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My best friend is turning away from me and I don't know whether or not to end it
Throwaway because it's a rather sensitive subject, for me at least. ENTJ if that's to some kind of help. It's a long story since I've never talked about these kinds of things with anyone and all the context need to be understood. It's a fucked up situation embedded through years and I hope you've strapped yourself in, I'd appreciate anyone who would take their time to read as I've been struggling with this for quite some time and I don't really know what to do about it at this point. When I was 11-12 I was bullied in school by a gang of classmates, we'll call their leader Franklin. In that school I had one friend who we'll call Thomas. Thomas was troubled, he had asperger and severe AD/HD not to mention OCD and there was a lot of times that he wasn't in school, but we remained friends as we had been since we were babies. We all moved school and in the new school I got tons of new friends and things went along well for two years, I turned into a rather devious kid. This is where I met Adam (ENTP). Adam and I hit it off almost immediately and we quickly became best friends. My devious side faded and me and Adam became very close. We shared our interest in Video Games and played together almost all the time, even with Thomas which is how they became friends. I introduced him to history and before we knew it, we went off to High School where we all met new friends but always remained best friends. He introduced me to some of his friends and him to mine. During High School, however, I was almost in a constant toxic environment where power games, violence and drugs were more or less present all the time between the class, bare knuckles into the last round. My now ex girlfriend told me about it but of course, though I didn't see it at the time. High school changed me, but my girlfriend made me happy and I always stayed away from the drugs but it was clear I had become darker. I know some consider ToXiC mAsCuLiNiTy a meme but the way it changed me wasn't. To be clear, I wasn't a victim of the problem, I became a part of it even if I did hate it. Nevertheless, I persisted. I found my calling and began to study university-level business and economics, being the earliest of my friends to study "further" as we call it here in Sweden as my ambition drove me to. As I had all my friends still here in the city, I remained and studied at the collage in the city (where there isn't much "life" within the collage itself). The first year was great and I began to move on from High School even if parts of me were still a bit toxic but always with good intentions, I met some new people but Thomas and Adam were always my closest and those that I loved the most. Life was good. The summer of 2019 is where things began to go south, however. Adam and Thomas began to hang out with Franklin, of course, they invited me along at first. It was rather clear though, that I hadn't forgiven Franklin for the way he used to bully me back in middle school, so Adam and Thomas began to party with Franklin without me, barely even speaking to me. This caused some Paranoia as it made me feel abandoned and lonely. It was then the big truck hit as my girlfriend of 2 years at the time left me as well. She had her own problems that she had to deal with but I became a wreck because, to me, that was a blow too much and one I couldn't handle (first relationship and first heartbreak didn't exactly help). The thing that I remembered most was that in panic I left the apartment, going against my pride and walked to Adams street, asking him over text if he could come out and talk. He denied me, despite that this had happened before but where the roles were switched. I called my other friend from high school who was studying in Barcelona. He already had a distaste to the way Adam had been treating me and he bought me a plane ticket there taking off the very next day. I took that hit, tried to move on and it went rather well, I suppose. Adam was still working and I continued my studies pretty quickly. The following semester I grew a lot as a person. I had cut the contact with most of my old classmates from High School with the exception of two and hung out mostly with Adam's friends from High School which were great people. The next semester I met many new people and studied hard with results I could be proud of. I developed a dream and even a small company in finance with a great vision (this was started in high school but it only became serious here). Covid hit and we began to have our finals at home. I didn't have a printer and we had to print out this document that we had to sign that basically said "I've not used cheats". We didn't get the PDF file we had to print until the finals had begun, however, so during the test I called him up and asked if he could go to the city library to print it out for me while I was doing the test (we live rather close to eachother). I thought he'd do it for me, as I would've done the same for him (he wasn't working at the time) but as it turned out, he refused. He hung up the phone but I managed to get a Tinder match I had never met before to deliver me it from the far side of town so it worked out in the end (yes, we began to date). It wasn't this event that dissapointed me, but more of the principle. I know it sounds stupid but it made me remember the time I tried to talk to him after my ex left me but it didn't phase me too much. The summer of 2020 was the best summer of my life. I convinced Adam to pick up golfing and me, him and his two friends from High School played almost every weekend. At one party, however, he was talking about Franklin and his tales with him, about how he bets in sports. I quickly commented that turnover wasn't the same as profit to which he came quick to defend him "No, you should see him, it's crazy". I didn't think much of it and I shrugged it off, this comes in later. At another party, however, I foolishly lashed off in a drunken stupor at Adam and all the things I was displeased with. We agreed to have a talk about it to figure things out. We talked and it felt good to get everything out, he admitted that perhaps he hadn't treated me the best but we also pointed out my paranoia from 2019, concluding that I had low self confidence (which really wasn't new). We moved past it and whenever we finished golf we decided that me and the two friends of Adam from High school would take a roadtrip down to the city where Adam would begin to study to hang out. Adams other friend from high school had also begun to date a mutual friend of my ex, causing me to text my ex and see if there was, and if so, straighten out any bad blood between us so it wouldn't be emotionally should our friend groups collide. She never even opened it. The semester begun this fall. Me and Adam still talk but lately he's been undermining my dreams and visions while I've always supported his. It feels like he thinks what I study, what I do, my dreams and ambitions is just "a hobby" and a joke, a phase. I suddenly remember that never has he supported my ambitions and dreams but as soon as I make a comment to Franklins hobby, the man who used to bully me, he jumps to defend it. This week, his friends from High School left for the city where he studied without me, I didn't even know they were going. They're all hanging out as we speak with the mutual friend of my ex. I broke down earlier this week and even suicide has been on my mind for the past few months. I don't know how severe those thoughts actually are but the fact that I am thinking about it has to be a sign that things NEED to change. Now or never. I understand that this perhaps isn't that big of an issue, compared to other things. I've talked to my sister as she's the only one I could turn to. She told me to talk to Adam but I don't know if it's even worth to persevere the friendships at this point. Since last we talked in the summer of 2020 he hasn't really changed much towards me. Should I talk to him about it? Or should I end it? Should I do something else? Please, help.
