"A Long Walk To Colorado (And Even Further Home)" Part I
Feb 12, 2016 18:27:55 GMT -5
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Post by Kaz on Feb 12, 2016 18:27:55 GMT -5
The Week Of Fifteen...
The Colombian sun smiles down on the aged face of Jerry Mazzerole as the clip clop of heavy boots echoes a hundred acres in each direction. He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow as he continues his trek down the dirt laden path, expanses of growing marijuana stretching as far as the eye can see. He's inclined to take a taste for himself, to test the potency and effects of said kind bud, but he was here on matters most prevalant...
Still, the inclination was strong, and Poondocks never ever die.
After a thirty minute session of testing the waters, he wraps it up and continues down the path. A messenger bag is hung over his shoulder, most likely containing Kaz's most prized posessions. He pulls a large canteen from the bag and sips it as the hot heat of the sun bares down on his back, urging him down the footpath where those Unthick would dare never tread. After another twenty minute voyage, he comes upon an opulant manor surrounded all around by wrought golden fencing, the initals "BC" inscribed into the gate. As he approaches, an infrared camera zips out of the ground and scans his face.
BZZ-WHIRRRRRR
"Access Granted, welcome Son of the Godfather"
"Hmph", Kaz laughed from his throat, "How quaint. Must be expecting me. Always quick to the knowledge, he was."
The golden gate swings open, revealing a courtyard marbled in golden bricks, all conjoining in the middle where a statuesque fountain erects from the ground. Bobby Cairo's sapphire eyes beam from the face of the statue, his hands hoisting his thick up with a jet stream of water gushing from the tip, pouring down upon a sea of jobbers. A mold befitting the man, but Kaz felt nothing buy sympathy for his old friend.
"You'll never change, will you?" Kaz spoke aloud to the statue, "Even when the world is kicking down your door?"
Kaz shook his head, heading away from the statue - which he swore was smiling at him - and headed for the front door of the manor. This would be the first time that Kaz had come face to face with a Gawdfadduh since that night on Slam...but when Young Mazward looked into his eyes, it wasn't the same fun loving, thick dicked, right hand of Jam Willy Hey Zeus that had been his Tag Team partner last year. He was someone else entirely, as if all da JooJoo had been sucked right out of him.
Kaz came to this mansion, chest huffed and puffed, in an attempt to get answers from Cairo. He was amped up in front of the crowd, and Kaz had challenged his manhood, so that danger factor was layed on extre thick. He knew that coming here and staring down the man who had murdered a man he considered one of the greatest men in this world, and one of Kaz's best friends, could very well be the last day of his very young life. Bobby Cairo didn't trifle with folk...but niether did Kaz.
Kaz reached into the pack - his right arm shimmering in the golden sunlight - and pulled out an iDrawd cell phone, the screen partially cracked from what appeared to be years of use. He scrolled through it and found what he was looking for.
A voicemail.
The last phone call that Cory Cane had ever made.
"Kaz? It's Crow. I haven't heard back from you, man. Where you at homes? Shee-it, you got Marshall and Calzone keepin' you outta trouble right?” Crow clears his throat on the line. “Sorry, not very good with this thick speak. Look, I don't know why you left, or when you're coming back. But I know one thing. You need to find your way home, man. If that's where you're at now? Then I'm happy for you. But if it's not? Then let me help you. I can help you man if you let me. I can...”
Crow stops abruptly, the sound of the phone rat-a-tat-tatting off the side of his head or something.
“Find her, Kaz. Find Sofia and don't let go of her. I don't care what you have to do, or who you have to go though, that is your mission now. That's your title belt. Win it, win that prize and keep it as close to you, for as long as you can. I wish I could be there for you now, Kaz...but I can't. You're going to have to win this one on your own. Go out there and show those bastards who the real Godson is. And remember to Wrestle smart, my friend. Take care."
The line beeps and falters.
Those words would stick with Kaz every day for the rest of his life. They were what led him back to Sophia.
Those words had brought him home.
