"I cummed. And I started crying" (MACK O'CONNOR RP)
Feb 26, 2023 22:25:00 GMT -5
Tamika Strader likes this
Post by Marcus Welsh on Feb 26, 2023 22:25:00 GMT -5
Wednesday
February 8th
How long have I been in here? For a while there I counted the days, hoping it would somehow make it go faster. Of course it didn’t. The first time I was thrown in solitary, I counted ten days before they put be back in gen pop. Wasn’t more than three hours before I was back here. So I counted again. This time? Fifteen. Back into gen pop, back into solitary before the end of the day. Next count was twenty. After another round trip back to solitary, I stopped counting. There was no purpose. For whatever reason, the guys in here can never just leave me be. Whenever I walk out into the yard, they forget that I wasn’t some street level thug. I was a professional fucking fighter. And every time I entered that yard, they forced me to remind them. They’d start it, and I’d fucking finish it. But of course, I’m still the one that loses every time, which is evident by me sitting in solitary right now.
Fuck me… Am I monologuing? Jesus Christ, what has this fucking place done to me? Meyhu never spent a day in any sort of lock up, but he spent half his time monologuing. Him, the “Great One”, half of the fucking OCW Hall of Fame are all monologuers. Has this dark cell decayed me into joining their ranks? Not one of them, to my knowledge, has spent time in solitary, let alone federal prison. Well, there’s Chad Vargas… But let’s not talk about January 6th…
I hear the door lock shift, and the door opens. I cover my eyes as the light pours in, nearly blinding me… Jesus, I sound so dramatic…
Guard working the afternoon shift. I always forget his name. I don’t think he gives a shit, but I spend most of my time in proximity to these guys so I feel like I should know their names.
Fuck if I know. Come along.
Thanks for the help.
I follow him down the endless corridor. Must have been a ten minute walk. It could have been five. I recently haven’t been too successful at keeping an accurate time.
He opened the door for me, and I stepped through. The classic visiting room. A wall of glass reaches from left to right, separated by small barriers allowing visitors to speak to their beloved inmate through the telephone. I’ve only been here once or twice. Not too many visitors. Maybe that’s why I’m monologuing… Maybe I just have no one to talk to?
Nah, that’s gay.
Anyway, I instantly knew who my visitor was. Fucking Marcus Welsh. Sitting there holding the phone, wearing his douche bag suit, forcing his douche bag smile. I could smell his douche bag cologne just by looking at him through the glass. I don’t know who I was hoping for, but it certainly wasn’t this fuck bag.
It was time out of solitary. So fine. I sat down, picked up the phone…
What?
What?
What was that?
I tried to brush off whatever THAT was. Welsh looked at me, confusion clearly covering his face. But I acted like nothing happened. Nothing to see here.
It’s O’Connor to you.
Oh? I thought we were friends.
Why this man would think we were friends is one of the great mysteries of my life.
Why so direct? Do you have somewhere to be?
I’m captain of the prison glee club, and we’re practicing for the playoffs.
Fuck you, Welsh. Take that one. We both know this prison doesn’t have a glee club, and if it did we both know I wouldn’t be captain of it. But yeah, I’m making the point that I’d rather do that than talk to you. You bag of dicks.
Besides, do glee competitions even have playoffs? How does that work? Anyway…
I squinted my eyes at him… Does he know something I don’t? Does this prison have a glee club? Or is he just fucking with me? I honestly don’t know what’s real or not anymore, and it’s really…
God dammit.
How does that even work?
Seriously, I’ve never understood it. This isn’t the first time I’ve been released to compete. Not even just OCW, but also GCWA. Is this warden a big wrestling fan? Is this even legal?
Of course: No answers. And around and around we fucking go.
We have a big event coming up. A huge tournament.
There’s always a “big tournament” coming up. Always some “massive event.” Go fuck yourself.
Everyone will be competing in a giant pyramid in Antarctica. It’s going to be really exciting.
What in the “Aliens vs. Predators” is he fucking talking about?
Now I’m repeating myself… Whatever. Solid reference, Mack. I’m sure no one else will make it.
What other “he” would I mean?
Nice recovery.
What about the TransAtlantic Title? Is that up for grabs?
I’m not even sure if that title exists anymore…
Seems hardly fucking worth it.
It’s not up to me. It’s up to Gold.
Gold? Like money?
No. Adi Gold. The GM of OCW.
Who the hell is Adi Gold?
I’ve been in here for too long.
Come on, Mack, just…
O’Connor.
Welsh took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them and looked at me again.
Is there a fucking bird in that cell? Is it hiding?
No, you fucking moron, not an actual bird. Jesus Christ, maybe Welsh is actually right: This place is rotting my brain.
Okay… So, what do you want from me in return? What do you get from this?
I just need to know that when the time comes, you’ll have my back. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.
