Post by Danger Boiz on Mar 20, 2014 22:56:19 GMT -5
"Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing." ~Helen Keller
“It’s funny how people are forgetting that Chris and I are in the turmoil match at Blackout 2. I wouldn’t overlook us boys...”
“And girls…”
“And girls…thank you Chris. I wouldn’t overlook Chris and me. It’s that attitude that will cost you greatly for always underestimating the underdogs.”
Chris and Dan are casually making their way through Universal Studios. Both are taking in the sights of the Floridian setting. They approach a shop that supplies all of the greatest comedian’s wardrobe, as well as memorabilia…Ms. Lucille Ball. Dan seems taken back by the shop, as she is his all-time favorite comedian.
“Oh Chris look…look…it’s a whole shop designated for Lucille Ball. I think I’m in Heaven.”
Chris shrugs and nods his head to show is ‘support’ for his brother. Chris never really has been a Lucille Ball fan, but Dan has always had a spot in his heart for Ms. Ball.
“I know you’re not excited, but I certainly am. I’m like a kid at a candy store.”
Chris shakes his head and raises his eyebrow as if saying that it’s something he’s interested in too.
“What?”
“Let’s not forget the task at hand here Dan.”
“Oh right…sorry.”
Dan directs his attention back towards the ‘camera’ that appears to be following them around.
“As I was saying…don’t take us as the underdogs. Why do people even still consider us the underdogs?”
“Honestly, Dan, I wonder that same question myself. For five years you and I have been proving each week that we are a dominate tag team. We are the team to beat. we are a force to be reckoned with. But, unfortunately, people seem to just take us as this weak-link in the tag team chain.”
Both brothers scratch their heads wondering the answers to their very own question.
“At Blackout 2…the Danger Boiz are taking the tag team turmoil by storm. It doesn’t matter if it’s one team we have to beat...two teams we have to beat…or the whole damn bunch. Chris and I are walking out of Blackout 2 as the new OCW Tag Team Champions.”
Dan turns around and continues looking thru all of Ms. Ball’s memorabilia. He reads over the actual marriage license the two signed back in 1940. Chris, meanwhile, takes control over the promo.
“While my brother decides to look around a bit, let me address the teams in this match. I know we have already discussed our opinions on everyone…but there seems to be certain people who are looking at one another as the ultimate threat. Trevor…I don’t really give two fucking shits what kind of beef you have with Amber. But she isn’t any threat to Dan or to myself. The bitch hasn’t been around for a fucking month. You really consider her to be the biggest threat in the turmoil? Ha. I beg to differ. If you believe someone is to be a threat …then you need to take a look at the two of us. Dan and I have dominated through the tag team division in EVERY organization we have been in. Do you not remember GCWA? We had your ass beat in our last bout, but your ‘bitches’ decided to cheat to pick up the win. Have you found anyone else to be your bitch lately?”
Chris pauses, laughs, and throws his hands up in the air.
“Oh, right. That bitch-boy Noah is your new ‘bitch’ isn’t he? I see that he is so far up your ass that he can’t even find his own damn head can he? However, I see he isn’t the only one that is someone’s bitch. I see you and Gavin have this ‘thing’ going on don’t you? Are you Gavin’s bitch? Is that why you are practically being handed the Tag Team titles? No wonder you have found yourself getting a push over the last month? You and Gavin are fucking each other’s brains out aren’t you? It doesn’t really matter, though. Dan and I will dominate through the Power Couple…dominate through Drew and Payne…dominate through DanBer…and dominate through the bitch-boys. Face it Trevor…you’re nothing more than a washed-up has been who can’t get around without someone financially backing you up and putting you in big matches."
At this time Dan makes his way by his brother’s side. A child like smile glows across his face.
“I love this store!”
“Dan…you want to chime in here?”
“OH right…I think you can handle it. I’ll see you outside. Gotta go stare at the dress she wore during her Vitameatavegamin speech. Later!”
Dan rushes off leaving Chris to fend for himself.
“On that note…everyone needs to take a good hard look at the Danger Boiz. We are going to be the six-time tag team champions come Blackout 2. Amber and Danny can feud all they want with Trevor. It doesn’t faze me one bit. The only thing Dan and I care about are winning the tag titles. This Sunday, that will be the outcome. Get ready teams…the Danger Boiz are back…and we are the team to beat. Get fucking used to it!”
