Post by Jordan "Bullet Proof" Glass on Mar 22, 2007 19:22:25 GMT -5
| The moon shines brightly upon the earth .. |
With a blaze set in the limestone fireplace and a glass of brandy gripped with his smooth fingers, he felt perfectly at home.
His new house, which was more of a mansion than a house, was suitable. He enjoyed the space, and with the upcoming events, he would no longer be lonely inside the gigantic building, but that is not to talk about at the present time.
He sat in his red leather chair, wearing the usual. His black trench coat, his black muscle shirt and his black jeans. He wore black Reeboks on his size fourteen feet. His hair was a tangled mess atop his head, and one hand was supporting his head on the arm of the chair.
All light except the flickering of the flames and the bright moon light shooting through the double paned glass window had been extinguished. He liked it that way, therefore, that is the way it would be.
Jordan "Bullet Proof" Glass swirled the brandy in the glass around in a whirlpool of air bubbles, dancing around each other. The smile protruding from behind his lips was one of content, finally. He raised his hand up from under his head, brushing his hair back from his dead-grey eyes, as per usual. He lay his hand back on the arm of his chair, and took a swig of the brandy. His smile grew as he lowered his hand back down, laying the green tinted glass onto the side table which was placed accordingly beside his chair.
Jordan thought of past times, lost times, harsh times. He recalled many things, but nothing stronger than the one memory which had shaped him in a way he never thought possible. Something happened that day that changed him, surprisingly. He didn't expect it, but it happened .. and he was happy that it did ..
---
~ Jordan, come on! We're not waiting forever. We want to get this going.
Jordan tried to catch up with his friends, Steve and Brad but it was hard. He wasn't in the best of shape, and both of them worked out and jogged all the time. He came over the hill slowly, and Steve, who had just yelled to him, came into view.
Steve ~ C'mon, shit-ass. We want to get this started.
Jordan ~ Yeah, okay fuck-face. Hold on to your panties.
Jordan laughed at his own remark, as Steve just waved a hand, signifying he gave up. Jordan laughed harder as he made it to where Brad, Steve, Tim, Josh, Randy and Pat stood.
Brad ~ Finally, we can get this on the go. Okay, Tuttle vs. Butler.
Jordan stepped forward, as did Tim. They both walked up onto the makeshift wrestling ring, which was composed of mattresses, metal poles, ropes and parts of old tires. It was a crappy looking thing, but it was all they could muster. Jordan took his stance, hopping around a little. Tim just kind of stood there, looking at him.
Brad ~ One .. two .. three .. DING DING DING!
Jordan charged at Tim, nailing him with a hard clothesline, knocking him back hard onto his neck. Tim jumped back to his feet and ran at Jordan and attempted to spin kick him, but Jordan caught his foot and threw him back onto his side.
Jordan was much larger than Tim, and a year older, but Tim was quick, so it was a reasonably fair fight.
Tim jumped through the air at Jordan and hit him with a cross-body. Jordan recovered quickly, jumping back to his feet. He grabbed Tim and gave him a snap suplex, then jumped back to his feet and began to stomp on Tim.
After a thorough stomping, Jordan picked Tim back up and managed to hit a piledriver on him. This match seemed to be going quite well for Jordan, possibly his best match yet. Suddenly ..
Randy ~ NOW!!
.. screamed Randy as him and Pat ran into the ring and took down Jordan, stomping all over him. They continued to stomp on him until Tim was back to his feet. At that time, Pat and Randy picked Jordan up, who was now quite battered, and arranged him so that Tim could hit him with a flying clothesline.
Just as Tim jumped off the top ropes, Jordan ripped his arm from Pat's grip and nailed Randy in the face with a hard right. He then jumped out of the way while Tim came down with his flying clothesline on Pat.
While Tim was distracted after getting back to his feet, Jordan dropped down to a crouching position and smiled devilishly. As soon as Tim turned to face Jordan, he was hit with a spear straight to the gut and fell in a crumpled pile on the mat. Jordan covered him.
Brad ~ ONE .. TWO .. THREE!!
.. Brad screamed from outside the ring, where he had been watching as the referee.
Brad ~ You're winner, and the new Number One Contender for the Backyard Xtreme Wrestling Federation Intercontinental title, Jordan "The Big Man" Tuttle!
Brad hopped into the ring and rose Jordan's hand. Jordan loved the feeling. He knew it was just for fun, but he still loved knowing he was almost there, he almost had gold .. well, plastic .. but you know what I mean.
---
Jordan jumped out of his state of dreariness. He seemed to have dozed off. He smiled at the thought of past times.
