The Book of America 1.1 - We Protect What's Ours
May 31, 2020 22:07:24 GMT -5
BonnieBlue, Jubei, and 1 more like this
Post by america on May 31, 2020 22:07:24 GMT -5
Years Ago
America’s been out all day. Down the road from his daddy’s farm, there’s a stream he’d play in. He’d run through the woods in the summer heat, barefoot in overalls with slack to grow into. Some days he’d call up Billy Conroy and Kevin Richards and Joseph Michael down with him. They’d swim and play for hours before running home and getting scolded for being covered in mud. Once, America missed church because he decided the blue skies and running water were more important to him than God’s own gospel. He got whooped enough that he couldn’t do much more’n kneel for the whole next week. America understood though. God gave them this beautiful land, in the most beautiful country in the world. A place so great his parents couldn’t think of a better name for him than the land he was raised in. ‘America means freedom’ they’d tell him ‘So you’ll have all the freedom you ever need.’
America loved freedom.
America loved…America.
So America loved God for giving them to him.
He understood why he got the beating and he took it with humility. That was another thing his dad liked to talk about. Acting with humility. America wasn’t always sure he understood, but he wanted to think he was always acting with it even when he made Billy Conroy cry because he made fun of America’s name. A man’s gotta fight for what he believes in. So America beat on Billy Conroy until his face wasn’t much more’n blood or tears and damn if he didn’t let him run off with humility. Course, that meant Billy hadn’t talked to him since and Kevin ‘n Joseph were following suit. Ta Hell with ‘em, America thought. The day had sun and water enough for him. When he went far enough down he even caught Caleb O’Reilly with his hand up Jessica Waters’ skirt and felt his breath get hot and fast for long enough that the sun drifted halfway across the horizon before he’d stopped being worked up.
By the time he got home, the sun was getting low. His daddy was still out in the field. America could see the sweat on his back. Most days he helped out, but his daddy told him it was too nice a day for him to spend it all on chores. He smiled when he said it. Told him he’s only young once. America saw something almost like sadness in his eye, but he couldn’t figure out what it was and the sun and the air was waiting so he didn’t worry about it. Now he was coming back and it wasn’t just his daddy’s eyes which were missing a smile.
Harrison James was in the field as well. America couldn’t hear everything they were talking about but as he got closer, he caught bits and pieces. Harrison said something about losing the farm. America’s daddy said something America couldn’t repeat in polite company. America heard the slap so sharply it drew him right to attention. Mr. James left without so much as another word and America’s daddy was left behind, huffing with obvious anger.
“What was that about?” America asked.
“Hey boy. You saw that huh?” his daddy answered. America nodded. Daddy had a nod of his own, like he’d made up his mind about something he hadn’t thought about until then. “Good. That’s good. It’s important. We can’t let people just walk onto our land and take what’s ours. It’s not right. Not American.”
America nodded. He loved his daddy and the lessons he gave. He loved God. He loved being an American. So by the end of the next school day, Harrison James’ boy was dragged to the doctor from school spittin’ blood with three broken ribs. America got suspended. Some said he should have been expelled. But he knew when his daddy bought him ice cream on the ride home that he’d done right. American made a promise that day, in sight of none but himself and God. He’d never let anyone take what belonged to him, no matter how much blood had to hit the floor to stop them.
Gotta be real with you boys, I’m disappointed.
First time out the gate with my boy Zaigon Carter, the Storm making their big debut for Alpha One LIVE and on Netflix even! Shit! That feels so good to say! I mean hell, I’ve been around. Went to State in high school, the won it all in college. Had a sniff at the Olympics which I’ll tell you for free how much I’d have loved to serve my country like that. Then got into mixed martial arts and finally got to throw punches that made me money ‘stead of just getting folks mad at the bar. But this…PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING, just like I watched on TV growing up ‘cept now it’s on the internet ‘cause audiences don’t got loyalty to the companies that gave ‘em their childhoods. Still, I can’t be too mad. It’s all American.
