Post by Kyzer on Feb 28, 2012 11:51:13 GMT -5
Dead on Arrival
2/12/2012, 6:57pm
I stare at her while I lean against the car. She is lying motionlessly. There is a blue tint to her lips, the type that you typically see in a corpse. It would make sense since she committed suicide. She was young, cute and completely crushed emotionally and mentally. I don’t remember the last conversation I had with her. Apparently it wasn’t important enough in my drug addled state to recognize it as something I should remember. But the officer wants to know. Should I just tell him that I have been up for 3 days doing blow and treating her like a sex worker? I don’t think that would do me any favors. Drakz is off to the side with his own officer. I come back home and find all this. Thanks Ashley for trusting me that I would remember that you were bringing back Gavin. I have some choice words for her for her poor judgment.
Officer:[/b] So you have no clue as to why she would be upset enough to go and cut her wrists open in your bathtub?
He looks at me. I can see that he doesn’t believe anything that comes out of my mouth. Just go ahead and hate on the junkie, that’s cool. It is socially acceptable. I don’t say anything for a minute. I think back trying to remember what conversation I had with Kylie that led to this. I don’t have a clue.
Michael:[/b]I am sorry buddy. I don’t have any idea. She was always happy and cheery around me.
I give him a wink, as if to give the impression that she loved my dick and we are both guys so now give me some props. He scowls. I wonder if he knows the other two nimrods investigating that fire. I am sure they gossip like a bunch of f~cking high school girls about the scumbags they arrest and harass.
Officer:[/b] I am not your buddy. I am an officer of the law. Show some respect.
Michael:[/b]Yes sir.
I am sarcastic but he doesn’t seem to notice. I glance over at Drakz. He is very calmly answering the questions of the officer talking to him. He is completely composed. He hasn’t been on a binge that has worn him down to nearly nothing. All I want to do in crawl into my bed and sleep for two days.
Officer:[/b] What do you know about the drugs?
What drugs is this douche talking about? Doesn’t he realize who he is talking to? I don’t know what specific drug he is talking about but I am sure even in my extremely fatigued state that telling him that would be a mistake. Feigning ignorance seems like the right move here.
Michael:[/b]I don’t know what you are talking about.
He stares at me for a second.
Officer:[/b] You look like a junkie. I am pretty sure you do know what I am talking about.
I know I do. I don’t appreciate you pointing that out. I take pride in my appearance. This is not one of my finest moments.
Michael:[/b]I have been up working, traveling and whatnot. I am a professional wrestler. I have been up late setting up new offices. I apologize if you mistake that for looking like a junkie. I will go ahead and forgive the King County Police for jumping the gun with the asinine assumption that you had.
I am proud I am still managing to rattle off something somewhat intelligent. My mind is mush right now. He doesn’t seem to appreciate it so much.
Officer:[/b] I make the calls based on the experience I have accumulated doing this for so long. And now I think you are lying to me. Ms. Olsen was found in the presence of a significant amount of cocaine. But we also found marijuana…
Michael:[/b]I got a card for that.
Officer:[/b] painkillers, muscle relaxers and anti-anxiety pills. Do you have scripts for those too?
Michael:[/b]Of course. I am a professional wrestler. We take bumps and sh~t. I hurt afterwards. It also has to do with me getting old in this business. I have to rely on those to get through day sometimes.
Seth:[/b] If you have any more questions for my client you can direct them towards me.
The silk tongued dragon of Seattle…I am happy to see him walk up as I receive the third degree here. He is dapper in his custom suit. He is the man who saves Michael Kyzer. He hands his hard card to the officer who merely glances at it and back at me.
Officer:[/b] Mr. Kyzer, I will be in touch.
He walks off to consult with the officer who had just finished up with Drakz. Seth just stands beside me as we watch them load up Kylie. The officers talk to each other for another minute and like that, they are all gone along with Kylie Olsen. Drakz walks over to us as does Ashley. She looks over at her brother, my lawyer Seth. She must have been the one to call him. Seth and I go far back and he isn’t a big fan of mine. But he loves money and he loves his sister who implored him to continue to represent me as she figured I would need help. There are some advantages to having quite possibly the nicest person in the world in love with you.
Ashley:[/b] What the f~ck Michael? Your son was in the house when I found her. Thank god, I got him out of here before the police arrived. He would have been taken away.
Seth:[/b] He still can.
I look towards Seth. That wasn’t something that had occurred to me. I have been so wrapped up in my selfishness that I forgot all about Mini Kyzer. I actually find myself feeling concerned about the little guy. No concern whatsoever about Kylie, but my son, it is a different story.
Seth:[/b] With Callista missing, you are Gavin’s only parental unit. If the police want, they can call social services and this coupled with the arson investigation, Gavin’s gone.
My heart literally hurts. I blame the cocaine.
Drakz:[/b] That is f~cked.
Leave it up to Drakz to state the obvious and break the awkwardness of him being here for this. He isn’t normally associated with this part of things. Right place, wrong time or something.
Seth:[/b] It really isn’t going to look good when that Rolling Stone article hits the nespamtands right after a girl you admittedly used committed suicide. This is the worst kind of publicity for you. You want to be the most reviled man in America, then you got it.
I am speechless. I am so tired. All I want is my bed. All three continue to look at me. What do they want me to say? They want me to tell them that I don’t feel responsible for this? I doubt that would make anyone happy, it would probably make Drakz laugh though. They don’t want to know how cold-hearted I feel over this. They want a man who shows some signs of a conscience and guilt that a girl killed herself after reading in a national magazine that she was merely being used like a whore. As I summed it, I didn’t produce one shred of guilt or even interest towards her and HER situation. F~ck Kylie. This is her problem, not mine.
Michael:[/b]F~ck this. I am going to sleep.
Drakz laughs as expected, Ashley gasps as if she is surprised that too was expected. Seth merely stares. I am sure he is counting up the sum total for his services right now. I am getting raped by my lawyer. Someone call 911.
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Dancing with Myself[/b]
2/22/2012, 3:12pm
It f~cking happened.
I am in shock. I mean I knew that it could happen. I guess I just didn’t give it much weight. I wish I would have. It wouldn’t have changed anything. I would still be in the same position I am now. I would still have lost him. I knew what happened; I knew how people would perceive it. How else are they supposed to? I will fight to show the truth but honestly…the truth doesn’t paint me in any better of a light. I just hoped that somehow lady luck would want some Kyzer dick and in return would let some things be over looked. Well if she wanted a booty call, she didn’t call me.
I lost him.
This is something that I don’t know how to deal with. I have never been in this position. I am the one who got f~cked in an uncomfortable place. I look around my life now. It is a complete disaster. Not that I have ever had it together, I am not normally so mired in sh~t. This is not how it is supposed to be. Normally despite the outside hurricanes around me, I am all together inside. That isn’t the case anymore. Something is different.
I am not myself….
When did Michael Kyzer start caring about other people? Apparently it was sometime between his son being dropped on his doorstep and Child Protective Services taking him away to put him in foster care. So where do we find the King Kyzer now? I slumped on the floor of my kitchen staring at a needle while wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing. It isn’t where I pictured myself either. But ever since that bitch slit her wrists open in my bathroom and stained me with her blood, my life has been a sh~t storm.
That f~cking **** couldn’t have just walked into traffic.
