There's bound to be a ghost at the back of your closet,
No matter where you live
There'll all ways be a few things, maybe several things,
That you're gonna find really difficult to forgive
There's gonna come a day when you'll feel better,
You'll rise up free and easy on that day
And float from branch to branch, lighter than the air,
Just when that day is coming, who can say? Who can say?
Our mother has been absent
Ever since we founded Rome,
But there's gonna be a party
When the wolf comes home
We're gonna commandeer the local airwaves,
To tell the neighbors what's been going on
And they will shake their heads and wag their bony fingers
In all the wrong directions and by daybreak we'll be gone
I'm gonna get myself in fighting trim,
Scope out every angle of unfair advantage
I'm gonna bribe the officals,
I'm gonna kill all the judges,
It's gonna take you people years
To recover from all of the damage
Our mother has been absent
Ever since we founded Rome,
But there's gonna be a party
When the wolf comes home
Stepping into the house behind his parents, Salem watched his mother go towards the stairs leading to the second floor as his father went to the living room area adjacent nearby, opening his polished oak liquor cabinet. Pulling out a bottle of vodka and two glasses, William turned to his son and stared expectantly.
"Forget how to sit down, son? He rung yer bell that hard, did he?"
Shaking his head and letting out an awkward chuckle, Salem moved towards his dad and grabbed one of the glasses, moving to sit on the nearby couch. The news was playing on the television, but otherwise it was quiet in the house. Salem had been unsure what was going on, but he'd expected guests and family to be present, having come in to celebrate Salem's match with him. Instead, it was him and his father, who sat down and turned off the television, pouring some of the vodka into both their glasses before raising one to his son.
"Ya fought like a champ, boyo. Have a cheers with your ol' man for both our good health."
Nodding at his father, Salem lifted his own glass and clinked it gently to William's, each man taking a good sip before setting their glasses down, exhaling while the burn settled down their throats and into their stomachs.
"Now..." William said, his tone a bit more firm and a touch patronizing. "...tell me why you lost."
Blinking, Salem looked away from his father and chuckled, shaking his head and reaching for the glass again. "I dunno, Da. He caught me. He got the better of me. It happens." he answered, trying to avoid talking further on the subject by having another sip.
"Bullshit!" William exclaimed, pounding a fist on the coffee table, almost rattling the vodka bottle over onto it's side. Salem flinched from the outburst, his eyes now wider and focused intently on his father, a man he'd never known to raise his voice in such a manner to him.
"You lost because you weren't fighting him, you were fighting herself, son! You think that looney tinker is better than you?! You let him get in your head, boy! Nuttin' more to it!"
Salem sighed and ran a hand through his hair, nervously trying to avoid the discussion and his father's eyes as he looked down at his glass. "I'm sorry, Da. I wanted to win and come celebrate with everyone, I'm sorry I disappointed you."
His red-faced father spit to the side, groaning in annoyance and waving a hand at his son.
"Disappoint ME? Boyo, yer mudder and I have NEVER been disappointed in ye! This isn't about me or yer ma or even HIM, son! You're disappointing YERSELF, and THAT'S who ya should be fighting FER, not WITH! You're damn good, son! But you put people on pedestals and look up at 'em like they ain't the same kinda bag-a-bones YOU ARE! Instead of looking up at 'em like legends and heroes, look 'em in the eyes and hit 'em right between 'em!"
Salem sat silently across from his father, absorbing and processing his emotional outburst, looking at his reflection in the vodka left in his glass. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what to say, or even do in this moment. It was then his father, having taken a moment to collect himself, turned to the vodka bottle and topped his glass off, stirring the reflection of Salem's face as he poured some for his son, as well.
"Now finish that up, we got business in the barn needs tending to." Salem's father said, starting to kick back his own drink.
Salem looked up at his dad, a question on his lips but stifled by the sight of his mother coming back down the stairs behind William, holding tape and two worn out sets of sparring gloves from his father's time boxing in Ireland as a young man. Finishing his drink quickly, both men stood as she handed the items to her husband, the three making their way outside once more.
