Post by Craig Lassiter on Aug 4, 2007 20:55:32 GMT -5
Who was that man?
Craig sat on the newly rented couch of the apartment; his apartment, he still wasn't used to that. Afterall, he finally had a job, and a paycheck. He was contributing to society, paying taxes, and even entertaining the few fans who showed up to the OWF shows. It was a totally new life, one in which he wasn't sure he belonged.
He continued to watch the stranger on the TV, bouncing around the ring, delivering a ton of punishment, and taking twice as much.
Today was a day off from the gym for Craig Lassiter. He had done his regular workout of crunches, leg lifts, squats, and pushups, and now he was taking a little time off. He was eating the remnants of a plate of cold chicken and watching one of the many tapes Zeke had provided.
The stranger he watched on TV was himself. It was from an OWF show. He had come back from Japan with a shaved head and a wild look in his eye.
It was hard for Craig to watch himself like this. The man on the screen looked tormented. Winning or losing didn't seem to matter, he was always lashing out at something or someone. Craig had watched tapes from various points in his career, and although he felt like he could instinctively remember the moves before they happened, he felt no kinship with this man who he once was.
Craig pushed the now empty plate aside and ejected the tape. He sat back, the room now lit blue from the television, and ran through what he'd watched over the past few hours. He'd seen himself slapping hands and laughing with the likes of Kevin Burke, Jay Sullivan, Curtis Slamm, The Sentinel, Lee Todd, Shane Brandon, and many others. But how many of those men had made any effort to contact him since he'd been back? None. Of course, he had also seen himself spitting, degrading, and attacking many of those same men.
If Craig saw himself--the self he viewed on the tapes--on the street, he would have crossed over to the other side to avoid himself. He couldn't understand how he'd had any friends at all.
---
--From the casefiles of Dr. Lemuel Keane--
--Waterford Hospital, St. John's, NL--
--Date: 05/01/2007--
-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-
Patient: John Doe
AKA: "Tony"
DoB: Unknown
Height: 180 cm
Weight: 110 kg
-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-
Ongoing Diagnosis: Patient continues to exhibit severe anti-social tendencies. Refuses to co-operate during therapy sessions. Often has to be physically restrained.
Patient has finally come to the realisation that he is in a mental institution and has developed increasing paranoia over his incarceration. Frequently demands to know who's "really" in charge. Believes his incarceration to be some sort of elaborate plot concocted by one of his many enemies. When pressed on the identities of these enemies, patient only responds with vague generalities, such as, "the boss", "the king", and "the dead man."
Ongoing Prognosis: Patient is making no headway, and appears to be getting worse in most respects. Barring some remarkable progress, patient will be remanded to RCMP for incarceration and possible release.
-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-
Incidents of Note:
18/11/2007 - Patient discovered running gambling operation within the hospital. With the assistance of several orderlies who have since been let go, patient ran games of chance among the other patients, including Texas Hold'em and the wholly inappropriately titled "Krazy Craps." Duration of operation unknown, but approx $600 was confiscated from patient upon discovery.
22/11/2007 - Patient involved in a physical altercation with another patient. Patient demanded that "Montel Williams" program be switched off. An argument ensued, during which patient claimed that "all male psychics should be castrated, and all female psychics should have balls sewn onto their faces." TV rights for patient revoked for six months.
09/12/2007 - Patient found during morning sweep with forearm caught in vending machine. Had apparently been there most of the night. SureVend engineer had to be called in to extricate patient from the machine.
21/12/2007 - Patient remanded to sick ward for a week after ingesting homemade fermented alcoholic beverage made from peaches stolen from the cafeteria. Patient claimed concoction was entitled, "Leroy's Xmas Mindfuck."
29/12/2007 - Patient insisted he was expecting a visit from "Stu Pidass", and that said guest should be added to his list of visitors. As of 05/01/2007, patient still checking in every day to inquire on Mr. Pidass's arrival.
31/12/2007 - Patient celebrated New Year by headbutting window, breaking it. Twelve stiches required to close wound. When asked the reason for his action, patient simply stated, "shits and giggles."
02/01/2007 - Library rights for patient revoked after patient was caught ripping the final page out of numerous Agatha Christie novels.
-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-
Transcript of therapy session #19
Dr. Lemuel Keane: How's your head, Tony?
Tony: Fine.
LK: Do you want to talk about the accident?
T: No, and it wasn't an accident.
LK: Did you deliberately try to injure yourself?
T: No. Why would I do something stupid like that?
LK: It's just that--
T: Just forget about it. You wouldn't understand.
LK: Is there anything you do want to talk about?
T: No.
LK: How about your past?
T: I don't have a past. I'm like that Clint Eastwood character.
LK: What about your future? What do have any plans?
T: I don't have a future. I'm like one of those guys from Logan's Run. My light is blinking and I got sandmen in my rearview mirror, you get me?
