Post by Deleted on Oct 5, 2021 23:04:46 GMT -5
OOC Note: This is a vital promo I did to explain some of Brad's history and I've finally found it again to post here.
“Sex & Violence Wrestling, let me take you back to a story when I was 14 years old back in Boston. Back in the day when I was a young teenager and didn’t know the difference between right and wrong. The difference between saying no and saying yes. The crowd I was in with besides my then girlfriend? Wasn’t good. It wasn’t a good crowd at all.
We all know my problems with alcohol, right? How I’d drink a beer, then another beer, and another. I’d keep going until an entire case was gone and I still didn’t feel a fucking thing. A case of Bud, gone, and I wasn’t even buzzed. So I turned to Jack. My old buddy Jack. And this started when I was 12 years old. My cousin Jack said, hey Brad, go ahead and take a drink of this. It’ll put some hair on your balls.
Yeah, sure, some hair on my balls. So I take a drink. I didn’t care for it. Told me to take another. I did. Slowly it made me feel good. Feel good. Made me forget about the beatings. The scars. The uncle who called me a cocksucking {Mongo Edit: Fuck Off} for sport. The aunt who ignored me. The only person that looked out for me was my cousin. So when he told me to drink that, hold this, do whatever, I did it because he was the only one who gave a fuck about me.
So, back to my story, I was 14. It was a Saturday night. Megan was off doing some family shit. I was home with Jack. We were chillin’ watchin’ sports. Fuckin’ Boston College getting their shit wrecked by someone. Can’t remember who it was. It was bad. Jack was smokin, drinkin, offering me a hit. I didn’t take it. Never cared for weed. Coke. Heroin. That shit fucked me with. Couldn’t handle it. But sweet Jack. That was all me. He didn’t give a shit if I took a bottle for the night.
Kept me quiet. Got me to pass out so he could fuck a random bitch. Didn’t matter. This night he wanted to go out. That was fine with me. Uncle was due home anytime. Didn’t want to face the wrath after he got back from the bar. We get in his piece of shit Jeep and start driving around. We got our paper bags blockin’ the bottles. Cops were eying us something hard. Didn’t do nothing though. Never did.
Best not to fuck with a kid from South with nothing to lose. So after an hour of driving trying to find his crew we pull up to his buddy’s house. You know that term kids use today callin’ it a trap house? Yeah, it was like this place. Only they dealt in weed. No hard shit. Didn’t bother me. So we go in and chill there. Jack is drinkin, smokin’, some chicks are making out for us. He asks me which one I want. I said neither. I didn’t want to get away from Megan.
“Bullshit, Brad, go ahead and take one of ‘em. Megan won’t know about ‘em polishing your knob.”
So fuck it, right? I take the brunette with tits, shock right? We make out, fool around, get done and Jack is like good job, kid. We’re rolling around out again. Cool. So we pack up a couple of cars and we get to this really nice neighborhood. Talking money. Talking Benz and BMWs. Tell me to wait in the car. That’s fine. I didn’t think I could walk after all I’ve drank that night. A few minutes pass by as they kept the cars going.
Didn’t think anything of it.
A few more minutes and they come running out with a bunch of shit in their hands. They robbed the places. I sat in the Jeep while they were in there taking all this shit from these rich people who probably didn’t give a shit if it was gone. They could afford to replace their VCR, Super Nintendo, all that high end stuff back in 1993.
So we drive around looking for a pawn shop. Making quick cash, Jack called it. At this point I was shocked I remember anything at that point. I was fading in and out. Fading. I remember them stopping at the shop taking the stuff in. The owner knew it was hot but it was where no one would care to go to. No one came to this place unless they had to. This is what I lived in until I ran away after Jack was shot.
This is what I dealt with every weekend when she wasn’t home. I was drinking. Watching them steal this shit for more drug money. The turning point came the night Jack kept me sober. Said they needed me to help out. Man short they said. I felt like I belonged with these people. Yeah, it’s fucked up but when you got two people that gave a shit about you it was either you go along or you drink yourself to death before you turn 18.
So I helped. Peer pressure is a motherfucker.
This time, though, we did it two blocks from a cop shop. It was bad. Real fuckin’ bad. Jack told me to go hide in someone’s tree house. Some reason he knew that my life was still worth saving despite all this. I did. I listened. Three hours later I finally get out of this tree house and head home. Jack was there laughing, smoking, injecting. Surprised to see me back so late. I asked them how they got away. Expert driving he said.
What I didn’t know at the time is that he was rolling on some of the people he knew. Got pulled over. Gave the shit back, rolled the names, and he was free to go. That’s why he didn’t want me there with him. I didn’t understand how he could do that to these people. These people that were his friends. I still don’t get how he gave them up for doing the same shit he was doing. But he did.
