Post by teevee on May 25, 2018 17:26:09 GMT -5
The scene opens to show Tee Voland standing in what appears to be the hallway of an apartment building. She is wearing black jeans and a Pittsburgh Steelers tee shirt with a black backpack. She raises a fist and raps her knuckles on the door in front of her. After a few seconds she rolls her eyes and slams an open hand into the door, the meaty portion of her palm doing the impact five times and then she cups her hands around her mouth against the door and yells (some might describe it as a screech).
TEE: Yo! Julie! Wake the fuck up! It's Tee!
Tee waits for about thirty seconds, give or take, and then there is a sound of a deadbolt sliding open and the door swings wide. Standing there is a rather short woman with chin length platinum blond hair, about half of which is crossed over her head in a disheveled fashion, wearing a Pittsburgh Steelers Levion Bell jersey that hangs nearly to her knees. The over sized neckline exposed what might be described by some as a half acre of cleavage from a bosom that looks decidedly unnatural on a woman of such diminutive stature. She blinks up at Tee.
Julie: What the hell are ya doing here, Tee? First with you living up in Erie, and then knowing I don't go to bed until about dawn and it's barely noon.
Tee bends down and comes back up holding a large brown paper bag in one hand and a ceramic jug in the other by a finger loop next to the corked top. The jug is beige in color and has a piece of masking tape on its middle with "XXX" scribbled in Sharpie.
Tee: Yeah, I know it's early for you, so I brought breakfast. Primanti's and hooch. You did say I could crash on your couch for a day or two whenever, and I wanna get my Burgh on before my match here Sunday.
Julie looks briefly at the bag and the jug and then nods her head back a bit before turning and walking back into the apartment. Tee follows and kicks the door shut behind her. As Tee sits down and deposits her burdens on the table not far from the door, producing a pair of rather large sandwiches from the bag, Julie joins her with a pair of large glasses of orange juice. Uncorking the jug, she pours a bit into her own glass and takes a sip.
Julie: Coffee's on. So you left your brother in charge of the gym?
Tee pours a bit of hooch into her own glass and stirs it with her finger.
Tee: Kinda. Michael's of with his girlfriend again so I left Lex in charge. Which means he'll take over teaching my yoga classes and let Milla actually run things while he tells women in skin tight clothes how to bend.
Julie snorts as both women extricate their sandwiches from the wax paper wrappings. Tee doesn't hesitate to squeeze down one corner with both hands, compressing the thick bread, some kind of reddish meat, coleslaw, and thick cut french fries into an appropriate volume to wrap her mouth around for a large bite.
Julie: So what are you doing Sunday? I know it's here, 'dey been advertisin' the hell out of it all week, but that's about it. I did catch your last match though. Seein' ya junk that stooge brought memories. Who ya facin' this time?
Julie lifts her sandwich and, without compressing it, opens her mouth wide enough to take a bigger bite than Tee did, with a bit of coleslaw squirting out the back and falling onto the table.
Tee: Some self righteous twat idjit from Chicago. Dumbass seems to think he's facing John Blade. He's in for a rude surprise.
Julie: Ain't yer boyfriend from Chicago?
Tee: That's different. Brian's a self righteous prick. Not an idjit, and I can actually get sexual satisfaction from a prick. Unlike a twat. And Billy Danielson won't last nearly long enough for me to enjoy a proper fight.
Julie: You sure? It's a big show and ya ain't exactly high on the card but I wouldn't expect them to set up a chump match.
Tee: Danny Boy has a bunch of creds from somewhere else but I don't give a rat's ass about that. He says he wants to be Five Lakes Champion, and I say I'm getting that same title back.
Julie: He is a lot bigger than you. I know yer quick and jumpy and tangly an' shit, but ya didn't do very well 'gainst that sexy Brooklyn guy.
Tee snorts, grabs the jug of hooch and tosses it up for a couple of quick gulps before slamming it down with enough force to jar the table. She then leans back in her chair, opens her mouth wide, produces a Zippo lighter seemingly out of thin air, and belches a gout of fire about the size of a football.
Tee: Bronx Valescence wasn't much brighter than Danny Boy, but he was an idiot savant. Also I was fighting Manhatten for the New Zealand Championship, and Queens anded up the one to unify it with the NGW Championship. I've already been on a higher level that that dingbat wannabe Seattle latte sucking hipster beatnik douchebag is currently aspiring to. Sure, I've dropped a few rungs on the ladder, but if Danny Boy think's I'm his next step on the ladder I'm gonna stomp his fingers into splinters before he can even try to climb over me. His problem is that he doesn't even know who he's facing; seriously he talked smack for about a minute and a half about John Blade for some notional Dissension match. Ya'd think he just canned a bunch of quick bullshit promos and put them on shuffle.
