Post by Martin Prince//Winthorp D. on Jul 27, 2009 10:21:36 GMT -5
The local bar, a place where most GHW Superstars usually go to when they're in a slump or just need a place to kid back and relax. Within the compounds of this illustrious place are many patrons, sitting on stools or at tables and wasting their cold hard cash on various contents of alcoholic beverages, one guy even drinking an entire pitcher of beer while playing Space Invaders in the game's corner. But the person to stand out the most in the newly refurbrished bar is Martin Prince, surrounded by bottles upon bottles of alcohol, his jacket rested next to him on a chair and his tie laying on his shoulder as he continues to take sips of his drinks, burping and then laying his head back on the table. The bartender on duty tonight approaches Martin with a bowl of peanuts, laying them next to him.
Tim
"Tough night, huh Marty?"
Martin lifts his head up, his eyes bloodshot and red as he tries to focus his attention on the man before him, taking a few peanuts and eating them as he does so.
Martin Prince
"Tough? *hick*..Don't get me started on tough Frank..Hal..Whatever the hell your name is. I've been..*hick*..given the challenge of a lifetime and I don't want to-to screw up, otherwise..the world will shun me from it's..perfect SOCIETY!"
Martin slams a fist on the table as he glares angrily at Tim, who nods his head in acknowledgement and walks away, muttering under his breath as he returns to his stationed bar. Martin takes another hearty swig of his bottle and puts it back down on the table, he looks at the clock and coughs, 11pm, it's pretty late and the rain pounding against the window becomes an annoyance to Prince. In the corner, the man playing Space Invaders suddenly flips as he begins pounding the machine and screaming his lungs out.
Derrick, the Space Invaders Guy
"WHAT THE FUCK! YOU SON OF A BITCH! I SHOT YOU! I SHOT YOOOOOOUUU!"
Tim, the Bartender
"Derrick, could you please calm down? It's only a game. You've got about a cup full of quarters that you can insert into it and continue playing. It's NOT the end of the world man."
Derrick, the Space Invaders Guy
"Shut up pencilneck! This is MY game. MINE! I'm the only one who's been playing this and it shows it's appreciation by shooting me and blowing me the hel--"
Martin Prince
"- Would you shut the hell up for one god damn second?! I got a fucking headache."
Derrick doesn't take this well, sculling his pitcher of beer in 4 seconds flat and walking over to Martin, who stands ready, but unsteadily as he's beyond drunk. Derrick begins breathing in his face, the stench of the beer smelling unpleasant to Martin, who contorts his face in displeasure and simply leers at the drunken Derrick.
Derrick, the Space Invaders Guy
"Listen. I know what your problem is Prince. You're scared shitless because of this challenge of yours that you've been blabbing on about for the past week and now you come here every night, drinking your problems away, because you're in denial of your own ability to pull this off, so you decide to rage it at everyone in here for your own stupid god damn mistakes. Get over yourself you has-been. You're nothing but a washed up oldie with nothing left to pr-"
Derrick is stopped halfway in his sentence, the bowl carrying the contents of peanuts is smashed and shattered on the head of Derrick, who stumbles back while holding his head, a trickle of blood running through his fingers as he makes an attempt to sweep the glass away from his wound. Martin flips the table over, the abundant amount of bottles on it falling down onto the wooden floor and shattering upon contact with the hard wood. Martin throws a big punch and knocks Derrick back onto a table, Derrick's body landing on the table and knocking all of the bottles to the ground, shattering them as well and spilling their contents everywhere, the two guys at the table, Young Gangsta and Backyard Brawler, both quickly rise from their seats and rush towards Prince, holding him back before he has the chance to strike Derrick once more.
Backyard Brawler
"Woah, relax big guy. Just calm down for two seconds, he ain't worth it at all. Just..just grab yourself another quick drink, leave and go watch the Tape or something."
Young Gangsta
"Fo' sho' bro. His bitch ass just jealous because GHW wouldn't accept his scrawny ass into the developmental facility, so he comes and rips on everyone who's on the roster and plays Space Invaders all god damn day."
Martin spits on the floor, walking over to another table and stealing the bottle of Smirnoff away from another patron, who looks pissed off at this but backs down, Martin re-rolls his sleeves up and takes a swig of the bottle and sighs in relief. Martin looks at both YG and BB.
Martin Prince
"Right, right. Well, I'm out. Sorry for screwing your night up guys. I'll...*hick*..make it up to you's somehow."
