"No man chooses evil because it is evil; he mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks." - Mary Wollstonecraft

my mind is racing
and i can't stop pacing
i just want to go to bed
my pride is falling
and i can't stop balling
i think of the life i have led

my senses are crawling
and i know i'm just stalling
i reach for the bottle of dread
after all of this dwelling
and my brain stops swelling
i can finally rest my head

The room swirls in front of Butch's eyes as they begin to slowly melt out of his head. He whimpers as he lies on his side on the floor next to an empty bottle of whiskey, which is also next to a large, chunky 'pile' of vomit. He's moaning off undecipherables in between the breaths and tears, whether he was yelling for someone, at someone, to someone, at himself... At nothing?

"AGGGAAAHHHHHRRRRRRBBBBB!!!!!"

It was unknown. He continued this until he finally lost consciousness and slept it off.

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"Hi, my name's Butch. I'm an alcoholic."

A group of men, all different age groups, sit in a circle facing each other. One of the men stands up and takes center as the rest of them all respond.

"Hello, Butch."

"I'd like to thank-you for joining us again, Butch. It's been a long time and we're all glad you're back."

"It's good to be back. I'm sorry I bailed on all of you when I did..."

"Sometimes even the strongest wills can be weakened to the point of breakage. That is why it is so important that you never forget those of us that have been here; supporting each other, helping one another, and having each other's backs IN CASE of a relapse. We're all here for different reasons and we've all screwed up once or twice in our lives. The point is that either by the almighty hammer of the law or your own decision, you're here sitting in this circle. Law or not, your own free will brought you here. That's step one, people."

Butch starts to applaud by clapping his hands, but is the only one to do so and quickly stops. He holds out a big thumbs up to the man who is apparently running the meeting and gives him a big wink. The man laughs and walks over to Butch and puts his hand on his shoulder.

"These burdens on your back, Butch, let them go. Let us help."

Butch jumps to his feet and gives the man a big hug and three loud pats on the back.

"I feel reborn!"

A few of the men sit back in their chairs, the man victim to the hug has a surprised, confused look on his face as he smiles uncomfortably.

"Well, GREAT!"

"I was lost, but now I am found!"

"Amazing!"

Butch lets him go and gives him a tiny thumbs-up just a few inches from his face and leaves them with a wink and a twinkle in his eye. He stomps towards the exit and does so out of the gymnasium. With a skip to his step, he walks out onto the street, pulls a hood up over his head and continues his march.

"Butch!"

He stops and perks his head one way as if it would assist his hearing.

"Butch Holliday!"

He turns around to find Steve Sayors approaching him out of nowhere. Butch stands still, confused as ever, and waits for Steve to catch up.

"Are you following me, Steve Sayors?"

Steve steps back.

"Of course not, Butch! Of course not! Mere coincidence, I swear!"

Butch says nothing as the look on his face is a bit disgruntled and not the happy-go-lucky fellow we're used to seeing in public or on camera.

"I was just wondering if I could get a quick word to throw on the XWF Daily News for tonight. With your big debut right around the corner tomorrow night on Savage, you must be excited to show not just the fans, but the XWF locker room what Butch Holliday is capable of."

Butch looks around with a sigh and puts his arm around Steve's shoulders. he takes a deep breath and smiles to Steve with a thumbs-up.

"Not a minute went by this week, Steve-O, that I wasn't thinking about this match. I've waited my WHOLE life to get to this level of competition and bah Gawd, I'm going to take full advantage of it."

"Sounds great. I see you were just popping out of the local gym here... Getting some last minute training in? Trimming the fat, so to speak?"

Butch let's go of Sayor's and rubs the back of his neck.

"Uhh, yeah. Sure."

"Anything you want to add in regards to your opponent, Butch?"

"Yeah, I've been thinking. You know, the guy has such a bad taste in his mouth for this country of which it stands. If I have to step up and be a patriot in this situation, just to equal out the equation here, so be it. I can wave the flag. I can salute. I said it before, I don't think you're much of the gentleman that you claim. I think you're a liar. You don't see Butch Holliday walking around, pointing his fingers, and peeing in the Queen's soup, do you? Of course not. O'Connor, being raised as an American like I was by my sweet momma, I was taught to respect everyone. Treat everyone how you wish you were treated. That apparently doesn't apply for you blokes across the swim, huh? You want to whine and complain of something that happened more than a fifty years ago? Go for it buddy. You're going to have a lot more to complain about after Saturday though."

Steve hits the stop button on his phone and throws it in his pocket.

"Perfect, Butch. Thanks a million."

Butch gives Steve a nice hard pat on the back and stomps away. Before he can get too far, Steve yells out to him again.

"Hey! Butch!"

Butch turns around.

"You alright, man?"

Butch has that smug look on his face again. It doesn't change but he lifts his signature thumb up in the air then turns around and walks away.

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