Acronemy

By: Murphy Doyle Maher

Date: 3rd Aug 2021

So…how was the trip?

Three Ducati XDiavelís zip through traffic in a straight line, one after the other. Each one equipped with a different color underlighting rig. One green, One Blue, One Pink. The bikes take off down an exit ramp and come out onto a backroad somewhere in the woods. Itís very clear that these two roads are not connected, and a chunk of time is missing. The first bike comes to a stop, followed by the second, and then the third. The first biker removes his helmet and we see the bearded face of Murphy Doyle Maher, the Fight NYCís first ever Queenís champion. The second biker removes his helmet and it is the Phrq, Vincent Black. The third biker struggles to remove their helmet, seemingly forgetting about the chin strap. Once they recall, they remove the helmet and reveal themselves to be Vhodka Black. The three dismount from their respective bikes, and walk inward toward an open field that once contained wheat, or maybe corn? Itís impossible to know.

Murphy Doyle Maher
This used to be a corn field.

Okay so it isnít impossible. Murphy walks toward the middle of the field, and points to an area just ahead. Itís equidistant from the line of trees that make up the nearby forest and the mostly dirt road that lead them up here. He chooses his words carefully because of the company, but also chooses not to downplay it. For as wild as Vhodka might be, she was intuitive. And despite the fact that she was best friends with “her,” she was kind to him. Not like she had any reason not to be, but that didnít stop a lot of other people.

Murphy Doyle Maher
We had driven past this place on Ďr way somewhere on 4th of July weekend. And when we circled back, by the time we got here it was pitch black. We set up a small camp, nothing crazy. No fire was Ďquired as it was a cool night. One thing led to another and when that needed, we were laying here, looking up at teh night sky. And thatís when it happened. The sky exploded into every color imaginable. Red, blue, orange, green. We laid here, and just watched in each otherís arms. This was where I felt best. With her, here. So if Iím gonna bury it all, it makes sense it be here.

Vincent stepped forward, looking at Murphy carefully with a look of concern only his kids are used to seeing. He placed his hand on his shoulder and squeezed, to give comfort. And then squeezed a little more, for different reasons.

Vincent Black
Did I just ride 6 hours so you could show me a field you fucked my sister in?

Murphy Doyle Maher
Iíd like to think of it more like, making love.

Vhodka Black
Vin, this field is very romantical.Sarah was lucky to be fucked in the dirt here.

Murphy Doyle Maher
I wonít romanticize it. But the lighting bugs, the fireworks, the breeze through the trees, the chance that we could get eaten by a bear at any given. It was amazing. I guess I should get to it. Bee Arr Bee.

Murphy took a few paces into the field, stopped at a small spot that was worn bare by something, or someoneís, and knelt down. He pulled a small collapsible shovel from his back pocket and jabbed it into the ground, Removing red clay dirt and making a sizeable hole. He pulled out a bulky package wrapped in butcher paper from that bar he was a regular at and tied off with the twine from the same place. He held it in front of his face, and looked at it. In his hand was a timeline of his entire relationship. Here and now, it might as well have been nothing more than a handful of ash. He shoved it into the hole, and covered it up. He whispered a prayer to himself, and stood. He could feel Sarah with him then. He could hear her voice asking him if he was truly ready for this. He knew he wasnít, but that didnít matter. He didnít get to be ready. He had to be. Folding the shovel back up, and slipping it back into his pocket, he rejoined Vhodka and Vin, who are in each other’s arms and looking very much like theyíd like to wear out a spot of their own.

Murphy Doyle Maher
…Thereís a motel about 5 miles back that way. Youíll see a sign. Iíll get us rooms. If yeh not there by morning, Iíll come back and kill the bear what got yeh.

Vincent Black
Good man.

Vhodka Black
Question. Do you have any fireworks?

Murphy Doyle Maher
…I got road flares?

Vhodka Black
Ö.gimme.

