Post by DeMarcus Jordan on Jan 17, 2016 17:32:24 GMT -5
The dark room lit up with the light of a phone going off. The vibration was intense enough to wake the man sleeping on the same bed the phone sat. That man, DeMarcus Jordan, sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked down at the phone, rubbing his chin now. He picks it up and lays back down.
DeMarcus Jordan: Hello?
?: DeMarcus? Its John, how are you?
DeMarcus Jordan: Who?
John: John...John Smith...from World o' Wresling magazine.
DeMarcus Jordan: I'm sorry I think you have the wrong number man.
John Smith: No, I don't. I interviewed you. Remember? We ate burgers together.
DeMarcus Jordan: Look man, I don't know who the fu-
John Smith: Its Ira, DeMarcus.
DeMarcus scratches a pesky itch on his temple..
DeMarcus Jordan: IRA! Mother fucker. How are you man?
John Smith: Yeah...you know my real name is John Smith.
DeMarcus Jordan: Well, its 5 in the morning, Ira, so you can be whatever the fuck I want you to be how about?
John Smith: Oh. Fair I suppose. Look I have that number for you.
DeMarcus Jordan: What number?
John Smith: For the P.I.
DeMarcus Jordan: P.I.? What the fuck is that Ira?
John Smith: Private Investigator. You know you asked me if I kn-
DeMarcus Jordan: Yeah. I know Ira. Text me the number alright man?
John Smith: Sure thing DeMarcus. Good-
But DeMarcus had hung up the phone already. He layed back down as his phone lit up one more time...text message recieved.
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At 1 pm DeMarcus was up and active. He was at his local gym running on a treadmill listening to music when some a man approached him. DeMarcus looked down at him, the man just sneering the entire time. The man shook his head and began to walk away when DeMarcus pulled out one of his ear phones.
DeMarcus Jordan: Hey. Guy.
The man turned back toward DeMarcus.
Guy: Yeah?
DeMarcus Jordan: What was that snub for?
Guy: Excuse me?
DeMarcus Jordan: I said, 'what was that snub for'?
The guy walks up to DeMarcus, looking him up and down and getting right in his face.
Guy: Lets just say I am rooting for the other team, boy.
DeMarcus Jordan: Rooting for the...oh. Oh I see. Well tell you what man, why don't you and I just avoid each other before some unpleasentness happens here, ok?
Guy: When he whipped you last week, I was so grateful to see someone on television finally have the balls to put someone like you in their rightful place, my dick got legitimetly hard.
DeMarcus Jordan: That is the most fucked up thing I have heard all week.
DeMarcus tried to turn away, but the guy put his hand on DeMarcus's shoulder and spun him back around.
Guy: Yeah well you got my attention, so do something about it.
DeMarcus Jordan: Look, man, I am going to tell you this once. This week, that racist Jordan and that fucked up Dag are going to get their asses whooped, and right now, if you touch me again, I am going to give you a mother fucking preview of that. You got that? Huh? Bitch?
Guy: Oh yeah if I put my hands on you again?
DeMarcus Jordan: Yeah thats what I said mother fucker put your fucking hands on me one more time and I am going to smack that fucking smile off of your mother fucking face.
DeMarcus never backed down from this kind of challenge and there was no way he was going to know. He also took note of the few people around them watching. He wasn't sure if it would be worth it or not to hit this man, he wasn't sure how many people around him thought the same way as this man did. As far as he could see, everyone standing around him was white. However, before he really had any time to think about the implications surrounding him, the man had reached out, index finger extended, and he poked DeMarcus right in the shoulder. Without hesitation, DeMarcus's hand came flying forward, full speed, smaking the spit out of the man standing in front of him. DeMarcus hit the guy so hard and quick, the man instantly went down, out cold.
The men who worked at the gym came over and grabbed DeMarcus, holding him back. He wasn't going in to hit the guy again, however, the man was already down. DeMarcus believed once a man was down, he learned his lesson. However, the men at the gym assumed DeMarcus was going to continue the attack, so they held him down and called the police.
DeMarcus Jordan: Look man, he is down, I am done. Let me leave already.
Gym Guy: No. Sorry bro, we need to keep you here till the cops get here. You hit this guy, we don't take that lightly.
DeMarcus Jordan: I hit this guy because he was a racist little bitch.
Gym Guy: Hey man, all's I saw was you smack this guy in his face. Nothing more, nothing less.
DeMarcus Jordan: Thats fucked up man.
A woman in blue compression shorts and blue compression tee shirt steps forward.
Compressed Woman: Um, excuse me, I am sorry but he is telling the truth. That guy started everything.
She indicates the man that DeMarcus had just knocked the fuck out.
DeMarcus Jordan: Thank you.
Gym Guy: Regardless ma'am, I have to retain him here.
And in no time at all, there were cop cars sitting in front of the the gym, and there were men in blue standing on the gym floor, getting statements from the gym guy and the man who DeMarcus knocked out. DeMarcus was sitting in a chair next to all the commotion, in handcuffs, shaking his head. He was previously trying to get the officers to talk to the woman decked in compression, but they told him to sit down before they tazed him. The woman who had before stood up for DeMarcus had walked out of the gym the moment the cops walked into the gym.
