Post by Salem Shepard on Jul 30, 2016 11:43:12 GMT -5
"But you don’t have to steal anymore...We don’t have to live like that." Salem Shepard looked on at his oldest sister, the only living sibling that he had left. Claire was once a beautiful girl, but now at the age of 31 with over a decade of drug abuse in her back pocket; it had taken its toll on her physical appearance. Claire was tall, she stood at almost six foot, but that wasn’t what made her stand out or catch people’s attention. She had some of the most beautiful blue eyes that you had ever seen; and they would almost seem to change shades¬ with the different clothes that she wore. Shep was always cautious of the attention his sister drew when they were younger; she always had a ton of punk bitches hanging around that he didn’t like and he knew young males only had one thing on their minds. His mom always thought she could have left Houston and become a model; and she was right until Claire started to steal and got into heroine. Even after their father had committed suicide, Claire had managed to keep it together for her younger siblings, only stealing out of necessity.
“I don’t want to take all your money” Claire said under her breath. She paced around the room with a cigarette in her mouth, her hair hadn’t been washed in days and neither had her teeth. But those eyes …wow… Shep could see in them that the old Claire was still in there somewhere.
“And Im not giving you all my money!! …Look, I signed a deal with ZT and the WCF and I already got paid by ZT. I just want to help you out. Let me get you out of this neighborhood. Crazy J knows that won’t break me. Not even close!”
Crazy J, who had been sitting on the couch playing on his phone, looked at Shep and nodded in agreement. Then he shot up off the couch like he had been shot in the ass cheeks and headed for the front door.
Shep yelled at J, “Hey man, where the fuck you going!?’ Crazy J didn’t even stop to respond, he yelled back at Shepard as he bolted out the door. “I gotta catch this Pokémon!!!”
“Whatever man, you prolly gonna find a bag of crack though!!!”
“Or get shot” Claire muttered. She couldn’t even look at her brother. She was ashamed to be taking the money he had worked for. Yes, she lived in the worst part of Houston and the house was falling apart. It was a very small two bedroom house, and the windows that weren’t completely broken and boarded up were cracked and wouldn’t last much longer. There was a huge blue tarp on the roof of the house, but the damage had already been done as massive water marks stained the ceiling inside. Shep was certain there was mold all in the walls of the house; but his sister didn’t care as long as she had a place to crash and shoot up. “Don’t worry about him” Shep said as he sat in the nasty brown recliner, “J can take care of himself. …Listen, Im going to get you out of this neighborhood but you have to get yourself cleaned up. You’re the only sister I have left, ok? …I can’t watch you go down like Sarah did.”
Crazy J came back into the house, his face painted a different design than we saw him last. The bottom hinge pulled loose from the door frame as he closed it behind him. He looked out the window and then back at Shepard, “Hey…There’s a couple cars lined up down the street from here. It just doesn’t look right..”
Claire ran to the window and peeked out without it looking obvious; she then closed the ratty old curtains and looked at Shep with fear in her eyes, “You have to go…You know they don’t want you here. Please…go.” Crazy J looked confused and didn’t know what was going on. Shep nodded in agreement with his sister and walked over to her and gave her a hug. He could feel how thin she was, how fucking unhealthy that she was. He hated seeing her this way. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of money and slipped it in her hand. “Don’t blow this.” Shep whispered where Crazy J couldn’t hear him. Claire said she wouldn’t and Shep told Crazy J it was time to go. J said goodbye to Claire and they walked outside. It was hot, miserably hot, and the sun instantly beat down on them as they stepped off the front porch. Shep’s Lincoln MKZ was parked in the driveway and as he headed that way he glanced out the corner of his eye and saw several cars parked down the street that hadn’t been there when they arrived.
“What’s this all about?” Crazy J asked as he got in the passenger side of the car and put Tech Nines “Im a Playa” on play and turned the volume down. Shep backed out of the driveway and went east, away from the cars parked in the street. Every house was run down; crackheads sat on the porches and watched them roll by. Some recognized Shep and both men picked up on the glares they were given. “Shit, these people don’t like you…fuck did you do to them?”
