The Midnight News 04.08.04
Posted by Hyatte on 04.08.2004
Nitro: Phase Two, Test, Widro, Reading Material, The Other Hunter, and Quotes
I’m Chris, by the way, and this is the Midnight News Part 2. Got some stuff to write about, so let’s get to it.
WHO WATCHES THIS CRAP??
Smackdown does what Smackdown always does… make the most out of who they have. But why get on their case for trying to make Bradshaw a money maker? If they play him right, he can be a pretty cool modern day Ted DiBiase… and the Million Dollar Man DREW, dammit!
All I know is that my Thursday evening are spent praying to Jesus himself that “Bahston Rahb” finally gets booted of that damn island…scumbag! Oooh how I HATE him!
He’s a typical New Englander, by the way…most men fron around these parts run around thinking they are waaaaay more “smahtaa” than they really are… arrogant fucks, the lot of them!
Arrogant ITALIAN fucks from New England… ugh… a more obnoxious bunch of wannabe gangsters you will never find… (Hey dig my Yoda impression!)
FINALLY… WHITE TRASH GOES NATIONAL!
So, last column I wen into the whole TNA/ROH thng… and itched about how none of the big time sites seem to know what happened.
Well, the Torch showed up and Keller says that the Jarrett family have seemed to reach an agreement with Gabe Sapolsky or something…what REALLY went down I th rumors that TNA is all but signed to a deal with Fox Sports Net for a weekly TV show whch would kill this silly as PPV gimmick that no one really fell for and begin running three hour Sunday PPVs every month or so… because it worked SO WELL for WCW after 1997… and because there just isn’t ENOUGH wrestling PPV’s each month available to the SHRINKING market.
Furthermore, now TNA is saying that THEY, the good Baptist southern boys that they are, only bugged their wrestlers to avoid ROH because they didn’t WANT Fox to think they did business with an alleged gay pedofile like Rob Feinstein. THE, of course, have no problems with that… but Rupert Murdoch, who put a TV comedy about survivors of a nuclear war on the air…and who owns several tabloid magazines, and who is AUSTRALIAN, for chrissakes—might not like it.
When asked to comment, the heroically clueless Murdoch said, “Isn’t this the show that Ted Turner once had”
If this deal gets done, look for Jeff Jarrett to lose the title belt to Evan Marriot within months… and look for vignettes where Simon Cowell criticizes the work of the boys in the ring… and look for the new season of “24” to revolve around a nuclear bomb hidden in a WWE ring somewhere…. And only Jack Bauer and AJ Styles (and lots of PRAYING) can find out where and stop it!
AT THE BEHEST OF TEST
This is too much…
Not only do I, for some RIDICULOUS REASON, get to be the forum for Vince McMahon to speak his mind… but when he is unavailable, he gets ANOTHER top superstar to fill IN for him!! Unreal!!!
In case you didn’t know… a few weeks ago, I was jerking off online, doing some nonsense or another, when all of the sudden, I get THIS:
WWEVinMac: I wanna be in your column
Hyatte1com: And you are?
WWEVinMac: Vince McMahon. THE Vince McMahon
Of course, I was careful. You only fool me ONCE, god dammit! So, I asked him a bunch of questions only the TRUE Vince would know and he answered one or two of them before getting irritated and saying: WWEVinMac: Look, it’s me! Now either let me send you something for your column on a regular basis or I’ll find some OTHER asshole to make famous!!
Guys… this is legit! And Jesus Christ, I can’t contain my excitement! It’s him! The REAL Vince McMahon! This isn’t like the last time, I SWEAR… I know better!!
Look, GODDAMMIT!! I’ve been doing this for YEARS now… I am A NET CELEBRITY!!! IS IT TOO MUCH OUT OF THE QUESTION THAT VINCE MCMAHON WOULD COME TO ME WHEN HE HAS SOMETHING TO SAY??? OF COURSE IT IS NOT!!!
Well now… earlier this week, as I was waiting to see if Vince would return, I get THIS:
TestRulesWWE: Vince is busy, so he sent me to fill in for him
Hyatte1com: You have GOT to be shitting me!
