Post by FPV on Jun 26, 2011 2:56:37 GMT -5
Nurse: Really Mr. Venable, you need to get some rest. You've been through hell, just try and go to sleep.
The nurse wheeled FPV forward towards his hospital room. He was still dazed from Monday, but he managed to nod in agreement with the nurse. He looked half-dead in his wheel-chair, his head laying on his shoulder. Inside his mind, his thoughts were racing. He would be thinking about Oblivion one minute, then ask to himself what would happen next week the next.
Dammit, I have to keep my head straight. I should block all thoughts about WCF for a moment. She's right, I need to relax.
Franky muttered a bit, trying to get the words out of his mouth, before finally saying...
FPV: Miss...what's your name?
The nurse looked at him, as if a little embarressed to be asked this question by someone as famous as FPV.
Nurse: My name...oh...it's Jane. Jane Winters. Why do you ask?
Once again, FPV struggled to talk, but was able to speak a bit better this time.
FPV: I just want you...to tell your boss something.
Nurse: What?
FPV: Tell him you guys have been a damn good job with me. I know guys like me don't come up everyday, but you guys were prepared for the worst. Thank you.
A blush came over the Nurses face.
Nurse: I'll be sure to do that Mr. Venable.
They arrived at Frank's room, room 306. The nurse opened the door to the dark room and wheeled FPV to the bed. At first, she tried to get him out of the chair herself, before FPV stopped her.
FPV: I can do this.
Slowly, FPV got up out of his chair and slid under the sheets. The nurse tucked him in and stayed long enough to watch him fall asleep and turn the lights out.
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The sun was rising in Atlanta, as the children and grown ups woke up to get ready for school and work. Boxes of cereal were consumed and coffee mugs were emptied. One of these men, getting his papers together in his briefcase. His wife comes in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.
Wife: Jimmy's still sleeping. Wanna' go wake him up?
The husband figures "Why not?", and goes upstairs. His son didn't need to catch the bus for anothe hour or so, so the kid had plenty of time to get ready. He finds his sons room and knocks on the door. No answer. He knocks again. Still...no answer. finally the man just opens the door to a sight of pure horror.
Guts. Blood. Writings of "THE DARK ONE" on the wall in more blood. The man could only stand there, looking at his sons ripped open body, his spleen leaking on the floor, half of his ribs cracked, and his heart being eaten by a small figure in a mask. In fact, open closer inspection, it was a masked midget eating his sons heart. The midget heard the man open the door and stared at him, eye-to-eye, before hissing at him, ready to launch forward. At once, the man ran down the stairs to warn his wife...only to see her get her neck snapped by another masked midget. In a panic, he rushed out the door to his house to another sight of horror.
The entire neighbor hood was burning down, the area a towering inferno. People were running, screaming, begging the midgets for their lives. Admist all the chaos running rampant through the neighborhood, a single, scared man ran to the husband of a dead wive and father to a dead son, and said to him a single phrase at the top of his lungs, so the whole world could hear.
ALL HOPE IS GONE!!!
Just as quickly as the person ran, a midget hopped on him and snapped his neck, begining to disembowl him as soon as he hit the ground.
The man, running away, tried to find a place to hide, finding shelter in another house that was abandoned. There he collected his thoughts.
This can't be real, this has to be a dream. Is it?
The man looked at his fingers and counted, one had 3 fingers the other had 7.
Okay, so I am dreaming. So whatever happens here isn't real. It's all in my head. So that means I can do anything. Like stop these guys. Well I better get ready then!
Outside the building, an army of midgets were forming armed to the teeth with M-16s. They went back as far as the eye could see, and they were all ready to attack the man in the house, the only survivor. Growing more impatient as time went on, they began to growl and scream louder and louder, before finally opening fire at the door, only to see this image...
Immediatly, the man, now dressed in a closed leather jacket and sunglasses launched the bullets back at their firers, killing most of the front line. Whoever was left threw down their guns and tried to claw him to death. Reacting like a tiger in the jungle, the man conjured up an entire line of automatic sentry guns, which proceeded to whup the midgets asses. Finally, all the midgets lay dead amongst their victems. The man stood there, surveying the carnage that had just taken place, before a figure started clapping for him. The figure turned around to show himself, he was like the masked midgets, except he was a full-grown man
Congratulations, mr. Venable, you managed to fight the demons of your mind! But do you think you can fight ME?! THE DARK ONE?!
The man, FPV, laughed loudly at Oblivion.
FPV: You see, the thing is, I would if this were real life, but, uh, I have some things I need to say.
A revolver immediatly formed in his hand, which he pointed at the side of his head, pulling the trigger without hesitation.
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The sleeping FPV awoke from his sleep rather calmly, and lucky for him, it was already 9:00 a.m. At once he reached for his cell and dialed up a number.
FPV: Hank, can you do me a favor?
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Hank was sitting down on a stool next to FPV, laying in his bed, his arm over his stomach. Hank had his trusty mic in hand and ready to converse with Franky.
