Post by Steve Awesome on Dec 2, 2020 21:05:29 GMT -5
His eyes opened early that morning as soon as the sun hit them.
When he sat up and looked around him he immediately knew things were different. He just had this feeling in the pit of his stomach. This nauseous cloud started to form within his depths and he dry heaved a little. It sort of smelled like rancid garbage. As his eyes started to adjust to the beaming sun light he realized that it indeed smelled like rancid garbage because it was rancid garbage! Right next to him was a giant dumpster filled to the top with trash.
As he scanned the perimeter he began to notice a lot of other really peculiar stuff going on. Like the other dumpster filled with trash on the other side of him. The vandalized walls filled with graffiti. The broken glass on the ground and the other homeless guy in the alley glaring at him with envy because he got the good spot between the dumpsters.
“Guess I over did it last night......”
He tries to to think back to the night before but he gets nothing. Not even the slightest memory. Just a strange void, a blur with no redeeming features. The more he tried to think about it the more it hurt his head. He starts to rub his temples with his fingers to try and ease the sudden onset of pain.
“...wait, what did I do last night?”
He hunches over and rubs his face with his hands. Through his fingers he notices the sparkle of a pile of glass shards that used to be a vodka bottle next to him.
“That would explain the lack of a memory this morning.”
He sighed. There had been a few times that he actually could remember where liquor had gotten the
best of him. It probably wasn't as bad as some of the more worse off alcoholics he's seen before but sometimes, much like this strange morning, he's woken up in strange places before.
“I really need to lay off the booze.”
He shakes off the haze and climbs up to his feet and his middle age body gives him a little trouble for it. A sharp pain runs through his back, vengeance for his concrete bed last night. He winces and clutches at his lower back and while he was distracted the homeless guy from earlier slowly creeps up toward him. The homeless guy was dressed in basically rags with bread loaf bags as shoes.
“Excuse me sir, that's a mighty fine sleeping spot you got there. Haven't seen you around before? New to these parts?”
The homeless man said with a gentleman's nod. He shook his head and waved his arms back and forth.
“Oh no, I'm definitely not homeless!”
The homeless guy crosses his arms and raises that universal skeptical eyebrow.
“Yeah, says the guy that spent the night between two dumpsters in the back ally of a hotel.”
He backs down. The man with the garbage bag poncho had a pretty good point.
“Okay, okay. You got me man. Look do me a favor and keep this on the low, okay. This whole waking up in allies thing is really bad for the old image, I'm sure you know what I....”
He remembers the bread loaf bag shoes.
“....uhh....just don't tell anybody okay.”
The homeless guy doesn't seem to understand.
“Um, no offense sir, but who is going to care about some random guy down on his luck sleeping in a back ally.”
Now he was by no means an arrogant man, but the fact that this guy didn't seem to understand why that would be a big deal was strange.
“Because paparazzi and dirty websites would sink there teeth into a story like this.”
The homeless man still doesn't seem to get it.
“And whats so special about you?”
Even weirder, its not everyday that somebody didn't recognize him. He'd been a household name for years in the wrestling business. Kids and adults alike knew his name.
“I'm Cliff “The Crusher” Clinton! You know? Crusher-Steria is running free! The multi-time world champion. You know....”
Cliff sticks his arms out and extends his fingers like he's holding down ten different piano keys and looks at the homeless guy with a crazed look on his face.
“....HOW YOU GONNA FEEL, GUY?!?!?!?”
What Cliff thought had been a solid strike, didn't even seem to ring the bell for the homeless guy who starts to look at Cliff like he's crazy.
“Never heard of you.”
Now that's just crazy!, Cliff thought to himself.
“You've never heard of me? Really? I've been around since the nineties man! Crusher-Steria is going wild! I've been on lunch boxes, posters, t-shirts, school supplies, movies, commercials, I made a rap album once, it was terrible but people bought it, I have action figures. I've main evented completely sold out Slam Fests for almost twenty years! I've been the heavyweight champion for the better part of twenty years.”
The homeless guy shrugs.
“Yeah I got nothing.”
Cliff just stares at him in disbelief.
“Dude.......how long have you been homeless? How have you not heard of me? I swear I'm not usually this pretentious but seriously....EVERYONE went to Crusher-steria on ice! I was probably your favorite wrestler growing up!”
“Well if your so famous or whatever....how come you were left out in this ally in the cold while everyone else slept inside?”
Cliff had to think about that for a second. He did have a security team, and an agent, and a few assistants that were hired by the company to follow him around. Why was he out there? What in the hell happened last night?
