Disclaimer: Ha ha ha… Do you know how flippin'
happy I'd be if I owned even one shred of corporate Kinnikuman goodness?
Well, I don't, and thanks for reminding me…
Note: I'll be 18 years of age come the 11 th of April, and the law in the first state declares me no longer a minor, but a major (laughs). After contemplating renting my first piece of adult entertainment and buying a cigar (though I do not smoke), I came up with this. Another Jade fic for you.
By Son Rhandi
Happy Birthday, My Boy
A crazy heavy metal mix in his ears, Jade made his room into a one-man mosh pit. He felt like he'd been in the hospital forever. There wasn't enough room for him to play air guitar, that cramped space which smelled constantly of latex… His golden locks whipped about his head as he bobbed his head up and down to the snare and the singer's wailing, the language in his native German. It felt so good to be able to move around again, an ability he, as a man and a wrestler, took for granted. Never again , he thought, moving his hand's along the imaginary guitar's neck and turned out a riff with the stereo band. He probably would have become a musician had his life not been dominated by wrestling. No regrets, though. He was content to wail from the stage in his mind and all the things that accompanied it.
"Jade! Jade! Turn down that racket!" Blocken's door-knockin' pulled him down off his imaginary stage. "You're going to make the cake fall!"
Jade sighed and stopped the track. Today was his birthday. Well, that statement in itself is inaccurate. A person is only born once. Anything else only commemorates the date of that birth. So, to say that this was the anniversary of his birthday would be more appropriate. In any case, he was a year older, a year wiser. Blocken, Jr. insisted on throwing him a private bash, 'bash' meaning a two-man turnout. Jade, on this day, was 18 years of age. Nothing special, in his mind. He had long since passed reaching the legal age of adulthood in the Fatherland, so his enthusiasm for such a thing was quelled. On the other hand, it would be the first birthday he celebrated with Blocken as his father, and that gave him a bit of excitement. He thought of asking Crione and Signal over, sure that if Herr Blocken pulled a few strings, the other legends wouldn't have a problem with it. Even so, they wouldn't arrive until the next night. The green clad lad sighed, wishing he had the idea sooner so he could have planned ahead.
His fabricated concert over and sick of silence, Jade exited his room and headed for downstairs, making sure the coast was clear before sliding down the banister, a bit of fun he indulged in from time to time. His father didn't share his sentiments, though... Something good was in the kitchen, or so his sense of smell led him to believe. Hadn't Blocken mentioned something about a cake? His curiosities brought him to the oven, stealing a peek at the rising pastry in the gas-powered box. Smells like chocolate… He thought, licking his lips in anticipation.
"Jade! Shoo, shoo!"
The young man groaned inwardly, Blocken chasing him away from the over and away from the cake. "I have to get the layers out of the oven. We don't want a burnt birthday cake, do we?"
"Nein, nein…" The young man sighed and retreated to a stool at the breakfast nook while his patriarch stuffed his hands in quilted mitts, ready to dispense with the cakery. Jade spied him retrieving two cans of frosting from the cabinet. Chocolate, his favorite. It wouldn't hurt to sneak a little bit while Herr Wrestling Meister had his back turned…
"Don't you dare, boy. I'm not so old that I can't hear the top pop off a can of icing."
Drat! Jade snapped his fingers. "You're being worse than a little kid today," said Blocken, on his way to the counter, two piping-hot cake pans in his well-protected hands. "You can lick the spoon when I'm done, if that'll make you happy." The older man cracked a grin.
If it meant chocolate, he would have settled for less.
_________________________________
"You know, the law may say otherwise, but adulthood doesn't start until you're 18. I'm proud of you, my boy. One for reaching this milestone, and two for putting up with me this entire time." He chuckled. "I'm no baker, but I think I did a good enough job on that cake. You like chocolate, right?"
"Mm-hmm!" Jade gave a highly approving nod and stuffed another hunk of cake on his plate.
Blocken rested his chin on his interlocked fingers and smiled. "You're such a child sometimes, Jade."
The green-clad lad just snorted in humor and finished off his piece. "Have some, mein Herr. It's delicious!"
"Nein, nein… I baked it for you. Besides, I don't like to eat my own cooking. You know that. Hurry up and finish so we can make with the present time."
"You really didn't have to get me anything…"
"I know. But it's only one day out of the year, so why not make it one you'll cherish? Here…" Blocken, Jr. reached under the table and revealed a neatly wrapped package bound in brown paper and hemp cord. He held it out to his young protégé. "Take it, boy. It's yours."
He looked up at Blocken and took from him the gift. He set about opening the package, carefully tugging at the cord to loosen then unwrapping the surrounding paper just so--It wasn't in him to be wasteful of anything. "Oh, wow! Wow! Ja! This is… Woah..! Oh, thank you, mein Herr! Mein papa!"
The older man took off his cap and scratched his head. "Jade, all this fuss over a shirt and hat?"
"You don't understand…" Jade slipped into the long-sleeved button down and nestled the matching military hat atop his cranium. "With these, I am a Blocken!"
Sure enough. Ignore the stray strands of blond hair and he could have been the young Blocken, Jr. The older man raised an eyebrow in question and grinned. "The clothes don't make the Blocken, Jade, although they do help to make us more identifiable. You were a Blocken since the day you were born, since the day your training began, since you won your first match. Blockens are defined by their bloodline and their history in the ring. And judging by our history, we've all taken a serious fall on that four-sided canvas, so if that doesn't say 'Blocken', nothing else does..!" The grizzled old fellow joked, a sad but true statement.
Jade smiled politely at his father's gag, not really wishing to remember his match with Scarface. "But the good thing about this family is that we learn from out mistakes," Blocken continued. "One faux pas per lifetime, and that's a guarantee. You're lucky to have screwed up while you're still young. It's harder to recover when you're old, like me."
"Nein. You're a strong old man who can bounce back from anything. …You are my father. I couldn't be more proud."
Jade stood from the table and walked to Blocken, his arms extended for a hug. "Papa…" He beamed. The older man hesitated, looking back at his boy, whose smile showed no signs of fading.
"Oh, why not..? Happy birthday, my boy…" They embraced for the first time, not just as coach and athlete, but as father and son.
~We're all a little closer to dying with each passing year, so enjoy what time you have while you're still alive. Thank you.~