“I bounced on them. I got out of the heroine game and I got out of here…. Well, and I kicked everyone’s ass when I was fighting for money in the streets. Ya know, all those fights were just business, …that’s how I saw it… but these punk bitches took it personal…” Shep sat silent for a moment before he spoke again, “I can’t lose her man, she’s the last family I got. My wrestling career can get her out of here..”
After leaving Claire’s house, Crazy J and Shep went to a photoshoot to have Salem take some pictures for the launch of his merchandise. The photoshoot took several hours as Shep had to paint his face in different designs for every set of pictures; and both of the guys had started to drink - getting a head start on the evening. It was hot in the small building and it was stressing Shep out, he was ready to get this session over and get the fuck on down the road. Crazy J and Cash, established Zero Tolerance members, already had a massive line of merchandise; but Crazy J also had to take a few pictures for the "ZT FrEeKsHoW" line of merch - the Crazy J and Salem Shepard tag team. Shepard had suggested they go back to his condo after the shoot, continue getting drunk and find some fine ladies around the pool to bring back up to the room later. Crazy J had no objections to this plan, and the longer he thought of fine girls in skimpy bathing suites parading around the pool, the quicker he wanted to get out of here. And after about another hour, and several more drinks it was time to go. They walked back to Shep’s Lincoln MKZ as the sun was dipping down over the horizon, the shades of pink and orange painting the western skyline like a canvas. It was still hotter than hell outside and both men groaned as they walked out the door. Shep sat down in the driver seat, laughed as he turned on the ignition and looked at Crazy J.
"Dawg, I can’t drive!" Shep laughed again, "I think you should call Cell Block and have him pick us up."
Crazy J found this amusing, "Cell Block!?...That guy starts drinking the moment he rolls out of bed. He makes the 90's Duff McKagan look like an amateur drinker. I'll call David; he's a ZT security guy." Crazy J pulled out his cell phone and made the call as Shep stepped back out of the car to smoke a cigarette. He didn’t smoke in his new car; it was the only time in his life he had been able to buy a brand new car - and something about smoking in it didn’t seem right. "Fuck...." Shep muttered "Its soo fuckin hot out here it makes Mohawk’s droop." Less than thirty minutes later Dave, a huge man with arms the size of Crazy J's legs, stepped out the passenger side of the van that pulled up. He wore a black t-shirt with a small "ZT" on the right side of his chest. David never said a word as Shep got into the passenger seat, laid down and thought about his new career all the way back to his condo.....
Going down to the pool didn’t mean that you took off the face paint. Hell no! The face paint is who I am. I don’t want to be the old me; I don’t want to go back to that life. So the paint stays on, even when I go to bed! I usually get white shit all over my pillow and....heeyyy; I know what you're thinking....not THAT kind of white shit. But I do go through a lot of pillow cases, and some females that kick it with me say I spend more time putting on paint than they do makeup. But whatever, this is the only way I can start a new "me." Some girls tell me, "But I wanna see who you are under that paint." Bitch!!! That motha fucka is dead, he gone from this world!! If I take the face paint off there’s nothing but a fuckin empty black hole of addiction, sadness and depression. But when they say this to me I tell them, "Well bitch, I wanna see what you look like under all that paint too!" Makeup is paint, so what’s the difference? See, these females lie all the time. I paint my face because that’s who I am, this is my life and I won’t be that other guy ever again. But females? females paint they faces to hide who they really are....it’s all a lie, really - cause they aint that pretty underneath all that paint. And with that pushup bra, your titties aint that big either. And take off them high heels, cause bitch you aint that tall. Females live an alternate life, they all pretend to be someone else, someone who they aren’t just to make them feel better about themselves. But me? There aint no pretending, ...this face is who I am now and there’s no going back. I don’t live a lie with this paint on. The paint is who I am. And this painted face will dominate the world.
Most the residents had left the pool by this point. But Shep and Crazy J still sat at the small bar by the pool cracking jokes, being loud and obnoxious. It was still hot at this point, and the beads of sweat that rolled from their faces were milky white because of the paint. Shep asked the bartender for two more shots and told him to add it to his tab. The bartender, and older gentlemen, could mix drinks like he was in the prime of his life - he was no doubt an expert. The face painted duo didn’t see Tracy, the girl who lived two floors below Shepard, get out of the pool and dry herself off. Tracy was racially mixed, half white - half black, but she was no doubt stunning...from a distance, that is. She had tattoos up and down her arms, and the yellow bikini showed the tattoos she had on her outer thighs. She wrapped the towel around her waist and made her way to the bar. She was thin and her eyes seemed to be sunk into her face some. Shepard groaned, an unpleasant noise, as Tracy made her way to the bar.
