"Those days were hard. It was a hard life. It was hard being me. I struggled to balance the glamour, glory, and girls with my strenuous swimming lessons twice a week. Swim, sleep, party, repeat. I learned a lot through those long, tough weeks. I don't have enough fingers and toes to count the amount of times I threw up in the pool during training after a night out. I still struggle to come to small dumpy towns like this to speak because I got used to big cities and pint house sweets. It has been a tough transition but its nice to educate people like you all who don't know too much. I enjoy coming to towns like Pointe Place and seeing how the simple life is lived sometimes. It's cool."
"Are you freaking kidding me?" Tyson screamed to himself in his head. "Who on God's green earth does this guy think he is?" Tyson looked around to see heads shaking, mouthes gaping, and faces reddening. This guy was going to get it.
"Whoaaaaaa fella what are you doing," the olympian swimmer said after being grabbed by the collar and pinned against a fence on his way out of the Pointe Place Library.
"I don't care how many useless gold medals you won or how fast you can swim...you will never come into my town and compare your privileged lifestyle to our blue collar ways and disrespect us."
"Okay. I see what this is about. You are jealous because you are a nobody guy from a nowhere town and I come in to talk about my success. Yeah I'm better than you. Thats life. Get over it," Lochte said trying to wiggle out of Tyson's strong grip.
"Im not jealous. Just protective," Tyson said, raring back.
What happened next was a flash of quick hands from Tyson and slow reflexes by Lochte. The fight didn't last long after a left jab then right swinging haymaker combo to Lochte's rather large nose. The people of Pointe Place gathered to see Tyson stand over Lochte in triumph. A slow clap from the back of the crowd grew into a full out applause. A police officer across the street pretended to not notice the crowd.
"Don't ever disrespect Pointe Place," Tyson said.
Friday, February 15, 2019
Thursday, January 31, 2019
#4 - Glass of Milk
Tyson woke up and couldn't see a thing. It was so bright he quickly shut his eyes again. Eyes closed, he reached down to feel around him. He ran his hands up and down a plethora of garbage. "What the hell," Tyson muttered. He put his hand up to his head like a visor and opened his eyes. As they adjusted to the light a soft breeze kissed his face, providing a source of energy for Tyson. Finally able to see, Tyson looked all around him. Bottles, cans, glasses. That's all he could see. His saw familiar Jim Beam, good ole' Miller Light, and his favorite mugs from Cece's that said "This is my GoGo Juice." There was a sea of this trash. No. Not a sea. A mountain. And Tyson sat right at the peak. Frozen in fear and shock, he sat for hours staring the the piles of empty containers below. "This is hell. I'm in hell," he said to himself. After what felt like days of sitting paralyzed he heard it. "Call me Mr. Rattlebone. Holy Ghost who haunts your home. They don't know you like I know you. Call me Mr. Rattlebone." He finally woke up.
Tyson sat up with a jerk. Immediately his head was swimming.
"Hey buddy welcome back!" Joe the bartender said. "You had me nervous man. Let me pour you a stiff one to take the edge off that headache. On the house man, on the house."
"No, Joe. I'm alright," Tyson said, pulling himself up.
"Whao man. That two-by-four has you really messed up. You refusing a free drink? Thats unheard of man."
"I'll take a glass of milk and some Advil. Please and thank you," Tyson said, rubbing his forehead. He was shaken. Shaken all the way down to the bones.
#3 - K.O.
The walk from Cinema 23's back door to Pointe Place Apartments was a common one for Tyson. Although always mediocre, free movies couldn't be argued against. Tyson had dated a girl who cleaned old popcorn out of the movie seats. When the girl moved to chase her acting dream she gave Tyson a key to the back door and he hadn't paid for a movie since.
Credits rolled and the four other theater occupants stood up and left. Tyson strolled to the back door chuckling about how cliche the movie had been. When he swung the door open the wind caught it, slamming it into the wall it was hung on. "Whoa they weren't joking about this storm," Tyson thought to himself. He had heard about a storm coming but hadn't though twice about it. "Another great reason not to go to work!" Tyson yelled to himself, walking home, pushing against the oncoming winds. Tyson began to enjoy the swirling of the winds in his wild hair and against his rough face. He was counting time between flashes of lighting and claps of thunder. FLASH "1..2..3..4..5..6..7," BOOM. 7 miles away. FLASH "1..2..3..4.." POP. And just like that Tyson was knocked out by a rogue two-by-four.
As he laid on the cold cement, winds swirled, lighting clashed, and thunder pounded.
Credits rolled and the four other theater occupants stood up and left. Tyson strolled to the back door chuckling about how cliche the movie had been. When he swung the door open the wind caught it, slamming it into the wall it was hung on. "Whoa they weren't joking about this storm," Tyson thought to himself. He had heard about a storm coming but hadn't though twice about it. "Another great reason not to go to work!" Tyson yelled to himself, walking home, pushing against the oncoming winds. Tyson began to enjoy the swirling of the winds in his wild hair and against his rough face. He was counting time between flashes of lighting and claps of thunder. FLASH "1..2..3..4..5..6..7," BOOM. 7 miles away. FLASH "1..2..3..4.." POP. And just like that Tyson was knocked out by a rogue two-by-four.
