Post by High Tide on Apr 24, 2017 19:58:33 GMT -5
The wind whipped through my hair, sending my over sized coat into a fit, fluttering like a butterfly gone mad. It wasn't a bad kind of wind though, as my last few adventures had been. No, it was a beautiful day, the sun was shining like the big flashlight in the sky that it was, and the breeze was cool and refreshing. It was a rare occurrence, a day like this, but it was one I was more than happy with.
Ever since returning to the business, I had not had a spare moment to myself. Something always came up, and when you wanted to climb the ladder like I did, you took all of those come ups and you made them work. There was nothing today, a day for reflection and well, drinking of course.
Sitting at my favourite bar, The Golden Coin, a damp, dingy, dank sort of place, I hailed over my favourite bartender Stan. Stan was the man, always letting me run an exorbitantly high tab, and never hounding me to pay it. He knew a little bit about me, and he knew I'd pay...eventually but at a later date, so I could start early, in some form. I ordered a rum and coke, and didn't even have to tell him to make it a double (this was another reason he was my favourite.) He slipped away to get the more high end rum he kept in the back, leaving me to my thoughts once more.
So what did I have on my mind, if it wasn't getting back in the game? Well for one, things were quite interesting at PCW right now. The upset of upsets, my old partner WASP, out of the game for ages now, somehow had managed to get past the first round of TIIT. It was completely unexpected, hell even when I had called him and informed him about the tournament I hadn't expected he would show any interest.
And then the motherfucker went and not only entered the damn thing, but in shocking fashion upset his opponent. Of course that left all eyes on me, the other half of the Sea Men, in a singles competition, known to be the better performer in the singles competitions. Great. Just the added pressure I needed. What would be next, I wondered, demands for a reuinion? To be honest the prospect didn't sound half bad.... but was there even anyone to go up against?
“Mr Tide? Your drink. Do you want that on your tab?” Stan, the white haired old man, my favourite bartender, asked his croaky voice soft and comforting. Or maybe it was just him asking if I wanted the drink on my tab that was comforting, I hadn't exactly came in with any money.
I picked up my drink, wiping the dust on the counter below it away with the back of my hand (though you couldn't tell for how genuinely dirty the place was, a constant state of “disgusting”) before putting it back down. “Yes please Stan, if you don't mind. I'm sure I'll be back next week to put a dent in it, I've got a match. You've heard of The Icemann Invitational Tournament? I've got a match against one of probably the men I've probably stood across the ring from the most times since I started at PCW. Good ol' “Crazy Boy”. Got any predictions on the winner?” I nudged Stan with my elbow teasingly knowing he was too damn polite to say anything other than complimentary.
“You know for a fact Mr. Tide I am here all the damn time, and I don't often get a chance to sit down and watch it, no. However you also know that I know that you're a damn fierce competitor, matched only by your drinking, and you have a damn good chance of moving forward,” the old man replied in just the kind of manner I had expected.
I grinned widely. “Thanks Stan, that's the sort of shit I like to hear. Now get your old ass moving. I know if you stand still too long, you'll seize up and never move again. Who the hell would let me have a tab then?” I chuckled and Stan laughed too as he did exactly what I had said. It wasn't because he'd actually seize up, it just so happened another customer had come in, ready to join the pit of loneliness and alcohol.
Business would pick up soon, and I'd be back on the grind climbing the ladder to my rightful place at the top of the game. Yet for right now, things were quiet, and I was more focused on climbing another ladder. One that, should I find the willpower and sheer determination, could finally allow me to be seen as a top tier competitor, one of the big boys. I envied the big names, and had always promised myself I would climb out of the low to middle bracket I found myself in most of the time. What better a time than the Invitational? What better time than now? I took a long haul of my drink (the cups were the damn cleanest thing in the place) and set the drink back down.
I guess you could say I had a renewed interest.
Ever since returning to the business, I had not had a spare moment to myself. Something always came up, and when you wanted to climb the ladder like I did, you took all of those come ups and you made them work. There was nothing today, a day for reflection and well, drinking of course.
Sitting at my favourite bar, The Golden Coin, a damp, dingy, dank sort of place, I hailed over my favourite bartender Stan. Stan was the man, always letting me run an exorbitantly high tab, and never hounding me to pay it. He knew a little bit about me, and he knew I'd pay...eventually but at a later date, so I could start early, in some form. I ordered a rum and coke, and didn't even have to tell him to make it a double (this was another reason he was my favourite.) He slipped away to get the more high end rum he kept in the back, leaving me to my thoughts once more.
So what did I have on my mind, if it wasn't getting back in the game? Well for one, things were quite interesting at PCW right now. The upset of upsets, my old partner WASP, out of the game for ages now, somehow had managed to get past the first round of TIIT. It was completely unexpected, hell even when I had called him and informed him about the tournament I hadn't expected he would show any interest.
And then the motherfucker went and not only entered the damn thing, but in shocking fashion upset his opponent. Of course that left all eyes on me, the other half of the Sea Men, in a singles competition, known to be the better performer in the singles competitions. Great. Just the added pressure I needed. What would be next, I wondered, demands for a reuinion? To be honest the prospect didn't sound half bad.... but was there even anyone to go up against?
“Mr Tide? Your drink. Do you want that on your tab?” Stan, the white haired old man, my favourite bartender, asked his croaky voice soft and comforting. Or maybe it was just him asking if I wanted the drink on my tab that was comforting, I hadn't exactly came in with any money.
I picked up my drink, wiping the dust on the counter below it away with the back of my hand (though you couldn't tell for how genuinely dirty the place was, a constant state of “disgusting”) before putting it back down. “Yes please Stan, if you don't mind. I'm sure I'll be back next week to put a dent in it, I've got a match. You've heard of The Icemann Invitational Tournament? I've got a match against one of probably the men I've probably stood across the ring from the most times since I started at PCW. Good ol' “Crazy Boy”. Got any predictions on the winner?” I nudged Stan with my elbow teasingly knowing he was too damn polite to say anything other than complimentary.
“You know for a fact Mr. Tide I am here all the damn time, and I don't often get a chance to sit down and watch it, no. However you also know that I know that you're a damn fierce competitor, matched only by your drinking, and you have a damn good chance of moving forward,” the old man replied in just the kind of manner I had expected.
I grinned widely. “Thanks Stan, that's the sort of shit I like to hear. Now get your old ass moving. I know if you stand still too long, you'll seize up and never move again. Who the hell would let me have a tab then?” I chuckled and Stan laughed too as he did exactly what I had said. It wasn't because he'd actually seize up, it just so happened another customer had come in, ready to join the pit of loneliness and alcohol.
Business would pick up soon, and I'd be back on the grind climbing the ladder to my rightful place at the top of the game. Yet for right now, things were quiet, and I was more focused on climbing another ladder. One that, should I find the willpower and sheer determination, could finally allow me to be seen as a top tier competitor, one of the big boys. I envied the big names, and had always promised myself I would climb out of the low to middle bracket I found myself in most of the time. What better a time than the Invitational? What better time than now? I took a long haul of my drink (the cups were the damn cleanest thing in the place) and set the drink back down.
I guess you could say I had a renewed interest.
