Post by Craven on Feb 27, 2015 21:06:29 GMT -6
Standing outside the Las Vegas airport, Warrick Craven starts looking through his phone messages. As he works through, deleting the unimportant or spam ones he comes across notice of something else entirely.
Craven: “Swansong,” this oughtta be interesting…
Before he can check to see what it actually is, a familiar car drives up and stops right next to him. He glances inside to find Merlyn “Rocket” Harper at the wheel and Skylar Hansen, Cynthia “Sin” Conway and Brittany Conway sitting in the backseat. Craven grins at the sight of his family and nods at the opening passenger seat window.
Craven: Full car…
Rocket starts to get out but Craven waves him off.
Craven: No, it’s cool, you drive.
Rocket’s eyes go wide as Craven walks back to the trunk. Rocket hits the button and it pops open for the older man. Craven lifts it, sets his bag inside and then closes it forcefully. He walks around to the empty passenger side front door and gets into the car.
Craven: Roll on, Jeeves!
Rocket nods as Skylar, Brittany and Sin all laugh in the backseat.
Craven: So, how’s the chauffeur been for you ladies?
Sin grins.
Cynthia "Sin" Conway: Exceptionally sexy!
Craven nods, smirking.
Craven: Nice work, Rocket! Keep that up and you’ll make it for sure!
Rocket smiles, nodding.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Ain’t been any problems while you were in Canada. Bossman’s been relatively calm, girls have all been business as usual and the punters have all been…
Craven does a double take.
Craven: Did you just say… punters?
Rocket nods.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Yeah, heard some English chick working down at the Dome call her customers that and thought it sounded funny.
Craven nods.
Craven: You realize that’s not a good term for them and if you say it in the customers’ presence they might get upset with you, right?
Rocket nods.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Yeah… sorry, Dub.
Craven smiles at him.
Craven: In private though, yeah, I heard Mr. Davies call them that once too and one of the girls kept asking why he was always talking about football.
Rocket and the girls laugh as Craven shrugs.
Craven: In her defense, she was a bit high. He’d asked her to use his cock as a straw…
Rocket shakes his head.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: And she did it?
Craven shrugs.
Craven: He was paying, and she wanted the coke…
Brittany nods.
Brittany Conway: I’ve done it before.
Skylar shrugs.
Skylar Hansen: There have been times I would have.
Sin snickers.
Cynthia "Sin" Conway: Makes me wonder if we brought any with us…
Brittany nods her agreement, purring at the prospect.
Brittany Conway: Mmm, that would be nice…
Skylar nods as well.
Skylar Hansen: Yes… yes it would…
Craven glances down between the front seats.
Craven: You brought the box back into the car?
Rocket nods.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Figured you’d want it back as soon as possible on your return. Normalize stuff and all…
Craven grins and reaches down, popping it open. Within a few seconds, a vial has been passed to the back where the girls all look like they’ve just seen God.
Skylar Hansen: How are you always so prepared?
She unscrews the top and lifts the lid off, bring the little attached scooper with it out. She holds it to her nose and snorts quickly, clutching at her nose as she does so.
Skylar Hansen: mmm… good shit too.
She sniffs as she passes the vial to Sin, rubbing her nose and shaking her head.
Skylar Hansen: You guys are amazing.
Sin nods as she takes her turn with the little scoop, lifting it up and snorting away.
Cynthia "Sin" Conway: Gah, you’re right…
She pinches her nose before sniffing hard.
Cynthia "Sin" Conway: Damn good shit! Where do you get this stuff, Rick?
She sniffs again as she hands the vial to Brittany, who wastes little time in taking a turn. Brittany snorts up and then hands the vial back to Craven.
Brittany Conway: God that hits the spot!
She rubs her nose and leans back against the seat.
Brittany Conway: If you weren’t Sky’s guy, I’d fuck your brains out in gratitude!
Everyone chuckles.
