A BAD DAY AT BLACK
ROCK
In tribute to our inspiration
By Gym Dude
In tribute to our inspiration
By Gym Dude
SKREEECH! HONK! HOOOOONNNKK!
“YOU CUT ME OFF!!!! YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!!!!!” DAMN! I want to pull that slob over and provide some Drivers Ed!
That’s all I need while driving home after a tough day at work. With all the laws about harassment and everyone jumping the gun to get to court at every turn, today’s work environment just isn’t like it used to be. I really miss the good old days when if someone wasn’t performing or if someone gave you shit, you could just take them out back and beat the crap out of them. Now you have to go through some elaborate tap dance to make sure the guy challenges you or some incredible charade to get him into your gym, just so you can pound some poor sap and remind him who the real boss is. Any man with half a brain is not going to set himself up for a physical confrontation with a guy named Mangler, but that only rules out half the guys I work with. Well, a guy can dream, can’t he?
Traffic is getting to be a bitch. It seems like every afternoon it just gets worse and worse. Is it possible that these people can actually forget how to drive in one day? Damn! We all made it home yesterday, can this be such a damn problem!!!! The plans for a remote-control bazooka that mounts under my car begin to flash before my eyes. Such a great idea and with my luck there is probably some kind of law against that too!!!!
At least I’m happy I’ve got the townhouse and don’t have to contend with these idiots all the way out to the country. As luck would have it as I turn onto my street things get even worse, if that is possible.
There are freaking cars everywhere! All I want is just a little peace and quiet and this place is turning into some kind of zoo. Oh, crap! There are even people parked in my driveway! What the hell is with this???? See? If I just had my chassis mounted bazooka, I’d have this problem solved in a flash.
I know! I’ll park right behind the bastards and block them in! Then when the old bat next door decides to break up her Tupperware party, these insolent jerks are going to have to face ME before they leave. Maybe I can get lucky and these rigs will belong to some guy who needs a little brow beating or better yet, some guy who’s up for just a regular beating! Gawd! Maybe there’s a chance that something will go my way today!
I can’t believe I have to park across the street from my own house, let alone park next to one of those dip shits who parks the wrong direction! I’ve just got to build that bazooka! Gotta do it!!!!
Finally, the front door! Just a few more steps and I will be inside, locked away from all of the insanity. MY CASTLE - The one place of tranquility. I can hit the gym and take out my frustrations pumping iron and pounding the heavy bag. It helps to close my eyes and imagine the heavy bag is one of the jerks at work! I’ll get a good workout and grab a few bites then have a cool one while I pour over these damn reports that have to be taken care of by morning.
OH HELL! What’s this? My damn house is full of people? I don’t freaking believe it? What are all these jokers doing in MY house??????
This one joker with a weird British accent yells out “Hey Punk, Mangler’s home and he looks like shit! Grab the man some ale there mate!”
I am pissed! As calm as I can be under the circumstances, I scream “Hey! Somebody want to explain exactly what the fuck is going on here, before I start kicking some ass??????”
Slowly this tall drink of water with a white cowboy hat walks my way. The guy was really put together, then I notice that most of these guys look like they can take care of themselves. The big guy is laughing, and I have some immediate thoughts about how to put an end to that shit too! I am in no laughing mood and that kid still doesn’t have a cold beer in my hand. Shit! First incompetence at work and now at home too?????????
“Yo! Mangler! It’s me, Gym Dude! I can understand y’all being a little confused. Here’s a beer! Relax and take a look around. These are all guys from your website, Man! Except for Crusher and he should be here shortly.
“I told the guys you’d have it figured it out before you got inside, but I guess I over-estimated you. Either that or you’re just working too damn hard, man!”
I stop to think about it. The big white one-ton Silverado with Texas plates, that’s gotta by Gym Dude’s rig. The rental car parked on the wrong side of the road has to belong to Chancey. The fully restored Vespa looks like Punk Wrestler’s ride. Gym Dude was right, I should have figured it out. “So, all right, you guys are all here, but that doesn’t explain what the hell you’re doing here!!!!”
“Well, it’s this way ol’ bud”, Gym Dude speaks slow and clear. “We’ve noticed that it’s been taking quite a while for you to get updates on the old website, so we decided it would be a good idea for us to drop by and help you out.”
