ball around?

    KEVIN
    That’s right, I’m trying to make the team this year. I want to do my best!

    BROCK
    Bzzzt, wrong!! You don’t want to do your best!

    KEVIN
    I don’t?

    BROCK
    No way dude! You want to totally crush everyone in your path and put their heads on pointy sticks!

    KEVIN
    I… do not, actually.

    BROCK
    Oh, you absolutely do! What, do you want to be a loser? Do you want to be a weak little girl?

    KEVIN
    (Brightly) Our girl’s team won the state championship last year!

    BROCK
    UH THAT WAS THE STATE OF NOTHING SO DON’T BRING IT UP!!!

    KEVIN
    Ok, ok… but they did.

    BROCK
    (Seethes for a minute, then continues) Ok, but for real, what’s the point of trying unless you’re going to win so hard you smash everyone else’s dreams?

    KEVIN
    To have fun?

    BROCK
    To have… WHAT ARE YOU

    (SQUISH leads a sputtering and shaken BROCK away from the conversation)

    SQUISH
    I know, I know, he’s a weird one but we’ll get him.

    BROCK
    He’s not human…

    BOOM
    Wow Brock, pretty weak. Preeeeetty weak. A member of Punchforce is never supposed to be WEAK like that. That’s another reason you should join, you know.

    KEVIN
    Seems like you all put a lot of pressure on yourself.

    BOOM
    Uh, that’s because a man can HANDLE the pressure, duh! What are you trying to say, we’re all just scared and lost deep down?

    KEVIN
    Well…

    BOOM
    (Getting a little frantic) Like, what, we just walk around, constantly afraid someone will recognize that we aren’t good enough, that we’ll never be good enough for anyone?

    KEVIN
    I didn’t say-

    BOOM
    (He’s losing it!) That we know, every second of every day, that our existence is shallow and worthless, that we contribute nothing of value and only tear others down, and if we all went away nobody would miss us???

    KEVIN
    I think everyone feels like that once in a while, don’t they?

    BOOM
    (He’s a wild eyed fanatic!!) Well, not Punchforce Five! I’ve never felt that way ever, not even for one second! Be strong all the time with Punchforce Five! Endure the pain with the power of the fist!!

    KEVIN
    I’m just not sure this is for me.

    UPPERCUT
    Man, don’t listen to these morons. Don’t you ever feel like you need to just cut loose and kick some butt?

    KEVIN
    I mean, I get frustrated sometimes like anyone, if that’s what you mean.

    UPPERCUT
    Sure, gotta deal with frustration, right? Gotta let off some steam? So why not do it by launching your fist into someone’s deserving face?

    KEVIN
    So you guys are like… punching vigilantes?

    SQUISH
    More like masters of punching evil.

    BROCK
    More like fist tornadoes of justice.

    BOOM
    More like punching superheroes.

    UPPERCUT
    All of the above, my man. There’s nothing better.

    KEVIN
    I like to let off my aggression by playing sports or building something. Maybe for a walk, try to think about the problem.

    UPPERCUT
    Do you also think about being a dork?

    KEVIN
    (Awkward silence) Oh, was that a real question?

    UPPERCUT
    Man, are you just walking around trying to be constructive all the time? You gotta be destructive man! Punch! Kick! Shoot! Blow something up! You gotta do something, or you’ll be the one who explodes!

    KEVIN
    But it sounds like you’re exploding all the time.

    UPPERCUT
    But think how much more we’d be exploding if we didn’t let off that steam?

    KEVIN
    I appreciate the sales pitch, everyone, but I just don’t think this is gonna happen.

    UPPERCUT
    Ok man, I see there’s only one thing that will convince you. We need to introduce you to… the love of punching!

    PUNCHFORCE
    (They all punch the air!) The love of punching!!!

    UPPERCUT
    Have you ever punched anything before, buddy?

    KEVIN
    I… guess not? Like, a pillow I guess.

    BOOM
    Punching someone is better than punching a million pillows.

    KEVIN
    Is punching a million pillows good…?

    SQUISH
    A million punches is ALWAYS good!

    BOOM
    But it’s even better to punch a person!

    KEVIN
    I’ve got to be honest, I just don’t see the appeal.

    UPPERCUT
    Well don’t know it til you’ve tried it, right? Why don’t you punch… Brock?

    BROCK
    Uh, what? No, you don’t want to punch me man…

    UPPERCUT
    Brock...

    BROCK
    I mean, it’d be like punching a brick wall, really. You’ll probably break your hand right on my jaw. Why don’t you punch Boom?

    BOOM
    Oh, woah! You can’t just punch Boom!

    BROCK
    And why not, exactly?

    BOOM
    I’ve got an explosive personality man! I’m a mass of fighting instincts! If someone comes at me, I’ll dodge them without even thinking about it!

    BROCK
    Oh really?

    BOOM
    Yeah, and before I can stop myself I’ll hit the seven nerve points on the human body that causes your skin to turn inside out!

    BROCK
    I told you, that is not real!

    BOOM
    It’s so real, bro! Don’t come at me!

    (BROCK reaches out and pokes BOOM in the forehead. BOOM is shocked and indignant!)

    BROCK
    Guess what genius, my skin is still right side out.

    BOOM
    You’re just lucky! My defenses are up to 110% now! Nobody should come near me! He should punch Squish anyway!

    SQUISH
    And for what possible reason should he punch Squish?

    BOOM
    Well, you’re named Squish. Isn’t it your destiny to absorb blows?

