Post by adm on Mar 21, 2009 22:01:12 GMT -6
The plane ride back from my quick trip home was not unpleasant. My wife surprised me with tickets. We really had to talk, and it was good to play ball with my children. I have to thank Harold for making me a better father, a better husband, and a better man. But this weekend isn’t about my wife, or my family, or my triumph over Harold by his helping me, in a very odd way, to become a better man. No, this is about me and Mark Evil. A man who recently left a Nazi girlfriend. Poor Mark, I can imagine what it must feel like to be trumped for weirdness by a woman. But that’s ok; you can enjoy my hometown for just one day of vacation. Go sit on the beaches, I have more important things to do, important things with.
“Hey, Bates, glad you left I needed to bring some cheap bar floozy home to get laid SOOOO bad. I had been on like a two-week stretch without sex.”
“I REALLY needed to know that, John.”
He laughed, as he always did. He was the jester in the class, always. And I was more serious than he was, but lately I’ve learned how to lighten up, perhaps we can also blame that on Homeless Harold, or maybe…my opponent and the fact that I don’t take him very seriously.
“So where are we going, Kris?”
“Joseph A Banks. They are having a sale on suits and you owe me a hundred bucks.”
“Damn you, and your holding me accountable for bar bets about women with fake tits. COME ON!”
“You owe me, now pay up, and buy me a suit.”
He did a double take; his mind just went flying out the back of his head as if I pulled the trigger of a shotgun a foot from his face. He cleaned them up very quickly, before asking me the obvious question.
“Wait, what? Buy YOU a suit with a hundred dollars?”
“I told you there was a sale.”
“Sale? That’s a ****ing miracle.”
“Call it what you will, John, but you owe me a hundred and I need a suit for my match. Buy one at $199 get the 2nd for $99”
“That’s…amazing.”
He stood in awe of the fact that even a relatively well-off man like myself knew how to look for sales. But it wasn’t like I had any choice, every channel I turned to at his house or mine had the sale advertised once an hour. I looked down at myself, wearing a nice suit to go shopping for suits…seemed kind of redundant, but that way I could fool people when I walked out wearing one, that I bought more than I did. I noticed, my shoes…they were dirty. I forgot to get them buffed after the last match I had, the one where I bloodied them and myself defeating Harold to retain my Xtreme title.
“Do you think my shoes are dirty, John?”
“Actually, yeah. Where’s that shoe-shining white kid…I think he was on this block.”
We walked past a black man shining shoes, but that was too racist for me to bother going to him. Then we passed the Chinese child…that was a million times more racist, because he also did pedicures. Then we found him, our little white boy that shines shoes. He wasn’t really a boy so much as a young man. Which confused me, but I got my feet up on his block and paid him thirty dollars to shine my shoes.
“Here, I need my shoes shined. They must be spotless.”
“Yeah, his shoes are really dirty, man. Believe me; he’s going to need them CLEAN for tomorrow.”
“Hot date?”
I chuckled, “You could say that, I mean it IS a woman.”
“Yeah…a really bitchy one too.”
“Wait…” The man stopped as he looked at my shoes. “…is that…blood?”
I looked at him, my face turned into the most serious expression I could muster at the time. Yes…this was blood. Blood that got on my shoes in an Xtreme wrestling match where I defeated the man who SAID he raped my wife…it was blood that was EARNED, but blood nonetheless.
“Yes. That is blood.”
“Human blood?”
“Yes, what of it?”
He almost didn’t shine my shoes. But I tipped him enough to do it. And then, we reached it…the Promised Land. Joseph A Banks’ promise, to me, for nice suits at cheap sale prices.
“Welcome to Joseph A. Banks, what can we do for you Mr.?”
“Bates, Kristoff Bates.”
The clerk, who looked like a younger woman, almost keeled over when she realized it was me. She must follow nCw very well because the whole time we were picking out suits; she was blushing and acting very weird. Amazing to find I had “Fans”. Especially women.
“You look very ravishing in that one, Mr. Bates. Your wife will love that one.”
I was wearing a light tan suit, looking almost exactly like a relative to the Michael Westen from Burn Notice. Then, they did the worst possible thing. I had to stifle a laugh when they did it…pastel blue.
“I look like ****ing Don Johnson from Miami Vice. Get this off me.”
“Dude, man…you look…AWESOME.”
“You look very handsome, Mr. Bates.”
“It is ****ing PASTEL BLUE!”
“It brings out the color of your eyes?”
“Get this thing off me!”
In the end, we kept the tan suit, and I bought a Navy blue one. As well as a few replacement shirts and ties before we went to Staples for “supplies.”
