Post by Awesome Stick Labor on Jul 1, 2017 5:47:08 GMT
==BEGIN RECORDING==
FACEBOOK LIVE PRESENTS
"Lindsey's Final Thoughts" - #2
Date: June 28, 2017
Howdy y'all, it's Lindsey, and it's time for some Final Thoughts as the Heir to the Throne series gets going...
...and my, oh my, it seems like the entire world has gravitated towards the fake drug scandal that has plagued my client for the past several weeks, even though we BOTH know that his initial test results were, for alll intensive purposes, destroyed by a computer crash. Still...James Gilmore has vowed to soldier on, going through this special IWF tournament even as a black cloud hangs over him! And for what, some might ask?! It's because the so-called "fans" laugh at the notion that James Gilmore is, truly, a clean-cut, all-American, hard-working individual who has NEVER broken the law or done drugs in his life! Instead, they love to believe everything that ESPN or CNN tells them to believe in...
...much like Andrew Jacobsen.
Surely, the man's got the Imperial Championship belt right now, but....seriously, he is the most BORING individual my client and I have ever seen! Yet the losers will cheer for the man because he, after being muddled up in the mid-card for so long, became an overnight star with his Roulette when and subsequent victory over a twice-times paper champion in Cable Arcane and, now, a glorified part-timer in Jake Conway! Yet these pipsqueaks won't see that...they'll see it as a story of their "hero" overcoming the odds at every possible turn...
...but Andrew, I just have to say to you. You claim that you've always taken my client's side on many things, including a certain incident that happened a few months ago. Yet if you REALLY think of yourself as a white-knight in shining armor, then perhaps you know what it's like to actually HAVE something like, say, integrity or morals.
Think about it, long and hard....
How much do you TRULY know about things like morals or honor? If you did, you'd have sat there and raced out to that ring with Falcon, Pooler, and Jake Conway to get that Northern Irish spawn of Lucifer off my client's back as he was being massacred in that ring! But...you didn't.
Why?
Because, deep in your fake heart, Mr. Gilmore was untrained, that he needed to SUFFER GREATLY at the hands of a hellion who utilized the death of his own son to justify his actions! Instead of doing what was right and giving my client a pointer or two, your lust and desire for more prestige and power consumed your soul, and as a result you left an innocent competitor--who knew NOTHING of the matter in question and was merely fulfilling his end of a CONTRACT he signed in good faith--suffer as he bled profusely, his career being put in REAL jeopardy...and you did nothing to stop it!
You never gave a GODDAMN about James Gilmore as he was writhing in pain at the hands of Spike Kane. You only wanted to stuff your fat face with Obama's school lunches just like every single IWF man or woman who has ever passed through those doors...
...even though your so-called "honor code" demanded otherwise.
You wanna go out there to that ring and "take Mr. Gilmore to school," huh? Oh, the irony....that's code for fascism the likes of which we haven't seen since Mussolini in World War II! Because quite frankly, you DON'T believe in our First Amendment, which GUARANTEES the right to free speech for every single American, but in your mind...whenever someone like my client uses an archaic insult to disagree with someone, you want to try DESPERATELY to shut him down! Why? Because he doesn't fit your mold, because he doesn't AGREE with you OR your little circle of friends!
Why? It's simple...it's because he's believes in somethin' DIFFERENT than you! That's why you've always gone outta yer way to treat him like a pariah, not even so much as taking the time to actually peruse his tapes from the independent scene or even his autograph signings from years gone by!
Y'all want to know what's pathetic about that?! You've been doing this rasslin' gig your whole life, playing the role of victim when your buddy Nighthawk gets insulted, yet turning the other way when my client was in his greatest hour of need. After all, if your morals were so conscious you'd have been the FIRST guy to step out there and stop my client from possibly being murdered out there for the "crime" of fulfilling his end of the deal, personal differences of beliefs and opinions aside! The problem is that you only stand for what's right when what's right stands for YOU...
...now you're gonna pay for your sin--in spades.
