Post by vastrix on Apr 19, 2021 23:15:18 GMT -5
In a hotel room, Ethan Mills lays in a bed. He moans, he cries, and he carries on like he were a man dying. He puts a hand up to his right shoulder, sniffing loudly. Joe Ghaven is sitting at the end of the other bed. He’s watching television and eating from a haunch of mutton. A huge hunk of meat meant to feed a fairly good sized family with sides and such.
Ethan Mills: You could have some kind of sympathy for a dying man, Joe
Joe grunts, tearing a chunk of cooked animal flesh from the bone. He chews and swallows before responding.
Joe Ghaven: You ain’t dying, man. That’s just the vaccine talking. They did say that it would have a negative effect on women. Heh. You must really be a woman, Ethan.
Ethan tries sitting up in a rage, but quickly keels back over while nearly hitting his head on the bedside table.
Ethan Mills: I am a manly man. I’m a man’s man. I’m a man that men want to be with?
Joe looks over at Ethan with a curious look. Ethan blinks in confusion at what he had just said.
Ethan Mills: But I’m totally straight so I won’t be actually getting with the men that want me. Obvi.
Joe Ghaven: So, we are a couple of days into our second shot. Now that we’re vaccinated you thinking that you could maybe book me again? We can only get so far on stimulus checks and unemployment. Well, I mean I can, but not you.
Joe Ghaven puts his hunk of meat on a bone back into his ever present Santa Clausesque brown sack and pulls out a napkin to wipe out his mouth. He then pulls out a small metal box that he tosses to Ethan, who quickly grabs it up. He opens it up to reveal powdered tobacco. He takes a pinch of it, brings it to his nose, and inhales. He closes it and lays back on the bed with a smile.
Ethan Mills: Thanks for that. I did get you booked, man. You’re in the NPW Openweight Tournament. I got Gus Arnold to expand the tournament a little from eight men to whatever it is now. Like twelve or fifteen or some shit. Like four triple threat matches. You know?
Joe nods, reaching into his bag of tricks again. This time, he pulls out the head of a lion that roars loudly, causing Ethan to shriek like a terrified little girl. Joe quickly pushes the head back into the bag.
Joe Ghaven: Oops.
Ethan sits up this time and manages to not fall over. He takes another hit of the powdered tobacco.
Ethan Mills: oops, he says. We could have been lion snacks and all he says is oops. Why do you have a lion in that bag?
Joe Ghaven sort of looks like a toddler who has been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He just shrugs his massive, muscle bound shoulders.
Joe Ghaven: It was a pretty kitty and the circus was mistreating it?
Ethan looks to the bag and to Joe before taking another hit of the tobacco.
Ethan Mills: Your first round match is against Eron Hunter and Joseph Mack. Pretty skilled guys if you ask me. I think Eron Hunter used to be called Lynx?
Joe nods his head, reaching back into the bag to pull out his haunch of lamb again. Only about half of it is gone now. Joe grumbles, mostly to himself.
Joe Ghaven: Fucking lion can’t hunt the gazelle in there. Nooo, he goes for the piece of cooked meat that’s mine.
Ethan Mills: You. You have gazelle running around. In that bag.
Joe just shrugs with a smile.
Joe Ghaven: It’s a big bag.
Ethan stares, open mouthed, at the bag for a moment. Yes, he knows that there’s just about anything in the bag by now, but it just doesn’t stop getting weirder by the day. Ethan shakes his head and takes another hit.
Ethan Mills: So, listen. We need to get to the show that’s in Mississauga, ON. Okay?
Joe Ghaven: Okay. Where are we now?
Ethan scratches the back of his head for a moment before taking yet another hit of tobacco.
Ethan Mills: I think we’re in Detroit? I honestly haven’t been keeping up. Let me check.
Ethan picks up the phone and dials the number to call the front desk.
Ethan Mills: Hey, sweetcheeks. You wanna cue us in on where we’re at? I know the name of the hotel. Like what city and state are we in? Oh, really? I was way off then. Thanks!
Ethan hangs up the phone, looking sheepishly at the expectant Joe Ghaven.
Ethan Mills: So, we’re in Houston, Texas? Yeah, I would have sworn that we were up North. Ah well. So we just need to get up to Ontario in a few days. Sound good?
Joe is eating from his haunch of mutton, despite the fact that the lion took most of it. He swallows his bite before responding.
Joe Ghaven: How we getting there? We got money for a flight?
Ethan licks his lips, doing the math in his head.
Ethan Mills: We have just enough money for tonight and they would be kicking us out tomorrow anyway. You got any money in that bag of yours? It has everything else.
Joe reaches into his bag and pulls out his wallet. He tosses it to Ethan, who opens it up. He pulls out twenty bucks with a sigh.
Ethan Mills: All you got is twenty bucks? Man, that’s not going to get us to Ontario!
Joe Ghaven: Can’t we just drive?
