Post by guest on Oct 21, 2008 15:39:46 GMT -6
A tape is inserted into a VCR with a mumble of 'Let's see what we got here' in the background. A bit of static on the monitor gives way to a picture of two men on what seems to be someone's back porch. One, tall and skinny with spiked black hair, wearing a red, button down shirt and jeans. The other, a blonde man with long, shaggy hair with equally shaggy beard, clad in jeans and black Led Zepplin t-shirt and aviator sunglasses. He calmly sits in a white patio chair while the other apparently starts to beg him for something.[/i]
"C'mon, dude, why not? We gotta do this."
"This? This?! Did you see the same thing I did? Explain to me just why the crap you think we gotta do this? Shouldn't we be in some gym or school or something? What the f*ck does this have to do with pro wrestling?"
He takes a pack of Marlboro Lights out of his pocket, lights one and angrily throws it down on a small table beside him. The other man starts bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, grinning.
"Because, Twitch, we gotta get tough. We gotta show these guys we're some hard dudes, that we mean bidness brotha! We can take this, we can take anything! Don' mess wit 'dem boys, not even heavy artillery can take 'em out! C'moooonnnnnnnn, please? Please? Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No!"
"P-p-p-p-p-please? With ice cream and chocolate sauce and my sister on top?"
"Jonezy..."
"Pretty please?"
"FINE!"
"Ha haaaa, yesyesyesyes! That always works. You can never say no to me."
"That's because when I do you whine and cry like a little girl for the rest of the day. Let's get this crap over with."
With a cry of 'Set it up, boo-boo! We are GOOD to GO!', Jonezy bounds past the camera, madly cackling. Twitch heaves a sigh and gets up out of the chair, flicking his cigarette away. He stops in front of the camera, pointing a finger at the person behind it.
"I blame you for this."
"I'll let you tie me up," a female voice answers.
"And suddenly I'm feeling much better about it."
They go inside, the camerawoman following Twitch down a white hallway. They end up in what looks like some sort of shooting range. Paper targets hang along the wall at the far end, where Jonezy is waiting. An official looking man steps forward, handing Twitch a mask and goggles, which he promptly puts on. He joins his friend at the end of the range, the cameragirl following.
"Ahhhh, ya puss. The hell ya doing wearing that stuff?"
"I don't wanna get my face f*cked up. Aren't you worried, prettyboy?"
"Naahhh. I wore a cup today, so all the important stuff is covered."
With a laugh, the cameragirl takes her leave of them and heads back to the other end of the range. As she does, we get a look at what awaits our brave heroes. It looks harmless enough. A red, metal tripod, standing about four feet high with some sort of rectangular device on top. The picture zooms in for a better look, showing that the device, wrapped in plastic, is filled with hundreds of small black balls. A dizzying spin, and the picture shows the back of the tripod, as well as Jonezy and Twitch awaiting their doom. Jonezy holds up three fingers on one hand, and holds the other up in front of his face. After his three count, an ear-splitting roar fills the room and those hundreds of little black balls are propelled with explosive force, bouncing off the walls and the two in the line of fire. Once everything settles, the camerawoman runs to the end of the range where Jonezy is hunched over on his hands and knees and Twitch is on the floor...well...twitching. Both were covered with black and purple welts on every inch of exposed flesh.
"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! Are you ok?! Twitch? CASEY?! Answer me, damnit!"
With a groan, Twitch pulls the mask and goggles off of his face, rolling over onto his back. His face pale white, Twitch blinks up at the ceiling for a moment before speaking.
"I have a little birdy, his name is Ronnie."
"Well, tell Ronnie you got knocked the F*UCK out!"
They look at each other and start to laugh, in an agonized sort of way, as they slowly get to their feet.
"You think that'll impress those RCW dudes?"
"I do."
"You do?"
"Yeah. They'll be impressed in a 'what are these chuckleheads gonna do next' kind of way."
"Probably."
"Y'know, as my sister, you should be more supportive of us."
"I drive you to the hospital every time, don't I?"
"C'mon, dude, why not? We gotta do this."
"This? This?! Did you see the same thing I did? Explain to me just why the crap you think we gotta do this? Shouldn't we be in some gym or school or something? What the f*ck does this have to do with pro wrestling?"
He takes a pack of Marlboro Lights out of his pocket, lights one and angrily throws it down on a small table beside him. The other man starts bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, grinning.
"Because, Twitch, we gotta get tough. We gotta show these guys we're some hard dudes, that we mean bidness brotha! We can take this, we can take anything! Don' mess wit 'dem boys, not even heavy artillery can take 'em out! C'moooonnnnnnnn, please? Please? Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No!"
"P-p-p-p-p-please? With ice cream and chocolate sauce and my sister on top?"
"Jonezy..."
"Pretty please?"
"FINE!"
"Ha haaaa, yesyesyesyes! That always works. You can never say no to me."
"That's because when I do you whine and cry like a little girl for the rest of the day. Let's get this crap over with."
With a cry of 'Set it up, boo-boo! We are GOOD to GO!', Jonezy bounds past the camera, madly cackling. Twitch heaves a sigh and gets up out of the chair, flicking his cigarette away. He stops in front of the camera, pointing a finger at the person behind it.
"I blame you for this."
"I'll let you tie me up," a female voice answers.
"And suddenly I'm feeling much better about it."
They go inside, the camerawoman following Twitch down a white hallway. They end up in what looks like some sort of shooting range. Paper targets hang along the wall at the far end, where Jonezy is waiting. An official looking man steps forward, handing Twitch a mask and goggles, which he promptly puts on. He joins his friend at the end of the range, the cameragirl following.
"Ahhhh, ya puss. The hell ya doing wearing that stuff?"
"I don't wanna get my face f*cked up. Aren't you worried, prettyboy?"
"Naahhh. I wore a cup today, so all the important stuff is covered."
With a laugh, the cameragirl takes her leave of them and heads back to the other end of the range. As she does, we get a look at what awaits our brave heroes. It looks harmless enough. A red, metal tripod, standing about four feet high with some sort of rectangular device on top. The picture zooms in for a better look, showing that the device, wrapped in plastic, is filled with hundreds of small black balls. A dizzying spin, and the picture shows the back of the tripod, as well as Jonezy and Twitch awaiting their doom. Jonezy holds up three fingers on one hand, and holds the other up in front of his face. After his three count, an ear-splitting roar fills the room and those hundreds of little black balls are propelled with explosive force, bouncing off the walls and the two in the line of fire. Once everything settles, the camerawoman runs to the end of the range where Jonezy is hunched over on his hands and knees and Twitch is on the floor...well...twitching. Both were covered with black and purple welts on every inch of exposed flesh.
"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! Are you ok?! Twitch? CASEY?! Answer me, damnit!"
With a groan, Twitch pulls the mask and goggles off of his face, rolling over onto his back. His face pale white, Twitch blinks up at the ceiling for a moment before speaking.
"I have a little birdy, his name is Ronnie."
"Well, tell Ronnie you got knocked the F*UCK out!"
They look at each other and start to laugh, in an agonized sort of way, as they slowly get to their feet.
"You think that'll impress those RCW dudes?"
"I do."
"You do?"
"Yeah. They'll be impressed in a 'what are these chuckleheads gonna do next' kind of way."
"Probably."
"Y'know, as my sister, you should be more supportive of us."
"I drive you to the hospital every time, don't I?"