Post by Dorian Hawkhurst on Mar 20, 2017 4:41:49 GMT
A little more than a week removed from the funeral of his childhood friend Lillie, Dorian Hawkhurst is now sitting in the gym of some random church in Philadelphia. It's his first time here. The floor is your typical unevenly colored tan, the basketball court worn down from years of use. The chairs are all lined up on the center circle, where players stand awaiting tip off. Dorian is easily the largest man in the room. Most of the people here are actually smaller people. He most certainly stands out with his arms hanging out of his cutoff t-shirts and tattoos running up and down them. As the last of the small group filters in, Dorian takes a deep breath and prepares himself for what he is about to do.
As the last person sits down, an middle aged man with brown hair on the side and brown hair on the sides of his head stands up and speaks.
"Welcome to Alcoholics Anonymous, a worldwide fellowship of men and women who help each other to stay sober. This is a closed meeting, you are welcome to stay if you have a desire to quit drinking. If you have had a drink in the last 24 hours, we ask that you only listen during the meeting."
"I will now read the Preamble."
The man goes on and Dorian sits pumping his leg up and down nervously. A cold sweat breaks out on his brow.
"Is there anyone who is here for their first AA meeting? Please introduce yourself by your first name only. We want to welcome you now."
Hawkhurst takes a deep breath before standing up.
"My name is Dorian, and I am an alcoholic."
"Hi, Dorian." the crowd says in unison.
"So, um... am I supposed to start talking now? I've never been to one of these before."
"No, Dorian. With this being your first meeting, you don't have to speak if you don't want to. But, there will be time for sharing later if you so choose to."
"Um... okay... thanks."
Dorian slowly sits down, still nervous despite a certain weight having been lifted off his shoulders.
"We will now begin by passing the 'How It Works' from chapter 5 of the Alcoholics Anonymous book. Please read a paragraph or step then pass it to the next person to read until the reading is finished. Dorian, I'd like for you to just sit and listen, if you don't mind."
Hawkhurst simply nods. As the group reads through, Dorian listens intently.
"Thank you, everyone. Now, we are going to move onto the sharing portion of the night. Please remember to keep confidentiality: 'Who you see and what you hear here stays here.' We ask that you limit your sharing to 3-5 minutes, in order that all may have the opportunity to share. There is to be no crosstalk or interruptions. In general, we share our experience, strength, and hope - as we briefly say 'what it was like, what happened, and what it is like now'. Share feelings, using 'I statements', rather than 'you statements'. The meeting is now open for discussion on a topic or readings."
Several members of the group speak, sharing their individual stories and triumphs and set backs. Finally, the man running the meeting stands up.
"Before we wrap this up, is there anyone else who would like to speak?"
The room sits silent for a few moments, no one says a word. Dorian sits with his hands folded in his lap, wanting to speak but unable to find the courage to do so. The irony that he spoke and performed in front of large crowds but couldn't find a voice in front of a group of 15 or so people was not lost on him.
"In keeping with the 7th tradition which states that 'we are fully self supporting', we will now pass the box'. The money will go for AA expenses like the tea, snacks, literature, chips, and all that fun stuff. Who would like to read 'The Promises'?"
Dorian mentally checks out, only snapping back to reality as people get up and start putting away the chairs. Dorian stands up, folds up his chair, and walks over to put the chair away. A woman with brunette hair, seemingly in her late 20's, takes the chair from him.
"Don't worry, darlin'. I got it."
"Thanks."
"So, first timer I see."
"Yeah."
"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll fit in fine. I remember my first time I showed up drunk. It wasn't pretty, that's for damned sure."
"So how come you'd come back."
"Because they didn't judge me. Even when I opened up, they never judged me. Never once. I'm not clean yet, but I've gone about 2 months without a drink. So that's somethin', ain't it?"
Dorian smiles a little bit.
"You're doing better than I am. I had my last drink 8 days ago. Showed up to a funeral and I was totally blasted. I know I didn't cause a scene, but I hope I didn't come across as some kind of idiot. It was a girl from my neighborhood. We used to get drunk together when we were younger. Turns out she had us all fooled. We thought she was clean. She OD'd off cocaine."
"And that made you STOP drinking? I think that I'd turn back to the bottle for something like that. Were you close?"
"Not like we were as kids. I mean, we'd lost touch as we got older, but we always kept in touch. I stood there, thinking about no one but myself. And I am standing there at her service, looking at her kids... and thinking about my kid. I knew at that moment that I needed to resist that temptation. So, yeah, I guess you never know when that epiphany is going to hit you."
"Yeah. Everyone's got a story, I guess. Nice to meet ya'. Name's Tawnee."
"Dorian."
"So, I know this is kind of upfront, but could I have your number? I'm not looking for a good time or anything, I promise. I just figure that you could use a friend."
"Sure, but I gotta warn you, my life and my job are kind of hectic."
"Really? What do you do?"