TestRulesWWE: Nope. I’m Test. Do you want me to give you something or what?
Of COURSE, I couldn’t refuse! This is amazing! This is SO COOL.
I did demand his phone number, he told me to piss off… which is what the real guy WOULD say. I then asked him who he was dating… he said Stacey… so he passed THAT round too. SO I PROMISE you… this isn’t like with that fake Tammy Sytch thing… this is for REAL AND LEGIT… and I’m COMPETELY shitting myself over it!!
So, without further adieu, I am proud to present, EXCLUSIVELY to the Midnight News: filling in for The Attack from the McMac, I give you At the Behest of Test: by Test
When Vince asked me to fill in for this web guy’s column, my first instinct was to check him into a hospital for one of those cat scan x-rays. No doubt, the boss was losing it. Why even bother taking time out of his busy schedule and deal with you net idiots? Well, Vince has his own reasons for doing anything and guys who want to stay working for him no enough not to ask questions. So knowing where I’m getting the butter for my bread, I just agreed to do this and here I am, you lucky bastards!
This being the Net, which means you don’t matter, I can talk about whatever I want. No positive corporporate “spin” needed here. You’re all imbeciles. The lowest form of scum. None of you have a clue about anything, especially you Americans. Oh don’t worry, Canadian Web geeks are just as bad, but with me being Canadian and all, I can overlook my fellow countrymen and focus on our idiot neighbors to the south.
So, I can talk about whatever I want. Well, I want to talk about me. I want to tell you something I’m doing. You’ll hate me for it, but I’ve read what most of you say about me, so I’ll give you the same respect you give me, except I can back it up.
Hey America, guess what I’m doing? I’m taking over your country I’m quietly initiating a massive Canadian takeover the likes of which you’ve never dealt with before! I’m doing it freely, legally, and with great pleasure and none of you can stop me. Am I declaring war? Am I killing your soldiers? Nope. I’m doing something a lot more fun!
I’m fucking as many American girls as I can get! I’m plowing through American pussy like a Farmer plows through his wheat fields! I’m tainting your already polluted blood with good, clean CANADIAN blood and corrupting your entire bloodline! Like Dennis Hopper told Chris Walken about the blacks taking over Sicily in that Christian Slater movie, I am giving all of your women my “Final Exam” as much as possible! And they LOVE IT!!!
As you may know, I wasn’t always a wrestler. I was a roadie for Motley Crue. Motley F-ing Crue. That’s where my plan was hatched, when I saw all these horny American sluts crowd around Tommy and Nikki and Vince and Mick so much that the boys were too damn exhausted to handle them. That’s when me and the road crew got to have our fun! You’re girls are so horny and desperate to fuck a star, they’d just melt in my Canadian hands and swallow my Canadian gizz! And did I make them swallow, and boy did they. Do you even feed your girls? They are so damn hungry!
Then I became a wrestler and a TV star and not only did the train keep rolling, but the quality fthe poon got better too. Canadian women are classy, they care about what’s inside a guy before they put out. American women will sleep with anyone who is a star. If you’re on TV, American women will crawl naked through a desert of broken glass in order to bang you. They’ll bark for you, lick your toilet, eat your shit, they’ll do ANYTHING to fuck a star! I LOVE this country!
So that’s what I’m doing. I’m fucking everything I see. Stacy is just the one I rub in your faces. She’s as American as it gets and she’s all over my meat! I love Stacy, I’ll maybe marry her and take her away from you and back home as a trophy, just to piss you off. Until I do, though, I think I’ll just keep showing your desperate, horny, SICK American women what a real man is like. College girls, girlfriends, supermodels, celebrities, I’m doing them all. You’d be amazed at how many American starlets I’ve nailed and how freaky they are!
In fact, what the hell, just to really piss you assholes off here’s a quick list of just SOME other American tang I’ve violated Many of them have, I’m sure, found their way into your dreams. Yeah, you keep dreaming, Rambo… I’ll just keep fucking them!
