Heading to America
Jan 19, 2012 18:03:51 GMT -5
Post by Micky O'Reilly on Jan 19, 2012 18:03:51 GMT -5
As I arrived home I knew something was wrong, everything was quiet, there wasn’t a noise coming from inside. It was 7pm on a Friday, there should be something, some noise. Whether it was my mum shouting at my little brother or my father singing along to an old Irish tune, there was always noise coming from our home.
As I stepped up to the door of our 2-bedroom caravan I could feel my stomach clench, twisting itself into a knot. I opened the door slowly, not wanting to go in but knowing that I had to. I took one last breath, counted to three, and let it out slowly. Then I walked through the open doorway.
Micky: Ma I’m home.
I turned left and looked into the living area where my mum and my brother were sat in silence on the orange fabric seats, my mother with a fat lip and my brother with a black eye.
Micky: That bastard…
Claire: It’s not his fault…
My mother interrupted, with tears glistening in her eyes.
Claire: I ruined his tea. I left it on the stove while I went to get your brother. It’s not his fault Micky…
Micky: That’s no excuse ma! He shouldn’t be hitting you and Danny’s just 10 for Christ’s sake, he can’t defend himself!
My mother fell silent and my brother stared straight into the floor, I heard the door close behind me.
Tommy: What’s the problem son, you got something you want to say?
I turned around and looked into my father’s eyes, I looked a lot like him and I hated it. We had the same dark eyes, the same jaw line and the same nose. He was rougher around the edges, he was 40 and I was 18, it was like looking into the future. This was what I would become if I didn’t do something.
Micky: I’m not your son. I could never be the son of a bastard that does this to his own flesh and blood.
I gestured to my family on their seats.
Tommy: You fucking cheeky shit, how dare you say that in my home! I provided for you these last 18 years and this is how you repay me? Insulting me in the home I paid for, the home that you still live in!
As he’d been saying this he’d been slowly stepping closer, he was so close now that I could smell the sweat on him. I looked up at the ceiling and took another deep breath, this time to get the courage for what I was about to do…
And then my leg exploded in pain…
Suddenly I was back in the real world, unfortunately the real world had me on my back with my right leg in an ankle lock in a Submissions fight against ‘Stunning’ Steve McCormack, a technical fighter, 3 inches shorter than me at 5’11”, 225 lbs in white boots and trunks, with an unlikely name considering his ugly streak for inflicting permanent damage and an even uglier face. I gritted my teeth and did what I had to do to get out of his lock.
Micky: Hey Steve, when you were born did the doctor not ask your mother why she’d been having sex with bulldogs?
For a split second Steve released his hold slightly as he took in what I’d said. That split second was enough. I rolled over, twisting my leg out of his grip and quickly found my way to my feet. As we circled each other my right ankle gave slightly under my weight, something that Steve noticed. He ran at me, bouncing off the rope to gain momentum and performed a sliding kick on my bad ankle, taking me down to the ground. He pulled me up and threw me between the middle and top ropes of the ring to the concrete floor where I landed bad, jarring my right shoulder. I pushed myself back to the crowd barrier with my good left leg and caught my breath while Stunning Steve milked the crowd’s boos.
Fan: Come on Micky! You can take him!
I looked behind me to see the kid in the purple reebok t-shirt that I’d given the last of my bottle to as I’d walked to the ring.
Micky: Still got that drink I gave ya kid?
He reached down by his feet and brought up the bottle of Jameson’s I gave him, I gratefully took it and finished it off, about 4 shots worth, in one go. I didn’t notice the burn in my throat as it went down but I instantly felt the relief in my ankle and shoulder.
Micky: Thanks kiddo, now you came to see a fight so that’s what I’ll damn well give ya!
I returned the empty bottle and crawled forward, reaching under the ring for the supply of steel chairs for tonight’s No Holds Barred main event. I pulled one out and climbed quietly into the ring behind Stunning Steve, as he turned around to refocus attention on me. Unfortunately for him his turn was straight into the business side of my weapon.
Ding ding ding!!! The bell was rung for my disqualification but I didn’t care, it was too late to worry about that now, I climbed back out of the ring and went back to where my young fan had been.
Fan: That was awesome!
