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| Cowboy Love; H@VoK and his partner. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 28 2010, 04:59 AM (71 Views) | |
| Minister Wighty | Jul 28 2010, 04:59 AM Post #1 |
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Opossum Queen of FIW
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We are quite far away from the Smile Time Arena, or whatever insipid name the place we're wrestling this week has. That actually used to be illegal in the FIW, having promos happen "off-base". Then Min came along. ... um, anyway... Before us is a fairly small bar, on a fairly busy street is the scene. It's still just about light outside, although that doesn't stop the place being dark itself. There's barely enough room to swing a cat, if you had one. The place is clean and healthy enough to drink in, if one should so choose but not so pristine that it detracts from the atmosphere any, and also not pristine enough that it would drive off all the customers. It turns out we've been following Havok this whole time, Havok who is dressed like a muggle in every sense of the word; big baggy blue jeans, a salmon dress shirt and tie, obnoxious gold chains, and a cowboy hat... but of course, he's still wearing his makeup. Besides this one ne'er-do-well, there are a few sketchy looking characters; a few guys just off work for a beer or two; a few studenty types hogging the juke-box... and there in the corner booth, alone - looking a little forlorn - your now-former Dual Crown Champion, Jenny Chennault. Alone but for a handful of bottles ( all but one of which is empty), an empty bowl of chilli, and a stack of bones that previously were fried chicken wings. Havok coughs to get Jenny's attention, which works. She slams her bottle down, sending frothy beer over her hands & the table. Jenny: Fuck'r you doin' here? Havok picks up the empties and throws them into an approaching bus tub. The teen in a smock looks cheesed off until he sees he's being given things by a gangsta rap cowboy businessman clown. Then he simply returns to the back by turning on his heel and running as fast as his non-skid shoes can carry him. Havok: Lookin' for you. I really wish I had something witty here, but... you look like shit. What the hell are you doing? Jenny: Havin' a... Havin' a wha'sitcalled... Of course she is. That should be obvious. It takes her a few moments of complete silence [save for jukebox] to remember the exact word. Havok takes this opportunity to sit down. Jenny: A wake. At'sa fucker... A wake, f'mah dearly departed... With a sigh, she polishes off what's left of her drink; most of it having gone out of the neck a few moments ago when she slammed it down. Jenny: Hey, uh... This is to the bartender; whose name she's having difficulty recalling at this juncture. Jenny: Yo, Ozzie; same again. An' f'mah buddy an'all. With some difficulty, she leans forward with as much of a conspiratorial whisper as she can manage at this point. Havok's eyes travel to the Land of Plenty while he has the chance. Jenny: [size0]He's a fan... Oh, and a wink. Can't forget that. As much of a conspiratorial whisper as she can manage and a wink. Jenny: Don' worry; Ah ain'at type'a girl... Hur... Hur hur... The bartender, whose name tag most certainly doesn't say "Ozzie," moves to get the drinks, eying Havok suspiciously. After all, guy dressed like that has got to be up to something. Somehow, Jenny detects the shift, although clearly doesn't know why. Jenny: De fuck'r you, again? Havok opens his mouth to be surprised at her, but then remembers he's in "street clothes" and assumes she's just missing the paint on his face. Ah, but no. She spatters up again before he can re-re-re-introduce himself. Jenny: Fuckin' tacks. Thousands'a fuckers... Fuckin' thumbtacks. Fuck'sat all about? Havok: It's like a tattoo you don't have to question the next morning. Lots of tiny little needlets of pain stabby-stabbing you in the everywhere, an' you get to make everyone you hate feel it worse... Plus, they're sparkly! Since he's playing Mr. Convincer at the moment, Havok doesn't delve into the sexual fantasy part and the chemical reaction to the imagery in his head makes him thankful he's sitting down. He opens his mouth to continue but again he's interrupted as the bartender shows up; and not a moment too soon for Jenny who was sitting their in open-mouthed shock. Jenny: Dere y'are, Johnnie. His name's not Johnnie either. The guy must be a fan though, being the only person apparently working since the bus boy ran for the hills, he still brings their drinks to the table: two large tequilas and two bottles of yankee piss-water. Jenny snatches at one of the tequilas and makes a toast, to which Havok scrambles to meet. Jenny: Hile, bitches.1 The glass is drained with just a hint of a flinch no salt, no lime, where Havok just takes a sip. He's not in the mood to erase his mind right now, after all, all of his pants-retaining devices are still at home. He sets the glass down and starts playing with one of the offered green citrus wedges as Jenny gets started on chasing the spirit down with some of the beer. One more slap of palm against table, and we're back where we started. Jenny: Fuck'r you doin' here? Havok sighs and speaks under his breath. Havok: [size0]... is this what it's like for regular people to talk to me? He shakes his head and tries once more to get Godzilla's attention, getting to the point in hopes that the business of redemption will bring Jenny back to the real world... or at least only seeing double instead of quintuple. Can cyclopes see in multiples? Havok: I have a MASTER PLAN and I need someone to help me enact it. Dai-kun's trying to fuck me over in the card and I'm tired of just waitin' my turn, 'cuz that turn ain't gonna come. Jenny: Heh... Fuckin' A... Ah get'at shit, yanno? Nigglin' fuckin' injuries... Ah could go out'er right fuckin' now if Ah wan'ed... [size0]God Damn "Official line... There's much muttering going on here on Jenny's part, but there's a plan to explain here. Havok: I'm in a tag match this week, up against those Real World bitches. Except, oopsie-doodle... they conveniently forgot to book me a partner. But! They left a space in the card for one. So I think if I walk out with my own I might be able to get this little reign of terror started right... an' I'd like to think I'm lookin' at my partner right now. Jenny takes a deep breath in, as if she's having a little trouble keeping her dinner down. A very deep breath in. Her head lolls back a bit. Don't worry, she's fine, just gearing up for the Godzilla Howl. Luckily there's barely any attention to attract with the scream that breaks down into laughter. Jenny: Fuckin' A, 'em skanks piss me off. Who cares if'at bitch is dead or not, right? Right? 'Sides, Ah still owe Pinky... Inky... Uh, Blinky a good kickin' for'at Hellcat belt. Fuckin' A, Ah'd be down for'at... Havok seems completely surprised she's going along with this so easily. Havok: Awesome... uh... well there's not much to the MASTER PLAN... the last time I made a convoluted plan it involved moving statues and siphoning espers and the end of the world... and really, it didn't go so well. So this time we're just gonna dominate. Do what we do best. Win matches until WE earn our title shot and WE earn our straps and WE bring real prestige back to the Tag Team Championships! We'll be main eventers with belts! Bigger and better than the Dual Crown 'cuz we're two people on the roster who actually get along! Havok is practically foaming at the mouth in anticipation. Jenny, not so much. Jenny: Fuck'at noise. All Ah want right now is some more Fuckin' TEQUILA! Satisfied he's got his way, Havok sips a little harder at his glass and we fade at the sight of the rather unwise scene of a bartender bringing her more tequila [size0]1 Me2 and Dan do this one all the time back home, except we usually do it "Hile, Gunslingers;" like Roland Deschain's battlecry in the Dark Tower. I suppose, it's because we'd rather be dweebs than Neo-Nazis. At this point, Jenny doesn't care. 2 Me, being Dai. |
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8:35 AM Jul 11