Chris turns and makes his way to the back of the shop, searching for his lost brother in the process. Fade out…
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The day was nice and cool. The sun was playing peek-a-boo through the low-level hazy clouds. A westerly breeze dappled my cheeks as I scurried along the pavement, casting worried glances at the time on my phone. Chris was nervously seated in the passenger’s seat anxiously waiting for our destination. It was 5:28pm, and the multi-mart closed at 5:30; early closing on a Wednesday for some reason. There were other shops in town, of course, but Ethan’s was the only one that rented out DVD's.
Across the road, we could see the shop assistant making her way towards the door, ready to close up for the day. Once that bolt had been thrown, closed sign put up, we knew that no amount of begging would gain us entrance. I, for one, knew that it was time to get moving. I stepped on the gas and darted through the brush of traffic. On old lady was making her way across the street, as I prepared to cross through four lanes of rush-hour traffic.
“Sorry!”
The old lady responded indignantly.
“And so you should be, young man.”
Chris was laughing in the seat next to me, as I began heading up the street. The pedestrian crossing was three hundred yards up the road; no time for that.
“Hold on, bro!”
Chris and I braced ourselves as I began looking for a gap in the traffic, and beat a hasty pace across the tar. The screech of brakes and the smell of burning rubber filled the afternoon carbon-emission strewn air. A burly guy in a red Mazda pressed his horn repeatedly and from what I assumed was giving me the ol’ one-finger salute. He yelled as I passed by.
“Ya fuckin' idiot!”
I didn't hear him, but Chris began laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
Chris continued to laugh as he looked back to what I guess what the man still shouting behind us.
“Dude, you just totally pissed off that guy back there.”
I looked in my rearview mirror for a brief second, but wasn’t too concerned.
“Oh well…fuck him.”
I was too busy trying not to become a permanent bloodstained decoration of the macadam. Weaving in and out of traffic with life-at-stake urgency, I began to play Russian roulette on the busiest street in town, issuing ample amounts of apologies as I went. Another guy, hung out of the window of his black Porsche, decided to give me the full two-fingered salute, followed by…
“HEY! Have you got a death wish, or what?”
I laughed at the outburst, as I responded with the upmost “sincerity.”
“Haven't we all…asshole!”
The guy in the Porsche muttered to himself, gave me a baleful look, and sped off, grit flying out from the rear tires. Reaching the central reservation, I wasted no time stepping out into another two lanes of busy traffic. I could hear the horns blowing, tires screeching, and the f-bombs flying in every which way. If I would have known what was going to happen to Chris and me later that day, I probably would have chucked us under one of the cars and been thankful for a mercifully quick death. But destiny saves the worst deaths for the ignorant and foolhardy amongst us. Whether the protagonist is naïve or self-righteous, there can only be one outcome: retribution.
After some heart stopping near misses, and torrents of abuse, I finally reached the other side of the road, taking a momentary second to catch my breath. An old man with a big toothy grin spotted us and decided to place his two cents in for the day as well.
“You boys live a charmed life.”
Chris and I stared at the old man before gazing back at one another laughing. Chris tipped the old fella a wink and responded back with sarcasm.
“Yes, I guess we do.”
So what could Chris and I have been risking our lives for? What could warrant a life-threatening death-defying gung-ho leap of faith across four lanes of rush-hour traffic? A two liter bottle of cola…an extra-large pack spicy flavored Mexican tortillas…a large bar of raisin filled chocolate, and, of course, a DVD to watch whilst we consumed all of the above. Oh yes, definitely worth risking your life for, don't you think?
Chris and I turned our attention back to the shop. We rushed quickly to approach the door as the assistant was making her way to the door, her hand raised, ready to flip the OPEN sign to CLOSED. Luckily, we just managed to beat her to it. We pushing through the door, causing her to take a compensatory step back; her midnight blue eyes opening wide with shock. I looked at her nametag and began talking to the lovely woman as if I had known her my entire life.
“Natasha, can we just grab a few bits and bobs before you…”
“We're closed!”