Dorian pauses for a brief second.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
Tawnee takes out her phone.
"Tell you what. You call me when you have some downtime and we'll talk about it. If not, I'll see you next week, hopefully. So, how about them digits?"
"463-7865"
"Alright. I'll text you in a minute so you have my number. Gotta run, my ride is here."
"Take care."
Tawnee leaves the gym and Dorian makes small talk with the other people at the meeting, mostly of the "Nice to meet you." and "Hope to see you next week." variety. As the room empties, Dorian grabs his leather jacket to leave. He walks out the door and "Dr. Feelgood" by Mötley Crüe begins to play. He pulls his phone out and looks at the phone. A number that Dorian doesn't recognize appears on the caller ID. Despite that fact, Dorian answers the phone.
"Hello, this is Dorian."
A woman with a think Irish accent responds.
"Hi. This is Ruby... from the office."
"Hey."
Dorian's life was about to get far more interesting...
Once again, we come to visit Dorian Hawkhurst somewhere deep within the bowels of the IWF corporate office. As usual, he is wearing jeans and a t-shirt. What makes today different is that today, he is wearing a Nighthawk t-shirt.
"Ladies and gentlemen, nuts and squirrels, children of all ages. Welcome once again to the 'Dorian Hawkhurst Show'. I'm your host, the "Demon of Sobriety". Please remember to keep your hands to yourself and your trays in their full upright position."
"Now, I know that I am supposed sit here and run down Nighthawk. But, I'm not going to do that. No, no, no. Not today. Nighthawk is an institution here in Imperial and I respect that. What I am going to do is take some time and point out a few things. I plan to come into Sacrifice and I plan to show Nighthawk that the old guard is dead. That's not an insult. That is a matter of fact. When I am at my best, there is not a man in the IWF that can beat me. This match isn't even about you, Nighthawk. It's about me. It's about the beast within my head and whether or not I let it control me."
"Now, I know there are people out there that are asking themselves, "Why, oh why is Dorian Hawkhurst wearing his opponent's t-shirt?" Well, boy and girls, I am going to tell you. I am wearing Nighthawk's shirt to let you, the office, and even the man himself that no matter how little I tear him down or how much I talk about myself, that I realize that I haven't forgetten about him."
Dorian slaps himself on the chest to emphasize his point.
"Ultimately, this match is about me. When I am focused, I am unbeatable. I look back at my failures, Bane, not one, but TWO fatal four ways, and I realize that my eye was not on the prize. I don't want to sound like a broken record, but when I am on my game, I take the legends and I make them fall at my feet. Nighthawk, if I have my way, you shall join that list."
"I realize that you call yourself a 'Wrestling Machine'. You have a knowledge of hold and counterholds that I can only imagine. I'll be upfront about it, I just know how to hit things. I'm also smart enough to know that I can hit things very, VERY hard. I also know that despite all those moves you know, you're going to have a bitch of a time getting them on me. You're a toothpick compared to me. If I choose to, I can physically break you in half. And do you honestly, truly think you can pick my fat ass up for one of them Orange Crush Bomb thingamajoobers you like so much? To quote the great Al Borland 'I don't think so, Tim.'"
Dorian is all wound up. He starts bouncing back and forth as the excitement overcomes him.
"And about that whole machine thing. I've watched a lot of your stuff. Your mind, it is always working. You are playing chess while most of your opponents are playing checkers. Now, I might be playing checkers, but damnit, I'm playing Chinese Checkers, so at least I am smarter than the average bear. All kidding aside, I know I can't keep up with you in ring, at least not a mental level. But, as a machine, are you capable of taking into account just how unpredictable an emotional opponent can be? And I don't mean angry, because angry men fight sloppy. I mean, what do you do when a man isn't just going through the motions like a machine? What do you do when the man you are staring at from across the ring is fighting for things bigger and more important than himself? What do you do when a man's heart runs faster and harder than the pistons of a well oiled machine? Nothing. That's what you'll do. You'll do nothing and like it."
"This last week, I've been looking into the mirror and thinking not so much about the sad, flawed man I am. I'vee been looking at my reflection and thinking about the man I want to be, the man I want to become. I was a man driving the wrong way down a one way street. It took me burying an old friend and watching the tears of her children run down their faces like the water flowing over Niagra Falls for me to realize what kind of man, what kind of father would I be if I let my addiction put me in the ground. What kind of person would I be if I didn't learn to bury my demons and show up to work sober. What kind of man would disgrace a legend like Nighthawk without being at full capacity?"
Dorian tears off his shirt, splitting the image of Nighthawk's face right down the middle.
