Post by adm on Feb 12, 2009 16:57:59 GMT -6
You have no idea what it is like to have to worry about your family being kidnapped or assaulted by a psychotic freak such as yourself, do you Harold? Are you doing this because I threw change at you? Because I called you a smelly bum, two things that are true? Is it because you are trying to get me to pick a side in the conflict that should have never existed in the first place? Whatever your reason, Homeless Harold, you are just unleashing things within me that are worse than the Bates you would have faced had you not done these things.
I got to a new hotel, just as crummy as the one before. And this time I wasn’t going to destroy the phone. That cost me forty dollars to fix their phone, when it probably could have only cost half to replace the damn thing. And here I am, pacing back and forth, wondering if I will ever see my family again. I called a few times, left messages, no answer. I’m falling apart; I’m beginning to descend into madness. The loneliness and the worry are digging into my NORMAL life and personality and slowly leaving remains of the ABNORMAL FREAK Homeless Harold. I can’t believe he’d try to assault my family. I can’t believe he’d show up for lemonade. Why…why did you do that?
There isn’t anything I’d like more than to get my hands on you, now, Harold. There’s right and there is wrong then there is you. You…you did something to my family, I know it. You hurt them. You molested my wife. You’re jealousy caused you to do things to them. And now, now they are lying in my basement bleeding, screaming for me to help them and you took my passport. You used MY passport. That’s how you found my house. I should have never left my room. I should have known better. I should have KNOWN you would do something like this. You are a FREAK and a SICK and TWISTED one at that. I continue to pace my hotel room wishing I could get a call back from my family. Wishing that there was some way to ease my troubled mind.
“Have a drink, Bates.”
I don’t know where the voice came from, but I’m going to ignore it. I don’t drink, or smoke. That’s not NORMAL behavior, and I am PERFECTLY NORMAL. I am above all that. I am not a drunk; I am not a smoker or a stoned FREAK like some of my opponents.
“Have a drink; go out for a smoke, Bates. They’ll make you feel better.”
The voice was a voice I’ve heard before. It’s not my voice, but the nagging voice of the “common freak” that lives in this country. The voice of the television blaring telling me to smoke and drink with commercials, TV shows and movies where all the main characters do is smoke and drink. The illusionary voice unheard by many due to the subtleties they use in the film to spew their propaganda for drinking and smoking…and now it’s talking directly to me in my time of intense stress.
“Have a drink on me, Bates. It’ll make you feel better about your wife, about what that man is doing to her.”
I turned off the television. I’m sick of the beer and alcohol advertisements. I can’t take this; I need to get some air. But if I get some air, what if they call while I am gone? What if my wife calls while I am out and I fail to warn her that FREAK Homeless Harold is in the area?
“Harold, you are going to pay for what you did to my family.”
My tie is so heavy now, sweat pouring out of every pore on my body. Why did I have to wear this today? Why couldn’t I go back to the gym? The answer…I was afraid. Afraid of what he was doing to my beloved family. Afraid of what the FREAK would be doing to them as I sat idly by and waited. And yet I still wait, after calling before the cameras showed up, I wait for a reply call. If he’s really there, the reply will never come. If he isn’t, maybe…just maybe I’ll have reached them in time. Maybe…
I loosen my tie, and throw it on the floor. But as I watch it fall, I notice something. I notice the fabric is sturdy. I notice that the tie could be used…to choke someone. I look down at the belt that rests along my waist and begin to remove that, wrapping it around my left fist, making sure the metal buckle dangles just a little bit. My eyes widen as I come to the sickening and dark realization of just how deadly I could be in the match, just armed with my own CLOTHES.
