Post by FPV on Sept 24, 2013 17:29:26 GMT -5
FRANK VENABLE PRESENTS...
OLD MAN FRANKY
(Act I)
The Year is 2028.
The rain seemed to pour with the weight of boulders as the coffin stood there near the end of the tarp. Funk's death seemed to come so suddenly, and yet, as Frank thought about it, he probably should've seen it coming. You can only do drugs for so long before they begin take their toll on your body. Lane Staley had learned this hard way, as did people like Miley Cyrus, who had passed away only a month ago from an overdose of pure MDMA. And now Da Funk was dead with them. An entire liter's worth of heroin in his bloodstream. So what if it was hyperbole, knowing Funk it could've damn well have been true. The doctors had told him the gangrene was so bad that they had to amputate the arm so that he could at least have some chance of survival. They weren't so lucky. Brother didn't even get to have an open casket funeral. Not that it mattered, as Frank was practically the only one over there who was worth a damn to the man. He had brought Vic along so that at least he wouldn't be the only one there, both were dressed in their best suits for the occasion. Besides them, the only other one there was the preacher, who was just about finished going through his usual funeral spiel.
Priest: Usually this is the part where I ask if there are any loved ones who would like to say some kind words, but under these circumstances...
Both Vic and Frank looked at each other, before Frank shook his head to the priest. The words he wanted to say would've only mattered to the guy they were about to put in the ground.
Priest: Well in that case the service is over. The undertaker'll get to work soon, you two may leave now if you wish.
Vic: You ready to go, man?
Giving the coffin one last look, knowing that the man he once considered his best friend was inside, Frank responded with a tint of melancholy in his voice.
Frank: Yeah...yeah, I'm good.
The brothers got out of their seats under the makeshift tent and into the pouring rain, making their long walk to their car parked not too far away from Funk's burial sight. Goodbye, my brother, I hope God has room in heaven for your sicks beats.
The car ride back to Frank's apartment was a silent one, if seemed as though the brothers didn't really have anything to say to each other as Frank drove through the rain. The radio was currently tuned to the local classic rock station, as "Don't Fear the Reaper" played, seeming to perfectly describe the mood of the whole situation.
All our times have come
Here, but now they're gone
Seasons don't fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain
(We can be like they are)
Vic: Funk isn't the only one whose died recently, is he?
Frank didn't know how Vic had managed to figure that out, maybe it was just how out-of-touch Frank seemed to be at the service, as if he had been to a good bit of them in a very short stretch of time.
Frank: It started with Logan. Dude just croaked out of nowhere, and no one had known why. The guy was in good health even if he was getting old, it was weird. They started dropping like flies after that. Even Seth wasn't save.
Vic: Seth? I never knew he was dead.
Frank: You remember that case he got involved in a few years back?
Vic: Don't remind me.
Said case was all over the news, and reactions across the world had ranged from disbelief to downright disgust. The body of a young male escort was found in a dumpster not too far from Seth's residence. His DNA was found in the mans body during the autopsy, but he had still managed to get acquitted with the help of the best lawyers money could buy. About a year after the incident, Seth was dead.
Frank: You want my honest theory as to why he died?
Vic: Mmmm?
Frank: AIDS. I mean it makes sense, doesn't it?
Vic: A fitting end for a man like Seth, don't you think?
Frank: Yeah...yeah.
Vic: So...is there anyone left from back in the day? Anyone at all.
Frank: A few, but not really many. Pretty sure Biohazard is still kickin, and Odin has surprisingly refused to kick the bucket for reasons I can't even fathom.
Vic: That motherfucker must be immortal, I swear. How old is he, like 70?
Frank: About. The weird thing about everything is how close the guys have been dying, literally withing about half a month someone else is gone, and truthfully, I'm starting to become paranoid.
Vic: C'mon dude, you think you're the next one on ole' Grims list? Get real, you're in much better health then most of these other fuckers. I agree with you that it's weird, but you shouldn't be scared of dying either way. Just like the Cult, man...don't fear the reaper.
Frank: Yeah...I guess you're right.
The rest of the ride was as silent as an empty room.
