Post by Thunder on Jan 14, 2020 23:09:02 GMT -5
“Paging Doctor Howard, paging Doctor Fine. Paging Doctor Howard, paging Doctor Fine . . .”
God, he hated this place. All those stupid bright lights and white walls. Not one good magazine around to look at. They only exist in these stupid places now and you can’t even get a good one. And the TV, god, the TV. Dr. Oz, in a place like this? Just what people need, some quack talking about which color potato was the healthiest.
This just wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was way too young for this crap. His whole life was ahead of him. Just look at all these people in here. They were all worse off than him. Old, decrepit, hooked up to machinery. It made sense for them to be there. They were were in their twilight, these things happened to people their age.
But him? Hell no. He was still young, in the grand scheme of things. Young enough to be physically active, to still around with his kid. Oh sure, his return to the ring hadn't gone exactly as he planned. Sure, he'd lost a step compared to everyone else and require some little extra help to go the limit against Frank Lynn. But aside from that, he'd live a good clean life so far. He wasn't like so many of those guys who had gone through the WFWF locker room over the years, constantly hopped on every drunk known to man or sending their liver on the highway to hell. Never once he did he get that crazy. And lord knows he could have if he wanted to.
All the things he'd gone through. All those years struggling to get his life together while he dealt with so much loss. And now was the time he could finally be happy and enjoy life, enjoying being a true adult and father. He'd been doing just that.
And then this had to happen. These damn pounding headaches. Hardly ever ending. Pounding and pounding and pounding and digging into his skull and it never stops and it's deeper and deeper and deeper
“GODDAMMIT.”
He didn't realize he'd said it out loud until they all started looking at him. All those old, decrepit geezers with their eyes sunken in, ready for the reaper to knock on their door. What were they looking at anyway? Didn't a man have a right to get mad at the rug being ripped out from under his damn life, when he had a family and a life to think about. Huh? Huh?
“What are you all looking at? Keep your eyes to yourself! Screw it, I don't need this.”
Just get the hell out of here. They're just gonna look and judge now, wondering what the crazy nut is doing in here, looking all nice but acting insane. Probably touched in the head, they'll think. Probably got something eating at his brain, they'll think. Something squeezing at him until it'll pop and then--
F***.
He kept walking out the door.
~ ~
His hand instinctively turned the channel as soon as he heard the song. No, that wasn't happening. You know what, it's a not a wonderful Christmastime, Paul. Not when you're dicking around with every setting on your keyboard to make different sounds. Knock it off.
“Hey, I like that one,” Robin said. He ignored that and moved on to what he actually wanted to talk about. No time for bad musical choices now.
“So tell me again why I'm going to this with you?”
“Because you love your sister.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don't get mushy on me. Aside from that, why?”
“Braden got real excited when he found out who my brother was, and he wants to meet you.”
“Oh, great.” Michael said. “A fan boy. He'll probably overanalyze my whole career. How long have you even been seeing him?”
“A few weeks.”
“Look, I've got to be honest with you,” Michael said, throwing his hands up in the air. “This guy's got a lot of problems already. A guy named Braden who's a wrestling fan and wants to see Cats has already struck out.”
“No, no. He wants to see it ironically.”
“And now his batting average is below the Mendoza Line.”
“This is important to me, okay?” Robin asked. “Just be nice and not too much of a dick.”
“I'll do my best.”
He leaned back in the seat, trying for some futile hope that this would relieve the stress in his head. No dice. And even worse, the pained look seemed to remind Robin of what happened earlier. Or what didn't happen.
“Oh, how did the doctor's appointment go?” she asked.
“Right, right. It was . . . it was good.”
“You didn't go, did you?”
“Of course I did.”
“But did you actually stay to see someone?”
“How did you know that?”
“You're an appalling liar,” Robin said. “Michael, you have to do this. You have a kid, dammit. Something is wrong and you need to address it before it's too late.”
“I know, I know.”
He turned to look out the window, and said no more the rest of the drive. She was right, and there was no more to say on that point. And yet . . .
And yet he still couldn't be sure just what he would do. Facing the music wasn't easy.
He dragged himself out of the car once Robin parked. The guy he assumed had to be Braden waved from behind the glass doors in the lobby of the theater. Even if he wasn't waving, Michael could have guessed anyway. Anyone with a beard like that and a knit cap was bound to be a Braden, Brandon and or Caleb.
“You okay?”Robin asked before walking it. Michael lied and nodded in the affirmative.
“Thunder!” Braden called out, after only giving Robin a cursory hello.
“Please, call me Michael.” He withstood one of those awful macho guy handshakes, offering up Braden a hand limper than a wet noodle.
“Michael, of course. There's so much I want to ask you.”
“Well, unfortunately, we have a movie to go see.”
“I know. I just one question real fast, who are you facing at Throwdown?”
“I can't say that,” Michael said, his mouth forming a close approximation to a smile.
“He hasn't even told me,” Robin said. “Everyone's in the dark. I don't get it personally.”
“It's just a fun thing for a surprise, you know. Build the suspense.”
“I don't even know why you're doing it,” she replied. “You don't need to be doing this now.”
“Oh, he'll be great!” Braden said. “I know you've lost twice now and all, but I'm sure you'll kick the ass of whoever you face.”
“I definitely will. I guarantee this will be a win.”
“Alright, we better get our seats,” Robin said.
They started to walk, but Michael did get very far. Suddenly, his steps began to get very heavy. Oh god, and the room was moving again. This was not good, not now. Not for Robin in this moment that mattered to her. He needed to say something, but was worried everything would come up if he opened his mouth. Well, here goes nothing.
“You guys go on ahead. I'm not feeling too good, I may need a moment.”
Braden wanted to say something, but Robin shooed him ahead. One look was enough to show that she need not press this matter. Michael saved his moment for the trash can once they were out of view.
