Post by FPV on Jun 12, 2011 16:48:07 GMT -5
HIIIIIIIIIIII-YAAAAAAAAA!
A foot burst through the wooden entrance to the bar, and only the foot. Apparently FPV got it stuck, as he was now trying to pull it out, but to no avail.
FPV: *slurred* Yo, Funk, help me outta’ this…this son of a bitch.
Da Funk: *also slurred* Fuck no, I done already got you outta’… outta’ enough bitches tonight! You on your own on this fuckah…
FPV: Well allrighty Mr. Tough-boy, Imma make it on ma own!
A few tugs, pulls, and grunts later, and FPV has broken the whole door with his body, and has fallen on the sidewalk outside the Happy Days Strip Club in Salt Lake City. For a city with such a relatively clean-cut image, FPV found out that underneath, it’s really quite hot heavy. The neon-laden brick exterior was just begging for it. With Da Funk soon stumbling over FPVs body, the two of the exited, and proceeded to try to get up.
FPV: See, I told you. I TOLD YOU I COULD DO IT!
Da Funk: Broski, shut up, the ringing in my head doesn’t want to deal with you right now!
FPV: *smirking* Really? Can it deal with this? *goes right up to Da Funk’s ear* Lalalala, can ya hear me? Lalalala, me me me meeeeeee…
Da Funk: AAHHHHH, FUCKIN’ STOP!
Da Funk steps back, and hits FPV with a right hook of comically cinematic quality. FPV goes stumbling backwards into the street, where thankfully there are no cars speeding down, as everyone has gone inside to sleep. Da Funk, suddenly worried about FPVs well-being, goes to check up on his hammered mentor, who is lying on the ground once again.
Da Funk: Bro, you okay? Bro?
Out of nowhere, FPV exploded at Da Funk, hitting him right across the side of the head. Not wasting anytime, Da Funk retaliated, hitting him with another hook. The two were soon exchanging jabs in the road. Da Funk then grabbed FPV by the collar of his duster, and pushed him down the sidewalk on the other side of the road. FPV slowly got up, and tried to run away from Da Funk. However, even drunk, Da Funk had a bit of a speed advantage over FPV, and he soon caught up with him. FPV looked back and saw Da Funk, and in his childish drunken stupor, blew a raspberry in his face.
Da Funk, not phased at all by this, leaped onto FPVs back, and started pulling his hair, FPV all the while still trying to keep running. FPV tried to shake Da Funk off of him, although his efforts were futile. They kept going until FPV, not paying attention to what direction he was going, running face first into a tree, knocking him out. Both he and Da Funk fell to the ground, and Da Funk passed out from pure exhaustion.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
FPV woke up, in a seemingly unfamiliar place. However, after a few moments, he recognized it as his hotel room. In the kitchen, Da Funk was making a grilled cheese sandwhich. He noticed that FPV had woken up, and greeted him.
Da Funk: Ay bruh, you a’ight?
FPV: Yeah, I guess. My head hurts though.
Da Funk: Ditto man.
FPV: Man, what the fuck did we do last night?
Da Funk: No clue. Maybe we got jumped?
FPV: Jumped? Who the hell would want to jump us?
Da Funk: Ana, perhaps? She’d be pissed at me for beating her skeeze ass last Monday, and she’d want you to be as incapacitated as possible for Blast.
FPV groaned a bit in a fit of stinging in his body, then slowly nodded his head.
FPV: Yeah….yeah I guess that makes sense. Well, I gotta go to the gym anyway, I’ll see ya later.
FPV jumped off the couch and walked out the door.
Da Funk: *to FPV outside* Peace bro.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ana, long time no see, has it been? How have you been doing ever since I last saw you? Hopefully you haven't been screwing around to much, I would really hate for you to come down with a case of herpes right before our big match. But...even if you did contract any sort of STD, or if you just showed up to Blast, it won't make a damn bit of difference. I'll be the victor, no matter what.
What a sad fall from grace. What was once the United States champion is now coming to fight the "career jobber", so to speak. I admit, I've been nothing but a screw-up since the classic ended. I've re-watched every one of those matches, many, many times. And I've come up with the master plan. Explaining the plan to every person in the world would spoil the surprise, so don’t expect it to slip out of my mouth.