    SQUISH
    I was named Squish for the delightful noise my socks make on day 37 of me not washing them. Oh yeah, Kevin, being gross is also a perk of being on Punchforce!

    KEVIN
    (Not enthused) Great…

    SQUISH
    Speaking of, I don’t think you want to get close enough to punch me, dude. I’m on day 167.

    BOOM
    Ugh! That’s probably why my defenses were weakened, you sicko!

    BROCK
    You don’t have any defenses, you dummy! I could smack you right now!

    BOOM
    Just try it, punk!

    SQUISH
    Nice, I want to see some inside out skin! I want to see it flopping all around!

    (BROCK, BOOM, and SQUISH descend into a shouting match until-)

    UPPERCUT
    (Shouting) Enough, morons! You’re just a bunch of huge wussies, huh? I gotta do everything myself? Ok Kevin… punch me!

    KEVIN
    Uh, really?

    UPPERCUT
    Yeah!!! (KEVIN raises his fist hesitantly and UPPERCUT flinces!) But, uh, not in the face… or stomach… ok, just like, punch me in the arm ok?

    KEVIN
    Do you really want me to?

    UPPERCUT
    (With gritted teeth!) Just do it bro! (KEVIN taps him very lightly) No, not like that! Really do it! Do it! DO IT!!!

    (KEVIN punches UPPERCUT in the arm with medium force, not with anger but hard to enough to make a decent impact. UPPERCUT tenses up on impact, his eyes wide. He walks stiffly away in tense silence, everyone watching with bated breath. Finally, he lets out a prolonged, strangled, almost whispered scream of pain as he struggles to control his reaction! This reaction may be quite drawn out and elaborate. Finally he composes himself and walks back to KEVIN.)

    UPPERCUT (cont)
    Didn’t even hurt!

    BROCK
    Oh. Wow.

    SQUISH
    What a man!!

    BOOM
    This is why you’re the king, dude!

    KEVIN
    I’m… glad?

    UPPERCUT
    But didn’t it feel great??

    KEVIN
    (He looks at his hand, flexing it and wincing) Honestly… no, it didn’t. There’s a little rush to it, I admit. I can understand it might be exciting or satisfying in some way. But I don’t feel good about it. What’s to feel good about? I didn’t accomplish anything, didn’t help anyone, didn’t build anything up.

    UPPERCUT
    (Disgusted) You just don’t get it, dude.

    BOOM
    Pathetic!

    SQUISH
    What kind of man doesn’t like a good punch?

    BROCK
    What man? Do you guys see a man around here? I sure don’t!

    UPPERCUT
    I guess we’re just wasting our time, guys. I thought you had the stuff, Kevin, but you’re just weak. You’re worthless. You’re nothing! You’re-

    (KEVIN steps up and hugs UPPERCUT, who is shocked into silence. Nobody on PUNCHFORCE has any idea what do. The hug is held for several moments, until KEVIN lets go. He keeps his hands on UPPERCUT’s shoulders in a comforting way.)

    KEVIN
    I’m sorry. I’m sorry somebody told you that you had to be this way. I know it’s hard to act differently. But this is not the way. I’ve got it in me to love you. I’ve been lucky, the people around me have built me up. But not everyone is as lucky as me. It’s going to be hard for people to love you when you’re being like this. And if they don’t, they won’t be wrong.

    BROCK
    Hey, you can’t talk to us like-

    (KEVIN hugs BROCK as well. UPPERCUT is still frozen, stunned, as are the other PUNCHFORCE members as KEVIN goes to them.)

    KEVIN
    It’s ok not to compete and not win. (He hugs BOOM) It’s good to feel your emotions. (He hugs SQUISH) It’s ok to acknowledge your insecurities and still be strong. (He turns back to UPPERCUT) It’s ok. You can touch others without lashing out.

    UPPERCUT
    (He struggles to come out of his shock) You don’t… you don’t know us. About our lives, what makes us… what kind of...

    KEVIN
    It can be ok.

    UPPERCUT
    (After a beat of silence) Squish! Brock! Boom! Come on, we’re out of here!

    (PUNCHFORCE exits quietly, unsure of what just happened, throwing puzzled looks at KEVIN. Should they feel angry? Ashamed? They don’t know how to respond. UPPERCUT is the last to leave, but before he does…)

    KEVIN
    Hey, Captain. (UPPERCUT turns back, wary) Can I get my ball back?

    (UPPERCUT pauses a moment longer, then motions offstage. Someone passes him the ball, and he tosses it back to KEVIN. KEVIN goes back to dribbling the ball and looks offstage the opposite way, up at the unseen hoop, at peace. UPPERCUT watches him for a moment.

    UPPERCUT
    Hey, Kevin.

    KEVIN
    Yeah?

    UPPERCUT
    Maybe… maybe there is a better way. A better way to… to be a guy.

    KEVIN
    You don’t have to be anything you don’t wanna be. Just be.

    (UPPERCUT thinks about this a moment, then exits as well. KEVIN looks after him and spares a smile, hopeful that maybe his words and actions will have impact. He turns back to the unseen hoop once more, trying to focus, but he has one last thought...)

    KEVIN (cont)
    Hugforce Five? (He thinks it over and laughs to himself) Well, maybe someday.

    (He finally takes the shot, shooting offstage. We hear the ball bounce away. KEVIN shrugs, and it’s not clear if he made the shot or not this time. But he’s still smiling, because it’s enough that he tried and he’s getting better every day. He jogs off to retrieve the ball, ready to try again.)

    THE END

  2. #82
    That's really good, man...really works on a lot of levels. Here's a kid trying to get better against degenerates who self sabotage themselves. You can see Kevin is not where he wants to be but is in a great place mentally to practice and get there.

    I somehow picture the bully from F is for family when picturing all of the punchforce and Kevin makes me think of the young boy for some reason.

    I enjoyed it. Thought all of it was really good and positive with a message very true to adolescents and the core message true to adults as well.

    It's nice to know where the man in the moon got his origins.
    See the latest of my Ric Flair saga click here. http://lordsofpain.tv/showthread.php...acock-(Part-2) View my story inspired by colorful wrestlers I've come across in my fandom. http://lordsofpain.tv/showthread.php...-the-Challenge

  3. #83
    The Brain
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    Thanks man, I think it'll be cool to see it actually performed by teenage boys who are likely wrestling with the good and bad aspects of modern masculinity and figuring out who they want to be. Also I hope they have a hell of a good time with the sillier parts.

  4. #84
    I could definitely see this as a really fun play. The hug could go over really well...might want to pull the punch though! Lol, but even the reaction of the kid getting punched is a great opportunity for fun for the kids and the audience. Hope you get to see this one done. It is awesome.
    See the latest of my Ric Flair saga click here. http://lordsofpain.tv/showthread.php...acock-(Part-2) View my story inspired by colorful wrestlers I've come across in my fandom. http://lordsofpain.tv/showthread.php...-the-Challenge

  5. #85
    HUGE Member TheLAW's Avatar
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    Edit: creating a new thread with this poem to encourage more feedback.
    Last edited by TheLAW; 10-08-2019 at 12:47 PM.

  6. #86
    Good god, man, that was a great piece of work.
    See the latest of my Ric Flair saga click here. http://lordsofpain.tv/showthread.php...acock-(Part-2) View my story inspired by colorful wrestlers I've come across in my fandom. http://lordsofpain.tv/showthread.php...-the-Challenge

  7. #87
    HUGE Member TheLAW's Avatar
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    Thanks Benny! Much appreciated.

  8. #88
    Beautiful Fandom Mystic's Avatar
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    Regarding that play, how quickly I get to know the characters and how easily I can visualize it playing out on a stage is an obvious nod to your talents in this genre.

  9. #89
    Johnny Jack are you jacking again?
    She only showed you her knee.
    Johnny Jack, its just a blue skirt over crossed legs.
    Beat it, Johnny Jack. You're just whack.

    Johnny Jack, stop beating it.
    Johnny Jack, you're just whack.
    Johnny Jack, she's just vacuuming.
    She's not bending over for you.

    Johhny, listen to that vacuum.
    Johnny, put away your broom.
    She's just dusting.
    She doesnt know your lusting

    Johnny Jack, your just whacking
    Whack, whack, whack,
    you're going to strain your sack.
    Last edited by Benjamin Button; 10-20-2019 at 03:57 AM.
    See the latest of my Ric Flair saga click here. http://lordsofpain.tv/showthread.php...acock-(Part-2) View my story inspired by colorful wrestlers I've come across in my fandom. http://lordsofpain.tv/showthread.php...-the-Challenge

  10. #90
    Beautiful Fandom Mystic's Avatar
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    I don't wish to signal doom
    but if he's showing his face
    Lil' Johnny's gonna catch a case
    instead of catching his broom

  11. #91
    The Brain
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    That's some relatable adolescent content right there!

  12. #92
    Beautiful Fandom Mystic's Avatar
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    This is what happens when you're driving alone for four hours while listening to Bob Seger

    Just take those VHS tapes off the shelf
    I'll sit and watch 'em all by myself
    ‘Entertainment’ ain't got the same soul
    I like that old-time Race 'n' Rhodes

    Don't try to make me read Seth Rollins
    His cyber gimmick, man, it’s a bore
    Ten tweets later and I start to snore
    I like that old-time Al-dis-Storm

    Still like that old-time Flair ‘n’ Rhodes
    Their whole dynamic just soothes my soul
    I reminisce about the Bash and tour
    With that old-time Flair 'n' Rhodes

    Call me a relic, call it preference for heels
    Say ‘OK, Boomer,’ but it’s how I feel
    Scripted promos ain't got the same soul
    I like that “All In” Co-dy Rhodes

    Still like that old-time Al-dis-Rhodes
    Their whole dynamic just soothes the soul
    I reminisce about ten pounds of gold
    With that old-time Aldis-Rhodes

  13. #93
    The Brain
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    Ha, I love it. Everyone knows I like a lot of modern stuff, but I don't know if I've liked anything I've watched recently as much as I liked the Nitros from 1996 I'm binging. And watching wrestling on VHS! Ah, the nostalgia!!

  14. #94
    Beautiful Fandom Mystic's Avatar
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    haha, thanks for reading. Def. not a 'real' knock on modern stuff or people who enjoy them. Just playing the frames the piece demands!

  15. #95
    I created this joke while my family went to vacation without me...

    Comedic guy: Did you know there's no place in town that fulfills the wifely duties when your wife goes on vacation without you?

    Straight man: Really, no way.

    Comedic Guy: Yeah, I went to area erectors and told them I needed an erection for my area, and they said, "Sir, we don't do that here..."

