Week 14 Storytelling: Ignorance is Becoming

John had a dream. It wasn't an extravagant dream by any means. He just wanted to be a fighter - a respectable fighter. He trained constantly, but he never felt like he was improving. Maybe it was because at the end of each day he would go pick up some Five Guys, pop open a Dr. Pepper, and sit on his couch and watch The Walking Dead. He drank water while he trained, he ate right while he trained, and he disciplined himself...while he trained. When he got home, however, all bets were off. What did he care, though? He was happy like this. Or lonely. He honestly couldn't tell the difference in some instances.

Float Like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee

He had a big fight coming up and he really did need to start getting himself prepared in more than just the ring, but he didn't like the thought of it. He went into practice one day and stepped right up to the punching bag. He could hit alright, and he had an adequate speed to his rhythm, but he definitely did not pack the punch he needed nor did he have the stamina to keep up with his nearing opponent. He let his frustrations out on the bag, but was soon too tired to do much of anything for awhile. He went to the nearest bench and sat. His trainer walked over.

"What'ta ya doin' ova hea, John?"

"Oh, hey, Mick. I dunno. I'm just tired."

"Ya tiahed 'cuz ya weak! Ya need ta get out dere 'n get ta woik!" Mick stormed off.

John didn't like to talk to Mick. He was rather condescending. If John could just show his skill in the ring to Mick, then Mick would apologize for how rude he was to John...but that would mean that John would have to work and try really hard, and that didn't sound very enjoyable. He brushed it off and went home, though he didn't have any particular reason to do so. It was the same story as every other night. He recalled something a shady-looking man had said to him on his walk home: "A lotta peoples are countin' on you." He had handed John a little bottle and syringe.

John woke up the next afternoon and got ready for his fight. He trained a little bit but didn't want to get too tired. He thumbed around in his pocket for a minute and found the steroids the creepy guy gave him. He thought he might as well - a lot was riding on this fight, after all. As he walked into the arena, he felt his legs move slower and drag like lead was holding them down. His arms were becoming difficult to hold up. Everything hurt and spun. John fell to the floor, spazzing.

Author's Note
I took my story from The Emperor's New Clothes. Obviously, my take on the story is much different, but I think basic theme conveyed still stays intact. The idea that arrogance and ignorance make a bad combination is universal.