Post by RAM on Apr 11, 2024 0:46:45 GMT
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A little over two months ago...
"This is Letetia speakin' to you, welcome to the big dog Greyhound. I'll be your coach operator this mornin' on your journey to Corpus Christi, Texas..."
R.A. Marshall popped two pills into his mouth and took a giant swig from a bottle of Aquafina with a clear thirst for total vengeance on his mind.
For the last thing he would ever be was on a Greyhound bus heading out of Fort Worth's dual bus and Amtrak terminal.
It didn't help matters that he, in a physical sense, was surrounded by the dregs of Texas society. Everyone and anyone, from laid off works to ex-convicts to even illegal migrants running from the law, were cramped on board a 2020 model coach that reeked of dirty diapers. He gritted his tteeth as he gazed upon the white piece of paper that informed him of his desination: Coastal Bend Wrestling, an indy promotion based in Corpus Christi, on the campus of Texas A&M-Corpus Christi.
He was no longer flying commercial on Southwest.
He was abandoned by the wrestling business, mired in the minor leagues.
The pills he took that morning were, of course, legal prescription painkillers. Every part of his body was sore from wrestling in high school gyms and rec centers in North Texas as a part of Retro Championship Wrestling, Fiona McFly's own company. Yet it was on a fateful night, three days prior to this particular trip, that made him want to go scorched earth on the very business that helped make others famous.
The drugs had a very dangerous side effect -- severe mood swings. As RAM closed his eyes and listened to the playlist on his iPhone, the music became extremely distorted as foggy imagery of him barging into Fiona's Midlothian office played out in his mind.
"I got news for you, McFly: you ain't heard the last of me. You might think of me as SHIT now, but someday, you're gonna regret the day you fired me. I'm fixin' to catch on somewhere else, and every time I step inside that ring?! I'm gonna stick it up your fuckin' ASS!"
RAM vividly remembered throwing a chair against the well in disgust, followed by Fiona's perverse chuckle.
"I'm impressed...I love that kind of moxie, I really do. The only problem is that I didn't fire you..."
There was a pause as RAM felt the bumps on the road from his seat in the back of the bus. It didn't stop him from concentrating on what his boss was trying to convey.
"It's called roster rotation, lovely. You'll be sent to Corpus Christi to work with our partner down there."
"BULL-FUCKIN'-SHIT!! Why the FUCK didn't ya tell me about this...this SHIT!?!"
"It's in the contract you signed -- paragraph four, line seven if I remember. Personally, I'd say it's poetic karma for missing mandatory meetings..."
Fiona's voice grew more distored as the drugs began to take effect, and with each beat, RAM grew steadily closer to the edge of unbridled rage.
"Look, I understand your passions -- I really do. I want you to know that I'm not giving up on you, hun. Not now, not ever. A'right...but Robert...?"
RAM took heavy breaths as Fiona's distored voice faded away, leaving him with nothing to se except the wide open road ahead of him.
"Don't do anything you're gonna regret later in life..."
RAM snarled, perhaps trying to conjure up a way to get himself kicked off the bus and thrown in jail. Yet nothing seemed to work in his mind. He opted instead of wait until he arrived on the TAMUCC campus and met his fellow peers in the wrestling industry.
For him, one thing was certain.
The business had abandoned him after he retired James Gilmore -- and now, he was going to burn it all to the ground.
The reign of terror was only just beginning.
To be continued...
------
A little over two months ago...
"This is Letetia speakin' to you, welcome to the big dog Greyhound. I'll be your coach operator this mornin' on your journey to Corpus Christi, Texas..."
R.A. Marshall popped two pills into his mouth and took a giant swig from a bottle of Aquafina with a clear thirst for total vengeance on his mind.
For the last thing he would ever be was on a Greyhound bus heading out of Fort Worth's dual bus and Amtrak terminal.
It didn't help matters that he, in a physical sense, was surrounded by the dregs of Texas society. Everyone and anyone, from laid off works to ex-convicts to even illegal migrants running from the law, were cramped on board a 2020 model coach that reeked of dirty diapers. He gritted his tteeth as he gazed upon the white piece of paper that informed him of his desination: Coastal Bend Wrestling, an indy promotion based in Corpus Christi, on the campus of Texas A&M-Corpus Christi.
He was no longer flying commercial on Southwest.
He was abandoned by the wrestling business, mired in the minor leagues.
The pills he took that morning were, of course, legal prescription painkillers. Every part of his body was sore from wrestling in high school gyms and rec centers in North Texas as a part of Retro Championship Wrestling, Fiona McFly's own company. Yet it was on a fateful night, three days prior to this particular trip, that made him want to go scorched earth on the very business that helped make others famous.
The drugs had a very dangerous side effect -- severe mood swings. As RAM closed his eyes and listened to the playlist on his iPhone, the music became extremely distorted as foggy imagery of him barging into Fiona's Midlothian office played out in his mind.
"I got news for you, McFly: you ain't heard the last of me. You might think of me as SHIT now, but someday, you're gonna regret the day you fired me. I'm fixin' to catch on somewhere else, and every time I step inside that ring?! I'm gonna stick it up your fuckin' ASS!"
RAM vividly remembered throwing a chair against the well in disgust, followed by Fiona's perverse chuckle.
"I'm impressed...I love that kind of moxie, I really do. The only problem is that I didn't fire you..."
There was a pause as RAM felt the bumps on the road from his seat in the back of the bus. It didn't stop him from concentrating on what his boss was trying to convey.
"It's called roster rotation, lovely. You'll be sent to Corpus Christi to work with our partner down there."
"BULL-FUCKIN'-SHIT!! Why the FUCK didn't ya tell me about this...this SHIT!?!"
"It's in the contract you signed -- paragraph four, line seven if I remember. Personally, I'd say it's poetic karma for missing mandatory meetings..."
Fiona's voice grew more distored as the drugs began to take effect, and with each beat, RAM grew steadily closer to the edge of unbridled rage.
"Look, I understand your passions -- I really do. I want you to know that I'm not giving up on you, hun. Not now, not ever. A'right...but Robert...?"
RAM took heavy breaths as Fiona's distored voice faded away, leaving him with nothing to se except the wide open road ahead of him.
"Don't do anything you're gonna regret later in life..."
RAM snarled, perhaps trying to conjure up a way to get himself kicked off the bus and thrown in jail. Yet nothing seemed to work in his mind. He opted instead of wait until he arrived on the TAMUCC campus and met his fellow peers in the wrestling industry.
For him, one thing was certain.
The business had abandoned him after he retired James Gilmore -- and now, he was going to burn it all to the ground.
The reign of terror was only just beginning.
To be continued...
------
Well howdy there pardner.