Post by Bronx Valescence on Sept 10, 2015 16:18:20 GMT -5
We open up in what appears to be the apartment of Bronx Valescence, located somewhere on the island of Galveston in Texas. It’s one of those one room deals which is just separated by a simple divider going into the kitchen area. It’s what you would expect from Bronx. Empty Little Cesar’s boxes litter the floor. A crate which one could assume housed the cat which Bronx used to have in his apartment was over near a bookshelf which was nearly empty save for a paperback copy of The Great Gatsby, but little plastic chairs was set up all over the living room floor. Assumed living room because the TV rested behind where the chairs sat and then the bed over to the right of that. A small card table was set up in the room in front of the chairs, and a microphone that Bronx had seemingly stolen from GIW was lying on the black pleather that covered the top of the table.
Somewhere a door banged open. First, in walked Biggie Smalls. A large English bulldog if you’re not familiar with Bronx. He adopted the dog to simply look cool, because his blood rival Duff Briggs had one and everyone loved Duff, so he had to do the same thing. The dog panted as he came in from taking a piss in the hot Galveston son. And Bronx followed. Bronx wore a purple tank top with pink shorts and flip flops as he came walking into his apartment. As Biggie waddled over to his water dish, Bronx put his hands on his hips and looked around at the small plastic chairs. It looked like he was about to have a Kindergarten class over if anything. Nobody in their right mind would trust Bronx with children though, because he had often been called a big child himself.
A big child that suplex you through the mat, but many people had already found that out when they took Bronx lightly.
“Amazing nobody has shown up for this yet, Biggie.”
Bronx called over to his dog, who merely grunted over by his water bowl. The television was paused on Arkham Night, which Bronx had put so much time into sometimes he thought he was becoming Batman, but he wasn’t dark and brooding like Batman. He was actually happy.
“Kill ‘em with kindess.”
He would always say, but it wasn’t really kindness he showed. Most of the time he was actually pretty rude. Bronx often confused kindness with happiness. Bronx walked over and sat down at the table and looked out over the empty chairs, then he looked down at his grey watch he wore on his left wrist.
“So rude of nobody to show up. I gave them the time, I gave them the location. You’re telling me that NGW or Anzac or whoever couldn’t send ONE reporter down here to cover this story? I mean, come on! Its huge news right? You believe it’s huge news, right Biggie?”
The bulldog waddled over and laid down on his feet from underneath the table. Bronx sighed deeply and slipped his feet out from underneath Biggie and looked at the various chairs.
“Fine, if they don’t want to come fill them. Then I will.”
First, he bent low underneath the table and picked up all 160 pounds of Biggie and plopped him in one of the small chairs, realizing quickly enough that he wouldn’t fit, he walked back over and grabbed a rolling chair from his small desk and slid it over to the front row of chairs and instead put Biggie in that.
“Best seat in the house, bub.”
He bent over low and tapped Biggie on the head, and then he looked over to his bed where he walked over and grabbed a stuffed bear he had pulled out of the closet and sat it beside Biggie. Biggie looked over and sniffed at it and Bronx quickly snapped his fingers.
“Biggie! Media etiquette please. Do not sniff the other reporters.”
Bronx turned his back to Biggie as Biggie rooted his nose into the bear so hard it fell to the ground, in the meantime Bronx was so busy, he couldn’t really find other spots to fill. He flung open his closet once more and like a cartoon, items began flying out of the closet, robes, hats, clothes, a scooter but finally he grunted and pulled out a replica sized Yoda from Star Wars. He grabbed the figure by the waist like he was trying to hoist it for a German suplex and placed it on the chair beside where the bear would go (he placed it back up in the chair as well).
That left a couple of chairs open. A couple of action figures littered the window frame beside Bronx’s bed. A couple of other things he had salvaged from home before he had fled to pursue the wrestling business and all of the ‘glory’ it brought. Honestly this was it, a small apartment flat on the beach. The life. The American Dream. Losing to Chris Callum every single week. That was the American Dream. Reality.
