| Why? | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 19 2008, 07:16 AM (67 Views) | |
| Mad Max | Jan 19 2008, 07:16 AM Post #1 |
![]()
Bad Religion Baby!
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Have you ever had one of those out of body experiences in your life? I have… Usually I’m tweaked out of my fucking mind, but on occasion I’ll be sitting there in my underwear, doing something mundane like watching a p-no, about to squeeze one off, or cooking steaks for me and my dog, Rampage, when all of a sudden it hits me. It’s like time freezes and I’m up in the sky looking down on myself and my surroundings. During this time, I’m forced to contemplate life… That is where our story begins… Once again Maddox Monson finds himself in a pay by the hour hotel, where roaches and rats wage war for supremacy. Tattered and covered in holes, the once beige carpet does more good covering the fading chalk outlines that litter the floor beneath, than actually uplifting the décor of the small “presidential suite”. Sitting on the floor with his back against the bed and the sleeve of his expensive button down silk shirt rolled up past his bicep is Maddox Monson. He’s got a seat belt strap, once found in the back of his black tricked out Escalade, tied firmly around his arm just above his elbow. An empty syringe lies next to his thigh as his eyes begin to flutter and roll towards the back of their sockets. His arm sits covered in red pin sized scabs where the needle broke the skin. The heroin runs its course through out his system when it happens… Time begins to slow down, no one else feels the sensation, not even Maddox himself. But he’s so out of it right now, that he probably wouldn’t notice anything at this point. Fucking pathetic… Maddox Monson’s ghostly image hovers in midair looking down at himself with a disgusted look on his face and clear eyes burning with passion. He crosses his arms over his ghostly chest as he begins to shake his head side to side. First we did this shit, because we had no money and it helped us escape our pitiful life… But why do we do it now? We’re the head of a rising wrestling federation. Sitting comfortably behind a desk pushing papers all day, bossing people around, booking matches however we see fit, but when the day is over and the moon comes out, we end up here, sitting in a negative star hotel with a needle in our arm and that pitiful, worthlessl drug running through our veins… The ghostly image glides lower and closer to the physical Mad Max. He hovers a mere inch or two from himself peering into the glazed over eyes, devoid of emotion, devoid of anything remotely human. The ghostly image once again begins to shake his head in disappointment. So why do we do it? To escape? Because we like the way it makes us feel? Because we’re addicted? Or D. none of the above. We’re not addicted because addiction is a state of mind. Addiction is just another word for desire, hankering, craving, yearning, or any other synonyms you can find in Microsoft Word. Addiction to me is a cop out used by the spineless bastard who make it a point to blame their problems on everyone else. We know, by injecting that shit into our body, we’re killing ourselves. The problem is, we want to die… So do we like the way it makes us feel? To be honest, we don’t even remember how it makes us feel anymore because we’ve been doing this shit for over five years now and all we feel inside is numbness… So that’s leaves us with to escape… But what do we have to possibly escape from? How about a three year old daughter we haven’t seen for over two years? Or two stints in the slammer for murder’s we didn’t commit? Or what about the nightmares, of our dead wife screaming for justice, that plague us anytime we close our eyes? All of a sudden a cell phone begins to ring loudly, playing “TnT” by AC/DC. As it rings, it also vibrates against Max’s leg from inside his pocket bringing Max from that out of body experience. He rubs the back of his hands into his eyes as he tries to force himself out of his little tweak. As the phone continues to play, Max finally realizes what it is that’s causing all the commotion, and he reaches into his pocket and pulls forth his phone. “Yea?” Max mumbles as if he was half asleep. “wah wah wah…” a female voice chirps through the receiver. “Melissa?” Max asked confused. “wah wah wah…” the voice of his older sister, Melissa, chirps in once more causing Max to scowl with fury. “Jacob? What about him?” Max asks. “wah wah wah…” Melissa explains. Max shakes his head in anger before turning over to sit on his knees. He then