Post by Tombstone on Apr 20, 2012 5:26:00 GMT -5
Friday, April 20th, 2012
Los Angeles, CA
2:33 p.m.
The tarp is yanked off the jet black 1969 Dodge Charger in a cloud of dust. Sunlight splashes over the car, making it obvious it was in dire need of a good wash. Chris Stone stands there for a moment, smiling. It had been a long, long time since he had laid eyes on his car. It had been covered up in this garage since Fall of 2009, left here after he and Ashley had packed up and moved to Boston. He wasn't there for long, at least not in a sense of knowing where he was. John King, or Hyde as he liked to be called these days, had attacked him in his home, putting him in a coma for 2 years.
He had been settled back in his Los Angeles home for almost 2 months now. But not once had he stepped foot in the garage he spent a lot of his young childhood in. A flood of memories washed through his mind. He remembered watching his late father, Michael, work on this very car. His dad had gotten it when he was 16 from his own father and Michael had taken care of it the same since that day. Chris inherited it when his parents died in 1999, when he was just 14. He didn't drive it until he was 21 after he came back from Japan.
And now, here it was. He left it here in 2009 as it was broken down and he just wanted to get out of LA. He had planned on having it towed across country, but due to what had happened, it never was.
He tosses the dirty tarp aside, walking to the driver's door and opening it. He sits in the seat, the leather stretching under his weight. He had always liked that sound for some reason. It was comforting. He pops down the vanity mirror, the keys falling into his hand. He picks out the right key and places it in the ignition, giving it a crank. Not even so much as a click. The battery was dead.
He reaches down and pops open the hood, getting out of the car. Walking around to the front, he props the hood up and leans in, taking a good look at the battery. Corrosion was all over the terminal posts. He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. Just one more thing to add to the list of what was wrong with it. A list he hadn't even got to make yet. He still wasn't sure what had made it stop running 2 years ago.
Ashley's voice traveled to the garage from the kitchen window. Stone peaks around the open garage door, seeing her head sticking out of the house.
She rolls her eyes playfully, smiling.
He laughs, nodding his head.
A look of horror spreads over her face.
She disappears out of the window, still trying to talk to him about having to keep her car in pristine condition as she gets further and further away. He shakes his head, smiling again, as he turns back to the Charger. He looks over various cables and wires, most needing to be replaced. He lays in front of the car, taking a look underneath. A huge oil spot greeted him, along with the smell of old coolant. He groans, pulling himself back up.
He walks around the car, giving it a good look over. The body was still in perfect condition. It was just a lot of the things that made it run needed to be replaced. He walks back to the front of the car, looking at the hood. He always wanted to attach a blower to the carburetor. Now was probably the best time to do it.
The side screen door slams against the house. Stone looks back around the garage door, seeing Ashley approaching him with a plate, the phone and the phone book. She smiles at him, handing him the plate. He picks up the turkey sandwich, taking a big bite out of it before setting it back down and putting the plate on a nearby table.
Stone holds up a finger, chewing for a moment.
She sets the phone and phone book on the table, leaning against it and looking at her husband.
He lets out a laugh, picking a piece of lettuce out of his teeth.
Ashley approaches the car, a disgusted look on her face as she runs a finger over the thick layer of dirt.
He scoffs, looking offended.
She smiles, looking back over the car. She loved it when he talked about his parents. It wasn't often, but he always had a sense of pride in his voice when he did. It was the same way when she asked him to sell the house before they moved to Boston. He refused, stating it would be there vacation home whenever they felt like visiting LA.
Her eyes widen, a smile breaking out on her face.
His head pops out from underneath the hood, looking like a kid in a candy store.
She winks at him, going back to the house. He walks back over to the work table, taking another bite of his sandwich. He flips the phone book open, thumbing through the automotive section until he finds the number he wants. He dials it up, putting the phone to his ear. After a couple of rings, a voice greets him.
Stone gives him the phone number, taking another bite of his sandwich.
Stone smirks, rolling his eyes.
This phone call was starting to become an annoyance. He had done so well making sure CPW (and Hyde) was the furthest thing from his mind. It was too bad he couldn't erase himself from the fans' minds.