So a Batman action figure got sat carefully in one of the chairs near the back, as well as a Chris Callum action figure (the only one GIW made for a test that Bronx stole from GIW headquarters). Although Chris Callum was a reptilian, the action figure was kind of cool. Bronx crossed his arms and surveyed the “media area” before he walked up to the small table and sat down, he surveyed it for a moment.
“Something is missing.”
Besides Biggie farting in the chair, suddenly there came a knock on the door. Maybe someone did indeed take note of the flyers. Bronx rushed over and opened the door to see a small man around his age in wiry glasses standing there. Bronx eyed him carefully before he looked around, he didn’t look like a reporter, more like someone who delivered your newspapers on a bicycle.
“Can I help you?”
Bronx asked the young man.
“Yeah, I saw your flyers around town. I’m Kevin Gilbert from the Galveston County Daily News. I’m due for a story this month and I’m kind of scrambling. Would you be interested?”
Quickly Bronx looked around to the little dolls and action figures he had, it was the first real press coverage he had ever had.
“Um, okay sure. Just have a seat wherever we are slated to get started very soon and—“
As the young man stepped in Bronx looked past the man and outside where a homeless man stood with a tin can, he shook it at the tourists which passed him without a glance. Bronx stepped out onto the small walkway between apartments.
“HEY! You!”
The old homeless man with a long beard looked up to him and started to shuffle away as if he had been run off, but Bronx called back to him.
“You want to make some money?”
Bronx glanced behind him to see the newspaper reporter look around oddly, wondering what he had gotten himself into with a dog burping and farting in the chair next to him with a homeless man making his way toward the apartment complex. Bronx popped his head back into the door of his living room and forced a smile to the reporter.
“Again, it’ll be just a moment.”
Trying to be as faux-professional as possible he watched the old homeless man hobble up the steps, he looked very interested in the porch furniture two doors down, and Bronx just knew when he left that the bum would be sleeping on that. Oh well.
“You got any weed?”
It was the first thing the homeless man said as he stumbled into the door. He smelled like trash that had been rained on and then sat out in the hot sun for a couple of hours. The actual reporter went to stand up to leave but Bronx closed the door, nearly closing the homeless man up in it, Bronx went over to his fridge and rummaged through the empty packages of snack pudding containers and containers of jello when he found a beer.
“No. I mean, I know a girl that could probably hook you up, I’m actually facing her in NGW, whatever. Just….Here.”
He forced the beer into the homeless man’s chest. He looked pleased enough as he took one fatal swipe at the little action figures Bronx had set up. Bronx cringed and went to stop him but, honestly it was nice to be able to do this in front of actual humans anyway. Bronx cleared his throat as he began to speak, the beer cracked open somewhere in the back row and the homeless man was now sitting up, swilling the old beer that a friend had left over. Bronx cleared his throat again to start, but he got distracted with the young reporter getting out his phone to record whatever Bronx was about to say.
“Okay…So…Here we are.”
Bronx hadn’t written anything down, and so he had all of this stuff floating around in his head he thought would just come out, but now he had all of these people staring at him. People being, a homeless man, some rookie reporter and a dog (which in turn had fallen asleep), suddenly he had a blank look on his face.
Then the memories started to flood in. His first trip to Anzac Pro. His first meeting with Wayne. The fact that he had never been beaten, and how he felt like he was never given the opportunity to really prove himself in Anzac. The same match it felt every single week, but the pride of fighting for Anzac welled up inside of him, and so he looked from the card table up to the persons sitting in his small apartment flat.
“This prestigious group of reporters are obviously gathered here on a very momentous occasion. Since leaving Galveston, this will be my first appearance in the wrestling world, and it will be none other than in N…G..W. I’ve stayed away from NGW. I’ve never tried to be involved in it because I put everything I had into Anzac and the other company I was in at the time. Plus I was trying to raise a cat which is lurking around here somewhere…Sir…I wouldn’t put my bag on the ground.”
