Post by Ziggy Morgan on May 11, 2021 17:38:34 GMT -5
I woke up for the third time that night. This time, the elation was gone. The pain flared forth instantly and I found it stupid hard to take a breath. My world a confused mess of cramping muscle and tender flesh still trying to reason with what it had gone through. That fuck really threw me into the same pile of chairs twice. Or was it three times? Too many times however many.
I rolled off my couch, landing deftly on the carpet between my coffee table and said couch as he tried shifting and bending in any direction I knew or could create, trying to quiet the wail of my battered body.
How does the song go? The Metallica one off their album they released to apologize profusely for St Anger. Broken, Beat and Scarred? That was me. And like the song said.
I died hard.
Or at least, I hope I would.
Finally, the pain lessens. I take the freedom granted to me from its grasp and paw desperately ion the dark for a lighter and the blunt I had rolled for the morning. I went to spark, when it suddenly occurred to me.
I wasn’t alone anymore.
With a quiet ‘fuck me’ I pinched the blunt between my lips and began to pull myself, not unlike a crippled dog, to the sliding glass door that stepped out onto my balcony. I did so as quietly as possible. Nao had been about as amped as I was, but managed to get herself to sleep in\ what was as far as she was ever to be concerned was her room now, until we figured out...whatever the hell needed figuring.
With a deftness taught by a teenhood of sneaking in and out of mi casa, I slid the door open and pulled myself to the outside. I reached up and snatched the balcony’s railing, granting myself a brief flashback to snatching onto the guard rails. Defiant, angry, and determined not to prove Ricci right. Not to let him win again.
“You didn’t break me”
The words formed almost without provocation as I pulled myself to my feet. Bare and resting on cool cement. I leaned over the railing, plucking the blunt from my lips and taking a few steadying breaths. Then, I pollute those same lungs as I replace the blunt into its saddle, and light the fucker’s head on fire.
Sweet, Indica heavy hybrid strain relief.
With a contemplative look skyward, it let the THC do its job. Pain slowly slipping away and a burn that seemed to draw my eyelids closer together. In the stars I began trying to answer all my questions. Like, what if this rocket i’ve found and lit has me aimed right for a brick wall? I mean, not unlike what Kenny Loggins proclaimed I was indeed headed for the Danger Zone. A tattooed one that would be hot if she didn’t look like a fucking panther with machine gun turrets on it’s back and laser eyes.
I honestly thought Tirri had it. Just like everyone thought Legion had it at Last of Us. Twice now, when everyone had Magdalena Lockheart written off and dead to rights she came back swinging and snatched onto a victory that maybe we shouldn’t have ever doubted.. And that shit? That’s what was scary to me. Because against Maggie, I didn’t have my ace in the hole. My toughness and that whole will to win shit? She matched it, if not dwarfed it.
For now though, it was my advantage. Against that fucking clown bitch and the Wisdom Champion. I got no doubt homie is gonna come flyin in talkin somem stupid shit about how he beat Legion, who beat me, therefor him beating me is gonna be a shoe in. Just like, I got no doubt that Jenny is gonna be on some ‘LeTs PlaY brAVE bOy” bullshit. I know it wasn’t a week ago I was having these empathetic thoughts about her but, on some real? Ain’t gonna stop me from kicking her teeth out.
A duller, more distant pain smacked me in the small of my back as if to remind me of how I got into the main event. I take another pull off the blunt, breathing the smoke out slowly like all stoners do, secretly roleplaying that i’m a dragon like Kalinda Kriegsdottir. I snicker, feeling that shit eating grin pull at my face at the thought. Reno was wild. Any place where Knox seemed like one of the smaller personalities? Wild.
I ease my way over to my busted ass deck chair that I definitely didn’t steal from the arena dumpster, flopping down on the seat cushion and leaning back into the two memory foam pillows I duct taped halfway for comfort, halfway for splinter protection. Knox was going to be fighting for the Uprising title. And here I was, rocketing toward the Final Boss championship.
It was wild. Never in a million years would I have believed this would be happening if anyone had told me. I would have likely asked what they were smoking, hoped they were holding, lit up with them, and listened to whatever other crazy shit they could come up with. Because it was so...so fuckin’ Hollywood, yo. Grizzled Vet and his Student go back into the sport he left, and within a year both are fighting for the top prizes in two promotions. Only thing that would make it sell harder is if he was the Final Boss Champion.
