Post by Whitey Ford on Apr 22, 2009 22:46:45 GMT -4
::Whitey Ford and The Freak are sitting in their new locker room at the AWA arena. They are both wearing aviators and cowboy hats for some reason, and both are staring blankly at the camera, mouths gaping. A few awkward moments pass before Whitey chuckles. This prompts Freak to grunt out a laugh, and this leads to both of them cracking up hysterically. Whitey slaps a hand on his knee and shakes his head.::
Whitey Ford: Its been a while since I've had to do an interview...its like...I'm talking to you people and your going to listen to this later, since its taped...
The Freak: So its like your from the future, and we're from the past...
::Both of the stoned idiots turn their heads slowly to look at one another.::
Whitey Ford and The Freak: Whoaaaa....
::Whitey lets the smile broaden before turning back to the camera.::
Whitey Ford: But lets start off by saying something responsible. I do not advocate drugs, violence, or alcohol.
The Freak: ESPECIALLY marijuana.
::Whitey nods enthusiastically.::
Whitey Ford: ESPECIALLY marijuana.
The Freak: Or smoking a joint before you address the public about an upcoming event that involves violence and alcohol, but not in that order.
Whitey Ford: Yeah, yeah, exactly that...heh, anyways. So we have a match against Johnny London and, uh...
The Freak: I like Johnny London. Lovable loser that he is.
::Whitey slaps The Freaks wiftly across the face, none too gently either.::
Whitey Ford: I was going to have you help me remember who the fuck else we're fighting, but obviously you need to train. You didn't even see that hit coming! Your not ready for the ring.
The Freak: Oh yeah? I'm--
::Ford rolls his eyes and shoves Freak off the chair he's sitting on, cutting him off. The Freak hits the ground with a thud, but springs up.::
The Freak: I'll show you! I mean...I'll be...right back. I gotta go use the bathroom or something.
::True to his word, The Freak walks off the screen. Whitey doesn't seem to skip a beat, no matter how messed up his head is.::
Whitey Ford: So its what, Johnny London and this guy named Kevyn Kash? Ok, thats not a problem. The kid might be younger and maybe faster than me, but y'know...I'm ready to start wrestling again. I figure I'm getting to that age where if I don't put it all on the line in every match, I might as well retire. And you all saw how well that turned out, begging for change and selling blood and such...
::A battle cry is heard, and The Freak's foot kicks violently into view, aimed right at Whitey's head. Ford doesn't even seem to be bothered, as he moves his head out of the way slightly and pushes Freak's foot back, sending him spawlying out of the scene again.::
The Freak: Son of a bitch! You got that sixth sense bullshit! You can sense feet coming at your face!
Whitey Ford: I thought the sixth sense was seeing dead people?
The Freak: No, man. Stop living in Bruce Willis movies.
::Whitey shakes his head at The Freak's ignorance as the latter stays off screen. Whitey turns back to the camera.::
Whitey Ford: Right. Then theirs another team in the match...this Hyrdo and Karson team. I dunno who they are, either...I haven't seen them wrestle before, and I'm pretty sure they wouldn't even remember, because I guess they smoke pot.
::Ford leans back in his chair slightly...just in time and just enough so The Freak misses him as he tries for a diving spear. Hurtling through midair, The Freak msises completely and crashes into something off screen.::
The Freak: This means war, you bastard!
::The sound of a door opening and closing cues The Freak's exit. Ford doesn't miss a beat, continuing to talk to the camera and shaking his finger at it scoldingly.::
Whitey Ford: And smoking pot is bad unless your from Maine and your first name describes a race and a color. Anyways, like I said about Kash, I don't know these guys and it doesn't matter if they think that they have what it takes to beat me and The Freak. Their beanpoles! I mean...I've beaten people up bigger than me before, but thats just because I'm awesome and not 135lbs. Now...I'm confident that The Freak and I are going to win this match, because we've been itching to be in the spotlight again. As stupid and odd as my little buddy is, he can hold his own in a fight.
::Dust starts to fall from the ceiling, and Whitey looks up confused. He then laughs a little bit, and whispers to the camera.::
Whitey Ford: Unless you get to know him, then its a cinch.
::Ford winks, and moves the two chairs out of the screen's view. He leaves as well...but pushes a table into the space he and The Freak were sitting a few minutes before. Whitey then gives a thumbs up at the camera, and leaves the room. As soon as the door shuts, The Freak crashes through the ceiling, thinking Ford is still below him.::
The Freak: AHA!
