Post by Mr. Showtime on Jul 3, 2015 21:56:34 GMT -5
In the southern half of the beautiful Garden State there’s a ranch full of history for one Pure Class Wresting superstar. It’s a place where children patronized in the summers to learn to ride and just enjoy the outdoors. A past time that “Mr. Showtime” Michael Wryght once frequented. After his younger adolescence he then became a hand around the place and grew close to it’s proprietor. She was nicknamed Goldie for her once golden locks, something that Showtime would only witness through grainy photographs.
After Showtime had seemingly forgotten his childhood place and went on to bigger and better things the government foreclosed on the land. A place that had once spread so much joy had been corrupted by low attendance and hungry real estate speculations. Land doesn’t come cheap in the most densely populated sate in the union.
Of course Showtime didn’t forget about this place, even if his own self-indulgence had grown to monumental levels. Against the verbal wishes of the ranch’s matriarch, Showtime purchased the land and gave everything a well-needed update. Just having his name associated with the summer time destination did wonders for attendance.
Now Showtime found himself in stables that looked very different from the ones of his past. These weren’t the hand build quarters constructed by Goldie’s late husband. They were top of the line amenities, the best money could buy. Showtime couldn’t help but think they were cold and soulless, but people didn’t appreciate genuine craftsmanship any longer.
He walked through the stables looking into each stall. Most of the horses were asleep on their feet, but when he approached the final one he heard a bray that caught his attention. It was a gallant white stallion with dark, almost black, eyes. He shook his mane as Showtime approached, but didn’t back down. Showtime glances at the chalk board which read, “Conquest”.
“Conquest is it?” asked Showtime, joking as if the steed would answer. To his surprise the horse snorted and again shook his head. Showtime would take that as an answer as much as anything else. He entered the stall and grabbed the closest brush. Starting at the white beast’s poll he brushed down to its shoulder and withers. Horses had always interested Showtime. Unlike a dog or a cat that would show pleasure at this type of attention, a horse would make a person feel more like a servant than an owner. Conquest was no different. He held his head up high with grace as Showtime tended to duties that had long passed him.
“By the look of you you’re about five to seven years old. It’s got to be awful being in the prime of your life and being stuck in a box like this,” said Showtime, making one-way conversation. It was nice to have someone, or something, to talk to that wouldn’t talk back. That could keep a secret. “But what would you do if I let you out of here? You wouldn’t be able to take care on your own. You’d be all right on food, but there’d be no one to groom you. No one to protect you from a four hundred horse powered homicide. Though I’m sure you still want out there. The chance to be free.”
Freedom. Wasn’t that a complete crock of shit? The idea that anyone truly had complete freedom over his or her own fate was lost on Showtime. He’d never truly had that chance. The Black Hand had marked him at birth. He’d be destined to do their bidding for the rest of his days. Though even if that weren’t so he’d be slave to something else. Be it work, or a family. A government that has lost touch with its people or a world divided by cultural differences. Unless you are the top of the food chain there wasn’t enough freedom to go around.
“Hell, and now I’m doing your bidding,” he said, putting the brush down. After he stopped for a few seconds, Conquest turned his head in a huff. Showtime only laughed under his breath before he continued and replied, “Alright, you’re the boss. Maybe I should bring you to the ring with me this week. Though my match is crowded enough. Plus I think the purity of your color might be off putting to Kelli. Or would it be the other way around.”
The thought of Kellie Starr and Conquest having animosity of color was amusing, though facing off against three heavy hitters wasn’t. He knew where the Black Hand and Stormm stood, but it didn’t change the fact that Stormm was going to be gunning for some revenge. Deserved revenge, but revenge nonetheless. The thought of losing to Rhodes still left a sour taste in Showtime’s mouth. He’d thought that he was chosen to be TIIT victor, but maybe that was his fault. Didn’t change the fact that the first moment that he got he’d try to beat seven shades of shit out of the trash man. He’d only expect the same in return. LoKi would be a man that he’d end up staying clear of. Having two men in the ring hating you was bad enough. Plus Grimm might get jealous, and recently Grimm’s carnage was something Showtime began to enjoy watching.
He couldn’t help but wonder if Kelli would keep her cool. These weren’t the type of men to take lightly and she’d become a loose cannon. The two seemed to come to some sort of accord even if he’d yet to find the answers she was looking for. He’d keep an ear open, but he could be certain that she wasn’t just paranoid and delusional.
“Speaking of paranoid and delusional,” said Showtime aloud, as he finished brushing the alabaster charger. He put the brush down and took Conquest’s head in his left hand behind its jaw. Showtime stroked the brim of his nose with his right and asked, “Can you keep a secret?”
As if responding, the horse snorted and shook his head down. Showtime cracked his patented half smile, asking in his head if that could really been an answer. The horse lowered his ears as if trying to listen intently, as Showtime surveyed the area then whispered a question in the steed’s ear.
He laugh at the insanity of actually talking to a horse and said, “Can you believe what they want me to do? Me of all people? That’s about as crazy as me talking to you, expecting you to tell me what to do…Ouch!”
The horse had nipped at Showtime’s thumb, as if insulted at the association of craziness to their conversation.
“You’re a pretty funny fella, you know that?” Showtime asked, as he went back to petting his new friend. It was late, and Showtime didn’t want to spook any of the residents of the ranch, keeping the lights on too long. With his luck someone would pull a gun on his, mistaking him as a horse thief. He patted the horse one last time and closed the gate behind him, ensuring the latch was tightly hooked. Just before he walked away we looked back.