Winona Ryder likes to be spanked
Carmen Electra likes it in the butt
Angelina Jolie can suck a golf ball through a garden hose
Jennifer Aniston came to me (and on me, several times) because her husband is “The Pitts”
Pink gets pink when you tickle her under her chin.
Tara Reid is more limber than Stratus on a laxative
Jenna Jameson, I taught that girl a thing or two.
Pam Anderson is Canadian, but she’s been in this impotent country so long that she thanked me for reminding her how things are done back home!
Alyssa Milano was so horny I had to eventually throw her out of my house!
Drew Barrymore likes three ways, until I got her.
And Christine Aguilera is into shit so freaky, I’m amazed she’s still alive!
And that’s just the tip of the iceberg! Just a few of the Test Scores. I’m not finished yet. Not by a long shot. There are plenty of horny American sluts out there yet, and I’ll nail them ALL. I’ll change your while bloodline. General Test is going to lead Canada into te very heart of your stupid country and take it all over.
And of course, do NOT blame Canada, you lazy American fat bastards. Blame yourselves!
This was fun. If Vince needs me to fill in again, I will. I love making you American assholes all mad.
And that’s my Behest
Half of me is marking out and the other half is frickin’ FURIOUS!
Holy God… that craft Canadian bastard! That rat FINK.
He left an e-mail for you to write to him, so if you want to give him hell, or if you Canadians want to thank him for destroying our bloodline, TestRulesWWE@yahoo.com
Please write to him… FLOOD his mail box so he’ll come back again and again!! But be nice, make me look good!
Thank you Test, if Vince keeps sending guys to fill in for him, I’ll let you corrupt Y bloodline too!
MY THREE STOOGES
I’ve been easing up on these because here’s really no point in busting the balls of these three people anymore. No one reads the Rick anymore; Scooter has been extremely quiet ever since he started his own silly blog; and the time is soon approaching where I’ll have to explain who CRZ is.
Anyway… someone decide to try to have fun wih CRZ… AIM online name: “See Our Zed”. Zed wasn’t in a playful mood.
XuGreatOne: Chris Hyatte said you would cyberfuck me....let's get started
XuGreatOne: I see you like to play rough
XuGreatOne: Ok, ok baby....i'll be gentle
See Our Zed: signed off at 2:22:38 AM.
XuGreatOne: he warned me up to 35%...that fuck
Alas…. Romance, my friends, is dead.
For visual purposes, I encourage you to see this… for fashion purposes, I urge you to note how NO ONE can truly pull off the “raincoat WITH hat” ensemble and look cool doing it. Not me, not you, and CERTAINLY not him.
Actually, ol’ Zimmerman is growing on me again. Not that he cares but it’s fun watching him toss out his message board posters left and right for practically no reason. I’m not even being sarcastic… it’s a hoot.
HYATTE VS WIDRO: THE NEW BLOODFEUD
So, last week I posted my column (about ten hours AFTER midnight) and… well…
You know, I don’t openly go out and TRY to make mistakes… they just happen.
And well, this was a pretty BIG mistake… and Widro… well… he wasn’t too happy.
This is a side of Widro you NEVER see…. Enjoy it!
Widro: You posted your column 8 times
Auto response from Hyatte1com: (10:23 am): I may be here, I may be away, either way I can assure you that I am naked right now. Butt naked. So keep that in mind. You're about to have a conversation with a naked man.
Widro: I have to correct 7 of them
Widro: Every correction = 16 things I have to do
Widro: 16 X 7 = 112 mistakes I have to correct on a Monday morning
Widro: Thanks buddy
Widro: You’re through posting
*Then, hours later, I came back.
Hyatte1com: Pretty smooth waiting until I log off before ripping into me.
Auto response from Widro: (4:05:59 PM): brb
Hyatte1com: I told you it wasn't my fault, it was 411's brilliant posting system...
Hyatte1com: so screw you
Hyatte1com signed off at 4:06:52 PM.
*Then he signed on and it was ON!!
Hyatte1com signed on at 4:08:22 PM.
