Post by Dorling on May 11, 2018 15:11:35 GMT -5
It’s a funny thing, happiness. A lot of people say that, if you fight long enough to get what you want, what you think will complete you, when you do finally get there it doesn’t sink in and, whatever you try, you can’t enjoy it.
I suppose the principal isn’t that foreign to a lot of people. Many people enjoy the chase so much that, once they reach their destination, they feel stifled and sedentary. See, I don’t think I’ve ever been one of those people. I know what I have and I enjoy it.
So that’s why, sometimes, life can kick you in the ass. See, I’d done it. I’d finally reached a point where I was safe, my friends were safe, the girl I had found and then been enthralled by, was safe. The three living Santoro’s were in jail and the other one was in the ground. Their organisation had been completely ripped apart by the FBI and all of the money was taken away. Anything left that was legal had been given to April as the remaining non-incarcerated family member and let me tell you that it was not a small amount of cash. However, she didn’t want a cent of it, understandably, and she gave it all away to a charity for women’s shelters. Look, I could have used the money and I’m sure she could too, but it felt good to watch someone do the morally right thing for once.
As far as April was concerned, things were going great with us. What an unusual feeling it was to find someone who challenged me and, when I was my usual idiot self, didn’t kick back out of revulsion or whatever. She was quick witted, self-deprecating, genuinely funny, caring and, despite the fact her mafia father had tried to have her killed by her psychopathic brother, pretty happy go lucky. Can’t really fault that, to be honest. I was a proper miserable bastard when Doug E Fresh locked me in his bloody church. However, I digress.
Vitaly was happy, too. Granted, it doesn’t take much to make a perpetually drunk Russian who has vodka on tap happy, but he was glad he didn’t have to rush around south of the border any more. He was even happier that he didn’t have to waste any more vodka by smashing it over the head of mafia bosses. He went back to Russia shortly after Wrestle Wars. He’ll be back, of course, but his wrestling students need him and those high level Russian celebrities aren’t going to protect themselves. He was, of course, devastated to leave. Mainly because there wasn’t another hostage situation at the airport, and thus, no lock in.
Katy was relieved. I felt super bad that she had been kidnapped and got caught up in all of the mafia/April/revenge/violence stuff. I have, of course, managed to get myself in several scrapes before, but it had never spilled over to my private life to such an extent and I was worried about the impact that it would have on her. So much so that I wouldn’t let her say no to the suggestion that she stayed in my apartment for a few weeks; April, obviously, was cool with it. Cooler than Katy to be honest, but Katy also knew that I wouldn’t stop annoying her until she agreed so that was the end of it.
And then there was Wrestle Wars. Safe to say that Connolly and I smashed it. It was a great match, and I’d had a LOT of fun. Show stealers is what some were calling us.
BUT
More of that later, I guess. Because I didn’t come here to give you all a 15-minute lecture on how awesome my life is. There’s no payoff to that. There’s no interest in it for anybody but me. No, I’m going to have to tell you more than that, aren’t I?
It all started last week. It was just a normal day, or what normal has become. Before the last few weeks normal had become running from the mob, but last week, on Wednesday, it was a normal day.
April had stayed the night but had got up and gone to work. Katy was still asleep, and I got up and went to the gym. Hit the heavy bag, did some yoga, lifted some weights; the usual. From there, I got a shake at the shake shack because I deserve it. After that I went to the casino for a spot of lunch with Peabody.
Ah yeah, Peabody. Forgot to update you about him, didn’t I? The man I thought was just a meek backstage interviewer and turned out to be like a budget James Bond. Well, he’s a new man. Got promoted at the Luxor, runs security for the whole joint now.
Anyway, I met him for lunch. He’s become a friend now, rather than an acquaintance. He got a haircut, got some contacts. The dude is killing it now. We had a little reminisce about the old SCW days, like we often do, and then I went on my merry way.
Yes, yes, I know. Where’s the punchline Dorling? Where’s the MacGuffin? Well that comes about twenty minutes after lunch. As I drove back towards my apartment building I could see that something wasn’t right.
Now, I’m not often a sentimental fella but I got this feeling in my gut, deep down. It felt like I was being punched from the inside, but with sadness. I was feeling pre-grief. I couldn’t see my building through the smoke. There were cop cars and fire trucks and ambulances all around. I approached a police cordon. One of the cops recognised me but I wasn’t in the mood for signing autographs. I could see when I got closer what had happened.
Rubble. Smokey rubble.
A firefighter recognised me. I asked him what had happened. Gas leak, apparently. Building pretty much exploded.
Survivors?
A couple, but they were in a bad way.
