Promo: Morning Routine

[Guest Listen2Reason]

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Somewhere between Tenessee and California...

 

A modest hotel room. Luggage and clothes have been tossed carelessly on the couch, spilling to the floor. Several posters and papers have been tacked up on the walls with office-style pushpins. Clear, bright light shines through the window, falling short of illuminating the bed...which is a mass of tangled blankets. The desk has been pushed next to the bed, a good-sized stereo/CD unit having been installed. A display on the front reads: 10:59.

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

11:00.

 

click

 

The air is suddenly rent by pounding drums and crashing guitar chords.

 

I had wrists donning slits

Flowing constantly

My broken body in a wreck

wrapped around a tree

A crosswalk hit and run

The finish line for me

People clutter in the gutter

Take a look and see!

No escaping pain,

You belong to me!

Clinging on to life by the skin of my te-- click

 

A groping hand finally finds the right button to cut off the music. Blinking blearily, Fugue extricates himself from the bed. He's fully dressed in rumpled "civilian clothes". Staring around the room, his eyes fall on the window and he finally seems to get his bearings.

 

"Today is a shining new day!" Fugue scratches his chin through his beard, and walks over to pull the curtains shut. Then he finds a lamp on the dresser and turns it on. The musician looks around the room, taking in his posters of Magnificent Seven members, photos of previous opponents, and map of Finland. Then, whistling a Jo Hisaishi air, Fugue ambles to the bathroom and turns on the light.

 

Affixed to the mirror are two small, handwritten bits of looseleaf paper. One has only the number '0'. "Ah, yes, Xero," Fugue murmurs, crumpling the paper up and swallowing it. Then he squints at the other paper.

 

I AM A GOOD PERSON

EVERY OBSTACLE IS AN OPPORTUNITY

 

"Every obstacle is an opportunity," he reads aloud. Then Fugue looks in the mirror and frowns. His scruffy face seems to offer little enlightenment. "If I'm a good person," he asks, "why don't I tell myself what's wrong?"

 

"Well, why don't I?" he replies.

 

Fugue rubs his chin. "The problem is I'm losing," he mutters, frowning at the paper again. "How is that an opportunity?"

 

"Am I learning?" The musician thinks back.

 

After about five or six slams and a great amount of booing, Fugue releases Magnifico's left arm and begins rising to his feet, using his grip on ELM's right arm to pull him up with him. Once both men are standing, Fugue, still gripping Magnifico's arm, turns and makes a break for the corner nearest him, running up its turnbuckles as a wave of anticipatory boos pour in from the crowd! Those boos only grow louder as Fugue jumps backwards off of the top turnbuckle, flips over Magnifico's head, and falls back-first on the mat, pulling ELM down with him and slamming his elbow into the mat!

 

"Of course I'm learning," he answers himself. "My repertoire is ever-expanding."

 

"Am I affecting other people?" he then asks.

 

And Francis levels Craven with a Yakuza kick sending him down to the canvas like a ton of bricks!! The crowd explodes in cheers as Mak falls to the ground and tries to catch his breath. And suddenly he comes face to face with Fugue?

 

They stare at each other for what seems like minutes, but in reality is only seconds?

 

Then Mak mutters three letters too low for the audience to hear, but easy enough for them to see?

 

S?

 

W?

 

O?

 

And then they nod!

 

"Hmmm."

 

When Suddenly, Mike with the bolt cutters in hand rolls back into the ring and stands over Fugue before blasting him in the RIGHT KNEE! Craven laughs, as he whacks the knee one last time for good measure to a heap of boos and then rolls out of the ring, walking up the ramp!

 

A grim smile lights the wrestler's face as he stretches his knee. "Oh yes. They're hearing my theme, sure enough."

 

The smile then turns to a scowl as Fugue leans up to the mirror, nose almost touching the glass. "So what is it?" he yells. "Like Nicholas Cage said--You're not having any FUN!"

 

...And then, blinking, Fugue pulls back from the mirror. "...Am I having fun?" A slow smile spreads over his face. "Fun. Fun? Of course I'm having fun!"

 

Fugue rips the paper off the mirror and begins to laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and LAUGH...

 

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[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

I want to take his face...off.

 

I know why you wrote that. To entertain me. Good job with that, sucka. Additional dimension to nuttiness = bonus points.