Post by Awesome Stick Labor on May 22, 2017 2:10:45 GMT
IN MEMORY OF
Chris Cornell
July 20, 1964 - May 17, 2017
"The Voice of a Generation"
Chris Cornell
July 20, 1964 - May 17, 2017
"The Voice of a Generation"
~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 3
"BLACK HOLE SUN"
~Special Guest Star~
FIONA MCFLY
"BLACK HOLE SUN"
~Special Guest Star~
FIONA MCFLY
May 16, 2017 - 11:30 PM
Inside a local IHOP, a day after being bailed out of a Cincinnati jail...
...we find James Gilmore sitting across from Fiona McFly inside a smallish booth, enjoying a late-night meal. For Gilmore, who was working on a patty melt and french fries, being in a restaurant altogther was ten times better than being cooped up in a jail cell down the road...although he DID manage to find a new friend in "Pork Chop Charlie" Vaughn," who shared his own political beliefs and ideologies.
Yet on this night, a somewhat damp affair as a cool front headed towards the Greater Cincinnati Metro area bringing with a slight chance of showers and storms, McFly wanted to at least make some attempt to try and convince the Islander alum that he wasn't her enemy--that, truly, all she wanted to be was his friend...
...at least, that was the hope. Gilmore, on the other hand, had one question on his mind as he watched her finish off a salad.
JAMES GILMORE: Why'd ya do it, get me outta the clink?
James watched closed as Fiona took a moment or two to finish eating; the vibes in the room were calm with just a slight handful of paying customers that got off work late or are doing graveyard--no children, however, as this was still a "school night."
FIONA: 'Cos it was the right thing to do...'cos I did not wish for us to be enemies.
Gilmore closed his eyes for a second before scoffing at her, pointing to his neck where it was still red from events from the previous night.
JAMES: Pffft...ya tried to KILL me last night, and ya don't wanna be my enemy?!
He stammered a bit, trying to get the words out of his mouth whilst still remaining civil.
JAMES: L-l-l-look at a my neck! And you wanna tell ME that I'm goin' down a path YOU can't follow, that ya wanna be my friend and all that mess?! Seems like you've got a temper war goin' on inside YOU, eh?!
Fiona, to her credit, remained quite calm as James pressed on after taking a sip from his glass of Pepsi.
JAMES: Doesn't it bother you that ya haven't had the success ya wanted in your own division 'cuz you're from Northern Ireland? 'Cuz you're only semi-formally trained?! Does it even hurt you or what?!
She took a slight drink from a small mug of coffee--all black, by the way--before nodding slightly.
FIONA: It does...very, very much. I might be a Trump supporter myself yet I see myself more towards the centre, but that's beside the point of why I brought you here. Problem is, I don't know as much about certain things as you do--or claim to do--but let's be honest here. In your mind people have hurt you physically and mentally, 'cos you're a conservative that's blind in one eye and lacks "formalised" training in the craft...and now you want to hurt them back. THAT is the path I can't follow, the one you're going down right now.
James gritted his teeth, thinking that Fiona was trying to lecture him...
JAMES: In my family, where I'm from, we don't resort to petty vengeance. We're more sensible than that.
...only for Fiona to snap right back at him, keeping the conversation between themselves despite the vibes creeping up from contentious to just downright bad.
FIONA: FUCK YOU! I felt something in my heart the moment I heard you stormed into that palatial gymnasium and assailed those Los Loco chaps. I SAW the look on your face when you mercilessly attacked that Irishman! It was as if...you were almost relishing it--like some sadomasochistic thrill or something!
Gilmore's face grew redder by the second as he stopped working on his meal.
JAMES: You...fucking...cunt...
McFly widened her eyes at the insult, not expecting it from a guy that was once mellow in nature.
FIONA: Come on now! You're NOT the first man I've known to get a thrill out of beating the piss out of someon 'cos of a need for revenge--I see it happen in front of me, all the time!
The tension grew by the moment, slowly but surely, as James slammed the silverware he was holding. At this point, several waiters stopped in their tracks to gawk at the pair, whose voices and mannerisms became more terse and pronounced.
