Post by cureforthesickness on Aug 11, 2007 5:17:07 GMT -5
Yeah
I know sometimes things may not always make sense to you right now
But hey, what daddy always tell you?
Straighten up little soldier
Stiffen up that upper lip
What you crying about?
You got me
I know you miss your mom and I know you miss your dad
When I'm gone but I'm trying to give you the life that I never had
I can see you're sad, even when you smile, even when you laugh
I can see it in your eyes, deep inside you want to cry
Cause you're scared, I ain't there?
Daddy's with you in your prayers
No more crying, wipe them tears
Daddy's here, no more nightmares
We gon' pull together through it, we gon' do it
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
High in the roof of the building our hero sits, looking down at the discolored concrete far below. On this rickety scaffolding he sits, he legs folded comfortably together, he arms placed in his lap, he seems quite at peace, despite the fact that the enormous contraption he has decided to use as a chair appears ready to collapse at any time. He seems to have been up here for a while, several bottles littering the area, as well as more glass on the scaffolding. He slowly rises to his feet, carefully grabbing the handle bars of the scaffolding as to not fall down. One foot onto the rusted ladder and then another and he’s moving down the scaffold. Rather quickly he climbs in fact, almost diving down the ladder with little recourse for his own well being. To the bottom of the scaffold he is. His feet lands on the ground and he falls backwards, but he lands safely on a suspiciously well placed mattress.
This place brings me such comfort. This building, dank and destroyed, brings me the serenity that’s often missing in my life. This place which has brought so much pain and destruction into my life also brings me joy. Perhaps it’s the fact that I don’t have to worry about a mortgage or cleaning anything up here, because it’s my own and completely my own, but this place really seems like more of a home than my own home.
In recent days, my home has been a wreck. Physically, it is clean, but emotionally, there’s wreckage everywhere. I don’t even want to hear the name of the guy who’s supposed to be challenging for my championship any more. I’ve heard it to the point that I will scream if I hear it again. Fuck him and fuck his wife. Why say what’s been said a thousand times before? His time shall come and he knows this. His ultimate destruction is coming and he knows this.
Laying on this dank and dirty mattress, Obo seems quite content, but this contentment wears off quickly and he hops to his feet, walking around the wide open space randomly. He looks over the building, the filth and the fury. This building is empty, yet it just feels angry. Bending down, Obo picks up a shard of broken glass, tossing it aside with reckless abandon.
But this week.. This week is different. While the man who shall remain nameless is a former adversary of mine, so is my opponent this week, albeit for different reasons. I hate what he stands for. He is the polar opposite of me and opposites attract. I speak now of Calvin Lee, the pessimistic loser.
Calvin Lee is everything I’m not. He is bald, I have rather long hair. He listens to absolute garbage emo music, I listen to death metal. He hangs around with an overly emasculated man named Luther, I am with a five year old girl named Samantha. I have a throbbing wet cock, he has a vagina filled with sand.
Through this though, Calvin and myself seemed dragged together. And like a true emo, no matter how much you slice and dice them, they always come back for more. Barbed Wire steel cage match. I tried to break Calvin Lee’s neck. He came back for more so I punched him in the eye. Out last encounter.. I double stomp him on the damn guardrail and he slaps me, so I head butt him and knock his teeth out.
Looking around the building, Obo sees nothing. He stares off into the distance, looking at nothing in particular. A sudden flash of light from the distance and Obo does a quick ninety degree spin and stares upwards to where this flash of light came from. Obo smirks slightly and cracks his knuckles a little bit.
Calvin is tough. He can take one hell of a beating and always seems to come back for more with a whine. Sure, it’s all thrown out the window when after each match he’s iced down by a man in his underwear, crying and listening to Panic at the Disco, but he’s still tough. Through all that I’ve put him through, I can’t break him.
He looks at this solid concrete floor, littered with a sparkling material. It almost looks like glitter, but upon closer inspection, it’s finely broken up pieces of glass. A dead giveaway on this would be the random larger pieces of glass sprinkled in with the glass dust. Among all this glass are small pieces of metal, some thumbtacks, some other unidentifiably pointy stuff. Then under all this debris is a spattering of blood, leaving stains on the already filthy floor. It’s almost as if something really bad happened here, and someone wanted to clean a little but remember the tragedies that occurred.
