The Build Up
Feb 1, 2012 17:54:38 GMT -5
Post by Micky O'Reilly on Feb 1, 2012 17:54:38 GMT -5
21st January 2012
As we drove through New Jersey I was struck by one thing… Size. It was true what Bobby had told me, everything was bigger in America. The Newark Liberty International Airport, where I had arrived was massive. The houses, cars and shops were huge. Hell, even people’s waistbands were double what I was used to seeing.
Ted: So what do you think of our little state here Mr O’Reilly?
The driver who’d met me at the airport was an elderly gentleman, 5’7” with a 46-inch waist and wearing a navy blue suit. I felt a little upstaged, wearing a pair of old boots, light blue jeans and a plain black T-shirt, but at least I was comfortable. The day’s travelling seemed twice as long because someone had told the airline I was only allowed soft drinks, I couldn’t work out why though.
Micky: Big.
It was the only word I could think of and I wasn’t in the mood for conversation. I hadn’t slept on the plane so I was agitated and tired, plus I could really use a drink.
Micky: Hey could you pull in there boss?
I’d spotted what I assumed to be a store, a place called the Quick Stop. As the black Ford Fusion we were in pulled over I could see the metal shutters were down, despite it being about 1pm, but the door had an open sign showing so I went in slowly. As I put my head around the door I saw a guy behind the counter with a goatee beard.
Micky: Are you open fella?
Clerk: YES! Does no one bother reading the sign?
I put my head back out the door and saw a large, homemade sign on the shutters with the words “I ASSURE YOU WE’RE OPEN!” written on it. I didn’t know how I’d missed it but I didn’t care, I only had one thing on my mind as I walked back inside.
Micky: Got any whiskey there lad? Anything will do. You seem a bit uptight.
He turned around and grabbed a 70cl bottle of their only whiskey, White Horse, and scanned it before putting it in a paper bag.
Clerk: That’s because I’m not even supposed to be here today. Sixteen bucks.
I grabbed some cash from my back pocket that Bobby had changed up for me before I left and peeled away two $10 bills. As he sorted out my change I grabbed the bottle, and took a deep swig, taking two or three shots in one go, feeling instantly better
Clerk: Tough morning huh?
Micky: Not really but they wouldn’t let me drink on the plane, and I got kicked out of the last federation I was in and sent here where I don’t know anyone, but I’m being put up in a house somewhere by a sponsor so I’m told. And to top it all off I don’t quite know what’s expected of me. Do you know what I mean?
Clerk: Honestly? I have no idea.
Micky: I get that a lot for some reason, I’ve got to go now because Ted’s waiting for me. See ya next time.
I walked out of the shop, took another gulp for the road, and climbed back into the passenger seat of the car where Ted was waiting.
Micky: Where to now boss?
Ted: Now we go to your house, 120 Brevent Avenue. It’s not too far now.
Micky: What do you mean house? I thought I was being put up in a trailer?
Ted: I don’t know anything about that Mr. O’Reilly, I was just told to pick you up from the airport and drive you here. I’m just doing my job.
Micky: I don’t suppose you can tell me who told you that can ya?
Ted: Nope, all my instructions come from head office, I only know the names of the people I pick up.
As we navigated the road I continued to look at the surroundings until I looked left in Ted’s direction and noticed something… He had really big ears.
Micky: What would you rather have, ears down to your shoulders or shoulders up to your ears?
Ted muttered under his breath.
Ted: What is this guy on?
Micky: What’s that you said there?
Ted: I said we won’t be long. In fact we’re here now Mr. O’Reilly.
I looked out of the window at a mansion. The building we had stopped in front of had it’s own driveway, about 15 feet long, a lawn, and the building itself was painted perfectly white and must have had as many as 3 bedrooms.
Micky: Blimey! What am I going to do with all that space? You could fit a family of ten in there!
Ted: Err yeah, anyway this is where we part Mr O’Reilly.
Ted and I got out and went to the back of the car where I took my holdall with all my possessions out of the luggage compartment. Ted reached into his inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a set of keys and a business card which he handed to me.
Ted: Those are your keys I was asked to give to you, and if you ever need to go anywhere call the number on that card and head office will send someone round for you.
Micky: Thank ya very much Ted. I guess I’ll be heading in then.
