SuperBrawl RP: How I Met My Mother... Again.

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And when I'm gone Just carry on Don't mourn, rejoice everytime you hear the sound of my voice Just know that I'm lookin down on you smilin And I didn't feel a thing So baby, don't feel no pain Just smile back When I'm Gone - EMINEM I see myself sit there in that big wooden chair. Nothing much on the table. Well at that age it wasn't much. The smoke in the room filling my lungs, in and out of those small lungs. There they stood, arguing as usual. Dad, drunk as usual, blood running down his hand. And then there was mom, beautiful as could be. Her sweet green eyes as soft as a silk pillow as they damp themselves. There she stood between me and my father, trying to save me from a huge right hand coming my way. Look at him! Sitting there with a blank look on his face! I wanted a normal son! Come on! He's your son! The tension in the air building with every word said. His eyes filling with hate, but I know now it wasn't towards my mother. It was towards me. He always hated me. We never went outside and played ball like the other kids would do. We would never watch the television like the other children. Looking back, I never saw much of him. He always worked from early in the morning and got home when I was at school. He then left to booze up and came back later in the night. But now, I just sit here looking at myself at the wooden oak table, playing with building blocks. Not the Lego stuff, the bigger ones. Too much of a chocking hazard in my mother's eyes. Come on Shane! You need to do stuff with him... He's your only son! I can see it now, her tears running down her face. Partly due to fear and partly due to the way my father treated me. She always stuck up for me. Even when I was wrong, she was there. I always had a shoulder to cry on, and seeing her like this. It sickened me, still does. But he didn't care. He sat there sickly with a smile as the waterworks of my mom fueled him to continue. His eyes full of venom continued to look at that young version of myself sitting in his chair. Have you seen him? He prances around like he was three Darleen! God dammit, he's seven! What do you expect! You never gave him the opportunity to grow! That was the final blow. My dad picking up the closest empty bottle and bouncing it off the kitchen counter. It was clean but that counter was now covered by shards of the brown glass. I knew he did this to mess with my mother, but back then I was focused on that castle I was building. The red, white and blue blocks fill my eyes as the connecting pieces snap on. I see myself just amazed by those blocks. I didn't see what I saw now. My mother pushed against the wall with that bottle close to her throat. Tears jumping out of her eyes as his eyes never left me. That son of yours makes me sick! I knew marrying you was a problem! Why don't I just end this now? She sneaks underneath his arm and once again finds herself standing in front of my childish frame. Her soft eyes now turning as cold as ice. Her hand reaching for mine and as she grabs it, my childish eyes fill up with joy. Whenever she grabbed my hand, I felt like touching a cloud sent from heaven. Her soft hand tapping mine as I remembered that signal. And there I went, running down the hall and up the stairs into my parent's room. The small hatch opening as the childish body launches himself into it, securing the door behind him. Here I sit all alone in the darkness, tears rushing down my face as the screams of my mother resonates throughout the house. I can feel them now, every shot with the bottle and that always bloodied right hand. Each hit bruising the delicate skin of that angel sent from heaven. My eyes now shutting with each blow as I sit there in the hole with that young child version of me. His dark wavy hair flopping on his head as he rocks back in forth with his face in his knees. I want to say something, but I just can't. I wan't to take that young boy and run for the nearest train. Just toss him on and take care of him like he oh so needed. Where is that son of a b*tch! My father's voice got stronger with each step he took in his bedroom. The door slamming hard against the wall once opened as the sound of his feet shuffling against the floor quickly approaches the little hidey hole in which I sat. In what felt like an eternity, the small hatch opened wide as the bloodied hand peered its way into the small space, grabbing a hold of my checkered shirt. Dragging my shaken body from the hatch and throwing it down the stairs. A thud emerging as the small body crashes against each unforgiving step of the wooden stairway. His body lying limp on the now red stained carpet at the end of the stairway. STOP THAT! I yelled at the top of my lungs but the wiley old man didn't hear me. My voice resonating through my ears multiple times and with each step he took. His heavy body creating a creek from the steps with every inch his feet took in that old farmhouse. He didn't wait to start his plan as he started to drag my limp body outside the house and next to the waiting car. He swung it open and tossed my childish body into the vehicle. As I stand there looking at myself and my mother concussed in the car. Her head rolling in the seat with blood flowing from her nose. My father now turns his head looking for any witnesses. No one around, just how he liked it. Then I heard the rustle of his keys in his hands as he opened his door wide and plopped his arse in the seat. A turn of the ignition and the old car started up. Black smoke emerging from the back exhaust as the tires had begun spinning. A grin developing on his five o'clock shadowed face as he sped off onto the road. The radio turned full blast as his drunken head sways to the music. And I want And I need And I lust Animal The Def Leppard song blasts through the speakers as the pieces of stone from the road fly up behind the wheels of the car. My father's grin becoming even bigger as the vehicle flies down the road at over a hundred and twenty miles. My mother screaming for her sons life as she comes to her senses. Her heroic senses come to her as she places her leg over the console stepping on the brakes. The car comes to a screeching halt as the younger me flies across the back seat, banging my head against the window. The shattered glass falling down on the road. And then it all happened. My father knocked my mother out and sped up the car. As the speed increased the small shards of glass popped the back tire. The rubber flying of the back as it leaves its remnants onto the dirt road. My father, still drunk as a skunk, continues to fly down the road as Def Leppard continues to play. His grin continuing to grow. F*CK! The back tires of the car get naked as the rubber jumps off the rims. The red compact car now twirling around in the middle of the road. The twirling starts flinging the unconscious bodies of me and my mother around. My body catching air and falling out of the open window. My small pounded flesh now finding itself in the middle of the road. I was lucky, as the car catches air itself and rolls on over multiple times into the nearby corn field. Younger me catches sight of the car as flames erupt from the vehicle. They get higher and higher as hours pass with younger me sitting there in the dirt road, staring at the carnage all whilst crying. And when I'm gone Just carry on Don't mourn, rejoice everytime you hear the sound of my voice Just know that I'm lookin down on you smilin And I didn't feel a thing So baby, don't feel no pain Just smile back When I'm Gone - EMINEM

