Post by Johnny Vachon on Feb 17, 2020 0:29:24 GMT -5
La Choperia Mexicali Bar and Grill. Right around the corner from Plaza de Toros Calafia, host of Union Battlegrounds Coup de Grace III. We hear a bit of commotion inside before the doors suddenly swing open and two large men throw a mohawked punk outside onto the ground. He groans as his face hits the concrete and the men walk back inside. Johnny Vachon stands to his feet slowly and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the blood from dripping. He turns back towards La Choperia Mexicali and spits a blood soaked loogie onto the front door.
“PISS OFF!”
Johnny wipes the blood from his nose with the sleeve of his leather jacket before smirking and pulling a bottle of Mezcal out from under his jacket from which he stole. He pops the top and takes a swig before eyeing the camera and licking his lips.
“Never have I been in a city as trashy as this. And I’ve lived in literal trash my whole life!”
He shakes his head as he blows a blood filled snot rocket onto the floor. He plops down on the curb as he takes another swig and continues sniffling blood back into his nose.
“I Quit. Task is simple. Make the opponent scream those simple two words. Daniel MacNamara and I go to war at Coup de Grace III trying to make the other scream those two words. I’ve come close to saying those words before. Quitting is something I could’ve done a year ago. Needle in my arm and a fistful of cocaine in one nostril. Clinging on the edge of death is a surreal feeling. And I could’ve quit. Given up and just burned out. I understand those two words more than anyone else Danny. And soon… you will too.”
Johnny chuckles as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it up with a book of matches. The blood begins to slow as it drips onto the street in front of him. He doesn’t seem to care anymore as the blood covers his hands and stains the sleeves of his jacket.
“You see, you practically begged for this match. You want the Johnny Vachon of old! The worthless piece of gutter trash that could barely make it to the ring let alone win a goddamn match. Why would you want that Danny? Why would you want to claim a victory over a waste of space like that? I’m a better competitor than I once was. So why would you want the ‘old Johnny Vachon’, huh Danny?”
Johnny stares at the camera quizzically. He scratches his head and makes a thinking face before laughing.
“Last time we met in the Battleground you took me out, plain and simple. You walked away with your hand held high and a smirk across your face. I laid on the ground looking up at the stars like I always do. Yet here I stand, accepting your challenge. Heading face to face with you yet again at the biggest show Union Battleground has to offer. Am I stupid? Or do I just enjoy the fight?”
Johnny seductively licks his lips before taking a chug off the bottle. He lays it down on the concrete as he stumbles to his feet and stares into the camera. The cigarette stays between his middle and pointer finger as he continues.
“The questions continue. There’s a book of them written down ready to be answered. But the biggest question is simple. What's to gain out of this? Another win in a category? Bragging rights? Or is it the satisfaction of beating me once again? The only one that knows is you Danny. You’ve said you’re going to take me out forreal this time. End my life and make me disappear from existence. A lot of guys claim to want to do that to me. And I’m sitting here with a cigarette in my hand, grasping onto my bottle of Jack with arms wide open begging someone to finally end me! The drugs couldn’t do it, the alcohol couldn’t do it. I mean, damn, I smoke enough cigarettes to keep Malboro in business by myself. Nothing has taken me out no matter how hard I try. I’m standing here waiting for someone to finally take me out of my misery. Will you be the one Danny?”
Johnnys hands and arms have gone out to the side, an open armed view as if he is leaving himself open to death. The cigarette burns close to the finger, the ash falling off nonchalantly as the punk continues.
“This shit is simple Danny. I’m here for bragging rights. I’m here to prove that I’m not just a garbage bag wrestler back from the dead to sink back to the bottom of the barrel and waste space. You wanted a fight? You fucking got one! I’m coming for your head Danny. And I’m coming to make you my BITCH! This is bragging rights and I’m a smack talker punk rocker! I’ve got a lot to prove and little time to do it.”
Johnny takes a swig before clearing his throat. He tries to sing, drunkenly and off key...
“Danny Boy, Oh Danny Boy… the pipes are calling!”
Johnny chuckles with a slur in his voice as he stumbles towards the camera and ashes his cigarette butt on the lens before falling onto the curb and hugging his whiskey bottle. The scene fades as the gutter trash lays on the concrete, probably about to pass out momentarily.