Goddammit.
What was he going to do?
God, he hated this place. All those stupid bright lights and white walls. Not one good magazine around to look at. They only exist in these stupid places now and you can’t even get a good one. And the TV, god, the TV. Dr. Oz, in a place like this? Just what people need, some quack talking about which color potato was the healthiest.
This just wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was way too young for this crap. His whole life was ahead of him. Just look at all these people in here. They were all worse off than him. Old, decrepit, hooked up to machinery. It made sense for them to be there. They were were in their twilight, these things happened to people their age.
But him? Hell no. He was still young, in the grand scheme of things. Young enough to be physically active, to still around with his kid. Oh sure, his return to the ring hadn't gone exactly as he planned. Sure, he'd lost a step compared to everyone else and require some little extra help to go the limit against Frank Lynn. But aside from that, he'd live a good clean life so far. He wasn't like so many of those guys who had gone through the WFWF locker room over the years, constantly hopped on every drunk known to man or sending their liver on the highway to hell. Never once he did he get that crazy. And lord knows he could have if he wanted to.
All the things he'd gone through. All those years struggling to get his life together while he dealt with so much loss. And now was the time he could finally be happy and enjoy life, enjoying being a true adult and father. He'd been doing just that.
And then this had to happen. These damn pounding headaches. Hardly ever ending. Pounding and pounding and pounding and digging into his skull and it never stops and it's deeper and deeper and deeper
“GODDAMMIT.”
He didn't realize he'd said it out loud until they all started looking at him. All those old, decrepit geezers with their eyes sunken in, ready for the reaper to knock on their door. What were they looking at anyway? Didn't a man have a right to get mad at the rug being ripped out from under his damn life, when he had a family and a life to think about. Huh? Huh?
“What are you all looking at? Keep your eyes to yourself! Screw it, I don't need this.”
Just get the hell out of here. They're just gonna look and judge now, wondering what the crazy nut is doing in here, looking all nice but acting insane. Probably touched in the head, they'll think. Probably got something eating at his brain, they'll think. Something squeezing at him until it'll pop and then--
F***.
He kept walking out the door.
~ ~
His hand instinctively turned the channel as soon as he heard the song. No, that wasn't happening. You know what, it's a not a wonderful Christmastime, Paul. Not when you're dicking around with every setting on your keyboard to make different sounds. Knock it off.
“Hey, I like that one,” Robin said. He ignored that and moved on to what he actually wanted to talk about. No time for bad musical choices now.
“So tell me again why I'm going to this with you?”
“Because you love your sister.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don't get mushy on me. Aside from that, why?”
“Braden got real excited when he found out who my brother was, and he wants to meet you.”
“Oh, great.” Michael said. “A fan boy. He'll probably overanalyze my whole career. How long have you even been seeing him?”
“A few weeks.”
“Look, I've got to be honest with you,” Michael said, throwing his hands up in the air. “This guy's got a lot of problems already. A guy named Braden who's a wrestling fan and wants to see Cats has already struck out.”
“No, no. He wants to see it ironically.”
“And now his batting average is below the Mendoza Line.”
“This is important to me, okay?” Robin asked. “Just be nice and not too much of a dick.”
“I'll do my best.”
He leaned back in the seat, trying for some futile hope that this would relieve the stress in his head. No dice. And even worse, the pained look seemed to remind Robin of what happened earlier. Or what didn't happen.
“Oh, how did the doctor's appointment go?” she asked.
“Right, right. It was . . . it was good.”
“You didn't go, did you?”
“Of course I did.”
“But did you actually stay to see someone?”
“How did you know that?”
“You're an appalling liar,” Robin said. “Michael, you have to do this. You have a kid, dammit. Something is wrong and you need to address it before it's too late.”
“I know, I know.”
He turned to look out the window, and said no more the rest of the drive. She was right, and there was no more to say on that point. And yet . . .
And yet he still couldn't be sure just what he would do. Facing the music wasn't easy.
He dragged himself out of the car once Robin parked. The guy he assumed had to be Braden waved from behind the glass doors in the lobby of the theater. Even if he wasn't waving, Michael could have guessed anyway. Anyone with a beard like that and a knit cap was bound to be a Braden, Brandon and or Caleb.
“You okay?”Robin asked before walking it. Michael lied and nodded in the affirmative.
“Thunder!” Braden called out, after only giving Robin a cursory hello.
“Please, call me Michael.” He withstood one of those awful macho guy handshakes, offering up Braden a hand limper than a wet noodle.
“Michael, of course. There's so much I want to ask you.”
“Well, unfortunately, we have a movie to go see.”
“I know. I just one question real fast, who are you facing at Throwdown?”
“I can't say that,” Michael said, his mouth forming a close approximation to a smile.
“He hasn't even told me,” Robin said. “Everyone's in the dark. I don't get it personally.”
“It's just a fun thing for a surprise, you know. Build the suspense.”
“I don't even know why you're doing it,” she replied. “You don't need to be doing this now.”
“Oh, he'll be great!” Braden said. “I know you've lost twice now and all, but I'm sure you'll kick the ass of whoever you face.”
“I definitely will. I guarantee this will be a win.”
“Alright, we better get our seats,” Robin said.
They started to walk, but Michael did get very far. Suddenly, his steps began to get very heavy. Oh god, and the room was moving again. This was not good, not now. Not for Robin in this moment that mattered to her. He needed to say something, but was worried everything would come up if he opened his mouth. Well, here goes nothing.
“You guys go on ahead. I'm not feeling too good, I may need a moment.”
Braden wanted to say something, but Robin shooed him ahead. One look was enough to show that she need not press this matter. Michael saved his moment for the trash can once they were out of view.
Goddammit.
What was he going to do?