Post by English/Corpse on Jul 21, 2014 18:15:46 GMT -6
VOW Presents
A Casanova English Original
Good Knight
The bartender pours me another Gibson
on the rocks, but I knew hours ago it was too many. I run my hands
down my face thinking of the battle that raged this past week at
Breakthrough. The battle with Serra. She put me through hell. I
needed it. I needed to realize what it was like to face competition
again. Star and I put on a hell of a show, but she reminded me. . .
he shouldn't be the only one to worry about. I have the opportunity
now to go on and win a Championship. It would be the second time I
was the first ever champion of a promotion. I did it at IPW in my
first few months in the business, now in my return to the ring I have
a chance to do it again. Does it matter though? Does it change
anything. I take a sip off the whiskey allowing the ice to touch my
lips and cool them. I need to clear my head, I need to refocus and
here I am. In a bar I don't even know the name of. Why?
I hold the unopened letter in my hand
like a fucking government document I have to deliver to Barack Obama.
Like it is a check for a billion dollars. Her lettering is so
elegant, so distinct. Why would my mom do this to me? Why would she
invite her to our gathering? Why would my mother invite the only
person who has ever cared for me? It is because she knows she can't?
Or is it just to throw salt in these old fucking wounds? She brought
out the only person I have betrayed.
It's been a week and I still can't
bring myself to open it. It is fear, that's the truth. I am fearful
that it will stop me from carrying out my mission. I fear I may see
my humanity again, I will become distracted. I will fall back into
being a pawn, a part of the whole maniacal machine. I will not be
distracted again by my emotions. This is a war. I look at the last
life I touched with my wisdom and what happened? Oh, right he ended
up a smear of fucking body parts and crimson on the asphalt. He
became a victim of his own personal Jihad. That was somehow and idea
I cultivated in the small mind of an ant. Every Frankenstein has his
monster. Kim though. . . our relationship was nothing like that. She
loved to listen to what I had to say, and she was supportive in
everything I ever did. I just couldn't take her on this journey. Who
knows what kind of danger I may find myself in. I'm not careless like
Star, just because your women is right behind you. . . doesn't mean
she is always safe.
I remember the way she smelt. The way
she made me feel is indescribable. She made me. . .feel. Those days
when I had a gun in my mouth it was her who took the bullets out
before I even had the thought. That is a figurative statement of
course. . . I would never give the world that pleasure.
Women have always been my downfall, but
I put a stop to that this last week at Breakthrough with Serra. Serra
fell victim to the ever growing Revolution. She left her mark though.
I rub the back of my neck, the stiffness still hasn't subsided from
the spectacular shooting star DDT that was delivered at the hands of
the Herald of Holiness. Somehow it reminds me of the better times of
Kim.
I remember the ways her eyes peeked
just above the blankets when she woke up naked beside me. I remember
the sexy curves of her pale flesh. I remember rubbing my fingers
gently around her slightly protruding hip bones. I remember how she
tasted on my tongue. I clutch her letter tight in my hand. She used
to run her fingers down my spine. I clutch harder crumpling a corner
of the paper. She used to tell me it would all be okay. I chugged the
remainder of the glass of Gibson. She used to look at me like I was
a GOD! I slam the empty glass so hard down on the maple bar counter
that it shatters in a million pieces rendering the room silent
besides the juke box howling out some 50's bullshit.
Get him THE FUCK OUT OF HERE DONNY!
I laugh hysterically as Donny
approaches me a mass of a man. I slam two hundred bucks down on the
table, and the man holds his hand out for Donny to stop as I shoot
him a cocky smirk. Just as he tells Donny to cool his fucking jets I
turn round and open hand slap the big dumbfounded goof across the
mouth, who responds by looking at me stunned. Before I know it
another pair of steroid ridden arms pick me up from behind. They toss
me out onto the street so hard I almost don't bother getting up.
I stagger to my feet after dazing for a
few minutes. I stumble over to the edge of the bar. There is an alley
way between it and another building. There are some small rustles
coming from the back of the alley, but nothing serious enough to
scare me away. I take the camcorder from my pocket and set it up on
the top of a steel pale. The people should see me like this. They
should see how different I am from Scott Knight.
Hello, VOW friends and foes alike.
Welcome to another rant by yours truly Casanova English. Monarchy
will be the discussion we start off with in this lesson here. See if
there is one thing I cannot stand, it is an arrogant fuck who got
dealt a hand of wealth. Now yes, I am going slightly on the
assumptions that Scott is of wealth, but if he is not it still
applies. He was dealt a lucky hand genetically, and he was hand
selected by a women of “power” Mistress Lovecraft.
I smirk at the camera, exhaling loudly
as I continue.
There is always someone like you! Some
silver spoon fed BITCH to stand in my way. See this is one of the
first times I am not truly underestimating my opponent. Sure Knight
has been on a slide lately, especially with the women. Who am I to
judge that though right? I had my own little slip up with Vanessa. He
proved himself again last week though by defeating Patrick Jones. The
thing I am worried about though is that connection. That power that
Lovecraft has over him. There was a test done, I can't be bothered to
think of the scientist now,but it was basically a way to show how far
men will go when they follow orders. These people were brought into a
room and told by a man in a lab coat to click the buzzer when the
patient on the other side got the questions wrong. This pushing of
the button would at first cause a small shock. Then as they got more
questions wrong the shock would amplify, and amplify, and amplify.
