Post by Locke on Mar 10, 2021 21:03:16 GMT
Locke is sitting at his usual table, and has a form of newspaper in his hands. He is giggling like crazy, and from behind the newspaper, his voice carries over, “Oh, you crazy son of a… Ha! Ya really think that you’re gon’ have a chance?” Locke folds the newspaper up and slams it down on the table… the newspaper, which looks much like an actual one, reads The Daily Imperial. Locke is pounding his fist on the table that’s causing it to shake and almost knock his whiskey glass from the table to shatter! That is… until Locke reaches to catch it, and lifts it back up to his lips and sips slowly. “Whew!”
Locke is still giggling and is tearing up, while shaking his head… “I just read,” Locke leans onto the table supporting himself with one arm, and raising The Daily Imperial up so that we can see the headline: “Todd Williams Returns!”. He slaps the paper back against the table, and cracks up, again.
“Ain’t that the truth? These people… these… nobodies… they’re all comin’ out of the woodshop under some delusion, an’ some sort of fantasy that they’re gon’ somehow come back to the IWF in one of the biggest nights of the year an’ walk out as the winner of the Roulette? Boy, Dean Harper is delusional for believin’ that I’m gon’ let him just get that, but at least he’s been here! At least he’s shown up all year! Now, where were you, Todd? Where were you when it was time to show up? Nah, you’re a flake. A straight-up flake. Your music’ll probably queue for your entrance, an’ they’re gon’ say, ‘Nah, homie’s playin’ the latest Madden.’” Locke begins shadow playing with a controller.
Locke has a sniffle, and sets the “controller” down beside him. Nothing is actually there, but he is good at pretending. Locke leans on his elbow against the table, and becomes a bit more serious while resuming his speech, “You should probably stick to playin’ your video-games, Todd, or at least… reconsider… returnin’ at the Roulette. I get it, man, I get it! You wan’ have your feel-good moment of the year, where you come back… shock the crowd… an’ believe that their shock is goin’ to fuel your fire to the point of doin’ the impossible! We’re gon’ try to eliminate you, but these fans are gon’ go nuts! They’re gon’ break out with TODD! TODD! TODD! TODD! chants, an’ you’re gon’ skin the cat to get yourself back into the ring an’ keep on fightin’ the good fight!
When the smoke clears! Who’s gon’ be standin’ there? Who’s Alison Valance, the sweetheart that she is, gon’ be announcin’ as the winner an’ the person that’s gon’ be goin’ on to Night of the Immortals… the biggest night of the year… to face… well to face whoever is wearin’ the strap in May, whether it’s still the Kane, Mr. Verona, Jimbo Gills, or Caleb pulls some magic out of ‘is ass an’ somehow re-acquires the strap… WHO. IS. SHE. GON’. ANNOUNCE?”
Locke stares longingly toward the ceiling, as if visualizing the moment for himself… he hums “The Devil Don’t Sleep” to himself, and closes his eyes as if to bring a stronger visualization of himself, and with his eyes still closed, “Ladies and gentlemen! Your winner of the 2021 Roulette! LOCKE!” Locke had raised his hand into the air gesturing as if his name showed on the marquee. After a couple seconds of letting that visualization sink into the minds of everybody else, he brings his hand down to the table, and just smirks.
“That’s right, folks, when the smoke clears… there’s only gon’ be one person standin’ in the middle of the ring. There’s only gon’ be one person that is goin’ to move on to Night of the Immortals to battle for the World Championship! An’ that man is me. That man… that GOD… is LOCKE.” Locke reaches to his whiskey glass, and lifts it again to wet his lips.
“Boy Wonder… that’s Deano, if you need me to spell it out for you... wants to walk out of the Roulette as the winner because he’s got some intimacy issues, and probably into some sort of abusive roles… what y’all do in the bedroom is between y’all… keep that out of the ring, ah’right? Or at least… take that show to Vegas. This is a goddamn PG-13 showin’, which means y’all need to watch your fuckin’ mouths! Ah’right? Todd wants to make his triumphant return, an’ there ain’t sayin’ how many more people are already in the Mr. Verona’s office talkin’ the same talk ‘bout tryin’ to make that same return. Shit, Laszlo could be back there… Freakke… Cross?” Locke is tilting his head while he appears in contemplation of who may surprise everybody with a return, “****? ****? Nah, nobody liked him.” Locke shrugged his shoulders at the thought of the last person of he-who-shall-not-be-named.
“Ah’right, the point that I’m tryin’ to make is that Todd is not the only man marchin’ their happy ass back to the IWF in hopes of having some sort of redemption… forgiveness? The blessin’ from Mr. Verona, an’ from these fans, that they are gon’ return, be back, better than ever! But… guess what?” Locke gives a questionable shrug, “Nobody cares. Nobody cares that you want to come back an’ make a name for yourself, because you failed all elsewhere, an’ now want to come back to the big league an’ think that because you won a few titles in the indies that suddenly means you’re a big shot walkin’ in here.” Locke leans forward again, and points at the camera, “I’m talkin’ to you, Keeton.”
