II Crown Origins 1: Established Truths/Fake News
Jan 24, 2019 22:03:39 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Jan 24, 2019 22:03:39 GMT -5
“Let me tell you how it all began…”
Dangerous words if ever any were to be spoken. Rumours had chased Parsons around the world for years. He was known as a hot head, a smart ass, a trouble maker; worse yet…a talented one.
The type of performer that was a cancer within any locker room, he had spent his early career bouncing at gentleman’s clubs. Blacklisted from any promotion that was worth a salt. ’Creative differences’ was a phrase thrown around all too often, or ’people just don’t see eye to eye sometimes’, that wasn’t the case here. Chris, or the younger version at least, was just an asshole.
Then was it any wonder he was the first ever signee to XHF’s dirty little secret, Riot Star Wrestling. Then it all changed.
Suddenly he was a calculated and unorthodox opponent who seemed truly out of his mind.
Capable of conning his way into controlling the company, then selling away the majority when it suited his needs. But how?
“…first thing’s first Brit.” Looking her up and down, he finds himself subconsciously turning his face towards the left hiding the scar, the eye patch.
”You know my name is Christopher James Parsons and that is my legal name sure as you’re still everything I remembered…good and bad. Relax this has nothing to do Parsons was my mother’s name…”
Looking up above Britney’s left shoulder, a small curved corner mirror that was practically worked into the restaurant’s design allowed him to confirm his suspicion.
Sauntering up, her eyes were low, posture down, everything about her appeared weak. She knew she had made a big mistake.
”Excuse me, are we ready to order?” Remarkably she’d managed to remain calm around the man she’d likely insulted earlier.
The disdain each held for the other made for a tenuous business relationship at best. Back embroiled in her Twitter feed, she called it working. Any sniff of an unhappy athlete and she’d slide into their DM’s by any means necessary.
Barely looking up, the darkened scene seemed to cast only shadows on her face, hiding everything but her voice, ”You’re only making her walk around so she feels worse aren’t you?”
A moral man would be outraged at the accusation, he shrugged slightly, “Yup.”
Finally sliding the phone away again, she was clearly annoyed now, ”You’re going to f[BLEEP] that waitress aren’t you?” His eyes widen but not from her judgmental tone, it was happening again.
”Time out.” Once again pulling a ’Zack Morris’ a record scratch later, time stands still.
Taking a look around as he stands, Parsons checks Britney with a wave in front ofher face. Nothing. Now to be sure, “Women are good for two things and that’s because I like to go more than once…”
Nodding, he was confident she was frozen now. Any woman with a grain of self-respect would have shot him just now.
”What the [BLEEP] is this happy horse[BLEEP]!” Any questioning tone is lost as his wild bewilderment turns to simple and innocent wonder.
Slowly, with purpose, he enunciates every single syllable, ”Motherf[BLEEP]er.” Nodding he seemed to be confirming a conclusion he was in middle of arriving at.
Confidently, he hisses his way into his next test, “S[BLEEP].”
“Hmmm…this can’t be good, better look into it.” It was just as he feared, he couldn’t swear, he ‘The Nightmare’ Chris Parsons…couldn’t swear. What sort of cheap laughs ‘Lair Lair’ garbage sorcery was this?
Sliding his hand into his jacket, he produces a large model iPhone and with a practiced slide of his finger, he’s in.
”Let’s see. XHF Network…ah! There!” A familiar black background with green font greeted him, ”Rules, rules, where are you?” Some taps and a mobile network wait later and he had what he needed. Reading, he chuckles. There were a lot of rules, he wasn’t in Kansas anymore, ”So this is why Awoken got banned, I see.”
Banned and reinstated, the current RSW Tagteam Champions and their mouthpiece Erik Black had ruffled feathers long before he’d arrived. There was no sense making it worse, but as part owner of the company, he wouldn’t be able to resist tiptoeing up to the line just to find it.
”Cock…a doodle doo…no bleep. Interesting.” Rubbing his chin, he smirks. ”Shhhhh…it appears I’ve found a loophole. If I can’t slip it past the censors on TV, I can’t say it here huh? That’s the game? Lucky for you motherf[BLEEP]s I got skills and shhhh…it’s not that hard when you try.”