The punching in my gut intensified. I took out my cell phone and called Katy. No answer. I called her again and again and again. The sadness was turning to anger. I looked around; it wasn’t just my building. The explosion had damaged several around it.
But Katy.
I asked the firefighters. They were busy. I got angry. The police asked me to leave. I raced to the hospital as quickly as I could. It was chaos and I fully expected that to be the case but it did not calm me. I rushed around like an idiot and managed to find someone who could help me. Katy was alive.
There are very few moments in life that will stick with you forever. Your first kiss, your first ball game, your first championship. Moments of great success, moments of great happiness. Chasms of emptiness and sorrow. It takes a lot to burn something on to your brain forever.
Humans are temporary creatures. We occupy a speck of time which sits on the eyebrow of eternity as it blinks us in and out of existence. We’re not supposed to last forever. Civilisations have come and gone. The Romans, the Incas, the Aztecs. Theses dudes were fully ahead of the game, every single one of them. They utterly revolutionised everything from telling the time to building the roads. Yeah, you’ve got to be honest and say that they’ve got it a bit wrong with those end of the world predictions, but aside from that they had a good run.
But look around you. How many Incans and Romans do you see?
Ok, Vegas was a bad place to ask that question.
But seriously, there are none. They were extinguished. Through greed or idiocy or, well, disappearing. Because humans are not meant to be permanent. That’s why our memories aren’t permanent. We can’t remember everything because we will simply never have time to revisit them all anyway.
So, for something to penetrate that shielding, to burn itself on to your brain for the rest of your shift on this planet; that’s got to be something incredible.
Let me tell you this and please believe me when I say it; you can take all of my successes, all of my good times, all of my bad times and everything in between and you can add them up to make one super memory, but they wouldn’t even touch the sides of the feeling I had when staring over the body of my best friend, lying comatose in a hospital bed.
Does this mean that I’m not going to be in the right headspace for this week’s match?
Does it fuck.
Just as my personal life was going great, the arse has dropped right out of it. I’ve got no home. Most of my stuff is gone. My best friend is fighting for life.
You could say I need a release, something to take my mind off things. Well, yes and no. It doesn’t matter if you dangled a shot at MDK in front of me right now, you’re not getting that image of Calloway out of my head. However, you all know how well my working life has been going recently. Just look at it:
- Smashed my way through the Intercontinental Title Number One Contender Tournament
- Beat Hall of Famer Chris Page
- Put on a match of the night at Wrestle Wars
- Have an Iron Man match for the IC title in couple of weeks
- STILL undefeated in the ring in WGWF
Don’t act like you’re not jealous. There aren’t many in this company, hell, not many in this business that are on the upward trajectory that I am. I told you, I’m not a sentimental guy, but this week, when I step in the ring with those two faceless servants of little miss Queeny and the merry little shit bunch, I’m going to enjoy hitting them and kicking them and every single strike is going to be for Katy. Is that crass? Is that capitalising on personal tragedy to make myself feel better?
You’re damned right it is, and its exactly what Katy would want. There’s not many things about me and my business she gets, but she always understood the immense personal satisfaction in letting out some frustration on people you don’t like.
Fuck, I just spoke about her like she’s dead. Stop that shit, Dorling.
But yeah, where was I? That’s right; people I don’t like.
My distaste for the Royal Family and all who associate with them isn’t exactly a secret. The King, the Queen, the Pageboy – they can all bite my ass – and I’m happy to be going up against Lunacy and Maylock.
Lunacy – you know what happened last time we met. You were on course to have a chance at the IC title and I fucked that up for you. And then what happened? You ended up getting mangled and beaten all over the shop at Wrestle Wars by that psycho Grimoire Xmyles. And let’s be honest – most people enjoyed seeing that.
And Maylock? I haven’t seen you do anything remotely useful except turn up when everybody has run out of faces to punch. There’s a clear hierarchy in your lot mate, and I hate to tell you but you are at the bottom. Everyone knows about Lunacy. Most people know about Jackdaw (because Lunacy said so). Everyone forgets about you though. You’re like George Lazenby. You’re like Delaware. You’re like Macedonia. You’re the one that everyone forgets when trying to put a list together.
I won’t forget about you though. And I have a fair guess that Christian Connolly won’t either.
Ah yes.
Connolly.
It seems we have earned each other’s respect. I’m happy with that, of course. It’s nice to be appreciated by your peers. Well, some of them. And I need to tell you that, this week, while we are fighting side by side, you will get the best of Dorling. You will get a super effective team mate, a man who has your back and will do everything he can to bring home the W for the team. That will continue until such time we are face to face once again. I look forward to the moment when we can unleash our full abilities on each other once again, and I think the rest of the planet looks forward to it too.
