Post by Duce Jones on Apr 25, 2020 23:45:23 GMT -5
Lights on..
Guess who's back… Not like any of you fuckers missed me but if you have, I'll give you a quick update on how life's been.
Ducey.. if you catch my drift. But hey, life goes on, amiright?
Lights out..
The sound of my phone ringing distracts me from the shit-show that is social media. I notice that it's Pops and answer quickly, putting it on speaker.
"Hey Pops, I'm glad ya finally hit me back up. Was tryna see if ya wanted ta hit tha road like ole times?"
"Not right now son, gotta get some things situated here before I leave Ariana and the girls by themselves. You should do the same before you get back out on that road. Hell, anything can happen when you're away."
I sigh, thinking to myself that Pops had begun to behave a bit differently since the outbreak of Covid-19.
"C'mon mane, don't tell me tha 'rona still got ya shook."
"I'm not shook boy, I know where this ship is headed. That's the problem with you young muthafuckas. Y'all never take shit serious until it's knocking on your front door!"
"Chill Pops, I'm takin' all'a dis serious but at tha same time I'm not gonna let it take ova' my life." I sigh again. "Look mane, I was only callin' ta see if ya wanted ta go down ta Key West."
"Key West?" He questioned.
"Yeah, Key West."
"I thought you was workin' down in Texas now?"
"I am but someone's opening tha doors ta tha OCDubya Arena back up an' they gonna hold dis tournament. Big names involved an' some serious paypa' is on tha line. I'm talkin' real bread."
"Real bread?"
"Realer than any'a tha paychecks we've eva' seen."
"Hmph.. You gotta be fucking with me right?"
"Naw, shit's legit."
"I had gotten an email about some type of return but I chalked it up as bullshit."
"Email?"
"Yeah, an email."
"Who t'fuck still checks email..?" I questioned with a high pitched tone.
"Me, muthafucka.. but it was saying something about us coming back and defending the tag straps again."
"Yeah I got a dm about it."
"Dm?"
My head drops into my free hand.
"Fuck, you're old.. it's a direct message mane."
"How's that different from an email?"
"Umm, you're notified as soon as you get it.."
"Uh-huh.. shit sounds like an email to me, either way, I won't be able to make this trip but the next time you're headed that way."
"Aight bet, I guess I'll get Byson ta ride down there wit me."
"Byson? Where's he at?"
"He had ta run ta tha store real quick. What's up, you want me ta tell him ta hit you up when I back round him?"
"Yeah, cause his ass could prove to be vital to our family's survival."
"What?"
"Don't worry bout it, we'll talk soon, the three of us and get things squared away. Anyway, I have some more errands to run myself."
"Aight Pops, take care of yourself."
"You too and please don't buy into this media shit."
"Now you of all people should kno' dat I'm not fucked up bout what they sayin'."
"Aight na, give my grandbabies some kisses for me and I'll holla at you later."
"Fa sho.."
"Wait a minute.. Duce!"
"What's up?"
"Who ya facing down there?"
"Zybala.."
"The same guy that bankrupt OCW?"
"I mean dat's only hearsay.."
"If you say so.. my check still hasn't cleared from that last appearance against those MoP guys."
"Really? I got paid.."
"I bet you did.."
"Ahh naw, we gonna rectify dis shit immediately, besides I owe the fucka anyway fo' costin' me tha Nawf American strap."
"I thought that he was some kinda ghost out there in the ring."
"You sound like Hood wit dat conspiracy shit."
"What isn't a conspiracy these days.."
"I wonder if tha SSRI are behind dis shit anyway.."
"Who?"
"Some organization dat had their paws sunk deep within CDubyaF befo' Dane made his appearance."
"Huh? This shit isn't making any sense.."
"Pops.. you were there when all'a dis shit went down."
"Nigga you know I've smoked since then, hell ever since this coronavirus bullshit popped off, my main focus has been keeping my family safe. Hell, I truly don't think you should be traveling out there in that bullshit."
"But it is bullshit…"
"Yeah but you already know what's up and you know how this story is about to go."