He nodded to the actual reporter who was there, the man looked around, not knowing that the cat was actually an opossum that Bronx had…Er…Well, befriended for lack of a better turn and it had torn is apartment to shreds. Bronx still thought the thing was a cat despite everyone telling him it was merely an opossum and probably not meant to be in an apartment. Currently the opossum had taken refuge up under the sink and refused to come out.
“Let me start by saying Anzac really meant a lot to me. All I wanted was to make that company legitimate along with names like Prince Wjkaureurthrope and Pat Gordon Jr, along with Vixen and yes, even Tee Voland. I showed up every week, I brought it, I gave it my all because I believed in what Wayne was selling. I was heartbroken when the company went down but I knew it would be in good hands when it merged with NGW. At first, I wasn’t going to be a part of this Anzac Memorial match, but I knew that this was what Wayne wanted. This match wouldn’t be a match without Bronxy V in it. That’s why I threw my name in the hat. Not for my own personal glory, but for the memory of Wayne. For the memory of Anzac island and the fact that because I’m the only undefeated wrestler in Anzac. I need to be a part of this match.”
Bronx cleared his throat, looking at the reporters face, you could tell he had made a mistake in coming because he had no idea what Bronx was talking about, meanwhile the homeless man in the back had dosed off into a slumber. Bronx trudged on.
“While Prince Waldjfthrope continues to dodge me and my rightful championship opportunity for the Anzac New Zealand whatever title. Regardless, I know if I win this match, I could have a chance at that championship and we can finally get the match we all deserve, two of the best in Anzac squaring off one last time. This may be a farewell to Anzac match, but we all know there is still one match looming. Bronx Valescence against Prince Walkffhthrope for the title I should have gotten a shot at months ago. I know it, Wayne knows it, NGW knows it and even Prince W himself knows it. Long enough has that title eluded me, but that being said? I do have an opportunity to earn it against four others that are prominent names in Anzac…Let’s start with Joanne Tasmanian.”
He wasn’t sure if that was her name, but it was something like that, he could have sworn it was something like that at least.
Anyway.
“Honestly, jungle gal has about as much of a chance to win this match as Ace wrestling has a chance of opening back up. I don’t like to undermine my opponents, but Tasmanian or whatever her name is, is barely worth mentioning in this aspect. On my worst day, Tartanna couldn’t beat me at her best. So I do apologize for not wasting your time or my time on someone like her. I don’t even know if she’ll show up, she’s in about a million other companies, and to be frank with you, they all have the same result. Losses for Joey Tasmanian. But there are opponents worth mentioning in this match, I promise.”
Bronx scanned the small crowd, trying to make eye contact with everyone, but now the reporter was playing on his phone, probably Candy Crush or Diamond Digger, something of that sort for sure.
“Take Vixen for instance. If there is one person I want to win this more than me. It’s Vixen. Chick is cool as hell. There used to be a little feud there when I went at her husband, but you know what? All is good now. Vixen has been the victim of circumstance. She’s never really gotten the ball rolling and the few people in this business I consider friends, Vixen is one of them. I’ll go to the end with her, and I’ll make sure she has as good as chance as me to win this match, even if she doesn’t need my help. Vixen would have gotten to the top in Anzac. I’m sure of it. So even if I don’t win, if Vixen wins. I’ll call it a win for myself because she’s my homie.
And…Between us. I think she is smoking hot…No pun intended, but don’t tell her husband, alright?”
The reporter idly nodded as he swiped away on his phone while the homeless mad had woken back up and began paying attention to what was going on, he realized he had a beer in his hand and began drinking it again.
