Post by samfinn on Mar 2, 2007 22:44:32 GMT -5
So ... a fellow rookie to bash 'eads against, huh? Perfect. Never had a chance in hell against Roberts, anyways.
(The night is coming quickly now. A quick peek at a watch would show that it 6:30 PM. The illuminated streets of Calgary are alive with it's denizens, the average folk, the street rats, the diners and those with no particular purpose. Sam Finn and Jenny Green speed past on Sam's blue Harley.)
STORM: So, you got a place in mind tonight?
JENNY: I thought we'd try that place we passed the other day. That Italian place.
STORM: What, the Old Spagetti Factory?
JENNY: Yeah. That's it.
STORM: Alright, then. Next stop a crappy resturant.
(The cobalt bike takes a right turn up ahead. Ahead looms the dirty brick building that is possibly the worst resturant in all of Alberta's second capital. They turn into the parking lot and a few moments later they swing into a space.)
JENNY: Don't you have a match tomorow? The day after?
STORM: Day after. Against some jerkoff they call Newfy Jack.
JENNY: Newfy Jack? Seriously?
STORM: Yeah. I know. This is a fat guy calling himself a wrestler. He hangs around in a bar all day.
JENNY: Is he any good?
STORM: No idea. He says he's famous, but I've never even heard of the guy. Have you?
JENNY: Nope. Haven't heard of BCW either. So, are you leaving tonight or tommorow?
STORM: Tonight. I think I'm gonna take the harley up. Not much use of taking a plane for that short a ride.
(They both walk in the front doors of the Old Spagetti Factory. There isn't much of a line, so they end up in front pretty quickly. A black haired waiter greets them. His nametag reads; "Kyle M.")
KYLE M: Good evening! For two, then?
JENNY: Yeah. Non-smoking, please.
KYLE M: Alright, right this way.
STORM: What time is it, by the way?
KYLE M: 6:36 on the dot.
STORM: I see.
(They reach the table. Sam pulls out a chair for Jenny, and she sits down. Sam pulls his own chair out and sits down.)
JENNY: Vodka Stinger with a Whiskey Back. In a hurry, please.
STORM: Big drink for the little lady and a Coke over here. Long drive tonight.
KYLE M: On the double. Eaten here before?
STORM: (Sighs) Yeahhhh. Tortellini. French Onion soup.
JENNY: Same here.
KYLE M: Alright, I'll be back in a jiffy.
(Kyle walks away. Storm looks out the nearby window.)
JENNY: So this Newfy Jack. How much does he weigh in at?
STORM: He's like three-fifteen and six-six.
JENNY: Wow. A chunky little bastard, huh?
STORM: He's going down. Nightmare lost his title, too.
JENNY: This other day at work, this baby was crying all the way to London. I seriously wanted to stab him.
(Kyle M. comes back, tray in hand.)
STORM: Ah, the man of the hour.
KYLE M: Coke for you, and the Stinger for you. Say, you wouldn't be Sam Finn, would you?
STORM: Never heard of him.
KYLE M: Right. Anyway, the food's coming. Shouldn't be too long.
STORM: Yeah. Thanks.
(The pair sit there, sipping their drinks, and 23 minutes later the food arrives. Kyle looks at Finn for a few seconds, before catching a glare from the big man.)
KYLE M: Well, enjoy your meal
STORM: I'll try.
JENNY: Sam!
(Jenny and Finn eat. Finn's just picking at his multicoloured pasta, while Jenny's really digging in. Suddenly, Metallica's "Enter Sandman" comes playing from really small speakers; the speakers on Sam's 'Razr' phone.)
STORM: Hello? Yeah, this is him. No, Carson. I can't make it in tonight. What? Yeah. Sure.
JENNY: Who is it?
STORM: Tony Carson. He wants me to do a phone-recording instead of a live interveiw. He put me on hold. Wait. Yeah? Yeah. Dude, let's just meet in the Edmonton place. Yeah, I'm leaving in like an hour. Yes. Yes. Right. Bye.
JENNY: So?
STORM: So, I told him I'm going to meet him in the WPVN Edmonton office. No biggie.
JENNY: You done?
STORM: Yeah. Wait; do you mind taking a cab to your place? I need to leave a bit early.
JENNY: Why don't I come with you? Emotional support?
STORM: I'm going straight to the hotel tonight. Tommorow I'm going to a gym for most of the day tommorow.
JENNY: I'll see you tommorow.
STORM: Listen, Jenn. I -
JENNY: See. You. Tommorow.
STORM: Now, I'm not trying to sound like an ass here, but seriously. You have work the next day. You don't need to risk the roads.