Skylar Hansen: Almost sounds like fun…
Craven shrugs as he closes up the vial and puts it back in the box.
Craven: Enticing thought, to be sure.
Rocket pulls around the corner and into the car’s usual parking space at the Pleasure Dome. Turning the car off, he hands the keys off to Craven and nods to everyone in the car.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Everybody ready for a good day at work?
Brittany shakes her head.
Brittany Conway: You are always amazingly upbeat… you guys gotta find me one!
Rocket blushes as everyone else nods in agreement.
Skylar Hansen: Don’t worry, Brit. We’ll find you one eventually.
Sin nods her agreement.
Cynthia "Sin" Conway: Now let’s go make a whole bunch of others blow their loads before they ever get to ask you for that!
Skylar and Brittany both nod and the three ladies exit the vehicle together. Rocket opens his door and slips out, Craven joining him right next to the outside of the car.
Craven: is my radio in the car?
Rocket nods and Craven hugs him with pride.
Craven: You did good, Rocket. I’m proud of you.
Rocket beams back.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Thanks, Dub. Call ya when I get to the control room?
Craven nods.
Craven: Just like normal.
Rocket nods and then starts to the building to take his position. Left alone, Craven walks around to the trunk and get his voice recorder out of his bag. Nodding, he walks around to the driver’s side and gets into the seat, closing the door. He clips the voice recorder back onto the driver’s sun visor and sits back into the seat, allowing himself to mellow out in his old familiar place. He reaches down into the pillbox and grabs a couple of pills, fires them down and just zones out for a minute. Finally, after five minutes of doing nothing, Rocket’s voice crackles over the radio.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Dub… in position, over.
Craven smiles and presses the call button.
Craven: Craven… in position, over.
He releases the button and looks around.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Everything looks good so far tonight. I’ll call you if anybody gets out of line.
Craven nods and calls back.
Craven: Ok… I’ll be here.
He sits back against the seat and then picks up his phone to see what “Swansong” was. Upon finishing it, he can’t help but shake his head and fire up the voice recorder.
Craven: You know, sometimes you see the damndest things when you least expect to see them. I’ll look up and see a guy in a full furry outfit, seemingly falling down drunk or otherwise tripping on something, walk into the place and have the time of that person’s life! Hell I once saw one of them who looked to be a hundred pounds soaking wet, counting the costume, be able to pick a car up enough to let somebody slide out from under it because… adrenaline and drugs can work wonders when used together in the proper combination...
He shrugs as he watches two rather large women excitedly as they head inside the Pleasure Dome.
Craven: You come here, you’ll see a little bit of everything if you look long enough…
He shakes his head again, stifling a laugh.
Craven: So I looked online and see this video file called “Swansong” and I…
A snicker escapes his lips.
Craven: I just about died laughing when I realized what it was.
Another snicker and he shakes his head as he tries to power through his own disbelief.
Craven: Kyle, you know “Swan Song” is two words, not one, right?
He slaps his knee to try to keep from just breaking into a hysterical fit of laughter.
Craven: Just when I thought you couldn’t make yourself look any lazier or dumber, you go and practically label your own promo file as being a horrendous reheated TV dinner because the name looks like you just fucked up the word “Swanson” which is, of course, the foremost name in crappily packaged, frozen-to-be-microwaved dining and if anyone has ever deserved that name, it’s you!
Shaking his head, he raises a hand to slow down the response he knows is coming.
Craven: And I know what you’re gonna say, “How dare you, I’m being disrespected! How dare you call me a TV Dinner! I am a World Championship level wrestler!”
His hand drops back to his the armrest as he nods knowingly, annoyance creeping into his vocal tone.
Craven: Yeah, which you say every goddamn time to the point that everybody jokes that your promos must be a pre-packaged, just reheat and serve, type of deal like a bad TV Dinner and just like a bad TV Dinner, the package always claims to have good stuff inside but when you open it, it basically looks like stuff you wouldn’t want to serve your dog, but you eat because you have no choice. It’s what you got and when you’re down to your last nickel and payday don’t come for another week, you eat the shit rather than starve...