I went to the VIP meet and greet and Rick's Grumpy Old Rock Star tour concert on Tuesday in LA, which was AMAZING! We had a private Q&A (there were like 17 of us), then we took photos and met Rick, then he gave us a short private concert (a Liszt song, it was lovely), and then he signed everything for us. Then we got kicked out until the doors opened later for the concert. So I wrote this up on my Livejournal, so I hope I can condense it here for you: First off, meeting Rick: https://imgur.com/a/Iw7DsXL Then the Q&A: https://imgur.com/a/NxjNiGE Questions and answers from the Q&A (from my notes on my phone): Someone asked him what it was like working with Ken Russell on Crimes of Passion (Rick composed the score), and he said Russell was super weird and Rick had a great time but it was strange and he told a story about how there's a scene when he was watching the rushes for writing the score where Anthony Perkins goes to Kathleen Turner's prostitute's room for sex and in the original scene there were these sex toys all over the nightstand and Anthony Perkins objected to the sex toys being "far too tame" and he went to his hotel/apartment and came back with all these super weird sex toys to use instead (I haven't seen the movie in decades so I can't remember), that was funny. Rick said his dream was always to be a stand up comedian, even as a kid, and he happened to be really good at music, so he went that route, but he really just wants to be a comedian. The idea of this tour was not his own, his agent came up with it and pitched it to the concert promoter and then told Rick, and Rick loved the idea because he got to do stand up and play a piano. He said he was honored that we came and that this tour has made him very happy. Someone asked him if he feels that they should stop using the name Yes since Chris Squire died, and Rick said that he and Jon Anderson and Steve Howe have been fighting for years now over this, because Jon and Steve want to keep using the name Yes and Rick thinks that it's disrespectful to Chris Squire and thinks that the Yes name should be retired and the two bands can say something like "Howe/White/Downes/Davidson doing Yes music" or "ARW doing Yes music" but he says Yes as a band is dead. Then he answered one of my questions, a couple of days before the concert he posted on FB a picture of his new black kitten named Cobweb, and so I asked him if he'd met Cobweb yet and he said yes, the photo was from right before he left on the tour like 6 weeks ago. He says he always has to have a black cat and his last one died about 6 months ago, so they adopted Cobweb, and when they brought him home he immediately ran behind this wood stove and got covered with cobwebs, so that's how he got his name. He says he HATES encores and thinks they're stupid but he does them anyway because it's expected. He says he has no clue how he writes music, he says it just comes to him and he's mostly inspired by classical music, he listens to classical music at home all the time. He says his wife nags him constantly about being fat and eating junk food. He has rheumatoid arthritis in both hands, has for about 15 years, and he refuses to take medications and only uses herbal remedies (I interjected telling him to try taking turmeric for joint inflammation and he said he would) and essentially he plays piano 1-5 hours a day to keep his hands limber and dexterous. He never composes on anything but piano. He says he composes the melodies on piano and then starts fiddling with the synths after he's written the actual music. He says he never plans to write music, it just sort of randomly appears in his head and then he goes and works on it. He has 4 pianos in his house, none of which are more than a 20 second walk from him. His favorite is the 19th century one that was his father's and he learned to play piano on it. He says some of his favorite friendships have been with Bowie, Charlie Chaplin and Brian Eno. He said that in the 70s the 4 of them would all stay on this street in Switzerland and they all hung out. He almost always plays with his eyes closed. Someone asked what's going to happen to rock music when Rick and everyone else are dead [wtf?] and Rick laughed and said rock music would never die, but it will become a lot more hard to encounter, and he says that he hasn't listened to much rock music made since the 90s. He was asked if he's making new music with ARW and he said yes but it's really hard because they're all in different time zones (Jon's here by me on the Central Coast and Rick's in England and Trevor is in South Africa I THINK) and they can never all be around at the same time to share music on the computer and things. He sounded kind of frustrated but I don't know if he's too keen on writing new "Yes" songs, he's really into the piano right now. Then he answered another one of my questions, which was asking him who is favorite Hammond organ players were and he said Jon Lord and Rod Argent. Then he signed our stuff: https://imgur.com/a/mhgRnkY Then we got kicked out until 7:30 or so when the doors opened for the big concert: https://imgur.com/a/yvI9IgC Here are Rick's stories from the concert and the songs that went with them: The first song was something classical and he didn't say who it was. The second and third songs were Beatles songs, he said he LOVED The Beatles growing up (he's 70 so he was a young teen when they became big in the UK) and they were so inspirational to him, especially John and George (he kind of dismissed Paul, it was funny, he said something like "oh yeah Paul too I guess" and then joked that Ringo wrote "Octopus's Garden" and shrugged LOL (even though I actually like that song, George helped him write it and it's fun and cute and sweet)). So he played Strawberry Fields Forever and While My Guitar Gently Weeps. And then he told a story about writing the piano part for Cat Stevens' Morning Has Broken and then he played it, it was beautiful, OMG, his hands play SO MANY NOTES it's like there are 4 hands playing and the melodies are so complicated and brilliant, it's mind blowing. Next he told a story about his 93 year old Grandfather who HATED all the music Rick did, he hated Yes, he hated prog, he hated jazz, he hated rock, but for some reason, he LOVED the Six Wives of Henry VIII album, so Rick wanted to send him some appreciation so he and his friend looked in some local newspaper and found an ad for a "strip-o-gram" and called it (this must have been in the 70s) and this woman showed up at his 93 year old Grandfather's house wearing nothing but a fur coat and flashed him, LOL. So he played Catherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn from Six Wives. He then talked about his friendship with David Bowie and that they'd been friends for 50 years and he was gutted by his death and was very sad when he spoke of it, it was very touching. He told a funny story about Life on Mars, Bowie had called him up and said he had just come up with this new tune and wanted Rick to play piano on it, so he came over to Bowie's house and Bowie wrote all his songs on this old 12 string acoustic guitar, and Bowie played the bare bones outline of Life on Mars to Rick and then told Rick to play it on piano and Rick said he asked "how do you want me to play it?" and Bowie said, "You know how I want it" and right on the spot Rick composed Life on Mars and Bowie loved it and that's the version that ended up on the record. And Rick also talked about being a 19 year old kid session musician when he played the Mellotron on Space Oddity and he said he was just blown away by how unique Bowie was, Rick seemed to be in awe of Bowie. Then Rick played both songs on the piano. Next he told a story about one of the first songs his Dad taught him on piano which was Sweet Georgia Brown (he said his Dad LOVED Dixeland jazz had all these 78s from the USA) and played a really neat version of that. Next he talked about his relationship with Jon Anderson, and he made fun of Jon's song names with Yes (he said Siberian Khatru sounded like a "Eastern European Vegetable" and the he did this HILARIOUSLY ACCURATE impression of Jon (Jon's very small and meek and sweet and has a high childlike voice) saying that Siberian Khatru could be an Eastern European vegetable, hahahahaha. Then he talked about his favorite Yes songs and played The Meeting, And You and I, and Wonderous Stories. So then he told a story about when he was young and in music school and one of his exercises he had to do was take pop songs and compose a new version in the style of a famous classical composer. So he played two more Beatles songs, the first one was Help! in the style of Charles-Camille Saint-Saëns, and the second was Eleanor Rigby in the style of Prokofiev. Then he finished, walked off stage and literally waited 15 seconds and came out for the encore (LOL), and ifrst he said only 65% of what he told us was true, hahahaha. Then he talked about writing The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, which was another solo album he did in 1975 and he was having horrible panic attacks and was in the hospital and told a funny story about this old nurse who kept saying what he thought was "Your testicles are black" but she was really saying "your test results are back" LOL he's so weird. He wrote the album while in the hospital. He played Merlin the Magician. Then Trevor came out onto the stage and did this bit with Rick where Rick made him move a chair for him several times, it was funny. You could totally tell that they love each other, their love was shining on both of their faces, it was awesome. When I saw ARW in concert in 2016 they just all looked so happy to be together, I bet it's really harmonious without Steve Howe, hahahaha. Then Rick told this story about 1985 when he was at home and he went out with some friends to drink all day and play golf, then they watched a soccer game at the pub and were still drunk and then they went to go to this Italian restaurant but it was closed and they went to a "dodgy Indian place" and got curry and Rick got horribly sick "went through me like a Ferrari" and even though he was drunk he got in his car to drive home to shit and he got pulled over for a DUI and he was begging the officer to just let him shit and I guess the officer took him to this woman's house they were parked in front of and knocked on the door at 2 in the morning and demanded that she let Rick use her toilet and she did and the cop watched while he had horrible curry shits in the toilet at this random stranger's house. And while he was shitting, the woman came to the door of the bathroom and asked him to sign Journey to the Center of the Earth for her son, so he signed it "To Jeffrey, I'm sitting on your Mum's toilet." LOL. Then he played The Dance of One Thousand Lights from Journey to the Centre of the Earth, which he said needed a choir really, so he added a choir track to his piano. Then he said goodnight for the last time. I LOVED THIS SHOW - he's adding dates soon (I know for sure in Texas), so if you can see this show, SEE IT!