“But we only want a few items.”
I pointed down the aisle. The white-marbled floor wet and gleaming under the powerful overhead fluorescents.
“I can see most of the stuff I want. If you'll just give us thirty seconds, tops, we'll grab it all and be out of here before you can say…”
“We're closed…sorry”
On another day, I might have tried to charm this beautiful, young, slim blonde girl. Chris would have definitely tried to get her phone number. Not that he'd call her or anything, just to prove that at thirty-one he still "had it"; that he could still pull 'em, so to speak. Looking around I could see others were looking on, though, their eyes boring into us. The shopkeeper, Mr. Ethan, who was serving what looked to be the last customer of the day, regarded us with what we at first thought to be a don't-waste-our-time-we've-had-a-long-day look of impatience.
“Mr. Ethan, we only want a few bits. We'll be out of here before you know it. I promise.”
Mr. Ethan looked at his watch.
“It's only just gone half-past…give me a break, please?”
I could see the frustration in Mr. Ethan’s eyes, as he was quick to respond.
“We're closed.”
The guy he was serving decided to butt in as well.
“They're closed, friend. As…in…not opened.”
He sniffled and scratched his stubbly chin.
For a split second I locked eyes with the guy that Mr. Ethan was "serving". Cold green gems fixed unflinchingly on both Chris and me, conveying a chilling message: “I have little something for you, friend, if you'd care to stick around and happen to like the feel of cold lead piercing your heart”… I gulped when I noticed a slight protrusion sticking out from underneath the guy's black puffer jacket; that protrusion being pointed directly at Mr. Ethan.
I recognized the guy straight away. His long black, greasy, wavy hair hung down like drawn curtains either side of his pallid face. He was wearing blue jeans with holes in the knees and had black steel toe-caped boots on. Aaron Lest was known by most of the people who lived in DeKalb County. Murder, rape, drugs offences…there wasn't much that he either hadn't been accused of, or convicted of, and I didn't doubt for one second that this man would hesitate to put a bullet in either Chris or myself.
Did he know that I recognized him? No, because if that had been the case the gun would have been turned on me, the bolts on the door thrown, and there would have been three in the firing line instead of two. I looked at Mr. Ethan again, then back at Natasha. The look they'd given me when I had first walked through the door had not been one of impatience, after all; it was a look that conveyed one message and one message alone: help.
For a few seconds I just stood there, three sets of eyes - two sets pleading, one set menacing - watching me intently. Some decisions in life hit us hard and unexpected, surprising us, testing our sense of humanity. Some choose to rise to this test and some, like Chris and I, choose to look the other way. The drone of peak-time traffic, safety of the masses behind us, beckoned a retreat, normality just a step away if we could just turn around and leave. A nearby street vendor began to yell.
“GETCHA TENNESSEAN HERE…STOCK MARKET CRASH CAUSES MAYHEM IN THE CITY… GETCHA TENNESSEAN HERE…”
“If I get shot today…”
I thought out loud.
“No one will be reading about it in The Tennessean. Oh no, it'll be in some local newspaper, probably wouldn't even make the front page: Have a go hero takes a bullet trying to help out local shopkeeper. What if I phone the police and he doesn't get convicted, then he'll come looking for me, and even if he does get convicted, when he gets out, he'll come looking for me. He'll know it was me. He'll want to hurt my family and me. I can't risk putting my family and son in the firing line. I just can't.”
I turned to Chris and he nodded right at me. We both knew what the other was thinking.
“Uh…we’re sorry.”
Chris and I turned and left the shop. We didn't notice that I had dropped my wallet on the way out. Natasha noticed, however, but didn't say anything. She just wanted us to go so they could hand the money over to the robber and get rid of him. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, I turned my face towards the warmth of the sun, which was no longer playing peek-a-boo behind the clouds. I turned my attention towards Chris.
“That was a close call.”
“Did we make the right call, Dan?”
“I’m sure we did, Chris. I’m sure Mr. Ethan will do the right thing…won’t he?”
I tried to convince myself that Mr. Ethan would just hand the money over, that everything would work out fine; but deep down I really couldn't convince myself that everything would be fine. We never looked back, though. We had to get away. Behind us, Natasha threw the bolts, flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED and sealed both her and Mr. Ethan's destiny.