As he laid on the cold cement, winds swirled, lighting clashed, and thunder pounded.
Thursday, January 17, 2019
#2 - Sketchy Old Man
When Monday evening finally rolled around Tyson couldn't shake the mysterious feeling he had been contemplating all day. Something stirred in him every time he thought about the conversation that unfolded between him and the old man. Pointe Place was a town of people who kept their heads down and went about their business. It surely was not a town where old men walked into Cece's asking for information on an undisclosed topic. This was unheard of in Pointe Place, especially to Tyson.
"I need you for what you know. For what you have done," the old man, Master Gooway, had told Tyson. This was a jolt to Tyson's system. What had he done? Did the old man know something Tyson didn't? What DID Tyson do?
The conversation progressed and Gooway tried to butter Tyson up. "You are the wisest man in Pointe Place," the old man said smoothly, trying to calm Tyson down. Tyson may have found himself being hugged by the seat of a barstool more than most, but he was not an unintelligent guy. His brain worked fast and he understood when things weren't right.
Tyson sat at his regular seat after Gooway left for the library and thought to himself, "This guy is up to something. He knows something I don't and I need to figure out what it is." Tyson, being intoxicated half the time, knew how to walk the streets of Pointe Place quietly. It would be easy to follow the new comer around the find out what he was up to.
"I need you for what you know. For what you have done," the old man, Master Gooway, had told Tyson. This was a jolt to Tyson's system. What had he done? Did the old man know something Tyson didn't? What DID Tyson do?
The conversation progressed and Gooway tried to butter Tyson up. "You are the wisest man in Pointe Place," the old man said smoothly, trying to calm Tyson down. Tyson may have found himself being hugged by the seat of a barstool more than most, but he was not an unintelligent guy. His brain worked fast and he understood when things weren't right.
Tyson sat at his regular seat after Gooway left for the library and thought to himself, "This guy is up to something. He knows something I don't and I need to figure out what it is." Tyson, being intoxicated half the time, knew how to walk the streets of Pointe Place quietly. It would be easy to follow the new comer around the find out what he was up to.
Thursday, October 25, 2018
#1 - The day began with...
The day began with Tyson waking up in a bush. He hoisted himself up, trying to remember what happened the night before. As he picked leaves out of his hair, he vaguely recalled the late night out at the bar. The thumping headache helped remind him. Wearily, he headed toward Jumping Beans looking for a cure. Snippets of song lyrics and drunken conversations rose to Tyson's awareness causing him to cuss himself for yet another night wasted. He looked down at his stomach and said a silent prayer to his liver, "thanks for not killing me yet."
Just around the corner form the coffee shop, Tyson ran into 3 cops, hustling with their cups and pastries. He put my head down and walked by them, listening intently. "All officers listen up, we have a probable suspect on the loose. Apartment B4 in the Pointe Place apartments is empty. The owner is our lead suspect at the moment."
Two hours later Tyson was still sitting at the table by the window, bewildered. After hearing his apartment called out on the police radio and the barista telling him the gossip about Mr. Evans he was frozen in fear and confusion. Deaths in Pointe Place certainty weren't uncommon. Drug overdoses, food poisoning, and even murders were a monthly occurrence. But for Tyson, hearing about a death and being suspected for causing one were two different things. Tyson sat there thinking of his lack of an alibi, shaking in his boots. Not being able to remember the night before, the night a man was killed, was an extremely unfortunate coincidence. How was he going to convince the police it wasn't him?
On his methodical walk to the apartment building, Tyson got an eery feeling of self distrust when he tried to force memories of the night before back to his head. Had his binge drinking finally gone too far? Had he actually killed Mr. Evans and not remembered it?
Just around the corner form the coffee shop, Tyson ran into 3 cops, hustling with their cups and pastries. He put my head down and walked by them, listening intently. "All officers listen up, we have a probable suspect on the loose. Apartment B4 in the Pointe Place apartments is empty. The owner is our lead suspect at the moment."
Two hours later Tyson was still sitting at the table by the window, bewildered. After hearing his apartment called out on the police radio and the barista telling him the gossip about Mr. Evans he was frozen in fear and confusion. Deaths in Pointe Place certainty weren't uncommon. Drug overdoses, food poisoning, and even murders were a monthly occurrence. But for Tyson, hearing about a death and being suspected for causing one were two different things. Tyson sat there thinking of his lack of an alibi, shaking in his boots. Not being able to remember the night before, the night a man was killed, was an extremely unfortunate coincidence. How was he going to convince the police it wasn't him?
On his methodical walk to the apartment building, Tyson got an eery feeling of self distrust when he tried to force memories of the night before back to his head. Had his binge drinking finally gone too far? Had he actually killed Mr. Evans and not remembered it?
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