Taking a deep breath, he whispers to himself, ”You can do this, you can make it through this event going PG. If Vince can land a billion dollar deal with Fox with it, you can do not for one event. You’re Chris Parsons, the guy that can do anything…even take their X Crown and show them what a king is…just do your thing.”
Glancing up to the heavens as though he were Andy Dufresne after crawling through five hundred yards of XHF Network feds not named RSW.
”Hey, asshole writing this? Can a brother get a rewind?”
He had already stopped time, dare he reverse it? Perhaps even put his thing down, flip it and reverse it?
For long moments nothing happened. Before last time it had been well over a year since he’d used his fourth wall abilities. His head hung, he’d given it a shot. He couldn’t expect…
Then impossible stacked upon impossible…time began to move backward. His faith restored, Parsons takes his seat across from Britney once more.
She twitches and jabbers as time reverses, sound like Alvin and the Chipmunks Dark Metal tribute band in the process.
When she has her phone out once again, Parsons’ eyes narrow, ”Here’s good. I’ll take it from here, look…don’t let anyone tell you you’re not at least half as good as Rob Riot. Now get back to work, you have a shot ton more of these to crank out because you’re apparently trying to give yourself an aneurysm.”
Barely looking up, he studied her even closer this time marvelling as shadows gave her the look of an angel and succubus simultaneously.
Glancing up, she catches him looking and immediately quips, ”What?” She paused only a moment, her mind taking her to the lowest common denominator. ”You’re horrible. You’re only making her walk around so she feels worse aren’t you?”
Smirking, he remembered his lines; ”Yup.”
The click that emanated as she sucked her teeth at him almost echoed in their little private corner of the restaurant, ”You’re going to…”
Cutting in, he again changes things; ”Look, things are different now. Don’t judge. Where was I?”
Gathering his thoughts, he takes the appropriate amount of time required to look up and check and reread what happened earlier, ”Right, my last name. It was my mother’s maiden name.”
”I was born on an Army base in Michigan. My dad was a bonafide war hero. Busted ass for America. His body too.”
Slamming back the bottom third of his glass, he pours himself another, ”Saved those men though, what was left of his platoon anyway. Medal of Honour recipient and everything.” Placing the bottle back on ice, he noticed a slight scowl from Britney just as he’d begun to gain her interest, he didn’t need the mirror this time; their server must be returning.
”Your timing is perfect. I’ll have the filet mignon…and I can’t be clear enough about this. I need enough to fuel a six and a half foot man, not the dining full of betas out there. Cost isn’t an issue. Rice on the side with garlic butter.”
Taking down his order, she turns to the lady. ”The broiled lobster tails with garlic and chilli butter, a little extra heat in the butter…and another of these.” Gesturing toward the mostly empty bottle of champagne, this tale would cost him another eight hundred and fifty dollars. Any victory worth winning came at a great cost, it was true in war, it was true in the ring, and it was true here.
Rushing off with a ”Right away, I’ll have someone from the bar head over.” She practically left a cartoon dust cloud in her wake.
Parsons didn’t wait for his audience’s attention to turn back to him, the story held him now. His lone eye was dull and cold as he spoke now. ”But you see, the twisted part of having a war hero daddy, is you get to see the whole story unfold. All of it, including the parts after the ceremonies are over and the local news leaves. All of them forget about the sacrifices you made, that’s why so many of them end up bitter and alone.”
He trailed off, reflecting on a life that could have been. Family, friends, he truly had neither. ”You get to see them come back, be told they’re a hero. That it takes a special kind of person to do what they did. You watch them be praised, worshiped, fixed as best medicine can manage, and sent back to live happily ever after.” The sarcasm rolled off his tongue as he took a sip from his champagne.”Except often times that ain’t how it goes sugartits. Sometimes happily ever after is only in fairy tales Brit. Sometimes war heroes have no discernible job skills and a destroyed leg.”
This clearly isn’t normal polite dinner conversation. Perhaps he really did want to put their past behind them. Perhaps this was his negotiation tactic, Pain. ”Daddy-o gets addicted to pain pills, starts washing them down with cheap liquor because it’s not like he can work right? The next thing you know, he’s beating his wife. His pre-teen son doesn’t like that…not one bit...and makes the cardinal mistake of trying to defend mommy dearest.”
