Post by Holden Ross on Aug 26, 2022 17:14:05 GMT -5
Holden is sitting at a table in a local diner here in Vero Beach, not too far from his home, a piece of baked chicken , a side of mashed potatoes with a small puddle of gravy, as well as a side of corn. The older waitress has just placed the plate on the table in front of mister Ross as well as a whole, homemade pot pie in front of the man sitting across from him. Grimmy's head bobs up and down with a small nod of approval and his eyes flutter closed as he inhales the smells emanating from his meal.
"Looks and smells delicious, buddy. I never should have questioned you..." he says with a chuckle. Holden only nods in response as he already has shoveled in a fork full of everything off his plate. "How you been? Looks like you recovered from that shit-show in Boston. Bet that makes Serenity happy."
"Yeah, she wasn't too happy I competed in that unsanctioned match in House of Wrestling, but, coming back with the gold changed her tune." Holden says while wiping his mouth with his napkin. "I know she'd rather I quit CU;LT, but, I can't. Not yet...." he says before shoveling another bite into his mouth. He washed that bite down with a swig of water when he notices Grimmy giving him the fuzzy eyeball. "What?"
Grimmy finished chewing on his meal, wipes his mouth, and lets out a sigh. Holden, for his part, scowls and his eyes narrow in suspicion. "Look, Holden, I know we've talked about it before and everything I was saying fell on deaf ears but..." his eyes shift out the window, watching a mom and her son pass, walking a French bulldog puppy. His eyes tick back on to Holden who is giving him a questioning look. "She won't be there for you forever, you know that, don't you? You keep doing that crazy deathmatch bullshit, you keep hurting yourself, and she will only be there for so long. You can't expect her to help you mend broken bones, burns, and cuts that need dozens of stitches to close. And I don't blame her."
Holden's fork hits the plate with a loud "clink" and his sigh is almost as audible. Grimmy's jaw clenches and he holds his hands up, palms facing Holden, while Holden's glare bores a hole through him. "You fuckin guys, man! You're beatin a dead fuckin HORSE!" His fist slams down against the table top, emphasizing the word "horse," and making everything on the table jump. The handful of other customers, as well as the waitress, jump and turn their attention to their table where Grimmy is smiling, half-assed waving and trying to assure everyone that there is no problem. Everything is fine like wine.
"Chill the fuck out!" Grimmy growls in a low voice and the two glare at each other, neither man willing to back down first. After nearly a full minute Grimmy turns his eyes away and uses a napkin to mop up some of the water that spilled from his glass when Holden slammed his fist on the table. "We love you and don't want to see anything happen to you, ya know? Like Serenity said, she doesn't want a husband who can't wipe his own ass or who has so much brain damage that you don't know who you are or what day it is. I know you're tired of hearing it but we are tired of watching you do this to yourself. In fact, if Chris Page really was so God damned brilliant, he wouldn't be letting you do this dumb shit.... I'm not going to say anything else about it. I'm sorry for pissing you off but I had to get that off of my chest..."
"I know you're tired of hearing it but I don't give a fuck. I am going to continue to do these matches. It's my fucking job." Holden's voice is kept low but it's more than obvious he is pissed and restraining himself from blowing up on his trusted friend. "Serenity hates it, I know. You hate it, I know. And you don't like Page, go figure, he's doin what was your job only better!" His growl is a little louder, drawing looks from nearby customers at their own tables, causing Grimmy to grin and wave it off.
"I said chill the fuck out!" Grimmy slips and let his anger get the best of him and slams his fist on the table. The two men meet each other's glare with one of their own and as the waitress arrives, attempting to gauge the atmosphere and check to see if she can calm things down. Both men, however, turn the daggers in their eyes towards her and she disappears like a fart in the wind. Grimmy sighs and wipes his face. "I'm going to get going. We can meet up later, if you want, or you can call me. We need to talk about that ticket you got awhile back in Bakersfield for smoking a joint in Zingo's parking lot."
"It was a blunt..." Holden replies after taking a swallow of water. " I'll talk to ya later, Big Cat. Sorry bout losin my temper. I'm just tired of hearin about it, is all." he says as they both rise from their seats. Holden offers his hand to shake and Grimmy accepts it before pulling him in for a hug. "I love you, brother. Take care of yourself. It's not just Serenity who cares about ya, kid..."
Holden heads for the register and watches Grimmy exit the diner. Once he is out of sight his smile melts and his brow falls into a scowl. He pays the bill, drops a twenty on the table for a tip, and leaves himself. His mind already mulling over what he is going to do to his former brother-in-arms and Tag partner, Joey Scala...
Sometime later....
A camera opens on Holden who is sitting on the roof of a burned out, abandoned Ford Taurus on the side of a road. The building behind him has half of its wall missing and it, too, has scorch marks of once having been on fire. He is wearing a black hoodie with the words "Stay Violent" written in what looks like blood, running in several places, framing a large red handprint, also dripping in several places. He is also in a pair of black Dickies pants, rather than cut-offs, and scuffed, well loved and worn, Doc Martin's boots. In the distance, the wail of a siren is heard and Holden cocks his head and closes his eyes, apparently enjoying the sirens cry like someone else might enjoy a Beethoven symphony. As his eyes open a Cheshire Cat's grin curls his lips.
