Arrival (Now with Paragraphs! :D)

[Eddie Nash]

A Little Bit of Sunshine... A Little Bit of Booze...
A Little Piece of Me and a Little Piece of You....

The Agony
Memphis, Tennessee
August 5th, 2005

“Daddy I-... da... daddy?” came the single most harrowing voice that he had ever heard. This wasn't just the voice of The Agony's boss telling him how badly he'd fucked up, or the arresting officer reading out his Miranda rights or even the voice of any authority he'd ever known. No, this was something much more sinister. This was the voice of a tender little girl, no older than seven, no, six years old and yet despite her undeniable vulnerability her two stuttering words had done more to haunt him than the countless exchanges with every prosecution lawyer he'd ever beaten up ever did.

He looked first at the little girl who had intruded his sinister act. Then he looked down at the man he clutched by the scruff of his collar. This man's blood coated the both of them, the limp and almost lifeless body supported only be the rough grip of The Agonizer. Eddie knew that one more final strike would bring an end to this man's life. However, it was at this exact moment when the girl walked through the door that The Agonizer realized that the man he had been paid to kill was no drug pushing, woman-beating pimp slash arms dealer who was about to turn state. This was just a family man who'd forgotten to pay a debt. And he was he being used to rub him out.

He stared at the girl as a single tear streamed down out of the corner of her eye. She was trying so hard not to cry but how could you not in a situation like this? The Agonizer knew that he would have Hell to pay if he didn't finish the job but he also recognized that if he did this moment would live on his conscience forever. He couldn't make someone watch as he took their father away. He may be going to Hell but he would not suffer for that. Reluctantly he let go of the man he had so ruthlessly beaten. He turned to the girl once more.

“Call an ambulance. Your pop will be okay. Just, don't tell them you ever saw me. Got it?”

Barely comprehending the situation the girl knew exactly what she had to do. She nodded her head and went to get the phone as The Agonizer simply left without another word. He put his helmet back on from the side and headed for the French doors without so much as another glance at his victim. Even his conscience couldn't take that.

---

Eddie Nash
Rural Tennessee
December 17th, 2005

When the very direction that your career is going to take lies within the outcome of one sole day, a day that is say... oh, I dunno, about three days, what would you be doing? For most of us we'd probably be doing our best to prepare for the trials and tribulations that await us on this gruelling day. Through ways and means of physical exercise or mental exertion we'd get as much training done as possible so that we can handle any possibility, come whatever may. Others amongst us would probably talk to other people, try and get a second, third, fourth and even fifty sixth angle on what the best approach to take would be.

However, Eddie Nash is unlike other people. Instead of doing any of that shit he instead is sat on the couch watching hospital drama's with his feet up on a stained, crooked coffee table with a cigarette in one hand and a beer bottle in another. Quite possibly the most counter-productive of trio's when the biggest wrestling match of your career, a full athletic display for up to and maybe even over fifteen minutes looms within days.

“We now return to Ether... on CBS.” announced the television set, the sole source of light in the room. Eddie's pay cheque hadn't come through yet and anything saved on electricity was more money spent on booze and fuel.

“Doctor... I think we're gonna' need a triple heart biopsy on the double... and then afterwards we're gonna' need to metaphorically make an incision into our painful levels of sexual tension in the janit-”

Before Eddie could be subjected to any more painfully bland, non-proofread and hideously fake “medisexual” dialogue his cell phone started to ring. Like a shot he had it out. Caller ID unknown, he was a little hesitant but of course Eddie's curiosity got the better of him and answered it. Phone calls like these usually spelt bad news but when you're tough, who cares?

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this the righteous reverend Edward Nash of THE SONS OF ANAAAAAAARCHYYYYYYYYY?!” howled the voice down the phone. It was one Eddie knew all too well, that of Sons of Anarchy president Mr. Geoff Baker, a righteous All-American son of a gun who was a little too old fashioned in his taste of bikes.

“What is it, Geoff? I'm a little busy right now?” snapped Eddie, not too happy at his private time being interrupted. Ether was important to him.

“Busy? Busy doing what? Watching the Ether reruns? You fucking fag.”

“I'm not watching Ether. And it's not a re-run it-” started Eddie only to be cut off by his employer.

“Are you aware that your TV is so loud that it can be heard across the nine continents? Well, it's loud enough to hear down the phone and it mimics the exact same badly-written trash that your ex-girlfriend, slash, my current lady is watching on box set in between blow jobs right now. DVD's like this are amazing for redeemable sexual favours y'know that?” jibed Geoff. The history between him and Eddie was none-too pleasant to say the least. Eddie clenched his free hand around his cigarette to stop himself from snapping.

