Post by Johnny Reb on Jul 18, 2009 12:05:19 GMT -5
Never again, Dixie.
Johnny Reb opens the front door to his condo, leading the way inside as he shrugs off his suit jacket and tosses it negligently in the general vicinity of the couch. Dixie hastens past him, dressed in a lilac confection of taffeta and chiffon, to pick the coat up from its resting place on the floor.
Dixie: It wasn’t that bad, Johnny.
Reb pauses, halfway through unknotting his tie.
Johnny: Not that bad? Dixie, the Colonel hates me. And your mom… she just seemed… disappointed.
He continues fumbling with the tie, succeeding only in knotting it further. Draping the jacket over one arm, Dixie glides toward him and reaches up, pulling the tie loose in a single, fluid motion.
Dixie: My dad doesn’t hate you.
Johnny: He called me a cracker!
Dixie frowns as she hangs the jacket and tie on the staircase railing. She opens her mouth to protest that her father wouldn’t say such a thing, then sighs and shakes her head. In truth, she knows he would; knew it was probably a bad idea to introduce Johnny to her parents at all, really. That part of the conversation must’ve taken place while she was being lectured by her mother in the powder room. Both her parents had taken an instant dislike to Johnny, but she had hoped he would have charmed them by the time their dinner was over. Then again, it wasn’t exactly like they’d ever approved of any choice she’d made since she turned eighteen and moved out.
Dixie: Look, Johnny, I’m sorry my parents were rude. Don’t take it personally. They’ve done this to every guy I’ve ever introduced them to.
Johnny gives her a sharp glance, then leaves the room, returning shortly with a bottle of SoCo and two glasses. Handing one to Dixie, he starts to pour.
Johnny: How many?
She frowns at him as he drops onto the couch and pours another drink for himself.
Dixie: What do you mean?
Johnny: How many others?
Dixie walks over and perches on the edge of the sofa beside him.
Dixie: Johnny… it ain’t like that. You didn’t honestly think you were the first, did ya?
Reb scowls at that and takes a swallow of his drink. She puts a hand on his shoulder, and he draws away slightly.
Dixie: Look, it was only like two other guys. One in high school, one in college. It’s not a big deal.
Johnny: Yeah, I reckon…
She slides closer to him; he allows the contact this time, puts an arm around her shoulders. Dixie grins at him mischievously.
Dixie: ‘Sides, you ain’t gotta see my folks ever again, iff’n ya don’t wanna. Unless we get married.
Reb turns to regard her intently. There’s a long moment of apprehension before he finally speaks.
Johnny: Nope, not even then. We’re goin’ to Vegas, one of them drive-through chapels with the Elvis impersonators. I got it all planned out…
Dixie gazes at him incredulously for several seconds before realizing that he’s probably joking. Hopefully. A teasing smile from Johnny reassures her, and she shakes her head at him.
Dixie: Anyway, you’ve got bigger things to worry about than my folks.
Johnny takes another sip of his drink before setting the glass on the table.
Johnny: Right, right. Genesis.
He mock-frowns for just a moment, then brightens.
Johnny: No, that’s that Phil Collins band from the 80’s. Um. Deuteronomy?
Dixie: Exodus.
Johnny: Oh. That’s right. “Come, let us deal wisely with them; lest they multiply and it come to pass that, when there falleth out any war, they join also unto our enemies, and fight against us…” *
Dixie shakes her head at him, wondering at the appropriateness of the quote.
Johnny: Gravedigger’s the past. The only thing he has to keep him goin’ right now is an all-consuming paranoia that plays right into his self-gratification of the ego. An’ that brother of his…
Reb shrugs noncommittally.
Johnny: It’s real hard to take anyone seriously when they’re named Chester. Just makes me think of Cheetos. Speakin’ of which…
Abruptly, Johnny rises from the couch and wanders into the condo’s tiny kitchen, rummaging around in the cabinets until he discovers what he’s looking for. He returns with an open bag of the aforementioned snack food.
Dixie: You’re not even a little bit concerned?
Johnny shrugs and offers her the bag, which she waves off casually.
Johnny: No reason to be. Two weeks ago, I pinned the man who was supposed to be unbeatable. I’m a consistent main-eventer. Hell, I’m the number one contender – again. I could take the two of ‘em singlehanded. But it just so happens that, once again, I got Dake Ken in my corner. The man’s accomplished quite a bit, I can’t deny that.
Dixie: It’s still an awkward situation. You partner with him this week, then you face him in a ladder match for the World Title next Sunday.
Reb’s expression turns thoughtful.
Johnny: Well, there is that. Thing is, me and Dake have been involved for nearly as long as you an’ I. An’ we’re both man enough to put aside our differences in the interest of takin’ down a common enemy. I’m there to make up for his shortcomin’s… an’ he’s there to… well, have shortcomin’s for me to make up for, I reckon.
Dixie gazes at him dubiously.
Dixie: There’s still another factor you oughta consider, Johnny Reb. Guess who just signed a contract with the WCF last week…
Johnny frowns at her, puzzled as to why he should even care, and shrugs exaggeratedly.
Dixie: Old friend o’ yours… Doc Henry.
Reb’s expression quickly shifts from one of perplexity to dismay.
Johnny: Oh… shit.
