Post by cureforthesickness on May 11, 2007 9:17:38 GMT -5
~~~Flashback: 1997~~~
A grassy overview looks down on the bustling city of Louisville. Peaceful surroundings linger as nature seems at ease for twilight. The mellow idol of a navy blue pick up truck is the only sound disturbing serenity, but this seems not a deterrent from nirvana. A golden locked beauty sits atop the hood of the truck, her hair blowing peacefully in the September wind. Her young frame reveals an adolescent, but not giving an exact age, instead lingering somewhere around seventeen. Draped over her young frame loosely is a flannel shirt, a red and black pattern adorning the shirt among several rips and tears. Her body from there is only clad in tattered blue jean shorts, her lanky legs dangling freely and uncontained, her toes shaking freely in the wind. She seems at ease, laying in the arms of a shaggy looking young man. His dark brown hair hangs down over his eyes carelessly, his torso adorned only in a sleeveless AC/DC shirt, the logo faded and peeling. His legs are dangling loosely down the truck in the same way the young woman’s were, covered with baggy black jeans with large silver zippers everywhere, the head of the young woman resting peacefully on his shoulder. The two seem totally at ease. The male speaks with a familiar, but not quite as deep, growl, sounding much like our hero.
Man: Prom night.. Over rated.. Who needs it…
With a sigh, the young woman pulls away, turning her back to our adolescent Anti-Christ. He turns, distressed at his lover’s disapproval.
Man: What’s wrong Ashley?
Ashley: Phil, why does everything have to be anti-establishment, anti-authority? Can’t you just go with the flow for once? Prom night is a magical evening to a young girl, something she dreams about for her whole life. In one simple act of defiance to Principal Adkins, you cost me that..
Phil: Fuck him..
Ashley: That’s exactly what I expected you to say.. You’re so one dimensional,, you’re fucking delusional Phil.. You’re not God. You’ll never be God. I don’t know what I even seen in you.. You’re just some nothing kid in a garage band that screams a lot..
Phil: We’re gonna make it fucking big baby.. I’m gonna be a superstar. I’m gonna be a national celebrity. I’ll be your idol, baby. You can get one of those giant six foot posters of me and all that jazz.
Ashley: You’re a loser..
Phil: But you love me..
Ashley: Because I have to..
Ashley turns to Phil, trying to get a kiss. Instead, he’s looking off into the distance, staring down into the city at work
Someday, I’m gonna rule that! That’s all gonna be mine. I’m gonna tour the world, see all the craziness out there, and come back to sweet little Louisville, an idol. Scream it loud.
The house is decorated nicely, clean and prim apart from a few areas of clutter. The walls are adorned with many pictures, mostly with baby pictures of a cute baby dressed primarily in pink, but a few wrestling-related pictures hang on the walls as well. The wrestling pictures vary from low resolution pictures of a trashy looking ring in a field, to promo pictures from WFWF. In a far corner sits a desk. The desk looks cluttered, focusing around a computer in the center and panning outwards with junk. Mostly papers and other stuff, but some random looking stuff, like empty pop cans and other trash. Outwards we see the house, basicly a lived in house. Several toys are strewn about in random places. Against the far left wall sit’s a black leather couch, and this is where we see our hero.
I sit here in my home, a new phone in my hand. The dude at the cell phone store actually questioned me if I was selling these things. Maybe if the product wasn’t so defective, I wouldn’t need a new phone every week. I look at this phone. Supposedly reinforced.. The phone itself is the least of my worries, but what comes out of it and goes in it.. I quickly hit speed dial seven and wait for a response on the other end. Nothing.. I knew this was a mistake.. Why would I even think this..
??: Hello? Who is this??
Not too late. All I have to do is cuss randomly and throw the phone and this experiment will be over.. But I can’t.. I’ve got to do this..
Obo: Hey Ashley..
Those are the only words that I can pull from my lips. Simplicistic greeting, but effective for my overall mood..
Ashley: Phil?
Obo: Yeah.. What’s up..
Ashley: I’m not babysitting for you tonight..
Obo: No, I..
Ashley: I don’t care. Take her with you. If it’s that stupid wrestling crap, it obviously isn’t a problem, since you let her watch that barbed wire match..
Obo: Ashley, calm down.. I just wanted..
Ashley: Me to baby sit..
Obo: Fuck you cunt..
*click*
Mistakes.. Everyone has them.. Mine’s called Ashley and she visits me constantly…
The joy of a park. Green grass greets the eye, perking out in the Spring time weather. The park seems particularly dull, greeted only by one playing child, her joy to be alone disturbing but reassuring. On a bench across the park, her father sits and reads a newspaper, occasionally lifting his head to see his daughter do some mundane task that only really amuses her, like sliding down the slide. Reaching into his pocket, the father pulls out an ink pen, jotting something down on the newspaper.