Champagne in his left hand, Britney sees his right clinch right, forming a fist. If he was this good an actor she’d been letting a fortune sit on the shelf. He could tackle Hollywood before ever getting anywhere near the RSW World Heavyweight Championship ever again.
His voice goes soft, ”In the beginning, Mommy pleads for her husband to not hurt the boy any further. That doesn’t work. So the boy starts to take the place of his mother as family punching bag. He’s happy to do it, anything to save her from pain. For months this would go on, Mommy would cry and plead with her husband, the boy’s father, as he beat that kid daily.”
Locking her gaze, he let her look at him eye to eye for just a few seconds. She was beginning to believe.
”But here’s where it gets messed up. With tome, that sack of garbage’s behaviour became normal to the boy’s Mother and eventually tears were replaced with more booze, more pills. Eventually the only one crying, was the boy.” That one stung. How could she? Could she really have turned a blind eye? ”Now, just as things had settled into a routine we get a new flavour of awful…’cause now they move off of military housing because the ’war hero’ gets an honourable discharge, he can’t ever be a soldier ever again. He did his duty, they didn’t need him anymore. So now things start to get really bad for the boy.” Bass enters his voice, but instead of increasing his voice, it only adds an ominous tone.
”The boy starts at a new school around a bunch of non army brats and it doesn’t take long before another kid’s father sees through the kid’s problems. Don’t ask, don’t tell doesn’t apply in civilian life.” Military families are known for their unequalled loyalty, sometimes the shadow cast by loyalty can conseal a monster. ”The bumps, bruises, limps, all of it. Huge red flags. There was no money for sports, how was this kid getting hurt?”
Stopping, he actually smiles for a moment before continuing to spin his tale, ”Now this other kid’s father ran a small judo dojo. So he gave the freshly thirteen boy his first job. In exchange for a little pocket money his drunk parents could take and, more importantly, training. That man had the boy practically live at the dojo. After all, every minute he was there, the kid wasn’t getting beaten by his father.” Finally, within all that darkness, there was a ray of light. Even his posture said this was a reprieve in what had to be a nightmare of a time in this poor boy’s life. ”This went on for a while, the money helped keep daddy dearest fucked up enough that the beating slowed down, mommy slid into the liquor cabinet next to her ’war hero’ husband.”
Pouring her another glass, he raises an eyebrow has their hands touch, ”Ever wonder how some people sleep soundly and others are woken by the slightest noise. Get woken up just once by having some impotent pill-popping drunk beat the tar out of you because he couldn’t get it up with his wife. After that, any noise, from the creek of a floorboard to a gunshot, wakes you. It’s a survival instinct, it’s as simple as that.” A shiver went through her body, what monster would beat a sleeping child? Was this too much? Was this why he was borderline insane?
The wild partying, the booze, the drugs, both were led in and out of his former Vegas penthouse by a flowing river of ’girls of the day’. Was all of a coping mechanism? The claiming to be a fictional character within the world of ’efedding’. All of it to distract from a childhood trauma few could survive, let alone succeed in spite of.
”Not that became life, as sad as it was. The boy earned money, got healthy, but the damage was done. His temper began showing it’s ugly head.” Changing tones drastically, he’s guarded again, aggressive. ”I’ll spare you the details Brit, but one night the boy woke up from a noise in the house. He wandered down the hall to find his father in the process of failing to {No Means No} his mother. He couldn’t get it up.”
This was it, all roads led to this. She could feel it as she could feel the alcohol in the champagne and the pain in that poor boy’s heart. ”Slack-jawed, his father turned to find the now fifteen-year-old standing in the door. His words would never be forgotten, ’You watching me boy? You gettin’ off on this?’ And that was when ’it’ happened.”
’It’, the night everything ended. Any chance of him defying the odds to live a normal existence, died that night. He had gone on to fame and riches sure, but the price paid was more than anyone could have imagined. This pit of despair, had a basement. ”The boy couldn’t take it anymore Brit, he kicked the led out from that crippled abusive rapist pill-poppin’ drunk and beat him the way he’d been beaten. And that’s when thing got messed up. She begged him to stop. She, the mother who had given up begging her husband to stop beating the boy, was now begging that boy to stop beating her husband…that’s what abuse does Brit, they make excuses for the person ruining their lives, the victims often take the side to the abuser…Stockholm syndrome is a mother…” Saving the censor, he just lets the thought die. If she had turned a blind eye before, now she had turned her back on him completely. ”I wish that was where this fairy tale ended…”
There was more? This hole likely now led to a white rabbit in a terrible hurry such was its depth. ”…but somehow it gets better. See neighbours finally had enough and called the cops. When they got there, they found a hysterical woman screaming at the top of her lungs that her son had beaten her husband unconscious and was crazy.”
