Post by Steve Sinclair on Feb 9, 2014 14:33:42 GMT
"Et Tu Aphonic?"
The scene opens up to the bright sun and a figure standing in front of the sun leaving just a outline as the sole detail of who it could be. It's getting harder to breathe, each breath becoming work and a struggle to complete. A quick glance down reveals a dagger in the chest. The white robe is slowly truning red as blood gushes out. A hand reaches for the dagger and slowly pulls it out and then is followed by a muffled scream of pain. The left hand tries to plug up the gapping wound in the chest but with no luck. In the right hand is the dagger. Looking up at the figure, laughter can be heard as the figure slowly backs away and fades into the bright sun. Looking back down at the dagger, the hand slowly opens up to reveal the handle of the dagger which reads
"PRIDE"
Breathing quickens. Tunnel vision begins. The dagger is dropped to the floor and blood is running down the white robe, the whole left hand is red, soaked in blood.
"But I never got to give my Mike Schimdt like speech. I want to cry about how I wanted to be a wrestler when I was kid. This isn't fair."
The black of the tunnel vision quickly starts to become larger and larger and.....
Double J jolts up in his bed covered in a night sweat and breathing hard. His eyes are wide as saucers and his face panic stricken. He quickly scans his bed room and then feels his chest, looking down making sure he wasn't just stabbed.
"Oh man!"
He tries to catch his breath as he swings his legs over the side of the bed.
"Holy F***..."
Still holding his chest he double checks his chest as if he is accounting for everything making sure everthing is still there and more importantly working. He swipes the sheet off of him and stands up and makes his way into the kitchen where he gets a glass of water. He quickly inhales it gulping it all down in one shot. His breathing is starting to slow by now but is still faster than normal.
"Jesus......man that was F***ed up."
Joe sets the glass down in the sink and makes his way over to the front door that leads out onto the deck. The clock on the stove reads 2:32 AM. Next to the door is a mirror on the wall and as Joe reaches for the door knob he glances into the mirror and pauses. He stares at himself in the mirror and starts to play with his hair as he has a pretty bad case of bedhead going on. He flattens it and gets it somewhat back in order.
"That Feedback was right. My hair is way better these days. What the F*** was I thinking? Cornrows?"
He gets that little peice to curl in the front just over his left eye. Joe takes a step back and admires his hairdo. He tweaks his hair a touch more, his hands hovers inches above his head as he cocks his head to the right ever so slightly and puckers his lips some. It's some sight at 2 in the morning in his boxers.
"Yeah...right there. That's it. That's.....f*cking it."
............................................
Double J didn't get much sleep the rest of the night and before he knew it, it was around 5 am and his alarm clock is buzzing away telling him it's time to get up and start the day. Today is leg day. 3 brutal hours of weight training and cardio, some breakfast and then a bike ride before some in ring training. But as the alarm buzzes Joe is standing at the window just staring out of it. There is nothing going on outside and he doubts that anyone else in the complex is even up. He's looking out the window, lost in thought and after a good twenty minutes of this he rubs the side of his face, his rough five oclock shadow digs into the palm of his hand. He turns and taps his alarm off. On top of his dresser he has his clothes all laid out for the day and Joe walks up to them and stares at them.
"uhmmmm."
Work out pants, under armour shirts, socks, shorts just calling his name. Joe puts his hand on top of the stack and pauses. Debating it he mulls it over in his head. Then he lowers his hand down three drawers and slides open the drawer and pulls out some sweat pants and a old beat up t-shirt.
"Today.....today not one F*** shall be given."
...........................................
A little more than a half day has gone by and Double J finds himself home, in MIami. The door to his house that takes you right out to the beach is open and his cell phone is on the stand next to the door where Nanook has blown up his phone with 50 texts and messages. Just off the deck sitting in the sand is Double J. No shoes, no shirt, in his sweat pants, his knees brought up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his knees and his toes buried in the sand. A nice breeze is coming off the ocean as Double J rests his chin on his knees. His phone vibrates again as Nanook hits him with another text. Joe doesn't even care, just ignores it and is enjoying where he is at right now. The one place he loves more than anything in the world.