“It’s funny how people are forgetting that Chris and I are in the turmoil match at Blackout 2. I wouldn’t overlook us boys...”
“And girls…”
“And girls…thank you Chris. I wouldn’t overlook Chris and me. It’s that attitude that will cost you greatly for always underestimating the underdogs.”
Chris and Dan are casually making their way through Universal Studios. Both are taking in the sights of the Floridian setting. They approach a shop that supplies all of the greatest comedian’s wardrobe, as well as memorabilia…Ms. Lucille Ball. Dan seems taken back by the shop, as she is his all-time favorite comedian.
“Oh Chris look…look…it’s a whole shop designated for Lucille Ball. I think I’m in Heaven.”
Chris shrugs and nods his head to show is ‘support’ for his brother. Chris never really has been a Lucille Ball fan, but Dan has always had a spot in his heart for Ms. Ball.
“I know you’re not excited, but I certainly am. I’m like a kid at a candy store.”
Chris shakes his head and raises his eyebrow as if saying that it’s something he’s interested in too.
“What?”
“Let’s not forget the task at hand here Dan.”
“Oh right…sorry.”
Dan directs his attention back towards the ‘camera’ that appears to be following them around.
“As I was saying…don’t take us as the underdogs. Why do people even still consider us the underdogs?”
“Honestly, Dan, I wonder that same question myself. For five years you and I have been proving each week that we are a dominate tag team. We are the team to beat. we are a force to be reckoned with. But, unfortunately, people seem to just take us as this weak-link in the tag team chain.”
Both brothers scratch their heads wondering the answers to their very own question.
“At Blackout 2…the Danger Boiz are taking the tag team turmoil by storm. It doesn’t matter if it’s one team we have to beat...two teams we have to beat…or the whole damn bunch. Chris and I are walking out of Blackout 2 as the new OCW Tag Team Champions.”
Dan turns around and continues looking thru all of Ms. Ball’s memorabilia. He reads over the actual marriage license the two signed back in 1940. Chris, meanwhile, takes control over the promo.
“While my brother decides to look around a bit, let me address the teams in this match. I know we have already discussed our opinions on everyone…but there seems to be certain people who are looking at one another as the ultimate threat. Trevor…I don’t really give two fucking shits what kind of beef you have with Amber. But she isn’t any threat to Dan or to myself. The bitch hasn’t been around for a fucking month. You really consider her to be the biggest threat in the turmoil? Ha. I beg to differ. If you believe someone is to be a threat …then you need to take a look at the two of us. Dan and I have dominated through the tag team division in EVERY organization we have been in. Do you not remember GCWA? We had your ass beat in our last bout, but your ‘bitches’ decided to cheat to pick up the win. Have you found anyone else to be your bitch lately?”
Chris pauses, laughs, and throws his hands up in the air.
“Oh, right. That bitch-boy Noah is your new ‘bitch’ isn’t he? I see that he is so far up your ass that he can’t even find his own damn head can he? However, I see he isn’t the only one that is someone’s bitch. I see you and Gavin have this ‘thing’ going on don’t you? Are you Gavin’s bitch? Is that why you are practically being handed the Tag Team titles? No wonder you have found yourself getting a push over the last month? You and Gavin are fucking each other’s brains out aren’t you? It doesn’t really matter, though. Dan and I will dominate through the Power Couple…dominate through Drew and Payne…dominate through DanBer…and dominate through the bitch-boys. Face it Trevor…you’re nothing more than a washed-up has been who can’t get around without someone financially backing you up and putting you in big matches."
At this time Dan makes his way by his brother’s side. A child like smile glows across his face.
“I love this store!”
“Dan…you want to chime in here?”
“OH right…I think you can handle it. I’ll see you outside. Gotta go stare at the dress she wore during her Vitameatavegamin speech. Later!”
Dan rushes off leaving Chris to fend for himself.
“On that note…everyone needs to take a good hard look at the Danger Boiz. We are going to be the six-time tag team champions come Blackout 2. Amber and Danny can feud all they want with Trevor. It doesn’t faze me one bit. The only thing Dan and I care about are winning the tag titles. This Sunday, that will be the outcome. Get ready teams…the Danger Boiz are back…and we are the team to beat. Get fucking used to it!”
