Post by Gerard Angelo on Oct 30, 2022 6:45:24 GMT -5
“And then they said it is all my fault somehow.”
Gerard sat in a brown leather chair, tapping the arm with his fingers as he slumped. He was dressed casually in sweats and a hoodie, the hood pulled up. Since he won the World title, his life has been nothing short of a whirlwind. Between media appearances, signings, and a growing list of challengers, time was becoming a rare luxury. Mainly that “free” time was filled with trying to unravel the mysteries surrounding his mother’s murder. That had to be put on the side burner for now. He had asked Action to remove him from his appearances this week in order to get an assessment of his mental health. The office begrudgingly granted his request, mostly due to the health care plan covering that, and sent someone else in his place.
“So you feel as if all the blame is being placed on you?”
Gerard stared across at the man sitting in the other brown leather chair facing him as if it was obvious. He peered at Gerry through thin glasses, the lights of the office reflecting off his bald head.
“Let me ask you this then,” the man said, scratching his pen against his closely sheered white beard, “Did you lash out with any accusations yourself?”
“Accusations, Doctor Avery? I simply asked how the man that runs the show lets a lunatic dressed as a clown keep running free through arenas across the country when he should be institutionalized to take the World title of his company. But of course, all I get is mockery and ridicule from social media interns, part-time Corey Black, and fucking Bacchus. People who couldn’t walk a foot in my shoes let alone a mile. I thought being the World champion would get me a modicum of respect.”
Avery scribbled on his clipboard.
“Do you think the lack of respect is related in any way to your attitude toward your peers?”
Gerry works his jaw back and forth.
“I don’t really see what that has to do with what I’m here for.”
Doctor Avery just scribbles again on his clipboard.
“Well?” Gerard asks expectantly, “You’re supposed to help me get over my fear of clowns.”
Avery just finishes his writing and sighs.
“I can’t cure you of a phobia in just a few sessions. Things like that require time and effort.”
Gerard rolls his eyes which isn’t missed by the doctor.
“And in the mind, everything is connected. My job is to treat everything. Therapy isn’t al a carte.”
“This is some horseshit. I could’ve just gone to Drake’s birthday party and drowned my sorrows in booze and loose women. Instead, I’ve been here for days pouring my life story out to you. And for what? Absolutely nothing.”
Avery just watched him the whole time through the thin, gold, spectacles.
“Actually I feel that we’ve made impressive progress these last few days.”
Gerry doesn’t say anything and just stares at the various degrees on the wall behind the doctor. Avery flips a few pages back down in his notes and crosses his legs.
“So tell me more about your mother. Last time we spoke about her you mentioned you recently found out her death wasn’t an accident. How did that make you feel?”
Terrible, he thought to himself. Awful. Powerless. What else could he feel?
“I’d rather not talk about that right now.”
Avery nodded and jotted more notes down. Gerard had half a mind to snatch the clipboard out of his hands to see what was written. Was he crazy? Was he a narcissist? Did he have a borderline personality disorder? Thoughts raced through his mind, each stroke of the doctor's pen agonizing.
“Can you tell me more about your father? You mentioned you didn’t have a very amicable relationship until recently.”
“If you can even call it that. Life is easier for him when I’m in line with the family. He only cares about what’s best for him.”
“Sounds like you have more in common than you think,” Avery says, scribbling again. Gerard stares coldly at the doctor.
“Can you at least tell me where the… dislike for your father started?”
“When I was younger it wasn’t all bad. We went to ball games together. He came to my little league games. It was great before he started to get successful. Once he got his first taste, though. He was home less and less.”
Avery’s pen rolled over the paper as Gerard continued.
“It was only working at first. Late nights at the office. As soon as the money started to roll in though, the late-night working became dinner meetings. Then he was staying out all night. There were whispers of him being seen around town with various women. We chose not to believe them at first. Only nasty rumors spread by gossiping hens bored with their own lives of endless mimosas and Prozac. It got worse and worse as the years went by. The money piled up and dad tried to fill the void he left in our life with expensive gifts. I accepted them of course, what child wouldn’t? I simply wrote it off as a man busy providing for his family”
Gerard leaned up in the chair as he spoke both hands gripping the leather arms.
“One night I woke up to use the bathroom. On my journey down the hall, I heard my parents arguing. I decided to be nosy and crept down the stairs quietly. My mother repeatedly asked, “who is she, Anthony?” My father of course tried to deny and gaslight. She eventually wore him down and he admitted to seeing a woman that night. After more heated arguing I saw my father strike my mother. She fell to the ground and started to sob, screaming for him to get out. He listened and left, shutting the front door behind him. I crept back to bed and feigned sleep while I stewed under the covers with anger and helplessness.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“What happened happened,” Gerard says with a shrug, “You know that’s the first time I’ve ever told that story?”