Franks legs were propped onto his apartment coffee table with the laziness of a college student, as he sat in his couch watching YouTube videos on his iPhone 15 S. For the high price tag, he could admit that the thing got the job done and got it done well. He had not had much to do ever since he announced his retirement from the WCF some months ago. He had gone as long as he could and then some, it just felt like it was time for him to stop. He was now content to chill in his apartment and be lazier then the WCF had ever allowed him to. His cat video of the moment, featuring a cat jumping up in fear over it's own shadow, was suddenly interrupted by a text message. Frank stopped the video to see that it was from Vic. It had been a few days since the funeral, and Frank was curious as to what Vic had to see.
Vic: Check out the news. Turns out he must not 'ave been immortal after all.
A little voice in Frank's head softly said "Oh shit" and he immediately put down his phone to reach for the remote, turning on the Flatscreen to Channel 11.
Reporter: -World Champion Odin Balfore was found dead in his home late last night. No immediate cause of death is known at this time, and there is no visible signs of foul play being involved. Balfore is the most recent WCF Wrestler to pass away under unknown circumstances. Our condolences go out to Mr. Balfore and his family.
Franks jaw fell down into his lap as he grabbed his phone a dialed Vic's number. After a few busy tones an answer came.
Vic: Yo bro, I take it you saw the news.
Frank: Mmmhmm. This shit is getting fucked up, man. I ain't in the mood to go to go to another funeral. I mean, don't it seem at least a little suspicious to you?
Vic: Yeah it does, but there ain't nothing I can do about it.
Frank: Well Vic, I'm done. I'm getting down to the bottom of this. Ain't no way in HELL these deaths had nothing to do with each other.
Vic: You do that, man. I'mma stay right where I'm at, cause in the event that there IS something going on, I don't want to die over it, you dig.
Frank: Yeah...yeah, I understand.
Vic: And you be careful yourself, Frank. I only got one brother, and I ain't too keen on losing him any time soon.
Frank: I know, I'll make sure I handle it right. Look man, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later.
Vic: Catcha later.
Frank hung up as he got off the couch, sliding the phone into his pocket and walking out the living room and into his closet. After shifting a few items around, he managed to get Iceberg-Six out and onto the table for some research into all this. He had the feeling that there was almost no way it would end well for anyone involved.
The Year is 2013
The three of them had managed to calm down.
It had taken Old Frank a minute to stop beating on FPV, but he finally decided the kid didn't deserve it as much as he had believed he did, and sat the two down, Frank and Amanda, and had begun to explain himself to them. While Amanda sat there paying close attention, she still let off that she had felt at least a little betrayed by her adoptive father's rather extreme outburst, and was confused as all hell by the whole thing. Frank sat there clutching his stomach in pain, listening to Old Frank describe Funks funeral and finding out of Odins death.
FPV: Damn...all these people...Steve, Jonny, Joe, Odin...they all died?
Old Frank: All of them. None were spared. Not even Zach. Poor guy probably suffered the worst of them all...
Old Frank had tried to begin to describe how it went, but the memories of it were too much. He just went on with his story.
Old Frank: I stayed on Eye-Six for some time, gathering as much information as I could from the little computer. It soon lead me to the old WCF Hall of Fame building. What was going on in there I had no idea, but I was going to find out.
Old Frank looked at Amanda, who was staring off into space, and it appeared as if she had stopped paying attention to what was going on.
Old Frank: Amanda...Amanda honey, are you alright.
Amanda: I'm okay.
She said it with a completely morose tone, Old Frank figured it be good to stop for a bit now and let her relax.
Old Frank: Why don't you go get me and the youngblood here some coffee, you can fix yourself up some too if you want.
Amanda: Okay.
Without so much as a fuss she got up and went to the kitchen.
Old Frank: That girl worries me sometimes.
FPV: I suppose you going to explain HER to me as well.
Old Frank: In due time. Patience is a virtue, y'know?
FPV: Well, not when got a show you gotta go to soon. Especially with WAR this week.
Old Frank: What War was this? The one where Biohazard won?
FPV: WaitWHAT?!
Old Frank: Yeah...I probably shouldn't have said that. Not yet anyways. My bad.
FPV: Dude...Biohazard wining...no, that's gotta be a joke.
Old Frank: Sorry dude, you can choose to believe me or not. It's your choice. Let's change the subject: how do you feel about the level of competition this year?
