Post by Awesome Stick Labor on Jul 14, 2017 19:27:18 GMT
==BEGIN RECORDING==
FACEBOOK LIVE PRESENTS
"Lindsey's Final Musings" - July 14, 2017
It's time for some final musings, and...
...alright, enough's enough! How DARE the Imperial Wrestling Federation allow for a stupid clown like Mr. Happy to be in its halls! How DARE they allow him to inappropriately make sexual contact and advances against me and my candidate, James Gilmore! And how DARE the sheep that buy into IWF's crap actually CHEER for someone like that! No matter...I meant every single word I spoke last week on the "Fallout" forum! Unless my simple request for Mr. Happy to be terminated is met within the two weeks we've set forth, my candidate and I will have no choice but to bankrupt IWF for every cent they've got left in their wallets!
Everything that Spike Kane and Roberto Verona built...will be GONE! Their hopes, their dreams, their JOBS...it will all be lost to the annals of history...
...all on account of some clown. It's like an ENTIRE classroom of kiddoes gettin' into trouble by their teacher 'cuz one l'il tyke screwed up! Hell, IWF won't even have the money to protect our former American soldier veterans like Mason St. Croix.
Oh, but WE--Mr. Gilmore and I--will!
Y'all see Mason, when we watched the new Commander-inChief himself, Mr. Trump, take office this past January, James and I both had wide smiles on our faces. That's 'cuz, unlike many of the left-wingers in the last administration, we voted for a guy that would actually support veterans just like you. In fact, believe it or not...we, as Americans, respect the livin' hell outta you for your service. Come to think about it, would you think otherwise had we not continued our glorious Twitter battle, huh?
Hrmm...I'll let you answer that question yourself.
Truth be told, the REAL reason why James and I even considered talkin' to you on the feed is as simple as makin' a slice of all-American pie. Our hearts feel for you--we really, really do. I mean, good God...after all these years of goin' into the field and kickin' the bad guys' butts in the war on terrorism, you had to return to friendly shores only to find that your world had been completely FUBAR--or as my ex-Marine Uncle Ricky uncle would put it, Fucked Up Beyond Any Recognition.
You lost your home, your wife, your kiddoes and dignity...
...must be a bitch to be by your lonesome, huh?
It makes you so angry and hurt just thinkin' about it, right? The very fact that you've had two years to piece your mind back together after that top-secret mission...ugh, it just breaks our heart to hear that! Yet to hold every single IWF title except for one, in spite of what you've been through? What a terrific story! Don't worry hunny-boo, we'll support you as you make it through the recovery process and all that jazz. After all, it's the American way to help someone who's feelin' down, vet or not.
But here's the deal. If you want us to hold you in high regard and support you for your recent struggles, then you're gonna have to pay a price. After all, EVERYTHING ain't free!
And quite frankly, my dear...
...
...
*ahem*
...
...
YOU DON'T DESERVE JACK SHIT FROM US!!!
You wanna know what makes me and my candidate sick to our stomachs?! It's the very notion that you SOMEHOW managed to use your stature as a United States Army Ranger to actually get what you want from the Board of Directors! How DARE you, Lt. Col. Mason St. Croix, use your service to your country to influence OUR match in the Imperial Wrestling Federatioin! Oh, I can only imagine that the Board gave into your sob story, thinkin' that it was the least they could do for you...
...but what have you done for us since your shocking return to IWF?!
Not a DAMN thing! We don't give a damn if you've held every single IWF title except for one, 'cuz my candidate AND Champion, James Gilmore, has trained his WHOLE LIFE for moments like this! He is a self-trained SURVIVOR, havin' to build himself up from the ground level while you disrespect his good-natured, hard-workin' character for no reason whatsoever! And to be pefectly blunt with you Mason, James Gilmore is ready for ANYTHING that might get sprung up on him, and he will NEVER, EVER give up! He will keep on fightin' 'til he can't fight no more!
And as the "old" IWF burns in hell, a "new" IWF will have its first dawn--where you will cower at OUR feet and cry NOT "uncle" or "I quit!" Instead, we will make YOU scream the one word that nobody will have EVER heard you scream before...
"DADDY!"
"DADDY!!"
"DADDY!!!"
