Post by styles on Jul 21, 2012 23:33:13 GMT -5
“Gentlemen…today’s activity is simple, and yet considering most of you have that muscular inferiority, it may well be a challenging task for some of you.”
The Drill Commander stood on his spot, not prepared to move, not prepared to weaken his stance to any of these, in his eyes, hopeless soldiers.
“Climb the ladder you see directly behind me. Don’t look now, look when I god damn tell you to look. Once you reach the top, you will cross the 50 foot long rope you see attached to the ladder, and you will make it to the other side, for woe betide anybody who falls on to the mat.”
The Drill Commander frowned, his fearsome, dark, blue eyes somehow making perfect eye contact with all of the soldiers in front of him.
“Unfortunately, the government banned use of stinging nettles below the rope last year in the ‘Military Fairness Act’. That sort of thing is what weakens the army training for when you all go into action. Again, the government banned more than five cadets doing this at a time so, lucky for you, only five of you are to be picked at random to take part in this beautifully dangerous activity. Johnson, Kelly, Somersby, Openshaw, ******, you’re the lucky cadets. Forward, March!”
Private Frederick ****** looked straight into the Drill Commander’s eyes, desperate for even just a glint of why he was so miserable; why he enjoyed seeing younger people suffer at his hands. He despised how he had used the phrase ‘picked at random’ when it was blatantly obvious that he had thought about it carefully, and hand picked the cadets who he personally hated the most.
Privates Johnson, Kelly, Somersby and Openshaw were four best friends who, just three nights before, had snuck some eggs into the camp and, just because they were bored, thrown them at Drill Commander Brown’s quarters and had unfortunately been caught. Freddie, however, was a different matter. He hadn’t specifically done anything wrong, it was just a case of a clash of personalities as soon as he signed up for the army.
When Freddie had first walked into the camp, Drill Commander Brown was running the rest of the troops through a muddy field on their hands and knees; his explanation was that it would teach them discipline, teach them patience and most of all, with a loathsome grin on his face, it would teach them to fear him.
Private ***** watched as the four other troops made their way up the ladder, reached about three quarters of the way across the rope before slipping from the rope and falling onto the cushiony mat beneath them, only to be whined and moaned at by Drill Commander Brown. And then it was his turn.
As he made his way up the ladder, the only thing he felt was determination; the determination to get one over on Drill Commander Brown, the determination to prove that he was always one step ahead of the rest of his platoon. As soon as he grabbed hold of the rope and made the first few feet, he knew that the rest of the rope was going to be a breeze. His superior upper body strength he had gained from all those summers at wrestling school training would get him through this, he knew that he was a lot more ‘physically willed’ than the other four, who were merely underachieving army brats forced into joining by their parents. Freddie had come by his own choice.
Within half a minute, he was climbing down the ladder on the successful side, a victorious smile glued on to his face. At the floor, he was greeted by the glare of Drill Commander Brown, their eyes level to level, both 6'2 while the rest of the platoon were all under 5'10. Though they stared at each other with the utmost hate to the visible eye, Freddie knew that they were actually staring at each other with the strangest, utmost respect.
Freddie’s eyes opened sharply to face a plain, white ceiling. He could remember his dream vividly, as he always could. His ‘dreams’ as such were never really dreams; they were more of a video playing vital moments in his past.
That moment may not have seemed like one of the most vital things that can happen to someone during their lifetime, but it was. At that exact moment, the now ex-Private released that Drill Commander Brown had been right the whole time; he was teaching the cadets some very important life values. He was teaching them courage, patience, discipline and taught them how to do what your employer tells you, no matter how unfair it may seem.
Stand tall, that’s what Freddie was always taught, and always lived by. When he was down and out, he lived positively and worked even harder. After all, the glass was half full, and the only way from there was up.
And for his career, these life values were some of the most important things he could learn to have; some of the vital things he needed to be a champion.
He had courage to show him that, whenever an opponent is somebody who he thought would be capable of beating him, he would be able to continue on fighting, he would never give up, and he would always do whatever he could if it meant that he had a good chance of winning.
He had patience to show him that no matter how much a worthy opponent is beating him, no matter how much it seems as if he is going to lose, to hold on and wait for an opportunity to strike, then get back up on the horse and take the victory.
He had discipline to show him that, no matter how much he is beating his unworthy opponent, no matter how much he looks on winning, to never lose concentration and to never leave that gap for his opponent to get back into the match.
He was trained to be that special wrestler that only came along every once in a while.
He was modeled to perfection. Not too small so that power could beat him, not too wild so that practice could beat him and, in perfect style for his upcoming match with Xavier Daniels, not too tall and muscular so that Xavier's speed could beat him.
He was that opportunity that came along every once in a while.
He had that perfect posture.
The perfect head, fantastically shaped for driving his opponent to the floor with his head only.
The perfect chest, capable of taking any type of punch from any type of opponent, barely feeling a thing.
The perfect arms, brilliant for gaining the upper hand in a match by knocking the opponent to the mat with a clothesline.
The perfect legs, majestic for taking the opponent to the brim of injury with a powerfully charged kick to any body part of Freddie’s choosing.
And the perfect feet, head and shoulders above any other feet capable of using the leg force to knock any opponent off their feet.
He is ready to put his entire body on the line just to win his one on one debut match in the MPW, in preparation for winning the Television title at the supershow.
