The scene opens with a cab pulling up next to Castlebar in Brighton, Massachusetts.

Santos: Alright, slow and steady. Don't let these fucking brakes squeal...

Just then, the cab driver slowly taps on the brake pedal, only to have it, well, squeal. Tony cringes.

Santos: Fuck, man! You had one job... Fuck it. Hold up here. I need to pop in to this place, grab something, and I'll be right out. Then I need you to get me to Logan stat. Just stay here and... um, just keep the meter running.

Tony gently pulls the latch on the cab door. His right leg creeps out, followed by his left, as he squirms out of the car awkwardly on his back. Creeping up to the entrance, Tony attempts to keep himself as out of sight as possible. Tony pulls at the door handle just enough to let the blue light from the corner TV creep out to the street. Tony's eyes scan the room from wall to wall. He focuses on the group standing near the dart board, those playing Big Buck Hunter in the back, as well as the people crowding the bar, which generally consisted of the rough and tumble regulars with low paying jobs and little else to look forward to. The black tile floor is covered in a fine film of dirt and spilled beer, with splotches of Miller Lite and Jack Daniels dotting the area. Big Lou, Tony's family friend, can be seen off at the other end of the bar, yakking it up with some cute college-aged girls. Sure, Big Lou was a large, portly gentleman in his 50s with a wife, but to hell with you if you think he wasn't going to try to flex his influence as a bartender every now and then.

Tony, sensing that this was the perfect moment to sneak in, slides around the door and scuttles behind the bar. Crawling toward the beer cooler, Tony makes a quick slide headfirst for the door. Cracking it open, Tony scans the area. Rolling Rock? No, not today. Goose Island? Nah, that's pure and utter garbage. Some German pilsner beer? Sure, if he was interested in washing his mouth in some piss that happened to be decorated in a fancy bottle.

Ah, there it is. Yeti Imperial Stout by Great Divide Brewery in Colorado. Castlebar certainly held a lot of shit within its walls, but it got it right with a select few brews. This gem happened to be Tony's favorite winter selection. Smooth as molasses yet as strong as a warm glass of Saki, this beer, at an ABV of 9.5%, packed a solid punch, and one that Tony wasn't afraid to down with the voraciousness of a hungry baby hitting the bottle.

Tony, smiling from ear to ear, looks back up at Big Lou, who is still entranced by the lovely ladies and their significant busts. Noticing that the window was likely closing fast before Lou was inevitably slapped down verbally, Tony reaches in the cooler, bending his hand so he can grab two bottles by the neck at a time. Bottle after bottle, six in all, Tony stuffs them in to his jacket pockets, then his pant pockets, before holding the final two in each hand. On his back, Tony uses his feet to crawl across the filthy floor, his jacket and hair catching Goldfish pieces and popcorn kernels. Making it to the end of the bar, Tony gets up to a kneeling position before heading for the door. However, as he turns the corner, his jacket nicks a coat hanger, which spins Tony around. Doing a complete 180°, the bottle in his right jacket pocket goes flying out from his jacket. Tony's eyes widen as he quickly turns to hear...

*CRASH*

The bottle shatters against the wall on the other end of the bar, spraying a table of women in their mid-20s as shards of glass barely miss their heads. Tony, in a panic, looks right, then left, then at the cab waiting for him, and makes a beeline for the vehicle. Big Lou, having finally been forced to divert his attention from the women at the other end of the bar, sees this and goes charging toward the door. Tony kicks the door open and does a long jump to the cab door before practically breaking off the car handle.

Santos: We need to get outta here NOW! Go!

Unfortunately for Tony, the cab driver hadn't trusted Tony's promise of being right now, and had thus turned off the engine. The driver, not exactly in a hurry, slowly lifts the key and places it in the ignition. He attempts to start the car, but as Tony's luck would have it, it stalls.

Santos: Motherfucker! Get going!

It was too late. Big Lou was standing outside of the cab window, fuming. Tony quickly locks the door and slaps the cab driver on the shoulder to get him to move faster, but the cab driver, having not liked Tony's attitude during his brief run with the man, smiled and unlocked the back door. Big Lou immediately yanks the handle and opens the door, pulling Tony from the car. Tony falls to the ground before quickly rolling to the curb and getting to his feet. Tony knew he'd done wrong, and he knew it was possible that Big Lou would come after him physically, but Tony couldn't fight back. Not against Lou. Not against a friend who knew Tony better than he even knew himself. Lou converges on Tony, enraged.

Big Lou: You stupid punk! Breaking bottles in my...

Tony lifts his head, showing his face to Lou. Lou's hands, previously at the ready to knock this man's lights out, collapse at his waist.

Big Lou: T-Tony? Oh, what in the hell! You idiot. Did you come to my bar just to smash a bottle and cause problems for old time's sake? Is this how you greet me? What in the fuck is wrong with you?

Lou walks over to Tony and goes for a hug. However, as he wraps his paws around Tony, he feels some peculiar bumps in Tony's jacket. Releasing his grasp, he steps back.

Big Lou: Did you? Did you? Really? Stealing my booze too?!

Tony pulls the two bottles from his jacket and meekly attempts to give them back to Lou. Lou slaps them out of Tony's hands.

Big Lou: Fuck you. They're yours now. What is that, three bottles? Seven bucks a piece. Didn't the good ol' Irish Catholic guilt do anything to you as a kid? You're a damn punk with no freaking conscience, Sullivan.

For the unacquainted viewer, Sullivan is Tony's real last name, which he changed shortly after dropping out of college and becoming a professional wrestler. He felt that it had a certain exotic quality to it that Sullivan just did not. Plus, Tony's relationship with his family wasn't exactly what you'd consider amicable.

