Post by FPV on Jul 9, 2011 17:30:46 GMT -5
Today sucked.
It all started bad when I got a call from my lawyer Jeff this morning. I had entrusted him for looking after my house and dog while I was out on the job, and he called to inform me that he died of old age. That dog had been my best friend since I got him when he was a puppy 13 years ago. You know hard it is to know that person is gone, even if it was an animal? Yeah, it's pretty hard. I tried hard to keep the tears from going free. After I changed the subject, we started talking about this weeks Slam, and how he was so proud of me and how I was gonna win and blah blah blah. I don't need anyone telling me how good I am. Not even me. I just know.
I know because people like Roy don't threaten me much. I've beaten him once, and I know I can do it again. The fact that we're tag champs makes not one bit of difference. Compared to the other people in this contest, he actually stands as much of a chance of winning as his girlfriend had a chance of not being called a whore. And the best part about all this, since this whole monologue is in my head, he can't complain about how I'm so "uncaring", hahaha!
Staying here in Oley had it's drawbacks. The apartment I had rented out was, in a word, crappy. The AC was busted, the showers had barely any hot water, and the TV was one of those old tiny cubes. And I wouldn't have any of this any other way. These kinds of places were the only places I've ever lived on the job, I pick these places because when I get to go back home, it always feels like heaven and Disney world hooked up and had a baby.
But, back to Oley. I stepped out to go to the local Waffle House for breakfast. It took about 45 minuted to get there, but the food made it worth the long trip. When I finally got there I had to wear this Stetson hat to hide my identity. All to often I had come here and people would recognize me and start frantically ask for my autograph. It's okay if only a few people do it, but when it's a swarm of people, that's when I begin to lose it. Luckily this crowd looked sort of ignorant of people around them, everyone minding their own business, paying everyone else no attention. Perfect.
I guess I'm glad that there were no southern looking people in this Waffle House. Hell, there were no Southern people at all in Oley. And I'm glad. I'm not xenophobic or anything, it's just that ever since I first faced Doc Henry, in that Battle Royal a few months ago, he began to show me every annoying southern stereotype that ever existed, and I've never seen them the same way since. It will be very satisfying to see Doc go down on Monday, because he has no place where I am. He should stick to the bottom of the food-chain where he belongs, while I get what I deserve and move on up to the main event of ultimate Showdown.
Remember when I said the food over here was worth it? Yeah, I lied, it sucks ass. Or at least this time, it did. All because of the shitty service, the people working over there all had an attitude. I could hardly blame them, if I had to work at a fast food joint, I'd be pretty pissed off too. Not pissed off at the world pissed off, just mildly pissed. so I decide I'm gonna jet right out of this place, when some fool comes up to me, recognizing me, and blurts it out to the whole joint. Next thing I know, I trying hard to run out the place and away from my adoring, crazed fans.
And all this time I thought it'd be fun to recreate the opening to "A Hard Days Night" *sigh*
Well, needless to say I managed to get inside my rickety old rental and floored it out the parking lot. In fact, I got out of there so fast I ended up in some place I had never been to before. And after all this time spent in Oley I had never once tried to look around the place. I'm wondering how I could've missed it, since there was alot of places around here. A school here, a mall there, but what struck me out was this bar they had around the place, which I decided to nickname "The Coke Bottle" for kicks and giggles.
I walk in, and my mind is blown. This is probably the manliest place on Earth. I can just feel the testosterone in the air kicking my lungs ass. In one corner are two gruff looking dudes arm-wrestling, in another there's a very heated game of darts going on, and all around the place are chicks dressed in skimpy pasties and thongs carrying drinks around with smilies on their faces. This place is rated M for MANLY!
I bet anyone fifty bucks Steve Thunder would not last in this place. Other the past two weeks his coolness levels have dropped dramatically. First he failed to live up to his promises of regaining the US title, and now he has lost the match to get into the winners bracket. He makes no impact in my plans whatsoever. He's come back only to step out again in shame. Oh, how the mighty have fallen indeed.
