Post by Cormack MacNeill on Apr 17, 2016 13:46:32 GMT -5
Halifax, Nova Scotia
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
1650 hrs
The weathered sign over the double doors boasts entrance to the 'Best Clamshack on the East Coast.' From the peeling blue paint on the walls to the scuffed floorboards visible through the propped-open door, it would seem that this is one of the oldest on the East Coast. As we venture inside the weathered theme carries on into the interior. Worn wood makes up the bar, well-sanded tables line the walls, and deep creases line the bartenders ancient face. It's truly an unusual sight when a kilted beer drinker at the bar is the most interesting thing there. Truly unusual when he's the most interesting thing most anywhere.
The barkeep slides a full pint of dark brown ale towards the bald, bearded man at the bar, deftly swiping up the empty in the same motion and depositing it underneath the bar. It's a move he's done countless times over the years, and is almost unconscious in its ease. Those eyes have seen many strange sights in this old ramshackle shed, and the bearish man is no exception. Covered in tattoos and downing Guinness at a steady pace, he's clearly got a lot on his mind. It's the job of the barkeep to engage, but years of experience have taught this old salt that sometimes its better to let them tell the tale in their own time and at their own pace.
An equally ancient crone shuffled from somewhere in the back with a steaming plate of food. Strips of breaded meat are plied high upon the plate, and she nods politely as she sets the food down beside the large man. His only reply is a nod toward her, before stuffing a large paw into the pile of strips and jamming a few absently into his mouth. He chews in silence, before mouthing his first words since he ordered his drink
Good clam. Fresh.
She nodded and shared a look with the ancient barkeep.
Thanks. Can we get you anything else?
He shook his head in response, and watched her walk away from the bar. When she had slipped through the kitchen door, he turned to the barkeep.
Wife?
The barkeep nodded in return.
I see why you married her. Good cook.
He just nodded again, letting the stranger tell his tale.
Me, met a knockout. A real piece of work. Cookin's the only thing she can't do. Keep trying to make me eat something called spotted dick. I mean what the hell is that. Told her to send it to Logan and Dag,. That's a dick loving Family. Wait, you probably don't know who I'm talking about.
The ancient face broadened in a smile, and he nodded.
Sure do. The place is packed erry Sunday. We all watch, and we all cheer for you Cormack. You're one of us. A downhomer, Bluenoser, one of the boys.
It was Cormack's turn to smile and nod.
So you know about Logan and his Family then.
The old man nodded and spat on the floor.
Dirty bastards, they are. I see that Dag ducking you erry week. Someome needs to kick his ass. You gonna do it for us?
MacNeill nodded and slapped the bar. The old man threw up another beer, and removed the empty pint.
How you gonna do it? He's pretty slippery.
Don't you worry. I got a plan in place. Just need to hear back from the man.
The ancient keep nodded, and leaned his elbows in the bar.
And what about this week. You facing....some guy names Lucy and some guy named Benson? Whats the deal with them.
Cormack laughed and drained his glass in one long gulp.
Luscious Starr? He's a piece of work, thats for sure. Talks about some great destiny he's driven by. About how he's what WCF needs. I'll tell you what WCF needs. More Cormack. More beer-drinking, kilt-wearing, ass-kicking fun. We got Krew's and Family's and guys like Starr with 'destiny' driving them forward. What ever happened to kicking ass because its fun and it pays the bills.
The old man nods again, a smile on his face. The equally ancient woman has drifted out of the kitchen and perched herself at the end of the bar.
Guys like Starr need to understand that you don't walk in and take over. You gotta earn your place. Work for it. Make the fans shout your name. Make the WCF brass happy and sell a few shirts. Most importantly, you gotta show them all that you'll show up, kick ass, and make the fans stand up. Folks like them, like you two, hell they pay us all.In money, and in more than money. They are the reasons we do this every week, the reason we go from town to town, city to city, country to country. To hear them roar when they call my name. Starr doesn't get that. He doesn't understand. It's not all about. It's all about them. About you two.
Don't worry, I'll make sure he gets the message on Sunday.