While you're out there playing One-World Government Secret Police and dragging the rest of the Imperial Wrestling Federation through the pile of shit you've created, my client is out on the open road doing what he does best: overcoming obstacles in his life, working his ass off just to spit on people like you who've DISRESPECTED him at every single turn, and fighting to become THE Revolution that this promotion has LACKED for some time--all despite the fake drug test failure coverage that still dogs him to this very day! He don't need YOU or YOUR SHEEP to tell him what he can and can't do in a ring, 'cuz he makes his OWN rules and regulations! Now you're gonna find yourself playing HIS game...and become nothing more than a loser in the end as James Gilmore takes his first steps toward Heir to the Throne and makes Imperial great again!
Of course, those are just some thoughts. Follow me on Twitter @reallindseygrawn--from Corpus Christi, God bless, take care...
...and see y'all Monday.
==END RECORDING==
Chapter 1
"WELCOME ABOARD"
June 8, 2017 - 8:30 AM
Inside his Corpus Christi villa...
...we find James Gilmore getting ready for his first day on the campaign trail with a nice, hot shower. Albeit in silhouette, we see him in a walk-in shower that complements his master bathroom, along with paintings of his alma mater at sunset that hang on several different sides, not to mention the stainless steel sink, tub, and marble-tiled flooring. He whistles the "Overworld" theme to the Super Mario Brothers as steam rises from above...
...and perhaps, the Islander alum would finally have a productive day out in the field as he prepped for the upcoming Corpus Christi mayor's race.
Or...so it seemed like that.
James stopped whistling for a moment, turning off the shower as he outstretched his arms--unaware that Lindsey Grawn, the sultry niece of Ricky Grawn he hired as his campaign manager, had surreptitiously opened the unlocked door to the bathroom and had quietly tip-toed on in, wearing white stiletto heels and a patriotic-themed dress. As soon as Gilmore opened up the shower's door, Lindsey giggled upon noticing a tattoo on his most sensitive region even through the slightly-fogged shower door.
LINDSEY GRAWN: Whoa, nice...I always wanted to know a guy with a tattoo on his...
James' eyes widened, the seductive voice prompting him to yank his black towel off the rack to cover himself up good and tightly!
JAMES GILMORE: YEEOOOWWWWW!!!!!!
She giggled, smiling from ear to ear as Gilmore stepped out, stunned beyond belief as he's wrapped in the towel with a hint of embarrassment on his mug.
JAMES: How'd ya get in here, Lindsey?!
LINDSEY: Hrmm...perhaps you shouldn't leave your door unlocked.
Gilmore paused for a moment before eking out a sheepish grin--for he generally would lock his door prior to jumping in the shower....that was, until now.
LINDSEY: Where'd you get it? The tattoo...I'd really like to know.
He sighed as he stepped closer to his sink and mirror, trying to gauge his complexion in time for this morning's jaunt out in the political field.
JAMES: Got it while I was on the Harmony of the Seas last year. Got myself drunk one night, woke up the next mornin' with a hangover and the tattoo. I wouldn't recommend the latter, unless of course you're nuts...
Lindsey laughed, blushing over the sight as she sauntered out of the bathroom, poking her head through the doorway.
LINDSEY: Well when you're finished keeping your end up, I've got a l'il surprise for you outside--your new campaign transportation. See ya...hunny-bunny.
The ex-Wolverine quietly closed the door and walked outside, leaving James to look back down at the body part in question. He couldn't even believe that a well-educated woman--especially someone like Ricky Grawn's niece--would admire a gentleman who had a tattoo on his netherregions...
...and for the record, it read "Make America Great Again."
He chuckled to himself as he quickly got himself dressed in his black suit with red, white, and blue bow-tie, thinking about the possibility that his election opponent might use said oddity against him.
JAMES: Swell...
Twenty minutes later, in the front yard...
...James and Lindsey both stood outside, admiring a sunny morning that had been atypical of Coastal Bend weather these days. The streets were still damp from the previous rounds of rain and storms, leaving the conditions to be quite humid indeed, but otherwise the weather was expected to improve for an entire week, allowing for him to make his frantic mayor's push without any hitches.
On this somewhat seasonable morning, James noticed a black convertible parked in his driveway and moved in closer to take a peek. Trying to block out the embarrassment of having been seen buck-naked in the shower by Miss Grawn, he smiled at the vehicle's shine and black leather seating, thinking that it was going to be THE car he would be riding in during his campaign...