...just like the cries of all those innocent little boys and girls you SLAUGHTERED during your missions--with that in mind, those are just my final musings. Follow me on Twitter @reallindseygrawn--from Corpus Christi, God bless, take care...
...and see y'all Monday.
==END RECORDING==
Chapter 3
"HEARTBREAK ISLAND"
JUNE 19, 2017
4:30 PM
"What a day, huh?"
We find James Gilmore sitting on one of the few remaining seats of his mobile campaign bus, outstretching his arms in the midst of a sunny late Corpus Christi afternoon. His campaign manager, Lindsey Grawn, smiles from behind the wheel, eked out a wide grin as she turned the 1986 model Blue Bird onto Ennis Joslin after exiting South Padre Island Drive.
"Ain't over yet sweetie," the ex-Wolverine lovingly chimed as the old bus rattled onward. "We get to do the big one now," she announced, prompting the Islander alum to chuckle to himself. On this summer's day, he was heading to the Corpus Christi Naval Air Station for a campaign visit and to shake hands with some of the veterans on the base. As military service ran within his own family, James took great pride in all the branches of the United States armed forces; he especially loved the Navy and its nautical, sea-faring vibe, adding "my Grampy served several tours in both World War II and the Korean conflict." Lindsey beamed as she turned right on the corner of Ennis Joslin and Ocean Drive, crossing over the bridge connecting the mainland to Ward Island, home to Texas A&M University-Corpus Christi.
"Ahh, I gotta say your alma mater's such a beautiful campus," she said as the old bus rattled past the Momentum sculpture and into the campus proper, which was lined beautifully with palm trees and surrounded by water on all sides. "Oh yeah! It's got a nice charm to it," Gilmore softly spoke, prompting Miss Grawn to pull into the campus bus stop and apply the air brakes. She calmly opened the door, allowing her protege to step outside and take in the fresh air.
All the while, James started singing an old Don Gibson country tune to himself...
FACEBOOK LIVE PRESENTS
"Lindsey's Final Musings" - July 14, 2017
It's time for some final musings, and...
...alright, enough's enough! How DARE the Imperial Wrestling Federation allow for a stupid clown like Mr. Happy to be in its halls! How DARE they allow him to inappropriately make sexual contact and advances against me and my candidate, James Gilmore! And how DARE the sheep that buy into IWF's crap actually CHEER for someone like that! No matter...I meant every single word I spoke last week on the "Fallout" forum! Unless my simple request for Mr. Happy to be terminated is met within the two weeks we've set forth, my candidate and I will have no choice but to bankrupt IWF for every cent they've got left in their wallets!
Everything that Spike Kane and Roberto Verona built...will be GONE! Their hopes, their dreams, their JOBS...it will all be lost to the annals of history...
...all on account of some clown. It's like an ENTIRE classroom of kiddoes gettin' into trouble by their teacher 'cuz one l'il tyke screwed up! Hell, IWF won't even have the money to protect our former American soldier veterans like Mason St. Croix.
Oh, but WE--Mr. Gilmore and I--will!
Y'all see Mason, when we watched the new Commander-inChief himself, Mr. Trump, take office this past January, James and I both had wide smiles on our faces. That's 'cuz, unlike many of the left-wingers in the last administration, we voted for a guy that would actually support veterans just like you. In fact, believe it or not...we, as Americans, respect the livin' hell outta you for your service. Come to think about it, would you think otherwise had we not continued our glorious Twitter battle, huh?
Hrmm...I'll let you answer that question yourself.
Truth be told, the REAL reason why James and I even considered talkin' to you on the feed is as simple as makin' a slice of all-American pie. Our hearts feel for you--we really, really do. I mean, good God...after all these years of goin' into the field and kickin' the bad guys' butts in the war on terrorism, you had to return to friendly shores only to find that your world had been completely FUBAR--or as my ex-Marine Uncle Ricky uncle would put it, Fucked Up Beyond Any Recognition.
You lost your home, your wife, your kiddoes and dignity...
...must be a bitch to be by your lonesome, huh?
It makes you so angry and hurt just thinkin' about it, right? The very fact that you've had two years to piece your mind back together after that top-secret mission...ugh, it just breaks our heart to hear that! Yet to hold every single IWF title except for one, in spite of what you've been through? What a terrific story! Don't worry hunny-boo, we'll support you as you make it through the recovery process and all that jazz. After all, it's the American way to help someone who's feelin' down, vet or not.
