Post by Jake Diamond/Pavor Nocturnus on May 15, 2007 20:04:55 GMT -5
Jake sits alone at a bar stool right in front of the T.V. covering his head with both of his hands as the bartender takes away Jake's previous shot glass and refills it with Wild Turkey bourbon, which is immediately downed by Jake with ease. Jake appears to be very uneasy and less relaxed as usual. He wears dark shades to cover his face and a long brown trench coat to cover his wounds from his match with Lrey, which appear obvious from the large band-aid covering almost the entire left side of his face. The bartender comes by again and takes Jake's glass away without filling it, forcing Jake to toss a nearby bowl of peanuts at the barkeeper's head.
JD: Listen up asshole, bring your obese ass back over here and bring my drink with you.
Bartender: Jake, I have to cut you off before you get hammered and trash my place again.
JD: That's the stupidest logic I've ever heard, when I'm hammered I only beat the shit out of a couple of people, but when I'm sober and pissed that's when I start trashing the joint. Bring the bottle down here right now before your wearing this TV like a tie.
The bartender, after taking in numerous considerations, sighs and brings the entire bottle of Wild Turkey over to Jake. Jake laughs to himself loudly, like a child outsmarting an adult, before taking a long and large gulp from the bottle. The instrumental to the Mexican hat dance suddenly begins to play loudly, completely scaring Jake and almost making him fall off of his bar stool when he suddenly realizes it's his cell phone. He presses a button at the side of his phone to put it on speaker phone.
JD:... Who is it?
PA: Are you tanked again, bra? Get out of that bar for at least an hour, esé.
JD:... GOD?! I'm sorry, when I said I'd never taste any more alcohol again I meant it but... Wait, since when is God a Mexican?
PA: Shut up, it's Pablo. Man, you gotta stop crying like the baby back bitch you are, so what if your gonna lose your title at NeXus-
JD: Sorry but since when have you been my mother? I ain't crying, I'm celebrating. I'm celebrating my future victories all right, so leave me the hell alone!
Jake slams the cover of the phone shut and slams it hard against the counter before taking another long chug from the bottle of bourbon in his hand. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a package of cigarettes and a lighter and tries to light his smoke, but drops the lighter numerous amounts of time, frustrating Jake even more. Just as he's about to light his cigarette the instrumental of "Copa Cabana" by Barry Manilow comes from his cell phone, forcing Jake to toss his lighter at some random guy and answer his phone with authority.
JD: What?! Can't the champ have five God damn minutes to himself?!
PH: ...............................
JD: Look at who I'm getting the third degree from, you were supposed to have my back in that Light Tube Casket Match, what the hell happened?
PH: ................................
JD: Nice try, I've invented every excuse in the book. Because of your laziness, Alex Stall and Hawkeye jumped me in the middle of the match and tossed me in, now I'm going to be ripping broken shards of glass from my back all week!
PH: ................................
JD: That's enough! I don't care anymore, you can bet that I won't be there to help you at NeXus, hell you can even bank on it! Since I'm walking into the Chamber of Death alone, your walking into the Money in the Bank match alone. I did hear that Pablo does have a match, and I'll be there, and if you like how your face is configured you'll be there too got it?
PH: ...............................
JD: I don't give a rat's ass how many titles you've won in your career, your a has been. If you even think about leaving the Hatebreed then you can guarantee that your losing ways will continue!... Bastard hung up...
Jake drowsily turns his wrist to look at his watch which reads "12:27 A.M." Feeling that he's sick of the bar, he stumbles off of the stool with the bottle in one hand, and his cell phone in the other before lobbing his phone at a random mirror in the pub, shattering it to pieces. Jake stumbles and pushes his way through the crowd of people almost unnoticed as he falls out of the bar with an almost empty bottle of Wild Turkey Bourbon. The bartender simply watches Jake leave, shaking his head, at the former rookie sensation who is slowly spiraling down in a drunken and depressing rage.
End of Thread.
JD: Listen up asshole, bring your obese ass back over here and bring my drink with you.
Bartender: Jake, I have to cut you off before you get hammered and trash my place again.
JD: That's the stupidest logic I've ever heard, when I'm hammered I only beat the shit out of a couple of people, but when I'm sober and pissed that's when I start trashing the joint. Bring the bottle down here right now before your wearing this TV like a tie.
The bartender, after taking in numerous considerations, sighs and brings the entire bottle of Wild Turkey over to Jake. Jake laughs to himself loudly, like a child outsmarting an adult, before taking a long and large gulp from the bottle. The instrumental to the Mexican hat dance suddenly begins to play loudly, completely scaring Jake and almost making him fall off of his bar stool when he suddenly realizes it's his cell phone. He presses a button at the side of his phone to put it on speaker phone.
JD:... Who is it?
PA: Are you tanked again, bra? Get out of that bar for at least an hour, esé.
JD:... GOD?! I'm sorry, when I said I'd never taste any more alcohol again I meant it but... Wait, since when is God a Mexican?
PA: Shut up, it's Pablo. Man, you gotta stop crying like the baby back bitch you are, so what if your gonna lose your title at NeXus-
JD: Sorry but since when have you been my mother? I ain't crying, I'm celebrating. I'm celebrating my future victories all right, so leave me the hell alone!
Jake slams the cover of the phone shut and slams it hard against the counter before taking another long chug from the bottle of bourbon in his hand. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a package of cigarettes and a lighter and tries to light his smoke, but drops the lighter numerous amounts of time, frustrating Jake even more. Just as he's about to light his cigarette the instrumental of "Copa Cabana" by Barry Manilow comes from his cell phone, forcing Jake to toss his lighter at some random guy and answer his phone with authority.
JD: What?! Can't the champ have five God damn minutes to himself?!
PH: ...............................
JD: Look at who I'm getting the third degree from, you were supposed to have my back in that Light Tube Casket Match, what the hell happened?
PH: ................................
JD: Nice try, I've invented every excuse in the book. Because of your laziness, Alex Stall and Hawkeye jumped me in the middle of the match and tossed me in, now I'm going to be ripping broken shards of glass from my back all week!
PH: ................................
JD: That's enough! I don't care anymore, you can bet that I won't be there to help you at NeXus, hell you can even bank on it! Since I'm walking into the Chamber of Death alone, your walking into the Money in the Bank match alone. I did hear that Pablo does have a match, and I'll be there, and if you like how your face is configured you'll be there too got it?
PH: ...............................
JD: I don't give a rat's ass how many titles you've won in your career, your a has been. If you even think about leaving the Hatebreed then you can guarantee that your losing ways will continue!... Bastard hung up...
Jake drowsily turns his wrist to look at his watch which reads "12:27 A.M." Feeling that he's sick of the bar, he stumbles off of the stool with the bottle in one hand, and his cell phone in the other before lobbing his phone at a random mirror in the pub, shattering it to pieces. Jake stumbles and pushes his way through the crowd of people almost unnoticed as he falls out of the bar with an almost empty bottle of Wild Turkey Bourbon. The bartender simply watches Jake leave, shaking his head, at the former rookie sensation who is slowly spiraling down in a drunken and depressing rage.
End of Thread.