SOFI

By: Asher Jules

Date: 3rd Sep 2021

 

So I fucked up. Not in a huge way, or any way that will have long term effects. Affects? But I fucked up. I know what yeh thinking. “You? No! Canít be true.” And while I agree with the sentiment, I also know that at least 3 people in my life wonít bother forgiving me of anything any time soon, I can say that I will handle as I have handled every other moment chock full of character defining decisions such as this. Donít give me that, Ďno, asher, theyíll understand. You had your heart inna right place.í Did I? Or did I simply want to stir the shit to see what it smelt like? Did I actually care Ďbout these people and their problems, or did I just want to use the info I had in the only way that worked best for me? If I canít the difference, what makes you think they will? So iíll do the adult thing, and simply run the fuck away before the cosequences of my own actions have their way with me. It has been two days since the finale at Fight Tower of the 3rd annual Tag Wars. Asher, who had been thrown into the spot of SOMEONE WHO WE WON’T MENTION, did not expect to win, nor did he want to. He didnít even want to do it. Being partners was like being friends, and he didnít want to do that, either. He got into this business because it was easy money. Get in ring, take a beating, get paid. People know when youíre in it to win it or when youíre just riding out for a paycheck. No Brandon Moore is going to fight a guy like me with the intensity he would against Vin Black or so on. Iím no ones competition. Iím a joke without a punchline. A gimmick, yeah? Itís why I made it through the small time with such little hassle. The others were so glad for an easy win that theyíd do just enough to get over, and let me get on with my day. Of course, Iíd also steel the fillings out Ďf their teeth given the opportunity, but thatís business. Sometimes Iíd get caught and get a worse beating. Par for the course, innit. This, though. This was personal. Not for me, but for litcherally everyone else. I donít do anything personal. Or professional. I just…do. Itís why its such a laugh that Iíve got to face Dickie Watshon. Our beloved champion with the big sad. Do they think this a fitting punishment for my avoidance? Or are they just trying to make the champ feel a little better by throwing me to the gators like the christians in egypt? Newsflash, I wonít be here so i doní matter which it was, because it wonít be what is. Asher grabbed what few items he could from his room, socks, carton of cigarettes, a mix tape of terrible songs and stuffed them into a duffle. He took one book out of the large footlocker in the corner of the room, and stuffed it into his bag. He looked at the rest of the books, all copies of the same book written by the therapist who tried to help him as a child. He knew heíd never see them again. The books, too. I spent a long time collecting these. Perhaps it was a mistake to do so. Putting money in the pocket of the arsehole who betrayed me. But for every one of these books I got, I found meself feeling better. One less tome oí me out there for someone to read, and fink they know me. Every bookstore I pass, I search. Every copy I find, I buy. No matter how broke I was. The book came before food, drink, smokes, or jokes. It came before everything. I used to wish none of it had ever happened. Now I wish I was one Ďf the lucky ones who got to keep their secrets for free. Throwing the bag over his shoulder, he held it behind him with one arm, to keep it from knocking into anything, and moved out of his room and into the hall. JJ and Noelle would be sleeping, and Marf would be streaming for another few hours before calling it a night. If she was even home.

I know what people will think. I did it outta love, or care.I canít say it doesnít look like that. In fact, Iím almost tempted to say it was, just to ease the tension. But itís not so. I didnít do it for the good of the group. I did it for me. Same reason why I didnít avoid that match last week because I didnít want to let Dru down, or because I didnít want to fight Dickie and whats his face. I did it because I wanted to. I wanted to not be arsed, so I wasnít. A bit different on this case, though. Seeing someone or someoneís getting taken advantage of by someone Ďther than me, i dunno, fuckin irked me. Is like, when the mob moves into an area. They donít want Ďery tom, dick, and harry doing the place up, getting the attention of that which you doní want the attention of. They want things done right, kept calm, etcetera. These arseholes, coming around, bothering me Ďhood, bothered me. I canít take cookies from an empty jar, is whaí Iím saying. And there were hands that needing slapped away.