“My god…what have you done to me, Harold? Look at me. I look into brown dress belt as if I can’t wait to use it on you on Sunday at Crossroads. Is this really a Crossroads in my life and career as a wrestler? A more pure-style wrestler, with technical prowess such as myself, being thrown into the cage with a bunch of crazy nutcases and some weapons. Though the cage is metaphorical, the result is the same. Do I resist and beat you with just straight up technical skill, or do I succumb to the rules of the match and let loose all my frustrations, worries and fears upon the three of you with weapons that are so abundant it’s almost a travesty to ignore the use of them. And now, looking at my own normal ring attire I realize how many weapons I already carry on my person. God…forgive me for the sins I am willing to commit this Sunday in the name of holding my first title here in nCw.”
I hold the belt in my hand, unwrapping it and holding it like a whip, with the metal buckle at the end. What would I give to lash it across the backs of Homeless Harold or Rob Diamond right now? Or what about Mike Honcho? What would I do to them if they were here right now? My belt felt so right and righteous in my hands. I felt empowered for the first time in a long time. I felt like I could KILL with this weapon, and perhaps I would. Perhaps I need to go SHOPPING for some weapons.
I returned from the store to find no one had called for me. My worry and fury against my opponents grew. What I came back with, however, was well worth my savings that I dipped into to grab it. Everything I could imagine to use against Harold to take that belt he did not deserve from him. Everything to use in the prospects of making PERFECTLY NORMAL the Xtreme Champion instead of the lineage of FREAKS. Like Barack Obama I will break the chain of consistent stereotypes of who will hold that position. No longer will the crazy psychopaths hold this belt. PERFECTLY NORMAL Kristoff Liam Bates will stop their tyranny and break the chain.
“You said something to me, Diamond, about being crazy? How wrong you are. How very wrong. You wish to be taken seriously and yet you are still as crazy as ever thinking I’m the crazy one. Look into the mirror and stare at the reflection of insanity that is yourself. You talk to your other personalities, how ABNORMAL is that? You want to step out of your brother’s shadow by holding the Xtreme title. But in the end all you are doing is continuing to be in his shadow just by mentioning that as your only real reason for doing this. Let alone you being accompanied by your “nephew” should one call him that.”
I couldn’t believe how easy it was to say these things. Such hurtful words toward a man I had just won a match with a week prior. Am I wrong or evil for saying and doing this? Well if I was, EVIL is NORMAL.
“And Honcho has been mighty quiet, unlike the man I’m truly here for…Homeless Harold. And Harold, I hope you watch what I am about to do very carefully, because IF you did anything to my family, you will need a bit of a LESSON in what is about to happen to YOU!”
I take the bag of “goods” I bought and I spread them out along the floor. I have every “standard” weapon along with something I specifically got as my “Signature”. A steel chair, a small step ladder, one package of two light tubes, a metal briefcase, and the “Mark Evil” special…Barbed Wire.
“Look at the weapons before me, just a few of the many options at my disposal. I have my tie, my belt, and these, as well as so many other things. But I am really beginning to look at them all as a new opportunity to show you FREAKS just what NORMAL can do when provoked. I see the steel chair, and all I can think of is how beautiful the dents would be combined with chunks of your hair and drops of your blood. Mike Honcho, I bought the step ladder just for you, as a smaller version of the real thing we will use in the match, just like you are the “smaller” version of Chris Diamond now that you know he is your father. And Rob Diamond, the “Sparkling” diamond, much like the shining lights I bought to show you that I am not unwilling to bring out the box of light tubes should I feel the need to shed your blood with a bit of flashy explosions. As well as, the fact that if I break it across your faces, you could die from mercury poisoning due to the mercury vapors in the fluorescent tubes. And then something from my old job…a briefcase. And I couldn’t forget the one thing that Mark Evil tried to use on me, barbed wire. Now…I wonder if I could combine any of these two…oh wait. I can.”
I take the barbed wire gingerly into my hands and wrap it around a steel chair, Dark Prophet’s weapon of choice. Then…I turn to my briefcase.
