Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting Apr 7, 2018 21:01:13 GMT -5
Post by Amy Jo Smyth on Apr 7, 2018 21:01:13 GMT -5
Don't give us none of your aggravation
We had it with your discipline
Saturday night's alright for fighting
Get a little action in
In the Continuing Adventures of Our Hero...
◀◀ Be Kind, Rewind
It’s always so strange how some of the worst people on the planet can be some of the nicest in the light of day. Here I am in a small hole in the wall bar drinking with a lovely fellow that can hold an intelligent conversation about all kinds of things. That same lovely fellow is also affiliated with a gang that runs guns, drugs, women, and who knows what else. It makes you wonder. A cold-blooded killer who has absolutely no problem with exploiting people is standing mere inches away from me talking about how much he loves American comedies and shockingly enough, Amy Schumer. Then again, who am I to know if he’s killed anyone or has no problems with the things his gang does. Maybe he’s just an accountant.
Even still, it baffles me how they’re completely normal and polite and typical when they’re standing in front of you. It’s hard to dislike them. If you didn’t know anything about what they do to make their money or what they do when you’re not around, that more nefarious side, you might actually be friends with him, want to date him, get to know more about him. You’d honestly think nothing was amiss. It’s the same with most serial killers.
Ted Bundy was charasmic and approachable, young and handsome, cleancut and intelligent. In his early years, he volunteered at a suicide crisis hotline where he worked with future crime writer Ann Rule, who described him as kind and empathetic, and worked on a number of Republican political campaigns without incident. Bundy even had a healthy relationship with a woman for a number of years and worked on a crime prevention advocacy group. John Wayne Gacy was a pillar of his community, an active member of a national social club, and performed as a clown at local children’s hospitals. People just didn’t know what these people were doing in their basements or on the streets late at night - even their own wives and lovers didn’t know.
After all, how much can you really know about a person?
There’s always sides to a person you just don’t know, even if you’ve known them all your life. We’re all hiding something, sometimes some of us hide pretty awful shit. He’s hiding that he’s in a cartel or gang or whatever they want to call it and I’m hiding that I’m a CIA agent sent to spy on him. We all got our something.
He’d probably never believe it, either.
Hector or Hernan or Hidalgo or Howdy-Doo-Dee over here smiles at me.
What does your mother think of this? I wonder in my mind. These are the things I always wonder when I encounter a bad guy. Even if your mother was a cunt, what about your grandmother? What about your dog? It’s strange how these people can disassociate and compartmentalize so readily. Even more disturbing how they can switch it on and off and rationalize it all away. Worse yet are the people around them who rationalize it or excuse it or ignore it. How many gangsters’ wives enjoy the spoils of their husband’s crimes?
The front door of the bar opens and about four men roll in with a clamor. Everyone already in the bar turns, stops, and looks at the fresh arrivals. The laughter, the shouting, the smiles all stop. The entire bar falls into a silence and my senses go on high alert. This is either about to go very bad or impossibly good.
Theresa looks at me. I look at her. Howdy-Doo-Dee puts down his beer and looks at me. He doesn’t say anything, just touches my bicep with this soft touch, and turns around. He starts moving forward, toward the four men that just arrived. The entire group, the gang with Aztec tattoos and a certainly indeterminable goal, gathers up in a semicircle, surrounding their prey.
One shouts something in Spanish. I can’t make it out but the tone is far from pleasant or cordial. The invaders shout back. Soon they’re shouting over each other. Theresa slides up next to me, grabs my wrist. An invader shoves a resident and that’s all it takes. Chaos ensues. Punches, kicks, bottles, glasses, and soon, bodies are thrown.
Theresa and I duck under the nearest table.
“You don’t know how badly I want to get in on this,” I say, shouting over the clang and clanks, bangs and booms, the crashes and clashes. “It’s been a long time…”
“Don’t you dare,” she answers back and squeezes my wrist tighter.
“Well, what am I supposed to do?”” I ask.
“What are we going to do?” she interjects.
Like any good agent, I scoped out all exits a few minutes after we got here. “We can go out this way,” I say, starting to crawl to the right.