Asher ducks into a room, and opens a book that is left by the door. He sticks a wad of cash inside, and shuts the book, placing it in the middle of the floor. He doesnít bother to look in the room, at the bed, or the person in it. He just leaves the room as quietly as he entered. He passes the terrible colored couch, the matching coffee table, and contrasting loveseat, and silently presses the button for the elevator that opens directly into the apartment. You know how when youíre trying to be quiet but every move you make produces the loudest noise humanly possible? If this elevator ding was an earthquake only John Cusack in a plane that canít go higher than ground level could escape it. I swore one or all of them was Ďbout to run out and have it out with me. Thankfully that was just paranoia. But you know what paranoia is, donít you? Itís reflexes you ainít earned yet. Least, in this case it was. With this other thing, with her, I knew it was wrong. Knew in me heart it was going to blow up in me face. I did it anyway. I donít care for my face. I donít even look at it most days. Which is good, cause i know I offended the matriarchal king, dickie watson. Made him feel bigGER sads on account of what was said on the twatter. Then I had the balls to go and try to avoid him. Itís cute how obsessed he is, innit? The Elevator door slides open and Asher steps in. He drops the bag at his feet, and presses the parking garage button repeatedly. He keeps his eyes on the bag, and memories begin to flood. Wasnít so long ago that he gave up living out of this bag. Settled into a home like a regular person. Like he had when he was a kid. When I was lil, we lived in this small house. Was modest, cozy. Sort of. Was me ma, my sister, and me dad, when he was home, which was rare. Was this field behind. Long stretch of grass with woods on either side. I used to grab any loose wood I could find, and with it I built a house in the woods. Had all but one wall. Threw an old mattress in there for comfort. Iíd go there whenever anyone was mad at me. Needless to say, I spent most of my time in it. Iíve not seen it anywhere but my memory in over a decade and a Ďalf. And I still miss it daily. It was the one place I didnít feel like a bother to anyone. Anyone Ďcept for me. The elevator door opened, and as someone stepped in, Asher stepped out. He slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way to the door a few feet ahead of him. As his hand reached the cold stainless steel door handle, His name was muttered to the left of him. When he looked up, he found that he had not gotten out on the lobby floor as he had thought. He had gotten out on the infirmary floor, and was now in front of Vincent Blackís room.

Vin Black
…whatíre you doing here?

Asher
I…came to visit you.

Vin Black
With luggage?

Asher
…yes.

You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but I canít fool Vincent Black at all. I know he thinks weíre kindred spirits, and I also know that means weíre both broken in kind of the same ways, but heís got an indicator for bullshit that is hyper sensitive with me. Itís like…if you were to paint a pile Ďf shit white, from far away you might say Ďthatís a 99í but if youíre close enough to it, youíll smell that itís shit. And heís always far too close for my comfort. I wonder if this was his idea, having me face down the Empire chump, give him his rightful throws at me person. Bet he thought itíd do me some good. See that I can hang at a higher level. The only hanging Iíll be doing is from the tree Marf drags me to when she finds out, and finds me. Good news is, I can’t find meself most days, and I know where Iím at. Puts the odds about evens, Iíd say.

Vin Black
Where are you going?

Asher
No worries, capín. Iíll be back before you know it. Howís the wing, eh?

Vin Black
It only hurts when I hear bullshit.

Asher
…feels fine right now, then?

Vin Black
…itís killing me.

Thing about Vin that not many people know, is that Ďs angry Ďs he is, heís very calming to others. He doesnít react to most things the way other people do. Wonít say normal, as thatís not anyone Ďve ever met. I donít know if itís just some zen shit, or the fact that heís well aware he can physically injure anyone heís ever met given the space and opportunity. Or maybe itís just that he has a good idea on whatís important, and what isnít. Also, I think part of it Ďs that heís fucked inneh head.

Vin Black
If you wonít tell me where youíre going, tell me why.

Asher
…got a bit many whyís, capín. Not sure you got the time for Ďem all. Nor the interest, or the understand, or the ability to even fathom my existence at this level which quite frankly heís never been on. He was born a bad ass. Or hatched, as it were.

Vin Black
Tell me.

For a moment I think to tell him my truth. Tell him that I got a better job offer somewhere, that I need some space, that Iím giving up. Anything that I think heíd believe, ya know? But for some terrible reason Iím still tryinta figure, I told him the truth instead. I wasnít even drunk? So I told him, all of it. Every last bit. I mean, I told him about the dad, and the boyfriend, and a few other things I donít feel like drumming up just now. I also told him how I felt about the Dickie fight. How I was only getting this so I could be embarrassed. To be made a fool. And ya know what he said? My mentor, my supposed heroes, my quote unquote friend..

Vin Black
Fuck all of that. Youíve come so far. And youíre ready to tuck and run over a mistake. A mistake you only made because for the first time in your life, you gave a fuck about someone other than you. Stay.

Asher
…theyíll hate me.

Vin Black
They already do.

And it was true. Marf hated me. Or would, when she found out the truth. Not mine, the. She had confided in someone, not me. And I took that information, for whatever reasons, and I gave it to the wrong person. Not just like the wrong person, but the absolute wrong-est person possible. Worse yet, I gave that person more than one way to fuck me over. If I was fast, I might be able to head it off. I didnít want to, obviously because of effort, right? Like who has time to do all that? Bad enough Iíve got to be the easy win for the new sad lizard, dickie whatson, but now, now I have to save someone who ainít worth saving to help someone who…so i find the guy. Not hard. Heís at a motel in jersey. I drive my beater out there, and things go…as well as can be expected. Asher smashes into a wall mounted AC unit, denting the metal on impact. A hand crashes against his face, and a small amount of blood spurts out. Asher puts his foot into the manís chest, and kicks him across the room. The man is stunned by the power put out by someone so small, so he grabs a lamp and chucks it at him, and it cracks him in the arms that he throws in front of his face at the last minute.