“Push-pins, manila envelopes, stapler, staples…What else, Kris?”
“How about these?”
I held up a box of paper clips, the large ones. I remember using these in the office. I once cut myself on them while bending them around a large stack of papers, they could be very dangerous.
“Paper clips? Whatever you want, man.”
The list was complete, and now…to go to the hotel, because I needed privacy tonight, privacy to…
“Honey…”
My voice was very soft and affectionate. I whispered sweet nothings in her ear, but somehow…I felt like I was being watched. Every word, every time I told her I loved her and forgave her, it felt…like I was being watched by someone.
“I have to go, Kendra. I have work to do.”
“I won’t be watching. I know you won’t want me to.”
“You’re right; I don’t want you to worry too much. I love you, goodnight, my darling.”
I hung up the phone gently, then turned to the camera. My tie was tight, so I loosened it. My waist was bare so I grabbed the Xtreme title and put it on my lap. I knew what I had to do, and I had to be serious…more serious than the challenge ahead of me.
“Mark Evil…the fact that you even face me is a laughable offense. I destroyed you before, in a regular match. What does Chris Diamond think you did to deserve this match? Maybe you stuck your fat head up his ass, or went down on him. I’m not going to think about it too much, because the point is that I did it before, in MY yard, and now it’s yours. Your XTREME yard, when last time we were in PERFECTLY NORMAL territory. But you saw what I did last week; you know I’m still feeling a bit below 100% after what Harold and I did to one another. And now you will undoubtedly question whether I can defeat you in your domain. But…if you didn’t recall what I did last time…”
I pull out my briefcase. The char from last month’s Pay Per View still smells like burned flesh and blood. I hold it on top of the Xtreme title. The reason I am no longer PERFECTLY NORMAL, but…XTREMELY NORMAL.
“You seem to forget, I out-did your barbed wire. I lit this barbed-wire briefcase on fire and took everything you did, up one level. The “Mark Evil Special” turned into Kristoff Bates’ Flaming Barbed Wire Special. You can’t help but succumb to this. You can’t help but have your brains bashed out and your flesh scorched by my superior fire and barbed-wire combination. There’s nothing you can do, I beat Harold, who can beat me? Who can defeat PERFECTLY NORMAL Kristoff Liam Bates? No one…not a single soul on this roster, aside from Angel, has a chance at taking me down. How does Mark Evil compare to the roster…he’s the bottom of the pile, the bottom of the list. And now…I’ll let you know…”
What PERFECTLY NORMAL can do…at Sovereign, Kristoff Liam Bates will retain HIS title. Kristoff Liam Bates will defeat Evil and take the crown…of BARBED WIRE!
“Hey, Bates, glad you left I needed to bring some cheap bar floozy home to get laid SOOOO bad. I had been on like a two-week stretch without sex.”
“I REALLY needed to know that, John.”
He laughed, as he always did. He was the jester in the class, always. And I was more serious than he was, but lately I’ve learned how to lighten up, perhaps we can also blame that on Homeless Harold, or maybe…my opponent and the fact that I don’t take him very seriously.
“So where are we going, Kris?”
“Joseph A Banks. They are having a sale on suits and you owe me a hundred bucks.”
“Damn you, and your holding me accountable for bar bets about women with fake tits. COME ON!”
“You owe me, now pay up, and buy me a suit.”
He did a double take; his mind just went flying out the back of his head as if I pulled the trigger of a shotgun a foot from his face. He cleaned them up very quickly, before asking me the obvious question.
“Wait, what? Buy YOU a suit with a hundred dollars?”
“I told you there was a sale.”
“Sale? That’s a ****ing miracle.”
“Call it what you will, John, but you owe me a hundred and I need a suit for my match. Buy one at $199 get the 2nd for $99”
“That’s…amazing.”
He stood in awe of the fact that even a relatively well-off man like myself knew how to look for sales. But it wasn’t like I had any choice, every channel I turned to at his house or mine had the sale advertised once an hour. I looked down at myself, wearing a nice suit to go shopping for suits…seemed kind of redundant, but that way I could fool people when I walked out wearing one, that I bought more than I did. I noticed, my shoes…they were dirty. I forgot to get them buffed after the last match I had, the one where I bloodied them and myself defeating Harold to retain my Xtreme title.
“Do you think my shoes are dirty, John?”
“Actually, yeah. Where’s that shoe-shining white kid…I think he was on this block.”
We walked past a black man shining shoes, but that was too racist for me to bother going to him. Then we passed the Chinese child…that was a million times more racist, because he also did pedicures. Then we found him, our little white boy that shines shoes. He wasn’t really a boy so much as a young man. Which confused me, but I got my feet up on his block and paid him thirty dollars to shine my shoes.