Home.
Indeed not one F*** was given today....
And it felt great.
The scene opens up to the bright sun and a figure standing in front of the sun leaving just a outline as the sole detail of who it could be. It's getting harder to breathe, each breath becoming work and a struggle to complete. A quick glance down reveals a dagger in the chest. The white robe is slowly truning red as blood gushes out. A hand reaches for the dagger and slowly pulls it out and then is followed by a muffled scream of pain. The left hand tries to plug up the gapping wound in the chest but with no luck. In the right hand is the dagger. Looking up at the figure, laughter can be heard as the figure slowly backs away and fades into the bright sun. Looking back down at the dagger, the hand slowly opens up to reveal the handle of the dagger which reads
"PRIDE"
Breathing quickens. Tunnel vision begins. The dagger is dropped to the floor and blood is running down the white robe, the whole left hand is red, soaked in blood.
"But I never got to give my Mike Schimdt like speech. I want to cry about how I wanted to be a wrestler when I was kid. This isn't fair."
The black of the tunnel vision quickly starts to become larger and larger and.....
Double J jolts up in his bed covered in a night sweat and breathing hard. His eyes are wide as saucers and his face panic stricken. He quickly scans his bed room and then feels his chest, looking down making sure he wasn't just stabbed.
"Oh man!"
He tries to catch his breath as he swings his legs over the side of the bed.
"Holy F***..."
Still holding his chest he double checks his chest as if he is accounting for everything making sure everthing is still there and more importantly working. He swipes the sheet off of him and stands up and makes his way into the kitchen where he gets a glass of water. He quickly inhales it gulping it all down in one shot. His breathing is starting to slow by now but is still faster than normal.
"Jesus......man that was F***ed up."
Joe sets the glass down in the sink and makes his way over to the front door that leads out onto the deck. The clock on the stove reads 2:32 AM. Next to the door is a mirror on the wall and as Joe reaches for the door knob he glances into the mirror and pauses. He stares at himself in the mirror and starts to play with his hair as he has a pretty bad case of bedhead going on. He flattens it and gets it somewhat back in order.
"That Feedback was right. My hair is way better these days. What the F*** was I thinking? Cornrows?"
He gets that little peice to curl in the front just over his left eye. Joe takes a step back and admires his hairdo. He tweaks his hair a touch more, his hands hovers inches above his head as he cocks his head to the right ever so slightly and puckers his lips some. It's some sight at 2 in the morning in his boxers.
"Yeah...right there. That's it. That's.....f*cking it."
............................................
Double J didn't get much sleep the rest of the night and before he knew it, it was around 5 am and his alarm clock is buzzing away telling him it's time to get up and start the day. Today is leg day. 3 brutal hours of weight training and cardio, some breakfast and then a bike ride before some in ring training. But as the alarm buzzes Joe is standing at the window just staring out of it. There is nothing going on outside and he doubts that anyone else in the complex is even up. He's looking out the window, lost in thought and after a good twenty minutes of this he rubs the side of his face, his rough five oclock shadow digs into the palm of his hand. He turns and taps his alarm off. On top of his dresser he has his clothes all laid out for the day and Joe walks up to them and stares at them.
"uhmmmm."
Work out pants, under armour shirts, socks, shorts just calling his name. Joe puts his hand on top of the stack and pauses. Debating it he mulls it over in his head. Then he lowers his hand down three drawers and slides open the drawer and pulls out some sweat pants and a old beat up t-shirt.
"Today.....today not one F*** shall be given."
...........................................
A little more than a half day has gone by and Double J finds himself home, in MIami. The door to his house that takes you right out to the beach is open and his cell phone is on the stand next to the door where Nanook has blown up his phone with 50 texts and messages. Just off the deck sitting in the sand is Double J. No shoes, no shirt, in his sweat pants, his knees brought up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his knees and his toes buried in the sand. A nice breeze is coming off the ocean as Double J rests his chin on his knees. His phone vibrates again as Nanook hits him with another text. Joe doesn't even care, just ignores it and is enjoying where he is at right now. The one place he loves more than anything in the world.
Home.
Indeed not one F*** was given today....
And it felt great.