::The Freak plummets downwards, and crashes through the table that Whitey set up as a trap. Silence is heard for a few moments, until The Freak can be heard moaning.::
The Freak: Drugs are bad, mmkay?
***Fade to black***
Whitey Ford: Its been a while since I've had to do an interview...its like...I'm talking to you people and your going to listen to this later, since its taped...
The Freak: So its like your from the future, and we're from the past...
::Both of the stoned idiots turn their heads slowly to look at one another.::
Whitey Ford and The Freak: Whoaaaa....
::Whitey lets the smile broaden before turning back to the camera.::
Whitey Ford: But lets start off by saying something responsible. I do not advocate drugs, violence, or alcohol.
The Freak: ESPECIALLY marijuana.
::Whitey nods enthusiastically.::
Whitey Ford: ESPECIALLY marijuana.
The Freak: Or smoking a joint before you address the public about an upcoming event that involves violence and alcohol, but not in that order.
Whitey Ford: Yeah, yeah, exactly that...heh, anyways. So we have a match against Johnny London and, uh...
The Freak: I like Johnny London. Lovable loser that he is.
::Whitey slaps The Freaks wiftly across the face, none too gently either.::
Whitey Ford: I was going to have you help me remember who the fuck else we're fighting, but obviously you need to train. You didn't even see that hit coming! Your not ready for the ring.
The Freak: Oh yeah? I'm--
::Ford rolls his eyes and shoves Freak off the chair he's sitting on, cutting him off. The Freak hits the ground with a thud, but springs up.::
The Freak: I'll show you! I mean...I'll be...right back. I gotta go use the bathroom or something.
::True to his word, The Freak walks off the screen. Whitey doesn't seem to skip a beat, no matter how messed up his head is.::
Whitey Ford: So its what, Johnny London and this guy named Kevyn Kash? Ok, thats not a problem. The kid might be younger and maybe faster than me, but y'know...I'm ready to start wrestling again. I figure I'm getting to that age where if I don't put it all on the line in every match, I might as well retire. And you all saw how well that turned out, begging for change and selling blood and such...
::A battle cry is heard, and The Freak's foot kicks violently into view, aimed right at Whitey's head. Ford doesn't even seem to be bothered, as he moves his head out of the way slightly and pushes Freak's foot back, sending him spawlying out of the scene again.::
The Freak: Son of a bitch! You got that sixth sense bullshit! You can sense feet coming at your face!
Whitey Ford: I thought the sixth sense was seeing dead people?
The Freak: No, man. Stop living in Bruce Willis movies.
::Whitey shakes his head at The Freak's ignorance as the latter stays off screen. Whitey turns back to the camera.::
Whitey Ford: Right. Then theirs another team in the match...this Hyrdo and Karson team. I dunno who they are, either...I haven't seen them wrestle before, and I'm pretty sure they wouldn't even remember, because I guess they smoke pot.
::Ford leans back in his chair slightly...just in time and just enough so The Freak misses him as he tries for a diving spear. Hurtling through midair, The Freak msises completely and crashes into something off screen.::
The Freak: This means war, you bastard!
::The sound of a door opening and closing cues The Freak's exit. Ford doesn't miss a beat, continuing to talk to the camera and shaking his finger at it scoldingly.::
Whitey Ford: And smoking pot is bad unless your from Maine and your first name describes a race and a color. Anyways, like I said about Kash, I don't know these guys and it doesn't matter if they think that they have what it takes to beat me and The Freak. Their beanpoles! I mean...I've beaten people up bigger than me before, but thats just because I'm awesome and not 135lbs. Now...I'm confident that The Freak and I are going to win this match, because we've been itching to be in the spotlight again. As stupid and odd as my little buddy is, he can hold his own in a fight.
::Dust starts to fall from the ceiling, and Whitey looks up confused. He then laughs a little bit, and whispers to the camera.::
Whitey Ford: Unless you get to know him, then its a cinch.
::Ford winks, and moves the two chairs out of the screen's view. He leaves as well...but pushes a table into the space he and The Freak were sitting a few minutes before. Whitey then gives a thumbs up at the camera, and leaves the room. As soon as the door shuts, The Freak crashes through the ceiling, thinking Ford is still below him.::
The Freak: AHA!
::The Freak plummets downwards, and crashes through the table that Whitey set up as a trap. Silence is heard for a few moments, until The Freak can be heard moaning.::
The Freak: Drugs are bad, mmkay?
***Fade to black***