This brings me to this building. Calvin’s toughness brought him here. It was late 2006, November if I’m not mistaken but I may be because I’ve been hit in the head a lot. In this building, because no other would have it, came my ultimate conquest and Calvin Lee’s ultimate destruction. It was here that I mutilated “Studly” Steve Stennick in a wild Carpet Tack Strip match, retiring that faggot son of a bitch once and for all. Fuck DVD Wrestling and Fuck Steve Stennick. But it was also here that Calvin Lee proved himself to me.. He proved that he was more than just a whiney prick. He was also a nice pin cusion. Do you remember this place Calvin? Do you remember the twenty stitches in your back thanks to that light tube table and GaZ?
GaZ was a student. Nothing more and nothing less. I put you with him because I was the booker and I could do that. I figured you’d be able to beat him, because he was a student. You see, this is what a good booker does, they book a show with future thoughts. In booking you with GaZ, I had the plan to take you into the second round, where you’d face someone of worth in a real match, giving the tournament an overall good feel. Instead you end up messing it up. You mess everything up. You couldn’t even beat my student. This week, you face a master. This week, you face the teacher. This week, Calvin Lee, I’m going to give you something to cry about.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The words of Samantha Schneider, as typed by Tim Sinclair.
My daddy is crazy. He is always wanting to hurt someone for something. He hurt Percy because of mommy. He hurt my friend the Reverend because Reverend was nice to me. He hurt my friend Vanessa because she was nice to me. I think daddy doesn’t like me really. He’s always hurting people that do nothing but be nice to me.
My daddy is really crazy. He always has a lot of boo-boos. I tell him to not get so many boo-boos because all those boo-boos are icky, but he doesn’t listen. He gets these boo-boos when he fights with people. I don’t understand why he’s always fighting.
Now he’s fighting with Wayne. I don’t know Wayne, but he seems nice. He has a nice motorcar thing. He loves Vanessa and Vanessa is my friend. Vanessa is like mommy, except she doesn’t throw up after she eats then take nose medicine. I miss my mommy. I told daddy I wanted Vanessa to be my new mommy, and he hit the wall. He’s always so mad now.
I miss my daddy being happy. I miss my daddy just sitting and watching movies with me. Now he’s always fighting. Even when he’s off work, he’s doing something for wrestling. I used to like wrestling, cause it was funny when daddy and Percy would do funny things and eat lots of chicken, but now it’s not funny. Wrestling is boring. I wish my daddy would get a real job. He could work at Walls Mart. I like Walls Mart. The people don’t get hurt there.
I don’t want my daddy to get hurt any more. I hope Wayne doesn’t hurt my daddy…
I know sometimes things may not always make sense to you right now
But hey, what daddy always tell you?
Straighten up little soldier
Stiffen up that upper lip
What you crying about?
You got me
I know you miss your mom and I know you miss your dad
When I'm gone but I'm trying to give you the life that I never had
I can see you're sad, even when you smile, even when you laugh
I can see it in your eyes, deep inside you want to cry
Cause you're scared, I ain't there?
Daddy's with you in your prayers
No more crying, wipe them tears
Daddy's here, no more nightmares
We gon' pull together through it, we gon' do it
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
High in the roof of the building our hero sits, looking down at the discolored concrete far below. On this rickety scaffolding he sits, he legs folded comfortably together, he arms placed in his lap, he seems quite at peace, despite the fact that the enormous contraption he has decided to use as a chair appears ready to collapse at any time. He seems to have been up here for a while, several bottles littering the area, as well as more glass on the scaffolding. He slowly rises to his feet, carefully grabbing the handle bars of the scaffolding as to not fall down. One foot onto the rusted ladder and then another and he’s moving down the scaffold. Rather quickly he climbs in fact, almost diving down the ladder with little recourse for his own well being. To the bottom of the scaffold he is. His feet lands on the ground and he falls backwards, but he lands safely on a suspiciously well placed mattress.
This place brings me such comfort. This building, dank and destroyed, brings me the serenity that’s often missing in my life. This place which has brought so much pain and destruction into my life also brings me joy. Perhaps it’s the fact that I don’t have to worry about a mortgage or cleaning anything up here, because it’s my own and completely my own, but this place really seems like more of a home than my own home.
In recent days, my home has been a wreck. Physically, it is clean, but emotionally, there’s wreckage everywhere. I don’t even want to hear the name of the guy who’s supposed to be challenging for my championship any more. I’ve heard it to the point that I will scream if I hear it again. Fuck him and fuck his wife. Why say what’s been said a thousand times before? His time shall come and he knows this. His ultimate destruction is coming and he knows this.
Laying on this dank and dirty mattress, Obo seems quite content, but this contentment wears off quickly and he hops to his feet, walking around the wide open space randomly. He looks over the building, the filth and the fury. This building is empty, yet it just feels angry. Bending down, Obo picks up a shard of broken glass, tossing it aside with reckless abandon.