“Then you have Pat Gordon Jr. Patty and I have talked back and forth about how great it would be if we could get a match together. Pat likes to call himself the hardest working man in wrestling, Pat is the one who everyone knows, Pat is the name on the marquee that you recognize, and I’m looking to change all of that. You see, NGW wants a brand change. They don’t want the same old, same old like Pat Gordon JR. They want the new kids, they want the new generation and that my friends, is where I come in. I’m the face that should have been on the posters for Anzac. I know how popular Patty J is but at the end of the day…IT ME…”
Bronx opened his arms, he expected a bigger response but the homeless man in the back merely burped and crushed the beer can in his hand. He then began walking into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
With a look, Bronx asked the homeless man who opened the fridge.
“I wanna’ see whatcha’ got to eat.”
Instead of stopping him Bronx just shrugged.
“I got some left over chicken nuggets in the top I’m not going to eat.”
The homeless man scratched himself and instead grabbed a pot of chili that Bronx had in the bottom of the fridge.
“Please don’t that’s what…”
He grabbed a spoon off of the counter and stuck it down in it and began eating it, cold, and right out of the fridge. The reporter quickly snatched up his bag because Biggie started barking at the homeless man.
“Well, I should be going then!”
Before Bronx could stop him he was at the door.
“Wait! You have to wait to hear what I say about Tee Voland!”
But the man was gone, Bronx could hear the patter of his feet eventually disappear and his car start up in the small parking lot. Bronx turned to the homeless man.
“Do you want to hear what I have to say about Tee Voland?”
The homeless man shrugged.
“Can I eat the rest of this chili?”
Bronx looked to the chili and then looked to the homeless man. It was one of Bronx’s best batches he had made, but indeed he nodded.
“Sure…So this Tee Voland bitch.”
He began with Biggie now wagging his stump tail as if he had just realized the homeless man had entered the apartment.
“She wants to talk trash on me. I’ve literally beaten her about 100 times, yet she continues to talk trash. She’s about as dumb as Johnny Violence but at least she is twice the wrestler he is. I’m not going to let anyone stand in my way of this victory. Tee Voland can keep running her mouth, but I’m going to beat her again. At NGW, it isn’t going to be about Alioth Starre and John William Kingsley. It isn’t going to be about Pat Gordon Jr or Tee Voland. It’s going to be about one man…I’m Bronxy V…And it’s allllllllllllllllll about me…BAYBAY!”
Bronx yelled, it startled the man eating his chili. A toy fell on over in the chair and to the floor, that’s when Bronx knew the press conference was over. He looked at the homeless dude.
“You want to play some FIFA?”
The man looked at him.
“What is FIFA?”
Bronx sighed.
Somewhere a door banged open. First, in walked Biggie Smalls. A large English bulldog if you’re not familiar with Bronx. He adopted the dog to simply look cool, because his blood rival Duff Briggs had one and everyone loved Duff, so he had to do the same thing. The dog panted as he came in from taking a piss in the hot Galveston son. And Bronx followed. Bronx wore a purple tank top with pink shorts and flip flops as he came walking into his apartment. As Biggie waddled over to his water dish, Bronx put his hands on his hips and looked around at the small plastic chairs. It looked like he was about to have a Kindergarten class over if anything. Nobody in their right mind would trust Bronx with children though, because he had often been called a big child himself.
A big child that suplex you through the mat, but many people had already found that out when they took Bronx lightly.
“Amazing nobody has shown up for this yet, Biggie.”
Bronx called over to his dog, who merely grunted over by his water bowl. The television was paused on Arkham Night, which Bronx had put so much time into sometimes he thought he was becoming Batman, but he wasn’t dark and brooding like Batman. He was actually happy.
“Kill ‘em with kindess.”
He would always say, but it wasn’t really kindness he showed. Most of the time he was actually pretty rude. Bronx often confused kindness with happiness. Bronx walked over and sat down at the table and looked out over the empty chairs, then he looked down at his grey watch he wore on his left wrist.
“So rude of nobody to show up. I gave them the time, I gave them the location. You’re telling me that NGW or Anzac or whoever couldn’t send ONE reporter down here to cover this story? I mean, come on! Its huge news right? You believe it’s huge news, right Biggie?”