FPV: Well...I mean, I've faced a LOT of these guys before. NvL, Joe, Sarah, Eric, all them folk. They don't really concern me that much, I just gotta control their weaknesses. It's all these new guys who I should probably be looking out for.
Old Frank: Like who?
FPV: There's this one guy, Jordan Caliban. Been here damn near a month and he already has the Internet Title.
Old Frank: Impressive.
FPV: It wasn't meant as a compliment.
Old Frank: Oh.
FPV: Yeah, that whole internet division of the WCF just flat out sucks, he just happens to be the best one there, though that's not saying that much. He's been trying to do this Pirate Radio thing...yeah, ti's going about as well as you'd expect. He's just one of those new guys who seems to suffer from an extreme case of diarrhea of the mouth, or in these guys cases, the fingers. Motherfuckers just won't SHUT. UP. Not on Twitter, in promos, they just talk and talk and talk. When I see him in the ring, my fist is going to shut him up nice and good. Then there guys like Seifer Black Armstrong...I've seen him and he looks like some rejected Final Fantasy character. Ain't no way I can take him seriously at all like that. D'enise is just a female version of Oblivion, and that whole immortal shtick I don't buy one bit. I already fought her once, and now that I've gotten a little experience with her, I think she shouldn't pose any threat. Now Matthew Robinson...there's a character. Another other week I'd give him a fighting chance. Here's the deal though...his wife just went through hell. As in the "gave birth two weeks premature and is currently unconscious" type of hell. Ain't no way his head is gonna' be in the game. Ain't no way. All these new guys, they're all pretty much the same. All flash and no substance. They're bound to get massacred. The whole lot of them.
Old Frank began to recollect some memories from this event, recalling that most of them did end up getting eliminated pretty quickly overall, with the exception of a few.
Old Frank: I don't doubt it. Listen, before Amanda comes back with the coffee...I know this seems very odd, but...have, by any chance, taken her to someplace involving horses?
FPV glanced at Old Frank with confusion. The question seemed to be the most random thing in the world to ask him at this point.
FPV: Umm....no.
Old Frank: Good...good...
FPV: Exactly how is that important?
Old Franky: Long story.
TO BE CONTINUED
OLD MAN FRANKY
(Act I)
The Year is 2028.
The rain seemed to pour with the weight of boulders as the coffin stood there near the end of the tarp. Funk's death seemed to come so suddenly, and yet, as Frank thought about it, he probably should've seen it coming. You can only do drugs for so long before they begin take their toll on your body. Lane Staley had learned this hard way, as did people like Miley Cyrus, who had passed away only a month ago from an overdose of pure MDMA. And now Da Funk was dead with them. An entire liter's worth of heroin in his bloodstream. So what if it was hyperbole, knowing Funk it could've damn well have been true. The doctors had told him the gangrene was so bad that they had to amputate the arm so that he could at least have some chance of survival. They weren't so lucky. Brother didn't even get to have an open casket funeral. Not that it mattered, as Frank was practically the only one over there who was worth a damn to the man. He had brought Vic along so that at least he wouldn't be the only one there, both were dressed in their best suits for the occasion. Besides them, the only other one there was the preacher, who was just about finished going through his usual funeral spiel.
Priest: Usually this is the part where I ask if there are any loved ones who would like to say some kind words, but under these circumstances...
Both Vic and Frank looked at each other, before Frank shook his head to the priest. The words he wanted to say would've only mattered to the guy they were about to put in the ground.
Priest: Well in that case the service is over. The undertaker'll get to work soon, you two may leave now if you wish.
Vic: You ready to go, man?
Giving the coffin one last look, knowing that the man he once considered his best friend was inside, Frank responded with a tint of melancholy in his voice.
Frank: Yeah...yeah, I'm good.
The brothers got out of their seats under the makeshift tent and into the pouring rain, making their long walk to their car parked not too far away from Funk's burial sight. Goodbye, my brother, I hope God has room in heaven for your sicks beats.
The car ride back to Frank's apartment was a silent one, if seemed as though the brothers didn't really have anything to say to each other as Frank drove through the rain. The radio was currently tuned to the local classic rock station, as "Don't Fear the Reaper" played, seeming to perfectly describe the mood of the whole situation.