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A SOLOMON RP

Character List and Colors
Solomon
Mother
Father
Waitress

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You make me sick Because I adore you so I love all the dirty tricks And twisted games you play On me Space Dementia - MUSE It's been a long, long time since I've come back here. The scenery has changed drastically, a few new houses being built as well as the giant forests of green trees surrounding the farm fields. The jauntiness of the corn fields have now burnt down to a crisp darker orange, and the air has gotten thinner. I walk around the back of the foreclosured home, to find the siding fallen down from the old wooden boards and the odd roofing tiles bouncing of the grass as they slowly fall of of their resting place. I just wanted to head back into that home, just for one last peek into what was once my mother's living hell. The scent of fresh flowers and my mother's sweet perfume had faded away. Sadly, it's been replaced with the scent of piss and alcohol. The smell quickly forged its way into my nasal cavity as a cancer stick finds its way into my mouth, the smoke lifting my spirits as I walk through my childhood home. It didn't seem right as I turned the corner of the back closet into the kitchen. Everything seemed the same as it did twenty years ago, my building blocks on the table, the bottles of booze sleeping on the counters and the floors. Nothing has changed, this is absurd. The cigarette returns to my mouth as its contents fill me up, softening my nerves with every puff. As I flick off the built up ash, my hand runs over the counter. Rough with the small hints of broken glass cut into my fingers, my blood dripping onto my mother's beloved color. Do I need to show you your way out? The f*ck? My body turns itself around as my eyes open as big as lollipops. There he stood, hunchbacked, full facial hair and a graying full head of hair. It looked silky, and doesn't seem to have been washed in days. This can't be... I mean he's been dead... ... I tried to speak, but words weren't forming in my mouth. They wanted to come out, but just weren't. I could tell by the eyes that I knew this old man standing in front of me. I've heard of seeing ghosts before, but I didn't believe them. He stood there just staring into my soul, he tried to be intimidating, but I could see it in his eyes that he knew if we scrapped right there, I would come out the better man. Hell, I should kill him. Dad? His eyes grow bigger as my lungs get filled with the cigarette smoke. My hand trembling now with every sight I take of that man in front of me, this cigarette is keeping me from losing my cool and bludgeoning his head with my two very fists. His eyes becoming softer with age as he simply stares into me. None of us moving as my cigarette ash breaks off onto the floor, sizzling out. Do you mind having your ash on my floor? He steps into my direction and steps on the burnt ash, with every step he takes I take five back. He's always wanted to hurt me and I will not let him go near me. That er ruined my life, I've been living in hell ever since. I flick my cigarette out of the window as he flies into the wind, leaving the scene with a flash of fire from the end. It all brings me back from that late night where mom left me. Why did you do it? My question slips from my mouth as he looks up to my face while cleaning the ash, full of sorrow he looks back down to the ash. Never answering what's been in my mind for years. As I came to a conclusion that this man was the devil, my eyes fill themselves with hatred as I look around the room. I found three ways to kill this man in a split second... I could take his empty bottles and shatter them on the counter. Take that empty bottle and spike him in the eyes, blinding him and digging the broken glass through his eye sockets right into his brain. As the damage has been done, take the glass back out and shove them down his throat, cutting it up in the process. Or, I could grab his long head of hair and violently slam it into the fridge. While I knock him out, I could open the door and shut it right onto his head, right in the temple. As the body decays, I could shove it into the fridge and let it be for a lifetime. Or, I could wrap my two hands around his throat and watch him go blue in the face. Just sit there watching the life leave his eyes as the last image he would see would by his own child's destroyed eyes. I would see him lie down for the last time, just as he probably saw mom for the last time. I didn't do it... His deep voice broke up my thoughts, and with good will, as a few more minutes of planning, I would be running the country away from murder charges. Bullcrap. I was firm with my answer, as I know what he did to my mother. He took her life and tried to do the same with mine. Believe me, I didn't do it. I could never hurt her. More bullcrap. You're a bullcrapter, dad. Hell, I don't even want to call you that. I despise the fact that I have to be related to a piece of scum like you. You make me sick! Every day, dad, every day! My eyes start to swell up as they become angel's piss. Tears forming into their drops as they run down my face, wetting my cheeks. I quickly rub my jacket sleeve against them. You must remain strong Solomon. Don't show fear! His beard flows in the draft of wind from the window as he stares deep into me. For the first time, I see compassion. I've seen your rise, kid. I don't know what to say, this guy standing right there is the man that I hate. The thought of him makes me sick. But there he stood, those eyes that were full of hatred and fire were now extinguished to a much happier place. They were once the eyes of the devil himself, but now I can see compassion and happiness in his eyes. Listen kid, I know I was never there for you when you were younger. And I know your childhood was ruined by my actions. But I want to see you succeed. Words want to develop in my mouth but they just won't form. His eyes looked stronger than they used to and he seemed to genuinely care at this moment. But that can't be he's the same guy who made my life a living hell as a child... I know you were going to succeed if you became a wrestler. Solomon, I loved you. I wanted the best for you. I wanted to see you grow old and have grandkids for me and your mother. She would've liked that. I loved your mother very much, she completed the other side of my heart. But you killed her! My mind goes back to that horrendous day, the smell of the corn fields still imprinted in my mind. His wild face going berzerk as I fell down those stairs. 'Animal' playing loudly in the car with his drunken mind singing along with it. Shutters run down my back as I take one long hard look at the man known as my father. You know what dad! Go f*ck yourself! You just want my money to spend on your booze, hookers and whatever the f*ck you 'need'. As I finish my last words to my father, the devil dancing in the pupils of his eyes comes to halt and sits there with a frown. Meanwhile, tears go rushing down my face yet again as I pull out another cigarette, light it up and place it on my lips. I take one last hard look at that broken man in front of me before grabbing one of my old building blocks and slam the door behind me as I leave the house. Will I come back, nobody knows. You´ll make us want to die I´d cut your name in my heart We´ll destroy this world for you I know you want me to Feel your pain Space Dementia - MUSE

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Me myself and I Will never be lonely As long as I Stick together Like glue Without you Me, Myself and I - L7 I am not my father. He is despicable. Scum of the earth, drunk, bunghole, the list goes on. I had a different father. Once my family life fell apart, I left. When they were dead, I just took whatever I had and left. I walked that soft ground here in the country to a few houses down. My mom knew those people that I went to, but they didn't really know my situation. He was an Italian immigrant and chose to farm, once he got here he fell in love with professional wrestling. He cites an event at the Madison Square Garden where his guy, Bruno Leopoldo defeated The Nature Boy to become the World's Champion, as the event where he became a lifelong professional wrestling fan. And his wife was so nice, she couldn't have children but damn was she a nice mother to me, she was the stay at home wife, always cooking good meals and supportive of her family. She was always learning how to cook, sew and just mastering her crafts. Must be where I got it from. But she knew she couldn't replace the bond I had with my mother when they took me in. It was late that night where I saw my real family come crashing down inside the car. I just sat there crying the whole night as the sight of that fiery inferno in the wheat field was burned into my thoughts. To this day, I can still smell the burning wheat in that crisp fall night. I was so young, but its moment like those that will haunt a man forever. But that late night, I ran so far down the road to that house. I didn't even knock or anything, I just wanted solitude that night. I wanted to refresh my mind. So I snuck into their barn. I was an agile little er, so I climbed on some hay bales and climbed through the top window of the red barn. It was pretty chilly, so I went in and lied in whatever parts of hay were in the rafters of the barn. The wooden rafters weren't that comfortable, but it made do. I had a million thoughts run through my mind that night, but a good shut eye helped me cope my thoughts. The next morning, he found me lying there in his rafters. A good man he was as he got his ladder and brought me down to the ground. I awoke in his arms as he was bringing me into his country home, the heat striking my body as he gently placed me down on the couch of his. But what caught my eye, was the professional wresting on that old black and white television. I just felt so distanced from what had happened a night earlier when I saw those larger than life men on that television screen. Alfonso was a nice man, as he questioned what had happened that this youngster just happened to emerge in his barn late at night. His hands were rough as he helped me wash myself off, and as he did, I tried to explain him the story. I was young so words like "Crash" and "Boom", mainly came up. He didn't quite understand the things I was saying, but they were accepting of me. They asked me if I wanted to head back home, in which I denied, and they quite frankly didn't know what to do with me. Ira was nice enough to give me some extra clothes they had for the day and set me up a bed on the couch. I stayed there for a few days, just being the young one I am. I helped out on the farm, at that age I knew I had to find a way to repay them for their help. I spent dusk till dawn with Alfonso as he continued to question what had happened that led me to them. I couldn't answer much, but I always went to tears. He saw that and one day he gave me a big-kindheartedly hug. That is when I realized that I wanted him as a father. Later that night, while it was us three, Ira, Alfonso and I sitting at the kitchen table. We had chicken that night, and it was the greatest chicken I have ever tasted. Well, we had finished up with dinner and I helped Ira wash the dishes before sitting down with Alfonso to watch the wrestling broadcast that night. The larger than life men beat the living hell out of each other, as we were both enveloped in it. The broadcast went on throughout the night, as I got up and ran over to him. He let me sit on his lap and watch. I felt tired and really wanted to sleep, so with a swift move, I pecked him on the scruffy cheek and let it out "Goodnight, Dad". I immediately shut my eyes and fell asleep on his plaid shirt, feeling the warmth of his heart and my head. He was the the definition of a father, unlike mine. Alfonso always wanted me to chase my dreams and do whatever I wanted to make sure my life was what I wanted it to be. He told me not to get involved with the wrong people, not to become a part of the pack of wrongful human beings. When news got out about what happened to my parents, it was Alfonso who broke it to me. He realized how hurt I was in regards to my mother not being there, but he brought me to my first live wrestling match that night. I wish Alfonso was still here today, I will never forget who he was to me. Unfortunately, he passed away due to terminal cancer a few years ago. It hit me hard, knowing that I didn't have him for much longer, especially since Ira first left before him when she fell into a combine. But when Alfonso passed on, that's when I went spiraling out of control. That's when I sought power so I could feel like a part of this world again. It f*cked me up mentally, that's why I have all these scars on my body. I thought I was invincible as I went and mindwashed everybody I wanted to. I thought to myself that I should try and build my own world ever since my world had come tumbling down. I tried that and it worked well for a while. But when I realized I couldn't do it anymore, because I wasn't my father, I knew it was time to show everybody who I truly was. "The seizure of power, not in my finest hour, I tried to be him, I sank when I tried to swim, It wasn't me, who I was trying to be, I cut my name into your heart, All the way from the start, I'll break the mold, I will be bold, For who I tried to be, Was never me." Me myself and I Will never be lonely As long as I Stick together Like glue Without you Me, Myself and I - L7