"Hey gentlemen!"
Crazy J looked over every inch of her body as Shep pretended he didn’t hear her - he looked annoyed by her actually. Tracy ordered a margarita and the bartender went to work and quickly produced her drink.
"So Shep, when you gonna hook me up with that producer in Houston?"
She seductively put her arm around Shep’s shoulders but he shrugged and she pulled away, "Bitch don’t touch me!" Shep said, still not making eye contact with her. "And hell no, I aint hookin you up with shit!!"
Tracy jerked her head back and gave Shepard a shitty look, "Why? Nigga I got lots of tracks, Im ready to record my album!!" Crazy J was still carefully looking her over, not sure what to think of this situation when he finally spoke, "The only tracks you got are the ones on your arms you've tried to hide with tattoos."
"Fuck you, asshole!!" Tracy set her drink down and got in his face, "Nigga you don’t know me!...Who the fuck you think your talkin to you anyway!?" Crazy J shrugged his shoulders and responded, "A crackhead I guess."
She tried to take a swing at Crazy J, but Shepard was there to step in the middle and it was quite surprising how fast he moved considering how drunk he was. "Hey!! Yo!!...Tracy. I'll tell you what. You answer this question correctly and I'll call my producer friend in Houston. But if you answer wrong, you gotta kick rocks, alright?" Shepard had settled things down and Tracy agreed. She seemed to stand a little taller now; confident she could answer the question correctly. Shepard took another shot, slammed the glass down on the bar and asked, "Ok Tracy....You know that white stuff in bird shit you see on your windshield. What’s the white stuff called?"
Tracy looked down at the ground, the confidence she once had moments ago disappeared from her face. Her eyes darted around the bar and the pool, and both men could see that she had no fucking idea of the answer. "Its uhhh.......uuhhhh" was all Tracy could manage when Crazy J jumped up from the bar stool, knocking it over and making Tracy jump as he screamed.
"IT’S CALLED BIRD SHIT, YOU STUPID BITCH!!!"
Shepard busted up laughing, "Get the fuck outta here Tracy, ...fuckin crackwhore!!" Tears welled up in Tracy's eyes, her face turned red and she ran back off to the condo entrance. The old bartender cleaned a few glasses and chuckled to himself. He didn’t like Tracy either, and Shep had become one of his favorite tenants in the condo. Plus, he tipped well.
Man, I gotta move the fuck outta this place. When you grow up poor, this is what you think the rich part of town is – this is called “moving up.” But I see its not much different than the shithole I came from. I feel like I fit in better here, kinda like these are my people. But I have to watch out, especially for bitches like Tracy. She puts me in a shitty mood, and when I get into a shitty mood I start seeing shit, then the schizophrenia kicks in. I’ve done a good job of keepin it under control lately…except for a few nights ago when I punched a stop sign thinking it was some fool from my old hood. Oh well, as I said, I’ve kept it under control. You know what else is under control? Zero fuckin Tolerance. You see, we got shit locked down this week and we get to prove to the whole world that ZT 2.0 is just as good as the original. I’ve spent a lot of time with these guys lately, ..and this Kira guy? Hhmm… the man is kind of a mystery; he’s a man of few words. Maybe his English just isn’t that good… I don’t know, whatever it is, the dude can fucking kick some ass. ¬ Kira and I have a lot to prove to the other two, and just from what I’ve seen of Kira – these guys made the right choice with adding us to ZT. Getting to know Jason Cash is the funniest damn shit ever. Im from Houston so I understand his cowhick ways and the deep accent he has - I just don’t understand the jeans he wears. ..Im sure he’s watching this and he’ll wanna kick my ass later; but how the fuck can you wear jeans that squeeze your junk like that!?
