May 24, 2018
Candi Bratton made the flight home last night right after the show. Before boarding, she tweeting out a few flattering things to her upcoming opponents in the triangle match for the Mile High Wrestling Championship. As she departed her flight, she found out she had the top two selling shirts in the company and of course, she had to tweet about it. She got home, went right to bed and slept until 1pm on Thursday. It’s been a while since she visited the bar, so she cleaned herself a bit and gingerly made her way to “Jim’s.”
As she pushed open the door and walked in, everyone greeted her with a warm “Candi!” greeting and she waved and moved directly to the bar where she ordered a beer and started cracking open some peanuts.
“Saw your match last night, Candi,” Bartender Bruce was in this morning.
Candi chuckled and nods, “Wasn’t that great?!”
Bruce smirks, “Pretty brutal on this pretty young thing. She certainly gave you a run for your money.”
“Ha!” exclaims Candi, “That twig was no match for me. Ran right through her like strained peas through a baby.”
Some of the other patrons laugh at that, “You sure gave her what’s for, Candi.”
Bruce just rolls his eyes, “How you feeling?”
Candi shrugs, shaking her head. “A little sore here and there, but otherwise I’m doing alright. Gotta show my kid down at Fight Union how to get the job done.” Truth is, Candi knew she was getting too old for this shit, but she’s got mouths to feed thanks to her lazy-assed daughters and their heard of soon-to-be juvenile delinquents.
One of the others behind her laughed, “I saw all that shit last night on the Twitter. You sure got your work cut out for you next week. A threesome, ain’t it? Two girls and a guy. That’s my kind of porn!”
Candi turns around on her stool, “Shut the fuck up, Fred. It’s gonna be a fight, not a goddamned romp. Besides, I’m the last person anyone wants to see naked.” This caused everyone to laugh, except Fred who offers, “Well, I don’t know about that…”
Candi starts to get off her stool, “How about I go tell Marcy what you just said and see what she thinks about that, motherfucker.”
Fred offers his hands up in peace, “I’m done. Just trying to be flattering.”
“Well, go flatter your wife and leave me the fuck alone, goddamnit. I’m tryin’ enjoy a beer for breakfast. I don’t need your shit.” She returns to her seat and spins back around to face the bartender. “Gimme another, speaking of beer.”
“Sure you don’t want something to eat with that, it’s a little early.”
“It’s fucking after 1pm. If I wanted something to eat, I’d go where they had good food.”
“Ooooo,” comes the response behind her.
Bruce growls, “You guys cut it out. My food is as good as…”
“Anything you can get at the gas station,” Candi interjects. “The only thing you have good here is the liquor and that’s because you don’t make it yourself.”
“That hurts, Candi.”
“I saw that Master guy destroy that TV guy, Ripley, isn’t it? I worry for you getting in there with that monster.”
Candi smirks, “You mean the Grape Ape?: The comments causes another round of laughter. “That muscle-headed swollen-faced piece of crap stomps around the ring saying “Grape Ape! Grape Ape!” I got something for that motherfucking cartoon character. He called me grandma and fat.”
Bruce starts to interject, “But…”
“You shut the fuck up. I can say I’m fat, but no one else has the balls to say it and if they do they don’t have the fucking spine to back it up. I’ll show this purple primate that you don’t fuck with the “Tattle Tail.”
Bruce starts to wipe down the counter a little, lifting up Candi’s glass and wiping underneath it. “Another?”
“Of course, another.”
“So, can you even get The Confessional on someone that size?” he asks as he refills her glass.
Candi scoffs, “Everything thinks that all I have is the Confessional. How quickly people forget my hey-day. I’ve got a couple more things in my arsenal that I haven’t cracked out yet.”
Bruce stops before placing the glass in front of her, “You don’t mean…”
“Yeah I mean. What about it?”
“Well, it’s been a while since you performed that move. I assumed you stop doing it because you got…”
“What? Say it. I fucking dare you.”
“Fucking coward. Yeah, I may not be as nimble as I once was but I sure as fuck can still drop a motherfucker with it. ” Candi lifts the beer and takes a long swallow. “Breakfast of motherfucking champions, right here. So yeah, that move will be perfect for the Grape Ape. Bring him right to his goddamned knees.”
Bruce nods, “What about that other chick?”