Police Officer: Ok, tell me what happened.
Guy: Well, I was just minding my business walking around the gym, and I noticed this man on the treadmill. I went over and was waiting my turn when he stepped off and started threatening me. He then told me that he didn't care what I was doing, and he was going to hit me. I told him not to, but he did anyway.
DeMarcus Jordan: Oh please. That isn't what happened.
Police Officer: HEY! YOU BE QUIET!
DeMarcus sat back in his chair. The wasn't the first time he had been arrested, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last time either. Another police officer walked over to DeMarcus, pulling a chair up across from him.
Police Officer 2: Ok guy, tell me what happened.
DeMarcus Jordan: Oh, you mean I's can talk's now sir? Why I am just a poo' little black man tryin' to mind mah own buisness sir.
Police Officer 2: Alright. I get it. Ha ha. Be real with me so I can help you out, ok?
DeMarcus Jordan: You watch the WCF?
Police Officer 2: No. But my son does.
DeMarcus Jordan: Well, I am a new superstar with the WCF, ok. I was here training because I have a match coming up and I wanted to be prepared for it. I am currently locked in a fight with this racist guy, Jordan Wolfram, who whipped me last week.
Police Officer 2: That sounds harsh. How does this connect to this incident?
DeMarcus Jordan: I am getting there. Along with this all happening, the match I am in this week is against Jordan Wolfram, this guy Bernard Core, this other weird looking dude Lucious Starr, and this other racist mother fucker Dag Riddick. Who is, by the way, one of the stupidest mother fuckers I have ever seen in my life. He gets on twitter and just shoots out the most ignorant, fucked up shit I have ever heard in my life. All because he won a shot at the Internet Title. The Internet Title. Who gives a fuck about the Internet Title? You know doesn't? Me. The general public. People who actually care about winning titles. You know who does care about the Internet title? Zombie McMorris and Dag Riddick.
I have heard this motherfucker say the word 'nigger' way too many times for him to not be in a mother fucking wheel chair yet. You know what I mean? Im sorry but I ain't no fucking nigger. Any piece of shit who calls me that is guareenteed a couple of things. First, he is for sure getting my foot so far up his ass his hang man ancesters are going to feel it. Second, he is going to get harrassment charges filed against him at the company, leaving him in a fucked place professionally. That shit is illegal. But first, I am going to fucking whoop his ass.
He thinks he is good because he won some kind of big ass battle royal against a bunch of nobodies. First and foremost being that walking fucking stereotype named D'Angelo Hall. I would like to get my hands on that walking bag of racism but, fuck, I'll have to save that for another day. Then he tied with Jordan Caliban Punkin face to have a chance to challenge for the Internet Title. The last time I checked, Jordan PUNKin Caliban was a walking pile of absolute dog shit. If you can't beat dog shit, what kind of wrestler are you really? I mean if you can't beat dog shit, then how do you expect to beat me, the fucking greatest this company has ever seen? You can't. Thats how. What did this cock sucker do after that? He lost. Him and Punkin lost to Andre Holmes and Lucious Starr. How did he handle that loss? Like a man?
No, he handled it like a mother fucking bitch. Because that is what this man is. A fucking BITCH.
Police Officer 2: I am still having a lot of trouble figuring out what this has to do with the incident here.
DeMarcus Jordan: Sorry, I let things get away from me. Anyway, it matters because that guy there mentioned WCF, and how I got what was coming to me, and started a fight with me because I am black.
Police Officer 2: Come on, DeMarcus, if you want to be taken seriously you need to be honest here.
DeMarcus Jordan: I am. He picked a fight with me because I am black.
Police Officer 2: Yeah ok. Its 2016 pal.
DeMarcus Jordan: What the fuck does that mean?
Police Officer 2: Racism doesn't exsist anymore.
DeMarcus Jordan: Then why am I sitting here in handcuffs?
Police Officer 2: Because you knocked that guy out.
At that moment the first police officer came over and tapped the second one on the shoulder.
Police Officer: Hey, what does he say?
Police Officer 2: He says that he hit the dude cause of racism.
Police Officer: Why do they always go there?
DeMarcus Jordan: Excuse me?
Police Officer: Nothing. Look son we are gonna have to arrest you on aggrivated assualt. So, you have a right to remain silent, anything you say a-
DeMarcus Jordan: You know what, save it...I have heard it. This is bullshit.
Police Officer: Hey buddy, I don't make the rules.
DeMarcus Jordan: You certainly do.
The police led DeMarcus throught the crowd, his head held low, this was not a good day for him so far.
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The phone rang once. It rang twice. It rang three times. Finally, on the fourth ring, someone answered.
?: Hello?
DeMarcus was standing in the police station, his hands still handcuffed, but he was allowed to use the phone to call someone to alert them as to where he was staying, also to see if someone could come and post his bail of 3000 dollars.
DeMarcus Jordan: Grayson, man, buddy, I need your help.
Grayson Pierce: Um, who is this?
DeMarcus Jordan: Its DeMarcus man.