    Straight Guy: Well, that's false advertising

    Comedic Guy: You're telling me. When I went to Dick's Sporting Goods and told the lady behind the counter I needed a good sport for my dick, I thought they'd arrest me.

    Straight Guy: That had to be traumatizing. What did you do then?

    Comedic Guy: I gave up and went to the rundown Panda Express across the street. But you know what?

    Straight Guy: What?

    Comedic Guy: It's cheaper than the fried rice...
    See the latest of my Ric Flair saga click here. http://lordsofpain.tv/showthread.php...acock-(Part-2) View my story inspired by colorful wrestlers I've come across in my fandom. http://lordsofpain.tv/showthread.php...-the-Challenge

  16. #96

    When the Man Comes Around




    part one.




    Outsiders knew the state of Nebulas to be a few big cities full crime on one end, and the plainest of plain folk on the other. Nebulas boasted of historical landmarks, and a well-known city called Black, buzzing with towers of retail. Black stood with its multi-heads of glass skyscrapers in the wind chills sent by Lake Haven.


    Black—That’s all outsiders knew the state of Nebulas for. But something stranger occurred after one stayed for a-while. Cameras hung everywhere, even in people’s vehicles and bathrooms. A matter of fact, when one hung around and listened to the locals, they’d discover the state law for “the man” to be able to see all that each citizen did. The hopefuls believed he’d come around one day and judge the righteous and the wicked.


    To give you and example, here’s a conversation that occurred with Mike Mitchell and Tommy Maggs outside a Walgreens at two-o-clock AM, some hours after the store closed. Tommy stood there, slender in his brown, fake leather jacket and bleached hair. He squinted as Mike approached him. Mike stood six-seven with true blonde hair and the build of a super-hero.


    “Tommy, Jimmy wouldn’t want you here, doing this. You know that.” Mike said.


    “Jimmy done…died,” Tommy said. His words sounded uneducated; his voice raspy.


    “The men you’re waiting for—they’re bad news. They’re going to take advantage of you!”


    “Aint nothing left for me—aint nothing left. Jimmy’s in hell, and I’m going, too. Done sold my soul to the devil to learn this here fiddle, and Mr. Barnes is going to give me a chance to show my talent to the all Black!”


    “Don’t trust him.” Mike warned.


    A limousine pulled up. It parked as out of place to a Walgreens as the normal folks’ cars would be behind the gate from where it came. A large black man with a suit and glasses got out, opened the door, and waved Tommy on. Mike grabbed Tommy’s arm, but felt it jerk away. Tommy walked down the pavement and got in.


    Inside, Tim Barnes with a bowl haircut, not seen since the nineteen nineties, and with glasses, sat in a sweater covered in strong perfume. “Ma boy!” He said.


    “Good to meet you, Mr. Barnes.”


    Barnes smiled wide underneath his seven-year-old boy haircut, lifted his finger, and said. “Is this really the cousin of Jimmy that sold his soul to the devil to learn the fiddle?


    “I’m very good at it. Hot dog, I been practicing and practicing!” Tommy said. Then, he shuttered at the warm press of Barnes two fingers across his bottom lip and saliva.

    “Hush-up, ma boy. You’ve never been in the presence of a tycoon like me. And since you’re a deal maker, I was thinking…” Barnes reached in his pocket, pulled out a 100-dollar bill, and lay it by his crotch. “Maybe, you will make a deal with this handsome devil.”


    Tommy was speechless for a minute, then his voice came to him. “What’s going on here. You don’t want to give me a gig?”


    Barnes laughed. “Only for a blow job, ma boy. Only for a blow job!”


    “I aint gay! Let me outta here!”


    “Oh, so disappointing! I wish you didn’t say that.” Barnes said.


    The black man whipped Tommy out the car. One heavy fist closed Tommy’s nose from exhaling. Mike ran to Tommy and beat on the window, but by the time he got there, the tons of moving steel protected Tommy’s abusers from his justice. Tommy’s nose was fat and ran with blood.


    Mike had his hands on his hips. “You, alright?”


    “I won’t ever be.” Tommy said in a daze. “Things is wrong, Mike. But one day when the man comes around, he’ll set them right—right as rain.”



    ***



    The weight of the words “right as rain” poured on my shoulders, as I watched from one of the hundreds of thousands of monitors that replaced every square foot of the walls in the “god’s eye” room of my mansion. See my name is Jesseph Holder, and I –I am the man. I’m the man that is the hope of the people.


    Jesseph, the two-timed divorced, former businessman-turned bounty hunter fell off the face of the earth when Nebulas gave me this estate. The theory being anonymity’s the foundation of faith. People believe in power they do not see and despise the power which they do. I live on millions of dollars’ worth of donations from the common people of Nebulas—not tax money—but donations. They give in hopes someone greater than the corrupt police and the corrupt government care for them. They voted it to be state law to put cameras in every room, outside every building, and in all vehicles so that I can see all. It’s amazing how citizens swear to never trade their freedom for security, but they will when one attaches faith to security.


    What’s the typical day of a man with such power? This day, I woke up, as other men do, but I know already I am not other men. I see them go about their nine to five’s fantasizing, waiting for some Texas Clinamen Roll from a vending machine. I woke with intent; I spoke to my electronic house assistant, Ruthie. “Ruthie,” I said. “Take me to my work out.” She escalated me to my weight room. I lifted weights with shoulders back, core in, and with reps carefully cutting my triceps, biceps, and calves. I soaked in this public gym for just for one man, as I walked past the barbells, the easy curl bars, the machines, the treadmills, and the ellipticals, looking at myself in the mirror. All of this that I once shared with gym rats, ghosts of men talking about proper dieting and life changing fitness, now I owned it to myself.