(Jenny sighs in resignation. 5 minutes later Sam is on his bike and cruising to Edmonton.)
Newfy Jack? Get ready for the storm.
(The night is coming quickly now. A quick peek at a watch would show that it 6:30 PM. The illuminated streets of Calgary are alive with it's denizens, the average folk, the street rats, the diners and those with no particular purpose. Sam Finn and Jenny Green speed past on Sam's blue Harley.)
STORM: So, you got a place in mind tonight?
JENNY: I thought we'd try that place we passed the other day. That Italian place.
STORM: What, the Old Spagetti Factory?
JENNY: Yeah. That's it.
STORM: Alright, then. Next stop a crappy resturant.
(The cobalt bike takes a right turn up ahead. Ahead looms the dirty brick building that is possibly the worst resturant in all of Alberta's second capital. They turn into the parking lot and a few moments later they swing into a space.)
JENNY: Don't you have a match tomorow? The day after?
STORM: Day after. Against some jerkoff they call Newfy Jack.
JENNY: Newfy Jack? Seriously?
STORM: Yeah. I know. This is a fat guy calling himself a wrestler. He hangs around in a bar all day.
JENNY: Is he any good?
STORM: No idea. He says he's famous, but I've never even heard of the guy. Have you?
JENNY: Nope. Haven't heard of BCW either. So, are you leaving tonight or tommorow?
STORM: Tonight. I think I'm gonna take the harley up. Not much use of taking a plane for that short a ride.
(They both walk in the front doors of the Old Spagetti Factory. There isn't much of a line, so they end up in front pretty quickly. A black haired waiter greets them. His nametag reads; "Kyle M.")
KYLE M: Good evening! For two, then?
JENNY: Yeah. Non-smoking, please.
KYLE M: Alright, right this way.
STORM: What time is it, by the way?
KYLE M: 6:36 on the dot.
STORM: I see.
(They reach the table. Sam pulls out a chair for Jenny, and she sits down. Sam pulls his own chair out and sits down.)
JENNY: Vodka Stinger with a Whiskey Back. In a hurry, please.
STORM: Big drink for the little lady and a Coke over here. Long drive tonight.
KYLE M: On the double. Eaten here before?
STORM: (Sighs) Yeahhhh. Tortellini. French Onion soup.
JENNY: Same here.
KYLE M: Alright, I'll be back in a jiffy.
(Kyle walks away. Storm looks out the nearby window.)
JENNY: So this Newfy Jack. How much does he weigh in at?
STORM: He's like three-fifteen and six-six.
JENNY: Wow. A chunky little bastard, huh?
STORM: He's going down. Nightmare lost his title, too.
JENNY: This other day at work, this baby was crying all the way to London. I seriously wanted to stab him.
(Kyle M. comes back, tray in hand.)
STORM: Ah, the man of the hour.
KYLE M: Coke for you, and the Stinger for you. Say, you wouldn't be Sam Finn, would you?
STORM: Never heard of him.
KYLE M: Right. Anyway, the food's coming. Shouldn't be too long.
STORM: Yeah. Thanks.
(The pair sit there, sipping their drinks, and 23 minutes later the food arrives. Kyle looks at Finn for a few seconds, before catching a glare from the big man.)
KYLE M: Well, enjoy your meal
STORM: I'll try.
JENNY: Sam!
(Jenny and Finn eat. Finn's just picking at his multicoloured pasta, while Jenny's really digging in. Suddenly, Metallica's "Enter Sandman" comes playing from really small speakers; the speakers on Sam's 'Razr' phone.)
STORM: Hello? Yeah, this is him. No, Carson. I can't make it in tonight. What? Yeah. Sure.
JENNY: Who is it?
STORM: Tony Carson. He wants me to do a phone-recording instead of a live interveiw. He put me on hold. Wait. Yeah? Yeah. Dude, let's just meet in the Edmonton place. Yeah, I'm leaving in like an hour. Yes. Yes. Right. Bye.
JENNY: So?
STORM: So, I told him I'm going to meet him in the WPVN Edmonton office. No biggie.
JENNY: You done?
STORM: Yeah. Wait; do you mind taking a cab to your place? I need to leave a bit early.
JENNY: Why don't I come with you? Emotional support?
STORM: I'm going straight to the hotel tonight. Tommorow I'm going to a gym for most of the day tommorow.
JENNY: I'll see you tommorow.
STORM: Listen, Jenn. I -
JENNY: See. You. Tommorow.
STORM: Now, I'm not trying to sound like an ass here, but seriously. You have work the next day. You don't need to risk the roads.
(Jenny sighs in resignation. 5 minutes later Sam is on his bike and cruising to Edmonton.)
Newfy Jack? Get ready for the storm.