On a coffee table sits a brand new, unopened bottle of Single Barrel Jack Daniel’s whiskey. Nathan Parker sits at his couch, in his apartment, and stares down the bottle of booze like it might try to get away or get him. He’s not supposed to be drinking the stuff so why is it there? Nathan shakes his head as if to break away from eye contact with the whiskey.
Nathan Parker: Bloodied Fox. I have been wanting to test myself against one of your stature for some time. When you were the XHF Juniorweight champion, I was jealous to be sure. I was for certain that I could be the one amongst all of these fools that were sent to fight you to be the one to actually win. I was certain that I could have become champion.
Nathan looks at the bottle of whiskey again as if it were maybe calling for his attention. He licks his lips a little bit as if thirsty and reaches for the bottle, but stops himself.
Nathan Parker: Of course I was in jail for most of your reign if I figure right. I dunno really. I was drunk a lot back then. Now? I’m on pills that sort of…take the fun out of things? My highs aren’t as high and my lows aren’t as low is what the doctor told me.
Nathan goes back to the bottle of whiskey. Not only is he court ordered to not drink, but the medicine that he’s on isn’t effective if it’s mixed with booze. He breathes in deep and lets it out as a great big sigh.
Nathan Parker: So now, I get to try my hand at not only defeating you, but defeating you in the fastest time so I can take on the Thespian for the Southern States title. I’ll take that on as a challenge. I can go out there and mix it up with the best. I’m a brawler like no other, because I’m so drunk I feel no pain.
Nathan blinks at the last statement and slowly reaches down to pinch himself in the leg.
Nathan Parker: Ouch. That kinda hurt…
Nathan lets that sort of hang in the air for a moment before speaking again.
Nathan Parker: Bloodied Fox. I’ll take you down so fast that your head will spin like it were that one movie with the possessed girl in it. I would go on about how this is going to be a challenge for my skills and yours too, but let’s fucking face it. We don’t have the time to play the fuck around and push each other to our limits. That would be a grand match, but no. We have to do this as quick as we can so we can beat the times of the other matches of people who will be doing exactly the same thing.
Now we pan back to see that Nathan has the bottle of whiskey in his hands as if he were going to open it up. He looks down, surprised that the bottle is there instead of on the table. He sets it back down on the table, but slowly. As if he really doesn’t want to put it back, even as he doesn’t know when he grabbed it in the first place.
Nathan Parker: Man, Fox, if we were going for a longer match. It would have been great. I would like more time in the ring with you. To get to know your style, of course.
Nathan snaps his head to look at the bottle of whiskey with a sudden flare of anger.
Nathan Parker: No, I don’t like Fox like that. I don’t like boys! I like…well I don’t rightly know that I like anything. I’m more asexual. Not that a bottle of Jack needs to know that about me.
Nathan looks back at the camera and blinks. Yes, he was just talking to his bottle of booze on camera. He sighs again.
Nathan Parker: Let me just say that when it comes right down to the awards for the end of the year, Fox. I think you are champion of the year. This doesn’t mean that I’m not going to beat you down like a dangerous game of whack a mole. It doesn’t mean that I’m not going to enter that ring like a storm and take you down as fast as I can. I’m going to take you down just…like…THIS!
Nathan grabs the bottle of jack and smashes it against the table, putting to rest if he’s going to be drinking himself unconscious tonight or not.