I heard a nervous shuffle of feet from the seat behind and a forced cough to the side, one of those you might give to check you’re still alive. With the cotton hood over my head, I could only guess, but I thought there were about 6 others sat in the back of the van. From the sound of the driver flicking on and off his full beam light, with every on-coming car, I figured we were now on country roads. This settled me slightly – a man who considered other road users couldn’t possible hurt me, right?! ‘Hey mate, any danger of puttin’ radio on?’ A muffled male voice from the back of the van yelled. ‘I’m getting bored!’ The voice chuckled, whilst the driver remained silent, answering only with his accelerator as the engine roared with his mild agitation. We must have been in the van now for over half an hour, that meant we were in deepest Warwickshire, well away from the comfort of my mum’s house in Solihull. I became anxious again, my breathing now short and shallow. The cotton hood felt smaller and tighter over my head. I wanted to rip it off and tell the silent driver that he’d made a big mistake, I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t have called the number, but there was a curiosity seeded in me, the same curiosity that made me call the number on the card earlier that day. *** I'd seen it in the window of the job centre that very morning. It wasn’t anything special, in fact it was quite the opposite. The adverts surrounding it were so much more noticeable, with their capitalised promise of unlimited commission; this meant working for free, calling jaded homeowners in the hope they’d buy some needless shit, until that month came when I would grind down some poor old widow with a punishing script of how her not buying a life insurance add-on meant the ones she left behind would be left financially devastated, just so I could make my £95, minus tax and NI. Or there were the adverts shouting rhetorical questions through the glass window, demanding to know if I had what it took to be an instrumental part of a growing team, or whether I had what it took to climb the ladder to a six figure salary. Something they didn’t seem that interested in finding the answer to, when they shoved a book of carpet samples and a printed address list of local businesses in my hand. No, this advert was almost hidden, in small lettering it simply read: An offer with a difference.No wealth without risk.Call: 020 7384 7604 I knew it was probably bullshit, just like the other ad’s, but there was something intriguing about this one. I called the number and spoke to a softly spoken male who told me to be at the car park of St. Alphege church at 7.15 that evening. I arrived just after 7, feeling foolish for arriving early to what clearly wasn’t a job interview. I chained my bike up and walked across the empty carpark, careful not to slip on the carpet of wet leaves. The canopy of trees sulkily hanging over the car park made the autumn evening even darker, making it difficult to see my contact, although I could make out a vehicle in the far corner. At that moment I felt a tap on my shoulder. It made me jump and I slipped on the wet leaves. ‘Sorry bud, I didn’t mean to startle you, I was just wondering if you’re here about the job?!’ asked a small blonde man in his early 20’s, wearing a bomber jacket that was clearly too big for him. I simply nodded, whilst trying to weigh him up. ‘I’m a bit late, I should have been here at seven!’ He said. ‘I’m early. I guess they’re trying to stagger the…interview, is that what this is?’ I asked puzzled. ‘Not sure myself, in fact I’m not sure why I’m here, it all seems a bit weird to me! They’ve probably brought us out here to rob us!’ His smile made it more of a joke than a worry. ‘Good luck to them if they do, they won’t find much on me, that’s why I’m bloody here!’ The vehicle hidden away in the corner of the car park suddenly turned its lights on and flashed at us. ‘I guess that’s for us then!’ I gestured, as we slowly made our way over to it. ‘I’m Luke by the way!’ ‘Nice to meet you Luke, I’m Adam and I haven’t got a clue what I’m getting myself into.’ I laughed nervously. A stocky man with a shaved head got out and greeted us. ‘OK gents, my names not important but I’m presuming one of you is Adam and one is Luke is that correct?’ He asked gruffly. I suspected he’d been in the forces at one time, the way he dropped his head without dropping his shoulders as he spoke into our eyes. We both nodded and gave our names. ‘So we’re going to drive to a venue approximately 40 minutes away where you will be briefed by the employer, don’t bother askin’ me any questions – you’ll only be disappointed. All I’m telling you is that the destination is to remain a secret so I’m giving you these!’ He threw us both a black cotton bag to put over their heads. ‘Put them on now!’ We both looked at each other startled. ‘You want us to put these over our heads?’ Adam asked nervously. ‘If you want to find out what the offer is, then yes, otherwise you are free to walk away from here and forget you ever came. But the choice is yours gentlemen. Now I need you to make a decision, my employer is waiting for us.’ I thought about throwing it back at him and simply walking away but that seed of curiosity was growing and the warm feeling of hope, something I hadn’t experienced in an awful long time, was nudging me towards the van. Before I knew it, I'd put the hood on and was being led inside. *** As the van slowed and pulled into its destination, it came alive with murmurs, and shuffles from all the passengers. The side door opened and we were all told to take our hoods off. Being nearest the door, I took mine off and climbed out first, the cold air snatched at my breath while my eyes struggled with the bright lights illuminating the old stately home that stood before me. Once they adjusted, I looked up impressed at what could have been a castle, with its stone turrets and large windows. I looked around – we were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by acres and acres of fields. I caught glimpse of my fellow passengers, seven of them, including myself, as they stumbled off the minivan, all boggle eyed. ‘Well fuck me, daddy’s home!’ shouted a pot bellied man with a hint of a limp. It was met by laughter from the rest of the group. I recognised his voice as the same guy that asked for the radio on in the van. The driver ordered us into a line and asked we follow him into the house. We marched through the grand hall, its walls adorned with classic old portraits of previous tenants, old tapestries and wall hangings, down corridors that were wider than most rooms any of us had ever seen and into a huge suite, where a huge log fire raged. The carpet imprints of a large table and chairs, suggested the room was probably used as a dining room, when not housing a motley rabble of unemployed townies. ‘This is pretty grand hey?’ Adam said. ‘Maybe something good could come from this?’ ‘Well it sure beats getting mugged in a church car park.’ The excitement in my voice was now audible. Another stocky man dressed all in black, with scars across his shaven head, carried a tray of drinks in. ‘Its home-made lemonade!’ He shouted. It was the last thing I had expected some one as hardened as him to say, and a young woman, the only female in the group, laughed out load as she too picked up the oddity. He walked out with a bemused look on his face as the old door locked behind him. We all raced over to the tray, our thirst from the voluntary kidnap over-riding any social etiquette. With the lemonade already poured into seven glasses — we all grabbed a glass each and slid back into the room to continue our small talk. ‘Well lookie what we have here!’ The man with the limp shouted. We all turned and saw he was staring at a suit of armour, which stood gallantry in one of the corners. ‘Its amazin’ I’ve never seen one of these up close before. Bet its worth a few bob. I could probably take one of the gloves home and they wouldn’t even notice!’ At that, a gaunt, pale looking man with a grubby baseball cap strode over and began examining it as if it might be an option. ‘I’ve been to something like this before’ the young woman said, turning to me and Adam. ‘Well it was the days before the recession when there were actually jobs for graduates to go for.’ She was wearing a brightly coloured jumper, one she probably knitted herself and her dress was long and riddled with sequins. She reminded me of how my mother dressed in old photos, before she was sad and in perpetual pain. ‘A panel set you tasks and then judge your performance, you know, identify your strengths and weaknesses for a certain role.’ She continued sipping her lemonade. ‘But why at night and what’s with all the secrecy?’ I quizzed. ‘And what’s with “the employer” — do you think he owns this place?’ ‘Well if he does, its about time the wealthy started offering opportunities to the rest of us. The division of wealth in this country is a joke!’ She now took an extra large gulp from her glass as if to drown the fiery rage building within her. ‘Oh Come on, you don’t seriously believe that do you? Said a male voice from behind. He wore an old, ill-fitting suit, his tie pulled well away from his neck and he seemed a bit older than everyone else. I remembered him coming off the minivan earlier, looking particularly jaded. ‘Why does anyone owe you anything? Just because this guy may have a few pound in his pocket, you think you should have a sniff of it? Please! He don’t owe us nothing!’ He barked. ‘How is it fair that anyone has millions when there is so much poverty around – most of us can’t afford to eat or put our damn heating on’ She replied, raising her voice. ‘Bloody Socialist! The sooner we rid the world of you type the better!’ He laughed. ‘Capitalist pig!’ She barked back without any hint of humour. ‘So, that suit of armour hey! Pretty cool hey?!’ I interrupted nervously. ‘Hey! Its just moved!’ The guy in the grubby baseball cap yelled, diverting everyone’s attention. ‘Its fuckin’ hand just moved, I swear!’ He continued. The man with the limp marched forward instinctively towards what could be danger and grabbed a knife from a pocket near his knee. We all crept forward, hovering just behind him and were suddenly witness to the suit lunging forward. There was a collective scream as we all jumped back, even the man now holding his knife stepped back in shock. The arms of the metal suit rose mechanically and slowly lifted the helmet off. I found myself pressed firmly against one of the walls. As the helmet rose, a narrow face with a sharp pointed nose appeared, not growling and scarred, as I had anticipated. ‘Oh if only you could see your faces. What a picture!’ The man in the armour laughed. He stepped forward with remarkable grace, it was obviously not the first time he’d worn one. ‘Its just a little prank I like to pull on new guests.’ He explained still laughing. ‘It was good though wasn’t it?’ He looked at us for affirmation. I nodded in agreement, for fear of offending. He placed the helmet on the small table next to him and began the awkward process of peeling the gauntlets off his hands as well as the heavy arm plates. ‘What a fine looking group I have here!’ He beamed, leaning back as if to take us all in. He managed to get one arm off. ‘Well who do we have here?’ He asked, staring at the lad who was still holding his knife threateningly. ‘Don’t kill me sir! I’m not armed!’ He burst out laughing showing him the metal arm he’d just taken off. ‘Get it, not armed!’ He threw his head back as if the laughter had taken control. ‘And what’s your name sir?’ ‘Its Mulligan, call me Mully!’ The man with the knife replied. ‘Well Mulligan Call-me-Mully, good to have someone so alert, not that you’d do much damage with that little thing.’ He said, still with the remnants of his joke lingering in his voice. ‘This guy is 24 carrot crazy!’ Adam whispered. ‘Well this is nice isn’t it!’ He now prized off the leg plates, looking around the group. ‘Ahh and there’s Socialist Sally.’ He laughed. ‘I’m sorry darling, I overheard your little rant, but you are more than welcome dear, I don’t judge people on their politics. What’s your name?’ The girl squirmed and released a clumsy smile. ‘Its Daisy.’ ‘Beautiful! He replied. ‘And where’s that Capitalist pig, oink oink oink? Arrr there you are all suited, what a sort-of-fine effort from you. Likewise Sir, you are more than welcome. In fact that extends to all of you.’ He was now making headway in taking the breastplates off. ‘So may I thank you all for coming, I hope you’ve had a drink and I guess you’re now wondering who I am and what you’re all doing here!’ We nodded enthusiastically, ready for the pantomime to end. He’d now managed to take nearly all of the armour off, revealing his tall, yet skinny frame, dressed disappointingly in a plain black polo shirt and blue jeans. ‘My name is…well you can call me…Pat, obviously that’s not my real name for reasons you will discover. I am what you may call, a financial tycoon.’ He paused for drama. ‘I made my money from stocks, then hedge funds and then you know…played it a bit safer with property. I was a millionaire by the age of 21 and a multi-millionaire by 30.’ The man in the baseball cap, Mully and another broad-set, hard-looking man, whose nose looked like it had been broken numerous times, all nodded enthusiastically. Mully even clapped. ‘I’m going to tell you something though — I had to work damn hard for my money, I made it all myself. I worked 16 hour days for years, so despite what some of you might think.’ He looked to Daisy. ‘It was well earnt. I took risks and I forewent any form of social life or relationship.’ He now looked smug, as if proud of his lack of friends. ‘Now why am I telling you this? Well because I want to put a financial offer to potentially 3 of you here tonight, an opportunity, if you will, to make an amount of money you could have only dreamt of this time yesterday. You could say, I’m giving something back to those who need it.’ He looked once again at Daisy, who was pleasantly smiling. ‘I know it’s a tough climate out there, since the economy turned to shit, with so few opportunities for the unemployed and worthless like yourselves…’ Did he just call us worthless? ‘…And in that respect, it could possibly be interpreted that it's harder for you to make the wealth I achieved – that’s not to say impossible – it just means you have to be that little more creative to capture opportunities, if any of you could be bothered that is.’ He scrunched his nose as if we now offended him. ‘So what’s this offer then? I want to get cracking with it.’ Mully shouted. ‘Good, that’s what I like to hear! I like this boys spunk! Its an opportunity for you to walk out of here tonight with £2 million in cash.’ He paused again for effect. ‘And you won’t even have to work for me, in fact you don’t have to do anything for me. As of tonight, three of you will have your lives changed very much for the better. And the beauty is, I won’t even be selecting who walks away with it, you’ll be doing that yourselves. A buzz of nervous excitement surged around the room. ‘Wait, you’re going to make 3 of us millionaires, tonight? And we don’t even have to work for it.’ The lad in the baseball cap asked, smiling to reveal a set of teeth as stained as the antique rug we were all stood on. ‘That’s correct, and between you, you get to choose who walks away with it!’ Pat reiterated. His look was warm and welcoming again. ‘This is too good to be true!’ The lad continued, his smile now as big as the filthy visor on his cap. ‘That’s cos its not true, he’s winding us up!’ The man in the ill fitting suit shouted. ‘On the contrary…Marcus can you come in and set up please!’ The door to the room buzzed open and a team of staff entered, setting up 3 waist high tables, about 3 meters apart, in the middle of the room. They then placed a suitcase on each. In unison the staff clicked open the cases, each revealing pile after pile of £50 notes. And as quickly as they entered, they left, the door buzzing behind them. There was silence in the room, no one could quite believe what they were seeing. The man in the suit who looked increasingly frazzled, shuffled over to one of the cases and leaned in as if he was smelling the cash. ‘This is real, this is bloody real!’ He screamed. ‘Right how do we decide, because by Christ I think I deserve this.’ The marks under his eyes seemed to get blacker with his desperation. ‘You’ll be put into pairs and between you it's as simple as choosing which one of you should walk away with the money!’ Pat explained. The lad with the grubby cap jumped up and down on the spot in excitement, ‘I’ll be having this!’ ‘This doesn’t feel right!’ I whispered to Adam and Daisy. ‘These things don’t just happen!’ Daisy whispered back. ‘Hey excuse me!’ She finally shouted, ‘what do you get, you people always want your returns.’ ‘Well of course I do sweet Daisy, I haven’t made my fortune from just giving it away to lay-abouts, drop-outs and socialists without getting something back.’ He released an unsettling smile. ‘I get to have my kicks in seeing you decide! Some people spend their wealth on sailing, hunting or even golf, but I like to spend mine on this.’ He threw his head back again with laughter. ‘You see, behind the inside panel of those suitcases you will find a 9mm pistol with one bullet in, ready to fire. If you think it is you who should walk away with the £2 million, then simply eliminate your competitor and shoot your partner dead.’ The room filled with gasps and half-words as they all grappled with his meaning. ‘This is a joke? You’re winding us up, we’re being filmed for some web channel right?’ Adam shouted. ‘I can assure you, this is as far from a joke as you can possibly imagine. Please, check the case for yourself.’ Mulligan strode over to one of the cases, he was still holding his knife and so placed it back in his pocket. He felt around the panel and managed to get leverage on one of the sides to prize it free. On doing so he revealed a handgun. He released it and confidently opened the chamber without hesitation. ‘It’s a real Glock 19…and yep it’s loaded and ready.’ He spoke to the room. Jesus, this guy likes his weapons ‘You need your head checked mate, this is insane! What’s to stop us using this bullet on you?’ The guy in the suit asked as he marched over to the gun. ‘Well if you’re going to shoot the gun, you might as well shoot it at someone who will earn you £2 million. Sorry to break it to you, there’s no cash available for shooting me.’ Pat laughed. ‘This is sick!’ Daisy screamed. ‘Sick…Pffff please! It’s you people who are sick! The lazy, the unimaginative, the risk averse.’ He threw his head up in the air and strode theatrically towards us. ‘Now as you’ll see there are seven of you and if we’re going to pair you up…well 2 just doesn’t go into 7 does it? He looked to the skinny man in the grubby cap to see if he was still following. ‘It means one of you sweet darlings won’t be able to take part, boo hoo!’ He made the action of rubbing his eyes of tears. ‘Well let me make this easy for you, I’ll be the 7th, so thanks for your time you crazy fuck but I’m out of here!’ Daisy yelled as she marched to the door. She tried to pull it open, but it refused her exit. ‘It won’t open dear not until the game is over in which time you’ll either be a millionaire or you’ll be dead.’ Pat explained with unrestrained delight. Daisy ran over to the long curtains and pulled them apart only to be met by a bricked in window. She ran to the next set and did the same but to her horror was confronted by another bricked in window. She yelped. ‘You see, you don’t get to decide who bows out, in fact neither do I. I’m a man whose made his own fortune, but I also appreciate the feather of fortune has gently tickled me. Every wealthy person will tell you they’ve had their bit of luck, and if they don’t they’re only fooling themselves. Money comes with risk and with risk you can be lucky or not, no matter how informed your choice is. Making money comes down to chance. So in this instance I’m willing to play this by chance. One of you here won’t be partaking — and I’m leaving it up to Lady luck.’ Pat’s half smile now barely hid his anger and contempt for us. ‘So who’s the lucky one then?’ I finally spoke up, my voice crackling through the dryness of my mouth. ‘I wouldn’t really call them the lucky one, you see one of those glasses of lemonade which you all gulped down like unruly dogs, was laced with a little something that…should we say will incapacitate one of you.’ His smile grew slowly. ‘What was in it?’ The hard-looking man with the wonky nose asked. ‘Oh just a little cyanide. It’s gradually killing one of you. Once it hits, death will come very quickly, please be assured.’ He was now engrossed in a scratch on his table, licking his finger to erase it, ignoring the ensuing panic; the screams and shouts, around him. My mouth was now even drier. The room was starting to spin. I was going to vomit, I was sure of it. It was me, it was me who had consumed the poison. or was I just panicking?! I wanted to look around to see if others were suffering the same, but my eyes would simply not focus, the room was spinning too fast. This was it, this is how I was to die. Who would look after my bed-ridden mum? She’d slip into a coma and die in a matter of days without her medication. Just as hysteria was taking over my body, I heard someone violently hyperventilating next to him, and then the sound of a body hitting the floor. It was Adam, his eyes stretched with fear, his mouth gasped for what little air it could, his body convulsing in pain. Adam was dying. He had been poisoned. I managed to compose myself and jumped to his side, ‘It will be alright buddy!’ I said, now holding his hand, ‘Just try and breath, deep breaths.’ I realised how futile my words were, but I was at a loss to know what to say. Adam’s body jerked one final time, before the lines of fear slowly erased from his face. ‘Now let us continue…’ Pat continued nonchalantly. ‘You’ve killed him you bastard! You’re a murderer!’ I shouted. ‘Don’t be so quick to judge, we’re about to see what you are.’ Pat casually replied. ‘Now we really must push on. We now have six so we can divide evenly….you two, you will be paired.’ He pointed at the skinny guy in the cap and the hard looking guy with the wonky nose. ‘That’s your case with the gun in, if you think it should be yours, then simply shoot your partner dead. You then get to walk out of here with £2 million.’ They both eyed up the briefcase, which was about 3 steps from either of them. They then stared at each other as if for an answer. ‘You two, that’s yours’ He pointed to Daisy and the guy in the suit. I swallowed for the first time in what must have been ages, my head still filled with the sound of Adams gasps for air. It now only dawned on me that I was to be partnered with Mulligan, the weapons expert. I didn’t even know how to hold a gun, but had to rebuke myself. It would never come to that. ‘And you two, that’s your money.’ Pat continued, confirming our partnership. ‘You are as stupid as you are mad, if you think we’re gonna shoot each other!’ Daisy shouted. Pat simply shrugged his shoulders like an insouciant child. ‘I’m not gonna do this, you can’t make us shoot each other!’ She barked. ‘I’m in full agreement with you my dear, but can you be so sure your Capitalist pig feels the same as you. Are you confident that he will stand there and not think about the £2 million and what it would do for his life? In fact can any of you be sure that your partner is thinking the same as you. Maybe they’re not thinking of the £2 million that is just a small grasp away. Maybe they’re not thinking of how they could walk straight out of here, get on a flight to anywhere they God damn please, finally be in control of their shitty lives; be Masters of their happiness – turn it all around and live the rest of their days as a king or queen. But then, maybe, just maybe they are.’ Daisy was shocked into silence, she looked desperately to the guy in the suit in an attempt to read him, his look becoming ever more frazzled and desperate. I had to give Pat his dues, his little speech had actually made me think of the money for the first time, despite the fear of death in the air and actual death in a heap on the floor next to me. A sudden movement broke my concentration, the skinny guy in the cap had made a beeline for the briefcase, ripped the gun from the case panel and pointed it at the tough looking guy. The move was sound-tracked by Pats raucous laugh. The show had finally begun for him. ‘I’m sorry, I need this money, I’ve nothin’.’ He tried to justify, but the tough-looking man simply walked slowly towards him. ‘Stop, don’t come any closer!’ He continued. The tough looking guy casually reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a badge. ‘Kid don’t! My name's Aidan Jones. I’m a private Detective, I’m here undercover investigating the disappearance of a girl..’ He carefully pulled out a photo from another pocket, of an attractive looking girl in her mid 20’s. ‘This girl’s family, right here, hired me, to find out what happened to her. I’ve traced her last whereabouts to being with this twisted fuck…She replied to a similar job advert over a year ago…But I’ve got the crazy bastard now, the games over. Just put the gun down and we can hand him to the police. Just put the gun…’ A shot fired interrupting his speech, sending him to the floor wincing in pain, before he slowly fell still. The man in the cap stood shocked, the fired gun now trembling in his hands. ‘I need it!’ He finished. ‘Woah I did not see that happening!’ Screamed an excited Pat. ‘This is a turn up for the books.’ The room fell into silence, before Daisy, in a wave of paranoia from seeing an otherwise normal man take a life for money, ran towards her case, releasing the gun from behind the panel and aiming it at the suited man. ‘You cannot be serious?’ He screamed. ‘You’re no killer, you said it yourself that no one could make you shoot. You can still do the right thing! Just put the gun down darling, its only money!’ He reasoned. ‘YES!’ Screamed Pat, ‘this is going much better than I’d hoped!’ ‘If I put this gun down, you’ll pick it straight up and put a bullet in me. I can see you’re desperate, you need this money, but I can’t let you do that.’ Daisy’s voice trembled. ‘Don’t be so stupid, we can both walk out of here alive if you just put that gun down. You don’t want blood on your hands. I know I don’t! Don’t let this asshole manipulate you.’ He pleaded. ‘I need your assurance you won’t kill me then!’ Daisy demanded after a long pause. ‘You have it, I promise you I want nothing more to do with this, I want out just like you, two people are already dead for Christ sake, I have two children back home who I desperately want to hold very tightly. Please!’ She slowly lowered the pistol, but in doing so her finger slipped, pulling the trigger and sending a fatal shot to the mans heart. As he fell, she screamed, blood now sprayed onto her dress adding a new pattern among the sequins. The sound from the blood rushing through my head was almost deafening. As I looked over the three bodies, I felt my knees buckle. I turned to look away and found myself now staring into a pistol. In all the chaos, I hadn’t realised Mulligan had grabbed the third and final gun and was aiming it directly in my face. ‘I served in Afghan for 4 years. I watched my friends die. I gave the army my soul, and what thanks did I get?' I shook my head nervously. ‘I got nowt! A shitty handshake and a future of misery.’ He slapped his bad leg. ‘I can’t even afford a one bed flat, I live in God damn shelters –when they’ll have me. I beg and steal for food cos this shitty country won’t raise a finger to help. It wants nothing to do with me, though they couldn’t have done enough when they wanted me to stand in front of the Taliban taking shots for Queen and Country. Well finally here is my reward. I’m sorry but you’re just another enemy to me, someone in the way of my survival.’ As he squeezed the trigger I squeezed my eyes shut. I heard the shot but felt no pain, instead hearing a body fall to the floor. I slowly opened my eyes and saw that Mulligan was still pointing the gun at me but was looking away, specifically where the guy in the grubby cap had now fallen; killed with the bullet from the concealed gun of the dying private detective, who lay in a pool of his own blood. The Detective then turned the gun on Mulligan. ‘Put it down mate, don’t let this sadistic bastard win!’ He ordered through dying, laboured breaths. Mulligan didn’t respond. ‘I said put the gun down!’ At that Mulligan swung his gun around and aimed it at the detective but before he could pull the trigger, a shot fired into his plump belly. He stumbled and fell, his face pulled tight with dismay. I felt my thoughts drain from my head as if a big plug had been pulled, and the space replaced with a sudden darkness where the screams became distant and my body became too heavy for my legs. I slowly woke to the sound of cries and a cold feeling ravaging my bones. I was lying on the wet ground of St. Alphege Church car park with the suitcase of money next to me, Daisy sat on a kerb curled in a ball, tears rolling from her eyes. I slowly rose, picked up the case, unlocked my bicycle and walked home in the dull, early morning light. ***** The sun blazed down as I carefully negotiated the narrow and crumbling Spanish pavements whilst pushing my mom in her new wheelchair. ‘They don’t make em like ours, do they love?’ My mother noted. ‘Nah, but we’re nearly back at the hotel now Ma, I’ll get you one of those pastries you love!’ She gave a cheeky smile and stroked my hand lovingly. ‘You’re a good lad!’ I continued to push her, trying my best in the heat to avoid the pot holes and sleeping dogs, when I suddenly stopped. ‘We’ll probably have to wait for my bones to stop rattling before I eat anything’ She laughed. Silence ‘You OK Luke?’ She turned in her chair. I was transfixed by a notice in a shop window. ‘What is it Love?’ I didn’t hear her, I couldn’t — the humble looking placard had sabotaged my senses. I read the note, the only one in English, again and again. An offer with a difference.No wealth without risk.Call: 900 125 778 ‘Luke?’ ‘I’m Ok Ma, its nothing.’ I finally replied, as I pushed her down the road. ‘It's just, I thought I saw someone I know…’ ****
A Moderately Unnecessary Display of Violence II, Night 2 [Part 13/14]
Woodbridge:"VILE" VIC STUDD IS BACK! Stephen Alexander's ears perk up in the ring as if he just heard a gunshot and stops the assault on Ro. He spots Vic making his way down the aisle and takes off towards him. Paisner: Stephen Alexander charging across the ring! Alexander leaps clean over the turnbuckle for a suicide plancha onto Vic on the outside. Suddenly a carved out hunk of wood with nails embedded in the tip slides out of Vic's right sleeve. As Alexander soars through the air, Vic winds up and connects with a Grand Slam to the side of Stephen Alexander's head. Crowd: OOOOOOOOOO!! Paisner: Vic-Stick to the side of the dome! Holy fuck! Woodbridge: Vic Studd just went yard with! Vic flips the makeshift bat away like a Korean showboat before sliding into the ring. Brodie Hanson stumbles to his feet, a mask of blood covering his face. He sees Vic standing in the ring a cigarette jutting out the side of his mouth and looks like he's seen a ghost. Paisner: Jon Cody charges at Vic with a desperate lariat. Vic blocks the lariat attempt and drives his fist into Brodie Hanson's heart. Woodbridge: "Studd Finder"! Brodie's entire body tenses up from the vicious heart punch. Vic grabs him by the back of the head and throws him into the barbed wire ropes just in front the exploding barbed wire table. Brodie hits the barbed wire and spins around getting helplessly tied up in it, dangling just in front of the exploding table. Woodbridge: Vic's cutting through them like tissue paper! Paisner: Well they have all been involved in a 2 day long deathmatch tournament. Let's just say he knows how to pick his spots. Prettybody stops stomping away on Roisin, feeling an ominous presence behind him. He slowly turns around to see Vic taking a pull from his cigarette, staring daggers into the vainglorious one. Crowd: THIS IS AWESOME! clap clap clapclapclap Paisner: The atmosphere is electric! Prettybody makes the first move towards Vic and Vic responds by throwing his lit cigarette into Percy's face. Burning embers fly everywhere as Vic kicks Prettybody in the stomach and drops him with a Studd Stunner. Crowd: YAAAAAAY!! Paisner: Studd Stunner! Studd Stunner! Prettybody's entire body starts convulsing, his belly jiggling every which way. Vic pulls him by the seat of his pants and the back of the neck and runs him towards Brodie Hanson tied up in the barbed wire. Woodbridge: OH MY GAAAAWWD!! Vic hurls Prettybody into Brodie, the weight of both men causing the barbed wire ropes to snap and both men go falling into the exploding barbed wire table. BOOOOOOOOOM! Crowd: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! Prettybody and Brodie roll around the grass in complete agony. Their skin torn to shreds from the barbed wire and burnt to a crisp from the explosion. Some of the hair on their heads and face singed right off. Senior Official Tai Ni Wong powders to the outside and looks on in abject horror. Paisner: Vic Studd making a statement here in Delaware! Vic dusts off his hands, satisfied with a job well done and turns his attention towards Roisin pulling herself up in the corner. Her eyes grow wide as she sees Vic marching towards her with purpose. She puts out her hand begging him to stop and pleads for mercy. Paisner: Oh fuck! Vic's reaching into his pocket! Vic palms an object out of his pocket as he gets within arm's length of Roisin... then he drops to one knee. Woodbridge: What the fuck... Vic opens his hand to reveal a little black box. Ro freezes. Studd: Roisin. Caroline. O'Brien. Will you marry me? Vic pops open the ring box to reveal a wedding ring. The look on Ro's face can only be described as shock and disgust. O'Brien: Eww... no. Crowd: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Vic is perplexed, confused as to where he went wrong. Studd: But baby, I love you! Woodbridge: It’s confirmed, these past two days have just been a really bad dream. I got really drunk last night and this is a result. Vic starts to get up and Roisin smacks him hard across the face, slapping the taste out of his mouth. Vic's cheek starts to burn red as he looks up at his beloved. Studd: You know just how I like it, Sugar Nips. You complete me! O'Brien: Get away from me! Roisin leaps over the top rope to the outside. She glances back at Vic who fires back with a grin and shouts after her. Studd: Great idea angel tits! Seek for us a trysting locale. I'll help you! Wait for me! Ro scrambles over the guardrail and rushes into the crowd. Vic powders to the outside of the ring and takes chase. Studd: Wait! The two star crossed lovers take flight through the crowd. Roisin comes across an unattended Park Ranger's Golf Cart and hops in. She speeds away, seemingly leaving Vic Studd in the dust. But Vic yanks a little girl off her bike and tosses her onto the grass. He hops on the bike and pedals after Roisin post-haste. Woodbridge: Ummm... is she coming back? Paisner: Would you come back to where Vic could find you and do God knows what with you? Woodbridge: Excellent point! And then there were three! Stephen