I’m not sure why, but in that moment a back scratch sounded really good. Nothing sexual or weird, just a good ol’ fashion back scratch. Not from Welsh, definitely not. Welp, there’s an image I can’t get out of my head.
Yeah, I need out of here. I need to control this.
Of course. So do we have a deal?
I will never have Welsh’s back. But he doesn’t have to know that. So sure, I’ll lie to the guy. I never claimed to be the embodiment of perfect morality.
By the end of the day. You won’t have long to train.
Train? This man thinks I’m going to train when I get out of here? I haven’t had a fucking drink in a year and a half, and this man thinks I’m going to train?
Dammit… But hey, Welsh let out a laugh.
We both hung up our phones, Welsh shooting me a hard thumbs up. I forced a smile before standing and turning to the doorway. The Guard gave me a little nod.
In fact, yes I am… Joe.
Shot in the dark.
Ah. Well…
He paid me no attention, turning to call down the corridor.
I guess that made us even.
----------
Double glass doors swing open, and Mack O’Connor comes walking out. He wears his black boots, dark blue jeans, and no shirt under a leather jacket. He also slides on some sunglasses as he approaches Treat.
He stops about five feet away, sizing Treat up.
Welsh sent you to pick me up?
Treat spread his arms and offers a bow. He stands back up, examining Mack.
Why don’t you have a shirt?
They just gave me what I came in with.
You came in without a shirt on?
I don’t quite remember.
They stood there staring at each other for a moment.
So, are we going to go?
Sure. We’ll go as soon as you apologize.
Mack shifted his weight, slightly pushing his head forward.
I’m sorry… Apologize? For what?
Treat took a deep breath.
You were horrible to me, and all I ever wanted to do was help you..
…oh, here we fuckin’ go…
…you were constantly insulting, you never took me serious, you never took my calls…
…you think I had a phone to answer in there?
…you constantly gave me false hope, probably on purpose, and you were actually considering ditching me and having Poblano represent you.
Poblano! Where is he? He could probably actually fucking help me right now.
Are you serious?
Yes! What happened to Poblano?! Where can I find him?
Treat stared in disbelief at Mack for several seconds. He then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He tossed it to Mack, who caught it before examining it.
The fuck is this?
Your cell phone. Fully charged, with all your contacts and apps. Have a good day.
Without a second thought Treat turned, opened the driver’s door, and slid into the car. He shut the door behind him.
Oh, really? Fuckin’ really, Treat? It’s like that?
Treat didn’t bother looking in Mack’s direction. Instead he started up the ignition, threw the car into gear, and pulled away.
Well great. Real fuckin’ great.
----------
Whistling as he drove, Daniel was just happy to be employed. Several years ago he lost his job at a grocery store in California due to an incident outside of his control, and he and his family were forced to relocate out of state. It had been a tough handful of years, but he was making a decent living driving for Uber for eight hours a day until he found another job that could sustain him and his family. He would be moving out of his cousin’s house in no time!
This particular fair was a bit of a drive, but Daniel knew that meant a larger payout. Most drivers would scoff at such a fair, but not Daniel. Daniel’s approach to life was that every day was a new opportunity, a new chance to prove to yourself and your loved ones that you’re worth it. So sure, this fair may be a little out of the way, but that was just another obstacle Daniel was ready to overcome.
Daniel approaches the fair’s location. Sort of an abandoned road in the middle of nowhere. Daniel thought he had read there was a federal prison nearby, but maybe that was elsewhere. As he approached, he makes out a man walking along the side of the road. Ah, this must be his fair. Poor guy must have had car trouble and tried to walk to find help. Thank God the man had Uber, allowing Daniel to come and assist him.
Daniel pulls up to the man and rolls down his window.
Are you Mark?
The man turns to the car.
What? Who?
Mark. Are you Mark?
The man looks confused, so Daniel looks back at his phone to clarify. Silly Daniel, he got the name wrong.
I apologize. Are you Mack?
Yes, I’m Mack. Are you my Uber?
Yes. My name is Daniel, I’m your driver.
What took you so long?
I do apologize. It was a long drive out. I hope you weren’t inconvenienced.
I guess I didn't have a choice. At least I have the buffer.
Optimism is always a good choice, sir. I applaud you for that.
Several moments of silence pass.
May I ask you a question, Mark?
Um… My name is… Sure. Ask away.
Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?
That’s a long story.
We’ll have time.
It’s a nice day out. So yeah, thought I’d go shirtless.
Oh… That wasn’t a very long story.
I gave you the abridged. Thought it’d be better if I spared you the details.
Oh, but Mark, the details of the story are like the spices in a soup. Sure, the broth might fill your tummy, but the spices are what makes it enjoyable.
…okay?
It’s an old family saying. I thought I’d pass it on.
Can I just get in and-
Why the leather jacket?
Huh?
If it’s a nice day, why the jacket?
Another moment of silence passes.