JAMES: Wow...a brand-new 2017 Mercedes-Benz convertible! Ain't that somethin'?! I always wanted to ride in one of these...
But alas, Lindsey smiled and giggled with delight as she calmly shooed him away.
LINDSEY: Hehehe...that's MY car, you silly goose! Here she is, pullin' on in as I speak--your new chariot. Look to your left...
James did as instructed, panning over slightly to the left as a large, yellow school bus motored down Ocean Drive, coming to a stop just short of his driveway. We hear the familiar sound of air brakes being applied, prompting him to jump backwards just a bit.
LINDSEY: (giggling) Ohhhh...you're scared of air brakes!
Gilmore could only muster a sly, mischievous smirk...yes, he didn't care for air brakes when he used to ride the school bus as a kid. Yet seeing the sight of the old 1986 model Blue Bird on an International chassis--complete with diesel engine, automatic transmission, and banners on both sides that read "JAMES GILMORE FOR CORPUS CHRISTI MAYOR" in patriotic colors--brought him back to his childhood days when life was simple and easy to understand.
JAMES: An old school bus...loved 'em when I was a kid despite most havin' air brakes, still do to this day. Brings back memories of the fightin', the whoopin', the hollerin'...and the occasional Dr. Pepper can bein' thrown out the window.
The bus' door opened, revealing its driver to be none other than the once-proud Los Locos Athletic Club leader "El Diablo," now wearing black boots with blue jeans and white polo shirt. The ex-trainer facepalmed as he gazed upon the sight of the man he once tried to kill at the Keg Room.
EL DIABLO: No way, maing! Shiiiiit...this is so loco!
James shook his head, peering slightly at Lindsey.
JAMES: You must be jokin'.
LINDSEY: As my fifth ex-boyfriend once told me, I never joke about my work. Had to pull a few strings and sweet-talk the judge into givin' him community service as part of his bail.
The bus driven sighed, staring at Gilmore once more as he drank from a small bottle of Mountain Dew.
EL DIABLO: Awww, maing! I gotta do community service for him! Anybody BUT him...
Miss Grawn snapped, giving El Diablo the dirty look.
LINDSEY: Quit your bitchin', puta! After all, you tried to kill my client--so perhaps you ought to show him some appreciation before he has your cojones deported back to Mexico!
James and Lindsey both stepped onto the bus and gazed at its interior; aboard the vehicle, we find that the interior has been completely transformed into a mobile office, complete with Wi-Fi and passenger air conditioning. They took a seat in one of teh few remaining brown leather school bus seats and fastened their seat belts, and as the driver released the air brakes and pulled forward to their first stop, James whispered into his campaign manager's ear in a hushed tone of voice.
JAMES: I wonder if he even has a driver's license...
As the old bus motored to its first stop, Lindsey mustered a perverse smile before rubbing Gilmore's shoulders, calming his nerves as he prepped for his first campaign visit.
TO BE CONTINUED...
FACEBOOK LIVE PRESENTS
"Lindsey's Final Thoughts" - #2
Date: June 28, 2017
Howdy y'all, it's Lindsey, and it's time for some Final Thoughts as the Heir to the Throne series gets going...
...and my, oh my, it seems like the entire world has gravitated towards the fake drug scandal that has plagued my client for the past several weeks, even though we BOTH know that his initial test results were, for alll intensive purposes, destroyed by a computer crash. Still...James Gilmore has vowed to soldier on, going through this special IWF tournament even as a black cloud hangs over him! And for what, some might ask?! It's because the so-called "fans" laugh at the notion that James Gilmore is, truly, a clean-cut, all-American, hard-working individual who has NEVER broken the law or done drugs in his life! Instead, they love to believe everything that ESPN or CNN tells them to believe in...
...much like Andrew Jacobsen.
Surely, the man's got the Imperial Championship belt right now, but....seriously, he is the most BORING individual my client and I have ever seen! Yet the losers will cheer for the man because he, after being muddled up in the mid-card for so long, became an overnight star with his Roulette when and subsequent victory over a twice-times paper champion in Cable Arcane and, now, a glorified part-timer in Jake Conway! Yet these pipsqueaks won't see that...they'll see it as a story of their "hero" overcoming the odds at every possible turn...