The last ten days have been the longest. Kylie kills herself to start off everything. After sleeping away another, I hit the last highlight of my life when Drakz and I had some fun at a douchebag’s expense. But then, it just went downhill. The bad publicity came just as Seth said it would. I have had the WFWF calling me nonstop. Both I ignored. But being the focal point of two separate criminal investigations brings a little stress and heat. It is the type of heat that makes it a little too dangerous to get hold of narcotics through the usual means, so I am forced to settle for something I don’t necessarily want. I stare down at the two needles I have prepared before me. I can feel the pull from them but I resist.
I just need a moment to myself.
I close my eyes and breathe in. I can feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. I can feel the eyes of everyone on me as they wait for me to fall. I can feel them cheer against me. I can see their disgust for me. I can see Mini Kyzer’s face. He is crying as the lady takes him away. He doesn’t understand what is going on. I can only stand there a mess as Ashley tries to console me. The only thing I want to console me, I can’t have because of the eyes of the police. I relive that moment over and over again. I can feel me becoming something that I am not.
I am becoming a loser.
I can feel myself drifting into self-loathing. I am Michael Kyzer, I don’t hate myself. But that is exactly how I feel right now. F~ck.
F~ck.
I breathe out. I still feel it all; I can still see burdens that I carry. Should I just resign myself to what appears to be my fate? Should I just go ahead and lay down for Phil? What is wrong with me? I can’t even come up with something more clever than Phil right there in my own thoughts. I am lost. I have hit bottom.
Where has happened to Michael Kyzer?
The idea that maybe the hobo poisoned me and that is why all this bad sh~t is going on pops in mind. I dismiss it almost immediately. He would have to do more than just poison me and he isn’t intelligent enough to put together something so elaborate. But if he didn’t do this then who did? One of my enemies has to have put together this ploy to watch me crumble. Nothing else makes sense. But who is smart enough to this?
Reverend Shadow?
I don’t think it would be him. I thought he was off molesting children in some third world impoverished country but I could be wrong. I think he is too much of a bitch to ever show his face around me again.
EBR?
I quickly dismiss him. This is too subtle for him. He has to be in the spotlight. He is the only one with as big an ego as me. Plus I don’t think there are enough hard feelings for him to expend this much effort from retirement. He is a lazy f~ck.
Alex Sean? He is an angry kid most of the time.
I did have some digs thrown his way when I returned. But he didn’t acknowledge me or my return. F~ck him. His ego is too f~cked from EBR’s cock for him to come back out in the world.
Trace? Or Ace?
I am thinking that Trace needs to be concentrating on Drakz if he wants to keep his bunghole tight. Ace? He falls into that too dumb to get the job done.
Who do that leave?
No one of relevance.
Who do I blame then?
I ask the question aloud as it echoes in my head. I have to find someone to blame. It can’t be my fault. That isn’t how this game is played. That isn’t the way it works. I guess it only makes sense. I am so awesome that I am brought down by my own self-destructive behavior.
I feel like we have heard this story before.
I came into the WFWF riding the needle. I separated myself from it some time ago. I gave up chasing the dragon, it became boring I suppose. Now it sits before me. I couldn’t get my hands on anything else. This is my only escape from this burning paradise. I feel anxious, nervous. Maybe it is because it has been so long or maybe it is that little voice in the back my head saying that this isn’t the way to deal with my situation. I think a brief moment and grab the needle. I feel it pierce my skin. It actually gives me goose bumps. I push on the syringe and feel it enter my veins. Within seconds I feel my burdens lifted. I drop the needle on the floor next to me. The WFWF World Champion slips into unconsciousness on his kitchen floor. It is a sight to make you proud.
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Don’t You (Forget About Me)[/u]
It is hot. I open my eyes to the bright sun. I have no idea where I am, I feel like I am in a park. It feels like a park. I sit up and look around. It is a park. I am laying under the brutal sun in a small grassy area near some basketball courts. Kids mill around doing what kids do. I fail to see any adults around. I can’t remember anything but I know who I am. Does that make any sense? As I get adjusted to my surrounding and grab my bearings, a butterfly flutters through the air and comes to a stop on my knee. I watch it for a minute as it rests its wings. It is pretty.
Michael:[/b]I feel like you are familiar to me. I know that is a funny thing to say to a butterfly but you do.
I realize how ridiculous it seems for me to be talking to a butterfly. I look around and none of the kids are paying attention to me. I glance back down at the butterfly on my knee. That strike of familiarity hits me again as I watch it. I turn my attention away. There are a few kids playing basketball nearby, a few more sitting around some benches under some nearby trees. Then something catches my attention. There is this dirty fat kid sitting under a tree. He is wearing what was once a shabby duster despite the heat. He has on dirty jeans and …
Michael:[/b]Who the f~ck wears Airwalks anymore?
This dirty fat kid who is cooking like a ham in a sh~tty duster is wearing Airwalks. Have I slipped into a parallel dimension? For some reason the fat kid holds my attention. He is playing in the dirt with something but I can’t see from here what it is. I don’t know why but this kid has got my attention. I have this feeling about him.
Michael:[/b]I feel like I am supposed to hate this kid.
I look down at the butterfly as if I wanted a response or something. He just flaps his wings.
Michael:[/b]I almost want to kick him in his second chin.
I am probably being generous calling this kid fat. He is beyond the cute funny fat stage and is in the area gross oily fat stage. You can tell that it will be a long time before this kid loses his virginity. I pity the grenade he jumps on. The pity goes out the window as I continue to watch this waste of life. Everything about this fat disgusting sh~t angers me as I sit here with the butterfly on my knee. I look down at the little guy; he continues to flap his wings. I feel like I can feel the stare of the butterfly on me. I know it is weird to think that you could feel the stare of a butterfly but it feels like it is looking into my soul. As if it was examining every decision I have made, see every bad thing that I have done, like it was judging me.
Michael:[/b]F~ck you.
He doesn’t seem to recognize my curse. Why am I expecting to hold a conversation with a butterfly?
Michael:[/b]Why am I talking to you?
Because I am losing my mind, I shake my head trying to free it of nonsense. My gaze focuses on the fat dirty kid again. The more I watch this kid waste the gift god gave him, the more I want to end his life. I really want to commit acts of violence against this kid. It is a completely irrational hatred, but it is there. I find my standing up causing the butterfly to take flight. It lands on my shoulder. I glance over at it. Before I know it I have swung my hand and smashed it on my shoulder. I guess my disgust for this kid is causing me to take it out on a poor defenseless butterfly. F~ck the hippies out there who would care.
Michael:[/b]My bad.
I shrug it off and without a second thought I focus again on the kid. I begin walking closer and can make out what he is playing with in the dirt. They look like dolls but they are furry. He sees me walking towards and stops. He pushes himself to his feet with his fat stubby arms. It would probably be amusing if I was so disgusted by him. Fat kids are supposed to inspire laughter and humor, not anger, homicidal urges and contempt for everyone around. I stop as I am now standing in front of him. I look down at my feet and finally see what he was playing with.
Michael:[/b]What the hell? Are those hamsters?
He smiles big like an idiot and puffs out his chest. Snot is dripping from his nose, dandruff litters his duster and a rather foul odor emits from him. This is kid is the picture of disgusting.
Fatkid:[/b] They are my wrestlers. I made them.
