Post by Alexander "The Great" Parise on Aug 5, 2009 20:35:55 GMT -5
The slow, fading pulse of R.M. Voglur continues to beat, even if it is barely going. He lies in his hospital; coughing and gagging whilst watching some lousy infomercials play over and over. Slowly his ears perk up and he turns off the television as he hears footsteps coming down the hall, a very rare occasion for him. He tries to sit upright in bed, but he can’t, and before he knows it he is face to face with the FCW World Heavyweight Champion. Slowly Voglur smiles as he lights a cigarette, but before he can react Parise snatches it from his grasp and dabs it out quickly turning back to Voglur.
“So, RM Voglur, owner of FCW, I guess I should be honored. Yet somehow I can’t help but feel….disappointed. You’re deteriorating faster than I thought; I guess you don’t have much time left, do you?”
Parise sits in the bedside seat as Voglur simply opens his cigarette pack again, but it is empty. Voglur’s eyes open wide for a moment, but they go back to their usual squinting mode quickly from the pain. Parise smiles as he opens his hand, revealing all the cigarette’s that were supposed to be in the carton.
“You’re dying, my friend, but we wouldn’t want to see you go any sooner than what the current deadline is. It’s a shame to see such a…. an innovator go like this, but I guess some of us are just unlucky, or unhealthy.”
Parise takes the cigarette’s over to the window and tosses them out of the window, causing Voglur to reach out, but to no avail.
“You know, Alexander ‘The Great’ died a sick man, younger than he should have gone. But you, you have overstayed your welcome in this lifetime. See Alexander went day by day, minute by minute. He didn’t deserve to meet the God’s that day, but he did. Every day he got a little worse, his fever got higher, and eventually he had to be carried from place to place, and after that it was so bad that his men couldn’t even carry him around, and after that, well, how should we put it, he ‘kicked the bucket’?”
“Save me the stories, Alex, I never cared for them.”
Voglur barely manages to spit these words out as Alexander Parise stands up and smiles. Slowly he reaches down to touch Voglur’s hand, but it is pulled back before Parise’s could touch it, but Alexander could feel the coldness being given off from them without even touching them.
“I’m the one who should be mad, you’re the one who ignored me all this time, you made it so easy for James, you wanted, no, needed him to succeed for you, it was never about him being a failure, it’s always been about you. You’ve twisted and deformed every little thing so it always has a positive outcome for you, but now it’s over. And you know what? No one will remember you, you’ll die as you lived; a selfish bastard. It’s over, Voglur.”
With that Parise turns his back on Voglur who tries to speak but can’t find the words. Slowly he stops trying as Parise leaves Voglur alone again in his room.
Parise exits the room and walks out the way he came, and just as he rounds the corner, not able to see the hallway in which Voglur is staying as a man wearing a black trench coat rounds the other corner, once again causing Voglur’s ears to perk up. Slowly the doorknob opens, and in steps a man that somehow lightens up Voglur’s face without the effect of a cigarette. The man steps in and sits in the chair that was just recently occupied by Parise. The latest of very few visitors stands up and looks at the chair, realizing that it is warm. He looks to Voglur who coughs and wheezes. The man places his hand on Voglur’s as he kneels beside the bed. He merely has to mutter a few words which would’ve caused Voglur’s heart to stop on a normal occasion, but it doesn’t here.
“You know he’s out.”
The man falls back into the chair as both sit in silence for a moment. They solemnly stare at one another as the man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and hands them to Voglur.
TBC Voglur
“So, RM Voglur, owner of FCW, I guess I should be honored. Yet somehow I can’t help but feel….disappointed. You’re deteriorating faster than I thought; I guess you don’t have much time left, do you?”
Parise sits in the bedside seat as Voglur simply opens his cigarette pack again, but it is empty. Voglur’s eyes open wide for a moment, but they go back to their usual squinting mode quickly from the pain. Parise smiles as he opens his hand, revealing all the cigarette’s that were supposed to be in the carton.
“You’re dying, my friend, but we wouldn’t want to see you go any sooner than what the current deadline is. It’s a shame to see such a…. an innovator go like this, but I guess some of us are just unlucky, or unhealthy.”
Parise takes the cigarette’s over to the window and tosses them out of the window, causing Voglur to reach out, but to no avail.
“You know, Alexander ‘The Great’ died a sick man, younger than he should have gone. But you, you have overstayed your welcome in this lifetime. See Alexander went day by day, minute by minute. He didn’t deserve to meet the God’s that day, but he did. Every day he got a little worse, his fever got higher, and eventually he had to be carried from place to place, and after that it was so bad that his men couldn’t even carry him around, and after that, well, how should we put it, he ‘kicked the bucket’?”
“Save me the stories, Alex, I never cared for them.”
Voglur barely manages to spit these words out as Alexander Parise stands up and smiles. Slowly he reaches down to touch Voglur’s hand, but it is pulled back before Parise’s could touch it, but Alexander could feel the coldness being given off from them without even touching them.
“I’m the one who should be mad, you’re the one who ignored me all this time, you made it so easy for James, you wanted, no, needed him to succeed for you, it was never about him being a failure, it’s always been about you. You’ve twisted and deformed every little thing so it always has a positive outcome for you, but now it’s over. And you know what? No one will remember you, you’ll die as you lived; a selfish bastard. It’s over, Voglur.”
With that Parise turns his back on Voglur who tries to speak but can’t find the words. Slowly he stops trying as Parise leaves Voglur alone again in his room.
Parise exits the room and walks out the way he came, and just as he rounds the corner, not able to see the hallway in which Voglur is staying as a man wearing a black trench coat rounds the other corner, once again causing Voglur’s ears to perk up. Slowly the doorknob opens, and in steps a man that somehow lightens up Voglur’s face without the effect of a cigarette. The man steps in and sits in the chair that was just recently occupied by Parise. The latest of very few visitors stands up and looks at the chair, realizing that it is warm. He looks to Voglur who coughs and wheezes. The man places his hand on Voglur’s as he kneels beside the bed. He merely has to mutter a few words which would’ve caused Voglur’s heart to stop on a normal occasion, but it doesn’t here.
“You know he’s out.”
The man falls back into the chair as both sit in silence for a moment. They solemnly stare at one another as the man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and hands them to Voglur.
TBC Voglur