Post by SANTANA on Apr 9, 2021 17:34:54 GMT
Santana doesn’t ever take losses to the heart… Well, at least he didn’t used to. The loss to Hatchet was eating him alive and not because he didn’t think hatchet earned it but because he knew that his belligerence was a spearhead that shot directly into the target that was a loss. No more booze, he told himself and he reluctantly stuck to his guns. It’s been about a month now and he seems more unhinged than ever before.
“WE DOIN BIRTHDAYS LIKE CLOWNS NOW. LET SANTANA PUT HIS RED FUCKIN NOSE ON AND ENTERTAIN YALL.”
.. and that was just heard from the parking lot. He seemed ‘less inclined’ to want to do this, to say the least and it showed when a trucker hat and Lisa Lorenzo T-shirt sporting Santana bursts through the doors of the skating joint. All eyes are on him momentarily, not because of the star power that comes with the murderous rage induced man but because of how loud he’s being. You see, Santana is not coping well with the whole dropping drugs cold turkey. The alcohol was the only thing keeping him from not wanting to kill everyone he sees not named Lisa.
Sometimes he might even want to kill Lisa now…
“MOVE THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY!”
He barrels through kids and parents alike until he gets to the front of the line. There stands a boy who looks to be in his mid teens. Said teenager is hunched over the bench and seems to be chatting at the girl who’s in charge of renting out the skates. Now when I say chatting, I actually mean that she doesn’t seem interested in anything that this kid has to say and is in fact annoyed.
You wanna know who’s even more annoyed than her right now? The six foot tall bald man that seemingly skipped the entire line. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a loosie, a single Marlboro red.
“ANY OF YALL GOT A LIGHT!?”
The odds are that someone probably does. However, this asshole just used brute force and the scare factor that comes with his demeanor to get in front of everyone.
“DO I GOTTA REACH INTO YALL POCKETS OR SOMETHIN’?”
A woman steps up and hands him her pink lighter. He nods at her, lights his cig up in this skating rink; a place that more than likely is a no smoking zone. Who’s really going to tell him that though? Santana then puts the lighter into his pocket before looking back at the chick who handed it to him. He raises an eyebrow and… that’s what she thought. Not a single reaction. Taking that first long pull of a cigarette, his troubles are quickly washed away with one single sigh of relief.
This wait though… Santana stood there chiefing his cig for a few minutes, those same minutes feeling like hours to him. Although that nicotine kick into his lungs put him in a good mood, we all have known Santana to never be in a good enough mood to settle for one’s bullshit and blatant carelessness. He steps up to the youngster and mushes him in the face, shoving him to the floor. He rests his right arm on the counter and nods at the woman behind the counter.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUTHERFUCKER. I TAKE A PAIR OF THIRTEENS”
She nods, relieved that the kid was taken care of and walks right to the back. Seconds later, the lady comes up with a pair of old weathered skates, looking like they’ve been through a hell of a lot.
“AYE BITCH SANTANA DONT WANT THESE. THESE SHITS RIGHT HERE GOT MORE WRINKLES THAN THAT BITCH MADE OLD FUCK JERSEY JIM. SHIT THEY PROBABLY AS OLD AS JERSEY JIM LOOK AT THE CREASES ON THEM SHITS. SANTANA STILL CANT BELIEVE THIS MUTHERFUCKER RUNNING SHIT HERE.”
He shakes his head in disappointment.
“I GUESS THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU SEND A LIL BITCH TO DO A MAN’S JOB. THAT NATY BITCH COOL BUT SHE AINT STRONGER THAN A MUTHERFUCKER WHO TAKE MORE TEST THAN A SAT PREP COURSE.”
“AYE, GO GET SANTANA ONE OF THEM NEWER JOINTS. SOMETHIN WITH A LIL MORE SWAGGER THAN THESE JOINTS. I WANT A PAIR THAT GOT ALL THEY SHINY TEETH STILL IN TACT LIKE RUSSO NEW LIL EXPERIMENT. WELL I TELL YOU WHAT”
Santana chuckles before looking over to the folks behind him.
