Post by John "Sheriff" McBride on Nov 25, 2012 19:32:30 GMT -4
The cold ice pack brought a cringe to his face as it rested heavily on his neck. His bruises were healing up and the neck was just a lingering pain he had become accustom to over the years. He removed the ice pack long enough to put his shirt on; he held the pack to his neck as he put his hat on. He seemed comfortable with the pain, giving the same look a laborer would give as he clocked out. John smiled at the crowd of people as he exited the Times Union Center. He’d spent some time at the Center into the week doing some fanfare work for APW. A few were interested in acquiring an autograph from the Sheriff but most stood in line for Meltdown superstars they were familiar with.
John climbed into a beat-up old CJ5 and started the engine. He began to think about his successful debut and the beating Glacier and Jimmy Ice gave him; a smile stretched across his face as he tossed the icepack in the backseat and shifted the Jeep into reverse. The AMC 304 V8 throttled down as he shifted into first and sped out of the parking lot leaving a cloud of asphalt and exhaust behind.
The trip from Salem to Albany was roughly a four hour drive, John decided to prowl around the northeast a bit so he purchased the Jeep from a collector just a few days after he arrived in Salem. I-90 was a long stretch of road to the locals, but to him it was a short skip from town to town. He was accustomed to long dry Texas terrain; it takes nearly a day to travel east to west across the great state. He pulled into a gas station, filled the tank, grabbed a bag of bugles and a bottle of orange juice for the road.
The cool air breached the fracture in the tarp, but the heater was on full blast. John places his hat on the dashboard and shifts the Jeep into third.
Beautiful country don’cha think? So much history in this part of tha world, so much to know. I’ve never had tha opportunity to see much of’tha terrain in these parts, so I figured I’d take tha opportunity to bald a few tires and collect some new memories.
John cracked the driver side window and spit. He chewed on a few bugles and took a sip of water, capped the bottle and tossed the bottle on the dashboard next to his hat.
There is clarity on the road, the last bit o’ frontier a man could ask for. On the road it’s jus’ you and yur thoughts, the only distraction being the few moments you hafta stop to ‘see a man about a horse’. I like it out here, gives me time to reflect and then concentrate on my next task.
John cleared his throat and spit out the window again; he rolled the window up, it was a little more quiet now.
I watched yur match from the back...Scrap. You did pretty good I suppose, a few technical details I would work on if I were you, but all in all yur a fine wrestler. Seems ol’ Donald Deruty got tha best of ya, hope ya aren’t too pissed off with that young man, would hate ta think yur overlookin’ ol’ McBride because some baby face whipped ya. Nah...I bet ya aren’t tha sort to do such a thing.
John wiped the smile off his face and concentrated on the road.
My understandin’ is that you debuted just a few weeks ago right? Well, guess that makes us both A.P.Dubya greenhorns don’t it? Now I realize ya have history as a wrestler, don’t get me wrong, I to have experience in tha ring. But this is a grand stage Scrap, pretty damn intimidatin’ dontcha think? I know it makes me a bit nervous, I’m a small town boy, never fit in with the big crowds. Salem was a test for me, seems I passed that test with flyin’ colors. Jimmy and Glacier both thought Ol’ McBride would crumble under the pressure...flatten under their boots.
No...not me, seen way too much hell and highwater to be run off by a couple snow cones. But yur a different kinda opponent aren’tcha Scrap? You lost yur debut, you and yur team lost the 8 man tag match last week which means ya missed out on a shot at the North American title. Damn. That’s gotta stick in yur crawl, would in mine. Just a pinfall away from a shot at Logan Alexander, oh well...guess life goes on eh Scrap?
John scratches his head and holds back a chuckle.
Listen. I realize the competition is thick around here, I ain’t one ta take a fella lightly either. But from what I’ve seen of ya lately I can’t say I’m too awfully worried. I mean hell, I was stomped into tha corner by Glacier and Jimmy Ice and I still managed to get the pin in record time...and I’m an old man in this industry. So what’s yur excuse Scrap? I ain’t tryin’ to pick on ya or harass ya, just wonderin what in the hell yur plannin on doin against me if ya can barely hold yur own with a collection of teammates just a hand slap away?
Heed the possibilities Mr.ATL. Ya mighta had a hard time over the last couple weeks with those that stood across tha ring from ya, this week ain’t gonna be any different. Tha biggest difference is it’s just me and you Scrap. No one running up behind ya, no one ta rely on. Just two men in the ring kickin’ tha shit outta one another. When that bell rings I’m gonna stomp a west Texas sized hole in that forehead of yurs Scrap.