He shakes his head again in utter dissbelief as he goes over what he’s seen from Kyle Travis again.
Craven: Good God, Man, do you think you could whine about shit just a little fucking more than you already do? I mean, sweet jesus, you’re gonna bitch that people walk in off the street and get handed shit and you actually have the balls to lie straight out and say you didn’t and this is bullshit?
Staring over the steering wheel, Craven raises his hands up to try and find something to do to release his incredulousness.
Craven: Are you fucking kidding me? You got handed the North American Championship for fuck sake! You were the only one who didn’t have to qualify to get into that match and then you beat the emptiest of empty shirts to win that title and then you got handed a World Title shot when you lost the damn thing and you hadn’t won a fucking thing since you won the that belt! you didn’t deserve shit and yet there you were, main event against Aerynn Donnelly, and shock of shocks, she kicked your ass right back out of it because you’ve been nothing but a useless, used up has been since you got here! All you ever do is whine about no place has ever shown you respect, make empty promises and yammer on as if the real world owes you to conform to the delusional dream world you seem to think you’re living in!
His hands start shaking in midair as he desperately tries to think of something to do with them that doesn’t involve smashing anything.
Craven: You go on and on about these bullshit slights you think you’ve been slapped with, giving us yet more history lessons that say, YES, KYLE, YOU ARE STUCK IN THE GODDAMN PAST!
He pauses, shaking his head as he pulls his anger back inside just a little.
Craven: And to sit there and act like the world was craving your return? What a crock of bullshit, ain’t nobody ever gave a damn about whether you were retired and honestly, if you were, you should have stayed there because anyone who used to defend you now has to feel like there is a gigantic egg all over their face for it! I know for a goddamn fact that Eric Donavan doesn’t give a rat’s fucking ass if you wrestle or not so acting like you came back for him or anyone or anything other to satisfy your own wounded ego is so much bullshit you may as well be a giant walking cow turd sandwich wearing a board that says “Eat More Shit!”
A cruel snicker leaves his lips as he finally pounds his fist onto the seat next to him.
Craven: But then the best part came when you actually topped yourself and said it was only now that you just didn’t give a damn anymore, you didn’t care about this match and you don’t care about much of anything…
Trailing of, he scoffs derisively.
Craven: Motherfucker, you have been making it clear for months that you never gave a damn about this match and in fact, have called it useless and that you weren’t even going to bother and show up for it! You told Tedman you didn’t give a damn about him or that match until he made your ass tap out, supposedly for only the third time ever, and we’re supposed to belief that you’ve just suddenly been so damn disrespected that you’re gonna take your bitchy ball, shove back up from whence it came and go home to cry into your toys and tell your kids that some big men were mean to you because they just didn’t put up with all the shit spewing from your mouth?
Gritting his teeth, Craven just shakes his head one last time.
Craven: Pussy to the last, who's fucking shocked? You couldn’t find any other way to pussy out of me beating your fucking ass so now you’re just gonna quit the fucking company and tell the world that it’s not because you failed at being a legend, not because you failed at being a Champion, not because you failed at being a wrestler, a father, a husband or even a decent human being, no, you’re quitting because you failed to get your dick sucked by everybody else in the goddamn company and now that you’ve realized that nobody is ever going to much as look at you without laughing at the very idea of calling you a legend, it’s too much and you’re going home!
He shrugs.
Craven: Fine, then allow me to be your swan song, and just send you on your merry way into retirement so we never have to be bored to death by another of your Swanson TV Dinner promos ever again! Ladies and gentleman, the Punchline is gone, the Legend is dead, the Once & Future King has left the building… Kyle Travis got too much sand in his fucking vagina… and I get to put the coda on the end of this travesty he tried to perpetrate on us all! Fuck you very much Kyle, thanks for nothing and I’ll see you in Sunday when i help you get on board to the bullet train to hell!