But this week.. This week is different. While the man who shall remain nameless is a former adversary of mine, so is my opponent this week, albeit for different reasons. I hate what he stands for. He is the polar opposite of me and opposites attract. I speak now of Calvin Lee, the pessimistic loser.
Calvin Lee is everything I’m not. He is bald, I have rather long hair. He listens to absolute garbage emo music, I listen to death metal. He hangs around with an overly emasculated man named Luther, I am with a five year old girl named Samantha. I have a throbbing wet cock, he has a vagina filled with sand.
Through this though, Calvin and myself seemed dragged together. And like a true emo, no matter how much you slice and dice them, they always come back for more. Barbed Wire steel cage match. I tried to break Calvin Lee’s neck. He came back for more so I punched him in the eye. Out last encounter.. I double stomp him on the damn guardrail and he slaps me, so I head butt him and knock his teeth out.
Looking around the building, Obo sees nothing. He stares off into the distance, looking at nothing in particular. A sudden flash of light from the distance and Obo does a quick ninety degree spin and stares upwards to where this flash of light came from. Obo smirks slightly and cracks his knuckles a little bit.
Calvin is tough. He can take one hell of a beating and always seems to come back for more with a whine. Sure, it’s all thrown out the window when after each match he’s iced down by a man in his underwear, crying and listening to Panic at the Disco, but he’s still tough. Through all that I’ve put him through, I can’t break him.
He looks at this solid concrete floor, littered with a sparkling material. It almost looks like glitter, but upon closer inspection, it’s finely broken up pieces of glass. A dead giveaway on this would be the random larger pieces of glass sprinkled in with the glass dust. Among all this glass are small pieces of metal, some thumbtacks, some other unidentifiably pointy stuff. Then under all this debris is a spattering of blood, leaving stains on the already filthy floor. It’s almost as if something really bad happened here, and someone wanted to clean a little but remember the tragedies that occurred.
This brings me to this building. Calvin’s toughness brought him here. It was late 2006, November if I’m not mistaken but I may be because I’ve been hit in the head a lot. In this building, because no other would have it, came my ultimate conquest and Calvin Lee’s ultimate destruction. It was here that I mutilated “Studly” Steve Stennick in a wild Carpet Tack Strip match, retiring that faggot son of a bitch once and for all. Fuck DVD Wrestling and Fuck Steve Stennick. But it was also here that Calvin Lee proved himself to me.. He proved that he was more than just a whiney prick. He was also a nice pin cusion. Do you remember this place Calvin? Do you remember the twenty stitches in your back thanks to that light tube table and GaZ?
GaZ was a student. Nothing more and nothing less. I put you with him because I was the booker and I could do that. I figured you’d be able to beat him, because he was a student. You see, this is what a good booker does, they book a show with future thoughts. In booking you with GaZ, I had the plan to take you into the second round, where you’d face someone of worth in a real match, giving the tournament an overall good feel. Instead you end up messing it up. You mess everything up. You couldn’t even beat my student. This week, you face a master. This week, you face the teacher. This week, Calvin Lee, I’m going to give you something to cry about.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The words of Samantha Schneider, as typed by Tim Sinclair.
My daddy is crazy. He is always wanting to hurt someone for something. He hurt Percy because of mommy. He hurt my friend the Reverend because Reverend was nice to me. He hurt my friend Vanessa because she was nice to me. I think daddy doesn’t like me really. He’s always hurting people that do nothing but be nice to me.
My daddy is really crazy. He always has a lot of boo-boos. I tell him to not get so many boo-boos because all those boo-boos are icky, but he doesn’t listen. He gets these boo-boos when he fights with people. I don’t understand why he’s always fighting.
Now he’s fighting with Wayne. I don’t know Wayne, but he seems nice. He has a nice motorcar thing. He loves Vanessa and Vanessa is my friend. Vanessa is like mommy, except she doesn’t throw up after she eats then take nose medicine. I miss my mommy. I told daddy I wanted Vanessa to be my new mommy, and he hit the wall. He’s always so mad now.
I miss my daddy being happy. I miss my daddy just sitting and watching movies with me. Now he’s always fighting. Even when he’s off work, he’s doing something for wrestling. I used to like wrestling, cause it was funny when daddy and Percy would do funny things and eat lots of chicken, but now it’s not funny. Wrestling is boring. I wish my daddy would get a real job. He could work at Walls Mart. I like Walls Mart. The people don’t get hurt there.
I don’t want my daddy to get hurt any more. I hope Wayne doesn’t hurt my daddy…