The bulldog waddled over and laid down on his feet from underneath the table. Bronx sighed deeply and slipped his feet out from underneath Biggie and looked at the various chairs.
“Fine, if they don’t want to come fill them. Then I will.”
First, he bent low underneath the table and picked up all 160 pounds of Biggie and plopped him in one of the small chairs, realizing quickly enough that he wouldn’t fit, he walked back over and grabbed a rolling chair from his small desk and slid it over to the front row of chairs and instead put Biggie in that.
“Best seat in the house, bub.”
He bent over low and tapped Biggie on the head, and then he looked over to his bed where he walked over and grabbed a stuffed bear he had pulled out of the closet and sat it beside Biggie. Biggie looked over and sniffed at it and Bronx quickly snapped his fingers.
“Biggie! Media etiquette please. Do not sniff the other reporters.”
Bronx turned his back to Biggie as Biggie rooted his nose into the bear so hard it fell to the ground, in the meantime Bronx was so busy, he couldn’t really find other spots to fill. He flung open his closet once more and like a cartoon, items began flying out of the closet, robes, hats, clothes, a scooter but finally he grunted and pulled out a replica sized Yoda from Star Wars. He grabbed the figure by the waist like he was trying to hoist it for a German suplex and placed it on the chair beside where the bear would go (he placed it back up in the chair as well).
That left a couple of chairs open. A couple of action figures littered the window frame beside Bronx’s bed. A couple of other things he had salvaged from home before he had fled to pursue the wrestling business and all of the ‘glory’ it brought. Honestly this was it, a small apartment flat on the beach. The life. The American Dream. Losing to Chris Callum every single week. That was the American Dream. Reality.
So a Batman action figure got sat carefully in one of the chairs near the back, as well as a Chris Callum action figure (the only one GIW made for a test that Bronx stole from GIW headquarters). Although Chris Callum was a reptilian, the action figure was kind of cool. Bronx crossed his arms and surveyed the “media area” before he walked up to the small table and sat down, he surveyed it for a moment.
“Something is missing.”
Besides Biggie farting in the chair, suddenly there came a knock on the door. Maybe someone did indeed take note of the flyers. Bronx rushed over and opened the door to see a small man around his age in wiry glasses standing there. Bronx eyed him carefully before he looked around, he didn’t look like a reporter, more like someone who delivered your newspapers on a bicycle.
“Can I help you?”
Bronx asked the young man.
“Yeah, I saw your flyers around town. I’m Kevin Gilbert from the Galveston County Daily News. I’m due for a story this month and I’m kind of scrambling. Would you be interested?”
Quickly Bronx looked around to the little dolls and action figures he had, it was the first real press coverage he had ever had.
“Um, okay sure. Just have a seat wherever we are slated to get started very soon and—“
As the young man stepped in Bronx looked past the man and outside where a homeless man stood with a tin can, he shook it at the tourists which passed him without a glance. Bronx stepped out onto the small walkway between apartments.
“HEY! You!”
The old homeless man with a long beard looked up to him and started to shuffle away as if he had been run off, but Bronx called back to him.
“You want to make some money?”
Bronx glanced behind him to see the newspaper reporter look around oddly, wondering what he had gotten himself into with a dog burping and farting in the chair next to him with a homeless man making his way toward the apartment complex. Bronx popped his head back into the door of his living room and forced a smile to the reporter.
“Again, it’ll be just a moment.”
Trying to be as faux-professional as possible he watched the old homeless man hobble up the steps, he looked very interested in the porch furniture two doors down, and Bronx just knew when he left that the bum would be sleeping on that. Oh well.
“You got any weed?”
It was the first thing the homeless man said as he stumbled into the door. He smelled like trash that had been rained on and then sat out in the hot sun for a couple of hours. The actual reporter went to stand up to leave but Bronx closed the door, nearly closing the homeless man up in it, Bronx went over to his fridge and rummaged through the empty packages of snack pudding containers and containers of jello when he found a beer.