But here's the deal. If you want us to hold you in high regard and support you for your recent struggles, then you're gonna have to pay a price. After all, EVERYTHING ain't free!
And quite frankly, my dear...
...
...
*ahem*
...
...
YOU DON'T DESERVE JACK SHIT FROM US!!!
You wanna know what makes me and my candidate sick to our stomachs?! It's the very notion that you SOMEHOW managed to use your stature as a United States Army Ranger to actually get what you want from the Board of Directors! How DARE you, Lt. Col. Mason St. Croix, use your service to your country to influence OUR match in the Imperial Wrestling Federatioin! Oh, I can only imagine that the Board gave into your sob story, thinkin' that it was the least they could do for you...
...but what have you done for us since your shocking return to IWF?!
Not a DAMN thing! We don't give a damn if you've held every single IWF title except for one, 'cuz my candidate AND Champion, James Gilmore, has trained his WHOLE LIFE for moments like this! He is a self-trained SURVIVOR, havin' to build himself up from the ground level while you disrespect his good-natured, hard-workin' character for no reason whatsoever! And to be pefectly blunt with you Mason, James Gilmore is ready for ANYTHING that might get sprung up on him, and he will NEVER, EVER give up! He will keep on fightin' 'til he can't fight no more!
And as the "old" IWF burns in hell, a "new" IWF will have its first dawn--where you will cower at OUR feet and cry NOT "uncle" or "I quit!" Instead, we will make YOU scream the one word that nobody will have EVER heard you scream before...
"DADDY!"
"DADDY!!"
"DADDY!!!"
...just like the cries of all those innocent little boys and girls you SLAUGHTERED during your missions--with that in mind, those are just my final musings. Follow me on Twitter @reallindseygrawn--from Corpus Christi, God bless, take care...
...and see y'all Monday.
==END RECORDING==
Chapter 3
"HEARTBREAK ISLAND"
JUNE 19, 2017
4:30 PM
"What a day, huh?"
We find James Gilmore sitting on one of the few remaining seats of his mobile campaign bus, outstretching his arms in the midst of a sunny late Corpus Christi afternoon. His campaign manager, Lindsey Grawn, smiles from behind the wheel, eked out a wide grin as she turned the 1986 model Blue Bird onto Ennis Joslin after exiting South Padre Island Drive.
"Ain't over yet sweetie," the ex-Wolverine lovingly chimed as the old bus rattled onward. "We get to do the big one now," she announced, prompting the Islander alum to chuckle to himself. On this summer's day, he was heading to the Corpus Christi Naval Air Station for a campaign visit and to shake hands with some of the veterans on the base. As military service ran within his own family, James took great pride in all the branches of the United States armed forces; he especially loved the Navy and its nautical, sea-faring vibe, adding "my Grampy served several tours in both World War II and the Korean conflict." Lindsey beamed as she turned right on the corner of Ennis Joslin and Ocean Drive, crossing over the bridge connecting the mainland to Ward Island, home to Texas A&M University-Corpus Christi.
"Ahh, I gotta say your alma mater's such a beautiful campus," she said as the old bus rattled past the Momentum sculpture and into the campus proper, which was lined beautifully with palm trees and surrounded by water on all sides. "Oh yeah! It's got a nice charm to it," Gilmore softly spoke, prompting Miss Grawn to pull into the campus bus stop and apply the air brakes. She calmly opened the door, allowing her protege to step outside and take in the fresh air.
All the while, James started singing an old Don Gibson country tune to himself...
The lights in the harbor,
Don't shine for me.
I'm like a lost ship,
Adrift on the sea.
Sea of heartbreak, lost love an' loneliness;
Memories of your caress, so divine.
I wish you were mine again, my dear.
I am on this sea of tears:
Sea of heartbreak.
Don't shine for me.
I'm like a lost ship,
Adrift on the sea.
Sea of heartbreak, lost love an' loneliness;
Memories of your caress, so divine.
I wish you were mine again, my dear.
I am on this sea of tears:
Sea of heartbreak.
...leading Lindsey to shut off the diesel motor and step outside too, where she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him as they watched the occasional surfer wiping out in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. "You okay?," she whispered in his ear, and James took a moment to close his eyes, reflecting upon his time spent on the Island.