Hell, I'd just mark out for Magdalena vs Knox.
But that wasn’t the case. It was what it was. I was fighting someone who had a huge reputation in Baltimore for the biggest prize in Indiana. But that was a ways off, right now? I had a fucking legend as my partner to fight...shit i’m repeating myself.
Better just film it, right?
The feed cuts on abruptly, without editing. Nitty and Gritty as could be. The shot filled with Bert McAlroy in a chair the Goodwill wouldn’t sell. Clutched between his lips, as per usual, was some sort of Marijuana delivery system. He smiled around the blunt, taking a sharp inhale as he did so. The cherry came to life then, before slowly fading in the fog of smoke that fills the screen for a moment before being lost to the night air.
“So..I fuckin did it, yo.”
A chuckle escapes him, the smile widening.
“Like..I really did it. Me, Five Foot somethin, Buck and a half? Number one contender for Maggie’s title. A shot at not just the boss bitch, but the FINAL Boss Bitch. And to do it? I fuckin did what I said I was gonna. I went out there, and I took that win. I pulled myself to .500 in singles matches. Clean slate. Fresh Start. New Save. All that shit. And where has fate directed me for my new first steps?”
“Tag match, main event. Teaming with Maggie to fight someone i’ve already beat and someone who beat the guy who beat me for the title he currently holds. Which, shout out to Legion. If I had pulled off the improbable on you, I wouldn’t be here. Would have had to fight Sidroy for a B belt instead. So, like..thanks for that.” a pause “Shit..B belt, that’s disrespectful. My bad. But lets be real, plenty of people don’t see me as “Final Boss” material but NO ONE gonna accuse me of having an abundance of wisdom, yo.”
Bert sifts in the seat, bringing his legs up under him and sitting cross legged. The old wooden chair creaks ominously a moment, but there is no hilarious botch.
“Alright. Serious time. Jenny, Queenie..You crazy bitch. And i do mean that, you’re a fucking nut. Like, something is wrong with you just like something is wrong with your brother. It isn’t my fight, what’s going on in Reno. Knox seems to be getting his head in order, and frankly? I don’t know what I could do to help him anyway. All I can do is sit back and watch Knox show Suzy M how wrong they are. Like all you can do is show up, and be knocked down by me again.”
“I hope you get help, really. Mental Illness is a real fuckin plight, yo. And you are no fucking doubt mentally ill. But it’s aight, I got you. Doctor Bert is in the house and i’m upping your dosage of ass whipping. So take one at EXP 7 and call me in the morning...or don’t. Yeah, fucking don’t. Ever. Never call me. Don’t.”
Bert clears his throat, taking a rejuvenating puff from the blunt and turning it out on the arm of the chair. He shifts in his seat, wincing at a twinge in his back that makes its way through the THC.
“Then we got Sidroy Covington The Fourth IV Part Four of Four. Inaugural Wisdom Champion. Defeated LEGION in a technical spectacle. A huge accomplishment, like..no bullshit. Won't take that from you. But see, I worry. I worry a lot, big heart my mama used to say. What do I worry about? That you’re gonna fuck up the math. See...simple motherfuckers would point out Legion beat Bert, Sidroy beat Legion, ergo Sidroy is gonna beat Bert.” Another chuckle, as Bert shakes his head looking to be holding back an onslaught of laughter.
“Nah homie, that ain’t it. Wrong Equation. You fucked up the long division. Cuz to put it simply, I don’t fit anyone's math yo. I got enhancement written all over me but look where I am and look where the obvious shoe-in for the spot I hold is. Curtain Jerking where he belongs. You got all the pedigree, all the privileges yo. But what you ain't got, and what I’m practically built from? Heart. You fold, Sidroy. You go down and stay down after a hard shot. Me? I. Don’t. Die.”
He takes a composing breath, shifting once again and planting his feet firmly on the ground. HE leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he stares into the camera.