Widro: no it was you
Widro: youre the only person who makes mistakes
Widro: now you can email them to me like flea
Widro: and grut and everyone else
Widro: no what
Hyatte1com: forget it
*Note: I didn’t have the heart to point out that Grut is gone and Flea currently has no plans on returning in the near future (for no reason other than because he’s got stuff on his mind) and that 411 is fast running out of big time writers
Widro: sorry if my weekend long work on 411 wasnt enough, i love getting sextuple posts on monday mornings
Widro: from staff who arent reading my updates and bothering me all weekend
Widro: so go take some more time off
Hyatte1com: I didn't get your stupid update 'till today
Widro: you didnt read my updates about the posting urls
Hyatte1com: blow me, and stop whining, you're not the only one who fucking works his balls off. I didn't GET IT
Widro: you didnt read it
Widro: or the staff forum
Hyatte1com: GET IT
Widro: yeah whatever dude
Widro: no one gets anything
Hyatte1com signed off at 4:34:11 PM.
*I blocked him, but he knew my other SN and told me to unblock me… I thought we were about to make up… instead, Widro went for the final TWIST of the knife!!
Hyatte1com signed on at 4:35:03 PM.
Widro: dont be an asshole
Widro: just say youre sorry for 6 posting
Hyatte1com: hmm... I truly apologize for 6 posting
Widro: thank you
Widro: email me midnews from now on
Widro: i'll talk to you later
*And then he logged off… ABRUPTLY!!
This is… this is Widro most EVERY morning if you piss him off.
So, I decided to quit for a few hours on Thursday… but Widro ALWAYS calms down and makes amends.
One day, he and I will have another fight and I won’t be so calm… one day I’ll let loose… THAT’LL be a fun fight.
411Mania… where dreams are just a click away!!
Speaking of which, someone promised me anal sex if I could get her a pass into April Hunter’s site. Anyone want to help a brother out?
Speaking of which, someone promised me anal sex if I could get her a pass into April Hunter’s site. Anyone want to help a brother out?
Me, last week.
Let’s just say I have the best readers in the world!
Let’s ALSO just say that, while I STILL haven’t tapped a certain booty, we can safely say that this has brought another girl this much closer to loving LL Cool Hy…
Anyway, big thanks to my new friend.
And SINCE I have a pass into April Hunter’s website, might as well tell you what she has to offer:
For three months, at $55 a pop you get pics (and be VERRRRY careful, they do keep close tabs on IP addresses… a HUGE STAR like Miss Hunter does NOT LIKE IT when you download her pics and paste them elsewhere), April and friends “music videos” featuring a gratuitous amount of nakedness and (in one case) toe sucking (all EXTRA soft core… no fondling… no Skinemax-level luvin’) and, of course, commentary.
April Hunter has opinions… she friggin’ BETTER… at what she’s charging for a member’s account… and none of them are of any weight (Why are people so DUMB?, I just had photo shoot and it was GREAT, Jasmine St. Clair arrived and she was AWESOME!! It’s not easy being a red-head!), you know… silly fluff stuff.
But she IS occasionally capable of ragging on someone… occasionally… and I found a thorough bitching bout current WWE Diva… LITA!
And my last concern; the women in wrestling. This is a big one for me. I can deal with number one and two right now, but this one I'm still unsure about. As it stands right now, I'd prefer to wrestle only men. Each week I see Lita doing one of her three signature moves. Granted, the girl has balls that rival the size of the Grand Canyon, and that's great. But what I'm seeing is that she has little regard for anyone she's working with, or herself. She executes moves poorly, lands horribly and tends to injure herself and others too often. If I had a twenty-dollar bill for every time I saw her land on her neck, tailbone or some girls implants or face with her knee after throwing her 130-plus pounds off the top rope in a moonsault... well, I wouldn't have to pay my rent this month. Her lack of regard quite frankly scares me and I wouldn't want to hand my body over to her.
Well then… poor Lita… girl can’t buy a break from ANYONE.