Neighboring the house, a large barn was sitting, red and worn from years but in reasonable shape. After the incident with Peeka and the bullies, his father had built a makeshift ring inside it, teaching his boys how to box proper to protect themselves in such an event. As Salem got older, it was converted to help him train to be a wrestler, but he hadn't seen the barn in quite some time.
As they reached the doors, William pulled one big slab open, revealing a well lit interior full of Salem's relatives, both Native and Irish. They cheered upon seeing him, celebrating as cousins and uncles and aunts all approaching to greet him as he was pushed through the mob towards the worm out ring in the middle of the barn.
"Back up, folks!" his father said joyfully, already beginning to tape up his knuckles. "Don't cheer the boy 'til he done somethin'!"
Getting into the ring with his father, Salem admired the dusty canvas and worn ropes he'd long bounced into and off of, the sentimentality of it making him smile as the family surrounded the apron and passed around bottles of beer and liquor. A gloved hand, however, nudged Salem on the side of the head, turning to see his now shirtless father with hands and wrists taped with his boxing gloves on.
"What, you wanna dance, boyo? Ain't no music playin', get yer gloves on!" William chided him.
"Dad, I don't wanna fight you." Salem replied, shaking his head with a touch of remorse.
"Nah, son, you don't want to, but you NEED to." William answered, tossing Salem the tape and gloves, which he caught. "Time to shake all that respect outta ya, time to stop being afraid to take what's yours, boyo."
Looking around, his family was all smiles and laughs, cheering for Salem to fight and put on a show. Unintentionally, the man pulled his shirt off, instinctively giving into the showman inside him as he went to a corner and started to tape his fists, Salem's father gesturing for people's attention at the center of the ring.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" he started, quieting the crowd, only to interrupt himself. "Who am I kiddin', I know you lot and that's the last ting ya are!" he said to laughs and approval. "But scoundrels or not, you get to bear witness to a truly awesome event! For your brutal pleasure, let me introduce the fighters - in this corner, hailing from Ireland, 'The Bruiser of Belfast', 'The Dublin Destroyer', Billy "Slick Willy" Croft!" he announced, taking a spin as the crowd cheered the elder boxer.
"And his opponent...fighting out of the United States, he is 'The Copperhead', 'The Gypsy Savage', 'The Scoundrel King', one of the best damn wrestlers on god's green earth in addition to being MY SON, SALEM ********' CROFT!" he said, proudly gesturing to his boy across the ring, now ready to fight as he smiled at his adoring family, cheering noticably louder than they had for his dad.
"Fight lasts until one man can't or both men wanna drink, ring the bell!"
With that, someone rung an old ring bell Salem had salvaged, prompting both men to leave their corners and come forward. Salem had the size and power and probably speed over his father, but William had technique Salem had never learned, his talent obvious by the old man's foot and neck work as they shuffled towards each other.
Salem started with a couple left jabs, testing his father's defense, then a quick right straight that Billy dodged whole simultaneously hitting a hard hook to Salem's ribs, making him cough as William side stepped to press a new angle. Turning with his father, Salem tried to mind his feet, the two men working jabs and combinations out while testing for weaknesses and openings.
Salem caught William with a hard hook to the chin, but William returned the favor with a flurry of hooks that momentarily broke Salem's guard and threatened to do the same to his jaw. There were no rounds, no breaks, only two men beating on each other from a place of love, but no less fighting as fiercely as either had anyone in the ring with them before.
Each exchange left bruises, sometimes drawing blood, but every time Salem got hit by his father he came back for more, finding themselves smiling at each other by the end. Eventually, both men agreed to get a beer, and celebrated as family chucked cans of pilsner for them to bash together and enjoy in a shower of suds and alcohol, some members of the family helping the bloodied and sore gents out of the ring and into some fold out chairs to recover.
