My Redneck Past Keeps Nipping At My Heels
Truer words have ne'er been spoken about me at this point in time of my life. Truth - I was born in a small southern Oklahoma town; Truth - in small southern Oklahoma towns things get boring from time to time; Truth - I did some things in my younger and more vulnerable years that may seem a little back woodsy to some people in the world. In my attempt to open myself up and share some of my inner-most secrets, this is the story of one of my redneck moments.
When I was 16 my dad came to me with an ultimatum: Either I get a job, or I get a place of my own. As appealing as a place of my own was, I only knew how to cook toast, pop-tarts, and a wonderful three cheese lasagna that my aunt taught me to make; needless to say, I decided on to test the job market. After being turned down from many of the finer establishments in town (Hardees, Taco Mayo, Wendy's) I was feeling dejected and driving around some of the back roads that my town had plenty of. It was then that I got a flat tire, great, a flat tire is the only thing that could make that day better. I knew of a farmhouse about a half a mile up the road, so I decided to walk there to call for help (this was the pre-cell phone age). When I turned the corner to the farmhouse, however, my entire life was changed.
The man who owned the place was Tito Sanchez and was a small-time cat-fight promoter. This doesn't mean that he was like the dude in Million Dollar Baby, it means that he made two felines very angry and placed them in a battle against another feline to the death. I asked to use his phone and he obliged, he then told me that I could stay at his place until my friend could come pick me up. He asked me what I had been doing driving around aimlessly in the back roads of Ada, OK and I recounted my miserable day to him. He then made me an offer I couldn't refuse, he said that he would pay me a handsome wage if I would clean up after the cats a few days a week. All I had to do was empty the litter boxes, sweep out the barn, and clean up all the blood after the fights. Who could pass that up!?
I started working for Tito and we became fast friends. He started gaining more and more popularity, because this was around the time that Oklahoma was banning cock-fighting, and all the masochistic gamblers needed a way to get their jollies. Tito started making money and he promoted me to his assistant. We worked close together for awhile and trained many frisky felines, but none quite so frisky as a beast of a cat that went by the name of Socks. Socks had fought 12 times and each fight was over within 5 minutes. Other cats became scared of Socks, they were ducking him, they wanted no part of El Gato Loco (as was his fighting name). It was then that we heard about a small up-incoming fighter that went by the name of Mr. Nibbles. Tito spoke to Mr. Nibbles' trainer, some broad who went by the name Unequivocal Prowess, and they began negotiations on a fight. We didn't want our prize-fighter to be unprepared so Tito sent me to some small freak-ass town in Tennessee to check him out.
When I got to Murphreesboro (you've probably never heard of it, but that's the town in Tennessee where Mr. Nibbles was) I began asking around, looking for our opponent. A nice woman who identified herself as Genderist (yeah, I know, weird name) directed me to some on campus housing where many cats congregated, maybe I'd find my point there. I decided to grab a bite to eat, and then check it out. I was totally unprepared for what I saw when I got there.
I saw a man walking with a woman around the cats. Now, as an experienced cat-fight trainer, I knew, when a bunch of cats are nosing around a garbage bin, searching for food, you leave them alone. This guy, however, seemed to not only be approaching the cats, he was provoking them, saying things about their "Mama's," generally Hating on them. He continued on like this for a full 3 minutes, and then he made his fatal flaw, he made to grab one of them. Bad idea, whoever you are. I recognized our fighter immediately, this cat leapt up and scratched the Hater guy so bad that I saw a gash that was at least a quarter-inch wide open up immediately on this guy's hand. The Hater guy screamed and cursed and then he and his lady friend turned abruptly and went into the apartment building.
I scheduled my return trip home shortly thereafter. I had seen what this cat could do to an opponent who provoked him. I reported to Tito that we probably shouldn't get Socks into this fight, it might give him a loss that he would never recover from, both mentally and physically. He asked if I had conversed with Mr. Nibbles' trainer, to which I replied I hadn't. I'd hate to come face to face with the crazy bitch who could train a cat that vicious.
When I was 16 my dad came to me with an ultimatum: Either I get a job, or I get a place of my own. As appealing as a place of my own was, I only knew how to cook toast, pop-tarts, and a wonderful three cheese lasagna that my aunt taught me to make; needless to say, I decided on to test the job market. After being turned down from many of the finer establishments in town (Hardees, Taco Mayo, Wendy's) I was feeling dejected and driving around some of the back roads that my town had plenty of. It was then that I got a flat tire, great, a flat tire is the only thing that could make that day better. I knew of a farmhouse about a half a mile up the road, so I decided to walk there to call for help (this was the pre-cell phone age). When I turned the corner to the farmhouse, however, my entire life was changed.
The man who owned the place was Tito Sanchez and was a small-time cat-fight promoter. This doesn't mean that he was like the dude in Million Dollar Baby, it means that he made two felines very angry and placed them in a battle against another feline to the death. I asked to use his phone and he obliged, he then told me that I could stay at his place until my friend could come pick me up. He asked me what I had been doing driving around aimlessly in the back roads of Ada, OK and I recounted my miserable day to him. He then made me an offer I couldn't refuse, he said that he would pay me a handsome wage if I would clean up after the cats a few days a week. All I had to do was empty the litter boxes, sweep out the barn, and clean up all the blood after the fights. Who could pass that up!?
I started working for Tito and we became fast friends. He started gaining more and more popularity, because this was around the time that Oklahoma was banning cock-fighting, and all the masochistic gamblers needed a way to get their jollies. Tito started making money and he promoted me to his assistant. We worked close together for awhile and trained many frisky felines, but none quite so frisky as a beast of a cat that went by the name of Socks. Socks had fought 12 times and each fight was over within 5 minutes. Other cats became scared of Socks, they were ducking him, they wanted no part of El Gato Loco (as was his fighting name). It was then that we heard about a small up-incoming fighter that went by the name of Mr. Nibbles. Tito spoke to Mr. Nibbles' trainer, some broad who went by the name Unequivocal Prowess, and they began negotiations on a fight. We didn't want our prize-fighter to be unprepared so Tito sent me to some small freak-ass town in Tennessee to check him out.
When I got to Murphreesboro (you've probably never heard of it, but that's the town in Tennessee where Mr. Nibbles was) I began asking around, looking for our opponent. A nice woman who identified herself as Genderist (yeah, I know, weird name) directed me to some on campus housing where many cats congregated, maybe I'd find my point there. I decided to grab a bite to eat, and then check it out. I was totally unprepared for what I saw when I got there.
I saw a man walking with a woman around the cats. Now, as an experienced cat-fight trainer, I knew, when a bunch of cats are nosing around a garbage bin, searching for food, you leave them alone. This guy, however, seemed to not only be approaching the cats, he was provoking them, saying things about their "Mama's," generally Hating on them. He continued on like this for a full 3 minutes, and then he made his fatal flaw, he made to grab one of them. Bad idea, whoever you are. I recognized our fighter immediately, this cat leapt up and scratched the Hater guy so bad that I saw a gash that was at least a quarter-inch wide open up immediately on this guy's hand. The Hater guy screamed and cursed and then he and his lady friend turned abruptly and went into the apartment building.
I scheduled my return trip home shortly thereafter. I had seen what this cat could do to an opponent who provoked him. I reported to Tito that we probably shouldn't get Socks into this fight, it might give him a loss that he would never recover from, both mentally and physically. He asked if I had conversed with Mr. Nibbles' trainer, to which I replied I hadn't. I'd hate to come face to face with the crazy bitch who could train a cat that vicious.
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