“Help me out?” I am still somewhat stunned to see all these guys here, not to mention the fact that they have helped themselves to MY beer! It isn’t so bad that Gym Dude is into my Miller, but damn! Chancey is drinking my Heineken! And to make matters worse, it looks like he’s drinking it WARM! AAAAAARGH! “So, just how do you guys expect to help me?” I am still a little confused.
“Motivation”, Gym Dude replied with a smile and a twinkle in his blue eyes, “Motivation, My Man!”
I don’t know if I am more impressed, confused or pissed off, but I am getting more of something!!!! And fast!!! “And just what kind of motivation do you have in mind?” I ask.
“Well you see, big guy. It’s like this. It sounds to us like this ‘Real Life’ thing is catching up to you and you need some distractions. We started talking amongst ourselves about what we could do to help you out. We wanted to do something that would be more than a gesture, you know, something that would make a lasting impression. Crusher came up with the idea to come here in person and the rest of us just filled in the rest. Since you seem to have hit some kind of a writer’s block, we could help you out by giving you something to write about and since your website features fight stories and the star of the story usually gets the shit beat out of him, we figured it would be fun if you got to be the STAR!”
Finally!!! Something in this screwed up day makes me laugh. “Come on, man! Now you’re one pretty big dude and I can tell all you guys are in fairly great shape, but get real! Do you honestly believe any of you guys are going to hold up in a fight with me, let alone WIN????? Just because I haven’t posted in a while doesn’t mean I’ve been slacking off in the gym. You guys don’t know who you’re dealing with!”
Gym Dude and most of the other guys start to laugh and I get just a little more pissed off! “See here, my big friend. It just may be that YOU don’t know who YOU’RE dealing with and besides just imagine the fun we’ll have finding out!!!”
All these ass-holes being in my house is totally unexpected, but their plan does spark a little interest and after the day I’ve had, a good fight could be just what the doctor ordered. “So did any of you idiots think about what if I don’t want to go along with your goof-ball idea?”
You’d think I had hit Gym Dude in the head with a tire iron, not that that would have been such a bad idea either, but the thought had truly not occurred to him and I think I caught the big lug by surprise.
“Damn, Son. No, we didn’t think of that, not that it would make any difference anyhow, since there’s a bunch of us and just one of you.” The Texan puts his big arm across my shoulder and calmly states, “Now come on, Pardner. Polish off the suds and slip on some trunks, you wouldn’t want to get your work clothes all messed up. Let’s hit your gym and find us some of that motivation.”
On most days by the time I get home I am more than ready to shed my work clothes and hit the gym, today more than others. I slip on my favorite black square-cut wrestling trunks and an old sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped out. I want to make an impression on these guys and showing off my guns should help. I hear the deep-throated sound of a Harley as I head down the hall followed by Crusher’s greeting, “Never fear, The Defenseman is here!” I get to my garage gym just as the last of the guys filter in.
I still enjoy working out in a commercial gym for some of the specialized machines and the opportunity it gives me to pick up some fights now and then but every man has to have his own personal workout area and the garage is mine. It is a work in progress with a heavy bag, a speed bag and good solid bench with plenty of iron. I did finally bust for a cage to get some good leg work but since I often workout alone I don’t push the heavy weights until I get into a regular gym and have a good spotter or two.
I’ve never had so many guys in my garage at once and as I walk through the door I’m greeted with wall to wall shoulders. Punk Wrestler, Cocky Punk and Chancey are the smallest of the bunch, all lean and solid looking guys. Even when dressed for the gym Chancey looks every bit the gentleman while the other two, well ….. don’t.
Crusher and Defenseman could pass for brothers. You’ve seen guys in the gym or in the movies who look like a block of granite? Then you already know what these two look like. Their t-shirts look more like a bag of bowling balls. Crusher is in wrestling trunks and Defenseman is wearing Levi’s and his usual motorcycle boots.
Dean is on the other side and he just looks like somebody opened a big can of “mean”, leaving little doubt why they call him The Destroyer. Next to Dean is Gym Dude and they couldn’t be more different. Gym Dude’s narrow waist makes his shoulders look almost a mile wide. Bright blue gym shorts match his eyes and his white XXL Under Armor muscle shirt looks like it is about to lose the battle to contain his ripped physique. Those four guys alone make up almost half a ton of solid muscle! Now I’m not one to back down from a fight but if one broke out I’d really want these guys on MY side.