He pressed his lock key and slid the phone back into his pack. He sighed, cracked his chest, and rang the doorbell as "Killing In The Name" by Rage Against The Machine blared throughout the house.
The Colombian sun smiles down on the aged face of Jerry Mazzerole as the clip clop of heavy boots echoes a hundred acres in each direction. He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow as he continues his trek down the dirt laden path, expanses of growing marijuana stretching as far as the eye can see. He's inclined to take a taste for himself, to test the potency and effects of said kind bud, but he was here on matters most prevalant...
Still, the inclination was strong, and Poondocks never ever die.
After a thirty minute session of testing the waters, he wraps it up and continues down the path. A messenger bag is hung over his shoulder, most likely containing Kaz's most prized posessions. He pulls a large canteen from the bag and sips it as the hot heat of the sun bares down on his back, urging him down the footpath where those Unthick would dare never tread. After another twenty minute voyage, he comes upon an opulant manor surrounded all around by wrought golden fencing, the initals "BC" inscribed into the gate. As he approaches, an infrared camera zips out of the ground and scans his face.
BZZ-WHIRRRRRR
"Access Granted, welcome Son of the Godfather"
"Hmph", Kaz laughed from his throat, "How quaint. Must be expecting me. Always quick to the knowledge, he was."
The golden gate swings open, revealing a courtyard marbled in golden bricks, all conjoining in the middle where a statuesque fountain erects from the ground. Bobby Cairo's sapphire eyes beam from the face of the statue, his hands hoisting his thick up with a jet stream of water gushing from the tip, pouring down upon a sea of jobbers. A mold befitting the man, but Kaz felt nothing buy sympathy for his old friend.
"You'll never change, will you?" Kaz spoke aloud to the statue, "Even when the world is kicking down your door?"
Kaz shook his head, heading away from the statue - which he swore was smiling at him - and headed for the front door of the manor. This would be the first time that Kaz had come face to face with a Gawdfadduh since that night on Slam...but when Young Mazward looked into his eyes, it wasn't the same fun loving, thick dicked, right hand of Jam Willy Hey Zeus that had been his Tag Team partner last year. He was someone else entirely, as if all da JooJoo had been sucked right out of him.
Kaz came to this mansion, chest huffed and puffed, in an attempt to get answers from Cairo. He was amped up in front of the crowd, and Kaz had challenged his manhood, so that danger factor was layed on extre thick. He knew that coming here and staring down the man who had murdered a man he considered one of the greatest men in this world, and one of Kaz's best friends, could very well be the last day of his very young life. Bobby Cairo didn't trifle with folk...but niether did Kaz.
Kaz reached into the pack - his right arm shimmering in the golden sunlight - and pulled out an iDrawd cell phone, the screen partially cracked from what appeared to be years of use. He scrolled through it and found what he was looking for.
A voicemail.
The last phone call that Cory Cane had ever made.
"Kaz? It's Crow. I haven't heard back from you, man. Where you at homes? Shee-it, you got Marshall and Calzone keepin' you outta trouble right?” Crow clears his throat on the line. “Sorry, not very good with this thick speak. Look, I don't know why you left, or when you're coming back. But I know one thing. You need to find your way home, man. If that's where you're at now? Then I'm happy for you. But if it's not? Then let me help you. I can help you man if you let me. I can...”
Crow stops abruptly, the sound of the phone rat-a-tat-tatting off the side of his head or something.
“Find her, Kaz. Find Sofia and don't let go of her. I don't care what you have to do, or who you have to go though, that is your mission now. That's your title belt. Win it, win that prize and keep it as close to you, for as long as you can. I wish I could be there for you now, Kaz...but I can't. You're going to have to win this one on your own. Go out there and show those bastards who the real Godson is. And remember to Wrestle smart, my friend. Take care."
The line beeps and falters.
Those words would stick with Kaz every day for the rest of his life. They were what led him back to Sophia.
Those words had brought him home.
He pressed his lock key and slid the phone back into his pack. He sighed, cracked his chest, and rang the doorbell as "Killing In The Name" by Rage Against The Machine blared throughout the house.
