Post by SANTANA on Sept 29, 2020 21:31:15 GMT
Washing the blood out of his eyes, he stares into the mirror and the man looking back at him was… different? He was strong again, built Chicago tough. Never the most handsome guy in the room, he now had all of his redeeming physical attributes and for some strange reason it didn’t seem to shock Santana one bit. He doesn’t acknowledge the fact that the pool that he fell 30 feet into did something to him, changed him. Possibly due to the fact that he’s still partially high from last night’s bender. Maybe because he’s finally feeling the effect of that breakfast beer? Probably because Santana is still feeling the effects of that Scaffold match at the Natural Selection King’s Road event. It’s more than likely a combination of all these factors but the de facto answer is always going to be, he’s Santana and Santana is pretty much in a world of his own.
“SMOKE SMOKE LOOK. SMOKEY MAYFIELD SHUT YO ASS UP FOR ONE SECOND SANTANA GOTTA TELL YOU SOMETHING, MUTHERFUCKER.”
He tries to tell his manager/friend about the change but Mayfield is running on and on about some sort of media venture to expand Santana’s fanbase, making this one long phone call. If you need to know anything about Santana, it’s that he hates being on the phone for too long. The almost Charlie Brown-esque parent blathering in the background ceases and this allows Santana a moment to get his thoughts together.
“SMOKEY, SANTANA GREW BACK HIS HAIR. I DONT KNOW HOW THE FUCK THIS HAPPENED BUT IT HAPPENED. SANTANA GOT HIS HAIR BACK AND MUTHERFUCKER I LOOK GOOD FOR SIXTY.”
Smokey is confused. He doesn;t believe that a 60 year old man can somehow magically grow hair out of the blue. There’s a bit of jealousy in his voice when he asks Johnson to prove it but he does anyway. Santana ends up calling Smoke on facetime and a striking look of fear is on the bald manager’s face. He’s not sure who the fuck he’s just been talking to or why they have Santana’s phone. Santana is looking back confused as to why Mayfield is almost pissing himself.
“AYE MUTHERFUCKER YOU GROWN AINT YOU!? SPEAK UP!”
Smokey tries to perk up, not realizing that he’s actually speaking to Santana, the same exact Santana that stole- sorry, borrowed his TV the first time they met.
“SMOKE, WE STILL ON FOR NEXT WEEK!? THE NETWORK MEETING FOR THE FUCKIN SHOWS IM SUPPOSED TO BE BOOKIN’!?”
Smokey raises an eyebrow in confusion. No one but Battleground Network, he and Santana know about the plans. They were never written down, just spoken about. From word to mouth, just like Santana always asked of him. Real old school of him if you ask Mayfield, but he’d never tell his business partner that to his face. Getting stabbed is not in his itinerary.
“AYE MUTHERFUCKER YOU LISTENING!? THIS IS REAL MONEY. SANTANA TRYNA CASH IN BEFORE HE SIX FEET IN. WHO THE FUCK AM I KIDDING!? SANTANA AINT NEVER MEETING HIS MAKER. THE ONLY MAKER SANTANA GON MEET IS THON MAKER WHEN SANTANA HAVE A TALK TO HIM ABOUT THAT PISTONS GAME THAT HE BET ON LAST YEAR.”
It was Santana. The intense threatening ramblings of a sixty year old man were spewing from this twenty something’s mouth but it was Santana. ‘Just how the fuck did he get like this’ Mayfield thought before pausing for a moment… THE POOL! Smoke kept repeating the words ‘The Pool’ which completely confused ‘Tana.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKIN ABOUT SMOKEY. POOL? SANTANA AINT PLAYING POOL WITH YOU NO MORE, YOU A FUCKIN CON ARTIST. REMEMBER WHEN SANTANA HAD TO LAY THAT OLD MAN OUT CUS HE WAS PRESSING YOU FOR THE $40 THAT YOU OWED HIM FROM THE POOL GAME WE LOST?”
Smokey shook his head and tried to put a word vomit together, but nothing was coming out right. He honestly sounded like he was having a seizure until he pieced together ‘Santana scaffold pool’ and it was like a light bulb had turned on over his head. Eureka!
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE SMOKE.. THE POOL HELPED ME GROW MY HAIR BACK!?
Santana wasn’t grasping that he looked nearly four decades younger than he was. He just thought that the pool had weirdly enough removed his scars and grew his hair back to the way he had it when he was 27. He hadn’t thought about his days as a young man in years. It was always living to the next day with Santana. After he’d somewhat helped raise his kids, Santana was back to being alone. 27 felt so long ago but the more he thought about that period in his life, the more he began to realize that he didn’t look the same.
His missing or replaced teeth were back to normal. His eyesight was 20/20 again. His bones weren’t screaming at him every waking second of the day. He… changed? I guess reverted would be the appropriate word.
“SMOKEY, I-I. I DON’T KNOW HOW THE FUCK THIS HAPPENED BUT IT HAPPENED. LOOK AT SANTANA FOREHEAD. LOOK AT MY NECK, I CAN MOVE THAT SHIT TO THE RIGHT AGAIN. MY KNEES AINT CREAKING LIKE A OLD DOOR AND MY RIGHT ANKLE DONT MAKE THAT POPPING SOUND LIKE I'M SETTING OFF SOME CHINESE FIRECRACKERS. AYE SMOKE, I’M YOUNG AGAIN.”