I walked up the concrete drive to the house and heard Ted get back in his car and drive off. I approached the door, wood with a diamond pattern glass section in the top half, wondering what I was going to find inside. I turned the lock apprehensively and pushed the handle down, walking in to what I can only describe as a house for the rich and famous. I walked around the house wondering how I’d already made a success of myself. The main hallway was painted white to match the exterior with a wooden floor and a staircase to the right. Upstairs were 3 bedrooms, all decorated similarly, with light blue walls, a cream carpet and pine furniture, the main bedroom even had a double bed in it. Next to the master bedroom was the bathroom which granite floor tiles and white marble effect wall tiles with a bath and shower as well as a toilet and washbasin, all white ceramic. Downstairs, the kitchen had all stainless steel appliances and walnut effect units, while the floor was black tiles and the walls painted white. There was even a laundry room and a home gym with a running machine and a weights bench. I walked back towards the front of the house, into living room where I sat on a cream fabric couch and took another drink from the whiskey that I had, until now, all but forgotten about in my left hand. The living room had a chocolate coloured carpet, cream walls, an entertainment unit with a 40” television and a glass coffee table with an envelope and video camera on it. I opened the envelope not knowing what to expect but with the knowledge that it would probably be unexpected. It contained a letter and two printed documents.
Micky O’Reilly,
Welcome to your new home for the next few months. I have paid the rent and will cover all bills until a time where I believe you are able to stand on your own two feet. In return for my generosity I have a few expectations of you that I think you will find agreeable. You and I share an interest, I hate people who prey on those unable to stick up for themselves, unfortunately there are a few of them in the FGA, especially one in particular. I will be in contact soon to discuss the details, but for now you should prepare for your debut fight in two weeks and you are required to record a promo video for the event, this camera should be adequate.
I look forward to eventually meeting you,
John Smith
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The video cuts in abruptly showing a pair of boots on a chocolate brown carpet.
Micky: Is this fucking thing working? HELLO! I don’t know how to use this fu…
It suddenly cuts out and then back in again, this time showing the face of Micky O’Reilly close up.
Micky: What’s going on with this damned thing, there’s all these fucking buttons and little lights. THAT’S IT! I’m gonna find someone who can…
The video cuts out yet again and when it comes on it is this time showing the face of young looking guy with slightly feminine features, long dirty blond hair and a black beanie hat. He starts pointing and shouting at the camera in an aggressive way.
Stranger: Fuck all of you fuckers! Jay James, fuck you! Chris Loki, fuck you! This here’s my man Micky O’ mother fucking Reilly and he’s gonna fuck you up! When shit goes down, this is what’s gonna happen…
Micky’s voice cuts in interrupting the stranger.
Micky: What are ya doing fella? I’m meant to be doing the promo, just film it you little shit!
The young guy’s face falls as he reluctantly turns the camera around. Micky is standing there in his wrestling attire with his arm’s folded across his chest, an irritated look on his face.
Stranger: Take it away big guy.
Micky: Right. This Wednesday I’m making my 100th appearance at FGA wrestling in a three way fight against Jay James and Chris Loki. A special event to mark a special occasion! Now I have no idea who either of you are, I’m told you’re both good guys and after we’ve fought I’ll let you take me for a drink, a large whiskey if you don’t know. I’m sure you both know who I am, sure you both saw me at the Supershow when I gave Mike Hopkins exactly what he deserved. You saw me beat him down because of who and what he is. A disease that is slowly bringing this company to its knees. A disease that could easily spread with his influence as the champ. A disease that I am here to cure. That is my main focus at FGA.
Stranger: You fucking tell ‘em Micky, talk some shit about those fuckers.
Micky pauses for a second and pulls out some crumpled papers from his pocket.
Micky: Despite that, this Wednesday I am fighting the two of you, and this here is all the information I could find on you. Jay, it says here that you’re even more of a disappointment than your big brother, who lost to Mike Hopkins, the bullying piece of shit who I dominated in a match of epic proportions. A match that went down in history in a book you might have heard of called the Bible, in a story you might have heard of called David and Goliath. Except this time the bigger man won. It says here that you’re a technical fighter, lets see how technical you can be when you’re collapsing under my shoulder block before experiencing The Traveller’s Knee.
Micky shuffles through the papers and finds what he’s looking for, holding the page in the air in his left hand, although we can’t make out the writing.
Micky: Now for you Loki. Apparently you wear pansy green booties and have a mask because your face is messed up from all the beatings you’ve taken. You might have noticed that I’m a nice kind of guy, so to celebrate our new friendship before we go out on the town I’m gonna do you a favour and rearrange that mish-mash of features of yours so that you don’t scare all the women away.
Micky screws up the papers he has been holding and tosses them over his shoulder.