Did he say he made them? I kneel down to take a closer look but refrain from actually picking one up. From what I can tell they look like stuffed hamsters. Who in their right mind taxidermies a hamster? And then does it to about twenty others and makes them wrestle? I stand back up completely at a loss as to how I should react to this. I didn’t expect this when I was pondering different ways I could smash his face in.
Fatkid:[/b] You like them? I killed and stuffed them myself.
What?
Michael:[/b]What?
Did he say that he killed and stuffed the hamsters himself? That is kind of disturbing, but then again, if you were to look at this kid, it wouldn’t be that surprising. It probably isn’t even the biggest issue that this freak has.
Fatkid:[/b] I made them. And then made them wrestle.
This is disturbing.
Fatkid:[/b] What’s your name? Mine is Phil.
Why does that name sound so familiar to me?
Fatkid:[/b] I don’t have many friends.
Michael:[/b]No surprise there.
Didn’t necessarily mean to say that out loud but I’ll go with it. I think I hear him grunt towards me.
Fatkid Phil:[/b] What do you mean?
Why do I have such hatred towards this filthy urchin?
Michael:[/b]I mean it is no surprise you have no friends. Look at you.
Seriously, look at yourself. You should be ashamed that you look the way you do.
Michael:[/b]You are a troll kid. You should do something about that. And who the f~ck plays with stuffed hamsters?
He kicks me in the shin and spits in my face. I am taken back by his brazen attitude. He grunts, turns and waddles as fast as he can from me. I think I can hear him crying in between the grunting.
Michael:[/b]Assh~le
I stand there holding my shin. I was not expecting that in the slightest. Had he not caught me off guard like that I would probably be locked up for murder. Just go ahead and add that to the list of crimes I have recently committed. I can’t believe he did that. What a little sh~t. I finally regain myself after being caught off guard. I look around for that bastard as I have every intention of doing the same to him. I walk around the tree and nearly collide with a woman. I stop dead in my tracks.
Michael:[/b]Kylie?
I don’t know why I say that name. I don’t recognize the woman at all. She stands before me in surprise also. We just stare at each other for a moment. Her dark hair and light skin gives her an almost exotic quality, but you can tell that she is one of those bimbo-ish chicks. She smiles slightly at me. It is almost one of those ‘f~ck me’ smiles, but I have been wrong before. She coyly touches my arm, it is like ice. Her touch is cold and stiff, almost like how a corpse feels. I can feel the goose bumps rise on my arm, I pull my arm back out of her deathly embrace.
Kylie:[/b] What’s wrong Michael? Don’t like my touch anymore?
Who is this crazy bitch? How does she know my name? I take a step back, she smiles and steps in. It is almost like she is trying to rape me. I feel like I should protect myself in a situation when a corpse knows who I am and wants to split me open sexually. I backpedal from her.
Michael:[/b]Necrophilia and rape do not mix. This is some sh~tty karma here.
I stumble over something and hit the dirt. I can see the tail of a duster in my peripheral vision. Suddenly a foot connects with my face and I see the Fatkid Phil standing over me. Kylie is still coming towards me also. I think quickly as the fat ass grunts and attempts another kick. I roll out of the way and grab a nearby branch. I swing and it connects with the troll’s fat roll. It rips it open and chimichangas fall out into the dirt. I don’t even bother to try and figure that one out as I turn towards my other foe. She is closing in when I connect the branch with her head. She crumples to the ground in a pile while her slut juice stains the ground. I hear a noise behind me and as I turn I hear the sound before I see it. I barely glimpse the hurtling potato before he slams into chest. I fall onto some slut juice as Fatkid Phil waddles over with a giant potato gun in hand. I have no idea where it came from as I didn’t see one earlier.
Fatkid Phil:[/b] You shouldn’t have been such a dick.
He points the gun at my face as he loads in another potato. I attempt to move but my chest has caved in and the slut juice has made the ground turn to mud. I am helpless. This is how I go out? I get shot in the face by a potato gun? A disgusting troll of a child gets the best of me? This is absolutely pathetic. I close my eyes and resign myself to fate on this hot day.
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Rebel Yell
2/25/2012, 12:13am
The pounding of house music rattles in my head. My eyes open and I see a drink glass before me. I lift my head up to people partying, dancing, drinking and enjoying themselves. Judging what I know about this type of scene I would say that I am at a club. I can’t explain though why I am at a club, or where I was in particular. I search my memories as to how I got here. I can’t remember. The last thing I recall is sitting on my kitchen floor and staring at the needle. Everything else…it is a fog.
DJ Signus:[/b] This is DJ Signus on the 1’s and 2’s and X’s and O’s or something.
I look around and find myself in what looks like a VIP booth. At least I am rolling in style while blacked out. I have no idea of what time or day it is. I just sit here and try to collect my thoughts as everyone around me loses their inhibitions. Normally this would be my kind of party but I don’t know how I got here and find myself disoriented.
DJ Signus:[/b] I want to give it up for our special guests tonight, from the Jersey Shore…Snookie! And of professional wrestling and a renowned badass E-B-R!
Did I just hear that right? I can’t think as people explode over the announcement. Am I seriously at a club that is populated by someone from the Jersey Shore? Wow, this isn’t my kind of party. I find myself with the need to leave this douche factory now that I know it is a Guido fest. I am surrounded by people I hate. I think I may have another panic attack. I find myself too weak to stand up, that or I am still too stoned. I can’t figure it out and since I can’t remember anything I am finding myself in a bad situation. All of sudden a mob of juiceheads break out some fist pumping, I am finding myself falling into a depression that this has become what I do when I blackout on a binge. I went from waking up surrounded by promiscuous women to waking up in a Guido mating colony. Suddenly a body burst forth from the sea of fist pumping cum receptacles. He dives into my booth and immediately starts looking around. I look over and feel like I know this guy from somewhere but I can’t put a name with a face.
Michael:[/b]Excuse me?
He turns and his expression registers shock.
Guy:[/b] Kyzer?
Michael:[/b]Do I know you?
He looks at me as if I am a moron or something. Where do I know him from?
Guy:[/b] Seriously? You are f~cking with me right?
I am not sir.
Michael:[/b]I am not sir. Honestly I don’t even know where I am, kind of lost track of the last few…what day is it?
He just stares at me. It is as if he is trying to figure out if I am serious or not.
Guy:[/b] You have to be kidding me. I know that you thing is doing drugs and being a narcissist but seriously how do you not recognize me?
Finally it hits me. I hate this place even more.
Michael:[/b]EBR…so I guess I can assume I am in Miami? Isn’t that where you retired to?
EBR:[/B] Well I lived here before I retired.
Fantastic, I am now sitting here with a guy whose last match was against me. A guy I guess I could claim I sent into retirement. I am tired ragged to be arrogant though. He begins looking around again as if he is on the lookout for someone.
Michael:[/b]Paranoid much?
EBR:[/B] It is just that I have a spray tanned horned up hooker from the Jersey Shore that keeps trying to get me to smush her.
Michael:[/b]Smush? You speak Guido now?
EBR:[/B] I do some club appearances now and then, you know got to eat and all. And those appearances are usually at places filled with people like this, things slip into my vernacular.
Satisfied that she was going to sneak up on him, he turns towards me.
EBR:[/B] I suppose your company is better than getting raped by an Oompa-Loompa.
Michael:[/b]Are you sure you can stomach being around the guy who ended your career? You’re superior?