He is ready to devote his life to victory in the MPW.
He is the perfect wrestler.
The Drill Commander stood on his spot, not prepared to move, not prepared to weaken his stance to any of these, in his eyes, hopeless soldiers.
“Climb the ladder you see directly behind me. Don’t look now, look when I god damn tell you to look. Once you reach the top, you will cross the 50 foot long rope you see attached to the ladder, and you will make it to the other side, for woe betide anybody who falls on to the mat.”
The Drill Commander frowned, his fearsome, dark, blue eyes somehow making perfect eye contact with all of the soldiers in front of him.
“Unfortunately, the government banned use of stinging nettles below the rope last year in the ‘Military Fairness Act’. That sort of thing is what weakens the army training for when you all go into action. Again, the government banned more than five cadets doing this at a time so, lucky for you, only five of you are to be picked at random to take part in this beautifully dangerous activity. Johnson, Kelly, Somersby, Openshaw, ******, you’re the lucky cadets. Forward, March!”
Private Frederick ****** looked straight into the Drill Commander’s eyes, desperate for even just a glint of why he was so miserable; why he enjoyed seeing younger people suffer at his hands. He despised how he had used the phrase ‘picked at random’ when it was blatantly obvious that he had thought about it carefully, and hand picked the cadets who he personally hated the most.
Privates Johnson, Kelly, Somersby and Openshaw were four best friends who, just three nights before, had snuck some eggs into the camp and, just because they were bored, thrown them at Drill Commander Brown’s quarters and had unfortunately been caught. Freddie, however, was a different matter. He hadn’t specifically done anything wrong, it was just a case of a clash of personalities as soon as he signed up for the army.
When Freddie had first walked into the camp, Drill Commander Brown was running the rest of the troops through a muddy field on their hands and knees; his explanation was that it would teach them discipline, teach them patience and most of all, with a loathsome grin on his face, it would teach them to fear him.
Private ***** watched as the four other troops made their way up the ladder, reached about three quarters of the way across the rope before slipping from the rope and falling onto the cushiony mat beneath them, only to be whined and moaned at by Drill Commander Brown. And then it was his turn.
As he made his way up the ladder, the only thing he felt was determination; the determination to get one over on Drill Commander Brown, the determination to prove that he was always one step ahead of the rest of his platoon. As soon as he grabbed hold of the rope and made the first few feet, he knew that the rest of the rope was going to be a breeze. His superior upper body strength he had gained from all those summers at wrestling school training would get him through this, he knew that he was a lot more ‘physically willed’ than the other four, who were merely underachieving army brats forced into joining by their parents. Freddie had come by his own choice.
Within half a minute, he was climbing down the ladder on the successful side, a victorious smile glued on to his face. At the floor, he was greeted by the glare of Drill Commander Brown, their eyes level to level, both 6'2 while the rest of the platoon were all under 5'10. Though they stared at each other with the utmost hate to the visible eye, Freddie knew that they were actually staring at each other with the strangest, utmost respect.
Freddie’s eyes opened sharply to face a plain, white ceiling. He could remember his dream vividly, as he always could. His ‘dreams’ as such were never really dreams; they were more of a video playing vital moments in his past.
That moment may not have seemed like one of the most vital things that can happen to someone during their lifetime, but it was. At that exact moment, the now ex-Private released that Drill Commander Brown had been right the whole time; he was teaching the cadets some very important life values. He was teaching them courage, patience, discipline and taught them how to do what your employer tells you, no matter how unfair it may seem.
Stand tall, that’s what Freddie was always taught, and always lived by. When he was down and out, he lived positively and worked even harder. After all, the glass was half full, and the only way from there was up.
And for his career, these life values were some of the most important things he could learn to have; some of the vital things he needed to be a champion.
He had courage to show him that, whenever an opponent is somebody who he thought would be capable of beating him, he would be able to continue on fighting, he would never give up, and he would always do whatever he could if it meant that he had a good chance of winning.
He had patience to show him that no matter how much a worthy opponent is beating him, no matter how much it seems as if he is going to lose, to hold on and wait for an opportunity to strike, then get back up on the horse and take the victory.
He had discipline to show him that, no matter how much he is beating his unworthy opponent, no matter how much he looks on winning, to never lose concentration and to never leave that gap for his opponent to get back into the match.
He was trained to be that special wrestler that only came along every once in a while.
He was modeled to perfection. Not too small so that power could beat him, not too wild so that practice could beat him and, in perfect style for his upcoming match with Xavier Daniels, not too tall and muscular so that Xavier's speed could beat him.
He was that opportunity that came along every once in a while.
He had that perfect posture.
The perfect head, fantastically shaped for driving his opponent to the floor with his head only.
The perfect chest, capable of taking any type of punch from any type of opponent, barely feeling a thing.
The perfect arms, brilliant for gaining the upper hand in a match by knocking the opponent to the mat with a clothesline.
The perfect legs, majestic for taking the opponent to the brim of injury with a powerfully charged kick to any body part of Freddie’s choosing.
And the perfect feet, head and shoulders above any other feet capable of using the leg force to knock any opponent off their feet.
He is ready to put his entire body on the line just to win his one on one debut match in the MPW, in preparation for winning the Television title at the supershow.
He is ready to devote his life to victory in the MPW.
He is the perfect wrestler.