Taking a deep breath, this was clearly the crescendo of his symphony of pain; ”Now I don’t care for cops, but this one was alright. He talked to that teenaged boy and pieced together the truth and slapped handcuffs on that piece of trash. And still it got worse, as they were dragged that garbage to a squad car, the boy’s sister came out of the house.”
He saw her eyes widen immediately, he had her. ”Yeah, I never mentioned the boy’s sister…”
With a deadpan expression he looks straight into her eyes drawing her forward, ”…that teenaged boy took one look at his sister and saw red. Literally. Her pajama bottoms were soaked in blood. Daddy wasn’t able to get it up for Mommy, not because he was a complete impotent piece of garbage. He couldn’t get it up because he’d only just finished. With her. That was the noise that woke him.” He watched the water well up in her eyes before even breathing again. ”So, with her watching, the police hauled that sorry sack of excrement away. The boy wasn’t done, the boy broke free and ran to his father ’How could you?’, he screamed at him and screamed it again. His father didn’t even look at him, ’Look at me!’ and when the man that used to be his father looked at him, the teenaged boy did the unthinkable.”
She couldn’t take it anymore, his whole tale led to this, she exclaimed her question, ”What did he do?” Biting her lip, she was invested and just a little north of sober.
”I jammed my thumb in his eye socket as deep as I could…and I tore that bastard’s eye out…” The matter of fact manner he finishes the tale with is chilling.
Leaning forward, her cleavage dangles above her crystal flute, the malice she had confronted with with when he first walked in had evaporated completely.
The eye drew her in just a tad further, she had no trouble hearing him even as he softened his voice once again. ”The truth? Of course it is sugartits…”
At that moment, their food and second bottle of champagne arrived providing just the distraction he needed to change the subject, ”…but then again, so is this…”
Dangerous words if ever any were to be spoken. Rumours had chased Parsons around the world for years. He was known as a hot head, a smart ass, a trouble maker; worse yet…a talented one.
The type of performer that was a cancer within any locker room, he had spent his early career bouncing at gentleman’s clubs. Blacklisted from any promotion that was worth a salt. ’Creative differences’ was a phrase thrown around all too often, or ’people just don’t see eye to eye sometimes’, that wasn’t the case here. Chris, or the younger version at least, was just an asshole.
Then was it any wonder he was the first ever signee to XHF’s dirty little secret, Riot Star Wrestling. Then it all changed.
Suddenly he was a calculated and unorthodox opponent who seemed truly out of his mind.
Capable of conning his way into controlling the company, then selling away the majority when it suited his needs. But how?
“…first thing’s first Brit.” Looking her up and down, he finds himself subconsciously turning his face towards the left hiding the scar, the eye patch.
”You know my name is Christopher James Parsons and that is my legal name sure as you’re still everything I remembered…good and bad. Relax this has nothing to do Parsons was my mother’s name…”
Looking up above Britney’s left shoulder, a small curved corner mirror that was practically worked into the restaurant’s design allowed him to confirm his suspicion.
Sauntering up, her eyes were low, posture down, everything about her appeared weak. She knew she had made a big mistake.
”Excuse me, are we ready to order?” Remarkably she’d managed to remain calm around the man she’d likely insulted earlier.
The disdain each held for the other made for a tenuous business relationship at best. Back embroiled in her Twitter feed, she called it working. Any sniff of an unhappy athlete and she’d slide into their DM’s by any means necessary.
Barely looking up, the darkened scene seemed to cast only shadows on her face, hiding everything but her voice, ”You’re only making her walk around so she feels worse aren’t you?”
A moral man would be outraged at the accusation, he shrugged slightly, “Yup.”
Finally sliding the phone away again, she was clearly annoyed now, ”You’re going to f[BLEEP] that waitress aren’t you?” His eyes widen but not from her judgmental tone, it was happening again.