    I finished, feeling the burn in my triceps, then I said, “Ruthie, take me to my tan.” I tanned nine minutes. “Ruthie, take me to my shower.” I brushed my teeth and spit out the extra whitening toothpaste that Ruthie had revolved into my presence, and when Ruthie gave me shower water, I washed from me the burnt smell from the UV lights and the sweat from the weights.


    “Ruthie, the shaving cream, the razor.” A close shave made me at forty years old feel like a twenty-five-year-old. “Ruthie, give me my triple action styling gel.” When you’re the man, you must slick your hair back before business. I gelled it, blow dried the right side, and slicked it. This triple action gel illuminated my part with an all-day shine.


    I walked to my closet. “Ruthie, the blue shirt, the red tie, the red and black scarf, the peacoat.” My blue eyes and shirt blazed coldly but somehow aggressively. My shoes shined. I straightened up and readied myself for my meeting.


    A lot of times, when you’re the man its as much conferences as its combat. An entire secret board worked on this “man” enterprise. The board included the Nebulas Governor, Joel Mandujano. Joel’s, a flamboyant man who wears a lot of green and pink plaid suits with a world of perversion, underneath his gray mustache, plaid top hat, and glasses. In the god’s eye room, he stood next to me with his lips perched. With his cracking voice and proper English in his still Mexican accent, he asked Ruthie to show his secretary, Ana Marie, an aspiring activist in her twenties, on the monitor.


    “Show, Ana, Ruthie. Show Ana Marie from 6203, Thorn Berry Street.


    “Is she in trouble?” I said. '


    He snickered and replied, “No, I just want to look at her on the pooper. Teheehee!”


    I turned my head away from Joel’s giggling.


    My Alexis drove me to the meeting in the Governor’s mansion conference room. The sight of only Joel there slowed my steps. Without a sound from even walking, I made my way to the table. I sat next to Joel by the corner of the table, while he sat at the head. “What’s going on?” I said


    Joel whispered to me, “the fellas on the board are lobbying hard to get this “thing” we have going across state lines, but the push back is we don’t have all the statistics on our side.”


    “You mean the crime rate.” I said. We’d met about this before.


    “It’s not going down. It’s not doing me any favors, either. I ran on fighting crime.”


    “Wasn’t that why our online team got the word out “the man” was given clearance to kill criminals?” I said.


    “But some of them are thinking that it isn’t enough to just threat it, anymore.”


    “Are you saying…” I said, giving him hard eyebrows.


    “Ol’ boy, they want you to—they think you need to send a message. They want you to kill somebody.”


    Tension became the third man in the room. I folded my hands and frowned, looking straight ahead.


    “But they say it can’t be Barnes.”


    I frowned harder. In all business, even this, there’s some corruption. There are louses I despise but am not to touch. Tim Barnes being one. Barnes owned the fight center in Black, the Black Theater, and many night clubs in the city. I’d known him from both my business days and during my bounty hunter and fighting days at the center. Since knowing him, I’ve seen him hurt, maim, and kill.


    Despite my loathing for him, there’s common threads with myself and Barnes that I put to the back of my mind. Gay or straight is just a sexual persuasion, and while he sought men and I did women, we both did all we did in life with narcissism. Both of us knew ourselves to be above the regular people. I see their lives: sad, mundane. They’re just looking forward to a lunch break. They’re literally watching the clock as their lives pass them by. But still, I never took my narcissism to a level of showing everyone I could control them and have them do any manner of weird shit for my amusement. Never had a man killed just because I could…But now—now they requested me to kill someone.


    Joel patted my knee. “Nobody’s making you do this. Why don’t you take a week off, my friend?”


    When I got home, I undid my tie and lay back on my couch. Then, everything stopped. Not a sound went into the mansion. For a week, there’d be no meetings, for a week no missions, for a week no accomplishments. For a week, I’d not be…the man. Everything stopped. I didn’t know what to be.


    “Ruthie, put some music on.”


    Sinatra sang, “My Way.”


    I sighed, got up, and threw some rocks in a glass and dropped some of a fifth of Jim Beam on it.


    After the sweet taste burned my throat, I said “I love you, Ruthie.”


    “I am unable to reciprocate emotion.” She said.


    I laughed tears out my mouth but could not cry them out my eyes. I imagined what it’d be like to be known; that the name Jesseph Holder was that as Frank Sinatra. I fantasized entering a party. In this daydream, I tap danced in with a cane; a suit; a top hat. Sensing respect from by my peers, I smiled the pearly whites I work on every day. I was more than just two lethal, dirty hands.


    Closest person to Sinatra I ever met was Mike Mitchel. At Fitness World, he took me under his wing. He respected my work ethic in the gym and in business. He’s everyone’s big brother. Everyone in the gym and the bar listened to him. Nobody opposed him. He told me I could be a fighter because of my spirit, though I was thirty-five by the time I met him. He told me I had an aggressive, overcoming spirit, that I could fight. Then, he taught me how. He taught me how to kill but never asked me to. He only trained me to hunt wanted men and bring them in, to help those in distress. He introduced me to Jimmy. Jimmy died.