Murphy tossed the flairs from his pack on his gas tank, and took off. The motel was quaint and rustic, but comfortable for something in the middle of nowhere. Murphy sat on the bed, in his underwear, eating a popeyes chicken sandwich, which is far and away the best chicken sandwich there is. Chik-aphobiaís doesnít even come close. And that garbage that BK passes is better than Chikís only from the lack of guilt over buying it. The small tube tv was playing a movie he hadnít seen in a while. Mr and Mrs. Smith. He watched as they beat the hell out of each other, and somehow still loved each other. It was unrealistic. The only thing that wasnít unrealistic was that Pitt and Jolie got together. Those two were meant for each other. Just like him and Sarah. Murphy snorted at this idea, and finished his sandwich. He layed his head down on his pillow and told himself heíd get up and brush his teeth in a moment. But then he saw an alert on his phone. Not from Sarah who heíd been going back and forth with over the social media sites response button as well as direct messaging. But from MAV. He had said that Ďhe would be a lot of things, but he would not be champion of the losers.í Murphy smiled at this. And almost typed a response, but decided to wait. Before long Murphy had passed out and in the morning felt the sting of the hot sauce from his pre-sleep snack rotting his teeth bit by bit. He jumped up, brushed his teeth and looked outside. All three bikes were parked and Vincent was standing right outside the door, looking into the window with a coffee in each hand. Vincent smiled, and Murphy nodded, opening the door. Vincent whistled as he entered, which by the fucking hairs on the back of Murphyís neck worried him more than his expression was alluding. Handing him the cup, Vin sat on the dresser and took a sip of his, smiling right after.

Murphy Doyle Maher
Good field?

Vincent Black
Amazing field. Best field ever. How was your night?

Murphy Doyle Maher
Heavenly. Ate a spicey chicken sammich and fell Ďsleep right off. Woke up, and here we are.

Vincent Black
Murph. Youíre going to be ok. You know that, right?

Murphy Doyle Maher
Against MAV? Boyoh is on a slide, only reason why I wouldnít beat him was if I wanted to keep this belt. Which I may, because itís beautiful.

Vincent Black
Itís absolutely hideous.

Murphy Doyle Maher
Donít say that about me belt, Vin. Weíre just getting along.

Vincent Black
Listen. Forget about MAV, Forget about the belt. You know what Iím saying…and you know why Iím saying it.

Vin points to the wall behind Murphy signalling that Vhodka is on the other side, listening to the heart to heart talk sheís convinced Vin to give, despite having a very small heart and very little desire to talk. Murphy nods and goes along with it, if only to get it over with.

Murphy Doyle Maher
Thanks yeh, Vincent. I have turned a corner, thanks to teh wisdom yeh imparted.

Vincent Black
My pleasure, Murph. Give us a few hours and weíll hit the road?

Murphy Doyle Maher
Few…you guys just got back? Itís like 9 hours later!?

Vincent Black
…It was a good field. Listen, go on ahead. Get some air between your ears. Weíll see you back home.

Murphy Doyle Maher
The gift Xavier got me. Was a recreation of the crime scene. Some lab coat was goní tell me who it was that was driving by looking at the files in a different light. I didnít call. Sure, it was a question I asked oíer and oíer. Always wondering. But it isnít a question I care to answer anymore. See, I got a new one now. One that he canít pay to have answered. Truth is…I never felt worthy of it. Her love, I mean. Always felt like it was a gift I was being given daily. Wrapped in the hundred of little ways she showed she cared. I tried so hard to show how much I appreciated it. Always made sure she knew that I was the lucky one. Now I look back and I thinkÖíwas it too much, or was it not enough?í And I donít have an answer. Because you can speculate and wonder but how can you ever be really sure that the love you had, that you gave…wasnít enough. Until today. Going to that field, and saying goodbye to our memories, its become clear to me that no one who valued what we had, could toss it to the side as easily as she did. It wasnít too much, or not enough. It was perfect. It was just wasted on the wrong person.

Vincent Black
Love is never wasted. We are better for every moment we live with love in our, i donít know, hearts? Or something? I dunno, I need to go to sleep. For fucks sake. See you.