FIONA: What, WHAT?! Are you pissed off at something?! Are you gonna reach over this table and manhandle me, like you did that fan?! I DARE you to try it if you really want to cause a scene in front of dozens of people in a place like this...
JAMES: That drunk jumped ME first!
FIONA: But you didn't even CARE! Where was your family's sensibility you hold in such *high* regard?!
Gilmore reached his head across the table, getting face-to-face with Fiona as he could no longer hide his own inner rage....
JAMES: Don't you DARE talk about my family! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT I"VE BEEN THROUGH! YOU DON'T KNOW ME!
...prompting the other conversations within the eatery to stop in unison. Several paying customers, some of whom were cops on break, stared at the little booth where James and Fiona sat, looking for the exact moment they would come to blows. To them, it was like watching a married couple in the midst of a heated argument, wondering who would make the more aggressive maneuver.
It was accentuated when Fiona got in James' face, standing her ground.
FIONA: Oh dear...I apologise. I didn't intend on raining down on your little journey! God's sake, Khan Noonian Singh...has to go hunting for Admiral Kirk!
Gilmore, indeed an avid fan Star Trek, slinked back into his chair, shocked at the reference.
JAMES: This ain't about revenge--!
Fiona cut him off before he could say anything else.
FIONA: You LIAR! Revenge is hateful--IT IS WRONG--and you KNOW it! You don't think I'm a human being--a living, breathing person that feels!?! I KNOW how you're feeling inside--I FEEL your pain and suffering! Yet you've allowed this "Grawn" fellow to poison your mind until now, you've become the man you swore you'd never be...
She sat back in her own chair, lips quivering--not in anger, but sadness--as she tried to resume a sense of normalcy with her dinner.
FIONA: ...and it breaks my HEART to see you like this. I want to turn back the clock and recreate the life I once had as a child, when I loved to scavenge and race go-karts, just as much as you do, but you CAN'T--NO ONE CAN! Life is changing all around us...you can't stop it from happening, no matter how hard you try.
Fiona's eyes grew extremely watery as she tried to wipe them down with a spare napkin from the holder. The room suddenly sprung to life once more, the banter between the other customers and employees resuming after what had seemed like an eternity of silence.
Gilmore took a deep breath, nodding slightly in a mutual agreement with her points yet creating some on his own.
JAMES: You're right...this place has changed yet it's left me wonderin' what has happened to the US. People have come in illegally...and we do nothin' about it in the name of inclusion. They've expected us to just hand them our well-earned money like a bunch of robbers and thieves, and we don't say a word under the guise of charity. They've told us what we can and can't say for the last eight years 'cuz it would hurt someone's little feelin's...and we don't fight back. They've told me that I can't amount to nothin' 'cuz of my one eye thingy...and I've cowed down to 'em. No more!
James used the handle of his fork to draw an imaginary line on the table.
JAMES: There comes a point in your life where ya gotta draw the line in the sand and say "enough is enough," and right now...enough IS ENOUGH! Call it what YOU want--hatred, blah-blahhh--but I ain't bowin' to nobody no more...and they will PAY for what they've done to me AND MY COUNTRY!
Fiona frowned, mustering a deep and heavy sigh as she took another sip from her own beverage. In her soul, she was enraged to see her once-proud best friend conflicted by hatred and vengeance, that there was nothing she could do to dissuade him from accomplishing his agenda. James Gilmore could not let go of the fact that he had been shunned by others, ostracized for standing up for his own principles.
Yet in spite of the fact that her own family had been in chaos for years, ever since she was a child, Fiona didn't want to lash out anymore. Instead...she promptly began to hum the first bars of the grunge-rock standard "Black Hole Sun" from Soundgarden, launching into a subdued chorus.
FIONA: "Black hole sun
Won't you come
And wash away the rain
Black hole sun
Won't you come
Won't you come"
James sat there, mesmerized by Fiona's singing voice. It reminded him of his mother--angelic, on-key, and loving.
