Toxxic 0 Report post Posted June 24, 2004 The Scene - a motel room, somewhere in North Daytona The Time - the afternoon of Thursday 24th June, 2004 The TV set is small and the picture is grainy, but two black-lined eyes stare intently at it nonetheless. Above them is black spiky hair, below them is a replica England soccer shirt. And clenched around the remote are two black-nailed hands, the knuckles turning slightly white. “C’mon... c’mon...” Toxxic mutters, almost unwilling to blink as he stares at the images unfolding on the screen. ‘...and it’s Darius Vassell coming up to take the penalty for England with the score level at 5-5, and it’s sudden death now. Beckham has missed one, Rui Costa has missed one...’ *BBRRING-BBRRING!!* “Hello?” Jet says, lifting the receiver of the phone. “Oh, hi Mr Zenon... yeah, he’s here... but he’s kinda busy right now...” ‘RICARDO SAVES IT! RICARDO SAVES THE PENALTY!’ “NO!!” Toxxic yells at the TV, “you fucking Portuguese bastard!” “Yeah, it’s the soccer,” Jet confirms to Alex Zenon. “I know, I’m not really into it either... you had to play it at school?” She laughs, and lies back on the bed as her boyfriend continues to mutter obscenities under his breath. “Nah, I just had to play hockey. I wasn’t much good, but it was fun to try and break the popular girls’ ankles...” ‘...and Ricardo is coming up to the spot! The Portuguese keeper is going to take the penalty that could put his side through to the semi-finals...’ “Miss it...” Toxxic mutters furiously, “miss it...” ‘...and now David James has to face his opposite number...’ “Yeah OK, I’ll tell him,” Jet confirms to the SWF Commissioner. “Mind if I ask why he’s getting this match, cos he’ll probably be interested... you’ve suspended Janus? Whoah, that must have taken some balls... yeah, we’ll see you on wednesday... bye!” ‘IT’S THERE! RICARDO BEATS DAVID JAMES, AND PORTUGAL ARE THROUGH WHILE ENGLAND GO OUT!!’ “YOU CUNT!” Toxxic screams, all semblance of control lost by the furious straight-edger. “You fucking arsehole cunt wanker piece of shit... RRAAAHHH!!” With one final explosive yell he flings the TV remote across the room - then abruptly stops and turns to Jet, apparently calm again. “Who was that?” “Zenon,” Jet answers, looking slightly confused at the sudden change in mood. “What’s up with all the screaming? I mean, it’s only a ga-” “Uh,” Toxxic cuts her off, holding up a finger. “People have died for less than what you were about to say.” He sits down on the bed. “So what did the One-Letter Wonder want?” “He’s suspended Janus for disrespecting the ICTV Title-” “Damn right, the bloody great psycho; drops me on my head to get it, then spits on the bloody thing...” “-and for trying to choke him out, apparently...” “Did anyone get video footage of that?” Toxxic asks, looking interested. “Don’t think so... anyway, since Janus is suspended Tom Flesher doesn’t get his shot yet... and you’re facing Danny Williams for some sort of joint-Number-One-Contendership on Smarkdown.” “Whoah,” Toxxic remarks, his eyebrows shooting up, “how does that work?” “No idea, Z didn’t say. But if you win you’ll get some sort of title shot at some point.” “Well, as long as it’s not a Strap match, I’m in,” Toxxic comments, fielding the video remote from where he chucked it. A grimace passes over his face again as he catches sight of the victorious Portugal team celebrating on the TV, and he zaps it. “Danny Williams, you said?” “Yup, old roidmonkey himself.” Toxxic’s eyes narrow, and the straight-edger is no longer staring at the TV but past and beyond it, at something else entirely. “Right.” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
King Cucaracha 0 Report post Posted June 25, 2004 And with that, you summed up my Thursday night. Only, without the Zenon parts obviously. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites