Post by Drakz on Mar 3, 2018 14:55:17 GMT -5
It's Not All Doom & Broom
It takes a certain kind of person to last in the forces. To make a career out of it. So many young ‘uns show up to dispatch overflowing with spunk, thinking it’s gonna be a holiday with a bit of paint balling the bad guys. That idea soon fades when they see their first skull split like a watermelon. You have to be hard……cold………detached. You can’t be the type that freezes up under pressure because if that’s you, you’re dead, or the guy next to you is dead…..or you’re both dead.
You have to be able to keep a cool head and press on regardless. Most people aren’t cut from that cloth. Myself included.
It took a while for me, I thought I was coping just fine, but it only takes a moment of letting your guard down and before you know it it’s the sheets of your bunk soaked through, and you waking the barracks up with your jolts in the night. It takes a stronger will than mine to year after year suffer that kind of assault on your morality. I was discharged from the service and signed off on disability, not because they wanted to look after me, but more likely to keep me out of sight and mind. Nothing spooks the newbies quite like a jumpy older ranger, 5 tours in and howling his way through every dreamt misstep.
So I took some time off to heal and enjoy my daughter, but if like me you’re used to working hard to make your way in the world then it won’t surprise you to know I got bored, fairly quickly, of sitting around the house, organising and reorganising the DVD collection. I needed to get my hands dirty, if only to distract me from the fact that my marriage was falling apart.
Cheery stuff right? Well it may at the very least console you to know that working as part time janitor for the largest wrestling company in the world has given me the flexibility to be there for my child. I’ve seen every important moment most Fathers miss, which in my book is worth every litre of blood I’ve had to mop up.
It’s fair to say that my daughter Jenny is the reason I’ve bothered to keep going over the years. She’s both my inspiration and my grounding, and yet I find myself now, after a series of confusing and somewhat coincidental happenings, being offered a pay day to stove a girl, not much older than my own’s, head in.
Weird right? How did we get to that conclusion? Admittedly I skirted over the whole “becoming a wrestler” part of the story but I’m not sure the details of this situation are that important. The fact, oh the stomach churning fact is:
I’m being paid to fight a teenage girl.
My God, it sounds even worse when I put it like that.
I’m not just being paid to fight her, I’ll be paid more if I actually win. I’m honestly going to be rewarded if I can either knock her unconscious or force her to say uncle.
I’m not expecting any of this to be good for my health.
Jenny: Dad? Are you finished in the bathroom yet? Breakfast’s nearly ready.
I got so wrapped up in my inner monologging that I’ve shaved the same part of my face 2 or 3 times over. Well, at least my subconscious is thorough. I pat my face and neck dry with the hand towel, have a quick close up look into my own eyes in the mirror and then call back:
Billy: Coming! Just a second.
The smell of bacon and eggs has me pulling a shirt on as I walk down the stairs, not quite floating along with the whiff in my nostrils, but not far away. All of this worry has made me ravenous.
Jenny: Everything alright?
Billy: Yeah, why?
Jenny: Your bathroom routine usually takes about 10 minutes tops. You were just in there nearly an hour.
Apparently time flies both when you’re having fun and when you’re having absolutely nothing of the kind.
Billy: Oh, uh….I was just. I’ve got a lot on my mind with this side step of a career trajectory.
Jenny: Is this about having to be away from home more often? It’s fine Dad, I can take care of myself.
Billy: No, no, I know you can. It’s not that darling. It’s nothing. Sorry. How are you this morning?
Jenny: Dad?
Billy: It’s just……
Jenny: Ahriman?
Her saying it before me releases a load of pressure from my lungs.
Billy: Right…..Ahriman.
Jenny: She’s paid to be there Dad. This is her job and she knows it. I don’t think you need to beat yourself up over the prospect of this. Besides it’s not as if she doesn’t know what she’s getting into by being in their employ. Her own Dad’s been through the ringer and I can’t imagine he would have thought twice about this match.
Billy: I think I’ll stick to setting my moral compass to a higher standard than Samael Ahriman, Jen.
She scoffs a little smile as my half of the pan of eggs is emptied onto a plate.
Billy: Besides, her being all on board with the idea of fighting me doesn’t change the fact that she’s someone’s teenage daughter.
Jenny: Why does it matter that she’s their daughter?
Billy: Why? Can you even imagine how I’d feel if you were assaulted?
Jenny: So this is about how it will make her Dad feel?
Billy: Of course! Well, not just that…..
Jenny: Don’t you think maybe her Dad shouldn’t take precedence over the woman herself?
Billy: I didn’t mean….
Jenny: Or is it that because she’s just a girl that her feelings on the matter don’t count for anything?
Oh goodness.
Billy: No of co….
Jenny: Dad!……….I’m f*ckin’ with you.
She’s………what now?
Jenny: I get it, you’re not hot on the idea of beating up on a young woman.
The bacon and toast have a meeting with the eggs now, probably to discuss important matters like bringing an end to conflict in the middle east.
Jenny: It’s very, erm, galant of you. By which I mean……old fashioned.
Billy: I’ve never exactly claimed to be anything else have I?
I’d rather be considered old fashioned than jump at the opportunity.
Jenny: Dad, women and men have fought against each other in the WFWF for years now. It’s not exactly a new revelation. That barrier got kicked down and we’ve even seen female champions because of it. She might only be young but Anna Ahriman has a far more impressive list of opponents than you. She’s going to look to put you on your ass!
It doesn’t matter that she’s right, all that matters is the feeling in my gut when I picture my forearm in Anna’s face.
Billy: I just…….I just don’t wanna hurt her.
Jenny: Why? She’s gonna hurt you, you can be sure of that.
How have I managed to raise such a clear headed young woman? It’s as though she would be doing a better job of all this than I would. Christ. I couldn’t have that. There’s just no way I could let Jenny pursue a career like the one the WFWF offers. I don’t understand how Samael has allowed Anna to come as far as she has already. There I go being old fashioned again.
Jenny: At the end of the day Dad we both know you’re not looking to rewrite the book on wrestling. You already work them so it’s easier for them to throw you into the ring for the evening than to find the names of the local jobbers. If you would feel better about it then you can just lay down for her.
And risk looking like an even bigger ass? Anna wants to be treated as an equal. I don’t think my offering the win to her on a plate would go down too well.
Billy: I couldn’t do that. Oh, I don’t know which is worse. Maybe I’ll just call Lila and tell her I’m sick.
Sick of not knowing how best to handle such a delicate situation. Jenny shrugs and turns her attention solely to her food, clearly with something more to add.
Billy: Yes?
Nothing.
Billy: Jen?
Her knife and fork go down.
Jenny: You’d really rather avoid the situation altogether? Come on Dad.
Billy: Come on Dad what? You really think my best option is going out there and laying my hands on that young girl? I can’t subscribe to that. I really can’t.
Jenny: That’s fine, but at the very least go out there and take your beating from that girl. Don’t just no show.
I swallow the mouthful of eggs and shake my head. A big sigh follows and once again I know Jenny’s nailed it. I’m dammed if I do, dammed if I don’t, but I think going out there and just taking a whopping is the option best suited to my conscience. There can’t be many people in the history of the WFWF who have so much as entertained that thought before. That settles it though. I’m going to New Orleans.
The WFWF’s number one custodian is about to become the WFWF’s number one speed bag. Urgh, I still really haven’t come to a solid conclusion as to how this is going to play out, but as I put my dirty dishes in the sink and grab my gear bag to leave, I realise I’m just going to have to wait and see how I react in the moment.
Go white as a sheet and stay put, or roll with the punches?
It takes a certain kind of person to last in the forces. To make a career out of it. So many young ‘uns show up to dispatch overflowing with spunk, thinking it’s gonna be a holiday with a bit of paint balling the bad guys. That idea soon fades when they see their first skull split like a watermelon. You have to be hard……cold………detached. You can’t be the type that freezes up under pressure because if that’s you, you’re dead, or the guy next to you is dead…..or you’re both dead.
You have to be able to keep a cool head and press on regardless. Most people aren’t cut from that cloth. Myself included.
It took a while for me, I thought I was coping just fine, but it only takes a moment of letting your guard down and before you know it it’s the sheets of your bunk soaked through, and you waking the barracks up with your jolts in the night. It takes a stronger will than mine to year after year suffer that kind of assault on your morality. I was discharged from the service and signed off on disability, not because they wanted to look after me, but more likely to keep me out of sight and mind. Nothing spooks the newbies quite like a jumpy older ranger, 5 tours in and howling his way through every dreamt misstep.
So I took some time off to heal and enjoy my daughter, but if like me you’re used to working hard to make your way in the world then it won’t surprise you to know I got bored, fairly quickly, of sitting around the house, organising and reorganising the DVD collection. I needed to get my hands dirty, if only to distract me from the fact that my marriage was falling apart.
Cheery stuff right? Well it may at the very least console you to know that working as part time janitor for the largest wrestling company in the world has given me the flexibility to be there for my child. I’ve seen every important moment most Fathers miss, which in my book is worth every litre of blood I’ve had to mop up.
It’s fair to say that my daughter Jenny is the reason I’ve bothered to keep going over the years. She’s both my inspiration and my grounding, and yet I find myself now, after a series of confusing and somewhat coincidental happenings, being offered a pay day to stove a girl, not much older than my own’s, head in.
Weird right? How did we get to that conclusion? Admittedly I skirted over the whole “becoming a wrestler” part of the story but I’m not sure the details of this situation are that important. The fact, oh the stomach churning fact is:
I’m being paid to fight a teenage girl.
My God, it sounds even worse when I put it like that.
I’m not just being paid to fight her, I’ll be paid more if I actually win. I’m honestly going to be rewarded if I can either knock her unconscious or force her to say uncle.
I’m not expecting any of this to be good for my health.
Jenny: Dad? Are you finished in the bathroom yet? Breakfast’s nearly ready.
