Post by J-Hop on May 29, 2013 15:39:16 GMT -4
"PRESSURE COOKER"
Bad Blood
MAY 26TH 2013 -- U. MANHATTAN, NY | GOLDEN BOY WRESTLING SCHOOL | 3:24 PM
Sunday, which most take their mornings to put on their best outfit, suits and dresses to go to church. I never was quite the ‘church-goer’. I read my bible, prayed at my bedside, and hoped for a better tomorrow. I never believed much in churches, especially the ones around here and in certain communities. They speak and preach, but the words were never meant. They didn’t do it to praise the Lord, they did it for the money, the baskets that were passed around constantly, begging for donations which never went any further than their own pockets instead of the people in need. One time was enough for me to realize it all. Some are great places, others are ‘scheming factories’.
However today, for me, it was my off-day from rehab. YES, an off-day which is weird. Six day schedule. Maybe this was their way of extending my time there. It had been a while since I visited an old friend, my mentor, the man who taught me what I know today, Juan Ramirez. I was in need of some “me-time”. I needed the reps, I needed to feel my hands against a worn, leather heavy bag. I needed to pump some iron, something to get my mind right. In a few short days, I’d be finding myself fighting against one of the “Wild Child’s” of APW and Asylum’s “Foul Play” in Reaver.
Sporting the usual hoodie, a black one, black and white gloves and a mean mug, I was ready to pounce. Ramirez stood, leaning against the cast railing that was above on the upper level, the opposite side of the entrance steps. Looking me down with a smirk, he held his hand out, waiting for my hand to slap his.
I simply ignored it. His face changed instantly with his arms side to side in the air, mind wandering.
“What’s up with you, slim?” Ramirez asked as he was decked in his gold shirt and black jeans.
“You!” Bold response, voice stern with a one-word reply that caused everything to stop, even the few people who were jogging on the trail machines. They paused, looking back.
“Me? Me how? What the hell did I do?” Ramirez replied, looking confused.
“Juan, you’re selling your soul to the devil himself!” I said, referring to Jason Kash.
Juan still seemed to not understand as I just took a sigh and let it all out...
“Son, what the hell are you talking about?” Juan said as he remained clueless.
“Kash, Juan ... Kash! You’re helping out a no-good son of a bitch!” I finally got it out as Juan’s face turned crooked. “You know I can’t stand him. You know he hates our crew. You shouldn’t be letting him into this building and helping him out. Let him be, let him struggle. Let him...leave this world, a lonely soul.”
Ramirez lowered his head, shaking it as his hands went to his hips, pulling up his ‘sliding’ jeans.
“Jair, you know how badly I need the money to keep this place going for people like you and future stars. I don’t need the trouble. We go back years, he’s paying for his sessions. I have no choice but to help the man.”
As he spoke, I wanted to slap the holy fu-- ... I wanted to save him from this mistake.
“You’re making a big mistake. You two may be cool, but he’s not cool with me, or my group. I’m starting to think differently about you Juan. I know you do what you can to help others but I advise you leave Kash alone.”
Flipping my hoodie back, I made sure that Juan could see the frustration in my eyes and face and know that this was indeed a serious issue.
“Seriously? All the shit I’ve done for you, homie? I took you off those corners. I kept you from being just another victim in the dirt. I protected you. Think DIFFERENTLY of me? Nada.”
Ramirez bursts into a fiery rage, the blood begins boiling.
“You want to see this place I put my hard-earned money into so people like you, kids, those who need a place to be free and relax, go down in flames because of you and dislike for some guy? I get you despise him but I need the cash flow, I need to keep these lights on. If I don’t, my job is finito! I’m back to square one with trying to help the community.”
Listening to his words, it was Ramirez, the sometimes over-emotional Puerto-Rican whose soul can light up in different ways. Both good and bad. This was the good. I nodded as I looked to reply.
“I get that you want to help others. I appreciate all you’ve done for me and helping me out. I just want to...”
“...stop being fucking selfish!” Juan said, butting in rapidly before I could finish. “Just do you and don’t worry about anyone else.”
It seemed as if my work of trying to get to Juan was shortening. I could see the sweat drip from his forehead as he was now ‘riled up’. Like a microwave on ‘instant heat’, he was hot.
“I WILL do me. I’m just looking out for you as you’ve done for me. Kash is like a leech. He’s looking to get closer to you and in your head for inside information. He wants it so he can pass it to his buddies. They want to rid of Bailey, Williams and myself. I can’t have that. I can’t let them bastards do that. I’m just warning you.”