    Jimmy’s little cousin, Tommy, would have never gotten in that limousine with Tim Barnes if he knew what really happened to Jimmy. Jimmy learned a mean rear naked choke at Barnes Fight Arena. He slid around everybody Barnes put against him and choked them out. He won the championship. Barnes looked for a million-dollar champion, someone to bring his Arena to a National level, a Muhamad Ali trash talking, charismatic figure. Jimmy wasn’t it, but the slender fool could choke out anybody.


    Jimmy looked like a five-inch taller Tommy, with his bleached hair. Off the local TV, he showed himself as fun-loving as anyone, but on TV he was shy; didn’t have a presence. Jimmy fell in love with the fat girls, though, and was fertile as hell. Three kids in three years, he made with Tracey Shuman. Did he ever love the ugliest women! When he told myself and Mike that he wanted to fuck her, I said, “c’mon, Jimmy she has peach fuzz over her mouth!” But he meant it. He fucked her at least three times in three years, because those kids inherited his pale complexion and thin lips. And from what she said, back then, he fucked her a lot more than three times. She’d go on, while he just smiled like a goof, and say he gave her the real rear-naked choke for sixty minutes straight.


    But that wasn’t enough for Jimmy. Jimmy left his wife for another big broad, the kind with enormous hooters. If a D cup is at the top of the scale, this girl, Sandy Taylor, was an H, I, or J. To be clear, those were big, big woman boobs. She weighed much more than the other, and this one had a beard out of peach fuzz.


    Thing is Jimmy left his woman, and she left her man. She married a Chinese guy. Little slimy guy with goatee. Two kids she kept with her from that marriage, and she just got out of court to get a restraining order against him. He’d threatened her before. After two days when Sandy and Jimmy disappeared. Mike and I assumed the worst but held out hope. Still, Mike never asks, “what do I do? What do I do?”. Mike got the truck ready to go looking, but with him standing on the driver’s side and me on the passenger’s, he got the call.


    The police found Jimmy and Sandy’s bodies at the park with a bullet in both their heads. Then, they found the suspect, the Chinese guy, dead in his yellow eight-year-old Chrysler. They found him dead in the vehicle in a ditch. He wore a gunshot in his own head, and the murder weapon was by his side.


    Candles burned at night at the park. Bottles of Champaign surrounded pictures. Jimmy was catholic. When he tried to go there with me, I stayed off the subject, for I grew up a deacon’s son and saw enough hypocrisy from religious zealots in a lifetime. But, here, I stood at a visceral behind people I never met; except for Tracy, the kids, and Tommy.


    Tracy blew her red nose; the kids were too young to know anything. One lay in a stroller. The oldest was three. Tommy locked his eyes in an angry, guilty manner. He didn’t buy the pictures. If he breathed at all, he breathed resentment. The kid held his huffed up his face, each time I glanced at him.


    In the pictures, Jimmy looked vibrant, wearing a big eat-shit grin with his arm around his kids. There’s one with him at fifteen and Tommy at ten years old. You’d see their eyes lit up with two eat shit grins. It’s amazing, how people rewind time to set things right when a person dies. There’s Jimmy back with his family, not with another man’s. But at that moment, I wanted to bring that other man back and kill him, myself.


    There’s a moment in the pictures of Jimmy and Tommy, a good moment in the picture, but Jimmy kept Tommy at a distance most of the time. He looked after him, though, but some think Tommy won Jimmy’s mom’s heart. Jimmy’s mom raised Tommy, and there’s a closeness there, we all knew Jimmy envied.


    Amid the family photos, there was one with Jimmy’s hair wet from Champaign, his upper body shirtless from the fight. It’s in the Arena locker room with the Championship Title across his abs; and with me and Mike on each side, holding the straps. We pointed at Jimmy in the picture but neither of us wanted that Title. We took in more earnings than him from bounty hunting. And Jimmy turned down every big money offer that Barnes gave him to drop the Title.


    The times in the pictures may not have been as true as they were pictured, but the times were good. I used to spar with Jimmy. I remembered his weight as I picked him up and dropped him. He was lanky but a wide, tall bastard, and he was wild, always slipping and sliding. Now, I picked up the two hundred twenty-pound bastard, no matter how slippery he was. And I hadn’t reached that stage of acceptance, acceptance that this time his weight slipped away from us all. This time for good.


    I bowed my head but kept my eyes opened as they prayed, then I felt Mike’s big hand on my shoulder.


    Several feet away from the visceral, with the smell of the trees around us and the small humps of acorns under our feet, Mike hovered over me in a MAGA hat. Like everyone, Mike wore a few flaws. For instance, no condolences he offered to anyone there. He pulled me over for a mission, wearing a MAGA hat on his head. I’d often said he’s everyone’s big brother, but he wasn’t everyone’s. He never said a cross word about black or Hispanic people, but he never said anything to them, either. We never talked about it. He probably knew a white color, sophisticated man like myself wouldn’t like it if he showed a hint of that racist side to me, but the MAGA hat took less precedent than his serious expression. I listened to him.


    “I have insiders telling me what happened to Jimmy wasn’t an act of passion or wasn’t about culture


    “What do you mean?”


    “The Chinese kid didn’t kill Jimmy.”


    The next day at the wake, I looked over Jimmy’s body. The morticians couldn’t cover the bullet wound, fully. The hole in the side of his head gave a middle finger to all who passed. I took a deep breath, thinking over Mike’s words from the visceral.


    “The Chinese guy didn’t kill Jimmy. Barnes’ hitman did this. Barnes orchestrated it all.”