Micky: Haha, you ain’t seen nothing yet lad.
I reached down behind him and grabbed the cheap 2 man wooden bench provided for seating and the one next to his, throwing them into the ring before grabbing another 2 benches. I climbed back in to the ring and arranged them so they were all parallel with each other, 2 each side of the semi-conscious Stunning Steve. The crowd went wild, knowing what was coming next.
Steve: No Micky, please.
Micky: Sorry Steve, but I’m afraid I just don’t like ya that much.
I pulled him to his feet and carried out Murphy’s Law, straight through 2 benches and then turning around and going through the other 2 benches. As I stood up I looked down on the now unconscious Stunning Steve McCormack and felt a little guilty, nothing a little whiskey wouldn’t sort out. With that I left the ring and walked painfully back to my trailer.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………............................
Bang Bang Bang Bang!!!
I woke to the sound of someone pounding on my door and a pounding in my head, I looked at my clock, 23.15, it was probably a groupie. I limped to the door where someone was still smashing their fist on it, pausing to take a swig from the half empty whiskey bottle on the small table by the door in order to clear my head.
Micky: I’m here, stop your hammering before you take the bloody door off!
I opened the door to see Bobby, the company owner wearing the same dark jacket and jeans he had on when he hired me 3 and a half years ago. In stark contrast to that day he now also wore a look of extreme anger. Despite being only 5’9” and over weight he grabbed me by my shirt and shoved me back into my trailer, down the short hallway and over the old, battered coffee table. I raised my hands by my head in a sign of surrender, I might be a drunk but I wasn’t stupid enough to hit my boss. That didn’t stop him hitting me though. He threw a right hook, a pretty powerful one too for a guy so much smaller than me.
Bobby: Do you have any fucking idea what you’ve done?
Micky: What do ya mean? I was sleeping until 20 seconds ago you stupid arse.
Bobby: The fight! You put Steve through 4 wooden benches, I’ve just got back from the hospital where he’s lying in a neck brace with 3 cracked ribs and a slipped disc!
I thought back through the haze of memories, did I fight tonight? I looked at my hands, my knuckles were swollen and split, maybe Bobby was telling the truth.
Micky: I expect he deserved it, he said he’d been visiting my sister at night if you know what I mean…
Bobby: Is your brain really that fucked up!
Micky: Hey there’s no need to be insultin’ now.
Bobby: First off that was a promo video, he wasn’t serious. And secondly you don’t even have a sister you stupid piece of shit!
I opened my mouth to reply but realised he was right, I didn’t have a sister. It was just me, Danny, Dad and Mum. Mum…
She was standing in the door of our home, wearing a white jumper and purple ankle length skirt, the jumper had specks of blood on it from her split lip. She was screaming at me.
Claire: Go just go! You can’t be here no more, I warned you Micky. I told you I would always choose him over you, now get out of here!
Micky: But I only wanted to…
Claire: You have to go!
Bobby: You have to go Micky… Are you even listening?
I snapped out of my daydream.
Micky: I have to go?
Bobby: I’m sorry Micky but you’re becoming a liability, Steve was fighting for the Heavyweight title next week and now I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to fight again. I can’t take any more risks on you.
I started to protest but he cut me off.
Bobby: Don’t worry I’m not throwing you to the streets. I’ve had an offer for you, someone with good links. They’ve got you a place in an up and coming federation, the FGA. You could go a long way with them if you keep your head about you, it’s a good opportunity.
Micky: The FGA, never heard of them, where are they based? Galway?
Bobby: America…
Micky: America! I don’t know anyone in America! Who’s going to put me up until I get settled?
Bobby: They said not to worry, the sponsor will put you up in a house in some place called New Jersey, all you need to worry about is making sure you show up on fight night. If it goes wrong just call me up and I’ll see if you can get you a place somewhere else. You just can’t stay here, the other guys have been saying either you go or they do and I can’t afford to lose 80% of my roster.
I thought about it, America, the home of wrestling.
Micky: I’ll need a gimmick I suppose, maybe dress up like a Leprechaun?
Bobby: A Leprechaun? You’ll be the biggest fucking Leprecahun they’re ever seen lad. Besides, you’re a walking gimmick anyway, just stick to what you know and fight, none of that nancy boy acting alright.