Gym Dude wants to get the action going and suggests loading up the bar to see how many times each guy can bench the weight. Before anyone can say much, he calmly loads three 45’s on each side and takes the bench knocking out two dozen reps. “Always remember to warm-up properly.” The big Texan smiles and yields the bench to Crusher. I hear Punk Wrestler as he leans over to Chancy “Shit man, that’s 315 pounds! I can’t do that on my best day and these guys are just warming up!” Each of the big guys takes the bench and cranks out at least 8 or ten reps.
The two Punks and Chancy beg off with some lame excuses and that leaves me at the end of the list. This weight is well past where I start warming up but these guys have me pissed off enough that I’m not going to miss this. I take the bench and a couple of the guys give me a lift-off. Damn, the bar feels heavy today! I can tell by the first rep that I should have warmed up properly but I take my time and still crank out a respectable six reps before I announce I am “warmed up” enough.
I expect a gradual increase to the next weight but Gym Dude slaps on another 45 while he instructs Crusher to do the same on the other end! The Texan moves smooth and strong for ten solid reps leaving most of us pretty damn impressed. Crusher follows but the smile he started with is gone. With fierce determination he begins cranking out the reps. By number 8 it looks like his head is about to explode off his thick shoulders. Rep 9 the man is shaking with uncertainty. Rep 10 bounces off his chest as he makes every effort to WILL the weight upward. The bar begins its upward motion but slowly grinds to a stop. Crusher holds the bar pouring on every ounce of remaining power but the heavy weight fails to move. He shudders with effort but the bar lowers to his chest, a noble effort that amazes us all as Gym Dude and the Defenseman rack the bar.
Defenseman and Destroyer each take turns and make a respectable showing, Destroyer admitting 6 reps was now his personal best. I have no need to embarrass myself on the weight bench. 405 pounds is more than I’ve ever attempted and I don’t need to tear a muscle trying it now.
Patting me on the back, Gym Dude suggests that we find something we can all participate in. It sounds like a slam but most of us are more than ready for something else.
The side door on my garage always seemed normal size until it comes to getting that much muscle out at once. The big guys are not hesitant to throw their weight around a little when the smaller guys don’t move quickly enough to suit them. Cocky Punk has never been one to be shy and the next time he gets a shove he spins and nails the guy behind him with a solid right to the gut. Unfortunately, Defenseman was the guy behind him and Punk’s fist bounces off harmlessly. The big man just smiles while he wraps his left hand round Cocky Punk’s neck and picks him up clean up off the ground.
Cocky Punk is in pretty good shape himself but doesn’t stand a chance in hell. Defenseman shakes the smaller man like a dust mop then flexes his mighty arm and throws the kid half-way across the yard! Some people know how to make a statement without every saying a word.
Chancey can’t help but grin as he reaches down to help the kid up, “What’s the matter, Mate? Did you trip?” The scowl on Cocky Punk’s face lets me know this isn’t over.
I really have to laugh at the crap that kid pulls, “You know Punk, you really can be an idiot sometimes.” Cocky Punk scrambles to his feet and lunges to give me a shove but instead walks into an elbow to his chest.
“UUUUGH” is about all the Punk can get out before he rethinks his position and steps back.
Punk Wrestler takes advantage of the distraction and jumps on my back which is not a real bright move. If he thought that everyone was going to jump me at once, he was wrong. While he tries to get a grip on my neck, I simply grab his head and flip him hard to the ground.
“AAARRGGHHH-OOOOFFFF” is about all he gets out as Chancey takes a shot driving in from my left side. I don’t know how they wrestle in Britain but he lacks the size and speed to pull that crap on me! I grab him by the throat and let his momentum carry him through while I slam his shoulders to the ground. Dang! So far - so good. I may end up enjoying this after all!
Defenseman makes a move like he is about to attack, something I don’t really look forward to but as I step back to get set, I find Cocky Punk is down on all fours behind my knees. Unable to hold my footing I go down hard on my back and shoulders but it isn’t the Defenseman I have to worry about.
While Cocky Punk scrambles out from under my legs Dean the Destroyer grabs my left leg and spins around trapping my right leg. Dropping his own substantial weight to the ground he adds incredible pressure to my knee. This is a killer hold and Dean knows how to make it work for him. I flop around aimlessly pounding on the ground trying desperately to find some way to minimize the pain erupting from my knee.
As though he needed any help, Punk Wrestler and Cocky Punk each grab an arm as they too drop to the ground each driving one foot against my neck and the other against my lat muscles. The guys lean back wrenching down on their wristlock while the Destroyer uses his leg lock to break my resistance. The big guy is about to rip my knee joint apart while the two “Punks” apply wrist locks and stretch me out on the ground.
