Post by Awesome Stick Labor on Jun 1, 2015 21:07:59 GMT
Court is now in session—the Honorable Jack Gaither will preside.
Jake Conway, your appeals have been denied. Not even Mr. Obama can save your ass. The day has finally come—the day you wind up bein' punished for your sins.
Tick...tock...tick...tock...
Do ya hear that, Jake? That is the sound the minutes and seconds inchin' down—closer and closer—towards the time where you're gonna find out REAL quick that it ain't nice to fuck with yours truly and think you can get away with it.
Tick...tock...tick....tock...
Before ya know what's gonna hit ya, you'll be rollin' around in that cage while I take your precious Man of Steel Championship home to North Texas. While you sit there and cry your love a river, I'm gonna be lookin' down from the heavens above with a grin that's as big as FedExField.
Tick...tock...tick...tock...
You can't stop nothin' Jake. Your end's comin'--faster than you'll ever realize.
And the clock is tickin'.
**********
Jake Conway, your appeals have been denied. Not even Mr. Obama can save your ass. The day has finally come—the day you wind up bein' punished for your sins.
Tick...tock...tick...tock...
Do ya hear that, Jake? That is the sound the minutes and seconds inchin' down—closer and closer—towards the time where you're gonna find out REAL quick that it ain't nice to fuck with yours truly and think you can get away with it.
Tick...tock...tick....tock...
Before ya know what's gonna hit ya, you'll be rollin' around in that cage while I take your precious Man of Steel Championship home to North Texas. While you sit there and cry your love a river, I'm gonna be lookin' down from the heavens above with a grin that's as big as FedExField.
Tick...tock...tick...tock...
You can't stop nothin' Jake. Your end's comin'--faster than you'll ever realize.
And the clock is tickin'.
**********
Episode V
JUDGEMENT NIGHT
JUDGEMENT NIGHT
May 30, 2015 - 8:00 PM
For the first time in God knows how long, there is not a drop of rain in the Arlington, Texas area. With temperatures in the mid-60s and cloud-free skies, we find ourselves outside Jack Gaither's home on his backyard garden, where on this cool and clear night we see Jack Gaither resting comfortably in his white lawn chair, shaking his head as he continues to think about his upcoming trial.
JACK GAITHER: God, the more I think about this trial the more I start to go insane.
We find Fiona McFly and Kirk Gaither McFly--Jack's newly-discovered son--as they sit in separate black lawn chairs, gazing at the stars on a night that's free of rain for the first time in weeks. They all bask in the cool and dry weather conditions while waiting for the pizza delivery man to get to their door so they can have themselves a nice family dinner--free of distractions that come with being such a tight-knit family.
FIONA MCFLY: My mum would always say to simply look out at the stars and shoot for the moon.
KIRK GAITHER MCFLY: Yeah...ya know, try to take in nature's beauty, not sweatin' the small things.
The 16-year-old student notices a meteor streaking across the North Texas night sky and smiles.
KIRK: Ain't this a nice night or what?
FIONA: It sure is.
The ex-QB pulls out his iPhone and checks the time.
JACK: Pizza guy's got forty-seven seconds.
The young Kirk looks toward his father, who lights up one of his Cuban cigars that his fiancee gave him for a birthday present a while back.
KIRK: Hey Dad...did you ever think about what your favorite teachers always said? You know, about hnadlin' life in the right way, not fallin' back on old grudges?
Jack simply shakes his head.
JACK: I haven't thought about it, and I sure wish I would have.
**********
Pull yourself up a chair, son. Listen to the sounds of Garth Brooks playin' in your mind.
Munch on a nice barbeque cheddar burger basket with steak fries and a heapin' glass of Pepsi.
Enjoy a slice of good ol'-fashioned apple pie.
Sit next to the open window, and feel the breeze rushin' into your body.
Enjoy the open sunshine and the freshly-cut lawns in your own neighborhood.
Take in the sights, the smells, and the sounds--for that willl be the last bits of freedom you'll ever see, Jake Conway.
You're goin' to death row, bud—where you'll be locked in a cage without the chance to see the light of day for the rest of your miserable existence. You've been found guilty on all charges—and now it's time to hand down your sentence.
For I am the judge, jury, and executioner.
**********
Pull yourself up a chair, son. Listen to the sounds of Garth Brooks playin' in your mind.