What, are you writing a fucking novel?
Daniel looked flabbergasted.
You want the truth? I don’t know why I don’t have a fucking shirt. This is just what they gave me when they released me.
Released you? From the prison?
Yes.
Daniel squinted at Mack.
Wait a second… I know you…
Yeah, I appear on TV from time to time.
No! That’s not it! It was you!
What was me?
I worked at Ralph’s!
Ralph’s? Who’s Ralph?
It’s a grocery store! And you! You punched a man trying to buy cookies!
In the store?
Girl Scout cookies! You punched a man! In front of the girls! I was inside and see it happen! You fled the scene, and I was fired! You cost me my job and my livelihood!
If it makes you feel any better, I don’t even remember this
You monster! You savage! You barbarian!
I’ll request another driver?
Daniel steps out of the car, storming towards Mack.
Yo, stop!
Fuck you! You took everything from me!
Daniel starts throwing hands at Mack, but Mack is able to easily block and dodge them.
This is really uncalled for, Daniel!
You! You are uncalled for!
Daniel manages to catch Mack once across the chin. Mack instinctively fires back, hitting him with a hard hook across the jaw. Daniel’s head wobbles, and he falls to the ground unconscious.
Mack looks around at the scene.
I’m just on a roll today, aren’t I…
Yes, you are.
----------
----------
Friday
February 10th
Makenna Cullen, therapist by trade, sits in her office with a Patient laying on the couch. She is in the middle of hearing his story.
And… I watched from across the street… It was my daughter... My daughter and… And… HIM. My nemesis. And they were… They were beginning to make love.
But you kept watching?
Yes… Yes… I kept watching. I started thinking about my wife… I miss her… I long for her body and soul… I started thinking about my wife… While my daughter began engaging in intercourse with him… And… And…
Take your time.
I was thinking of my wife… And I… I started masturbating… Watching my daughter, thinking about my wife… And I cummed.
I'm sorry... You came?
No, I cummed… I cummed. And I started crying…
The patient starts sobbing uncontrollably.
Oh dear…
Shouting is heard on the other side of the office door: A man’s voice and a young woman’s.
Makenna!
I’m sorry, sir! You can’t just-
The door flies open. There stands Mack O’Connor in all his glory.
Mack?!?! You’re out again?!
We need to talk. I need help. Also, I like your new office.
How did you find it?
You’re listed.
Dammit… Chelsea, call security.
We don’t have security.
Call the cops then!
No cop calling! Just hear me out, then I’ll leave.
Mack looks over at the Patient, still crying as if he doesn’t notice the commotion.
Is he okay?
Don’t call Chelsea… Okay, what do you want Mack?
Its hard to explain… But I’ve been… Monologuing. In my head… And I don’t know how to stop it.
We all have a voice inside our head.
No, that’s not it. This is different. It just started the other day. Just before I was released. And it keeps following me. I can’t stop it.
You were released?
Welsh got me out. I’m fighting for OCW again.
Of course. Of fucking course. How does that even work, legally?
Don’t ask me.
Makenna takes a breath, and the room quiets down… Minus the Patient’s sobbing.
Look, I might know what’s going on. I’ll do my best to dumb it down.
I’m fine with that.
You’ve been released several times to return to fighting, right? You’re not happy doing it, you don’t really want to do it. So maybe this inner monologue, this voice in your head, it was sparked because maybe deep down you have unfinished business.
Unfinished business?
Maybe there’s something at OCW that you want to accomplish. Something that you never got the chance to do. I’m willing to guess that once you figure that out, you can focus on what you truly want, and that voice will resolve itself.
What unfinished business could I possibly have?
I can’t answer that for you. Only you can.
Mack stands quietly for a moment. He then turns to leave.
Are you okay?
I don’t know… But I will be.
He takes a breath.
I saw a Denny’s down the street. You want to grab a bite with me? I mean, its not a picnic, but...
Makenna looks bewildered. She closes her eyes in disbelief.
Fine, Mack. Sure. I’ll meet you there.
Great. I’ll see you there.
Mack leaves.
Who was that? He looked familiar.
He’s been on TV from time to time.
----------
Mack sits quietly at a booth in Denny’s.
I sat here for two hours waiting for her. And she never came. I ended up ordering without her. Wouldn’t be the first time I was stood up.
But what she said rang true to me. Maybe I do have unfinished business with OCW. But what could it be? I’ve been to the top. I’ve earned the Savage Title, the Paradigm Title, and I’ve had multiple OCW World Title runs. What “unfinished business” could be left for me?
The Waitress walks over with a plate in hand.
Still hasn’t shown huh?
Nope.
What else could I do? What else could I accomplish? I know there’s something. There’s something there. Just on the tip of my tongue. What do I want from OCW?
Well, here’s your Grand Slam.
Thank you.
Mack stares down at the plate.
And slowly smiles.