I didn’t know what he meant by me being a walking gimmick, but I did know two things; one I could definitely fight and two whiskey was cheaper in America…
As I stepped up to the door of our 2-bedroom caravan I could feel my stomach clench, twisting itself into a knot. I opened the door slowly, not wanting to go in but knowing that I had to. I took one last breath, counted to three, and let it out slowly. Then I walked through the open doorway.
Micky: Ma I’m home.
I turned left and looked into the living area where my mum and my brother were sat in silence on the orange fabric seats, my mother with a fat lip and my brother with a black eye.
Micky: That bastard…
Claire: It’s not his fault…
My mother interrupted, with tears glistening in her eyes.
Claire: I ruined his tea. I left it on the stove while I went to get your brother. It’s not his fault Micky…
Micky: That’s no excuse ma! He shouldn’t be hitting you and Danny’s just 10 for Christ’s sake, he can’t defend himself!
My mother fell silent and my brother stared straight into the floor, I heard the door close behind me.
Tommy: What’s the problem son, you got something you want to say?
I turned around and looked into my father’s eyes, I looked a lot like him and I hated it. We had the same dark eyes, the same jaw line and the same nose. He was rougher around the edges, he was 40 and I was 18, it was like looking into the future. This was what I would become if I didn’t do something.
Micky: I’m not your son. I could never be the son of a bastard that does this to his own flesh and blood.
I gestured to my family on their seats.
Tommy: You fucking cheeky shit, how dare you say that in my home! I provided for you these last 18 years and this is how you repay me? Insulting me in the home I paid for, the home that you still live in!
As he’d been saying this he’d been slowly stepping closer, he was so close now that I could smell the sweat on him. I looked up at the ceiling and took another deep breath, this time to get the courage for what I was about to do…
And then my leg exploded in pain…
Suddenly I was back in the real world, unfortunately the real world had me on my back with my right leg in an ankle lock in a Submissions fight against ‘Stunning’ Steve McCormack, a technical fighter, 3 inches shorter than me at 5’11”, 225 lbs in white boots and trunks, with an unlikely name considering his ugly streak for inflicting permanent damage and an even uglier face. I gritted my teeth and did what I had to do to get out of his lock.
Micky: Hey Steve, when you were born did the doctor not ask your mother why she’d been having sex with bulldogs?
For a split second Steve released his hold slightly as he took in what I’d said. That split second was enough. I rolled over, twisting my leg out of his grip and quickly found my way to my feet. As we circled each other my right ankle gave slightly under my weight, something that Steve noticed. He ran at me, bouncing off the rope to gain momentum and performed a sliding kick on my bad ankle, taking me down to the ground. He pulled me up and threw me between the middle and top ropes of the ring to the concrete floor where I landed bad, jarring my right shoulder. I pushed myself back to the crowd barrier with my good left leg and caught my breath while Stunning Steve milked the crowd’s boos.
Fan: Come on Micky! You can take him!
I looked behind me to see the kid in the purple reebok t-shirt that I’d given the last of my bottle to as I’d walked to the ring.
Micky: Still got that drink I gave ya kid?
He reached down by his feet and brought up the bottle of Jameson’s I gave him, I gratefully took it and finished it off, about 4 shots worth, in one go. I didn’t notice the burn in my throat as it went down but I instantly felt the relief in my ankle and shoulder.
Micky: Thanks kiddo, now you came to see a fight so that’s what I’ll damn well give ya!
I returned the empty bottle and crawled forward, reaching under the ring for the supply of steel chairs for tonight’s No Holds Barred main event. I pulled one out and climbed quietly into the ring behind Stunning Steve, as he turned around to refocus attention on me. Unfortunately for him his turn was straight into the business side of my weapon.
Ding ding ding!!! The bell was rung for my disqualification but I didn’t care, it was too late to worry about that now, I climbed back out of the ring and went back to where my young fan had been.
Fan: That was awesome!
Micky: Haha, you ain’t seen nothing yet lad.