"I'm sorry, truly sorry, Nighthawk, for what I have to do. The addiction, disease addled Dorian Hawkhurst is dead. The "Demon of Sobriety" is the phoenix that will rise, no, has risen from the ashes to take his place. What this means is that I am going to hit you, Nighthawk, with everything I have and then some. If you are the better man, if you outwrestle me and you are the one to face Bob Pooler for the Invictus Championship... he still has that, right? I'm not so good at keeping with who's got what around here. Anyway, if you are able to beat me, I will stand up, look you dead in the eye, and I will shake the hand of the better man. I don't know a lot, but I know a true warrior when I see one. Nighthawk, you have to realize one thing, all that means is that I am going to fight you harder than I have fought anyone else I have faced before. The chance to challenge for the Invictus Championship. I missed out on that opportunity once. I won't allow that to happen again."
The camera fades out with Dorian smiling into the camera.
"Ladies and gentlemen, nuts and squirrels, children of all ages. Welcome once again to the 'Dorian Hawkhurst Show'. I'm your host, the "Demon of Sobriety". Please remember to keep your hands to yourself and your trays in their full upright position."
"Now, I know that I am supposed sit here and run down Nighthawk. But, I'm not going to do that. No, no, no. Not today. Nighthawk is an institution here in Imperial and I respect that. What I am going to do is take some time and point out a few things. I plan to come into Sacrifice and I plan to show Nighthawk that the old guard is dead. That's not an insult. That is a matter of fact. When I am at my best, there is not a man in the IWF that can beat me. This match isn't even about you, Nighthawk. It's about me. It's about the beast within my head and whether or not I let it control me."
"Now, I know there are people out there that are asking themselves, "Why, oh why is Dorian Hawkhurst wearing his opponent's t-shirt?" Well, boy and girls, I am going to tell you. I am wearing Nighthawk's shirt to let you, the office, and even the man himself that no matter how little I tear him down or how much I talk about myself, that I realize that I haven't forgetten about him."
Dorian slaps himself on the chest to emphasize his point.
"Ultimately, this match is about me. When I am focused, I am unbeatable. I look back at my failures, Bane, not one, but TWO fatal four ways, and I realize that my eye was not on the prize. I don't want to sound like a broken record, but when I am on my game, I take the legends and I make them fall at my feet. Nighthawk, if I have my way, you shall join that list."
"I realize that you call yourself a 'Wrestling Machine'. You have a knowledge of hold and counterholds that I can only imagine. I'll be upfront about it, I just know how to hit things. I'm also smart enough to know that I can hit things very, VERY hard. I also know that despite all those moves you know, you're going to have a bitch of a time getting them on me. You're a toothpick compared to me. If I choose to, I can physically break you in half. And do you honestly, truly think you can pick my fat ass up for one of them Orange Crush Bomb thingamajoobers you like so much? To quote the great Al Borland 'I don't think so, Tim.'"
Dorian is all wound up. He starts bouncing back and forth as the excitement overcomes him.
"And about that whole machine thing. I've watched a lot of your stuff. Your mind, it is always working. You are playing chess while most of your opponents are playing checkers. Now, I might be playing checkers, but damnit, I'm playing Chinese Checkers, so at least I am smarter than the average bear. All kidding aside, I know I can't keep up with you in ring, at least not a mental level. But, as a machine, are you capable of taking into account just how unpredictable an emotional opponent can be? And I don't mean angry, because angry men fight sloppy. I mean, what do you do when a man isn't just going through the motions like a machine? What do you do when the man you are staring at from across the ring is fighting for things bigger and more important than himself? What do you do when a man's heart runs faster and harder than the pistons of a well oiled machine? Nothing. That's what you'll do. You'll do nothing and like it."
"This last week, I've been looking into the mirror and thinking not so much about the sad, flawed man I am. I'vee been looking at my reflection and thinking about the man I want to be, the man I want to become. I was a man driving the wrong way down a one way street. It took me burying an old friend and watching the tears of her children run down their faces like the water flowing over Niagra Falls for me to realize what kind of man, what kind of father would I be if I let my addiction put me in the ground. What kind of person would I be if I didn't learn to bury my demons and show up to work sober. What kind of man would disgrace a legend like Nighthawk without being at full capacity?"
Dorian tears off his shirt, splitting the image of Nighthawk's face right down the middle.
"I'm sorry, truly sorry, Nighthawk, for what I have to do. The addiction, disease addled Dorian Hawkhurst is dead. The "Demon of Sobriety" is the phoenix that will rise, no, has risen from the ashes to take his place. What this means is that I am going to hit you, Nighthawk, with everything I have and then some. If you are the better man, if you outwrestle me and you are the one to face Bob Pooler for the Invictus Championship... he still has that, right? I'm not so good at keeping with who's got what around here. Anyway, if you are able to beat me, I will stand up, look you dead in the eye, and I will shake the hand of the better man. I don't know a lot, but I know a true warrior when I see one. Nighthawk, you have to realize one thing, all that means is that I am going to fight you harder than I have fought anyone else I have faced before. The chance to challenge for the Invictus Championship. I missed out on that opportunity once. I won't allow that to happen again."
The camera fades out with Dorian smiling into the camera.
Well howdy there pardner.