Post by Logan on May 19, 2009 23:21:42 GMT -5
(threatened by the brilliant skills of Johnny Anthrax, I asked former WCF superstar, Madd Dogg, for advice before writing this RP)
"Only you." he said. Those words meant a lot to Catherine. Those words meant more to her than the mere second of time it took to roll of the youthful stoners tongue, Jimmy. It flew out of his mouth like a one liner, he could've came up with a meaningless joke just as fast, it had no heart to it, to whom he directed it for it did, under the surface, though, it's just a one liner, a promising one liner that hinted to only one thing.. tonight was young Jimmy and Catherine's night. Had she only been wiser, young age effected her wisdom, that was natural with any young virgin with raging hormones. She innocently ate up his promises, and like leading mice with trails of cheese she was lead right into the snakes pit.
The pit of Jimmy Anthrax. A unescapable hole of lies and depictions made difficult by the master of marijuana, rainbow collations (colorful Thrax RP), hero of alcohol use. Such a great inspiration to Catherine and the youth like her, such bullshit.
Jimmy played it off perfectly, hoping any girl would dare spot him skipping off during lunch to light up a 'fattie', hoping they'd be sucked into his delinquent appeal. 'Get a good glimpse of me', a pose frequently practiced among mirrors and window reflections whenever given the chance. 'Get a good glimpse of me', I'm the guy whose influences are based off the effects of drugs and booze. I'm the type of guy you'll fall head over heels for. I'm Jimmy Anthrax.
"Wee-Ah-Hoo... Wee-Ah-Hoo.. Wee-O-You.. Wee-Ah-Ha!" - Madd Dogg's advice for a decent promo.
When 'tonight be the night' finally spun around, the slackers drug using popularity image wasn't hanging off any threads, of course, it was tightly intact. This generations Grease still maintained, leaned against the front entrance of the place HE set to meet, a bowling alley. Hair dyed black to help assist the bad boy mannerism, black tight pants that screamed "Fuck you! Metal! Punk!", a real decent degenerate you'd guarantee a Grandma to frown upon, Jimmy Anthrax. Jimmy awaiting...
Catherine. Miss youth of innocence, too kind for her own good, Miss yellow flowered abuser of eye liner and make up blush. The young of Catherine.. the stupidity. She arrived via an older sister that had supposed plans from parents that she was being dropped off at a girlfriends house for a night of popcorn and Hannah Montana. The direct opposite of Jimmy Anthrax, the good unwitty blond girl to his evil scheming jet black hair. Despite her age, she'd eventually understand that women of women, Mothers, Grandmas, college chicks, all drooled over the bad apple of the tree, and without secret too.. it was public address, they'd let it be known.
The two met eyes. She approached him the same way she had many times before, an innocent flirty nervous stance with the oh so abused batting of over caked eye lashes.
Jimmy Anthrax: Only you and me tonight.
Mister sly smooth struck again. He threw out his cigarette and lit up another to maintain the cool.
Jimmy Anthrax: Don't worry..
She had no reason to speak. She pictured him shooting heroin in the bowling alleys bathroom before she arrived, and that only increased his heroic attraction. She'd let him deflower her right here on the sidewalk if it wasn't for all the sticky gum stuck on the cement.
"Make sure to include yourself." - Madd Dogg's advice for a decent promo.
There was a third party to this love story. Things now had three points of views, a bizarre triangle. From around the corner, an former employee of this fun parade of balls (bowling alley) whom seeked vengeance for his abrupt brutal firing last weekend. Logan. Former ball waxier and shoe shin'e of the fine establishment these two people wished to enjoy. Studying the young girl and the chain smoker he came to an conclusion that what he came here to do now seemed like a complete waste of time. Flooding the bathrooms toilets he once scrubbed on late Friday nights didn't hold a candle to picking a fight with the obvious stoner, Anthrax. What was it that set him off? He mumbled his own explanation.
Logan: Sicker than sick! The youths innocence with a possible future for a beautiful life attracted to the youths burn out, burned out for his own sake and hopeful popularity. The ugly fox of foxes, the one that isn't clever and cunning, the one who maliciously seeks out the best hen houses while the talented ones work blisters on their paws for an egg or two. This isn't jealously. This is deserved hate. He himself doesn't know it, but I've reserved a right in this establishment to hate who I want. And Anthrax, I choose you.
Staying close to the walls out of view to the one he planned on pouncing on with rage, quietly letting the hatred out all the while.
Logan: Cigarettes and alcohol aren't going to help against me.
Teething chewing on his bottom lip to the point of breaking skin.