He laughs.
EBR:[/B] Superior? I have James Woods IQ 170 bitch. You were just the guy who took advantage of the situation. Right place, right time. I mean, it was bound to happen, karma and all. You just the chicken hawk that actually did it.
I have to concede to that. I was in the right place, right time. As far as superior goes…
Michael:[/b]I may have picked off the injured champ but I guess we will never know if you are the superior one since you are no longer wrestling.
He stares at me with a slight grin on his face, he is telling me to eat sh~t. I can still see that ego that was EBR in there. But he has been reduced to this, club appearances and entertaining bottom feeders that I wouldn’t be seen with. I can only feel that this may be hell. The mighty have fallen.
EBR:[/B] I would have done the same thing, actually I did.
Is he accusing me of copying him?
Michael:[/b]So you like this life?
I wave my arm out towards the thong of walking STDs.
EBR:[/B] You do what you got to do. How do you explain your presence here? I know that you and I never really hung out but I was aware of the type of people you tend to associate with and these are not them.
I can only laugh as I am sitting here having a conversation with the last man I thought I would see again, except maybe Alex Sean. He just looks at me. He probably thinks I am high. Maybe I am high and this is all a dream. That would make more sense than the reality of it. I try to get my thoughts together as I feel like I am all over the place.
Michael:[/b]It is a long tale that I don’t really know all the parts to.
I doubt he gives a f~ck. He is probably just humoring me. Why would EBR humor me? Maybe he is sad and suicidal? Is he going to kill himself on my watch too? Am I going to see ZomBR next time I trip balls?
Michael:[/b]Actually since I beat you everything has been chaos in the world of Kyzer.
He doesn’t say anything. I am having a hard time deciphering his thoughts or body language. I continue.
Michael:[/b]I’ll skip over the boring sh~t and go where Obo’s bottom bitch came to me in hopes that I would train her.
EBR:[/B] Who?
Michael:[/b]It’s no one relevant.
EBR:[/B] I bet she overdosed. I have been there. I could have told you how to avoid that one.
Michael:[/b]Nothing like that, she just killed herself.
He seems taken back. I guess I threw him a curve ball right there.
EBR:[/B] She JUST killed herself? You say that so nonchalantly.
Michael:[/b]I really just don’t care. I mean, the strong survive right? Survival of the fittest? Is that not what evolution is James Woods?
EBR:[/B] I mean yeah, but you just say it so lackadaisical that it makes me wonder if you are psychopath. I saw an episode of House once about psychopaths.
A psychopath? I have heard worse things I guess.
Michael:[/b]Do you care about every tramp that has something bad happen to them?
EBR:[/B] I see your logic now. So it sounds like you have been through some real sh~t. Well, let me tell you a story about my life and see if you can relate it to your situation. One time I was at this whore house with Alex and while I was about to stick to some of the best p~ssy you could pay for, Alex OD’ed. Being the badass that I am I raced him to the hospital without letting anything stop me or slow me down. Then the doctors told me that I saved his life. Do you know what it is like to save someone’s life? It makes you feel awesome, then that person betrays you. Or at least you think that…
I feel the need to stop him as I have an idea as to where this is going.
Michael:[/b]You can stop. I know this story and it doesn’t really translate.
He thinks for a moment and just shrugs.
EBR:[/B] Then I’ve got nothing.
Wise words from the man who used to dominate the WFWF while I take a vacation.
Michael:[/b]It’s good. I just need to get my sh~t together before I end you like you, just another cautionary tale.
EBR:[/B] That would probably be good. You would probably have more bastard children down here with some Guidettes.
He probably speaks truth. I look around me. I am actually afraid that this could be my future. I don’t want to be like EBR.
Michael:[/b]I don’t want to be like you. Ever since I won that title off of you everything has gotten caught up in a tornado. Tornados aren’t fun when you are caught up in it. Apparently it has brought me to Miami. What is the date?
EBR:[/B] It’s the 25th.
Michael:[/b]I have lost 3 days of my life.
EBR:[/B] Maybe you need to learn how to handle you sh~t. I never blacked out.
Did he just tell me to ‘handle my sh~t’? Since when do I get advice on how to be a good junkie from EBR?
EBR:[/B] Bitch.
Yep. And when I don’t think there is another bottom I can hit, I find it. Suddenly EBR catches glimpse of the troll who has been stalking him.
EBR:[/B] Yeah…it’s been real.
And he is gone as if he was magical. I am left alone in my booth in hell. A shiver goes down my spine. I am older than him. I could end up falling a lot further than him and his life frightens me. Is this the path I want to go down? All this sh~t needs to get resolved. I need to get my affairs in order and restore some balance to my life. First I need to get the f~ck out of Miami and to Tokyo so I can beat the sh~t out of Phillip Schneider. I dread getting out of the booth and wading into the suntan sea. I hold my breath and dive in hoping for a quick escape.
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I have a lot things going on in my life right now. There is chaos I need to bring order to and there are situations that need solutions. Everything is of my own making; I am not going to shoulder the blame anymore. I have tried to pass it on but I can’t. My ego didn’t want to take the shot that I could possibly be at fault for my recent troubles but now it is beyond that.
We have transcended into survival mode. I am looking at some serious predicaments in my personal life. I am smart enough and wise enough to put my ego away…sometimes.
But before I can address anything, I have a more immediate need.
I have to murder a Jew in Tokyo.
That pretty much sums it up.
Obo, you stand in my way. Why? Because you think you should be champion? Or that you deserve the spot that I have? Is it out of jealousy that you stand before me trying to bring me down? Why Obo do you try to bring me to the level of the masses?
You and I both know that isn’t where I belong.
I belong where I am. I am on top; I am the one everyone wants.
Over the years I have become accustomed to moments like this, being the one that is hunted. It brings with it its fair share of entertainment. But I am the type of person who thrives like this. I love it. I want to be watching from above while they claw for scraps. I want them to devise plans to try and topple me. I want them to bring everything. I want everyone to come at me. The bigger the spotlight the better, the more attention the better, I want everyone’s focus.
I will use you, Obo, to get that.
When I publicly execute you in Tokyo, when I leave you broken and dead in the ring, everyone will take notice. They will understand that Kyzer being champion isn’t a fluke, that I am THE GUY.
I am better than you, Obo. You know this. I know this. I have already pointed this out and given multiple examples. I won’t rehash the topic but the thing we learn from that is what?
You won’t beat me.
You can’t beat me.
When the day comes that I am to be parted with this championship, it won’t be by your doing. YOU will not be the one to take me down. I won’t allow such a ludicrous thing to happen. You may be have been the King of Gore at one time, but I am The God of F~ck…
And Your Stoned Messiah…
The Addict’s Icon…
The King of Excess…
I could go on. I know that everyone has their little collection of nicknames. Mine raise the hair on your arm though. Whenever they are whispered they cause you to get a mini erection in your pants. It is okay. I get a hard on when I say Michael Kyzer.
The odds are against you Obo. This looks like one of those situations where people will be rooting for the underdog. Except that underdog is you and you are unlikable. It is hard to get behind someone when you want to throw a brick at their face. Your apathetic nihilistic approach to everything except this profession turns people away.
That would be why your marriage failed, why Kylie left you, why Percy left you, and why you will die alone.
March 2, 2012. Death of a Hobo named Obo. Killed by a God name Michael. It was f~cking epic.
