Today we view our hero in an everyday setting. Grocery shopping, since he can't wrestle, brew beer, and save the world on an empty stomach. Even when he was trying to lay low, he was still attracting a lot of attention. Well, not really him but the three scantly clad women following him. Guessing by the ridiculous height of their heels, they were strippers. A blond, a brunette, and a red head, which might be why Neapolitan ice cream is missing from his cart. Their presence may also be a sign that his current 'Save the Strippers, Save the World' campaign was in full swing.
Figgy: "So, like what do you guys eat? I can get a bunch of sandwich stuff."
The blonde one stopped in her tracks, a look of terror suddenly melted onto her face. Almost as if Figgy spoke of the most unspeakable horrors, like Oprah. The other two simply stared at Figgy wondering if he just realized what he said.
Blonde: "Like they have bread, and bread has carbs. I can't have carbs"
Figgy stopped dead in his tracks as well, performing a heel turn that would make a drill sergeant proud.His green eyes flared intensely, looking over each and everyone of the women.
Figgy: "My bong has a carb, it didn't stop you from bogarting it! Listen, don't buy into that zero carbs bullshit. You might be hot, but lets face it, you aren't going to be a model any time soon. It's all a part of the grand scheme conducted by the D.I.C or the Dietary Itelligence Commitee. Their dietary suppliments after twenty years of work have been perfected. They slowly numb the brain cells till you are nothing more than a giggly bimbo. Cause ya see, that's exactly how the media wants you to be, hot and stupid. So they can slowly take away your right to vote, and drive , and those other little things you have taken for granted. But there was one fatal flaw to their plan, carbs cancelled out their effects. So what do they do to make you avoid eating carbs? Tell you that they make you fat.”
Of course, they have been exposed to the no carb stuff for years, so the strippers lost interest after the first sentence. And Figgy tried valiantly to deny the vacuous look in their eyes, eyes caught in a cloud of pot smoke and free tequila shots, their minds were already gone. They needed carbs quick.
Red head: “You still have pot, right?”
Figgy rubbed at his temples in a greatly annoyed manner, no wonder there is a lot of pot and booze when these women were involved. They were a great strain on people with average intelligence and up. It seemed the only reason he hasn't snapped yet...is well, we think this guy was born snapped.
Figgy: “Shut the fuck up, you're lucky I have a soft spot for red heads. Just go an get your munchie food. ”
Our hero pushes down the aisles while the strippers depart toward the snack foods. Figgy sighed with relief now that he was offered a moments respite from the giggly broads. Little to his knowledge the whole ordeal was being watched by an old friend. A woman standing just two inches shy of six feet, her bussiness attire, while conservative showed just enough of her tan skin to hint toward her brazilian heritege. A smiled curled across her lips.
???: “Hello, Jacob. Still up to your old antics I see.”
Jacob once more found himself halted, his grip loosening from the cart while it still rolled an went through a little cardboard fruit stand. He recognized that demeaning British accent anywhere
Figgy: “...Fuck”
Once more we find Figgy inside his basement. But honestly, it looked like a very localized tonado had suddenly ripped through it. Graphatti in illegible red kanji characters scrawled acrosss the walls, fragments of shatterd porcilen littered the floor, and a skinny nerd in a scraggly beard lay unconcious on the floor. But the part that pulled the room together still remained in tact, that artfully maimed half couch was saved from whatever disaster struck.
“Ya see, I told you Tolly, you weren't going to stop the rabid bear. The big raging irish bear that will bite, claw and lariat his way to the top. But you are in the past, you are last week, you are kinda not important now. I know, I know, it was a fun little match you had and your time in the spotlight was just wonderful. But you gotta let it go, I was nice enough to share it with you, but you can't keep it”
Jacob leaned back onto the couch, producing a green bottle of beer, and then opens the bottle with his teeth. Spitting out the cap it skitters across the floor while he tilts the bottle back and takes a swill.
“My next opponent, from the not so great state of Florida. Now I really don't get why the southern states think they have some factory that manufactors great wrestlers all day. It doesn't there is a lot of crap coming out of there and a few that are average but look awesome because they are wrestling with crap all the time. Watson, I read up on your facts and you pride yourself on being trained by some great southern guy. Now, I'm sure his matches against Bobo the hobo clown and many other people no one ever heard of were legendary, but no one cares. You can't cling to that name for the rest of your career. I honestly forgot what is was already. Because Watson Brawley is the one who is going to face me, Watson Brawley is the one who is going to lose to me, and Watson Brawley is the one who is going to take responsibility.”
Jacob pauses when he hears a groan coming from the floor. He chuckled before taking another sip.
“Now lets see just what Watson Brawley can do. I mean, I'm going to level with you, you still don't have a chance. But thinking about anyone else will decrease your odds. And you are going to need all the odds you can get. So go ahead pick up your phone. Call all your friends. Call the Police. Call the national guard. Write a letter to your damn congressman. Your odds will remain the same”
Glance into the blaackness
![Jacob Figgins [vs.] Watson Brawley Empty](https://2img.net/i/empty.gif)
Subject: Jacob Figgins [vs.] Watson Brawley ![Jacob Figgins [vs.] Watson Brawley I_icon_minitime](https://2img.net/s/t/15/19/06/i_icon_minitime.gif){kind=icon}
Wed Jan 16, 2013 8:50 am