Salem's mother had already started cleaning each man's face, applying ice packs where needed while they cooled off with their beers and caught their breath, Salem's father looking back over at him with a proud smile, distorted by a bloody and swollen lip.
"Ya see, son...if you can hit me like that, ain't nobody too good to get hit in the mouth. So next you see that moon-boy, you bring 'em back down tah earth." Billy said, Salem smiling as he sniffled at his bloody nose and clacked cans with his dad.
"But first, where's that good smoke at? I know ya got some, mah head's killin' me like a fish outta water!" he asked, laughing as more family came over to celebrate with the two men.
"Forget how to sit down, son? He rung yer bell that hard, did he?"
Shaking his head and letting out an awkward chuckle, Salem moved towards his dad and grabbed one of the glasses, moving to sit on the nearby couch. The news was playing on the television, but otherwise it was quiet in the house. Salem had been unsure what was going on, but he'd expected guests and family to be present, having come in to celebrate Salem's match with him. Instead, it was him and his father, who sat down and turned off the television, pouring some of the vodka into both their glasses before raising one to his son.
"Ya fought like a champ, boyo. Have a cheers with your ol' man for both our good health."
Nodding at his father, Salem lifted his own glass and clinked it gently to William's, each man taking a good sip before setting their glasses down, exhaling while the burn settled down their throats and into their stomachs.
"Now..." William said, his tone a bit more firm and a touch patronizing. "...tell me why you lost."
Blinking, Salem looked away from his father and chuckled, shaking his head and reaching for the glass again. "I dunno, Da. He caught me. He got the better of me. It happens." he answered, trying to avoid talking further on the subject by having another sip.
"Bullshit!" William exclaimed, pounding a fist on the coffee table, almost rattling the vodka bottle over onto it's side. Salem flinched from the outburst, his eyes now wider and focused intently on his father, a man he'd never known to raise his voice in such a manner to him.
"You lost because you weren't fighting him, you were fighting herself, son! You think that looney tinker is better than you?! You let him get in your head, boy! Nuttin' more to it!"
Salem sighed and ran a hand through his hair, nervously trying to avoid the discussion and his father's eyes as he looked down at his glass. "I'm sorry, Da. I wanted to win and come celebrate with everyone, I'm sorry I disappointed you."
His red-faced father spit to the side, groaning in annoyance and waving a hand at his son.
"Disappoint ME? Boyo, yer mudder and I have NEVER been disappointed in ye! This isn't about me or yer ma or even HIM, son! You're disappointing YERSELF, and THAT'S who ya should be fighting FER, not WITH! You're damn good, son! But you put people on pedestals and look up at 'em like they ain't the same kinda bag-a-bones YOU ARE! Instead of looking up at 'em like legends and heroes, look 'em in the eyes and hit 'em right between 'em!"
Salem sat silently across from his father, absorbing and processing his emotional outburst, looking at his reflection in the vodka left in his glass. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what to say, or even do in this moment. It was then his father, having taken a moment to collect himself, turned to the vodka bottle and topped his glass off, stirring the reflection of Salem's face as he poured some for his son, as well.
"Now finish that up, we got business in the barn needs tending to." Salem's father said, starting to kick back his own drink.
Salem looked up at his dad, a question on his lips but stifled by the sight of his mother coming back down the stairs behind William, holding tape and two worn out sets of sparring gloves from his father's time boxing in Ireland as a young man. Finishing his drink quickly, both men stood as she handed the items to her husband, the three making their way outside once more.
Neighboring the house, a large barn was sitting, red and worn from years but in reasonable shape. After the incident with Peeka and the bullies, his father had built a makeshift ring inside it, teaching his boys how to box proper to protect themselves in such an event. As Salem got older, it was converted to help him train to be a wrestler, but he hadn't seen the barn in quite some time.
As they reached the doors, William pulled one big slab open, revealing a well lit interior full of Salem's relatives, both Native and Irish. They cheered upon seeing him, celebrating as cousins and uncles and aunts all approaching to greet him as he was pushed through the mob towards the worm out ring in the middle of the barn.