2/12/2012, 6:57pm
I stare at her while I lean against the car. She is lying motionlessly. There is a blue tint to her lips, the type that you typically see in a corpse. It would make sense since she committed suicide. She was young, cute and completely crushed emotionally and mentally. I don’t remember the last conversation I had with her. Apparently it wasn’t important enough in my drug addled state to recognize it as something I should remember. But the officer wants to know. Should I just tell him that I have been up for 3 days doing blow and treating her like a sex worker? I don’t think that would do me any favors. Drakz is off to the side with his own officer. I come back home and find all this. Thanks Ashley for trusting me that I would remember that you were bringing back Gavin. I have some choice words for her for her poor judgment.
Officer:[/b] So you have no clue as to why she would be upset enough to go and cut her wrists open in your bathtub?
He looks at me. I can see that he doesn’t believe anything that comes out of my mouth. Just go ahead and hate on the junkie, that’s cool. It is socially acceptable. I don’t say anything for a minute. I think back trying to remember what conversation I had with Kylie that led to this. I don’t have a clue.
Michael:[/b]I am sorry buddy. I don’t have any idea. She was always happy and cheery around me.
I give him a wink, as if to give the impression that she loved my dick and we are both guys so now give me some props. He scowls. I wonder if he knows the other two nimrods investigating that fire. I am sure they gossip like a bunch of f~cking high school girls about the scumbags they arrest and harass.
Officer:[/b] I am not your buddy. I am an officer of the law. Show some respect.
Michael:[/b]Yes sir.
I am sarcastic but he doesn’t seem to notice. I glance over at Drakz. He is very calmly answering the questions of the officer talking to him. He is completely composed. He hasn’t been on a binge that has worn him down to nearly nothing. All I want to do in crawl into my bed and sleep for two days.
Officer:[/b] What do you know about the drugs?
What drugs is this douche talking about? Doesn’t he realize who he is talking to? I don’t know what specific drug he is talking about but I am sure even in my extremely fatigued state that telling him that would be a mistake. Feigning ignorance seems like the right move here.
Michael:[/b]I don’t know what you are talking about.
He stares at me for a second.
Officer:[/b] You look like a junkie. I am pretty sure you do know what I am talking about.
I know I do. I don’t appreciate you pointing that out. I take pride in my appearance. This is not one of my finest moments.
Michael:[/b]I have been up working, traveling and whatnot. I am a professional wrestler. I have been up late setting up new offices. I apologize if you mistake that for looking like a junkie. I will go ahead and forgive the King County Police for jumping the gun with the asinine assumption that you had.
I am proud I am still managing to rattle off something somewhat intelligent. My mind is mush right now. He doesn’t seem to appreciate it so much.
Officer:[/b] I make the calls based on the experience I have accumulated doing this for so long. And now I think you are lying to me. Ms. Olsen was found in the presence of a significant amount of cocaine. But we also found marijuana…
Michael:[/b]I got a card for that.
Officer:[/b] painkillers, muscle relaxers and anti-anxiety pills. Do you have scripts for those too?
Michael:[/b]Of course. I am a professional wrestler. We take bumps and sh~t. I hurt afterwards. It also has to do with me getting old in this business. I have to rely on those to get through day sometimes.
Seth:[/b] If you have any more questions for my client you can direct them towards me.
The silk tongued dragon of Seattle…I am happy to see him walk up as I receive the third degree here. He is dapper in his custom suit. He is the man who saves Michael Kyzer. He hands his hard card to the officer who merely glances at it and back at me.
Officer:[/b] Mr. Kyzer, I will be in touch.
He walks off to consult with the officer who had just finished up with Drakz. Seth just stands beside me as we watch them load up Kylie. The officers talk to each other for another minute and like that, they are all gone along with Kylie Olsen. Drakz walks over to us as does Ashley. She looks over at her brother, my lawyer Seth. She must have been the one to call him. Seth and I go far back and he isn’t a big fan of mine. But he loves money and he loves his sister who implored him to continue to represent me as she figured I would need help. There are some advantages to having quite possibly the nicest person in the world in love with you.
Ashley:[/b] What the f~ck Michael? Your son was in the house when I found her. Thank god, I got him out of here before the police arrived. He would have been taken away.
Seth:[/b] He still can.
I look towards Seth. That wasn’t something that had occurred to me. I have been so wrapped up in my selfishness that I forgot all about Mini Kyzer. I actually find myself feeling concerned about the little guy. No concern whatsoever about Kylie, but my son, it is a different story.
Seth:[/b] With Callista missing, you are Gavin’s only parental unit. If the police want, they can call social services and this coupled with the arson investigation, Gavin’s gone.
My heart literally hurts. I blame the cocaine.
Drakz:[/b] That is f~cked.
Leave it up to Drakz to state the obvious and break the awkwardness of him being here for this. He isn’t normally associated with this part of things. Right place, wrong time or something.
Seth:[/b] It really isn’t going to look good when that Rolling Stone article hits the nespamtands right after a girl you admittedly used committed suicide. This is the worst kind of publicity for you. You want to be the most reviled man in America, then you got it.
I am speechless. I am so tired. All I want is my bed. All three continue to look at me. What do they want me to say? They want me to tell them that I don’t feel responsible for this? I doubt that would make anyone happy, it would probably make Drakz laugh though. They don’t want to know how cold-hearted I feel over this. They want a man who shows some signs of a conscience and guilt that a girl killed herself after reading in a national magazine that she was merely being used like a whore. As I summed it, I didn’t produce one shred of guilt or even interest towards her and HER situation. F~ck Kylie. This is her problem, not mine.
Michael:[/b]F~ck this. I am going to sleep.
Drakz laughs as expected, Ashley gasps as if she is surprised that too was expected. Seth merely stares. I am sure he is counting up the sum total for his services right now. I am getting raped by my lawyer. Someone call 911.
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Dancing with Myself[/b]
2/22/2012, 3:12pm
It f~cking happened.
I am in shock. I mean I knew that it could happen. I guess I just didn’t give it much weight. I wish I would have. It wouldn’t have changed anything. I would still be in the same position I am now. I would still have lost him. I knew what happened; I knew how people would perceive it. How else are they supposed to? I will fight to show the truth but honestly…the truth doesn’t paint me in any better of a light. I just hoped that somehow lady luck would want some Kyzer dick and in return would let some things be over looked. Well if she wanted a booty call, she didn’t call me.
I lost him.
This is something that I don’t know how to deal with. I have never been in this position. I am the one who got f~cked in an uncomfortable place. I look around my life now. It is a complete disaster. Not that I have ever had it together, I am not normally so mired in sh~t. This is not how it is supposed to be. Normally despite the outside hurricanes around me, I am all together inside. That isn’t the case anymore. Something is different.
I am not myself….
When did Michael Kyzer start caring about other people? Apparently it was sometime between his son being dropped on his doorstep and Child Protective Services taking him away to put him in foster care. So where do we find the King Kyzer now? I slumped on the floor of my kitchen staring at a needle while wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing. It isn’t where I pictured myself either. But ever since that bitch slit her wrists open in my bathroom and stained me with her blood, my life has been a sh~t storm.
That f~cking **** couldn’t have just walked into traffic.