”Time out.” Once again pulling a ’Zack Morris’ a record scratch later, time stands still.
Taking a look around as he stands, Parsons checks Britney with a wave in front ofher face. Nothing. Now to be sure, “Women are good for two things and that’s because I like to go more than once…”
Nodding, he was confident she was frozen now. Any woman with a grain of self-respect would have shot him just now.
”What the [BLEEP] is this happy horse[BLEEP]!” Any questioning tone is lost as his wild bewilderment turns to simple and innocent wonder.
Slowly, with purpose, he enunciates every single syllable, ”Motherf[BLEEP]er.” Nodding he seemed to be confirming a conclusion he was in middle of arriving at.
Confidently, he hisses his way into his next test, “S[BLEEP].”
“Hmmm…this can’t be good, better look into it.” It was just as he feared, he couldn’t swear, he ‘The Nightmare’ Chris Parsons…couldn’t swear. What sort of cheap laughs ‘Lair Lair’ garbage sorcery was this?
Sliding his hand into his jacket, he produces a large model iPhone and with a practiced slide of his finger, he’s in.
”Let’s see. XHF Network…ah! There!” A familiar black background with green font greeted him, ”Rules, rules, where are you?” Some taps and a mobile network wait later and he had what he needed. Reading, he chuckles. There were a lot of rules, he wasn’t in Kansas anymore, ”So this is why Awoken got banned, I see.”
Banned and reinstated, the current RSW Tagteam Champions and their mouthpiece Erik Black had ruffled feathers long before he’d arrived. There was no sense making it worse, but as part owner of the company, he wouldn’t be able to resist tiptoeing up to the line just to find it.
”Cock…a doodle doo…no bleep. Interesting.” Rubbing his chin, he smirks. ”Shhhhh…it appears I’ve found a loophole. If I can’t slip it past the censors on TV, I can’t say it here huh? That’s the game? Lucky for you motherf[BLEEP]s I got skills and shhhh…it’s not that hard when you try.”
Taking a deep breath, he whispers to himself, ”You can do this, you can make it through this event going PG. If Vince can land a billion dollar deal with Fox with it, you can do not for one event. You’re Chris Parsons, the guy that can do anything…even take their X Crown and show them what a king is…just do your thing.”
Glancing up to the heavens as though he were Andy Dufresne after crawling through five hundred yards of XHF Network feds not named RSW.
”Hey, asshole writing this? Can a brother get a rewind?”
He had already stopped time, dare he reverse it? Perhaps even put his thing down, flip it and reverse it?
For long moments nothing happened. Before last time it had been well over a year since he’d used his fourth wall abilities. His head hung, he’d given it a shot. He couldn’t expect…
Then impossible stacked upon impossible…time began to move backward. His faith restored, Parsons takes his seat across from Britney once more.
She twitches and jabbers as time reverses, sound like Alvin and the Chipmunks Dark Metal tribute band in the process.
When she has her phone out once again, Parsons’ eyes narrow, ”Here’s good. I’ll take it from here, look…don’t let anyone tell you you’re not at least half as good as Rob Riot. Now get back to work, you have a shot ton more of these to crank out because you’re apparently trying to give yourself an aneurysm.”
Barely looking up, he studied her even closer this time marvelling as shadows gave her the look of an angel and succubus simultaneously.
Glancing up, she catches him looking and immediately quips, ”What?” She paused only a moment, her mind taking her to the lowest common denominator. ”You’re horrible. You’re only making her walk around so she feels worse aren’t you?”
Smirking, he remembered his lines; ”Yup.”
The click that emanated as she sucked her teeth at him almost echoed in their little private corner of the restaurant, ”You’re going to…”
Cutting in, he again changes things; ”Look, things are different now. Don’t judge. Where was I?”
Gathering his thoughts, he takes the appropriate amount of time required to look up and check and reread what happened earlier, ”Right, my last name. It was my mother’s maiden name.”
”I was born on an Army base in Michigan. My dad was a bonafide war hero. Busted ass for America. His body too.”
Slamming back the bottom third of his glass, he pours himself another, ”Saved those men though, what was left of his platoon anyway. Medal of Honour recipient and everything.” Placing the bottle back on ice, he noticed a slight scowl from Britney just as he’d begun to gain her interest, he didn’t need the mirror this time; their server must be returning.