Murphy waited for Vin to enter his room, listened for Vhodka and his conversation to start, and then as the wall shook, realized there would be no conversation. Grabbing his bag and helmet, he leaped onto his bike, and took off. The highway blew by quickly, and effortlessly, as he drifted back and forth from one lane to the other. These bikes were badass for what they were. Sure they werenít choppers, which was his preferred form of two wheel transport, but they were fun. He made a mental note to see what Dane could do with one if given the time and opportunity. In the hours that it took him to arrive back in the city, Murphy had come up with something. Not so much a plan, but an idea. An idea that if he should work it out properly, could be the thing to get him back on course, with or without his Loserís championship. Standing on a sidewalk outside of a restaurant the following day, Murphy has his phone out and opens up TikTok. He hits the live button at the bottom of the media area and 12 people join instantly. He watches as those numbers increase steadily, and then drastically, hitting the 250k mark in no time flat.

Murphy Doyle Maher
Oi, Murphiends, welcome to me first ever tiktok live. Here Iíll be doing a bit of monologuing and if I wanna, Iíll answer a few questions. As always feel free to comment under the impression that I wonít ever fíckin read Ďem. Now we got that out the way, let me just address the elephant in teh room. My queen’s title.

Comments scroll by on the left side of the screen praise Murphy for his performance at past events both in FIGHT and otherwise, as well as a plethora of Hearts and smiley faces. One person even proposes marriage several times in all caps.

When I was presented with it, I was a bit overjoyed that me friend and boss Xavier felt the need to saddle me with it in order to get me out of a rut. A rut that I meself didnít see. Because it isnít there. See, Murphiends, people in the biz, which is short for business, like to measure their career by wins over losses. Gives and takes. But Ďts not right, is it? Life is full of other tings, tings that when you really think about it matter so much more than a record attached to yeh name. I am a firm believer of experience being more valuable than gold. The tings we do make us who we are. And thatís an important lesson for MAV to learn. See he said something on teh social media platform twitter about not wanting to be champion of the losers. And thatís one way of looking at it. But let me ask you a question, MAV. A question Iíve asked meself many times, not always having the right answer, depending on the circumstances. But…Is it me?

Is it me that makes you feel like you shouldnít be compared to, or the title? If it is me, then that means youíve neh seen me do what I do, neh have you bothered to try. Attached to my name might not be countless world titles, but Iím known for quite a bit. First and foremost, being quite genuine, and real. No airs about me, boyoh. What yeh see is what yeh get. You on the other hand are obsessed with image. ĎLook at me and how great i am.í I canít blame you, goes hand in hand with this whole shebang. We all gotta put ourselves apart from teh others. Except, yeh all doing it teh exact same way. ĎI am better Ďen yeh and hereís how.í I ainít better than yeh mav. Yeh or anyone. In fact, I think we might just have quite the lot in common. We both are in this business for a reason, ainít we? Sure, different reasons entirely, but the fact that there is a reason, might as well make us twins, yeh?

Second, neither of us Ďve had the best luck as of late. You with yeh failed attempt against Amari feh the Brooklyn strap, and I having found a split end the other day. But we persist, donít we MAV. We look onward and upward and do our level best to take whatever comes rather than letting it take us. See, Iím a firm believers in the fact of life that states you can either stand up, or stand down. Life throws a punch, you roll with it or absorb it. You donít strike me as the type to do either, MAV. You seem like a man who says he didnít even get hit. That he isnít in pain or agony from the situation Ďt all. Talking about not being the champion of teh losers. Yeah, because even when it comes teh being a loser, yeh mediocre at best. Yehíd have to strive to be the best of the worst, and yeh canít even get out of the middle of this pack, how yeh goní fair IF that daydream you have ah the top tier ever comes true? If this was the lotto, that dollar wouldnít grant yeh a dream it give yeh a nightmare. Like waking up without yeh penis or reaching the top without teh skills teh get yeh there. Which judging by teh look of yeh in that outfit yeh wear as well as listening to teh way yeh speak, both of happened to yeh at some point recently. Which is also where we have common ground because yes, and because…irish.