I got so wrapped up in my inner monologging that I’ve shaved the same part of my face 2 or 3 times over. Well, at least my subconscious is thorough. I pat my face and neck dry with the hand towel, have a quick close up look into my own eyes in the mirror and then call back:
Billy: Coming! Just a second.
The smell of bacon and eggs has me pulling a shirt on as I walk down the stairs, not quite floating along with the whiff in my nostrils, but not far away. All of this worry has made me ravenous.
Jenny: Everything alright?
Billy: Yeah, why?
Jenny: Your bathroom routine usually takes about 10 minutes tops. You were just in there nearly an hour.
Apparently time flies both when you’re having fun and when you’re having absolutely nothing of the kind.
Billy: Oh, uh….I was just. I’ve got a lot on my mind with this side step of a career trajectory.
Jenny: Is this about having to be away from home more often? It’s fine Dad, I can take care of myself.
Billy: No, no, I know you can. It’s not that darling. It’s nothing. Sorry. How are you this morning?
Jenny: Dad?
Billy: It’s just……
Jenny: Ahriman?
Her saying it before me releases a load of pressure from my lungs.
Billy: Right…..Ahriman.
Jenny: She’s paid to be there Dad. This is her job and she knows it. I don’t think you need to beat yourself up over the prospect of this. Besides it’s not as if she doesn’t know what she’s getting into by being in their employ. Her own Dad’s been through the ringer and I can’t imagine he would have thought twice about this match.
Billy: I think I’ll stick to setting my moral compass to a higher standard than Samael Ahriman, Jen.
She scoffs a little smile as my half of the pan of eggs is emptied onto a plate.
Billy: Besides, her being all on board with the idea of fighting me doesn’t change the fact that she’s someone’s teenage daughter.
Jenny: Why does it matter that she’s their daughter?
Billy: Why? Can you even imagine how I’d feel if you were assaulted?
Jenny: So this is about how it will make her Dad feel?
Billy: Of course! Well, not just that…..
Jenny: Don’t you think maybe her Dad shouldn’t take precedence over the woman herself?
Billy: I didn’t mean….
Jenny: Or is it that because she’s just a girl that her feelings on the matter don’t count for anything?
Oh goodness.
Billy: No of co….
Jenny: Dad!……….I’m f*ckin’ with you.
She’s………what now?
Jenny: I get it, you’re not hot on the idea of beating up on a young woman.
The bacon and toast have a meeting with the eggs now, probably to discuss important matters like bringing an end to conflict in the middle east.
Jenny: It’s very, erm, galant of you. By which I mean……old fashioned.
Billy: I’ve never exactly claimed to be anything else have I?
I’d rather be considered old fashioned than jump at the opportunity.
Jenny: Dad, women and men have fought against each other in the WFWF for years now. It’s not exactly a new revelation. That barrier got kicked down and we’ve even seen female champions because of it. She might only be young but Anna Ahriman has a far more impressive list of opponents than you. She’s going to look to put you on your ass!
It doesn’t matter that she’s right, all that matters is the feeling in my gut when I picture my forearm in Anna’s face.
Billy: I just…….I just don’t wanna hurt her.
Jenny: Why? She’s gonna hurt you, you can be sure of that.
How have I managed to raise such a clear headed young woman? It’s as though she would be doing a better job of all this than I would. Christ. I couldn’t have that. There’s just no way I could let Jenny pursue a career like the one the WFWF offers. I don’t understand how Samael has allowed Anna to come as far as she has already. There I go being old fashioned again.
Jenny: At the end of the day Dad we both know you’re not looking to rewrite the book on wrestling. You already work them so it’s easier for them to throw you into the ring for the evening than to find the names of the local jobbers. If you would feel better about it then you can just lay down for her.
And risk looking like an even bigger ass? Anna wants to be treated as an equal. I don’t think my offering the win to her on a plate would go down too well.
Billy: I couldn’t do that. Oh, I don’t know which is worse. Maybe I’ll just call Lila and tell her I’m sick.
Sick of not knowing how best to handle such a delicate situation. Jenny shrugs and turns her attention solely to her food, clearly with something more to add.
Billy: Yes?
Nothing.
Billy: Jen?
Her knife and fork go down.
Jenny: You’d really rather avoid the situation altogether? Come on Dad.
Billy: Come on Dad what? You really think my best option is going out there and laying my hands on that young girl? I can’t subscribe to that. I really can’t.
Jenny: That’s fine, but at the very least go out there and take your beating from that girl. Don’t just no show.
I swallow the mouthful of eggs and shake my head. A big sigh follows and once again I know Jenny’s nailed it. I’m dammed if I do, dammed if I don’t, but I think going out there and just taking a whopping is the option best suited to my conscience. There can’t be many people in the history of the WFWF who have so much as entertained that thought before. That settles it though. I’m going to New Orleans.
The WFWF’s number one custodian is about to become the WFWF’s number one speed bag. Urgh, I still really haven’t come to a solid conclusion as to how this is going to play out, but as I put my dirty dishes in the sink and grab my gear bag to leave, I realise I’m just going to have to wait and see how I react in the moment.
Go white as a sheet and stay put, or roll with the punches?
I dont know good luck