"Look mane, I don't got time fo' dat Revelation talk right now.. I'm itchin' ta get back in tha rang an' put my knee through some skulls.. Besides a lil extra bread in my pocket will neva' hurt."
"What about your shoulder?"
"Byson hooked me up wit one'a his guys who took care of everythang. My shoulda feels brand new."
I didn't wanna tell him that my surgery took place in a warehouse with some very shady individuals.
Lights on..
Life's about the choices you make, at least in my point of view. The choice that you make during your daily journey affect you in different ways. But that should be common knowledge. What isn't common knowledge is the fact that Duce bends the rules on a daily. Force of habit.
Lights out..
I don't think we should be doing this.
You don't think we should do a lot of things. But sitting in the house every fucking day is not cutting it.
But we're spending valuable time with our kids.
Mane, fuck those kids..
Woah. Woah. Woah. I love the hell out of those kids but I'd much rather be beating the shit out of a muthafucka.
Well I still don't think this is a good idea.
I don't either but this rehabilitation isn't working out and with this virus floating around.. There ain't many doctors willing to do surgery, fearing they'll get infected.
I look over at Byson, finally getting my shirt over my head. He's busy, cashing out to the surgeon who's willing to go to work on my shoulder. After the final dollar is counted out, Byson and the surgeon of African decent, shake hands.
I look around at the warehouse that Byson was able to acquire on such short notice but they were associated with the same group that transferred his conscious into the sleeve that he wears proudly today.
It's honestly a long story and I don't have the will power to fathom the thought of what actually happened but his thoughts no longer plague my mind.
It only introduced five more.
Fuck off.. shit hasn't been peaches and cream but I'll manage because I can't afford what they're charging to extract all of you muthafuckas.
Don't be mad at us because your brother drove you to do some insane shit.. Twice now if you count what's about to happen.
Exactly! This is some Dr. Frankenstein shit!
It's not that bad.
He's about to have some foreign technology shit placed in our arm!
Where's the problem?
"Aye Byson, so what exactly is about ta go down?"
"You're going to lie down on that table over there.." He points towards the long metal table that's positioned in the center of the mostly empty warehouse. " And let that man perform his magic on you. I promise when you wake up, you will feel like a new man.”
“Is that right?” I look over at him questionably while he stares at me with a shit eating grin. “Bruh.. don’t make me fuck you up..”
He laughs.
“Duce, I promise everything’s going to be fine..”
“I hear ya..”
Why am I so trusting?
Maybe because you’re gullible..
I wish you would shut the fuck up.
Throwing my shirt at Byson, who catches it with his face, I head towards the table where the head surgeon and his assistants get things set up for surgery. Nervously, I lie on the table and one of the assistants pulls up an IV drip, he quickly preps my air and shoves the needle inside of my vein painlessly as another assistant places a mask over my face. The main surgeon leans over me and says.
“Will you.. Please.. count backwards.. from one hundred?”
I nod my head, choosing not to count aloud, it was around the number ninety-seven before it was…
Lights on..
Some would say that success is what defines a man, the things that he is able to achieve and accumulate throughout his lifetime is what truly grants a man his immortality. Some would say it is how he traveled through this life span doing good deeds among the masses. Spreading a positive message through his actions. Some say fuck it and let the Lord figure out the rest, either way, every man has something that they stand for, a belief so strong within their mind that nothing could ever deter it.
For me, success has never been about shiny belts and big bags of money. It was the look on those folks' faces whenever they paid their hard earned money to see a guy like me perform week in and week out. But somewhere, that love faded, somewhere that enthusiasm that I once had to put a smile on those honest Americans’ faces was well worth it. But this business is a tricky little devil. It preys on all of your insecurities and shortcomings, willingly trying to drag you down into the abyss. With every downfall, there is a beginning. For instance, there are all types of scenarios that tries to explain this “Covid-19 Pandemic” that we all collectively are experiencing. If you asked me, I’d say this all started with Epstein but that’s just an opinion.
