Post by Michael Callahan on Dec 8, 2012 23:14:45 GMT -4
ISSUE SIX
A Michael Callahan Graphic Novel
To some, the idea of me sitting in the lotus position on top of my turnbuckle might seem a little bizarre. Everyone knows that the turnbuckle has and never will be my friend, lest I be attempting my patented primary elbow. Yet here in the comfort of my own home surrounded by punch bags and kettle weights and treadmills and all kinds of gym equipment in my souped up garage that I turned into a gym, I could spend all day just sitting here and thinking. I never did because that was a total waste of valuable time that I could have spent doing stuff. Here though, a modicum of my time on this beautiful planet was being spent with the proverbial lightbulb hanging over my head flickering but not quite fully shining.
Somewhere in my deep subconscious mind, there was an idea waiting to hatch and I could tell from the fact that I was sat here minding my own like I was David Hasselhoff that it was going to be spectacular. The fact that I was sat on the turnbuckle of my own personal wrestling ring made me think that this development was going to be one for my wrestling career and so I was quite excited to figure it out. As the gears continued to turn, I could feel myself coming to the grand moment of realisation only to be rudely disturbed by my kitchen door swinging wide open. In the frame stood a suited and smirking Dr. Alexander Gray, smirking at me and trying to contain his laughter.
Son of a bitch, I almost had it.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Michael, what the Hell are you doing up there?
Michael Callahan: Doc, just shut-... just SHUT UP okay?! I'm onto something here.
Clutching a can of Pepsi in his hand, Dr. Gray glided across the garage floor and round the side of the ring to join me. He clambered up onto the apron using the second rope for leverage so he wouldn't knock me off balance and stood watch as I eyed the ring, transfixed. He still wouldn't shut up.
Dr. Alexander Gray: You and I Michael, we're one in the same. We're technical wrestlers. We don't do high-flying. Get the heck down from there before you land on your neck. You'll be no good against The Dying Breed as a useless cripple.
Michael Callahan: Just shut the heck up Alex, for five seconds. Christ.
I twirled my thumbs in a circle around each other as Dr. Gray peered through his thick framed spectacles, trying to pick me apart and discern what I was thinking about before even I could. Then, the lightbulb shone brighter than ever and it finally hit me.
Michael Callahan: YES! That's it! I've got it! Put your can of coke somewhere pinpoint near the centre of the ring Gray. Anywhere you like, just not too far for me to jump to.
Dr. Gray peered up at me with with a flat look as if I were stupid. He would never understand.
Dr. Alexander Gray: But... I'm drinking it?
Michael Callahan: You took it out my fridge and you'll take another when I'm done. Don't try and pull that card with me.
Dr. Gray shrugged and climbed through the second and third ropes and picked a random point across the ring, just to the left and off centre of the middle of the ring. Callahan pushes up to a standing position on the top rope and focuses his keen eagle eyes on the coke can across the ring.
Michael Callahan: Alright, here we go! Phwoaaar, this being brilliant sure is difficult! Okay, one... two... three-OIZU!
I leapt across the ring not quite sure what I was planning to do but letting the motion take me. As I soared through the air I pulled my knees up to my chest only to bring it crashing down right on top of the Pepsi Can sending black sugar water flying everywhere. The can stood no chance.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Impressive Double Foot Stomp there.
I turned and smirked at Gray, wiping my legs down with the back of my hand.
Michael Callahan: It's not called that.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Yes it is. It's also referred to as a Mushroom Stomp.
Michael Callahan: And what else?
Dr. Alexander Gray: ... Uhhh...?
I pulled at an invisible rope trying to spurn Gray onto the train of thought. I'd got it all figured out now.
Michael Callahan: Come on. It's in there.
Realisation clicked.
Dr. Alexander Gray: The Ghetto Stomp.
Michael Callahan Correct. What do I, a middle-class, wealthy white republican lack in my politics?
Dr. Alexander Gray: The support of the impoverished minorities of America.
Michael Callahan: Bingo. God, you're a lot smarter than Steve. I'd have had to have had Dora the Explorer spell it out for him. I can't achieve that niche market of the demographic-
Much to my chagrin, Gray started snorting and laughing at me. His chest rose up and down as his powerful, manly laugh escaped his aggravating mouth.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Ahahaha! You're describing millions of Afro-Americans, Mexican-Americans and Asian-Americans as being a “niche” market?
Michael Callahan: Yes! And I figure if I can't get their sympathy with my politics, why not do it with my wrestling? That's why this move came to me. That's why I've spent thirty minutes in the lotus position on THAT turnbuckle trying to pull out that itchy tab at my brain that I call inspiration. Now I have a sick new signature move that I'm going to call “The Minority Appeal”.
Dr. Alexander Gray: I'm sure that'll be critical in the debates. “Yeah, I mean sure, he wants to raise taxes on the poor and reduce government hand outs and sheeit but he does this wicked ass dive where he busts the implants in Sally Talfourd's baby feeders. Callahan is a straight up gang-banga”. You gonna' get a little tear drop tattooed underneath your eye as well?
Frowning, I folded my arms and sighed at Gray's disapproval.