[Deleted]

What have I become My sweetest friend Everyone I know Goes away in the end Hurt - NINE INCH NAILS The night was chilly, an average night in this part of the Canadian spring. The fog was thick in the grassed area of this cemetery, the gravestones sticking out like black shadows in this tense fog. He hasn't been here in a long time, too long in fact. It's been over five years since he last came here. His feet swaying in between the graves, looking for the one. The events of that day kept repeating in his head, the long drive, the way he survived and that sickish smell of burning flesh in the countryside. Her visage was all that was left of her in his memory, her nice long hair with that necklace of hers gently placed on her neck, just above her full chest. His image of her was of her with that purple blouse she always had one, with her red lipstick painted on. She didn't wear much makeup as she was a natural beauty. He finally arrived to that cold gravestone and placed himself in a seated position next to it. Trying to hold back his tears, his lips quivered as he placed his hand on the bottom of the stone, feeling the coldness flow up his arm. Mom, I did it. I achieved my dreams just like you wanted me to. I'm main eventing the biggest show of the year mom. Are you proud? The fog got denser as Solomon pulled out a cigarette from his back pocket and lighting it. The mountains of smoke went up in the air as he took a drag to calm his nerves. He hadn't developed a habit in smoking until a few days prior, since his visit with his dad. I know Solomon, you did it. I'm proud of you son. Mom? This can't be true. Who the f*ck is here? I am here Solomon, I've always been here. The fog was lifted, as the night skies filled his vision of the cemetery. There wasn't any sight of another person in the cemetery as Solomon's drags got stronger. The smoke filling his lungs as his head turned on a swivel, trying to find a little prankster in the area. No one was there, he was all alone in this dark cemetery. Solomon, I've been by your side since that one day. I wanted to tell you for the longest time. A mother is always with their child. Okay, wherever the f*ck you are, you're teeth are going straight down your throat. Solomon, sweetie. It's me. Mom? Are you really here? No. No. This can't be. Son, I'm here. Give your mommy a hug. The fog once again came down hard against the cold ground of the cemetery in South Western Ontario. The trees swayed in the wind as the breeze got violent. Solomon's pack of cigarettes flying in the air, throwing them away without caution in the wind. As the wind died down a shadowy figure with a blouse approached him. Her cold hands reaching out for his scruffy cheek, sending chills up and down his spine as her eyes became fixated on him. She leaned in and gave him a long kiss, turning him into stone. Solomon, I know I wasn't around for you. I know I was a bad parent... You weren't mom... I was Solomon, I wasn't there to see my only son grow up. Wasn't there to see you head to school. I wasn't there for... That's not your fault, mom. It is, my sweet Solomon. It is. No it's not! It was him! Mom, it wasn't your fault! But it was Solomon... Look, I know you won't accept this. But I'm sorry... I... With each passing moment, I think about that day mom. You didn't do anything. Solomon... No mom. Don't cover for him anymore. He f*cked up your life. Solomon, please listen to me. What other choice do I have? I've wanted this for so long. I've wanted to see you one last time. Solomon was in tears, seeing his mother for the first time since childhood. Her soft, soft hands caressed his cheeks as she wiped the tears from his face. Sunshine, I know how you feel about him. How you remember him. But it's not what you think, sweetie. Let me take you back to that day... "It was a very quiet that afternoon, sweetie. You sat there at the table with your building blocks. You loved those little things. I think that's where you get your ring antics, from that creativity of yours. Your father had just come back from his work at the time, but he wasn't that pleasant. As you probably remember, he lost his job that day. It was a good paying job, too. That's why I pushed him to go ask for forgiveness. But when he came back home that day, he wanted a drink. Now now, I didn't want him to drink when you were around. Seeing as I didn't want you to get into some bad habits. But that day, I let him drink. He came home and opened the fridge, after he kissed you on the forehead of course, and that chill came through the room and it hit you. Now, you were supposed to be at school. But you were sick that day. Throwing up chunks everywhere the day before, and the flu symptoms were leaving that day. So when that chill of cold wind hit you, I immediately covered you up with that dingy old sweater of your fathers. Then me and your father got into it when you were playing with your block. Darleen. Are you sure he's not sick still? Look at that blank stare on his face. Why don't you do something with him? Maybe that'll make him happy and the cold will go away. So your father engaged in a game of hide and seek with you. You went upstairs and hid in our master closet. When you guys were playing, I hadn't seen that big of a smile on your father's face in a while. He counted to ten as I drew up a grocery list in the kitchen. It was also grocery day that day, and you loved the long car rides. When your father went upstairs to get you, you yelled like you used to when you were happy. But then you slipped on the top of the stairwell and fell down the steps. You rolled down the stairs in a heap and you didn't get up. I thought something was wrong, so you, myself and your father got into the car and we rushed onto the long country road. We had Def Leppard playing in the car, that was your father's favorite, and we were rushing. Until we saw a deer in the middle of the road as your dad was looking back at you, so I tried to take control and steer out of the way. That's when the rest happened, you fell out of the old car and then we lost control and crashed. That's how we ended up here. I wasn't wearing my seat belt, sweetie. Your dad had nothing to do with my death." But mom... He was a drunk. No he wasn't, sweetie. Mom, I didn't want you to leave. I know. But I'm here now. Are you really mom? Are you really? I've seen how your life has gotten recently, son. You've aligned yourself with the wrong people. Just what every mother doesn't want her son to do. That's why I've come back, sweetie. To guide you. But what do you know about wrestling mom? Nothing... So I don't need yo... You do Solomon. You need my help. How can you help? I know people Solomon. I know you Solomon. Don't you want your mommy back? Yes. Well, listen to me then. I will help you. Cut everybody loose, Solomon. I will be here for you. Mom, I love you. I love you too, my sweet Solomon. What have I become My sweetest friend Everyone I know Goes away in the end Hurt - NINE INCH NAILS