Munch on a nice barbeque cheddar burger basket with steak fries and a heapin' glass of Pepsi.
Enjoy a slice of good ol'-fashioned apple pie.
Sit next to the open window, and feel the breeze rushin' into your body.
Enjoy the open sunshine and the freshly-cut lawns in your own neighborhood.
Take in the sights, the smells, and the sounds--for that willl be the last bits of freedom you'll ever see, Jake Conway.
You're goin' to death row, bud—where you'll be locked in a cage without the chance to see the light of day for the rest of your miserable existence. You've been found guilty on all charges—and now it's time to hand down your sentence.
For I am the judge, jury, and executioner.
**********
Jack's voice begins to trail off, for he knows that he and his prosecutor, Russell Janeway, share some enmity towards each other--even after their high school fistfight nearly two decades earlier. Fipna, sipping on a can of Dr. Pepper, nods her head gently before sighing to herself.
FIONA: I suspect the last thing Dr. Janeway ever wanted was for you and her grandson to become mortal enemies.
KIRK: I agree. I think you should just learn to let him go.
Jack looks over at the St. Christopher medallion that Dr. Janeway gave him prior to graduation, solemnly weaving his head back and forth.
JACK: I tried at Doc's funeral...and I just don't know if I can.
FIONA: Maybe you're just looking at this from the perspective of who you used to be all these years ago.
KIRK: It's been eighteen years since The Rumble—Mum told me that it became the stuff of legends.
Jack perks his eyebrows up, attempting to come up with the right words to correct his son and, to a lesser extent, his future bride.
JACK: Son, legends usually mean bad news. I, for one, I'm happy you ain't like how I was. Trust me...you don't ever wanna be like me--you just gotta be yourself. That's how I see things.
Fiona looks down at her Rolex and ekes out a sly smirk on her face.
FIONA: The pizza man is late.
JACK: Yep, it's five bucks off.
The troika shares a hearty bit of laughter as Jack slowly gets up and heads back inside the house, hoping to collect on the pizza they've ordered. Meanwhile, Fiona nd Kirk are still relaxing in their chairs before the Irishwoman turns her head to face her son.
FIONA: Mr. Russell Janeway tried to rape me nearly twenty years ago.
The young teen shakes his head.
KIRK: I can't stomach goin' to a school like you and Dad's. It must've been the pits.
FIONA: Yes it was...but your father did all he could to stop Russell--even if it meant costing him his reputation.
KIRK: He was like Spock: "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."
The honors student warmly grins and nods his head, knowing that his father put himself at risk for the sake of others. Fiona nods with him as well.
FIONA: You see Kirk...your father took up for me when nobody else would, and he earned the respect of those 'round him--including Dr. Janeway's. And now...'tis our turn to help him out in any way that's possible. This time, the needs of the one--Jack--will outweigh our own.
Kirk pounds his heart twice with his hand in a sort of affirmed agreement.
KIRK: Welp, explorin' and investigatin' stuff is my specialty. I'll be happy to help out if ya need it.
FIONA: That is all that we ask of you.
**********
Ya know somethin' Jake, for every reaction there's an equal and opposite reaction.
Action...reaction—you can't stop it, it's a fact of life son.
Here's the action: you tried to spin the web of a waiting brown recluse spider, passin' yourself off as an innocent sumbitch who only wanted to wear stripes in my match last week. Yet I shoulda known better than to see the match to its conclusion, knowing damn well that ya had somethin' up your sleeve—an ulterior motive so to speak. Ya thought it would be cool to jump me from behind and have Kat knock my Fiona into the next state, but guess what? I don't find it cool at all, bud. Here's the reaction: I haven't forgotten about what ya did, son. As a consequence, you just signed your own death warrant, and I'm gonna do ANYTHING to make sure it's carried out in a quick, proficient, and orderly manner.
You wanna know what the sad thing about it is? It's real simple: I decide your method of execution—and there ain't a fuckin' thing that your compadres in the office are gonna be able to do about it.
Now—as the day comes to pass, as you make your final walk to the death house—I'm gonna make ya think about it long and hard.