...but Andrew, I just have to say to you. You claim that you've always taken my client's side on many things, including a certain incident that happened a few months ago. Yet if you REALLY think of yourself as a white-knight in shining armor, then perhaps you know what it's like to actually HAVE something like, say, integrity or morals.
Think about it, long and hard....
How much do you TRULY know about things like morals or honor? If you did, you'd have sat there and raced out to that ring with Falcon, Pooler, and Jake Conway to get that Northern Irish spawn of Lucifer off my client's back as he was being massacred in that ring! But...you didn't.
Why?
Because, deep in your fake heart, Mr. Gilmore was untrained, that he needed to SUFFER GREATLY at the hands of a hellion who utilized the death of his own son to justify his actions! Instead of doing what was right and giving my client a pointer or two, your lust and desire for more prestige and power consumed your soul, and as a result you left an innocent competitor--who knew NOTHING of the matter in question and was merely fulfilling his end of a CONTRACT he signed in good faith--suffer as he bled profusely, his career being put in REAL jeopardy...and you did nothing to stop it!
You never gave a GODDAMN about James Gilmore as he was writhing in pain at the hands of Spike Kane. You only wanted to stuff your fat face with Obama's school lunches just like every single IWF man or woman who has ever passed through those doors...
...even though your so-called "honor code" demanded otherwise.
You wanna go out there to that ring and "take Mr. Gilmore to school," huh? Oh, the irony....that's code for fascism the likes of which we haven't seen since Mussolini in World War II! Because quite frankly, you DON'T believe in our First Amendment, which GUARANTEES the right to free speech for every single American, but in your mind...whenever someone like my client uses an archaic insult to disagree with someone, you want to try DESPERATELY to shut him down! Why? Because he doesn't fit your mold, because he doesn't AGREE with you OR your little circle of friends!
Why? It's simple...it's because he's believes in somethin' DIFFERENT than you! That's why you've always gone outta yer way to treat him like a pariah, not even so much as taking the time to actually peruse his tapes from the independent scene or even his autograph signings from years gone by!
Y'all want to know what's pathetic about that?! You've been doing this rasslin' gig your whole life, playing the role of victim when your buddy Nighthawk gets insulted, yet turning the other way when my client was in his greatest hour of need. After all, if your morals were so conscious you'd have been the FIRST guy to step out there and stop my client from possibly being murdered out there for the "crime" of fulfilling his end of the deal, personal differences of beliefs and opinions aside! The problem is that you only stand for what's right when what's right stands for YOU...
...now you're gonna pay for your sin--in spades.
While you're out there playing One-World Government Secret Police and dragging the rest of the Imperial Wrestling Federation through the pile of shit you've created, my client is out on the open road doing what he does best: overcoming obstacles in his life, working his ass off just to spit on people like you who've DISRESPECTED him at every single turn, and fighting to become THE Revolution that this promotion has LACKED for some time--all despite the fake drug test failure coverage that still dogs him to this very day! He don't need YOU or YOUR SHEEP to tell him what he can and can't do in a ring, 'cuz he makes his OWN rules and regulations! Now you're gonna find yourself playing HIS game...and become nothing more than a loser in the end as James Gilmore takes his first steps toward Heir to the Throne and makes Imperial great again!
Of course, those are just some thoughts. Follow me on Twitter @reallindseygrawn--from Corpus Christi, God bless, take care...
...and see y'all Monday.
==END RECORDING==
Chapter 1
"WELCOME ABOARD"
June 8, 2017 - 8:30 AM
Inside his Corpus Christi villa...
...we find James Gilmore getting ready for his first day on the campaign trail with a nice, hot shower. Albeit in silhouette, we see him in a walk-in shower that complements his master bathroom, along with paintings of his alma mater at sunset that hang on several different sides, not to mention the stainless steel sink, tub, and marble-tiled flooring. He whistles the "Overworld" theme to the Super Mario Brothers as steam rises from above...
...and perhaps, the Islander alum would finally have a productive day out in the field as he prepped for the upcoming Corpus Christi mayor's race.