“Whatever. First off, there's only 7 continents you fucking moron. Second, leave Jenny out of this.”

“Haha. Yeah, 7 continents on earth. But Jenny's tits are so inflated that they're like continents all on their own baby. HAHA! Ether. I always knew you were gay.”

“Fuck you Geoff. What do you want?”

“How's your schedule looking at the moment?”[/color]

“In between doing jobs for you ass holes, acting as a public spokesperson for you ass holes and landing myself a job as a professional wrestler? I have enough time to catch the occasional back to back showing of Ether and enjoy a Budweiser but otherwise? Not too much on my plate. Why, what'cha got going on?”

“Remember our good friend Mikey Hughes?”

“Mikey? No I-... wait, that really annoying douchebag that we sent on stupid, impossible missions hoping he'd get the idea and never come back?”

“Yeah. That guy. Well we continued to fuck with him after you got sent to jail, then about three months we got bored and sent him on a suicide mission. Gave him a gat, told him to go to an undisclosed location up in Nashville. Little did he know it was a mob-run restaurant with a tonne of money he stashed in a safe.”

Eddie chuckled. He had fond memories of the little critter but he listened intently.

”Anyway, the little shit turned out to be way more useful than we anticipated. He found the money that we didn't even know existed and torched the place. He came back three weeks later with ten thousand dollars and about as many scars but he was alive and well. Needless to say, we let him in.”

“Good for him. What does that have anything to do with me?” asked Eddie starting to get a little worried now.

“Would you babysit him for a couple of weeks? He's an annoying fuck. Remember that couple in high school, they were like the perfect couple and then both the guy and the girl had their annoying fuckwit friends who always got in the way of things and caused drama?”

“Yeah?”

“Well with Jenny, it's all her friends. With me, it's just this one Mikey. He won't leave me the fuck alone. Anyway, I gave him your address. He'll be there in about ten minutes an-, oh well hello honey. No this phone call isn't important. That's a pretty sexy negligee you're wearing. Haha. Look Nash, I gotta' go. Have fun on your play date. If you take care of this for me I'll cancel your debt and stop asking you to do benign shit for me. Laters!” laughed Baker as he hung up. Eddie sighed as he knew what had to be done.

As if by magic there was a rapid fire knocking on the door. Ten minutes my ass. Eddie got up and answered it. This was the start of something horrifying...

---

Mikey Hughes
Rural Tennessee
December 17th, 2005

Mikey Hughes

“Holy FUCK it's cold. I'm glad Geoff sent me down to meet Eddie Nash though. This guy's a Sons of Anarchy legend. A LEGEND. Just make sure my camera's on and... oop. Yeah. Okay. Let's rock.”

I knocked at the door, traditional three knock. It was what I usually did. It was my thing. My God I was excited to meet Eddie. Though Geoff, the prez didn't speak too highly of him everyone else thought he was THE balls. It was an honour that I'd finally get to meet the guy after his stretch. After a second or two, the door opened and there stood Eddie Nash himself, cigarette in one hand and a beer bottle in the other just like old fucker Baker said he would.

“'eyo! WASSUP MAH NIGAAAAAA!” I howled enthusiastically not really considering our racial tolerance policy at the Sons of Anarchy. Understandable, given that we were about thirty miles away from the clubhouse. Eddie however, a veteran shot me a look to kill.

“What the FUCK man. You can't use racial slurs. You'll get me banned!” he yelled, shaking the cigarette hand at me. I nodded in compliance then realized something.

“Alright. Cool. Sorry dude. Wait a minute... banned? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“B-... nevermind. You wouldn't understand. Just get your ass in here. You're letting the fucking heat out.” he barked as he grabbed my free arm and wrenched me inside the house.

”Baker was right. You did go crazy.”

First thing I noticed? The place was a mess. I'd be highly surprised if the previous owners weren't drug dealers and I'd be highly surprised if Eddie was the present owner, or even paying rent. Whatever. It was a humble abode but this man was a legend. I held up the camera just to capture the moment as he walked me through into his living room. Again, it was modest but it was clearly a guy's place. Comfortable and central heated, which is more than I could say for the SOA clubhouse back in Memphis.

“Hey, nice place you got here Eddie.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay. Can I grab a seat or-” He interrupted me. Again. I could tell I was gonna' love this.