Micky: That's enough about you two though, it's time to tell you about me. I'm a fighter, and a damned good one. When I was born and the doctor slapped my arse I gave him two black eyes and a broken nose. When I was a lad growing up in Ireland I used to have bare knuckle boxing matches against all the best fighters of the time, just for fun. I fought Muhammad Ali, Mike Tyson, Chuck Norris and even Danger Mouse. Violent little prick he was. Then when I joined the IWA in 2008 I won my debut fight against the Chuckle Brothers, becoming their first ever one-man Tag Team Champion. I went on to retain that title in a record breaking 120 win streak against 240 of the best opponents they had to offer. That experience stayed with me and I'm going to use it this Wednesday to show you fella's how to fight like a man.
Micky takes his grubby top off to show his powerful torso.
Micky: Usually you'd have to pay for stuff like this lads but I'm going to let you in on a few secrets, secrets to help you go from podgy wannabe's to the fine figure of masculinity that you see before you. These arm and back muscles…
He turns around and strikes a pose, tensing his body to show it off at it's best.
Micky: These have been carefully sculpted over the years with a vigorous training scheme of 500 pull ups and an equal amount of press ups, every day since I was 5. You see these pecs? They were earned by doing non-stop chest flies for two hours a day with 70kg dumbbells. And finally my abs. Unfortunately you could never have abs like these. These abs were hand crafted by God herself, and handed down to the only man She could ever retire to the kitchen for. Me.
He pauses for effect, but jerks his arm to crush a mosquito on his chest and continues his rambling speech.
Micky: Little fucker, where was I. Oh yeah. So when I have one of you on my shoulders, preparing to show you how it feels to be Murphy's Law'ed onto the unconscious body of someone else, don't get upset. Take comfort in the knowledge that you got to experience what it feels like to be in contact with a person as good looking as this. When you feel the shoulder of The Drunk Tank cutting you down, remember you're the just the latest victims in a long line of road kill. And finally when the match is over, and it hurts to breath… Mine's a double.
Stranger: Fucking ace Micky. Now give the fans what they want and smash something up to show you mean business!
Micky shrugs as if to say “why not” and walks towards the camera, reaching out. The picture suddenly jolts, showing glimses of the concrete floor, blurred images of people and the sky. There is a crashing sound and the picture changes to multicoloured lines running down the screen.
Stranger: So, uh. Wanna buy some weed?
The sreen changes to black and the FGA logo appears
As we drove through New Jersey I was struck by one thing… Size. It was true what Bobby had told me, everything was bigger in America. The Newark Liberty International Airport, where I had arrived was massive. The houses, cars and shops were huge. Hell, even people’s waistbands were double what I was used to seeing.
Ted: So what do you think of our little state here Mr O’Reilly?
The driver who’d met me at the airport was an elderly gentleman, 5’7” with a 46-inch waist and wearing a navy blue suit. I felt a little upstaged, wearing a pair of old boots, light blue jeans and a plain black T-shirt, but at least I was comfortable. The day’s travelling seemed twice as long because someone had told the airline I was only allowed soft drinks, I couldn’t work out why though.
Micky: Big.
It was the only word I could think of and I wasn’t in the mood for conversation. I hadn’t slept on the plane so I was agitated and tired, plus I could really use a drink.
Micky: Hey could you pull in there boss?
I’d spotted what I assumed to be a store, a place called the Quick Stop. As the black Ford Fusion we were in pulled over I could see the metal shutters were down, despite it being about 1pm, but the door had an open sign showing so I went in slowly. As I put my head around the door I saw a guy behind the counter with a goatee beard.
Micky: Are you open fella?
Clerk: YES! Does no one bother reading the sign?
I put my head back out the door and saw a large, homemade sign on the shutters with the words “I ASSURE YOU WE’RE OPEN!” written on it. I didn’t know how I’d missed it but I didn’t care, I only had one thing on my mind as I walked back inside.
Micky: Got any whiskey there lad? Anything will do. You seem a bit uptight.
He turned around and grabbed a 70cl bottle of their only whiskey, White Horse, and scanned it before putting it in a paper bag.
Clerk: That’s because I’m not even supposed to be here today. Sixteen bucks.
I grabbed some cash from my back pocket that Bobby had changed up for me before I left and peeled away two $10 bills. As he sorted out my change I grabbed the bottle, and took a deep swig, taking two or three shots in one go, feeling instantly better
Clerk: Tough morning huh?
Micky: Not really but they wouldn’t let me drink on the plane, and I got kicked out of the last federation I was in and sent here where I don’t know anyone, but I’m being put up in a house somewhere by a sponsor so I’m told. And to top it all off I don’t quite know what’s expected of me. Do you know what I mean?