The last of our common grounds is of course the fact that our names are too long for our particular liking, yet unlike Vin and Xavier whatever they are this week, we ainít changing our names, but shortening Ďem. Acronyms or initials, whichever they are, they couldnít be more different, just as we couldnít be more different. First off, My initials are hard, and manly. While yours are just the short version of a girls name. But letís say for a second that it was an acronym, MAVerly. FYI IDK WTF WYD but SMH I STG IMO when we get F2F weíre gonna see if yeh IQ is as small as the chances of a successful LDR between a BF and GF who are both IR TS from the DNC and RNC respective with YOLO tattooís on tehr BFHís. Maybe this match wonít be a nightmare for HR that will cost them some OT or fucking with teh people in PR, but I do know this. At EOD, ím either gonna launch yeh out of the ring like a UFO, show you what VBD truly means, or at worse case scenario, Youíll FUBAR by MDM for all of NYC to see.In fact, showing up at all is prolly AMA since me fist is your POS. Honestly, itís all TBD. LMK if yeh saying WTH, and want me to explain ASAP but do me aware that IDGAF about yeh, or anything yeh bring to teh table. Iím here to flip teh table, not sit at it. So look at teh bright side, Maveline. When this is all said Ďnd done, At least youíll be a champion. And yeh will be the only one no one questions teh validity Ďf. BRB TTYL THOT. ILY.

Murphy ends his life stream, closes TikTok, and slides his phone into his back pocket. He pulls open the door and makes his way through the tables scattered about the place, and comes to a stop at a back booth. Seated at one end of the booth, he looks down at the steak in front of him, and then at the man across from him. His face covered by a ballcap, he picks up the steak and begins to take bites out of it, unconcerned for how others look. Murphy pulls a napkin out of the glass in front of him and tucks it into his shirt, before also picking up the steak and biting into it.

Murphy Doyle Maher
Thankís feh ordering. Had a ting teh do.

Kal Wolf
I saw. What was that, fucking facebook?

Murphy Doyle Maher
Friendster.

Kal Wolf
Donít fucking tease me, Iím old.

Murphy Doyle Maher
Please, yeh barely aged Ďt all.

Kal Wolf
So…how was the trip?

Murphy grabbed the beer in front of him and washed down the chunk of steak from his mouth before responding. He also downed half the beer instead of just a sip. His tongue slid across his mustache clearing the sudsy remainder.

Murphy Doyle Maher
Was fine. Neh teh really talkabout. Ducatiís are fun, though. Yeh gotta try it.

Kal Wolf
Fuck outta here. Iím suprised you got Vin on one of them.

Murphy Doyle Maher
Heís having more fun wití it now, I think. Heís happy again. Nice to see.

Kal Wolf
Yeah, Vhodka is good for him. But donít you tell the fuck I said that. She can keep fucking hating me for not wanting my nieces and nephew to be heartbroken.

Murphy Doyle Maher
Right, will do. Hereís a thing, tho. I got a favor to ask Ďf yeh.

Kal Wolf
You? A fucking favor?

Murphy Doyle Maher
Yeah, I got a list. People I wanna bring in to teh FiYAh. Since yeh started teh whole shebang, figured yeh could give it a once oíer. Tell me I nae crazy feh thinking this way.

Kal Wolf
Ok. Let me see the fucking thing.

Murphy Doyle Maher
Here…donít laugh, bastard. Iíll do teh Ďhow could yeh do this teh meí bit.

Murphy slides a piece of paper across the table, and Kal unfolds it with one hand while eating the steak in the other. His eyes go over the names and his expressions change with each one, not sure about one, surprised about one, pleased about another, and then he gets to the last and he is visibly confused.

Kal Wolf
This last one. No way they fucking agree.

Murphy Doyle Maher
Can yeh think of a single person who would embody teh very idea of teh FiYAh then they? I have tried and do report, can nae.

Kal Wolf
Listen. Try. Do your best. Youíre charismatic as fuck. But, youíre wasting your time.

Murphy Doyle Maher
Got so much time, might as well do somethiní with it. ĎSides sleeping and eating.

Kal Wolf
…I ever tell you why they called your grandfather ĎLucky?í

Murphy Doyle Maher
Yeah, like the joke about the dog. He had the greeting card behind the bar.