“THAT LIL EXPERIMENT GON BLOW UP IN THEY FUCKIN FACES.”
“WE DOIN BIRTHDAYS LIKE CLOWNS NOW. LET SANTANA PUT HIS RED FUCKIN NOSE ON AND ENTERTAIN YALL.”
.. and that was just heard from the parking lot. He seemed ‘less inclined’ to want to do this, to say the least and it showed when a trucker hat and Lisa Lorenzo T-shirt sporting Santana bursts through the doors of the skating joint. All eyes are on him momentarily, not because of the star power that comes with the murderous rage induced man but because of how loud he’s being. You see, Santana is not coping well with the whole dropping drugs cold turkey. The alcohol was the only thing keeping him from not wanting to kill everyone he sees not named Lisa.
Sometimes he might even want to kill Lisa now…
“MOVE THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY!”
He barrels through kids and parents alike until he gets to the front of the line. There stands a boy who looks to be in his mid teens. Said teenager is hunched over the bench and seems to be chatting at the girl who’s in charge of renting out the skates. Now when I say chatting, I actually mean that she doesn’t seem interested in anything that this kid has to say and is in fact annoyed.
You wanna know who’s even more annoyed than her right now? The six foot tall bald man that seemingly skipped the entire line. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a loosie, a single Marlboro red.
“ANY OF YALL GOT A LIGHT!?”
The odds are that someone probably does. However, this asshole just used brute force and the scare factor that comes with his demeanor to get in front of everyone.
“DO I GOTTA REACH INTO YALL POCKETS OR SOMETHIN’?”
A woman steps up and hands him her pink lighter. He nods at her, lights his cig up in this skating rink; a place that more than likely is a no smoking zone. Who’s really going to tell him that though? Santana then puts the lighter into his pocket before looking back at the chick who handed it to him. He raises an eyebrow and… that’s what she thought. Not a single reaction. Taking that first long pull of a cigarette, his troubles are quickly washed away with one single sigh of relief.
This wait though… Santana stood there chiefing his cig for a few minutes, those same minutes feeling like hours to him. Although that nicotine kick into his lungs put him in a good mood, we all have known Santana to never be in a good enough mood to settle for one’s bullshit and blatant carelessness. He steps up to the youngster and mushes him in the face, shoving him to the floor. He rests his right arm on the counter and nods at the woman behind the counter.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUTHERFUCKER. I TAKE A PAIR OF THIRTEENS”
She nods, relieved that the kid was taken care of and walks right to the back. Seconds later, the lady comes up with a pair of old weathered skates, looking like they’ve been through a hell of a lot.
“AYE BITCH SANTANA DONT WANT THESE. THESE SHITS RIGHT HERE GOT MORE WRINKLES THAN THAT BITCH MADE OLD FUCK JERSEY JIM. SHIT THEY PROBABLY AS OLD AS JERSEY JIM LOOK AT THE CREASES ON THEM SHITS. SANTANA STILL CANT BELIEVE THIS MUTHERFUCKER RUNNING SHIT HERE.”
He shakes his head in disappointment.
“I GUESS THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU SEND A LIL BITCH TO DO A MAN’S JOB. THAT NATY BITCH COOL BUT SHE AINT STRONGER THAN A MUTHERFUCKER WHO TAKE MORE TEST THAN A SAT PREP COURSE.”
“AYE, GO GET SANTANA ONE OF THEM NEWER JOINTS. SOMETHIN WITH A LIL MORE SWAGGER THAN THESE JOINTS. I WANT A PAIR THAT GOT ALL THEY SHINY TEETH STILL IN TACT LIKE RUSSO NEW LIL EXPERIMENT. WELL I TELL YOU WHAT”
Santana chuckles before looking over to the folks behind him.
“THAT LIL EXPERIMENT GON BLOW UP IN THEY FUCKIN FACES.”