Clerk: Honestly? I have no idea.
Micky: I get that a lot for some reason, I’ve got to go now because Ted’s waiting for me. See ya next time.
I walked out of the shop, took another gulp for the road, and climbed back into the passenger seat of the car where Ted was waiting.
Micky: Where to now boss?
Ted: Now we go to your house, 120 Brevent Avenue. It’s not too far now.
Micky: What do you mean house? I thought I was being put up in a trailer?
Ted: I don’t know anything about that Mr. O’Reilly, I was just told to pick you up from the airport and drive you here. I’m just doing my job.
Micky: I don’t suppose you can tell me who told you that can ya?
Ted: Nope, all my instructions come from head office, I only know the names of the people I pick up.
As we navigated the road I continued to look at the surroundings until I looked left in Ted’s direction and noticed something… He had really big ears.
Micky: What would you rather have, ears down to your shoulders or shoulders up to your ears?
Ted muttered under his breath.
Ted: What is this guy on?
Micky: What’s that you said there?
Ted: I said we won’t be long. In fact we’re here now Mr. O’Reilly.
I looked out of the window at a mansion. The building we had stopped in front of had it’s own driveway, about 15 feet long, a lawn, and the building itself was painted perfectly white and must have had as many as 3 bedrooms.
Micky: Blimey! What am I going to do with all that space? You could fit a family of ten in there!
Ted: Err yeah, anyway this is where we part Mr O’Reilly.
Ted and I got out and went to the back of the car where I took my holdall with all my possessions out of the luggage compartment. Ted reached into his inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a set of keys and a business card which he handed to me.
Ted: Those are your keys I was asked to give to you, and if you ever need to go anywhere call the number on that card and head office will send someone round for you.
Micky: Thank ya very much Ted. I guess I’ll be heading in then.
I walked up the concrete drive to the house and heard Ted get back in his car and drive off. I approached the door, wood with a diamond pattern glass section in the top half, wondering what I was going to find inside. I turned the lock apprehensively and pushed the handle down, walking in to what I can only describe as a house for the rich and famous. I walked around the house wondering how I’d already made a success of myself. The main hallway was painted white to match the exterior with a wooden floor and a staircase to the right. Upstairs were 3 bedrooms, all decorated similarly, with light blue walls, a cream carpet and pine furniture, the main bedroom even had a double bed in it. Next to the master bedroom was the bathroom which granite floor tiles and white marble effect wall tiles with a bath and shower as well as a toilet and washbasin, all white ceramic. Downstairs, the kitchen had all stainless steel appliances and walnut effect units, while the floor was black tiles and the walls painted white. There was even a laundry room and a home gym with a running machine and a weights bench. I walked back towards the front of the house, into living room where I sat on a cream fabric couch and took another drink from the whiskey that I had, until now, all but forgotten about in my left hand. The living room had a chocolate coloured carpet, cream walls, an entertainment unit with a 40” television and a glass coffee table with an envelope and video camera on it. I opened the envelope not knowing what to expect but with the knowledge that it would probably be unexpected. It contained a letter and two printed documents.
Micky O’Reilly,
Welcome to your new home for the next few months. I have paid the rent and will cover all bills until a time where I believe you are able to stand on your own two feet. In return for my generosity I have a few expectations of you that I think you will find agreeable. You and I share an interest, I hate people who prey on those unable to stick up for themselves, unfortunately there are a few of them in the FGA, especially one in particular. I will be in contact soon to discuss the details, but for now you should prepare for your debut fight in two weeks and you are required to record a promo video for the event, this camera should be adequate.
I look forward to eventually meeting you,
John Smith
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The video cuts in abruptly showing a pair of boots on a chocolate brown carpet.
Micky: Is this fucking thing working? HELLO! I don’t know how to use this fu…
It suddenly cuts out and then back in again, this time showing the face of Micky O’Reilly close up.
Micky: What’s going on with this damned thing, there’s all these fucking buttons and little lights. THAT’S IT! I’m gonna find someone who can…
The video cuts out yet again and when it comes on it is this time showing the face of young looking guy with slightly feminine features, long dirty blond hair and a black beanie hat. He starts pointing and shouting at the camera in an aggressive way.
Stranger: Fuck all of you fuckers! Jay James, fuck you! Chris Loki, fuck you! This here’s my man Micky O’ mother fucking Reilly and he’s gonna fuck you up! When shit goes down, this is what’s gonna happen…
Micky’s voice cuts in interrupting the stranger.