"Back up, folks!" his father said joyfully, already beginning to tape up his knuckles. "Don't cheer the boy 'til he done somethin'!"
Getting into the ring with his father, Salem admired the dusty canvas and worn ropes he'd long bounced into and off of, the sentimentality of it making him smile as the family surrounded the apron and passed around bottles of beer and liquor. A gloved hand, however, nudged Salem on the side of the head, turning to see his now shirtless father with hands and wrists taped with his boxing gloves on.
"What, you wanna dance, boyo? Ain't no music playin', get yer gloves on!" William chided him.
"Dad, I don't wanna fight you." Salem replied, shaking his head with a touch of remorse.
"Nah, son, you don't want to, but you NEED to." William answered, tossing Salem the tape and gloves, which he caught. "Time to shake all that respect outta ya, time to stop being afraid to take what's yours, boyo."
Looking around, his family was all smiles and laughs, cheering for Salem to fight and put on a show. Unintentionally, the man pulled his shirt off, instinctively giving into the showman inside him as he went to a corner and started to tape his fists, Salem's father gesturing for people's attention at the center of the ring.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" he started, quieting the crowd, only to interrupt himself. "Who am I kiddin', I know you lot and that's the last ting ya are!" he said to laughs and approval. "But scoundrels or not, you get to bear witness to a truly awesome event! For your brutal pleasure, let me introduce the fighters - in this corner, hailing from Ireland, 'The Bruiser of Belfast', 'The Dublin Destroyer', Billy "Slick Willy" Croft!" he announced, taking a spin as the crowd cheered the elder boxer.
"And his opponent...fighting out of the United States, he is 'The Copperhead', 'The Gypsy Savage', 'The Scoundrel King', one of the best damn wrestlers on god's green earth in addition to being MY SON, SALEM ********' CROFT!" he said, proudly gesturing to his boy across the ring, now ready to fight as he smiled at his adoring family, cheering noticably louder than they had for his dad.
"Fight lasts until one man can't or both men wanna drink, ring the bell!"
With that, someone rung an old ring bell Salem had salvaged, prompting both men to leave their corners and come forward. Salem had the size and power and probably speed over his father, but William had technique Salem had never learned, his talent obvious by the old man's foot and neck work as they shuffled towards each other.
Salem started with a couple left jabs, testing his father's defense, then a quick right straight that Billy dodged whole simultaneously hitting a hard hook to Salem's ribs, making him cough as William side stepped to press a new angle. Turning with his father, Salem tried to mind his feet, the two men working jabs and combinations out while testing for weaknesses and openings.
Salem caught William with a hard hook to the chin, but William returned the favor with a flurry of hooks that momentarily broke Salem's guard and threatened to do the same to his jaw. There were no rounds, no breaks, only two men beating on each other from a place of love, but no less fighting as fiercely as either had anyone in the ring with them before.
Each exchange left bruises, sometimes drawing blood, but every time Salem got hit by his father he came back for more, finding themselves smiling at each other by the end. Eventually, both men agreed to get a beer, and celebrated as family chucked cans of pilsner for them to bash together and enjoy in a shower of suds and alcohol, some members of the family helping the bloodied and sore gents out of the ring and into some fold out chairs to recover.
Salem's mother had already started cleaning each man's face, applying ice packs where needed while they cooled off with their beers and caught their breath, Salem's father looking back over at him with a proud smile, distorted by a bloody and swollen lip.
"Ya see, son...if you can hit me like that, ain't nobody too good to get hit in the mouth. So next you see that moon-boy, you bring 'em back down tah earth." Billy said, Salem smiling as he sniffled at his bloody nose and clacked cans with his dad.
"But first, where's that good smoke at? I know ya got some, mah head's killin' me like a fish outta water!" he asked, laughing as more family came over to celebrate with the two men.
