Post by adm on Mar 11, 2009 18:11:51 GMT -6
“I wonder if this is going to be the week Harold wins.”
And just like that the seeds of despair were sewn. Like sick little pellets of ultimate despair waiting to sprout from the supple ground beneath my feet. I stood looking at myself in the mirror, the Xtreme title on my shoulder, feeling sickened with what I had become thanks to the envious attacks Harold had done just under a month ago. The attacks that left my wife pregnant, and in 8 months from now she’ll give birth to a monster that will have no real father, as by the time that happens, Harold will be dead, if only I could get my way. But that doesn’t do anything but let him win. It’s what HE wants. To die…that’s why he picked on me, that’s why I picked on him. Because we will destroy one another.
“Harold was envious of me, and now he wants me to commit the sin of Wrath, of Vengeance and destroy him. He wants me to remove him from this mortal coil and end the sick and lonely excuse that he calls a life. He’s sad, he’s crying out to me behind the mask of lies and anger as a man desperate for his own end. Should I give it to him, should I end him? What have I become thanks to him.”
And because of what has happened, time has distorted. My suit has given way for my gym sweats and I am staring at this point in time at my reflection. But five minutes ago the family portrait was still in my hands…
“My darling Kendra and my beautiful children. I’m sorry.”
Four minutes and fifty seconds from now I will be in the bathroom, staring at my reflection with the title on my shoulder. A minute from now I will drop the photograph and fall into a puddle of tears.
“I let you, Andrew and Zach down. I let you all down, and now I am set to face Harold once again, this time one-on-one in my biggest and most violent match yet.”
Forty-five, forty-four, forty-three…
“Soon, I’ll be in that ring again, staring down a monster of a man.”
Thirty-two, thirty-one…
“And there will be no way but down.”
In twenty-three seconds the photograph will leave my hands. Twenty, Nineteen…
“And…I let him take you as his own, Kendra. I let him take advantage of the state my being a bad husband left you in. He…was more a father in a week to my own children than I was…my god.”
Ten…nine…eight…
“He already won…he won the mind game and now…”
I drop the photograph from my hands and tears stream down my face. Its four minutes later and I’m staring at myself in the mirror with the title at my shoulders, the tears have left my eyes.
“But I don’t want to hurt you, Harold. Not anymore. I don’t want to kill you, I want revenge but that is taking things too far.”
Seven years and two months ago I am taking the solemn vow to love my wife till the day I die. Five seconds from now I will contemplate if I can still lover her with Harold’s baby inside of her.
“How could she betray our vows like that? How could she betray our marriage?”
I still love my wife, no matter how hard. I just don’t know what I would do if I could see her right now. In half an hour I will get into the car, and go to the gym. In half an hour I will begin to train for the match like I have never trained. And I plan to unleash a new move on them all when I get there.
“Shooting Star Press.”
The words are mouthed; they don’t leave my mouth as I leap from the top turnbuckle in my first attempt at this new move. In three days I will use it against Harold and in twenty-five minutes I will knock myself unconscious botching it on the dummy. And Fifty-five minutes ago I am still staring at the mirror, with the title on my shoulders.
“You see, you’ve done something to me, Harold. You changed me into PERFECTLY NORMAL into XTREMELY NORMAL then just Kristoff Liam Bates. I ‘m not normal anymore, not after…I drank alcohol. Not after the things I’ve done to you in the ring. You brought me down to your level. You took me off my high horse of naivety and turned me into a FREAK like everyone else in nCw…like you’ve all called me since day one. Maybe the FREAKS truly are the NORMAL ones, and I was more a FREAK being normal than any of you ever were. Maybe drinking is normal. Maybe drugs like Randy the Ram. We all know the stereotypes of wrestlers, and I tried so very hard to be above and beyond the stereotypes, but you dragged me through the mud and now I’m stained with the blood I spilled and the sweat that’s poured out of my body. Now I am stained with the alcohol I threw up just a few days ago.”