Alexander begins to come to on the outside, bleeding profusely from the side of the head where he talk a home run cut from a Vic-Stick to match the river of blood flowing down his back. Prettybody rolls onto his back on the outside, the cool grass helping him fight of the burning sensations traveling all over his body. Brodie Hanson remains tangled up in wood and barbed wire. His face a mask of blood and his clothing torn and burnt to shreds. Paisner: The final three men, ladies and gentlemen. Stephen Alexander, Brodie Hanson, and Percy Prettybody. They made it this far, and you can see the results right now. Alexander goes to pick up Brodie but he’s just dead weight so he gives up. He goes over to Percy, but doesn’t even try because he knows if he can’t pick up Brodie then there’s no chance in hell he’s getting Percy. Instead, he goes back into the ring and looks for something to do… When suddenly a lightbulb goes off and he begins taking out some of the wood planks, creating a hole in the ring. Paisner: Now what the fuck is Stephen Alexander doing? He’s literally tearing down the ring. Woodbridge: I bet ring crew is happy as a motherfucker right now. He creates a hole covering just about a fourth of the ring, maybe a little less. He then goes back outside, where Percy and Brodie are just getting back to their feet, and he gets a pane of glass. Taking it back into the ring, he places the glass over the hole he just created. Paisner: So there’s supposed to be mats on the ring. We said “Nah, fuck that, we’ll take away the mats!” So then we had just exposed wood. Now we’ve said “Fuck the wood, let’s just make it a pane of glass instead.” There is literally a fucking hole in the ring covered with a pane of glass right now. Brodie tries to get back into the ring and Alexander “helps” him by grabbing his head and dragging him in. Alexander sets him up for a powerbomb, but Percy comes from out of nowhere with a light tube across Alexander’s head! This gives time for Brodie to back body drop Alexander over, through the glass and through the ring! Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOH! Woodbridge: Good fucking god. Paisner: Through the glass, through the ring, straight to Hell! Percy barely wastes any time and grabs Brodie, giving him a short arm clothesline. He then picks him up and puts him on his shoulders for a Death Valley Driver. Paisner: Percy skipping the vertical suplex, I don’t think he can get him up for the Wham Bam Good Goddamn! He doesn’t drive him down immediately, but instead runs over to the barbed wire fence with the pane of glass center… Woodbridge: AHHHHH! Percy DVD’s Brodie through the glass, through the hanging barbed wire board, and the board explodes as both men crash to the ground! Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! Paisner: HOLY FUCKING SHIT! BOTH MEN BLOWN TO SMITHEREENS! Woodbridge: Please let this be over! Please! Wong rushes to both men and actually pulls Percy away because part of the board is on fire from the explosion. Ring crew throws water on both men, and Percy barely drapes his arm over Brodie. …1! ...2! ...3! Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOH! Javier: Brodie Hanson has been eliminated! Paisner: Jon Cody, Brodie Hanson, whatever you wanna call him, might have just been eliminated from life! Woodbridge: And we’re down to the final two! Percy Prettybody and Stephen Alexander! Two dark horses in this tournament! Only one is walking away with the Crown of Thorns, and will forever be in the history books! We see Stephen Alexander is crawling out the hole in the ring, completely covered in blood. Percy is crawling on his hands and knees around ringside, unable to stand. As Alexander gets back into the ring, he slowly makes his way towards the side with the scaffold and rolls underneath the barbed wire ropes to get to the scaffold. With all of his might he begins climbing! Paisner: Stephen Alexander doesn’t give a shit anymore, he’s climbing up the scaffold again! Woodbridge: What in God’s name is he thinking? He already went up there, but he left the… weedwhacker… Paisner: Oh SHIT… I forgot about that. Woodbridge: Looks like Percy didn’t forget! Stephen Alexander is climbing up one side of the scaffold, but on the opposite side is Percy, trying to beat him up there. They both get to the top at about the same time, where the weed whacker is waiting for both of them. Alexander is on the side with the handle facing him so he grabs that and simply jabs it into Percy’s face, as they’re both still on the sides of the scaffold, not actually on top of it. It catches Percy pretty good and he crumbles down the side all the way to the ground, awkwardly. Paisner: Stephen Alexander has the weedwhacker, and he’s heading back down for Percy. Percy throws himself on the apron and tries to pull himself back into the ring, so Alexander meets him with the weedwhacker inside. As Percy’s getting to his feet, Alexander revs up the weed whacker! Crowd: YAAAAAAAAAAAAY! Paisner: I can’t watch this anymore, man. Woodbridge: We’re almost done! This is the finals! What the past two days have been leading up to! Hell, the past YEAR! Percy gets to his feet where Alexander is waiting for him with the weedwhacker. Alexander charges at him, but Percy sidesteps him and throws Alexander into the barbed wire fence! Crowd: OOOOOOOOH! Paisner: Oh thank God! Percy Prettybody inches away from being shredded like a fucking rotisserie chicken! Alexander is laying on his back at a roughly 45 degree angle off the apron, stuck in the barbed wire fence. Percy then picks up the weedwhacker! Crowd: YAAAAAAAAY! Woodbridge: This could be his last chance! Alexander sees Percy holding the weedwhacker, but he still can’t free himself from the barbs. Almost as if he’s accepting his fate, he yells at Percy. Alexander: DO IT! FUCKING KILL ME! DO IT! Percy lowers his brows and looks at the crowd, who’s cheering him on. Paisner: Oh no…! Percy shoves the weedwhacker right into Alexander’s stomach! Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! Paisner: AH MY GOD! Woodbridge: Alexander is still up! He’s still stuck in the barbed wire, and at too awkward an angle to get to his feet. He looks at Percy and scowls, breathing heavier than ever. Alexander: COME ON… MOTHERFUCKER! Percy almost looks sympathetic towards Alexander who is yelling at him to kill him. Paisner: Stephen Alexander told us all that he will have to be killed to lose this tournament! Please don’t actually do that, Percy! Please! Have mercy, Percy! PERCY GIVES HIM ANOTHER! Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! Woodbridge: FUCK! Paisner: TWO IN A ROW! Alexander’s stomach is a bloody mess, with thin, but visible strips of skin missing. He is trying to push himself up off the barbed wire but can’t muster the strength. He looks like he’s losing consciousness. Tai Ni Wong asks him if he wants to quit, and he barely responds by shaking his head. But then… he spits in Percy’s face!
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Svenska Grapplingligan, förstdeltävlingen i norra norr 7.MOD
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