Post by vastrix on Sept 3, 2020 23:24:16 GMT -5
Somewhere in the world where there's a Walmart, an old pick up truck hauling a camper pulls into several of the outlying parking spots. The pick up truck looks to be more rust than it does red paint and it looks like the passenger door is welded into place after being banged out from an accident. The camper is in no better shape, looking barely livable.
Nathan Parker exits the driver's side of the truck and heads for his camper. He pops in for a moment before coming out with a folded up lawn chair and a six pack of beer. He sets the beer down, unfolds the chair, and has a seat. He reaches down, grabs a bottle of beer, and takes a big swig with a satisfied sigh.
Parker: I wonder if I’m anywhere near the RRW arena. He didn’t give very clear directions.
A car passes by on its way to park in the parking lot to shop at Walmart. Nathan gives a boisterous wave, the driver of the car gives him an odd look and keeps driving. Nathan shrugs and takes another big swig from his beer.
Parker: You would think that he’s never seen a guy drinking at a Walmart parking lot before.
Nathan finishes his beer and opens up another one. He tosses the empty across the parking lot with a laugh.
Parker: Management talking about how we four are going for the Ride the Lightning title, but they forget how to count? There is five of us in this match. Maxwell Murder, Alan Galloway, Robbie Hardcastle, and Sweet Roxy. Unless of course Sweet Roxy doesn’t count for being a woman.
Nathan takes another swig of his beer, knowing full well that he’s had his ass kicked by a woman before and what he said was incredibly sexist. However, no one was around to tell him otherwise. That in mind, he finishes his second beer and throws the empty over a car pulling into the parking lot. He gets an angry honk in response, but otherwise that’s it.
Parker: I don’t really know a whole lot about the people I’m fighting in this match, but does it really matter? I mean, I’m a fighter to the core. I’ll have no problem dealing with these people. Hardly worth the *burp* effort.
Nathan opens up a third beer and drinks like half of it before coming up for air with a loud belch.
Parker: I mean...I have what two years of experience in wrestling. That translates into being an amazing Ride the Lightning champion. Right?
Nathan just shrugs to himself before waving at another shopper driving into the parking lot.
Parker: What would I have to say about Maxwell Murder? I mean, I could pick apart his name. I suppose it’s good that both first and last name starts with M? Maxwell Mmmmmmurder. Is it because he wants to murder people? I don’t think they can do that in the ring, but if his name means that he’s really into hardcore shit then I can hang with him. Fuck, I’d fuck myself up before stepping into the ring with him just to show the entire world how fucking crazy I am.
Nathan finishes another bottle of beer, drops it by his side, and opens another bottle of beer.
Parker: You know I should look up profiles of the names of these guys that I’m facing in the ring so that I know a little bit about them before I get to be in the ring with them and have to fight. I do have an edge on them though. None of them know that I’m from a backyard league.
Nathan realizes that he just said that out loud and thus that everyone will know this info now. He sighs, finishes his bottle of beer, and smashes the empty against his forehead. He grabs his last bottle of beer, regards it like it was the answer to everything, and opens it. He takes a cautious sip of the beer as if savoring it.
Yes, blood runs down his face from a gash in his forehead, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.
When the bottle of beer gets to half drunk, Nathan sets it in his cup holder on his chair with great care, and gets out his phone. He spins through his contact list until he finds the person that he’s looking for.
Parker: Hey, Mick! I’m out of booze! Can you bring me more?
Nathan listens for a little bit before he nods his head. He shakes his head in realizing that his friend can’t see him over a regular phone call.
Parker: Where am I? I think I’m in Jersey? Is that anywhere near you? Yeah, it’s like totally daylight right now! Oh...you are still in Australia. Aren’t you. What about emailing it to me? Aren’t there 3D printers now that will do that kind of shit? No. Well, fuck. Can you regular mail it to me and have it get here within like an hour? Where am I? Like address-wise? I’m in a Walmart parking lot since you can camp out there overnight in their parking lot. What do you mean go buy the hooch at Walmart? You think they’ll respect the tab I have with you? Damn it to Hell, fuck. Fine, I’ll raid my savings and buy my own hooch.
Nathan is about to hang up the phone when he brings it back to his ear.
Parker: Mick. Hey. Hey, Mick. FUCK YOU. Love ya, man. Later.
Nathan hangs up the phone, putting it away. He finishes his last beer and steps into his camper for a few minutes, rattling around for awhile. He comes out with a dirty, nasty looking sock that might have been white at one time, but now appears to be more blackened crust. He pulls out a roll of bills from it that also look extremely dirty. He grabs two hundred dollars, puts the rest back, and throws the sock into the camper. He puts the money in his pocket and starts walking the half mile hike that it is to get to the Walmart Grocery door (since the other door isn’t being used due to the corona). He wipes at the blood running down his face and looks at his bloody hand in some mild confusion.