Chris turns and makes his way to the back of the shop, searching for his lost brother in the process. Fade out…
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The day was nice and cool. The sun was playing peek-a-boo through the low-level hazy clouds. A westerly breeze dappled my cheeks as I scurried along the pavement, casting worried glances at the time on my phone. Chris was nervously seated in the passenger’s seat anxiously waiting for our destination. It was 5:28pm, and the multi-mart closed at 5:30; early closing on a Wednesday for some reason. There were other shops in town, of course, but Ethan’s was the only one that rented out DVD's.
Across the road, we could see the shop assistant making her way towards the door, ready to close up for the day. Once that bolt had been thrown, closed sign put up, we knew that no amount of begging would gain us entrance. I, for one, knew that it was time to get moving. I stepped on the gas and darted through the brush of traffic. On old lady was making her way across the street, as I prepared to cross through four lanes of rush-hour traffic.
“Sorry!”
The old lady responded indignantly.
“And so you should be, young man.”
Chris was laughing in the seat next to me, as I began heading up the street. The pedestrian crossing was three hundred yards up the road; no time for that.
“Hold on, bro!”
Chris and I braced ourselves as I began looking for a gap in the traffic, and beat a hasty pace across the tar. The screech of brakes and the smell of burning rubber filled the afternoon carbon-emission strewn air. A burly guy in a red Mazda pressed his horn repeatedly and from what I assumed was giving me the ol’ one-finger salute. He yelled as I passed by.
“Ya fuckin' idiot!”
I didn't hear him, but Chris began laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
Chris continued to laugh as he looked back to what I guess what the man still shouting behind us.
“Dude, you just totally pissed off that guy back there.”
I looked in my rearview mirror for a brief second, but wasn’t too concerned.
“Oh well…fuck him.”
I was too busy trying not to become a permanent bloodstained decoration of the macadam. Weaving in and out of traffic with life-at-stake urgency, I began to play Russian roulette on the busiest street in town, issuing ample amounts of apologies as I went. Another guy, hung out of the window of his black Porsche, decided to give me the full two-fingered salute, followed by…
“HEY! Have you got a death wish, or what?”
I laughed at the outburst, as I responded with the upmost “sincerity.”
“Haven't we all…asshole!”
The guy in the Porsche muttered to himself, gave me a baleful look, and sped off, grit flying out from the rear tires. Reaching the central reservation, I wasted no time stepping out into another two lanes of busy traffic. I could hear the horns blowing, tires screeching, and the f-bombs flying in every which way. If I would have known what was going to happen to Chris and me later that day, I probably would have chucked us under one of the cars and been thankful for a mercifully quick death. But destiny saves the worst deaths for the ignorant and foolhardy amongst us. Whether the protagonist is naïve or self-righteous, there can only be one outcome: retribution.
After some heart stopping near misses, and torrents of abuse, I finally reached the other side of the road, taking a momentary second to catch my breath. An old man with a big toothy grin spotted us and decided to place his two cents in for the day as well.
“You boys live a charmed life.”
Chris and I stared at the old man before gazing back at one another laughing. Chris tipped the old fella a wink and responded back with sarcasm.
“Yes, I guess we do.”
So what could Chris and I have been risking our lives for? What could warrant a life-threatening death-defying gung-ho leap of faith across four lanes of rush-hour traffic? A two liter bottle of cola…an extra-large pack spicy flavored Mexican tortillas…a large bar of raisin filled chocolate, and, of course, a DVD to watch whilst we consumed all of the above. Oh yes, definitely worth risking your life for, don't you think?
Chris and I turned our attention back to the shop. We rushed quickly to approach the door as the assistant was making her way to the door, her hand raised, ready to flip the OPEN sign to CLOSED. Luckily, we just managed to beat her to it. We pushing through the door, causing her to take a compensatory step back; her midnight blue eyes opening wide with shock. I looked at her nametag and began talking to the lovely woman as if I had known her my entire life.
“Natasha, can we just grab a few bits and bobs before you…”
“We're closed!”
“But we only want a few items.”