Grayson Pierce: DMarc are you calling me from jail?
DeMarcus Jordan: Sorta.
Grayson Pierce: What do you mean, sorta?
DeMarcus Jordan: Im at the police station in the holding cell.
Grayson Pierce: How the fuck did that happen?
DeMarcus Jordan: I ran into a guy at the gym who had sympathy for Jordan Wolfram.
Grayson Pierce: Oh dude that is seriously fucked up. I'll be there as soon as I can.
DeMarcus Jordan: Thanks man. I appreciate it.
DeMarcus hung up the phone and was grabbed on the elbow by a large police officer to lead him back to the holding cell. Upon entering the cell, he saw that he was there with one other man. This guy couldn't have been older than 18, and he was sitting there, hat backwards and shirt and pants way to large. He saw DeMarcus however and his eyes lit up a bit.
Young Man: Yo, you DeMarcus Jordan. My nig-
DeMarcus grabbed the kid by his collar and put him up against the wall. None of the guards seemed to mind.
DeMarcus Jordan: I aint nobobies anything, you understand that?
Young Man: Yeah, yeah. Sorry.
DeMarcus let the kid down and sat across from him.
Young Man: Hey, sorry man, I am a fan though.
DeMarcus Jordan: Oh yeah?
Young Man: Yeah. My name is Nicky man, from New York.
DeMarcus Jordan: Good to meet you Nicky. New York huh?
Nicky: Yeah brotha. I left after my mom kicked me out. I failed the standardized tests that Bernard Core put forth. One of he reasons I am a fan. I want to see that guy get the shit kicked out of him.
DeMarcus Jordan: Well, make sure you watch tonight, cause that is going to happen to him. That guy doesn't really deserve a fair break, god knows he didn't give you kids in New York a break. What a fucking nerd he is, I am surprised that George! of the NerdSmashers hasn't smashed him yet, or Kevin. Either one. I mean, even his fucking name. Bernard Cornelious. His parents must have really hated him. At least they could have fucking named him John, or Kenny, or fucking Ira. But Bernard? Ugh.
Then he becomes a professional wrestler, has a chance to change that, and he keeps it. He changes his last name to Core. Bernard Core. No, I am sorry, Bernard 'Common' Core. "Common'? I know one person named Common and that man is a respected rapper. Common Core ain't no rapper. Common the rapper is smart, Common the wrestler is clearly a fucking moron. Common the rapper is respected, Common the wrestler is hated amongst his peers. Common the rapper has integrity, Common the wrestler cheats his way to the top.
The best thing that Mikey eXtreme will ever do in his life is doing to Common Core what he did the Chelsea Armstrong. But you know, before Mike gets to lay a finger on him, I get to fuck him up first. I am excited for that. People tend to think that Mr. Cornelious is the next best thing. Its good that I can step into this ring agains him and show people that they are very, very wrong. That DeMarcus Jordan is the next best thing, not Bernard Common Core. He is a stepping stone to my legacy. Years from now, when people are looking at my fucking chapter that is the history of WCF, there will be a small foot note next to an asterick, the asterick depicting that I won my third match against 'some guys'. That is what Core is. He is an asterick on the careers of many other competitors, including, and mostly talking about the fucking best, DeMarcus Jordan.
Nicky: Yeah man, and his son is such a dork.
DeMarcus let out a chuckle, and he and Nicky began to talk about their lifes. He learned that Nicky was in here for a real reason, he assaulted a police officer for fun. DeMarcus tried to explain how he should try to get his life on track and blaze a good path for young black men instead of treading down the path of crime and whatnot. Just when he felt he was finally getting though, however, the guard came over and opened the doors. DeMarcus had posted bail. He left, giving his phone number to Nicky in case the young man ever wanted to talk, and was on his way. He thanked Grayson and decided he was going to walk to the car rental place, which was surprisingly close to police station. While walking his phone rang, it was Whitey. He smiled and picked up the phone.
DeMarcus Jordan: Hey, Whitey my man, whats happening?
Whitey: Hey Blacky, I heard you got locked up again. What for now?
DeMarcus Jordan: Oh it was bullshit man. You know, sticking up for myself, getting blamed cause I am black.
Whitey: That is too bad man. Sorry to hear. You want to come by and grab a burger, on the house?
DeMarcus Jordan: Whitey, you make burgers at a Citgo, they cost two dollars.
Whitey: I am trying to be nice here, Blacky, don't be a dick.
DeMarcus Jordan: Sorry man, this has been a shitty ass day. But later will be better. Hey do you know anything about a guy named Lucious Starr?
Whitey: Um...Lucy from up the block. She has really big tits.
DeMarcus Jordan: No. Lucious Starr. Apparently he is a superstar with the WCF, but I honestly don't know anything about him. Its like...not one person cares about this dude. There is no information on Google.
Whitey: What happens when you Google him?
DeMarcus Jordan: Well, the first thing that comes up are two twitter accounts that look like they are from some guy who....uh...you know look like that weird magician from television who always eats the damn camera. Hold on let me see what some of the tweets say...
