Post by TheLostBoys on Jan 15, 2017 16:10:21 GMT
It is said that Australia only has two seasons throughout the year, Summer and Not Summer. Hot and only less Hot. Today was no different as the famous beach known as Byron Bay, in New South Wales, experienced yet another of the token blistering hot days that have become so common place nation-wide it was now meme-worthy. That’s not to say it was all bad though, as sun and surf proved a considerable draw and the beach was crammed with bodies of all persuasion, both native and visiting. As an added bonus majority of them were scantily dressed.
Sitting on a beach chair among all the bronzed flesh and frivolity and watching idly from behind a pair of sunglasses was a young man in colourful Venroy brand board shorts, named Dean Coulter. His toned bare chest absorbed its fair share of the sun’s rays and his ginger hair fell free from his face. Dean released a forlorn sigh as his closest and dearest friend, Sam Braxton, returned to occupy the vacant beach chair next to Dean with drinks in hand. If not for the obvious difference in physical features, the casual passer-by might mistake the two friends as relations, as their respective attires were almost exact carbon copies of each other.
See where Dean's hair was curly, long and ginger. Sam's was short and brown.
“What’s up buttercup?” Sam asked as he handed Dean a fresh can of Coke. Unfortunately, being a public beach the two mates had to contend with children friendly beverages. Though in truth that often didn’t stop most people.
“Never thought I’d say this but I’m bored with all the beaches, booze and bikinis.” Dean’s comment was met with awkward silence and it took him a moment before he turned to regard his friend. Sam Braxton stared incredulously at Dean over his own shades.
“I should slap you silly for such blasphemy.” Dean responded with a simple shrug. “Well? Why you giving me the Eeyore treatment all of a sudden?”
“I don’t know Sam. I mean after the accident it was great to get some time off. And it has been fun. But…”
“I get it. You miss it.” It was a simple statement of fact. Not a question.
“Yeah I do. Is that wrong?”
“Not in the slightest. To be honest man, I’ve been expecting this.”
“You have?”
“Definitely. Mostly cause I’m missing it too.” The two friends fell into silence once again, left to ponder their predicament and reminisce on the good ole days. When in a synchronised epiphany that would put the Bananas in Pyjamas to shame Sam and Dean sat bolt upright and looked at each with wonder and excitement.
“Are you thinking what I’m think Dean?”
“I think I am Sam.”
“IT’S TEQUILA TIME!”
It’s true, only the best decisions were made after imbibing shots of Tequila and eagerly Sam and Dean packed up their chairs and towels and made a beeline straight for the nearby bar, the Bolt Hole. The décor and atmosphere of the establishment was lost on the two men and after a cursory look to a clock (after all it was 5 o’clock somewhere right?!), the duo found themselves some seats coincidentally at the bar and ordered their shots. In a flash the two had licked up the salt, downed their drinks and sucked on the lemon slices, all the while doing the customary cringe and head shake dance.
Then it was down to business.
“Alright. So. We’ve established we both miss being in the ring. What are we going to do about it?” Dean asked. He was always the logical one. The perfect foil for Sam’s impetuosity.
“Simple. We get back into it.”
Case in point.
“Really? Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“I don’t know Sam. It just wouldn’t feel right. We were always a trio. It wouldn’t be the same. WE wouldn’t be the same. Not without Bobby.”
With that they ordered another round of shots to commemorate their friend. See back in the day, Sam and Dean, along with another close friend of theirs Bobby Walker, had forged an impressive career for themselves in the Australian Professional Wrestling circuit as the stable known as The Triforce. They had been well liked, well received and achieved their fair share of championships and recognition. But those days were behind them. Though their legacy remained.
“We couldn’t do it here. Not in Australia. Our names are synonymous with the three of us. No I think we’d need to start fresh, start with a blank slate somewhere else.
"
“Like where? Japan?”
“You kidding?! Do you know how hard they hit? Or some of the crazy gimmick matches they come up with? I am just feeling the itch to get back into active competition, not kill myself.”
“A bit much. A simple no would have sufficed.”
“I can’t believe I am saying this but…perhaps we should consider our options in the States.” The lack of response grabbed Sam’s attention and he looked up from his empty shot glasses to regard Dean who smiled mischievously. “What?”
“I should slap you silly for such blasphemy.”
“Oh haha. I was actually being serious.”
“How serious? Do you really want to this? Are WE really going to go through with this?”
“You know what. Screw it. I know what I’ve said about the “industry” in America but maybe it’s time we showed them the alternative. Show them there is a better product, a better way. It’s win-win. Not only do we return to what we love, to what we do best. But we can also forge for ourselves a brand new legacy, one we can call our own, and in the meantime show those Yanks, blinded by their own arrogance and pride, that we Aussies are so much better at it then they are!” The rising passion in Sam’s voice drew more than a few gazes from fellow patrons. Dean just tried to wave it off.
“It’s refreshing to see you like this. So impassioned and determined. It’s a good look.”
“Dude, don’t make it weird.” Dean and Sam shared a laugh and then another round. “It’s decided then! Tomorrow I am going to make some calls. Sam and Dean are back in action!”
