Monday, March 15, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
The Firm

It had been two months since my indoctrination. Two months since the Greensea-Pilgrims game that decided who would be going to the Cup final. And today was the final. The very last game of the Amero Cup tournament. Somebody was going home with silverware in their cabinet.

“Johnny! You ready yet? We’re fuckin waiting on you!”

I tightened the laces on my boot and tied them down. I flexed my calf muscle and it barely moved. Perfect tightness. I rubbed the toe with my sleeve to polish it slightly, snapped the sheath closed, and looked at the open door. I’m probably going to have to polish them again this week. I latched the door to Paul’s apartment and the stairs did their usual creaking under me. The storeroom had a flat of water bottles, and pulled apart the packaging to grab a couple. I knew that it was going to be a very long day.

Waking up at four fucking thirty in the morning always means just that.

The air still had that morning chill, even with the sun starting to peak over the horizon. I pulled the zipper on my hoodie all the way to the top and leapt into the back of Danny’s Suburban. He still had glass shards in the cargo area from when I accidentally kicked the ball through his back window. The rest of the guys were still groggy themselves, and Juan had his head back snoring.

“Glad you could make it Johnny,” Paul mumbled.

“Anything I can do to help.”

It was still cold when we stopped at the Flying J outside of Kenly. None of us had eaten breakfast yet, so while the rest were outside stretching their legs, I got us the corner booth in the Country Market. The only problem I was having was deciding between the Steak Benedict and the Big 3 Combo. Fake hollandaise or pancakes… fake hollandaise or pancakes… fake hollandaise or…

“Good morning hon’. What can I get for you?”

I had to stifle a yawn to speak, “Coffee, please. Lots of it.”

“Waiting on more people, or are you ready to order?”

“Waiting.”

“Coffee coming right up.”

Fake hollandaise or pancakes… fake hollandaise or pancakes…
Read the rest of this story!

Love,

Johnny Rumble

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