Post by Johnny Gillmen on Apr 9, 2016 3:53:26 GMT
Episode II
“MORNING STAR, PART II”
“MORNING STAR, PART II”
March 21, 2016 – 1:17 PM
On the second floor of the University Center's food court...
...we pick up Johnny Gillmen as he's now forty-seven minutes into his meal. On the small green tray at his table, we find that the Islander alumnus has one remaining slice of pizza and a third of his large Pepsi. He had started savoring his meal, taking in its novelty after a chance meeting with the German brunette known as Helena, a history major just like him who asked for help on a term paper about the French Revolution.
Johnny couldn't help but smile warmly, for he was happy to get to meet someone who shares the same passion for historical research as he did--so much so that the prospectus of a chance encounter with a fine-looking 27-year-old gal distracted him from fully enjoying his meal. "I needed the distraction," Gillmen thought to himself as he slowly sipped on his drink; after all, he spent the majority of his days performing the same routine--wake up, train in a local gymnasium, go people-watching, and sleep--so this deviation from the norm was comforting to him in every sense of the word.
Just as the proud Texas A&M-Corpus Christi grad was about to start munching on his last slice of pepperoni heaven, a bald-headed muscular male sporting a Philadelphia Eagles jersey appears, looking down at the much smaller man with a smirk on his face.
JOHNNY GILLMEN: Can I help ya, good sir?
BIFF: I ain't “sir.” The name's Biff.
Biff's ice-cold vocal tone causes Gillmen to perk up his right brow as he tries to come up with a subtle joke.
JOHNNY: Biff...Biff...ain't ya named after that whacko character in a certain movie franchise who hated rollin' in manure?
The larger fellow, around 6'5" and 255 pounds, scoffs at the jab.
BIFF: Cute. Very cute...
Biff looked down the massive scene unfolding before him on the UC's first floor, rolling his eys as he does so.
BIFF: That brunette that passed by your table just now...? Wasn't that Helena by any chance?
JOHNNY: Yeah...'sup with that?
BIFF: Listen sweet pea...if you don't want no trouble from me, then you stay away from her.
Johnny shook his head slightly, perceiving the stranger to be nothing but troublesome.
JOHNNY: I didn't know that livin' as a human bein' in a society that values life less and less required that ya stayed away from certain people—especially those you're aimin' to help succeed in schoolin'. That sounds rather bogus to me, don't ya think so?
Biff gritted his teeth, pounding his fist on the table hard and nearly causing Gillmen to drop his pizza.
BIFF: I'm warnin' you, sunshine. If you know what's best for you...then you'd better stay clear of her, or the next things you'll end up eatin' for lunch is a pair of knuckle sandwiches.
Johnny watched as Biff eked out a sly, sinister grin on his mug before storming off, leaving him to finish his meal. The history major couldn't help but sigh to himself as he finished his meal, muttering under his breath as he took the last sips from his Pepsi.
JOHNNY: What a total butthead...
********
JOHNNY GILLMEN'S LOG
April 7, 2016
April 7, 2016
'Sup dudes and dudettes?!
So I just had my first match as a member of the brand-spankin' new Valentine Wrestling Syndicate, and for me to say that last week was loads of fun would be a gross understatement on my part. I had an AMAZING time out in that ring against the likes of Gabriel Ellis, Avery Miles III, Landon Dalmon, and Duke Andrews--the guy I'm gonna tango with one-on-one this week. And I gotta admit that I was just a l'il bitty disappointed that I didn't come out on top in that five-way, but as I've said to myself time and time again throughout my life, every day has a first step.
And every saga has a new beginning.
I'm gonna go on the record and say that I ain't the luckiest dude on the face of this gnarly planet, and my showin' at that five-way would suggest that perfectly. Then again, I can handle comin' in with the bronze--for I know that there'll be more things lined up in store for me if I just keep on doin' what I was born to do--to be the best man I can be for my family and those closest to me. After all, if it wasn't for them, only God knows where I would've potentially ended up at. I coulda been a writer, I coulda been a musician, I coulda been a historian, and I CERTAINLY coulda been a sportscaster for ESPN. But I only wanted to do one thing in life, and that's become a pro wrestler.