The couple asked at the same time.
What about Bad News Benson. Is he really Bad News?
Cormack chuckled and slapped the bar again. With a fresh pint in hand, he stood and walked tot he center of the room. Draining it in one pull, he sat the glass back on the bar.
Benson? Everyone in that dressing room is bad news, hes no different. Mean, sadistic, more than a little nuts. Every time you step in the ring with him, you never know what's coming. I don't take anyone for granted. Benson is no different. He'll come at me as hard as he can. And I'll respond in kind.
Didn't he say he was going to retire?
Don't know. I ain't gonna ask. But if he's retiring, I'll give him a good fight before he goes. I'll show him what he'll be missing. That might be good or bad. That's for him to decide. Either way, I'm not gonna treat him different than anyone else. Starr, Benson..good wrestlers, but they just came along at the wrong time.
What do you mean? The wrong time?
Yeah, they came along at the wrong time. I've been chasing Riddik for what seems like months now, trying to pay him back in kind for every cheap shot, every dirty move, every sneak attack. Benson and Starr are going to pay the price that Riddik is too scared to. They're gonna feel my frustration, my anger. They're gonna feel what happens when you taunt the bull. Dag Riddik did the taunting, but Starr and Benson will get the horns.
MacNeill is interrupted by his cell phone going off. Both husband and wife look at each other. Apparently they've never heard a Ramones ringtone before. he puts the phone to his ear.
Yeah? Hey, good to hear from you. Yeah? Thats good news, thanks Laddie. No, I can do that. No Seth, It'll be my pleasure. See ya on Sunday.
He hangs up the phone and turns back to the couple, seeing the inquisitive look on their faces.
Good news! I got a surprise for the Family and Dag. Wanna know what it is?
Both of them nod in reaction to the question.
Well, you'll have to tune in this Sunday, wontcha?
MacNeill walks out of the bar, whistling a tune to himself as he goes. Both the old man and old woman share look, and they sit in silence for a minute before the old man walks to the door. He looks out, and then turns back to the bar.
That was strange. Crazy guy, but real nice in person.
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
1650 hrs
The weathered sign over the double doors boasts entrance to the 'Best Clamshack on the East Coast.' From the peeling blue paint on the walls to the scuffed floorboards visible through the propped-open door, it would seem that this is one of the oldest on the East Coast. As we venture inside the weathered theme carries on into the interior. Worn wood makes up the bar, well-sanded tables line the walls, and deep creases line the bartenders ancient face. It's truly an unusual sight when a kilted beer drinker at the bar is the most interesting thing there. Truly unusual when he's the most interesting thing most anywhere.
The barkeep slides a full pint of dark brown ale towards the bald, bearded man at the bar, deftly swiping up the empty in the same motion and depositing it underneath the bar. It's a move he's done countless times over the years, and is almost unconscious in its ease. Those eyes have seen many strange sights in this old ramshackle shed, and the bearish man is no exception. Covered in tattoos and downing Guinness at a steady pace, he's clearly got a lot on his mind. It's the job of the barkeep to engage, but years of experience have taught this old salt that sometimes its better to let them tell the tale in their own time and at their own pace.
An equally ancient crone shuffled from somewhere in the back with a steaming plate of food. Strips of breaded meat are plied high upon the plate, and she nods politely as she sets the food down beside the large man. His only reply is a nod toward her, before stuffing a large paw into the pile of strips and jamming a few absently into his mouth. He chews in silence, before mouthing his first words since he ordered his drink
Good clam. Fresh.
She nodded and shared a look with the ancient barkeep.
Thanks. Can we get you anything else?
He shook his head in response, and watched her walk away from the bar. When she had slipped through the kitchen door, he turned to the barkeep.
Wife?
The barkeep nodded in return.
I see why you married her. Good cook.
He just nodded again, letting the stranger tell his tale.
Me, met a knockout. A real piece of work. Cookin's the only thing she can't do. Keep trying to make me eat something called spotted dick. I mean what the hell is that. Told her to send it to Logan and Dag,. That's a dick loving Family. Wait, you probably don't know who I'm talking about.
