BWade
Grandma Took Me Home
Business As Usual, The Prelude (Out of Business)
Backstage; Primetime in Birmingham.
With a draw behind him, and a rematch looming in his future, Kevin can at least take solace in the fact that he is still leaving with the Greensboro title around his waist… well, at least in his bag as it where.
The draw and rematch, alike, aren’t of too much concern to the weathered champion. His mind, these days, have been filled primarily with a mangled confused mess of questions; all aimed at trying to figure out what the hell it is that Nemesis is up to.
The odd run-ins, plus the cryptic messages scrolled across random bar and hotel walls equals out to …
...the hell if he knows. Or anyone else for that matter.
Nemesis has always been a little off the edge. Hell, he used to talk to a chair.
… And although he had always seemed to command a certain clever control over his insanely twisted antics, this time he had returned much cooler, much calmer … a much more intellectual and spiritual being than we had previously known.
That being the fact, if Kevin didn’t think someone might be watching ... he’d be worried.
Everyone should be worried.
While the main event roars on, Kevin has already packed up and readied himself for the road.
But first a phone call.
“Look, I don’t know where you are, if you’ll get this message ... or what the f*** you have planned but here’s how its going to be.”
Kevin paused momentarily to pull from his lit cigarette.
“I don’t want anything to do with whatever it is you have planned. You said meet you here, and I’m here. Show’s almost over and your no where to be found.
Kevin coughs, and then continues.
"Look whatever it is, I’m out.”
Kevin slams the pay phone down on its receiver causing it to ring out briefly, just before the inevitable clinking of coins being deposited upon completion. With another drag of his dwindling cigarette he snatches his bag from the floor and heads for the exit.
The crowd roars on for the main event, as a battered warrior exits solemnly and without fan far.
Black.
Backstage; Primetime in Birmingham.
With a draw behind him, and a rematch looming in his future, Kevin can at least take solace in the fact that he is still leaving with the Greensboro title around his waist… well, at least in his bag as it where.
The draw and rematch, alike, aren’t of too much concern to the weathered champion. His mind, these days, have been filled primarily with a mangled confused mess of questions; all aimed at trying to figure out what the hell it is that Nemesis is up to.
The odd run-ins, plus the cryptic messages scrolled across random bar and hotel walls equals out to …
...the hell if he knows. Or anyone else for that matter.
Nemesis has always been a little off the edge. Hell, he used to talk to a chair.
… And although he had always seemed to command a certain clever control over his insanely twisted antics, this time he had returned much cooler, much calmer … a much more intellectual and spiritual being than we had previously known.
That being the fact, if Kevin didn’t think someone might be watching ... he’d be worried.
Everyone should be worried.
While the main event roars on, Kevin has already packed up and readied himself for the road.
But first a phone call.
“Look, I don’t know where you are, if you’ll get this message ... or what the f*** you have planned but here’s how its going to be.”
Kevin paused momentarily to pull from his lit cigarette.
“I don’t want anything to do with whatever it is you have planned. You said meet you here, and I’m here. Show’s almost over and your no where to be found.
Kevin coughs, and then continues.
"Look whatever it is, I’m out.”
Kevin slams the pay phone down on its receiver causing it to ring out briefly, just before the inevitable clinking of coins being deposited upon completion. With another drag of his dwindling cigarette he snatches his bag from the floor and heads for the exit.
The crowd roars on for the main event, as a battered warrior exits solemnly and without fan far.
Black.