Fade.
*(Exodus 1:10, KJV)
Johnny Reb opens the front door to his condo, leading the way inside as he shrugs off his suit jacket and tosses it negligently in the general vicinity of the couch. Dixie hastens past him, dressed in a lilac confection of taffeta and chiffon, to pick the coat up from its resting place on the floor.
Dixie: It wasn’t that bad, Johnny.
Reb pauses, halfway through unknotting his tie.
Johnny: Not that bad? Dixie, the Colonel hates me. And your mom… she just seemed… disappointed.
He continues fumbling with the tie, succeeding only in knotting it further. Draping the jacket over one arm, Dixie glides toward him and reaches up, pulling the tie loose in a single, fluid motion.
Dixie: My dad doesn’t hate you.
Johnny: He called me a cracker!
Dixie frowns as she hangs the jacket and tie on the staircase railing. She opens her mouth to protest that her father wouldn’t say such a thing, then sighs and shakes her head. In truth, she knows he would; knew it was probably a bad idea to introduce Johnny to her parents at all, really. That part of the conversation must’ve taken place while she was being lectured by her mother in the powder room. Both her parents had taken an instant dislike to Johnny, but she had hoped he would have charmed them by the time their dinner was over. Then again, it wasn’t exactly like they’d ever approved of any choice she’d made since she turned eighteen and moved out.
Dixie: Look, Johnny, I’m sorry my parents were rude. Don’t take it personally. They’ve done this to every guy I’ve ever introduced them to.
Johnny gives her a sharp glance, then leaves the room, returning shortly with a bottle of SoCo and two glasses. Handing one to Dixie, he starts to pour.
Johnny: How many?
She frowns at him as he drops onto the couch and pours another drink for himself.
Dixie: What do you mean?
Johnny: How many others?
Dixie walks over and perches on the edge of the sofa beside him.
Dixie: Johnny… it ain’t like that. You didn’t honestly think you were the first, did ya?
Reb scowls at that and takes a swallow of his drink. She puts a hand on his shoulder, and he draws away slightly.
Dixie: Look, it was only like two other guys. One in high school, one in college. It’s not a big deal.
Johnny: Yeah, I reckon…
She slides closer to him; he allows the contact this time, puts an arm around her shoulders. Dixie grins at him mischievously.
Dixie: ‘Sides, you ain’t gotta see my folks ever again, iff’n ya don’t wanna. Unless we get married.
Reb turns to regard her intently. There’s a long moment of apprehension before he finally speaks.
Johnny: Nope, not even then. We’re goin’ to Vegas, one of them drive-through chapels with the Elvis impersonators. I got it all planned out…
Dixie gazes at him incredulously for several seconds before realizing that he’s probably joking. Hopefully. A teasing smile from Johnny reassures her, and she shakes her head at him.
Dixie: Anyway, you’ve got bigger things to worry about than my folks.
Johnny takes another sip of his drink before setting the glass on the table.
Johnny: Right, right. Genesis.
He mock-frowns for just a moment, then brightens.
Johnny: No, that’s that Phil Collins band from the 80’s. Um. Deuteronomy?
Dixie: Exodus.
Johnny: Oh. That’s right. “Come, let us deal wisely with them; lest they multiply and it come to pass that, when there falleth out any war, they join also unto our enemies, and fight against us…” *
Dixie shakes her head at him, wondering at the appropriateness of the quote.
Johnny: Gravedigger’s the past. The only thing he has to keep him goin’ right now is an all-consuming paranoia that plays right into his self-gratification of the ego. An’ that brother of his…
Reb shrugs noncommittally.
Johnny: It’s real hard to take anyone seriously when they’re named Chester. Just makes me think of Cheetos. Speakin’ of which…
Abruptly, Johnny rises from the couch and wanders into the condo’s tiny kitchen, rummaging around in the cabinets until he discovers what he’s looking for. He returns with an open bag of the aforementioned snack food.
Dixie: You’re not even a little bit concerned?
Johnny shrugs and offers her the bag, which she waves off casually.
Johnny: No reason to be. Two weeks ago, I pinned the man who was supposed to be unbeatable. I’m a consistent main-eventer. Hell, I’m the number one contender – again. I could take the two of ‘em singlehanded. But it just so happens that, once again, I got Dake Ken in my corner. The man’s accomplished quite a bit, I can’t deny that.
Dixie: It’s still an awkward situation. You partner with him this week, then you face him in a ladder match for the World Title next Sunday.
Reb’s expression turns thoughtful.
Johnny: Well, there is that. Thing is, me and Dake have been involved for nearly as long as you an’ I. An’ we’re both man enough to put aside our differences in the interest of takin’ down a common enemy. I’m there to make up for his shortcomin’s… an’ he’s there to… well, have shortcomin’s for me to make up for, I reckon.
Dixie gazes at him dubiously.
Dixie: There’s still another factor you oughta consider, Johnny Reb. Guess who just signed a contract with the WCF last week…
Johnny frowns at her, puzzled as to why he should even care, and shrugs exaggeratedly.
Dixie: Old friend o’ yours… Doc Henry.
Reb’s expression quickly shifts from one of perplexity to dismay.
Johnny: Oh… shit.
Fade.
*(Exodus 1:10, KJV)
