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I Smell a Rivalry...
Topic Started: Feb 20 2009, 06:57 PM (40 Views)
Spann
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I'm just a soldier. I'm not worthy.
[ *  *  * ]
S S and fucking S.

The scene fades in to reveal Nick lying on a king sized bed, secured away in his hotel room. He lies with his hands behind his head, staring straight up at the ceiling. In fact, for an atheist, it looks an awful lot like hes looking up to heaven...

NA: I tell you man, trouble just seems to come looking for me. I thought we'd seen the last of that despicable prick Orange, especially after... Well, what happened to you. I mean, I didn't think that even he would go that far. I know we'll never know who it was that actually cut those cables, but if it wasn't for what he was making me do at the time, the situation woulda never arose.

The way Nick's talking seems to suggest his uncomfortable talking about this... Is he feeling guilty, perhaps?

NA: But anyway, now it seems that I've managed to get myself tangled up with their new... associates, I suppose they call each other. Fuckin' asses, I call 'em, but that's no mind; well they seem to have decided they don't like me now. Smark fuckin' smashed me in the head with a pipe or something last Sunday, costing me a pin against Onikage, who I call bullshit on, by the way. No way is he not inolved with those tossmagnets, no way.

A troubled look furrows Nick's brow as he scratches the back of his head, the stubble that grows on the back of his half bald, half shaved head rasping against his fingernails...

NA: I ain't even got you by my side no more dude, and now there's even more of them. Once again, it seems that some motherfucker up there has decided to tip the odds further against me in life. I suppose I should be used to it by now. At least this week I've got a match against LLF, so fingers crossed they'll leave well fucking alone. I ain't scared of them Jay, don't get me wrong, you know I fear absolutely nothing, but the lot of them have the power to make my life difficult. Very fucking difficult indeed.

Picking his nose as he looks up, Nick changes tack.

NA: But, we can only look to the future, and what does the future hold at the moment? La Lesbiana Fantastica, Spanish for The Fantastic Lesbian.

Well done Nick.


NA: The Fantastic Lesbian, that is, who until a few weeks ago, carried the Flycore Championship around her waist; a belt that I took from her. Losing a match against her would do some severe damage to my credibility, I can tell you. See Jay, I don't wanna just be seen as the drunken oaf anymore. Yeah, I mean, I know I am a drunken oaf, but this belt is my chance to prove that I'm a drunken oaf who can win belts, who can score some self respect for the first time in his life. I've already lost my first match as Flycore champ, and to be frank I don't fancy losing the second one either, especially not to the person I took it from. Might as well take the fucking belt back and push me down the stairs if that happens.

Nick swallows hard. Is that a hint of a tear?

NA: Know what? Sometimes I think that things'd be easier if I could be where you are, just escape all this bullshit. I miss you man, every single fuckin' day... We was like brothers.

Sudden change of pace.

NA: But, I don't know if we're stopping in Hull on this trip mate. Oh, and gimme a ring when you get this message yeah? Laters.

And, with that, Nick rolls over, flicking the speakerphone off on the hotel phone, before picking up a DVD case and remote control, admiring the title of the film he's about to watch:

NA: "Twenty-Five Favourite Football Fights", eh? Sounds highbrow... Great stuff.
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