“It doesn't matter. You said this was a hotel? I obviously have a room here. I'm going to go inside into my room and get you some money to keep your mouth shut with. I'm going to get my things and get the hell out of here. Follow me!”
Cliff walks out of the ally as the homeless man follows him.
Cliff Clinton and the homeless man walk up to the front of the hotel. A giant building with those spinning glass doors and a giant fountain in the middle of the front lobby. It had satin red ropes to designate specific lines for different services and the vending machines had the fancy name brand candy. Everything seemed to have a golden hue to it,
“Man there are people everywhere.....”
Through the glass windows Cliff could see people walking around the lobby. There were a few families of four, a tourist group from China, and a few lone men doing business at the front counter. Not to mention the front desk staff, the security watch from the sides and the janitor mopping the floor. It was mid day at a big city hotel so he thought there may be at least fifty people in there at the moment. That was big time celebrity nightmare.
“Stay out here...
Cliff says to his homeless friend.
..these people are going to flip out when I walk into the building....you don't wanna be in there when they swarm!”
Cliff takes a deep breath and puts his behind his fore arm as if he were resisting a strong wind. He walks in through the front door and everybody turns and looks at him and.....nothing. Well, not nothing. Just not what he thought would happen at all. Instead of rushing him and asking for autographs and showering him with praise, they start mutter under there breath and backing up. Saying things like “creepy” and “crazy” and “homeless”. Mothers clutch there children and men make sure there wallets are in check. Members of security keep an eye on him and say things into there radios. When Cliff looks up and see's all there sneers and glares it was like he suddenly entered a foreign land. He hadnt really seen a disappointed face in almost twenty years, except from his wife, rimshot, and now to see it from everyone in the entire room all at once was completely bizarre.
“Hmmm....tough crowd....”
Inside he was starting to feel an anxiety start to grow in the pit of his stomach. But he tries to just ignore it and brave forward to the front desk. As he walks through the staring faces people back up in fear and a bunch just completely exit the line and walk out of the way. Cliff awkwardly gets behind a guy who was talking to the lady at the front desk and hadn't noticed what was going on. The guy thanks the lady, spins around and finally notices Cliff and his six foot six three hundred pound frame. He lets out a scream and throws his wallet at Cliff and runs off, which riles up the crowd of people and makes the security team start moving in slowly.
“Um.....can you tell me what room I'm in?”
The lady behind the desk, who looks very scared, does her best to smile anyway.
“N-n-name?”
He just didn't get it. How could they not possibly know who he was? He has his name on the Hollywood Walk of Fame! He became a mega star because of these fans. His name was just as common as Elvis or the Beatles!
“It's Cliff Clinton.”
He says with a shaky voice.
“My name is CLIFF CLINTON!!!”
He spins around and faces the crowd who gasp and step backward. His eyes on fire from anger stemmed from the stress and anxiety and confusion brewing together inside his head.
“Why are you people acting like this? Why are you treating me like this? What did I do? You people tried to vote me in as president back in ninety two! How do you not know that I'm Cliff Clinton!?”
He looks into these peoples eyes and he can see the fear on there faces growing as he stands in front of them. He looks everywhere he can for an answer.
“The kids! The kids will know me!”
He finds the first kid he could find and moves toward him fast.
“You there son.....you know who The Crusher is! HOW YA GONNA FEEL M-”
But the mother of the child pulls her little boy away and the boy starts to cry into his mothers shoulder. Security finally has enough reason to intervene.
“Okay buddy, your frightening our guests. It's time to leave.”
“Yeah, lets get you back on the street where you belong you crazy bum!”
The security guards try to kick Cliff out but he takes a step back.
“No.....no.....I'm not.....you don't understand! I'm Cliff Clinton....I'm Cliff Clin-”
That's when he saw it for the first time today. As soon as his eyes locked onto it he froze in his thought. Something he just seemed to miss earlier but wished he hadn't. There, in the big glass window, was his reflection. It was him, but it wasn't. It seemed warped, transformed. His hair matted and tangled, and a giant bushy beard sticking off his chin like the tattered ends of a blown up cigar. His clothes were less desirable. Dirty faded torn jeans and an equally destroyed flannel t-shirt. He knew for sure he did not look like that yesterday!
"I'm Cliff....Clinton...."
He grabs at his face and tugs at his beads and long hair as the guards start escorting him to the door.
“Well whoever you are.....your getting the hell out of our hotel.”
Cliff can't look away from his reflection as they start pulling him away. He seemed like himself but he even sort of looked different. What in the hell happened to him?
