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Things Not To Do In Mexico
Topic Started: Nov 30 2007, 11:48 PM (47 Views)
Drake
Drake Love
[ *  *  *  * ]
[align=center]THE RETURN OF THE HIDDEN FOOTAGE[/align]

From high school gyms to rundown motel rooms, what a wonderfully inspiring set of scenic placements we find ourselves this week while peering into the day to day workings of the resident basketcase of FIW. It’s been said that the ability to smell though television would be a remarkable invention and something everyone American would want to partake in. However as we glimpse around the cesspool that is the current home for one Jeff Noon, perhaps it is a good thing we aren’t able to smell the urine soaked sheets after all. Jeff adjusts himself on the rickety kitchen chair, the wood groaning with every motion, ready to heave way at any moment. Jeff appears to be eating Spam straight out of the can as he eyes Drake in the middle of the room. Drake appears to be trying to draw into himself to prevent from coming into contact with the disease filled contents of the room, that or he really likes hugging the Hellcat Championship. Can you blame him either way? The room is that repulsive and the title is that pretty.

Noon: So is this what we are going to do all night? Cause I would rather be alone to be honest if that’s the case. You can get some really cheap hookers around here.

Drake: Hookers? See this is what is wrong with the values of America.

Noon: You aren’t going to start with your “10 Easy Ways to Improve America” speech are you? Because you know, we are in Mexico.

Drake: I know where the hell we are Noon you nitwit.

Noon: Fine I will wait till later until I get my hookers I suppose.

Drake: Cross dressers keep no time Noon.

Noon: Wait! Cross dressers? I never said I was into cross dressers…ah nevermind. So speaking of women or whatever, what about Jaime Lee? She challenged you to a match you know.

Drake: Indeed she did. Indeed she did at that.

Noon: And we all know that you would like nothing more than a chance to roll around the canvas with her, am I right?

Noon grins like a only a complete retard is capable of grinning, and seems to think that he is a college frat boy discussing the cheerleading squad. However at the mention of one Jaime Lee, Drake’s usual annoyance at the world seems to fade into something…well thoughtful I suppose if the term best used to describe his facial expression.

Noon: Well no need to go all Rain Man. That is far off in the future anyways.

Drake: I suppose it is not the most immediate of my concerns true. Perhaps the most bewildering in it’s simplistic need to be complex but that is neither here nor there at the moment.

Noon: I didn’t understand a word you just said.

Drake: That is because you are a simpleton. I was referring to the point that whether we clash for some sort of political and spiritual battle of the symbolic trophy I hold in my hands, she and I have a more immediate date to dance.

Noon: You are talking Jaime on a date to go dancing? Really?

Drake: Not that kind of dancing you buffoon. I was referring to the Condemned Fetish match, which might very well see us meet.

Noon: Aren’t you like a 50 to 1 favorite? Which is odd considering there is only like 28 people involved.

Drake: You know, with all this talk about unfinished business between Ninja and me, and this new kid tossing his hat into the mix, I feel as if I have overlooked someone.

Noon: And who is that?

Drake: Why, Ethan Adams of course. Perhaps I haven’t been paying him the attention he is due.

Noon: Well you are the only one then. He is one of the fan favorites to win the Condemned Fetish match, not to mention being involved in the Fatal Fourway for the Fighting Spirit Championship.

Drake: Who cares about the Condemned Fetish match? Why do you keep bringing it up? I am talking about my crowning moment when I win the Fighting Spirit Championship after nearly a year long crusade for a Holy Grail that has alluded me at every turn. And all you want to do is talk about how I am heavily favored to lose the Condemned Fetish match despite being in one of two holding cells.

Noon: Actually you are the one that brought it up, when you were talking about Jaime Lee, but whatever, blame on it me sure.

Drake: Stop crying already, you are ruining my train of thought. Now where was I? Ah yes Adam Wilson.

Noon: No you were talking about Ethan Adams actually, and how you two seem more entwined than…

Drake: So he is the new guy this Wilson, and he thinks to jump a few spots in the pecking order by whatever means that he can.

Noon: Sure, ignore everything I have to say.

Drake: If that punk thinks he can try to loot my destiny like this was some 7-11 he has lost his mind. Now I don’t know hardly anything about him and what I do know holds my interest like a sieve with water. I don’t care about his “Hype” or his love for Great White sharks. I just now that my final showdown with Ninja has finally come and nobody had better try to get in my way.

Noon: I thought you just said this was your final showdown with Ethan Adams?

Drake: Well yeah him too. Stop interrupting me. I keep forgetting what I am saying.

Noon: So what? It’s just you and me in the room with no plans for the night. It’s not like you have to rush to fit everything you want to say in a few contrite sentences for dramatic effect.

A momentary set of silence hits the room, and just when you think one of the two men is about to break the fourth wall, a donkey brays from outside the window. Why? Because they have donkeys in Mexico and braying is what they do.

Drake: Extreme Ninja Number 2 swept in and tarnished what was to be my crowning moment. He took away my prize as I finally was able to sink my talons into the beloved Fighting Spirit Championship. And now that he has had his quaint little moment in the limelight, it is time for him to bleed. How fitting is it that this match is a First Blood Match? They will all bleed for their affronts to my presence and beg for mercy.

Noon: What are you rambling about? It’s not a First Blood match. Not even close, the match rules are “Solid Wood Elimination”. Where the hell did you get First Blood from that?

Drake: I don’t read the memos. Either way all I said before still applies. You know, blood, misery or something close to that.

Noon opens hi mouth to respond when suddenly a loud banging on the door turns both men’s heads to the outside of the structure.

Booming Voice: Polica, open the door.

Drake: Well clearly it’s time for me to go. I’ll see you at the arena Noon.

Noon: Wait, what’s going on?

Drake doesn’t answer, well not with words anyways. A ziplock bag filled with what appears to be pills of some kind are tossed at a bewildered Noon. Jeff catches the bag but that old chair finally gives way with the sudden movement sending Noon to the floor with a crash. Noon looks up while grimacing in pain to see Drake going out of the bathroom window. A loud crash is heard of what we can safely assume is the front door being kicked in as Jeff begins to whimper. The tears are already flowing before the first officer reaches him.
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