DeMarcus takes the phone away from his face and looks at it. He nods then puts it back to his face.
DeMarcus Jordan: The one says something about how he saw someone putting on a bikini which encouraged him to go hit on her. Thats pathetic if I had ever seen something pathetic. I hope this is the same guy, because guys who are that desperate are usually guys who go down real fucking easy man. The second one says that he is going to beat some rookies ass. He isn't talking about me, though, cause you know Whitey, this mother fucker doesn't seem to be able to beat anyone.
Whitey: Well there you go.
DeMarcus Jordan: He has a fucking weird ass belly button. Gross. It like...collapses in on itself. But not like an inny, its like...a giant hole in his stomach. Its not natural. I do not like it one bit. And his mother fucking nipples are fucking gigantic holy shit. He is one disgusting piece of gross.
Whitey: Alright, I don't care about any of that. Please stop. I gotta go here Blacky, talk to you soon.
DeMarcus Jordan: Alright man. Talk at ya later.
DeMarcus walks into Hertz as the scene fades to black.
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DeMarcus Jordan: Look. I am not trying to say that there isn't good in everyone no matter what they say.
The scene opens to DeMarcus in his dressing room, talking into the camera.
DeMarcus Jordan: Lucy Starr, Bernard Core, that fuck Dag Riddik, none of them matter to me. oh sure, Andre is going to whoop the shit out of them, Bonnie is going to destroy them, Grayson is going to end them. And they can. I trust these three people more than I trust anyone else. They didn't have to help me. They didn't have to save me. They didn't have to stop that mother fucker from whipping me. But they did. They very much did. They came and helped me in my time of need, and because of that, I owe them more than just my help. I owe them my friendship.
I know that doesn't seem like it means much at all. What is a friendship? Well, you all know Whitey, a man I have been friends with for over ten years. And when I give someone my true friendship, they have a friend for life. A loyal friend. A caring friend. A friend who will always have your back no matter what. That is who I am. And now Andre Holmes, Bonnie Blue, and Grayson Pierce have that friendship. They are my homies for life.
DeMarcus opened up his bag and pulled out his gear. It looke different than before, but it was all very hard for the camera to pick up how it was different. DeMarcus smiled at it and turned back to the camera.
DeMarcus Jordan: Jordan Wolfram. That name alone leaves a terrible taste in my mouth. That name alone sends ripples of anger down my entire body. That name alone makes me shake with fury. According to a smart little green guy, anger is the path to the dark side. Letting a man get into my head so much like that...nobody has ever gotten into my head like that. Mother fucker came out on the first day he was here and he called me out though.
He didn't call me out for being talented. He didn't call me out for saying that in six months I am going to be the mother fucking best, like his moronic counterpart in Dag Riddik. He called me out for being black. Simple as that. He said the WCF was full of filth, and then began to list every black man the WCF has EXCEPT Steve Orbit. Does he like Steve Orbit? Possible. Does he have a crush on Steve Orbit? Possible.
He goes on to call me uneducated and quots scripture at me. Let me tell you something Jordan, because you clearly don't know a fucking thing about me. I failed out of every fucking school I had ever been in when I was a teenager. I was too busy defending myself on the street from mother fuckers like you who tried to fuck with me and tell me that I wasn't worth shit because of the color of my skin. I grew up knocking out people like you. When I turned 20 however, I went back to school and got my mother fucking GED. I know, following stereotypes?
No. Making my life better because I was headed down the wrong path. But I righted my life, Jordan. I saw where I was doing bad and I made right. You? You began a life of misery and continued on that path. My guess is you have never been laid, so you blame that on the black man. You never even been kissed by a handsome man. So you blame the black man. Your parents were bible humping fucks who looked down on homosexuals, so you blame the black man for your repressed sexuality. But you know what Jordan, I have nothing agains homosexuals. I say be who you have to be. Thats what I do every fucking day. Thats why I am the mother fucking best at what I do. Because I don't hide any part of myself.
However, Jordan, you come here and you start quoting scripture and you start using that scripture as a way to hate on those who are different than you? My friend, thats a good way to write a prescription from Dr. Dumbass for a good ass kicking, to be filled by your local neighborhood pharmacist, DeMarcus Jordan. There is no more words that need to be spoken between us Wolf boy. There is no more anything that needs to happen between us. There is only one thing left in our legacy, Jordan, and that is this. Me getting my hands around your neck and squeezing until that last gasp of carbon dioxide leaves your lungs, and you see the man who is better than you for the last time, the man who is your superior, DeMarcus Jordan, the black man who ended this miserable homoerotic life for you.
And when you get to heaven and step up to God himself, God will do the same fucking thing I did man. And you will rot in the deepest bowel of Satans asshole. Because that is where you belong Jordan. You are nothing but a piece of Satan's shit. See ya in the ring, honkey.
DeMarcus smiles at this as his phone rings. He picks it up.
DeMarcus Jordan: Hello?
?: Hello, Mr. Jordan. This is Gary Halloway, your private investigator.
DeMarcus Jordan: Oh...yeah. Hi.
Gary Halloway: I have the information you are looking for Mr. Jordan.