The ancient face broadened in a smile, and he nodded.
Sure do. The place is packed erry Sunday. We all watch, and we all cheer for you Cormack. You're one of us. A downhomer, Bluenoser, one of the boys.
It was Cormack's turn to smile and nod.
So you know about Logan and his Family then.
The old man nodded and spat on the floor.
Dirty bastards, they are. I see that Dag ducking you erry week. Someome needs to kick his ass. You gonna do it for us?
MacNeill nodded and slapped the bar. The old man threw up another beer, and removed the empty pint.
How you gonna do it? He's pretty slippery.
Don't you worry. I got a plan in place. Just need to hear back from the man.
The ancient keep nodded, and leaned his elbows in the bar.
And what about this week. You facing....some guy names Lucy and some guy named Benson? Whats the deal with them.
Cormack laughed and drained his glass in one long gulp.
Luscious Starr? He's a piece of work, thats for sure. Talks about some great destiny he's driven by. About how he's what WCF needs. I'll tell you what WCF needs. More Cormack. More beer-drinking, kilt-wearing, ass-kicking fun. We got Krew's and Family's and guys like Starr with 'destiny' driving them forward. What ever happened to kicking ass because its fun and it pays the bills.
The old man nods again, a smile on his face. The equally ancient woman has drifted out of the kitchen and perched herself at the end of the bar.
Guys like Starr need to understand that you don't walk in and take over. You gotta earn your place. Work for it. Make the fans shout your name. Make the WCF brass happy and sell a few shirts. Most importantly, you gotta show them all that you'll show up, kick ass, and make the fans stand up. Folks like them, like you two, hell they pay us all.In money, and in more than money. They are the reasons we do this every week, the reason we go from town to town, city to city, country to country. To hear them roar when they call my name. Starr doesn't get that. He doesn't understand. It's not all about. It's all about them. About you two.
Don't worry, I'll make sure he gets the message on Sunday.
The couple asked at the same time.
What about Bad News Benson. Is he really Bad News?
Cormack chuckled and slapped the bar again. With a fresh pint in hand, he stood and walked tot he center of the room. Draining it in one pull, he sat the glass back on the bar.
Benson? Everyone in that dressing room is bad news, hes no different. Mean, sadistic, more than a little nuts. Every time you step in the ring with him, you never know what's coming. I don't take anyone for granted. Benson is no different. He'll come at me as hard as he can. And I'll respond in kind.
Didn't he say he was going to retire?
Don't know. I ain't gonna ask. But if he's retiring, I'll give him a good fight before he goes. I'll show him what he'll be missing. That might be good or bad. That's for him to decide. Either way, I'm not gonna treat him different than anyone else. Starr, Benson..good wrestlers, but they just came along at the wrong time.
What do you mean? The wrong time?
Yeah, they came along at the wrong time. I've been chasing Riddik for what seems like months now, trying to pay him back in kind for every cheap shot, every dirty move, every sneak attack. Benson and Starr are going to pay the price that Riddik is too scared to. They're gonna feel my frustration, my anger. They're gonna feel what happens when you taunt the bull. Dag Riddik did the taunting, but Starr and Benson will get the horns.
MacNeill is interrupted by his cell phone going off. Both husband and wife look at each other. Apparently they've never heard a Ramones ringtone before. he puts the phone to his ear.
Yeah? Hey, good to hear from you. Yeah? Thats good news, thanks Laddie. No, I can do that. No Seth, It'll be my pleasure. See ya on Sunday.
He hangs up the phone and turns back to the couple, seeing the inquisitive look on their faces.
Good news! I got a surprise for the Family and Dag. Wanna know what it is?
Both of them nod in reaction to the question.
Well, you'll have to tune in this Sunday, wontcha?
MacNeill walks out of the bar, whistling a tune to himself as he goes. Both the old man and old woman share look, and they sit in silence for a minute before the old man walks to the door. He looks out, and then turns back to the bar.
That was strange. Crazy guy, but real nice in person.
