Post by theinnovator on Jun 15, 2008 17:06:53 GMT -5
Solace….
After withering away through the nightmare of grief and despair…..
Finally, a shred of light peaking through. Not the light of hope, but merely the light of sunset as the rain clouds move away. Do I find solace in the light? Or do I find nothing more than a world full of grey to replace the dark?
I often wonder how much longer any of us have left to live. I sat and watched as they buried pops that late evening in the Old Park Cemetery. Listened to the few people who actually mattered; talk about how much he’ll be missed. How much he was loved. Everything in the past tense. Is it really over? Is he really gone? The same man who would bring us our food and would feed all of us for free? The same man who took good care of his family whether they were blood or not? Did he really die or did he just move to Florida? My mind has been so off the wall lately that I don’t even know. My heart racing, wanting to explode but with no emotion or expression on my face.
This is the life I live.
Yes, there will always be tragedies and hardships, but why pops? He was the guy who never did anything wrong. He was the straight shooter; he was the man who tried to talk us out of strong-arming people for money owed. I guess when your 67, smoke cigars, and have a bad heart……life just seems to catch up with ya whenever it feels like. It could be tomorrow, or 50 years from tomorrow. Am I next?
HA!
The way I live life as it is, I should have been dead long ago.
After withering away through the nightmare of grief and despair…..
Finally, a shred of light peaking through. Not the light of hope, but merely the light of sunset as the rain clouds move away. Do I find solace in the light? Or do I find nothing more than a world full of grey to replace the dark?
I often wonder how much longer any of us have left to live. I sat and watched as they buried pops that late evening in the Old Park Cemetery. Listened to the few people who actually mattered; talk about how much he’ll be missed. How much he was loved. Everything in the past tense. Is it really over? Is he really gone? The same man who would bring us our food and would feed all of us for free? The same man who took good care of his family whether they were blood or not? Did he really die or did he just move to Florida? My mind has been so off the wall lately that I don’t even know. My heart racing, wanting to explode but with no emotion or expression on my face.
This is the life I live.
Yes, there will always be tragedies and hardships, but why pops? He was the guy who never did anything wrong. He was the straight shooter; he was the man who tried to talk us out of strong-arming people for money owed. I guess when your 67, smoke cigars, and have a bad heart……life just seems to catch up with ya whenever it feels like. It could be tomorrow, or 50 years from tomorrow. Am I next?
HA!
The way I live life as it is, I should have been dead long ago.
The rain fell hard as the priest forced himself to read in a manor that wasn’t exactly like yelling. It was hard to hear him over the stormy weather. The people around him attempting to listen didn’t mind though. They paid no attention to him for they weren’t there to listen to his sermon; but to catch one final glimpse of an old friend before he was buried.
“Death is not the end of life…..
but merely a change in the road…..
Joseph “Pops” Palermo was a good man…..
a family man…..
a man who was loved by many, hated by so very few…."
but merely a change in the road…..
Joseph “Pops” Palermo was a good man…..
a family man…..
a man who was loved by many, hated by so very few…."
The priest continued on but all eyes were on the casket as it was lowered into the shallow and empty grave. Women crying, men standing in sadness. The rain slowly letting up as the clouds began to dissipate. The sun was setting over the horizon and as the cracks grew larger and larger, a gleam of light shined over one person there standing at the foot of the grave. Over the face of a man whose facial expression said it all. Johnny Knuckles continued to stand there at the foot of the grave just remembering the good times, all the good meals he had at the restaurant that he once visited often with the boys for a nice, home cooked Italian meal. A place that was left to Knuckles in the final will and testament, told to him by pops himself on his deathbed at St. Lukes Hospital.
The people who showed up started leaving; but not Knuckles. He stood there until he was all alone; contemplating on how he was supposed to wrestle AND run a restaurant. In the back round, Joey Numbers was standing there beside a limousine waiting for him. He continued to just stand there and stare. Numbers finally walks up to Knuckles and puts his hand on his shoulder. There’s something about a simple gesture like that; that makes somebody understand. Knuckles looked over at Numbers but didn’t say a word and simply nodded. Both men walked to the limo and got in where Jon Plex was just sitting there with his suit and sun glasses. Seriously, who wears sunglasses during a rain storm to a funeral?
“Now what?” Knuckles voice trembled slightly as it trailed off. “This man took care of us, all of us. What did he ever do to deserve this?”