“We may want to consider our team name options. Would hate to be compared to that TV Show.”
“That’s a future us problem. Right now we’ve got cause to celebrate. Bartender! It’s time my buddy and I hit some of the hard stuff!”
Sitting on a beach chair among all the bronzed flesh and frivolity and watching idly from behind a pair of sunglasses was a young man in colourful Venroy brand board shorts, named Dean Coulter. His toned bare chest absorbed its fair share of the sun’s rays and his ginger hair fell free from his face. Dean released a forlorn sigh as his closest and dearest friend, Sam Braxton, returned to occupy the vacant beach chair next to Dean with drinks in hand. If not for the obvious difference in physical features, the casual passer-by might mistake the two friends as relations, as their respective attires were almost exact carbon copies of each other.
See where Dean's hair was curly, long and ginger. Sam's was short and brown.
“What’s up buttercup?” Sam asked as he handed Dean a fresh can of Coke. Unfortunately, being a public beach the two mates had to contend with children friendly beverages. Though in truth that often didn’t stop most people.
“Never thought I’d say this but I’m bored with all the beaches, booze and bikinis.” Dean’s comment was met with awkward silence and it took him a moment before he turned to regard his friend. Sam Braxton stared incredulously at Dean over his own shades.
“I should slap you silly for such blasphemy.” Dean responded with a simple shrug. “Well? Why you giving me the Eeyore treatment all of a sudden?”
“I don’t know Sam. I mean after the accident it was great to get some time off. And it has been fun. But…”
“I get it. You miss it.” It was a simple statement of fact. Not a question.
“Yeah I do. Is that wrong?”
“Not in the slightest. To be honest man, I’ve been expecting this.”
“You have?”
“Definitely. Mostly cause I’m missing it too.” The two friends fell into silence once again, left to ponder their predicament and reminisce on the good ole days. When in a synchronised epiphany that would put the Bananas in Pyjamas to shame Sam and Dean sat bolt upright and looked at each with wonder and excitement.
“Are you thinking what I’m think Dean?”
“I think I am Sam.”
“IT’S TEQUILA TIME!”
It’s true, only the best decisions were made after imbibing shots of Tequila and eagerly Sam and Dean packed up their chairs and towels and made a beeline straight for the nearby bar, the Bolt Hole. The décor and atmosphere of the establishment was lost on the two men and after a cursory look to a clock (after all it was 5 o’clock somewhere right?!), the duo found themselves some seats coincidentally at the bar and ordered their shots. In a flash the two had licked up the salt, downed their drinks and sucked on the lemon slices, all the while doing the customary cringe and head shake dance.
Then it was down to business.
“Alright. So. We’ve established we both miss being in the ring. What are we going to do about it?” Dean asked. He was always the logical one. The perfect foil for Sam’s impetuosity.
“Simple. We get back into it.”
Case in point.
“Really? Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“I don’t know Sam. It just wouldn’t feel right. We were always a trio. It wouldn’t be the same. WE wouldn’t be the same. Not without Bobby.”
With that they ordered another round of shots to commemorate their friend. See back in the day, Sam and Dean, along with another close friend of theirs Bobby Walker, had forged an impressive career for themselves in the Australian Professional Wrestling circuit as the stable known as The Triforce. They had been well liked, well received and achieved their fair share of championships and recognition. But those days were behind them. Though their legacy remained.
“We couldn’t do it here. Not in Australia. Our names are synonymous with the three of us. No I think we’d need to start fresh, start with a blank slate somewhere else.
"
“Like where? Japan?”
“You kidding?! Do you know how hard they hit? Or some of the crazy gimmick matches they come up with? I am just feeling the itch to get back into active competition, not kill myself.”
“A bit much. A simple no would have sufficed.”
“I can’t believe I am saying this but…perhaps we should consider our options in the States.” The lack of response grabbed Sam’s attention and he looked up from his empty shot glasses to regard Dean who smiled mischievously. “What?”
“I should slap you silly for such blasphemy.”
“Oh haha. I was actually being serious.”
“How serious? Do you really want to this? Are WE really going to go through with this?”
“You know what. Screw it. I know what I’ve said about the “industry” in America but maybe it’s time we showed them the alternative. Show them there is a better product, a better way. It’s win-win. Not only do we return to what we love, to what we do best. But we can also forge for ourselves a brand new legacy, one we can call our own, and in the meantime show those Yanks, blinded by their own arrogance and pride, that we Aussies are so much better at it then they are!” The rising passion in Sam’s voice drew more than a few gazes from fellow patrons. Dean just tried to wave it off.
“It’s refreshing to see you like this. So impassioned and determined. It’s a good look.”
“Dude, don’t make it weird.” Dean and Sam shared a laugh and then another round. “It’s decided then! Tomorrow I am going to make some calls. Sam and Dean are back in action!”
“We may want to consider our team name options. Would hate to be compared to that TV Show.”
“That’s a future us problem. Right now we’ve got cause to celebrate. Bartender! It’s time my buddy and I hit some of the hard stuff!”
Well howdy there pardner.