"My ankle was sprained and I was.." Pausing, Jason Cashe comes into view. Sitting in the office of El Pollo Bucket restaurant where he was trying to get his side job back. "I just let my emotions get the best of me.."
His head drops some. He knew he was giving an excuse but it was true as day the cause. "I just wanted to hide and.. I'm sorry." The manager stares across from him but he is sitting antsy. Unable to sit still and finally can't contain himself.
"Excuse me.. I REALLY need to use the bathroom!" He was up before Cashe could respond and in a moment after, was gone. Silence briefly filled the room before Cashe snickered. "Bout time. I had some Milk of Magnesia slipped into his coffee.. Firing me.. Pssh!"
Sitting back, Cashe loses his worn apologetic expression. "When you start in this business you want to learn everything. Every suplex, every slam and hold. Rafa Whatley is feeling that very thing now. Coming from pro football he knows better than most that preparation is everything.. Yet even the most prepared are unable to execute.
Why should I care what sport you competed in before now? That's like expecting you and others to care what I have accomplished in other promotions before now. So Rafa from Dallas, here is a free lesson. It is NOT where you're from but where you're at and right now? You are in a sport I have risen to the top and fallen to the bottom of and in truth? You cannot be more prepared for this than me.”
Reaching over onto the desk, Cashe grabs a pen. One of the ones that click and he begins clicking as he continues to fill an empty room with voice.
"You have just found failure in the sport you come from. You had the world in your hand, breakout talent but what did you do with it? What did you accomplish? See but that's where we both can have some common ground.. See I was fired as well. Both from here when I sprained my ankle and disappeared and even in the company before where I became Hall of Fame.
Fired like some punk chump who fell off or committed some horrible crime but I didn't. I just didn't care. I needed some me time and like Ricky Williams once did, I found it and have returned. 3 weeks I was away. Sushi and Anime porn over in Japan kept me company as my head cleared. As I got right in the head space and now? Now Rafa Whatley.. You Dallas fuck! You become the puppy, the newborn placed in a dog fight with someone who has done and seen it all.
No longer will it be the linebacker looking to take your head off, it will be guys like me who embed CTE in your dome cap. Except here? We embrace head trauma and seek to inflict it so please if nothing else.. Expect to get your tater rattled. You will look to the endzone and think you can score but on THIS drive Rafa? There will be a turnover..”
Tossing the pen back to the desk, Cashe finds a subtle way to hint at other goals upon his return to a fresh start. “No Wall will hold me as I move forward. I might very well be the change that nobody wants but I will prove to be hard to keep down.
I’ve got the heart of Lion, I ain’t lying and you shall all see that soon. One misstep will not be my final, you build a wall and I will climb it or dig a hole underneath. Not contain, not cut off but very direct. Oh I’m about to make a handful of people sweat! This is my growl, soon you’ll feel the teeth and claws. Hear. Me. Roar..”
Gasping, the store manager returns. The door closing as he re-enters and takes his seat. Smiling at Cashe, he nods and extends a wet hand across the desk. “Welcome back Jason! Everyone deserves a second chance!”
“I’m not shaking your hand..” The handshake turned down as his head rocks left to right. “Its wet and my only thought is that maybe you got shit on it while wiping.. It happens.”
“What? Fine. Fist bump?” The manager says as if a W2 and the background check wasn’t official enough. ”Nothing?” Cashe leaves the office. He got what he wanted.