Ethan Mills: We got here by bus? The car broke down a few hundred miles ago and we left it. How are we getting there?
Joe reaches into his bag again. This time pulling out a black ski mask that he slips on his head.
Ethan Mills: You could have some kind of sympathy for a dying man, Joe
Joe grunts, tearing a chunk of cooked animal flesh from the bone. He chews and swallows before responding.
Joe Ghaven: You ain’t dying, man. That’s just the vaccine talking. They did say that it would have a negative effect on women. Heh. You must really be a woman, Ethan.
Ethan tries sitting up in a rage, but quickly keels back over while nearly hitting his head on the bedside table.
Ethan Mills: I am a manly man. I’m a man’s man. I’m a man that men want to be with?
Joe looks over at Ethan with a curious look. Ethan blinks in confusion at what he had just said.
Ethan Mills: But I’m totally straight so I won’t be actually getting with the men that want me. Obvi.
Joe Ghaven: So, we are a couple of days into our second shot. Now that we’re vaccinated you thinking that you could maybe book me again? We can only get so far on stimulus checks and unemployment. Well, I mean I can, but not you.
Joe Ghaven puts his hunk of meat on a bone back into his ever present Santa Clausesque brown sack and pulls out a napkin to wipe out his mouth. He then pulls out a small metal box that he tosses to Ethan, who quickly grabs it up. He opens it up to reveal powdered tobacco. He takes a pinch of it, brings it to his nose, and inhales. He closes it and lays back on the bed with a smile.
Ethan Mills: Thanks for that. I did get you booked, man. You’re in the NPW Openweight Tournament. I got Gus Arnold to expand the tournament a little from eight men to whatever it is now. Like twelve or fifteen or some shit. Like four triple threat matches. You know?
Joe nods, reaching into his bag of tricks again. This time, he pulls out the head of a lion that roars loudly, causing Ethan to shriek like a terrified little girl. Joe quickly pushes the head back into the bag.
Joe Ghaven: Oops.
Ethan sits up this time and manages to not fall over. He takes another hit of the powdered tobacco.
Ethan Mills: oops, he says. We could have been lion snacks and all he says is oops. Why do you have a lion in that bag?
Joe Ghaven sort of looks like a toddler who has been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He just shrugs his massive, muscle bound shoulders.
Joe Ghaven: It was a pretty kitty and the circus was mistreating it?
Ethan looks to the bag and to Joe before taking another hit of the tobacco.
Ethan Mills: Your first round match is against Eron Hunter and Joseph Mack. Pretty skilled guys if you ask me. I think Eron Hunter used to be called Lynx?
Joe nods his head, reaching back into the bag to pull out his haunch of lamb again. Only about half of it is gone now. Joe grumbles, mostly to himself.
Joe Ghaven: Fucking lion can’t hunt the gazelle in there. Nooo, he goes for the piece of cooked meat that’s mine.
Ethan Mills: You. You have gazelle running around. In that bag.
Joe just shrugs with a smile.
Joe Ghaven: It’s a big bag.
Ethan stares, open mouthed, at the bag for a moment. Yes, he knows that there’s just about anything in the bag by now, but it just doesn’t stop getting weirder by the day. Ethan shakes his head and takes another hit.
Ethan Mills: So, listen. We need to get to the show that’s in Mississauga, ON. Okay?
Joe Ghaven: Okay. Where are we now?
Ethan scratches the back of his head for a moment before taking yet another hit of tobacco.
Ethan Mills: I think we’re in Detroit? I honestly haven’t been keeping up. Let me check.
Ethan picks up the phone and dials the number to call the front desk.
Ethan Mills: Hey, sweetcheeks. You wanna cue us in on where we’re at? I know the name of the hotel. Like what city and state are we in? Oh, really? I was way off then. Thanks!
Ethan hangs up the phone, looking sheepishly at the expectant Joe Ghaven.
Ethan Mills: So, we’re in Houston, Texas? Yeah, I would have sworn that we were up North. Ah well. So we just need to get up to Ontario in a few days. Sound good?
Joe is eating from his haunch of mutton, despite the fact that the lion took most of it. He swallows his bite before responding.
Joe Ghaven: How we getting there? We got money for a flight?
Ethan licks his lips, doing the math in his head.
Ethan Mills: We have just enough money for tonight and they would be kicking us out tomorrow anyway. You got any money in that bag of yours? It has everything else.
Joe reaches into his bag and pulls out his wallet. He tosses it to Ethan, who opens it up. He pulls out twenty bucks with a sigh.
Ethan Mills: All you got is twenty bucks? Man, that’s not going to get us to Ontario!
Joe Ghaven: Can’t we just drive?
Ethan Mills: We got here by bus? The car broke down a few hundred miles ago and we left it. How are we getting there?
Joe reaches into his bag again. This time pulling out a black ski mask that he slips on his head.