“No. I mean, I know a girl that could probably hook you up, I’m actually facing her in NGW, whatever. Just….Here.”
He forced the beer into the homeless man’s chest. He looked pleased enough as he took one fatal swipe at the little action figures Bronx had set up. Bronx cringed and went to stop him but, honestly it was nice to be able to do this in front of actual humans anyway. Bronx cleared his throat as he began to speak, the beer cracked open somewhere in the back row and the homeless man was now sitting up, swilling the old beer that a friend had left over. Bronx cleared his throat again to start, but he got distracted with the young reporter getting out his phone to record whatever Bronx was about to say.
“Okay…So…Here we are.”
Bronx hadn’t written anything down, and so he had all of this stuff floating around in his head he thought would just come out, but now he had all of these people staring at him. People being, a homeless man, some rookie reporter and a dog (which in turn had fallen asleep), suddenly he had a blank look on his face.
Then the memories started to flood in. His first trip to Anzac Pro. His first meeting with Wayne. The fact that he had never been beaten, and how he felt like he was never given the opportunity to really prove himself in Anzac. The same match it felt every single week, but the pride of fighting for Anzac welled up inside of him, and so he looked from the card table up to the persons sitting in his small apartment flat.
“This prestigious group of reporters are obviously gathered here on a very momentous occasion. Since leaving Galveston, this will be my first appearance in the wrestling world, and it will be none other than in N…G..W. I’ve stayed away from NGW. I’ve never tried to be involved in it because I put everything I had into Anzac and the other company I was in at the time. Plus I was trying to raise a cat which is lurking around here somewhere…Sir…I wouldn’t put my bag on the ground.”
He nodded to the actual reporter who was there, the man looked around, not knowing that the cat was actually an opossum that Bronx had…Er…Well, befriended for lack of a better turn and it had torn is apartment to shreds. Bronx still thought the thing was a cat despite everyone telling him it was merely an opossum and probably not meant to be in an apartment. Currently the opossum had taken refuge up under the sink and refused to come out.
“Let me start by saying Anzac really meant a lot to me. All I wanted was to make that company legitimate along with names like Prince Wjkaureurthrope and Pat Gordon Jr, along with Vixen and yes, even Tee Voland. I showed up every week, I brought it, I gave it my all because I believed in what Wayne was selling. I was heartbroken when the company went down but I knew it would be in good hands when it merged with NGW. At first, I wasn’t going to be a part of this Anzac Memorial match, but I knew that this was what Wayne wanted. This match wouldn’t be a match without Bronxy V in it. That’s why I threw my name in the hat. Not for my own personal glory, but for the memory of Wayne. For the memory of Anzac island and the fact that because I’m the only undefeated wrestler in Anzac. I need to be a part of this match.”
Bronx cleared his throat, looking at the reporters face, you could tell he had made a mistake in coming because he had no idea what Bronx was talking about, meanwhile the homeless man in the back had dosed off into a slumber. Bronx trudged on.
“While Prince Waldjfthrope continues to dodge me and my rightful championship opportunity for the Anzac New Zealand whatever title. Regardless, I know if I win this match, I could have a chance at that championship and we can finally get the match we all deserve, two of the best in Anzac squaring off one last time. This may be a farewell to Anzac match, but we all know there is still one match looming. Bronx Valescence against Prince Walkffhthrope for the title I should have gotten a shot at months ago. I know it, Wayne knows it, NGW knows it and even Prince W himself knows it. Long enough has that title eluded me, but that being said? I do have an opportunity to earn it against four others that are prominent names in Anzac…Let’s start with Joanne Tasmanian.”
He wasn’t sure if that was her name, but it was something like that, he could have sworn it was something like that at least.
Anyway.
