Bodega Alleyway Continues
“Hey, hey, wo-mon?”
“What do you want, Jack?”
Right after getting the info from Jorge, Jack Marley stood worried and realized for once in his life he had to move fast and find out what the info on the paper meant. For most of his life he has pretty much just rolled with what happened and being a lackey came naturally. He did not want to think for himself and if he was able to live comfortably with some weed and snacks, he did not mind what he was asked to do. For over twenty years he has done what he was told with very little push back towards the boss. There comes a time when you are helping someone new where something could go wrong that could have a domino affect and leave him fearing for his life.
“Why do I have a piece of paper claiming you have been meeting with that woman who runs the Orphanage?”
A pause on the other end followed and then finally a response, “nothing you need to worry about, Jack.”
Mr. Marley leaves against wall in the bodega alleyway and shakes his head, “It is something Steve is going to worry about and when I say worry, I mean be extremely upset and distrustful to YOU and me.”
“What is going on?”
Jack starts pacing, “that woman is making complaints about The Miracle Milk.”
“So, Steve has overreacted and plans on doing…what exactly?”
The Blunt Lover stops pacing and looks up the sky with a confused look on his face, “uh, well…”
“He won’t tell you but when you look at him what do you think he is capable of?”
Marley nods his head after remembering how Steve has been a less predictable since he got egged by those Bandit fans. “I don’t ask questions on that, wo-mon and you know this.”
“Steve has always been a coward, Jack. He is all talk and my business with that lady doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
Marley scratches his knee, “wait…who does it matter to then?”
“Who is paying you?”
“Well the boss of course, wo-mon…does it have to do with him?”
“Why so many questions, Jack?”
This phone call was not going Jacks way. Jack was not surprised by this and this whole thing was fairly normal in him being confused about just about everything. Today though he was asking the right questions because if there is one thing everyone desires it is their own life. On the other hand, he is still a moron and always at a disadvantage when attempting to get info.
“Look, Sandy…Steve will find everything out eventually. If I don’t tell him that bodega owner will definitely tell him.” Finally, it was revealed that it was Sandy on the other line. The wife of Jack Marley’s boss and the man who trained Steve to be a wrestler. Sandy as seen in the past was a psychologist and one that Steve would see from time to time. Sandy has been in Steve’s life for over ten years, but she mainly tried to treat him for whatever was bothering him.
“There is nothing to tell. I do what I believe is best for all of us in the long run.”
Jacks mouth opens in surprised by this comment. He was not expecting her to actually admit to something nefarious, “wait…what? Are you helping her fight against Steve and the Miracle Milk?”
“I am doing what needs to be done.”
Sandy hangs up on Jack. Jack stares at his phone scrolling through his contacts as he thought to himself about what just occurred. His head went down feeling liked he had failed. He walked slowly out of the alleyway and around the corner.
Inside the bodega, Jorge stared outside the window. He watched as Jack walked away and then put a phone in his hand to his ear, “si…he just left. I am guessing he was on the phone as I watched him put his phone in his pocket. Are we good?”
I know I have mentioned multiple times about my ten-year absence inside the wrestling ring. I think it bears mention though that in that ten years I honestly never thought I would ever grace the squared circle again. I was gone and never once looked back but then nostalgia hit, and I looked about the wrestling world and found it depressing. The famous wrestling organizations from my last time around were all gone and let’s not even think back at when I was a fan, this profession has taken a slide towards irrelevance.
That is until I discovered High Octane Wrestling had reopened. I remember when I was in JUST Wrestling that Tim Shipley would tell me about the place especially after he won the LSD Title, but that title reign did not last long and neither did he speaking about HOW. That was all I needed to know because that asshole had constantly held me down which means if someone can put him in his place it must be at the very least respectable to true talent.
The impossible occurred and HOW let me join after Bobby Dean and Mike Best had some vague memory about me and could vouch for my talent. Of course, neither of them could tell you anything about me other then I was a guy they remembered from HOSTILITY or JUST or wondering around DREAM but never actually having a match.
Nobody here had any idea what was about to occur to them when I was allowed to join. I am a special kind of amazing, a man of all the Miracles who has disappeared for ten years and come back to being undefeated for four months. If that doesn’t prove my greatness, then you must subscribe to hanging out with buddies and perving on Lindsay Troy and making out with cardboard Dan Ryan as magnificent traits.
The eGG Bandits are finished though so we can all agree that those traits don’t make you successful.
Friends in wrestling is like hanging out with the guys you work with, right? You are always (even if you don’t accept it) in competition with those you work with. Try as you might somebody in charge will eventually compare you with your coworker or in HOW, put you up against him for accolades.
That is where we are now.
I rejoined the wrestling world to compete, not to try to impress people or make friends. I impress people every time I win another match or am involved in one of the highest rated segments of the night. I impress people when I make people want to own something The Minister prayed on and make a large profit when I push the conspiracy that he was dead.
Why the fuck not?
The Minister would have done the same thing because it is about convincing other people that what you have or what you offer, they must have. I learned many lessons when I was away and living for the approval for others will leave you broke and depressed. People let you down and people will never take responsibility for their actions, so I do whatever the hell I want.
Miracle Enterprise is a brand and Jack Marley works for me. We are not friends. I do not go on late night munchy drives because I ate too many edibles or smoked ten weed pens. That is the new shit, right? Fucking legal weed is the worse.