“Daddy! Look!!!”
Pulling his head up from his newspaper, expecting his daughter to be throwing a ball or swinging, our hero’s eyes are quickly greeted with the site of his ex-wife walking across the grassy knoll, hand and hand with another man. Our hero shakes his head and returns to his newspaper, while the child at play has seized her motion and ran to the pair approaching.
Ashley: What are you doing here honey?
Samantha: Daddy brought me here. He said I play too much Playstation and needed to play outside. What are you here for mommy?
The man on the blonde vixen’s arm quickly pulls away in shock.
Man: Mommy? You never told me you had a kid..
Samantha: You’re dumb.. I don’t like you. Go away.
Our hero has put down his newspaper and is approaching the trio at work, all while the new unknown man responds to the darling Samantha’s musing.
Man: You’re certainly a straight forward little girl.. Must have got that from your daddy, because your mommy certainly isn’t..
From a distance, our hero hears this and instantly responds.
Obo: Fuck off and die poser. Shouldn’t you be loitering in a Hot Topic or something? Or did you skip your third period classes today to come here? Really should stay in school. Your high school years are the most important years of your life..
Man: And who the hell are you? I should kick your ass for meddling in my business!
Obo: I see the tradition of the football team being given free steroids is alive and well. You really should lay off of them. Apart from the roid rage, it also significantly shrinks your baby maker. Ashley likes big junk..
Ashley: Fuck off Phil.. We just came to hang out..
Man: So this is your worthless ex-husband? I should knock him out for the fun of it!
Obo: Try me. Make my fucking day. Thousands have tried before you, all ended up broken messes of flesh and gore. I will rule you!
Man: What are you? Some kind of drug addict or something?
The man takes a wild swing at our hero, who ducks the shot and follows up with a vile shot to the ribs. The assassin quickly crumbles to the ground in pain. Ashley is quick to pull the fallen man up, but the damage is done and he storms off, leaving Ashley behind as he pulls out of the parking lot in a cloud of dust.
Ashley: What the fuck Phil? What was that all about??
I need not say anything. Sometimes, actions are stronger than words. This is one of those cases. God my stomach hurts.. Did that douche actually make contact with me? Floats like a butterfly and stings when he pees.
Ashley: Phil?
The look on her face is disgusted but worried, because our hero has lost all the color in his face and is clutching his stomach in pain. Doubling over, young Samantha knows what’s coming and dashes out of the way, but Ashley was not quite so wise, instead staying for the shower of half disgusted food and stomach acids that followed. One rush flies out and splatters everywhere, sending Ashley scurrying backwards with a squeal. A second rush of fluids and solids, this one thicker than the last. Our hero thinks he’s done, standing up and trying to regain composure, but instead unleashing more hell upon the innocent grass, letting loose one last flow of vomit.
Ashley: What the FUCK?? Are you fucking drunk??
Obo: I don’t know what happened.. I know you said you wouldn’t earlier, but that’s not what I was originally planning on asking to start with, but would you watch Samantha today? I think I need to get my rest..
Ashley: Yeah.. I only said no because Johnny wanted to go out, but since you broke his ribs and sent him away, that seems to be gone.. Can you give me a ride home??
Obo: Yeah.. You drive.. I feel like hell..
Why? Why does seeing her with another man trigger such intense and indescribable hate? I hate her. She’s the fucking devil. I don’t give two fucks about her.. But why does seeing her with him make me so pissed? I’m not an evil person. I hate her, but I don’t think she should be neglected to a life of solitude. Cock suckers suck cock, that’s just what comes naturally. Is my hate for her really THAT strong that seeing her with another man makes me actively vomit? I am mentally disturbed. She’s the mother of my child. Sure, she wasn’t right for me, but this new guy might just be crazy enough to make it work. High school kids like to fuck a lot. So does Ashley. It’s a natural pair. Plus she has a hell of an ass…
Eulogy for Michaels and MOD
Sermons suck. Fuck God, and fuck a sermon, this is a fucking eulogy. Death follows. Instability is your worst enemy in this case. MOD means nothing to me. Less than nothing. He’s just that one guy who used to run around with TA. Michaels is the political “mastermind” who used his own non-sensible booking to put himself into marquee matches.. Where have I seen this before.. Hmm.. This week I’m teaming with CBT. He’s worthless. He’s a door mat. I walk all over him and I piss down his throat. I’ve beat him more times than Michaels has beat cocks, and that’s a lot. No one in this match means shit and no one is on my fucking level. Fuck being the owner. Kyzer was a fucking wash and he did it. Fuck the Hall of Shame. Meaningless non-existent place, made famous only by Kurt Burton’s drugged out rants. Fuck Johnny Michaels. Fuck MOD. Fuck CBT.