Martin picks up his jacket and tie and throws some cash onto the bar counter, he kicks the door open carefully and leaves the bar. Tim returning from the backroom with a shotgun in his hand, although he looks surprised and somewhat embarrassed to find that he had missed all of the action.
Tim, the Bartender
"Wait..I missed it all? Ah shit."
EOT.
Tim
"Tough night, huh Marty?"
Martin lifts his head up, his eyes bloodshot and red as he tries to focus his attention on the man before him, taking a few peanuts and eating them as he does so.
Martin Prince
"Tough? *hick*..Don't get me started on tough Frank..Hal..Whatever the hell your name is. I've been..*hick*..given the challenge of a lifetime and I don't want to-to screw up, otherwise..the world will shun me from it's..perfect SOCIETY!"
Martin slams a fist on the table as he glares angrily at Tim, who nods his head in acknowledgement and walks away, muttering under his breath as he returns to his stationed bar. Martin takes another hearty swig of his bottle and puts it back down on the table, he looks at the clock and coughs, 11pm, it's pretty late and the rain pounding against the window becomes an annoyance to Prince. In the corner, the man playing Space Invaders suddenly flips as he begins pounding the machine and screaming his lungs out.
Derrick, the Space Invaders Guy
"WHAT THE FUCK! YOU SON OF A BITCH! I SHOT YOU! I SHOT YOOOOOOUUU!"
Tim, the Bartender
"Derrick, could you please calm down? It's only a game. You've got about a cup full of quarters that you can insert into it and continue playing. It's NOT the end of the world man."
Derrick, the Space Invaders Guy
"Shut up pencilneck! This is MY game. MINE! I'm the only one who's been playing this and it shows it's appreciation by shooting me and blowing me the hel--"
Martin Prince
"- Would you shut the hell up for one god damn second?! I got a fucking headache."
Derrick doesn't take this well, sculling his pitcher of beer in 4 seconds flat and walking over to Martin, who stands ready, but unsteadily as he's beyond drunk. Derrick begins breathing in his face, the stench of the beer smelling unpleasant to Martin, who contorts his face in displeasure and simply leers at the drunken Derrick.
Derrick, the Space Invaders Guy
"Listen. I know what your problem is Prince. You're scared shitless because of this challenge of yours that you've been blabbing on about for the past week and now you come here every night, drinking your problems away, because you're in denial of your own ability to pull this off, so you decide to rage it at everyone in here for your own stupid god damn mistakes. Get over yourself you has-been. You're nothing but a washed up oldie with nothing left to pr-"
Derrick is stopped halfway in his sentence, the bowl carrying the contents of peanuts is smashed and shattered on the head of Derrick, who stumbles back while holding his head, a trickle of blood running through his fingers as he makes an attempt to sweep the glass away from his wound. Martin flips the table over, the abundant amount of bottles on it falling down onto the wooden floor and shattering upon contact with the hard wood. Martin throws a big punch and knocks Derrick back onto a table, Derrick's body landing on the table and knocking all of the bottles to the ground, shattering them as well and spilling their contents everywhere, the two guys at the table, Young Gangsta and Backyard Brawler, both quickly rise from their seats and rush towards Prince, holding him back before he has the chance to strike Derrick once more.
Backyard Brawler
"Woah, relax big guy. Just calm down for two seconds, he ain't worth it at all. Just..just grab yourself another quick drink, leave and go watch the Tape or something."
Young Gangsta
"Fo' sho' bro. His bitch ass just jealous because GHW wouldn't accept his scrawny ass into the developmental facility, so he comes and rips on everyone who's on the roster and plays Space Invaders all god damn day."
Martin spits on the floor, walking over to another table and stealing the bottle of Smirnoff away from another patron, who looks pissed off at this but backs down, Martin re-rolls his sleeves up and takes a swig of the bottle and sighs in relief. Martin looks at both YG and BB.
Martin Prince
"Right, right. Well, I'm out. Sorry for screwing your night up guys. I'll...*hick*..make it up to you's somehow."
Martin picks up his jacket and tie and throws some cash onto the bar counter, he kicks the door open carefully and leaves the bar. Tim returning from the backroom with a shotgun in his hand, although he looks surprised and somewhat embarrassed to find that he had missed all of the action.
Tim, the Bartender
"Wait..I missed it all? Ah shit."
EOT.