Michael Callahan: You're just mad you didn't think of it first.
Dr. Alexander Gray: I'm mad because psychology hasn't developed a line of treatment to cure the psychological disorder of gross stupidity.
Michael Callaha: Y'know what else is awesome? I've invented it just in time-
Dr. Alexander Gray: -Oh God-
Michael Callahan: Who better to test it against than well... two impoverished minority voters?
Gray's roaring laughter echoed round the garage once more, his cackling infectious and making even me chuckle a little.
Dr. Alexander Gray: You stoop new lows every time we meet, Callahan. I can almost understand what you're saying about Jair. Guy is straight up urban youth with an attitude, but how could you possibly say that Anthony Bailey is impoverished? Isn't his dad a record producer or a lawyer or something?
Michael Callahan: This is true but obviously he is malnourished. Have you seen Anthony Bailey with his shirt off? Guy looks like the scraps of Thanksgiving turkey. His elbows are so sharp and pointy that one time when we were getting the plane to China, he elbowed me in the ribs and I had to be rushed to hospital for stab wound.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Your penchant for whimsy never ceases to impress me, Callahan.
Michael Callahan: It's completely true. I swear blind. Say, where's GI anyway?
Dr. Alexander Gray: Oh, I told him to go play video games in your den while I went and tried to find you. I figured you wouldn't mind.
Michael Callahan: I've got a good collection of games. He should enjoy himself. Try and take a load off.
And although it was all well and good to suggest that The GI needed to chill and take some down-time between all the training and the therapy, leaving him alone with the catalogues worth of violent military video games that I own may not have been Dr. Gray's brightest move...
A sofa, a plasma screen in a cabinet and a frazzled GI dressed in full army gear playing on “Call of Duty: Black Ops” on the Xbox 360 with the little head set on. If he were wearing a polo neck and jeans it might be just an ordinary guy taking a Saturday afternoon to chill and play video games. But it wasn't, it was a man dressed the part and acting the part, he was back there in the soldier mentality undoing all of Gray's hard work.
ThugShadow35: Fucking Hell, you got good didn't you Callahan? Thirty five kill streak, blackbird, chopper gunner, dogs? You injured or something?
The GI: This isn't Senator Callahan, this is Sergeant Zzyzx of the United States Armed Forces. You understand me you British pansy? Don't make me slash your little heart out like we did to you in 'Nam. Shut up and play the god damn game.
PwnageKid22: Shut up fag, stop hacking!
The GI: The only thing I've ever hacked was the teeth of a tango who thought he could blind-side me. I was in the bush, all I had was a knife between my teeth and the will to live. There was so much blood... so much screaming... The men started calling me “The Dentist” after that.
There's an awkward silence as PwnageKid and ThugShadow both try to process what it was that they just heard and the truth of such statements. They simultaneously shake their heads, though they are unaware of this.
PwnageKid22: I'm gonna' report you to Xbox Live!
The GI: If you and try and bring a court marshal against me you cherry, I swear to you I will find you and I will have my way with you. You no good maggot sack! Little girls like you shouldn't be in the war zone, they should be cowering for dear life and waiting for the bomb drop. Your place isn't here. Drop your weapon, lest I wrench it from your hands and stave your head in with the butt stock leaving you as nothing more but a blubbering, dripping, smashed pulp, you wailing little bitch.
-PwnageKid22 has disconnected-
ThugShadow35: Jesus Christ, you've got issues. You just threatened molestation over Xbox Live. I don't know whether to applaud you or avoid you.
The GI: Save your congratulations 'til the job is done. There's plenty more work to be done soldier. Load up and move out.
And with that, GI resumes progress and continues to go on some First Person rampages.
At the Seattle Press Tower in downtown Seattle, it's another manic day struggling to make printing deadlines made all the more manic by the hurricane of grumpy old man urgency that is Alexander Caine shoving and barging his way through interns screaming at the top of his voice. He barges straight into a guy holding a searing hot cup of coffee, scorching the living crap out of him in the process. Caine grabs a man on his cellphone by the collar and slams him against a pillar.
Alexander Caine: Where the Hell is Edison?! We need words!
The random cell phone employee starts quivering and shaking, absolutely no idea who this maniac is and why he's being threatened by him. His shoulders ache after being slammed forcefully against the stone strut.
Random Seattle Times Stooge: He's out on the smoking balcony sir! AGH!
Caine throws him across somebody's desk, sending office equipment flying everywhere but he pays no heed to the carnage. He breaks into a sprint and heads for the smokers balcony, multi-tasking and reaching into his pocket to pull out his keys on the way. Speed is essential here.
Alexander Caine: Get outta' my way!
He charges through a set of double doors and heads out to the smokers balcony where junior journalist Jonathan Edison is chatting with a cute blonde intern named Misha. The slamming of the doors distracts everybody though and Edison abruptly ends his conversation and turns to face the stampeding Alexander Caine.
Jonathan Edison: Mr. Caine... what's the probem?
Alexander Caine: You-hehhh-car-hehhh-right now... We need-.... to go...
Jonathan Edison: Right, where we going old pal?