Six months later he was dead and I was living with the Sanderson family getting my life turned around until I left for college. You might be asking yourself why are you telling everyone this? Why are you exposing some of the stuff you did?
It’s simple.
When you don’t have parents. No stable family situation this is what you turn into. A person like me. An always recovering alcoholic with so many issues. I don’t trust many people. I go through women like grains of sand, or so you people say. But lets think about this for a moment. Megan? Yeah, I cheated on her but I always came home. Over 20 years I came home to her. Nina? I was good to her. Ashleigh? Was good to her. That 18 year old? Was good to her.
Lindsey? Amazing to her.
The point is this. When I was young, when I was in college, I was drinking. I had people telling me to go for. Megan wouldn’t know. The art of peer pressure. So when I listened to that song by Kendrick Lamar it got me thinking about how he got it right. Life can be different until you’re with your homies. Then you do shit you don’t normally do. I’m livin’ proof. I pay for it every day with the jokes.
The memes.
The insults.
Everything.
I am paying my price for peer pressure. And this is a warning to the kids out there. A warning to the weak minded adults. This is a walking warning as to what happens when you go down the same path that I went down. You end up broken. Hoping for someone to come along and fix you. And that person never comes so you go from moderate to moderate fixes. Then finally you find that good fix.
Linds is my good fix. I can feel it. I can sense it.
But for the past few years I’ve paid for the evil I’ve done to Megan Lola Sanderson. I’ve paid for the evil I did to Christopher Bradley Kane. I paid for letting go of Erin Burns when I should’ve fought harder to keep her. Everything I’ve done wrong has come back to me.
And I’ve repaid my sins.
I’ve served my time.
No more peer pressure.
No.
More.
I’m done with it. As of this day, a few days after my 37th birthday in the year 2016, Bradley Allen Kane is reborn. Fixed. Ready to do what I do best. Get into that ring. Kick people in the face. Drop them on their heads. And that starts with Mika Demidov at Fearless.
You know what happens in a couple of months, Mika? You’re gonna pay for all the pain I had to deal with the past few years while I paid for my sins. I’m going to take it out on that smug look on your face. I’m going to make you wish to sonny Jesus Christ to make the pain stop.
And then?
Well… you’ll find out at Fearless in a couple of months.
…::I’m usually a true firm believer of bad karma
Consequences from evil will make your past haunt you::...
~”The Art of Peer Pressure” by Kendrick Lamar~
Consequences from evil will make your past haunt you::...
~”The Art of Peer Pressure” by Kendrick Lamar~
“Sex & Violence Wrestling, let me take you back to a story when I was 14 years old back in Boston. Back in the day when I was a young teenager and didn’t know the difference between right and wrong. The difference between saying no and saying yes. The crowd I was in with besides my then girlfriend? Wasn’t good. It wasn’t a good crowd at all.
We all know my problems with alcohol, right? How I’d drink a beer, then another beer, and another. I’d keep going until an entire case was gone and I still didn’t feel a fucking thing. A case of Bud, gone, and I wasn’t even buzzed. So I turned to Jack. My old buddy Jack. And this started when I was 12 years old. My cousin Jack said, hey Brad, go ahead and take a drink of this. It’ll put some hair on your balls.
Yeah, sure, some hair on my balls. So I take a drink. I didn’t care for it. Told me to take another. I did. Slowly it made me feel good. Feel good. Made me forget about the beatings. The scars. The uncle who called me a cocksucking {Mongo Edit: Fuck Off} for sport. The aunt who ignored me. The only person that looked out for me was my cousin. So when he told me to drink that, hold this, do whatever, I did it because he was the only one who gave a fuck about me.
So, back to my story, I was 14. It was a Saturday night. Megan was off doing some family shit. I was home with Jack. We were chillin’ watchin’ sports. Fuckin’ Boston College getting their shit wrecked by someone. Can’t remember who it was. It was bad. Jack was smokin, drinkin, offering me a hit. I didn’t take it. Never cared for weed. Coke. Heroin. That shit fucked me with. Couldn’t handle it. But sweet Jack. That was all me. He didn’t give a shit if I took a bottle for the night.
Kept me quiet. Got me to pass out so he could fuck a random bitch. Didn’t matter. This night he wanted to go out. That was fine with me. Uncle was due home anytime. Didn’t want to face the wrath after he got back from the bar. We get in his piece of shit Jeep and start driving around. We got our paper bags blockin’ the bottles. Cops were eying us something hard. Didn’t do nothing though. Never did.