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You were my conscience, so solid, now you're like water We started drowning, not like we'd sink any further But I let my heart go, it's somewhere down at the bottom But I'll get a new one and come back for the hope that you've stolen Monster - PARAMORE Solomon and his Mother sat in the restaurant's main lobby looking to get a seat. The little family bistro at the corner of the street was busier than usual at this time of the day. Solomon had some catching up to do with Mother, seeing as they had just rekindled from long years of absence. He dressed in his Sunday's finest as Mother came in her long red dress, accenting her dark brown hair. On the other side of the lobby was a young family of three. A young mother with dark brown hair, she must have been around twenty seven with a high paying job, as her shade of lipstick implied. Beside her was her husband, a man with a big build and short buzzed hair. In between them was their son, a little boy in coveralls and his eyes in the stars as he ran the little toy cars up and down his daddy's arm. Solomon was getting impatient, he had the hunger of a wolf and the wait time in the restaurant kept ticking. His eyes started to fill with anger until he looked over to Mother, who flashed him a smile as she kissed him on the cheek. "I remember when you were that small. So peaceful and quiet. What happened?" "You know what happened, Mother. Ever since I started believe what I thought Dad did, I started being loud and voicing my opinion..." "Well... Can we go back?" "You know, I've waited a long time to see you again. And now you're telling me to shut up?" She gives him a little shove with the elbow, implying friendly conversation. "Not exactly. Just sometimes you go on to long... Get yourself into trouble. I don't wanna see that." "I know you don't, Mama. Sometimes, I just speak to much. I'm a kid, I do that." "Just remember, you're my kid." Solomon giggles as Mother leans over and gives him another peck on the cheek. Forcing him to blush. On the other side of the room, the family of three stand on up and head to their table. It wasn't long now until Solomon and Mother could get their seats. Solomon quickly arised from his seat to go and find the closest hostess he could find, he was tired of waiting. "Excuse me miss. But I've been waiting here for the past twenty minutes... and I want to eat, dammit!" The eighteen year old hostess didn't know how to reply to the crazed man who had approached her. "I'm sorry sir, but when a table for one becomes available, we'll notify you." "Table for one? Can't you see I am with my mother?!?" "Sorry sir, but there is no one with you..." Solomon stood there with a confused look in his eye, and as he looked back to Mother, she sat there in all her beauty. Her eyes glistened in the lights as her hair flew in the air so freely. Solomon turned back again to the waitress. "Can you not see the beauty that sits there? That is my mother, and you better not insult her!" "Sir, I'm sorry for offending you, but you're going to have to calm down." "I just want to eat." "Uhh.. yeah. A couple is just finishing somewhere in here. Let's go find you guys a table." The hostess walked Solomon and Mother to the table on the other side of the family restaurant. They were all the way back in the corner of the small place and sitting in front of them was the family from the lobby. They were already chowing down on their food, so the wait time for the food should be quick. Solomon pulled out Mother's chair and slid her into the table. "Why thank you, sweetie. My son is a gentleman." Solomon smiled towards his mother as the waitress for the evening came over to do her job. With an appearance like Scarlet Quinn, this perky child was all smiles as he approached Solomon at the table. "Hi, my name is Portia and I'll be your waitress for the evening. Here is your menu for the evening, soup of the day is chicken noodle. Shall we start off with a drink?" "Uh yeah.. That'd be good. Nothing like waiting twenty five minutes to just get drinks... I'll get a Diet Coke and for my Mother..." "I'll take a Sprite" "I'm sorry sir, is Pepsi okay?" "Did I say I wanted Pepsi?" "Uhh.. no. But we only serve Pepsi products here..." "Listen here, sweetcakes. Me and my Mother are supplying your paycheck by eating here. I want a Diet Coke and my mother wants a Sprite... Now tata, toots." "I'm sorry sir, but we don't have Coke products." "Look. I don't care if you have to go to a f*cking store and buy me a Diet Coke and my mother a Sprite. Our money goes to you, get us what we want." "But sir, there's no one with you." Solomon turned his head slowly away from the waitress and once again looked at his mother. Her gorgeous blue eyes shining in the lights as she gave Solomon a very evilish grin. She leans over the table and gives him another peck on the cheek, comforting him each time. "Now toots, I suggest you stop insulting my Mother. Now go get us our drinks and be the sweet girl that you look like you are." The waitress scurried off as she rolls her eyes. Her full figure checking on the other tables as Solomon shifts his full focus to his mother. She places her hand on his, feeling the warmth of his heart for the first time in many years. "I've missed you, son." "I have too, Mother. I always missed being with you and hearing that soft voice of yours." "Solomon. I always loved that name. Your great grandmother picked it when she first found out I was pregnant. She was nearing her end at the time, but she always kept her spirits high. On a gorgeous Sunday morning, I picked her up from her house and broke the news to her. It was after mass that morning that we were on our way back, that she informed me of a man she once knew named Solomon. I instantly fell in love with the name." "Why do they keep saying I'm talking to