“A moment of brilliant inspiration. Barbed wire wrapped briefcase. God, what sort of sadistic damage could one carry out with such a heinous weapon. Something lethal, something dangerous and something only the PERFECTLY NORMAL Kristoff Liam Bates could dare bring to a ring having SUFFERED in a CUBICLE for so many years. And that’s how I’ll get you back, Harold. I’ll take the one thing you NEVER had…a NORMAL job…and use it against you. I’ll use my office supplies against you as well. Staplers, thumb tacks, hell…even a manila envelope can give a good paper cut or two. Add that to the salt in your sweat during a match and just think of the pain one can inflict with such simple items. And…”
I was interrupted. My expression went from nearly psychotic thoughts of injuring my opponents to that of joy and excitement as my phone rings. Finally…a response. I jump to the phone, my face overjoyed. My eyes were welling up with tears as I pick it up.
“Hello? Kendra? Are you alright?”
I didn’t hear an answer right away. My heart sank a little with each second of quiet. Then, finally, I hear the voice I so longed to hear once again.
“Kristoff? Why were you so worried? We were just at the store shopping for new toys, as well as picking up the fixed suitcase.”
“Kendra…I’m so glad you’re fine. I was so worried.”
“Why were you worried?”
I went quiet. She knew what I was about to say as I took my deep breath. She knew I’d never be worried about her in any other situation unless something happened where they were in danger.
“Kendra, go to your mom’s house, or your sister’s, somewhere SAFE for a few days. Till this blows over. Homeless Harold, he was…in our general area and…I think he might have hurt someone. It looked like he went into our house…to be with YOU and the kids. I was so worried he had hurt you. Please…just…leave till this all blows over. It is NOT safe.”
“How would he know where we live, Kristoff?”
“He stole my passport, Kendra. He stole my god-damned Passport!”
“He did what?”
“THE ****ER STOLE MY PASSPORT!”
“Kristoff…you never swear. I…I’ll go get the kids packed up and we’ll go somewhere safe for a few days. I’ll call you when we get there.”
I was relieved to hear her say those words to me. Relieved she’d get safe…and relieved I could be alone here, in Canada…to prepare to PUNISH that FREAK for the scare he gave me. I told my wife I loved her and hung up the phone. If Harold wanted to play mind games it worked…but not in the way he wanted. At Crossroads, Kristoff Bates will be in that ring as a reformed man. PERFECTLY NORMAL just learned how to get PERFECTLY XTREME!
I got to a new hotel, just as crummy as the one before. And this time I wasn’t going to destroy the phone. That cost me forty dollars to fix their phone, when it probably could have only cost half to replace the damn thing. And here I am, pacing back and forth, wondering if I will ever see my family again. I called a few times, left messages, no answer. I’m falling apart; I’m beginning to descend into madness. The loneliness and the worry are digging into my NORMAL life and personality and slowly leaving remains of the ABNORMAL FREAK Homeless Harold. I can’t believe he’d try to assault my family. I can’t believe he’d show up for lemonade. Why…why did you do that?
There isn’t anything I’d like more than to get my hands on you, now, Harold. There’s right and there is wrong then there is you. You…you did something to my family, I know it. You hurt them. You molested my wife. You’re jealousy caused you to do things to them. And now, now they are lying in my basement bleeding, screaming for me to help them and you took my passport. You used MY passport. That’s how you found my house. I should have never left my room. I should have known better. I should have KNOWN you would do something like this. You are a FREAK and a SICK and TWISTED one at that. I continue to pace my hotel room wishing I could get a call back from my family. Wishing that there was some way to ease my troubled mind.
“Have a drink, Bates.”
I don’t know where the voice came from, but I’m going to ignore it. I don’t drink, or smoke. That’s not NORMAL behavior, and I am PERFECTLY NORMAL. I am above all that. I am not a drunk; I am not a smoker or a stoned FREAK like some of my opponents.
“Have a drink; go out for a smoke, Bates. They’ll make you feel better.”
The voice was a voice I’ve heard before. It’s not my voice, but the nagging voice of the “common freak” that lives in this country. The voice of the television blaring telling me to smoke and drink with commercials, TV shows and movies where all the main characters do is smoke and drink. The illusionary voice unheard by many due to the subtleties they use in the film to spew their propaganda for drinking and smoking…and now it’s talking directly to me in my time of intense stress.
