As unfortunate as that news is, I still have to move on to my current opponent of the week…Chad Evans. He has been known to interpret himself as God, as it has been noted time and time again. A solid wrestler and a respected SCW veteran. It would be nothing more than an honor to put him into the ground. I can come out with the win but for now I’m taking a bit of a vacation. My match against Angel wore me out plus my family thought it would be a nice present for my hard work in this past few months. My dad decided Jamaica would be a nice place for a vacation I didn’t mind it. I had heard some awful things about Jamaica outside of its resort area but those could just be rumors spread by other Caribbean countries attempting to steal Jamaica’s income from the tourism sector. Even Glace is coming along; it should be an interesting time.
Location: Negril, Jamaica
Scenes open to Sandals Negril Beach Resort & Spa as everyone is seated at a table, just finishing breakfast. MJ, his father, his mother, and his former guardian were all there. MJ was notably distracted. He was in deep thought as everyone around him was talking about the vacation and SCW. MJ could careless about what they wanted to discuss. His mind was switching from Angel to Evans as well as spare moments of Kitty’s death. He was in disbelief that some bastard killed a wrestler but yet he should have seen it coming. SCW is not a huge bubble where no one can penetrate and do harm to stars. No matter how good you are in the ring, a crazed fan with a sharp knife will always have a better chance than you. Truth is it regardless of how bad you think you are, there is someone who is worse ten fold. MJ didn’t think it would happen to him anytime soon but it was quite an interesting thought.
Shorty: MJ.
MJ: Yeah?
Shorty: What are you going to do? You can come with your mom and me to the spa or go surfing with Glace.
MJ: I think I’m just going to take a walk.
Anthony: Walk? Boring bastard.
MJ: Ha-ha, yeah, I got a lot of things on my mind. I think I just need a quick walk to clear my consequence.
Janice: All right, just make sure you don’t stray too far away from the resort area.
MJ: Okay.
Anthony: See that hot brunette chick?
Shorty: Yeah.
Anthony: My surf instructor.
Shorty: I thought you knew how to surf…
Anthony: I do.
He winked and headed off towards the woman as MJ grinned and Shorty just shook his head. Shorty and Janice got up as well and Shorty signaled to MJ to keep himself out of trouble. MJ nodded and watched as both left. He soon got up as well. He brushed the crumbs off his jeans and fixed his white shirt, marked with only a black tribal symbol across it. He took one last gulp of his drink and headed out the door as well. He could see his parents talking and heading into the spa. He really didn’t care for the vacation but if it makes his family happy, why would he turn it down? He decided to put his shades on; it was hard to look around when you come from a decently lighted hotel to the outside where the sun shined brightly. MJ was hesitant about leaving the resort but he needed the alone time. He headed out and began to walk down the street. After awhile or so he is stopped by three shirtless poor Jamaican teenagers, he is a bit worried.
MJ: Can I help you?
Teenager #1: Give me ya money. We know you come from resort up there.
MJ: Heh, I don’t have any money. Sorry, kid.
Teenager #3: Ya think we askin’ you? Give us your money, now.
MJ: I’m not giving you a damn thing, you dirty piece of shit. Go earn money like the rest of us.
They were clearly infuriated but MJ didn’t care. He walked off annoyed but within a few seconds he was struck from behind. They began to savagely attack him. He attempted to fight his way out of it, kicking one of them in the head but wrestling moves where useless when two of them were hitting him while one stayed far back and threw rocks. Soon he was out of the count; they grabbed his wallet as he fell in and out of conscience. They took about two hundred US dollars and threw his wallet back on him. They cursed at him and left. After a minute or so, a few people from the surrounding community came out and saw him in that state. They called the ambulance, which took an hour or two to come as most ambulances from third world countries do. He was carried to a nearby hospital. He finally became conscience but he was in pain.
MJ: Arrgghhh. God my fucking ribs are killing me!
Nurse: Sir, there no need for you to talk like that. You will be taken care of soon.
The nurse had the same accent as the boys. They all spoke Patwa, which was broken down English. It was the Jamaican dialect and everyone had the capability of speaking it. MJ couldn’t afford an injury before his match, one word came to mind: “niggers”. Yes, MJ was a bit slightly hateful of ignorant black people. He himself had protested to being called that but he couldn’t help but think of that word as a description to the boys who had attacked them. Yes, it was a disparaging term but what does the word truly mean. In the mouth of idiots and ignorant people, it is used to hurt the feelings of those who are African American or dark-skinned. In the mouth of those who know what the term’s true meaning is, it can be used properly. What was a “nigger”? Someone who is lazy, quick to anger, and all the stereotypes used on black men. None had fit MJ. MJ was diligent as well as patient. He had never gone to jail.
MJ had never committed a crime or done anyone wrong without good reason. Yet these boys who attacked him? These boys were too lazy to get a job like everyone else; instead they angrily attacked MJ because MJ refused to give his money over to them. They were the reason why black men were looked down upon. They even reminded MJ a little bit of Silkk and Shyne. It had sickened him; he had grown tired of his race and their behavior. It was good men like him who would always take the fall because of them. It was good men like him who suffered the horrible term for them. It was good men like him who were denied opportunities in this world because of them. MJ never believed there was a “white man” looking to take him down, he always believed there was a black person willing to make an ass of themselves and embarrass his race…he thought they were the ones looking to take him down.