“I’m not going to let this fresh start go to waste. I can’t come off the biggest W of my career so far with an L. I’ve beat one of you, and I know I can beat the other. And my partner? My partner beat ALL OF US at The Last Of Us. So, on some real? You two are so fucked it’s almost tragic. Four hot streaks coming out of Combat Evolved, and i’m gonna help snuff two of them...So, Sidroy? Queenie...bring all you got, cuz you’ll need it….Bitch…..es”
I rolled off my couch, landing deftly on the carpet between my coffee table and said couch as he tried shifting and bending in any direction I knew or could create, trying to quiet the wail of my battered body.
How does the song go? The Metallica one off their album they released to apologize profusely for St Anger. Broken, Beat and Scarred? That was me. And like the song said.
I died hard.
Or at least, I hope I would.
Finally, the pain lessens. I take the freedom granted to me from its grasp and paw desperately ion the dark for a lighter and the blunt I had rolled for the morning. I went to spark, when it suddenly occurred to me.
I wasn’t alone anymore.
With a quiet ‘fuck me’ I pinched the blunt between my lips and began to pull myself, not unlike a crippled dog, to the sliding glass door that stepped out onto my balcony. I did so as quietly as possible. Nao had been about as amped as I was, but managed to get herself to sleep in\ what was as far as she was ever to be concerned was her room now, until we figured out...whatever the hell needed figuring.
With a deftness taught by a teenhood of sneaking in and out of mi casa, I slid the door open and pulled myself to the outside. I reached up and snatched the balcony’s railing, granting myself a brief flashback to snatching onto the guard rails. Defiant, angry, and determined not to prove Ricci right. Not to let him win again.
“You didn’t break me”
The words formed almost without provocation as I pulled myself to my feet. Bare and resting on cool cement. I leaned over the railing, plucking the blunt from my lips and taking a few steadying breaths. Then, I pollute those same lungs as I replace the blunt into its saddle, and light the fucker’s head on fire.
Sweet, Indica heavy hybrid strain relief.
With a contemplative look skyward, it let the THC do its job. Pain slowly slipping away and a burn that seemed to draw my eyelids closer together. In the stars I began trying to answer all my questions. Like, what if this rocket i’ve found and lit has me aimed right for a brick wall? I mean, not unlike what Kenny Loggins proclaimed I was indeed headed for the Danger Zone. A tattooed one that would be hot if she didn’t look like a fucking panther with machine gun turrets on it’s back and laser eyes.
I honestly thought Tirri had it. Just like everyone thought Legion had it at Last of Us. Twice now, when everyone had Magdalena Lockheart written off and dead to rights she came back swinging and snatched onto a victory that maybe we shouldn’t have ever doubted.. And that shit? That’s what was scary to me. Because against Maggie, I didn’t have my ace in the hole. My toughness and that whole will to win shit? She matched it, if not dwarfed it.
For now though, it was my advantage. Against that fucking clown bitch and the Wisdom Champion. I got no doubt homie is gonna come flyin in talkin somem stupid shit about how he beat Legion, who beat me, therefor him beating me is gonna be a shoe in. Just like, I got no doubt that Jenny is gonna be on some ‘LeTs PlaY brAVE bOy” bullshit. I know it wasn’t a week ago I was having these empathetic thoughts about her but, on some real? Ain’t gonna stop me from kicking her teeth out.
A duller, more distant pain smacked me in the small of my back as if to remind me of how I got into the main event. I take another pull off the blunt, breathing the smoke out slowly like all stoners do, secretly roleplaying that i’m a dragon like Kalinda Kriegsdottir. I snicker, feeling that shit eating grin pull at my face at the thought. Reno was wild. Any place where Knox seemed like one of the smaller personalities? Wild.
I ease my way over to my busted ass deck chair that I definitely didn’t steal from the arena dumpster, flopping down on the seat cushion and leaning back into the two memory foam pillows I duct taped halfway for comfort, halfway for splinter protection. Knox was going to be fighting for the Uprising title. And here I was, rocketing toward the Final Boss championship.
It was wild. Never in a million years would I have believed this would be happening if anyone had told me. I would have likely asked what they were smoking, hoped they were holding, lit up with them, and listened to whatever other crazy shit they could come up with. Because it was so...so fuckin’ Hollywood, yo. Grizzled Vet and his Student go back into the sport he left, and within a year both are fighting for the top prizes in two promotions. Only thing that would make it sell harder is if he was the Final Boss Champion.
Hell, I'd just mark out for Magdalena vs Knox.