But this week, it is Dorling & Connolly versus the world, and I’m happy to have you on side bro.
I will remain undefeated. I will continue my course. I will build my legacy.
For me.
For Katy.
I suppose the principal isn’t that foreign to a lot of people. Many people enjoy the chase so much that, once they reach their destination, they feel stifled and sedentary. See, I don’t think I’ve ever been one of those people. I know what I have and I enjoy it.
So that’s why, sometimes, life can kick you in the ass. See, I’d done it. I’d finally reached a point where I was safe, my friends were safe, the girl I had found and then been enthralled by, was safe. The three living Santoro’s were in jail and the other one was in the ground. Their organisation had been completely ripped apart by the FBI and all of the money was taken away. Anything left that was legal had been given to April as the remaining non-incarcerated family member and let me tell you that it was not a small amount of cash. However, she didn’t want a cent of it, understandably, and she gave it all away to a charity for women’s shelters. Look, I could have used the money and I’m sure she could too, but it felt good to watch someone do the morally right thing for once.
As far as April was concerned, things were going great with us. What an unusual feeling it was to find someone who challenged me and, when I was my usual idiot self, didn’t kick back out of revulsion or whatever. She was quick witted, self-deprecating, genuinely funny, caring and, despite the fact her mafia father had tried to have her killed by her psychopathic brother, pretty happy go lucky. Can’t really fault that, to be honest. I was a proper miserable bastard when Doug E Fresh locked me in his bloody church. However, I digress.
Vitaly was happy, too. Granted, it doesn’t take much to make a perpetually drunk Russian who has vodka on tap happy, but he was glad he didn’t have to rush around south of the border any more. He was even happier that he didn’t have to waste any more vodka by smashing it over the head of mafia bosses. He went back to Russia shortly after Wrestle Wars. He’ll be back, of course, but his wrestling students need him and those high level Russian celebrities aren’t going to protect themselves. He was, of course, devastated to leave. Mainly because there wasn’t another hostage situation at the airport, and thus, no lock in.
Katy was relieved. I felt super bad that she had been kidnapped and got caught up in all of the mafia/April/revenge/violence stuff. I have, of course, managed to get myself in several scrapes before, but it had never spilled over to my private life to such an extent and I was worried about the impact that it would have on her. So much so that I wouldn’t let her say no to the suggestion that she stayed in my apartment for a few weeks; April, obviously, was cool with it. Cooler than Katy to be honest, but Katy also knew that I wouldn’t stop annoying her until she agreed so that was the end of it.
And then there was Wrestle Wars. Safe to say that Connolly and I smashed it. It was a great match, and I’d had a LOT of fun. Show stealers is what some were calling us.
BUT
More of that later, I guess. Because I didn’t come here to give you all a 15-minute lecture on how awesome my life is. There’s no payoff to that. There’s no interest in it for anybody but me. No, I’m going to have to tell you more than that, aren’t I?
It all started last week. It was just a normal day, or what normal has become. Before the last few weeks normal had become running from the mob, but last week, on Wednesday, it was a normal day.
April had stayed the night but had got up and gone to work. Katy was still asleep, and I got up and went to the gym. Hit the heavy bag, did some yoga, lifted some weights; the usual. From there, I got a shake at the shake shack because I deserve it. After that I went to the casino for a spot of lunch with Peabody.
Ah yeah, Peabody. Forgot to update you about him, didn’t I? The man I thought was just a meek backstage interviewer and turned out to be like a budget James Bond. Well, he’s a new man. Got promoted at the Luxor, runs security for the whole joint now.
Anyway, I met him for lunch. He’s become a friend now, rather than an acquaintance. He got a haircut, got some contacts. The dude is killing it now. We had a little reminisce about the old SCW days, like we often do, and then I went on my merry way.
Yes, yes, I know. Where’s the punchline Dorling? Where’s the MacGuffin? Well that comes about twenty minutes after lunch. As I drove back towards my apartment building I could see that something wasn’t right.
Now, I’m not often a sentimental fella but I got this feeling in my gut, deep down. It felt like I was being punched from the inside, but with sadness. I was feeling pre-grief. I couldn’t see my building through the smoke. There were cop cars and fire trucks and ambulances all around. I approached a police cordon. One of the cops recognised me but I wasn’t in the mood for signing autographs. I could see when I got closer what had happened.
Rubble. Smokey rubble.
A firefighter recognised me. I asked him what had happened. Gas leak, apparently. Building pretty much exploded.
Survivors?
A couple, but they were in a bad way.
The punching in my gut intensified. I took out my cell phone and called Katy. No answer. I called her again and again and again. The sadness was turning to anger. I looked around; it wasn’t just my building. The explosion had damaged several around it.
But Katy.