nobody, mom? You're very well here right in front of me." "Solomon. Ignore the critiques. You know I am here, you've felt the warmth of my heart." "I'm not crazy, am I?" "Of course you're not, sweetie. We're all different. I know you were nervous about this upcoming match when you started talking to my picture last week. Look at it this way, everybody has their weakness." "And how's that?" "Look at Scarlett. She's young and comes from a wrestling family. She has already tasted fame, and I'm proud of her for showing that women can do what men can do..." "So.. How does that make her weak? She's just like the rest of us." "But she isn't, sweetie. Scarlett is afraid of letting her family down. Scarlett is afraid that if she doesn't do well, she'll fail her family. She will over analyze everything that'll go on. She will be her own downfall." "So.. Scarlett's the only one with weaknesses. That's only one of my concerns." "Sunshine, those aren't concerns. They're targets." "Targets, concerns. Whatever. I still have to deal with them." "Don't use that tone with your mother!" Solomon looked down with a frown has he had made Mother upset. He didn't like being yelled at, especially by Mother, but he knows he was in the wrong here. Solomon quickly realized that Mother had some useful information for him, and he didn't want that to go to waste. "Sorry, mom... So, what's the deal with Thunder then? What's his downfall?" "Thunder is the veteran here. He knows about having SuperBrawl main events. You know what experience means?" "Yeah, it's knowing more about a situation than others." "Yeah, but it also means he's old. He's weak. Fragile, you get what I mean?" "I think so. Thunder is old. He can be easily broken." "Exactly." "Mom, it's a huge steel cell. We're all going to be broken..." "But Thunder will be broken first. Target him and you can get through this easily." "Yeah, yeah. What about Trace? Y'know, he's kind of in charge of this whole thing. Or was. Depends who you ask." "You just said "Or was.", right?" "Yeah, so what?" "That's his downfall, sweetie. He can't get his mind off Lila." "I can assure you, he doesn't care about her." "And I can assure you, that you're wrong. Trace is trying so hard to play a psychological game with Ms. Lila, and honey, it's not working." "I don't believe that." "Are you saying I'm lying?" "No no. Of course not. Trace is just a master at these situations. He knows what he's doing." "He doesn't, Solomon. He's trying to outdo Lila. He's not focused." As Mother finished her last word, the waitress once again interrupted them once again. She had a tray of two waters on the platter and she placed them in front of Solomon. His eyes opened wide as the waitress didn't even acknowledge Mother. Solomon was fuming at the disrespect. "Excuse me. But haven't we been through this before?" "We don't sell Coke products, sir." "That's not my main concern right now, you just disrespected my Mother once again." "Sir, I'm not going to beat a dead horse, but..." "A little girl like you is probably used to beating things off. Am I right?" The waitress huffed at the remark which left Solomon grinning. The waitress at this bistro quickly scurried away without arguing any more with the "Deranged One", who has now placed one of the glasses of water in front of Mother. Mother looked at her son with a smile, proud of his misbehavior. "Now, mom. Where were we?" "Well, we did have one more target to discuss." "That's right... Shawn." "You probably already know that SuperBrawl is his last match." "Yeah, everybody knows that." "You know why it is?" "Not really, I don't pay attention to him. Guy's a douche." "Well, let' not resort to name calling, but the man has cancer." And then it hits him. Solomon's mind starts racing once again but now with flashbacks of going to the wrestling events in the cold warehouses with Alfonso. Alfonso died of terminal cancer, and just knowing somebody has the disease of cancer makes him sad. That is not a way for somebody to go. To know they don't have much time left. It kills Solomon to know that some people can't go a day without having to do a round of chemo, or having to do tests. "Solomon, sweetie. Is everything okay?" "Yeah, yeah mom. It's just cancer brings me back to Alfonso. The man who took me in when you know..." "About that..." "What?" "Nevermind. I can't..." "You've already started bringing it up, mom. Might as well finish." Mother grabbed Solomon's hand with a tight grip and gently kissed him on the cheek. She prepped his hair like she would use too and looked deeply into his eyes. She didn't want to tell him the truth, but she had to. It killed her on the inside to not tell him. "You know when I came back at the cemetery? Well, there's something you should know..." "What is it?" "I lied. When I told you that your father didn't do anything to me, I lied." "But why?" "I wanted to sooth things over with you before I told you." "You're telling me that dad really wanted to kill us? He wanted to hurt us?" Solomon had a fit of rage, his mind racing at a thousand kilometers per hour as he stood straight up with all of his blood rushing to his brain. His brain was pressured against the inner walls of his cranium, forcing him to look forward in a blurry vision. Mother was barely visible to him now, but he could feel her. Her warmth in his heart. She stood up and stood beside him, caressing his cheek and resting her hand on his shoulder. "Solomon, he was a monster. You know what happens to the monsters under your bed?" "Mommy took care of them..." "It's your turn now. Be a little monster, Solomon. By my monster." You were my conscience, so solid, now you're like water We started drowning, not like we'd sink any further But I let my heart go, it's somewhere down at the bottom But I'll get a new one and come back for the hope that you've stolen Monster - PARAMORE

