"I’m not sure if its like a kink thing, ya know?"
Aug 6, 2021 2:49:43 GMT -5
Marcus Welsh, petervaughn, and 2 more like this
Post by Mack O'Connor on Aug 6, 2021 2:49:43 GMT -5
A phone rings.
It rings again.
And again.
And again.
Fuck…
Shuffling is heard. The ringing stops.
Hello?
Hey, Mack.
What the fuck do you want, Treat?
So, do you remember some time ago I had you sign over the rights to a potential biopic of your life?
Yeah, I remember signing off on it. You said it would give me a lot of extra cash down the line. That was like three or four years ago. What does that have to do with anything now?
Well, they’re making the movie.
No shit? Who did they pick to play me?
Um… Billy Zane.
Fuckin’ Zane? Him?! Well… I guess there are worse choices.
Look, I’m just gonna get straight to the point.
Please do.
There’s some content included in the film that you’re not going to like…
Like what?
A dozen or so reporters stand in the OCW press conference room. There’s a bit of chatter among them, wondering why they were called at an unusual time of day.
After several moments, Mack O’Connor comes walking out of the back. He looks a little disheveled, probably from drinking, but otherwise he seems focused. He marches up to the podium, with a few notes in hand.
He starts speaking as soon as he hits the mic.
A lot of you might be asking yourselves why the company gathered you here today.
Um… We were told you called for this, Mack.
Mack glares at the reporter.
You can fucking leave.
The reporter shrugs, grabbing their gear and preparing to leave the room. Mack holds up a hand.
No, wait. You have to hear this too.
The reporter pauses, looks around at the others, then decides to stay.
Now, back to business… There has been official press releases and announcements about a new film coming out about my life. If you haven’t heard of it, it’s called…
Mack looks at his notes.
Le Big Mack.
Yep! There’s already Oscar buzz surrounding the film.
Mack glares at the reporter again. He takes a breath and goes back to speaking, glancing at his notes.
There have also been reports of scenes that take place in this movie… And I would like to come out here today and use my position and platform to remind all potential viewers that although this movie is based on my life, not all events in the movie took place in real life. I just want to make sure everyone knows that going into it.
The reporters murmur among themselves for a moment.
What scenes are you talking about?
Mack takes a breath, glancing at his notes again.
There are certain depictions about my time in prison that are exaggerated, glorified, or fictionalized for the sake of giving the film more gravity and creating a more edgy feel.
The reporters all pause, unsure of what to make of it.
How will the movie portray your time in prison? How does it differ from real life?
Mack glares at the reporter once again. He clutches the podium, keeping his calm.
There are alleged scenes in the film that didn’t happen in real life. I just want people to hear that before they go and see the movie. Okay?
But what scenes, Mack?
Mack takes a deep breath.
Viewers just need to know that the depiction of me in prison will not be accurate.
But what about it is…
Mack snaps.
I didn’t get fucking raped in prison! Okay, Dave?! Do you get it now, Dave?! Do you fucking get it? I didn’t get raped in prison, Dave! I wasn’t fucked in prison, Dave! If anyone was doing the fucking, I was the one doing the fucking! Okay?! Me! I was the one!
The room goes silent. The reporter, Dave, opens his mouth slowly.
Are you saying that you fucked another man in prison?
Mack stares at Dave for a long moment. He then throws his notes in the air and storms away.
No further questions!
Mack storms out. The reporters all stand around confused.
You don't have to be such a dick, Dave.
----------
Moments later, Mack kicks open the door of the employee entrance at the OCW arena. He walks into the parking lot, immediately putting a cigarette to his lips and bringing his lighter up. He tries to ignite the lighter multiple times, but it won’t spark.
Fuck me.
Mack hears a commotion and glances across the lot: The reporters are making their way toward him.
Ah, fuck.
As if he was a genie being summoned by his master, Gregory Poblano appears next to him. Poblano wears a white suite over a black shirt, topped off by a white fedora. He quickly pulls out his zippo lighter: A black device with the image of a poblano pepper across the surface. He flips it open and offers it to Mack.
May I?
Mack glares at him… But he lets out a sigh and leans forward. Poblano sparks the lighter, and Mack takes a drag off his cigarette to light it up.