Or...so it seemed like that.
James stopped whistling for a moment, turning off the shower as he outstretched his arms--unaware that Lindsey Grawn, the sultry niece of Ricky Grawn he hired as his campaign manager, had surreptitiously opened the unlocked door to the bathroom and had quietly tip-toed on in, wearing white stiletto heels and a patriotic-themed dress. As soon as Gilmore opened up the shower's door, Lindsey giggled upon noticing a tattoo on his most sensitive region even through the slightly-fogged shower door.
LINDSEY GRAWN: Whoa, nice...I always wanted to know a guy with a tattoo on his...
James' eyes widened, the seductive voice prompting him to yank his black towel off the rack to cover himself up good and tightly!
JAMES GILMORE: YEEOOOWWWWW!!!!!!
She giggled, smiling from ear to ear as Gilmore stepped out, stunned beyond belief as he's wrapped in the towel with a hint of embarrassment on his mug.
JAMES: How'd ya get in here, Lindsey?!
LINDSEY: Hrmm...perhaps you shouldn't leave your door unlocked.
Gilmore paused for a moment before eking out a sheepish grin--for he generally would lock his door prior to jumping in the shower....that was, until now.
LINDSEY: Where'd you get it? The tattoo...I'd really like to know.
He sighed as he stepped closer to his sink and mirror, trying to gauge his complexion in time for this morning's jaunt out in the political field.
JAMES: Got it while I was on the Harmony of the Seas last year. Got myself drunk one night, woke up the next mornin' with a hangover and the tattoo. I wouldn't recommend the latter, unless of course you're nuts...
Lindsey laughed, blushing over the sight as she sauntered out of the bathroom, poking her head through the doorway.
LINDSEY: Well when you're finished keeping your end up, I've got a l'il surprise for you outside--your new campaign transportation. See ya...hunny-bunny.
The ex-Wolverine quietly closed the door and walked outside, leaving James to look back down at the body part in question. He couldn't even believe that a well-educated woman--especially someone like Ricky Grawn's niece--would admire a gentleman who had a tattoo on his netherregions...
...and for the record, it read "Make America Great Again."
He chuckled to himself as he quickly got himself dressed in his black suit with red, white, and blue bow-tie, thinking about the possibility that his election opponent might use said oddity against him.
JAMES: Swell...
FROM THE OFFICE OF JAMES GILMORE
June 28, 2017 - Supplemental Entry
So here we are, dude. We meet again at last, and now...we've come full circle. When I was Johnny Gillmen, I was nothin' more but the learner, but now? I am the Master...but here's the deal, Andrew. You wanna know what's sad?
Seriously bubba...do ya wanna know what's REALLY sad?!
Close your eyes and reflect for a moment...even BEFORE our first meeting, you could've gone out there and showed me just a smidgeon or two of real wrestlin' talent, and I ain't just talkin' about the ground game either! I mean, shoot...you could've shown me your aerial maneuvers, shown me how much you know about kickin' and punchin' someone--the trademarks of a good striker. Then again...as Lindsey so eloquently pointed out, you're up there on your high horse, drinkin' lattes in your safe space with your bestie instead of provin' to the ENTIRE world that you're a true all-around competitor.
But ya see dude, wrestlin' ain't just about heroes with morals or vice versa.
It's about survivability, toughness...and desire to expand your horizons and break from your comfort zone.
And right now Jacobsen, my "buddy," you're in a comfort zone the likes of which you've never felt before. Sittin' up on top of the mountain, smirkin' from ear to ear as Imperial champion...but with a big, fat, gnarly red "X" painted across your back, your torso...everywhere ya look on your body, there's a target--one that's RIPE for the pickin's! Oh yeah...deep down, you're thinkin' of the ways in which Jake Conway tried valiantly to tear you to shreds, but you haven't a SINGLE, SOLITARY idea as to what's gonna happen to you when I see ya in that ring, as I take my first steps toward bein' Heir to the Throne!
So...
....now that the formalities are outta the way, Andy-Jaco...let's think this through logically., shall we?