The real story that we’re trying to figure out is the downfall of Duce Jones and what caused the trickle effect that leads to me laying on a table.. Mike Zybala.. If it wasn’t for him costing me the North American championship against Mad Dog, there’s no telling what lengths I could’ve gone too. However, that was the past and we’re supposed to be building towards a brighter future. Ironically, that starts with Mike Zybala..
Lights out
“Duce… Duce… Duce!”
I jump up startled, awaken from a tiring slumber. The time-frame for how long I had been out was undetermined. But with blurry eyes, I could make out Byson who was leaning over me.
“How do you feel bro?”
Still barely conscious, I give him a response.
“Epstein didn’t kill himself..”
“We all know that brother..”
He responds, patting me on the chest before I fall unconscious again.
An Undetermined Amount of Time has Passed..
My eyes blink open as I stare up at the roof of the warehouse, it’s apparent that nightfall has taken over as spotlights have been set up around the place to keep it illuminated. I rise up from the table, using both arms to stabilize myself and miraculously, there is no pain shooting through my left shoulder.
“Byson!” I shout elated. “Byson, where t’fuck you at bruh, dat docta was tha shit!”
I test my shoulder out with a quick rotation for good measures. It holds up very nicely, however, I can feel a small churning within my shoulder. I touch it and instantly feel something spinning. A panic succumbs my body as I look around, spotting what appears to be what was my scapula sitting on the floor.
“If dats..? Then what tha..? BYSON!!!”
“Chill, bro.. Everything’s cool..”
I hear him reply back as he rushes over.
“Everythang’s cool? Tell me dat isn’t my fuckin’ bones sittin’ ova’ there!”
“Those aren’t your bones sitting over there.”
I sigh with relief.
Ok, I’m lying..
“What t’fuck!”
I reply back in astonishment before punching the table, leaving a dent in the metal. It wasn’t a huge dent but very noticeable. I stare at my hand in shock before peering back over to the table.
“What t’fuck?”
“I know right!” He says, jumping up and down gleefully. “I knew you would love it!”
I’m confused as I continue to stare at my arm in total amazement.
“What t’fuck is it..?”
“Only the best technology that money can buy! Those motherfuckas won’t know what hit em!”
Hmph, what the fuck have I gotten myself into?
Guess who's back… Not like any of you fuckers missed me but if you have, I'll give you a quick update on how life's been.
Ducey.. if you catch my drift. But hey, life goes on, amiright?
Lights out..
The sound of my phone ringing distracts me from the shit-show that is social media. I notice that it's Pops and answer quickly, putting it on speaker.
"Hey Pops, I'm glad ya finally hit me back up. Was tryna see if ya wanted ta hit tha road like ole times?"
"Not right now son, gotta get some things situated here before I leave Ariana and the girls by themselves. You should do the same before you get back out on that road. Hell, anything can happen when you're away."
I sigh, thinking to myself that Pops had begun to behave a bit differently since the outbreak of Covid-19.
"C'mon mane, don't tell me tha 'rona still got ya shook."
"I'm not shook boy, I know where this ship is headed. That's the problem with you young muthafuckas. Y'all never take shit serious until it's knocking on your front door!"
"Chill Pops, I'm takin' all'a dis serious but at tha same time I'm not gonna let it take ova' my life." I sigh again. "Look mane, I was only callin' ta see if ya wanted ta go down ta Key West."
"Key West?" He questioned.
"Yeah, Key West."
"I thought you was workin' down in Texas now?"
"I am but someone's opening tha doors ta tha OCDubya Arena back up an' they gonna hold dis tournament. Big names involved an' some serious paypa' is on tha line. I'm talkin' real bread."
"Real bread?"
"Realer than any'a tha paychecks we've eva' seen."
"Hmph.. You gotta be fucking with me right?"
"Naw, shit's legit."
"I had gotten an email about some type of return but I chalked it up as bullshit."
"Email?"
"Yeah, an email."
"Who t'fuck still checks email..?" I questioned with a high pitched tone.
"Me, muthafucka.. but it was saying something about us coming back and defending the tag straps again."
"Yeah I got a dm about it."
"Dm?"
My head drops into my free hand.
"Fuck, you're old.. it's a direct message mane."
"How's that different from an email?"