Best not to fuck with a kid from South with nothing to lose. So after an hour of driving trying to find his crew we pull up to his buddy’s house. You know that term kids use today callin’ it a trap house? Yeah, it was like this place. Only they dealt in weed. No hard shit. Didn’t bother me. So we go in and chill there. Jack is drinkin, smokin’, some chicks are making out for us. He asks me which one I want. I said neither. I didn’t want to get away from Megan.
“Bullshit, Brad, go ahead and take one of ‘em. Megan won’t know about ‘em polishing your knob.”
So fuck it, right? I take the brunette with tits, shock right? We make out, fool around, get done and Jack is like good job, kid. We’re rolling around out again. Cool. So we pack up a couple of cars and we get to this really nice neighborhood. Talking money. Talking Benz and BMWs. Tell me to wait in the car. That’s fine. I didn’t think I could walk after all I’ve drank that night. A few minutes pass by as they kept the cars going.
Didn’t think anything of it.
A few more minutes and they come running out with a bunch of shit in their hands. They robbed the places. I sat in the Jeep while they were in there taking all this shit from these rich people who probably didn’t give a shit if it was gone. They could afford to replace their VCR, Super Nintendo, all that high end stuff back in 1993.
So we drive around looking for a pawn shop. Making quick cash, Jack called it. At this point I was shocked I remember anything at that point. I was fading in and out. Fading. I remember them stopping at the shop taking the stuff in. The owner knew it was hot but it was where no one would care to go to. No one came to this place unless they had to. This is what I lived in until I ran away after Jack was shot.
This is what I dealt with every weekend when she wasn’t home. I was drinking. Watching them steal this shit for more drug money. The turning point came the night Jack kept me sober. Said they needed me to help out. Man short they said. I felt like I belonged with these people. Yeah, it’s fucked up but when you got two people that gave a shit about you it was either you go along or you drink yourself to death before you turn 18.
So I helped. Peer pressure is a motherfucker.
This time, though, we did it two blocks from a cop shop. It was bad. Real fuckin’ bad. Jack told me to go hide in someone’s tree house. Some reason he knew that my life was still worth saving despite all this. I did. I listened. Three hours later I finally get out of this tree house and head home. Jack was there laughing, smoking, injecting. Surprised to see me back so late. I asked them how they got away. Expert driving he said.
What I didn’t know at the time is that he was rolling on some of the people he knew. Got pulled over. Gave the shit back, rolled the names, and he was free to go. That’s why he didn’t want me there with him. I didn’t understand how he could do that to these people. These people that were his friends. I still don’t get how he gave them up for doing the same shit he was doing. But he did.
Six months later he was dead and I was living with the Sanderson family getting my life turned around until I left for college. You might be asking yourself why are you telling everyone this? Why are you exposing some of the stuff you did?
It’s simple.
When you don’t have parents. No stable family situation this is what you turn into. A person like me. An always recovering alcoholic with so many issues. I don’t trust many people. I go through women like grains of sand, or so you people say. But lets think about this for a moment. Megan? Yeah, I cheated on her but I always came home. Over 20 years I came home to her. Nina? I was good to her. Ashleigh? Was good to her. That 18 year old? Was good to her.
Lindsey? Amazing to her.
The point is this. When I was young, when I was in college, I was drinking. I had people telling me to go for. Megan wouldn’t know. The art of peer pressure. So when I listened to that song by Kendrick Lamar it got me thinking about how he got it right. Life can be different until you’re with your homies. Then you do shit you don’t normally do. I’m livin’ proof. I pay for it every day with the jokes.
The memes.
The insults.
Everything.
I am paying my price for peer pressure. And this is a warning to the kids out there. A warning to the weak minded adults. This is a walking warning as to what happens when you go down the same path that I went down. You end up broken. Hoping for someone to come along and fix you. And that person never comes so you go from moderate to moderate fixes. Then finally you find that good fix.
Linds is my good fix. I can feel it. I can sense it.
But for the past few years I’ve paid for the evil I’ve done to Megan Lola Sanderson. I’ve paid for the evil I did to Christopher Bradley Kane. I paid for letting go of Erin Burns when I should’ve fought harder to keep her. Everything I’ve done wrong has come back to me.
And I’ve repaid my sins.
I’ve served my time.
No more peer pressure.
No.
More.
I’m done with it. As of this day, a few days after my 37th birthday in the year 2016, Bradley Allen Kane is reborn. Fixed. Ready to do what I do best. Get into that ring. Kick people in the face. Drop them on their heads. And that starts with Mika Demidov at Fearless.
You know what happens in a couple of months, Mika? You’re gonna pay for all the pain I had to deal with the past few years while I paid for my sins. I’m going to take it out on that smug look on your face. I’m going to make you wish to sonny Jesus Christ to make the pain stop.
And then?
Well… you’ll find out at Fearless in a couple of months.