All our times have come
Here, but now they're gone
Seasons don't fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain
(We can be like they are)
Vic: Funk isn't the only one whose died recently, is he?
Frank didn't know how Vic had managed to figure that out, maybe it was just how out-of-touch Frank seemed to be at the service, as if he had been to a good bit of them in a very short stretch of time.
Frank: It started with Logan. Dude just croaked out of nowhere, and no one had known why. The guy was in good health even if he was getting old, it was weird. They started dropping like flies after that. Even Seth wasn't save.
Vic: Seth? I never knew he was dead.
Frank: You remember that case he got involved in a few years back?
Vic: Don't remind me.
Said case was all over the news, and reactions across the world had ranged from disbelief to downright disgust. The body of a young male escort was found in a dumpster not too far from Seth's residence. His DNA was found in the mans body during the autopsy, but he had still managed to get acquitted with the help of the best lawyers money could buy. About a year after the incident, Seth was dead.
Frank: You want my honest theory as to why he died?
Vic: Mmmm?
Frank: AIDS. I mean it makes sense, doesn't it?
Vic: A fitting end for a man like Seth, don't you think?
Frank: Yeah...yeah.
Vic: So...is there anyone left from back in the day? Anyone at all.
Frank: A few, but not really many. Pretty sure Biohazard is still kickin, and Odin has surprisingly refused to kick the bucket for reasons I can't even fathom.
Vic: That motherfucker must be immortal, I swear. How old is he, like 70?
Frank: About. The weird thing about everything is how close the guys have been dying, literally withing about half a month someone else is gone, and truthfully, I'm starting to become paranoid.
Vic: C'mon dude, you think you're the next one on ole' Grims list? Get real, you're in much better health then most of these other fuckers. I agree with you that it's weird, but you shouldn't be scared of dying either way. Just like the Cult, man...don't fear the reaper.
Frank: Yeah...I guess you're right.
The rest of the ride was as silent as an empty room.
Franks legs were propped onto his apartment coffee table with the laziness of a college student, as he sat in his couch watching YouTube videos on his iPhone 15 S. For the high price tag, he could admit that the thing got the job done and got it done well. He had not had much to do ever since he announced his retirement from the WCF some months ago. He had gone as long as he could and then some, it just felt like it was time for him to stop. He was now content to chill in his apartment and be lazier then the WCF had ever allowed him to. His cat video of the moment, featuring a cat jumping up in fear over it's own shadow, was suddenly interrupted by a text message. Frank stopped the video to see that it was from Vic. It had been a few days since the funeral, and Frank was curious as to what Vic had to see.
Vic: Check out the news. Turns out he must not 'ave been immortal after all.
A little voice in Frank's head softly said "Oh shit" and he immediately put down his phone to reach for the remote, turning on the Flatscreen to Channel 11.
Reporter: -World Champion Odin Balfore was found dead in his home late last night. No immediate cause of death is known at this time, and there is no visible signs of foul play being involved. Balfore is the most recent WCF Wrestler to pass away under unknown circumstances. Our condolences go out to Mr. Balfore and his family.
Franks jaw fell down into his lap as he grabbed his phone a dialed Vic's number. After a few busy tones an answer came.
Vic: Yo bro, I take it you saw the news.
Frank: Mmmhmm. This shit is getting fucked up, man. I ain't in the mood to go to go to another funeral. I mean, don't it seem at least a little suspicious to you?
Vic: Yeah it does, but there ain't nothing I can do about it.
Frank: Well Vic, I'm done. I'm getting down to the bottom of this. Ain't no way in HELL these deaths had nothing to do with each other.
Vic: You do that, man. I'mma stay right where I'm at, cause in the event that there IS something going on, I don't want to die over it, you dig.
Frank: Yeah...yeah, I understand.
Vic: And you be careful yourself, Frank. I only got one brother, and I ain't too keen on losing him any time soon.
Frank: I know, I'll make sure I handle it right. Look man, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later.
Vic: Catcha later.
Frank hung up as he got off the couch, sliding the phone into his pocket and walking out the living room and into his closet. After shifting a few items around, he managed to get Iceberg-Six out and onto the table for some research into all this. He had the feeling that there was almost no way it would end well for anyone involved.
The Year is 2013
The three of them had managed to calm down.