"Umm, you're notified as soon as you get it.."
"Uh-huh.. shit sounds like an email to me, either way, I won't be able to make this trip but the next time you're headed that way."
"Aight bet, I guess I'll get Byson ta ride down there wit me."
"Byson? Where's he at?"
"He had ta run ta tha store real quick. What's up, you want me ta tell him ta hit you up when I back round him?"
"Yeah, cause his ass could prove to be vital to our family's survival."
"What?"
"Don't worry bout it, we'll talk soon, the three of us and get things squared away. Anyway, I have some more errands to run myself."
"Aight Pops, take care of yourself."
"You too and please don't buy into this media shit."
"Now you of all people should kno' dat I'm not fucked up bout what they sayin'."
"Aight na, give my grandbabies some kisses for me and I'll holla at you later."
"Fa sho.."
"Wait a minute.. Duce!"
"What's up?"
"Who ya facing down there?"
"Zybala.."
"The same guy that bankrupt OCW?"
"I mean dat's only hearsay.."
"If you say so.. my check still hasn't cleared from that last appearance against those MoP guys."
"Really? I got paid.."
"I bet you did.."
"Ahh naw, we gonna rectify dis shit immediately, besides I owe the fucka anyway fo' costin' me tha Nawf American strap."
"I thought that he was some kinda ghost out there in the ring."
"You sound like Hood wit dat conspiracy shit."
"What isn't a conspiracy these days.."
"I wonder if tha SSRI are behind dis shit anyway.."
"Who?"
"Some organization dat had their paws sunk deep within CDubyaF befo' Dane made his appearance."
"Huh? This shit isn't making any sense.."
"Pops.. you were there when all'a dis shit went down."
"Nigga you know I've smoked since then, hell ever since this coronavirus bullshit popped off, my main focus has been keeping my family safe. Hell, I truly don't think you should be traveling out there in that bullshit."
"But it is bullshit…"
"Yeah but you already know what's up and you know how this story is about to go."
"Look mane, I don't got time fo' dat Revelation talk right now.. I'm itchin' ta get back in tha rang an' put my knee through some skulls.. Besides a lil extra bread in my pocket will neva' hurt."
"What about your shoulder?"
"Byson hooked me up wit one'a his guys who took care of everythang. My shoulda feels brand new."
I didn't wanna tell him that my surgery took place in a warehouse with some very shady individuals.
Lights on..
Life's about the choices you make, at least in my point of view. The choice that you make during your daily journey affect you in different ways. But that should be common knowledge. What isn't common knowledge is the fact that Duce bends the rules on a daily. Force of habit.
Lights out..
I don't think we should be doing this.
You don't think we should do a lot of things. But sitting in the house every fucking day is not cutting it.
But we're spending valuable time with our kids.
Mane, fuck those kids..
Woah. Woah. Woah. I love the hell out of those kids but I'd much rather be beating the shit out of a muthafucka.
Well I still don't think this is a good idea.
I don't either but this rehabilitation isn't working out and with this virus floating around.. There ain't many doctors willing to do surgery, fearing they'll get infected.
I look over at Byson, finally getting my shirt over my head. He's busy, cashing out to the surgeon who's willing to go to work on my shoulder. After the final dollar is counted out, Byson and the surgeon of African decent, shake hands.
I look around at the warehouse that Byson was able to acquire on such short notice but they were associated with the same group that transferred his conscious into the sleeve that he wears proudly today.
It's honestly a long story and I don't have the will power to fathom the thought of what actually happened but his thoughts no longer plague my mind.
It only introduced five more.
Fuck off.. shit hasn't been peaches and cream but I'll manage because I can't afford what they're charging to extract all of you muthafuckas.
Don't be mad at us because your brother drove you to do some insane shit.. Twice now if you count what's about to happen.
Exactly! This is some Dr. Frankenstein shit!
It's not that bad.
He's about to have some foreign technology shit placed in our arm!
Where's the problem?
"Aye Byson, so what exactly is about ta go down?"
"You're going to lie down on that table over there.." He points towards the long metal table that's positioned in the center of the mostly empty warehouse. " And let that man perform his magic on you. I promise when you wake up, you will feel like a new man.”