…the fuck are you doing here, Poblano?
I was going to protect you from these vultures.
The pair stares across the lot as the reporters continue making their way over.
And what do you want in return?
Just your ears for a few moments.
Here? Now?
Now? Yes. Here? No no, I don’t talk in parking lots, Mr. O’Connor.
Poblano reaches into his coat, pulling out a flare gun. He aims it straight up, and fires out the flare.
Um… What…
I’m giving the signal.
Poblano drops the flare gun, and he immediately starts looking around the skies, covering the glare of the sun with one of his arms.
While Poblano is looking at the sky, Mack watches as a hummer stretch limo pulls up to their location. The vehicle screeches to a stop, and the front window rolls down. The driver looks amped up.
Poblano?! I’m here for Poblano?
Poblano moves his eyes from the sky to the car.
Who are you? What do you want?
I’m here for Poblano. I saw the signal. I came as soon as I saw it.
You? I thought I ordered a helicopter?
A helicopter? Wait…
The driver pulls out his phone and starts looking through texts, e-mails, something…
I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to drive a helicopter. If I did, I definitely would have driven it here…
Whatever. You’re here now.
Poblano looks to Mack, gesturing towards the limo.
Let’s go. Come on.
Mack shrugs, getting into the limo after Poblano opens the door for him. He speaks to himself under his breath.
What in the fuck am I doing…
----------
It could have been ten seconds, ten minutes, or an hour… Mack wouldn’t know either way. But at some point in the limousine ride, he found himself actually listening to Poblano.
Listen, Mr. O’Connor, I’ve been watching you. Been watching you for a long time. You got talent. You got passion. But most importantly, you got balls. And let me tell you this, Mr. O’Connor: I like balls.
You like balls.
You know I do! Big, throbbing balls. That’s the sign of a winner. And you’re a winner, Mr. O’Connor. You just don’t know it yet.
I have a winning overall career record… So I know I’m a winner.
I’m not talking about winning on paper, Mack. I’m talking about winning in your heart! For what is a heart without a beat?
…what…
I’ll cut to the chase.
I wish you would.
I want to manage you. And you want me to manage you. But before I agree to manage you, you need to agree to me managing you.
Um.
You may be asking yourself what I mean by that.
Accurate.
Simple. To agree to me managing you, you need to be honest with me. You need to open up to me. You need to tell me the truth.
Poblano reaches into his coat pocket, quickly pulls his hand out, sniffs something off his finger, then acts like nothing happened.
Would you like a drink?
Yeah, absolutely.
Poblano grabs a bottle of Evan Williams whiskey from the limo’s bar and hands it to Mack.
Here you go.
The fuck is this?
Only the best for my future client. Only the very best. The best of the best. Which, in some ways, can be the worst of the worst.
I’m sorry?
Look, why don’t you start by telling me why you want that TransAtlantic title so bad. Okay? I need to understand it.
Poblano points to the bottle of Evan Williams.
Like I said: I’ve been watching you, Mr. O’Connor. You’ve been drinking top shelf for years. Jameson, Jameson 12-Year, Jameson Stout edition, Jameson IPA edition, the works. So why are you drinking Evan Williams now?
Mack blinks
That is quite an interesting way to put it.
It’s called a metaphor.
Yeah, I get it.
Poblano leans back in his seat.
Well?
Mack thinks for a moment.
Championships come and go. Any real fighter knows this: You’re on top one day, bottom the next. There’s ups and downs, you know? You fight every day… Day in, day out. Rinse and repeat. And…
Poblano sniffs something off his finger again.
I’m not the press. I’m not a journalist. I’m not writing a book. Skip the bullshit and get to the fuckin’ point.
Mack rolls his eyes.
The TransAtlantic title represents something for me. It was the first title I earned in OCW. The first one that I threw over my shoulder. And it was immediately retired, and I was allowed to keep the belt. So after everything I’ve been through with this company, I always had that. This one thing was hanging in my garage. It was truly the only thing I could call mine. And then they fuckin’ took it from me. I was done with fighting. I was done with all this bullshit. But they took it from me… They stole it. I may have even handed it over if they asked me to, but instead they disrespected me by coming to my home and stealing it. They violated me.
That’s some real shit right there.
Yep.