[Deleted]

#OOC: I really wanted to break the glass ceiling with this one and I am extremely proud with my work. Feel free to voice your opinions on this. Enjoy.

[Kyzer]

Apr 7, 2014 16:44:45 GMT -5 @progwd said:

#OOC: I really wanted to break the glass ceiling with this one and I am extremely proud with my work. Feel free to voice your opinions on this. Enjoy.

I have not read this yet, but what glass ceiling are you talking about?

[CM Poor]

Apr 7, 2014 23:01:11 GMT -5 Kyzer said:

Apr 7, 2014 16:44:45 GMT -5 @progwd said:

#OOC: I really wanted to break the glass ceiling with this one and I am extremely proud with my work. Feel free to voice your opinions on this. Enjoy.

I have not read this yet, but what glass ceiling are you talking about?

Prog's piece here is actually an examination of his salary vs. that of the rest of the WFWF locker room, and how it may be directly correlated to his status as a minority and/or a woman.

[CM Poor]

Seriously though, upon reading...

It's happening, Progs. You're nailing your description. You're setting scenes. You're formatting. You're framing your scenes (with lyrics, no less. One of my old hat tricks). And I still have no idea what kind of character you're trying to write here, man. I feel like you wanted this piece to be different, and for that reason you strayed away from the whole "assorted scenes followed by a monologue" format, but in doing so, you made, to me, one of the biggest beginner's mistakes we see here time and time again, and that's a tacked on dialogue between the character and a friend/family member/etc. whose purpose isn't served much outside the realm of being a mouthpiece to say "So, tell me about this match you have coming up". It feels so haphazardly glued in place here that up until mother started rattling off names and little shoots on each one, I looked at my scroll bar and began worrying that you weren't going to mention your opponents.

Character wise...man, I'm sorry, but I'm still lost on Solomon, and I think you are too. His entire interaction with the waitress took me right out of it, what with the "toots" and all that.

The piece isn't without its merits. In most places, your dialogue flows, and for te bulk of this, you set really nice scenes and had some really nice inner workings going for Solomon in the presence of his hellacious upbringing, but in terms of glass ceilings and all that, I don't think this piece wins the world title.

[Deleted]

Apr 8, 2014 5:24:06 GMT -5 CM Poor said:

Apr 7, 2014 23:01:11 GMT -5 Kyzer said:

I have not read this yet, but what glass ceiling are you talking about?

