Post by 'Jazzy' John McCarty on Feb 3, 2019 16:54:42 GMT -5
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Yep, another trilogy. Also, got a bit distracted this week. Coulda done better.
PART 1 - POST MATCH BLUES
'That was tough...'
'Better luck next time!'
It was only 15 minutes after the match but he had already heard all of these comments.
Honestly, who could blame them? It was a tough match, and he had worked hard, but he still couldn't scrape up the win. Odin and Alex were just too powerful. To be honest, though, that wasn't a shocking result.
Losing wasn't the thing John was bummed about, it was being so close to winning that he was shook. And these comments weren't really helping either. They were just a reminder that John could've tried harder.
Ouch. Just thinking about it, it hurt. John had learnt a lesson tonight. He thought he was going into this match prepared, but 100% effort just isn't enough. You need to put in 110%. Minimum.
John wandered his way to his locker room, and when he did get there, he just sat down on a chair and flung a white towel across the back of his neck.
He just needed to be alone. Relax. Contemplate. Reflect. Think. What did he do wrong? What could he have done better?
And that's what stumped John. He had put in so much effort, and Matt tried his best. There was nothing they could improve on. They were just... Outclassed.
But now, John just wanted to think. The locker room just wasn't cutting it, and his apartment was too distracting. So, there was only one choice.
-----
We now find John sitting at the bar.
Other Bartender: What can I do you for?
John: What's your special tonight?
O.B.: We have two specials, Odin's Revenge and Mas-Con Fusion.
John <to himself>: Of fucking course.
John: I think I'll just have a gin and tonic please.
O.B.: Coming right up!
John had planned for a light drinking night, but that didn't really pan out. About a gin and tonic, a few tequila shots and a bottle of beer, the Other Bartender had finally cracked an important question.
O.B.: Don't you think it's a bad thing to drink alone?
John had given himself some thinking time before giving an answer.
John: Well, it kinda is. But, my only friend, the Bartender, is in South Dakota. And I really needed a drink after a tough loss.
O.B.: That was a tough loss. Almost like that Saints vs Rams game.
John: Don't ever say that. That game should be wiped from the history of the world.
O.B.: Whoa! Okay...
There was a moment of silence.
O.B.: So your only friend's in South Dakota?
John: Yep. He moved a couple months ago, I think
O.B.: Oh... What about that Bart guy?
John: ...Bert? Haha! Bert's just an acquaintance...
The other Bartender raised an eyebrow.
John <slowing down>: He's an acquaintance...
The other Bartender walked away to polish a glass.
John: I'll be back
John rushed out of the bar, realising that Bert was no acquaintance. He was a friend.
PART 2 - A SINCERE APOLOGY
John <to himself>: Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Jazzy was pointlessly running around the beautiful New Orleans, trying to find Bert. But it was hopeless. New Orleans was a big place, and Bert could be anywhere. Heck, Bert could be at his house right now, and John didn't have a clue where that was.
On the other hand, John didn't have a better way to spend a late Monday night, so...
Where could he be on a Monday night?
The answer was obvious. He was either at his house, or another bar. Since he was reluctant to search all 190,000 homes in New Orleans, he had to look through all the bars.
Fun fact - for every 10,000 households, there are 8.6 bars
So there are almost 200 bars in New Orleans. John wished himself luck, and he was on his way.
He checked Canal Street first. Nope. Maybe the bar next door? Nope.
Nope.
Not that one.
NNNNNN NNN
NNNNNNN NNN
NNN NNNN NNN
NNN NNNN NNN
NNN NNNN NNN
NNN NNNN NNN
NNN NNNNNNN
NNN NNNNNN
OOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOO
OOOO OOOO
OOOO OOOO
OOOO OOOO
OOOO OOOO
OOOO OOOO
OOOO OOOO
OOOO OOOO
OOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOO
PPPPPPPPPPPP
PPPPPPPPPPPPPP
PPPP PPPPP
PPPP PPPPP
PPPP PPPPP
PPPPPPPPPPPPPP
PPPPPPPPPPPP
PPPP
PPPP
PPPP
PPPP
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEE
EEEE
EEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEE
EEEE
EEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
One big nope.
Half an hour later, he had checked only about 10 bars. Which really isn't a bad feat. But, he still hadn't found Bert. It was late. He's probably at his--
*doors slam open*
Man: LAAAAAAA di DAAAAAA di di DAAAAAAAaaaaaaaa SING us A SOONG YA THE PIANO MAAAN
John had turned around to see who had completely butchered a rendition of the Billy Joel classic, and he found it was the one and only, Bert.
