Post by terras on Sept 4, 2021 11:51:06 GMT -5
The last AWF Phoenix champion, the first GUNS Phoenix champion, and the current XHF Phoenix champion - Redmond Fury...... is lifting.
RF: 78035...
...78036...
........78037...........
#Booty, booty, booty, booty, rockin' everywhere#
#Booty, booty, booty, booty, rockin' everywhere#
#Booty, booty, booty, booty, rockin' everywhere#
#Rockin' everywhere, rockin' everywhere#
The soothing lyrics of Bubba Sparxxx informs The Buckeye Bruiser that he has an incoming call. The Samsung Galaxy vibrates on a nearby rowing machine - shuffling against the surface like it too was booty rockin. For his part, rather than answer the call, Fury gets too into his own ringtone, shaking his 172-pound dumbbells like they were maracas to the beat. Watching the gentle giant get his groove on will bring back fond memories of his Red Hot Fury days to long term fans.
Missed call.
Whoops.
RF: Where was I? Looks like I'll have to start again from scratch... 1... 2... 3... just kidding, there is enough Ginkgo Biloba, Resveratrol, and Acetyl-L-Carntine in my morning protein shakes to kill a child of moderate size. As a result, I have the memory of an elephant. 78041. 78042. Now normally when working out I insist on focus – for both safety and meditation. I am going to make an exception and multitask this one time, because this is the eve of my GUNS debut, and that was my manager.
Freeing one hand to pick up his cellphone, Fury punches redial.
MS: Silverwind’s Gym.
RF: Hi Mickey, it’s Redmond, just returning your call.
MS: You get the fax I sent you, Red?
RF: We’ve been over this. I don’t own a fax machine, Mickey. Most people-
MS: Hold on.
Rapid Fire Montage: Tape running across cardboard. A door opens to a delivery man. Wheels spin. A courier van speeds down a highway. Foot on break. Finger on buzzer. Biceps flex as package is torn open. Cables connected. A fax machine now sits in the middle of a table, looking awkward, with no practical application beyond collecting dust.
#Booty, booty, booty, booty, rockin' ev-
RF: Yeah?
MS: Did you get the fax machine I sent you, Red.
RF: Yes, thank you – but –
MS: Hang on kid. GUNS sent me over some material on your first defence... I’ll fax it over.
RF: Couldn’t you just email-
MS: E male? Don’t get caught up in fads, Red. That will never catch on. There is a certain level of professionalism that comes with working for communication. If you had one of those good looking valets – the girls with the legs, that old fad, I’m sure they would be more than happy to e male you. No work ethic, you see. You hired a real manager, and I have a professional standard. Why back when I managed commonwealth champion Byron Dempsey – I’d get him all the news with a telegraph. Do you know morse code, Red?
RF: Sorry, Mickey. Look, I really enjoy listening to your theories on management, but I have to get back to training – so unless it’s pressing...
MS: The fax hasn’t arrived?
RF: No.
MS: Sometimes they take awhile.
Rapid Fire Montage: A light flashes. A loud noise. Paper slow starts to shuffle. Even in sped up form, it seems to be taking its time.
RF: Was there anything important in it?
MS: Can I ask you an honest question, Red? Have you slept with a member of Magnus’ family, kicked his dog, destroyed his personal property, or gone on a psychotic hate speech tirade in one of those inter net forums?
RF: Of course not.
MS: I can’t figure it out, cause the opponent they got lined up for your first defence is a real ringer. We’d call ‘im a shooter back in my day. You don’t bring a challenger like this in, unless you’re trying to physically hurt the champ, or guarantee a title is removed. Bad news in worse tights.
RF: I’m sure Magnus is just trying to make the Phoenix division as competitive as possible, which is my vision for it too. I haven’t had too many dealings with him, but I’m sure he’d never do anything untowards...
MS: You just brought them a new strap on a silver platter. I figure they’d throw you a softball, make your first defence against a bum. Instead? You’ll be lucky to crawl away from this without a career ending injury.
RF: I appreciate your concern Mickey, but I only want to defend against the best – so I’m sure whoever Magnus has lined up is-
The fax finally comes through. Picking it up, Fury’s pupils tense when they come across his opponent’s name.
RF: Oh. Well, this is going to hurt.
A note of fear creeping into his voice, Fury sits down on his weight bench.
MS: So Red, train like your life depended on it.
RF: . . .That’s what I’ve been trying to do.
The Buckeye Bruiser admires the name of his dreadful opponent again, before laying the paper down.
MS: I'll have a look in the Sears catalogue. I’ll try to get some Betamax tapes of this guy’s matches so we can study...
Obsolete.