So they just keep fuckin with you, eh?
Something like that.
What about this Betsy Granger? You think you can take her?
I’ve beat her before and I’ll beat her again. But I’m not sure if that’s what she’s actually after.
Elaborate.
I think she secretly wants to fuck me.
Poblano lets out a hearty chuckle.
Of course she does. Look at you. You’re a masculine, rustic looking man. You’re rough around the edges, but your jawline still flirts with that classic notion of handsome.
Mack stares at him for a moment.
What?
Nevermind. Continue.
Okay… Um… I don’t know. It just seems like she’s fixated on me. She seems borderline obsessed with me. I mean… I beat her some time ago in GCWA. First I beat her man, then I beat her. And apparently, she’s been waiting to get her hands on me since then. I’m not sure if its like a kink thing, ya know? Like… I beat her man, then I beat her… So now maybe she wants me to beat her again? Is it like a dominant versus submissive thing? I dominated her and her man, and she wants some more of that? Or maybe she wants to be the dominant one now? Does she want me to fuck her while Raven watches?
Who’s Raven?
James Raven. Her man.
Oh yes, of course.
Anyway… I don’t know what the fuck I’m still doing here. But she seems to really want this. She may go on and on with the typical nonsense… Ya know, the whole “You won last time, but I’m not the same person. I’ve learned from my mistakes and I’m here to fight” typical bullshit, like someone getting eliminated from Hell’s Kitchen. But… It seems more than that. I almost feel like there’s sexual tension there. And I’ll just say it… If Betsy wants me to lay down some pipe, I’m more than happy. I may be opposed if Raven wants to watch, but I’m not one to kink shame.
Who’s Raven?
Once again… James Raven. Her man.
Got it. Go on.
Yeah, um… Look, I don’t really want to fight anymore. But I’m stuck in this shit now. And I need a job or else I’m shipped back to prison. So I guess I have to take the match. And if it ends up that Betsy just wants me to fuck her in the ring, well... I guess at this point we just have to call it an occupational hazard.
If having sex in the middle of the ring is an occupational hazard, I chose the wrong occupation.
What is your actual occupation?
Stop asking questions. Instead, say hello to your new manager.
Poblano sniffs something off his finger again, motioning to the driver to drive faster.
It rings again.
And again.
And again.
Fuck…
Shuffling is heard. The ringing stops.
Hello?
Hey, Mack.
What the fuck do you want, Treat?
So, do you remember some time ago I had you sign over the rights to a potential biopic of your life?
Yeah, I remember signing off on it. You said it would give me a lot of extra cash down the line. That was like three or four years ago. What does that have to do with anything now?
Well, they’re making the movie.
No shit? Who did they pick to play me?
Um… Billy Zane.
Fuckin’ Zane? Him?! Well… I guess there are worse choices.
Look, I’m just gonna get straight to the point.
Please do.
There’s some content included in the film that you’re not going to like…
Like what?
----------
A dozen or so reporters stand in the OCW press conference room. There’s a bit of chatter among them, wondering why they were called at an unusual time of day.
After several moments, Mack O’Connor comes walking out of the back. He looks a little disheveled, probably from drinking, but otherwise he seems focused. He marches up to the podium, with a few notes in hand.
He starts speaking as soon as he hits the mic.
A lot of you might be asking yourselves why the company gathered you here today.
Um… We were told you called for this, Mack.
Mack glares at the reporter.
You can fucking leave.
The reporter shrugs, grabbing their gear and preparing to leave the room. Mack holds up a hand.
No, wait. You have to hear this too.
The reporter pauses, looks around at the others, then decides to stay.
Now, back to business… There has been official press releases and announcements about a new film coming out about my life. If you haven’t heard of it, it’s called…
Mack looks at his notes.
Le Big Mack.
Yep! There’s already Oscar buzz surrounding the film.
Mack glares at the reporter again. He takes a breath and goes back to speaking, glancing at his notes.
There have also been reports of scenes that take place in this movie… And I would like to come out here today and use my position and platform to remind all potential viewers that although this movie is based on my life, not all events in the movie took place in real life. I just want to make sure everyone knows that going into it.
The reporters murmur among themselves for a moment.
What scenes are you talking about?
