[FM13] On a High

oooh....interesting turnaound there!

This looks to be one of the more interesting stories I've read in awhile, cannot wait for the football!

Chapter 3 | Once Upon A Time

I continued.

"OK. So, evidently, you guys know who I am. I'm Sean-Paul Lodovico, former manager of the Newcastle United Jets. You guys know how I fell from grace, was investigated by ASADA, almost got jailed, right?"

The room nodded in unison.

"Well, today, and probably a long time after, because it is a lengthy tale, I'm going to tell you the real story. That didn't make the headlines."

I took a deep breath, and delved into the past.


It the 19th of June, 2012. State of Origin night. A night where men around the country celebrated big men smashing into each other in the name of state pride whilst drinking alcohol. It was a high octane environment. It would take an idiot to walk into an opposition area whilst wearing unsuitable clothing. And I was that idiot.

To be continued

Chapter 3 | Once Upon A Time

Being continued

It was the middle of New South Wales territory in Melbourne. I was a born and bred Queenslander, and I displayed it proudly with my maroon shirt. But my problem was, it was spattered with white powder. Not washing powder, I can tell you now.

As a young boy, I was heavily abused by my alcoholic father. He took his anger out on my mother and me equally, but one day my father was especially angry, and according to official police reports, my mother slipped and her head was impaled in a knife. I was 11 at the time.

After her murder, I'd stay away from home for extended periods of time. In those periods, I discovered an undercover life. To me, at the time, it was a way to escape from home. Now, it is a decision I will forever regret. I had my first taste of coke at 14, and since then I have been hooked. But back to the story.

It was about 3 am. Queensland had beaten NSW for the 6th time in a row, and I was already garnering mean looks from the pubs across the road. I was a lamb amongst the wolves you could say.

So there I was, high as a kite. I went on a bender after Queensland won, and only stopped when my mates kicked me out. I walked down a NSW street in a QLD shirt, almost inviting trouble I got it when a fat middle aged guy bumped into me.

He spoked slurredly. He was clearly drunk, unfortunately for me.

"You a fucking maroon? Glory hog. You don't know shit about rugby."

He was wrong; I had played it since I was 7 and was considered a big prospect, until you know. I fell off the rails.

He interrupted me by pushing me, flat palms onto my chest.

"Let's go pretty boy, I'll have you."

In my euphoric state, my decision making was significantly worse and I did what any druggo would at that stage. I punched him in the face.

Only as good as your last Origin series...

NSW! NSW! NSW!

great start mate! keep it up!

Chapter 4 | The House

The big guy fell down immediately. I was a promising rugby player in my youth, and even after years of drug abuse and weight gain I was still a very strong guy. The fatso hit the ground hard, and I thought I heard a bone snap. The guy was out cold. I looked around. Luckily, no one had seen it. I dragged him into an alleyway about 5 metres away. I was contemplating leaving him there, but the tiny segment of better judgement in my cocaine-affected brain told me to stay. Which I did. I slept in the alleyway next to him.

In the morning, the affects of the bender last night had all but gone. I discovered, early on in my drug taking days, that my body was remarkably good at flushing the effects quickly. It meant I could just keep on going, for days on end sometimes. So, for once, I was sitting there completely clean. My thinking was clear, my memory was blurred, but when the fat guy rolled over and his head lay on my shoulder, it all came back to me in a blur.


Once the guy woke up, I quickly knocked him out again and after a quick call, I bundled him into the car of one of my mates. After about 10 minutes, he dropped me off at my ‘house’. It wasn’t really mine, I suppose. It was kind of a communal area for druggos to chill out after benders. I became a regular, and so it became a home of sorts.

So at about noon, the guy woke up again. This time however, I didn’t knock him out, instead pinning him to the ground and he writhed in fear and panic. But after about a minute, he relaxed.

“Who the hell are you?”

I was still wearing my Queensland shirt, he was wearing his NSW one. Everyone in the house thought they knew what was coming. I made sure to prove them wrong.

“Mate, calm down, I’m not going to hurt you.”

But this just scared him further. He actually believed I was going to kill him!

“D-d-d-d-don’t hurt me man!” he stammered. “I’ll do anything man, anything!”

“Mate, I don’t want to hurt you!”

He was having none of it. “That’s what the psychopaths say!” He was now crying, and with tears rushing down his face, and I felt really sorry for him. I had actually forgotten why I had taken him here. Probably so he didn’t get me arrested.

“OK, OK. I’ll let you go.”

Only now did he relax. He looked around the room, and saw the menacing looks of my ‘friends’, and some gratitude appeared in his eyes.

As I led him out of the room and called him a cab, he turned to me.

“I will repay you for this mate. Thankyou, from the bottom of my heart. I’m guessing you stopped that other idiot Maroon supporter as well?”

I looked down at my feet in shame.

“Yeah, yeah. He was a handful.”

He slapped his beefy fingers down on my shoulder. “I’ll see you soon mate. I’ve got something in store. Let’s just say I don’t like Gary too much.”

another very good update!

Very interesting story so far. It's really good and can't wait for the next update.

Clever idea at how to takeover a club! loving this story so far. keep it going!

Chapter 5 | Nightmares

Present Day, 9th June 2013

I am about to continue when a counsellor slaps me on the back.

"That's enough for today."

As I walk out of the room, a collective groan follows me out. It seems I have made a name for myself.


I sit on my bed, and watch the sun set. I also hated the sunset. The period when light struggles to stay alive, waiting to be enveloped by the encroaching darkness. Sunset is when my mother died.

November 7th 1998

My mother and I lay at home, basking in the air conditioning. My mother would have worked especially hard for it. Meanwhile, my dad was out drinking, wasting away our hard earnt money. Mum's hard earnt money.

He doesn't deserve to be in our family. He doesn't deserve to live. But we're just so scared.

There is a knock on the door.

If I could just catch my breath with this story... lol
Loving it! I'm just starting to feel bad for Sean-Paul though. Rough life.

The drama! The intensity!

Great writing here. Some very dramatic updates which I like to see. Keep it up!

Chapter 6 | Turning Points

I stop myself there. That is not worth re-living. That is not even 'my memory', its Death's memory. He can keep it.

I didn't sleep well that night.


I run my hand across the leather upholstery on this fine chair. I could sleep in this. It's infinitely better than the used rags I'm used to. But the chair is irrelevant now.

Across the table sits the NSW supporter. Gone is the slur, the huge blue shirt, the appearance of an alcoholic. Now, sitting in an even bigger chair than mine is well groomed, well paid businessman in a fancy suit. His name is Nathan Tinkler. Owner of the Newcastle Jets.

He holds in his hand an envelope.

"Do you understand your role?"

He slides the envelope down to me. I open it, and sign it.

"I am ready."

Sorry guys for the lack of detail, I lost this the first time I wrote it so I didn't really feel up to writing it out in full again.