Post by TFP on Aug 28, 2007 22:03:41 GMT -4
Sitting in his jail cell, Davidson rests his head against the wall and sighs. He’s in this mess as an innocent person; he had little to do with any of it at all. His heroin addiction is back, but it’s not because of his craving for it, it’s because of Nic E Dangerously’s jealousy and hate towards the Feature Presentation. Marcus and Nic might think that they have Davidson trapped and locked up for a long time, but they’re wrong, he’s not going to be finished off this quickly. A planted syringe of heroin isn’t going to stop the Nova Scotian, yet, and neither is this small-sized room with bars.
“Nice going, asshole.”
“Fuck off, Nos…”
Looking up, Davidson looks at his hallucination brought on by his schizophrenia disorder. Without any access to his medication, he’s basically fucked in this situation. He’ll argue with his imaginations and even go through some sort of depression, stress and rage with no control of his bi-polar disorder. Over the week he was manipulated by Nic as a puppet. He was in Dangerously’s control, in his possession and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break free from his strings that were attached to him.
If he tried to run, he would fail because of Sefkins, one of Nic’s allies. So they decided to break Davidson, inject him with the number four and watch him relapse. He tried to fight it and he did, but a plant of the needle by Nic or Marcus fucked him over and this is where it landed him. Innocent, he is… but in the law’s eyes he’s guilty.
“I know how you could have not gotten into this situation… checked your frikkin’ bags. That way, you wouldn’t have anything put against you. But because of your selfishness, you landed you… and me… in this old, scummy, crumby jail cell. Take a smell, would you? What’s that pungent odor? To me, it smells something like urine and other fecal matter. Am I right?”
“Probably, you sure have a nose for those kinds of things. What did you do, take a course in college for identifying those scents? ‘Cause if so, don’t call me the selfish one, maybe you could have pulled a hound-dog and sniffed out that heroin they planted in my bag, asshole.”
“Hey, don’t be blaming any of this on me. You’re the one who wanted to come back to the British Wrestling Alliance and settle the score with Marcus Williams for firing you last year. When you came back to BWA the other month, you should have at least expected Marcus to pull these kinds of stunts on you. Next time you’re in BWA, check your stuff; look for things that might get you in loads of shit.”
“Go back? What’s the sense? I’m starting to understand that maybe it would be better if I weren’t there, it would be better if I just did something else other than go back to my old stomping grounds. Marcus has it in for me, he wants to see me fail. Never will I succeed in BWA with him running the joint.”
“Just be a badass person, who cares if they try to make you look like a criminal. You know you’re innocent; you have to get your revenge. If not you’d look like a super big Canadian pussy and being Canadian is bad enough these days, Davids. You don’t need anything else to be laughed at for.”
“I suppose you’re right for once. Whenever I get out of this cell and get this problem settled, I’ll be doing what I have to in order to avenge all that Marcus has done to me. Now I have more reason to kick his ass other than firing me.”
An officer walks to the cell and stands there, hands on his hips, looking at Davidson talking. With the police officer unable to see what his schizophrenia puts before him in his vision, he assumes that the Feature Presentation is just talking to annoy people. He takes his nightstick and hits it against a couple of bars, getting Davidson’s attention. He looks up at him with the nightstick.
“Now you be quiet in there, all right? We in the office don’t need to here your stories or whatever in the hell you’re saying in there. Do something that makes less ruckus such as lying in that bed and going to sleep, you’re not going to be leaving here tonight, so you might as well do something useful.”
“But I’m innocent; you don’t know the kind of people that I work with, they’re crazy. That heroin, I swear on my life that it’s not mine; I never even knew that it was in there, sir. Really, believe me on this.”
“Stand up, sir.”
Davidson gets to his feet and stands there. The cop cocks his finger in his direction and Davidson walks over to him. Staring at the Feature Presentation, he looks at his arms, but he’s wearing a sweater that covers them up.
“Roll your sleeves up.”
“All right, look… I do have puncture holes in my veins and I didn’t do them, some guy kidnapped me, took me to an abandoned warehouse and with his friend, they tied me up, hung me five or four feet in the air and injected heroin. It’s a true story.”
“Haha, what a pathetic attempt to get me to believe you. Nevermind, don’t roll your sleeves up. I’m not even going to bother with you anymore; you’re guilty as charged. Don’t be blaming anybody on your relapse on the drug; those guys were just trying to help you. You don’t need that stuff in your body.”