But, that little pip is not my worries at the moment. Now I'm at the bar kickin' back brew after brew. One thing's for sure, this beats the hell out of those soft drinks at the waffle joint. I chug and chug and chug, until I'm hammered to the point of exhaustion. Even when I've kicked back this much, there are still guys drinking more than me, although before long their on the floor being dragged into some...closet, I guess. What happens to them beyond that point is none of my business, I guess.
After what seems like forever, I walk out of the bar in a stupor, stumbling through the door and onto the sidewalk, talking to myself as if I was Da Funk on one of his high days. Some bloke must've heard me. Some bloke who fancies himself a kleptomaniac. He snuck ever so quietly behind me, as to not disturb my heightened sense of drunken touch. He snuck his hand into my pocket, grabbed my wallet, and ran off like The effin' Flash.
Now, it didn't take a genius to know when someone was robbing you, and right when he ran, I turned my head around to see what the problem was. When I saw what the problem was, I damn near punched a hole in the invisible wall in front of me. And so, I gave chase.
The drunkenness did hinder my speed a little bit, but it's not like I was trying to win the gold at the Olympics, so it didn't really bother me. Besides, the guy looked pretty chubby, so I was in good form. He zig-zagged his path alot, tried to fool me, but I sort of ignored all senses of judgment and just went where my gut said to go.
Finally, I cornered him in a alley way. At this point he looked pretty scared, to some other person I guessed it would've looked like I was mugging HIM, but luckily that was not the case. He tossed my wallet back to me, but I wasn't going to let him off that easy, oh no, the drunk Franky likes to take his time. So I moved in closer to him, and in my mind, looked at him as if he was Roy, Doc, and Steve, and what I would do to them Monday. To make him remember not to steal again, I yelled to the skies...
FPV: I AM FRANK VENABLE, AND I AM NOT TO BE PLAYED WITH MOTHERFUCKER![/b]
It all started bad when I got a call from my lawyer Jeff this morning. I had entrusted him for looking after my house and dog while I was out on the job, and he called to inform me that he died of old age. That dog had been my best friend since I got him when he was a puppy 13 years ago. You know hard it is to know that person is gone, even if it was an animal? Yeah, it's pretty hard. I tried hard to keep the tears from going free. After I changed the subject, we started talking about this weeks Slam, and how he was so proud of me and how I was gonna win and blah blah blah. I don't need anyone telling me how good I am. Not even me. I just know.
I know because people like Roy don't threaten me much. I've beaten him once, and I know I can do it again. The fact that we're tag champs makes not one bit of difference. Compared to the other people in this contest, he actually stands as much of a chance of winning as his girlfriend had a chance of not being called a whore. And the best part about all this, since this whole monologue is in my head, he can't complain about how I'm so "uncaring", hahaha!
Staying here in Oley had it's drawbacks. The apartment I had rented out was, in a word, crappy. The AC was busted, the showers had barely any hot water, and the TV was one of those old tiny cubes. And I wouldn't have any of this any other way. These kinds of places were the only places I've ever lived on the job, I pick these places because when I get to go back home, it always feels like heaven and Disney world hooked up and had a baby.
But, back to Oley. I stepped out to go to the local Waffle House for breakfast. It took about 45 minuted to get there, but the food made it worth the long trip. When I finally got there I had to wear this Stetson hat to hide my identity. All to often I had come here and people would recognize me and start frantically ask for my autograph. It's okay if only a few people do it, but when it's a swarm of people, that's when I begin to lose it. Luckily this crowd looked sort of ignorant of people around them, everyone minding their own business, paying everyone else no attention. Perfect.
