jayshort
Long Live THE KING
FADEIN: <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comffice:smarttags" /><st1lace w:st="on"><?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com
</st1:City>Seattle, <st1:State w:st="on">Washington</st1:State></st1lace>. King County Jail.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comfficeffice" /><o></o>
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The name of the jail was surprisingly fitting, but EPW World Heavyweight Champion, reigning King of the Cage, International Superstar, International Fashion Symbol, International Icon, and the pound-for-pound, number one wrestler on the planet, “blue-eyed badass” SEAN STEVENS wasn’t in the mood to find the humor in happenstance.<o></o>
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As the guard escorted him around the building in search of his holding cell, the rich, famous, spoiled, usually catered to superstar couldn’t get past how bad the handcuffs hurt his wrists. Or how the entire facility smelled like mildew. Or how he could smell the rest of the inmate’s morning breath, the moment he entered the building. <o></o>
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The champion was still in the same – now wrinkled – True Religion jeans, and – shredded, stretched – wife beater, as earlier in the night, when … when … that idiot turncoat got him in this mess. <o></o>
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TRIPLE X: HEY! Don’t fucking push me!<o></o>
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CORRECTIONAL OFFICER: Quit bitching, pretty boy. The boys on the inside are going to just love you, with your curly blonde hair, and pretty blue eyes. <o></o>
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TRIPLE X: Sounds like you already do, you fag. Do you know WHO I am?<o></o>
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C/O: Inmate number 1689807…<o></o>
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TRIPLE X: Wrong, asshole! I have enough money to buy you, sell you, buy you back, take you in my backyard, and put a bullet in your head, and get away with it. …fat motherfucker.<o></o>
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C/O: Yeahyeahyeah. You can start making your plans to buy me in here; this is your new home, pussy. <o></o>
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The guard unhooked the set of keys on his hip, sticking a gigantic one in the keyhole, opening the cell, pushing the unsuspecting Stevens into it, causing him to trip as he entered, almost hitting his head. <o></o>
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To Be Continued....
<o></o>
The name of the jail was surprisingly fitting, but EPW World Heavyweight Champion, reigning King of the Cage, International Superstar, International Fashion Symbol, International Icon, and the pound-for-pound, number one wrestler on the planet, “blue-eyed badass” SEAN STEVENS wasn’t in the mood to find the humor in happenstance.<o></o>
<o></o>
As the guard escorted him around the building in search of his holding cell, the rich, famous, spoiled, usually catered to superstar couldn’t get past how bad the handcuffs hurt his wrists. Or how the entire facility smelled like mildew. Or how he could smell the rest of the inmate’s morning breath, the moment he entered the building. <o></o>
<o></o>
The champion was still in the same – now wrinkled – True Religion jeans, and – shredded, stretched – wife beater, as earlier in the night, when … when … that idiot turncoat got him in this mess. <o></o>
<o></o>
TRIPLE X: HEY! Don’t fucking push me!<o></o>
<o></o>
CORRECTIONAL OFFICER: Quit bitching, pretty boy. The boys on the inside are going to just love you, with your curly blonde hair, and pretty blue eyes. <o></o>
<o></o>
TRIPLE X: Sounds like you already do, you fag. Do you know WHO I am?<o></o>
<o></o>
C/O: Inmate number 1689807…<o></o>
<o></o>
TRIPLE X: Wrong, asshole! I have enough money to buy you, sell you, buy you back, take you in my backyard, and put a bullet in your head, and get away with it. …fat motherfucker.<o></o>
<o></o>
C/O: Yeahyeahyeah. You can start making your plans to buy me in here; this is your new home, pussy. <o></o>
<o></o>
The guard unhooked the set of keys on his hip, sticking a gigantic one in the keyhole, opening the cell, pushing the unsuspecting Stevens into it, causing him to trip as he entered, almost hitting his head. <o></o>
<o></o>
“I need to speak to my Lawyer.”<o></o>
To Be Continued....