Power Struggle RP: Another Fine Mess Nov 29, 2017 18:54:59 GMT -5
Post by King Richius on Nov 29, 2017 18:54:59 GMT -5
WFWF Power Struggle RP
Another Fine Mess
featuring “The Cleaner” Billy Broom
Another Fine Mess
featuring “The Cleaner” Billy Broom
The locker room feels completely different to me now that I’ve seen it from the other side.
As a janitor they all looked the same - a room I hoped I wouldn’t have to clean up after some self-centered wrestler destroys it in a temper tantrum that would put a five year old to shame just because they lost a match.
I’m a wrestler now. It feels odd to say that but its true. And the locker room has taken on a new meaning. It’s a place for preparation where you dot your i’s and cross your t’s before hitting the ring, mentally and physically preparing yourself for the coming battle. It’s a place where you clean yourself off after battle and reflect on what went wrong and what went right. I’ll never forget this particular locker room in San Juan. It will always hold special meaning for me. You never forget your first, right?
So what did I learn from my match with Frank Lynn? I didn’t completely embarass myself tonight. I lost but I did it with my head held high. I can see it in the eyes of the other wrestlers (so weird to say that - “other wrestlers”). I’m not one of the invisible staffers who scrambles out of their way as they go about the all important business of beating the hell out of each other. I’m one of them now.
They may not respect my wrestling abilities, as feeble as they are which Frank Lynn clearly showed in the ring, but I’m not the janitor anymore. They’ve seen that there is more to Billy Broom than a mop and a bucket. They’ve met the soldier who served several tours in the Middle East. They’ve seen the warrior I once was and could be again.
I can see it in the subtle nod of their head or a hint of recognition in their eyes when we pass in the halls.
And it scares me. I’ve seen those looks before from an indigent population that not all wanted me or my comrades around. I was an unwelcome presence that they wanted gone and would do some nasty things to make me leave.
I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I’m back in combat mode, seeing danger around every corner which I am not prepared for.
Frank knew it and told me as much when he whispered something to me after our match.
If you’re serious about this call me. If not then go back to cleaning toilets before you get hurt.
By the end of the night, it was Frank who got hurt.
I am a wrestler now. Am I ready for this?
I was running late this morning which meant Jenny was running late too. With apologies to the Pittsburgh Police, I drove her to school at speeds above the posted limits and ran a few stop signs. As we got within a block or two of her school she blurts out:
Jenny: You can drop me off here Dad. I’ll walk the rest of the way.
Billy: We’re already cutting it close. I’m getting you to school on time. Punctuality is important.
Jenny: No really… I’ll walk fast, run if I have to. You don’t have to drop me off in front of the school.
Jenny never had a problem with me dropping her off before. Why today? Is this the start of the rebellious teen phase?
Jenny sits in the passenger seat sticking out her bottom lip in a classic pout as I pull into the driveway. A crowd of kids, mostly boys, sees us pull up. And then it becomes obvious what is bothering my baby girl.
Several of the boys start yelling at us and break into their own version of my mosh pit entrance to the ring.
boys: Janitor! Janitor! Janitor!
It was okay when I was just another average dad dropping his kid off at school. Now I’m a celebrity to these kids. Jenny makes a grumpy face and tries to sneak out of the car avoiding any further embarassment. Personally I don’t see what is so bad about it but I haven’t been a teenager in a long time and can’t fathom what triggers their inexplicabe mood swings. We’ll have to talk it out over dinner. I have to explain to her that it is part of being a parent to embarass your children at any and all opportunities.
Jenny puts the final touches on the mac’n’cheese (Italian bread crumbs and chives for any budding chefs who want to spice up the out of the box ingredients) and yells out.
Jenny: Dinner in five!
I make my way to the dining room and set two places for us. That’s the deal between us. She cooks, which some might say is unfair of me to make a teenager cook all of our meals but they haven’t seen me burn water, have they? Jenny has to cook or we’d starve… or both weigh four hundred pounds from eating fast food three times a day every day. I take care of everything else. Really shouldn’t come as a shock that a janitor by day does the dishes by night. I’m the cleaner at work and at home.
Soon enough, the two of us are sitting down to Jenny’s meatloaf, mac’n’cheese, and green beans. A pitcher of southern sweet tea completes the meal.
Billy: Why were you so bothered this morning?
Jenny: It was embarassing. They were making fun of you!