DeMarcus's eyes grow wide. He runs his hand over the short hair on the top of his head.
DeMarcus Jordan: Ok...let me hear it.
END
DeMarcus Jordan: Hello?
?: DeMarcus? Its John, how are you?
DeMarcus Jordan: Who?
John: John...John Smith...from World o' Wresling magazine.
DeMarcus Jordan: I'm sorry I think you have the wrong number man.
John Smith: No, I don't. I interviewed you. Remember? We ate burgers together.
DeMarcus Jordan: Look man, I don't know who the fu-
John Smith: Its Ira, DeMarcus.
DeMarcus scratches a pesky itch on his temple..
DeMarcus Jordan: IRA! Mother fucker. How are you man?
John Smith: Yeah...you know my real name is John Smith.
DeMarcus Jordan: Well, its 5 in the morning, Ira, so you can be whatever the fuck I want you to be how about?
John Smith: Oh. Fair I suppose. Look I have that number for you.
DeMarcus Jordan: What number?
John Smith: For the P.I.
DeMarcus Jordan: P.I.? What the fuck is that Ira?
John Smith: Private Investigator. You know you asked me if I kn-
DeMarcus Jordan: Yeah. I know Ira. Text me the number alright man?
John Smith: Sure thing DeMarcus. Good-
But DeMarcus had hung up the phone already. He layed back down as his phone lit up one more time...text message recieved.
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At 1 pm DeMarcus was up and active. He was at his local gym running on a treadmill listening to music when some a man approached him. DeMarcus looked down at him, the man just sneering the entire time. The man shook his head and began to walk away when DeMarcus pulled out one of his ear phones.
DeMarcus Jordan: Hey. Guy.
The man turned back toward DeMarcus.
Guy: Yeah?
DeMarcus Jordan: What was that snub for?
Guy: Excuse me?
DeMarcus Jordan: I said, 'what was that snub for'?
The guy walks up to DeMarcus, looking him up and down and getting right in his face.
Guy: Lets just say I am rooting for the other team, boy.
DeMarcus Jordan: Rooting for the...oh. Oh I see. Well tell you what man, why don't you and I just avoid each other before some unpleasentness happens here, ok?
Guy: When he whipped you last week, I was so grateful to see someone on television finally have the balls to put someone like you in their rightful place, my dick got legitimetly hard.
DeMarcus Jordan: That is the most fucked up thing I have heard all week.
DeMarcus tried to turn away, but the guy put his hand on DeMarcus's shoulder and spun him back around.
Guy: Yeah well you got my attention, so do something about it.
DeMarcus Jordan: Look, man, I am going to tell you this once. This week, that racist Jordan and that fucked up Dag are going to get their asses whooped, and right now, if you touch me again, I am going to give you a mother fucking preview of that. You got that? Huh? Bitch?
Guy: Oh yeah if I put my hands on you again?
DeMarcus Jordan: Yeah thats what I said mother fucker put your fucking hands on me one more time and I am going to smack that fucking smile off of your mother fucking face.
DeMarcus never backed down from this kind of challenge and there was no way he was going to know. He also took note of the few people around them watching. He wasn't sure if it would be worth it or not to hit this man, he wasn't sure how many people around him thought the same way as this man did. As far as he could see, everyone standing around him was white. However, before he really had any time to think about the implications surrounding him, the man had reached out, index finger extended, and he poked DeMarcus right in the shoulder. Without hesitation, DeMarcus's hand came flying forward, full speed, smaking the spit out of the man standing in front of him. DeMarcus hit the guy so hard and quick, the man instantly went down, out cold.
The men who worked at the gym came over and grabbed DeMarcus, holding him back. He wasn't going in to hit the guy again, however, the man was already down. DeMarcus believed once a man was down, he learned his lesson. However, the men at the gym assumed DeMarcus was going to continue the attack, so they held him down and called the police.
DeMarcus Jordan: Look man, he is down, I am done. Let me leave already.
Gym Guy: No. Sorry bro, we need to keep you here till the cops get here. You hit this guy, we don't take that lightly.
DeMarcus Jordan: I hit this guy because he was a racist little bitch.
Gym Guy: Hey man, all's I saw was you smack this guy in his face. Nothing more, nothing less.
DeMarcus Jordan: Thats fucked up man.
A woman in blue compression shorts and blue compression tee shirt steps forward.
Compressed Woman: Um, excuse me, I am sorry but he is telling the truth. That guy started everything.
She indicates the man that DeMarcus had just knocked the fuck out.
DeMarcus Jordan: Thank you.
Gym Guy: Regardless ma'am, I have to retain him here.
And in no time at all, there were cop cars sitting in front of the the gym, and there were men in blue standing on the gym floor, getting statements from the gym guy and the man who DeMarcus knocked out. DeMarcus was sitting in a chair next to all the commotion, in handcuffs, shaking his head. He was previously trying to get the officers to talk to the woman decked in compression, but they told him to sit down before they tazed him. The woman who had before stood up for DeMarcus had walked out of the gym the moment the cops walked into the gym.
Police Officer: Ok, tell me what happened.