“I feel honored you considered this a safe space to share.”
Gerry turned his head, dismissing the notion with a wave. Doctor Avery flipped the clipboard face down on his lap and placed his pen on top of it.
“Why don’t we stop there for the day? I’m sure you need to prepare for your company’s event on Monday. Make sure you make a date for a future appointment with the receptionist.”
Gerard stands up and heads towards the door but stops.
“Thanks, Doc.”
Avery nods and Gerard exits the officer, shutting the door quietly behind him.
=====
Halloween is an interesting holiday.
It started out as a pagan ritual to ward off ghosts. Now it’s an excuse for people to get drunk and fuck in costumes.
I mean the fucking in costumes part is cool. I can’t tell you how many slutty cats, slutty maids, and slutty nurses I’ve brought home on All Hallow’s Eve over the years. Last year I brought home a Blackwidow that might have actually been Scarlett Johansson now that I think about it.
Anyway, I’m getting off-topic. This year on Halloween instead of dressing up like Deadpool or something and dancing with no room for Jesus with a thot dressed like slutty She-Hulk, I get to dance with that deranged, disgusting, despicable, Clown.
Despite my coulrophobia, I will still be showing up for this match. Insert FDR quote. Truth is you were never going to leave me alone until you got what you wanted. Right, Bozo? You want to bring about some chaos here to Action Wrestling? You want the World title because management would have no choice but to listen to you as you hold the strap hostage as you do now.
The thing is Bozo while possession is nine-tenths of the law, the last one-tenth is the fact that you knew that was the only way to get your hands on that strap. It’s why you resort to speaking in riddles and burning through the Clash special effects budget.
You know you can’t take the title from me straight up. I don’t blame you. I’m the best in the business for a reason. Once again I’m going to have to prove a point in front of the world. That there’s no one in the world doing it like me.
You can spew out whatever reason you have for attacking me. Forcing me to pay for the sins of Torture and Gravedigger. In your fucking dreams you third-rate Canio.
I’m not a pawn for you and I’m not one for the two geezers.
What I am is a pissed-off World Heavyweight Champion. I’m coming to Clash to do what no one else has been able to do since you shoved your big red nose into everyone’s business. I’m going to take the rabid dog out back and put one right between his eyes.
I don’t give two shits what beef you have still about Philidor. That shit was over before I was here. This is the Era of Angelo now you greasy-haired fuck and you’ve been passed by.
And my brother in Christ please take a shower. Your hair is oily enough to solve the European gas crisis. Every week I smell you before you pop up behind me.
I hope you have some elaborate trick up your dirty sleeve, Bozo. I’d be offended if you thought you could beat me straight up. Me. The man who has been Action Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion for nearly one hundred days. The one seed in the Wrestler of the Year tournament.
I’m just going to say it. I’m the greatest signing in the history of this company. I’m on my way to being an all-time great and I’ve been here less than a year. Greatest debut year in the history of the business. I'll wait for you to find someone better but I'm speaking facts.
And you think a little phobia of clowns is going to stop greatness?
I'm him.
Any fear I have from you Bozo is going to fuel me. I need this more than you do.
All you want to do is sew chaos and disarray. This business is my life. That World title is the reason I get up in the morning. I live to be the champion. I’m the face of the biggest wrestling company in the world. I can’t go into WOTY with a title loss to the guy that doesn’t know a wristlock from a wristwatch. That’s not good for business. And neither is you touching my baby with your filthy, greasy, disgusting, dirty, grease-paint-covered, clown hands.
I’m coming to take my title back, clown.
I’m prepared to send you to the hospital if I have to. Maybe they can get you, someone, to talk to after they get your neck brace fitted.
Therapy isn’t that bad, to be honest.
You better bring your best fucking shot, Bozo. Don’t miss.
I won’t.
Monday I finish this once and for all, clown.
I expose you for what you really are.
Nothing but a bad joke.
=====
Doctor Avery sat behind his wooden desk, pen in hand as he went over his notes from today's sessions. He had loosened his tie as his desk lamp was the lone illumination in his office. That changed as his phone lit up on his desk, the vibrations were felt through the wood. Avery picked it up and hit green.
"Doctor Avery."
The doctor's body stiffened a bit when he heard who it was on the other end of the call.
"Yes. He was in today actually."
The doctor tilted his head as he listened.
"Yes, I believe I can do that. Thought I would want half now and half on completion."
The doctor's face split into a small smile as he heard the response.
"Splendid. I believe after our sessions this week he is starting to trust me. I'm sure, eventually, we can steer him in a more friendly direction for your interests."
Avery tapped the table with his pen.
"Excellent. I'll be in touch."
The call ended and the doctor placed his phone back down on the table. He folded his hands together. The doctor was certain he'd uncover whatever Gerard Angelo knew about the Ronin. The brotherhood was everywhere. Always one step ahead.