He hangs up the phone, setting it on the table. He pushes the sandwich aside, letting out a deep sigh.
Hyde...
The man didn't know when to quit. He had heard of Hyde's calling out. But not just from fans. He had received a couple of letters lately, written in childish handwriting. Both of them were pages of rambling and random thoughts, the occasional name calling here and there. Both letters demanded that he come back to finish his 'game'... whatever the hell that was. He remembered Hyde going on about it in their last face to face meeting. It was something he wasn't interested in nor ever would be.
That's what he was telling himself, anyways.
He had burned the letters in the fireplace, not wanting Ashley to see them. They had finally just put all of that behind them and she was seeming to come around to the fact that Hyde was no longer a threat to them.
He shakes his head, shutting the hood of the car. He was tempted to know what Hyde had been saying lately. Surely he wasn't out there every week, calling him out. He had to have other things distracting him. He just had to.
The letters weren't comforting. He had figured John would have moved on after a couple of non responses. But now he was hearing from some random person that he was still calling him out on television. It didn't matter. He was going to stand by his word. He was retired, he was happy, Ashley was happy. No need for that door to be opened again. That's just what John wanted. All he had to do was keep ignoring him.
Didn't stop him from being tempted to tune into Mayhem.
He shuts the driver's door, picking the tarp up off the garage floor and tossing it back over the Charger. He waves dust out of his face as he walks out of the garage, grabbing the two doors and shutting them. He curses, opening the doors back up and running back inside, grabbing the plate and phone. He goes back out, shutting the doors and applying the padlock.
In the thirty seconds it took him to walk back up to the house, he had convinced himself to tune into Mayhem. Maybe he would be able to watch for entertainment and see how some of the people he knew was doing.
But that wasn't the reason he was really tuning in.
He just wanted to know exactly what John was up to and saying. Hopefully, it wasn't anything like good ol' Ted said.
Los Angeles, CA
2:33 p.m.
The tarp is yanked off the jet black 1969 Dodge Charger in a cloud of dust. Sunlight splashes over the car, making it obvious it was in dire need of a good wash. Chris Stone stands there for a moment, smiling. It had been a long, long time since he had laid eyes on his car. It had been covered up in this garage since Fall of 2009, left here after he and Ashley had packed up and moved to Boston. He wasn't there for long, at least not in a sense of knowing where he was. John King, or Hyde as he liked to be called these days, had attacked him in his home, putting him in a coma for 2 years.
He had been settled back in his Los Angeles home for almost 2 months now. But not once had he stepped foot in the garage he spent a lot of his young childhood in. A flood of memories washed through his mind. He remembered watching his late father, Michael, work on this very car. His dad had gotten it when he was 16 from his own father and Michael had taken care of it the same since that day. Chris inherited it when his parents died in 1999, when he was just 14. He didn't drive it until he was 21 after he came back from Japan.
And now, here it was. He left it here in 2009 as it was broken down and he just wanted to get out of LA. He had planned on having it towed across country, but due to what had happened, it never was.
He tosses the dirty tarp aside, walking to the driver's door and opening it. He sits in the seat, the leather stretching under his weight. He had always liked that sound for some reason. It was comforting. He pops down the vanity mirror, the keys falling into his hand. He picks out the right key and places it in the ignition, giving it a crank. Not even so much as a click. The battery was dead.
"Figures."
He reaches down and pops open the hood, getting out of the car. Walking around to the front, he props the hood up and leans in, taking a good look at the battery. Corrosion was all over the terminal posts. He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. Just one more thing to add to the list of what was wrong with it. A list he hadn't even got to make yet. He still wasn't sure what had made it stop running 2 years ago.
"Baby? You want something to eat while you work on that?"
Ashley's voice traveled to the garage from the kitchen window. Stone peaks around the open garage door, seeing her head sticking out of the house.
"I'm not going to work on it, that's all right."
She rolls her eyes playfully, smiling.
"Please... You need to get that thing working. You just don't look right in my Honda."
He laughs, nodding his head.
"I can agree with that! OK... How about a turkey sandwich? And can you get me the phone book please?"
"The phone book? Why?"