JAMES: I didn't know ya could sing--especially somethin' from Soundgarden and Chris Cornell. Loved grunge when I was growin' up. It was a time in which I'd sell my soul just to go back to and relive all over again...
FIONA: I...I understand. I love music...it soothes me when I'm angry, keeps me calm when I'm overly excited about something.
Gilmore bobbed his head affirmatively, watching as a waiter brought him his dessert--a hot-fudge sundae. He look down upon the cold concoction before, off the cuff, uttering a line from a certain movie that has always been his favorite.
JAMES: "Revenge is a dish that is best served cold..."
Fiona perked up her right brow, not knowing the film in question.
JAMES: Star Trek II--The Wrath of Khan.
FIONA: Actually...I"ve never seen it before.
James, for a fleeting moment, became somewhat amused that she had never watched TWoK to begin with. Yet, in his own subconscious, he had to remind McFly that their friendship was, for the most part, strained to its limits.
JAMES: But ya see where I'm gettin' at. Just 'cuz we ain't best of friends don't mean we have to be enemies, and I don't wanna be your enemy just as much as you don't wanna be mine. My mom used to say...we have the ability to pick out own paths toward a goal, somethin' like that...and you gotta do what you gotta do. And I gotta do what I gotta do to survive in a jungle filled with Socialists, elitists, illegals...nothin' more, nothin' less.
Gilmore took out two $20 bills and handed him over to Fiona before making his exit--having not even touched his ice cream. She was left alone at the table, watching as James went outside to catch a taxicab. In the end...nothing positive came out of the whole dinner session; instead...she felt depressed, knowing that she could do nothing more to help him let go of his hatred for the ever-changing world around him.
Yet though it all, as she quietly sang the song's last verse, Fiona McFly stilled cared for James Gilmore--no matter what--for she still saw something "good" in his heart.
FIONA: "Hang my head
Drown my fear
Till you all just
Disappear..."
~TO BE CONTINUED~
************
'Sup?!
Sometimes...I wonder what's happened to the good ol' U-S-of-A.
We now live in a society where gangs are shootin' our cops and kids, where politicians are bought and paid for like some of the biggest names in all of sports. I could go on and on and on about more different types of social ills that have plagued us for, I dunno, the past eight years...but that would mean I'd just be ramblin' and carryin' on forever and ever. And I'm a dude that would rather simply get down to the point and be done with it...
...right? Am I right?
The liberals that have infested American with their Socialist ideologies, their hypocritical sermons about things like tolerance, charity, and inclusion, want me to believe that the change in the dynamics around me are just the mere result of an evolved landscape, a dynamic in which people are said to be more aware of the fluid nature of the world around them. And if I were to disagree with the ethos in question--oh, God forbid--then I'd find myself shunned, ostracized by the very people who SAY that CLAIM to stick up for one another yet they only care about themselves...
...like, say, Tristan--*ahem* the oh-so-glorious bird-brain. The dude with the busted knee. The sanctimonious one that wished for me to be run over by a vehicle.
And the people cheer for a man who took his ball and ran back to the Murder Capital of the United States 'cuz he couldn't stomach the notion that he was never Imperial champ, that he'll never make the Hall of Fame...yet he didn't have the guts to admit that he wasn't the best he claimed to be. What a crooked, crooked excuse for a human bein'--an ice-cold, remoseless individual that oughta chill ANYONE'S blood by simply lookin' at him. In his mind, there's only one dogma...HIS. His way, his rules...much the radical Islamic terrorists that wanna impose sharia on the free-thinkin' world.
Pfft! Not on MY watch.
So the suits in Imperial's own version of Capitol Hill decide to stick me in a six-man tag with a couple of Aussie drunks who actually BELIEVE that the American wrestlin' world has become stagnated. Here's the problem with that...it's been stagnant for YEARS, populated by a bunch of self-righteous fools that were bought and paid for by the special interests doggin' our country, by those who keep on makin' a comeback even while never admitting that they're all washed up and nobody wants to see 'em no more...and then the odd men of the lot, who think they know EVERYTHING about the American way yet they ain't as smart as they think they are...
...so let's start with you, Will.