The last ten days have been the longest. Kylie kills herself to start off everything. After sleeping away another, I hit the last highlight of my life when Drakz and I had some fun at a douchebag’s expense. But then, it just went downhill. The bad publicity came just as Seth said it would. I have had the WFWF calling me nonstop. Both I ignored. But being the focal point of two separate criminal investigations brings a little stress and heat. It is the type of heat that makes it a little too dangerous to get hold of narcotics through the usual means, so I am forced to settle for something I don’t necessarily want. I stare down at the two needles I have prepared before me. I can feel the pull from them but I resist.
I just need a moment to myself.
I close my eyes and breathe in. I can feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. I can feel the eyes of everyone on me as they wait for me to fall. I can feel them cheer against me. I can see their disgust for me. I can see Mini Kyzer’s face. He is crying as the lady takes him away. He doesn’t understand what is going on. I can only stand there a mess as Ashley tries to console me. The only thing I want to console me, I can’t have because of the eyes of the police. I relive that moment over and over again. I can feel me becoming something that I am not.
I am becoming a loser.
I can feel myself drifting into self-loathing. I am Michael Kyzer, I don’t hate myself. But that is exactly how I feel right now. F~ck.
F~ck.
I breathe out. I still feel it all; I can still see burdens that I carry. Should I just resign myself to what appears to be my fate? Should I just go ahead and lay down for Phil? What is wrong with me? I can’t even come up with something more clever than Phil right there in my own thoughts. I am lost. I have hit bottom.
Where has happened to Michael Kyzer?
The idea that maybe the hobo poisoned me and that is why all this bad sh~t is going on pops in mind. I dismiss it almost immediately. He would have to do more than just poison me and he isn’t intelligent enough to put together something so elaborate. But if he didn’t do this then who did? One of my enemies has to have put together this ploy to watch me crumble. Nothing else makes sense. But who is smart enough to this?
Reverend Shadow?
I don’t think it would be him. I thought he was off molesting children in some third world impoverished country but I could be wrong. I think he is too much of a bitch to ever show his face around me again.
EBR?
I quickly dismiss him. This is too subtle for him. He has to be in the spotlight. He is the only one with as big an ego as me. Plus I don’t think there are enough hard feelings for him to expend this much effort from retirement. He is a lazy f~ck.
Alex Sean? He is an angry kid most of the time.
I did have some digs thrown his way when I returned. But he didn’t acknowledge me or my return. F~ck him. His ego is too f~cked from EBR’s cock for him to come back out in the world.
Trace? Or Ace?
I am thinking that Trace needs to be concentrating on Drakz if he wants to keep his bunghole tight. Ace? He falls into that too dumb to get the job done.
Who do that leave?
No one of relevance.
Who do I blame then?
I ask the question aloud as it echoes in my head. I have to find someone to blame. It can’t be my fault. That isn’t how this game is played. That isn’t the way it works. I guess it only makes sense. I am so awesome that I am brought down by my own self-destructive behavior.
I feel like we have heard this story before.
I came into the WFWF riding the needle. I separated myself from it some time ago. I gave up chasing the dragon, it became boring I suppose. Now it sits before me. I couldn’t get my hands on anything else. This is my only escape from this burning paradise. I feel anxious, nervous. Maybe it is because it has been so long or maybe it is that little voice in the back my head saying that this isn’t the way to deal with my situation. I think a brief moment and grab the needle. I feel it pierce my skin. It actually gives me goose bumps. I push on the syringe and feel it enter my veins. Within seconds I feel my burdens lifted. I drop the needle on the floor next to me. The WFWF World Champion slips into unconsciousness on his kitchen floor. It is a sight to make you proud.
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Don’t You (Forget About Me)[/u]
It is hot. I open my eyes to the bright sun. I have no idea where I am, I feel like I am in a park. It feels like a park. I sit up and look around. It is a park. I am laying under the brutal sun in a small grassy area near some basketball courts. Kids mill around doing what kids do. I fail to see any adults around. I can’t remember anything but I know who I am. Does that make any sense? As I get adjusted to my surrounding and grab my bearings, a butterfly flutters through the air and comes to a stop on my knee. I watch it for a minute as it rests its wings. It is pretty.
Michael:[/b]I feel like you are familiar to me. I know that is a funny thing to say to a butterfly but you do.
I realize how ridiculous it seems for me to be talking to a butterfly. I look around and none of the kids are paying attention to me. I glance back down at the butterfly on my knee. That strike of familiarity hits me again as I watch it. I turn my attention away. There are a few kids playing basketball nearby, a few more sitting around some benches under some nearby trees. Then something catches my attention. There is this dirty fat kid sitting under a tree. He is wearing what was once a shabby duster despite the heat. He has on dirty jeans and …
Michael:[/b]Who the f~ck wears Airwalks anymore?
This dirty fat kid who is cooking like a ham in a sh~tty duster is wearing Airwalks. Have I slipped into a parallel dimension? For some reason the fat kid holds my attention. He is playing in the dirt with something but I can’t see from here what it is. I don’t know why but this kid has got my attention. I have this feeling about him.
Michael:[/b]I feel like I am supposed to hate this kid.
I look down at the butterfly as if I wanted a response or something. He just flaps his wings.
Michael:[/b]I almost want to kick him in his second chin.
I am probably being generous calling this kid fat. He is beyond the cute funny fat stage and is in the area gross oily fat stage. You can tell that it will be a long time before this kid loses his virginity. I pity the grenade he jumps on. The pity goes out the window as I continue to watch this waste of life. Everything about this fat disgusting sh~t angers me as I sit here with the butterfly on my knee. I look down at the little guy; he continues to flap his wings. I feel like I can feel the stare of the butterfly on me. I know it is weird to think that you could feel the stare of a butterfly but it feels like it is looking into my soul. As if it was examining every decision I have made, see every bad thing that I have done, like it was judging me.
Michael:[/b]F~ck you.
He doesn’t seem to recognize my curse. Why am I expecting to hold a conversation with a butterfly?
Michael:[/b]Why am I talking to you?
Because I am losing my mind, I shake my head trying to free it of nonsense. My gaze focuses on the fat dirty kid again. The more I watch this kid waste the gift god gave him, the more I want to end his life. I really want to commit acts of violence against this kid. It is a completely irrational hatred, but it is there. I find my standing up causing the butterfly to take flight. It lands on my shoulder. I glance over at it. Before I know it I have swung my hand and smashed it on my shoulder. I guess my disgust for this kid is causing me to take it out on a poor defenseless butterfly. F~ck the hippies out there who would care.
Michael:[/b]My bad.
I shrug it off and without a second thought I focus again on the kid. I begin walking closer and can make out what he is playing with in the dirt. They look like dolls but they are furry. He sees me walking towards and stops. He pushes himself to his feet with his fat stubby arms. It would probably be amusing if I was so disgusted by him. Fat kids are supposed to inspire laughter and humor, not anger, homicidal urges and contempt for everyone around. I stop as I am now standing in front of him. I look down at my feet and finally see what he was playing with.
Michael:[/b]What the hell? Are those hamsters?
He smiles big like an idiot and puffs out his chest. Snot is dripping from his nose, dandruff litters his duster and a rather foul odor emits from him. This is kid is the picture of disgusting.
Fatkid:[/b] They are my wrestlers. I made them.