Theresa starts to pull me to the left. “No, this way!”
“This way is better,” I insist.
“No,” she says, pulling harder.
“Fine, fine.” I go to the left with her. “But this is not going to work.”
“Oh, shut up,” she spits back. “This is going to work.”
Howdy Doo-Dee comes crashing down in front of us.
“Oh, hey,” I say, smiling at him. He's bleeding from the nose and got a shiner former on his right eye. Someone tramples over him to get to the next target.
“Hi,” he answers, getting to his hands and knees. He grunts. “I just want to say, I'm really sorry.” He grunts again, grabbing at his ribs. For it being four on about half a dozen, things are not in the Aztec Social Club’s favor right now.
“Um, apology accepted,” Theresa says unsure.
“It really was a pleasure meeting you both,” he explains. I hope this…” He stops to grunt and inhale. “I hope this doesn't make you hate Mexico…”
Someone comes stomping over and grabs Howdy Doo-Dee by the head, dragging him to his feet. Of course me being me and no longer willing to sit idle, I jump to my feet. There's a big dude with his hand clasped around Howdy’s shirt collar, getting ready to hit him hard with a right hand.
Not really thinking of how this will go for me, I grab his fist with my palm, stopping it in mid-air, mid-punch, and with only mid-velocity.
“We were talking,” I shout.
It still takes all my effort to keep from falling back and crashing to the floor. The dude is clearly confused but still aware enough to look at me and fight back. There's no way for me to hold him for very much longer so I throw his hand down, throwing him off along with his balance thanks to pure momentum.
He tilts to the side some, releases Howdy, and needs a few seconds to regain his balance and composure. In those few precious seconds, I send a shot to his gut. It knocks the air of out him and puts him off balance a little more. Doesn't stop him from getting a quick hit on me. He basically smacks me in the face with a loose fist that sends me tumbling back.
The side of my face and cheek slams into the edge of a partition wall. Pain is instantaneous. The pure instinct of my hands coming out stop brace my fall and that same wall keep me from falling fast first to the ground. That alone is a blessing. Still not gonna stop though.
Just as I turn around to go back for more, Theresa grabs me from behind, wrapping her hands around my waist, and drags me away. With her aid, I'm dragged to the back, shoved through the back room door, pushed through the storage room, and thrown through the fire door into a back alley.
“What is wrong with you?” Theresa scolds.
I suddenly remember the pain radiating from my jaw and grab my cheek. “Fuck,” I moan.
“That's what you get! You deserve that,” she answers.
“I could have taken them,” I shout back, still clutching my jaw.
“Are you drunk?” she asks.
A few moments pass and I process the information. “No,” I answer. “But I wish I was.”
There’s a silence between us as we listen to the crashing just inside the door.
“Can we get drunk?” I ask.
“Back at the hotel,” she answers and pushes me forward. “We should also get your face looked at.”
“My face is beautiful, thankyouverymuch,” I say.
...To Be Continued…
Things are a long way from normal these days. Not in the ring, not in my professional career, and most of all, not at home. Not since I brought little Anya, better known as Pet, into my life and house. Don’t get me wrong, I love Anya like family, but she can be really overwhelming. But damn, she’s a damn spitfire if ever there was one. She’s also mildly terrifying and a major sociopath. There’s a lot of fire and anger in that girl when she doesn’t get what she wants.
Why not ask my opponent this week, Katalina Starr all about that?
Oh, yes, we were on this collision course for ages now. All because of that little lady we know as Pet. Unlike you, Ms. Starr, never presumed to own her, even if it was only for show or sexual kicks. I also don’t believe you can sell a human being, for any price, to anyone. That is what really got my fire burning. Now, of course I’d defend my family without a thought. But I’d also defend or avenge a stranger for that matter. If I had known that you thought it was completely appropriate to sell a person for cash and then enslave them, even without knowing Anya or having the relationship we have, I still would have kicked your ass from here to Beirut and back again.
Shit like that requires a great deal of punishment.
Hey, aren’t you all about punishment?