I pointed down the aisle. The white-marbled floor wet and gleaming under the powerful overhead fluorescents.
“I can see most of the stuff I want. If you'll just give us thirty seconds, tops, we'll grab it all and be out of here before you can say…”
“We're closed…sorry”
On another day, I might have tried to charm this beautiful, young, slim blonde girl. Chris would have definitely tried to get her phone number. Not that he'd call her or anything, just to prove that at thirty-one he still "had it"; that he could still pull 'em, so to speak. Looking around I could see others were looking on, though, their eyes boring into us. The shopkeeper, Mr. Ethan, who was serving what looked to be the last customer of the day, regarded us with what we at first thought to be a don't-waste-our-time-we've-had-a-long-day look of impatience.
“Mr. Ethan, we only want a few bits. We'll be out of here before you know it. I promise.”
Mr. Ethan looked at his watch.
“It's only just gone half-past…give me a break, please?”
I could see the frustration in Mr. Ethan’s eyes, as he was quick to respond.
“We're closed.”
The guy he was serving decided to butt in as well.
“They're closed, friend. As…in…not opened.”
He sniffled and scratched his stubbly chin.
For a split second I locked eyes with the guy that Mr. Ethan was "serving". Cold green gems fixed unflinchingly on both Chris and me, conveying a chilling message: “I have little something for you, friend, if you'd care to stick around and happen to like the feel of cold lead piercing your heart”… I gulped when I noticed a slight protrusion sticking out from underneath the guy's black puffer jacket; that protrusion being pointed directly at Mr. Ethan.
I recognized the guy straight away. His long black, greasy, wavy hair hung down like drawn curtains either side of his pallid face. He was wearing blue jeans with holes in the knees and had black steel toe-caped boots on. Aaron Lest was known by most of the people who lived in DeKalb County. Murder, rape, drugs offences…there wasn't much that he either hadn't been accused of, or convicted of, and I didn't doubt for one second that this man would hesitate to put a bullet in either Chris or myself.
Did he know that I recognized him? No, because if that had been the case the gun would have been turned on me, the bolts on the door thrown, and there would have been three in the firing line instead of two. I looked at Mr. Ethan again, then back at Natasha. The look they'd given me when I had first walked through the door had not been one of impatience, after all; it was a look that conveyed one message and one message alone: help.
For a few seconds I just stood there, three sets of eyes - two sets pleading, one set menacing - watching me intently. Some decisions in life hit us hard and unexpected, surprising us, testing our sense of humanity. Some choose to rise to this test and some, like Chris and I, choose to look the other way. The drone of peak-time traffic, safety of the masses behind us, beckoned a retreat, normality just a step away if we could just turn around and leave. A nearby street vendor began to yell.
“GETCHA TENNESSEAN HERE…STOCK MARKET CRASH CAUSES MAYHEM IN THE CITY… GETCHA TENNESSEAN HERE…”
“If I get shot today…”
I thought out loud.
“No one will be reading about it in The Tennessean. Oh no, it'll be in some local newspaper, probably wouldn't even make the front page: Have a go hero takes a bullet trying to help out local shopkeeper. What if I phone the police and he doesn't get convicted, then he'll come looking for me, and even if he does get convicted, when he gets out, he'll come looking for me. He'll know it was me. He'll want to hurt my family and me. I can't risk putting my family and son in the firing line. I just can't.”
I turned to Chris and he nodded right at me. We both knew what the other was thinking.
“Uh…we’re sorry.”
Chris and I turned and left the shop. We didn't notice that I had dropped my wallet on the way out. Natasha noticed, however, but didn't say anything. She just wanted us to go so they could hand the money over to the robber and get rid of him. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, I turned my face towards the warmth of the sun, which was no longer playing peek-a-boo behind the clouds. I turned my attention towards Chris.
“That was a close call.”
“Did we make the right call, Dan?”
“I’m sure we did, Chris. I’m sure Mr. Ethan will do the right thing…won’t he?”
I tried to convince myself that Mr. Ethan would just hand the money over, that everything would work out fine; but deep down I really couldn't convince myself that everything would be fine. We never looked back, though. We had to get away. Behind us, Natasha threw the bolts, flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED and sealed both her and Mr. Ethan's destiny.