You think I'm untrained, that I don't know the DARN difference between a hammerlock and a bodyslam?! Lemme tell ya somethin' dude...you're as wrong now as ya were when ya left ME sufferin' at the hands of that Antichrist himself, Spike Kane! I'm self-trained in the art of combat and defense, buildin' myself up from the GROUND LEVEL, practising every single thing I learned from my vast collection of VHS tapes and DVDs 'til I got 'em right--even puttin' myself in the frickin' hospital as a consequence, even as I had to use my college roommates as sparrin' partners 'cuz people like YOU wouldn't take me in 'cuz I only had one good eye!
And I survived. I did so 'cuz I was much STRONGER in the heart than you'll ever be when your Imperial title run comes to a crashin' end in the future...
...and I would RATHER prefer to make your reign come to a screechin' halt myself.
Let's make this REAL simple and get serious...first, I'm gonna get under your skin, test your fexibility, and make you BREAK from your comfort zone usin' any means necessary. Then, if your resolve holds, I will tear you apart bone from bone, limb from limb, 'til ya can't fight no more. I WILL stand over your bloody and battered corpse and laugh as you writhe around the deck in agony and sufferin', just as you did to me all these months ago. For in the end, if there's one thing you WILL learn come Monday, it's this...
...you ain't facin' the lovable Johnny Gillmen no more. That dude died in January, tryin' his darndest to stick to principles and fulfillin' HIS end of a contract signed in good faith.
You're dealin' with James Gilmre--THE Great American Revolution--and when you become another brick in The Wall, I shall rise above you...to MAKE IMPERIAL GREAT AGAIN!!!
#MIGA
June 28, 2017 - Supplemental Entry
So here we are, dude. We meet again at last, and now...we've come full circle. When I was Johnny Gillmen, I was nothin' more but the learner, but now? I am the Master...but here's the deal, Andrew. You wanna know what's sad?
Seriously bubba...do ya wanna know what's REALLY sad?!
Close your eyes and reflect for a moment...even BEFORE our first meeting, you could've gone out there and showed me just a smidgeon or two of real wrestlin' talent, and I ain't just talkin' about the ground game either! I mean, shoot...you could've shown me your aerial maneuvers, shown me how much you know about kickin' and punchin' someone--the trademarks of a good striker. Then again...as Lindsey so eloquently pointed out, you're up there on your high horse, drinkin' lattes in your safe space with your bestie instead of provin' to the ENTIRE world that you're a true all-around competitor.
But ya see dude, wrestlin' ain't just about heroes with morals or vice versa.
It's about survivability, toughness...and desire to expand your horizons and break from your comfort zone.
And right now Jacobsen, my "buddy," you're in a comfort zone the likes of which you've never felt before. Sittin' up on top of the mountain, smirkin' from ear to ear as Imperial champion...but with a big, fat, gnarly red "X" painted across your back, your torso...everywhere ya look on your body, there's a target--one that's RIPE for the pickin's! Oh yeah...deep down, you're thinkin' of the ways in which Jake Conway tried valiantly to tear you to shreds, but you haven't a SINGLE, SOLITARY idea as to what's gonna happen to you when I see ya in that ring, as I take my first steps toward bein' Heir to the Throne!
So...
....now that the formalities are outta the way, Andy-Jaco...let's think this through logically., shall we?
You think I'm untrained, that I don't know the DARN difference between a hammerlock and a bodyslam?! Lemme tell ya somethin' dude...you're as wrong now as ya were when ya left ME sufferin' at the hands of that Antichrist himself, Spike Kane! I'm self-trained in the art of combat and defense, buildin' myself up from the GROUND LEVEL, practising every single thing I learned from my vast collection of VHS tapes and DVDs 'til I got 'em right--even puttin' myself in the frickin' hospital as a consequence, even as I had to use my college roommates as sparrin' partners 'cuz people like YOU wouldn't take me in 'cuz I only had one good eye!
And I survived. I did so 'cuz I was much STRONGER in the heart than you'll ever be when your Imperial title run comes to a crashin' end in the future...
...and I would RATHER prefer to make your reign come to a screechin' halt myself.