Now it’s time you got yourself a taste of your own medicine. From one mistress to another. It’s about time the mistress got a little bit of the slave treatment. It’s going to feel like a whole different thing for you. We’re going to find out how you fucking like it. Bout time we settled up on who the better mistress is here and it’s damn crystal clear that it ain’t you.
Just in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been a little itchy to get into the ring with you. Our little tag team bout was far from enough for me. That was more for Anya to get in some hits and feel avenged… But we all know Anya, she always needs to take it to the next level. Fuck, did she ever?
Did you have a nice fall, by the way?
I don’t think I ever asked you how you were doing after your little ‘accident.’ I bet it was nice. It seemed nice. Ms. Madigan-Starr probably had a blast taking care of you. You were probably a model fucking patient. But your back now. Ripe and ready, huh? You just came back and they give you to me. How about that? Not sure if that’s good for me or good for you.
It’s probably good for everyone when it comes right down to it. I always promise a good fight and I always give a good fight. Then you add in the fact that my opponent is someone I detest and someone that has a deep, profound connection to the women I want to get my hands on and dethrone… Shit, it’s like my birthday and Christmas all rolled into one.
Oh, wait, that’s already a thing.
Okay, well, it’s like sex then?
I don’t know but it’s really, really fucking good.
It’ll pose a nice distraction to your wife. I’m not saying I might cripple you again, but Anya had a good idea and I can make it even better. I’m also not saying I’d like to really unsettle your wife because I’m not one to need shit like that to win matches but, I am saying, mind games are fun. You played them so you should know what that’s all about. I’ll drag your ass all around that ring and watch your wife squirm and shiver and worry about your well-being. Because let’s be serious here, Zoey is a little worked up as it is.
Is her little castle in the sky starting to crumble?
What's another brick pulled out then?
I bet she’s already worried about you as it is. Worried that you might get hurt again. Worried that you might become a bowl of mashed potatoes and her life will become about taking care of you. Worried that her sister has gone off the rails completely. Worried that I’m a little bit more than she can handle when it comes time for us to face…
Ms. Star, you’re a little worried that I might be more than you can handle and I fucking know it. After all, look at what I’ve done in LAW alone then add on what I’ve done throughout my career. At this point in my career, there is almost no one left in this world that isn’t a little intimidated when they get into the ring with me. Even just because of my name alone. I have done amazing things, broke records, beat people who they said could never be beaten, did things that they said could never be done, accomplished more than nearly every other wrestler in this game today.
Perhaps you aren’t afraid that I’ll beat you or kick your ass. There are lots of youngsters under that impression but after all, they’re young and they just don’t know any better. Whatever you feel, afraid or not, at the very least you’ve got to respect what I’ve done and who I am and what I’ve put my body through. At the same time, we all know that I’m nearing the end of this same illustrious career and maybe I’m losing a step - not really, but I am a different path now.
It’s all fun and games for me now. You can say I’ve faded or you can say I’ve lost a step or two or that I’ve let myself fade into the background but none of that is true and everyone knows that. I’m just doing something different and to a lot of people, they don’t understand it. I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere. I’m on track to go after and win the tag team titles. Say, Ms. Starr, weren’t you once a tag team champion? And say, weren’t you tag champion for a long time?
Then you got beat by the Angels and then you married an Angel.
What a tipsy-topsy world we live in.
Once you did that, you started playing a supporting role and then you just faded away. You became a follower of your wife, just sort of a thing that was there for her. You were one of the greatest in LAW when I got here, stayed that way for a long time, and now you’re just… Everyone sorta just knows you as Zoey’s wife. You faded into a background role. Hell, not even a background role.
For being a mistress, you sure act like a nice little lap dog for your wife.
Explains why you have to dominate and ‘own’ so many other people in your life, doesn’t it? Katalina, what happened to you? It’s nice to lead people around on a leash, but it seems to me that you’re the one being lead around on a leash. And you expect me to be afraid of you? Hardly. Maybe, just maybe you should have stayed laid up and given up on the idea of wrestling. Especially if you’re just going to play third fiddle to your wife and your sister-in-law.
So when I make you tap or you choke out, now you know why.
I'll see you then, my fellow mistress.