“Honestly, jungle gal has about as much of a chance to win this match as Ace wrestling has a chance of opening back up. I don’t like to undermine my opponents, but Tasmanian or whatever her name is, is barely worth mentioning in this aspect. On my worst day, Tartanna couldn’t beat me at her best. So I do apologize for not wasting your time or my time on someone like her. I don’t even know if she’ll show up, she’s in about a million other companies, and to be frank with you, they all have the same result. Losses for Joey Tasmanian. But there are opponents worth mentioning in this match, I promise.”
Bronx scanned the small crowd, trying to make eye contact with everyone, but now the reporter was playing on his phone, probably Candy Crush or Diamond Digger, something of that sort for sure.
“Take Vixen for instance. If there is one person I want to win this more than me. It’s Vixen. Chick is cool as hell. There used to be a little feud there when I went at her husband, but you know what? All is good now. Vixen has been the victim of circumstance. She’s never really gotten the ball rolling and the few people in this business I consider friends, Vixen is one of them. I’ll go to the end with her, and I’ll make sure she has as good as chance as me to win this match, even if she doesn’t need my help. Vixen would have gotten to the top in Anzac. I’m sure of it. So even if I don’t win, if Vixen wins. I’ll call it a win for myself because she’s my homie.
And…Between us. I think she is smoking hot…No pun intended, but don’t tell her husband, alright?”
The reporter idly nodded as he swiped away on his phone while the homeless mad had woken back up and began paying attention to what was going on, he realized he had a beer in his hand and began drinking it again.
“Then you have Pat Gordon Jr. Patty and I have talked back and forth about how great it would be if we could get a match together. Pat likes to call himself the hardest working man in wrestling, Pat is the one who everyone knows, Pat is the name on the marquee that you recognize, and I’m looking to change all of that. You see, NGW wants a brand change. They don’t want the same old, same old like Pat Gordon JR. They want the new kids, they want the new generation and that my friends, is where I come in. I’m the face that should have been on the posters for Anzac. I know how popular Patty J is but at the end of the day…IT ME…”
Bronx opened his arms, he expected a bigger response but the homeless man in the back merely burped and crushed the beer can in his hand. He then began walking into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
With a look, Bronx asked the homeless man who opened the fridge.
“I wanna’ see whatcha’ got to eat.”
Instead of stopping him Bronx just shrugged.
“I got some left over chicken nuggets in the top I’m not going to eat.”
The homeless man scratched himself and instead grabbed a pot of chili that Bronx had in the bottom of the fridge.
“Please don’t that’s what…”
He grabbed a spoon off of the counter and stuck it down in it and began eating it, cold, and right out of the fridge. The reporter quickly snatched up his bag because Biggie started barking at the homeless man.
“Well, I should be going then!”
Before Bronx could stop him he was at the door.
“Wait! You have to wait to hear what I say about Tee Voland!”
But the man was gone, Bronx could hear the patter of his feet eventually disappear and his car start up in the small parking lot. Bronx turned to the homeless man.
“Do you want to hear what I have to say about Tee Voland?”
The homeless man shrugged.
“Can I eat the rest of this chili?”
Bronx looked to the chili and then looked to the homeless man. It was one of Bronx’s best batches he had made, but indeed he nodded.
“Sure…So this Tee Voland bitch.”
He began with Biggie now wagging his stump tail as if he had just realized the homeless man had entered the apartment.
“She wants to talk trash on me. I’ve literally beaten her about 100 times, yet she continues to talk trash. She’s about as dumb as Johnny Violence but at least she is twice the wrestler he is. I’m not going to let anyone stand in my way of this victory. Tee Voland can keep running her mouth, but I’m going to beat her again. At NGW, it isn’t going to be about Alioth Starre and John William Kingsley. It isn’t going to be about Pat Gordon Jr or Tee Voland. It’s going to be about one man…I’m Bronxy V…And it’s allllllllllllllllll about me…BAYBAY!”
Bronx yelled, it startled the man eating his chili. A toy fell on over in the chair and to the floor, that’s when Bronx knew the press conference was over. He looked at the homeless dude.
“You want to play some FIFA?”
The man looked at him.
“What is FIFA?”
Bronx sighed.