    Barnes lost money with Jimmy as his champion, but the memorial show gave Barnes the champion in Jimmy’s death that he always wanted. The murder made National News. Jimmy’s memorial special ended up broadcasted on national television. On the National Sports Channel, Barnes spoke to the camera and said, “We often look to men and women bigger than ourselves. Jimmy, like the fighters you’ll see tonight, was larger than life. And we miss him. We truly do.”


    With acorns pressing underneath our shoes, a cool breeze out, and candles still in sight, Mike said to me, “we have to find a way to get Barnes.” And for all Mike’s ever figured out, for all the criminals he’s chased down, he’s not been able to find a way to get Barnes.


    My vision blurred from the alcohol. The music went from Sinatra to Cash. I smiled and dithered my drunk head to it. The man in black made for the muse, I needed. Death and divorce always came alive and married each other when being “the man” stopped. My five-year-old daughter, I’d never hold again. I resisted the temptation to see her and her mother on the monitors. I unbuttoned my sleeves and stumbled about a bit. Then, I went to the god’s eye to kill my boredom. I watched the world.


    And I saw Tommy get his nose fattened by one of Barnes’ goons. Something reached down inside me when he said, “the man will set things right—right as rain.” To be believed in…


    So, I rewound Tommy’s life. I saw him with a girl way out of his league. The girl’s hair stretched to her waste over her pink housecoat. Even in her robe and slippers, her pale skin, light hair, but dark Hispanic eyes took on a conservative air. She and Tommy talked, and he leaned in. She pulled away and laughed. “You want to kiss me! No, no! No!” She laughed.


    Tommy cried out, “C’mon, at least jack me off a little bit!”


    “You said—What?” She replied in shock.


    “Sorry, I’ll leave, Aleah. I’ll leave. Sorry!” Tommy said, jumping up. “I know everything you been through with that guy and shouldn’t of said that. I’m going to hell. I’m sorry!” He raced out, apologizing, and slamming the door.


    She sat poised, gulping, and looking ahead, sad.


    On one monitor she sat there, legs crossed in her pink housecoat. On the other, Tommy got in his Mazda and his engine threatened to blow up with its revs. As Tommy began unzipping his pants, I turned my full attention to this girl.


    Then, she looked back at me, and in my eyes….


    “What?” I whispered allowed to the monitor.


    She said to me from her room, “how could you just watch that guy try to,” she whispered, “rape me.”


    Indignation quivered in my chin. I poured more dark bourbon on the rocks, and drank from it, disgusted someone did this to her. I had to know who “this guy” was. “Ruthie, this girl, Aleah — she lives on Lexington Lane. Recognize her face, retrace her steps.”


    “Retracing the life of Aleah Gonzalez.”


    As the rewind went, I turned my head from any undressing. Even under the influence, I found no indulgence in invading privacy. Being the narcissist that I am came with the merits of feeling the need to truly conquest and to forbid this kind of perversion. The rewinding went fast, and quickly, we came to a suspect.
    Last edited by Benjamin Button; 02-03-2020 at 04:00 AM.
    See the latest of my Ric Flair saga click here. http://lordsofpain.tv/showthread.php...acock-(Part-2) View my story inspired by colorful wrestlers I've come across in my fandom. http://lordsofpain.tv/showthread.php...-the-Challenge

  17. #97
    The Brain
    Join Date
    May 2018
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    Finally got around to reading this and it was worth the wait. Your ability to create a unique world is something I truly envy. Hope there's a second part to this!

  18. #98
    I fucking love you, man
    See the latest of my Ric Flair saga click here. http://lordsofpain.tv/showthread.php...acock-(Part-2) View my story inspired by colorful wrestlers I've come across in my fandom. http://lordsofpain.tv/showthread.php...-the-Challenge

  19. #99
    When the Man Comes Around



    part two.



    The rewind—


    The next day, the horrors of my drunken acts rewound themselves in my remembrance as clear as if the monitors showed them. Only unlike the footage in the god’s eye, my memory suffered from technical difficulties that occur from bourbon blackouts.


    Ruthie still played Johnny Cash, though now the songs went on to his more religious stuff. Johnny and June Carter bellowed their conviction that there’d be peace in the valley, someday. Yet, all inside me: my lungs, my heart, my soul; if there’d be one; dropped to the pit of my stomach. I sat, eyes wide, in a vegetable state.


    A totaled Alexus in pieces flashed in my memory. Aleah’s eyes, not just looking into mine through a monitor, but physically her brown eyes and my blue ones locking into each other's flashed. Had I revealed myself to her?


    And in the valley—in the valley, I found not peace but fog—air the mountains, above, compacted and imprisoned — In the valley fog I found myself on the Virginia highway choking a rapist and a murderer. At least Aleah attested to her rape by him; Mike made known the murder of Jimmy at this bastard’s hands.


    During my wind-backing of Aleah’s life, I stopped when she met someone who was, unbeknownst to her, Tim Barnes' assailant. They met at the arena. She cheered on her family’s hero, an undefeated, young, ripped, and tanned but half bald, German Luiz. Mexican flags went up, when he body slammed a three-hundred pounder and, after they pushed themselves up to their feet, socked him out with a right hand.