“How much is bail? Who can I call?”
“Too much for you and nobody.”
The cop walks away and Davidson walks back to his cot in the corner, taking a seat on it. He rests his back against the wall and sighs, shaking his head since nobody believes him about the truth. Even the truth sounds like a fucked up story, so why even bother.
“Nice going, asshole.”
“Fuck off, Nos…”
Looking up, Davidson looks at his hallucination brought on by his schizophrenia disorder. Without any access to his medication, he’s basically fucked in this situation. He’ll argue with his imaginations and even go through some sort of depression, stress and rage with no control of his bi-polar disorder. Over the week he was manipulated by Nic as a puppet. He was in Dangerously’s control, in his possession and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break free from his strings that were attached to him.
If he tried to run, he would fail because of Sefkins, one of Nic’s allies. So they decided to break Davidson, inject him with the number four and watch him relapse. He tried to fight it and he did, but a plant of the needle by Nic or Marcus fucked him over and this is where it landed him. Innocent, he is… but in the law’s eyes he’s guilty.
“I know how you could have not gotten into this situation… checked your frikkin’ bags. That way, you wouldn’t have anything put against you. But because of your selfishness, you landed you… and me… in this old, scummy, crumby jail cell. Take a smell, would you? What’s that pungent odor? To me, it smells something like urine and other fecal matter. Am I right?”
“Probably, you sure have a nose for those kinds of things. What did you do, take a course in college for identifying those scents? ‘Cause if so, don’t call me the selfish one, maybe you could have pulled a hound-dog and sniffed out that heroin they planted in my bag, asshole.”
“Hey, don’t be blaming any of this on me. You’re the one who wanted to come back to the British Wrestling Alliance and settle the score with Marcus Williams for firing you last year. When you came back to BWA the other month, you should have at least expected Marcus to pull these kinds of stunts on you. Next time you’re in BWA, check your stuff; look for things that might get you in loads of shit.”
“Go back? What’s the sense? I’m starting to understand that maybe it would be better if I weren’t there, it would be better if I just did something else other than go back to my old stomping grounds. Marcus has it in for me, he wants to see me fail. Never will I succeed in BWA with him running the joint.”
“Just be a badass person, who cares if they try to make you look like a criminal. You know you’re innocent; you have to get your revenge. If not you’d look like a super big Canadian pussy and being Canadian is bad enough these days, Davids. You don’t need anything else to be laughed at for.”
“I suppose you’re right for once. Whenever I get out of this cell and get this problem settled, I’ll be doing what I have to in order to avenge all that Marcus has done to me. Now I have more reason to kick his ass other than firing me.”
An officer walks to the cell and stands there, hands on his hips, looking at Davidson talking. With the police officer unable to see what his schizophrenia puts before him in his vision, he assumes that the Feature Presentation is just talking to annoy people. He takes his nightstick and hits it against a couple of bars, getting Davidson’s attention. He looks up at him with the nightstick.
“Now you be quiet in there, all right? We in the office don’t need to here your stories or whatever in the hell you’re saying in there. Do something that makes less ruckus such as lying in that bed and going to sleep, you’re not going to be leaving here tonight, so you might as well do something useful.”
“But I’m innocent; you don’t know the kind of people that I work with, they’re crazy. That heroin, I swear on my life that it’s not mine; I never even knew that it was in there, sir. Really, believe me on this.”
“Stand up, sir.”
Davidson gets to his feet and stands there. The cop cocks his finger in his direction and Davidson walks over to him. Staring at the Feature Presentation, he looks at his arms, but he’s wearing a sweater that covers them up.
“Roll your sleeves up.”
“All right, look… I do have puncture holes in my veins and I didn’t do them, some guy kidnapped me, took me to an abandoned warehouse and with his friend, they tied me up, hung me five or four feet in the air and injected heroin. It’s a true story.”
“Haha, what a pathetic attempt to get me to believe you. Nevermind, don’t roll your sleeves up. I’m not even going to bother with you anymore; you’re guilty as charged. Don’t be blaming anybody on your relapse on the drug; those guys were just trying to help you. You don’t need that stuff in your body.”
“How much is bail? Who can I call?”
“Too much for you and nobody.”
The cop walks away and Davidson walks back to his cot in the corner, taking a seat on it. He rests his back against the wall and sighs, shaking his head since nobody believes him about the truth. Even the truth sounds like a fucked up story, so why even bother.