Juan nods.
“Understood!” He said, not saying much more than that as he looked at his watch.“You come in here to train or just to bust my balls about some worthless hack?”
It caused a good chuckle from what he said.
“Not so much the ball-busting but the training. I’m in need of a good workout. Rehab has been...a slow, slow drag.”
Juan walked as I followed. Heading to one of the workout stations, there sat a bench press as I took the opportunity to take off the weights that were on their and putting on enough weight to make it to 125. Ramirez stood to the side as he took out a toothpick from his pocket and chewed on it’s end.
“Word?” He responded as he watched me sit down and lay back with each leg on the side. “It’s one of those rich joints isn’t it? Probably got that shit locked down so tight that not an ounce of unruliness will go down.” Juan said laughing.
It was true, it was the high-end rehab facilities. My agent looked out for his client like Juan’s agent did for him. Not quite the same personality but their work efficiency was damn close. It wasn’t a rehab full of free-running addicts who ran the place. They were put in their place as they were cared for. It wasn’t a jail cell.
“That’s the one!” I said with a smile of my own. “That’s their way of making sure I’m well-protected. If they can get rid of the Opera music and the Chess playing, it’d be alright. Their food is on point though!” I said giving them a plus for their food menu.
“Word?” Again Juan replied as his eyes widened a bit. “How many days you got left?” He asked.
Counting in my head while attempting to focus on lifting the bar that shined up above me, it took me a second.
“Well yesterday made my eighth day ... So I got like twenty-two more days left. Thank God!” I said, praying that those weeks come quicker than a ravishing gust of wind.
“Hmm. Doing that ‘white people’ shit, huh? Trying to experience the crossroads. Bone Thugz N’ Harmony was on play in your head? You wanted to see them crossroads yourself, huh?” Juan said chuckling, not showing too much sympathy.
In a sense, why should he show sympathy? My fault, my stupidity, my consequences.
“It was just a bad, bad night man. I don’t know what I was thinking. I took shit a bit too serious and damn near left this world over bullshit opinions. I should’ve just went to one of those bars in Brazil and got drunk and smashed some brazilian chicks. I wouldn’t be in rehab like I am now. It’s like jail but much cleaner and more of England’s Royal Palace.”
Ramirez shook his head as he bit down on the toothpick more. “Yo Jair, I think it’s time you get in this work, homie. Shit on the past, work for the future. Let’s get it!” He said as he spotted me while I began the bench-pressing session.
-----------------------------------
Oh look, I got the firecracker to light and go off. Exciting.
Exciting...
You are truly something, Reaver. Hell if I know what you are, but you’re something.
Mayhem and Meltdown may not have been TDB’s strongest of showings. We fought valiantly, we fought till the last drop to keep what we have. We didn’t run around the bush, we attacked it.
I give you credit though, Foul Play has done work. You three have bursted with new energy and pretty much acted like a human tornado, destroying the built-up competition. I applaud you for finding a new source of energy. Kash knew he was losing, so what does he do? He comes up with this sick idea to recreate his version of the “A-Team”.
It’s working right now, his plan is working like he likes it but it won’t last forever.
Mayhem and Meltdown are done and in the past. TDB failed one out of three while Foul Play showed up. Understood. Kash defeated Bailey, good for him. Bailey rebounds well. He’ll rebound come Sunday night, only this time Kash will be sent to the back of the line, looking to work his way up yet again.
Claim your victories on one hand, Reaver. I was never one to gloat about victories. You know why my focus is not on just you? I expect your folks to show up in our match. It’s something I can’t wait to witness. Your brothers will watch you go down as they will look to do all they can to help you. I can feel it, Reaver and I’m prepared for the worst.
But guess what, screw Kash and Lively. It’s not about them, it’s about us.
You’ve ranted long enough, Reaver. You squawk about what I went through and compare it to your losing ways in APW for three years. Congrats on getting 100 losses. I feel for you, Reaver. I really do. What I went through, it’s no joke. Make light of it as you choose but you will come across times where you want to end it all. Hell you might come to it late Sunday night into Monday morning. You might be the next victim of a breakdown. Losing to someone you talked so much shit about. It’s going to destroy you inside.
