Post by Mr. McCoy on Aug 9, 2011 23:16:24 GMT -5
As the feed opens we see the multi-talented Charlie Coors walking backstage, microphone clutched tightly in his hand, his eyes surveying the arena, appearing to be in search of something, or someone for that matter. His venture comes to an abrupt end as he stops at the janitor's closet, slowly turning the knob before opening the door. Coors turns his head back to peer into the camera. Afterward he passes his freehand along the wall, finally finding the lights-switch, flicking it on to brighten the small cubicle. The illumination reveals the inhabitant of the storage room, a man lying on the floor with his body covered by the day's newspaper and his head resting on the most recent issue of GHW Magazine. The investigative GHW announcer enters the closet, placing his hand against the man's shoulder and rocking his body back in fourth in an effort to interrupt his slumber. After a few seconds of relentless shoving, Charlie is successful, as the man lifts his head off the magazine. The pale skinned white male lifts his body off the floor, his mouth agape as proceeds to yawn. Upon the clenching of his lips, he scratches underneath his arm, staring at Coors in confusion, possibly puzzled as to why Charlie felt the need to wake him. Raising his microphone to his mouth, Coors addresses him.
Charlie: "Sorry to wake you, but you've got a match tonight, and it's next!"
Still appearing to be sleep and enervated, the man wipes his weary eyes, and repeatedly smacks the side of his face, attempting to take completely wake himself up. He then sneezes into his hand, before wiping his nose and smearing the snotty fluids across his Megadeth t-shirt. He then extends his hands toward Charlie, who's body wrinkles in wake of the gesture. Despite his facial expression of nausea, he shakes his hand, quickly wiping his contaminated hand across his pants legs afterward.
Freebird McCoy: "I must have overslept then. Hi! I'm Charlie Coors, and it's a pleasure to meet you."
Charlie cocks his eyebrow in befuddlement, before laughing to himself.
"No, I'm Charlie Coors, and your Freebird McCoy. "
McCoy shrugs his shoulders indifferently before gradually climbing to his feet. The debuting Oklahoman commences to stretch, limbering up for his match before leaning down and grabbing a container of over the counter prescription cough syrup and a black bandanna. He first wraps the bandanna around his forehead, then scratches his bulging belly before opening the jay of syrup, lifting it to his mouth before acquainting the medicinal fluid with his lips. He chugs it down for a brief moment before releasing a sigh of satisfaction. After closing the container, he wipes his mouth, before extending his arm, inviting Charlie to lead the way. Coors doesn't bother to ask why, just turning and exiting the closet, with Freebird right behind him. As the two make their way down the backstage area, Coors hoists the mic to McCoy, attempting to gather his thoughts.
"Are you excited about your first professional match?"
"I've been dreaming about this day Charles. No seriously, I was just on the floor dreaming about GHW. It's true what they say, if you follow the north star, it will take you home. Glory and Honor Wrestling is now my casa. I feel like I'm back on the farm..."
Charlie spontaneously interrupts McCoy, placing his hand across his chest and looking down, noticing he's completely barefoot. The appalled announcer shakes his head from side to side in disbelief.
"Freebird I think your forgetting something? Where's your shoes?!"
McCoy lifts his leg up, staring at his barefoot, shrugging his shoulders in a carefree, nonchalant fashion before looking at a stunned Coors.
"I don't own such luxurious things. But I'll tell you what, if I find some on the way to the ring, I'll lace up. Fair enough?"
McCoy smiles at Charlie, before taking another gulp of his cough syrup as the feed goes to black.
Charlie: "Sorry to wake you, but you've got a match tonight, and it's next!"
Still appearing to be sleep and enervated, the man wipes his weary eyes, and repeatedly smacks the side of his face, attempting to take completely wake himself up. He then sneezes into his hand, before wiping his nose and smearing the snotty fluids across his Megadeth t-shirt. He then extends his hands toward Charlie, who's body wrinkles in wake of the gesture. Despite his facial expression of nausea, he shakes his hand, quickly wiping his contaminated hand across his pants legs afterward.
Freebird McCoy: "I must have overslept then. Hi! I'm Charlie Coors, and it's a pleasure to meet you."
Charlie cocks his eyebrow in befuddlement, before laughing to himself.
"No, I'm Charlie Coors, and your Freebird McCoy. "
McCoy shrugs his shoulders indifferently before gradually climbing to his feet. The debuting Oklahoman commences to stretch, limbering up for his match before leaning down and grabbing a container of over the counter prescription cough syrup and a black bandanna. He first wraps the bandanna around his forehead, then scratches his bulging belly before opening the jay of syrup, lifting it to his mouth before acquainting the medicinal fluid with his lips. He chugs it down for a brief moment before releasing a sigh of satisfaction. After closing the container, he wipes his mouth, before extending his arm, inviting Charlie to lead the way. Coors doesn't bother to ask why, just turning and exiting the closet, with Freebird right behind him. As the two make their way down the backstage area, Coors hoists the mic to McCoy, attempting to gather his thoughts.
"Are you excited about your first professional match?"
"I've been dreaming about this day Charles. No seriously, I was just on the floor dreaming about GHW. It's true what they say, if you follow the north star, it will take you home. Glory and Honor Wrestling is now my casa. I feel like I'm back on the farm..."
Charlie spontaneously interrupts McCoy, placing his hand across his chest and looking down, noticing he's completely barefoot. The appalled announcer shakes his head from side to side in disbelief.
"Freebird I think your forgetting something? Where's your shoes?!"
McCoy lifts his leg up, staring at his barefoot, shrugging his shoulders in a carefree, nonchalant fashion before looking at a stunned Coors.
"I don't own such luxurious things. But I'll tell you what, if I find some on the way to the ring, I'll lace up. Fair enough?"
McCoy smiles at Charlie, before taking another gulp of his cough syrup as the feed goes to black.