Mack takes a breath, glancing at his notes again.
There are certain depictions about my time in prison that are exaggerated, glorified, or fictionalized for the sake of giving the film more gravity and creating a more edgy feel.
The reporters all pause, unsure of what to make of it.
How will the movie portray your time in prison? How does it differ from real life?
Mack glares at the reporter once again. He clutches the podium, keeping his calm.
There are alleged scenes in the film that didn’t happen in real life. I just want people to hear that before they go and see the movie. Okay?
But what scenes, Mack?
Mack takes a deep breath.
Viewers just need to know that the depiction of me in prison will not be accurate.
But what about it is…
Mack snaps.
I didn’t get fucking raped in prison! Okay, Dave?! Do you get it now, Dave?! Do you fucking get it? I didn’t get raped in prison, Dave! I wasn’t fucked in prison, Dave! If anyone was doing the fucking, I was the one doing the fucking! Okay?! Me! I was the one!
The room goes silent. The reporter, Dave, opens his mouth slowly.
Are you saying that you fucked another man in prison?
Mack stares at Dave for a long moment. He then throws his notes in the air and storms away.
No further questions!
Mack storms out. The reporters all stand around confused.
You don't have to be such a dick, Dave.
----------
Moments later, Mack kicks open the door of the employee entrance at the OCW arena. He walks into the parking lot, immediately putting a cigarette to his lips and bringing his lighter up. He tries to ignite the lighter multiple times, but it won’t spark.
Fuck me.
Mack hears a commotion and glances across the lot: The reporters are making their way toward him.
Ah, fuck.
As if he was a genie being summoned by his master, Gregory Poblano appears next to him. Poblano wears a white suite over a black shirt, topped off by a white fedora. He quickly pulls out his zippo lighter: A black device with the image of a poblano pepper across the surface. He flips it open and offers it to Mack.
May I?
Mack glares at him… But he lets out a sigh and leans forward. Poblano sparks the lighter, and Mack takes a drag off his cigarette to light it up.
…the fuck are you doing here, Poblano?
I was going to protect you from these vultures.
The pair stares across the lot as the reporters continue making their way over.
And what do you want in return?
Just your ears for a few moments.
Here? Now?
Now? Yes. Here? No no, I don’t talk in parking lots, Mr. O’Connor.
Poblano reaches into his coat, pulling out a flare gun. He aims it straight up, and fires out the flare.
Um… What…
I’m giving the signal.
Poblano drops the flare gun, and he immediately starts looking around the skies, covering the glare of the sun with one of his arms.
While Poblano is looking at the sky, Mack watches as a hummer stretch limo pulls up to their location. The vehicle screeches to a stop, and the front window rolls down. The driver looks amped up.
Poblano?! I’m here for Poblano?
Poblano moves his eyes from the sky to the car.
Who are you? What do you want?
I’m here for Poblano. I saw the signal. I came as soon as I saw it.
You? I thought I ordered a helicopter?
A helicopter? Wait…
The driver pulls out his phone and starts looking through texts, e-mails, something…
I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to drive a helicopter. If I did, I definitely would have driven it here…
Whatever. You’re here now.
Poblano looks to Mack, gesturing towards the limo.
Let’s go. Come on.
Mack shrugs, getting into the limo after Poblano opens the door for him. He speaks to himself under his breath.
What in the fuck am I doing…
----------
It could have been ten seconds, ten minutes, or an hour… Mack wouldn’t know either way. But at some point in the limousine ride, he found himself actually listening to Poblano.
Listen, Mr. O’Connor, I’ve been watching you. Been watching you for a long time. You got talent. You got passion. But most importantly, you got balls. And let me tell you this, Mr. O’Connor: I like balls.
You like balls.
You know I do! Big, throbbing balls. That’s the sign of a winner. And you’re a winner, Mr. O’Connor. You just don’t know it yet.
I have a winning overall career record… So I know I’m a winner.
I’m not talking about winning on paper, Mack. I’m talking about winning in your heart! For what is a heart without a beat?
…what…
I’ll cut to the chase.
I wish you would.
I want to manage you. And you want me to manage you. But before I agree to manage you, you need to agree to me managing you.
Um.
You may be asking yourself what I mean by that.
Accurate.