So here I am, hyped as hell over my big debut and what do I get? Shipped off to Britain where the skies are about half as gray and dour as the people and you all still kneel for a queen in the year of our lord 2020. Now maybe it’s just the country boy in me, but round my parts the only one we take a knee for is the big man up in the sky. Y’all may be godless over here but I promise you that when your boys get across the ring from me I’ll give them a beating that’ll make the lord’s name come outta their mouths whether they like it or not.
We got some fools call themselves supervillains like they walked out’ve a Bond flick. Gotta be honest, old double oh is about the best thing to come outta this cursed place so the comparison gets you half a kind thought in my head. Goin’ round calling folks midgets and spoutin’ nonsense like what? You think that makes you scary? I read my bible boys. I know what happens when smug monsters roll into town asking for a beating.
You may have the size and the power locked down in this one fellas, but I’ll give you two things for free.
The first is that it don’t matter how high you stack shit, it ain’t gonna start smellin’ no better on its own.
The second thing is that I don’t give a single damn how big and strong and stupid you are. I don’t care about how empty the space between your eardrums is. I’m gonna hit you in the face over and over and over again until you drop. Then I’m gonna hit you some more. That ain’t a hope or a prayer. That right there is an American made promise.
I made another promise.
A long time ago.
I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone take what’s mine from me.
But I screwed up.
I let success get to my head. I forgot the lessons from my daddy and God both. I wasn’t humble and the lord punished me for it to make me see the error of my ways. I was at my lowest. Then Zaigon Carter came like one of God’s own angels and he offered me hope. He offered me a better future. A chance at the redemption I’d always dreamed of. Now I’m here and I’m gonna take everything that’s mine, one at a time. Zaigon and I are gonna climb up and shove some false gods off their perch for the tag gold. Then I’ll climb up and show the world why its only choice for a champion is American made.
That’s my dream.
That’s what’s mine.
If you two heaping sacks of crap think you can stand between me and that?
I’ll beat you bloody.
I will BURY you in this godless place.
I promise you.
And I won’t ever break my promises again.
America’s been out all day. Down the road from his daddy’s farm, there’s a stream he’d play in. He’d run through the woods in the summer heat, barefoot in overalls with slack to grow into. Some days he’d call up Billy Conroy and Kevin Richards and Joseph Michael down with him. They’d swim and play for hours before running home and getting scolded for being covered in mud. Once, America missed church because he decided the blue skies and running water were more important to him than God’s own gospel. He got whooped enough that he couldn’t do much more’n kneel for the whole next week. America understood though. God gave them this beautiful land, in the most beautiful country in the world. A place so great his parents couldn’t think of a better name for him than the land he was raised in. ‘America means freedom’ they’d tell him ‘So you’ll have all the freedom you ever need.’
America loved freedom.
America loved…America.
So America loved God for giving them to him.
He understood why he got the beating and he took it with humility. That was another thing his dad liked to talk about. Acting with humility. America wasn’t always sure he understood, but he wanted to think he was always acting with it even when he made Billy Conroy cry because he made fun of America’s name. A man’s gotta fight for what he believes in. So America beat on Billy Conroy until his face wasn’t much more’n blood or tears and damn if he didn’t let him run off with humility. Course, that meant Billy hadn’t talked to him since and Kevin ‘n Joseph were following suit. Ta Hell with ‘em, America thought. The day had sun and water enough for him. When he went far enough down he even caught Caleb O’Reilly with his hand up Jessica Waters’ skirt and felt his breath get hot and fast for long enough that the sun drifted halfway across the horizon before he’d stopped being worked up.
By the time he got home, the sun was getting low. His daddy was still out in the field. America could see the sweat on his back. Most days he helped out, but his daddy told him it was too nice a day for him to spend it all on chores. He smiled when he said it. Told him he’s only young once. America saw something almost like sadness in his eye, but he couldn’t figure out what it was and the sun and the air was waiting so he didn’t worry about it. Now he was coming back and it wasn’t just his daddy’s eyes which were missing a smile.