"What more can be said that hasn't been said already, Joe? How many times are you gonna call my lady a methhead or claim I was the weak link in GRINDHOUSE? The sad part is me and Gerry did everything we could to bring you up, outta the gutter, but you prefer livin in squalor. Runnin with us you ate at the best restaurants, partied at the best clubs... Hell, I got ya that V.I.P pass to the Velvet Rabbit while I was workin there. But, like a petulant child, when our attention wasn't focused entirely on you, you threw a fit and lashed out."
Holden fishes a blunt out from the pocket on the front of his hoodie and pops it into his mouth. He uses his Zippo to fire it up and pulls a long, deep hit into his lungs. The plume of smoke he exhales is swiftly carried away by the breeze while a rat searches the gutter for a scrap of food.
"You jumped me and prevented me from taking the Hardcore Championship off of Johnny. We had a match and, even though you set me on fire, I still kicked your ass and left ya bleedin like a stuck pig. And what have you done since? Talked some shit to a camera and had it broadcast on Clash....that's it. I have battled a man as bloodthirsty as me, if not moreso, for a belt and ultimately set myself on fire before moonsaulting off of a platform thirty feet in the air. My opponent moved at the last second and was able to keep his belt. But I continued to Grind while you wallowed in self-doubt and pity. I went on to fight in an unsanctioned match in another company and walked out with their Violent Championship. You beat off into an old sock while watching a Lissie Hope impersonator's OnlyFans.
We joined as GRINDHOUSE as an 'Us against the World' brotherhood. We both knew what it's like to grind, day in and out, just to survive and we were going to take the company by storm. And, unless it was in a match that had no stakes, we dominated our opponents. We left em staring at the lights and unable to get up. But, then came Vanguard, and you choked like the Yankees in late Summer. Add on top of that, me and Serenity getting together and you turning into a jealous tween, and our team fell apart. And now..." Holden scoffs. "Now you want to face me in a Casket match. Did my boys hit you in the head a lil too hard a few weeks ago?"
He takes another long pull from the blunt and shakes his head. "I ain't about to take you lightly. You're a scrub but that don't mean you can't be dangerous. Unfortunately for you, you ain't as dangerous as I am. I'ma throw you a beating the likes of which you have never experienced. Broken bones, torn flesh, and bruised organs are going to lead up to your broken body being dumped in that coffin like the sack of shit you are. And when you're buried and gone? I'll piss on your grave. When you die, Joey, ain't nobody gonna remember you..." he says with a laugh. As the camera fades to black, Holden strolls off camera. On the back of his hoodie, in bright red is an image of an axe handle crossing a baseball bat. See ya soon, Scala....
"Looks and smells delicious, buddy. I never should have questioned you..." he says with a chuckle. Holden only nods in response as he already has shoveled in a fork full of everything off his plate. "How you been? Looks like you recovered from that shit-show in Boston. Bet that makes Serenity happy."
"Yeah, she wasn't too happy I competed in that unsanctioned match in House of Wrestling, but, coming back with the gold changed her tune." Holden says while wiping his mouth with his napkin. "I know she'd rather I quit CU;LT, but, I can't. Not yet...." he says before shoveling another bite into his mouth. He washed that bite down with a swig of water when he notices Grimmy giving him the fuzzy eyeball. "What?"
Grimmy finished chewing on his meal, wipes his mouth, and lets out a sigh. Holden, for his part, scowls and his eyes narrow in suspicion. "Look, Holden, I know we've talked about it before and everything I was saying fell on deaf ears but..." his eyes shift out the window, watching a mom and her son pass, walking a French bulldog puppy. His eyes tick back on to Holden who is giving him a questioning look. "She won't be there for you forever, you know that, don't you? You keep doing that crazy deathmatch bullshit, you keep hurting yourself, and she will only be there for so long. You can't expect her to help you mend broken bones, burns, and cuts that need dozens of stitches to close. And I don't blame her."
Holden's fork hits the plate with a loud "clink" and his sigh is almost as audible. Grimmy's jaw clenches and he holds his hands up, palms facing Holden, while Holden's glare bores a hole through him. "You fuckin guys, man! You're beatin a dead fuckin HORSE!" His fist slams down against the table top, emphasizing the word "horse," and making everything on the table jump. The handful of other customers, as well as the waitress, jump and turn their attention to their table where Grimmy is smiling, half-assed waving and trying to assure everyone that there is no problem. Everything is fine like wine.
"Chill the fuck out!" Grimmy growls in a low voice and the two glare at each other, neither man willing to back down first. After nearly a full minute Grimmy turns his eyes away and uses a napkin to mop up some of the water that spilled from his glass when Holden slammed his fist on the table. "We love you and don't want to see anything happen to you, ya know? Like Serenity said, she doesn't want a husband who can't wipe his own ass or who has so much brain damage that you don't know who you are or what day it is. I know you're tired of hearing it but we are tired of watching you do this to yourself. In fact, if Chris Page really was so God damned brilliant, he wouldn't be letting you do this dumb shit.... I'm not going to say anything else about it. I'm sorry for pissing you off but I had to get that off of my chest..."