“So what do you say? I’m I suppose to do it?” The horse looked him dead in the eye and just snorted with no other movement. “What? Now you don’t have an opinion or is it just up to me? That’s a cold move making me do this all on my own, Conquest.” Showtime laughed as he walked out hitting the lights on his way back home. Though he could swear that he hear a whiney on his way out. Apparently Conquest thought it was just as funny.
After Showtime had seemingly forgotten his childhood place and went on to bigger and better things the government foreclosed on the land. A place that had once spread so much joy had been corrupted by low attendance and hungry real estate speculations. Land doesn’t come cheap in the most densely populated sate in the union.
Of course Showtime didn’t forget about this place, even if his own self-indulgence had grown to monumental levels. Against the verbal wishes of the ranch’s matriarch, Showtime purchased the land and gave everything a well-needed update. Just having his name associated with the summer time destination did wonders for attendance.
Now Showtime found himself in stables that looked very different from the ones of his past. These weren’t the hand build quarters constructed by Goldie’s late husband. They were top of the line amenities, the best money could buy. Showtime couldn’t help but think they were cold and soulless, but people didn’t appreciate genuine craftsmanship any longer.
He walked through the stables looking into each stall. Most of the horses were asleep on their feet, but when he approached the final one he heard a bray that caught his attention. It was a gallant white stallion with dark, almost black, eyes. He shook his mane as Showtime approached, but didn’t back down. Showtime glances at the chalk board which read, “Conquest”.
“Conquest is it?” asked Showtime, joking as if the steed would answer. To his surprise the horse snorted and again shook his head. Showtime would take that as an answer as much as anything else. He entered the stall and grabbed the closest brush. Starting at the white beast’s poll he brushed down to its shoulder and withers. Horses had always interested Showtime. Unlike a dog or a cat that would show pleasure at this type of attention, a horse would make a person feel more like a servant than an owner. Conquest was no different. He held his head up high with grace as Showtime tended to duties that had long passed him.
“By the look of you you’re about five to seven years old. It’s got to be awful being in the prime of your life and being stuck in a box like this,” said Showtime, making one-way conversation. It was nice to have someone, or something, to talk to that wouldn’t talk back. That could keep a secret. “But what would you do if I let you out of here? You wouldn’t be able to take care on your own. You’d be all right on food, but there’d be no one to groom you. No one to protect you from a four hundred horse powered homicide. Though I’m sure you still want out there. The chance to be free.”
Freedom. Wasn’t that a complete crock of shit? The idea that anyone truly had complete freedom over his or her own fate was lost on Showtime. He’d never truly had that chance. The Black Hand had marked him at birth. He’d be destined to do their bidding for the rest of his days. Though even if that weren’t so he’d be slave to something else. Be it work, or a family. A government that has lost touch with its people or a world divided by cultural differences. Unless you are the top of the food chain there wasn’t enough freedom to go around.
“Hell, and now I’m doing your bidding,” he said, putting the brush down. After he stopped for a few seconds, Conquest turned his head in a huff. Showtime only laughed under his breath before he continued and replied, “Alright, you’re the boss. Maybe I should bring you to the ring with me this week. Though my match is crowded enough. Plus I think the purity of your color might be off putting to Kelli. Or would it be the other way around.”
The thought of Kellie Starr and Conquest having animosity of color was amusing, though facing off against three heavy hitters wasn’t. He knew where the Black Hand and Stormm stood, but it didn’t change the fact that Stormm was going to be gunning for some revenge. Deserved revenge, but revenge nonetheless. The thought of losing to Rhodes still left a sour taste in Showtime’s mouth. He’d thought that he was chosen to be TIIT victor, but maybe that was his fault. Didn’t change the fact that the first moment that he got he’d try to beat seven shades of shit out of the trash man. He’d only expect the same in return. LoKi would be a man that he’d end up staying clear of. Having two men in the ring hating you was bad enough. Plus Grimm might get jealous, and recently Grimm’s carnage was something Showtime began to enjoy watching.
He couldn’t help but wonder if Kelli would keep her cool. These weren’t the type of men to take lightly and she’d become a loose cannon. The two seemed to come to some sort of accord even if he’d yet to find the answers she was looking for. He’d keep an ear open, but he could be certain that she wasn’t just paranoid and delusional.
“Speaking of paranoid and delusional,” said Showtime aloud, as he finished brushing the alabaster charger. He put the brush down and took Conquest’s head in his left hand behind its jaw. Showtime stroked the brim of his nose with his right and asked, “Can you keep a secret?”
As if responding, the horse snorted and shook his head down. Showtime cracked his patented half smile, asking in his head if that could really been an answer. The horse lowered his ears as if trying to listen intently, as Showtime surveyed the area then whispered a question in the steed’s ear.
He laugh at the insanity of actually talking to a horse and said, “Can you believe what they want me to do? Me of all people? That’s about as crazy as me talking to you, expecting you to tell me what to do…Ouch!”
The horse had nipped at Showtime’s thumb, as if insulted at the association of craziness to their conversation.
“You’re a pretty funny fella, you know that?” Showtime asked, as he went back to petting his new friend. It was late, and Showtime didn’t want to spook any of the residents of the ranch, keeping the lights on too long. With his luck someone would pull a gun on his, mistaking him as a horse thief. He patted the horse one last time and closed the gate behind him, ensuring the latch was tightly hooked. Just before he walked away we looked back.
“So what do you say? I’m I suppose to do it?” The horse looked him dead in the eye and just snorted with no other movement. “What? Now you don’t have an opinion or is it just up to me? That’s a cold move making me do this all on my own, Conquest.” Showtime laughed as he walked out hitting the lights on his way back home. Though he could swear that he hear a whiney on his way out. Apparently Conquest thought it was just as funny.