“Have a drink on me, Bates. It’ll make you feel better about your wife, about what that man is doing to her.”
I turned off the television. I’m sick of the beer and alcohol advertisements. I can’t take this; I need to get some air. But if I get some air, what if they call while I am gone? What if my wife calls while I am out and I fail to warn her that FREAK Homeless Harold is in the area?
“Harold, you are going to pay for what you did to my family.”
My tie is so heavy now, sweat pouring out of every pore on my body. Why did I have to wear this today? Why couldn’t I go back to the gym? The answer…I was afraid. Afraid of what he was doing to my beloved family. Afraid of what the FREAK would be doing to them as I sat idly by and waited. And yet I still wait, after calling before the cameras showed up, I wait for a reply call. If he’s really there, the reply will never come. If he isn’t, maybe…just maybe I’ll have reached them in time. Maybe…
I loosen my tie, and throw it on the floor. But as I watch it fall, I notice something. I notice the fabric is sturdy. I notice that the tie could be used…to choke someone. I look down at the belt that rests along my waist and begin to remove that, wrapping it around my left fist, making sure the metal buckle dangles just a little bit. My eyes widen as I come to the sickening and dark realization of just how deadly I could be in the match, just armed with my own CLOTHES.
“My god…what have you done to me, Harold? Look at me. I look into brown dress belt as if I can’t wait to use it on you on Sunday at Crossroads. Is this really a Crossroads in my life and career as a wrestler? A more pure-style wrestler, with technical prowess such as myself, being thrown into the cage with a bunch of crazy nutcases and some weapons. Though the cage is metaphorical, the result is the same. Do I resist and beat you with just straight up technical skill, or do I succumb to the rules of the match and let loose all my frustrations, worries and fears upon the three of you with weapons that are so abundant it’s almost a travesty to ignore the use of them. And now, looking at my own normal ring attire I realize how many weapons I already carry on my person. God…forgive me for the sins I am willing to commit this Sunday in the name of holding my first title here in nCw.”
I hold the belt in my hand, unwrapping it and holding it like a whip, with the metal buckle at the end. What would I give to lash it across the backs of Homeless Harold or Rob Diamond right now? Or what about Mike Honcho? What would I do to them if they were here right now? My belt felt so right and righteous in my hands. I felt empowered for the first time in a long time. I felt like I could KILL with this weapon, and perhaps I would. Perhaps I need to go SHOPPING for some weapons.
I returned from the store to find no one had called for me. My worry and fury against my opponents grew. What I came back with, however, was well worth my savings that I dipped into to grab it. Everything I could imagine to use against Harold to take that belt he did not deserve from him. Everything to use in the prospects of making PERFECTLY NORMAL the Xtreme Champion instead of the lineage of FREAKS. Like Barack Obama I will break the chain of consistent stereotypes of who will hold that position. No longer will the crazy psychopaths hold this belt. PERFECTLY NORMAL Kristoff Liam Bates will stop their tyranny and break the chain.
“You said something to me, Diamond, about being crazy? How wrong you are. How very wrong. You wish to be taken seriously and yet you are still as crazy as ever thinking I’m the crazy one. Look into the mirror and stare at the reflection of insanity that is yourself. You talk to your other personalities, how ABNORMAL is that? You want to step out of your brother’s shadow by holding the Xtreme title. But in the end all you are doing is continuing to be in his shadow just by mentioning that as your only real reason for doing this. Let alone you being accompanied by your “nephew” should one call him that.”
I couldn’t believe how easy it was to say these things. Such hurtful words toward a man I had just won a match with a week prior. Am I wrong or evil for saying and doing this? Well if I was, EVIL is NORMAL.
“And Honcho has been mighty quiet, unlike the man I’m truly here for…Homeless Harold. And Harold, I hope you watch what I am about to do very carefully, because IF you did anything to my family, you will need a bit of a LESSON in what is about to happen to YOU!”
