Post by Jimmy Gimmick on Aug 23, 2009 18:18:16 GMT -5
Interlude: Cowboys and Indians
“If I don’t watch myself I may even end up becoming you.”
*Gimmick spits into his cell phone as it is pressed up against his ear, he quickly snaps it shut and turns to the camera crew and almost looks surprised.*
“It wouldn’t have been a bad idea to announce yourself, clear your throat or something, you know to establish your presence, Jesus.”
*The view from the camera is a narrow one as it is close to the dimpled face of the former James Voglur. Not much of the surroundings are visible it’s clear that the scene is taking place on a moving bus. Lights flash in the window likely from passing cars as well as the streetlights, they were needed at this hour. It was a surprise the buses were still running.*
“So I suppose it would be considered more acceptable from a business stand point if I spent the course of this bus ride producing some form of narration or soliloquy, something to entertain the thousands watching?”
*He wasn’t in the mood, imagine that Gimmick not in the mood for entertaining if after all this time no one could find the irony in this than the FCW audience truly were collectively a lost cause.*
“The reason I’m not on Anarchy this week, or at least the reason corporate sent down the FCW hierarchy is something to do with personal leave regarding the death of my beloved Dick, yes I’m on a first name basis with my father occasional but I don’t see anything wrong with that. Well that’s the least of the worries as far as putting a strain on our relationship would be concerned.”
*Rambling, he did it well, almost frighteningly so. Gone were the hours spent trying to escape his personal feelings, the days that turned into weeks, the weeks to months, then they finally disappeared. August 8th, that one night it saved him, he was redeemed in his own eyes, yet lost in everyone else’s.*
“The real reason I was sure not to be booked this week is because of, well lets just call it a road trip I’ve had planned for quite some time. I suppose it’s a good thing you guys are with me, after all I’m going to need your help.”
*The camera still shakily attempts to focus on Gimmick as the bus goes over a bump revealing the other passengers all of whom bare strange expressions aimed at Gimmick.*
“If I were you I would save some of that tape, we might be a while.”
*Gimmick begins to whistle, it is not the same whistling sound an average man may produce, instead it’s almost eerie, as though the song Gimmick whistles may be played at a funeral.*
“Before you turn those off, Randy… Dad’s are great aren’t they?”
*Gimmick’s whistling stops and he begins his sadistic cackle, mid way through the maddening laughter the camera cuts to black.*
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*The image instantly opens back up as the two clips had clearly been stung together by some sort of technical supervisor upon their completion. Cowboy Bob Orton steps out of his car only to instantly pause upon noticing the cameras.*
Bob Orton-“What’s going on here?”
*No answer, Bob ignores the cameramen entering his house and closing the door behind him, this has no effect on the fcw crew as they follow through pushing the door open and entering after the retired superstar. Bob Orton enters his kitchen and before he can cross the room he hears footsteps of the cameraman once more.*
Bob Orton-“I don’t want the press in my damn house, what the hell do you even want?”
“What do I want?”
*The cold voice that echoes through Bob Orton’s kitchen is most definitely not that of a cameraman, the cold tone is accompanied by laughter that sends a chill down the spine.*
“I want the legendary Cowboy Bob Orton in the flesh, what else?”
*Orton turns to see the intruder and there stands Gimmick clad in a black suit and an equally as dark undershirt, Jimmy Gimmick smiles absently while sliding a cigarette from the package in his hand.*
“So we meet at last, you know your son looks just like you.”
Bob Orton-“Get the hell out of my house.”
*Gimmick slips the cigarette between curled lips and follows it closely with a lighter which he flips open to light the butt end of the cigarette.*
“Brash, ignorant, condescending, easily read; like father like son I suppose. But you’re not really in the position to be making demands.”
*Gimmick reaches behind a nearby counter and raises up a lead pipe he had stowed there earlier, Bob Orton’s eyes dart from Gimmick’s to the pipe.*
“The things you taught Randy, the way you raised him, all the violence and hatred he is capable of, yet all along you were proud of him.”
*Orton swallows hard as Gimmick exhales a trickle of smoke from the corner of his lips and paces around Bob’s kitchen.*
“I want to see how you feel about him now. He brought this pain upon you, he forced you to suffer, to be in agony like my father, and like my father you deserve it.”
*Bob Orton’s mouth hangs open and Gimmick lunges forward swinging the lead pipe as the screen cuts to black.*
(End of RP)