LK: I'm not sure if I understand.
T: What else is new.
LK: Tony, do you know what a nihilist is?
T: Those guys from The Big Lebowski, right?
LK: I haven't seen that show.
T: It's a <EXPLETIVE DELETED> movie, retard!
LK: I stand corrected. But a nihilist is someone who believes in nothing. Do you feel this describes the way you feel right now?
T: How can you believe in nothing? Nothing doesn't exist.
LK: Well, it's not so much that they believe in nothing, just that they don't believe in anything.
T: How can you not believe in anything? That's <EXPLETIVE DELETED> stupid. No earth, no ice cream, no Olsen twins. Do these mooks think they're just floating around in null space somewheres?
LK: I don't think I'm communicating this correctly. It's that they have no principles. They don't believe in God, or society, or family, or well, anything.
T: Oh, well that makes a little bit more sense. Yeah, that sounds like me. Sign me up for your <EXPLETIVE DELETED> newsletter explaining how Nihilism saved your life and made you a better person.
LK: Were you always like this?
T: No, last week I was a Rastafarian, and next week I'll probably be one of those <EXPLETIVE DELETED> who ride around in the little carts with the stupid hats on. I get bored easily, doc. And right now, you're boring the <EXPLETIVE DELETED> out of me, so if you'll excuse me, I'm off to pick a fight or something.
---
The thud of the door jolted Craig out of his light slumber. He looked up to see Zeke walking into the apartment carrying a plastic bag in each hand.
"Hey, dude."
"Hey, Zeke."
Craig got up, waited a few seconds for his head to stop spinning, then moved to help Zeke unpack his purchases.
"What'cha got?" Craig asked, even as he saw Zeke emptying the bags onto the kitchen counter.
"Everything we need for a monster breakfast. Bacon, eggs, beans, Texas toast, the whole shebang."
"Wow, sounds great."
"Well, we haven't rightly celebrated your first win yet. I had a chat with Sean, and he agreed that we'd both been riding you pretty hard lately."
"That's ok," said Craig, depositing two containers of skim milk into the fridge. "The OWF is no joke, and I've got to be ready for anything, right?"
Zeke stopped for a second and watch Craig loading canned goods into the cupboards.
"Man, I keep forgetting who you are sometimes. I look at you, and see the guy I've called boss for the last who-knows-how-many years. But, then I hear some of the stuff you say, and it couldn't be farther from what I expect."
Craig stood up and faced him.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"No, dude. Far from it."
Zeke pointed to his cigarette pack, picked it up, and headed toward the patio doors.
"You really should quit," Craig called out to him as he left.
"Next week, I promise," Zeke said, with a laugh.
---
Two hours later, Zeke, Craig, and Sean Lassiter were standing on the patio of the apartment building, looking out on the city.
"Beer?" Sean asked, as he helped himself to one from the case.
"Sure," said Zeke.
He looked up at Craig.
"Ok, just one."
Sean handed Craig a beer then shared a knowing grin with Zeke. He looked out over the patio as he opened his own beer, seeing very little in the darkness, but admiring the view nevertheless.
"This place is pretty nice, for a boomtown."
"Yeah, I've been in worse," Zeke said, taking a drag from a hand-rolled cigarette. He twisted the cap off his beer, held it between his thumb and middle finger, and with a snap sent it shooting off into the darkness.
Sean took a swig from his beer bottle and looked back at Craig. "You're pretty quiet tonight. Everything ok?"
"Sure," he said. "It's just that I've been thinking."
"What about?"
"Well, everything, kind of. I've been watching those tapes that Zeke gave me, all the old wrestling stuff. And even though I know that's me on there, I just don't remember any of it."
"Well, don't worry too much about it. Dr. Keane said regaining your memory can be a slow process. Don't let it stress you out."
"It's not. I was just wondering about all those people I know. Apart from you guys, I haven't met any of them. I mean, Hoser works for the OWF, doesn't he?"
Zeke offered a snort of derision as an answer.
"Yes, he does," said Sean. "And you know a lot of the guys on the roster as well. Starting this week, we'll start reintroducing yourself to some of these guys."
"Great," Craig said.
Zeke exhaled slowly before he spoke. "Now dude, just remember a few things. You weren't always the nicest guy in the past, so don't take it personal if some of these guys are a little... short with you, you know?"
"I can handle it, Zeke. I've got thick skin."
Zeke laughed. "Yeah, you probably can handle it."
The three of them stood in silence for a few minutes. After Craig finished his beer, he put the empty bottle back in the case, and slid open the patio door.
"I better get to bed. I've got an early session with Dr. Keane. Night guys."
Zeke and Sean extended their own good nights, then broke into another beer each.
"What time is it?" asked Zeke.
"Nine-thirty," Sean said, the darkness hiding his smile.