Did he say he made them? I kneel down to take a closer look but refrain from actually picking one up. From what I can tell they look like stuffed hamsters. Who in their right mind taxidermies a hamster? And then does it to about twenty others and makes them wrestle? I stand back up completely at a loss as to how I should react to this. I didn’t expect this when I was pondering different ways I could smash his face in.
Fatkid:[/b] You like them? I killed and stuffed them myself.
What?
Michael:[/b]What?
Did he say that he killed and stuffed the hamsters himself? That is kind of disturbing, but then again, if you were to look at this kid, it wouldn’t be that surprising. It probably isn’t even the biggest issue that this freak has.
Fatkid:[/b] I made them. And then made them wrestle.
This is disturbing.
Fatkid:[/b] What’s your name? Mine is Phil.
Why does that name sound so familiar to me?
Fatkid:[/b] I don’t have many friends.
Michael:[/b]No surprise there.
Didn’t necessarily mean to say that out loud but I’ll go with it. I think I hear him grunt towards me.
Fatkid Phil:[/b] What do you mean?
Why do I have such hatred towards this filthy urchin?
Michael:[/b]I mean it is no surprise you have no friends. Look at you.
Seriously, look at yourself. You should be ashamed that you look the way you do.
Michael:[/b]You are a troll kid. You should do something about that. And who the f~ck plays with stuffed hamsters?
He kicks me in the shin and spits in my face. I am taken back by his brazen attitude. He grunts, turns and waddles as fast as he can from me. I think I can hear him crying in between the grunting.
Michael:[/b]Assh~le
I stand there holding my shin. I was not expecting that in the slightest. Had he not caught me off guard like that I would probably be locked up for murder. Just go ahead and add that to the list of crimes I have recently committed. I can’t believe he did that. What a little sh~t. I finally regain myself after being caught off guard. I look around for that bastard as I have every intention of doing the same to him. I walk around the tree and nearly collide with a woman. I stop dead in my tracks.
Michael:[/b]Kylie?
I don’t know why I say that name. I don’t recognize the woman at all. She stands before me in surprise also. We just stare at each other for a moment. Her dark hair and light skin gives her an almost exotic quality, but you can tell that she is one of those bimbo-ish chicks. She smiles slightly at me. It is almost one of those ‘f~ck me’ smiles, but I have been wrong before. She coyly touches my arm, it is like ice. Her touch is cold and stiff, almost like how a corpse feels. I can feel the goose bumps rise on my arm, I pull my arm back out of her deathly embrace.
Kylie:[/b] What’s wrong Michael? Don’t like my touch anymore?
Who is this crazy bitch? How does she know my name? I take a step back, she smiles and steps in. It is almost like she is trying to rape me. I feel like I should protect myself in a situation when a corpse knows who I am and wants to split me open sexually. I backpedal from her.
Michael:[/b]Necrophilia and rape do not mix. This is some sh~tty karma here.
I stumble over something and hit the dirt. I can see the tail of a duster in my peripheral vision. Suddenly a foot connects with my face and I see the Fatkid Phil standing over me. Kylie is still coming towards me also. I think quickly as the fat ass grunts and attempts another kick. I roll out of the way and grab a nearby branch. I swing and it connects with the troll’s fat roll. It rips it open and chimichangas fall out into the dirt. I don’t even bother to try and figure that one out as I turn towards my other foe. She is closing in when I connect the branch with her head. She crumples to the ground in a pile while her slut juice stains the ground. I hear a noise behind me and as I turn I hear the sound before I see it. I barely glimpse the hurtling potato before he slams into chest. I fall onto some slut juice as Fatkid Phil waddles over with a giant potato gun in hand. I have no idea where it came from as I didn’t see one earlier.
Fatkid Phil:[/b] You shouldn’t have been such a dick.
He points the gun at my face as he loads in another potato. I attempt to move but my chest has caved in and the slut juice has made the ground turn to mud. I am helpless. This is how I go out? I get shot in the face by a potato gun? A disgusting troll of a child gets the best of me? This is absolutely pathetic. I close my eyes and resign myself to fate on this hot day.
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Rebel Yell
2/25/2012, 12:13am
The pounding of house music rattles in my head. My eyes open and I see a drink glass before me. I lift my head up to people partying, dancing, drinking and enjoying themselves. Judging what I know about this type of scene I would say that I am at a club. I can’t explain though why I am at a club, or where I was in particular. I search my memories as to how I got here. I can’t remember. The last thing I recall is sitting on my kitchen floor and staring at the needle. Everything else…it is a fog.
DJ Signus:[/b] This is DJ Signus on the 1’s and 2’s and X’s and O’s or something.
I look around and find myself in what looks like a VIP booth. At least I am rolling in style while blacked out. I have no idea of what time or day it is. I just sit here and try to collect my thoughts as everyone around me loses their inhibitions. Normally this would be my kind of party but I don’t know how I got here and find myself disoriented.
DJ Signus:[/b] I want to give it up for our special guests tonight, from the Jersey Shore…Snookie! And of professional wrestling and a renowned badass E-B-R!
Did I just hear that right? I can’t think as people explode over the announcement. Am I seriously at a club that is populated by someone from the Jersey Shore? Wow, this isn’t my kind of party. I find myself with the need to leave this douche factory now that I know it is a Guido fest. I am surrounded by people I hate. I think I may have another panic attack. I find myself too weak to stand up, that or I am still too stoned. I can’t figure it out and since I can’t remember anything I am finding myself in a bad situation. All of sudden a mob of juiceheads break out some fist pumping, I am finding myself falling into a depression that this has become what I do when I blackout on a binge. I went from waking up surrounded by promiscuous women to waking up in a Guido mating colony. Suddenly a body burst forth from the sea of fist pumping cum receptacles. He dives into my booth and immediately starts looking around. I look over and feel like I know this guy from somewhere but I can’t put a name with a face.
Michael:[/b]Excuse me?
He turns and his expression registers shock.
Guy:[/b] Kyzer?
Michael:[/b]Do I know you?
He looks at me as if I am a moron or something. Where do I know him from?
Guy:[/b] Seriously? You are f~cking with me right?
I am not sir.
Michael:[/b]I am not sir. Honestly I don’t even know where I am, kind of lost track of the last few…what day is it?
He just stares at me. It is as if he is trying to figure out if I am serious or not.
Guy:[/b] You have to be kidding me. I know that you thing is doing drugs and being a narcissist but seriously how do you not recognize me?
Finally it hits me. I hate this place even more.
Michael:[/b]EBR…so I guess I can assume I am in Miami? Isn’t that where you retired to?
EBR:[/B] Well I lived here before I retired.
Fantastic, I am now sitting here with a guy whose last match was against me. A guy I guess I could claim I sent into retirement. I am tired ragged to be arrogant though. He begins looking around again as if he is on the lookout for someone.
Michael:[/b]Paranoid much?
EBR:[/B] It is just that I have a spray tanned horned up hooker from the Jersey Shore that keeps trying to get me to smush her.
Michael:[/b]Smush? You speak Guido now?
EBR:[/B] I do some club appearances now and then, you know got to eat and all. And those appearances are usually at places filled with people like this, things slip into my vernacular.
Satisfied that she was going to sneak up on him, he turns towards me.
EBR:[/B] I suppose your company is better than getting raped by an Oompa-Loompa.
Michael:[/b]Are you sure you can stomach being around the guy who ended your career? You’re superior?
He laughs.