But that wasn’t the case. It was what it was. I was fighting someone who had a huge reputation in Baltimore for the biggest prize in Indiana. But that was a ways off, right now? I had a fucking legend as my partner to fight...shit i’m repeating myself.
Better just film it, right?
[O REC]
The feed cuts on abruptly, without editing. Nitty and Gritty as could be. The shot filled with Bert McAlroy in a chair the Goodwill wouldn’t sell. Clutched between his lips, as per usual, was some sort of Marijuana delivery system. He smiled around the blunt, taking a sharp inhale as he did so. The cherry came to life then, before slowly fading in the fog of smoke that fills the screen for a moment before being lost to the night air.
“So..I fuckin did it, yo.”
A chuckle escapes him, the smile widening.
“Like..I really did it. Me, Five Foot somethin, Buck and a half? Number one contender for Maggie’s title. A shot at not just the boss bitch, but the FINAL Boss Bitch. And to do it? I fuckin did what I said I was gonna. I went out there, and I took that win. I pulled myself to .500 in singles matches. Clean slate. Fresh Start. New Save. All that shit. And where has fate directed me for my new first steps?”
“Tag match, main event. Teaming with Maggie to fight someone i’ve already beat and someone who beat the guy who beat me for the title he currently holds. Which, shout out to Legion. If I had pulled off the improbable on you, I wouldn’t be here. Would have had to fight Sidroy for a B belt instead. So, like..thanks for that.” a pause “Shit..B belt, that’s disrespectful. My bad. But lets be real, plenty of people don’t see me as “Final Boss” material but NO ONE gonna accuse me of having an abundance of wisdom, yo.”
Bert sifts in the seat, bringing his legs up under him and sitting cross legged. The old wooden chair creaks ominously a moment, but there is no hilarious botch.
“Alright. Serious time. Jenny, Queenie..You crazy bitch. And i do mean that, you’re a fucking nut. Like, something is wrong with you just like something is wrong with your brother. It isn’t my fight, what’s going on in Reno. Knox seems to be getting his head in order, and frankly? I don’t know what I could do to help him anyway. All I can do is sit back and watch Knox show Suzy M how wrong they are. Like all you can do is show up, and be knocked down by me again.”
“I hope you get help, really. Mental Illness is a real fuckin plight, yo. And you are no fucking doubt mentally ill. But it’s aight, I got you. Doctor Bert is in the house and i’m upping your dosage of ass whipping. So take one at EXP 7 and call me in the morning...or don’t. Yeah, fucking don’t. Ever. Never call me. Don’t.”
Bert clears his throat, taking a rejuvenating puff from the blunt and turning it out on the arm of the chair. He shifts in his seat, wincing at a twinge in his back that makes its way through the THC.
“Then we got Sidroy Covington The Fourth IV Part Four of Four. Inaugural Wisdom Champion. Defeated LEGION in a technical spectacle. A huge accomplishment, like..no bullshit. Won't take that from you. But see, I worry. I worry a lot, big heart my mama used to say. What do I worry about? That you’re gonna fuck up the math. See...simple motherfuckers would point out Legion beat Bert, Sidroy beat Legion, ergo Sidroy is gonna beat Bert.” Another chuckle, as Bert shakes his head looking to be holding back an onslaught of laughter.
“Nah homie, that ain’t it. Wrong Equation. You fucked up the long division. Cuz to put it simply, I don’t fit anyone's math yo. I got enhancement written all over me but look where I am and look where the obvious shoe-in for the spot I hold is. Curtain Jerking where he belongs. You got all the pedigree, all the privileges yo. But what you ain't got, and what I’m practically built from? Heart. You fold, Sidroy. You go down and stay down after a hard shot. Me? I. Don’t. Die.”
He takes a composing breath, shifting once again and planting his feet firmly on the ground. HE leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he stares into the camera.
“I’m not going to let this fresh start go to waste. I can’t come off the biggest W of my career so far with an L. I’ve beat one of you, and I know I can beat the other. And my partner? My partner beat ALL OF US at The Last Of Us. So, on some real? You two are so fucked it’s almost tragic. Four hot streaks coming out of Combat Evolved, and i’m gonna help snuff two of them...So, Sidroy? Queenie...bring all you got, cuz you’ll need it….Bitch…..es”