“Is that right?” I look over at him questionably while he stares at me with a shit eating grin. “Bruh.. don’t make me fuck you up..”
He laughs.
“Duce, I promise everything’s going to be fine..”
“I hear ya..”
Why am I so trusting?
Maybe because you’re gullible..
I wish you would shut the fuck up.
Throwing my shirt at Byson, who catches it with his face, I head towards the table where the head surgeon and his assistants get things set up for surgery. Nervously, I lie on the table and one of the assistants pulls up an IV drip, he quickly preps my air and shoves the needle inside of my vein painlessly as another assistant places a mask over my face. The main surgeon leans over me and says.
“Will you.. Please.. count backwards.. from one hundred?”
I nod my head, choosing not to count aloud, it was around the number ninety-seven before it was…
Lights on..
Some would say that success is what defines a man, the things that he is able to achieve and accumulate throughout his lifetime is what truly grants a man his immortality. Some would say it is how he traveled through this life span doing good deeds among the masses. Spreading a positive message through his actions. Some say fuck it and let the Lord figure out the rest, either way, every man has something that they stand for, a belief so strong within their mind that nothing could ever deter it.
For me, success has never been about shiny belts and big bags of money. It was the look on those folks' faces whenever they paid their hard earned money to see a guy like me perform week in and week out. But somewhere, that love faded, somewhere that enthusiasm that I once had to put a smile on those honest Americans’ faces was well worth it. But this business is a tricky little devil. It preys on all of your insecurities and shortcomings, willingly trying to drag you down into the abyss. With every downfall, there is a beginning. For instance, there are all types of scenarios that tries to explain this “Covid-19 Pandemic” that we all collectively are experiencing. If you asked me, I’d say this all started with Epstein but that’s just an opinion.
The real story that we’re trying to figure out is the downfall of Duce Jones and what caused the trickle effect that leads to me laying on a table.. Mike Zybala.. If it wasn’t for him costing me the North American championship against Mad Dog, there’s no telling what lengths I could’ve gone too. However, that was the past and we’re supposed to be building towards a brighter future. Ironically, that starts with Mike Zybala..
Lights out
“Duce… Duce… Duce!”
I jump up startled, awaken from a tiring slumber. The time-frame for how long I had been out was undetermined. But with blurry eyes, I could make out Byson who was leaning over me.
“How do you feel bro?”
Still barely conscious, I give him a response.
“Epstein didn’t kill himself..”
“We all know that brother..”
He responds, patting me on the chest before I fall unconscious again.
An Undetermined Amount of Time has Passed..
My eyes blink open as I stare up at the roof of the warehouse, it’s apparent that nightfall has taken over as spotlights have been set up around the place to keep it illuminated. I rise up from the table, using both arms to stabilize myself and miraculously, there is no pain shooting through my left shoulder.
“Byson!” I shout elated. “Byson, where t’fuck you at bruh, dat docta was tha shit!”
I test my shoulder out with a quick rotation for good measures. It holds up very nicely, however, I can feel a small churning within my shoulder. I touch it and instantly feel something spinning. A panic succumbs my body as I look around, spotting what appears to be what was my scapula sitting on the floor.
“If dats..? Then what tha..? BYSON!!!”
“Chill, bro.. Everything’s cool..”
I hear him reply back as he rushes over.
“Everythang’s cool? Tell me dat isn’t my fuckin’ bones sittin’ ova’ there!”
“Those aren’t your bones sitting over there.”
I sigh with relief.
Ok, I’m lying..
“What t’fuck!”
I reply back in astonishment before punching the table, leaving a dent in the metal. It wasn’t a huge dent but very noticeable. I stare at my hand in shock before peering back over to the table.
“What t’fuck?”
“I know right!” He says, jumping up and down gleefully. “I knew you would love it!”
I’m confused as I continue to stare at my arm in total amazement.
“What t’fuck is it..?”
“Only the best technology that money can buy! Those motherfuckas won’t know what hit em!”
Hmph, what the fuck have I gotten myself into?