Hank: Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here today with Mr. FPV, who last week...well...you all saw what happenned last week. FPV, the very fact that you're alive and talking is amazing, you must feel pretty bad right now, are you.
FPV: I think the word you're looking for is terrible Hank. Cause that's exactly how I feel right now. I feel terrible because i let my fans down on Monday, terrible because I brought this whole Oblivion mess upon myself, I'll admit it, but most of all, I feel terrible that I let him and his cronies into my head. All night they've been plauging my thoughts, making me think horrible things. Well Oblivion, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to let you distract me from winning those tag team titles. I've worked to hard to lose that shot now, and I plan on cashing in on the oppurtunity put before me.
Hank: ...what oppurtunity are you talking about?
FPV: Simple Hank, let's face it, D-Day and Logan make for the most dysfunctional teams I've ever seen. D-Day believes in the rules, while Logan lives to break them. They can't possibly co-exist. I refuse to believe that fact.
D-Day, we both have mutual respect for each other, so why are you tagging with that bozzo. Think about it, every week you'll have a new bozzo to tag with, why not just end the agony right now and drop the titles. It's best for both of us, i get me some gold around my waist, you can focus more on protecting the world title from those five other men at Ultimate Showdown. Deal? Sounds good to me.
And Logan, you just shut your fucking mouth, no one wants to hear you sing. I know I wouldn't want to hear songs from a man who beats the mother of his child. Seriously, do you not believe in the idea of "growth". Not only have you stunted poor Roys emotional growth, but you've now stopped his mothers developement after your cold-blodded torture session with her.
To me Logan, you're just as bad as Oblivion and Greenfever, you're a CRIMINAL. And if it's one thing I hate in the WCF, it's CRIMINALS actingl ike they are regular members of society. I say FUCK THAT! Logan, you may be a legend, but you're status is undeserved, and this Monday, I will hold NOTHING back, justl ike I know Roy won't!
Brown: That's another thing, do you believe that you and ROy can function as a team. I mean, you did beat him in the WCF classic.
FPV: Well the thing with that is that, although I won over Speede, he put me through alot. He let me know in the ring that he deserved my respect. So to answer your question, yes I think we can cooperate as a team, and i think we'll make a better team then Logan and D-Day, that's for sure!
Brown: One more question Franky, anything you want to say to your fans at home watching.
FPV: Yes I do. Guys, don't be fooled by how I look right now. looks can be decieving. By Monday i'll be in good shape to take on anything. Be it angry midgets or the 'Scot protecting his master, nothing, and I mean NOTHING, is blinding me this week. And after Slam, you can call me something other than Frank. You can call me "WCF Tag Team Champion!" That's all I have to say.
[Cut feed]
The nurse wheeled FPV forward towards his hospital room. He was still dazed from Monday, but he managed to nod in agreement with the nurse. He looked half-dead in his wheel-chair, his head laying on his shoulder. Inside his mind, his thoughts were racing. He would be thinking about Oblivion one minute, then ask to himself what would happen next week the next.
Dammit, I have to keep my head straight. I should block all thoughts about WCF for a moment. She's right, I need to relax.
Franky muttered a bit, trying to get the words out of his mouth, before finally saying...
FPV: Miss...what's your name?
The nurse looked at him, as if a little embarressed to be asked this question by someone as famous as FPV.
Nurse: My name...oh...it's Jane. Jane Winters. Why do you ask?
Once again, FPV struggled to talk, but was able to speak a bit better this time.
FPV: I just want you...to tell your boss something.
Nurse: What?
FPV: Tell him you guys have been a damn good job with me. I know guys like me don't come up everyday, but you guys were prepared for the worst. Thank you.
A blush came over the Nurses face.
Nurse: I'll be sure to do that Mr. Venable.
They arrived at Frank's room, room 306. The nurse opened the door to the dark room and wheeled FPV to the bed. At first, she tried to get him out of the chair herself, before FPV stopped her.
FPV: I can do this.
Slowly, FPV got up out of his chair and slid under the sheets. The nurse tucked him in and stayed long enough to watch him fall asleep and turn the lights out.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sun was rising in Atlanta, as the children and grown ups woke up to get ready for school and work. Boxes of cereal were consumed and coffee mugs were emptied. One of these men, getting his papers together in his briefcase. His wife comes in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.
Wife: Jimmy's still sleeping. Wanna' go wake him up?
The husband figures "Why not?", and goes upstairs. His son didn't need to catch the bus for anothe hour or so, so the kid had plenty of time to get ready. He finds his sons room and knocks on the door. No answer. He knocks again. Still...no answer. finally the man just opens the door to a sight of pure horror.
Guts. Blood. Writings of "THE DARK ONE" on the wall in more blood. The man could only stand there, looking at his sons ripped open body, his spleen leaking on the floor, half of his ribs cracked, and his heart being eaten by a small figure in a mask. In fact, open closer inspection, it was a masked midget eating his sons heart. The midget heard the man open the door and stared at him, eye-to-eye, before hissing at him, ready to launch forward. At once, the man ran down the stairs to warn his wife...only to see her get her neck snapped by another masked midget. In a panic, he rushed out the door to his house to another sight of horror.