Locke sniffles again, “It’s not gon’ be a triumphant return for me, an’ you know why? ‘Cause I never left. I coasted by, sure. I didn’t do my best throughout the year. But I will… triumph.”
Scene ends.
Locke is still giggling and is tearing up, while shaking his head… “I just read,” Locke leans onto the table supporting himself with one arm, and raising The Daily Imperial up so that we can see the headline: “Todd Williams Returns!”. He slaps the paper back against the table, and cracks up, again.
“Ain’t that the truth? These people… these… nobodies… they’re all comin’ out of the woodshop under some delusion, an’ some sort of fantasy that they’re gon’ somehow come back to the IWF in one of the biggest nights of the year an’ walk out as the winner of the Roulette? Boy, Dean Harper is delusional for believin’ that I’m gon’ let him just get that, but at least he’s been here! At least he’s shown up all year! Now, where were you, Todd? Where were you when it was time to show up? Nah, you’re a flake. A straight-up flake. Your music’ll probably queue for your entrance, an’ they’re gon’ say, ‘Nah, homie’s playin’ the latest Madden.’” Locke begins shadow playing with a controller.
Locke has a sniffle, and sets the “controller” down beside him. Nothing is actually there, but he is good at pretending. Locke leans on his elbow against the table, and becomes a bit more serious while resuming his speech, “You should probably stick to playin’ your video-games, Todd, or at least… reconsider… returnin’ at the Roulette. I get it, man, I get it! You wan’ have your feel-good moment of the year, where you come back… shock the crowd… an’ believe that their shock is goin’ to fuel your fire to the point of doin’ the impossible! We’re gon’ try to eliminate you, but these fans are gon’ go nuts! They’re gon’ break out with TODD! TODD! TODD! TODD! chants, an’ you’re gon’ skin the cat to get yourself back into the ring an’ keep on fightin’ the good fight!
When the smoke clears! Who’s gon’ be standin’ there? Who’s Alison Valance, the sweetheart that she is, gon’ be announcin’ as the winner an’ the person that’s gon’ be goin’ on to Night of the Immortals… the biggest night of the year… to face… well to face whoever is wearin’ the strap in May, whether it’s still the Kane, Mr. Verona, Jimbo Gills, or Caleb pulls some magic out of ‘is ass an’ somehow re-acquires the strap… WHO. IS. SHE. GON’. ANNOUNCE?”
Locke stares longingly toward the ceiling, as if visualizing the moment for himself… he hums “The Devil Don’t Sleep” to himself, and closes his eyes as if to bring a stronger visualization of himself, and with his eyes still closed, “Ladies and gentlemen! Your winner of the 2021 Roulette! LOCKE!” Locke had raised his hand into the air gesturing as if his name showed on the marquee. After a couple seconds of letting that visualization sink into the minds of everybody else, he brings his hand down to the table, and just smirks.
“That’s right, folks, when the smoke clears… there’s only gon’ be one person standin’ in the middle of the ring. There’s only gon’ be one person that is goin’ to move on to Night of the Immortals to battle for the World Championship! An’ that man is me. That man… that GOD… is LOCKE.” Locke reaches to his whiskey glass, and lifts it again to wet his lips.
“Boy Wonder… that’s Deano, if you need me to spell it out for you... wants to walk out of the Roulette as the winner because he’s got some intimacy issues, and probably into some sort of abusive roles… what y’all do in the bedroom is between y’all… keep that out of the ring, ah’right? Or at least… take that show to Vegas. This is a goddamn PG-13 showin’, which means y’all need to watch your fuckin’ mouths! Ah’right? Todd wants to make his triumphant return, an’ there ain’t sayin’ how many more people are already in the Mr. Verona’s office talkin’ the same talk ‘bout tryin’ to make that same return. Shit, Laszlo could be back there… Freakke… Cross?” Locke is tilting his head while he appears in contemplation of who may surprise everybody with a return, “****? ****? Nah, nobody liked him.” Locke shrugged his shoulders at the thought of the last person of he-who-shall-not-be-named.
“Ah’right, the point that I’m tryin’ to make is that Todd is not the only man marchin’ their happy ass back to the IWF in hopes of having some sort of redemption… forgiveness? The blessin’ from Mr. Verona, an’ from these fans, that they are gon’ return, be back, better than ever! But… guess what?” Locke gives a questionable shrug, “Nobody cares. Nobody cares that you want to come back an’ make a name for yourself, because you failed all elsewhere, an’ now want to come back to the big league an’ think that because you won a few titles in the indies that suddenly means you’re a big shot walkin’ in here.” Locke leans forward again, and points at the camera, “I’m talkin’ to you, Keeton.”
Locke sniffles again, “It’s not gon’ be a triumphant return for me, an’ you know why? ‘Cause I never left. I coasted by, sure. I didn’t do my best throughout the year. But I will… triumph.”
Scene ends.
Well howdy there pardner.