How does it feel, Jake? How does it feel for you to realize that, with just a wave of my proverbial magic wand, I can change the tide of the match? Now I've got people askin' me “gee Jack, what should ya do?” Should I sit there and spice up the cage itself? Should I keep things simple and have Kat banned from FedExField? It must make ya feel like shit knowin' that, for once, someone else is givin' the orders and takin' charge of what's gonna happen inside that ring. It must really piss ya off to know that I—and not you—will have the final say on our Man of Steel trophy match—that what I'm about to do could very well lead to your eventual demise. Oh yeah, by the way, if ya really wanna know what I've got planned up my sleeve, well that's just too darn bad. I don't give things away--no matter how insignificant they might be.
You have ZERO idea as to what's about to happen to you come Sunday, and I'd prefer to keep it that way son.
Yet before I sit there and make the decision heard 'round the world in front of 90,000-plus at the home of my Cowboys' biggest rival, I want you to remember somethin': I might've been your enemy in the past, but this time I'm not the bad guy. I'm not the one who causes the destruction of the Imperial world.
You are.
So go ahead and try and spin yourself as some good guy who's worked all his life to get to where he's at today; I'll just see right through that bullshit faster than you can say “uncle.” Preach to the world that fightin' a war against you and your corporate buddies will ultimately end in failure; I'll just brush it off—after all, I don't start wars. I finish 'em for keeps. You can go ahead and proclaim to the heavens above that you're the biggest thing in IWF since the invention of the wheel, but in the end it won't make a goddamn difference. I will break your ass limb from limb, piece by piece, 'til you're nothin' more than a footnote in the annals of modern human civilization. The best part of it is that I'm the one who's in control of your destiny—and you can't do a thing about it except think about your own end.
May whatever God you believe in...have mercy on your soul.
This court stands adjourned.
Ya know somethin' Jake, for every reaction there's an equal and opposite reaction.
Action...reaction—you can't stop it, it's a fact of life son.
Here's the action: you tried to spin the web of a waiting brown recluse spider, passin' yourself off as an innocent sumbitch who only wanted to wear stripes in my match last week. Yet I shoulda known better than to see the match to its conclusion, knowing damn well that ya had somethin' up your sleeve—an ulterior motive so to speak. Ya thought it would be cool to jump me from behind and have Kat knock my Fiona into the next state, but guess what? I don't find it cool at all, bud. Here's the reaction: I haven't forgotten about what ya did, son. As a consequence, you just signed your own death warrant, and I'm gonna do ANYTHING to make sure it's carried out in a quick, proficient, and orderly manner.
You wanna know what the sad thing about it is? It's real simple: I decide your method of execution—and there ain't a fuckin' thing that your compadres in the office are gonna be able to do about it.
Now—as the day comes to pass, as you make your final walk to the death house—I'm gonna make ya think about it long and hard.
How does it feel, Jake? How does it feel for you to realize that, with just a wave of my proverbial magic wand, I can change the tide of the match? Now I've got people askin' me “gee Jack, what should ya do?” Should I sit there and spice up the cage itself? Should I keep things simple and have Kat banned from FedExField? It must make ya feel like shit knowin' that, for once, someone else is givin' the orders and takin' charge of what's gonna happen inside that ring. It must really piss ya off to know that I—and not you—will have the final say on our Man of Steel trophy match—that what I'm about to do could very well lead to your eventual demise. Oh yeah, by the way, if ya really wanna know what I've got planned up my sleeve, well that's just too darn bad. I don't give things away--no matter how insignificant they might be.
You have ZERO idea as to what's about to happen to you come Sunday, and I'd prefer to keep it that way son.
Yet before I sit there and make the decision heard 'round the world in front of 90,000-plus at the home of my Cowboys' biggest rival, I want you to remember somethin': I might've been your enemy in the past, but this time I'm not the bad guy. I'm not the one who causes the destruction of the Imperial world.
You are.
So go ahead and try and spin yourself as some good guy who's worked all his life to get to where he's at today; I'll just see right through that bullshit faster than you can say “uncle.” Preach to the world that fightin' a war against you and your corporate buddies will ultimately end in failure; I'll just brush it off—after all, I don't start wars. I finish 'em for keeps. You can go ahead and proclaim to the heavens above that you're the biggest thing in IWF since the invention of the wheel, but in the end it won't make a goddamn difference. I will break your ass limb from limb, piece by piece, 'til you're nothin' more than a footnote in the annals of modern human civilization. The best part of it is that I'm the one who's in control of your destiny—and you can't do a thing about it except think about your own end.
May whatever God you believe in...have mercy on your soul.
This court stands adjourned.
Well howdy there pardner.