Post by Wasp on Oct 2, 2015 20:09:56 GMT -5
Wasp had thought today was going to be like any other day. He'd get up and cook something healthy. He'd dutifully take his tired ass down to the gym and work out so he could maintain his body for the ring. Hell he'd even thought about calling up some old sparring partners and having a right go about it, since High Tide was busy with his operation being in full swing. Soon he knew he would be sucked further into it to, but all of that was soon wiped from mind as he performed the simple act of checking his mail.
Most of it had been nothing but repetitive, unoriginal junk mail. You have won a free cruise. You can save thousands of dollars. Come be in debt with our exorbitant rate credit card. However one envelope looked out of place. It had no logo, not tempting tidbits, nothing but his name written big on the envelope. He opened it hesitantly, not sure what to expect. It appeared to be a letter and this puzzled him, but as he read, his jaw hit the ground.
Dear Jule Martins
Hi. You probably don't remember me and so I'm not going to give you my name just yet. I'll give you a few hints though. You and your wrestler friend met a group of us ladies in one of the most awful bars I've ever been too. It was a couple years ago and you had just won a big match and were celebrating. Eventually we all went back to your friend's place (if you can call big over glorified motel room a place), where your friend proceeded to fuck every single one of my friends. More than once if memory serves me correctly. You should know that I don't keep the same company any longer.
You were different though. You were eyeing me all night long but you were too shy to say anything until I approached you. I liked that. You weren't cocky and arrogant like your friend, and I don't know if you even were drunk. I was a little tipsy, but you never took advantage of me once. If you're starting to remember, you'll recall that we talked most of the night, and I really felt like we had a connection. This connection showed itself in the bedroom (or in this case, on the couch), and I fell asleep in your arms, certain that the world was right and everything was going to go better in the future. I felt happy.
I left in the morning, and you couldn't get a hold of me so you stopped trying. I don't blame you for that, I made myself unreachable to you. You tried to contact me for so much longer then I would of expected, and I questioned my choice to not call you back so many times. I almost folded, but I didn't, certain that my way was the right way. However here I am now, admitting that my way wasn't the right way, and I feel guilty for what I've kept you from. If you're not sitting, you should probably sit. Are you sitting? Good... well here it goes.
The reason I left that morning is because when I woke up I realized we hadn't used protection. I am not on the pill or any form on birth control and it had me worried. I went to the pharmacy and went to get a pill just in case, but I couldn't do it. Something inside me said I would regret it, and I listened to that voice. Nine months later, I had your son. Yes Jule Martins, you have a son you've never met and I would love for you to meet him one day.
I know you have a big important match coming up (I've been following you and sometimes me and our son will sit there and cheer you on!) so I haven't provided any more information. I don't want to be the cause of you losing your match, but please don't fret. I've already written you another letter that I will send out the day after the match, and I will reveal everything, including my identity (though I am sure you have guessed by now. Good luck in your match Jule, and know that your son (he has your eyes) will be watching and cheering you on.
With Love,
The Mother of Your Child
Jule Martins, a man who had never been at a loss for words in his life, couldn't find a single sound to utter. He dropped the mug of coffee he held in his left hand and it shattered on the floor below him, sending bits of sharp ceramic and hot liquid splashing over his legs. Yet he did not notice it, his mind was racing, trying to figure out the mystery. A son? He had a son? But by who? There had been so many parties over the years, they began to blend together until he could hardly distinguish one from the other. A son! A son who would be watching his match! The thought evoked a warm feeling inside him, one he couldn't describe because he had never felt it before. A son!
That's when the name came to him.
Sarah!
Most of it had been nothing but repetitive, unoriginal junk mail. You have won a free cruise. You can save thousands of dollars. Come be in debt with our exorbitant rate credit card. However one envelope looked out of place. It had no logo, not tempting tidbits, nothing but his name written big on the envelope. He opened it hesitantly, not sure what to expect. It appeared to be a letter and this puzzled him, but as he read, his jaw hit the ground.
Dear Jule Martins
Hi. You probably don't remember me and so I'm not going to give you my name just yet. I'll give you a few hints though. You and your wrestler friend met a group of us ladies in one of the most awful bars I've ever been too. It was a couple years ago and you had just won a big match and were celebrating. Eventually we all went back to your friend's place (if you can call big over glorified motel room a place), where your friend proceeded to fuck every single one of my friends. More than once if memory serves me correctly. You should know that I don't keep the same company any longer.
You were different though. You were eyeing me all night long but you were too shy to say anything until I approached you. I liked that. You weren't cocky and arrogant like your friend, and I don't know if you even were drunk. I was a little tipsy, but you never took advantage of me once. If you're starting to remember, you'll recall that we talked most of the night, and I really felt like we had a connection. This connection showed itself in the bedroom (or in this case, on the couch), and I fell asleep in your arms, certain that the world was right and everything was going to go better in the future. I felt happy.
I left in the morning, and you couldn't get a hold of me so you stopped trying. I don't blame you for that, I made myself unreachable to you. You tried to contact me for so much longer then I would of expected, and I questioned my choice to not call you back so many times. I almost folded, but I didn't, certain that my way was the right way. However here I am now, admitting that my way wasn't the right way, and I feel guilty for what I've kept you from. If you're not sitting, you should probably sit. Are you sitting? Good... well here it goes.
The reason I left that morning is because when I woke up I realized we hadn't used protection. I am not on the pill or any form on birth control and it had me worried. I went to the pharmacy and went to get a pill just in case, but I couldn't do it. Something inside me said I would regret it, and I listened to that voice. Nine months later, I had your son. Yes Jule Martins, you have a son you've never met and I would love for you to meet him one day.
I know you have a big important match coming up (I've been following you and sometimes me and our son will sit there and cheer you on!) so I haven't provided any more information. I don't want to be the cause of you losing your match, but please don't fret. I've already written you another letter that I will send out the day after the match, and I will reveal everything, including my identity (though I am sure you have guessed by now. Good luck in your match Jule, and know that your son (he has your eyes) will be watching and cheering you on.
With Love,
The Mother of Your Child
Jule Martins, a man who had never been at a loss for words in his life, couldn't find a single sound to utter. He dropped the mug of coffee he held in his left hand and it shattered on the floor below him, sending bits of sharp ceramic and hot liquid splashing over his legs. Yet he did not notice it, his mind was racing, trying to figure out the mystery. A son? He had a son? But by who? There had been so many parties over the years, they began to blend together until he could hardly distinguish one from the other. A son! A son who would be watching his match! The thought evoked a warm feeling inside him, one he couldn't describe because he had never felt it before. A son!
That's when the name came to him.
Sarah!