Alexander Caine: To the hospital... Callahan's ex-... she's-
Michael Callahan: Hello constituents, this is your captain speaking. Michael Callahan here with The War Ensemble, Doc Gray and The GI on a road trip. Yup, that's right. We're driving to the airport, the windows are down, we're gonna' put some tunes on and enjoy the ride to Seattle Airport. Ain't that right boys?
Silence.
Michael Callahan: Don't be shy boys. Say something!
Dr. Alexander Gray: Yaaaaay.
The GI: Radio is down...
Michael Callahan: No GI, radio is UP. And I've got just the song to get us into road trip spirit.
There's a pause followed by the sound of a piano being played. It doesn't take a second for the musically knowledgeable to pick up on what Callahan is playing. The groan of Dr. Gray says it all.
Michael Callahan: MAKIN' MAH WAY DOWNTOWN! WALKING FAST! FACES PASS! AND I'M HOME BOUND! STARIN' BLANKLY AHEAD, JUST MAKING MY WAY, MAKING A WAY, THROUGH THE CROOOOOOWD! Take it away Gray, GI!
Gray hesitates but can not find it in him to resist the opportunity for a sing-a-long.
Dr. Alexander Gray: And I need you... and I miss you... and now I wooooondeeeeeeer. Go on GI!
The GI: If I could kill, my enemies... do you think courts, would let me by? 'cause you know I'd slay a thousand Cong if I could stran... gle.. Ho.... Chi Minh!
Callahan hits the pause button and straight away silence consumes the conversation, the awkwardness of GI's remix chewing away at both Gray and Callahan. GI sits in silence.
Michael Callahan: Well man, that was depressing. Way to ruin Vanessa Carlton for us all, GI.
Dr. Alexander Gray: That's not the attitude we want on this road trip GI. Buck up your ideas. The war is over.
The GI audibly grumbles and curses, muttering underneath his breath in subdued protesting of Callahan's accurate but to GI unfounded assertion. For Callahan, the war had never begun. For GI, the war will never end.
The GI: The war is never over...
Michael Callahan: We're glad you agree, GI. Man, this is so great. Do you think those jerks The Dying Breed have this level of camaraderie? Do you think they have sing-a-longs and road trips? They probably just peer at each other through their five hundred dollar sunglasses and say “Sup...” in that ultra casual way that rich boys do. Psychoanalyse them for me Gray, tear 'em apart.
Gray chuckles and thinks to himself for a moment trying to find the right words without coming across as a blatant racist.
Dr. Alexander Gray: Well you've got two wealthy urbanites who surprise surprise, are so shallow and fragile that they feel the need to constantly try and ram up their ego by putting down other people and doing whatever it takes to bring the spotlight to them. What they don't realise though is that this constant narcissistic attention seeking behaviour is in fact illuminating their worst aspects for all to see. Something that opportunists like you two boys will pick upon and tear apart in a hurry.
Rather than go back down the line of tearing into Bailey and Hopkins, Callahan goes down a surprisingly unfamiliar route of thinking of the could be's. That wasn't something Callahan did often.
Michael Callahan: To think Gray, instead of having this dumb match we could've been on the same page me and Bailey and we'd be the reigning tag team champions rather than having to prove ourselves against the barrage of Frankensteined tag teams that have been created on Meltdown. But no, Bailey doesn't want to share the spotlight with old Michael. He wants to walk the golden road with silver Jair Hop to try and glorify his platinum soul. It's sickening. Think of all the good we could've done?
Dr. Alexander Gray: Not to matter eh? We've got GI now, The American Hammer and the American Dagger united by The Mastermind to dismantle all those that would dare stand against us.
Michael Callahan: Wait, which one is which?
Dr. Alexander Gray: You're the dagger, GI is the hammer. Obviously. He dishes the beating and takes it, hacks the wear and tear and then you utilise your expertise to finish the job by slitting the throats of the survivors.
Michael Callahan: I'm not sure I like that observation Gray. I'm just as tough and wear and tear and hackable as The GI if not more so. What's he done that I haven't?
Dr. Alexander Gray: Burnt a man to death while enlisted. Did you even kill anyone while serving?
Callahan's jovial town drowns out underneath the pressure of Gray's accusation. An awkward subject change is immediately required but Callahan considers his words wisely. He does not want to risk inviting further questioning from the thought-provoked mastermind. Callahan drummed his fingers against the wheel.
Michael Callahan: Let's not talk about that.
Dr. Alexander Gray: You totally didn't, did you? You never bust the hymen.
Michael Callahan: I'm not very open about what I did in my Marine days. Besides that's not the point. The point is, what're two spoilt brats going to do against two bonafide American Hero's, two former servicemen, a Republican ambassador and a returning soldier lookinh for the hero's welcome. Doesn't matter if it's a hammer and dagger or two hammers, we'll break through the defence and rain fire thunder upon their wasteful asses. We'll prove that our loss to M&M was just a kink in the path and that in the end, we are still the most dominant force in the industry today. That? That's a promise. If you thought us losing to M&M was going to be the peak of our tag team success then baby, you ain't seen nothing yet.