It had taken Old Frank a minute to stop beating on FPV, but he finally decided the kid didn't deserve it as much as he had believed he did, and sat the two down, Frank and Amanda, and had begun to explain himself to them. While Amanda sat there paying close attention, she still let off that she had felt at least a little betrayed by her adoptive father's rather extreme outburst, and was confused as all hell by the whole thing. Frank sat there clutching his stomach in pain, listening to Old Frank describe Funks funeral and finding out of Odins death.
FPV: Damn...all these people...Steve, Jonny, Joe, Odin...they all died?
Old Frank: All of them. None were spared. Not even Zach. Poor guy probably suffered the worst of them all...
Old Frank had tried to begin to describe how it went, but the memories of it were too much. He just went on with his story.
Old Frank: I stayed on Eye-Six for some time, gathering as much information as I could from the little computer. It soon lead me to the old WCF Hall of Fame building. What was going on in there I had no idea, but I was going to find out.
Old Frank looked at Amanda, who was staring off into space, and it appeared as if she had stopped paying attention to what was going on.
Old Frank: Amanda...Amanda honey, are you alright.
Amanda: I'm okay.
She said it with a completely morose tone, Old Frank figured it be good to stop for a bit now and let her relax.
Old Frank: Why don't you go get me and the youngblood here some coffee, you can fix yourself up some too if you want.
Amanda: Okay.
Without so much as a fuss she got up and went to the kitchen.
Old Frank: That girl worries me sometimes.
FPV: I suppose you going to explain HER to me as well.
Old Frank: In due time. Patience is a virtue, y'know?
FPV: Well, not when got a show you gotta go to soon. Especially with WAR this week.
Old Frank: What War was this? The one where Biohazard won?
FPV: WaitWHAT?!
Old Frank: Yeah...I probably shouldn't have said that. Not yet anyways. My bad.
FPV: Dude...Biohazard wining...no, that's gotta be a joke.
Old Frank: Sorry dude, you can choose to believe me or not. It's your choice. Let's change the subject: how do you feel about the level of competition this year?
FPV: Well...I mean, I've faced a LOT of these guys before. NvL, Joe, Sarah, Eric, all them folk. They don't really concern me that much, I just gotta control their weaknesses. It's all these new guys who I should probably be looking out for.
Old Frank: Like who?
FPV: There's this one guy, Jordan Caliban. Been here damn near a month and he already has the Internet Title.
Old Frank: Impressive.
FPV: It wasn't meant as a compliment.
Old Frank: Oh.
FPV: Yeah, that whole internet division of the WCF just flat out sucks, he just happens to be the best one there, though that's not saying that much. He's been trying to do this Pirate Radio thing...yeah, ti's going about as well as you'd expect. He's just one of those new guys who seems to suffer from an extreme case of diarrhea of the mouth, or in these guys cases, the fingers. Motherfuckers just won't SHUT. UP. Not on Twitter, in promos, they just talk and talk and talk. When I see him in the ring, my fist is going to shut him up nice and good. Then there guys like Seifer Black Armstrong...I've seen him and he looks like some rejected Final Fantasy character. Ain't no way I can take him seriously at all like that. D'enise is just a female version of Oblivion, and that whole immortal shtick I don't buy one bit. I already fought her once, and now that I've gotten a little experience with her, I think she shouldn't pose any threat. Now Matthew Robinson...there's a character. Another other week I'd give him a fighting chance. Here's the deal though...his wife just went through hell. As in the "gave birth two weeks premature and is currently unconscious" type of hell. Ain't no way his head is gonna' be in the game. Ain't no way. All these new guys, they're all pretty much the same. All flash and no substance. They're bound to get massacred. The whole lot of them.
Old Frank began to recollect some memories from this event, recalling that most of them did end up getting eliminated pretty quickly overall, with the exception of a few.
Old Frank: I don't doubt it. Listen, before Amanda comes back with the coffee...I know this seems very odd, but...have, by any chance, taken her to someplace involving horses?
FPV glanced at Old Frank with confusion. The question seemed to be the most random thing in the world to ask him at this point.
FPV: Umm....no.
Old Frank: Good...good...
FPV: Exactly how is that important?
Old Franky: Long story.
TO BE CONTINUED
