*Theta's house/shop, 7:30 P.M.*
Damn, I've never seen somepony that competitive, let alone two of them!",I thought aloud, recapping the inevitable ending to the Brave Heart competition. Although Pinkie Pie was energetic and fast, she couldn't seem to focus on the lacrosse game for more than a minute or two, which was why she lost to Rainbow Dash. The final contest was between AppleJack and Rainbow Dash, and I haven't seen that kind of competivness since my days in the PLL. They eventually gave up and decided they were evenly matched, but it took about an hour of non-stop brave hearts to reach this conclusion. It was truly a great sight, the athleticism and competitivenss of the two was truly a sight to see. One after another, the games ended with a loss of course, but it would always be back and forth, both one-uping each other every game. The two mares literally, and figuratively, left everything they had on the field. That was a phrase I hadn't used or heard since my days of high school lax.
It had taken some work, but I got most of the gear I brought back to my store, and easily cleaned each piece of equipment. However I decided to leave the goals at the park, for one it was easier this way, and two it was a perfect spot to go and relax when I thought about Slim. Shooting goals relieved my stress, and always took my mind off of whatever I was thinking about. It was both a pleasure and a pain to have memories of him. A pleasure that he and I were the best of friends, and pain to wake up and realize that we'd never chill again. You gotta realize that I am not, and I mean NOT, one to open up and actually articulate my feelings into words.
Six years today. Six fucking years, and the only thing I can do to make today happy is play the sport that took his life. I could go on about 'how cruel life was' and 'it's not fair' and it might even seem like I have, but in all honesty I knew he died. I watched that, but I could never accept it, even if Celestia herself came to explain why he died. Looking at an old jersey, I recollected all the good times; the times he would want me, no, everyone to remember. He once told me,"When I die man, don't tell no one I was perfect; we both know that I was the spawn of Discord. I can't stand funerals where the dead, even if they were held dear to somepony, are made out to be more than they were. Don't disrespect me by doin that man.".
*Theta's Bathroom, 9:00 P.M.*
I looked at the stallion in the mirror, one marred with scars and hate. I owned a scar on the left side of my neck, along with one stretching from my forehead to the bottom of my cheek. These were the most obvious and plain to see scars, but underneath my clothes lay a multitude of others. Most had been gained by lacrosse related injuries, others by surgery, and a few from stupidity. They were the outcome of the decisions of my youth, keepsakes of mistakes, reminders of worse days. My body had seen better days, not saying I am overweight or out of shape, albeit I kept up a weekly workout regime that kept me somewhat in shape.
I walked out of the bathroom, thinking about how I got the scar on my neck, the one that could have ended my life. It was our sixth year of indoor lacrosse, and the last game at that. I had been checked in the neck once already, but what made the second one cut me? Dirty plays, I found out after the game that the player whom hit me in the neck had put zip ties on the head of the stick, and cut them down to both be hidden and sharp. His check went high, and slashed the side of my neck. Being reckless and completely stupid, I thought nothing of it- that is until I got home. As I looked in the mirror before taking a shower I noticed that the cut was only about a centimeter from the jugular. This scared the shit out of me, and I had let out a shriek to let my family know as well(as if they cared). I remember that game for more than that scar, it was also when Slim broke his hand, punching a wall. He had been hit in his nads, and yelled "MOTHER FUCKER!" at the top of his lungs. Somehow he got kicked out of the last game of the season, that being one of my fondest memories of him, and a great thought to end the night on.
(sorry this is such a short chapter, but I'm getting writers block, even as far as to not knowing where this will end up. I believe in short and to the point though, so I hope you enjoy this shorter chapter.Peace-Theta Gunner)