“Couch is mine until I go for shut-eye. You can take the deckchair. When I go to bed, you get the couch. Help yourself to a beer.” said Eddie before pointing to a deckchair which looked like it hadn't been sat in since 'nam.

“Okay. Cool.”

I grabbed a bottle from the open case and took a seat in the rickety deckchair. It wasn't very sturdy and I felt like I was gonna' fall through at any second but such was the price of rooming it up with a living legend. I opened up the bottle using my teeth and sipped the still cold nectar enjoying it's taste. Nothing like booze in good company.

“So how's it been buddy? How's it to be back on the outside?”

“I've been out for two years Mikey. I just haven't been round the house much and when I have you've been running errands for the boys like a fucking lap dog.”

“Okay fair enough. How long you been living here for?”

“Just moved in. Baker's renting it to me free of charge as long as I do up the place.”

“Sweet ass. It's not too shabby. I mean admittedly the basics are lacking but with the peeling wall paper, 20th century furniture and beer bottles strung around the place it's got a real Anarchy feel.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are Mikey, Ty Pennington? I ain't got time for discussions about-... Hold on. I'm getting called.”

Sure enough, Eddie pulled out the phone in his pocket and answered.

“Hello? Yeah it's Nash. What's up? Oh, yeah. Alright. Yes. Alright. Cool. Stuart Cage? That's not a problem. Tell Mr. Noble that I have absolutely zero issues with adding another punk to the list of people expecting a head-crushing. Multi-man brawls is where I learnt to fight. Haha. Alright. Talk to you later Jonny. Peace.”

He hung up and put the phone back in his pocket. He seemed happy for the first time since I got here.

“What was that all about?”

“My first match. Turns out they've added another monkey-fuck to it. Stuart Cage, quite possibly the only person I knew by reputation before I even got there. That guy's got more fucking issues than I do. Slap him in some 15th century clothing and give him an ol' Smith and Wesson rifle and that guy could be the main character in one of those fuckin' Civil War costume dramas. Guy's an emotional roller coaster to say the least.”

I scoffed. “Emotional rollercoaster? Come on Ed. That's such a fucking cliché.”[/B]

“I don't speak French. I speak American. The greatest language in the world. Now shut your pie-hole and drink your beer Commie.”

I sipped my beer noticing Ed smirk about his Speaking American comment. I figured he was joking but then, he was a biker. So was I. We weren't the brightest bunch. “Stuart Cage? Who's the other guy?”

“Some guy called Jerome.”

“Black by any chance?”

“Yeah. How'd'ja figure?”[/B] he smirked. He had me sussed. The clue was in the name.

“Names like that are kinda' easy to figure. Much in the same way a guy like Kung-Kweck-Chong is clearly going to be from Italy or some fuckin' European country.” I joked hoping to break the ice. Eddie cracked a smile, which put me at ease as I took another sip of the booze.

“You always were a funny man weren't'cha?” He took another sip of his beer.

“I try my best.”

“Well it doesn't matter if it's Stuart Cage or Jerome. What do we at the Sons of Anarchy always say?”

“Ride or get rolled on.” I stated instinctively, having had this mantra drilled into my head so often over the last five years that it was eventually something I got drilled across my shoulders. “Ride or Get Rolled On” was ink across my flesh to celebrate my initiation.

“Good boy. You got taught well. Anyway, it's getting late. I could do with some shut-eye and you rode a fucking long way to get here. If you want a blanket you can go to Hell. Ain't a Bed, Bath and Beyond for about three mile and it's long closed by now. If you prove to not be an annoying time waster like you were back when you first tried to join The Sons then having you around may not be too bad. Just keep the camera out of my face. Y'got it?” asked Eddie as he finished off the beer and launched the empty bottle at the wall.

“I got it.” I said as I got up filming Eddie as he walked over to the mattress of which he would soon be sleeping on.

Before I went to bed I'd need to ask stuff like where the bathroom was and where to get grub if I got the late-night munchies but that's not exactly the sorta' stuff that needs to be filmed so I switched the camera off and put it back in it's little case before stuffing it into my backpack which I'd brought with all my stuff in. This little stay at Eddie's reminded me of when I was a kid, doing sleepovers at alternating friend's house and the variety of conversations we used to have. It started from how much we hated girls, to how girls weren't so bad, to how fucking hot Sarah O'Connor, a classmate I later banged was. Those were the good old days. For now though, I needed to sleep. Badstyle. Edd was already crashed out before I'd even got onto the couch.

FADE