Billy: I did a pretty good job of it myself. They were just imitating me. What was so bad about it? They’re fans.
Jenny: It’s disrespectful. You’re the janitor and now I’m the janitor’s daughter!
Billy: A janitor’s daughter whose college fund now has enough in it to pay for your freshman year. Take the good with the bad.
Jenny: But you’re not a janitor! You run the entire road crew for the WFWF. You don’t clean toilets.
Billy: Of course I don’t. It’s just a character, something to entertain the fans. Its all a show.
Jenny: But the other kids don’t know that. They think its true. They don’t know what you really do.
Billy: Does it really matter what they think? You know the truth. That’s what counts.
Jenny: If you had to be a character, why “the janitor”? You’re a decorated vet. Why couldn’t you have been “Drill Sergeant Broom”?
Ah, that’s the real problem. Jenny thinks I’m being disrespected, made into a joke.
Billy: Sorry honey but the decision wasn’t really mine to make. As soon as I said yes, Ms. Sleater ran with the janitor idea.
Also, I’m not so sure I want to revisit my time in the service. I still look for a bush to jump behind when a car backfires.
Billy: I’m sure it will blow over. Kids have short attention spans. Something else will come along and the janitor will be forgotten.
Jenny: I hope so. They’re so stupid.
We eat in silence. I try to change the mood.
Billy: Ms. Sleater asked me to have another match. Thanks to your negotiating tips, I’ll be getting enough to cover your sophomore year.
Jenny: Chuck (Jenny’s step father the investment broker) is good for something other than buying Mom expensive jewelry.
Billy: Be nice. I’m not fond of him either but at least he tries… in his own awkward way.
Jenny: So who are you facing?
Billy: It’s a tag match. Me and some new guy… Clifford Chase I think… versus David Brennan and Lucas Crowe.
Jenny drops her fork and it drops onto her plate with a loud clunk. She stares at me with extra wide eyes and her jaw hanging halfway down her chest.
Jenny: David Brennan!? Lucas Crowe!? Did you piss off Ms. Sleater? Those two could kill you!
Billy: It’s not that bad.
Jenny: DAD! They aren’t like Frank Lynn. They won’t mind hurting you… might even enjoy it.
Billy: I’ve survived IEDs, a helicopter crash, and more firefights than I care to remember. I can survive Brennan and Crowe.
Jenny: I’ve lost my appetite. Can I be excused?
Billy: Of course. More for me. Going to do your homework?
Jenny: No, I’m going to do your homework. You don’t even know your partners name. You finish eating and clean up. I’m going to Google this Chase guy.
And just like that, Jenny bolts to her room. I’ll check on her later but for now, I’m going to finish the dinner she cooked. She is a damn fine cook for a teenager.
My second match. My second promo. Here’s hoping I do better than last time. I downed a six pack to help get me in the mood.
Where to start? My partner is as good a place as any.
Never heard of you. Had no idea what you bring to the table for this match. Had to watch over my daughter’s shoulder as she googled your name.
We found some video of a goofy gangly goth kid jumping off a garage onto a pile of mattresses just so he could hold up an aluminum pie plate glued to a leather strap. It was both bad and sad.
It got worse. Death match crap. Barb wire, fluorescent lights, plate glass, fire, and so on. Throw in some bragging about earning your scars and stripes. I know about earning scars boy. You have no idea. You’re just a messed up kid who found a novel way to cut yourself.
We have been thrown together despite being very different people. In the Army I was frequently assigned to work with people I didn’t know or like and we found a way to work together. All you have to do is keep your common goal in sight and play to each other strengths. Follow my lead kid and we might win this.
A monster among men. Your picture is next to the word “intimidating” in the dictionary.
Actions speak louder than words. For all your intimidating words since returning, your actions have fallen very flat. I’ve seen it before. The guy who talks tough before the battle but as soon as the bullets start flying, he’s pissing his pants and crying. The guy who ends up on permanent latrine duty because that’s all he’s good for.
It’s David vs Goliath but this David doesn’t even need a sling shot to take down Goliath.
You’ve got an even worse case of PTSD than me. Until you deal with it, you’re an easy target.
Um, yeah. The CHAMP. The baddest of the bad. The king of kicking ass.
Please don’t hurt me.
Wait, that’s not how this goes. How about:
Please don’t make me hurt you.
I will if I have to.
Yippie kay yay mother truckers!!!