“I'm......Cliff......Clinton.....?”
Fade.
When he sat up and looked around him he immediately knew things were different. He just had this feeling in the pit of his stomach. This nauseous cloud started to form within his depths and he dry heaved a little. It sort of smelled like rancid garbage. As his eyes started to adjust to the beaming sun light he realized that it indeed smelled like rancid garbage because it was rancid garbage! Right next to him was a giant dumpster filled to the top with trash.
As he scanned the perimeter he began to notice a lot of other really peculiar stuff going on. Like the other dumpster filled with trash on the other side of him. The vandalized walls filled with graffiti. The broken glass on the ground and the other homeless guy in the alley glaring at him with envy because he got the good spot between the dumpsters.
“Guess I over did it last night......”
He tries to to think back to the night before but he gets nothing. Not even the slightest memory. Just a strange void, a blur with no redeeming features. The more he tried to think about it the more it hurt his head. He starts to rub his temples with his fingers to try and ease the sudden onset of pain.
“...wait, what did I do last night?”
He hunches over and rubs his face with his hands. Through his fingers he notices the sparkle of a pile of glass shards that used to be a vodka bottle next to him.
“That would explain the lack of a memory this morning.”
He sighed. There had been a few times that he actually could remember where liquor had gotten the
best of him. It probably wasn't as bad as some of the more worse off alcoholics he's seen before but sometimes, much like this strange morning, he's woken up in strange places before.
“I really need to lay off the booze.”
He shakes off the haze and climbs up to his feet and his middle age body gives him a little trouble for it. A sharp pain runs through his back, vengeance for his concrete bed last night. He winces and clutches at his lower back and while he was distracted the homeless guy from earlier slowly creeps up toward him. The homeless guy was dressed in basically rags with bread loaf bags as shoes.
“Excuse me sir, that's a mighty fine sleeping spot you got there. Haven't seen you around before? New to these parts?”
The homeless man said with a gentleman's nod. He shook his head and waved his arms back and forth.
“Oh no, I'm definitely not homeless!”
The homeless guy crosses his arms and raises that universal skeptical eyebrow.
“Yeah, says the guy that spent the night between two dumpsters in the back ally of a hotel.”
He backs down. The man with the garbage bag poncho had a pretty good point.
“Okay, okay. You got me man. Look do me a favor and keep this on the low, okay. This whole waking up in allies thing is really bad for the old image, I'm sure you know what I....”
He remembers the bread loaf bag shoes.
“....uhh....just don't tell anybody okay.”
The homeless guy doesn't seem to understand.
“Um, no offense sir, but who is going to care about some random guy down on his luck sleeping in a back ally.”
Now he was by no means an arrogant man, but the fact that this guy didn't seem to understand why that would be a big deal was strange.
“Because paparazzi and dirty websites would sink there teeth into a story like this.”
The homeless man still doesn't seem to get it.
“And whats so special about you?”
Even weirder, its not everyday that somebody didn't recognize him. He'd been a household name for years in the wrestling business. Kids and adults alike knew his name.
“I'm Cliff “The Crusher” Clinton! You know? Crusher-Steria is running free! The multi-time world champion. You know....”
Cliff sticks his arms out and extends his fingers like he's holding down ten different piano keys and looks at the homeless guy with a crazed look on his face.
“....HOW YOU GONNA FEEL, GUY?!?!?!?”
What Cliff thought had been a solid strike, didn't even seem to ring the bell for the homeless guy who starts to look at Cliff like he's crazy.
“Never heard of you.”
Now that's just crazy!, Cliff thought to himself.
“You've never heard of me? Really? I've been around since the nineties man! Crusher-Steria is going wild! I've been on lunch boxes, posters, t-shirts, school supplies, movies, commercials, I made a rap album once, it was terrible but people bought it, I have action figures. I've main evented completely sold out Slam Fests for almost twenty years! I've been the heavyweight champion for the better part of twenty years.”
The homeless guy shrugs.
“Yeah I got nothing.”
Cliff just stares at him in disbelief.
“Dude.......how long have you been homeless? How have you not heard of me? I swear I'm not usually this pretentious but seriously....EVERYONE went to Crusher-steria on ice! I was probably your favorite wrestler growing up!”
“Well if your so famous or whatever....how come you were left out in this ally in the cold while everyone else slept inside?”
Cliff had to think about that for a second. He did have a security team, and an agent, and a few assistants that were hired by the company to follow him around. Why was he out there? What in the hell happened last night?
