Safari.GFX
Rehabilitated
I'm in match writing e-fed, so this is just the very start of the match. This takes place the day before the match does and recalls some of my characters thoughts a feelings. Feedback is appreciated.
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It's 8pm, and pouring down rain on the roof of the XWA Arena. Safari grabs his 6 string acoustic guitar and sits down on the lazy boy recliner in his own personal room. It's raining to hard for Safari to drive to a hotel, so he decides to stay the night in his locker room as he does most of the time. His room is nothing fancy but he has it personalized pretty well with two reclining chairs, a 12 foot couch, a 6 foot love seat, and a 54 inch LCD TV, all paid for in full by XWA corporate.
Safari leans back, and turns the volume down on his TV, he breaths in a deep breath and strums his 6 string. He doesn't sing, he knows there's other people in the building. He doesn't brag about it or anything, but he's quite a good guitar player, and a singer. In his twenties in between fighting and working a job at the local factory, Safari used to lead a bar band. It was quick money and it was something he loved doing.
As he sat there strumming through the chords of George Straits "Troubadour" he thought about his past in XWA. He thought about his days as an UFC fighter. He thought of the trips to the hospital. But he also thought about the feeling of winning. Both winning a fight, and winning a match, something that quite honestly he hadn't done in a while. He weighed his checkers, was it worth it? Was putting his body on the line worth the excitment of 20,000 fans on there feet? Maybe not. Maybe he could quit, and no body would care. Maybe no one would miss him. He thought "Could I leave today? Would I just be a statistic in wrestling history book?"
He concluded, Yes he was right, no one would miss him. He was nothing in the wrestling world. He decided right there and then, sitting there in his dark blue chair, with his Hank Jr. Autographed guitar, he decided that he had to change that. He had to become something. He had to make a name for something, if he didn't? Well if he didn't the last 2 years of his life would be for nothing. No fame, no fortune, no nothing just a few T-Shirts with his name on it.
"The Jungle Warrior" is what he called himself. He thought "Maybe I should call myself the Jungle Failure"" He sat there with nothing but a Twitter account, and guitar to his name. And he knew that had to change. From now on he wasn't going to settle for the first match on the card. Or the Pay-Per-View preshows. He was going to be on every XWA poster, and in every XWA video, and he didn't care if that meant stepping on people, he was going to get the top one way or another.
He sat his guitar down next to the chair, and then got up from chair. After all he had just thought about, it was time to take a break. He walked over to the couch and plopped himself down and grabbed a pillow, he drifted asleep as he pictured himself holding the heaviest gold of them all, the XWA championship.
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It's 8pm, and pouring down rain on the roof of the XWA Arena. Safari grabs his 6 string acoustic guitar and sits down on the lazy boy recliner in his own personal room. It's raining to hard for Safari to drive to a hotel, so he decides to stay the night in his locker room as he does most of the time. His room is nothing fancy but he has it personalized pretty well with two reclining chairs, a 12 foot couch, a 6 foot love seat, and a 54 inch LCD TV, all paid for in full by XWA corporate.
Safari leans back, and turns the volume down on his TV, he breaths in a deep breath and strums his 6 string. He doesn't sing, he knows there's other people in the building. He doesn't brag about it or anything, but he's quite a good guitar player, and a singer. In his twenties in between fighting and working a job at the local factory, Safari used to lead a bar band. It was quick money and it was something he loved doing.
As he sat there strumming through the chords of George Straits "Troubadour" he thought about his past in XWA. He thought about his days as an UFC fighter. He thought of the trips to the hospital. But he also thought about the feeling of winning. Both winning a fight, and winning a match, something that quite honestly he hadn't done in a while. He weighed his checkers, was it worth it? Was putting his body on the line worth the excitment of 20,000 fans on there feet? Maybe not. Maybe he could quit, and no body would care. Maybe no one would miss him. He thought "Could I leave today? Would I just be a statistic in wrestling history book?"
He concluded, Yes he was right, no one would miss him. He was nothing in the wrestling world. He decided right there and then, sitting there in his dark blue chair, with his Hank Jr. Autographed guitar, he decided that he had to change that. He had to become something. He had to make a name for something, if he didn't? Well if he didn't the last 2 years of his life would be for nothing. No fame, no fortune, no nothing just a few T-Shirts with his name on it.
"The Jungle Warrior" is what he called himself. He thought "Maybe I should call myself the Jungle Failure"" He sat there with nothing but a Twitter account, and guitar to his name. And he knew that had to change. From now on he wasn't going to settle for the first match on the card. Or the Pay-Per-View preshows. He was going to be on every XWA poster, and in every XWA video, and he didn't care if that meant stepping on people, he was going to get the top one way or another.
He sat his guitar down next to the chair, and then got up from chair. After all he had just thought about, it was time to take a break. He walked over to the couch and plopped himself down and grabbed a pillow, he drifted asleep as he pictured himself holding the heaviest gold of them all, the XWA championship.