For future references… It is impossible to have balls the size of the Grand Canyon, since the Canyon is an empty space…. To avoid ATROCIOUS similes like that in the future, please say that Lita has balls THAT COULD FILL the Grand Canyon
FURTHERMORE… it’s funny, she won’t hand her body over to Lita… but she clearly has no problem handing her body over to any Plastic Surgeon with a scalpel and a smile! Nor is she above handing her body over to her nearest Mickey D’s! (Girl be SUCKING in that gut!)
Or Slyk Wagner Brown!.... Independent SUPERSTAR! (which makes him the equivalent of ME here online!)… her longtime boyfriend… and maybe the scariest brother since Stevie Ray used to make mad dog grimaces into the camera… (I used to see that and throw my wallet at my TV screen… the dive behind my couch)
I’d say more… I’d REALLY bust some nuts here… but DAMN, that’s a big bitch! She’s scary…I mean, I’d DO her.. but it wouldn’t be pretty… she’d toss my ass around… romping with her would remind me of my days in C-Block.. yeesh, no thanks.
THE MIDNIGHT NEWS BOOK-OF-THE-TWO-WEEK-CLUB
Flea: Only three writers in the world have ever meant anything, Hi-Never2late
Hyatte: Oh yeah, which ones?
Flea: Stephen King, George Orwell…
Flea: (takes a long, drawn-out, desperate pull from his bong – followed by a nice, generous sip from his glass) and… whoever.
Hyatte: Who the fuck is whoever?
Flea: When you know, then you’ll know
I don’t do non-fiction books for the most part. Not my bag.
But one day I was at the bookstore and saw this on a shelf. I remembered that Entertainment Weekly awarded this book of the year and featured an article about the author. So I started to leaf through it.
I bought it, took it home, and devoured it in an evening.
A Million Little Pieces is a raw, brutal, balls out story of a guy named James who wakes up on page one on an airplane he didn’t remember getting on. There’s blood and snot and puke on his shirt, he’s missing teeth, and there is giant hole in his cheek. He lands in Illinois and his parents put him right into a detox/treatment center. James is a crackhead and an alcoholic. With the exception of a few excursions and the last few ages, the entire story remains in the center. He goes through his ordeal without blinking. Doesn’t spare us any of the details, and, more importantly, lays out his soul in a style of prose that is almost poetic in it’s narrative. There are no quotation marks here. It’s all stream of consciousness and it is hard-core.
The best thing about the book is that he doesn’t reach to you, not even a little. In fact, he rejects the tried and true “formula” that Doctors use to help addicts. He doesn’t make himself the hero of the book…. Just the subject. It is very satisfying and every bit a page turner as anything fictional on the shelves.
The excerpt I’ve pulled happens early on in the book and gives you a sense of what James is about to g through in order to recover. We meet his closest friend for the first time, he talks to his parents, he takes a psych test, and he deals with the cravings that all addicts have. He is just coming back from his first trip to the Dentist (and his second trip, the one where he gets his teeth fixed and replaced without any anesthetic, is about as powerful and as torturous as you will ever read) and It’s lunchtime at the clinic. Enjoy:
The van pulls up to the Entrance to the Clinic and Hank and I get out of the Van and I walk over to Hank and I thank him for driving me an helping me. He tells me I look as if I could use a hug and I laugh at him and he ignores me and steps forward and puts his arms around me and hugs me. I warm to the simple pleasure of human contact and for the first time in a long time I actually feel good. It makes me uncomfortable so I pull away and I say good-bye and I thank him again and I walk back into the Clinic. The Receptionist tells me it’s lunchtime so I go to the Dining Hall and I get in line and I get a bowl of soup and a glass of water and I find an empty table and I sit down by myself and I do the best I can to force some food past the bloody wreckage of my mouth.
I look up. A Man stands across from m. He’s about fifty, medium height, medium build. He has thick brown hair that is thinning on top and a weathered face tat looks as if it has taken a few punches. He’s wearing a bright blue-and yellow silk Hawaiian shirt, small round silver glasses and a huge gold Rolex. He stares at me. He sets his tray down. He looks pissed.
You been walking around the last two days calling me Gene Hackman. Now I know they got you doped up on that detox shit, but I’m not Gene Hackman, and if you ever call me Gene fucking Hackman again, we’re gonna have a big fucking problem.