I take the bag of “goods” I bought and I spread them out along the floor. I have every “standard” weapon along with something I specifically got as my “Signature”. A steel chair, a small step ladder, one package of two light tubes, a metal briefcase, and the “Mark Evil” special…Barbed Wire.
“Look at the weapons before me, just a few of the many options at my disposal. I have my tie, my belt, and these, as well as so many other things. But I am really beginning to look at them all as a new opportunity to show you FREAKS just what NORMAL can do when provoked. I see the steel chair, and all I can think of is how beautiful the dents would be combined with chunks of your hair and drops of your blood. Mike Honcho, I bought the step ladder just for you, as a smaller version of the real thing we will use in the match, just like you are the “smaller” version of Chris Diamond now that you know he is your father. And Rob Diamond, the “Sparkling” diamond, much like the shining lights I bought to show you that I am not unwilling to bring out the box of light tubes should I feel the need to shed your blood with a bit of flashy explosions. As well as, the fact that if I break it across your faces, you could die from mercury poisoning due to the mercury vapors in the fluorescent tubes. And then something from my old job…a briefcase. And I couldn’t forget the one thing that Mark Evil tried to use on me, barbed wire. Now…I wonder if I could combine any of these two…oh wait. I can.”
I take the barbed wire gingerly into my hands and wrap it around a steel chair, Dark Prophet’s weapon of choice. Then…I turn to my briefcase.
“A moment of brilliant inspiration. Barbed wire wrapped briefcase. God, what sort of sadistic damage could one carry out with such a heinous weapon. Something lethal, something dangerous and something only the PERFECTLY NORMAL Kristoff Liam Bates could dare bring to a ring having SUFFERED in a CUBICLE for so many years. And that’s how I’ll get you back, Harold. I’ll take the one thing you NEVER had…a NORMAL job…and use it against you. I’ll use my office supplies against you as well. Staplers, thumb tacks, hell…even a manila envelope can give a good paper cut or two. Add that to the salt in your sweat during a match and just think of the pain one can inflict with such simple items. And…”
I was interrupted. My expression went from nearly psychotic thoughts of injuring my opponents to that of joy and excitement as my phone rings. Finally…a response. I jump to the phone, my face overjoyed. My eyes were welling up with tears as I pick it up.
“Hello? Kendra? Are you alright?”
I didn’t hear an answer right away. My heart sank a little with each second of quiet. Then, finally, I hear the voice I so longed to hear once again.
“Kristoff? Why were you so worried? We were just at the store shopping for new toys, as well as picking up the fixed suitcase.”
“Kendra…I’m so glad you’re fine. I was so worried.”
“Why were you worried?”
I went quiet. She knew what I was about to say as I took my deep breath. She knew I’d never be worried about her in any other situation unless something happened where they were in danger.
“Kendra, go to your mom’s house, or your sister’s, somewhere SAFE for a few days. Till this blows over. Homeless Harold, he was…in our general area and…I think he might have hurt someone. It looked like he went into our house…to be with YOU and the kids. I was so worried he had hurt you. Please…just…leave till this all blows over. It is NOT safe.”
“How would he know where we live, Kristoff?”
“He stole my passport, Kendra. He stole my god-damned Passport!”
“He did what?”
“THE ****ER STOLE MY PASSPORT!”
“Kristoff…you never swear. I…I’ll go get the kids packed up and we’ll go somewhere safe for a few days. I’ll call you when we get there.”
I was relieved to hear her say those words to me. Relieved she’d get safe…and relieved I could be alone here, in Canada…to prepare to PUNISH that FREAK for the scare he gave me. I told my wife I loved her and hung up the phone. If Harold wanted to play mind games it worked…but not in the way he wanted. At Crossroads, Kristoff Bates will be in that ring as a reformed man. PERFECTLY NORMAL just learned how to get PERFECTLY XTREME!