It’s alright though, I survived and conquered through the rough shitty parts of life. I’m still here, alive, awake and ready to deliver on second chances. Reaver, you’ve had too many and again, here’s another chance at which you will tuck what you have between your legs and hop home to your friend in the closet and cry over buckets of ice cream at the chances you’ve had to succeed but failed to complete. Why? You along with the other ‘skunks’ live and die by the cheat code. When the going gets tough, you’ll do what comes natural and that’s go behind the ref’s back to gain an advantage. It is why you call yourself “Foul Play”. No rules, just getting the job done anyway you can, right?
Consider yourself dead, Reaver.
The only thing that is getting amputated Sunday night is your brain, or what’s left of it. Like that old 90’s advertisement on drugs and the person dropping an egg into a frying pan, watching it sizzle and scramble on a gas stove, it’s what I’m going to do to you. I’m not going to stoop to your level. If I somehow lose to you, so be it. If I win, it won’t have an asterisk by my name. It’s why I consider myself part of a dying breed. Scum and filth like yourself choose to go and do shit the easy way rather than do it the right way. It’s a dying breed. Everyone wants to smell roses and eat high-priced caviar but don’t want to honestly work for it. They want to get their candy and eat it too without the hassle of caring for their teeth to prevent cavities. You can’t have it your way all the time, Reaver. You’re not a fucking king.
You speak about the likes of myself and Williams being put on the backburner to Bailey being the star of the group. We are all stars. There is no such word as individual in our group. Sure, I cost the team some sleep and some gray hair with my actions but they all support me through this. What has Kash and Lively done for you? You think they are going to let you shine or support you win or lose? All you are is their dog, their bitch. You take orders. That’s all. You talk about your identity crisis. There’s no identity crisis. You are who you are. A loser. Always and forever. You tried your best to weaken me for this and all you did was just make this “L” worst.
You shouldn’t worry about cupcakes. No, worry about this size 10 forcing it’s way through your mouth and out the back of your skull. The only claiming you’ll do will be your teeth and your pride that’ll be scattered around the ring like confetti. Enjoy this sunshine, buddy. Rain is in the forecast.
Let this cancer spread. Let it spread like Country Crock’s Butter. The less of you, the better the world. No radiation or quarantine will pause our quest. Slowly but surely, we will complete the task.
As I hover over you, spread my legs and let the rain fall ... just remember all of what you said and the result of it. Don’t taste the rainbow, Reaver ... taste the greatness.
Bad Blood
MAY 26TH 2013 -- U. MANHATTAN, NY | GOLDEN BOY WRESTLING SCHOOL | 3:24 PM
Sunday, which most take their mornings to put on their best outfit, suits and dresses to go to church. I never was quite the ‘church-goer’. I read my bible, prayed at my bedside, and hoped for a better tomorrow. I never believed much in churches, especially the ones around here and in certain communities. They speak and preach, but the words were never meant. They didn’t do it to praise the Lord, they did it for the money, the baskets that were passed around constantly, begging for donations which never went any further than their own pockets instead of the people in need. One time was enough for me to realize it all. Some are great places, others are ‘scheming factories’.
However today, for me, it was my off-day from rehab. YES, an off-day which is weird. Six day schedule. Maybe this was their way of extending my time there. It had been a while since I visited an old friend, my mentor, the man who taught me what I know today, Juan Ramirez. I was in need of some “me-time”. I needed the reps, I needed to feel my hands against a worn, leather heavy bag. I needed to pump some iron, something to get my mind right. In a few short days, I’d be finding myself fighting against one of the “Wild Child’s” of APW and Asylum’s “Foul Play” in Reaver.
Sporting the usual hoodie, a black one, black and white gloves and a mean mug, I was ready to pounce. Ramirez stood, leaning against the cast railing that was above on the upper level, the opposite side of the entrance steps. Looking me down with a smirk, he held his hand out, waiting for my hand to slap his.
I simply ignored it. His face changed instantly with his arms side to side in the air, mind wandering.
“What’s up with you, slim?” Ramirez asked as he was decked in his gold shirt and black jeans.
“You!” Bold response, voice stern with a one-word reply that caused everything to stop, even the few people who were jogging on the trail machines. They paused, looking back.
“Me? Me how? What the hell did I do?” Ramirez replied, looking confused.
“Juan, you’re selling your soul to the devil himself!” I said, referring to Jason Kash.
Juan still seemed to not understand as I just took a sigh and let it all out...
“Son, what the hell are you talking about?” Juan said as he remained clueless.