    But in the audience, the Barnes hireling, Carlos Vazquez, with a square chin under a curving, smiling mustache whispered to Aleah throughout the fight. Though she appeared much younger than Carlos, the pale skinned senorita laughed often, while being charmed by the words he spoke over his expensive white suit and his black shirt unbuttoned far enough to reveal his entire rosary necklace. I zoomed in on them


    He spoke Spanish, and upon a study of the words I made out, he said “German is my amigo. Come with me to his fight in Wisconsin. I'll take you backstage!” The two exchanged phone calls, and Carlos took Aleah out of state in a limousine, but my footage ended when the limo stretched across the state boarder. The next identification of her that Ruthie picked up saw her exiting a cab the next day, still wearing her green ball gown.


    She entered her apartment on Lexington, with only a living room, a bathroom, and a bedroom, and she fell face first on her comforter, crying with her body heaving. Aleah, a retail worker at the mall, treated her weekend out with such majesty that she wore a dress she no doubt could not afford. Now she drank her own tears. "What did that bastard do you?" I whispered allowed.


    And in the fog between two mountains, over the gravel of the highway, I punched Carlos Vazquez, and I choked him. And in the fog of drunkenness, before this occurred, I know that I sat on Aleah’s pink comforter across from her, looking into her eyes.


    How’d she let me in to her bedroom? Did I identify myself to her?


    And I lay back in the passenger’s side of Tommy’s Mazda that night, too. Did I tell him?


    Growing up, my foster parents took me to church, where they talked about the existence of a soul. If I ever had one it fell into the blender with my heart, my sanity, and my mind. It all grinded with all my nerves.


    On Aleah’s bed, I pulled two portable shot glasses from my pea coat and then a half pint of flavored vodka. I watched her tip her toes in this drink before. “I’m here to help you. Cheers to a partnership,” I told her.


    That night I restrained myself from moving on her, figuring I’d charm her. She did rub my arm at one point. Inevitably, we discussed Carlos. She mentioned foolish women fighting over him. That’s when she rubbed my arm and told me she’d understand if they fussed over me.

    I whispered to her. “Did Carlos hurt you?”


    And she whispered, “Si.”


    “Like I said, I’m going to stop him.” I promised her.


    Her long brown hair and brown eyes popped like crystals from her pale skin. She crossed her legs and rubbed my arm. I told her I’d stop Carlos. That’s my memory. I dared not go to the footage. Not here. I couldn’t reach down to my scrambled insides to muster any fortitude to do it. What else may have happened that night—


    One thing I felt certain is in the god’s eye I spied on Carlos, listening to him detailing his upcoming trip that night to Carolina. I stalked Carlos coordinates through two states without him knowing. I took a separate route but knew where’d we’d meet. Wait, Tommy’s Mazda road behind my Alexus. What’d I say to Tommy to get him to help me—


    In all my conjuring, I came up with nothing for how I acquired Tommy’s support. At this point, my method to drowning out my sins from the night before was to again connect with whiskey and rocks. The same demons that I consulted with to cause all this, I needed to help me face it. I drank it, and I saw fog.


    I saw myself, driving and hearing the Governor’s words. “Ol’ boy, they want you to—they think you need to send a message. They want you to kill somebody.”

    I squinted through the valley’s mist and into Carlos’ helpless eyes. I saw my Alexus rear ending his slick black Lamborghini. I felt one-hundred ninety pounds in my chokehold, as I wrestled him out of the glass and steel of his tilted car. His smashed face said, “pour favor.” I said no. You killed Jimmy; you raped Aleah.”


    “Aleah’s an extortionist. As a catholic, I’d never…Do you believe in God?” he said.


    I swallowed and said, “What about Jimmy. Mike said you killed him.”


    “Mike’s a conspiracy theory spreading puto! Fucking racist!” He said.


    Any reasoning that he gave me bounced into a force field fueled by dark liquor and pressure. “You’re a liar!” I growled. Slamming his head against the pavement. His smashed face cried for help, as I choked him and choked him. And all my promises for Jimmy, for Aleah lived when I killed Carlos.


    I lay on the couch listening to Cash singing the Cocaine Blues, as Carlos cheeks pressed over his eyes repeated in my mind. I closed my eyes and saw a devil flexing a muscular upper torso, but one made of glass. What I saw reflected that monster inside me ready to break—that infirmity I must handle with care, because of his frail nature. I killed a man outside Nebulas. I killed Carlos, a man who worked for the one man Nebulous told me not to touch, Tim Barnes. Would the law outside Nebulous come for me? Would Nebulous strip me of everything?


    In the mountain's haze, I heard the Mazda revving and with the feeling of Carlos throat still echoing in my hands, I sat next to Tommy. He drove me away from Virginia. I don’t know what I told him, but I know I convinced him of who I was. He said, “You here to judge the righteous and the sinners?”


    I don’t know what I answered . I just know I lay in the passenger's side of the car, and when the sky turned light, I gave him something that the deaf ear of god never gave me. I gave him something that I took away from myself. I gave him hope; I gave him security. I said, “Tommy, you’re not going to hell. You’re not a bad guy.”
    Last edited by Benjamin Button; 1 Week Ago at 09:22 PM.
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  20. #100
    The Brain
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    May 2018
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    You really have a gift for giving me all sorts of complicated feelings when you write, my friend. One thing I know, this is not the guy who should be watching everyone. But then again, who the hell would be? Gotta be a crushing weight. Now it seems he crushed someone else in turn, right or wrong...

  21. #101
    Right on... among other things, it could be seen as empathy for a god.
    Last edited by Benjamin Button; 1 Week Ago at 10:59 PM.
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  22. #102
    The Brain
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    May 2018
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    They don't tend to get much empathy... great take, as always.

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