When the dust clears and the ringin of the bell dwindles, it’ll be me standing with my arm raised. I ain’t planning on ridin a Meltdown saddle for tha rest of my career Scrap, and whippin you sets me off in the right direction. You mighta tossed away yur shot at the North American Title, but I damn sure won’t, and yur one step closer to that opportunity slick.
John cracks the window and spits as the scene fades to black.
FTB
John climbed into a beat-up old CJ5 and started the engine. He began to think about his successful debut and the beating Glacier and Jimmy Ice gave him; a smile stretched across his face as he tossed the icepack in the backseat and shifted the Jeep into reverse. The AMC 304 V8 throttled down as he shifted into first and sped out of the parking lot leaving a cloud of asphalt and exhaust behind.
The trip from Salem to Albany was roughly a four hour drive, John decided to prowl around the northeast a bit so he purchased the Jeep from a collector just a few days after he arrived in Salem. I-90 was a long stretch of road to the locals, but to him it was a short skip from town to town. He was accustomed to long dry Texas terrain; it takes nearly a day to travel east to west across the great state. He pulled into a gas station, filled the tank, grabbed a bag of bugles and a bottle of orange juice for the road.
The cool air breached the fracture in the tarp, but the heater was on full blast. John places his hat on the dashboard and shifts the Jeep into third.
Beautiful country don’cha think? So much history in this part of tha world, so much to know. I’ve never had tha opportunity to see much of’tha terrain in these parts, so I figured I’d take tha opportunity to bald a few tires and collect some new memories.
John cracked the driver side window and spit. He chewed on a few bugles and took a sip of water, capped the bottle and tossed the bottle on the dashboard next to his hat.
There is clarity on the road, the last bit o’ frontier a man could ask for. On the road it’s jus’ you and yur thoughts, the only distraction being the few moments you hafta stop to ‘see a man about a horse’. I like it out here, gives me time to reflect and then concentrate on my next task.
John cleared his throat and spit out the window again; he rolled the window up, it was a little more quiet now.
I watched yur match from the back...Scrap. You did pretty good I suppose, a few technical details I would work on if I were you, but all in all yur a fine wrestler. Seems ol’ Donald Deruty got tha best of ya, hope ya aren’t too pissed off with that young man, would hate ta think yur overlookin’ ol’ McBride because some baby face whipped ya. Nah...I bet ya aren’t tha sort to do such a thing.
John wiped the smile off his face and concentrated on the road.
My understandin’ is that you debuted just a few weeks ago right? Well, guess that makes us both A.P.Dubya greenhorns don’t it? Now I realize ya have history as a wrestler, don’t get me wrong, I to have experience in tha ring. But this is a grand stage Scrap, pretty damn intimidatin’ dontcha think? I know it makes me a bit nervous, I’m a small town boy, never fit in with the big crowds. Salem was a test for me, seems I passed that test with flyin’ colors. Jimmy and Glacier both thought Ol’ McBride would crumble under the pressure...flatten under their boots.
No...not me, seen way too much hell and highwater to be run off by a couple snow cones. But yur a different kinda opponent aren’tcha Scrap? You lost yur debut, you and yur team lost the 8 man tag match last week which means ya missed out on a shot at the North American title. Damn. That’s gotta stick in yur crawl, would in mine. Just a pinfall away from a shot at Logan Alexander, oh well...guess life goes on eh Scrap?
John scratches his head and holds back a chuckle.
Listen. I realize the competition is thick around here, I ain’t one ta take a fella lightly either. But from what I’ve seen of ya lately I can’t say I’m too awfully worried. I mean hell, I was stomped into tha corner by Glacier and Jimmy Ice and I still managed to get the pin in record time...and I’m an old man in this industry. So what’s yur excuse Scrap? I ain’t tryin’ to pick on ya or harass ya, just wonderin what in the hell yur plannin on doin against me if ya can barely hold yur own with a collection of teammates just a hand slap away?
Heed the possibilities Mr.ATL. Ya mighta had a hard time over the last couple weeks with those that stood across tha ring from ya, this week ain’t gonna be any different. Tha biggest difference is it’s just me and you Scrap. No one running up behind ya, no one ta rely on. Just two men in the ring kickin’ tha shit outta one another. When that bell rings I’m gonna stomp a west Texas sized hole in that forehead of yurs Scrap.
When the dust clears and the ringin of the bell dwindles, it’ll be me standing with my arm raised. I ain’t planning on ridin a Meltdown saddle for tha rest of my career Scrap, and whippin you sets me off in the right direction. You mighta tossed away yur shot at the North American Title, but I damn sure won’t, and yur one step closer to that opportunity slick.
John cracks the window and spits as the scene fades to black.
FTB