He looked to his right, at the table. On it, was a small silver case. He reached over calmly and undid the clip and flipped open the cover. He extracted from the container, a cigar. He also took his lighter, which was a chubby little thing with gold casing. He smiled, flicking the lighter so that the flame began to burn. He positioned the cigar in front of the flame. As it caught fire, he flipped the lid of the lighter shut and placed it back in the case, and then flipped the case shut and closed the clip.
Jordan ~ Such memories as this can make you smile, or make you frown. In my case, it's the first. It was my first win. I had stumbled upon a feud with Tim Butler .. and I know I sound like a blubbering fool talking about this, but it's somewhat like my present situation. You see ..
Jordan inhaled the fumes of the cigar, and then opened his lips and let the smoke slowly drift over the smooth flesh which they consisted of. He smiled, removing the cigar from his mouth.
Jordan ~ .. I seemed to stumble into this opportunity as well. I did not ask to be in that Battle Royale, but I was. I won the match, and now at A Fool's Revenge I have a shot for the title. A title which I plan to win. Prozac nor Ritalin will stand in my way. I will dominate. With Jake Xavier by my side, and him with me at his, we can not be stopped. He will win this match with Ritalin, and I will win mine with Prozac.
Jordan picked up his glass of brandy with his spare hand and chugged the remains of it down his gorge. He slammed the glass back onto the table, then took another long drag from his cigar. He laughed as his exhaled breath was shown by the smoke which accompanied it.
Jordan ~ I am not going to brag about my wins when I was fifteen, or my winning the IC championship in BXWF with my teenage friends. No, that would be foolish. I only thought of this time because of it's similarities to my current situation. It was a turning point in my life. A milestone, if you will. I will not forget my friends, and I will not forget what got me where I am today. No, I will not. I refuse to.
Now, to talk about my partner, Jake Xavier. Trust, he says. That's good, because I trust him too. I trust him enough to say .. GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR. My god, I called you three hours ago, and you're still not here you little fuck. Jesus ..
Just as the words leave Jordan's tongue, journey between his lips and out into the open air of the room, the door swings open. In walks the man that Jordan was just talking about, Jake Xavier. When Jordan sees who it is, he laughs.
Jake ~ Okay, now .. what's the rush? Got a plan or something?
Jordan smiles, and turns to the camera man.
Jordan ~ Please, turn that thing off. We have business to attend to.
The camera shakes a little, then the screen goes black. You are left with so many questions, and few answers. What is happening that Jordan will no longer be lonely? What is this plan? You sigh, and decide that you will have to wait until the next segment by Jordan or Jake to find out, then continue flicking through the channels.
| .. but memories light the path for the future. |
With a blaze set in the limestone fireplace and a glass of brandy gripped with his smooth fingers, he felt perfectly at home.
His new house, which was more of a mansion than a house, was suitable. He enjoyed the space, and with the upcoming events, he would no longer be lonely inside the gigantic building, but that is not to talk about at the present time.
He sat in his red leather chair, wearing the usual. His black trench coat, his black muscle shirt and his black jeans. He wore black Reeboks on his size fourteen feet. His hair was a tangled mess atop his head, and one hand was supporting his head on the arm of the chair.
All light except the flickering of the flames and the bright moon light shooting through the double paned glass window had been extinguished. He liked it that way, therefore, that is the way it would be.
Jordan "Bullet Proof" Glass swirled the brandy in the glass around in a whirlpool of air bubbles, dancing around each other. The smile protruding from behind his lips was one of content, finally. He raised his hand up from under his head, brushing his hair back from his dead-grey eyes, as per usual. He lay his hand back on the arm of his chair, and took a swig of the brandy. His smile grew as he lowered his hand back down, laying the green tinted glass onto the side table which was placed accordingly beside his chair.
Jordan thought of past times, lost times, harsh times. He recalled many things, but nothing stronger than the one memory which had shaped him in a way he never thought possible. Something happened that day that changed him, surprisingly. He didn't expect it, but it happened .. and he was happy that it did ..
---
~ Jordan, come on! We're not waiting forever. We want to get this going. Jordan tried to catch up with his friends, Steve and Brad but it was hard. He wasn't in the best of shape, and both of them worked out and jogged all the time. He came over the hill slowly, and Steve, who had just yelled to him, came into view.
Steve ~ C'mon, shit-ass. We want to get this started.
Jordan ~ Yeah, okay fuck-face. Hold on to your panties.
Jordan laughed at his own remark, as Steve just waved a hand, signifying he gave up. Jordan laughed harder as he made it to where Brad, Steve, Tim, Josh, Randy and Pat stood.
Brad ~ Finally, we can get this on the go. Okay, Tuttle vs. Butler.
Jordan stepped forward, as did Tim. They both walked up onto the makeshift wrestling ring, which was composed of mattresses, metal poles, ropes and parts of old tires. It was a crappy looking thing, but it was all they could muster. Jordan took his stance, hopping around a little. Tim just kind of stood there, looking at him.