Gerard sat in a brown leather chair, tapping the arm with his fingers as he slumped. He was dressed casually in sweats and a hoodie, the hood pulled up. Since he won the World title, his life has been nothing short of a whirlwind. Between media appearances, signings, and a growing list of challengers, time was becoming a rare luxury. Mainly that “free” time was filled with trying to unravel the mysteries surrounding his mother’s murder. That had to be put on the side burner for now. He had asked Action to remove him from his appearances this week in order to get an assessment of his mental health. The office begrudgingly granted his request, mostly due to the health care plan covering that, and sent someone else in his place.
“So you feel as if all the blame is being placed on you?”
Gerard stared across at the man sitting in the other brown leather chair facing him as if it was obvious. He peered at Gerry through thin glasses, the lights of the office reflecting off his bald head.
“Let me ask you this then,” the man said, scratching his pen against his closely sheered white beard, “Did you lash out with any accusations yourself?”
“Accusations, Doctor Avery? I simply asked how the man that runs the show lets a lunatic dressed as a clown keep running free through arenas across the country when he should be institutionalized to take the World title of his company. But of course, all I get is mockery and ridicule from social media interns, part-time Corey Black, and fucking Bacchus. People who couldn’t walk a foot in my shoes let alone a mile. I thought being the World champion would get me a modicum of respect.”
Avery scribbled on his clipboard.
“Do you think the lack of respect is related in any way to your attitude toward your peers?”
Gerry works his jaw back and forth.
“I don’t really see what that has to do with what I’m here for.”
Doctor Avery just scribbles again on his clipboard.
“Well?” Gerard asks expectantly, “You’re supposed to help me get over my fear of clowns.”
Avery just finishes his writing and sighs.
“I can’t cure you of a phobia in just a few sessions. Things like that require time and effort.”
Gerard rolls his eyes which isn’t missed by the doctor.
“And in the mind, everything is connected. My job is to treat everything. Therapy isn’t al a carte.”
“This is some horseshit. I could’ve just gone to Drake’s birthday party and drowned my sorrows in booze and loose women. Instead, I’ve been here for days pouring my life story out to you. And for what? Absolutely nothing.”
Avery just watched him the whole time through the thin, gold, spectacles.
“Actually I feel that we’ve made impressive progress these last few days.”
Gerry doesn’t say anything and just stares at the various degrees on the wall behind the doctor. Avery flips a few pages back down in his notes and crosses his legs.
“So tell me more about your mother. Last time we spoke about her you mentioned you recently found out her death wasn’t an accident. How did that make you feel?”
Terrible, he thought to himself. Awful. Powerless. What else could he feel?
“I’d rather not talk about that right now.”
Avery nodded and jotted more notes down. Gerard had half a mind to snatch the clipboard out of his hands to see what was written. Was he crazy? Was he a narcissist? Did he have a borderline personality disorder? Thoughts raced through his mind, each stroke of the doctor's pen agonizing.
“Can you tell me more about your father? You mentioned you didn’t have a very amicable relationship until recently.”
“If you can even call it that. Life is easier for him when I’m in line with the family. He only cares about what’s best for him.”
“Sounds like you have more in common than you think,” Avery says, scribbling again. Gerard stares coldly at the doctor.
“Can you at least tell me where the… dislike for your father started?”
“When I was younger it wasn’t all bad. We went to ball games together. He came to my little league games. It was great before he started to get successful. Once he got his first taste, though. He was home less and less.”
Avery’s pen rolled over the paper as Gerard continued.
“It was only working at first. Late nights at the office. As soon as the money started to roll in though, the late-night working became dinner meetings. Then he was staying out all night. There were whispers of him being seen around town with various women. We chose not to believe them at first. Only nasty rumors spread by gossiping hens bored with their own lives of endless mimosas and Prozac. It got worse and worse as the years went by. The money piled up and dad tried to fill the void he left in our life with expensive gifts. I accepted them of course, what child wouldn’t? I simply wrote it off as a man busy providing for his family”
Gerard leaned up in the chair as he spoke both hands gripping the leather arms.
“One night I woke up to use the bathroom. On my journey down the hall, I heard my parents arguing. I decided to be nosy and crept down the stairs quietly. My mother repeatedly asked, “who is she, Anthony?” My father of course tried to deny and gaslight. She eventually wore him down and he admitted to seeing a woman that night. After more heated arguing I saw my father strike my mother. She fell to the ground and started to sob, screaming for him to get out. He listened and left, shutting the front door behind him. I crept back to bed and feigned sleep while I stewed under the covers with anger and helplessness.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“What happened happened,” Gerard says with a shrug, “You know that’s the first time I’ve ever told that story?”
“I feel honored you considered this a safe space to share.”
