Post by adm on Jan 25, 2010 0:09:03 GMT -6
Simply Bates Part 2
Welcome to the new world, AJ. I’m glad you got the message as your hair and blood were taken from you by my secret weapon. And here I am, holding my old friend in my basement. A lot has changed in a few days. My suit has been exchanged for jeans and a t-shirt with an interesting design on it. Now welcome once again to my basement, new home of my gym while I’m home. And this is the new era, Andrew, it’s all for me and none for you.
“Oh, my lovely briefcase, how I missed using you to decimate my foes. I missed being MYSELF. I’m not normal; I know that, you’ve cued me onto it. Normal people are boring, and they don’t get to have any fun. Me, I’m beyond normal now, I’m SIMPLY BATES.”
The mechanical sounds of lifting weights are soon to come, I assure you. I’ve been preparing my body for you, AJ. My mind is cleared now that I don’t need to live up to any expectations. And this cold basement is the place of my rebirth as myself.
“Rob gave me a pretty big clue by helping me arrange that little, Surprise. He gave me an idea, when he said he should be INFAMOUS. And now, I am too. Look at the fans, they are crying foul. They think we should have won, and we definitely should have. But I took that, I deliberately threw the match by making our vendetta, a bit more personal. You wanted me to stop talking about making a difference and getting what I wanted, well did I do what you wanted? Probably not what was expected. See, I realized something, people who complain, use weapons, and make a scene get noticed. They may not be respected, they may not be the ones that people say “Hey, I want to be him.” But the underhanded tactics WORK. And that’s what I need, something that works.”
Obviously my new image isn’t complete yet. Perhaps if I stopped shaving so often and let the stubble take over for a clean-shaven face. Maybe I’d feel quite a bit more, myself. Professionalism in my old job created my old image. But it’s been over a year, it’s time for me to finally let loose and be myself.
“Jacobson, Jacobson, you may be feeling quite a bit of ego sting today accompanied by the head wound I left. But I assure you, this is not the last time you see this briefcase. It’s what I need to use to get noticed, and I used it back when I first burst onto the scene. When I stabbed Gib, then known as Homeless Harold, with a letter opener. When I won against him…three times. Now he’s going to most likely be the next #1 contender for the World Title. And you know what; I can gladly say I can beat him, anytime, anywhere. So what can you say, Andrew? Can you say that you can beat me? Have you seen what I did to you? Your head might be lacking the intelligence because of your Neanderthal brain, but be assured, you have no shot.”
I chuckle softly to myself and take off the t-shirt in order to go over to the weight machine and begin bench pressing two hundred and sixty pounds. Up and down, up and down, this is what I am used to, feeling the burn take over my arms. One…Two…Three…Four…Five…Six…Seven…Eight reps before I put the weights down and sit up, a smirk crossing my face.
“Look at me, Andrew, and tell me that you are ready to face me. Tell me that you are ready for your actions to speak as loudly as mine on Trauma. Just think, AJ, you’re going to be getting your second dose of my little friend. I hope you like him. I know he LOVES you. He loves everyone he meets.”
Pain is the best way to make people notice you. And I have realized I need to return to old habits, and bring pain back to the people. Simply Bates is not normal. He’s not anything more than the monster that’s lurked inside let out. And this monster is HUNGRY. I hear a noise, and look over to the stairs going up, and my wife, Kendra is coming down.
“Kris, are you going to come to bed tonight? I know you’ve felt like I’m not happy with you, but…can’t we just talk?”
I look at her as she is at the bottom of the stairs, staring at me. She sees the briefcase on the little table, next to my makeshift couch bed. She sees the blood and hair on it, and gasps.
“You didn’t. Kris? Did you…bring that back from “work”?”
“Is there a problem with that, Kendra? Is there a PROBLEM with me bringing my work home?”
“It is if our children come down here and hurt themselves with…and where did that blood and hair come from?”
I smirk and begin to chuckle.
“Andrew Jacobson, the soon-to-be former X-Division champion.”
“Did you…hurt him with this?”
“Yes. I did.”
I laugh as Kendra seems confused. She sees the tatters of my old suit in the garbage, and notices I am wearing all-new jeans and a t-shirt is on the floor that she’s never seen before. She’s beginning to suspect things.
“Are you…dressing differently? Why? You were fine the way you were.”
“No, I wasn’t. I wasn’t myself.”
“But that was the man I married.”
“Then the man you married was a lie.”
She doesn’t take the comment very well and begins to cry. I want to grab her, and console her, but I feel she’ll just pull away. She hasn’t really invited me to bed at all this month. My bringing my work home has truly upset her.
“If you really want me to not bring my work home. Maybe I should go get a hotel in Las Angeles. I’ve saved more than enough by staying home most of the month. And it’s pretty clear by now you don’t want me here.”
“No…Kris…I…”
I snap back at my wife, the fury in my voice is something she hasn’t heard in a while. I’m controlling her emotions with force.
“You what? You want me to stay? You love me? You want me to quit what I’m doing because I bring my work home. You didn’t care about my old job.”
“But this isn’t a career, you could be hurt and one day, not come home.”
“Then I’m a soldier. I am a gladiator. And you know what, this gladiator will not be home in the morning. I’m going to pack my bags and be gone by the time you wake up.”
“Kris? Don’t. I…”
“You don’t want me here, so I’m going to go.”
She cries, and runs up the stairs. I will keep my word. Tomorrow I’ll be gone. Free to train and prepare for the match without anyone judging me or getting angry because I bring my work home. No longer do I consider this home. Nothing remains for me here. My wife no longer loves me, and no longer shows me physical affection. I crave it. I crave the brutality in bed I get in the ring. And I think I need to get out of here to get it. So who says I need to be a good man to win a title. I don’t care anymore. If I can’t be famous, I’ll be INFAMOUS. And in the end, Andrew Jacobson will see what my actions are capable of. Because what he got on Trauma was just a taste. It’s a Metamorphosis on Sunday. And it’s definitely not an analogy for me. I’m changing, and you better watch out. Because no longer am I normal, bound by the rules of a NORMAL man. I’m just…Simply…Bates.