Post by logansky on Sept 3, 2024 1:46:23 GMT
Logan stood in the lobby of the post office, staring at the box for outgoing mail. He didn’t know how long he had been standing there, time seemed to have slowed to a crowl while he loitered in the post office. He fought the urge to fidget with his hands out of concern for the plain blue envelope that he held in his hands.
“Excuse me, sir?”
He turned his head, looking down at the woman in the security uniform that had approached him. She eyed him with a guarded expression, one hand resting on her hip just above the pistol that she wore.
“Yes ma’am, how can I help you?”
“I’m going to need you to settle your business here and move on. We have a strict loitering policy.”
Logan felt his cheeks heat slightly and he let out a nervous chuckle.
“Right, of course. Sorry, just trying to figure out if I should send this out or not.”
He lifted the envelope, the standard shape for a greeting card and tried a reassuring smile on his face. Course it likely made him look like an extra from a haunted forest. The guard looked at the envelope for a moment and her face softened a touch.
“Family troubles?”
“Something like that.”
He shifted in place for a moment and nodded his head. She gave a nod of understanding.
“Well, I don’t know the details. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with someone trying to make up for their mistakes. But ya gotta make up your mind pretty quickly.”
She turned around and moved back to her post. Logan watched her walk away for a moment before taking a breath. Then, in one motion he cleared the distance to the box and slipped the envelope into the slot.
Maybe not the sort of autograph that was intended. But a signed birthday card kind of counted, and maybe Suzie wouldn’t get upset. He could only hope.
~_~
Logan is seated on a workout bench, dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants with a matching hooded sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off. His arms rest on his knees as sweat drips down from his face to plop onto the floor.
“So here we are. Tytus Rost vs Logan Skye 2. Last time I didn’t manage to get a win. Will this time be any different?”
A rough chuckle escaped his chest as he shook his head.
“I’ve been in this business long enough to know that the only thing that is certain is uncertainty. Anything can happen the moment that you step through those ropes. I’ve seen rookies put down vets in the blink of an eye. Truth is that in this sport, the brass ring is within the grasp of anyone that puts their heart into it. And we got no lack of heart, do we hoss?”
He finally lifts his head to look into the camera.
“You and I, Tytus, we been in this game a long time. We’ve forgotten more about wrestling than any of the current champions have learned. Do we get any respect for that? Hell no. These young guns are hungry and ready and able to prove themselves at the expense of anyone. The business has changed. Now don’t get me wrong, I think it’s mostly for the better. I ain’t some dinosaur that expects any of these kids to go pick me up beer or carry my luggage out. I remember the shit I had to eat just to get a locker to change at. Old hands ruling with terror and calling it respect.”
He shook his head and scoffed.
“But some respect would be nice, wouldn’t it Tytus? Some deference provided for our experience and knowledge. Hell I don’t know how many times I’ve had some punk kid threaten to hospitalize me. Well none of them have been successful yet. For how long though? Well I guess we’ll have to see.”
He lifts a hand and pushes his hood back from his face.
“Last time we taught I said we should put on a clinic. Try and teach these kids a thing or too. Course they didn’t listen. They never do. So this time, let’s do this for us. Couple of old hands that have traveled the world. A pair of hosses that have bled on every continent that has a wrestling ring. Some old timers out to prove they still got it in them.”
Logan pushes himself to his feet, groaning softly as something in his body pops from the movement. He rolls his neck slowly and shakes himself.
“The Machine keeps on trucking. So come on Tytus. Let’s you and I dance one more time and see who comes out on top.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
He turned his head, looking down at the woman in the security uniform that had approached him. She eyed him with a guarded expression, one hand resting on her hip just above the pistol that she wore.
“Yes ma’am, how can I help you?”
“I’m going to need you to settle your business here and move on. We have a strict loitering policy.”
Logan felt his cheeks heat slightly and he let out a nervous chuckle.
“Right, of course. Sorry, just trying to figure out if I should send this out or not.”
He lifted the envelope, the standard shape for a greeting card and tried a reassuring smile on his face. Course it likely made him look like an extra from a haunted forest. The guard looked at the envelope for a moment and her face softened a touch.
“Family troubles?”
“Something like that.”
He shifted in place for a moment and nodded his head. She gave a nod of understanding.
“Well, I don’t know the details. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with someone trying to make up for their mistakes. But ya gotta make up your mind pretty quickly.”
She turned around and moved back to her post. Logan watched her walk away for a moment before taking a breath. Then, in one motion he cleared the distance to the box and slipped the envelope into the slot.
Maybe not the sort of autograph that was intended. But a signed birthday card kind of counted, and maybe Suzie wouldn’t get upset. He could only hope.
~_~
Logan is seated on a workout bench, dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants with a matching hooded sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off. His arms rest on his knees as sweat drips down from his face to plop onto the floor.
“So here we are. Tytus Rost vs Logan Skye 2. Last time I didn’t manage to get a win. Will this time be any different?”
A rough chuckle escaped his chest as he shook his head.
“I’ve been in this business long enough to know that the only thing that is certain is uncertainty. Anything can happen the moment that you step through those ropes. I’ve seen rookies put down vets in the blink of an eye. Truth is that in this sport, the brass ring is within the grasp of anyone that puts their heart into it. And we got no lack of heart, do we hoss?”
He finally lifts his head to look into the camera.
“You and I, Tytus, we been in this game a long time. We’ve forgotten more about wrestling than any of the current champions have learned. Do we get any respect for that? Hell no. These young guns are hungry and ready and able to prove themselves at the expense of anyone. The business has changed. Now don’t get me wrong, I think it’s mostly for the better. I ain’t some dinosaur that expects any of these kids to go pick me up beer or carry my luggage out. I remember the shit I had to eat just to get a locker to change at. Old hands ruling with terror and calling it respect.”
He shook his head and scoffed.
“But some respect would be nice, wouldn’t it Tytus? Some deference provided for our experience and knowledge. Hell I don’t know how many times I’ve had some punk kid threaten to hospitalize me. Well none of them have been successful yet. For how long though? Well I guess we’ll have to see.”
He lifts a hand and pushes his hood back from his face.
“Last time we taught I said we should put on a clinic. Try and teach these kids a thing or too. Course they didn’t listen. They never do. So this time, let’s do this for us. Couple of old hands that have traveled the world. A pair of hosses that have bled on every continent that has a wrestling ring. Some old timers out to prove they still got it in them.”
Logan pushes himself to his feet, groaning softly as something in his body pops from the movement. He rolls his neck slowly and shakes himself.
“The Machine keeps on trucking. So come on Tytus. Let’s you and I dance one more time and see who comes out on top.”
Well howdy there pardner.