Post by logansky on Feb 19, 2024 0:41:48 GMT
Logan groaned softly as he lowered himself down into the ice bath, wincing as the frigid water caused his sore muscles to briefly tense up.
“Son of a bitch, that’s cold.”
He shivers slightly, leaning back in the tub to settle in for a soak as he acclimates to the temperature. He needed these more and more now. He still remembered when he could go out drinking all night after a deathmatch and be right as rain the next morning. Father time was a ripe old bastard.
Once settled in, he reached for the phone resting on the stool next to the tub, lifting it to his face. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out the blurry words on the screen before he swore quietly to himself and grabbed a set of reading glasses. Doctors said he would need bifocals before long. He shook his head to banish the thought before resting the glasses on the bridge of his nose. The words on the screen leaped into focus and he opened up his contacts. He scrolled through the list and tapped a number and lifted it to his ear. It rang several times before a tired woman’s voice answered it.
“What do you want, Dad.”
“Alicia! Angel, it’s so good to hear your voice!”
“I’m not gonna give you any money.”
He swallowed slightly, doing his best to avoid the tightness in his chest.
“No angel, that’s not why I’m calling. I got steady work now. I'm on television now. Not some public broadcast stuff but cable TV.”
“That’s great. I’m happy for you.”
The deadpan in her voice gave away the empty praise for what it is. Logan licked his lips slightly before he continued.
“I’m signed with the IWF now. Kurt and Suzy could watch. Well maybe not Suzy. She’s to…”
“She’s into Monster Trucks and super heroes dad. Try and keep up.”
“I was gonna say she’s to damn young. But how can I keep up when you never fucking talk to me.”
He winces slightly, the flair of his temper dissipating in the face of the heavy silence on the phone.
“You know damn well why.”
“I’m sory An…”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“Right, sorry. I’m sorry Alicia. I want…”
“And why the hell do you think I’d let my children watch that? After everything it did to our family? Everything that you did?”
“Alicia I…”
“No. Just no. I have to go Dad. I have a life to live. Don’t even bother calling Tommy. He’s got your number blocked. Fuck knows why I haven’t done it. Goodbye, Dad.”
His phone beeped as she hung up on him. He held the phone to his ear, listening to the silence. You could say one thing about these new phones. The silence was better then the blare of the dial tone afterwards.
________________________
The scene opens up once more in a gym. Logan Sky is working a speed bag in one far corner, his fists easily working it over. He’s dressed in his typical workout clothes of gray sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt with the arms cut off.
“TJ you got a hell of an attitude kid. But I’ll be damned if I can say that you didn’t earn it. You need an attitude in this business. You need to stay hungry. That’s the only way you can succeed. It’s the only way you can survive. Professional Wrestling is a meat grinder that will chew up anyone who isn’t ready for it and spit out so much pink garbage after the fact.”
His hands move faster, the rhythm of the bag picking up in speed.
“I’m sure you have some choice words to say about me too. Now some in my position might take offense to that. Might say you need to respect your elders.That I earned a place. But anyone who talks like that is a damn fool. Ya I earned my flowers, but I also know that this business is a what have you done lately business. That those flowers wilt and die if you don’t put in the work to keep them. That’s why I’m still here. Why I’m still in this ring. Why they call me the Machine.”
He punches the bag a final time, grunting with the effort. It sends it bouncing against the platform holding it as he turns towards the camera.
“I spent my time in the British scene kid. I know that you cut your teeth on some of the toughest sons of bitches in this sport. You have every right to be where you are right now. But don’t think this old dog can’t show you some new tricks. It only takes three seconds to win and this sport of kings is just as much about mental as it is physical. I got the patience to come out the other side with my hand raised. So square up boy. Maybe you just might learn something from this old hos.”
“Son of a bitch, that’s cold.”
He shivers slightly, leaning back in the tub to settle in for a soak as he acclimates to the temperature. He needed these more and more now. He still remembered when he could go out drinking all night after a deathmatch and be right as rain the next morning. Father time was a ripe old bastard.
Once settled in, he reached for the phone resting on the stool next to the tub, lifting it to his face. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out the blurry words on the screen before he swore quietly to himself and grabbed a set of reading glasses. Doctors said he would need bifocals before long. He shook his head to banish the thought before resting the glasses on the bridge of his nose. The words on the screen leaped into focus and he opened up his contacts. He scrolled through the list and tapped a number and lifted it to his ear. It rang several times before a tired woman’s voice answered it.
“What do you want, Dad.”
“Alicia! Angel, it’s so good to hear your voice!”
“I’m not gonna give you any money.”
He swallowed slightly, doing his best to avoid the tightness in his chest.
“No angel, that’s not why I’m calling. I got steady work now. I'm on television now. Not some public broadcast stuff but cable TV.”
“That’s great. I’m happy for you.”
The deadpan in her voice gave away the empty praise for what it is. Logan licked his lips slightly before he continued.
“I’m signed with the IWF now. Kurt and Suzy could watch. Well maybe not Suzy. She’s to…”
“She’s into Monster Trucks and super heroes dad. Try and keep up.”
“I was gonna say she’s to damn young. But how can I keep up when you never fucking talk to me.”
He winces slightly, the flair of his temper dissipating in the face of the heavy silence on the phone.
“You know damn well why.”
“I’m sory An…”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“Right, sorry. I’m sorry Alicia. I want…”
“And why the hell do you think I’d let my children watch that? After everything it did to our family? Everything that you did?”
“Alicia I…”
“No. Just no. I have to go Dad. I have a life to live. Don’t even bother calling Tommy. He’s got your number blocked. Fuck knows why I haven’t done it. Goodbye, Dad.”
His phone beeped as she hung up on him. He held the phone to his ear, listening to the silence. You could say one thing about these new phones. The silence was better then the blare of the dial tone afterwards.
________________________
The scene opens up once more in a gym. Logan Sky is working a speed bag in one far corner, his fists easily working it over. He’s dressed in his typical workout clothes of gray sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt with the arms cut off.
“TJ you got a hell of an attitude kid. But I’ll be damned if I can say that you didn’t earn it. You need an attitude in this business. You need to stay hungry. That’s the only way you can succeed. It’s the only way you can survive. Professional Wrestling is a meat grinder that will chew up anyone who isn’t ready for it and spit out so much pink garbage after the fact.”
His hands move faster, the rhythm of the bag picking up in speed.
“I’m sure you have some choice words to say about me too. Now some in my position might take offense to that. Might say you need to respect your elders.That I earned a place. But anyone who talks like that is a damn fool. Ya I earned my flowers, but I also know that this business is a what have you done lately business. That those flowers wilt and die if you don’t put in the work to keep them. That’s why I’m still here. Why I’m still in this ring. Why they call me the Machine.”
He punches the bag a final time, grunting with the effort. It sends it bouncing against the platform holding it as he turns towards the camera.
“I spent my time in the British scene kid. I know that you cut your teeth on some of the toughest sons of bitches in this sport. You have every right to be where you are right now. But don’t think this old dog can’t show you some new tricks. It only takes three seconds to win and this sport of kings is just as much about mental as it is physical. I got the patience to come out the other side with my hand raised. So square up boy. Maybe you just might learn something from this old hos.”
Well howdy there pardner.