Guy: Well, I was just minding my business walking around the gym, and I noticed this man on the treadmill. I went over and was waiting my turn when he stepped off and started threatening me. He then told me that he didn't care what I was doing, and he was going to hit me. I told him not to, but he did anyway.
DeMarcus Jordan: Oh please. That isn't what happened.
Police Officer: HEY! YOU BE QUIET!
DeMarcus sat back in his chair. The wasn't the first time he had been arrested, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last time either. Another police officer walked over to DeMarcus, pulling a chair up across from him.
Police Officer 2: Ok guy, tell me what happened.
DeMarcus Jordan: Oh, you mean I's can talk's now sir? Why I am just a poo' little black man tryin' to mind mah own buisness sir.
Police Officer 2: Alright. I get it. Ha ha. Be real with me so I can help you out, ok?
DeMarcus Jordan: You watch the WCF?
Police Officer 2: No. But my son does.
DeMarcus Jordan: Well, I am a new superstar with the WCF, ok. I was here training because I have a match coming up and I wanted to be prepared for it. I am currently locked in a fight with this racist guy, Jordan Wolfram, who whipped me last week.
Police Officer 2: That sounds harsh. How does this connect to this incident?
DeMarcus Jordan: I am getting there. Along with this all happening, the match I am in this week is against Jordan Wolfram, this guy Bernard Core, this other weird looking dude Lucious Starr, and this other racist mother fucker Dag Riddick. Who is, by the way, one of the stupidest mother fuckers I have ever seen in my life. He gets on twitter and just shoots out the most ignorant, fucked up shit I have ever heard in my life. All because he won a shot at the Internet Title. The Internet Title. Who gives a fuck about the Internet Title? You know doesn't? Me. The general public. People who actually care about winning titles. You know who does care about the Internet title? Zombie McMorris and Dag Riddick.
I have heard this motherfucker say the word 'nigger' way too many times for him to not be in a mother fucking wheel chair yet. You know what I mean? Im sorry but I ain't no fucking nigger. Any piece of shit who calls me that is guareenteed a couple of things. First, he is for sure getting my foot so far up his ass his hang man ancesters are going to feel it. Second, he is going to get harrassment charges filed against him at the company, leaving him in a fucked place professionally. That shit is illegal. But first, I am going to fucking whoop his ass.
He thinks he is good because he won some kind of big ass battle royal against a bunch of nobodies. First and foremost being that walking fucking stereotype named D'Angelo Hall. I would like to get my hands on that walking bag of racism but, fuck, I'll have to save that for another day. Then he tied with Jordan Caliban Punkin face to have a chance to challenge for the Internet Title. The last time I checked, Jordan PUNKin Caliban was a walking pile of absolute dog shit. If you can't beat dog shit, what kind of wrestler are you really? I mean if you can't beat dog shit, then how do you expect to beat me, the fucking greatest this company has ever seen? You can't. Thats how. What did this cock sucker do after that? He lost. Him and Punkin lost to Andre Holmes and Lucious Starr. How did he handle that loss? Like a man?
No, he handled it like a mother fucking bitch. Because that is what this man is. A fucking BITCH.
Police Officer 2: I am still having a lot of trouble figuring out what this has to do with the incident here.
DeMarcus Jordan: Sorry, I let things get away from me. Anyway, it matters because that guy there mentioned WCF, and how I got what was coming to me, and started a fight with me because I am black.
Police Officer 2: Come on, DeMarcus, if you want to be taken seriously you need to be honest here.
DeMarcus Jordan: I am. He picked a fight with me because I am black.
Police Officer 2: Yeah ok. Its 2016 pal.
DeMarcus Jordan: What the fuck does that mean?
Police Officer 2: Racism doesn't exsist anymore.
DeMarcus Jordan: Then why am I sitting here in handcuffs?
Police Officer 2: Because you knocked that guy out.
At that moment the first police officer came over and tapped the second one on the shoulder.
Police Officer: Hey, what does he say?
Police Officer 2: He says that he hit the dude cause of racism.
Police Officer: Why do they always go there?
DeMarcus Jordan: Excuse me?
Police Officer: Nothing. Look son we are gonna have to arrest you on aggrivated assualt. So, you have a right to remain silent, anything you say a-
DeMarcus Jordan: You know what, save it...I have heard it. This is bullshit.
Police Officer: Hey buddy, I don't make the rules.
DeMarcus Jordan: You certainly do.
The police led DeMarcus throught the crowd, his head held low, this was not a good day for him so far.
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The phone rang once. It rang twice. It rang three times. Finally, on the fourth ring, someone answered.
?: Hello?
DeMarcus was standing in the police station, his hands still handcuffed, but he was allowed to use the phone to call someone to alert them as to where he was staying, also to see if someone could come and post his bail of 3000 dollars.
DeMarcus Jordan: Grayson, man, buddy, I need your help.
Grayson Pierce: Um, who is this?
DeMarcus Jordan: Its DeMarcus man.
Grayson Pierce: DMarc are you calling me from jail?
DeMarcus Jordan: Sorta.
Grayson Pierce: What do you mean, sorta?
