Post by High Flying Hardcore on Oct 11, 2013 13:28:55 GMT -5
Scene 1
As HFH woke up in his mansion just outside of Philadelphia, he was greeted by Jon Daly. Daly had prepared himself and HFH a full English breakfast. HFH sat down at the table with Jon, wearing a blue silk dressing gown. Jon was wearing a black suite with a white shirt which he had his top button undone.
“You really didn’t have to, Jon. You know” HFH said greatfully for his food.
“Nah, it’s the least I could do… I know you’ve not been well for the last few weeks and now that you say you’re better… Why not make my friend and colleague breakfast?”
“Haha, thanks a lot Jon.” HFH said as he dug into his breakfast. He ate well and finished all of which Jon had put out in front of him. HFH had had a pain in his chest for the past few weeks. He blamed that for his loss and also for performing badly at the pap per view however, he dismissed it as a chest infection. As he finished his breakfast the pain returned worse than usual. It was a shooting pain. It began to move through to his heart and he showed the pain in his face as he screwed it up.
“Are you okay?” Jon said with a panic. HFH stood up and tried to walk to his bathroom but could only make it four or five meters before collapsing. Jon ran after him and tried to help HFH who’s vision faded to black just like the picture.
{Fade to black}
Scene2
HFH was lying in a hospital bed with numerous tubes comeing out of him. He could hear the sound of machines beeping all around him. He couldn’t remember anything which had happened and tried to sit up. This hurt his chest and he began to cough violently. A doctor, who was in the room ran over to calm HFH and tell him to just lie at rest. After a few hours of HFH re-cooperating, Jon Daly came to the side of him and told him the story of what happened.
“Sir… You’re chest pains throughout the past few weeks hasn’t been a chest infection… The doctors say you’ve had a problem with your heart and that earlier this morning, you had a mild heart attack.”
“A what?!” cried HFH in shock as he sat upright through the pain. This hit home on HFH especially because his own father had died of a heart attack. Obviously, HFH had been born with a dodgey heart. Of course, he drank, he never smoked, and he trained nearly every day. It wasn’t like he was unhealthy.
“I spoke to all the doctors” said Daly smileing “They said that because the heart attack was so mild, with a few days of rest, you’ll be fit for the match against Rowan at Chaos. I’m thinking of four days rest and then you can train for the last two days before the match. I think we can get a rehabilitation program-“
“Enough, Jon.” HFH said loudly, but straining his fragile chest “I want you to book me a flight home”
“What! You can’t give up now. This is your big chance you-“
“If you let me finish, Jon… Then book me return flights four days later. I just need to be home for a few days. Find my bareings again… Get the passion back in me. My promos and in ring work have simply sucked these past two weeks.”
“But, sir. This is a match against Tommy Rowan… You need to be here and get focused.”
“Jon, just book the flights… If I’m going to win this match, I need to get back to Glasgow. Trust me, Jon, I know everything I need to know about Kuk Killswi- I mean Tommy Rowan. I don’t need your help this week, Jon. After you book me the tickets to Glasgow and back, you can take the week off.”
With a look of disappointment on his face, Jon pulled out his white ipad and booked flights and accomidation for HFH within half an hour.
“Okay, that’s everything booked. Flights at 10AM tomorrow and flights back at midnight. Five star hotel and transport to the hotel from the airport. “
“Thanks Jon” HFH said appreciatively and smileing. "If you could do one more thing for me… Go to my place and pack my bags and bring them here so I can leave for the airport from here tomorrow… “Youre a real pal, Jon. You know that?”
Scene 3
After a 12 hour round trip and noticing no problems with his chest, HFH got into his hotel and jumped onto his bed. The room was extraordinary. The walls were luxury, the bed was silk, the wardrobes and droors were all handcrafted and even the toilet sparkled. After a few minutes of rest his phone vibrated. It was a text from Kenny.
Kenny was HFH’s best friend as a kid and teenager. They grew up watching football and wrestling. Both supporting Rangers FC and when they hit 16 they formed a tag team. Unfortuantley, Kenny really sucked but HFH shawn under his real name, Alex Pressley. Meanwhile, Kenny is in the business world, well, sort of. He’s an assistant of an assistan working on minimum wage. Nearly being fired 5 different times for violence outside of work. Apparently, it gives the company a ‘bad reputation’
The text read ‘Hey, Alex. Gid 2 see you bk in sunny Scotland. Got tickets for the old firm and it gonna be booncin. Let’s get on it and have a cheeky wee scrap!! Meet we doon the Angel at 10 on matchday and we’ll have a wee catchy!’ That translated as “Hey, Alex. Good to see you back in sunny Scotland. I’ve managed to get rare tickets for the Rangers vs Celtic game and the atmosphere will be bouncing. Let’s get drunk and get in a fight!! Eet me down the ‘Angel’ bar at 10AM and we’ll have a catch up”
That day all HFH did was rest and watch Scottish TV. He lost connection with his mum so had no family to contact. The next day though, brought back so many memories. He woke up at seven just like he used to and had a shave, just like he used to. Had a shower, just like he used to. He got dressed in expensive clothes, just like he used to and left for the pub, just like he used to. Football hooligans had a funny code wear they wore £300 jackets and £200 jeans just to get in big fights. It was an easy way to spot other fans who were looking for a fight as well.