Kal Wolf
No. We fucking got him that, because of the nickname. Back in the day, your grandfather’s bar was prime fucking real estate. Was a corner lot, with the fucking maintenance tunnels going under and all around. As well as it being the only place on the lot that wasnít fucking abandoned. So the fucking broke noses got the idea. Letís buy this fucking dive, take it over. Do our business. Cops canít fucking see us moving, we can own the area. One fucking problem, your grandfather says no. Fact, He said ĎThanks but no thanks.í So thatís like saying Iím sorry that Iím not sorry, but to a guy who is already looking to wack you out. But they donít wanna do that because your grand father was a good fucking man. He helped out the neighborhood, went to church, he was as decent of a fucking guy as that shithole place ever saw. So much in fact that the old fat fuck who was running back then put an order of protection on him. So they kept pestering and asking and heíd keep saying it over and over. So they decided, fuck it, letís feed him a bunch of tips, get him owed, and then bust him out. Your old man was many things, but a degenerate gambler? Never. He was the kind of guy who valued the money in his pocket over the money on the table. The table money could go to anyone. Pocket money was his. But they did something, tricked him into fucking playing the ponies. Sure thing, blah blah. The idea was that they got this horse, Ruby Red. Fast fucking horse. Was winning left and right. So they say to him, Ďas a way to pay you back for all youíve doneí hereís this tip. He goes, he places his bet. Horse doesnít win. Horse was on more fucking drugs than an 11 year old Drew Barrymore, so horse doesnít even really run. They start practicing the speech. They tell the fat fuck, hey he owes us. Fat fuck says Ďsee if he can pay. Give him a chance.í These guys are fucking drooling to get their hands on this bar. But orders are orders. So they go to the bar, they say Ďhey you owe usí and he slaps the money on the counter. Your grandfather never bet, like I said. So he had money on it, wanted to fucking experience it. So he went. And when he was there, he made some other bets, just to keep in interesting while he waited. He won every single fucking bet he made that day. So much that he won like 7 times what he owed. Fucking guy even tipped them extra, because even though the tip didnít work, they still though of him.

Murphy Doyle Maher
Jaysus christ.

Kal Wolf
Wait, it gets better. So your grandfather takes all this money and starts doing renovations to the bar. He says its drafty so he wants to shut down the tunnels beneath. Now theyíre sweating. They want those fucking tunnels. So they decide fuck it, letís grease the mic, make it look like some local citizens took an interest, we can pin it on somebody or someone, fuck it. They tried 3 times. First time they used this little spanish kid. Gave him a pea shooter. Kid took a week to get up the nerve. But couldnít keep the gun in his house, so he stashed it inside a tree. Fucking wettest week new york ever saw. Kid walks up to your gramps, goes to pull the trigger, fucking gun wonít fire. Fucking pin rusted, and snapped in a fucking week. Next time they get some fucking idoit to try and stab Ďem. Kid comes running up, goes to stab, the knife slips out of his clammy fucking hands, spins, and when he tries to catch it, he fucking stabs himself in the wrist. Your gramps drove him to the fucking ER. Finally after having enough, they go to this asshole that wasnít really welcomed in the fam. Real jerkoff. They say theyíll pay, blah blah. He agrees. Three days later, the two assholes whoíve been orchestrating this entire thing show up dead. But not all of them. Just their heads, sans the eyes. Turns out, the jerkoff new how much that fat fuck loved the old man, went and told him. Got his way back in with him. And Lucky stayed lucky.

Murphy Doyle Maher
So wait, how did he lose his ear, and his eye, and his fíckin finger, then?

Kal Wolf
Diabetes, infections and just bad hygiene, really. Point is, thatís the blood you got going through you. The blood of a man who everyone did everything in their power to stop, and didnít just live, mother fucker thrived. He was like a fucking father to me. Itís why Iíve tried to help you. So when I say, forget Sarah. Move on. Youíll do better. I donít know it, but I believe it. Because youíre worth it. Even when you fucking think otherwise.

Murphy Doyle Maher
I appreciate it. Iíll be fine. The hard part is over.

Kal Wolf
Fuck man. If there was ever a sentence that existed to be proved wrong…Itís that fucking one right there.

Murphy laughed, and smiled but truth be told, he was lying. Not to Kal, or to the world, but entirely to himself. The hard part was not over. The hard part was living every day without the one person you were sure youíd spend the rest of your life with. The hard part was not today, but every day after. And someone was going to pay for that. And that someone was going to be MAV. One way or another.