“Kash, Juan ... Kash! You’re helping out a no-good son of a bitch!” I finally got it out as Juan’s face turned crooked. “You know I can’t stand him. You know he hates our crew. You shouldn’t be letting him into this building and helping him out. Let him be, let him struggle. Let him...leave this world, a lonely soul.”
Ramirez lowered his head, shaking it as his hands went to his hips, pulling up his ‘sliding’ jeans.
“Jair, you know how badly I need the money to keep this place going for people like you and future stars. I don’t need the trouble. We go back years, he’s paying for his sessions. I have no choice but to help the man.”
As he spoke, I wanted to slap the holy fu-- ... I wanted to save him from this mistake.
“You’re making a big mistake. You two may be cool, but he’s not cool with me, or my group. I’m starting to think differently about you Juan. I know you do what you can to help others but I advise you leave Kash alone.”
Flipping my hoodie back, I made sure that Juan could see the frustration in my eyes and face and know that this was indeed a serious issue.
“Seriously? All the shit I’ve done for you, homie? I took you off those corners. I kept you from being just another victim in the dirt. I protected you. Think DIFFERENTLY of me? Nada.”
Ramirez bursts into a fiery rage, the blood begins boiling.
“You want to see this place I put my hard-earned money into so people like you, kids, those who need a place to be free and relax, go down in flames because of you and dislike for some guy? I get you despise him but I need the cash flow, I need to keep these lights on. If I don’t, my job is finito! I’m back to square one with trying to help the community.”
Listening to his words, it was Ramirez, the sometimes over-emotional Puerto-Rican whose soul can light up in different ways. Both good and bad. This was the good. I nodded as I looked to reply.
“I get that you want to help others. I appreciate all you’ve done for me and helping me out. I just want to...”
“...stop being fucking selfish!” Juan said, butting in rapidly before I could finish. “Just do you and don’t worry about anyone else.”
It seemed as if my work of trying to get to Juan was shortening. I could see the sweat drip from his forehead as he was now ‘riled up’. Like a microwave on ‘instant heat’, he was hot.
“I WILL do me. I’m just looking out for you as you’ve done for me. Kash is like a leech. He’s looking to get closer to you and in your head for inside information. He wants it so he can pass it to his buddies. They want to rid of Bailey, Williams and myself. I can’t have that. I can’t let them bastards do that. I’m just warning you.”
Juan nods.
“Understood!” He said, not saying much more than that as he looked at his watch.“You come in here to train or just to bust my balls about some worthless hack?”
It caused a good chuckle from what he said.
“Not so much the ball-busting but the training. I’m in need of a good workout. Rehab has been...a slow, slow drag.”
Juan walked as I followed. Heading to one of the workout stations, there sat a bench press as I took the opportunity to take off the weights that were on their and putting on enough weight to make it to 125. Ramirez stood to the side as he took out a toothpick from his pocket and chewed on it’s end.
“Word?” He responded as he watched me sit down and lay back with each leg on the side. “It’s one of those rich joints isn’t it? Probably got that shit locked down so tight that not an ounce of unruliness will go down.” Juan said laughing.
It was true, it was the high-end rehab facilities. My agent looked out for his client like Juan’s agent did for him. Not quite the same personality but their work efficiency was damn close. It wasn’t a rehab full of free-running addicts who ran the place. They were put in their place as they were cared for. It wasn’t a jail cell.
“That’s the one!” I said with a smile of my own. “That’s their way of making sure I’m well-protected. If they can get rid of the Opera music and the Chess playing, it’d be alright. Their food is on point though!” I said giving them a plus for their food menu.
“Word?” Again Juan replied as his eyes widened a bit. “How many days you got left?” He asked.
Counting in my head while attempting to focus on lifting the bar that shined up above me, it took me a second.
“Well yesterday made my eighth day ... So I got like twenty-two more days left. Thank God!” I said, praying that those weeks come quicker than a ravishing gust of wind.
“Hmm. Doing that ‘white people’ shit, huh? Trying to experience the crossroads. Bone Thugz N’ Harmony was on play in your head? You wanted to see them crossroads yourself, huh?” Juan said chuckling, not showing too much sympathy.
In a sense, why should he show sympathy? My fault, my stupidity, my consequences.
“It was just a bad, bad night man. I don’t know what I was thinking. I took shit a bit too serious and damn near left this world over bullshit opinions. I should’ve just went to one of those bars in Brazil and got drunk and smashed some brazilian chicks. I wouldn’t be in rehab like I am now. It’s like jail but much cleaner and more of England’s Royal Palace.”