John: Bert?
Bert: JoOoOoHn!
John: Look, I gotta apologize...
Bert: Uh... Can you tell me tomorrow morning? I'm pretty drunk right now...
John: Um... Okay?
Bert: ThAnkk yOU JooOOohNN... Here's MY PhOone so I cAn caLL yOu....
Bert gives John a slip of paper.
Bert: I hAvE it PREpreParED inCaSe a GirL aSkS foR it.
Bert <points to the air>: EN GARDE!!
Bert rushes off before stumbling and collapsing to the floor. He got back up and walked off like nothing happened.
John <yelling>: En Garde isn't even the right term!
---
The next morning...
John: Sup Bert.
Bert <over phone>: Hello! How is it?
John: Not bad. How's your hangover?
Bert <over phone>: Bruh. I'm immune to hangovers never had one.
*just assume Bert is always over the phone*
John: Whoa. That's pretty neat. Okay, I really need to apologize.
Bert: Don't sweat it.
John: What? I had everything planned out though?
Bert: Don't sweat it. You're just stupid. Okay, goodbye!
Bert hangs up.
John: That fucking tart.
PART 3 - LET'S BUILD THE HOUSE
It was Friday, and John and Bert looked at the empty plot of land which would become the House of Blues.
John: So Bert? Who are we hiring to build the House?
Bert: No one.
John turns around.
John: Uh... What?
Bert: Yep. We don't really have that much money, so we won't hire anything. No builders, no staff, no nothing.
John: What? No staff?
Bert: Yeah, us mighty 3, you, I, and the Bartender.
John: Uh... I don't think the Bartender's coming back...
Bert moves closer to John.
Bert: Trust me, he will.
John looks at the plot of land again.
John: So we're building it ourselves? And we'll work there ourselves?
Bert: Yep. We'll save heaps by doing this. And you know what they say... Mo Money, No Problems.
John: I think it's Mo Problems, Bert...
Bert: No, John, it's Mo Money. You jazz guys know nothing.
John: Ugh...
Bert: Well... LET'S BUILD THE HOUSE!!
John: Um... With what?
Bert: ...outstanding move, John. Let's go to the hardware store.
John: How about, you go get stuff, while I answer this heap of reporters in front of me.
John points to the reporters swarming around him.
Bert: Ugh fine.
Bert drives off as John faces the reporters.
John: Questions?
Reporter: You lost. How do you feel?
John: Um... Wow. That hurt. I have never heard such a straightforward question. But, anyways, that loss really got me down in the dumps. But, I'm moving on, I've got another match this Monday.
Reporter: Speaking of your match, what exactly is your match?
John: Uh... It's a tag league match, our last one in fact, against Scott Slayer and Stephen Singh. This is our last chance to get points on the board. Even then, it doesn't really secure a spot in the final. So we need to work for this victory, and hope things turn out right in the end.
Reporter: What are your thoughts on Stephen Singh?
John: You know, I had respect for Stephen Singh. Former World champ, and even when he was injured, he still wanted to do stuff for his company. And he did do the WCF a favour by removing PWK. Also, I haven't personally faced him, but I've heard he's tough to beat.
John: But then I heard some shocking news. Singh had faked his injury, so he didn't have to wrestle. Upon some further research, I found he uses plenty of dirty tactics to win his matches.
Reporter: I'm pretty sure everyone knows except the refs.
John: Well, my bad. I might be blind or something. But I no longer have respect for Singh. If he beats me cleanly, I have his respect again. That is, however, if he beats me. I'm ready to redeem myself from last week.
Reporter: What are your thoughts on Scott Slayer?
John: Scott Slayer? Haha. I have never had respect for him, and never will. He thinks he's great, and that he should be the face of the company, but he has done nothing. He did have a little run at the top of the card, but that was when he was Kennedy's bitch. Other than that, he's been wandering around at the bottom of the card, while he watches proper talent zoom past him.
John: Funny thing is... He tried to pick a fight with me on Twitter. Using insults I could hear on a school playground. And saying that he was better than me? Childish. So it only made sense that I picked him apart. So he better watch out, cause I'll destroy him in the ring.
John sees Bert arrive back at the plot of land.
John: Okay, no more questions. I've got someone waiting for me.