Facing the greatest challenge of his career, on the edge of the abyss, Redmond Fury is starting to question his manager’s interest in him.
RF: 78035...
...78036...
........78037...........
#Booty, booty, booty, booty, rockin' everywhere#
#Booty, booty, booty, booty, rockin' everywhere#
#Booty, booty, booty, booty, rockin' everywhere#
#Rockin' everywhere, rockin' everywhere#
The soothing lyrics of Bubba Sparxxx informs The Buckeye Bruiser that he has an incoming call. The Samsung Galaxy vibrates on a nearby rowing machine - shuffling against the surface like it too was booty rockin. For his part, rather than answer the call, Fury gets too into his own ringtone, shaking his 172-pound dumbbells like they were maracas to the beat. Watching the gentle giant get his groove on will bring back fond memories of his Red Hot Fury days to long term fans.
Missed call.
Whoops.
RF: Where was I? Looks like I'll have to start again from scratch... 1... 2... 3... just kidding, there is enough Ginkgo Biloba, Resveratrol, and Acetyl-L-Carntine in my morning protein shakes to kill a child of moderate size. As a result, I have the memory of an elephant. 78041. 78042. Now normally when working out I insist on focus – for both safety and meditation. I am going to make an exception and multitask this one time, because this is the eve of my GUNS debut, and that was my manager.
Freeing one hand to pick up his cellphone, Fury punches redial.
MS: Silverwind’s Gym.
RF: Hi Mickey, it’s Redmond, just returning your call.
MS: You get the fax I sent you, Red?
RF: We’ve been over this. I don’t own a fax machine, Mickey. Most people-
MS: Hold on.
Rapid Fire Montage: Tape running across cardboard. A door opens to a delivery man. Wheels spin. A courier van speeds down a highway. Foot on break. Finger on buzzer. Biceps flex as package is torn open. Cables connected. A fax machine now sits in the middle of a table, looking awkward, with no practical application beyond collecting dust.
#Booty, booty, booty, booty, rockin' ev-
RF: Yeah?
MS: Did you get the fax machine I sent you, Red.
RF: Yes, thank you – but –
MS: Hang on kid. GUNS sent me over some material on your first defence... I’ll fax it over.
RF: Couldn’t you just email-
MS: E male? Don’t get caught up in fads, Red. That will never catch on. There is a certain level of professionalism that comes with working for communication. If you had one of those good looking valets – the girls with the legs, that old fad, I’m sure they would be more than happy to e male you. No work ethic, you see. You hired a real manager, and I have a professional standard. Why back when I managed commonwealth champion Byron Dempsey – I’d get him all the news with a telegraph. Do you know morse code, Red?
RF: Sorry, Mickey. Look, I really enjoy listening to your theories on management, but I have to get back to training – so unless it’s pressing...
MS: The fax hasn’t arrived?
RF: No.
MS: Sometimes they take awhile.
Rapid Fire Montage: A light flashes. A loud noise. Paper slow starts to shuffle. Even in sped up form, it seems to be taking its time.
RF: Was there anything important in it?
MS: Can I ask you an honest question, Red? Have you slept with a member of Magnus’ family, kicked his dog, destroyed his personal property, or gone on a psychotic hate speech tirade in one of those inter net forums?
RF: Of course not.
MS: I can’t figure it out, cause the opponent they got lined up for your first defence is a real ringer. We’d call ‘im a shooter back in my day. You don’t bring a challenger like this in, unless you’re trying to physically hurt the champ, or guarantee a title is removed. Bad news in worse tights.
RF: I’m sure Magnus is just trying to make the Phoenix division as competitive as possible, which is my vision for it too. I haven’t had too many dealings with him, but I’m sure he’d never do anything untowards...
MS: You just brought them a new strap on a silver platter. I figure they’d throw you a softball, make your first defence against a bum. Instead? You’ll be lucky to crawl away from this without a career ending injury.
RF: I appreciate your concern Mickey, but I only want to defend against the best – so I’m sure whoever Magnus has lined up is-
The fax finally comes through. Picking it up, Fury’s pupils tense when they come across his opponent’s name.
RF: Oh. Well, this is going to hurt.
A note of fear creeping into his voice, Fury sits down on his weight bench.
MS: So Red, train like your life depended on it.
RF: . . .That’s what I’ve been trying to do.
The Buckeye Bruiser admires the name of his dreadful opponent again, before laying the paper down.
MS: I'll have a look in the Sears catalogue. I’ll try to get some Betamax tapes of this guy’s matches so we can study...
Obsolete.
Facing the greatest challenge of his career, on the edge of the abyss, Redmond Fury is starting to question his manager’s interest in him.