Let's make this REAL simple and get serious...first, I'm gonna get under your skin, test your fexibility, and make you BREAK from your comfort zone usin' any means necessary. Then, if your resolve holds, I will tear you apart bone from bone, limb from limb, 'til ya can't fight no more. I WILL stand over your bloody and battered corpse and laugh as you writhe around the deck in agony and sufferin', just as you did to me all these months ago. For in the end, if there's one thing you WILL learn come Monday, it's this...
...you ain't facin' the lovable Johnny Gillmen no more. That dude died in January, tryin' his darndest to stick to principles and fulfillin' HIS end of a contract signed in good faith.
You're dealin' with James Gilmre--THE Great American Revolution--and when you become another brick in The Wall, I shall rise above you...to MAKE IMPERIAL GREAT AGAIN!!!
#MIGA
Twenty minutes later, in the front yard...
...James and Lindsey both stood outside, admiring a sunny morning that had been atypical of Coastal Bend weather these days. The streets were still damp from the previous rounds of rain and storms, leaving the conditions to be quite humid indeed, but otherwise the weather was expected to improve for an entire week, allowing for him to make his frantic mayor's push without any hitches.
On this somewhat seasonable morning, James noticed a black convertible parked in his driveway and moved in closer to take a peek. Trying to block out the embarrassment of having been seen buck-naked in the shower by Miss Grawn, he smiled at the vehicle's shine and black leather seating, thinking that it was going to be THE car he would be riding in during his campaign...
JAMES: Wow...a brand-new 2017 Mercedes-Benz convertible! Ain't that somethin'?! I always wanted to ride in one of these...
But alas, Lindsey smiled and giggled with delight as she calmly shooed him away.
LINDSEY: Hehehe...that's MY car, you silly goose! Here she is, pullin' on in as I speak--your new chariot. Look to your left...
James did as instructed, panning over slightly to the left as a large, yellow school bus motored down Ocean Drive, coming to a stop just short of his driveway. We hear the familiar sound of air brakes being applied, prompting him to jump backwards just a bit.
LINDSEY: (giggling) Ohhhh...you're scared of air brakes!
Gilmore could only muster a sly, mischievous smirk...yes, he didn't care for air brakes when he used to ride the school bus as a kid. Yet seeing the sight of the old 1986 model Blue Bird on an International chassis--complete with diesel engine, automatic transmission, and banners on both sides that read "JAMES GILMORE FOR CORPUS CHRISTI MAYOR" in patriotic colors--brought him back to his childhood days when life was simple and easy to understand.
JAMES: An old school bus...loved 'em when I was a kid despite most havin' air brakes, still do to this day. Brings back memories of the fightin', the whoopin', the hollerin'...and the occasional Dr. Pepper can bein' thrown out the window.
The bus' door opened, revealing its driver to be none other than the once-proud Los Locos Athletic Club leader "El Diablo," now wearing black boots with blue jeans and white polo shirt. The ex-trainer facepalmed as he gazed upon the sight of the man he once tried to kill at the Keg Room.
EL DIABLO: No way, maing! Shiiiiit...this is so loco!
James shook his head, peering slightly at Lindsey.
JAMES: You must be jokin'.
LINDSEY: As my fifth ex-boyfriend once told me, I never joke about my work. Had to pull a few strings and sweet-talk the judge into givin' him community service as part of his bail.
The bus driven sighed, staring at Gilmore once more as he drank from a small bottle of Mountain Dew.
EL DIABLO: Awww, maing! I gotta do community service for him! Anybody BUT him...
Miss Grawn snapped, giving El Diablo the dirty look.
LINDSEY: Quit your bitchin', puta! After all, you tried to kill my client--so perhaps you ought to show him some appreciation before he has your cojones deported back to Mexico!
James and Lindsey both stepped onto the bus and gazed at its interior; aboard the vehicle, we find that the interior has been completely transformed into a mobile office, complete with Wi-Fi and passenger air conditioning. They took a seat in one of teh few remaining brown leather school bus seats and fastened their seat belts, and as the driver released the air brakes and pulled forward to their first stop, James whispered into his campaign manager's ear in a hushed tone of voice.
JAMES: I wonder if he even has a driver's license...
As the old bus motored to its first stop, Lindsey mustered a perverse smile before rubbing Gilmore's shoulders, calming his nerves as he prepped for his first campaign visit.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Well howdy there pardner.