"I used to call this place 'Heartbreak Island,'" he added softly, taking a deep breath as he recounted his time on campus. "Every time I thought I'd like some hot chick, she generally tells me she has a boyfriend-girlfriend-whatever," he lamented, gazing his eyes upon the seagulls that flew overhead. Yet in spite of the woes and fights, James was very fond of TAMUCC, often calling it his home away from home. "C'mon let's move," Lindsey poked, peering at the clock on her Android phone.
Once they were back on the bus, they pressed forward, driving towards an entrance gateway past the southern side of TAMUCC. "Here we are Mr. Gilmore, last stop of the day...Naval Air Station Corpus Christi," she announced before stopping at one of the booths, which was guarded by a lowly MarDet (Marine Detachment) lieutenant, who sported a high-and-tight haircut. "Sorry ma'am, this is a restricted area. You'll have to reverse course and turn around," he told Lindsey as she opened up her driver's window.
"Are you a veteran," she asked the officer rather annoyingly. "Yes ma'am! I did two tours in Iraq as part of Enduring Freedom and subsequent ops," the lieutenant answered with a distincitve stutter.
"I'm VERY sure your superiors would be thrilled to know that you're treatin' a prospective mayoral candidate with such disrespect," she replied tersely, prompting the Marine to widen his eyes in disbelief. "Oh...oh-oh-oh-oh! Who's the candidate?," he asked sheepishly.
"You're lookin' at him Marine," James said while sticking his head out of the left-side passenger window. "Oh, YOU'RE Mr. Gilmore," the low-ranking official replied, recognizing Gilmore's tone of voice. "Cap'n, Mr. Gilmore is here on visitation sir!," the officer adding, prompting his supervisor, a MarDet Captain with a bald head and pointed goatee to jog into the scene. "Wha? The same Gilmore that was caught bangin' that Russian gal?," the Captain quizzed, to which his subordinate happily answered, "Oh, yessir--gave me a hard-on...sir!"
Gilmore gritted his teeth, watching as the two Marines laughed out loud. "Disrespectful jarheads," he muttered to himself. Before he could say anything else, he turned back to Miss Grawn and apologized for the derisive term, noting that her uncle Ricky was a Marine. "No offense Lindsey," he acquiesced. "None taken, I've heard worse things than 'jarhead.' Anyhoo if we can't get into the base hun, we're bailin' outta here," she spoke. Yet deep within his heart, James wasn't laughing at the recent tapes that were released against him the other day, noting how they might damage his already-fragile election chances.
"Lemme handle those chumps," James said with just a tinge of fury in his tone, prompting Lindsey to open the bus' front door, allowing him to step back outside. He turned so that he could look the laughing Marines squarely in the eyes, causing the cacophony to stop in its tracks.
"Do ya dudes know who I am?!," Gilmore icily asked the pair. "Seriously, do you know who I am?!"
Both the Lieutenant and his Captain stood at attention, as if they were being chewed out by a Major. "Don't answer me Marine! After all I'm just the Republican Mayoral candidate for this entire town, and I support you guys every single day of my life!," James added, staring daggers into the eyes of the personnel guarding the entrance, adding, "you're struttin' around town in your dresses, actin' like ya own the darn city! If ya want a woman who expose your butts to murderous, drug-lovin' illegals through open borders, then go out and vote Gonzales," Gilmore tersely spoke to the two men, who were standing there like statues, before finishing his sentence with "otherwise, you're lookin' at the ONLY guy who can protect you from that hot mess! GOT IT?!"
James continued to stare at the two men, anger in his eyes. Eventually, the Captain took a deep breath, calmly shook his head, then announced to his subordinate, "let them pass! Carry on Lieutenant!" "Aye-aye sir!," was the lieutenant's response as he entered a small booth and pressed a button, opening the entrance gate. With an evil smirk on his mug, James hopped back onboard his mobile command center as it entered the base.
"Mr, Gilmore?," Lindsey softly piped as she drove towards the welcoming center with a sexy, seductive smile on her visage, her cheeks blushing at her charge's guile. James could muster a slight chuckle, knowing that he was going to have a chance to shake hands with some of America's finest men and woman after all.
"Remind me never to play wild-draw strip poker with you again darlin'..."