I laugh again. He looks like Gene Hackman.
You think this is funny, you Little Fuck?
I stare at him and I smile. I have no teeth and the thought makes me smile more.
You think this is fucking funny?
I stare at him. He has hard, angry, violent eyes. I understand his eyes and I know how to deal with them. This is familiar territory.
I stand and my smile disappears. I stare at the man and the Room becomes quiet. I speak.
I don’t know you. I don’t remember ever seeing you. I don’t remember ever speaking to you and I certainly don’t remember ever calling you Gene Hackman, but if I did, yeah, I think it’s funny.
I can feel that most of the People in the Dining Room are watching us and my heartbeat increases and the man stares at me and his eyes are hard, angry, and violent. I know I’m in no shape for this, but I don’t care. I feel myself getting ready. I tense up, clench my jaw, stare straight ahead, eyes fixed, focused and unblinking.
If you’re gonna force me to beat your ass, Old Man, we might as well get on with it.
He’s shocked. Not scared or unwilling, just shocked. I stare straight ahead.
What’d you just say?
Eyes fixed, focused and unblinking.
I said if you’re gonna force me to beat your ass, we might as well get on with it.
What’s your name, Kid?
James, I’m Leonard.
I don’t know if you’re the stupidest fuck I ever met or the bravest, but if you answer one question for me, I’ll consider letting that last remark slide.
What’s the question, Leonard?
Are you fucked up, James?
Yeah, Leonard, I’m fucked up. I’m fucked up real bad.
Good, cause I’m fucked up too. I like fucked-up people and I try to associate with them as much as I can. Why don’t we sit and have lunch together, see if we can forget about our differences and become friends. I could use a friend in here.
We sit and we eat our lunches and Leonard talks and I listen to him talk.
Leonard is from Las Vegas and he has been here for a week. He’s addicted to cocaine and has been planning his stay here for over a year. For the last twelve months he’s done nothing but eat rich food, drink expensive wine, play golf, and snort enormous amounts of blow. He has done enough, he says, that if he does it again he will die. I don’t know what he does for a living, but I know it’s not legal and I know he does it well. I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his words, recognize it in the easy way he speaks of things most people would consider horrific. I am comfortable with Leonard. More comfortable with him than anyone else whom I have met in here. He speaks easily of horror. He is a Criminal of some sort. I am comfortable with him.
We finish eating and we put our trays away and we leave the Dining Room and we go to the Lecture hall. Female Patients sit on one side of the Hall, males on the other, and the total number of Patients is around two hundred and fifty. Everyone sits with their Unit and as Leonard and I sit down among the twenty men of Sawyer, a Doctor on a stage starts speaking to us about the concept of Alcoholism and Addiction as a disease.
I start to feel sick. Waves of nausea pulse through me. I get cold. I close my eyes and I open them and I close them again. I do it quickly, I do it slowly. I start to shiver and I stare at the seat in front of me and it’s moving. It starts to talk to me so I look away and I see blue and silver lights dancing everywhere. I close my eyes and the lights dance through my brain. I can feel my blood crawling slowly through my heart and I think I’m going to pass out so I grab my face with one of my hands and I squeeze my face. It hurts, but I want the pain because it makes this nightmare a reality and it keeps me from going insane. The pain is immense, but I need it because it keeps me from going insane.
The Doctor finishes speaking and the Patients start clapping and I let go of my face and I take a deep breath and I stare straight ahead. Leonard taps me on the shoulder.
You all right?
You need some help?
You look like you do.
I need something, but it’s not help.
As the Doctor onstage answers questions I stand and I walk out of the Lecture Hall . I head back to the Unit hoping to make it to my bed and hoping that my bed will make me feel better. As I walk by Ken’s Office he calls for me and I ignore him and I keep walking. He comes into the Hall and he calls for me again. James.
I lean against the wall.
You all right?
He walks towards me.
I feel like shirt, I need to lie down.
He stops in front of me.
You can lie down later. It’s time for your test.