Logan: Poor pathetic excuse for a man who thinks he has a right to play with the balls I spent ten years shining.
Blood leaking and running down his chin.
Logan: Take it as you may. Four championship winning games has more of meaning than a stoner punk bar fight.
He was now close enough to where Jimmy heard him speak that last line. Producing more anger on the way to Jimmy than he produced now, still breathing heavy, nostrils flaring. The look on Catherine's face was cold water on a burn, it soothed.
Jimmy Anthrax: Can I help you?
The emotion transformed into something else all together, he no longer despised the self abuse of Anthrax that spot lighted attention, it became welcomed. Go ahead. Give yourself this image if you think it'll help. It's bound to expire. A week? Month? Year from now? It's cool now, cool and exciting for Catherine. After she's had you, explored you, figured out who you are where do you rebound from there? You'll get older and eventually those little Catherine's will be too young to appreciate your 'awesome' use of drugs. You'll become the decaying punk with little left but always willing to try once and awhile. I'm not you, Anthrax. I'm a tyrant. A mountain.
"I'm watching Hells Kitchen. Leave me alone." - Madd Dogg's advice for a decent promo.
Before he could realize it, the two had already gone inside, the fight had been ignored, he no longer wanted to do it. He couldn't find any reasons that felt worth it. Sitting down on the walks curb with knees pressed against his forehead, arms cuddling shins.
Logan: So many professional bowls, they expect me to keep shootin' it out. Who cares if I like using the bumper lane? You can only do the same exact thing for so long. And constantly changing the games style eventually becomes the same thing. All in all though, fired by this crap hole ally or not, I'll still bowl. I challenge Jimmy Anthrax. I'll challenge him to test his limits. And then when we're through, the next new age will be challenged. Let's just tell myself it's a drug, every drug has risk of addiction, only this drug doesn't inspire me to use illegal use for means of winning or hoping my name becomes printed in the list of 'remembered bowlers'. This drug is my drug, a testing of limits that you suspect will die but never do. Good to praise yourself while you still have a positive enough outlook, it feels good. Get the ole' throwing arm back into prime throwing and knock those pins over like you used to ten years ago. So, despising a degenerate like Anthrax isn't the answer. It's not my ordeal. It's Catherine and Jimmy's. Give them some space.. they'll turn out just fine.
Closing on that he stands up and walks away from the love birds meeting place.
"Only you." he said. Those words meant a lot to Catherine. Those words meant more to her than the mere second of time it took to roll of the youthful stoners tongue, Jimmy. It flew out of his mouth like a one liner, he could've came up with a meaningless joke just as fast, it had no heart to it, to whom he directed it for it did, under the surface, though, it's just a one liner, a promising one liner that hinted to only one thing.. tonight was young Jimmy and Catherine's night. Had she only been wiser, young age effected her wisdom, that was natural with any young virgin with raging hormones. She innocently ate up his promises, and like leading mice with trails of cheese she was lead right into the snakes pit.
The pit of Jimmy Anthrax. A unescapable hole of lies and depictions made difficult by the master of marijuana, rainbow collations (colorful Thrax RP), hero of alcohol use. Such a great inspiration to Catherine and the youth like her, such bullshit.
Jimmy played it off perfectly, hoping any girl would dare spot him skipping off during lunch to light up a 'fattie', hoping they'd be sucked into his delinquent appeal. 'Get a good glimpse of me', a pose frequently practiced among mirrors and window reflections whenever given the chance. 'Get a good glimpse of me', I'm the guy whose influences are based off the effects of drugs and booze. I'm the type of guy you'll fall head over heels for. I'm Jimmy Anthrax.
"Wee-Ah-Hoo... Wee-Ah-Hoo.. Wee-O-You.. Wee-Ah-Ha!" - Madd Dogg's advice for a decent promo.
When 'tonight be the night' finally spun around, the slackers drug using popularity image wasn't hanging off any threads, of course, it was tightly intact. This generations Grease still maintained, leaned against the front entrance of the place HE set to meet, a bowling alley. Hair dyed black to help assist the bad boy mannerism, black tight pants that screamed "Fuck you! Metal! Punk!", a real decent degenerate you'd guarantee a Grandma to frown upon, Jimmy Anthrax. Jimmy awaiting...