My boys like a little room to breathe, but whatever, it’s his junk being squished – not mine. I just don’t understand hillbilly ways, but I’ve always been a city boy so I bet he can’t understand my life style either. But he comes from the group of people that uses duct tape as chrome rims. …that’s country. One day I walked over to his truck and started looking around the passenger side and he asked me what I was doing. I told him I was checking to see if he was married. He had no fucking idea what I was talkin about and Cash asked me, “Then why ya lookin in my truck?” And I told him, “You know a hillbilly is married if there’s spit stains on both sides of the truck.” …He didn’t take that very well. …And you know what? He’s a lot faster than I thought he was; that’s son of a bitch caught me with the quickness! I like giving the guy a hard time but when he gets in the ring he’s no joke. ..I know he gets frustrated with me cause I get in the ring at training and do the Ali-shuffle, I work the crowd of wrestlers around, and I talk shit and laugh in the ring. He thinks I don’t take training seriously sometimes, but that’s just me man… That’s what I do. I have fun in the ring cause it’s not just about going in there and kicking ass, its kicking ass and HAVING A GOOD FUCKIN TIME!!!!! …But were talkin about the guy who probably thinks burning lighter fluid is the best smell in the world. Cash is a beast in the ring though, there’s no doubt about that.
And were just a few days closer to my big debut match with Zero Tolerance and Im glad he’s not in the opposite corner cause that redneck bastard gets the fuckin job done. …Then there’s Crazy J. This guy, he’s on the same level as Erik Black and Jaymz, …so you know were talking about a fucking LEGEND here!!! I don’t think there isn’t anything he hasn’t accomplished - and he’s the guy I want to disappoint the least. J has become a close friend of mine because he likes the same weird shit that I do. …Check this out!!... I took a trip to Mexico one time when I was still wrestling with the little guys, doing show in front of ten people at the most. I was going by my real name then and didn’t paint my face, so I wasn’t real successful being new to the sport back then. I had a fan down there but I don’t speak Spanish, so I had no fucking idea what he was saying when he held out a box for me. It wasn’t wrapped in any paper but I could tell he meant it as a gift to me. We had to roll out pretty quick so I didn’t get to open the package right there in front of him; but when we got on the bus I cut the tape across the top and opened the flaps. Inside the box were 14 glass jars that were full of liquid, …and something else. Something that I couldn’t make out until I pulled one of the glass jars from the box. There was a cats head in there being preserved in the jar. I pulled out the rest of the jars one by one and each was a different cats head.
Some of the other guys on the bus thought it was fucked up but I thought it was the coolest fucking thing ever!!! 13 of them are sitting on my counter at home right now; remind me next time Mr. Camera guy and I’ll show them to you. ….ANYWAY!!!! The point is….Crazy J came over one day and saw the jars with the cats heads, and like me, he thought it was the coolest shit he had seen in a long time!!! He asked me if he could have one, and do you think I was going to tell Crazy J “no?” HELL NO!!! So I gave him one and he went over to my kitchen sink and drained out the fluid. He held out his other hand and the cats head landed in his palm with a wet plop. Then he pulled his keys from his pocket which had a beer opener and several ninja star things between all the keys. He took that cats head ….it kinda smelled funny by this point…and smashed one of the ninja star things into the top of its head. He told me it makes a kick ass key chain, sort of like a rabbits foot. I got a pretty good laugh watching that cats head dangle around outside of his pocket as he walked…Good times, good times. ..Except the smell lingered in my house for several days and I didn’t care for that. I don’t think I’ve ever met a person that has the same common interests as I do. I always had homies in the past, but never anyone who understood me like Crazy J does. He gets me. He understands what it’s like to have mental health issues and people look at you like a fuckin freak.
He knows what it’s like to be the outcast, …he knows what it’s like to come up from the ashes and rise to the top. I learned to wrestle from watching his old matches on TV, I styled the way I do things after him. He was my role model when I was learning this sport – and now Im on his side. Even if we somehow fucking lost this match, …which we won’t…I can at least die a happy man knowing that I got to stand in the same corner as Zero Tolerance and fight on their side. I hope these guys don’t really think they stand a chance in the ring against us this week. Yeah, we are the new guys and we'll get zero respect coming into this match, ...but that’s what I love. I’ve always been the underdog and this is no different; because I don’t have to just prove myself to my teammates, but I have to prove myself to the WCF and the rest of the world. I look at a guy like Hank, who’s just as old as Jaymz. Jaymz is in great physical shape and he doesn’t look like that fat tub of shit named Hank Hodgkins. How in the fuck am I supposed to believe this old fart can even climb his big happy ass in the ring to begin with!? Im sorry, but I have no respect for fat out of shape wrestlers. You can be fat and IN-shape because some people just carry extra weight no matter how fuckin hard they try to lose it. But when I watched this morons promos I don’t see the athletic guy who can’t drop the few extra pounds - I see a fat fuckin slob!! Watching some man’s big hairy gut with a belly button the size of Cash's belt buckle jiggle around the ring makes me want to vomit. I can’t fuckin take this guy seriously....at all.
