Shannon: Ah! Don't blow that crap in my face, Tony. I'm gonna get you to quit that habit if it means me stealing your packs and smoking them myself.

Santos: Keep dreaming, baby bunny. I've got Pradheep at 7-11 practically on call for my supply. He'd probably drop them off at my door for some money and a cheap grin. Remember, I'm the one with the deep pockets, cutie pie, not you.

Shannon and Tony were making their way down Faneuil Street in Brighton, Massachusetts, having grabbed a cab from Shannon's apartment in East Boston that night, landing in Brighton at around 11:30 at night. Tony, quite obviously annoyed at this tag along partner of his, he'd taken to throwing around cutesy little pet names for Shannon for the past half hour or so, in hopes that he'd irk her enough to either shut up or bail on him completely. He was realizing that an unemployed Shannon was beginning to see her new responsibility as being Tony's caretaker, his "manager" of sorts, and it'd been getting under Tony's skin very, very quickly. The best way to fix this? Logically, it involved going to Castlebar and chatting with Big Lou (Castlebar's well known bartender, and a personal/family friend of Santos) over a few brews. What he didn't expect was for Shannon to be excited by this prospect upon Tony mentioning it.

Here they were, outside of Castlebar, with the typical set of patrons hanging outside of the entrance, smoking en masse in between one of the many commercial breaks of the Wisconsin Badgers-Arizona State Sun Devils game. Men and one woman, all in their mid-50s, but, after multiple packs-a-day habit that they had been loyal to for decades, they looked more like a group of weathered Bob Barkers and a Betty White. These folks were your prototypical regulars who could be found dropping the usual pint or two close to five days out of the week. Hell, some folks could be found playing the dual role of patron and employee. It was a lifestyle that Tony said he'd never adopt, but, by his own admission, he was becoming frighteningly predictable in his watering holes, and he feared he'd soon be one of "them" (clearly forgetting that choosing different bars for every day of the week still made you a pathetic alchy).

Tony and Shannon pass by the gawking regulars, many of whom don't even acknowledge Tony's presence due to the hatred that he's managed to engender from many of the folks here over the years. Tony enters first, managing to half-heartedly prop the door open for Shannon with his index finger. A gentleman, Tony was not.

Big Lou: Look who's graced us with his presence! Tony fucking Santos!

Tony raises his hand just enough to make it seem like he's genuinely happy this evening. Remember how Tony lost his smile a few weeks back at the hands of Chris Macbeth? Coincidentally enough, that happened just around the time that he truly felt that he was losing his smile. He didn't care about the folks that were starting to surround themselves with him, the XWF wrestlers who, having previously not given Tony the time of day, were now making an effort to say hello and wish him luck. Hell, raYne's incessant rambling in the back about his personal problems and out of this world match possibilities and scenarios had been the last straw in Tony's spiral downward.

Tony and Shannon plop down on two open bar stools on the far end of the bar. A dimly lit, lonesome portion of the bar, the only light came from the TV overhead, which, considering that no one was ever watching it, was generally showing something on TV Land or some outdoorsy show (to placate the needs of Bostonians who clearly never came close to anything remotely resembling the woods or lake).

Big Lou, already knowing that Tony will want a Harpoon IPA, has already filled up a glass, and is slowly wobbling over to Tony and Shannon. Until this point, he hadn't noticed Shannon walk in, but he was pleasantly surprised by her appearance. He smiled at Shannon, glanced over to Tony, then back to Shannon, as if to say "why are you with this idiot, a kid who I remember seeing run around stark naked with just a set of Spiderman pajamas in hand?" without actually verbalizing it.

Lou plops the drink in front of Tony, then turns his attention to Shannon.

Big Lou: Shannon! Long time no see. What are you doing around these parts?

Shannon adored Big Lou, but not because they had anything in common, no no. They had close to nothing in common. She loved Big Lou because he was one of only a few people that had known Tony better than she did. With their only connection to one another being due to their respective relationships with Tony, they had nothing else to talk about except Tony. It was their one bond, and, given Tony's weaknesses and inadequacies, which Lou knew far too well, she loved sharing stories with Tony and truly talking him down.

