Post by FPV on Oct 16, 2011 20:24:52 GMT -5
It's a long time away from Mardi Gras. That doesn't matter at all, as Bourban Street is still alive and kicking with party goers from all walks of life. One of the locations where many are spending their time before they wake up for work in the morning is Ole' Smokey's Pub and Grill, a haven for the depraved, drunken individuals.
A white windowless van drove into the parking lot, and out came Vic, clearly ignoring the "No Shirts, no Shoes" policy, wearing nothing but black jeans. As he walked into the door, he muttered something to himself.
Vic: God, I love this place. I can get drunk off my ass, get hits from strangers, and start altercations that would make professional boxers shit themselves. What else could a guy want?
Once inside, everything went silent. The only movement came from the smoke of ciggeretes wafting in the air. It stayed that way as Vic walked to take up a seat at the bar, only to see that every seat was taken. Vic spotted a rather effeminate looking young man, who slowly turned his head right into Vic's face, not realizing the danger he put himself in.
Vic: *a-HEM!*
Quickly the man ran out of his seat and out of the pub. Satisfied, Vic took a seat and called for the bartender.
Vic: Carl, get your ass over here!
The bartender Carl quickly walked towards Vic.
Carl: H-hey Vic, long time no--
Vic: Since the fuck when did you start letting Queers into your bar?!
Carl: *stuttering* I...I, eh...
Vic: WHEN?!
Carl began to bable like a child, scared of Vics mere anger.
Carl: How do you know, man, he could just be girly for all we know...
Vic: Oh I fucking KNOW! God, what kind of dis-establishment are you running here? I should've just stayed back at The Vault. This place isn't worth my goddamned time anymore.
And with that, Vic turned to leave, until he heard someone sitting in the corner speak up.
FPV: A'int no way to treat a barkeep Tyler Durden.
Vic stopped dead in his tracks, turning in a perfect 180 to see who had said that. Indeed, sitting in the corner all by his lonesome was Frank Venable, a former WCf wrestler. Of course, Vic didn't care about this: to him, he was just another stupid bystander. Vic stared at Frank for a good three seconds.
Vic: What. Did. You. Just. Say?
FPV: You heard me Mr. Tough Guy. It's surprising when you act like your a messiah of masculinity when you just got your ass handed to you my a chick on national TV.
The crowd lets out a collective gasp, as Vic begins to get angry.
Vic: Where the hell do you get off? The bitch got me off-guard, make no mistake, when I get my hands on her, there will be no remorse, no pity.
FPV: We'll see about that, in the meantime, how about you go apologize to Carl right there, like a real man!
All of a sudden, Vic pulls out a loaded revolver out of his pants, and points it directly at Carl.
Vic: How about I blow his queer loving ass to kingom come?
FPV: Really now, do we need to be getting criminal about all this. Because these people know what I do to criminals.
Vic: Oh yeah, what's that?
FPV: This!
That was all anyone else can remember. Over nine people were admited to the hospital, the pub was closed down until further notice. However, in all the choas that followed, both FPV and Vic managed to escape alive, FPV going to back to New York, and Vic mad-capping to The Vault to prepare for Monday.
A white windowless van drove into the parking lot, and out came Vic, clearly ignoring the "No Shirts, no Shoes" policy, wearing nothing but black jeans. As he walked into the door, he muttered something to himself.
Vic: God, I love this place. I can get drunk off my ass, get hits from strangers, and start altercations that would make professional boxers shit themselves. What else could a guy want?
Once inside, everything went silent. The only movement came from the smoke of ciggeretes wafting in the air. It stayed that way as Vic walked to take up a seat at the bar, only to see that every seat was taken. Vic spotted a rather effeminate looking young man, who slowly turned his head right into Vic's face, not realizing the danger he put himself in.
Vic: *a-HEM!*
Quickly the man ran out of his seat and out of the pub. Satisfied, Vic took a seat and called for the bartender.
Vic: Carl, get your ass over here!
The bartender Carl quickly walked towards Vic.
Carl: H-hey Vic, long time no--
Vic: Since the fuck when did you start letting Queers into your bar?!
Carl: *stuttering* I...I, eh...
Vic: WHEN?!
Carl began to bable like a child, scared of Vics mere anger.
Carl: How do you know, man, he could just be girly for all we know...
Vic: Oh I fucking KNOW! God, what kind of dis-establishment are you running here? I should've just stayed back at The Vault. This place isn't worth my goddamned time anymore.
And with that, Vic turned to leave, until he heard someone sitting in the corner speak up.
FPV: A'int no way to treat a barkeep Tyler Durden.
Vic stopped dead in his tracks, turning in a perfect 180 to see who had said that. Indeed, sitting in the corner all by his lonesome was Frank Venable, a former WCf wrestler. Of course, Vic didn't care about this: to him, he was just another stupid bystander. Vic stared at Frank for a good three seconds.
Vic: What. Did. You. Just. Say?
FPV: You heard me Mr. Tough Guy. It's surprising when you act like your a messiah of masculinity when you just got your ass handed to you my a chick on national TV.
The crowd lets out a collective gasp, as Vic begins to get angry.
Vic: Where the hell do you get off? The bitch got me off-guard, make no mistake, when I get my hands on her, there will be no remorse, no pity.
FPV: We'll see about that, in the meantime, how about you go apologize to Carl right there, like a real man!
All of a sudden, Vic pulls out a loaded revolver out of his pants, and points it directly at Carl.
Vic: How about I blow his queer loving ass to kingom come?
FPV: Really now, do we need to be getting criminal about all this. Because these people know what I do to criminals.
Vic: Oh yeah, what's that?
FPV: This!
That was all anyone else can remember. Over nine people were admited to the hospital, the pub was closed down until further notice. However, in all the choas that followed, both FPV and Vic managed to escape alive, FPV going to back to New York, and Vic mad-capping to The Vault to prepare for Monday.
