Post by chrisavery on Jan 3, 2007 23:40:24 GMT -5
White and Red sneakers with graffiti on the outer side of the shoe. The graffiti reads "Air Force Ones". Khaki pants from Dockers, and his shirt hangs down; a button up Anchor Blue shirt with greens, blues and greys. His dark skinned arms hang down at his side with his Fossil watch and his bracelet on his other wrist. A black Jansport backpack with a binder and a book, but thats pretty much irrelevant. Chris Avery is walking down a sidewalk as you can see a park in the background. A few teenagers playing basketball on some of the hoops is the main focus. One of the kids playing ball notices Chris Avery. This same kid runs over to Avery and stops him in his tracks.
Chris Avery: Hey Brandon.
Brandon: Whats crackin, mayne, where you get all these fly clothes? Those kicks? What the hell man? You slingin'?
Chris Avery: Naw.
He chuckles. Thinking of selling drugs, or being a drug dealer never crossed Averys mind. It's just something his family wouldn't be to fond of. Chris just doesn't see the positives in it anyway.
Chris Avery: Well, don't tell my mom or anyone really, but i'm a wrestler bro. I signed on with WCF.
Brandon: What?! You're lieing! WCF is ill man!
Chris Avery: I know. They sent me a small check for signing with them. A thousand dollars! I got me some threads right away. I got a match this Sunday on Television, already.
Brandon: Thats incredible! I watch WCF all the time! Howcome you never tell me this!
Chris Avery: I've been busy, trying to get my feet on the ground, get my mom off my back, going to class, trying to find ways to get a small job so my mom don't think i'm just getting money from nothing, or worse, finding out i'm a wrestler. She'd kill me.
Brandon: Coming from class huh? I ain't going this semester. Got too much work. Dad really wants me to be a roofer, like him. Family Business, and blah blah.
They both laugh at his Dads mockery.
Chris Avery: Hey! You think your dad will let me work whenever I can. I mean, just help out, so my mom thinks i'm actually working and what not on the weekends. She'll think i'm working full time.
Brandon: Hell yeah. He'll fly for that. I'll tell him the details later tonight. He'll be cool with it.
Chris Avery: Thanks man. I gotta get home before mom thinks i'm running the streets or something.
Brandon: Hit me later tonight or something.
Chris Avery: Alright. Peace.
Brandon runs back over to the rest of the gang of teenagers to play basketball. Chris continues walking. He crosses the street and passes a few quick marts, juice bars, and some of those real poor stores. You know, the kind of stores that try to sell you stuff that is basically free if you just make it yourself. Chris reaches his house and walks inside.
Mother: How was Junior College?
Chris Avery: It was cool, mom.
Mother: You got a phone call today from some guy named Roger. He was from the 'WCF' and wanted you to know you have to tape a segment on Saturday. So he wants you there a day early. What is he talking about?
Chris Avery: Uhm.. WCF... that .. It's a class at my JC. It stands for.. World ... Class of Forensics.
Mother: Forensics?
Chris Avery: Yeah, forensics. It's another word for Debate, Mom. It's a debate class. He wants me to go to the JC a day early and tape a segment for this debate class. It's a sweet class.
Mother: Okay. What do you want for dinner?
Chris Avery: I don't care. I got some homework.
Mother: Alright son.
Avery walks into his bedroom and shuts the door. He pulls his binder out of his backpack and puts it on his desk. He opens it up. The first page of binder paper is full of scetches with stick figures. Their moves. Moves that Chris Avery has been practicing in his mind that he could possibly use in the ring this Sunday. He opens up his laptop that was sitting on the edge of the desk. Opens up a WCF homepage. Checks for the card. Clicks under his match.
Chris Avery: Infra-Red and Eric Kennedy huh? My parter is Conrad Howell. This should be intresting. I hope Conrad is ready to win.
Right then and there, it almost seems that Chris has changed his state of mind. A one that is always looking at the positives, and never resorting to any hateful roots or situations. Now, being in the competitive mood, Chris is changing... for the better.
Chris Avery: Hey Brandon.
Brandon: Whats crackin, mayne, where you get all these fly clothes? Those kicks? What the hell man? You slingin'?
Chris Avery: Naw.
He chuckles. Thinking of selling drugs, or being a drug dealer never crossed Averys mind. It's just something his family wouldn't be to fond of. Chris just doesn't see the positives in it anyway.
Chris Avery: Well, don't tell my mom or anyone really, but i'm a wrestler bro. I signed on with WCF.
Brandon: What?! You're lieing! WCF is ill man!
Chris Avery: I know. They sent me a small check for signing with them. A thousand dollars! I got me some threads right away. I got a match this Sunday on Television, already.
Brandon: Thats incredible! I watch WCF all the time! Howcome you never tell me this!
Chris Avery: I've been busy, trying to get my feet on the ground, get my mom off my back, going to class, trying to find ways to get a small job so my mom don't think i'm just getting money from nothing, or worse, finding out i'm a wrestler. She'd kill me.
Brandon: Coming from class huh? I ain't going this semester. Got too much work. Dad really wants me to be a roofer, like him. Family Business, and blah blah.
They both laugh at his Dads mockery.
Chris Avery: Hey! You think your dad will let me work whenever I can. I mean, just help out, so my mom thinks i'm actually working and what not on the weekends. She'll think i'm working full time.
Brandon: Hell yeah. He'll fly for that. I'll tell him the details later tonight. He'll be cool with it.
Chris Avery: Thanks man. I gotta get home before mom thinks i'm running the streets or something.
Brandon: Hit me later tonight or something.
Chris Avery: Alright. Peace.
Brandon runs back over to the rest of the gang of teenagers to play basketball. Chris continues walking. He crosses the street and passes a few quick marts, juice bars, and some of those real poor stores. You know, the kind of stores that try to sell you stuff that is basically free if you just make it yourself. Chris reaches his house and walks inside.
Mother: How was Junior College?
Chris Avery: It was cool, mom.
Mother: You got a phone call today from some guy named Roger. He was from the 'WCF' and wanted you to know you have to tape a segment on Saturday. So he wants you there a day early. What is he talking about?
Chris Avery: Uhm.. WCF... that .. It's a class at my JC. It stands for.. World ... Class of Forensics.
Mother: Forensics?
Chris Avery: Yeah, forensics. It's another word for Debate, Mom. It's a debate class. He wants me to go to the JC a day early and tape a segment for this debate class. It's a sweet class.
Mother: Okay. What do you want for dinner?
Chris Avery: I don't care. I got some homework.
Mother: Alright son.
Avery walks into his bedroom and shuts the door. He pulls his binder out of his backpack and puts it on his desk. He opens it up. The first page of binder paper is full of scetches with stick figures. Their moves. Moves that Chris Avery has been practicing in his mind that he could possibly use in the ring this Sunday. He opens up his laptop that was sitting on the edge of the desk. Opens up a WCF homepage. Checks for the card. Clicks under his match.
Chris Avery: Infra-Red and Eric Kennedy huh? My parter is Conrad Howell. This should be intresting. I hope Conrad is ready to win.
Right then and there, it almost seems that Chris has changed his state of mind. A one that is always looking at the positives, and never resorting to any hateful roots or situations. Now, being in the competitive mood, Chris is changing... for the better.