Micky: What are ya doing fella? I’m meant to be doing the promo, just film it you little shit!
The young guy’s face falls as he reluctantly turns the camera around. Micky is standing there in his wrestling attire with his arm’s folded across his chest, an irritated look on his face.
Stranger: Take it away big guy.
Micky: Right. This Wednesday I’m making my 100th appearance at FGA wrestling in a three way fight against Jay James and Chris Loki. A special event to mark a special occasion! Now I have no idea who either of you are, I’m told you’re both good guys and after we’ve fought I’ll let you take me for a drink, a large whiskey if you don’t know. I’m sure you both know who I am, sure you both saw me at the Supershow when I gave Mike Hopkins exactly what he deserved. You saw me beat him down because of who and what he is. A disease that is slowly bringing this company to its knees. A disease that could easily spread with his influence as the champ. A disease that I am here to cure. That is my main focus at FGA.
Stranger: You fucking tell ‘em Micky, talk some shit about those fuckers.
Micky pauses for a second and pulls out some crumpled papers from his pocket.
Micky: Despite that, this Wednesday I am fighting the two of you, and this here is all the information I could find on you. Jay, it says here that you’re even more of a disappointment than your big brother, who lost to Mike Hopkins, the bullying piece of shit who I dominated in a match of epic proportions. A match that went down in history in a book you might have heard of called the Bible, in a story you might have heard of called David and Goliath. Except this time the bigger man won. It says here that you’re a technical fighter, lets see how technical you can be when you’re collapsing under my shoulder block before experiencing The Traveller’s Knee.
Micky shuffles through the papers and finds what he’s looking for, holding the page in the air in his left hand, although we can’t make out the writing.
Micky: Now for you Loki. Apparently you wear pansy green booties and have a mask because your face is messed up from all the beatings you’ve taken. You might have noticed that I’m a nice kind of guy, so to celebrate our new friendship before we go out on the town I’m gonna do you a favour and rearrange that mish-mash of features of yours so that you don’t scare all the women away.
Micky screws up the papers he has been holding and tosses them over his shoulder.
Micky: That's enough about you two though, it's time to tell you about me. I'm a fighter, and a damned good one. When I was born and the doctor slapped my arse I gave him two black eyes and a broken nose. When I was a lad growing up in Ireland I used to have bare knuckle boxing matches against all the best fighters of the time, just for fun. I fought Muhammad Ali, Mike Tyson, Chuck Norris and even Danger Mouse. Violent little prick he was. Then when I joined the IWA in 2008 I won my debut fight against the Chuckle Brothers, becoming their first ever one-man Tag Team Champion. I went on to retain that title in a record breaking 120 win streak against 240 of the best opponents they had to offer. That experience stayed with me and I'm going to use it this Wednesday to show you fella's how to fight like a man.
Micky takes his grubby top off to show his powerful torso.
Micky: Usually you'd have to pay for stuff like this lads but I'm going to let you in on a few secrets, secrets to help you go from podgy wannabe's to the fine figure of masculinity that you see before you. These arm and back muscles…
He turns around and strikes a pose, tensing his body to show it off at it's best.
Micky: These have been carefully sculpted over the years with a vigorous training scheme of 500 pull ups and an equal amount of press ups, every day since I was 5. You see these pecs? They were earned by doing non-stop chest flies for two hours a day with 70kg dumbbells. And finally my abs. Unfortunately you could never have abs like these. These abs were hand crafted by God herself, and handed down to the only man She could ever retire to the kitchen for. Me.
He pauses for effect, but jerks his arm to crush a mosquito on his chest and continues his rambling speech.
Micky: Little fucker, where was I. Oh yeah. So when I have one of you on my shoulders, preparing to show you how it feels to be Murphy's Law'ed onto the unconscious body of someone else, don't get upset. Take comfort in the knowledge that you got to experience what it feels like to be in contact with a person as good looking as this. When you feel the shoulder of The Drunk Tank cutting you down, remember you're the just the latest victims in a long line of road kill. And finally when the match is over, and it hurts to breath… Mine's a double.
Stranger: Fucking ace Micky. Now give the fans what they want and smash something up to show you mean business!
Micky shrugs as if to say “why not” and walks towards the camera, reaching out. The picture suddenly jolts, showing glimses of the concrete floor, blurred images of people and the sky. There is a crashing sound and the picture changes to multicoloured lines running down the screen.
Stranger: So, uh. Wanna buy some weed?
The sreen changes to black and the FGA logo appears