ZT 2.0 will take his sorry fat ass and make him wish he had retired decades ago. Hank talks about the "good old days" and how things have changed, ..and that’s all great. Everything changes. And as we get older none of us like to see that happen. But he’s worried about "flippy do's" or whatever he called them, ...and the old man’s getting all bent out of shape over new moves. The problem isn’t the new moves that younger wrestlers pull off, he just don’t like them because he isn’t physically capable of doing flippy-do's. Hell, he’s not physically capable of seeing his own dicky-do with that fuckin gut.... so we know the old fart is limited on what he can and can’t do. …Is he a primary concern in this match for us? Hell no!!!! He'll start huffing and puffing or breaking a sweat just walking down the ramp to the ring!! Can anyone tell me what a Captain WCF is? And what the fuck is he wearing around the ring!? I watched a couple of his last matches and Im glad he keeps himself wrapped up in that costume; and hopefully he does the same when he gets laid – cause this idiot doesn’t need to reproduce. Something tells me that we don’t have to worry about him getting laid though….He would just rather lay low, cause that’s what he’s been doing. That’s probably the best plan to take against Zero Tolerance, as a lot of you will learn in the upcoming months. I understand were not going against guys like Gemini Battle in our first match, but Captain WCF? I’ve faced more talented guys back at the ZT wrestling school than Cap WCF. But that’s alright, we have to prove ourselves here and that’s exactly what we’ll do.
It wasn’t the best idea in the world, but they had been drinking all night - and you know how that goes… Sheps condo was on the 5th level and he had a balcony facing the pool where he spent most his spare time watching the girls below. But now it was late, the pool was empty and even the bartender had closed up the little bar-island. Shep flicked a cigarette butt from the balcony and watched it fall into the pool below. He looked back in his condo and saw Crazy J passed out on the couch with solid black hands. Shep had taken a sharpie and colored both his hands solid black all the way past his wrists. He laughed to himself and went back out to the balcony, sliding the glass door closed behind him. His eye contacts were solid red, and his face paint was smeared in places, and his skin showed through on his right cheek. He took his hat off and then his shirt. His upper body was covered in tattoos and all across his back and down his arms where they stopped just above his elbows. He adjusted the blue shorts he was wearing and kicked off his shoes – he didn’t wear socks. He stood up on the rail of the balcony and looked at the pool below. It was a warm night with a stiff breeze coming off the Gulf and he could smell the sweet ocean in the wind; as a smile formed across his painted face. And then he jumped. He didn’t dive, he kinda fell sideways off the balcony. The fall didn’t last as long as he thought it was going to, and he also hadn’t planned on hitting his head on the concrete either as he splashed down into the pool. It wasn’t a direct hit, but a hit none the less, and he still had conscience for a few seconds as he slowly sank into the pools clear blue water. The water quickly rushed into his nose and his mouth, filling his body. Everything started to go silent and he looked up, realizing how peaceful it was. There was no fear here, there was nothing to be afraid of. It was peace, ..something that he had never known in his life. The lights above he pool shined down and glimmered back and forth in the water, the light refracting all the tiny air bubbles in the water, all the specks of debris and dirt seemed to slow down and he could see each individual one floating in front of his eyes. He let out one last peaceful breath and everything started to go black….
Shep shot straight up and looked around…Crazy J was still passed out on the couch with two black sharpie colored hands. “That dream was fucked up..” He muttered as he rubbed the side of his head. As a few moments passed he smiled, and he knew that everything was ok. He wasn’t dead, his life was just beginning. He had escaped death in Houston with his old life now in the rearview mirror; and this new life with Zero Tolerance was bright.