Craven: “Swansong,” this oughtta be interesting…
Before he can check to see what it actually is, a familiar car drives up and stops right next to him. He glances inside to find Merlyn “Rocket” Harper at the wheel and Skylar Hansen, Cynthia “Sin” Conway and Brittany Conway sitting in the backseat. Craven grins at the sight of his family and nods at the opening passenger seat window.
Craven: Full car…
Rocket starts to get out but Craven waves him off.
Craven: No, it’s cool, you drive.
Rocket’s eyes go wide as Craven walks back to the trunk. Rocket hits the button and it pops open for the older man. Craven lifts it, sets his bag inside and then closes it forcefully. He walks around to the empty passenger side front door and gets into the car.
Craven: Roll on, Jeeves!
Rocket nods as Skylar, Brittany and Sin all laugh in the backseat.
Craven: So, how’s the chauffeur been for you ladies?
Sin grins.
Cynthia "Sin" Conway: Exceptionally sexy!
Craven nods, smirking.
Craven: Nice work, Rocket! Keep that up and you’ll make it for sure!
Rocket smiles, nodding.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Ain’t been any problems while you were in Canada. Bossman’s been relatively calm, girls have all been business as usual and the punters have all been…
Craven does a double take.
Craven: Did you just say… punters?
Rocket nods.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Yeah, heard some English chick working down at the Dome call her customers that and thought it sounded funny.
Craven nods.
Craven: You realize that’s not a good term for them and if you say it in the customers’ presence they might get upset with you, right?
Rocket nods.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Yeah… sorry, Dub.
Craven smiles at him.
Craven: In private though, yeah, I heard Mr. Davies call them that once too and one of the girls kept asking why he was always talking about football.
Rocket and the girls laugh as Craven shrugs.
Craven: In her defense, she was a bit high. He’d asked her to use his cock as a straw…
Rocket shakes his head.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: And she did it?
Craven shrugs.
Craven: He was paying, and she wanted the coke…
Brittany nods.
Brittany Conway: I’ve done it before.
Skylar shrugs.
Skylar Hansen: There have been times I would have.
Sin snickers.
Cynthia "Sin" Conway: Makes me wonder if we brought any with us…
Brittany nods her agreement, purring at the prospect.
Brittany Conway: Mmm, that would be nice…
Skylar nods as well.
Skylar Hansen: Yes… yes it would…
Craven glances down between the front seats.
Craven: You brought the box back into the car?
Rocket nods.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Figured you’d want it back as soon as possible on your return. Normalize stuff and all…
Craven grins and reaches down, popping it open. Within a few seconds, a vial has been passed to the back where the girls all look like they’ve just seen God.
Skylar Hansen: How are you always so prepared?
She unscrews the top and lifts the lid off, bring the little attached scooper with it out. She holds it to her nose and snorts quickly, clutching at her nose as she does so.
Skylar Hansen: mmm… good shit too.
She sniffs as she passes the vial to Sin, rubbing her nose and shaking her head.
Skylar Hansen: You guys are amazing.
Sin nods as she takes her turn with the little scoop, lifting it up and snorting away.
Cynthia "Sin" Conway: Gah, you’re right…
She pinches her nose before sniffing hard.
Cynthia "Sin" Conway: Damn good shit! Where do you get this stuff, Rick?
She sniffs again as she hands the vial to Brittany, who wastes little time in taking a turn. Brittany snorts up and then hands the vial back to Craven.
Brittany Conway: God that hits the spot!
She rubs her nose and leans back against the seat.
Brittany Conway: If you weren’t Sky’s guy, I’d fuck your brains out in gratitude!
Everyone chuckles.
Skylar Hansen: Almost sounds like fun…
Craven shrugs as he closes up the vial and puts it back in the box.
Craven: Enticing thought, to be sure.