Then eventually it would come to the point where it would kill the
person. Some people went that far. Just because a man in a coat told
them too. The Nazi's in Auschwitz did the same. They said they didn't
believe they were acting inhumanely, they where just following
orders. I see the rage in Scott Knight. He will not stop until he is
told. Am I scared?
No. . . I am just smart. I have gone
toe to tow with monsters. Slapped giants in the face as blood spewed
from my mouth. You have no idea the type of monster a man like you
can awaken in a man like me. You are everything I fight against. You
are the idea of the perfect man. You are the idea of the perfect
wrestler. Your much like Star. Your muscles look genetically
enhanced. Your jaw looks like it is forged from steal. Your tall. YOU
ARE MAN! Then you add that second element. The whole idea of wealth,
of being hand selected by Lovecraft to do your bidding. She
bought you. Money buys humanity yet again. It enslaves us, traps us
into being machines of the system. This is the showdown of the Elite.
This is everything I am not. I am self made. I came from nothing. I
lived in there FUCKING STREETS before. I know what it is like to
fight for that last scrap. I know what it is like to be looked down
on by people like you Knight. You won't do it again!
I stop fuming, trying to catch my
breath. I almost vomit, the whiskey is coming back to haunt me as I
try to continue the assault. I hold my hand up against the wall to
regain my composure before returning to an upright stance.
You know what is sad though? At
Breakthrough I can almost guarantee you that Scott Knight is the fan
favorite. These people need to see me break down the walls of our
oppressors once more. They need to see me tear off the mask they
flaunt in front of us. I will do it. I will sacrifice myself again
for the ungrateful, for the SCUM! THE POOR! THE WEAK! Like it or not
I am your savior. Like it or not I will force you mindless, medicated
eyes open. I will tape them open and make you watch. . . as I
mutilate everything you thought was real.
I stop again, trying to pause the
whiskey from continuing it's rage. I usually know better, but
tonight was just one of those nights. I have her on my mind. I have
mom on my mind. I have. . . Star on my mind. I shake my head to snap
back into it.
I'm not quite convinced on who I should
address with my statements here the pawn? Or the Queen? I'm not even
sure he is capable of hearing anything other then his master. I am
getting slightly jealous of all the female support that men have been
getting lately by women. Scott Knight has the brain of Lovecraft
behind him. This is a very useful tactic considering she is not
risking her cranium dodging muscle bound dummies like I am. Star uses
this same tactic with. . .
I inhale deeply and sigh.
Laura. Mmmhmmmmm. These two men seem to
find some sort of success with a woman in their corner. Maybe I will
have to bring a woman of my own at Breakthrough. If Knight has
Lovecraft in his corner cheering him on, it would be nice to have
someone in my corner who is cheering me on. . . or at least feeding
the fire. My little altercation with Laura last week got me a little
hot and bothered I can't lie. I wonder if she is going to be tucked
behind Star, fearful of me. Scared of what I might do.
How could you be worried though? My name is
Casanova. Serra said last week that I am not “smooth” with the
ladies, but I felt a spark when she was in that ring. I would never
dream of harming Laura. Do you really think I would ever stoop that
low?
I say that last sentence sarcastically
and follow it up with a sly wink.
Oh things are going to get very
interesting here in VOW. See Scott don't think I am taking you light.
You are a physical beast of a man, you are angry, barbaric, ruthless.
You are everything that a wrestler should be. Not to mention you have
Lovecraft in your corner, but trust me when I say. . . I have a plan.
I always have a plan.
I walk towards the camera that still
rests carelessly on the top of a steel trash can. The alley reeks of
decay. The coughs and groans of unknown creatures using the deeper
ends of the alley as a habitat echo off the stone walls. I just stand
there and take it in for a moment. I let the camera here where I am.
I let them see that I am one of them. I am bacteria. I am everything
that is wrong with humanity, and one day I will lead THEM to glory. I
am The Prophet. I shut the camera off stretching my arm out. I reach
into the pocket of my faded blue jeans and pull out that letter I
forced into it earlier. I run my hands over it, and her name escapes
my lips.
Kim
I hold the letter up looking at it,
examining. With her I created happiness, fantasy became real, I was
lost in love, not a worry in the world. . . I was ignorant. I was
ignorant to the pain and the suffering, I was selfish. I can't do
that any more. I can't ignore these problems. I am the chosen one. I
am to bring about the changing of power. I am The Revolution. Where
ignorance betrayed me before, maybe this time it will be my saving
grace. The lighter finds my fingertips in the bottom of my other
pocket. Flicking the lighter I bring it closer to the paper. I stop
for a moment letting the flame go out. Breathing a sigh I pull a
cigarette from my pocket and place it in my lips. I flick the lighter
again. Some things are better left unread. I can't become unfocused.
The flame finds the edge of the paper and slowly begins to burn. The
ink melts gently off the page burning a bight blue. I must shatter
the illusions. Black forms following up the letter as I spin it to
avoid burning my hand. I must wake them up. The paper begins to fold
in on itself spewing ashes that the win gently stir about. The world
needs a villain right now. I toss the letter on the ground and allow
it to turn into ash. The world needs a hero.