I know who I'm facing. I'm facing a pretentious jackass who can't back up his own corny generic smack talk. He can kiss my pale ass.
TEE: Yo! Julie! Wake the fuck up! It's Tee!
Tee waits for about thirty seconds, give or take, and then there is a sound of a deadbolt sliding open and the door swings wide. Standing there is a rather short woman with chin length platinum blond hair, about half of which is crossed over her head in a disheveled fashion, wearing a Pittsburgh Steelers Levion Bell jersey that hangs nearly to her knees. The over sized neckline exposed what might be described by some as a half acre of cleavage from a bosom that looks decidedly unnatural on a woman of such diminutive stature. She blinks up at Tee.
Julie: What the hell are ya doing here, Tee? First with you living up in Erie, and then knowing I don't go to bed until about dawn and it's barely noon.
Tee bends down and comes back up holding a large brown paper bag in one hand and a ceramic jug in the other by a finger loop next to the corked top. The jug is beige in color and has a piece of masking tape on its middle with "XXX" scribbled in Sharpie.
Tee: Yeah, I know it's early for you, so I brought breakfast. Primanti's and hooch. You did say I could crash on your couch for a day or two whenever, and I wanna get my Burgh on before my match here Sunday.
Julie looks briefly at the bag and the jug and then nods her head back a bit before turning and walking back into the apartment. Tee follows and kicks the door shut behind her. As Tee sits down and deposits her burdens on the table not far from the door, producing a pair of rather large sandwiches from the bag, Julie joins her with a pair of large glasses of orange juice. Uncorking the jug, she pours a bit into her own glass and takes a sip.
Julie: Coffee's on. So you left your brother in charge of the gym?
Tee pours a bit of hooch into her own glass and stirs it with her finger.
Tee: Kinda. Michael's of with his girlfriend again so I left Lex in charge. Which means he'll take over teaching my yoga classes and let Milla actually run things while he tells women in skin tight clothes how to bend.
Julie snorts as both women extricate their sandwiches from the wax paper wrappings. Tee doesn't hesitate to squeeze down one corner with both hands, compressing the thick bread, some kind of reddish meat, coleslaw, and thick cut french fries into an appropriate volume to wrap her mouth around for a large bite.
Julie: So what are you doing Sunday? I know it's here, 'dey been advertisin' the hell out of it all week, but that's about it. I did catch your last match though. Seein' ya junk that stooge brought memories. Who ya facin' this time?
Julie lifts her sandwich and, without compressing it, opens her mouth wide enough to take a bigger bite than Tee did, with a bit of coleslaw squirting out the back and falling onto the table.
Tee: Some self righteous twat idjit from Chicago. Dumbass seems to think he's facing John Blade. He's in for a rude surprise.
Julie: Ain't yer boyfriend from Chicago?
Tee: That's different. Brian's a self righteous prick. Not an idjit, and I can actually get sexual satisfaction from a prick. Unlike a twat. And Billy Danielson won't last nearly long enough for me to enjoy a proper fight.
Julie: You sure? It's a big show and ya ain't exactly high on the card but I wouldn't expect them to set up a chump match.
Tee: Danny Boy has a bunch of creds from somewhere else but I don't give a rat's ass about that. He says he wants to be Five Lakes Champion, and I say I'm getting that same title back.
Julie: He is a lot bigger than you. I know yer quick and jumpy and tangly an' shit, but ya didn't do very well 'gainst that sexy Brooklyn guy.
Tee snorts, grabs the jug of hooch and tosses it up for a couple of quick gulps before slamming it down with enough force to jar the table. She then leans back in her chair, opens her mouth wide, produces a Zippo lighter seemingly out of thin air, and belches a gout of fire about the size of a football.
Tee: Bronx Valescence wasn't much brighter than Danny Boy, but he was an idiot savant. Also I was fighting Manhatten for the New Zealand Championship, and Queens anded up the one to unify it with the NGW Championship. I've already been on a higher level that that dingbat wannabe Seattle latte sucking hipster beatnik douchebag is currently aspiring to. Sure, I've dropped a few rungs on the ladder, but if Danny Boy think's I'm his next step on the ladder I'm gonna stomp his fingers into splinters before he can even try to climb over me. His problem is that he doesn't even know who he's facing; seriously he talked smack for about a minute and a half about John Blade for some notional Dissension match. Ya'd think he just canned a bunch of quick bullshit promos and put them on shuffle.
I know who I'm facing. I'm facing a pretentious jackass who can't back up his own corny generic smack talk. He can kiss my pale ass.