Parker: When did I start bleeding? God fucking knows.
Nathan shrugs and heads toward the Walmart to buy himself some booze.
To be continued…
Nathan Parker exits the driver's side of the truck and heads for his camper. He pops in for a moment before coming out with a folded up lawn chair and a six pack of beer. He sets the beer down, unfolds the chair, and has a seat. He reaches down, grabs a bottle of beer, and takes a big swig with a satisfied sigh.
Parker: I wonder if I’m anywhere near the RRW arena. He didn’t give very clear directions.
A car passes by on its way to park in the parking lot to shop at Walmart. Nathan gives a boisterous wave, the driver of the car gives him an odd look and keeps driving. Nathan shrugs and takes another big swig from his beer.
Parker: You would think that he’s never seen a guy drinking at a Walmart parking lot before.
Nathan finishes his beer and opens up another one. He tosses the empty across the parking lot with a laugh.
Parker: Management talking about how we four are going for the Ride the Lightning title, but they forget how to count? There is five of us in this match. Maxwell Murder, Alan Galloway, Robbie Hardcastle, and Sweet Roxy. Unless of course Sweet Roxy doesn’t count for being a woman.
Nathan takes another swig of his beer, knowing full well that he’s had his ass kicked by a woman before and what he said was incredibly sexist. However, no one was around to tell him otherwise. That in mind, he finishes his second beer and throws the empty over a car pulling into the parking lot. He gets an angry honk in response, but otherwise that’s it.
Parker: I don’t really know a whole lot about the people I’m fighting in this match, but does it really matter? I mean, I’m a fighter to the core. I’ll have no problem dealing with these people. Hardly worth the *burp* effort.
Nathan opens up a third beer and drinks like half of it before coming up for air with a loud belch.
Parker: I mean...I have what two years of experience in wrestling. That translates into being an amazing Ride the Lightning champion. Right?
Nathan just shrugs to himself before waving at another shopper driving into the parking lot.
Parker: What would I have to say about Maxwell Murder? I mean, I could pick apart his name. I suppose it’s good that both first and last name starts with M? Maxwell Mmmmmmurder. Is it because he wants to murder people? I don’t think they can do that in the ring, but if his name means that he’s really into hardcore shit then I can hang with him. Fuck, I’d fuck myself up before stepping into the ring with him just to show the entire world how fucking crazy I am.
Nathan finishes another bottle of beer, drops it by his side, and opens another bottle of beer.
Parker: You know I should look up profiles of the names of these guys that I’m facing in the ring so that I know a little bit about them before I get to be in the ring with them and have to fight. I do have an edge on them though. None of them know that I’m from a backyard league.
Nathan realizes that he just said that out loud and thus that everyone will know this info now. He sighs, finishes his bottle of beer, and smashes the empty against his forehead. He grabs his last bottle of beer, regards it like it was the answer to everything, and opens it. He takes a cautious sip of the beer as if savoring it.
Yes, blood runs down his face from a gash in his forehead, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.
When the bottle of beer gets to half drunk, Nathan sets it in his cup holder on his chair with great care, and gets out his phone. He spins through his contact list until he finds the person that he’s looking for.
Parker: Hey, Mick! I’m out of booze! Can you bring me more?
Nathan listens for a little bit before he nods his head. He shakes his head in realizing that his friend can’t see him over a regular phone call.
Parker: Where am I? I think I’m in Jersey? Is that anywhere near you? Yeah, it’s like totally daylight right now! Oh...you are still in Australia. Aren’t you. What about emailing it to me? Aren’t there 3D printers now that will do that kind of shit? No. Well, fuck. Can you regular mail it to me and have it get here within like an hour? Where am I? Like address-wise? I’m in a Walmart parking lot since you can camp out there overnight in their parking lot. What do you mean go buy the hooch at Walmart? You think they’ll respect the tab I have with you? Damn it to Hell, fuck. Fine, I’ll raid my savings and buy my own hooch.
Nathan is about to hang up the phone when he brings it back to his ear.
Parker: Mick. Hey. Hey, Mick. FUCK YOU. Love ya, man. Later.
Nathan hangs up the phone, putting it away. He finishes his last beer and steps into his camper for a few minutes, rattling around for awhile. He comes out with a dirty, nasty looking sock that might have been white at one time, but now appears to be more blackened crust. He pulls out a roll of bills from it that also look extremely dirty. He grabs two hundred dollars, puts the rest back, and throws the sock into the camper. He puts the money in his pocket and starts walking the half mile hike that it is to get to the Walmart Grocery door (since the other door isn’t being used due to the corona). He wipes at the blood running down his face and looks at his bloody hand in some mild confusion.
Parker: When did I start bleeding? God fucking knows.
Nathan shrugs and heads toward the Walmart to buy himself some booze.
To be continued…