The Pitbull...the one who will NEVER escape the proverbial dog leash that is KIWA. Why's that, you might ask? It's 'cuz your ENTIRE IWF career has been tainted by the special interest groups, those who THINK they care about you and your needs, yet they only care about their own pocketbooks and more dollar signs. And for what purpose? So that you can go back to your Atlanta estate and watch the Falcons blow the Super Bowl!?! PFFFFFFT...you will never get the KIWA stain out of your system--that's why you ain't Champion in IWF! Oh yeah...and no matter how many times you drop me on my head, I will NEVER give up. I'm a survivor, livin' through the darkness that used to be 'Murrica...
...unlike you, Ryan.
Think about it for a second, okay? You've made more comebacks over the past year or so than Crooked Hillary Clinton bein' given the answers to selected debate questions. Every single time you've gone out to that ring and thrown your career away, what have YOU done, eh? It's simple...much like that guy whose knee you busted a few weeks back, you've taken your proverbial basketball and ran back to your birthplace of Allen Park, Michigan. And why's that, you might ask me? It's 'cuz, much like those left-wing Democrat nutjobs in Washington, you're afraid to admit that your time is up, that you don't have the itch--the desire--to compete. You will ALWAYS find a way to obstruct your own path to greatness, then you'll slink back to your office and wonder why the hell you're still in the game to begin with.
You...are a do-nothin'--plain and simple. You will NEVER be as big as you say you are...
...speakin' of which, what about you Devlin? Hrmmm...?
The problem with you ain't that you're bought and paid for, or that your schtick is old and crusty. Nahhh...so ya went out there and won the Cruiser Weight Invitational? Big whoop-dee-do! But what have ya done SINCE that time, huh? Let's be real...much like Maxine Waters of California, your spoony bard of a mouth has written checks that your body couldn't cash. Time and time again, you've found yourself goin' up against the likes of Spike...only to fail miserably when it mattered the most. That's 'cuz, for all this talk about destiny, ya can't seem to focus on what YOU wanna do--always trollin' the Twits feeds, lookin' to cause trouble instead of trouble comin' for you! You think you know EVERYTHING there is to know about me?!
But you ain't THAT smart. You DON'T know me!!
Neither do those hypocrites that pretended to take me in with open arms, only to shun me 'cuz I only had one good eye!
You, Ryan, Will...even the Lost Boys, listen up! Youse can all it what you will--hatred, whinin', whatever! But I want y'all to know somethin' REAL quick. This is MY story, not yours! I'm not bought and paid for--I work alone! I ain't crusty and fragile all over--I've trained MYSELF from the ground up, never quittin' for a darn moment in spite of those other boys tellin' me I should! This ain't about me wantin' revenge against those who've claimed to be people's champions only to leave out a fellow man in need of help, this ain't about lashin' out against those who THOUGHT they were lookin' out for me yet only cared about their own bottom lines...
...this is about makin' wrestling GREAT again...
...no matter what!
#MIGA
'Sup?!
Sometimes...I wonder what's happened to the good ol' U-S-of-A.
We now live in a society where gangs are shootin' our cops and kids, where politicians are bought and paid for like some of the biggest names in all of sports. I could go on and on and on about more different types of social ills that have plagued us for, I dunno, the past eight years...but that would mean I'd just be ramblin' and carryin' on forever and ever. And I'm a dude that would rather simply get down to the point and be done with it...
...right? Am I right?
The liberals that have infested American with their Socialist ideologies, their hypocritical sermons about things like tolerance, charity, and inclusion, want me to believe that the change in the dynamics around me are just the mere result of an evolved landscape, a dynamic in which people are said to be more aware of the fluid nature of the world around them. And if I were to disagree with the ethos in question--oh, God forbid--then I'd find myself shunned, ostracized by the very people who SAY that CLAIM to stick up for one another yet they only care about themselves...
...like, say, Tristan--*ahem* the oh-so-glorious bird-brain. The dude with the busted knee. The sanctimonious one that wished for me to be run over by a vehicle.