"In bed by nine-thirty. Our little boy is growing up, dude."
Craig sat on the newly rented couch of the apartment; his apartment, he still wasn't used to that. Afterall, he finally had a job, and a paycheck. He was contributing to society, paying taxes, and even entertaining the few fans who showed up to the OWF shows. It was a totally new life, one in which he wasn't sure he belonged.
He continued to watch the stranger on the TV, bouncing around the ring, delivering a ton of punishment, and taking twice as much.
Today was a day off from the gym for Craig Lassiter. He had done his regular workout of crunches, leg lifts, squats, and pushups, and now he was taking a little time off. He was eating the remnants of a plate of cold chicken and watching one of the many tapes Zeke had provided.
The stranger he watched on TV was himself. It was from an OWF show. He had come back from Japan with a shaved head and a wild look in his eye.
It was hard for Craig to watch himself like this. The man on the screen looked tormented. Winning or losing didn't seem to matter, he was always lashing out at something or someone. Craig had watched tapes from various points in his career, and although he felt like he could instinctively remember the moves before they happened, he felt no kinship with this man who he once was.
Craig pushed the now empty plate aside and ejected the tape. He sat back, the room now lit blue from the television, and ran through what he'd watched over the past few hours. He'd seen himself slapping hands and laughing with the likes of Kevin Burke, Jay Sullivan, Curtis Slamm, The Sentinel, Lee Todd, Shane Brandon, and many others. But how many of those men had made any effort to contact him since he'd been back? None. Of course, he had also seen himself spitting, degrading, and attacking many of those same men.
If Craig saw himself--the self he viewed on the tapes--on the street, he would have crossed over to the other side to avoid himself. He couldn't understand how he'd had any friends at all.
---
--From the casefiles of Dr. Lemuel Keane--
--Waterford Hospital, St. John's, NL--
--Date: 05/01/2007--
-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-
Patient: John Doe
AKA: "Tony"
DoB: Unknown
Height: 180 cm
Weight: 110 kg
-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-
Ongoing Diagnosis: Patient continues to exhibit severe anti-social tendencies. Refuses to co-operate during therapy sessions. Often has to be physically restrained.
Patient has finally come to the realisation that he is in a mental institution and has developed increasing paranoia over his incarceration. Frequently demands to know who's "really" in charge. Believes his incarceration to be some sort of elaborate plot concocted by one of his many enemies. When pressed on the identities of these enemies, patient only responds with vague generalities, such as, "the boss", "the king", and "the dead man."
Ongoing Prognosis: Patient is making no headway, and appears to be getting worse in most respects. Barring some remarkable progress, patient will be remanded to RCMP for incarceration and possible release.
-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-
Incidents of Note:
18/11/2007 - Patient discovered running gambling operation within the hospital. With the assistance of several orderlies who have since been let go, patient ran games of chance among the other patients, including Texas Hold'em and the wholly inappropriately titled "Krazy Craps." Duration of operation unknown, but approx $600 was confiscated from patient upon discovery.
22/11/2007 - Patient involved in a physical altercation with another patient. Patient demanded that "Montel Williams" program be switched off. An argument ensued, during which patient claimed that "all male psychics should be castrated, and all female psychics should have balls sewn onto their faces." TV rights for patient revoked for six months.
09/12/2007 - Patient found during morning sweep with forearm caught in vending machine. Had apparently been there most of the night. SureVend engineer had to be called in to extricate patient from the machine.
21/12/2007 - Patient remanded to sick ward for a week after ingesting homemade fermented alcoholic beverage made from peaches stolen from the cafeteria. Patient claimed concoction was entitled, "Leroy's Xmas Mindfuck."
29/12/2007 - Patient insisted he was expecting a visit from "Stu Pidass", and that said guest should be added to his list of visitors. As of 05/01/2007, patient still checking in every day to inquire on Mr. Pidass's arrival.
31/12/2007 - Patient celebrated New Year by headbutting window, breaking it. Twelve stiches required to close wound. When asked the reason for his action, patient simply stated, "shits and giggles."
02/01/2007 - Library rights for patient revoked after patient was caught ripping the final page out of numerous Agatha Christie novels.
-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-
Transcript of therapy session #19
Dr. Lemuel Keane: How's your head, Tony?
Tony: Fine.
LK: Do you want to talk about the accident?
T: No, and it wasn't an accident.
LK: Did you deliberately try to injure yourself?
T: No. Why would I do something stupid like that?
LK: It's just that--
T: Just forget about it. You wouldn't understand.
LK: Is there anything you do want to talk about?
T: No.
LK: How about your past?
T: I don't have a past. I'm like that Clint Eastwood character.
LK: What about your future? What do have any plans?
T: I don't have a future. I'm like one of those guys from Logan's Run. My light is blinking and I got sandmen in my rearview mirror, you get me?