A grassy overview looks down on the bustling city of Louisville. Peaceful surroundings linger as nature seems at ease for twilight. The mellow idol of a navy blue pick up truck is the only sound disturbing serenity, but this seems not a deterrent from nirvana. A golden locked beauty sits atop the hood of the truck, her hair blowing peacefully in the September wind. Her young frame reveals an adolescent, but not giving an exact age, instead lingering somewhere around seventeen. Draped over her young frame loosely is a flannel shirt, a red and black pattern adorning the shirt among several rips and tears. Her body from there is only clad in tattered blue jean shorts, her lanky legs dangling freely and uncontained, her toes shaking freely in the wind. She seems at ease, laying in the arms of a shaggy looking young man. His dark brown hair hangs down over his eyes carelessly, his torso adorned only in a sleeveless AC/DC shirt, the logo faded and peeling. His legs are dangling loosely down the truck in the same way the young woman’s were, covered with baggy black jeans with large silver zippers everywhere, the head of the young woman resting peacefully on his shoulder. The two seem totally at ease. The male speaks with a familiar, but not quite as deep, growl, sounding much like our hero.
Man: Prom night.. Over rated.. Who needs it…
With a sigh, the young woman pulls away, turning her back to our adolescent Anti-Christ. He turns, distressed at his lover’s disapproval.
Man: What’s wrong Ashley?
Ashley: Phil, why does everything have to be anti-establishment, anti-authority? Can’t you just go with the flow for once? Prom night is a magical evening to a young girl, something she dreams about for her whole life. In one simple act of defiance to Principal Adkins, you cost me that..
Phil: Fuck him..
Ashley: That’s exactly what I expected you to say.. You’re so one dimensional,, you’re fucking delusional Phil.. You’re not God. You’ll never be God. I don’t know what I even seen in you.. You’re just some nothing kid in a garage band that screams a lot..
Phil: We’re gonna make it fucking big baby.. I’m gonna be a superstar. I’m gonna be a national celebrity. I’ll be your idol, baby. You can get one of those giant six foot posters of me and all that jazz.
Ashley: You’re a loser..
Phil: But you love me..
Ashley: Because I have to..
Ashley turns to Phil, trying to get a kiss. Instead, he’s looking off into the distance, staring down into the city at work
Someday, I’m gonna rule that! That’s all gonna be mine. I’m gonna tour the world, see all the craziness out there, and come back to sweet little Louisville, an idol. Scream it loud.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The house is decorated nicely, clean and prim apart from a few areas of clutter. The walls are adorned with many pictures, mostly with baby pictures of a cute baby dressed primarily in pink, but a few wrestling-related pictures hang on the walls as well. The wrestling pictures vary from low resolution pictures of a trashy looking ring in a field, to promo pictures from WFWF. In a far corner sits a desk. The desk looks cluttered, focusing around a computer in the center and panning outwards with junk. Mostly papers and other stuff, but some random looking stuff, like empty pop cans and other trash. Outwards we see the house, basicly a lived in house. Several toys are strewn about in random places. Against the far left wall sit’s a black leather couch, and this is where we see our hero.
I sit here in my home, a new phone in my hand. The dude at the cell phone store actually questioned me if I was selling these things. Maybe if the product wasn’t so defective, I wouldn’t need a new phone every week. I look at this phone. Supposedly reinforced.. The phone itself is the least of my worries, but what comes out of it and goes in it.. I quickly hit speed dial seven and wait for a response on the other end. Nothing.. I knew this was a mistake.. Why would I even think this..
??: Hello? Who is this??
Not too late. All I have to do is cuss randomly and throw the phone and this experiment will be over.. But I can’t.. I’ve got to do this..
Obo: Hey Ashley..
Those are the only words that I can pull from my lips. Simplicistic greeting, but effective for my overall mood..
Ashley: Phil?
Obo: Yeah.. What’s up..
Ashley: I’m not babysitting for you tonight..
Obo: No, I..
Ashley: I don’t care. Take her with you. If it’s that stupid wrestling crap, it obviously isn’t a problem, since you let her watch that barbed wire match..
Obo: Ashley, calm down.. I just wanted..
Ashley: Me to baby sit..
Obo: Fuck you cunt..
*click*
Mistakes.. Everyone has them.. Mine’s called Ashley and she visits me constantly…
~~~~~~~Later that day~~~~~~~
The joy of a park. Green grass greets the eye, perking out in the Spring time weather. The park seems particularly dull, greeted only by one playing child, her joy to be alone disturbing but reassuring. On a bench across the park, her father sits and reads a newspaper, occasionally lifting his head to see his daughter do some mundane task that only really amuses her, like sliding down the slide. Reaching into his pocket, the father pulls out an ink pen, jotting something down on the newspaper.
“Daddy! Look!!!”