Harrison James was in the field as well. America couldn’t hear everything they were talking about but as he got closer, he caught bits and pieces. Harrison said something about losing the farm. America’s daddy said something America couldn’t repeat in polite company. America heard the slap so sharply it drew him right to attention. Mr. James left without so much as another word and America’s daddy was left behind, huffing with obvious anger.
“What was that about?” America asked.
“Hey boy. You saw that huh?” his daddy answered. America nodded. Daddy had a nod of his own, like he’d made up his mind about something he hadn’t thought about until then. “Good. That’s good. It’s important. We can’t let people just walk onto our land and take what’s ours. It’s not right. Not American.”
America nodded. He loved his daddy and the lessons he gave. He loved God. He loved being an American. So by the end of the next school day, Harrison James’ boy was dragged to the doctor from school spittin’ blood with three broken ribs. America got suspended. Some said he should have been expelled. But he knew when his daddy bought him ice cream on the ride home that he’d done right. American made a promise that day, in sight of none but himself and God. He’d never let anyone take what belonged to him, no matter how much blood had to hit the floor to stop them.
Gotta be real with you boys, I’m disappointed.
First time out the gate with my boy Zaigon Carter, the Storm making their big debut for Alpha One LIVE and on Netflix even! Shit! That feels so good to say! I mean hell, I’ve been around. Went to State in high school, the won it all in college. Had a sniff at the Olympics which I’ll tell you for free how much I’d have loved to serve my country like that. Then got into mixed martial arts and finally got to throw punches that made me money ‘stead of just getting folks mad at the bar. But this…PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING, just like I watched on TV growing up ‘cept now it’s on the internet ‘cause audiences don’t got loyalty to the companies that gave ‘em their childhoods. Still, I can’t be too mad. It’s all American.
So here I am, hyped as hell over my big debut and what do I get? Shipped off to Britain where the skies are about half as gray and dour as the people and you all still kneel for a queen in the year of our lord 2020. Now maybe it’s just the country boy in me, but round my parts the only one we take a knee for is the big man up in the sky. Y’all may be godless over here but I promise you that when your boys get across the ring from me I’ll give them a beating that’ll make the lord’s name come outta their mouths whether they like it or not.
We got some fools call themselves supervillains like they walked out’ve a Bond flick. Gotta be honest, old double oh is about the best thing to come outta this cursed place so the comparison gets you half a kind thought in my head. Goin’ round calling folks midgets and spoutin’ nonsense like what? You think that makes you scary? I read my bible boys. I know what happens when smug monsters roll into town asking for a beating.
You may have the size and the power locked down in this one fellas, but I’ll give you two things for free.
The first is that it don’t matter how high you stack shit, it ain’t gonna start smellin’ no better on its own.
The second thing is that I don’t give a single damn how big and strong and stupid you are. I don’t care about how empty the space between your eardrums is. I’m gonna hit you in the face over and over and over again until you drop. Then I’m gonna hit you some more. That ain’t a hope or a prayer. That right there is an American made promise.
I made another promise.
A long time ago.
I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone take what’s mine from me.
But I screwed up.
I let success get to my head. I forgot the lessons from my daddy and God both. I wasn’t humble and the lord punished me for it to make me see the error of my ways. I was at my lowest. Then Zaigon Carter came like one of God’s own angels and he offered me hope. He offered me a better future. A chance at the redemption I’d always dreamed of. Now I’m here and I’m gonna take everything that’s mine, one at a time. Zaigon and I are gonna climb up and shove some false gods off their perch for the tag gold. Then I’ll climb up and show the world why its only choice for a champion is American made.
That’s my dream.
That’s what’s mine.
If you two heaping sacks of crap think you can stand between me and that?
I’ll beat you bloody.
I will BURY you in this godless place.
I promise you.
And I won’t ever break my promises again.
