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Big Drinkin' Little Liver


Jacob Trance

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Mark Reese sat alone at the dimly lit bar, his weary eyes fixed on the swirling patterns of condensation left by his whiskey glass. The soft murmur of conversations and the distant hum of a jukebox filled the air, casting a nostalgic veil over the night.

 

Mark looks up to the TV in the bar as it has his match from last week on. Mark is staring diligently at the screen as if he’s waiting for something specific to happen. The greeting to the bar chimes as someone enters the building, they’re wearing a black hoodie with black cut jeans.

 

Mark keeps staring at the screen as his phone begins ringing in his pocket. He pulls the phone out of his pocket and notices the name on the screen. He takes a second and has his thumb hovering over decline and accept, switching back and forth. The camera sees that the name calling is “Miguel”, Mark lets out a deep breath as he hits accept and picks up the phone.

 

Mark: Hold on…

 

Parca can be heard going to talk as Reese moves the phone away.

 

Reese: Son of a gun…

 

Reese watches as Owen hits his forearm barrage, in the corner, slightly in Reese’s eye line during the match B17 can be seen moving through the crowd.

 

Reese: Swivel my ass…

 

Coming from out of the corner of the room, the individual who came in with the all black hoodie and torn jeans sits down next to Reese at the bar. He takes his hood down and looks at Reese.

 

???: I don’t know if you’d want someone to do that big guy.

 

Reese looks over to the person as he realizes it’s none other than El Parca.

 

Parca: Mark, please, before you get up or get angry. I didn’t come here to cause any problems. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you and I’m sorry it came to this.

 

Parca: I know you don’t want my advice and probably want me out of your face. But you don’t need to be more aggressive, you don’t need to be angry. You’re one of the BEST wrestlers in the entire world just the way you are.

 

Reese takes a swig of beer.

 

Reese: And yet I keep makin’ the same mistakes. It’s Groundhog Day here every day Miguel.

 

Parca: Mistakes are far easier to correct than hard consequences. You are on the right path Mark and sooner rather than later everyone is going to see it.

 

Parca motions toward the bartender and nods. The bartender comes over with a glass of water and sets it down in front of him. He takes a sip as he looks back at Mark.

 

Parca: So what’s the plan? You face B17? Then what, you and I both know you’re meant for greater things. Your time is coming up.

 

Reese clasps the bottle with both hands, looking ponderous.

 

Reese: I dunno Miguel, but I do know one thing that’s comin’ up before hand. You’re gonna go to that bar… And you’re gonna get us a bottle of mama’s bourbon… Two glasses… You come back… And I’ll tell you what we need to do…

 

Parca: Why yes- yes I will.

 

Parca stands up and walks more toward the bartender and leans over. The two men exchange some words and Parca slips a hundred dollar bill in his shirt. Afterward he is given a bottle of “Big Mama’s Country Bourbon” with two glasses.

 

He walks back to where Mark is sitting and places the glasses down. He opens the bourbon and pours both of them their drinks as he looks to Mark.

 

Parca: So… what’s this we need to do?

 

Mark takes a big gulp.

 

Reese: We drink. Then if you’re still standin’ by the end of the night then bygones are bygones. Deal?

 

Parca takes a moment and just looks at Mark. He takes a deep breath as he looks down at his glass.

 

Parca: You don’t understand how long I’ve been waiting for a moment like this. As much as I hate drinking? I’ll be sure to be standing after all of this.

 

Parca: You were and always will be my best friend. You got a deal big guy.

 

Mark smirks and takes another gulp.

 

Reese: You’re two behind.

 

Parca: This is cruel, you do know that?

 

Parca grabs his glass and takes two big gulps from it as his body quivers. He throws his head around for a second before looking back to Reese and taking a third swig and begins laughing.

 

Parca: Looks like I’m one ahead.

 

Reese shrugs, and drains the remainder of his glass.

 

Reese: Y’know that lil’ smirk a guy gets when he knows he’s gonna win…

 

Reese points to his own face.

 

Reese: We call it a devil's grin.

 

Parca: You don’t think I’ll go down that easy do you?

 

Parca slams back the rest of his drink and refills both their glasses.

 

Parca: You’re a smart guy, you don’t think hiccup I’d go down this quick right?

 

Mark casually slides his glass to one side and picks up the bottle, making intense eye contact with Parca. Slowly, he raises it to his lips. Parca looks on in horror but suddenly Mark points right at him.

 

Reese: Ahhhh! You thought I was gonna do it.

 

Parca breathes a sigh of relief and goes to reply, only for Reese to chug the entire bottle. Once finished, he slams it down on the table and gives a shiver.

 

Reese: Wooh! That kicks like a gosh darned mule! You’re up lil buddy.

 

Parca stares at Reese without saying a word. He turns around and walks back up to the bar and grabs another bottle, this time he comes back and it’s already opened as he looks at Reese directly in the eyes.

 

Parca: You- you are a madman, but that’s why I always loved ya pal. I deserve this and by god… it’s gonna be f**king terrible.

 

He opens his mouth as he tilts his head back and begins chugging the bottle. He takes a moment to breathe, and gags while Mark stands by and laughs hysterically. He continued chugging the bottle until finally, he finished it.

 

Parca: Yeeeaaaaahhhhhhhhh! That’s- Let’s go! You, however, can go grab the next one. Also, what is the deal here with B17?

 

Reese looks ponderous once more.

 

Reese: I think Mickey is comin’ for him…

 

Parca snorts, losing some of the precious bourbon.

 

Parca: Come again?

 

Reese: Nah, the way I see it is… I lost to a legend that’s the world champion, right? So if I beat up two future legends then maybe I get another shot at Aries.

 

Reese takes another swig straight from the bottle, draining it. He stands and heads for some new bottles.

 

He sets them down and pours a half into each of the glasses.

 

Reese: Hol’ up, it’s bonus round time.

 

He turns away, heading back to the bar leaving Parca to wonder what’s next. When reese returns he uncorks a bottle of “Miguel’s Curse” tequila and pours it straight into the bourbon.

 

Reese:Fittin’ I guess… Some bourbon and some tequila… Oil and water, right? Well, bottoms up.

 

Reese mentally prepares himself, giving himself a shake before taking the liquor to task. He smacks the glass down, giving a satisfied gasp.

 

Reese: Yeesh, that’d put hairs on a buffalo's chest!

 

Parca: That’s… that looks like disgusting awfulness. But I will do what needs to be done. Firstly though-

 

Parca: Fitting!? Y’know what, I deserve that I’ll let it slide. Down the goddamn hatch…

 

Parca grimaces and knocks it back, coughing and spluttering. A miracle of modern day editing occurs and we begin to fast forward through drink after drink. Slowly in the footage the bar begins to empty out as people go about their business. We come back to Parca propping himself up, just barely. The bartender turns off his light and begins to tidy up.

 

Parca: I… Did… It.

 

Reese chuckles.

 

Reese: You sure did lil buddy. Wanna know a secret?

 

Parca: Yesh pleash.

 

Reese: I forgave you about three bottles ago.

 

Parca looks at Reese, his mask half around and backwards on his head he pulls out his phone and puts it on the table.

 

Parca: Call- call Dennis. I need a smoothie and some air- glad to have ya back bud.

 

Parca falls onto the ground laughing as Reese goes to pick him up while Dennis is on the way to pick up the now reunited friends.

  • Mark Out! 1

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