"Because I'm probably going to need a bunch of parts delivered and your precious Honda is not going to have enough space. Plus, they're probably going to be dirty."
"The phone book? Why?"
"Because I'm probably going to need a bunch of parts delivered and your precious Honda is not going to have enough space. Plus, they're probably going to be dirty."
A look of horror spreads over her face.
"Yeah, no, you'll get your phone book. There's no greasing up my car!"
She disappears out of the window, still trying to talk to him about having to keep her car in pristine condition as she gets further and further away. He shakes his head, smiling again, as he turns back to the Charger. He looks over various cables and wires, most needing to be replaced. He lays in front of the car, taking a look underneath. A huge oil spot greeted him, along with the smell of old coolant. He groans, pulling himself back up.
"Just great. Possible oil pan, possible hoses, battery needs to be replaced... What else am I going to find?"
He walks around the car, giving it a good look over. The body was still in perfect condition. It was just a lot of the things that made it run needed to be replaced. He walks back to the front of the car, looking at the hood. He always wanted to attach a blower to the carburetor. Now was probably the best time to do it.
The side screen door slams against the house. Stone looks back around the garage door, seeing Ashley approaching him with a plate, the phone and the phone book. She smiles at him, handing him the plate. He picks up the turkey sandwich, taking a big bite out of it before setting it back down and putting the plate on a nearby table.
"So what's wrong with it?"
Stone holds up a finger, chewing for a moment.
"...Everything."
She sets the phone and phone book on the table, leaning against it and looking at her husband.
"Everything? What do you mean everything?"
He lets out a laugh, picking a piece of lettuce out of his teeth.
"Uh... I mean everything. Oil pan's leaking, there's a coolant leak somewhere, tires are no good anymore, all the fluids need to be flushed and replaced. The only thing that's probably still good on this baby is the motor mounts. And I got my fingers crossed on that one."
Ashley approaches the car, a disgusted look on her face as she runs a finger over the thick layer of dirt.
"Why don't you just go get a new car? The Chargers they have today are really nice looking."
He scoffs, looking offended.
"Are you kidding me? This was my Dad's car. Out of the question."
She smiles, looking back over the car. She loved it when he talked about his parents. It wasn't often, but he always had a sense of pride in his voice when he did. It was the same way when she asked him to sell the house before they moved to Boston. He refused, stating it would be there vacation home whenever they felt like visiting LA.
"Point taken. Guess I'll leave you with the love of your life."
"If I had to choose between you and this car... I'm sorry, baby, but I think I'd have to choose the car."
"If I had to choose between you and this car... I'm sorry, baby, but I think I'd have to choose the car."
Her eyes widen, a smile breaking out on her face.
"HEY! That's not funny! We'll see just how much you love it when you have to sleep in it tonight. I'm sure it won't give you what I can."
His head pops out from underneath the hood, looking like a kid in a candy store.
"Well... Since you put it that way, I'll be seeing you in that bedroom tonight!"
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
"So is that a date for tonight?"
"After what you just said? I'll think about it."
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
"So is that a date for tonight?"
"After what you just said? I'll think about it."
She winks at him, going back to the house. He walks back over to the work table, taking another bite of his sandwich. He flips the phone book open, thumbing through the automotive section until he finds the number he wants. He dials it up, putting the phone to his ear. After a couple of rings, a voice greets him.
"Ted's Auto. This is Ted."
"Hi Ted, I'm looking for some car parts. Particularly everything under my hood."
"Sounds like quite the job. All right, let's see if I can help you. What's the year and model?"
"1969 Dodge Charger."
"Holy shit, really? You know it's going to take some time to track down parts for that, right?"
"Well, the engine should be fine. It's everything around it that's the problem... I think."
"Is it standard or Hemi?"
"Hemi."
"Hot dog! Got yourself a nice little gem there! Ok, well, like I said, it's going to take some time, engine in good condition or not. What's your phone number?"
"Hi Ted, I'm looking for some car parts. Particularly everything under my hood."
"Sounds like quite the job. All right, let's see if I can help you. What's the year and model?"
"1969 Dodge Charger."
"Holy shit, really? You know it's going to take some time to track down parts for that, right?"
