Σlysiµm (Part One): Cats in the Cradle
Mar 16, 2023 14:46:50 GMT -5
Max f'n Daemon and The Ascension like this
Post by Dionysus on Mar 16, 2023 14:46:50 GMT -5
Dionysus, or "Dion" as he preferred to be called as a child, stared at the static of the television set in front of him. It was late, much later than his mother would normally let him stay up. His red curly hair was trimmed for school pictures the next day, but was as messy as ever. His socks hang loosely from his feet as his much-too-tight-for-his-size pajamas clinged to his body. His feet dangled at the edge of the couch as another man was smacking the side of the television, then smacked the VCR, before returning to the TV for one final whack. The static cleared, bringing an image of a wrestling match already in progress. The man then stood up, groaning and stretching his back as he did so. Dressed in a white beater and shorts, the older man took a seat next to Dion, his eyes focused on the screen. “You see that, Dion?” he asked the child with pride. “That’s your dear ol’ dad in his first wrestling match.” Dion looked up at his father, his eyes filled with wonder and admiration. His hair was slicked back, his mustache full and luxurious, perfectly accenting his somewhat bulbous nose. That part was not a fault of genetics, though; he had injured his face earlier in the day, and decided not to bother with putting an ice pack to reduce the swelling. Dion giggled, sliding up next to his father saying excitedly, “That’s YOU?!” His father, Hector, laughed loudly. “Sure is, kiddo. I don’t look like that anymore, not since I-uhh…got hurt, but-” A loud thud, combined with an announcer saying “OH MY” and a roar of cheers from the crowd, came out of the television. Dion squealed with excitement as he watched Hector on screen delivering a body slam to a much larger opponent. Hector wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders, as he looked on with anticipation. Dion heard footsteps from the next room and turned to look. His mother was leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom, looking tired but smiling warmly. “Now you know that you’re up past your bedtime, young man. You have school tomorrow,” she informed, though any harshness was tempered out of her voice. “Aww mom, just five more minutes?” “Aww Josephine, just five more minutes?” Like father, like son, both of the important men in her life just spoke simultaneously. She couldn’t help but giggle, then sigh with content, saying “Okay, five more minutes. But I also have school tomorrow, so Hector, would you mind turning down the TV?” “Anything for you, sweetie pie,” Hector teased, waggling his eyebrows and winking at his bride. “EEEEEEW!!” Dion yelled, sticking his tongue out. “Blech!” The laughter the family shared that evening was one of warmth, of a love and bond that could never be broken. Dion hopped off the couch, giving Josephine a hug goodnight. She knelt down next to her son, giving him a bigger hug and a kiss on top of his head. Then, gently ruffling Dion’s hair, she turned back into the bedroom, gingerly closing the door behind her. Dion ran back to the couch, and at the last minute deciding to sit on the ground, in front of Hector’s legs. “Hey, look look! Here comes the finish!” Hector whispered, pointing to the screen as his younger self perform a ripcord clothesline. “WHAT A MANEUVER!” Shouted the announcer as Hector drops down for the pin, and after three, winning the match. Both Hector and Dion cheered quietly, and Hector watched as his son crawled closer to the screen, watching as his hand was being held up in victory. Dion turned to look at his father, his eyes bright and filled with determination. “Dad, can I be like you when I grow up?” Hector laughed with delight while he pointed at Dion. “You, little guy, want to be a wrestler?” he joked. Dion pretended to get angry. “I’m not gonna be so little, and when I get big and strong, I’m gonna be the best wrestler ever! I’ll be a good guy and help everyone!” he exclaimed. “Shhh,” Hector responded, attempting to quiet his son down. “Okay, okay, I believe you,” he said with warmth, holding his arms out. Dion stood up from the floor and ran to his father’s arms, sharing an embrace. “If you want to be a wrestler, then you’re going to be one, son. And I’ll be here to help you every step of the way.” He held his son tight, his pride welling up inside. Hector could even feel tears starting to form, but he blinked them away. Dion looked up at his father. “You really mean it? I don’t want to do it if you won’t be there,” he pouted. Hector laughed again, saying “I do, kiddo. Don’t you believe me?” Dion, with all the defiance in his heart, held his small pinky in front of his father. “Pinky swears it?” Hector looked at the pinky with confusion, then shrugged, wrapping his pinky around his son’s. “I promise you, Dion. I will help you make your dream come true. I will always be there for you, even when you can’t see me. I’ll always cheer you on, and always do what I can to help you. No matter what.” Dion smiled. “Good, because I’m gonna be someone who helps fix people, so I’m gonna be The Fixer!” Hector laughed again, pretending to argue, “Hey, that’s my name! You can’t be…” That was the day I decided to become a professional wrestler. Several years have passed now, and while I'm sitting here going through concussion treatments...again...I can't help but wonder if there was any other vocation I could have chosen. Maybe my life was meant to be one where I'd get knocked down, only to get back up again. With my degree, I probably would've ended up in customer service, getting yelled at by some random person who was unhappy with our company's service. ...Man did I forget how much of a punch Downfall could deliver. Still wasn't enough to keep me down, though. I wanted to be the kind of wrestler that would help people. Am I just not that person? Did I read my own father wrong as well? After all, if he was really that helpful...then where was he when I needed him most? I still remember standing outside of the MSP Airport with my mother, holding her hand as we both watched him wave goodbye to us when he left for Tokyo. I wanted to say something, anything, to try and change his mind. But what could a ten year old say that would get anyone to stop chasing their dream? The doctors told me four to five weeks for recovery. Management told me they'll have me back at Havoc. That's fine with me. Gives me a chance to recover. To train. To do...something. I should call Elbrook. See if he has time free. *sigh* Another test. |