I might not have won that match at March Madness, but I won more than anyone else in the VWS could ever imagine.
All 'cuz I dared to dream.
Right now, a part of me wishes that my mom was still here on this earth, so I could be able to reach over that safety fence and hug her and tell her just much I love her and miss her. To this very day, I still have trouble sleepin', knowin' that she can't be there in person to watch me overcome blindness and show the entire wrestlin' world that I've come so far in such a short period of time. In the end, I do take comfort in knowing that, from someplace high above the cement plants in Midlothian or the casino resorts of Las Vegas, she's watchin' me, lookin' down at me with a smile on her face as I get ready to take the next step.
Against Duke Andrews, no less...
********
5:30 PM
Five hours later...
...we find Johnny back inside his humble villa, relaxing on his living room leather recliner after working out a local gym while listening to some 80s music from his iHeartRadio app on his phone. He sighs to himself, reflecting upon the rigorous workout he put himself through as he gazes at the large, green rolling suitcase that sits next to his TV. Gillmen nodded his head, knowing that his luggage is all squared away in time for his trip out to Las Vegas, but the silent aura is interrupted as we hear a knock on the front door.
Slowly, Johnny stands up, outstretches his arms, , and smiles warmly upon seeing Helena standing on his doorstep.
JOHNNY: Yo Helena!
HELENA: Hey...J.J., right?
JOHNNY: Yep...'ey, how'd ya know where I lived?!
HELENA: You're the only villa on Ocean Drive that has an empty driveway.
Johnny chuckled before allowing the brunette inside, noting that his villa has no cars on its driveway save for her own--for he doesn't drive himself, but rather uses public transportation to get around and about.
JOHNNY: Come on in and make yourself at home. Sorry about the mess, I'm just about done gettin' stuff packed up for my Vegas tour.
The German native walked around the living room, taking the time to appreciate its simplicity as well as her new friend's outright modesty. Gillmen pulled two glasses from his kitchen's cupboard and setting them on the bar.
HELENA: That's not a problem...this is quite a nice place you've got.
JOHNNY: Mehh, it's comfy enough. Not too shabby but not great either. Care for somethin' to drink?
HELENA: Do you have tea by any chance?
Grinning from ear to ear, Johnny reached into his stainless steel fridge, pulling out a gallon of green tea.
JOHNNY: I've got green tea.
Helena gasped in delight, for green tea just happens to be her drink of choice. Gillmen silently nodded his head--as green tea was another one of his favorite beverages--and poured two glasses of the cold drink before placing the pitcher back into the fridge. He handed a full glass over to Helena, who took a sip, allowing herself to savor its sweetness.
The two sat across from each other at the bar, gazing upon each other's eyes with wonder. "Welp," Johnny whispered to his new friend. "We've got somethin' in common, don't we?" The German student couldn't help but giggle--for Gillmen was right. Yet the Islander alumnus cleared his throat, not allowing himself to be distracted by the woman's alluring charm.
JOHNNY: So...you were wantin' to borrow some books on the French Revolution, right?
HELENA: That's right.
JOHNNY: A'righty then...lemme see what I got in the office.
Johnny stood up and headed toward his office, with Helena following. We see that the office resumbles a recording studio, featuring a large microphone so that Gillmen can record his promotional material and edit it as needed. The bookshelves are lined up with books of different sizes, mostly pertaining to the study of history. The German marveled in wonder, picking up her friend's copy of The Golden Road, the book that got Gillmen started on his path toward becoming a wrestler.
HELENA: I can't believe you wrote this...!? This is incredible...
JOHNNY: Glad ya like it--it's about my mentor Jack, the man who got me started into the gi I do for a livin'.
Helena smiled as Johnny continued rummaging through his bookshelf, eventually pulling out a large, blue book and presenting it.