The entire neighbor hood was burning down, the area a towering inferno. People were running, screaming, begging the midgets for their lives. Admist all the chaos running rampant through the neighborhood, a single, scared man ran to the husband of a dead wive and father to a dead son, and said to him a single phrase at the top of his lungs, so the whole world could hear.
ALL HOPE IS GONE!!!
Just as quickly as the person ran, a midget hopped on him and snapped his neck, begining to disembowl him as soon as he hit the ground.
The man, running away, tried to find a place to hide, finding shelter in another house that was abandoned. There he collected his thoughts.
This can't be real, this has to be a dream. Is it?
The man looked at his fingers and counted, one had 3 fingers the other had 7.
Okay, so I am dreaming. So whatever happens here isn't real. It's all in my head. So that means I can do anything. Like stop these guys. Well I better get ready then!
Outside the building, an army of midgets were forming armed to the teeth with M-16s. They went back as far as the eye could see, and they were all ready to attack the man in the house, the only survivor. Growing more impatient as time went on, they began to growl and scream louder and louder, before finally opening fire at the door, only to see this image...
Immediatly, the man, now dressed in a closed leather jacket and sunglasses launched the bullets back at their firers, killing most of the front line. Whoever was left threw down their guns and tried to claw him to death. Reacting like a tiger in the jungle, the man conjured up an entire line of automatic sentry guns, which proceeded to whup the midgets asses. Finally, all the midgets lay dead amongst their victems. The man stood there, surveying the carnage that had just taken place, before a figure started clapping for him. The figure turned around to show himself, he was like the masked midgets, except he was a full-grown man
Congratulations, mr. Venable, you managed to fight the demons of your mind! But do you think you can fight ME?! THE DARK ONE?!
The man, FPV, laughed loudly at Oblivion.
FPV: You see, the thing is, I would if this were real life, but, uh, I have some things I need to say.
A revolver immediatly formed in his hand, which he pointed at the side of his head, pulling the trigger without hesitation.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sleeping FPV awoke from his sleep rather calmly, and lucky for him, it was already 9:00 a.m. At once he reached for his cell and dialed up a number.
FPV: Hank, can you do me a favor?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hank was sitting down on a stool next to FPV, laying in his bed, his arm over his stomach. Hank had his trusty mic in hand and ready to converse with Franky.
Hank: Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here today with Mr. FPV, who last week...well...you all saw what happenned last week. FPV, the very fact that you're alive and talking is amazing, you must feel pretty bad right now, are you.
FPV: I think the word you're looking for is terrible Hank. Cause that's exactly how I feel right now. I feel terrible because i let my fans down on Monday, terrible because I brought this whole Oblivion mess upon myself, I'll admit it, but most of all, I feel terrible that I let him and his cronies into my head. All night they've been plauging my thoughts, making me think horrible things. Well Oblivion, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to let you distract me from winning those tag team titles. I've worked to hard to lose that shot now, and I plan on cashing in on the oppurtunity put before me.
Hank: ...what oppurtunity are you talking about?
FPV: Simple Hank, let's face it, D-Day and Logan make for the most dysfunctional teams I've ever seen. D-Day believes in the rules, while Logan lives to break them. They can't possibly co-exist. I refuse to believe that fact.
D-Day, we both have mutual respect for each other, so why are you tagging with that bozzo. Think about it, every week you'll have a new bozzo to tag with, why not just end the agony right now and drop the titles. It's best for both of us, i get me some gold around my waist, you can focus more on protecting the world title from those five other men at Ultimate Showdown. Deal? Sounds good to me.
And Logan, you just shut your fucking mouth, no one wants to hear you sing. I know I wouldn't want to hear songs from a man who beats the mother of his child. Seriously, do you not believe in the idea of "growth". Not only have you stunted poor Roys emotional growth, but you've now stopped his mothers developement after your cold-blodded torture session with her.
To me Logan, you're just as bad as Oblivion and Greenfever, you're a CRIMINAL. And if it's one thing I hate in the WCF, it's CRIMINALS actingl ike they are regular members of society. I say FUCK THAT! Logan, you may be a legend, but you're status is undeserved, and this Monday, I will hold NOTHING back, justl ike I know Roy won't!
Brown: That's another thing, do you believe that you and ROy can function as a team. I mean, you did beat him in the WCF classic.
FPV: Well the thing with that is that, although I won over Speede, he put me through alot. He let me know in the ring that he deserved my respect. So to answer your question, yes I think we can cooperate as a team, and i think we'll make a better team then Logan and D-Day, that's for sure!
Brown: One more question Franky, anything you want to say to your fans at home watching.
FPV: Yes I do. Guys, don't be fooled by how I look right now. looks can be decieving. By Monday i'll be in good shape to take on anything. Be it angry midgets or the 'Scot protecting his master, nothing, and I mean NOTHING, is blinding me this week. And after Slam, you can call me something other than Frank. You can call me "WCF Tag Team Champion!" That's all I have to say.
[Cut feed]