Asher
Listen to me, cunt! Thereís someone coming, someone who I sent, who is going to fuck you up, for what youíve done. You have to go!

He didnít listen. He grabbed me by the hair and threw me outta the room. I bounced off a car head first, and as I laid there, trying to get me eyes to unwonk, I saw her. She moved on him like nothing I ever saw. Fast, and brutal, and fucking terrifying. Before I could stand, she was over me. I donít know what she hit me with, but I passed out right off. And when I came to, I was in the room, his room, by myself. She pinned a note to me, not my shirt, but me chest, said Ďdonít get in between a spider and a fly.í Some fucking Pulp Fiction reference, guess. So I took off. It was bad enough that Iíd done what Iíd done to Marf, and in a very sick and sad way, JJ by..whatís the word? Extension? Doesnít matter, heís on a big sad, my doing. And now I ruined shit for Noelle, too. So letís run down the listÖ
    [*]Fucked over Marf
    [*]Fucked over Noelle
    [*]Fucked over JJ
    [*]Fucked over Vhodka
    [*]Fucked over Vincent
    [*]Pissed off the lunatic that is SarahÖ.woollffff?
When youíre a fuck up who fuckís up this much, thereís only one thing to do and thatís to be a fucked up fuck up and get fucked up over your fuck ups! …I was going to get drunk. Sitting at the bar in the 5th Turnpost, Asher drank his cosmo(s) quickly, asking for another as soon as the glass hit the table. He had been murmuring under his bed, mulling over his decisions, and coming to terms with how badly theyíd been made. It was least two cosmos since the person to his left sat down, but it would be another cosmo before he turned to notice him. Dickie Watson was resting on his elbows, looking at Asher with curiosity.

Asher
Donít bother studying me, you wonít pass.

Dickie Watson
Not one hundred percent interested in studying you. More interested in the fact that youíre drinking cosmopolitans. Hear they can be a cunt in the morning after too many, and youíre just slamming Ďem back. Watch yourself, eh?

Asher
…you should bring that sort of advice to the cunts who ask for it.

Dickie Watson
Is that so? Or, you know, since we work in the same place, Iím legit just kinda offering some quick advice to a bruh that is as weedy as me and seems to be a bit shit-in-the-dumps in the emotion department and might be goiní on a bender, mate. Thereís better methods to deal with whatever is goiní on.

Asher
Bruv, right off, thanks for the intent. Truly. But I meant it when I said I was fine.

Dickie Watson
You never said you were fine.

Asher
…well I am.

Dickie Watson
blah blah blah blah blah blah?

Asher
Just so you know, I donít see this as a fucking opportunity. Theyíre feeding me to you out of spite. This isnít me getting to prove meself. Itís you, disporving me. And what kind of englishman is named fuckiní dimitri? As fake as Sieana Sharpsí everything.

Dickie Watson
bleh blah bluh blog bleh bleh bleh blah bloh, Mate.

Nothing like an optimistic pessimist to ruin a good drunk. Like, to sit there and talk to me about how…or to tell me who…To throw me into aÖ.ok to be honest, I wasnít listening. I had several rather strong cosmoís, and like. Iím sure it was all shitty advice anyway, so why retain it, yeah? Especially when like, who expects to get advice worth having from an enemy? Live me life by a rule, see. Donít take advice from anyone you wouldnít switch spots, with, yeah? And Iíve seen Dickieís life. No thanks, emo phillips. Hard pass. So thatís where Iím at. Got no place to live, all me associates are against me, me mentor is on the mend for the sister Iíve sold said associates out to, and on top of all of this, I know have to be the thing all have a laugh at over my fight against Dickie. But, you can help me with one of those things. 2 Hours Earlier. Murphy Dolye Maher stood at the counter in the kitchen, a can of Musco Family Pearls Black Pitted Olives in one hand, and a handful of said olives in the other. Most people give green olives the nod as far as which olives are best, but thatís because people tend to add them to things. Granted theyíre easy to use to improve things, but black olives stood alone. They were solid all around. Green olives are codependent on rice, and martinis. If a black olive gets involved itís because it wants to. He was looking at an ipad and watching how-to videos on things he would never do, but wanted to know how theyíd be done. This particular one was one of those where you put a together a high end computer. Lots of clear plastic pulled away from shiny parts and pieces. Very entertaining. When the visitor request alarm went off. Vin and Vhodka had been nice enough to add him as an official resident to the apartment since he left Sarahís, and he was grateful. So grateful he was going to tell them all about his thoughts on olives as soon as they got home. But first, heíd have to deal with a visitor. It took a few minutes for him to realize who the hell Asher was, but once he did, he approved him. About 30 seconds later, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened. As soon as they parted from each other, revealing even an inch of his face, Asher began;

Asher
So I fucked up…