JOHNNY: Voila! This monstrosity's called The Oxford History of the French Revolution--Dr. Sanos actually gave this to me as a graduation present. This has everything you'll need for the topic at hand; you can borrow it for as long as you need it.
The German winked as the Islander grad started looking out his window, taking in a view of the Corpus Christi Bay.
HELENA: I appreciate everything you're doing for me, J.J. Really, I do.
JOHNNY: 'Ey, not a problem. I want the history folks who come after me to succeed just as I did.
Helena's smile vanished slightly upon noticing Gillmen closing his eyes as if something had deeply bothered him.
HELENA: You seem a bit uneasy. What's wrong...did he cause you any trouble in the cafeteria today?
Johnny nodded his head quietly, remembering his earlier encounter with the larger Biff during lunch. Helena placed the history book in her backpack before approaching Johnny, patting him on the back in an act of reassurance.
HELENA: For an ex-boyfriend, his bark is worse than his bite. So don't worry about Biff, okay?
JOHNNY: Why shouldn't I?
The brunette checked her wristwatch before turning around and heading out of the studio and toward the villa's main entrance.
HELENA: Because it's over—but I've got a big exam tomorrow, so I need to go study. Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow, but if not...I'll see you when you get back from Las Vegas.
Johnny followed her out to the driveway, where a brand-new 2016 Nissan Versa is parked.
JOHNNY: Over? Wait up--how “over” is it?
The German hopped into the bright yellow car's driver's seat and started the engine--but not before giving Gillmen a curt smirk.
HELENA: Weeks!
Johnny watched as Helena put her car in reverse and drove away, leaving him to ponder how long the split between her and Biff actually was, causing him to chuckle to himself and shake his head.
JOHNNY: Weeks...? How many weeks is weeks?
********
Duke, I know exactly how ya feel about losin' or comin' in last on somethin'.
I've had to deal with that my entire life—bein' the slowest kid in phys-ed, not bein' able to join the big guys and gals on the playground for a l'il bit of fun. It's like bein' called to “come on down” to Contestant's Row as the last chosen player of the day on The Price is Right, only to have some hot chick in a burnt-orange Texas Longhorns sweater to swoop in and $1-up ya after you've bid $420 on some video gamer's package. It's like throwin' a gutter ball on the final frame when ya need a strike to win the big tournament. It's like Game Six of the 2011 World Series, watchin' the Rangers fail to win it all after bein' one strike away not once, but twice. You get the picture, right bud?
Simply put...losin' sucks, man. It really, really does.
But as my mom used to say all the time, it's just a natural part of livin' an honest life. The only question...is how will ya handle it?
Ya could sit down at your humble adbode in Grand Rapids and mope around all night, but even my limited sense of logic tells me that it won't happen. After all, I ain't gonna question your commitment to this here gig and the gnarly perks that've come your way over the course of your career. Then again, I don't know a whole heckuva lot save for the fact that ya rely on a more technical game and, thus, consider yourself to be perfect. While that's a good trait to share with the rest of the established in VWS, there's just one wee bitty problem:
Nobody's perfect. As my sister Christina would say, “if we were all created to be perfect, we'd all in some serious Jedi poo-doo.”
Okie-doke, ya can pout at home, OR...you can keep truckin' along, pluggin' away'til ya get to the biggest point in your career once again. I can already tell that you're wantin' the desire to leave everything on the table—the heart to put your blood, sweat, and tears on the line in order to make this biz so wickedly awesome. But the only way you're gonna be able to succeed in a place like Valentine Wrestling Syndicate is real simple—as my mom so eloquently put it, “break from your routine.” Your technical game is good, that I'll give ya credit for, but how long will it last? Ya gotta be ready and willin' to step out into that ring and REALLY impress me.
How, you might ask?