Pulling his head up from his newspaper, expecting his daughter to be throwing a ball or swinging, our hero’s eyes are quickly greeted with the site of his ex-wife walking across the grassy knoll, hand and hand with another man. Our hero shakes his head and returns to his newspaper, while the child at play has seized her motion and ran to the pair approaching.
Ashley: What are you doing here honey?
Samantha: Daddy brought me here. He said I play too much Playstation and needed to play outside. What are you here for mommy?
The man on the blonde vixen’s arm quickly pulls away in shock.
Man: Mommy? You never told me you had a kid..
Samantha: You’re dumb.. I don’t like you. Go away.
Our hero has put down his newspaper and is approaching the trio at work, all while the new unknown man responds to the darling Samantha’s musing.
Man: You’re certainly a straight forward little girl.. Must have got that from your daddy, because your mommy certainly isn’t..
From a distance, our hero hears this and instantly responds.
Obo: Fuck off and die poser. Shouldn’t you be loitering in a Hot Topic or something? Or did you skip your third period classes today to come here? Really should stay in school. Your high school years are the most important years of your life..
Man: And who the hell are you? I should kick your ass for meddling in my business!
Obo: I see the tradition of the football team being given free steroids is alive and well. You really should lay off of them. Apart from the roid rage, it also significantly shrinks your baby maker. Ashley likes big junk..
Ashley: Fuck off Phil.. We just came to hang out..
Man: So this is your worthless ex-husband? I should knock him out for the fun of it!
Obo: Try me. Make my fucking day. Thousands have tried before you, all ended up broken messes of flesh and gore. I will rule you!
Man: What are you? Some kind of drug addict or something?
The man takes a wild swing at our hero, who ducks the shot and follows up with a vile shot to the ribs. The assassin quickly crumbles to the ground in pain. Ashley is quick to pull the fallen man up, but the damage is done and he storms off, leaving Ashley behind as he pulls out of the parking lot in a cloud of dust.
Ashley: What the fuck Phil? What was that all about??
I need not say anything. Sometimes, actions are stronger than words. This is one of those cases. God my stomach hurts.. Did that douche actually make contact with me? Floats like a butterfly and stings when he pees.
Ashley: Phil?
The look on her face is disgusted but worried, because our hero has lost all the color in his face and is clutching his stomach in pain. Doubling over, young Samantha knows what’s coming and dashes out of the way, but Ashley was not quite so wise, instead staying for the shower of half disgusted food and stomach acids that followed. One rush flies out and splatters everywhere, sending Ashley scurrying backwards with a squeal. A second rush of fluids and solids, this one thicker than the last. Our hero thinks he’s done, standing up and trying to regain composure, but instead unleashing more hell upon the innocent grass, letting loose one last flow of vomit.
Ashley: What the FUCK?? Are you fucking drunk??
Obo: I don’t know what happened.. I know you said you wouldn’t earlier, but that’s not what I was originally planning on asking to start with, but would you watch Samantha today? I think I need to get my rest..
Ashley: Yeah.. I only said no because Johnny wanted to go out, but since you broke his ribs and sent him away, that seems to be gone.. Can you give me a ride home??
Obo: Yeah.. You drive.. I feel like hell..
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Why? Why does seeing her with another man trigger such intense and indescribable hate? I hate her. She’s the fucking devil. I don’t give two fucks about her.. But why does seeing her with him make me so pissed? I’m not an evil person. I hate her, but I don’t think she should be neglected to a life of solitude. Cock suckers suck cock, that’s just what comes naturally. Is my hate for her really THAT strong that seeing her with another man makes me actively vomit? I am mentally disturbed. She’s the mother of my child. Sure, she wasn’t right for me, but this new guy might just be crazy enough to make it work. High school kids like to fuck a lot. So does Ashley. It’s a natural pair. Plus she has a hell of an ass…
Eulogy for Michaels and MOD
Sermons suck. Fuck God, and fuck a sermon, this is a fucking eulogy. Death follows. Instability is your worst enemy in this case. MOD means nothing to me. Less than nothing. He’s just that one guy who used to run around with TA. Michaels is the political “mastermind” who used his own non-sensible booking to put himself into marquee matches.. Where have I seen this before.. Hmm.. This week I’m teaming with CBT. He’s worthless. He’s a door mat. I walk all over him and I piss down his throat. I’ve beat him more times than Michaels has beat cocks, and that’s a lot. No one in this match means shit and no one is on my fucking level. Fuck being the owner. Kyzer was a fucking wash and he did it. Fuck the Hall of Shame. Meaningless non-existent place, made famous only by Kurt Burton’s drugged out rants. Fuck Johnny Michaels. Fuck MOD. Fuck CBT.
: whatever speech". All your roleplays revolve around Obo so that comes off kind of unncessary unless it's anyone but Obo, Ashley, or Samantha. Also, prom is around May-June, not September. 
