thegr817deuce
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- Jun 9, 2004
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Singles Match.
The RP deadline will be Saturday, February 24th at 11:59 PM.
The RP deadline will be Saturday, February 24th at 11:59 PM.
Beast vs. "Cowboy" Jimmy Donovan
- Thread starter thegr817deuce
- Start date
MarcusWestcott
League Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 501
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- Age
- 49
- Location
- Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada
- Website
- www.a1e.ca
Home on the range...
A classic country farm. A modest house situated at the bottom of a raised portion of land, surrounded by an acre of grass and some trees. Up on the raised area sits an old tractor, and a rusted out pickup lies dormant off in the distance. A white picket fence surrounds the house, and on the front porch, a swinging chair built for two is occupied by Beast, clad in a button down demin shirt, tight jeans, and cowboy boots. A white Stetson tops his head, and he has a piece of straw between his teeth. He sits on the chair, slowly swinging back and forth, though his feet are propped up on a stool in front of him. He pulls the straw from his mouth, then spits out a wad of chew, knocking an old can off of a nearby tire, and then puts the straw back between his teeth. Moments later, Jessica steps out of the house, dressed like Ellie-May Clampett - hair pony-tailed, checkered shirt tied up just under her boobs, exposing her mid-riff, tight blue-jeans with a rope as a belt, and cowboy boots of her own. She joins Beast on the chair.
Jessica: Whatcha up to, Marcus?
Beast: Nothin' much. Just sittin' a spell. Gotsta go check on Mildred soon.
Jessica: J'eat yet?
Beast: Naw.
Jessica: Y'ant to? I gots some grits almost ready.
Beast: Maybe later, sweetie. I gots some work to do first.
Jessica: Oh, alright then.
Beast: The ranch ain't gonna tend itself.
(The two just sit there for a few minutes. Beast lifts up the brim of his Stetson and notices that Jessica has a bit of a pout on.)
Beast: Aw, honey, I didn't know the grits meant that much to ya. I know ya probably worked hard makin' 'em and all...
Jessica: Nah, shuuug, it ain't the grits. I was just thinkin' about all that fightin' ya gotta do.
(Beast turns to look at her.)
Beast: Oh get along with that stuff now. You know that the ranch isn't doin' that well. If it weren't for all the fightin', then we wouldn't have (makes a sweeping motion with his arm, gesturing to the ranch) all 'a this.[/i]
Jessica: Oh, I know... I just wish there was some other way, ya know? Maybe you could git a job down at the Mill or sumpin'...
Beast: Oh, come off of it now! The Mill's fer nothin' but all them old washed-up folk who got nothin' left. Fightin's all I know how to do. And I'm damned good at it, too.
Jessica: (sighs) I know, Marcus... but... I just hate watchin' that stuff. I hate to see you get knocked around like that.
Beast: Hey now... I may get knocked around a little, but more often than not I WIN... and I bring home the winner's share of the purse. That's what's important. If it wasn't fer that, you wouldn't have your dresses, and your fancy things like your toaster and your iron. Hell, I don't know what you'd do some days without that damned tee-vee....
Besides, I'm facing some guy named Jimmy Donovan this week... seems to think he's a real cowboy... well, you know what I heard? I heard he rustles goats... and always keeps a pair of rubber boots and a pair of them gloves with that new-fangled stuff on it... what do they call it? Vel-cro, or somethin' like that. Sumb*tch thinks he can have his way with the animals like that. Jesus Kee-rist! Someone's gotta do sumpin' about it, and gosh-darnit, it's gonna be me!
(Jessica gets up and holds her hand out to Beast.)
Jessica: I.. I know. I'm sorry, honey. I know how much this means to ya. Will ya come in and have sumpin' ta eat?
(Beast takes her hand and rises.)
Beast: Sure will, honey. You make the best grits in the West.
Jessica: Thanks, honey.
(The two begin walking into the house.)