Show me that you're capable of doin' things you've never done before. Let the whole world know that the mighty Duke Andrews, a man with excellence in technical execution, is ready and willin' to go move-for-move with yours truly. Otherwise...you're gonna be in for a VERY long night, 'cuz despite the fact that I only got one good eye, I'm gonna be runnin' circles around ya like a NASCAR driver at Daytona.
And that, buddy, won't be a real pleasant experience to partake in at all.
See ya Tuesday, dude—keep on dreamin' that dream.
I've had to deal with that my entire life—bein' the slowest kid in phys-ed, not bein' able to join the big guys and gals on the playground for a l'il bit of fun. It's like bein' called to “come on down” to Contestant's Row as the last chosen player of the day on The Price is Right, only to have some hot chick in a burnt-orange Texas Longhorns sweater to swoop in and $1-up ya after you've bid $420 on some video gamer's package. It's like throwin' a gutter ball on the final frame when ya need a strike to win the big tournament. It's like Game Six of the 2011 World Series, watchin' the Rangers fail to win it all after bein' one strike away not once, but twice. You get the picture, right bud?
Simply put...losin' sucks, man. It really, really does.
But as my mom used to say all the time, it's just a natural part of livin' an honest life. The only question...is how will ya handle it?
Ya could sit down at your humble adbode in Grand Rapids and mope around all night, but even my limited sense of logic tells me that it won't happen. After all, I ain't gonna question your commitment to this here gig and the gnarly perks that've come your way over the course of your career. Then again, I don't know a whole heckuva lot save for the fact that ya rely on a more technical game and, thus, consider yourself to be perfect. While that's a good trait to share with the rest of the established in VWS, there's just one wee bitty problem:
Nobody's perfect. As my sister Christina would say, “if we were all created to be perfect, we'd all in some serious Jedi poo-doo.”
Okie-doke, ya can pout at home, OR...you can keep truckin' along, pluggin' away'til ya get to the biggest point in your career once again. I can already tell that you're wantin' the desire to leave everything on the table—the heart to put your blood, sweat, and tears on the line in order to make this biz so wickedly awesome. But the only way you're gonna be able to succeed in a place like Valentine Wrestling Syndicate is real simple—as my mom so eloquently put it, “break from your routine.” Your technical game is good, that I'll give ya credit for, but how long will it last? Ya gotta be ready and willin' to step out into that ring and REALLY impress me.
How, you might ask?
Show me that you're capable of doin' things you've never done before. Let the whole world know that the mighty Duke Andrews, a man with excellence in technical execution, is ready and willin' to go move-for-move with yours truly. Otherwise...you're gonna be in for a VERY long night, 'cuz despite the fact that I only got one good eye, I'm gonna be runnin' circles around ya like a NASCAR driver at Daytona.
And that, buddy, won't be a real pleasant experience to partake in at all.
See ya Tuesday, dude—keep on dreamin' that dream.
********
7:35 PM
At sunset...
...Johnny stood on the wooden deck at the back of his villa, peering out toward the western sky as the sun began is slow descent into the horizon. This was, for all intensive purposes, the end of a typical day in his life--a moment in time when the Islander alumnus would closes his eyes, silently counting the blessings that had been bestowed upon him throughout his life. Much like the sunrise that greeted him earlier in the day, watching the coming nightfall was a peaceful time that concluded Johnny Gillmen's days.
With his eyes closed, Johnny mustered a warm, humble smile. At first, his thoughts centered upon his mother--for it comforted him in knowing that she was in a place where there would be no pain, no tears, and no sadness or sorrow. Gillmen nodded his head, changing teh focus of his nightly meditation towards a budding relationship with someone he met only a few hours ago in his alma mater's cafeteria. The college grad giggled slightly, for he began to perceive Helena as someone he could trust.
"After all," Johnny thought in his mind. "We both love studyin' history and drinkin' green tea..." And so, as the morning star gave way to twilight, Johnny Gillmen gave the "thumbs up" sign, making himself follow a new task. He was determined to help Helena succeed in her studies and not allow a troublemaker like Biff to stand in his way.
"I'm beginnin' to like her..."