"Well, the engine should be fine. It's everything around it that's the problem... I think."
"Is it standard or Hemi?"
"Hemi."
"Hot dog! Got yourself a nice little gem there! Ok, well, like I said, it's going to take some time, engine in good condition or not. What's your phone number?"
Stone gives him the phone number, taking another bite of his sandwich.
"K... And your name?"
"Chris Stone."
"Chris Stone?... Hey, you wouldn't be the Chris Stone that was in that wrestling fed a few years ago, would you?"
"Chris Stone."
"Chris Stone?... Hey, you wouldn't be the Chris Stone that was in that wrestling fed a few years ago, would you?"
Stone smirks, rolling his eyes.
"Yeah, that'd be me."
"Wow, really? Far out! Man... My son hated you!"
"Thanks... I guess."
"You know what I mean! You were a good asshole! So you keep up with it these days? My son still watches it. He's been talking about some guy calling you out. What's his name?"
"...Hyde..."
"Yeah, that's it! Hyde! Dude seems to really want you in the ring whenever he talks about you. At least, that's what my son says."
"That's nice, but I'm retired."
"Retired? Aren't you like 30 or something?"
"26 actually."
"26?!? What the hell you doing retired? You scared of that guy or something?"
"Wow, really? Far out! Man... My son hated you!"
"Thanks... I guess."
"You know what I mean! You were a good asshole! So you keep up with it these days? My son still watches it. He's been talking about some guy calling you out. What's his name?"
"...Hyde..."
"Yeah, that's it! Hyde! Dude seems to really want you in the ring whenever he talks about you. At least, that's what my son says."
"That's nice, but I'm retired."
"Retired? Aren't you like 30 or something?"
"26 actually."
"26?!? What the hell you doing retired? You scared of that guy or something?"
This phone call was starting to become an annoyance. He had done so well making sure CPW (and Hyde) was the furthest thing from his mind. It was too bad he couldn't erase himself from the fans' minds.
"Why I'm retired is none of your business, Ted."
"I'm sorry. Totally stepped over the line there. I'll start tracking these parts down and give you a call in a day or two."
"Thanks. Take it easy."
"I'm sorry. Totally stepped over the line there. I'll start tracking these parts down and give you a call in a day or two."
"Thanks. Take it easy."
He hangs up the phone, setting it on the table. He pushes the sandwich aside, letting out a deep sigh.
Hyde...
The man didn't know when to quit. He had heard of Hyde's calling out. But not just from fans. He had received a couple of letters lately, written in childish handwriting. Both of them were pages of rambling and random thoughts, the occasional name calling here and there. Both letters demanded that he come back to finish his 'game'... whatever the hell that was. He remembered Hyde going on about it in their last face to face meeting. It was something he wasn't interested in nor ever would be.
That's what he was telling himself, anyways.
He had burned the letters in the fireplace, not wanting Ashley to see them. They had finally just put all of that behind them and she was seeming to come around to the fact that Hyde was no longer a threat to them.
But he's still talking about me...
He shakes his head, shutting the hood of the car. He was tempted to know what Hyde had been saying lately. Surely he wasn't out there every week, calling him out. He had to have other things distracting him. He just had to.
But the letters...
The letters weren't comforting. He had figured John would have moved on after a couple of non responses. But now he was hearing from some random person that he was still calling him out on television. It didn't matter. He was going to stand by his word. He was retired, he was happy, Ashley was happy. No need for that door to be opened again. That's just what John wanted. All he had to do was keep ignoring him.
Didn't stop him from being tempted to tune into Mayhem.
He shuts the driver's door, picking the tarp up off the garage floor and tossing it back over the Charger. He waves dust out of his face as he walks out of the garage, grabbing the two doors and shutting them. He curses, opening the doors back up and running back inside, grabbing the plate and phone. He goes back out, shutting the doors and applying the padlock.
In the thirty seconds it took him to walk back up to the house, he had convinced himself to tune into Mayhem. Maybe he would be able to watch for entertainment and see how some of the people he knew was doing.
But that wasn't the reason he was really tuning in.
He just wanted to know exactly what John was up to and saying. Hopefully, it wasn't anything like good ol' Ted said.