"I used to call this place 'Heartbreak Island,'" he added softly, taking a deep breath as he recounted his time on campus. "Every time I thought I'd like some hot chick, she generally tells me she has a boyfriend-girlfriend-whatever," he lamented, gazing his eyes upon the seagulls that flew overhead. Yet in spite of the woes and fights, James was very fond of TAMUCC, often calling it his home away from home. "C'mon let's move," Lindsey poked, peering at the clock on her Android phone.
Once they were back on the bus, they pressed forward, driving towards an entrance gateway past the southern side of TAMUCC. "Here we are Mr. Gilmore, last stop of the day...Naval Air Station Corpus Christi," she announced before stopping at one of the booths, which was guarded by a lowly MarDet (Marine Detachment) lieutenant, who sported a high-and-tight haircut. "Sorry ma'am, this is a restricted area. You'll have to reverse course and turn around," he told Lindsey as she opened up her driver's window.
"Are you a veteran," she asked the officer rather annoyingly. "Yes ma'am! I did two tours in Iraq as part of Enduring Freedom and subsequent ops," the lieutenant answered with a distincitve stutter.
"I'm VERY sure your superiors would be thrilled to know that you're treatin' a prospective mayoral candidate with such disrespect," she replied tersely, prompting the Marine to widen his eyes in disbelief. "Oh...oh-oh-oh-oh! Who's the candidate?," he asked sheepishly.
"You're lookin' at him Marine," James said while sticking his head out of the left-side passenger window. "Oh, YOU'RE Mr. Gilmore," the low-ranking official replied, recognizing Gilmore's tone of voice. "Cap'n, Mr. Gilmore is here on visitation sir!," the officer adding, prompting his supervisor, a MarDet Captain with a bald head and pointed goatee to jog into the scene. "Wha? The same Gilmore that was caught bangin' that Russian gal?," the Captain quizzed, to which his subordinate happily answered, "Oh, yessir--gave me a hard-on...sir!"
Gilmore gritted his teeth, watching as the two Marines laughed out loud. "Disrespectful jarheads," he muttered to himself. Before he could say anything else, he turned back to Miss Grawn and apologized for the derisive term, noting that her uncle Ricky was a Marine. "No offense Lindsey," he acquiesced. "None taken, I've heard worse things than 'jarhead.' Anyhoo if we can't get into the base hun, we're bailin' outta here," she spoke. Yet deep within his heart, James wasn't laughing at the recent tapes that were released against him the other day, noting how they might damage his already-fragile election chances.
"Lemme handle those chumps," James said with just a tinge of fury in his tone, prompting Lindsey to open the bus' front door, allowing him to step back outside. He turned so that he could look the laughing Marines squarely in the eyes, causing the cacophony to stop in its tracks.
"Do ya dudes know who I am?!," Gilmore icily asked the pair. "Seriously, do you know who I am?!"
Both the Lieutenant and his Captain stood at attention, as if they were being chewed out by a Major. "Don't answer me Marine! After all I'm just the Republican Mayoral candidate for this entire town, and I support you guys every single day of my life!," James added, staring daggers into the eyes of the personnel guarding the entrance, adding, "you're struttin' around town in your dresses, actin' like ya own the darn city! If ya want a woman who expose your butts to murderous, drug-lovin' illegals through open borders, then go out and vote Gonzales," Gilmore tersely spoke to the two men, who were standing there like statues, before finishing his sentence with "otherwise, you're lookin' at the ONLY guy who can protect you from that hot mess! GOT IT?!"
James continued to stare at the two men, anger in his eyes. Eventually, the Captain took a deep breath, calmly shook his head, then announced to his subordinate, "let them pass! Carry on Lieutenant!" "Aye-aye sir!," was the lieutenant's response as he entered a small booth and pressed a button, opening the entrance gate. With an evil smirk on his mug, James hopped back onboard his mobile command center as it entered the base.
"Mr, Gilmore?," Lindsey softly piped as she drove towards the welcoming center with a sexy, seductive smile on her visage, her cheeks blushing at her charge's guile. James could muster a slight chuckle, knowing that he was going to have a chance to shake hands with some of America's finest men and woman after all.
"Remind me never to play wild-draw strip poker with you again darlin'..."
TO BE CONTINUED...
Well howdy there pardner.