Post by thedrifter on Aug 28, 2011 22:44:22 GMT -5
The camera pans up from the site of crumpled up tissue strewn about on the floor. It follows the length of a slightly pale arm up to the snoring face of Luke “The Drifter” McCoy. From behind the camera a broom handle pokes Luke in the side and he rolls over on his back without waking. The broom handle pokes Luke in the side again. He angrily opens his eyes and grunts in disgust at the site of a UWA camera.
The Drifter: CAN’T YOU SEE I’M IN HERE SICK! But I get it, you want words about my match, right? Some brat named Jakob. Someone who’s usually full of words himself. Someone else whom thinks very highly of themselves. Someone who probably thinks I’m just another “dumb redneck”. Well think that all you want. Talk about this here “beer muscle” all you want, I, how does the stereotype go? OH yeah! Got R Did! And guess what, tomorrow night, I’m going to “Git R Dun” again!
Luke reaches out to the end table and grabs a pack of cigarettes. He pulls out a joint, lights it and takes a long drag, and exhales as he continues his rant.
The Drifter: This here’s mother nature’s medicine. This here and a couple of more of my grannies secret recipe hot totties, and I’ll be good and ready to give this Jakob kid the same damn treatment that Callahan received.
Luke takes another drag, but this time it’s a bit longer and he tries to hold it in but starts “hacking up a lung”. He hocks up a giant loogie and spits it at the cameraman and hits the lens. A cloth comes up and wipes the nastiness off the lens.
The Drifter: Jakob, you and me, we’re a lot a like. You like to partake, although I see for completely recreational reasons, in god’s second greatest gift, next to life of course. We’re both assholes. And I assume you get a great deal of pleasure out of the fact that we make money beating the ever loving dog shit out of people for a living. However, here’s the thing like that fresh mucus being wiped off that lens, all of this. The jumping from town to town, the fancy hotels, and whatever other perks you have as intercontinental champion, can be taken in an instant. And when I say an instant, I mean it. We’re in a knockout match for your title. Don’t blame me for the concussion you’re going to wake up with. Blame the UWA. And if I didn’t make any sense, you try being woke up by a camera in your face and running a temperature of 103. Now get the hell out of here before I hock another one!
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The Drifter: CAN’T YOU SEE I’M IN HERE SICK! But I get it, you want words about my match, right? Some brat named Jakob. Someone who’s usually full of words himself. Someone else whom thinks very highly of themselves. Someone who probably thinks I’m just another “dumb redneck”. Well think that all you want. Talk about this here “beer muscle” all you want, I, how does the stereotype go? OH yeah! Got R Did! And guess what, tomorrow night, I’m going to “Git R Dun” again!
Luke reaches out to the end table and grabs a pack of cigarettes. He pulls out a joint, lights it and takes a long drag, and exhales as he continues his rant.
The Drifter: This here’s mother nature’s medicine. This here and a couple of more of my grannies secret recipe hot totties, and I’ll be good and ready to give this Jakob kid the same damn treatment that Callahan received.
Luke takes another drag, but this time it’s a bit longer and he tries to hold it in but starts “hacking up a lung”. He hocks up a giant loogie and spits it at the cameraman and hits the lens. A cloth comes up and wipes the nastiness off the lens.
The Drifter: Jakob, you and me, we’re a lot a like. You like to partake, although I see for completely recreational reasons, in god’s second greatest gift, next to life of course. We’re both assholes. And I assume you get a great deal of pleasure out of the fact that we make money beating the ever loving dog shit out of people for a living. However, here’s the thing like that fresh mucus being wiped off that lens, all of this. The jumping from town to town, the fancy hotels, and whatever other perks you have as intercontinental champion, can be taken in an instant. And when I say an instant, I mean it. We’re in a knockout match for your title. Don’t blame me for the concussion you’re going to wake up with. Blame the UWA. And if I didn’t make any sense, you try being woke up by a camera in your face and running a temperature of 103. Now get the hell out of here before I hock another one!
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