Rocket pulls around the corner and into the car’s usual parking space at the Pleasure Dome. Turning the car off, he hands the keys off to Craven and nods to everyone in the car.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Everybody ready for a good day at work?
Brittany shakes her head.
Brittany Conway: You are always amazingly upbeat… you guys gotta find me one!
Rocket blushes as everyone else nods in agreement.
Skylar Hansen: Don’t worry, Brit. We’ll find you one eventually.
Sin nods her agreement.
Cynthia "Sin" Conway: Now let’s go make a whole bunch of others blow their loads before they ever get to ask you for that!
Skylar and Brittany both nod and the three ladies exit the vehicle together. Rocket opens his door and slips out, Craven joining him right next to the outside of the car.
Craven: is my radio in the car?
Rocket nods and Craven hugs him with pride.
Craven: You did good, Rocket. I’m proud of you.
Rocket beams back.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Thanks, Dub. Call ya when I get to the control room?
Craven nods.
Craven: Just like normal.
Rocket nods and then starts to the building to take his position. Left alone, Craven walks around to the trunk and get his voice recorder out of his bag. Nodding, he walks around to the driver’s side and gets into the seat, closing the door. He clips the voice recorder back onto the driver’s sun visor and sits back into the seat, allowing himself to mellow out in his old familiar place. He reaches down into the pillbox and grabs a couple of pills, fires them down and just zones out for a minute. Finally, after five minutes of doing nothing, Rocket’s voice crackles over the radio.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Dub… in position, over.
Craven smiles and presses the call button.
Craven: Craven… in position, over.
He releases the button and looks around.
Merlyn "Rocket" Harper: Everything looks good so far tonight. I’ll call you if anybody gets out of line.
Craven nods and calls back.
Craven: Ok… I’ll be here.
He sits back against the seat and then picks up his phone to see what “Swansong” was. Upon finishing it, he can’t help but shake his head and fire up the voice recorder.
Craven: You know, sometimes you see the damndest things when you least expect to see them. I’ll look up and see a guy in a full furry outfit, seemingly falling down drunk or otherwise tripping on something, walk into the place and have the time of that person’s life! Hell I once saw one of them who looked to be a hundred pounds soaking wet, counting the costume, be able to pick a car up enough to let somebody slide out from under it because… adrenaline and drugs can work wonders when used together in the proper combination...
He shrugs as he watches two rather large women excitedly as they head inside the Pleasure Dome.
Craven: You come here, you’ll see a little bit of everything if you look long enough…
He shakes his head again, stifling a laugh.
Craven: So I looked online and see this video file called “Swansong” and I…
A snicker escapes his lips.
Craven: I just about died laughing when I realized what it was.
Another snicker and he shakes his head as he tries to power through his own disbelief.
Craven: Kyle, you know “Swan Song” is two words, not one, right?
He slaps his knee to try to keep from just breaking into a hysterical fit of laughter.
Craven: Just when I thought you couldn’t make yourself look any lazier or dumber, you go and practically label your own promo file as being a horrendous reheated TV dinner because the name looks like you just fucked up the word “Swanson” which is, of course, the foremost name in crappily packaged, frozen-to-be-microwaved dining and if anyone has ever deserved that name, it’s you!
Shaking his head, he raises a hand to slow down the response he knows is coming.
Craven: And I know what you’re gonna say, “How dare you, I’m being disrespected! How dare you call me a TV Dinner! I am a World Championship level wrestler!”
His hand drops back to his the armrest as he nods knowingly, annoyance creeping into his vocal tone.
Craven: Yeah, which you say every goddamn time to the point that everybody jokes that your promos must be a pre-packaged, just reheat and serve, type of deal like a bad TV Dinner and just like a bad TV Dinner, the package always claims to have good stuff inside but when you open it, it basically looks like stuff you wouldn’t want to serve your dog, but you eat because you have no choice. It’s what you got and when you’re down to your last nickel and payday don’t come for another week, you eat the shit rather than starve...