”Your timing is perfect. I’ll have the filet mignon…and I can’t be clear enough about this. I need enough to fuel a six and a half foot man, not the dining full of betas out there. Cost isn’t an issue. Rice on the side with garlic butter.”
Taking down his order, she turns to the lady. ”The broiled lobster tails with garlic and chilli butter, a little extra heat in the butter…and another of these.” Gesturing toward the mostly empty bottle of champagne, this tale would cost him another eight hundred and fifty dollars. Any victory worth winning came at a great cost, it was true in war, it was true in the ring, and it was true here.
Rushing off with a ”Right away, I’ll have someone from the bar head over.” She practically left a cartoon dust cloud in her wake.
Parsons didn’t wait for his audience’s attention to turn back to him, the story held him now. His lone eye was dull and cold as he spoke now. ”But you see, the twisted part of having a war hero daddy, is you get to see the whole story unfold. All of it, including the parts after the ceremonies are over and the local news leaves. All of them forget about the sacrifices you made, that’s why so many of them end up bitter and alone.”
He trailed off, reflecting on a life that could have been. Family, friends, he truly had neither. ”You get to see them come back, be told they’re a hero. That it takes a special kind of person to do what they did. You watch them be praised, worshiped, fixed as best medicine can manage, and sent back to live happily ever after.” The sarcasm rolled off his tongue as he took a sip from his champagne.”Except often times that ain’t how it goes sugartits. Sometimes happily ever after is only in fairy tales Brit. Sometimes war heroes have no discernible job skills and a destroyed leg.”
This clearly isn’t normal polite dinner conversation. Perhaps he really did want to put their past behind them. Perhaps this was his negotiation tactic, Pain. ”Daddy-o gets addicted to pain pills, starts washing them down with cheap liquor because it’s not like he can work right? The next thing you know, he’s beating his wife. His pre-teen son doesn’t like that…not one bit...and makes the cardinal mistake of trying to defend mommy dearest.”
Champagne in his left hand, Britney sees his right clinch right, forming a fist. If he was this good an actor she’d been letting a fortune sit on the shelf. He could tackle Hollywood before ever getting anywhere near the RSW World Heavyweight Championship ever again.
His voice goes soft, ”In the beginning, Mommy pleads for her husband to not hurt the boy any further. That doesn’t work. So the boy starts to take the place of his mother as family punching bag. He’s happy to do it, anything to save her from pain. For months this would go on, Mommy would cry and plead with her husband, the boy’s father, as he beat that kid daily.”
Locking her gaze, he let her look at him eye to eye for just a few seconds. She was beginning to believe.
”But here’s where it gets messed up. With tome, that sack of garbage’s behaviour became normal to the boy’s Mother and eventually tears were replaced with more booze, more pills. Eventually the only one crying, was the boy.” That one stung. How could she? Could she really have turned a blind eye? ”Now, just as things had settled into a routine we get a new flavour of awful…’cause now they move off of military housing because the ’war hero’ gets an honourable discharge, he can’t ever be a soldier ever again. He did his duty, they didn’t need him anymore. So now things start to get really bad for the boy.” Bass enters his voice, but instead of increasing his voice, it only adds an ominous tone.
”The boy starts at a new school around a bunch of non army brats and it doesn’t take long before another kid’s father sees through the kid’s problems. Don’t ask, don’t tell doesn’t apply in civilian life.” Military families are known for their unequalled loyalty, sometimes the shadow cast by loyalty can conseal a monster. ”The bumps, bruises, limps, all of it. Huge red flags. There was no money for sports, how was this kid getting hurt?”
Stopping, he actually smiles for a moment before continuing to spin his tale, ”Now this other kid’s father ran a small judo dojo. So he gave the freshly thirteen boy his first job. In exchange for a little pocket money his drunk parents could take and, more importantly, training. That man had the boy practically live at the dojo. After all, every minute he was there, the kid wasn’t getting beaten by his father.” Finally, within all that darkness, there was a ray of light. Even his posture said this was a reprieve in what had to be a nightmare of a time in this poor boy’s life. ”This went on for a while, the money helped keep daddy dearest fucked up enough that the beating slowed down, mommy slid into the liquor cabinet next to her ’war hero’ husband.”