Catherine. Miss youth of innocence, too kind for her own good, Miss yellow flowered abuser of eye liner and make up blush. The young of Catherine.. the stupidity. She arrived via an older sister that had supposed plans from parents that she was being dropped off at a girlfriends house for a night of popcorn and Hannah Montana. The direct opposite of Jimmy Anthrax, the good unwitty blond girl to his evil scheming jet black hair. Despite her age, she'd eventually understand that women of women, Mothers, Grandmas, college chicks, all drooled over the bad apple of the tree, and without secret too.. it was public address, they'd let it be known.
The two met eyes. She approached him the same way she had many times before, an innocent flirty nervous stance with the oh so abused batting of over caked eye lashes.
Jimmy Anthrax: Only you and me tonight.
Mister sly smooth struck again. He threw out his cigarette and lit up another to maintain the cool.
Jimmy Anthrax: Don't worry..
She had no reason to speak. She pictured him shooting heroin in the bowling alleys bathroom before she arrived, and that only increased his heroic attraction. She'd let him deflower her right here on the sidewalk if it wasn't for all the sticky gum stuck on the cement.
"Make sure to include yourself." - Madd Dogg's advice for a decent promo.
There was a third party to this love story. Things now had three points of views, a bizarre triangle. From around the corner, an former employee of this fun parade of balls (bowling alley) whom seeked vengeance for his abrupt brutal firing last weekend. Logan. Former ball waxier and shoe shin'e of the fine establishment these two people wished to enjoy. Studying the young girl and the chain smoker he came to an conclusion that what he came here to do now seemed like a complete waste of time. Flooding the bathrooms toilets he once scrubbed on late Friday nights didn't hold a candle to picking a fight with the obvious stoner, Anthrax. What was it that set him off? He mumbled his own explanation.
Logan: Sicker than sick! The youths innocence with a possible future for a beautiful life attracted to the youths burn out, burned out for his own sake and hopeful popularity. The ugly fox of foxes, the one that isn't clever and cunning, the one who maliciously seeks out the best hen houses while the talented ones work blisters on their paws for an egg or two. This isn't jealously. This is deserved hate. He himself doesn't know it, but I've reserved a right in this establishment to hate who I want. And Anthrax, I choose you.
Staying close to the walls out of view to the one he planned on pouncing on with rage, quietly letting the hatred out all the while.
Logan: Cigarettes and alcohol aren't going to help against me.
Teething chewing on his bottom lip to the point of breaking skin.
Logan: Poor pathetic excuse for a man who thinks he has a right to play with the balls I spent ten years shining.
Blood leaking and running down his chin.
Logan: Take it as you may. Four championship winning games has more of meaning than a stoner punk bar fight.
He was now close enough to where Jimmy heard him speak that last line. Producing more anger on the way to Jimmy than he produced now, still breathing heavy, nostrils flaring. The look on Catherine's face was cold water on a burn, it soothed.
Jimmy Anthrax: Can I help you?
The emotion transformed into something else all together, he no longer despised the self abuse of Anthrax that spot lighted attention, it became welcomed. Go ahead. Give yourself this image if you think it'll help. It's bound to expire. A week? Month? Year from now? It's cool now, cool and exciting for Catherine. After she's had you, explored you, figured out who you are where do you rebound from there? You'll get older and eventually those little Catherine's will be too young to appreciate your 'awesome' use of drugs. You'll become the decaying punk with little left but always willing to try once and awhile. I'm not you, Anthrax. I'm a tyrant. A mountain.
"I'm watching Hells Kitchen. Leave me alone." - Madd Dogg's advice for a decent promo.
Before he could realize it, the two had already gone inside, the fight had been ignored, he no longer wanted to do it. He couldn't find any reasons that felt worth it. Sitting down on the walks curb with knees pressed against his forehead, arms cuddling shins.
Logan: So many professional bowls, they expect me to keep shootin' it out. Who cares if I like using the bumper lane? You can only do the same exact thing for so long. And constantly changing the games style eventually becomes the same thing. All in all though, fired by this crap hole ally or not, I'll still bowl. I challenge Jimmy Anthrax. I'll challenge him to test his limits. And then when we're through, the next new age will be challenged. Let's just tell myself it's a drug, every drug has risk of addiction, only this drug doesn't inspire me to use illegal use for means of winning or hoping my name becomes printed in the list of 'remembered bowlers'. This drug is my drug, a testing of limits that you suspect will die but never do. Good to praise yourself while you still have a positive enough outlook, it feels good. Get the ole' throwing arm back into prime throwing and knock those pins over like you used to ten years ago. So, despising a degenerate like Anthrax isn't the answer. It's not my ordeal. It's Catherine and Jimmy's. Give them some space.. they'll turn out just fine.
Closing on that he stands up and walks away from the love birds meeting place.