He shakes his head again in utter dissbelief as he goes over what he’s seen from Kyle Travis again.
Craven: Good God, Man, do you think you could whine about shit just a little fucking more than you already do? I mean, sweet jesus, you’re gonna bitch that people walk in off the street and get handed shit and you actually have the balls to lie straight out and say you didn’t and this is bullshit?
Staring over the steering wheel, Craven raises his hands up to try and find something to do to release his incredulousness.
Craven: Are you fucking kidding me? You got handed the North American Championship for fuck sake! You were the only one who didn’t have to qualify to get into that match and then you beat the emptiest of empty shirts to win that title and then you got handed a World Title shot when you lost the damn thing and you hadn’t won a fucking thing since you won the that belt! you didn’t deserve shit and yet there you were, main event against Aerynn Donnelly, and shock of shocks, she kicked your ass right back out of it because you’ve been nothing but a useless, used up has been since you got here! All you ever do is whine about no place has ever shown you respect, make empty promises and yammer on as if the real world owes you to conform to the delusional dream world you seem to think you’re living in!
His hands start shaking in midair as he desperately tries to think of something to do with them that doesn’t involve smashing anything.
Craven: You go on and on about these bullshit slights you think you’ve been slapped with, giving us yet more history lessons that say, YES, KYLE, YOU ARE STUCK IN THE GODDAMN PAST!
He pauses, shaking his head as he pulls his anger back inside just a little.
Craven: And to sit there and act like the world was craving your return? What a crock of bullshit, ain’t nobody ever gave a damn about whether you were retired and honestly, if you were, you should have stayed there because anyone who used to defend you now has to feel like there is a gigantic egg all over their face for it! I know for a goddamn fact that Eric Donavan doesn’t give a rat’s fucking ass if you wrestle or not so acting like you came back for him or anyone or anything other to satisfy your own wounded ego is so much bullshit you may as well be a giant walking cow turd sandwich wearing a board that says “Eat More Shit!”
A cruel snicker leaves his lips as he finally pounds his fist onto the seat next to him.
Craven: But then the best part came when you actually topped yourself and said it was only now that you just didn’t give a damn anymore, you didn’t care about this match and you don’t care about much of anything…
Trailing of, he scoffs derisively.
Craven: Motherfucker, you have been making it clear for months that you never gave a damn about this match and in fact, have called it useless and that you weren’t even going to bother and show up for it! You told Tedman you didn’t give a damn about him or that match until he made your ass tap out, supposedly for only the third time ever, and we’re supposed to belief that you’ve just suddenly been so damn disrespected that you’re gonna take your bitchy ball, shove back up from whence it came and go home to cry into your toys and tell your kids that some big men were mean to you because they just didn’t put up with all the shit spewing from your mouth?
Gritting his teeth, Craven just shakes his head one last time.
Craven: Pussy to the last, who's fucking shocked? You couldn’t find any other way to pussy out of me beating your fucking ass so now you’re just gonna quit the fucking company and tell the world that it’s not because you failed at being a legend, not because you failed at being a Champion, not because you failed at being a wrestler, a father, a husband or even a decent human being, no, you’re quitting because you failed to get your dick sucked by everybody else in the goddamn company and now that you’ve realized that nobody is ever going to much as look at you without laughing at the very idea of calling you a legend, it’s too much and you’re going home!
He shrugs.
Craven: Fine, then allow me to be your swan song, and just send you on your merry way into retirement so we never have to be bored to death by another of your Swanson TV Dinner promos ever again! Ladies and gentleman, the Punchline is gone, the Legend is dead, the Once & Future King has left the building… Kyle Travis got too much sand in his fucking vagina… and I get to put the coda on the end of this travesty he tried to perpetrate on us all! Fuck you very much Kyle, thanks for nothing and I’ll see you in Sunday when i help you get on board to the bullet train to hell!