Four days ago and I am throwing up in my hotel bathroom after my first night drinking ever. I tell myself I will never drink again as my friend stands back laughing at me. What a friend he is. Two minutes from now I’m beginning to get ready to go train and in fifty-three minutes and twenty-five seconds I knock myself unconscious trying to learn how to use the Shooting Star Press on a dummy at the gym. Fifty-four minutes and twelve seconds from now, I wake up from the short blackout in the ring and get back on the horse. Keep the shoulder to the wheel. Six minutes and forty seconds ago the photograph falls from my hands, tears streaming down my face and an hour from now I address Harold again while sitting on a chair recouping from my vigorous training, having finally successfully landed the Shooting Star Press on the dummy twelve times.
“Harold, you claim to want to be a disfigured FREAK. You claim to not want to hear the fans chant your name anymore. You claim to forget your past, but you can’t. The way you assaulted me mentally by taking advantage of my home being open, being left unguarded. My home in Sunnyvale, California. My home that no longer is a home thanks to you. My home that has become as much a battlefield as the ring we will meet in. And I can’t do anything but THANK you for pulling the wool from my eyes and letting me see just how unreal and fake I was being PERFECTLY NORMAL when XTREMELY NORMAL is all I can ever be. After what you did…there is only violence in my future. Only pain. Only torments of unquestionable horror.”
An hour, seven minutes and fifty-nine seconds ago the photograph falls from my hands, an hour ago I put the shoulder back to the wheel. And seven years two months ago I am taking the vows to my wife. Four years and three months ago my first child was born; I am still holding him in my arms right now.
“And Harold, you may have been a better father for a WEEK, but now I will be a better father the rest of their lives. Thanks to you, I will be a better husband. Thanks to you, I will be a better MAN than I was when I was PERFECTLY NORMAL. I will be a better father to your child with my wife than you will ever be. And after seeing what you did to your other child last week, I will not have to try very hard to accomplish that. You don’t know how to live in the human condition and you want to be ended. I see it in your sad eyes when we meet in the ring. I saw it when you took the change from my wife but it was replaced by anger when I threw change at you. You are a sorry excuse of a human being and I pity you. But that will NOT spare you on Trauma. Because that is what we will inflict upon one another, Trauma. Physical and mental trauma that if it doesn’t kill us, will last the rest of our lives. We are David vs. Goliath. We are the ultimate in spectatorship and we will soon show the world what we can do.”
Three days from now Harold and I face in the ring. Three days from now I defend my Xtreme title. And three days from now, I will show him exactly what XTREMELY NORMAL can do.
And just like that the seeds of despair were sewn. Like sick little pellets of ultimate despair waiting to sprout from the supple ground beneath my feet. I stood looking at myself in the mirror, the Xtreme title on my shoulder, feeling sickened with what I had become thanks to the envious attacks Harold had done just under a month ago. The attacks that left my wife pregnant, and in 8 months from now she’ll give birth to a monster that will have no real father, as by the time that happens, Harold will be dead, if only I could get my way. But that doesn’t do anything but let him win. It’s what HE wants. To die…that’s why he picked on me, that’s why I picked on him. Because we will destroy one another.
“Harold was envious of me, and now he wants me to commit the sin of Wrath, of Vengeance and destroy him. He wants me to remove him from this mortal coil and end the sick and lonely excuse that he calls a life. He’s sad, he’s crying out to me behind the mask of lies and anger as a man desperate for his own end. Should I give it to him, should I end him? What have I become thanks to him.”
And because of what has happened, time has distorted. My suit has given way for my gym sweats and I am staring at this point in time at my reflection. But five minutes ago the family portrait was still in my hands…
“My darling Kendra and my beautiful children. I’m sorry.”
Four minutes and fifty seconds from now I will be in the bathroom, staring at my reflection with the title on my shoulder. A minute from now I will drop the photograph and fall into a puddle of tears.
“I let you, Andrew and Zach down. I let you all down, and now I am set to face Harold once again, this time one-on-one in my biggest and most violent match yet.”
Forty-five, forty-four, forty-three…
“Soon, I’ll be in that ring again, staring down a monster of a man.”
Thirty-two, thirty-one…
“And there will be no way but down.”
In twenty-three seconds the photograph will leave my hands. Twenty, Nineteen…
“And…I let him take you as his own, Kendra. I let him take advantage of the state my being a bad husband left you in. He…was more a father in a week to my own children than I was…my god.”
Ten…nine…eight…
“He already won…he won the mind game and now…”
I drop the photograph from my hands and tears stream down my face. Its four minutes later and I’m staring at myself in the mirror with the title at my shoulders, the tears have left my eyes.
