Post by adm on Jun 26, 2009 11:56:36 GMT -6
Eggs
My wife will be temporarily released into my custody next week for a day or two due to their thinking she may never recover her memory, as a trial before they let her go home. It’s been almost a month, and I wish to destroy Burns more now than ever. Last week, he won the match while being the illegal man…I won’t cry about my loss, for I have to look forward, onward and upward. Joe Everyman, a man I once met in the first round of the Elite 8 Tournament, who took the chance he won off of me and CHOKED like Davey Ortega’s replacement would. He CHOKED again when he lost a second time letting Night Blade destroy his crotch on the top rope. But here I am, instead of hiding in Peoria, I am home, in Sunnyvale with my children for the first time in weeks, at Denny’s.
“Daddy, can I have the grand Slam?” My oldest can be cute, but he’s overestimating his appetite.
“You can share it with your brother.”
“But I’m a big boy; I can eat it all by myself.”
“I know you, Andrew, and you’re going to share it with your brother if you like it or not.”
“Mommy would let me.”
The words cut me to the bone. I smile through the pain and let him order it, promising to share my food with his little brother, assured I’ll get some “extra” from him later on when he chickens on a real man’s breakfast. Our waitress takes our orders, and soon my children ask me the questions they have long been waiting to hear answers to.
01000010 01100001 01110100 01100101 01110011 01110111 01101001 01101110 1110101010101
“Are you ever going to get the mean man who hurt mommy?” Andrew asks.
“Yes…I’m going to get him next week, at Picture Perfect.”
“Can we see daddy?” My youngest, Zach, pleads.
“No, you’re grandmother will not let you watch. I’m sorry, but…this is not something you should be seeing.”
“But it’s a Deaf Cage” I chuckle inside about my youngest son’s mispronouncing of it, but not at the thought of seeing a 3 year old watch the brutality.
“No…you are too young to witness that sort of thing. Maybe when you are older.”
I hope they never see what I will do to Burns and Angel next week. I only pray Nero is in a condition next week to help. I only pray that my wife will soon be well. And I only hope that Joe actually brings more than luck with him this time. The waitress comes with our meals, and I instantly notice she took my order wrong.
“Miss, you gave me the wrong eggs.”
“Isn’t this how you wanted them?”
The absurdness of her…I wish she would only have known who I was so she would have realized how wrong about it she was. I looked at my plate, poached eggs. POACHED eggs. I DESPISE these things. I only like my eggs one way.
“No, this is NOT how I LIKE MY EGGS!”
“No need to get testy, sir?”
“HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS?”
“That’s an odd question to ask, but I like mine scrambled.”
Scrambled? SCRAMBLED? The only things I like scrambled are Burns and Joe’s brains after I kick them in during a match, or after hitting them with weapons. I would NEVER have my eggs scrambled. And these POACHED things…
“Daddy, you’re scaring me.”
“Stay out of this, Zach; daddy has to tell this lady exactly HOW he likes his eggs. See, I don’t like my eggs Poached, because most places, including this, makes them too watery and they are RUINING the pancakes underneath them. Also, the yolk is hard; I cannot dip my sausage or bacon in a HARD YOLK.”
“So how would you like them, Sir, we can make this right in a jiffy.”
“I like my Eggs like I like Joe Everyman, OVER EASY, sunny side up.”
IX XXIII IX XII XII XI IX XII XII XXV XV XXI
“I can get them back to you shortly, sir. And I apologize for the inconvenience.”
“Daddy…why did you have to talk about Joe Everyman while we are here?”
“Because, the cameras followed us for a reason. I wanted to spend time with you, and also let you see exactly what I had to say to this “Average Joe”. This is what he is, AVERAGE.”
“Who is Average Joe?” Zach was cute, yet annoying in how he posed his question.
“Joe is the man who got a lucky win over me in the Elite 8 X-Division tournament, and hasn’t SHUT UP about it since, neither has anyone I’ve faced since. They all realize how much Joe sucks, and how he is a CHOKE ARTIST. I mean, how many times has he defended a title more than once? Oh…that’d be NEVER. He got a World Title shot last year at Last Stand and choked. He got two shots against Jack Hammond, a man I beat with ease, and LOST. Any time he gets an opportunity to shine he shows that all he is, is the brightest turd in the bowl.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say about him, Daddy.”
“Andrew, you realize, I am speaking the TRUTH to this man. This…TURD of a man. He claims to be an “Everyman” while he drives his Escalade, listening to his iPod, driving down the highway guzzling gas by the gallon in his fuel inefficient car. He looks like he’s never actually been in a REAL job. While I am, later today, going to give a speech at the same communist corporation he idolizes with his iPod.”
“You mean the place that fired you, Daddy?”
“Zach, FIRED isn’t the word; it’s more like “Gave daddy’s job to an undeserving PUNJAB PRICK!” And now they want me to give a speech to motivate them…they’re not going to get what they expect.”
“Are you going to be in trouble?”
“Of course I might get hauled away, but…the sheer fact that they even DARE call me back now that I am FAMOUS somewhere else they think I can motivate them to do better work. But just like Joe Everyman, the only thing they can be motivated to do is create more idiot children and populate the world with pushovers nobody will ever respect.”
Indeed my words may be harsh, but they are as close to true as it gets. Joe Everyman is no “Everyman” He’s nothing more than another joke waiting for a punch line. For him, it’s CHOKING. Like he’s going to CHOKE against me in a match where I can pretend he’s Burns for one moment…only to SCRAMBLE his brains like the eggs that horrible waitress would want.
“You are so mean, Daddy.”
“Am I? Or am I just giving this Everyman a cold hard dose of reality that he so desperately needs right now? He needs to realize he should go home. He should pack up his bags and go be with his wife and infant child. The only thing for him here is humiliation and loss, so he should leave before his child has to change his or her name for the sake of anonymity, like Hope Bates, to keep from the humiliating legacy of their relatives.”
“You are so mean.”
The lady comes back with my eggs, just the way I like them…for once. My anger properly channeled I thank her…and begin to eat.
“Now THIS is how I like my eggs!”
In a few hours time, I will be escorted from the premises of Apple. And on Sunday, I will be facing Joe Everyman, showing him EXACTLY what PERFECLTY NORMAL…can DO!