| Welcome to Full Intensity Wrestling. We hope you enjoy your visit. You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Join our community! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| The perfect medicine | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 18 2007, 12:16 PM (67 Views) | |
| Spann | Nov 18 2007, 12:16 PM Post #1 |
![]()
I'm just a soldier. I'm not worthy.
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
The scene opens in the same hire car we last saw Jay Bain driving. He is sat at at the wheel, looking particularly annoyed, and has clearly jumped straight in the vehicle after his match. For now we can only see him, and the fact that his is shouting loudly, apparently at no-one, makes him look pretty mental. Nick Allen tells him this. NA: (Sitting Up) You know, that makes you look pretty mental. Now we can see Allen, we can see the extent of the four man beating he suffered last week. He has a bruised and swollen eye, and small lacerations pepper his face. He is holding an icepack to his head, and is clearly a little punch drunk. This being Nick Allen, however, he is also a little bit drunk. Owing to a mixture of the two, he is confused and his speech is slurred. He is sat in the back seat of the car, swaying uneasily JB: Yeah? well you look like a crackhead alleyway bum who owed his dealer money, man. You're a mess. NA: Shu'up. Yew dunno wot yer tokking abaht. If, IF I wuz 'urt, and Nick Allen never gets hurt, then I'd be in a hambyewlanss, wun't I? Allen blinks, trying to focus. JB: Yeah, you would be, if you hadn't crushed my mobile when I said I was gonna ring you one. Bain holds up a small plastic bag containing the crushed remnants of a brand new iPhone. NA: Well I fuchin' told yer I din't need one, din't I? all I need is a couple pints o' mild and I'll be back on my feet tomorrah. Yew youngsters take yourselfs... JB: Too seriously, I know. And regardless of what you think, I'm taking you to the hospital. You're concussed at the least, and I want make sure that nothing else has happened to that tiny little brain you claim to have inside that cro-magnon skull of yours. NA: That's really nice of yew Mike, but I don't need no bloody quack! I'm absholudley fine, i promiss. JB: Can't you hear yourself? You just called me Mike! NA: No I din't, shutup. Silence reigns over the car for a few moments. Bain's face, which until a few seconds ago was serving as a visual display of how much Allen annoys him, begins to calm. All is quiet inside the car. But remember whose RP this is. Allen decides that while suffering from quite serious head wounds, nearing midnight, in a foreign country in a car with someone who doesn't particularly like you is the best time to start singing Millwall chants. Loudly. NA: Fuck 'em fuck 'em all United, West Ham, Liverpool Cause We are the Millwall and We are the best We are the Millwall So fuck all the rest Fuck 'em fuck 'em all United, West Ham, Liverpool Cause We are the Millwall and We are the best We are the Millwall So fuck all the rest MMMMIIIIIILLLLLLLWWWWAAAALLLLLLLLLL-AH!!!! Bain now looks like he'd happily crash headlong into moving traffic now, just to get away from this man. His relief is both visible and audible as we see the local hospital reflected in the window. JB: Right, we're here. Now please try and act like a human being when we get in there, I don't want to have to take you to the vets. Bain pulls sharply on the handbrake, and jumps out. Allen slowly hobbles out of the backseat, pausing to relieve himself on the car's back wheel, before following his young aquaintance. |
|
[align=center] I'm a helmet. [/align] | |
![]() |
|
| Spann | Nov 18 2007, 01:13 PM Post #2 |
![]()
I'm just a soldier. I'm not worthy.
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
A few minutes have expired since the last scene. We are now inside a smallish Emergency Room, complete with various people sat round looking particularly sorry for themselves. As we fade in, Bain rounds the corner, dragging Allen by the arm. Allen has severely tested his patience, and he cannot wait to get this annoyingly brave and chivalrous man admitted to hospital so he can go and sit in a darkened room and never hear another football chant again. Allen, as usual, is loudly protesting about something. NA: But she was proper tidy! din't ya see her? Bain gives Allen a look that says "Yes. Yes I did see her. And the quicker I get rid of you, the quicker I can get back there and work my magic." Bain manages to convey this surprisingly well with just a movement of his mouth and eyebrows, but just to reiterate his point, he says it as well. JB: Yes. Yes I did see her. And the quicker I get rid of you, the quicker I can get back there and work my magic. Ooh, alright. You know... JB: If you say that us youngsters take ourselves too seriously, I'm gonna get serious on your face. NA: You wouldn't hit an injured man, would you? JB: Oh, I would. I'd just never hit a wounded animal, and as you're essentially a large, shaved, stupid gorilla, I can't bring myself to. NA: That means alot. Allen forces out a single crocodile tear. See, I'm crying. We have now reached the ER admissions desk. Behind it sits a woman who looks like all these people with life threatening injuries are disrupting the running of her nice clean department. She is attractive, but clearly a lifetime of working in the medical business has hardened her. She has no time for jokes or sarcasm. This doesn't stand her in good stead for the man she's about to meet. JB: Hi there. I'd like to admit my friend here. As you can see, he's taken quite a bad beatingm and he needs medical attention. NURSE: Alright. Is he capable of giving me the information for his forms? Oh yes, perfectly. NURSE: Good. Well you can go away then. Shoo. Bain doesn't need telling twice. Before the nurse has even finished what she's saying, Jay is already halfway down the corridor, looking for the nurse he met earlier. This now means that Allen is left alone to deal with the iron lady of the emergency room. She pulls out a form and pen, then begins to question Allen. Never has a hospital admission sounded so much like an arrest. NURSE: Name? NA: Nick