I guess I'm glad that there were no southern looking people in this Waffle House. Hell, there were no Southern people at all in Oley. And I'm glad. I'm not xenophobic or anything, it's just that ever since I first faced Doc Henry, in that Battle Royal a few months ago, he began to show me every annoying southern stereotype that ever existed, and I've never seen them the same way since. It will be very satisfying to see Doc go down on Monday, because he has no place where I am. He should stick to the bottom of the food-chain where he belongs, while I get what I deserve and move on up to the main event of ultimate Showdown.
Remember when I said the food over here was worth it? Yeah, I lied, it sucks ass. Or at least this time, it did. All because of the shitty service, the people working over there all had an attitude. I could hardly blame them, if I had to work at a fast food joint, I'd be pretty pissed off too. Not pissed off at the world pissed off, just mildly pissed. so I decide I'm gonna jet right out of this place, when some fool comes up to me, recognizing me, and blurts it out to the whole joint. Next thing I know, I trying hard to run out the place and away from my adoring, crazed fans.
And all this time I thought it'd be fun to recreate the opening to "A Hard Days Night" *sigh*
Well, needless to say I managed to get inside my rickety old rental and floored it out the parking lot. In fact, I got out of there so fast I ended up in some place I had never been to before. And after all this time spent in Oley I had never once tried to look around the place. I'm wondering how I could've missed it, since there was alot of places around here. A school here, a mall there, but what struck me out was this bar they had around the place, which I decided to nickname "The Coke Bottle" for kicks and giggles.
I walk in, and my mind is blown. This is probably the manliest place on Earth. I can just feel the testosterone in the air kicking my lungs ass. In one corner are two gruff looking dudes arm-wrestling, in another there's a very heated game of darts going on, and all around the place are chicks dressed in skimpy pasties and thongs carrying drinks around with smilies on their faces. This place is rated M for MANLY!
I bet anyone fifty bucks Steve Thunder would not last in this place. Other the past two weeks his coolness levels have dropped dramatically. First he failed to live up to his promises of regaining the US title, and now he has lost the match to get into the winners bracket. He makes no impact in my plans whatsoever. He's come back only to step out again in shame. Oh, how the mighty have fallen indeed.
But, that little pip is not my worries at the moment. Now I'm at the bar kickin' back brew after brew. One thing's for sure, this beats the hell out of those soft drinks at the waffle joint. I chug and chug and chug, until I'm hammered to the point of exhaustion. Even when I've kicked back this much, there are still guys drinking more than me, although before long their on the floor being dragged into some...closet, I guess. What happens to them beyond that point is none of my business, I guess.
After what seems like forever, I walk out of the bar in a stupor, stumbling through the door and onto the sidewalk, talking to myself as if I was Da Funk on one of his high days. Some bloke must've heard me. Some bloke who fancies himself a kleptomaniac. He snuck ever so quietly behind me, as to not disturb my heightened sense of drunken touch. He snuck his hand into my pocket, grabbed my wallet, and ran off like The effin' Flash.
Now, it didn't take a genius to know when someone was robbing you, and right when he ran, I turned my head around to see what the problem was. When I saw what the problem was, I damn near punched a hole in the invisible wall in front of me. And so, I gave chase.
The drunkenness did hinder my speed a little bit, but it's not like I was trying to win the gold at the Olympics, so it didn't really bother me. Besides, the guy looked pretty chubby, so I was in good form. He zig-zagged his path alot, tried to fool me, but I sort of ignored all senses of judgment and just went where my gut said to go.
Finally, I cornered him in a alley way. At this point he looked pretty scared, to some other person I guessed it would've looked like I was mugging HIM, but luckily that was not the case. He tossed my wallet back to me, but I wasn't going to let him off that easy, oh no, the drunk Franky likes to take his time. So I moved in closer to him, and in my mind, looked at him as if he was Roy, Doc, and Steve, and what I would do to them Monday. To make him remember not to steal again, I yelled to the skies...
FPV: I AM FRANK VENABLE, AND I AM NOT TO BE PLAYED WITH MOTHERFUCKER![/b]
