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The Weakness of Men; ~Drake Love~
Topic Started: Feb 7 2009, 04:17 AM (37 Views)
Drake
Drake Love
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[align=center]VIDEO SEGMENT[/align]

You know that very faded, washed out look a human being can have? Where they are standing right in front of you but somehow seem to still be buried under a hundred pounds of sand somewhere? The look of emptiness and regret just merged right onto the outer layer of their eyeballs? Well if you know that look, you also know that a room full of people with that look is probably a bunch of recovering addicts. Those that are actually in the here and now are clearly bored or a bit too peppy. Like the guy that sits four rows back doing the crossword section, he is clearly one of the bored ones. That chick in the front row clutching a bible to her chest? Well she is a born again Christian with a new zest for life. That quiet tall man in the back rearranging the cookie platters and filling the coffee dispensers? Well ok, he is probably just crazy but still a mixture of both. In this melting pot of former bar patrons and liquor store regulars, sits one Drake Love fidgeting about, probably belonging to the bored category.

A woman, probably in her early fifties or late forties, stands in front of the group to speak about her problems and strifes. Lagging on she goes, in a monotone voice about her childhood and the poor tragic events that shaped her life. She looks around occasionally as if searching for empathy, but everyone in this room has their own sob story to cling to and she isn’t saying anything they all haven’t heard a hundred times before. All in all, this state of being much feel much like what purgatory is like. A state of being without really being.

After a few more stale blurbs from the speaker, she finally appears to be done. A man dressed in a suit and sitting off to the side approaches now, clearly he is the one in charge with keeping order and such.


Man: Thank you Katherine. Everybody, let’s give a small thanks to Katherine for her bravery in speaking today.

A few mumbles of “thanks” are heard but really there is more enthusiasm at a slam poetry reading at the local Y. Clearing his throat the ring leader of the washed up soul sucked former drunks continues.

Man: Right then. We are going to take a quick break, everyone feel free to get some coffee, stretch your legs and what not. Oh and Chris brought cookies this week so grab a couple of those if you would like.

A few shuffled feet, the sound of chairs scraping across the carpet and the low energy movement of a few people getting up with no serious sense of urgency. Standing in the doorway at the back of the room waiting for Drake is none other than FIW’s #0 reporter, Jeff Noon.

Drake: Why are you always following me to these things? Does the term “personal boundaries” mean nothing to you?

Noon: Say what you will, we were friends once. I am just checking up on you to make sure you are alright is all.

Drake: I have the Ghost of Christmas Past all cocked up on God only knows what with the financial backing of Smarty Smark and the fire power of SS&S standing behind him, all with the single focus of taking the Undisputed International Championship from around my waist but yeah, other than that I am just peachy.

Noon: Well aren’t we the glass is half empty. No wonder you had Chris speak for you at the conference.

With a blank stare and a couple of nonresponsive blinks, Drake eyes Jeff without expression.

Noon: You didn’t send Chris did you.

Drake: No, but now I am afraid to ask what the hell he said.

Noon: I can get the cliff notes later I suppose. So you are concerned about Sean then?

Drake: Concerned? As concerned as anyone is about having a rabid dog hunting after them is. But let me make one thing crystal clear, I don’t fear any man and that includes Madrox. He may deny that destiny has put us back on the same path but the truth is that we were meant to be at this place together.

Noon: What? How so?

Drake: The will of the island put us here Jack. You may not believe but I know the truth. You are a man of science but I am a man of faith and….wait. That is Lost. Anyways, fate has put an unresolved issue in the body of an old foe in front of me to test me, to see if my redemption really is within my grasp. If I am worthy of salvation or damnation. That is what facing Sean this Sunday means to me. At the fitting anniversary show, another year marked for not just FIW but for myself, we shall battle to find out which one of us is really the better man. A question left unanswered for almost two years will finally be resolved one way or another.

Noon: Well umm, I guess that is a fairly flowery and poetic way of looking at things.

Drake: Flowery and poetic? Perhaps the words I speak are so but make no mistake, when we go face to face this Sunday there will be nothing majestic or honorable about the bloodbath to come.

Noon: You are a very odd man some days.

Drake: You don’t by any chance have a sandwich on you.

Noon: Wait…huh? How does that have anything to do with the match?

Drake: It has nothing to do with the match, I am just hungry. These meetings last forever.

Noon: So…you need a sponsor?

Drake: Would you look at that? I have to get back in there, break time is over. Later Noon.

Turning away from the door, Drake shows the most excitement seen all night as he darts back to his seat leaving Jeff all alone in the doorway.

Noon: I wonder if that group for internet porn addicts is running tonight.

And with that Jeff turns out the door as a new face makes the slow march down the Green Mile to speak about their pathetic lives.

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