Gerry turned his head, dismissing the notion with a wave. Doctor Avery flipped the clipboard face down on his lap and placed his pen on top of it.
“Why don’t we stop there for the day? I’m sure you need to prepare for your company’s event on Monday. Make sure you make a date for a future appointment with the receptionist.”
Gerard stands up and heads towards the door but stops.
“Thanks, Doc.”
Avery nods and Gerard exits the officer, shutting the door quietly behind him.
=====
Halloween is an interesting holiday.
It started out as a pagan ritual to ward off ghosts. Now it’s an excuse for people to get drunk and fuck in costumes.
I mean the fucking in costumes part is cool. I can’t tell you how many slutty cats, slutty maids, and slutty nurses I’ve brought home on All Hallow’s Eve over the years. Last year I brought home a Blackwidow that might have actually been Scarlett Johansson now that I think about it.
Anyway, I’m getting off-topic. This year on Halloween instead of dressing up like Deadpool or something and dancing with no room for Jesus with a thot dressed like slutty She-Hulk, I get to dance with that deranged, disgusting, despicable, Clown.
Despite my coulrophobia, I will still be showing up for this match. Insert FDR quote. Truth is you were never going to leave me alone until you got what you wanted. Right, Bozo? You want to bring about some chaos here to Action Wrestling? You want the World title because management would have no choice but to listen to you as you hold the strap hostage as you do now.
The thing is Bozo while possession is nine-tenths of the law, the last one-tenth is the fact that you knew that was the only way to get your hands on that strap. It’s why you resort to speaking in riddles and burning through the Clash special effects budget.
You know you can’t take the title from me straight up. I don’t blame you. I’m the best in the business for a reason. Once again I’m going to have to prove a point in front of the world. That there’s no one in the world doing it like me.
You can spew out whatever reason you have for attacking me. Forcing me to pay for the sins of Torture and Gravedigger. In your fucking dreams you third-rate Canio.
I’m not a pawn for you and I’m not one for the two geezers.
What I am is a pissed-off World Heavyweight Champion. I’m coming to Clash to do what no one else has been able to do since you shoved your big red nose into everyone’s business. I’m going to take the rabid dog out back and put one right between his eyes.
I don’t give two shits what beef you have still about Philidor. That shit was over before I was here. This is the Era of Angelo now you greasy-haired fuck and you’ve been passed by.
And my brother in Christ please take a shower. Your hair is oily enough to solve the European gas crisis. Every week I smell you before you pop up behind me.
I hope you have some elaborate trick up your dirty sleeve, Bozo. I’d be offended if you thought you could beat me straight up. Me. The man who has been Action Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion for nearly one hundred days. The one seed in the Wrestler of the Year tournament.
I’m just going to say it. I’m the greatest signing in the history of this company. I’m on my way to being an all-time great and I’ve been here less than a year. Greatest debut year in the history of the business. I'll wait for you to find someone better but I'm speaking facts.
And you think a little phobia of clowns is going to stop greatness?
I'm him.
Any fear I have from you Bozo is going to fuel me. I need this more than you do.
All you want to do is sew chaos and disarray. This business is my life. That World title is the reason I get up in the morning. I live to be the champion. I’m the face of the biggest wrestling company in the world. I can’t go into WOTY with a title loss to the guy that doesn’t know a wristlock from a wristwatch. That’s not good for business. And neither is you touching my baby with your filthy, greasy, disgusting, dirty, grease-paint-covered, clown hands.
I’m coming to take my title back, clown.
I’m prepared to send you to the hospital if I have to. Maybe they can get you, someone, to talk to after they get your neck brace fitted.
Therapy isn’t that bad, to be honest.
You better bring your best fucking shot, Bozo. Don’t miss.
I won’t.
Monday I finish this once and for all, clown.
I expose you for what you really are.
Nothing but a bad joke.
=====
Doctor Avery sat behind his wooden desk, pen in hand as he went over his notes from today's sessions. He had loosened his tie as his desk lamp was the lone illumination in his office. That changed as his phone lit up on his desk, the vibrations were felt through the wood. Avery picked it up and hit green.
"Doctor Avery."
The doctor's body stiffened a bit when he heard who it was on the other end of the call.
"Yes. He was in today actually."
The doctor tilted his head as he listened.
"Yes, I believe I can do that. Thought I would want half now and half on completion."
The doctor's face split into a small smile as he heard the response.
"Splendid. I believe after our sessions this week he is starting to trust me. I'm sure, eventually, we can steer him in a more friendly direction for your interests."
Avery tapped the table with his pen.
"Excellent. I'll be in touch."
The call ended and the doctor placed his phone back down on the table. He folded his hands together. The doctor was certain he'd uncover whatever Gerard Angelo knew about the Ronin. The brotherhood was everywhere. Always one step ahead.