Gym Dude slips off his muscle shirt which makes one hell of an impression as he flexes and stretches his bodybuilder physique. It looks like Cocky Punk and Punk Wrestler’s eyes are about to bug out of their heads. The Gym Dude looks sharp and he knows it. “Hey! Come on, Guys. Three against one? You gotta give the dude a fighting chance here. We got plenty of time and besides we all want a shot at this.” He bellows but none of the guys let up on their destructive holds.
Gym Dude kneels next to me and runs the knuckles of his fist down my flexed abs, “Don’t wear yourself out, Man. You can’t break out of this and these guys are not going to let up on you. You’ve got a long day ahead of you, cut your losses and give it up now.”
The big guy is making sense. I could hold out against the pain and I really hate the idea of giving up to these turds but if I’ve learned anything in this game, it is how to pick your fights. I thought about what he said, “Alright, Ass-holes. It took three of you to do it, but I give. I give.”
The guys seem disappointed that I bail out so soon, but showing some kind of warped honor, each man breaks his hold. I have to admit the relief feels good although it is short lived as Crusher reaches down gripping my hand and pulls me to my feet, loooong before I am ready.
“Here Old Man, let me help you up!” He laughs. Dean has already done a job on my legs and they barely hold me up as I stagger across the grass.
“My turn!” I hear Defenseman shout as he charges towards me like a bull, his shoulder targeting my abs. Before I can move, he hits me like a lineman smashing into a sled, something he’s done thousands of times. While we are similar in height and weight, this guy is built like a freaking tank. The impact causes my upper body to curl across his back. Working like a technician, the horse lifts me off my feet and drives my body into the trunk of a large maple tree. The force of the move shakes the tree as all the air in my body explodes in one giant burst. “AAAARGHHH” is all I get out before I feel his short heavily-muscled arms grip me high and low. My head is spinning but so is my body as the rugged stud twists then drops my back across his outstretched knee.
“UUUUGH!” Damn! This doesn’t feel like fun and games! This son-of-a-bitch is trying to break me in half! Defenseman doesn’t even give me a chance to react before lifting and smashing my back across his knee again.
“That’s all you need, Tough Guy, just a little loosening up!” Defenseman laughs at my helpless condition. Just keep it up, Big Guy, I think to myself as I fight the pain, you and I will fight again one day and I’ll get back for every move you try. “AAAAAARRCH” the groan cancels my thoughts of future fights as Defenseman presses down on my jaw and knee increasing the damage to my back. In my present condition, he could easily go for a submission but there is obviously no need, he’s got me and we both know it.
In a rare act of mercy, the stud rolls me off his knee and lets my body fall face-first to the cool grass. “Come on you guys!” I hear Punk Wrestler plead, “Save some for the rest of us!”
Yeah, Punk! I think as I shake the cobwebs from my brain. Give me a minute and I’ll show you what I got left. It takes everything left inside me just to struggle to my hands and knees. I can only see feet but it is enough to know Punk Wrestler has moved within range. Before I can move, he unleashes a kick to my gut, fortunately he thinks he delivers more damage than he does. The bastard grabs my head to pull me to my feet and gets a solid right fist to his upper gut.
“OOOOOGHHHH!” the kid doubles over grabbing his stomach. “Stupid move, Punk. Now it’s my turn!” I shout and fire a knee under his jaw sending the smaller dude reeling. “Yeah!” I put the guys on notice, “That felt good! Or at least it did for ME!”
Crusher and Dean catch Punk nearly in mid air and prop him up. Punk shakes his head and looks surprised then gets this real pissed-off expression. I’m not moving at my best, but I have put these guys on notice that I am still a power to be reckoned with.
“Get him, Mangler!” Chancey shouts from my left.
“Show us your stuff!” Gym Dude weighs in on my right.
I stagger forward intent on working over this bastard just as Punk Wrestler lunges toward me. I must have underestimated the turd as he jumps in the air delivering a drop kick catching me in the chest and driving me back. Damn! That hurt! I fly back and bounce into a block wall on the south side of my yard. Just as I begin to realize I don’t have a block wall on that side of my yard, two solidly muscled arms slide in front of mine and a pair of thick, strong hands grip behind my neck. “Careful there, Little Buddy” I hear a deep southern drawl echo from the wall of muscle securely locked on my shoulders. Instinctively I flex and strain to break free but my muscle prison does not yield.
