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| Memories | |
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| Topic Started: Sep 17 2010, 03:07 AM (69 Views) | |
| Sledge | Sep 17 2010, 03:07 AM Post #1 |
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September 16th, 1987 Akron, OH Sledge’s Childhood Apartment Sledge, twelve years old, is lying in his bed. Wearing a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt, he is smoking a cigarette. Metallica’s “Master of Puppets’ in playing on his stereo. He spends most night like this, alone in his room. His mother works two jobs, his father nowhere to be found. In actuality, Sledge has no idea who is father is, and neither does his mother. He is a product of a one night stand, and his mother never lets him forget it. On the days that he actually sees his mother, he is constantly reminded that he is unwanted. After years of the emotional abuse, he no longer cares. His mother words no longer affect him. They go in one ear and out the other. A door slams shut, and he can vaguely hear it over the sounds of ‘Leper Messiah’ coming out of the speakers. Sledge’s mother’s footsteps are heard stomping up the hallway. Mother: Get the hell out of here! On the few nights that his mother isn’t working, something bad always happens. Sledge sits up, gets out of bed and tosses his cigarette out the window. God forbid he have a cigarette while his mother drinks her liver into a coma. Mother: I said leave me alone! One of mother’s boyfriends must have shown up drunk again. She sure can pick them. They are all either drunks, jobless, abusive or all of the above. Sledge cracks open his bedroom door and peaks out into the hallway. Just then the front door flies open and slams against the wall. Sledge quickly closes his door. He really wishes he didn’t live on the third floor of an apartment building. Right now he would love to duck out the bedroom window and leave this behind. Boyfriend: Don’t you dare slam that door in my face again! Now he can hear his mother’s boyfriend’s feet stomping down the hallway. His mother’s bedroom door slams shut. Mother: I said get the hell out of here you drunk bastard! He can hear the doorknob to his mother’s bedroom clacking back and forth, a failed attempt to open it. Then he can hear the boyfriend slams his shoulder into the door, trying to bust it open. Boyfriend: You can’t stay in there forever. And when you finally come out, I’ll be right here wafting for you. Fortunately, for his mother, her bedroom door has a lock. Unfortunately for Sledge, his does not. He can hear the feet stomping back up the hallway, then they stop right in front of his room. Sledge is sitting at the end of his bed, prepared for the worst. Sledge whispers to himself. Sledge: Damn it. Sledge’s bedroom door opens and his mother’s boyfriend steps in. Boyfriend: Turn that God Damn music off! Sledge just glares at him, not moving. Boyfriend: Boy, turn it off now! Sledge stands his ground. The boyfriend clenches his fist, walks over to the stereo sitting atop Sledge’s dresser, picks it up and slams it against the wall. Sledge still has not removed his gazed. He walks over to Sledge, grabs his by the shirt collar his yanks him up to his feet. Boyfriend: Boy, you’re going to learn to respect me. You can either learn the easy way or the hard way. Sledge: Go to hell! His mother’s boyfriend snarls. Boyfriend: The hard way it is… He tosses Sledge to the floor. Sledge lies on his back, looking up as his mother’s boyfriend starts to remove his belt. *Ring, Ring, Ring* September 16th, 2010 Akron, OH Sledge’s Home *Ring, Ring, Ring* Sledge is startled by the sound of his cell phone ringing. He had passed out in his recliner in front of the glow of his television. An empty whiskey bottle in his hand. He sets the bottle on the floor and reaches over to pick up his cell phone. He blinks his eyes a few times, trying to unblur his vision. The name ‘Timmy’ appears on his cell phone. Sledge answers the phone. Sledge: Yeah? Tim McFarland: Sledge, it’s Tim. Sledge: Yeah, I know. What do you want? Tim McFarland: Sledge, I got good news. I got you booked in another match. Sledge: Super. Tim McFarland: I know! The brass at CZW must have been impressed with your performance against Waylon. That was one hell of a hardcore match! Sledge rubs his hand across his chest, still feeling the pain from the injuries inflicted by Waylon. Sledge: Yeah, it was. I still feeling it. Tim McFarland: You’ll be facing Riley O’Connor on the 20th in Brisbane. So, get your shit together. Sledge rolls his eyes. Sledge: OK boss, I got it. I can ask you a favor Timmy? Tim McFarland: Sure Sledge, anything. Sledge: Next time, don’t call so late. I was sleeping. Tim McFarland: Late? Sledge, it’s five o’clock. And I know you weren’t sleeping, you passed out. Lay of the bottle. Sledge ends the phone call and drops the phone to the floor. He picks up the empty whiskey bottle and attempts to take a drink. He realizes the bottle is empty and tosses it over the shoulder. |
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