Pouring her another glass, he raises an eyebrow has their hands touch, ”Ever wonder how some people sleep soundly and others are woken by the slightest noise. Get woken up just once by having some impotent pill-popping drunk beat the tar out of you because he couldn’t get it up with his wife. After that, any noise, from the creek of a floorboard to a gunshot, wakes you. It’s a survival instinct, it’s as simple as that.” A shiver went through her body, what monster would beat a sleeping child? Was this too much? Was this why he was borderline insane?
The wild partying, the booze, the drugs, both were led in and out of his former Vegas penthouse by a flowing river of ’girls of the day’. Was all of a coping mechanism? The claiming to be a fictional character within the world of ’efedding’. All of it to distract from a childhood trauma few could survive, let alone succeed in spite of.
”Not that became life, as sad as it was. The boy earned money, got healthy, but the damage was done. His temper began showing it’s ugly head.” Changing tones drastically, he’s guarded again, aggressive. ”I’ll spare you the details Brit, but one night the boy woke up from a noise in the house. He wandered down the hall to find his father in the process of failing to {No Means No} his mother. He couldn’t get it up.”
This was it, all roads led to this. She could feel it as she could feel the alcohol in the champagne and the pain in that poor boy’s heart. ”Slack-jawed, his father turned to find the now fifteen-year-old standing in the door. His words would never be forgotten, ’You watching me boy? You gettin’ off on this?’ And that was when ’it’ happened.”
’It’, the night everything ended. Any chance of him defying the odds to live a normal existence, died that night. He had gone on to fame and riches sure, but the price paid was more than anyone could have imagined. This pit of despair, had a basement. ”The boy couldn’t take it anymore Brit, he kicked the led out from that crippled abusive rapist pill-poppin’ drunk and beat him the way he’d been beaten. And that’s when thing got messed up. She begged him to stop. She, the mother who had given up begging her husband to stop beating the boy, was now begging that boy to stop beating her husband…that’s what abuse does Brit, they make excuses for the person ruining their lives, the victims often take the side to the abuser…Stockholm syndrome is a mother…” Saving the censor, he just lets the thought die. If she had turned a blind eye before, now she had turned her back on him completely. ”I wish that was where this fairy tale ended…”
There was more? This hole likely now led to a white rabbit in a terrible hurry such was its depth. ”…but somehow it gets better. See neighbours finally had enough and called the cops. When they got there, they found a hysterical woman screaming at the top of her lungs that her son had beaten her husband unconscious and was crazy.”
Taking a deep breath, this was clearly the crescendo of his symphony of pain; ”Now I don’t care for cops, but this one was alright. He talked to that teenaged boy and pieced together the truth and slapped handcuffs on that piece of trash. And still it got worse, as they were dragged that garbage to a squad car, the boy’s sister came out of the house.”
He saw her eyes widen immediately, he had her. ”Yeah, I never mentioned the boy’s sister…”
With a deadpan expression he looks straight into her eyes drawing her forward, ”…that teenaged boy took one look at his sister and saw red. Literally. Her pajama bottoms were soaked in blood. Daddy wasn’t able to get it up for Mommy, not because he was a complete impotent piece of garbage. He couldn’t get it up because he’d only just finished. With her. That was the noise that woke him.” He watched the water well up in her eyes before even breathing again. ”So, with her watching, the police hauled that sorry sack of excrement away. The boy wasn’t done, the boy broke free and ran to his father ’How could you?’, he screamed at him and screamed it again. His father didn’t even look at him, ’Look at me!’ and when the man that used to be his father looked at him, the teenaged boy did the unthinkable.”
She couldn’t take it anymore, his whole tale led to this, she exclaimed her question, ”What did he do?” Biting her lip, she was invested and just a little north of sober.
”I jammed my thumb in his eye socket as deep as I could…and I tore that bastard’s eye out…” The matter of fact manner he finishes the tale with is chilling.
Leaning forward, her cleavage dangles above her crystal flute, the malice she had confronted with with when he first walked in had evaporated completely.
The eye drew her in just a tad further, she had no trouble hearing him even as he softened his voice once again. ”The truth? Of course it is sugartits…”
At that moment, their food and second bottle of champagne arrived providing just the distraction he needed to change the subject, ”…but then again, so is this…”