The burst of morning light tore through closed lids as he turned slowly over, half asleep, waking now, his eyes opened, the iris expanding to the rays of sun casting through the van's windows and onto his face. His eyes lethargically moved to the side, gazing out into the ever teasing bright world, the sky, clear as day and the brightest of light blue's... the trees nested in snow, defiantly refusing to melt...
The effort to sit up was unbearable, his monstrous frame creaked, cracked, pulled and stiffened as blood rushed through his veins and into his muscles. Sitting up from passing out the night before had made him dizzy, his rough hand's fingertips rubbed his temples. He opened and closed his eyes to relieve the dull thudding inside his skull, what came into view was that of irony, a small capsuled bottle lay by his side, opened and not surprisingly empty, Pain Medication.
He sighed and his gaze traveled up past the bottle and viewed the interior of the Dodge Ram van, clip outs of magazines, posters and newspapers littered the walls, each image dedicated to the legacy that embodied his brittle self, Randy "The Ram" Robinson.
Falling through the air, performing the devastating Ram Jam... countless pictures of defeated opponents, interviews, action figures, game reviews, press reviews and filled out arenas. They provided a true tribute to his strengths as both a performer and an athlete, his personal failures suddenly disappearing under the spotlight, his lifetimes path shining untarnished.
His lungs inhaled the deep breath being drawn from his lips, it came out just as long and as smooth...
Elbows slamming into ribcage, the canvas coming headfirst, the turnbuckle's steel welcoming the shoulder, the roar of the crowd encroaching ever louder and louder, the cheering trembling the hall itself as the legend's arm raised up in victory.
Flashes from the previous night kept pumping through his thoughts, his wounded and pain entombed body providing testament to what his mind's eye was viewing.
Throwing the ragged brown blanket, which was littered in tears and holes, off his legs, he knelt up, his knees clicking in the crisp morning air, staggering out the van's door, shut behind him, he stood, arms hugging himself as the morning bit deep into his bones. His dirty beach blonde hair traced across his face as the gentle icy breeze played around him. He pulled his denim jacket even tighter around himself and walked the familiar short path up to his small wooden cabin, a poor excuse of a permanent living establishment for what his past once entailed.
The cabins door handle seared the massive hand as it circled and tightened, the steel was cold but didn't faze him, his forearm, then shoulder met the wood of the door as his legs drived his body forward into the door... it remained resilient... he sighed out loud. The vapour of hot breath in cold air exploded out and slowly disappeared out in front of him. His hand released the handle, spinning on his back heel he turned back down the path, hands again finding their homes around his body, the snow crunching under his boots as he carried on past the van to the landlords front door, the goddamn rent again...