John walks off and starts to build the House of Blues.
PART 1 - POST MATCH BLUES
'That was tough...'
'You'll get 'em next time'
'Better luck next time!'
'So close...'
It was only 15 minutes after the match but he had already heard all of these comments.
Honestly, who could blame them? It was a tough match, and he had worked hard, but he still couldn't scrape up the win. Odin and Alex were just too powerful. To be honest, though, that wasn't a shocking result.
Losing wasn't the thing John was bummed about, it was being so close to winning that he was shook. And these comments weren't really helping either. They were just a reminder that John could've tried harder.
Ouch. Just thinking about it, it hurt. John had learnt a lesson tonight. He thought he was going into this match prepared, but 100% effort just isn't enough. You need to put in 110%. Minimum.
John wandered his way to his locker room, and when he did get there, he just sat down on a chair and flung a white towel across the back of his neck.
He just needed to be alone. Relax. Contemplate. Reflect. Think. What did he do wrong? What could he have done better?
And that's what stumped John. He had put in so much effort, and Matt tried his best. There was nothing they could improve on. They were just... Outclassed.
But now, John just wanted to think. The locker room just wasn't cutting it, and his apartment was too distracting. So, there was only one choice.
-----
We now find John sitting at the bar.
Other Bartender: What can I do you for?
John: What's your special tonight?
O.B.: We have two specials, Odin's Revenge and Mas-Con Fusion.
John <to himself>: Of fucking course.
John: I think I'll just have a gin and tonic please.
O.B.: Coming right up!
John had planned for a light drinking night, but that didn't really pan out. About a gin and tonic, a few tequila shots and a bottle of beer, the Other Bartender had finally cracked an important question.
O.B.: Don't you think it's a bad thing to drink alone?
John had given himself some thinking time before giving an answer.
John: Well, it kinda is. But, my only friend, the Bartender, is in South Dakota. And I really needed a drink after a tough loss.
O.B.: That was a tough loss. Almost like that Saints vs Rams game.
John: Don't ever say that. That game should be wiped from the history of the world.
O.B.: Whoa! Okay...
There was a moment of silence.
O.B.: So your only friend's in South Dakota?
John: Yep. He moved a couple months ago, I think
O.B.: Oh... What about that Bart guy?
John: ...Bert? Haha! Bert's just an acquaintance...
The other Bartender raised an eyebrow.
John <slowing down>: He's an acquaintance...
The other Bartender walked away to polish a glass.
John: I'll be back
John rushed out of the bar, realising that Bert was no acquaintance. He was a friend.
PART 2 - A SINCERE APOLOGY
John <to himself>: Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Jazzy was pointlessly running around the beautiful New Orleans, trying to find Bert. But it was hopeless. New Orleans was a big place, and Bert could be anywhere. Heck, Bert could be at his house right now, and John didn't have a clue where that was.
On the other hand, John didn't have a better way to spend a late Monday night, so...
Where could he be on a Monday night?
The answer was obvious. He was either at his house, or another bar. Since he was reluctant to search all 190,000 homes in New Orleans, he had to look through all the bars.
Fun fact - for every 10,000 households, there are 8.6 bars
So there are almost 200 bars in New Orleans. John wished himself luck, and he was on his way.
He checked Canal Street first. Nope. Maybe the bar next door? Nope.
Nope.
Not that one.
NNNNNN NNN
NNNNNNN NNN
NNN NNNN NNN
NNN NNNN NNN
NNN NNNN NNN
NNN NNNN NNN
NNN NNNNNNN
NNN NNNNNN
OOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOO
OOOO OOOO
OOOO OOOO
OOOO OOOO
OOOO OOOO
OOOO OOOO
OOOO OOOO
OOOO OOOO
OOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOO
PPPPPPPPPPPP
PPPPPPPPPPPPPP
PPPP PPPPP
PPPP PPPPP
PPPP PPPPP
PPPPPPPPPPPPPP
PPPPPPPPPPPP
PPPP
PPPP
PPPP
PPPP
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEE
EEEE
EEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEE
EEEE
EEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
One big nope.
Half an hour later, he had checked only about 10 bars. Which really isn't a bad feat. But, he still hadn't found Bert. It was late. He's probably at his--
*doors slam open*
Man: LAAAAAAA di DAAAAAA di di DAAAAAAAaaaaaaaa SING us A SOONG YA THE PIANO MAAAN
John had turned around to see who had completely butchered a rendition of the Billy Joel classic, and he found it was the one and only, Bert.