“But I don’t want to hurt you, Harold. Not anymore. I don’t want to kill you, I want revenge but that is taking things too far.”
Seven years and two months ago I am taking the solemn vow to love my wife till the day I die. Five seconds from now I will contemplate if I can still lover her with Harold’s baby inside of her.
“How could she betray our vows like that? How could she betray our marriage?”
I still love my wife, no matter how hard. I just don’t know what I would do if I could see her right now. In half an hour I will get into the car, and go to the gym. In half an hour I will begin to train for the match like I have never trained. And I plan to unleash a new move on them all when I get there.
“Shooting Star Press.”
The words are mouthed; they don’t leave my mouth as I leap from the top turnbuckle in my first attempt at this new move. In three days I will use it against Harold and in twenty-five minutes I will knock myself unconscious botching it on the dummy. And Fifty-five minutes ago I am still staring at the mirror, with the title on my shoulders.
“You see, you’ve done something to me, Harold. You changed me into PERFECTLY NORMAL into XTREMELY NORMAL then just Kristoff Liam Bates. I ‘m not normal anymore, not after…I drank alcohol. Not after the things I’ve done to you in the ring. You brought me down to your level. You took me off my high horse of naivety and turned me into a FREAK like everyone else in nCw…like you’ve all called me since day one. Maybe the FREAKS truly are the NORMAL ones, and I was more a FREAK being normal than any of you ever were. Maybe drinking is normal. Maybe drugs like Randy the Ram. We all know the stereotypes of wrestlers, and I tried so very hard to be above and beyond the stereotypes, but you dragged me through the mud and now I’m stained with the blood I spilled and the sweat that’s poured out of my body. Now I am stained with the alcohol I threw up just a few days ago.”
Four days ago and I am throwing up in my hotel bathroom after my first night drinking ever. I tell myself I will never drink again as my friend stands back laughing at me. What a friend he is. Two minutes from now I’m beginning to get ready to go train and in fifty-three minutes and twenty-five seconds I knock myself unconscious trying to learn how to use the Shooting Star Press on a dummy at the gym. Fifty-four minutes and twelve seconds from now, I wake up from the short blackout in the ring and get back on the horse. Keep the shoulder to the wheel. Six minutes and forty seconds ago the photograph falls from my hands, tears streaming down my face and an hour from now I address Harold again while sitting on a chair recouping from my vigorous training, having finally successfully landed the Shooting Star Press on the dummy twelve times.
“Harold, you claim to want to be a disfigured FREAK. You claim to not want to hear the fans chant your name anymore. You claim to forget your past, but you can’t. The way you assaulted me mentally by taking advantage of my home being open, being left unguarded. My home in Sunnyvale, California. My home that no longer is a home thanks to you. My home that has become as much a battlefield as the ring we will meet in. And I can’t do anything but THANK you for pulling the wool from my eyes and letting me see just how unreal and fake I was being PERFECTLY NORMAL when XTREMELY NORMAL is all I can ever be. After what you did…there is only violence in my future. Only pain. Only torments of unquestionable horror.”
An hour, seven minutes and fifty-nine seconds ago the photograph falls from my hands, an hour ago I put the shoulder back to the wheel. And seven years two months ago I am taking the vows to my wife. Four years and three months ago my first child was born; I am still holding him in my arms right now.
“And Harold, you may have been a better father for a WEEK, but now I will be a better father the rest of their lives. Thanks to you, I will be a better husband. Thanks to you, I will be a better MAN than I was when I was PERFECTLY NORMAL. I will be a better father to your child with my wife than you will ever be. And after seeing what you did to your other child last week, I will not have to try very hard to accomplish that. You don’t know how to live in the human condition and you want to be ended. I see it in your sad eyes when we meet in the ring. I saw it when you took the change from my wife but it was replaced by anger when I threw change at you. You are a sorry excuse of a human being and I pity you. But that will NOT spare you on Trauma. Because that is what we will inflict upon one another, Trauma. Physical and mental trauma that if it doesn’t kill us, will last the rest of our lives. We are David vs. Goliath. We are the ultimate in spectatorship and we will soon show the world what we can do.”
Three days from now Harold and I face in the ring. Three days from now I defend my Xtreme title. And three days from now, I will show him exactly what XTREMELY NORMAL can do.