"I know you're tired of hearing it but I don't give a fuck. I am going to continue to do these matches. It's my fucking job." Holden's voice is kept low but it's more than obvious he is pissed and restraining himself from blowing up on his trusted friend. "Serenity hates it, I know. You hate it, I know. And you don't like Page, go figure, he's doin what was your job only better!" His growl is a little louder, drawing looks from nearby customers at their own tables, causing Grimmy to grin and wave it off.
"I said chill the fuck out!" Grimmy slips and let his anger get the best of him and slams his fist on the table. The two men meet each other's glare with one of their own and as the waitress arrives, attempting to gauge the atmosphere and check to see if she can calm things down. Both men, however, turn the daggers in their eyes towards her and she disappears like a fart in the wind. Grimmy sighs and wipes his face. "I'm going to get going. We can meet up later, if you want, or you can call me. We need to talk about that ticket you got awhile back in Bakersfield for smoking a joint in Zingo's parking lot."
"It was a blunt..." Holden replies after taking a swallow of water. " I'll talk to ya later, Big Cat. Sorry bout losin my temper. I'm just tired of hearin about it, is all." he says as they both rise from their seats. Holden offers his hand to shake and Grimmy accepts it before pulling him in for a hug. "I love you, brother. Take care of yourself. It's not just Serenity who cares about ya, kid..."
Holden heads for the register and watches Grimmy exit the diner. Once he is out of sight his smile melts and his brow falls into a scowl. He pays the bill, drops a twenty on the table for a tip, and leaves himself. His mind already mulling over what he is going to do to his former brother-in-arms and Tag partner, Joey Scala...
Sometime later....
A camera opens on Holden who is sitting on the roof of a burned out, abandoned Ford Taurus on the side of a road. The building behind him has half of its wall missing and it, too, has scorch marks of once having been on fire. He is wearing a black hoodie with the words "Stay Violent" written in what looks like blood, running in several places, framing a large red handprint, also dripping in several places. He is also in a pair of black Dickies pants, rather than cut-offs, and scuffed, well loved and worn, Doc Martin's boots. In the distance, the wail of a siren is heard and Holden cocks his head and closes his eyes, apparently enjoying the sirens cry like someone else might enjoy a Beethoven symphony. As his eyes open a Cheshire Cat's grin curls his lips.
"What more can be said that hasn't been said already, Joe? How many times are you gonna call my lady a methhead or claim I was the weak link in GRINDHOUSE? The sad part is me and Gerry did everything we could to bring you up, outta the gutter, but you prefer livin in squalor. Runnin with us you ate at the best restaurants, partied at the best clubs... Hell, I got ya that V.I.P pass to the Velvet Rabbit while I was workin there. But, like a petulant child, when our attention wasn't focused entirely on you, you threw a fit and lashed out."
Holden fishes a blunt out from the pocket on the front of his hoodie and pops it into his mouth. He uses his Zippo to fire it up and pulls a long, deep hit into his lungs. The plume of smoke he exhales is swiftly carried away by the breeze while a rat searches the gutter for a scrap of food.
"You jumped me and prevented me from taking the Hardcore Championship off of Johnny. We had a match and, even though you set me on fire, I still kicked your ass and left ya bleedin like a stuck pig. And what have you done since? Talked some shit to a camera and had it broadcast on Clash....that's it. I have battled a man as bloodthirsty as me, if not moreso, for a belt and ultimately set myself on fire before moonsaulting off of a platform thirty feet in the air. My opponent moved at the last second and was able to keep his belt. But I continued to Grind while you wallowed in self-doubt and pity. I went on to fight in an unsanctioned match in another company and walked out with their Violent Championship. You beat off into an old sock while watching a Lissie Hope impersonator's OnlyFans.
We joined as GRINDHOUSE as an 'Us against the World' brotherhood. We both knew what it's like to grind, day in and out, just to survive and we were going to take the company by storm. And, unless it was in a match that had no stakes, we dominated our opponents. We left em staring at the lights and unable to get up. But, then came Vanguard, and you choked like the Yankees in late Summer. Add on top of that, me and Serenity getting together and you turning into a jealous tween, and our team fell apart. And now..." Holden scoffs. "Now you want to face me in a Casket match. Did my boys hit you in the head a lil too hard a few weeks ago?"
He takes another long pull from the blunt and shakes his head. "I ain't about to take you lightly. You're a scrub but that don't mean you can't be dangerous. Unfortunately for you, you ain't as dangerous as I am. I'ma throw you a beating the likes of which you have never experienced. Broken bones, torn flesh, and bruised organs are going to lead up to your broken body being dumped in that coffin like the sack of shit you are. And when you're buried and gone? I'll piss on your grave. When you die, Joey, ain't nobody gonna remember you..." he says with a laugh. As the camera fades to black, Holden strolls off camera. On the back of his hoodie, in bright red is an image of an axe handle crossing a baseball bat. See ya soon, Scala....