LK: I'm not sure if I understand.
T: What else is new.
LK: Tony, do you know what a nihilist is?
T: Those guys from The Big Lebowski, right?
LK: I haven't seen that show.
T: It's a <EXPLETIVE DELETED> movie, retard!
LK: I stand corrected. But a nihilist is someone who believes in nothing. Do you feel this describes the way you feel right now?
T: How can you believe in nothing? Nothing doesn't exist.
LK: Well, it's not so much that they believe in nothing, just that they don't believe in anything.
T: How can you not believe in anything? That's <EXPLETIVE DELETED> stupid. No earth, no ice cream, no Olsen twins. Do these mooks think they're just floating around in null space somewheres?
LK: I don't think I'm communicating this correctly. It's that they have no principles. They don't believe in God, or society, or family, or well, anything.
T: Oh, well that makes a little bit more sense. Yeah, that sounds like me. Sign me up for your <EXPLETIVE DELETED> newsletter explaining how Nihilism saved your life and made you a better person.
LK: Were you always like this?
T: No, last week I was a Rastafarian, and next week I'll probably be one of those <EXPLETIVE DELETED> who ride around in the little carts with the stupid hats on. I get bored easily, doc. And right now, you're boring the <EXPLETIVE DELETED> out of me, so if you'll excuse me, I'm off to pick a fight or something.
---
The thud of the door jolted Craig out of his light slumber. He looked up to see Zeke walking into the apartment carrying a plastic bag in each hand.
"Hey, dude."
"Hey, Zeke."
Craig got up, waited a few seconds for his head to stop spinning, then moved to help Zeke unpack his purchases.
"What'cha got?" Craig asked, even as he saw Zeke emptying the bags onto the kitchen counter.
"Everything we need for a monster breakfast. Bacon, eggs, beans, Texas toast, the whole shebang."
"Wow, sounds great."
"Well, we haven't rightly celebrated your first win yet. I had a chat with Sean, and he agreed that we'd both been riding you pretty hard lately."
"That's ok," said Craig, depositing two containers of skim milk into the fridge. "The OWF is no joke, and I've got to be ready for anything, right?"
Zeke stopped for a second and watch Craig loading canned goods into the cupboards.
"Man, I keep forgetting who you are sometimes. I look at you, and see the guy I've called boss for the last who-knows-how-many years. But, then I hear some of the stuff you say, and it couldn't be farther from what I expect."
Craig stood up and faced him.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"No, dude. Far from it."
Zeke pointed to his cigarette pack, picked it up, and headed toward the patio doors.
"You really should quit," Craig called out to him as he left.
"Next week, I promise," Zeke said, with a laugh.
---
Two hours later, Zeke, Craig, and Sean Lassiter were standing on the patio of the apartment building, looking out on the city.
"Beer?" Sean asked, as he helped himself to one from the case.
"Sure," said Zeke.
He looked up at Craig.
"Ok, just one."
Sean handed Craig a beer then shared a knowing grin with Zeke. He looked out over the patio as he opened his own beer, seeing very little in the darkness, but admiring the view nevertheless.
"This place is pretty nice, for a boomtown."
"Yeah, I've been in worse," Zeke said, taking a drag from a hand-rolled cigarette. He twisted the cap off his beer, held it between his thumb and middle finger, and with a snap sent it shooting off into the darkness.
Sean took a swig from his beer bottle and looked back at Craig. "You're pretty quiet tonight. Everything ok?"
"Sure," he said. "It's just that I've been thinking."
"What about?"
"Well, everything, kind of. I've been watching those tapes that Zeke gave me, all the old wrestling stuff. And even though I know that's me on there, I just don't remember any of it."
"Well, don't worry too much about it. Dr. Keane said regaining your memory can be a slow process. Don't let it stress you out."
"It's not. I was just wondering about all those people I know. Apart from you guys, I haven't met any of them. I mean, Hoser works for the OWF, doesn't he?"
Zeke offered a snort of derision as an answer.
"Yes, he does," said Sean. "And you know a lot of the guys on the roster as well. Starting this week, we'll start reintroducing yourself to some of these guys."
"Great," Craig said.
Zeke exhaled slowly before he spoke. "Now dude, just remember a few things. You weren't always the nicest guy in the past, so don't take it personal if some of these guys are a little... short with you, you know?"
"I can handle it, Zeke. I've got thick skin."
Zeke laughed. "Yeah, you probably can handle it."
The three of them stood in silence for a few minutes. After Craig finished his beer, he put the empty bottle back in the case, and slid open the patio door.
"I better get to bed. I've got an early session with Dr. Keane. Night guys."
Zeke and Sean extended their own good nights, then broke into another beer each.
"What time is it?" asked Zeke.
"Nine-thirty," Sean said, the darkness hiding his smile.
"In bed by nine-thirty. Our little boy is growing up, dude."