Post by Nick Knight on Mar 17, 2020 4:37:23 GMT
The scene opens in a well appointed doctors office tucked into a nondescript building somewhere in Los Angeles, California. Dark wood shelves full of text books line the walls and all of the furniture is made from the finest leather money can buy. A man lays back on a couch with his arm up over his eyes as he speaks with world renowned psychiatrist Dr. Phil Goode.
{color=purple“I’m finally going back to work doc,”[\color] the man on the couch says, the sleeve of his black hoodie slightly muffling his voice.
The doctor, a balding middle aged man with more salt than pepper in his hair looks up from the yellow legal pad he is using to take notes. “Do you really think you are ready for that?”
“I honestly don’t know.” The man on the couch pulls his arm away from his face revealing a forehead that looks more like a topographic map than part of a human face. “I don’t have much of a choice though. Between the alimony and child support my savings are gone. Hell I’m living in a two hundred dollar a week motel so I have enough to pay to see you and buy my meds.”
“You could always see someone less expensive,” the doctor suggests.
“Like that hack my P.O. set me up with when I first got back out here, no thanks. I spent a week in the fucking psych ward because of his bullshit treatment plan. You don’t give a bipolar patient antidepressants for fucks sake, it’s a wonder it didn’t end up like the Taco Bell all over again.”
“Tell me about this new job,” the doctor asks.
The patient sits up, a combined look of excitement and fear on his face. “I’m getting back into the ring full time. No more of this helping to train the next generation bullshit that everyone seems to think that I’m only good for anymore,” the patient answers.
“That’s good news I guess,” the doctor said jotting down some notes. “Do you think you will be alright with that kind of a schedule. I mean you have said that life on the road can be pretty grueling.”
“Life on the road can be hell sometimes,” the patient admitted. “Honestly though the last couple of years away from it has been even worse for me. Not just because of the time locked up or the divorce, but because life as a professional wrestler is all that I have ever known. I’ve been doing this shit since I was sixteen years old and I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“You know how to work the window at McDonald’s now,” the doctor said, with a smile.
“Fuck you, doc,” the patient replied, with a laugh. “You know I can’t stand that fucking job and only do it to make my P.O. happy. Most days I’d rather be back on Gator Island than asking people what size drink they want with their fucking Big Mac meal.”
"There's nothing wrong with working in a fast food restaurant," Dr. Good said.
"That's true if your a seventeen year old pimple faced kid saving up to buy some shitty used car." The patient jumped to his feet and started pacing around the room. "I mean give me a fucking break Doc, I lived in a fucking mansion until that bitch took me to the cleaners. I deserve better than minimum wage and I don't fucking care if it is fourteen bucks an hour now."
"I thought you were trying to work on your resentment issues Nick?"
"I'm trying, but it's really fucking hard when she's driving around in a Porsche, make that my Porsche, and I'm taking the bus because my piece of shit 1993 Honda Civic is broken down again." Nick lets out a sigh and flops back down on the couch. "I chose to give up so much so my kid could have the best life possible. So he could have the things I never had growing up. It just chaps my ass that she's running around in Gucci and Prada literally paid for by my blood."
"So how's JC doing?"
"The emails I get from his shrink and the school all say he's doing good, but I don’t really know.” The patient looks to be on the verge of tears. “She fights letting me see him every chance that she can get. I agreed to the supervised visitation just to be able to see him sometimes, but she keeps canceling at the last minute. I just want to see my kid.”
“I think it’s perfectly normal for a father to want to spend time with his kids. Why do you think she keeps fighting letting you see him,” the doctor asked.
“Because she is a vindictive bithch is probably not the right answer, is it?”
The doctor shakes his head.
“Well she keeps giving me the bullshit excuse that she’s too busy to bring him when we have set it up, but Jesus Christ on a bicycle I pay for the kid to have a nanny. I have bent over backwards to make her life easy, and she won’t even let me see my kid.”
“How are you going to see him when you’re out on the road,” asked Goode.
“I don’t know for sure, but we’ll have to work something out. My brother has been trying to help me with the legal stuff, but he’s not licensed in California and family law’s really not his thing. Hopefully now that I’m working I can afford to hire someone to help.”
“Do you think she will try to use the fact that you are back in the ring against you?”
Nick is back on his feet as if he was shot out of a cannon and pacing the floor like a caged tiger. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried some bullshit like that. Doc I have done many violent things in my life, but I am not a violent man. I have only ever had one outburst of violence in my entire life that was against someone that did not deserve it. Yes I have been in fights in the past, but it was always in self defense. The stuff that I have done in the ring was always to entertain the fans and nine times out of ten after the match the boys and I would sit in back and have a few beers together”
“Well I’m sure everything will work out for the best,” the doctor said, putting down the note pad. “That’s our time for the week. When do you want to meet again?”
“Can we do a video call at our usual time,” Nick asked. “I’m going to be in Europe for a few weeks.”
“We can do that if that’s what works best for you. And Nick please call me if you have any problems at all. You have made a lot of progress and I don’t want to see it all shot to hell,” the doctor said, standing and offering his hand.
