Post by Jack Tillman on May 25, 2017 20:15:19 GMT -5
Chapter Four
25 May 2011
Birmingham, England
Age: 15
It's been raining now for like a week. Always in the 50s. It's been non stop. I hate this rain. I hate this cold. I hate that my socks and shoes are soaked with water. The food sucks. The living quarters suck. Everything sucks here in England. I'd rather be back in Nebraska where it's in the high 70s. Why the hell did Kurt send me to England for training? Kurt knows British Style of wrestling. Why can't he train me? Why the hell do I even need to know British Style wrestling? After my time here, I'll never come back to England to wrestle.
Sir Stanley Tyler is my coach while I'm over here. Goofy looking fella with one of those old style mustaches. A receding hair line makes him look older than what he actually is. Walks with a limp on his right leg. Nasty leg break back when he was a wrestler in the 80s. The injury doesn't stop him in that ring as the asshole knows how to lay a beating on a kid. He's also the guy that taught Kurt back when Kurt was working his way up the ranks of the wrestling world. Stan likes to put a beating on me the most out of the rest of the other students because I'm Kurt's kid. Doesn't want to go easy on me in front of the other students I'm told.
I don't mind. Keeps me distracted from my old mans death. It's been over two years since he passed and I'm still having trouble getting over it. Still think about him daily. The dreams of his death grow less every night that passes. Always hearing him in the back of my head. Maybe that's why Kurt sent me away for the summer to train with Stanley. Get away from home. Keep my mind away from all that.....mess.
.............
.............
.............
Wish I could drink a beer. The rest of the other students tease me about it since I legally can't drink since the drinking age in England is 16 with an adult. Even if I was 16, I'd need an adult and the only adult I know is Stan, and he'd kick my ass if I held a glass of beer in my hand.
...........
...........
Fuck England. Fuck my squishy shoes. Fuck this rain. Fuck it all. Need someone to fight soon because this run isn't helping me burn off this anger.
25 May 2011
Birmingham, England
Age: 15
It's been raining now for like a week. Always in the 50s. It's been non stop. I hate this rain. I hate this cold. I hate that my socks and shoes are soaked with water. The food sucks. The living quarters suck. Everything sucks here in England. I'd rather be back in Nebraska where it's in the high 70s. Why the hell did Kurt send me to England for training? Kurt knows British Style of wrestling. Why can't he train me? Why the hell do I even need to know British Style wrestling? After my time here, I'll never come back to England to wrestle.
Sir Stanley Tyler is my coach while I'm over here. Goofy looking fella with one of those old style mustaches. A receding hair line makes him look older than what he actually is. Walks with a limp on his right leg. Nasty leg break back when he was a wrestler in the 80s. The injury doesn't stop him in that ring as the asshole knows how to lay a beating on a kid. He's also the guy that taught Kurt back when Kurt was working his way up the ranks of the wrestling world. Stan likes to put a beating on me the most out of the rest of the other students because I'm Kurt's kid. Doesn't want to go easy on me in front of the other students I'm told.
I don't mind. Keeps me distracted from my old mans death. It's been over two years since he passed and I'm still having trouble getting over it. Still think about him daily. The dreams of his death grow less every night that passes. Always hearing him in the back of my head. Maybe that's why Kurt sent me away for the summer to train with Stanley. Get away from home. Keep my mind away from all that.....mess.
.............
.............
.............
Wish I could drink a beer. The rest of the other students tease me about it since I legally can't drink since the drinking age in England is 16 with an adult. Even if I was 16, I'd need an adult and the only adult I know is Stan, and he'd kick my ass if I held a glass of beer in my hand.
...........
...........
Fuck England. Fuck my squishy shoes. Fuck this rain. Fuck it all. Need someone to fight soon because this run isn't helping me burn off this anger.