As MJ had always forgotten, February was the Black History month. Why does anyone even celebrate it anymore? He thought black people honestly didn’t deserve a month. Black people took all that Martin Luther King Jr. did for them…and pissed on it. Back then, black men used to wear suits and speak properly. Nowadays, you see black men walking around with their pants half way down their ass and now America has to coin a new term for the way they speak, “Ebonics”. MJ was sick of it all. Back in high school, he would have to write a report about great black people and it made him proud. Nowadays, it gave him a migraine to see how backwards his race had become. He, himself, once got caught in the shenanigans of hip-hop culture especially with the influences of Syndicate Inc. He stopped now. He wanted nothing more to do with it. His race had failed him once again but it no longer came as a shock to him.
The nurse had left; he got up and looked into the mirror. He was in disbelief as he saw the bruising his arms had taken, I mean yes he felt it but it was a whole other thing to see the black and blue colors on some part of his biceps. He took his already ripped and dirtied shirt off to see if any other parts of him had been damaged. The mirror was a small face one put in the bathroom but he looked at his collarbone. There was a bit of bruising there too. He looked down and saw his skin was a bit reddish in his ribs area. He was even more infuriated as he clenched his teeth and fists, vowing revenge. Yet he just looked up the ceiling and let out one big sigh. There was no chance he could find those boys again and even if he did, he’s in no condition to fight plus under his SCW contract, he found himself fired for such a thing. He was annoyed beyond belief but he had to work with what he had.
MJ wondered where his nurse went. He walked outside and straight across from him was another room. Maybe she’s in there? He peeked in and his jaw dropped…a young boy not more than twelve years old with no arm and there was a tray nearby with bullets with blood covered on them. MJ was in complete disbelief as he looked on at the kid. He was dark skinned, a bit on the skinny side, and had a mini-afro…probably because he couldn’t afford to get his hair cut on a regular basis. His mother sat in a chair nearby, red-eyed from clearly crying heavily. She had many wrinkles and marks on her face, what you would usually see from a forty year old who worked hard for most of their life. She had on a black skirt with a white blouse; it looked like she had just came from work or somewhere formal. She caught MJ looking at her son’s predicament with sorrow. She walked up to him and got his attention. He was a bit stunned.
MJ: Uh…um…I’m sorry. I was just looking for the nurse. I thought she would be in this room but I guess not.
Mother: Yah, I saw you look at my boy’s injury. You don’t seem like a local.
MJ: I’m not. Came with my parents to a resort, got mugged and ended up here.
Mother: Oh. Sorry to hear that. My boy, Donovan, was walking home from school when this happen. There was gun shots all over the place and a few hit him. You no know how bad I want to get him out of here. I want to send him to England with his cousins but I don’t have the money for that.
MJ: Why not get a second job? It should get you the money in no time.
Mother: Hmm, you think that’s how things work round here? It’s seventy Jamaican dollars to one US. Good paying job is for the people who get education.
MJ: So…I take it you dropped out of school then?
Mother: Drop out? I wish! Most people can’t afford school. Only the well to do or those with family connections in America, who will pay for them, get to finish school. We are not as lucky as you people abroad. All the little money we have has to be put into bills and feeding our kids.
MJ: I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know people had it that hard over here. I mean I knew there was struggle but not on that level.
Mother: Well now you know. You think them boys who mugged were just horrible people? No. They probably aren’t. You ask yourself, what you would do if you walked in every night and saw your mother or sister or any family member starving and you could do nothing about it? It is easy to say, “Get a job” but when you have no qualifications how do you get one? You can say, “Make one” but how do you start your own business if you can’t even afford to buy a business license. People think it easy to get money but this is not America. We only have a few ways and some of them I can’t even talk about. I’m a God-fearing woman and I don’t want to catch myself in trouble for talking about the things women and men do to put food in their child’s mouth. Trust me, it’s nothing to gloat about. I’m not saying what those boys did to you was right but don’t be quick to judge them or Jamaicans on a whole for it.
MJ nodded his head, a little ashamed of what he had thought about them earlier. There were always two sides to a story and he didn’t even take a second to think about what they were going through. He had thought terrible things about them and their families. It made him ashamed of himself. MJ had considered them ignorant but not for one second did he realize how ignorant he had become. He was ignorant of the struggles that others had to face. The women had her arms folded when she was speaking to him. MJ could see in her eyes the struggle she and generations before her had to go through. He looked over at the young boy with no limb whose live would be severely impacted. MJ felt that knot in his throat and realized how great his life was compared to many people. He wasn’t going to go Mother Therese on Jamaica but it did make him think about life’s struggles. The nurse came soon and signaled for MJ to go back in his room. Scenes fade.