I reached down behind him and grabbed the cheap 2 man wooden bench provided for seating and the one next to his, throwing them into the ring before grabbing another 2 benches. I climbed back in to the ring and arranged them so they were all parallel with each other, 2 each side of the semi-conscious Stunning Steve. The crowd went wild, knowing what was coming next.
Steve: No Micky, please.
Micky: Sorry Steve, but I’m afraid I just don’t like ya that much.
I pulled him to his feet and carried out Murphy’s Law, straight through 2 benches and then turning around and going through the other 2 benches. As I stood up I looked down on the now unconscious Stunning Steve McCormack and felt a little guilty, nothing a little whiskey wouldn’t sort out. With that I left the ring and walked painfully back to my trailer.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………............................
Bang Bang Bang Bang!!!
I woke to the sound of someone pounding on my door and a pounding in my head, I looked at my clock, 23.15, it was probably a groupie. I limped to the door where someone was still smashing their fist on it, pausing to take a swig from the half empty whiskey bottle on the small table by the door in order to clear my head.
Micky: I’m here, stop your hammering before you take the bloody door off!
I opened the door to see Bobby, the company owner wearing the same dark jacket and jeans he had on when he hired me 3 and a half years ago. In stark contrast to that day he now also wore a look of extreme anger. Despite being only 5’9” and over weight he grabbed me by my shirt and shoved me back into my trailer, down the short hallway and over the old, battered coffee table. I raised my hands by my head in a sign of surrender, I might be a drunk but I wasn’t stupid enough to hit my boss. That didn’t stop him hitting me though. He threw a right hook, a pretty powerful one too for a guy so much smaller than me.
Bobby: Do you have any fucking idea what you’ve done?
Micky: What do ya mean? I was sleeping until 20 seconds ago you stupid arse.
Bobby: The fight! You put Steve through 4 wooden benches, I’ve just got back from the hospital where he’s lying in a neck brace with 3 cracked ribs and a slipped disc!
I thought back through the haze of memories, did I fight tonight? I looked at my hands, my knuckles were swollen and split, maybe Bobby was telling the truth.
Micky: I expect he deserved it, he said he’d been visiting my sister at night if you know what I mean…
Bobby: Is your brain really that fucked up!
Micky: Hey there’s no need to be insultin’ now.
Bobby: First off that was a promo video, he wasn’t serious. And secondly you don’t even have a sister you stupid piece of shit!
I opened my mouth to reply but realised he was right, I didn’t have a sister. It was just me, Danny, Dad and Mum. Mum…
She was standing in the door of our home, wearing a white jumper and purple ankle length skirt, the jumper had specks of blood on it from her split lip. She was screaming at me.
Claire: Go just go! You can’t be here no more, I warned you Micky. I told you I would always choose him over you, now get out of here!
Micky: But I only wanted to…
Claire: You have to go!
Bobby: You have to go Micky… Are you even listening?
I snapped out of my daydream.
Micky: I have to go?
Bobby: I’m sorry Micky but you’re becoming a liability, Steve was fighting for the Heavyweight title next week and now I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to fight again. I can’t take any more risks on you.
I started to protest but he cut me off.
Bobby: Don’t worry I’m not throwing you to the streets. I’ve had an offer for you, someone with good links. They’ve got you a place in an up and coming federation, the FGA. You could go a long way with them if you keep your head about you, it’s a good opportunity.
Micky: The FGA, never heard of them, where are they based? Galway?
Bobby: America…
Micky: America! I don’t know anyone in America! Who’s going to put me up until I get settled?
Bobby: They said not to worry, the sponsor will put you up in a house in some place called New Jersey, all you need to worry about is making sure you show up on fight night. If it goes wrong just call me up and I’ll see if you can get you a place somewhere else. You just can’t stay here, the other guys have been saying either you go or they do and I can’t afford to lose 80% of my roster.
I thought about it, America, the home of wrestling.
Micky: I’ll need a gimmick I suppose, maybe dress up like a Leprechaun?
Bobby: A Leprechaun? You’ll be the biggest fucking Leprecahun they’re ever seen lad. Besides, you’re a walking gimmick anyway, just stick to what you know and fight, none of that nancy boy acting alright.
I didn’t know what he meant by me being a walking gimmick, but I did know two things; one I could definitely fight and two whiskey was cheaper in America…