Beast: Hey, Jessica... you know what you get when you play a country song backwards?
Jessica: What, dear?
Beast: You get your farm back, your truck back, your woman back, your dog back...
Jessica: You're such a kidder.
(Fade as Beast and Jessica enter the house.)
A classic country farm. A modest house situated at the bottom of a raised portion of land, surrounded by an acre of grass and some trees. Up on the raised area sits an old tractor, and a rusted out pickup lies dormant off in the distance. A white picket fence surrounds the house, and on the front porch, a swinging chair built for two is occupied by Beast, clad in a button down demin shirt, tight jeans, and cowboy boots. A white Stetson tops his head, and he has a piece of straw between his teeth. He sits on the chair, slowly swinging back and forth, though his feet are propped up on a stool in front of him. He pulls the straw from his mouth, then spits out a wad of chew, knocking an old can off of a nearby tire, and then puts the straw back between his teeth. Moments later, Jessica steps out of the house, dressed like Ellie-May Clampett - hair pony-tailed, checkered shirt tied up just under her boobs, exposing her mid-riff, tight blue-jeans with a rope as a belt, and cowboy boots of her own. She joins Beast on the chair.
Jessica: Whatcha up to, Marcus?
Beast: Nothin' much. Just sittin' a spell. Gotsta go check on Mildred soon.
Jessica: J'eat yet?
Beast: Naw.
Jessica: Y'ant to? I gots some grits almost ready.
Beast: Maybe later, sweetie. I gots some work to do first.
Jessica: Oh, alright then.
Beast: The ranch ain't gonna tend itself.
(The two just sit there for a few minutes. Beast lifts up the brim of his Stetson and notices that Jessica has a bit of a pout on.)
Beast: Aw, honey, I didn't know the grits meant that much to ya. I know ya probably worked hard makin' 'em and all...
Jessica: Nah, shuuug, it ain't the grits. I was just thinkin' about all that fightin' ya gotta do.
(Beast turns to look at her.)
Beast: Oh get along with that stuff now. You know that the ranch isn't doin' that well. If it weren't for all the fightin', then we wouldn't have (makes a sweeping motion with his arm, gesturing to the ranch) all 'a this.[/i]
Jessica: Oh, I know... I just wish there was some other way, ya know? Maybe you could git a job down at the Mill or sumpin'...
Beast: Oh, come off of it now! The Mill's fer nothin' but all them old washed-up folk who got nothin' left. Fightin's all I know how to do. And I'm damned good at it, too.
Jessica: (sighs) I know, Marcus... but... I just hate watchin' that stuff. I hate to see you get knocked around like that.
Beast: Hey now... I may get knocked around a little, but more often than not I WIN... and I bring home the winner's share of the purse. That's what's important. If it wasn't fer that, you wouldn't have your dresses, and your fancy things like your toaster and your iron. Hell, I don't know what you'd do some days without that damned tee-vee....
Besides, I'm facing some guy named Jimmy Donovan this week... seems to think he's a real cowboy... well, you know what I heard? I heard he rustles goats... and always keeps a pair of rubber boots and a pair of them gloves with that new-fangled stuff on it... what do they call it? Vel-cro, or somethin' like that. Sumb*tch thinks he can have his way with the animals like that. Jesus Kee-rist! Someone's gotta do sumpin' about it, and gosh-darnit, it's gonna be me!
(Jessica gets up and holds her hand out to Beast.)
Jessica: I.. I know. I'm sorry, honey. I know how much this means to ya. Will ya come in and have sumpin' ta eat?
(Beast takes her hand and rises.)
Beast: Sure will, honey. You make the best grits in the West.
Jessica: Thanks, honey.
(The two begin walking into the house.)
Beast: Hey, Jessica... you know what you get when you play a country song backwards?
Jessica: What, dear?
Beast: You get your farm back, your truck back, your woman back, your dog back...
Jessica: You're such a kidder.
(Fade as Beast and Jessica enter the house.)