The MMPI. I told you about it this morning.
I don’t want to take it.
Because I feel like shit and I need to lie down.
You’re gonna feel like shit for a while.
Maybe, but I still don’t want to take your test.
It’s not optional.
I can’t take it later?
No, we need you to take it now. It helps us know how to help you, and we want to start helping you right away.
We walk past the Lecture Hall and through a maze of carpeted Corridors and we enter a small bare white Room with two chairs and a table. Ken sits down and I sit down. On the table in front of us is a large stapled booklet and a form answer sheet and a pencil. Ken speaks.
It’s a very simple test. All of the questions are true or false, you can take as long as you want to answer them. When you’re finished come back to my Office and if I’m not there, leave your responses on my desk. A staff Psychologist will analyze everything and in two days we’ll go over the results together.
Ken leaves and I grab the pencil and the answer sheet and I open the booklet and I start reading it. The pages are filled with questions and I begin answering them.
I am a stable person.
I think the World is aligned against me.
I think my problems are caused by others.
I don’t trust anybody.
I hate myself.
I often think of death.
Suicide is a reasonable option.
My sins are unpardonable.
I stare at the question.
My sins are unpardonable.
I stare at the question.
My sins are unpardonable.
I leave it blank.
I finish five hundred and sixty-six of the five hundred and sixty-seven true-or-false questions of the test and I close the booklet and I lay down my pencil and I take a deep breath. Hours have passed and I am exhausted and I want a drink. Vodka, gin, rum, tequila, bourbon, scotch. I don’t care. Just give me a drink. A nice strong alcoholic drink. I tell myself that I only want one but I know it’s not true. I want fucking fifty.
I grab my answer sheet and I stand and I leave the Room and I walk back to Ken’s Office and I leave my answer sheet on his desk and I walk into the Unit. The day’s activities are done and the men are spread out in small groups across both of the Levels. They are playing cards, talking shit, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. The phone is free and I haven’t talked to my Parents, my Brother, or any of my friends, so I walk down to the Lower Level and I grab a chair and I sit down by the phone and I pick up the receiver and I start making collect calls.
I call my friend Amy. I call my friend Lucinda. I call my friend Courtney. They were all originally her friends but when she left and everybody else left they stood with me. I love all three dearly and the conversations upset me. I call, they answer. I tell them that I got hurt, that I came here, that I’m going to try to get better. I tell them I don’t know if I can. They cry and they ask me if I need anything and I tell them no. They ask if they can help in any way. I tell them they’ve given me enough. We hang up.
I call my Parents at a Hotel in Chicago and my Mother answers the phone.
Hold on, James.
I hear her call my Father. My Father picks up the phone.
How are you?
How is it there?
What’s happening so far?
I’m being detoxed and that sucks, and yesterday I moved down to a Unit and that’s been fine.
Are you feeling like it’s helping?
I don’t know.
I hear my Mom take a deep breath.
Anything we can do?
I hear my Mom break down.
I listen to her cry.
I gotta go Dad.
I listen to her cry.
You’re gonna be okay, James. Just keep it up.
I listen to her cry.
I gotta go.
If you need anything, call us.
We love you.
I hang up the phone and I stare at the floor and I think about my Mother and my Father in a Hotel Room in Chicago and I wonder why they still love me and why I can’t love them back and how two normal stable people could have created something like me, lived with something like me and tolerated something like me. I stare at the floor and I wonder. How did they tolerate me.
I look up and I see most of the men leaving the Unit to go to dinner so I stand and I walk through the Halls to the Dining Hall and I get in line and I get some soup and a glass of water and I sit down at an empty table and I eat. The food tastes good, and when I finish my bowl I want more. My body is craving and wanting and requiring and though it can’t have what it normally has, it needs something. I get a second bowl and then a third and then a fourth. I eat them all and I want more. It’s always been the same, I want more and more and more and more.