“Thank you Dr. Goode.”
The two men shake hands and Nick Knight leaves the safety of the office for the big bad world outside.
{color=purple“I’m finally going back to work doc,”[\color] the man on the couch says, the sleeve of his black hoodie slightly muffling his voice.
The doctor, a balding middle aged man with more salt than pepper in his hair looks up from the yellow legal pad he is using to take notes. “Do you really think you are ready for that?”
“I honestly don’t know.” The man on the couch pulls his arm away from his face revealing a forehead that looks more like a topographic map than part of a human face. “I don’t have much of a choice though. Between the alimony and child support my savings are gone. Hell I’m living in a two hundred dollar a week motel so I have enough to pay to see you and buy my meds.”
“You could always see someone less expensive,” the doctor suggests.
“Like that hack my P.O. set me up with when I first got back out here, no thanks. I spent a week in the fucking psych ward because of his bullshit treatment plan. You don’t give a bipolar patient antidepressants for fucks sake, it’s a wonder it didn’t end up like the Taco Bell all over again.”
“Tell me about this new job,” the doctor asks.
The patient sits up, a combined look of excitement and fear on his face. “I’m getting back into the ring full time. No more of this helping to train the next generation bullshit that everyone seems to think that I’m only good for anymore,” the patient answers.
“That’s good news I guess,” the doctor said jotting down some notes. “Do you think you will be alright with that kind of a schedule. I mean you have said that life on the road can be pretty grueling.”
“Life on the road can be hell sometimes,” the patient admitted. “Honestly though the last couple of years away from it has been even worse for me. Not just because of the time locked up or the divorce, but because life as a professional wrestler is all that I have ever known. I’ve been doing this shit since I was sixteen years old and I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“You know how to work the window at McDonald’s now,” the doctor said, with a smile.
“Fuck you, doc,” the patient replied, with a laugh. “You know I can’t stand that fucking job and only do it to make my P.O. happy. Most days I’d rather be back on Gator Island than asking people what size drink they want with their fucking Big Mac meal.”
"There's nothing wrong with working in a fast food restaurant," Dr. Good said.
"That's true if your a seventeen year old pimple faced kid saving up to buy some shitty used car." The patient jumped to his feet and started pacing around the room. "I mean give me a fucking break Doc, I lived in a fucking mansion until that bitch took me to the cleaners. I deserve better than minimum wage and I don't fucking care if it is fourteen bucks an hour now."
"I thought you were trying to work on your resentment issues Nick?"
"I'm trying, but it's really fucking hard when she's driving around in a Porsche, make that my Porsche, and I'm taking the bus because my piece of shit 1993 Honda Civic is broken down again." Nick lets out a sigh and flops back down on the couch. "I chose to give up so much so my kid could have the best life possible. So he could have the things I never had growing up. It just chaps my ass that she's running around in Gucci and Prada literally paid for by my blood."
"So how's JC doing?"
"The emails I get from his shrink and the school all say he's doing good, but I don’t really know.” The patient looks to be on the verge of tears. “She fights letting me see him every chance that she can get. I agreed to the supervised visitation just to be able to see him sometimes, but she keeps canceling at the last minute. I just want to see my kid.”
“I think it’s perfectly normal for a father to want to spend time with his kids. Why do you think she keeps fighting letting you see him,” the doctor asked.
“Because she is a vindictive bithch is probably not the right answer, is it?”
The doctor shakes his head.
“Well she keeps giving me the bullshit excuse that she’s too busy to bring him when we have set it up, but Jesus Christ on a bicycle I pay for the kid to have a nanny. I have bent over backwards to make her life easy, and she won’t even let me see my kid.”
“How are you going to see him when you’re out on the road,” asked Goode.
“I don’t know for sure, but we’ll have to work something out. My brother has been trying to help me with the legal stuff, but he’s not licensed in California and family law’s really not his thing. Hopefully now that I’m working I can afford to hire someone to help.”
“Do you think she will try to use the fact that you are back in the ring against you?”
Nick is back on his feet as if he was shot out of a cannon and pacing the floor like a caged tiger. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried some bullshit like that. Doc I have done many violent things in my life, but I am not a violent man. I have only ever had one outburst of violence in my entire life that was against someone that did not deserve it. Yes I have been in fights in the past, but it was always in self defense. The stuff that I have done in the ring was always to entertain the fans and nine times out of ten after the match the boys and I would sit in back and have a few beers together”
“Well I’m sure everything will work out for the best,” the doctor said, putting down the note pad. “That’s our time for the week. When do you want to meet again?”
“Can we do a video call at our usual time,” Nick asked. “I’m going to be in Europe for a few weeks.”
“We can do that if that’s what works best for you. And Nick please call me if you have any problems at all. You have made a lot of progress and I don’t want to see it all shot to hell,” the doctor said, standing and offering his hand.
“Thank you Dr. Goode.”
The two men shake hands and Nick Knight leaves the safety of the office for the big bad world outside.
Well howdy there pardner.