pulls himself up onto the bed to sit on the edge with his elbows on his thighs and his head dropped down to keep the phone pressed against his ear. “He’s here in Vegas? So what? Why should I go talk to the little snot? I haven’t talked to him since he was eight…” “wah wah wah” she answers firmly. “Listen, Mel…” Max begins to say with conviction in his voice but he’s drowned out as his older sister begins to cry over the phone, pleading with him to help her. With thoughts like, Why should I help when everyone in my family turned their backs on me the day I got arrested? running through his head, Max finally has enough and says out loud, “Fine… Tell Jacob to meet me at the Denny’s down the road from the Goodfellas Casino and Arena.” “wah wah wah” Melissa agrees and begins to thank him a hundred times, with promises of repayment and the like flowing from her lips. Max slams the phone shut, rubs his eyes in disdain and frustration, before he starts to pack up his mess into a black duffle bag that contains a few little baggies of heroin, a bag of coke ready to be chopped into a line, and a five pack of syringes capped and tied together for safety. After putting the wrapped up seat belt back into the bag he zips it up and slams it into position to sit snugly under his arm. “Fucking pathetic…” Max mumbles under his breath. Max walks towards the door leading to the lobby of this roach infested hotel but as he reaches the door he stops and leans his back against the door jam. His eyes close as he soaks in the supposed feeling of “bliss” heroin brings him. [b}Two hours later…[/b] Maddox Monson is sitting comfortably in a booth in the smoking section of Denny’s. Seated across from him is his sixteen year old nephew, Jacob Ryan Pigg… Yes… Pigg… Fucking pathetic! Jacob sits there slouched over with an arrogant expression on his face as he sucks on a Marlboro Red. He blows the smoke right into the face of his Uncle Max, who tries to ignore it as he focuses on his half eaten Meat Lover’s Skillet that sits on the table in front of him. These young shits walk around like they know more than us old dogs… I guess I know how Stevo feels… Problem with Stevo, is he can’t accept that I’m better than him! Age has nothing to do with it, I’m just a better wrestler than he is, ever was, or ever could be! Shame really… “Now listen…” Max begins with a mouthful of hash browns, eggs, and sausage links. “Your mother asked me to talk some sense into you. Was I the right person? I don’t think so, but I was hungry and figured I could kill two birds with one stong…” Jacob snuffs out his cigarette in the ash tray before looking at Max with all seriousness on his face. He sits back against the booth with his arms crossed over his chest. “My mother decided to stick her big fat nose in my….” Jacob begins but is suddenly interrupted as Max’s hand shoots across the table and grabs the kid by the back of the neck before slamming his face down onto the table top. His cheek is pressed firmly into his plate of pancakes smothered in maple syrup as Max leans in and whispers. “You don’t get any warnings with me… You cross the line and you get smacked around! You understand me?” Jacob struggles against Max’s grip but after a few seconds he ends up nodding his head in agreement. Max releases his hold and Jacob shoots up straight staring holes through Max with those intense green eyes but Max is oblivious to the glare as he goes back to his plate. Max says, “So you were saying…” Jacob sits there with one hand wiping the syrup off his cheek and the other hand clenched into a fist at his side. “…” “My mother, who’s a bit overweight, decided to stick her perfectly proportioned nose into my…” Max begins for him. “My mother, sticks her nose into my business, when she wants to act like a mother.” Jacob explains. “She’s got her “golden boy” kissing her ass and sucking at her teet. So she doesn’t need me around…” Max can’t take anymore whining as he ignores his nephew and turns his thoughts inward once more. Jacob on the other hand continues talking, More like bitching, but Max is oblivious to it all. I don’t have time for this shit… I got a match I have to prepare for! The war with sVo rages on and I’m sitting here listening to a snot nosed punk, bitch about his life? Man, I’d give my right nut to go back to being 16! But that is neither here nor there… I got to see if I can get some ring time in and shake this ring rust off… |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · sVo Showdown RP Archive · Next Topic » |









![]](http://imageshack.us/a/img688/1050/pipend.jpg)




6:54 PM Jul 11