I asked the firefighters. They were busy. I got angry. The police asked me to leave. I raced to the hospital as quickly as I could. It was chaos and I fully expected that to be the case but it did not calm me. I rushed around like an idiot and managed to find someone who could help me. Katy was alive.
There are very few moments in life that will stick with you forever. Your first kiss, your first ball game, your first championship. Moments of great success, moments of great happiness. Chasms of emptiness and sorrow. It takes a lot to burn something on to your brain forever.
Humans are temporary creatures. We occupy a speck of time which sits on the eyebrow of eternity as it blinks us in and out of existence. We’re not supposed to last forever. Civilisations have come and gone. The Romans, the Incas, the Aztecs. Theses dudes were fully ahead of the game, every single one of them. They utterly revolutionised everything from telling the time to building the roads. Yeah, you’ve got to be honest and say that they’ve got it a bit wrong with those end of the world predictions, but aside from that they had a good run.
But look around you. How many Incans and Romans do you see?
Ok, Vegas was a bad place to ask that question.
But seriously, there are none. They were extinguished. Through greed or idiocy or, well, disappearing. Because humans are not meant to be permanent. That’s why our memories aren’t permanent. We can’t remember everything because we will simply never have time to revisit them all anyway.
So, for something to penetrate that shielding, to burn itself on to your brain for the rest of your shift on this planet; that’s got to be something incredible.
Let me tell you this and please believe me when I say it; you can take all of my successes, all of my good times, all of my bad times and everything in between and you can add them up to make one super memory, but they wouldn’t even touch the sides of the feeling I had when staring over the body of my best friend, lying comatose in a hospital bed.
Does this mean that I’m not going to be in the right headspace for this week’s match?
Does it fuck.
Just as my personal life was going great, the arse has dropped right out of it. I’ve got no home. Most of my stuff is gone. My best friend is fighting for life.
You could say I need a release, something to take my mind off things. Well, yes and no. It doesn’t matter if you dangled a shot at MDK in front of me right now, you’re not getting that image of Calloway out of my head. However, you all know how well my working life has been going recently. Just look at it:
- Smashed my way through the Intercontinental Title Number One Contender Tournament
- Beat Hall of Famer Chris Page
- Put on a match of the night at Wrestle Wars
- Have an Iron Man match for the IC title in couple of weeks
- STILL undefeated in the ring in WGWF
Don’t act like you’re not jealous. There aren’t many in this company, hell, not many in this business that are on the upward trajectory that I am. I told you, I’m not a sentimental guy, but this week, when I step in the ring with those two faceless servants of little miss Queeny and the merry little shit bunch, I’m going to enjoy hitting them and kicking them and every single strike is going to be for Katy. Is that crass? Is that capitalising on personal tragedy to make myself feel better?
You’re damned right it is, and its exactly what Katy would want. There’s not many things about me and my business she gets, but she always understood the immense personal satisfaction in letting out some frustration on people you don’t like.
Fuck, I just spoke about her like she’s dead. Stop that shit, Dorling.
But yeah, where was I? That’s right; people I don’t like.
My distaste for the Royal Family and all who associate with them isn’t exactly a secret. The King, the Queen, the Pageboy – they can all bite my ass – and I’m happy to be going up against Lunacy and Maylock.
Lunacy – you know what happened last time we met. You were on course to have a chance at the IC title and I fucked that up for you. And then what happened? You ended up getting mangled and beaten all over the shop at Wrestle Wars by that psycho Grimoire Xmyles. And let’s be honest – most people enjoyed seeing that.
And Maylock? I haven’t seen you do anything remotely useful except turn up when everybody has run out of faces to punch. There’s a clear hierarchy in your lot mate, and I hate to tell you but you are at the bottom. Everyone knows about Lunacy. Most people know about Jackdaw (because Lunacy said so). Everyone forgets about you though. You’re like George Lazenby. You’re like Delaware. You’re like Macedonia. You’re the one that everyone forgets when trying to put a list together.
I won’t forget about you though. And I have a fair guess that Christian Connolly won’t either.
Ah yes.
Connolly.
It seems we have earned each other’s respect. I’m happy with that, of course. It’s nice to be appreciated by your peers. Well, some of them. And I need to tell you that, this week, while we are fighting side by side, you will get the best of Dorling. You will get a super effective team mate, a man who has your back and will do everything he can to bring home the W for the team. That will continue until such time we are face to face once again. I look forward to the moment when we can unleash our full abilities on each other once again, and I think the rest of the planet looks forward to it too.
But this week, it is Dorling & Connolly versus the world, and I’m happy to have you on side bro.
I will remain undefeated. I will continue my course. I will build my legacy.
For me.
For Katy.