Brad ~ One .. two .. three .. DING DING DING!
Jordan charged at Tim, nailing him with a hard clothesline, knocking him back hard onto his neck. Tim jumped back to his feet and ran at Jordan and attempted to spin kick him, but Jordan caught his foot and threw him back onto his side.
Jordan was much larger than Tim, and a year older, but Tim was quick, so it was a reasonably fair fight.
Tim jumped through the air at Jordan and hit him with a cross-body. Jordan recovered quickly, jumping back to his feet. He grabbed Tim and gave him a snap suplex, then jumped back to his feet and began to stomp on Tim.
After a thorough stomping, Jordan picked Tim back up and managed to hit a piledriver on him. This match seemed to be going quite well for Jordan, possibly his best match yet. Suddenly ..
Randy ~ NOW!!
.. screamed Randy as him and Pat ran into the ring and took down Jordan, stomping all over him. They continued to stomp on him until Tim was back to his feet. At that time, Pat and Randy picked Jordan up, who was now quite battered, and arranged him so that Tim could hit him with a flying clothesline.
Just as Tim jumped off the top ropes, Jordan ripped his arm from Pat's grip and nailed Randy in the face with a hard right. He then jumped out of the way while Tim came down with his flying clothesline on Pat.
While Tim was distracted after getting back to his feet, Jordan dropped down to a crouching position and smiled devilishly. As soon as Tim turned to face Jordan, he was hit with a spear straight to the gut and fell in a crumpled pile on the mat. Jordan covered him.
Brad ~ ONE .. TWO .. THREE!!
.. Brad screamed from outside the ring, where he had been watching as the referee.
Brad ~ You're winner, and the new Number One Contender for the Backyard Xtreme Wrestling Federation Intercontinental title, Jordan "The Big Man" Tuttle!
Brad hopped into the ring and rose Jordan's hand. Jordan loved the feeling. He knew it was just for fun, but he still loved knowing he was almost there, he almost had gold .. well, plastic .. but you know what I mean.
---
Jordan jumped out of his state of dreariness. He seemed to have dozed off. He smiled at the thought of past times.
He looked to his right, at the table. On it, was a small silver case. He reached over calmly and undid the clip and flipped open the cover. He extracted from the container, a cigar. He also took his lighter, which was a chubby little thing with gold casing. He smiled, flicking the lighter so that the flame began to burn. He positioned the cigar in front of the flame. As it caught fire, he flipped the lid of the lighter shut and placed it back in the case, and then flipped the case shut and closed the clip.
Jordan ~ Such memories as this can make you smile, or make you frown. In my case, it's the first. It was my first win. I had stumbled upon a feud with Tim Butler .. and I know I sound like a blubbering fool talking about this, but it's somewhat like my present situation. You see ..
Jordan inhaled the fumes of the cigar, and then opened his lips and let the smoke slowly drift over the smooth flesh which they consisted of. He smiled, removing the cigar from his mouth.
Jordan ~ .. I seemed to stumble into this opportunity as well. I did not ask to be in that Battle Royale, but I was. I won the match, and now at A Fool's Revenge I have a shot for the title. A title which I plan to win. Prozac nor Ritalin will stand in my way. I will dominate. With Jake Xavier by my side, and him with me at his, we can not be stopped. He will win this match with Ritalin, and I will win mine with Prozac.
Jordan picked up his glass of brandy with his spare hand and chugged the remains of it down his gorge. He slammed the glass back onto the table, then took another long drag from his cigar. He laughed as his exhaled breath was shown by the smoke which accompanied it.
Jordan ~ I am not going to brag about my wins when I was fifteen, or my winning the IC championship in BXWF with my teenage friends. No, that would be foolish. I only thought of this time because of it's similarities to my current situation. It was a turning point in my life. A milestone, if you will. I will not forget my friends, and I will not forget what got me where I am today. No, I will not. I refuse to.
Now, to talk about my partner, Jake Xavier. Trust, he says. That's good, because I trust him too. I trust him enough to say .. GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR. My god, I called you three hours ago, and you're still not here you little fuck. Jesus ..
Just as the words leave Jordan's tongue, journey between his lips and out into the open air of the room, the door swings open. In walks the man that Jordan was just talking about, Jake Xavier. When Jordan sees who it is, he laughs.
Jake ~ Okay, now .. what's the rush? Got a plan or something?
Jordan smiles, and turns to the camera man.
Jordan ~ Please, turn that thing off. We have business to attend to.
The camera shakes a little, then the screen goes black. You are left with so many questions, and few answers. What is happening that Jordan will no longer be lonely? What is this plan? You sigh, and decide that you will have to wait until the next segment by Jordan or Jake to find out, then continue flicking through the channels.
| .. but memories light the path for the future. |