John: Bert?
Bert: JoOoOoHn!
John: Look, I gotta apologize...
Bert: Uh... Can you tell me tomorrow morning? I'm pretty drunk right now...
John: Um... Okay?
Bert: ThAnkk yOU JooOOohNN... Here's MY PhOone so I cAn caLL yOu....
Bert gives John a slip of paper.
Bert: I hAvE it PREpreParED inCaSe a GirL aSkS foR it.
Bert <points to the air>: EN GARDE!!
Bert rushes off before stumbling and collapsing to the floor. He got back up and walked off like nothing happened.
John <yelling>: En Garde isn't even the right term!
---
The next morning...
John: Sup Bert.
Bert <over phone>: Hello! How is it?
John: Not bad. How's your hangover?
Bert <over phone>: Bruh. I'm immune to hangovers never had one.
*just assume Bert is always over the phone*
John: Whoa. That's pretty neat. Okay, I really need to apologize.
Bert: Don't sweat it.
John: What? I had everything planned out though?
Bert: Don't sweat it. You're just stupid. Okay, goodbye!
Bert hangs up.
John: That fucking tart.
PART 3 - LET'S BUILD THE HOUSE
It was Friday, and John and Bert looked at the empty plot of land which would become the House of Blues.
John: So Bert? Who are we hiring to build the House?
Bert: No one.
John turns around.
John: Uh... What?
Bert: Yep. We don't really have that much money, so we won't hire anything. No builders, no staff, no nothing.
John: What? No staff?
Bert: Yeah, us mighty 3, you, I, and the Bartender.
John: Uh... I don't think the Bartender's coming back...
Bert moves closer to John.
Bert: Trust me, he will.
John looks at the plot of land again.
John: So we're building it ourselves? And we'll work there ourselves?
Bert: Yep. We'll save heaps by doing this. And you know what they say... Mo Money, No Problems.
John: I think it's Mo Problems, Bert...
Bert: No, John, it's Mo Money. You jazz guys know nothing.
John: Ugh...
Bert: Well... LET'S BUILD THE HOUSE!!
John: Um... With what?
Bert: ...outstanding move, John. Let's go to the hardware store.
John: How about, you go get stuff, while I answer this heap of reporters in front of me.
John points to the reporters swarming around him.
Bert: Ugh fine.
Bert drives off as John faces the reporters.
John: Questions?
Reporter: You lost. How do you feel?
John: Um... Wow. That hurt. I have never heard such a straightforward question. But, anyways, that loss really got me down in the dumps. But, I'm moving on, I've got another match this Monday.
Reporter: Speaking of your match, what exactly is your match?
John: Uh... It's a tag league match, our last one in fact, against Scott Slayer and Stephen Singh. This is our last chance to get points on the board. Even then, it doesn't really secure a spot in the final. So we need to work for this victory, and hope things turn out right in the end.
Reporter: What are your thoughts on Stephen Singh?
John: You know, I had respect for Stephen Singh. Former World champ, and even when he was injured, he still wanted to do stuff for his company. And he did do the WCF a favour by removing PWK. Also, I haven't personally faced him, but I've heard he's tough to beat.
John: But then I heard some shocking news. Singh had faked his injury, so he didn't have to wrestle. Upon some further research, I found he uses plenty of dirty tactics to win his matches.
Reporter: I'm pretty sure everyone knows except the refs.
John: Well, my bad. I might be blind or something. But I no longer have respect for Singh. If he beats me cleanly, I have his respect again. That is, however, if he beats me. I'm ready to redeem myself from last week.
Reporter: What are your thoughts on Scott Slayer?
John: Scott Slayer? Haha. I have never had respect for him, and never will. He thinks he's great, and that he should be the face of the company, but he has done nothing. He did have a little run at the top of the card, but that was when he was Kennedy's bitch. Other than that, he's been wandering around at the bottom of the card, while he watches proper talent zoom past him.
John: Funny thing is... He tried to pick a fight with me on Twitter. Using insults I could hear on a school playground. And saying that he was better than me? Childish. So it only made sense that I picked him apart. So he better watch out, cause I'll destroy him in the ring.
John sees Bert arrive back at the plot of land.
John: Okay, no more questions. I've got someone waiting for me.
John walks off and starts to build the House of Blues.