EBR:[/B] Superior? I have James Woods IQ 170 bitch. You were just the guy who took advantage of the situation. Right place, right time. I mean, it was bound to happen, karma and all. You just the chicken hawk that actually did it.
I have to concede to that. I was in the right place, right time. As far as superior goes…
Michael:[/b]I may have picked off the injured champ but I guess we will never know if you are the superior one since you are no longer wrestling.
He stares at me with a slight grin on his face, he is telling me to eat sh~t. I can still see that ego that was EBR in there. But he has been reduced to this, club appearances and entertaining bottom feeders that I wouldn’t be seen with. I can only feel that this may be hell. The mighty have fallen.
EBR:[/B] I would have done the same thing, actually I did.
Is he accusing me of copying him?
Michael:[/b]So you like this life?
I wave my arm out towards the thong of walking STDs.
EBR:[/B] You do what you got to do. How do you explain your presence here? I know that you and I never really hung out but I was aware of the type of people you tend to associate with and these are not them.
I can only laugh as I am sitting here having a conversation with the last man I thought I would see again, except maybe Alex Sean. He just looks at me. He probably thinks I am high. Maybe I am high and this is all a dream. That would make more sense than the reality of it. I try to get my thoughts together as I feel like I am all over the place.
Michael:[/b]It is a long tale that I don’t really know all the parts to.
I doubt he gives a f~ck. He is probably just humoring me. Why would EBR humor me? Maybe he is sad and suicidal? Is he going to kill himself on my watch too? Am I going to see ZomBR next time I trip balls?
Michael:[/b]Actually since I beat you everything has been chaos in the world of Kyzer.
He doesn’t say anything. I am having a hard time deciphering his thoughts or body language. I continue.
Michael:[/b]I’ll skip over the boring sh~t and go where Obo’s bottom bitch came to me in hopes that I would train her.
EBR:[/B] Who?
Michael:[/b]It’s no one relevant.
EBR:[/B] I bet she overdosed. I have been there. I could have told you how to avoid that one.
Michael:[/b]Nothing like that, she just killed herself.
He seems taken back. I guess I threw him a curve ball right there.
EBR:[/B] She JUST killed herself? You say that so nonchalantly.
Michael:[/b]I really just don’t care. I mean, the strong survive right? Survival of the fittest? Is that not what evolution is James Woods?
EBR:[/B] I mean yeah, but you just say it so lackadaisical that it makes me wonder if you are psychopath. I saw an episode of House once about psychopaths.
A psychopath? I have heard worse things I guess.
Michael:[/b]Do you care about every tramp that has something bad happen to them?
EBR:[/B] I see your logic now. So it sounds like you have been through some real sh~t. Well, let me tell you a story about my life and see if you can relate it to your situation. One time I was at this whore house with Alex and while I was about to stick to some of the best p~ssy you could pay for, Alex OD’ed. Being the badass that I am I raced him to the hospital without letting anything stop me or slow me down. Then the doctors told me that I saved his life. Do you know what it is like to save someone’s life? It makes you feel awesome, then that person betrays you. Or at least you think that…
I feel the need to stop him as I have an idea as to where this is going.
Michael:[/b]You can stop. I know this story and it doesn’t really translate.
He thinks for a moment and just shrugs.
EBR:[/B] Then I’ve got nothing.
Wise words from the man who used to dominate the WFWF while I take a vacation.
Michael:[/b]It’s good. I just need to get my sh~t together before I end you like you, just another cautionary tale.
EBR:[/B] That would probably be good. You would probably have more bastard children down here with some Guidettes.
He probably speaks truth. I look around me. I am actually afraid that this could be my future. I don’t want to be like EBR.
Michael:[/b]I don’t want to be like you. Ever since I won that title off of you everything has gotten caught up in a tornado. Tornados aren’t fun when you are caught up in it. Apparently it has brought me to Miami. What is the date?
EBR:[/B] It’s the 25th.
Michael:[/b]I have lost 3 days of my life.
EBR:[/B] Maybe you need to learn how to handle you sh~t. I never blacked out.
Did he just tell me to ‘handle my sh~t’? Since when do I get advice on how to be a good junkie from EBR?
EBR:[/B] Bitch.
Yep. And when I don’t think there is another bottom I can hit, I find it. Suddenly EBR catches glimpse of the troll who has been stalking him.
EBR:[/B] Yeah…it’s been real.
And he is gone as if he was magical. I am left alone in my booth in hell. A shiver goes down my spine. I am older than him. I could end up falling a lot further than him and his life frightens me. Is this the path I want to go down? All this sh~t needs to get resolved. I need to get my affairs in order and restore some balance to my life. First I need to get the f~ck out of Miami and to Tokyo so I can beat the sh~t out of Phillip Schneider. I dread getting out of the booth and wading into the suntan sea. I hold my breath and dive in hoping for a quick escape.
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I have a lot things going on in my life right now. There is chaos I need to bring order to and there are situations that need solutions. Everything is of my own making; I am not going to shoulder the blame anymore. I have tried to pass it on but I can’t. My ego didn’t want to take the shot that I could possibly be at fault for my recent troubles but now it is beyond that.
We have transcended into survival mode. I am looking at some serious predicaments in my personal life. I am smart enough and wise enough to put my ego away…sometimes.
But before I can address anything, I have a more immediate need.
I have to murder a Jew in Tokyo.
That pretty much sums it up.
Obo, you stand in my way. Why? Because you think you should be champion? Or that you deserve the spot that I have? Is it out of jealousy that you stand before me trying to bring me down? Why Obo do you try to bring me to the level of the masses?
You and I both know that isn’t where I belong.
I belong where I am. I am on top; I am the one everyone wants.
Over the years I have become accustomed to moments like this, being the one that is hunted. It brings with it its fair share of entertainment. But I am the type of person who thrives like this. I love it. I want to be watching from above while they claw for scraps. I want them to devise plans to try and topple me. I want them to bring everything. I want everyone to come at me. The bigger the spotlight the better, the more attention the better, I want everyone’s focus.
I will use you, Obo, to get that.
When I publicly execute you in Tokyo, when I leave you broken and dead in the ring, everyone will take notice. They will understand that Kyzer being champion isn’t a fluke, that I am THE GUY.
I am better than you, Obo. You know this. I know this. I have already pointed this out and given multiple examples. I won’t rehash the topic but the thing we learn from that is what?
You won’t beat me.
You can’t beat me.
When the day comes that I am to be parted with this championship, it won’t be by your doing. YOU will not be the one to take me down. I won’t allow such a ludicrous thing to happen. You may be have been the King of Gore at one time, but I am The God of F~ck…
And Your Stoned Messiah…
The Addict’s Icon…
The King of Excess…
I could go on. I know that everyone has their little collection of nicknames. Mine raise the hair on your arm though. Whenever they are whispered they cause you to get a mini erection in your pants. It is okay. I get a hard on when I say Michael Kyzer.
The odds are against you Obo. This looks like one of those situations where people will be rooting for the underdog. Except that underdog is you and you are unlikable. It is hard to get behind someone when you want to throw a brick at their face. Your apathetic nihilistic approach to everything except this profession turns people away.
That would be why your marriage failed, why Kylie left you, why Percy left you, and why you will die alone.
March 2, 2012. Death of a Hobo named Obo. Killed by a God name Michael. It was f~cking epic.