Cocky Punk is on his feet charging toward me but I’m locked solid, unable to move. Seeing me held helpless, the Punk does the splits sliding between our legs and fires a hard right fist to my nads! I’m held too solid to double over and take a devastating left to my broken balls as I feel my body melt in the Texan’s powerful grip.
“Whoa, Little Dude. No fair!” Gym Dude shouts a warning but the damage is already done. I would drop to the ground if not for the big guy’s powerful grip. Through glassy eyes I see a blur of motion as The Defenseman smashes into Cocky Punk like a runaway freight train. Punk hits the ground with so much force I am surprised I don’t see a little mushroom cloud rising from the spot. Defenseman smashes the young stud with such power that the kid is left lying on the ground, motionless. I think he is out cold. Serves the bastard right! If I could move, I’d rack the bastard proper!
I’m already thinking I need to invite these guys back for a visit ….. but one at a time! Even with the terrible hollow feeling deep inside me I continue to flex and strain against the muscular arms crushing my upper body. I feel Gym Dude’s thick pecs and rippling abs as my back presses against rock solid muscle. My chest burns as my muscles stretch to failure and my arms flop helplessly in the air while my shoulders are forced back and my neck is pressed forward. Unable to resist the incredible pressure my jaw is crushed tightly into my chest forcing me to breathe only through my nose, restricting needed oxygen. Damn, this guy’s muscles are not just for looks!
“You able to stand on your own now, Little Buddy?” Gym Dude’s voice has all the compassion of a guy taking care of his little brother as he steadies me on my feet and gently releases me from his crushing grip.
I am spent. I’ve been worked over from head to toe and every muscle in my body feels like it has been smashed, crushed or broken in some way. I can barely walk and start to stumble forward. Crusher is there to break my fall and catches me chest to chest, his massive arms clamping mine to the sides as he grips behind my back. For a moment I think he’s there to help me, but it is only a moment before his powerful grip begins to tighten. This man has bearhugged me before and I know just how strong that solid body is.
Crusher grips one wrist, forming a fist with the other hand so he can drive his knuckles into your spine. Then his rock-solid arms begin to flex, his boulder biceps crushing your arms into your chest, decimating your arm muscles while adding more pressure to your ribcage. Just as you are about to give up, he begins to slowly inhale expanding his fortress of a chest. With one more flex of his beef-steak pectoral muscles you feel like you are dwarfed in some kind of muscle cocoon.
“Are you ready to see how I earned my name?” Crusher laughs at the thought. This must be how a giant python feels just before he renders his prey helpless. There is a certain peace of knowing you are about to release total power into an unbreakable grip and your opponent can only hang there and take it until…….
“No. Don’t…..” is all I can get out before I feel his entire upper body begin to ripple with power. Delts, pecs, abs, biceps and forearms all flex growing bigger and bigger reducing, no, eliminating any room for ME! I feel my chest compressing from the incredible power just as my spine explodes in agony as his fist nearly breaks my back. My own biceps are crushed into my ribs leaving me barely able to breathe as my arms begin to lose feeling.
I don’t know how much longer I can withstand the incredible pressure before I pass out or my upper body disintegrates! My head slumps against Crusher’s massive chest and I feel a powerful hand gripping the back of my neck, thick fingers dig in on one side while a thumb slides under the side of my jaw twisting my head. I am left staring into a pair of bright blue eyes and hear a voice that is almost calming. I think how weird that is considering the amazing force that is ready to crush my helpless body into oblivion!
“Nice job, Mangler.” Gym Dude smiles as though we were chatting at the kitchen table. “You held up a damn site better than I thought you would. Hopefully we’ve been able to help you out today.”
What? My battered brain is working desperately to make sense of this. I know the words but have no idea what the hell the stud is talking about! “How?” I struggle with each tiny breath, knowing that my life-giving oxygen is just about gone. “I …. can’t …. fight …. you …. All?”
My lungs are on fire and my head is swimming. I feel consciousness slipping away and yet I have to know, “How …… am ….. I …… supposed …. to …… win?”
Gym Dude’s muscular body shakes with laughter and it pisses me off that while I’m being nearly crushed to death he’s having fun!!!!
As his face begins to fade and darkness begins to envelope me I hear the big stud’s words, “Finally, you’re getting the point! All your buddies are here to help give you some motivation! You see, Mangler….. if you want to win ….. you’re going to have to write your own damn stories!”
No comments:
Post a Comment