DeMarcus Jordan: Im at the police station in the holding cell.
Grayson Pierce: How the fuck did that happen?
DeMarcus Jordan: I ran into a guy at the gym who had sympathy for Jordan Wolfram.
Grayson Pierce: Oh dude that is seriously fucked up. I'll be there as soon as I can.
DeMarcus Jordan: Thanks man. I appreciate it.
DeMarcus hung up the phone and was grabbed on the elbow by a large police officer to lead him back to the holding cell. Upon entering the cell, he saw that he was there with one other man. This guy couldn't have been older than 18, and he was sitting there, hat backwards and shirt and pants way to large. He saw DeMarcus however and his eyes lit up a bit.
Young Man: Yo, you DeMarcus Jordan. My nig-
DeMarcus grabbed the kid by his collar and put him up against the wall. None of the guards seemed to mind.
DeMarcus Jordan: I aint nobobies anything, you understand that?
Young Man: Yeah, yeah. Sorry.
DeMarcus let the kid down and sat across from him.
Young Man: Hey, sorry man, I am a fan though.
DeMarcus Jordan: Oh yeah?
Young Man: Yeah. My name is Nicky man, from New York.
DeMarcus Jordan: Good to meet you Nicky. New York huh?
Nicky: Yeah brotha. I left after my mom kicked me out. I failed the standardized tests that Bernard Core put forth. One of he reasons I am a fan. I want to see that guy get the shit kicked out of him.
DeMarcus Jordan: Well, make sure you watch tonight, cause that is going to happen to him. That guy doesn't really deserve a fair break, god knows he didn't give you kids in New York a break. What a fucking nerd he is, I am surprised that George! of the NerdSmashers hasn't smashed him yet, or Kevin. Either one. I mean, even his fucking name. Bernard Cornelious. His parents must have really hated him. At least they could have fucking named him John, or Kenny, or fucking Ira. But Bernard? Ugh.
Then he becomes a professional wrestler, has a chance to change that, and he keeps it. He changes his last name to Core. Bernard Core. No, I am sorry, Bernard 'Common' Core. "Common'? I know one person named Common and that man is a respected rapper. Common Core ain't no rapper. Common the rapper is smart, Common the wrestler is clearly a fucking moron. Common the rapper is respected, Common the wrestler is hated amongst his peers. Common the rapper has integrity, Common the wrestler cheats his way to the top.
The best thing that Mikey eXtreme will ever do in his life is doing to Common Core what he did the Chelsea Armstrong. But you know, before Mike gets to lay a finger on him, I get to fuck him up first. I am excited for that. People tend to think that Mr. Cornelious is the next best thing. Its good that I can step into this ring agains him and show people that they are very, very wrong. That DeMarcus Jordan is the next best thing, not Bernard Common Core. He is a stepping stone to my legacy. Years from now, when people are looking at my fucking chapter that is the history of WCF, there will be a small foot note next to an asterick, the asterick depicting that I won my third match against 'some guys'. That is what Core is. He is an asterick on the careers of many other competitors, including, and mostly talking about the fucking best, DeMarcus Jordan.
Nicky: Yeah man, and his son is such a dork.
DeMarcus let out a chuckle, and he and Nicky began to talk about their lifes. He learned that Nicky was in here for a real reason, he assaulted a police officer for fun. DeMarcus tried to explain how he should try to get his life on track and blaze a good path for young black men instead of treading down the path of crime and whatnot. Just when he felt he was finally getting though, however, the guard came over and opened the doors. DeMarcus had posted bail. He left, giving his phone number to Nicky in case the young man ever wanted to talk, and was on his way. He thanked Grayson and decided he was going to walk to the car rental place, which was surprisingly close to police station. While walking his phone rang, it was Whitey. He smiled and picked up the phone.
DeMarcus Jordan: Hey, Whitey my man, whats happening?
Whitey: Hey Blacky, I heard you got locked up again. What for now?
DeMarcus Jordan: Oh it was bullshit man. You know, sticking up for myself, getting blamed cause I am black.
Whitey: That is too bad man. Sorry to hear. You want to come by and grab a burger, on the house?
DeMarcus Jordan: Whitey, you make burgers at a Citgo, they cost two dollars.
Whitey: I am trying to be nice here, Blacky, don't be a dick.
DeMarcus Jordan: Sorry man, this has been a shitty ass day. But later will be better. Hey do you know anything about a guy named Lucious Starr?
Whitey: Um...Lucy from up the block. She has really big tits.
DeMarcus Jordan: No. Lucious Starr. Apparently he is a superstar with the WCF, but I honestly don't know anything about him. Its like...not one person cares about this dude. There is no information on Google.
Whitey: What happens when you Google him?
DeMarcus Jordan: Well, the first thing that comes up are two twitter accounts that look like they are from some guy who....uh...you know look like that weird magician from television who always eats the damn camera. Hold on let me see what some of the tweets say...
DeMarcus takes the phone away from his face and looks at it. He nods then puts it back to his face.