“It doesn't matter. You said this was a hotel? I obviously have a room here. I'm going to go inside into my room and get you some money to keep your mouth shut with. I'm going to get my things and get the hell out of here. Follow me!”
Cliff walks out of the ally as the homeless man follows him.
Cliff Clinton and the homeless man walk up to the front of the hotel. A giant building with those spinning glass doors and a giant fountain in the middle of the front lobby. It had satin red ropes to designate specific lines for different services and the vending machines had the fancy name brand candy. Everything seemed to have a golden hue to it,
“Man there are people everywhere.....”
Through the glass windows Cliff could see people walking around the lobby. There were a few families of four, a tourist group from China, and a few lone men doing business at the front counter. Not to mention the front desk staff, the security watch from the sides and the janitor mopping the floor. It was mid day at a big city hotel so he thought there may be at least fifty people in there at the moment. That was big time celebrity nightmare.
“Stay out here...
Cliff says to his homeless friend.
..these people are going to flip out when I walk into the building....you don't wanna be in there when they swarm!”
Cliff takes a deep breath and puts his behind his fore arm as if he were resisting a strong wind. He walks in through the front door and everybody turns and looks at him and.....nothing. Well, not nothing. Just not what he thought would happen at all. Instead of rushing him and asking for autographs and showering him with praise, they start mutter under there breath and backing up. Saying things like “creepy” and “crazy” and “homeless”. Mothers clutch there children and men make sure there wallets are in check. Members of security keep an eye on him and say things into there radios. When Cliff looks up and see's all there sneers and glares it was like he suddenly entered a foreign land. He hadnt really seen a disappointed face in almost twenty years, except from his wife, rimshot, and now to see it from everyone in the entire room all at once was completely bizarre.
“Hmmm....tough crowd....”
Inside he was starting to feel an anxiety start to grow in the pit of his stomach. But he tries to just ignore it and brave forward to the front desk. As he walks through the staring faces people back up in fear and a bunch just completely exit the line and walk out of the way. Cliff awkwardly gets behind a guy who was talking to the lady at the front desk and hadn't noticed what was going on. The guy thanks the lady, spins around and finally notices Cliff and his six foot six three hundred pound frame. He lets out a scream and throws his wallet at Cliff and runs off, which riles up the crowd of people and makes the security team start moving in slowly.
“Um.....can you tell me what room I'm in?”
The lady behind the desk, who looks very scared, does her best to smile anyway.
“N-n-name?”
He just didn't get it. How could they not possibly know who he was? He has his name on the Hollywood Walk of Fame! He became a mega star because of these fans. His name was just as common as Elvis or the Beatles!
“It's Cliff Clinton.”
He says with a shaky voice.
“My name is CLIFF CLINTON!!!”
He spins around and faces the crowd who gasp and step backward. His eyes on fire from anger stemmed from the stress and anxiety and confusion brewing together inside his head.
“Why are you people acting like this? Why are you treating me like this? What did I do? You people tried to vote me in as president back in ninety two! How do you not know that I'm Cliff Clinton!?”
He looks into these peoples eyes and he can see the fear on there faces growing as he stands in front of them. He looks everywhere he can for an answer.
“The kids! The kids will know me!”
He finds the first kid he could find and moves toward him fast.
“You there son.....you know who The Crusher is! HOW YA GONNA FEEL M-”
But the mother of the child pulls her little boy away and the boy starts to cry into his mothers shoulder. Security finally has enough reason to intervene.
“Okay buddy, your frightening our guests. It's time to leave.”
“Yeah, lets get you back on the street where you belong you crazy bum!”
The security guards try to kick Cliff out but he takes a step back.
“No.....no.....I'm not.....you don't understand! I'm Cliff Clinton....I'm Cliff Clin-”
That's when he saw it for the first time today. As soon as his eyes locked onto it he froze in his thought. Something he just seemed to miss earlier but wished he hadn't. There, in the big glass window, was his reflection. It was him, but it wasn't. It seemed warped, transformed. His hair matted and tangled, and a giant bushy beard sticking off his chin like the tattered ends of a blown up cigar. His clothes were less desirable. Dirty faded torn jeans and an equally destroyed flannel t-shirt. He knew for sure he did not look like that yesterday!
"I'm Cliff....Clinton...."
He grabs at his face and tugs at his beads and long hair as the guards start escorting him to the door.
“Well whoever you are.....your getting the hell out of our hotel.”
Cliff can't look away from his reflection as they start pulling him away. He seemed like himself but he even sort of looked different. What in the hell happened to him?
“I'm......Cliff......Clinton.....?”
Fade.