And at Blast, a new beginning will come. For me, for Da funk, and for the whole WCF. Ana, I hope you’re ready for me.
A foot burst through the wooden entrance to the bar, and only the foot. Apparently FPV got it stuck, as he was now trying to pull it out, but to no avail.
FPV: *slurred* Yo, Funk, help me outta’ this…this son of a bitch.
Da Funk: *also slurred* Fuck no, I done already got you outta’… outta’ enough bitches tonight! You on your own on this fuckah…
FPV: Well allrighty Mr. Tough-boy, Imma make it on ma own!
A few tugs, pulls, and grunts later, and FPV has broken the whole door with his body, and has fallen on the sidewalk outside the Happy Days Strip Club in Salt Lake City. For a city with such a relatively clean-cut image, FPV found out that underneath, it’s really quite hot heavy. The neon-laden brick exterior was just begging for it. With Da Funk soon stumbling over FPVs body, the two of the exited, and proceeded to try to get up.
FPV: See, I told you. I TOLD YOU I COULD DO IT!
Da Funk: Broski, shut up, the ringing in my head doesn’t want to deal with you right now!
FPV: *smirking* Really? Can it deal with this? *goes right up to Da Funk’s ear* Lalalala, can ya hear me? Lalalala, me me me meeeeeee…
Da Funk: AAHHHHH, FUCKIN’ STOP!
Da Funk steps back, and hits FPV with a right hook of comically cinematic quality. FPV goes stumbling backwards into the street, where thankfully there are no cars speeding down, as everyone has gone inside to sleep. Da Funk, suddenly worried about FPVs well-being, goes to check up on his hammered mentor, who is lying on the ground once again.
Da Funk: Bro, you okay? Bro?
Out of nowhere, FPV exploded at Da Funk, hitting him right across the side of the head. Not wasting anytime, Da Funk retaliated, hitting him with another hook. The two were soon exchanging jabs in the road. Da Funk then grabbed FPV by the collar of his duster, and pushed him down the sidewalk on the other side of the road. FPV slowly got up, and tried to run away from Da Funk. However, even drunk, Da Funk had a bit of a speed advantage over FPV, and he soon caught up with him. FPV looked back and saw Da Funk, and in his childish drunken stupor, blew a raspberry in his face.
Da Funk, not phased at all by this, leaped onto FPVs back, and started pulling his hair, FPV all the while still trying to keep running. FPV tried to shake Da Funk off of him, although his efforts were futile. They kept going until FPV, not paying attention to what direction he was going, running face first into a tree, knocking him out. Both he and Da Funk fell to the ground, and Da Funk passed out from pure exhaustion.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
FPV woke up, in a seemingly unfamiliar place. However, after a few moments, he recognized it as his hotel room. In the kitchen, Da Funk was making a grilled cheese sandwhich. He noticed that FPV had woken up, and greeted him.
Da Funk: Ay bruh, you a’ight?
FPV: Yeah, I guess. My head hurts though.
Da Funk: Ditto man.
FPV: Man, what the fuck did we do last night?
Da Funk: No clue. Maybe we got jumped?
FPV: Jumped? Who the hell would want to jump us?
Da Funk: Ana, perhaps? She’d be pissed at me for beating her skeeze ass last Monday, and she’d want you to be as incapacitated as possible for Blast.
FPV groaned a bit in a fit of stinging in his body, then slowly nodded his head.
FPV: Yeah….yeah I guess that makes sense. Well, I gotta go to the gym anyway, I’ll see ya later.
FPV jumped off the couch and walked out the door.
Da Funk: *to FPV outside* Peace bro.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ana, long time no see, has it been? How have you been doing ever since I last saw you? Hopefully you haven't been screwing around to much, I would really hate for you to come down with a case of herpes right before our big match. But...even if you did contract any sort of STD, or if you just showed up to Blast, it won't make a damn bit of difference. I'll be the victor, no matter what.
What a sad fall from grace. What was once the United States champion is now coming to fight the "career jobber", so to speak. I admit, I've been nothing but a screw-up since the classic ended. I've re-watched every one of those matches, many, many times. And I've come up with the master plan. Explaining the plan to every person in the world would spoil the surprise, so don’t expect it to slip out of my mouth.
And at Blast, a new beginning will come. For me, for Da funk, and for the whole WCF. Ana, I hope you’re ready for me.