And the people cheer for a man who took his ball and ran back to the Murder Capital of the United States 'cuz he couldn't stomach the notion that he was never Imperial champ, that he'll never make the Hall of Fame...yet he didn't have the guts to admit that he wasn't the best he claimed to be. What a crooked, crooked excuse for a human bein'--an ice-cold, remoseless individual that oughta chill ANYONE'S blood by simply lookin' at him. In his mind, there's only one dogma...HIS. His way, his rules...much the radical Islamic terrorists that wanna impose sharia on the free-thinkin' world.
Pfft! Not on MY watch.
So the suits in Imperial's own version of Capitol Hill decide to stick me in a six-man tag with a couple of Aussie drunks who actually BELIEVE that the American wrestlin' world has become stagnated. Here's the problem with that...it's been stagnant for YEARS, populated by a bunch of self-righteous fools that were bought and paid for by the special interests doggin' our country, by those who keep on makin' a comeback even while never admitting that they're all washed up and nobody wants to see 'em no more...and then the odd men of the lot, who think they know EVERYTHING about the American way yet they ain't as smart as they think they are...
...so let's start with you, Will.
The Pitbull...the one who will NEVER escape the proverbial dog leash that is KIWA. Why's that, you might ask? It's 'cuz your ENTIRE IWF career has been tainted by the special interest groups, those who THINK they care about you and your needs, yet they only care about their own pocketbooks and more dollar signs. And for what purpose? So that you can go back to your Atlanta estate and watch the Falcons blow the Super Bowl!?! PFFFFFFT...you will never get the KIWA stain out of your system--that's why you ain't Champion in IWF! Oh yeah...and no matter how many times you drop me on my head, I will NEVER give up. I'm a survivor, livin' through the darkness that used to be 'Murrica...
...unlike you, Ryan.
Think about it for a second, okay? You've made more comebacks over the past year or so than Crooked Hillary Clinton bein' given the answers to selected debate questions. Every single time you've gone out to that ring and thrown your career away, what have YOU done, eh? It's simple...much like that guy whose knee you busted a few weeks back, you've taken your proverbial basketball and ran back to your birthplace of Allen Park, Michigan. And why's that, you might ask me? It's 'cuz, much like those left-wing Democrat nutjobs in Washington, you're afraid to admit that your time is up, that you don't have the itch--the desire--to compete. You will ALWAYS find a way to obstruct your own path to greatness, then you'll slink back to your office and wonder why the hell you're still in the game to begin with.
You...are a do-nothin'--plain and simple. You will NEVER be as big as you say you are...
...speakin' of which, what about you Devlin? Hrmmm...?
The problem with you ain't that you're bought and paid for, or that your schtick is old and crusty. Nahhh...so ya went out there and won the Cruiser Weight Invitational? Big whoop-dee-do! But what have ya done SINCE that time, huh? Let's be real...much like Maxine Waters of California, your spoony bard of a mouth has written checks that your body couldn't cash. Time and time again, you've found yourself goin' up against the likes of Spike...only to fail miserably when it mattered the most. That's 'cuz, for all this talk about destiny, ya can't seem to focus on what YOU wanna do--always trollin' the Twits feeds, lookin' to cause trouble instead of trouble comin' for you! You think you know EVERYTHING there is to know about me?!
But you ain't THAT smart. You DON'T know me!!
Neither do those hypocrites that pretended to take me in with open arms, only to shun me 'cuz I only had one good eye!
You, Ryan, Will...even the Lost Boys, listen up! Youse can all it what you will--hatred, whinin', whatever! But I want y'all to know somethin' REAL quick. This is MY story, not yours! I'm not bought and paid for--I work alone! I ain't crusty and fragile all over--I've trained MYSELF from the ground up, never quittin' for a darn moment in spite of those other boys tellin' me I should! This ain't about me wantin' revenge against those who've claimed to be people's champions only to leave out a fellow man in need of help, this ain't about lashin' out against those who THOUGHT they were lookin' out for me yet only cared about their own bottom lines...
...this is about makin' wrestling GREAT again...
...no matter what!
#MIGA