Scenes came right back as MJ had left the hospital, treated, and wearing his ripped up shirt. He looked around it was dark and cool. Jamaica’s nightlife was where people really experienced the culture going to dance halls and enjoying the food. MJ realized he had absolutely no money and didn’t want to call his parents or Anthony. They would freak and have the whole police force looking for the boys who mugged him. He simply sighed and walked towards the resort. He could see the resort from where he is standing it was quite huge. MJ began to walk. He was thinking about the hundreds upon thousands of excuses he could give his family for his appearance. The resort had been up a hill, as he walked up his breath was taken away from the beauty of Jamaica at night. The way the lights lit up across the country, it astonished him. He was a bit tired and wanted rest but he took a seat and looked on. Soon he heard a commotion.
Boy #1: Look at that batty boy! Nasty.
Boy #2: He likes to touch other boys. His kind is the reason why Jamaica is in the state that it in.
Boy #1: Let’s stone him to death!
MJ got up and spun around, ready to kick someone’s ass for calling him gay only to realize the boys where talking about some kid nearby them. The kid did look a bit feminine but stoning him to death for being gay? Bullshit. MJ had never been the protector of gay rights nor was he against gay people. He just couldn’t give a damn less about someone’s sexuality. MJ quickly jogged over there as the boys had huge stones in their hands ready to pelt the kid to death. MJ had heard about the killing of gay men in Jamaica but never thought he’d see it the same day he got mugged. They threw their stones, one missing the kid’s head and the other one slamming into his arm. He cried out as they yelled even more slurs at him. It’s one thing if muggers beat up MJ, but another thing to see a little boy get beaten down because of his sexuality. The boys picked up more stones; MJ took both out of their hands and threw them across the street.
Boy #1: Yah stupid? You suppose to throw it at the gay, not the grass across the street.
MJ: No, are you stupid? Your not suppose to be stoning people because you don’t like their sexuality.
Boy #2: Oh, you a batty boy as well?
MJ: No and if I was, what are you going to do about…you know what? That’s not even the point. The point here is that you have no right to hurt another human being because you don’t like who they do are attracted to. If you dated a girl that your friends didn’t like and they planned to stone you to death for it…how would you feel? People have the right to love who they love and let me ask you little geniuses this, do you really think people choose to be this way? I ended up in the hospital being mugged because I was a tourist, do you think I choose to be in that place and that particular time to get mugged? Do you really think, after all the things that Jamaicans have done to homosexuals, that this young boy choose to be that way knowing good and well what would happen to him if he were ever outed? What gives you hot shots the right to kill him? You call yourself a Christians but you carry on with this crap? You should be…
Boy #2: LOOK! HE’S RUNNING AWAY! GET HIM!
Boy #1: Look here, boss, I don’t know what the hell your talking about. God already put it in the bible that homosexuality is a sin; I am doing God’s word. Anyone who defy God, defy me. I suggest you stay out of my way cause next time it’ll be you who gets stoned
They run off after the kid as MJ looks on in disbelief. Those boys looked to be around the age of seven and eight yet they learned hatred so early. MJ shook his head and walked off. He had begun to wonder why everyone called themselves “Christians”. The word had baffled him. A Christian is a follower of Jesus Christ and all Jesus did was preach about love. All Jesus ever did was preach about was accepting outsiders. Instead of homosexuals, it was lepers. MJ had always been raised in a house of non-active Christians. They never went to church or any of that stuff but they always believed in God. MJ wasn’t there to question whether God existed or not. All he wondered was why Jamaica, known for being a Christian country, left in such a decrepit state. It was a third world country that hinged on the bible but yet MJ was mugged, a little boy lost his limb, and a homosexual boy was almost stoned to death in front of his very eyes.
Why did the very people who claimed to follow Jesus’ word of love and acceptance, do the things they do? Or better yet, why is God not here to help them? Where is God when they have no running water? Where is God when gun fights between policemen and thugs occur in Tivoli Gardens in Jamaica? Where is God when women are raped and children are left out in the street to defend themselves? Where is God when Jamaica is in the state that it’s in? I know where he is: busy joining forces with Hodges and Exeter in SCW. God is nowhere to be found when things are to be cleaned up but he is certainly there to take the credit of everyone’s hard work. It had been in MJ’s mind for a while now. Why God has forsaken Jamaica, a country known for its dedication to Christianity. Jamaica has the most churches per square mile than any other country, so why are they one of the poorest?
MJ would plead that answer from my upcoming opponent on this Breakdown but knowing him, he would only laugh in his face and make shallow jokes. He is God, MJ was certain. He is God to the very bone. He is as selfish as God. He is as heartless as God. He has a cult of mindless followers just like God. It can be truly said, Mr. Evans is God without hesitation. Just like the so-called “Christians” MJ had stumbled upon today, Hodges and Exeter will be abandoned once “God” had finished toying with them…left to pick up the mess. MJ had re-entered the resort and headed up to his room. The other tourists looked at him in horror but he could care less. He entered his room quickly as to avoid explaining anything to his parents. Soon, he laid back in a bathtub, filled to the brim with water…knowing what his next step was: He had to take God on and show the people of Jamaica…he was nothing more than a narcissistic prick. Scenes fade.