I finish eating and I leave the Dining Hall and I o to the Lecture Hall and I sit with Leonard and I listen to a woman tell her life story. The woman has been to seventeen Treatment Centers in the last decade. She lost her Husband, her Kids, al of her money and sent two years in Jail. She’s been clean for eighteen months and says she’s happy for the first time in her entire life. She says she’s devoted her life to God and to the Twelve Steps and that each new day is better than the last. Good luck, Lady. Good fucking luck.
She finishes her story and People clap and I stand and I go back to the Unit and I go to my Room. I want to go to bed but I can’t so play cards with John and Larry and warren. Larry, who has a Wife and newborn twin Girls waiting at home for him in Texas, is grief-stricken. He found out this afternoon that he has the HIV virus, which he probably contracted during ten years of mainlining crystal meth and fucking whores. He wants to tell his Wife but he’s scared to call he so he sits with us and he plays cards and he talks about how much he loves his Children. I want to try to comfort him but I don’t know what to say so I say nothing and I laugh when he makes jokes and I tell him his Girls are beautiful when he shows me their picture.
It gets late and we put away the cards and we get into our beds. My body still wants what I cannot give it and I’m unable t sleep so I lie on my back and I stare at the ceiling. I think about where I am and how I got here and what the fuck I am going to do and I listen to Larry cry and pound on his pillow and curse God and beg for forgiveness. At a certain point my eyes close and at a certain point I fall asleep.
He doesn’t blink with this story. Everything is laid out in the open. He doesn’t try to win the reader over. If you think he’s an asshole, then so be it.
The only problem I have with the book is that Frey made it Hollywood ready. It’s laid out in three acts, with a climatic pointing all three. He’s desperate to sell it as a movie, and made it almost as a treatment rather than a playing out of his soul, which is why his prose is so unusual.
And the ending will break your heart. I’m talking the very last page.
A Million Little Pieces doesn’t preach, it’s not a book to give to someone in recovery themselves (Frey blows off the Twelve Step treatment), but it’s a powerful story that you will be hard pressed to put down. Top shelf stuff here, baby.
I am Hyatte and by God I will MAKE YOU READ!!
A LIVE MIC = DANGER!
I always need more of these. You all are doing great, so keep them coming. Especially Justin Parr, who is clearly the MVP of sending these quotes out. Thanks bro’
We stick with a bnch of quick and funny WWF/E quotes this week…. A little old… a little new… all of it borrowed…. My balls are usually blue:
1: I’m gonna bring on the kind of bleeding usually reserved for special effects teams in Mel Gibson biblical epics- Mick Foley: three nights ago
2: The Undertaker just grabbed HHH's crotch!
Five on two, Cole! Five on two!- Cole and Tazz: Smackdown 2001
3: You're not me. You're not even you, you idiot!- HBK to Foley being Dude Love: Raw ‘97
4: Gene Mean, look at our body. Cameraman, zoom!- Iron Shiek: Wrestlemania 3
5: I use to think the only good things to come from Canada were maple syrup and Michael J. Fox but I was wrong. And I’m not wrong often!- Kurt Angle: Smackdown 2000
6: Oh boy we've never seen someone spray painted on a Monday Night before have we?- Lawler
Golly gee, how original is DX gonna get?- JR
How embarrassing would it be to have that written on your back?-Lawler
How embarrassing must it be to work for them.- JR on DX spraypainting “WCW” on Jim Neidhart's back: Raw ‘97
7: I can’t recall anyone winning a match with a headlock.
I have a few times.
Where, in your dreams?
I’ll have you know I’ve beaten a lot guys. Some would even give up during the instructions.
Oh Please!- Monsoon and Heenan: Wrestlemania 8
8: The Legion of Doom are just second rate imposters- Demolition: WWF TV 90
9: I think you have bit off more than you can chew, Adrian- Monsoon
I can chew a lot- Adrian Adonis
10: I’ve asked the question for years: Who's Better than Kanyon?- Kanyon
Years?- JR: Raw 2001
My favorite is the Iron Shiek: “Camerama… ZOOM!!!!!” Heh. He used to juggle those bowling pins. Man LOVED to work out his triceps on live TV for some reason.
And just like that, I am ZOOMING out of here… see ya
This is Hyatte