DeMarcus Jordan: The one says something about how he saw someone putting on a bikini which encouraged him to go hit on her. Thats pathetic if I had ever seen something pathetic. I hope this is the same guy, because guys who are that desperate are usually guys who go down real fucking easy man. The second one says that he is going to beat some rookies ass. He isn't talking about me, though, cause you know Whitey, this mother fucker doesn't seem to be able to beat anyone.
Whitey: Well there you go.
DeMarcus Jordan: He has a fucking weird ass belly button. Gross. It like...collapses in on itself. But not like an inny, its like...a giant hole in his stomach. Its not natural. I do not like it one bit. And his mother fucking nipples are fucking gigantic holy shit. He is one disgusting piece of gross.
Whitey: Alright, I don't care about any of that. Please stop. I gotta go here Blacky, talk to you soon.
DeMarcus Jordan: Alright man. Talk at ya later.
DeMarcus walks into Hertz as the scene fades to black.
-------------------------------------------------------
DeMarcus Jordan: Look. I am not trying to say that there isn't good in everyone no matter what they say.
The scene opens to DeMarcus in his dressing room, talking into the camera.
DeMarcus Jordan: Lucy Starr, Bernard Core, that fuck Dag Riddik, none of them matter to me. oh sure, Andre is going to whoop the shit out of them, Bonnie is going to destroy them, Grayson is going to end them. And they can. I trust these three people more than I trust anyone else. They didn't have to help me. They didn't have to save me. They didn't have to stop that mother fucker from whipping me. But they did. They very much did. They came and helped me in my time of need, and because of that, I owe them more than just my help. I owe them my friendship.
I know that doesn't seem like it means much at all. What is a friendship? Well, you all know Whitey, a man I have been friends with for over ten years. And when I give someone my true friendship, they have a friend for life. A loyal friend. A caring friend. A friend who will always have your back no matter what. That is who I am. And now Andre Holmes, Bonnie Blue, and Grayson Pierce have that friendship. They are my homies for life.
DeMarcus opened up his bag and pulled out his gear. It looke different than before, but it was all very hard for the camera to pick up how it was different. DeMarcus smiled at it and turned back to the camera.
DeMarcus Jordan: Jordan Wolfram. That name alone leaves a terrible taste in my mouth. That name alone sends ripples of anger down my entire body. That name alone makes me shake with fury. According to a smart little green guy, anger is the path to the dark side. Letting a man get into my head so much like that...nobody has ever gotten into my head like that. Mother fucker came out on the first day he was here and he called me out though.
He didn't call me out for being talented. He didn't call me out for saying that in six months I am going to be the mother fucking best, like his moronic counterpart in Dag Riddik. He called me out for being black. Simple as that. He said the WCF was full of filth, and then began to list every black man the WCF has EXCEPT Steve Orbit. Does he like Steve Orbit? Possible. Does he have a crush on Steve Orbit? Possible.
He goes on to call me uneducated and quots scripture at me. Let me tell you something Jordan, because you clearly don't know a fucking thing about me. I failed out of every fucking school I had ever been in when I was a teenager. I was too busy defending myself on the street from mother fuckers like you who tried to fuck with me and tell me that I wasn't worth shit because of the color of my skin. I grew up knocking out people like you. When I turned 20 however, I went back to school and got my mother fucking GED. I know, following stereotypes?
No. Making my life better because I was headed down the wrong path. But I righted my life, Jordan. I saw where I was doing bad and I made right. You? You began a life of misery and continued on that path. My guess is you have never been laid, so you blame that on the black man. You never even been kissed by a handsome man. So you blame the black man. Your parents were bible humping fucks who looked down on homosexuals, so you blame the black man for your repressed sexuality. But you know what Jordan, I have nothing agains homosexuals. I say be who you have to be. Thats what I do every fucking day. Thats why I am the mother fucking best at what I do. Because I don't hide any part of myself.
However, Jordan, you come here and you start quoting scripture and you start using that scripture as a way to hate on those who are different than you? My friend, thats a good way to write a prescription from Dr. Dumbass for a good ass kicking, to be filled by your local neighborhood pharmacist, DeMarcus Jordan. There is no more words that need to be spoken between us Wolf boy. There is no more anything that needs to happen between us. There is only one thing left in our legacy, Jordan, and that is this. Me getting my hands around your neck and squeezing until that last gasp of carbon dioxide leaves your lungs, and you see the man who is better than you for the last time, the man who is your superior, DeMarcus Jordan, the black man who ended this miserable homoerotic life for you.
And when you get to heaven and step up to God himself, God will do the same fucking thing I did man. And you will rot in the deepest bowel of Satans asshole. Because that is where you belong Jordan. You are nothing but a piece of Satan's shit. See ya in the ring, honkey.
DeMarcus smiles at this as his phone rings. He picks it up.
DeMarcus Jordan: Hello?
?: Hello, Mr. Jordan. This is Gary Halloway, your private investigator.
DeMarcus Jordan: Oh...yeah. Hi.
Gary Halloway: I have the information you are looking for Mr. Jordan.
DeMarcus's eyes grow wide. He runs his hand over the short hair on the top of his head.
DeMarcus Jordan: Ok...let me hear it.
END
