Post by Varloc on Jan 17, 2009 17:39:03 GMT -5
Note: Er... I adore bull riding and I've been to several of their shows, plus the Finals in Las Vegas. Anyways, here's a story about a character of mine. He's been revamped for this story. I usually use him in an old western rp or something but this is mondern day and he's a bull rider instead of an outlaw turned cattleman. Hope you enjoy. O: I wrote this stome time ago, so... Yeah. O:
The cheering from the stands had reached a pitch to where it was near deafening and it made it almost impossible to hear one’s own thoughts. Pearce tossed a weary glance towards the stands from the top of the chutes as he weaved his way around other fellow riders; every now and then getting a pat on the shoulder or a nod from someone as he passed. He paused to watch a friend, Kody, as he climbed down into the chute and settled himself on top of the bull, Gravedigger. It was a bull that Pearce himself had had the unhappy pleasure of riding before. It had been about two months ago, at the show in Anaheim. The bull fell into a spin to the left as soon as he was out of the chute and then doubled back to the right with a deep roll. He managed to get Pearce’s hand free from the rope and sent him flying. The next thing he knew, Gravedigger was on him, crushing him into the dirt beneath thirteen hundred pounds of muscle and bone. Pearce ended up with ten stitches in his forehead, a concussion and a fractured hand. Lucky, but it was enough to wake him up and get him thinking about what would happen next time he got into a spot like that.
“You ride that sucker, Kody.” He nearly shouted as he leaned over the chute fence to give the young man a smack on the shoulder. The young gun grinned in reply and then gave the nod. The chute gate flew open and the battle was on. Pearce continued down the narrow walkway, keeping one eye on the ride out in the arena and one on where he was going. Just as Pearce figured, Kody was slammed hard at 6.8 seconds, but he managed to jump the fence to avoid becoming part of the dirt floor. Gravedigger was known for his cowboy stomping tendencies. Kody had always been a fast one on his feet. Even when there wasn’t any threat, that boy was usually on his feet and across the arena in a blink of an eye.
Pearce shook his head with a laugh and moved on to the second to last chute on the right hand side of the set up. He was up next and the bull he would be facing off with was one that had a low riding percentage. He had seen several looks from some of his buddies, some of the top riders when they heard the name of the bull. They knew the animal. The bull was smart. He was a livewire and so he was dubbed appropriately. Livewire. That bull would do absolutely anything to peel a rider off his back. Pearce had been there when, in what he could only describe as a fit of hysteria, Livewire leapt from the ground to such a height that when he smashed to the earth again, he fell, crushing the rider beneath his bulk. They had to take the guy, a new face to the group, out on a stretcher. He never did come back.
Making sure that his wrists were taped up and his gloves were on tightly, Pearce climbed over the chute fence and settled down on the back of the animal. His bull rope was pulled tightly around the animal’s middle and he ran his hand a few times across the tail of the rope, making sure the coat of rosin was still good, so that his hand wouldn’t slip free. The rope was then pulled tighter by one of the other riders and then passed over to Pearce so he would wrap it securely around his hand. As he settled himself further to the front of the bull, he felt a hand tighten on his shoulder and then someone hollering in his ear.
“There’s a lot of money on this ride, Pearce! Make sure you get him right. This is what you’ve been waitin’ for all these years. It’s time to be a cowboy and if you get through this, you’ve got it whipped. But before you hear the whistle blow, whatever you do…Don’t. Let. Go!”
Pearce blinked and stared up at the face of his friend, JW, a seasoned rider. It was true. There was a lot of money on this one ride and if he could stick it, then he’d walk away a happy man. That also meant getting away without losing his head. As JW stepped back, Pearce pulled his hat down and rested his arm on the bar and gave the nod.
The bull exploded from the gate and everything, although it was happening fast for everyone else watching, seemed to slow down for Pearce. It was hard to believe that these animals, these bulls, weighing nearly a ton, could have the speed and maneuverability that they possess. Livewire twisted left, turning away from his hand, throwing Pearce nearly off balance. However, he corrected quickly and fell in to a comfortable position, but nothing nice would last forever. The bull turned, seeming to know that he needed to do something different. The bull rolled, twisted and leapt. Pearce felt the rope slipping and he was falling to the right. He used everything he had to try and pull himself back up, gut it was in vain. Then the whistle blew and Pearce hit the dirt almost directly beneath the animal’s hooves, but that wasn’t what scared him the most. He felt his leg jerk and knew right away what was wrong. And before he or anyone else could do a thing, he was dragged violent along with the animal as it continued to buck and kick. His spur had gotten caught up in the rope and unless he could get it free, he was going to be in for a world of hurt.
From the view of onlookers, the twisting of his leg looked painful and you could have sworn for sure his leg had been snapped. But thankfully it wasn’t. The bull fighters where there in an instant, throwing themselves right into danger for his sake. Finally he fell free and avoiding a kick to the face, managed to scramble away on his hands and knees from danger. When he was far enough away he climbed to his feet, dirtied, but grinning. The arena had grown silent, except for the shouting of the other riders and the bull fighters as they had attempted to free him, but now everything erupted. People cheered and the riders hooted. Ripping his hat from his head, Pearce held both arms in the air in victory, drawing even more cheers from the crowd. Laughing, he started back to the chute, shaking hands with the bull fighters and gathering up his bull rope before disappearing behind the gate. JW was back there, arms folded and brows pulled together in a rather unhappy scowl.
“What happened ta doin’ what I said?”
“I held on.”
“I said until ya hear the whistle.”
“I did.”
“Uh, hello? I saw ya get dragged from here ta hell by that bull. Why didn’t ya let go.”