“Here, I need my shoes shined. They must be spotless.”
“Yeah, his shoes are really dirty, man. Believe me; he’s going to need them CLEAN for tomorrow.”
“Hot date?”
I chuckled, “You could say that, I mean it IS a woman.”
“Yeah…a really bitchy one too.”
“Wait…” The man stopped as he looked at my shoes. “…is that…blood?”
I looked at him, my face turned into the most serious expression I could muster at the time. Yes…this was blood. Blood that got on my shoes in an Xtreme wrestling match where I defeated the man who SAID he raped my wife…it was blood that was EARNED, but blood nonetheless.
“Yes. That is blood.”
“Human blood?”
“Yes, what of it?”
He almost didn’t shine my shoes. But I tipped him enough to do it. And then, we reached it…the Promised Land. Joseph A Banks’ promise, to me, for nice suits at cheap sale prices.
“Welcome to Joseph A. Banks, what can we do for you Mr.?”
“Bates, Kristoff Bates.”
The clerk, who looked like a younger woman, almost keeled over when she realized it was me. She must follow nCw very well because the whole time we were picking out suits; she was blushing and acting very weird. Amazing to find I had “Fans”. Especially women.
“You look very ravishing in that one, Mr. Bates. Your wife will love that one.”
I was wearing a light tan suit, looking almost exactly like a relative to the Michael Westen from Burn Notice. Then, they did the worst possible thing. I had to stifle a laugh when they did it…pastel blue.
“I look like ****ing Don Johnson from Miami Vice. Get this off me.”
“Dude, man…you look…AWESOME.”
“You look very handsome, Mr. Bates.”
“It is ****ing PASTEL BLUE!”
“It brings out the color of your eyes?”
“Get this thing off me!”
In the end, we kept the tan suit, and I bought a Navy blue one. As well as a few replacement shirts and ties before we went to Staples for “supplies.”
“Push-pins, manila envelopes, stapler, staples…What else, Kris?”
“How about these?”
I held up a box of paper clips, the large ones. I remember using these in the office. I once cut myself on them while bending them around a large stack of papers, they could be very dangerous.
“Paper clips? Whatever you want, man.”
The list was complete, and now…to go to the hotel, because I needed privacy tonight, privacy to…
“Honey…”
My voice was very soft and affectionate. I whispered sweet nothings in her ear, but somehow…I felt like I was being watched. Every word, every time I told her I loved her and forgave her, it felt…like I was being watched by someone.
“I have to go, Kendra. I have work to do.”
“I won’t be watching. I know you won’t want me to.”
“You’re right; I don’t want you to worry too much. I love you, goodnight, my darling.”
I hung up the phone gently, then turned to the camera. My tie was tight, so I loosened it. My waist was bare so I grabbed the Xtreme title and put it on my lap. I knew what I had to do, and I had to be serious…more serious than the challenge ahead of me.
“Mark Evil…the fact that you even face me is a laughable offense. I destroyed you before, in a regular match. What does Chris Diamond think you did to deserve this match? Maybe you stuck your fat head up his ass, or went down on him. I’m not going to think about it too much, because the point is that I did it before, in MY yard, and now it’s yours. Your XTREME yard, when last time we were in PERFECTLY NORMAL territory. But you saw what I did last week; you know I’m still feeling a bit below 100% after what Harold and I did to one another. And now you will undoubtedly question whether I can defeat you in your domain. But…if you didn’t recall what I did last time…”
I pull out my briefcase. The char from last month’s Pay Per View still smells like burned flesh and blood. I hold it on top of the Xtreme title. The reason I am no longer PERFECTLY NORMAL, but…XTREMELY NORMAL.
“You seem to forget, I out-did your barbed wire. I lit this barbed-wire briefcase on fire and took everything you did, up one level. The “Mark Evil Special” turned into Kristoff Bates’ Flaming Barbed Wire Special. You can’t help but succumb to this. You can’t help but have your brains bashed out and your flesh scorched by my superior fire and barbed-wire combination. There’s nothing you can do, I beat Harold, who can beat me? Who can defeat PERFECTLY NORMAL Kristoff Liam Bates? No one…not a single soul on this roster, aside from Angel, has a chance at taking me down. How does Mark Evil compare to the roster…he’s the bottom of the pile, the bottom of the list. And now…I’ll let you know…”
What PERFECTLY NORMAL can do…at Sovereign, Kristoff Liam Bates will retain HIS title. Kristoff Liam Bates will defeat Evil and take the crown…of BARBED WIRE!