Candi looks confused, “What other chick?”
“Sam Hamilton, is that her name?”
“Oh, she’s a chick? I could have sworn the bitch had an Adam’s apple. You never know these days.”
Everyone laughs at that.
“That’s cold, Candi. I don’t know how you get away with saying half the stuff you say.”
Candi just grins, “Cause ain’t been a man or woman who could shut me up, that’s why. And there never will be. Besides, the she-male is the least of my problems in this match. She gonna have a little pity party for tree-hugger Anya and I ain’t got time for that.” Candi changes her voice to a higher pitch, “We all know it should have been Anya in the main event for the title.” Candi goes back to her normal voice, “Fuck that shit. My hand was raised, her hand was not. She’s the fucking loser and I am the goddamned winner. Call me a cheater all you want, but cheating only gets called when you get caught, bitch. So take your goddamned opinions to the fucking Democratic party and they’ve fucking believe your fake news. When you get in the ring, I’m gonna punch you right in your goddamned Adam’s apple.”
Fred pipes in from behind her, “So you think she’s a he?”
“I think she or he can be whatever the fuck they want. It’s goddamned 2018 and I don’t really give a fuck. Just another target for my Confessional, and I know I can get my arm around her fucking throat, Adam’s apple or not.” Candi finishes her third beer and slides the glass over for a refill.
“Sure you want another?”
“Did I fucking stutter?”
Bruce just looks at her for a moment and then shakes his head with a grin as he refills her glass. “So you really think you got a chance at taking the title?”
This time it’s Candi’s turn to look at Bruce with that “are you fucking kidding me” look. “I’ve got the best chance to come home with the title. I’m gonna knock the Grape Ape on his goddamned ass and then take the she-male to task for playing the fucking sympathy card over the fact that I destroyed Anya. In fact, Anya’s probably out hugging some goddamned tree trying to get her chi back in alignment after I knocked her silly with that goddamned steel chair or our having a fucking pity party with the Never Trumpers. Who the fuck cares? She’s in my rear view.”
Bruce just shakes his head, “You’re a cold one, Candi Bratton.”
“Damn straight. I ain’t in this to make friends and I ain’t trying to play nice. Fuck that. Fuck them. Fuck everyone.”
Bruce watches her for a moment, “What about them Streetz characters? Doesn’t sound like they’re done with you.”
“Those motherfuckers are probably out tripping over their goddamned saggy pants and spray painting the inside of a tunnel singing along to DJ Jazzy Jeff and the fucking Fresh Prince. I could give a fuck if they’re done with me or not. Let me win my motherfucking championship and I’ll be happy to take them all on at once.”
“You serious right now?”
“Dead serious. They still have some dues to pay and if I gotta fight them in a handicapped match, I’ll fucking do it. When I get done with them, they’ll be walking around dressing and acting like Erkel instead of the fake ass street hoodlums straight out of a rap music video.”
Bruce takes her empty glass and sets it in the sink behind him, “Done?”
“One more.” Bruce just shakes his head and grabs a clean glass and tops it off. “You just like getting under everyone’s skin, don’t you? Speaking of that, hear anything about what happened to that Manhattan chick?”
Candi just grins, “Well, I’m not saying I had anything to do with that. And I’m not saying I had nothing to do with that. Let’s just say I’m sure whoever did that to her, she had it coming.” She takes another long swallow of beer. “She was a cocky little bitch, that’s for sure.”
Bruce gives her the eye and then just nods. “Whatever, Candi.”
Candi finishes her beer and she finally gets off her stool and tosses some cash on the counter, “Well, I got things to do. Finally decided it’s time to trade in Hoss for a new truck.”
The bar goes silent.
“Yeah, for fucking real. He’s almost 50 years old now. Handed down to me by my grandfather Jeb Bratton. Can’t hardly even get parts for him anymore. It’s time.” Candi shrugs and heads for the door. “I’ll probably be back later for a refill. Four beers will only hold me for so long.”
“See ya later, Candi.” Bruce says as the others also say goodbye as she opens the door and walks out and over to her truck.
“Yep, sorry to do this to you, old boy, but it’s time to put you to rest.” She climbs in and starts him up and heads down to the truck dealership. Luckily it was a good night for her last night and she can afford to finally put him to rest.