Allen. NURSE: Sex? Allen begins to giggle under his breath. If you say "Yes please", I swear I'm gonna ram this ballpoint so far up your nose, I'll be able to blow up it and inflate your skull. Allen is clearly quite terrified by this grotesque and, quite frankly, scarily imaginative, threat. This probably won't stop him from making himself an enormous pain in the arse, however. NA: Alright. Male. NURSE: Ok, Age? NA: Don't you know it's rude to ask a lady her age? The nurse looks up at Allen, and mimes jamming the pen up his nostril and blowing up it, then acts out Allen's head exploding. NURSE: Age? NA: (Sounds defeated) Thirty-seven. NURSE: Right. Now, what are you clogging up my nice tidy emergency room for? Having to admit that he lost a fight is clearly particularly difficult for Allen, and his sheepish voice portrays this. NA: Well, I got beat up a bit, din't I? I thought I was alright, but my mate here... Allen looks round, and realises that Bain has gone Huh. Well anyway, that lad who was with me reckoned I had concussion or something, and that I had to come here so you lot could put stuff up my arse, or whatever it is you do. The nurse looks at Allen for a second, then returns to her form. NURSE: Right, you appear to have sustained a reasonable amount of head and neck trauma, possibly due to contact with blunt objects and/or fists. I'll book some X-rays and other scans, but until then you can sit over there and shut up. And don't forget... The woman pulls out a balloon from under her desk, jams a hollowed out biro into the valve, and inflates it. She then grins at Allen, before pulling a lighter out from her tabbard pocket and igniting it. She holds tthe balloon over the flame until it bursts. NURSE:DO NOT fuck around in my ER. The following questions are now racing through Allen's chair addled mind: Where did Bain go? Why does he care so much anyway? Why is that nurse such a horrible bitch? And just how much planning does she put into her threats? He takes a seat, and surveys the dreary hall that is the ER. People are sat around him, with various pieces of kitchenwear attached to their bodies in a variety of unusual ways, and the token small child who has fallen off something, and decided that the best way to deal with his pain is to scream blue death at three thousand decibels. His attention is drawn to the nurse, who is using a laser pointer to pick out specific parts of a spectacularly complex diorama of the human digestive system, demonstrating to her newest patient what will happen to his insides if he continues to giver her smartass answers. Then, through another door comes a younger, smilier looking nurse, who approaches our hero. NURSE 2: Mister Allen? NA: Yeah. NURSE 2: Great. If you'd like to follow me, we'll get your tests done. Allen stands as quickly as he can, although he is still slightly uneasy on his feet. NA: Thank fuck for that. Let's go. Fade. |
|
[align=center] I'm a helmet. [/align] | |
![]() |
|
| Spann | Nov 18 2007, 02:13 PM Post #3 |
![]()
I'm just a soldier. I'm not worthy.
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
The following scene takes place the day after the previous two. Allen is now sat in a consultation room. He is currently alone, and wearing a backless hospital gown. He seems healthy enough, far better than he was in the last couple of scenes. A doctor enters. DOC: OK, Mr...(Checks chart) Allen. You are, medically speaking, a very interesting man. NA: Listen, doc. If this is anything to do with that time with the screwdriver, I swear to god, I used to be a late-night emergency joiner, and I fell on it. Silence. . . . . . ... DOC: Riiiiight then. It's actually not about that, but I'm sure that whatever you say is exactly what happened. Anyway, the reason you are of such interest to us is in these test results. From the wounds you recieved and your own collection of the event, it would seem that you recieved a beating severe enough to brain damage or even potentially kill a normal human being. However, our tests have reported that you are in perfect working order, and your kidneys and liver seem almost superhumanly efficient. Tell me, do you drink alot? Allen answers this question as convincingly as he can. Which, as is the curse of men who do not lie, is utterly unconvincingly. NA: No, not particularly. DOC: Hmm... If you say so. What else was there?.... Ah yes, your X-rays show that your skull has been fractured an almost unimaginable amount of times, but your medical records don't show you visiting a medical establishment once with head trauma. Why is that? NA: Well, I didn't like to bother anyone. DOC:So, you're saying that you have fractured your skull more than twenty five times, and never thought to go to a hospital and seek medical attention? NA: Wow, sounds pretty stupid when you put it like that, Don't it? DOC: That's because it is, Mr Allen. Very stupid. NA: Alright, don't go on about it. Well, anyway. It appears that all that was wrong with you last night when you arrived was that you'd consumed enough alcohol to tranquilise a medium to large cow, and the beating you took simply added to it. As I said before though, your digestive system is scarily proactive, and as a result, medically you seem to be fine this morning. How do you feel? Allen mulls over the question in his mind for a few seconds, before giving the doctor his carefully thought out response: NA: I feel....like...Fried egg, two sausages, fried bread, a couple of fried tomatoes, beans and bacon. You know what, I really want that, now I've thought about it. Right then doc, if I'm fine, then I'll be off. Allen stands and walks out the room, striding down the corridors. Whether he knows or cares that the entire hospital can see his buttocks we will never know. As he walks through the front doors, and the wind blows his gown above his waste, he provides a little old lady with bladder problems with more excitement than her husband has in years. Fade. |
|
[align=center] I'm a helmet. [/align] | |
![]() |
|
| « Previous Topic · Oni's ReVolution · Next Topic » |
| Theme: Zeta Original | Track Topic · E-mail Topic |
7:36 PM Jul 11
|






![]](http://z4.ifrm.com/static/1/pip_r.png)




7:36 PM Jul 11