Santos: I, um, there are three more in the back seat of the...

Tony points toward the area where the cab driver was located, before he pulled away, taking the monetary hit in order to rid himself of the situation.

Santos: ...cab.

Lou shakes his head as he points toward the door of the bar. Tony brushes his hair back and slowly walks in to the bar, ready to pay a $42 (plus a nice tip for Lou's troubles, of course) tip for booze that he hadn't the opportunity to smell, let alone drink.

Lou walks behind the bar, putting a palm up to Tony, as to say, "not again," before walking over to the register. He rings up the bill, prints out the receipt, and slaps it on the counter. Tony pulls out his credit card, drops it on the receipt, and slides it toward Lou.

Big Lou: Pick it up and hand it to me.

Santos: Go to hell, Lou. Take the fucking card.

Lou grunts at Tony, grabs the card and receipt, and makes his way to the register.

Big Lou: What the ya doin' here anyway, Sullivan? Aren't you some big shot down in Miami now? Dancing with all the sexy Latinas? Drinking margaritas and hanging out at juice bars, or whatever those South Americans do down there? Living the dream, right?

Santos: I was in Boston on Monday for one of our shows. Didn't wrestle, was just checking out the scene. I was up in New Hampshire earlier today, and I drove back down to give you hell before heading to the airport.

Big Lou: You didn't drive yourself down, I assume, considering, you know, you're an alcoholic and all. I assume you weren't up there to catch some rides at Story Land.

Story Land just happens to be a kids theme park well north of Salem, but this is beside the point.

Santos: I fucking ran back. Needed the cardio.

Lou turns around and slaps Tony's card on the table.

Big Lou: Don't get smart with me. I know I have pictures of you diapers somewhere around here. Don't make me show them to those fine ladies over there.

Tony smirks.

Santos: That's fine. Go talk to them some more. I'll steal your beer and your cash. It took a flying projectile almost destroying a woman's face to get you away from them. I'm the hotshot wrestler around here anyway, Lou. I'm doing just fine for myself.

Lou taps his hand on the counter, smiling at Tony as he shakes his head.

Big Lou: So that's why you're pilfering beer from some hole in the wall in Brighton, Massachusetts, right? That's why you're with Shannon, right? The woman that I know you can't stand. Oh yeah, Tony, you're doing so well for yourself.

Hey, remember that time you held a title? When was that? I could've sworn it was a few months ago... You were all bragging and thumping your chest. You thought you were the big man in town. Hm, then you oddly went silent a few weeks after that. Strange. Where'd that title go, anyway? I assume it's not with you, anymore. Have any more come your way since? I figured I would've heard those vocal cords of yours letting loose is that were the case. You most definitely would've told me, right Tony?

Tony angrily grabs his card from the table.

Santos: Be like that, Lou. Just be like that. While I'm traveling the country, um, drinking at different places with multiple varieties of beer, you can stay here, bust a quick nut under the table while dropping sweet nothings on women who would pass for your children if you were to walk out with them in broad daylight, if you were able to find a woman who wasn't embarrassed to actually go out in public with you, let alone when the sun is shining and people can actually see your face. You've got it goooood, don't you, Lou? Really, really freakin' good. Then you can continue to harp on me and my problems while avoiding your own, you worthless, sexless sack o' shit. A sack o' shit that your wife would gladly burn and leave at someone's doorstep like a fucking orphan.

You can go to hell, Lou, while people pay me to be me. Your dreams were shot down like a fucking crop duster in Vietnam, while my dreams are becoming quite the reality. Day by day, Lou, I prove how much better I am than you and those around me., and I'm damn happy to flaunt it.

Lou just stares at Tony, having heard this spiel seemingly hundreds, if not thousands of times before. Lou crosses his arms at his chest.

Big Lou: You done?

Santos: Yeah, done like your fucking life goals.

Lou just smiles and shakes his head.

Big Lou: We've been down this road too many times before, Tony. If you weren't someone that I unfortunately somewhat like, for reasons still unknown to me, you know I'd slap the shit out of you and drop your ass to the pavement.

From that little speech you just gave, it's clear that you haven't grown up, and you haven't learned. You're 25 going on 26 in April, and you better get that act cleaned up. You lost your family because of your bullshit, and you've lost plenty of friends. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you haven't seen your kid in months, and, I really don't think that I'm going out on a limb there at all.

You've always had potential, and I'm glad you're finally realizing it. But here's the thing: that mouth of yours might talk a big game, but you need to go out and execute. In life and in your profession. You may see me as some washed up old man who tends bar for a bunch of college kids and young professionals, but, Tony, I've got a beautiful daughter and a loving wife. You've got a bitter attitude and quite the touch of resentment for any and all people who you cross paths with.

Hey, I know that'll help you in the wrestling ring, so keep it up in there. But out here, get your shit together. I don't want to see you in 15 years, laying in an alley while pigeons use you as their own personal toilet.

Now, don't you have a plane to catch?

Tony grabs his cell phone and checks the time.

Santos: God damn! I've got 35 minutes!

Big Lou: Get a move on it, Tony! Oh, and I'll expect you to pick up the tab for those nice young ladies that you almost decapitated as well. Your card's still open, so don't worry, I'll throw it on there!

Tony, hurrying for the door, hears these words from Lou. Thinking fast, Tony finds a full beer glass sitting to his left, grabs it, and hucks it across the bar, watching it shatter to pieces as beer covers those same people playing Big Buck Hunter.

Santos: Guess I'm gonna have to pay for that too! Don't worry, I'll learn someday!!

Tony flees the bar and hops in to a waiting cab as the scene fades to black.

September 2013 and May 2019 Star of the Month
1x Hart Champion
1x Television Champion
1x Xtreme Champion