All you can hear is ‘NO SHIT’ being yelled at through the phone before both men sit in silence.
“OK SO HOW THE FUCK WE GON MAKE SOME MONEY OUT OF THIS?”
“SMOKE SMOKE LOOK. SMOKEY MAYFIELD SHUT YO ASS UP FOR ONE SECOND SANTANA GOTTA TELL YOU SOMETHING, MUTHERFUCKER.”
He tries to tell his manager/friend about the change but Mayfield is running on and on about some sort of media venture to expand Santana’s fanbase, making this one long phone call. If you need to know anything about Santana, it’s that he hates being on the phone for too long. The almost Charlie Brown-esque parent blathering in the background ceases and this allows Santana a moment to get his thoughts together.
“SMOKEY, SANTANA GREW BACK HIS HAIR. I DONT KNOW HOW THE FUCK THIS HAPPENED BUT IT HAPPENED. SANTANA GOT HIS HAIR BACK AND MUTHERFUCKER I LOOK GOOD FOR SIXTY.”
Smokey is confused. He doesn;t believe that a 60 year old man can somehow magically grow hair out of the blue. There’s a bit of jealousy in his voice when he asks Johnson to prove it but he does anyway. Santana ends up calling Smoke on facetime and a striking look of fear is on the bald manager’s face. He’s not sure who the fuck he’s just been talking to or why they have Santana’s phone. Santana is looking back confused as to why Mayfield is almost pissing himself.
“AYE MUTHERFUCKER YOU GROWN AINT YOU!? SPEAK UP!”
Smokey tries to perk up, not realizing that he’s actually speaking to Santana, the same exact Santana that stole- sorry, borrowed his TV the first time they met.
“SMOKE, WE STILL ON FOR NEXT WEEK!? THE NETWORK MEETING FOR THE FUCKIN SHOWS IM SUPPOSED TO BE BOOKIN’!?”
Smokey raises an eyebrow in confusion. No one but Battleground Network, he and Santana know about the plans. They were never written down, just spoken about. From word to mouth, just like Santana always asked of him. Real old school of him if you ask Mayfield, but he’d never tell his business partner that to his face. Getting stabbed is not in his itinerary.
“AYE MUTHERFUCKER YOU LISTENING!? THIS IS REAL MONEY. SANTANA TRYNA CASH IN BEFORE HE SIX FEET IN. WHO THE FUCK AM I KIDDING!? SANTANA AINT NEVER MEETING HIS MAKER. THE ONLY MAKER SANTANA GON MEET IS THON MAKER WHEN SANTANA HAVE A TALK TO HIM ABOUT THAT PISTONS GAME THAT HE BET ON LAST YEAR.”
It was Santana. The intense threatening ramblings of a sixty year old man were spewing from this twenty something’s mouth but it was Santana. ‘Just how the fuck did he get like this’ Mayfield thought before pausing for a moment… THE POOL! Smoke kept repeating the words ‘The Pool’ which completely confused ‘Tana.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKIN ABOUT SMOKEY. POOL? SANTANA AINT PLAYING POOL WITH YOU NO MORE, YOU A FUCKIN CON ARTIST. REMEMBER WHEN SANTANA HAD TO LAY THAT OLD MAN OUT CUS HE WAS PRESSING YOU FOR THE $40 THAT YOU OWED HIM FROM THE POOL GAME WE LOST?”
Smokey shook his head and tried to put a word vomit together, but nothing was coming out right. He honestly sounded like he was having a seizure until he pieced together ‘Santana scaffold pool’ and it was like a light bulb had turned on over his head. Eureka!
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE SMOKE.. THE POOL HELPED ME GROW MY HAIR BACK!?
Santana wasn’t grasping that he looked nearly four decades younger than he was. He just thought that the pool had weirdly enough removed his scars and grew his hair back to the way he had it when he was 27. He hadn’t thought about his days as a young man in years. It was always living to the next day with Santana. After he’d somewhat helped raise his kids, Santana was back to being alone. 27 felt so long ago but the more he thought about that period in his life, the more he began to realize that he didn’t look the same.
His missing or replaced teeth were back to normal. His eyesight was 20/20 again. His bones weren’t screaming at him every waking second of the day. He… changed? I guess reverted would be the appropriate word.
“SMOKEY, I-I. I DON’T KNOW HOW THE FUCK THIS HAPPENED BUT IT HAPPENED. LOOK AT SANTANA FOREHEAD. LOOK AT MY NECK, I CAN MOVE THAT SHIT TO THE RIGHT AGAIN. MY KNEES AINT CREAKING LIKE A OLD DOOR AND MY RIGHT ANKLE DONT MAKE THAT POPPING SOUND LIKE I'M SETTING OFF SOME CHINESE FIRECRACKERS. AYE SMOKE, I’M YOUNG AGAIN.”
All you can hear is ‘NO SHIT’ being yelled at through the phone before both men sit in silence.
“OK SO HOW THE FUCK WE GON MAKE SOME MONEY OUT OF THIS?”