Ramirez shook his head as he bit down on the toothpick more. “Yo Jair, I think it’s time you get in this work, homie. Shit on the past, work for the future. Let’s get it!” He said as he spotted me while I began the bench-pressing session.
-----------------------------------
= = H E A D O N A G O L D P L A T T E R = =
Oh look, I got the firecracker to light and go off. Exciting.
Exciting...
You are truly something, Reaver. Hell if I know what you are, but you’re something.
Mayhem and Meltdown may not have been TDB’s strongest of showings. We fought valiantly, we fought till the last drop to keep what we have. We didn’t run around the bush, we attacked it.
I give you credit though, Foul Play has done work. You three have bursted with new energy and pretty much acted like a human tornado, destroying the built-up competition. I applaud you for finding a new source of energy. Kash knew he was losing, so what does he do? He comes up with this sick idea to recreate his version of the “A-Team”.
It’s working right now, his plan is working like he likes it but it won’t last forever.
Mayhem and Meltdown are done and in the past. TDB failed one out of three while Foul Play showed up. Understood. Kash defeated Bailey, good for him. Bailey rebounds well. He’ll rebound come Sunday night, only this time Kash will be sent to the back of the line, looking to work his way up yet again.
Claim your victories on one hand, Reaver. I was never one to gloat about victories. You know why my focus is not on just you? I expect your folks to show up in our match. It’s something I can’t wait to witness. Your brothers will watch you go down as they will look to do all they can to help you. I can feel it, Reaver and I’m prepared for the worst.
But guess what, screw Kash and Lively. It’s not about them, it’s about us.
You’ve ranted long enough, Reaver. You squawk about what I went through and compare it to your losing ways in APW for three years. Congrats on getting 100 losses. I feel for you, Reaver. I really do. What I went through, it’s no joke. Make light of it as you choose but you will come across times where you want to end it all. Hell you might come to it late Sunday night into Monday morning. You might be the next victim of a breakdown. Losing to someone you talked so much shit about. It’s going to destroy you inside.
It’s alright though, I survived and conquered through the rough shitty parts of life. I’m still here, alive, awake and ready to deliver on second chances. Reaver, you’ve had too many and again, here’s another chance at which you will tuck what you have between your legs and hop home to your friend in the closet and cry over buckets of ice cream at the chances you’ve had to succeed but failed to complete. Why? You along with the other ‘skunks’ live and die by the cheat code. When the going gets tough, you’ll do what comes natural and that’s go behind the ref’s back to gain an advantage. It is why you call yourself “Foul Play”. No rules, just getting the job done anyway you can, right?
Consider yourself dead, Reaver.
The only thing that is getting amputated Sunday night is your brain, or what’s left of it. Like that old 90’s advertisement on drugs and the person dropping an egg into a frying pan, watching it sizzle and scramble on a gas stove, it’s what I’m going to do to you. I’m not going to stoop to your level. If I somehow lose to you, so be it. If I win, it won’t have an asterisk by my name. It’s why I consider myself part of a dying breed. Scum and filth like yourself choose to go and do shit the easy way rather than do it the right way. It’s a dying breed. Everyone wants to smell roses and eat high-priced caviar but don’t want to honestly work for it. They want to get their candy and eat it too without the hassle of caring for their teeth to prevent cavities. You can’t have it your way all the time, Reaver. You’re not a fucking king.
You speak about the likes of myself and Williams being put on the backburner to Bailey being the star of the group. We are all stars. There is no such word as individual in our group. Sure, I cost the team some sleep and some gray hair with my actions but they all support me through this. What has Kash and Lively done for you? You think they are going to let you shine or support you win or lose? All you are is their dog, their bitch. You take orders. That’s all. You talk about your identity crisis. There’s no identity crisis. You are who you are. A loser. Always and forever. You tried your best to weaken me for this and all you did was just make this “L” worst.
You shouldn’t worry about cupcakes. No, worry about this size 10 forcing it’s way through your mouth and out the back of your skull. The only claiming you’ll do will be your teeth and your pride that’ll be scattered around the ring like confetti. Enjoy this sunshine, buddy. Rain is in the forecast.
Let this cancer spread. Let it spread like Country Crock’s Butter. The less of you, the better the world. No radiation or quarantine will pause our quest. Slowly but surely, we will complete the task.
As I hover over you, spread my legs and let the rain fall ... just remember all of what you said and the result of it. Don’t taste the rainbow, Reaver ... taste the greatness.
