saltinespike

Notes

Eh, I had this idea for a Fight Club type of story, that never really stuck. Surprisingly, it's not based on Fight Club. I was less of a writer then, so you know. Also, there is a VERY cheesy rap in there I made myself bound to make you laugh. Anyways, enjoy!

Prologue

I

“I can’t deal with this shit anymore, Sue! This is your fault! If I never married you, I’d still have my own business! I was a fucking millionaire; you ruined it all! Don’t touch me, you fucking whore. I’ll beat your ass raw, woman!”

Sue and Greg Kopplar were having another fight, but this one was different, fiercer. They had just declared bankruptcy. Sue was a stay-at-home mother, raising their 2-year old son, Kennedy. Greg hopped around jobs; he had never set into a career since his business fell apart from neglect 3 years ago. He attempted to leave Sue and Kennedy many times, to revive his business, but all attempts failed as Sue’s guilt trips always led him back.

“Don’t you yell at me! Are you aware that your 2 year old son is sleeping in the other room?!”

“I don’t give a shit about that baby; you can both burn up, just like my money!” Faint sounds of crying filled their ears. Greg took another swig of his beer and smashed it against a wall. The liquid splattered against the wall, looking like abstract art, and slowly dripped down. “That’s not a bad idea. I hope you rot in Hell, bitch. I’m burnin’ this house down!”

With that said Greg pulled out his cigarette lighter and stumbled to the wall where the beer had smashed. He placed the lighter under the drapes. Its flame danced gleefully, knowing that it would multiply, and eventually become an unstoppable monster.

Sue shoved herself into him, in some attempt to stop his rage. He smacked her hard enough to bruise his knuckles, making her topple to the linoleum floor. He escaped through the front door; two windows were already ablaze.

saltinespike

Prologue

II

Climbing up, Sue frantically raced for her bedroom, knowing that the fire would engulf the whole house before long. A small cry seemingly filled up the room, partnering with the smoke. Kennedy’s face was pushed into his mother’s bosom subsequent to abandoning his cradle. In the midst of this madness, Kennedy was oddly calm, as hearing his mother breathe had always soothed him.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s all right. Momma’s always here. Always.”

---

Greg sat alone in a dark room petting an empty M1911 pistol. The moon shone through semi open-blinds. Panicky sirens could be heard in the distance. It had been hours since he had started that fatal fire, and now that he had somewhat sobered up, he couldn’t help but feel an extreme amount of guilt overcome him.

The rusted bed springs squealed as he wrapped his dirty fingers around the magazine lying at his side. Hearing the sirens magnify, Greg shoved the magazine into the gun relentlessly, and buried it into the bottom of his chin. “I love you,” were the last words to come out of his mouth.

Chapter One

I

The gas station across the street was the only illumination provided for this gloomy alley, which was still out of the way. A bitter chill loitered in the air, unwelcome. Wind acted as its carrier, dragging clouds along for the ride, which blocked out a gorgeous full moon. A cardboard box tumbled down the sidewalk, passing along the run-down landmarks gleefully before finally crossing the street.

The alley was occupied by four black men, gangsters, whose rap still failed to bring this street to life.

"...then I showed him my gun,
Stupid bitch tried to run,
So I shot him in the head,
Now that muthafucka dead."

The rhyme was followed by hoots and hollers, which echoed in the hollow alley. The men wore thick jackets with fur aligning the edges. They were the only ones on this street, other than the night worker at the 7/11. One man spoke up, but kept his eyes on the approaching car. After it innocently passed, the man started again, "when we goin' to fight club?"

saltinespike

Chapter One

II

"Shut up! You ain't supposed to talk about it, man! Damn, I may as well throw you in there tonight. We goin' right now, so shut up."

"You know, they charge more now. Muthafucka held me up at the door last week tellin' me I needed twenty bucks to get in!"

"Shut up, man, you full'a shit," the group retaliated.

---

"Twenty-five bucks a fight. Each," the bouncer announced, his voice deep and condescending, "or you don't get in. Friday night."

"Man, why you try'na hustle us? Does your boss know about this? I oughtta beat yo ass right now." Even though his temper didn't disappear, Maurice paid the man and entered the club.

The club seemed more like a very small warehouse: plain, cold, and dirty. A ring was planted right in the middle of it, with a thin line of metal chairs aligning it's perimeter. The chairs wouldn't be used and everyone knew it, but no one could figure their purpose, as a patron would be thrown out if they interfered in the fight in any way. Fight club was like boxing as rugby is like football: altered rules and no pads. When a fighter said "stop", went limp, or fell unconscious, the fight was over, end of story. The fighters were not paid much, maybe ten dollars a fight, which was far less than they deserved.

There was a wide variety of patrons: whores, pimps, gangsters, stressed businessmen, even cops. Rival gangs would often show, sometimes resulting in gang wars, but the owner of the club, Mickey, had recently made an effort to put an end to it by refusing members of opposing gangs to gangsters that were already inside. The bouncer had his fair share of fights, also, but has never been replaced since opening 6 years ago, despite being shot twice, stabbed seven times, and taken an uncountable number of fists. Tonight, the crowd was large, which was normal, as it was a Friday night, which meant that there would be four fights in all, leaving the main event to the most well known fighters.

saltinespike

Chapter One

IIIThe customers were eagerly chatting amongst themselves as Mickey was doing a final checkup on the ring. Upon finishing, he announced, "alright, everybody, welcome to Friday Night Fights!" The crowd cheered upon hearing the words. "Our first fight will begin shortly!"

Notes

Basically, Kennedy was gonna end up a fighter and we join him on a whole compelling story into his past and future, as his involvement in gangs was increasing. But, as I said, it never stuck.