Scottywood Visits AA
Welcome to some random school class room nearby Tampa. The name is not important and we don’t need to give TMZ anymore help stalking. It’s half lit by the yellow fluorescent tube bulbs since the school doesn’t have the money to upgrade to LEDs. Which is their last concern when you look at the condition of the text books on the shelf that are probably from the Clinton era. Ya, think about how long ago that was and let the depression sink in.
Then let it continue as you see the circle of people sitting on steel chairs and all wishing they were anywhere but here. But at the same time knowing they need this. It’s an AA meeting, Addicts Anonymous, and sticking out like a sore thumb is the red dreadlocks of The Hardcore Artist. A man who has needed to one of these meeting for a long time since his epic fall from the wagon eleven years ago.
Thanks to what seems to be some kind of recording glasses being worn by Frankie. Since no one would allow a camera in an AA meeting, we see a man walk over from the coffee table with a styrofoam cup in his hand.
“Good evening everyone, my name is Steve and welcome to tonight’s meeting.” Greets Steve as he takes a seat in his chair and looks around at those in attendance tonight.
“So who would like to go first?” Questions Steve as he looks around at the five six or eight people at the meeting. Don’t feel like fucking counting.
“Hi, my name is Mark… and I’m an alcoholic.” States a man across from Scottywood.
“Hi Mark.” Responds most everyone with the enthusiasm of a wet sock.
“It has been three weeks since my last drink…” Tries to continue Mark as he is interrupted.
“Drink?” Questions Scotty as he is not even half paying attention… but just conditioned from far too many Century Clubs. So he reaches behind his chair and pulls out a can of Trillium’s Vicinity Double IPA and takes a drink, putting it back down as if it was nothing.
But the rest in the room look like he has just punted a baby to an alligator.
“Sir… you can’t have alcohol in here.” Musters out Steve as Scotty looks back with a confused look on his face.
“Cause this is a school?” Questions Scotty back to Steve.
“Because this is an Addicts Anonymous meeting and Mark here is coping with an addiction to alcohol.” Fires back Steve with what he thought was the only reason any normal person would have come to.
“Ok. It’s not like I’m gonna give him this beer. You know how hard it is to find Trillium beers here in Florida? Plus I’m not here for a problem with alcohol, so I’m good Steve.” Reassures Scotty as Steve just starts to shake his head in shock. Not having ever experienced anything this crazy in his years of hosting AA meetings.
“Are you sure you shouldn’t be here for an addiction to alcohol. If you can’t even go an hour without a drink?” Questions Steve back to Scotty who just chuckles back at the host.
“Dude… I’m sure I drink too much… but I don’t consider it a problem. No. I’m here to confront a much… much more serious problem. One that I thought I was free from for years. One that saw me give it up like cold fucking turkey and be a better person for it. But over the past few weeks I’ve fallen. I’ve fallen hard Steve and… hold on… I need another drink.” pauses
“You serious man?” Asks Steve still not grasping Scotty drinking a beer during his meeting.
“Totally serious about his problem. It’s something I need to curb again and get under control. So here we go… here we go Steve. I’m Scottywood…” Starts Scotty as now it’s Steve that jumps in and interrupts The Hardcore Artist.
“Your name is Scottywood? Just one word? Like Cher?”
“You judging be at a fucking AA meeting? It’s Scott Woodson, but I’m a pro wrestler, so I go by a fucking stage name… It doesn’t fucking matter. I’m Scottywood and I’m addicted to Twitter. I’m addicted to getting into useless fucking shit storms with anyone I can argue with. Arguments that get me nowhere and wins me nothing since this isn’t some shitty Twitter wrestling fed… which I don’t even know how that would work. It wouldn’t be wrestling. It’d be competetive tweeting maybe. Mark… do you know anything about this?” Questions Scotty over to Mark who looks back at Scotty like he has four fucking heads and that he is the biggest asshole in the world for drinking a beer right in front of him and tempting him to leave this shitty meeting and hit the nearest bar to fall off the wagon.
“I know this shit is bad for me… but it’s like doing fucking coke from a hooker’s taint. It’s fun in the fucking moment… but afterwards you feel emptier and more dead inside than when you started. Sure I got thicker skin than most on the twittershpere. I’ve been buried over and over… and gangbanged by more cowboy dick suckers then one could ever find on the fucking Red Tubes. And I’m still fucking here. I’m gonna do whatever I think is fun in the moment and if it all comes to a crashing end… so be it. At least I was fucking doing something and not just sitting on my fucking hands while others steal everything cause they got the bigger and louder mouth.” Rants Scotty as he takes a half breath and wets his mouth with a large sip of beer before carrying on before Steve can even try and jump in to either stop him or offer advice.
Either way i think Scotty could care less and is using this simply as a fucking outlet to rant. An outlet to get something off his chest before he takes his fucking hockey stick and just calls it fucking quits.
“I didn’t come back to play by anyone’s fucking rules. Which are really just opinions spewed over and over to make you look like fucking gold… and everyone else look like smoldering shit. Clever fucking bullshit… but still bullshit that I’m not gonna sit by and listen to in silence. Does it make me unpopular amongst you and the fanboys and fangirls? Yes, I don’t really care. I’ve spent eleven years here in HOW not being popular and I’ve survived. I’ve thrived. I’ve not run away and cried in a fucking corner.” Jabs Scotty as now no one in this room even has a fucking clue what is going on or why Scotty seems to be focusing in on Frankie in the back of the room whom is staring back intently at Scotty his whole time… so he can get a steady shot.
“So let’s hear all the fucking jokes. The hair ones. The tattoos. Gino…. Oh they love the Gino jokes boy,,,, ugh…. The fact I’m successful, but a drunk and after twenty years in the business have something to actually show for my work that wasn’t handed to me by my father. I really don’t fucking care cause I’ve heard them all before and I’m not gonna change. No fucking tweet is gonna get me to cut my hair…. Or start balling about a loss to the Jersey Shore reject. Shit happens. I guess this isn’t what you wanna say during an AA meeting, you people are all about changing to get better… but I’m fucking happy with who I am and what I have Maybe a few less tweets during a drunk night. Maybe focus on some other shit instead of 280 characters. Maybe it cost me my spot in this tournament because I haven’t focused fully on Halitosis and he is gonna snag a spot in the final four in only his third HOW match. Imagine that shit.” Presents Scotty to a bunch of people who could not even imagine what a collar and elbow tie up is.
“Halitosis? Where do you people come up with these names?” Questions Steve again as Scotty snaps his head… now shooting back that what the fuck are you doing look that Steve gave him earlier.
“More fucking judging? You really suck at this shit man. Do you see me judging Mark over here for not drinking a beer. No. He needs to do what makes him happy. And that is what I’m gonna fucking do. Fuck the people who just wanna shit all over everything and then dishes out some hypocritically bullshit. I’m fucking Scottywood and I’m heading to Refueled 2 to take on Halitosis in the third round of the HOW World Title tournament. Win or lose… I’m gonna still be here the next day in HOW…. doing shit my way…. My way or the highway…. Sorry, you just have to when that happens.” Chuckles Scotty as no one else is getting… or caring about the reference in the room.
“So see ya Haly… win or lose it’s gonna be a big match for us both and I’m sure everyone will be talking about it on the Twitters the next day.” Smirks Scotty as he gets up from his chair with his beer and makes his way out of the classroom, leaving a room of people wondering what the fuck they have just witnessed.