“It was just his time kid. That’s what happens when ya get old.” Numbers attempted to reassure Knuckles but it didn’t seem to work. “It’s gonna’ happen to me someday too, if I’m lucky. What then? Will ya give up and mope like ya are now?”
“That’s not the point Numbers. We spent our lives doing “things” and he paid for it. Maybe I’m just being too cynical but why did he have to suffer? Why not me or Plex?” Knuckles crossed his arms and sat back as the limo began pulling out of the cemetery.
“Yo Knucks’ it’s not who paid what dues, it’s who did what during their time here and what kinda’ mark they left.” Plex says. “He will always be remembered; not because he made us food all the time, but because he was apart of the family.”
“I wanna’ stop at his place for a minute.” Knuckles says almost interrupting Plex. “There’s something I need to check out first.”
The limo made its way to Manjamo’s, the Italian restaurant where the crew always came for a free meal. Everybody gets out of the limo and just looks around.
“Why are we here? If we’re gonna’ stay then we might as well have a bite to eat for old time sake.” Plex said in a joking manor.
“We came here for inspiration. He left me this place right?” Knuckles takes a deep breath and takes in the seductive smell of fine Italian cuisine. “Yea, technically it’s yours kid.” Numbers replies. “What do you mean inspiration?”
“I figured out how to leave my mark.” Knuckles jumps back into the limo. “Driver…..Airport. And it starts in AWG……”
Knuckles: Change sucks, ever notice that. It’s been my experience that nothing good can come out of certain types of change. Mediocre stuff that is. Things like the booming era of the technological age, the increase of minimum wage, the choices in music (not all music), and stuff like the job market. All that stuff is good change but crap like changing hair color, from glasses to contacts, new girlfriends, all that stuff that is miniscule and minor can never be good. People’s careers like T.C. Jagger will never be good. It’s change that is so small and effects nobody but the person making the change that will never be good. Why you might ask? Captain Edward A Murphy that’s why. Allow me to elaborate.
It was named after Capt. Edward A. Murphy, an engineer working on Air Force Project MX981, (a project) designed to see how much sudden deceleration a person can stand in a crash. One day, after finding that a transducer was wired wrong, he cursed the technician responsible and said, "If there is any way to do it wrong, he'll find it.” The contractor's project manager kept a list of "laws" and added this one, which he called Murphy's Law. Actually, what he did was take an old law that had been around for years in a more basic form and give it a name. Shortly afterwards, the Air Force doctor (Dr. John Paul Stapp) who rode a sled on the deceleration track to a stop, pulling 40 Gs, gave a press conference. He said that their good safety record on the project was due to a firm belief in Murphy's Law and in the necessity to try and circumvent it. Aerospace manufacturers picked it up and used it widely in their ads during the next few months, and soon it was being quoted in many news and magazine articles. Murphy's Law was born.
From such a law Jagger, more developed; such as:
Left to themselves, things tend to go from bad to worse...…
If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something…
Things get worse under pressure…
Smile . . . tomorrow will be worse…
Matter will be damaged in direct proportion to its value…
Enough research will tend to support whatever theory…
If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something…
Things get worse under pressure…
Smile . . . tomorrow will be worse…
Matter will be damaged in direct proportion to its value…
Enough research will tend to support whatever theory…
…and so on and so forth. I can go on all day about the spin-offs there are guys but the fact is, and I mean both of you chodes, Exodus will be your Murphy’s Law. Everything that can go wrong WILL GO WRONG. Adam Apocalypse has yet to say a single word or show one iota of confidence going into this fight. I know why Adam. Because, everything I’ve said up to this point has been 100% absolutely true. The fact that you snuck a win from me last time, with the help from that jackass Jagger, was and will forever be a fluke. Hell, your career in AWG has been a fluke. What have you done since you been here? Don’t worry Adam, if it makes you feel any better, Exodus will be nothing different for you so you don’t have to fear the change of winning again. You can remain the same loser as you always have been since you came to AWG. As for Jagger, this may just be the end of our little “feud” or it may just be the beginning. One way or another, I plan on making this match the “MATCH OF THE NIGHT”. Not because of what’s been going on these past few weeks, but because I’m the man that’s in it. I will brutally beat your face in and make you beg for forgiveness. You wanna’ be extreme? Welcome to my world you sorry son of a bitch.