Prog's piece here is actually an examination of his salary vs. that of the rest of the WFWF locker room, and how it may be directly correlated to his status as a minority and/or a woman.

Great... You know where I was taking this. Got to change it up now.

[Deleted]

I want to say this, I thought of this as a reincarnation of the Solomon character. I totally ed up the character for the past few shows, and then realized I had a pretty great idea.

This was basically my debut of this new Solomon character. I know, terrible time to do so, but its what needed to be done.

[CM Poor]

I'd wager that it may have been the worst time to do it, if only because you put all this effort into a character change that you sort of missed the whole "this is your shot at the world freakin' title" boat.

I totally get finding yourself characteristically backed into a corner, but going into the world title match at Superbrawl, I think I'd have focused all output on crushing my opponents, then submitting a post match segment to exemplify my character's massive shift. From there, you could have been free to run the gamut with your new focus in your subsequent rps, no harm, no foul, world title possibly in hand.

Also, the waitress calling out Solomon for being alone read almost exactly like a similar scene between Thor and Volstagg the Voluminous in the second run of The Ultimates, right down to Solomon verbalizing her beauty as Thor verbalized Volstagg's...err...voluminousness.

[Markw]

This is, for the most part, a very strong piece. As Brennan has pointed out, there are still issues with the way you're presenting Solomon. You really need to sit down and plan out exactly what you want Solomon to be (is the goofy guy who plays video games with Penny Shannon or is he the dark, messed up character?), then after every RP you write you need to re-read said RP and cut out anything that doesn't go along with the direction you're taking the character in. Once you've really got to grips with Solomon, it will come naturally, but right now it doesn't.

Vast majority of the scenes were very good, your writing is getting better in all of those departments I think, the speech and description is slowly getting better (though with some issues that I'll get to in a minute), but generally it's pretty good.

There's something about the flow of your RPs that puts me off a bit at times. I think you have a tendency to over-describe what's happening, and occasionally throw in lines that just disrupt the flow of the RP without adding anything at all. I felt like there were times here when you were just going off on a tangent in the middle of your description when you'd be better off just focusing on the story you're trying to tell. An example being this 'We had chicken that night, and it was the greatest chicken I have ever tasted'. I've got no reason to care about that at all (and that's not just the dour vegetarian in me talking).

Now on to my biggest problem, I was enjoying the wackiness of Solomon with his mother, and then I got to this...

"Of course you're not, sweetie. We're all different. I know you were nervous about this upcoming match when you started talking to my picture last week. Look at it this way, everybody has their weakness."

"And how's that?"

...and my heart sank.

I wouldn't be too hard on you about it, but the rest of that scene is exactly the same problem that was pointed out to you by me and Ace at Scars & Stripes, go back and find your S&S RP, read those replies because you've basically repeated the exact same mistake. Crow's mother is used, for the rest of that scene, only to prompt responses from Solomon. It doesn't work, it sounds weird and I really don't think it was the way to go about running through your opponents in this match. Honestly I felt like the ending here was really weak compared to the rest of the RP, which is a shame because it had the makings of a piece where the improvements were going to really blow me away. As it is, it's still a strong piece, but I'm with Brennan, it's not your World Title winning piece or the RP that makes you. It's a big step in the right direction, and it's incredible that you've got as far as you have so quickly, but there's still work to do and mistakes to cut out. But I must stress, for the most part, I did really enjoy this.

Honestly, if you focus on presenting Solomon in a consistent manner continue to make the writing improvements at the rate you are and you find a better way of incorporating your opponents into your RPs then you'll be where you want to be in no time at all. But unless Trace/Shawn/Thunder/Mike have all had an off show, it probably won't be this time around. You've got every reason to be proud of this though, because you're getting closer quickly.

[bad guy™]

I pretty much gave you my thoughts on this over on Facebook. You finally listened. You picked a terrible time to listen, but you finally listened.

Hopefully you can keep your stuff together and you will be back in this spot soon enough man.

[Deleted]

Brennan said everything I would have said. Your writing style is strong man, something which comes across well in the description/setting of the scene, but as Brennan and Bishop both said, simply throwing in the Mother figure as a way of picking apart your opponents really cheapens her and in effect the emotional investment the reader had due to the strong start of the RP.

Also one thing I would say as well is look back on the scene where he meets his Father again (be it a ghost or otherwise). It struck me that for a man who had just come face to face with a long term abuser of both himself and his Mother he showed little emotion and in the end stormed out and the scene just kind of ended. I felt you could have evolved and extended this scene, not necessarily in length but just in fleshing out the raw emotion that Crow must have been feeling.

You keep getting better, and I feel if you continue to listen to what advice people give you the only way is up, however for a Heavyweight Title match piece this just didn't focus enough on the match itself.

Also I really like your formatting by the way, it stands out as different and lets me know I'm reading a Crow RP from the get go, so kudos on that mate.

Oh and one more thing, be sure to check and double check your RP for mistakes before you post it as simple mistakes can really kill the flow of the piece. Case in point is the final line of the RP which should have been a poetic climax but instead fell flat because of a simple typo:

""It's your turn now. Be a little monster, Solomon. By my monster.""