This all results in what exactly? Well I am fighting by myself for myself in the first PPV I have competed on in over ten years. This is important to me.
I am not playing any games here I seriously feel this is the most important match of my career because who gives a shit about a victory from ten years ago anyway?
This is where I become perturbed.
I am wrestling…no I am fighting in a match against a man who at 35 years ago has become a ridiculous born-again goth.
What a cunt as my buddy Hughie Freeman would say.
On Saturday I would not be surprised if Jiles slowly walks down the ring with black face paint drawing a sad face on his mouth. A goddamn sad goth clown, it tracks.
Make this easy on both of us Jiles and just lay down.
Doozer is a sack of shit and nobody wants to see him in a ring pretending to be a referee for longer than three seconds.
That is what it will take to defeat you and move on from this annoying situation I have been forced into.
I hope you both burn in separate house fires.
October 21st, 2020
It had been a strenuous last few days. Steve Harrison had been worried about people asking questions about the Miracle Milk. Though it all people were left to investigate and report their findings. Jack Marley had been tested and for once he had passed the test. Jack had told Steve about Sandy meeting with the lady who ran the Orphanage and how Sandy would not explain any details to him about the meeting. That part of course did not surprise The Miracle Man because trusting Jack Marley with details is like going scuba diving without a tank: deadly. The last few days have bother Harrison greatly though because he felt there were multiple things he was missing about this whole ordeal and being outsmarted or outflanked is not something that should occur to the future leader of the new world.
Steve Harrison, the outspoken proponent of intelligence instead of eGG Bandits stood in front of a large window. He stared outside the window, the reflection from the window showing him looking downtrodden. His eyes half opened from being tired and his beard beginning to look out of control stared back at him. In his left hand sat a glass of Whiskey as usual. As soon as he entered the room, he had poured himself a glass as he seemingly waited for someone to meet him. It was mid afternoon and the sun reflected off the Whiskey glass and shot light in several different directions inside the room.
“Always thinks this is a fucking game,” he muttered to himself. He looked away from the window and took a small sip of his drink.
The door opens and Sandy Reed-Lawson walked in and looked over at Steve and gave him a quick smile. She turned her head from him and walked towards her desk. She sat down and grabbed a pen and pad a paper from her drawer and looked back up at Steve, “hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
Steve walks over to a table that was in front off a couch. He slams his glass down but not hard enough to break it. He smirks at Sandy and plops down on the couch and leans back. “Sure.”
“So, what can I do for you today, Steve?”
Harrison shakes his head, his smirk turning into a frown, “are you a jester now? You have jokes for days? You know damn well why I am here, Sandy.”
Sandy nodded and looked down at the pad of paper in front of her and nonchalantly responded, “ready to talk about the dream?”
The Suplex Saint was a loss of words, not expecting that question from Sandy. “What? No…wait,” Steve paused, “I am talking about your meeting,” he followed up with as he attempted to get his composure back.
Sandy smiled, “that isn’t important.”
At this point Steve began to see red. He was no used to be talked to like this and was having a difficult time coming to terms with what was occurring so quickly into this conversation. He took a few deep breaths and looked away from Sandy as he attempted to get his wits back. “I will decide what is or isn’t important, Sandy.”
Sandy shrugged and looked back down at her pad of paper. “I have known you for a long time Steve and in that time, you have committed many offenses that could find you behind bars. I have been in your life to help ease you away from bad decisions. Going forward I decide what is important because this whole charade is a waste of your talents.”
“Look at me when you are talking because I swore you just said you are making decisions?” Harrison responded angrily and continued, “You? The wife of my trainer? You are low on this totem pole, lady.”
She looked up from her paper finally and smirked back at Steve, “how about that dream?
The man who defines Miracles punches the table in front of him. The whiskey splashes back and forth but does not spill, “WHAT ABOUT THE MILK?” He yelled.
Sandy starts taking a few notes in the note pad and shrugs, “Why are you so obsessed with this Miracle Milk?”
Sandy interrupts Steve, “did you make money off it?”
She interrupts again, “isn’t this just a parody product to crutch Miracle Enterprise until you actually have something successful?”
She is on a roll, “oh yea…The Holy Water, well that is done, right?”
Harrisons stares ahead, his mouth agape with no words coming out of it. He looks down at his glass and grabs it quickly and drinks it faster than it took to pour it earlier. He calms himself again as he thinks of his response and then comes to a decision: the truth. “Miracle Enterprise is my grand illusion to the masses that I am a successful businessman. The truth is this is about proving myself and making everyone know from an airline pilot to fucking Cancer Jiles that I cannot be stopped from succeeding in whatever I choose. Miracle Milk is not a parody. It is a great idea with results that probably should and could have been avoided if certain things were done differently.”
The entire time Sandy watched Steve talked. “Amazing, some honesty.”
Steve stands up and walks over to the bar and grabs the bottle of Whistlepig and looks back over at Sandy, “fuck you…what do you want?”
“I want you to tell me about the dream?”
Steve’s face gets redder and redder and finishes the second glass of whiskey in mere seconds, “You sound like a broken record but if I understand correctly, I need to solve the Milk issue before you end it.”
“It is too late.”
Harrison grabs the doorknob to leave and turns back to look at Sandy a smirk beaming on his face now which would seem like unearned confidence, “keep dreaming, bitch.”
He slams the door.
Sandy looks back at her notes after the door slams and smiles to herself as the scene fades.