Pearce was attempting to make sense of his friend’s annoyance when JW finally broke into laughter and gave him a slap on the back. “Nice ride, partner. Try not to show off next time. We git tired o’ seein’ ya get smashed up and then stand up and make everyone cheer. We’d like some of that for ourselves, ya know.”
Pearce laughed and shook hands with the rider and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”
The cheering from the stands had reached a pitch to where it was near deafening and it made it almost impossible to hear one’s own thoughts. Pearce tossed a weary glance towards the stands from the top of the chutes as he weaved his way around other fellow riders; every now and then getting a pat on the shoulder or a nod from someone as he passed. He paused to watch a friend, Kody, as he climbed down into the chute and settled himself on top of the bull, Gravedigger. It was a bull that Pearce himself had had the unhappy pleasure of riding before. It had been about two months ago, at the show in Anaheim. The bull fell into a spin to the left as soon as he was out of the chute and then doubled back to the right with a deep roll. He managed to get Pearce’s hand free from the rope and sent him flying. The next thing he knew, Gravedigger was on him, crushing him into the dirt beneath thirteen hundred pounds of muscle and bone. Pearce ended up with ten stitches in his forehead, a concussion and a fractured hand. Lucky, but it was enough to wake him up and get him thinking about what would happen next time he got into a spot like that.
“You ride that sucker, Kody.” He nearly shouted as he leaned over the chute fence to give the young man a smack on the shoulder. The young gun grinned in reply and then gave the nod. The chute gate flew open and the battle was on. Pearce continued down the narrow walkway, keeping one eye on the ride out in the arena and one on where he was going. Just as Pearce figured, Kody was slammed hard at 6.8 seconds, but he managed to jump the fence to avoid becoming part of the dirt floor. Gravedigger was known for his cowboy stomping tendencies. Kody had always been a fast one on his feet. Even when there wasn’t any threat, that boy was usually on his feet and across the arena in a blink of an eye.
Pearce shook his head with a laugh and moved on to the second to last chute on the right hand side of the set up. He was up next and the bull he would be facing off with was one that had a low riding percentage. He had seen several looks from some of his buddies, some of the top riders when they heard the name of the bull. They knew the animal. The bull was smart. He was a livewire and so he was dubbed appropriately. Livewire. That bull would do absolutely anything to peel a rider off his back. Pearce had been there when, in what he could only describe as a fit of hysteria, Livewire leapt from the ground to such a height that when he smashed to the earth again, he fell, crushing the rider beneath his bulk. They had to take the guy, a new face to the group, out on a stretcher. He never did come back.
Making sure that his wrists were taped up and his gloves were on tightly, Pearce climbed over the chute fence and settled down on the back of the animal. His bull rope was pulled tightly around the animal’s middle and he ran his hand a few times across the tail of the rope, making sure the coat of rosin was still good, so that his hand wouldn’t slip free. The rope was then pulled tighter by one of the other riders and then passed over to Pearce so he would wrap it securely around his hand. As he settled himself further to the front of the bull, he felt a hand tighten on his shoulder and then someone hollering in his ear.
“There’s a lot of money on this ride, Pearce! Make sure you get him right. This is what you’ve been waitin’ for all these years. It’s time to be a cowboy and if you get through this, you’ve got it whipped. But before you hear the whistle blow, whatever you do…Don’t. Let. Go!”
Pearce blinked and stared up at the face of his friend, JW, a seasoned rider. It was true. There was a lot of money on this one ride and if he could stick it, then he’d walk away a happy man. That also meant getting away without losing his head. As JW stepped back, Pearce pulled his hat down and rested his arm on the bar and gave the nod.
The bull exploded from the gate and everything, although it was happening fast for everyone else watching, seemed to slow down for Pearce. It was hard to believe that these animals, these bulls, weighing nearly a ton, could have the speed and maneuverability that they possess. Livewire twisted left, turning away from his hand, throwing Pearce nearly off balance. However, he corrected quickly and fell in to a comfortable position, but nothing nice would last forever. The bull turned, seeming to know that he needed to do something different. The bull rolled, twisted and leapt. Pearce felt the rope slipping and he was falling to the right. He used everything he had to try and pull himself back up, gut it was in vain. Then the whistle blew and Pearce hit the dirt almost directly beneath the animal’s hooves, but that wasn’t what scared him the most. He felt his leg jerk and knew right away what was wrong. And before he or anyone else could do a thing, he was dragged violent along with the animal as it continued to buck and kick. His spur had gotten caught up in the rope and unless he could get it free, he was going to be in for a world of hurt.
From the view of onlookers, the twisting of his leg looked painful and you could have sworn for sure his leg had been snapped. But thankfully it wasn’t. The bull fighters where there in an instant, throwing themselves right into danger for his sake. Finally he fell free and avoiding a kick to the face, managed to scramble away on his hands and knees from danger. When he was far enough away he climbed to his feet, dirtied, but grinning. The arena had grown silent, except for the shouting of the other riders and the bull fighters as they had attempted to free him, but now everything erupted. People cheered and the riders hooted. Ripping his hat from his head, Pearce held both arms in the air in victory, drawing even more cheers from the crowd. Laughing, he started back to the chute, shaking hands with the bull fighters and gathering up his bull rope before disappearing behind the gate. JW was back there, arms folded and brows pulled together in a rather unhappy scowl.
“What happened ta doin’ what I said?”
“I held on.”
“I said until ya hear the whistle.”
“I did.”
“Uh, hello? I saw ya get dragged from here ta hell by that bull. Why didn’t ya let go.”
Pearce was attempting to make sense of his friend’s annoyance when JW finally broke into laughter and gave him a slap on the back. “Nice ride, partner. Try not to show off next time. We git tired o’ seein’ ya get smashed up and then stand up and make everyone cheer. We’d like some of that for ourselves, ya know.”
Pearce laughed and shook hands with the rider and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”