Now, don't take this the wrong way. Lou loved and cared about Tony. He would never do a thing to harm Santos, and these genuine discussions with Shannon were more or less his way of vocalizing Tony's issues with someone who actually knew Tony well. He's a bartender, so of course he digs and digs for topics to discuss with anyone that he happens to encounter. It's in his blood to avoid awkward encounters, and this was one way to break that tension. It also helped that Shannon was some solid eye candy. Yeah, that could make any man talk.

Shannon: Hey Lou! Yeah, yeah, it's a shame, it really is. Tone doesn't invite me to these parts pretty much, well, ever. When he told me that he was on his way here, I just couldn't turn down his offer for me to tag along!

Santos: I didn't invite you.

Shannon lightly shoves Tony in the shoulder.

Shannon: Oh, he's kidding! He practically pleaded to have me come along.

Santos: No, I... ah, fuck it.

Tony grabs the glass and just starts drinking. It wasn't worth the back and forth, mainly because Lou didn't care and Shannon would play this warped tale of reality out as long as it took for Tony to submit. Shannon was notoriously stubborn, and she'd become much worse after hopping on the gravy train.

Big Lou: So, what's new, Shannon? Staying out of trouble. Keeping Tony out of trouble?

Oh, and what do you want to drink?

Shannon: I'll take a vodka tonic, Lou, thank you. I'm doing great, thanks. Quit both of my jobs.

Lou, knowing Shannon's work ethic, looks over at her, stunned, as he grabs a highball glass for her drink.

Big Lou: Quit??? Wait, why? How are you going to, well, make money?

Shannon nudges Tony and kisses him on the cheek and Tony continues to silently imbibe.

Shannon: I've got this great guy to my right, Lou, that's why. I'm going to travel the country with him as he takes on the best and brightest of his wrestling company. Lou, I realized that I've never given Tony the time and attention that I should have through our relationship. Now's the time for that to change. I want to support him; show him how much I truly care.

Big Lou: You can still work, though, couldn't you? I didn't even know that you cared about wrestling.

Shannon: Well, I guess I never really appreciated it for what it's worth. It's actually quite entertaining. Take, for instance, Peter Gilmour's rambling antics. That silly man can't avoid a camera for more than a day without cracking! Or John Madison, Tony's opponent on Monday. The XWF wrestlers practically trip over themselves in search for his attention and admiration! It's unbelievable. Alexandra Callaway would shine his shoes using her tongue if you let her. And Archie Lawson... well, he just tends to beg and grovel for matches, since nobody seems to truly care about him. It's fantastic television, Lou.

Tony, looking down at the bottom of his nearly empty glass, observing the grooves in the bar beneath it, albeit clouded by the smoky brown hue of his beer, can't help but chime in.

Santos: Funny how this interest in my job comes when I'm about to fight in one of the biggest matches of my career. Crazy how that works, huh, tootie fruity bear?

Shannon was still unaffected by the comments of her increasingly rude and irritated boyfriend.

Shannon: Oh, Tone! That's the you I adore. So crass, yet so funny. I really could just...

Shannon's words soon become jumbled nothings in Tony's ear, letters altogether and yet completely disconnected at the same time. It was like when a highly competitive Scrabble game was ruined by the mischievous feet of a little child. Letters, once forming words, were not mish-mashed together, completely incomprehensible. No, Tony was beginning to fade into his own little world, just as he had wanted to that night before Shannon included herself in his plans. He had a flight to Oklahoma in the morning, and he wanted this Saturday evening to become nothing more than a blur. He wanted just one night of escape, one night to avoid the mindless chatter amongst the members of the XWF, the empty flirtations with his increasingly shallow girlfriend, and the image of that damn crown that was looming over his head like a buzzard just waiting for him to finally kill himself.

One night, that's all he had wanted. If he couldn't get it in the physical world, he'd damn well tune everything out and let his imagination take control. Before he knew it, a chill could felt down his spine. A cold, sharp breeze stung his neck. Tony looked up from his drink, and all that he could see in front of him, was white. Snow, everywhere. He looked back down, and the glass was gone. Turning his head to his right, he was wearing a knit glove, a cold bottle of Allagash Odyssey in hand, as he savors the quiet, desolate Maine landscape.

Ah, for an atheist, this was heaven...

To Be Continued

The scene fades to black.

September 2013 and May 2019 Star of the Month
1x Hart Champion
1x Television Champion
1x Xtreme Champion