Anger Management - Part 1

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Pure Amusement Park

Purity, Louisiana

10/15/2016

Samuel Orville Buchanan stood outside of the Pure Amusement Park’s front entrance where a large closed sign hung from the black gates, which were chained and pad locked. He crossed his arms over his chest, and just stared at the gates with a discordant glare that had become his usual expression towards everything. A car engine could be heard behind him, but he didn’t bother to look over his shoulder to see who it was. He knew that the other Enhancement Talent were planning on meeting up here later in the day, and it had to be one of them.

A whistle sounded off behind him, no doubt ‘Country Fine’ James Radford stepping up to stand off to the side of him. The other two idiots, the Lost Boyz, were silent in their approach. All four of them stood there staring at the closed sign, the chains, and the police caution tape that was draped in certain spots.

“Well, what do we do now?” James asked, rubbing the back of his neck uncertainly.

Sam finally turned in Radford’s direction, and threw his hands out at his sides. “What the hell do you mean what do ‘WE’ do now? There ain’t no we no more, or does that big fucking ‘closed’ sign not spell it out for you.” Sam ‘hrmphed’ and then spun to walk away from the group.

Pan from the Lost Boyz stepped in to intercept the ornery black man. “C’mon, Sam. Don’t be like that. We’re a team.”

Sam’s eyes went wide, and he got right in the metro styled kids face. “Listen, Cracka. We ain’t no team. Ain’t never been no team. I tagged along with you idiots for as long as required by this piss poor cluster fuck of a promotion cause it paid my bills. Promotion’s dead, and so is this…this….what the fuck ever it is.”

Sam shoved Pan out of his way, and Rufio made to jump to Pan’s defense, but the Lost Boy held his hands up to his partner to signal ‘No’.

“He’s made his position pretty clear, man.” Pan remarked. “No reason to start shit now. Besides, there aren’t any cameras around to catch the action, and that’s the only way it would be worth it.”

Rufio just shook his head as the Lost Boyz watched their former stable mate get in his beat up Chevrolet pickup with the rusted rocker panels. He fired the truck up, stomped on the gas, and flipped them all the bird as he kicked up gravel upon his exit.

Clancy’s Tavern

Knoxville, Tennessee

10/24/2016

Sam sat on his bar stool at Clancy’s Tavern, a half-eaten order of wings to his right, and a huge mug of beer to his left. He had known Clancy for most of his life, and his establishment, which was located smack dab in the center of Knoxville had been around for over 80 years. This was here Buchanan came to unwind after the long nights working in the train yards, loading and unloading container cars that would ship all over the United States. It was back breaking labor, and made you three things. Tired, Hungry, and Thirsty.

It wasn’t an easy life, but it was steady. He knew that every Thursday morning there was going to be a check waiting for him, and the comfort in that was something he hadn’t felt in the past five years. He had given up that life in 2011 to pursue a dream called Professional Wrestling, and had been questioning that decision ever since.

In Professional Wrestling there was no wiggle room. You either made it or you didn’t. He had a tough time of getting over in America, but was able to find some success overseas, specifically in Japan, where he spent nearly three of his five years in the business.

The American crowds were always looking for younger, faster, stronger. Kids who were willing to put their bodies on the line in ways that were, to him, just stupid. What good would it be to have a room full of screaming people if you’re lying there on the concrete with a broken back. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t see or understand the need for violence, but he could achieve that just as easily with a closed fist to the jaw as he could some fancy-smancy roller flip.

Japan allowed him to make some easy scratch, better than he could have ever thought of at the train depot’s, but Japan wasn’t home. He missed American food, American sights and sounds, hell…he even missed American pussy. So he traded the easy money in for a ticket back home, where he got involved with a bunch of jackasses at a promotion called Pure Amusement Wrestling. He knew it was a mistake the moment he walked into the place and was greeted by a god damn monkey.

But now that avenue was over, and it looked like he had two options. Go back to Japan, or go back to the docks. Neither appealed to him, but at forty years old and no money to speak of, it didn’t sound like he had much in the way of options.

He took a long swig of his beer when his cell phone vibrated inside of his pocket. He pulled it out and spied ‘James Radford’ on the caller ID. He nearly spat out his beer at seeing the number, and swallowed hard, leaving a bulging feeling in the back of his throat. He quickly swiped his thumb across the answer tab, but the call suddenly cut out on him leaving him in a whirlwind of curse words.

When he checked the voicemail, it was short and sweet; “Hey, Sam. Don’t know if you’ll get this or not, but there’s a promotion I just signed with, Alpha Wrestling Empire, and they are in need of talent. Just thought of you. Google for details.”

To Be Continued……