Simple. To agree to me managing you, you need to be honest with me. You need to open up to me. You need to tell me the truth.
Poblano reaches into his coat pocket, quickly pulls his hand out, sniffs something off his finger, then acts like nothing happened.
Would you like a drink?
Yeah, absolutely.
Poblano grabs a bottle of Evan Williams whiskey from the limo’s bar and hands it to Mack.
Here you go.
The fuck is this?
Only the best for my future client. Only the very best. The best of the best. Which, in some ways, can be the worst of the worst.
I’m sorry?
Look, why don’t you start by telling me why you want that TransAtlantic title so bad. Okay? I need to understand it.
Poblano points to the bottle of Evan Williams.
Like I said: I’ve been watching you, Mr. O’Connor. You’ve been drinking top shelf for years. Jameson, Jameson 12-Year, Jameson Stout edition, Jameson IPA edition, the works. So why are you drinking Evan Williams now?
Mack blinks
That is quite an interesting way to put it.
It’s called a metaphor.
Yeah, I get it.
Poblano leans back in his seat.
Well?
Mack thinks for a moment.
Championships come and go. Any real fighter knows this: You’re on top one day, bottom the next. There’s ups and downs, you know? You fight every day… Day in, day out. Rinse and repeat. And…
Poblano sniffs something off his finger again.
I’m not the press. I’m not a journalist. I’m not writing a book. Skip the bullshit and get to the fuckin’ point.
Mack rolls his eyes.
The TransAtlantic title represents something for me. It was the first title I earned in OCW. The first one that I threw over my shoulder. And it was immediately retired, and I was allowed to keep the belt. So after everything I’ve been through with this company, I always had that. This one thing was hanging in my garage. It was truly the only thing I could call mine. And then they fuckin’ took it from me. I was done with fighting. I was done with all this bullshit. But they took it from me… They stole it. I may have even handed it over if they asked me to, but instead they disrespected me by coming to my home and stealing it. They violated me.
That’s some real shit right there.
Yep.
So they just keep fuckin with you, eh?
Something like that.
What about this Betsy Granger? You think you can take her?
I’ve beat her before and I’ll beat her again. But I’m not sure if that’s what she’s actually after.
Elaborate.
I think she secretly wants to fuck me.
Poblano lets out a hearty chuckle.
Of course she does. Look at you. You’re a masculine, rustic looking man. You’re rough around the edges, but your jawline still flirts with that classic notion of handsome.
Mack stares at him for a moment.
What?
Nevermind. Continue.
Okay… Um… I don’t know. It just seems like she’s fixated on me. She seems borderline obsessed with me. I mean… I beat her some time ago in GCWA. First I beat her man, then I beat her. And apparently, she’s been waiting to get her hands on me since then. I’m not sure if its like a kink thing, ya know? Like… I beat her man, then I beat her… So now maybe she wants me to beat her again? Is it like a dominant versus submissive thing? I dominated her and her man, and she wants some more of that? Or maybe she wants to be the dominant one now? Does she want me to fuck her while Raven watches?
Who’s Raven?
James Raven. Her man.
Oh yes, of course.
Anyway… I don’t know what the fuck I’m still doing here. But she seems to really want this. She may go on and on with the typical nonsense… Ya know, the whole “You won last time, but I’m not the same person. I’ve learned from my mistakes and I’m here to fight” typical bullshit, like someone getting eliminated from Hell’s Kitchen. But… It seems more than that. I almost feel like there’s sexual tension there. And I’ll just say it… If Betsy wants me to lay down some pipe, I’m more than happy. I may be opposed if Raven wants to watch, but I’m not one to kink shame.
Who’s Raven?
Once again… James Raven. Her man.
Got it. Go on.
Yeah, um… Look, I don’t really want to fight anymore. But I’m stuck in this shit now. And I need a job or else I’m shipped back to prison. So I guess I have to take the match. And if it ends up that Betsy just wants me to fuck her in the ring, well... I guess at this point we just have to call it an occupational hazard.
If having sex in the middle of the ring is an occupational hazard, I chose the wrong occupation.
What is your actual occupation?
Stop asking questions. Instead, say hello to your new manager.
Poblano sniffs something off his finger again, motioning to the driver to drive faster.
