Post by Lord Hastings on Aug 9, 2011 20:31:42 GMT -5
Calypso: Chris Peterson.
We are once again in the middle of a make-shift ring in the middle of a backyard. The ring has been constructed by means of driving four long wooden stakes into the ground as ring posts, tied together by jump ropes. The "class" sit across from Donovan and Calypso, the latter holding her clipboard. Chris Peterson raises his hand.
Calypso: ...Tyvola.
Nothing happens. Chris leans to the bearded bum seated next to him.
Chris: I think that means you.
Hastings: No talking, sit quiet.
NotTyvola: I still haven't gotten any soup.
Hastings: Keep it up and you'll get a bucket of ice water.
Calypso: Could you do that anyway? Might help with the smell.
Hastings: Mistress T-A, if you could complete the attendance.
Calypso: I don't even know what half these names refer to, and we haven't seen the Old Bag since before we came to UGWC.
Hastings: She's still with us in our hearts.
Calypso: Hrm.
Hastings: Are you going to finish that?
Calypso: If you'd let me, I'm trying to.
Hastings: I meant Owen, that Slurpee looks good.
Owen is holding a nearly full Slurpee. He looks at in longingly for a moment, but hands it over a jump rope to Donovan, who takes a sip and makes a face.
Hastings: What is this, peach? Rubbish.
He throws it back over his shoulder, entirely over the neighbor's fence. Calypso stares at him.
Calypso: Really?
She steps over a jump rope and heads for her chair.
Hastings: What about attendance?
Calypso: Stuff it.
Hastings: Right, okay. Let's get started. How did everybody do on their homework?
He stares at Chris, then gestures to Owen, and the elder Peterson hands him the megaphone.
Hastings: Scrawny Niglet, step forward.
Chris begrudingly gets up and stands in front of Donovan.
Hastings: Please tell me you've gotten some better material.
Chris: Actually, I thought that I could-
Hastings: I'VE GOT IT!!!
Donovan snaps his fingers as Chris hesitates.
Hastings: Forget whatever you we're thinking, I'm sure it was garbage anyway, seeing as it was generated by the same brain that came up with taking a letter of the alphabet and throwing it in front of "plex" and passing it off as a credible finisher. We'll call you...
Donovan holds up the megaphone, and Chris winces in anticipation.
Hastings: The Black Knight!
Chris: You're kidding me.
Hastings: Never been more serious in my life. Think about it, I mean, it comes with a built-in catchphrase! "Because the Black Knight always triumphs!"
Chris looks at Owen, who shrugs his shoulders.
Hastings: Don't look at him, his big idea a couple years ago was for me to dress up as a pirate. This is great stuff, though. We'll work on a submission hold that attacks the knees, and you'll call it "The Leg-Biter."
NotTyvola: Mmm...legs...
Chris: This isn't happening.
Hastings: And we'll need something high impact, and you can call it "The Flesh Wound." Man, I am on fire here.
Calypso: Is that what smells?
Hastings: Alright, let's practice.
Chris: Practice what?
NotTyvola: So hungry...
Hastings: You there, go over by that turnbuckle.
NotTyvola stares at Donovan.
Owen: He means the stake.
NotTyvola: Steak!
NotTyvola walks over to the wooden stake in the corner, his back to Chris and Donovan.
Hastings: Now's your opening! Front Facelock!
Chris: From behind?
Hastings: How else would you do it?
Chris: What?
Hastings: Move!
NotTyvola: Must be well done...
Hastings: Oh, it will be.
Donovan chopblocks NotTyvola.
NotTyvola: Augh! My knee!
Hastings: See? Now you would work the knee over some more before you set up the Leg Biter. There's a psychology to all this.
Calypso: It's called insanity.
Hastings: Well, whatever works. You getting all this, NiggaKnight?
Chris: No.
Hastings: Take better notes. Don't forget Outlast is less than two weeks away.
Chris: Yeah, about that...
Hastings: Oh, goody, a question. Remember, class, there are no stupid questions, just stupid people that ask questions. Let's have it.
Chris hesitates a second.
Chris: I wanted to talk to you about my Outlast team.
Hastings: We don't need you.
Chris: Wait, what?
Hastings: I made the presentation of a lifetime last week to Peasant Rudo, got us NBK, Owen has a phone call in with Piston Honda, and there's always Chicken Licken. We should be good.
Calypso: I hate that damn chicken.
Chris: Really?
Hastings: She really does, I'm not sure why.
Chris: No, I mean, I can be on another team?
Hastings: WRONG.
Chris winces at the megaphone right in his face again. Donovan tosses it aside, where it hits the fallen NotTyvola.
NotTyvola: My other knee!
Hastings: Of course you're on Team Hastings! I can't even fathom the thought of having a discussion otherwise.
Owen rolls his eyes.
Hastings: Now keep in mind, I'm being serious here, you're going to have to fight your own match this week. You can't have mine.
Chris: I didn't want yours.
Hastings: There's no need to be modest around here.
Calypso: Obviously.
Hastings: You're on your own too. I'm going to have to be the Captain of Captains, especially with the teammates I've got, the consistantly over-matched JK, and, uh...
He glances at Calypso, who doesn't look up from her book.
Hastings: The other teammate. None of the peasants that we're up against are likely to pose much of a threat, so that's really going to be the challenge, keeping Frick and Frack in line on the apron. I understand you're in what's probably going to be a messy schmozz, so just keep in mind that NBK is a nutjob and you need to be careful with people like that.
Chris: No kidding.
Hastings: You don't want to piss him off the week before you have to stand next to him. We might recruit this Knight chick too, that bodes well for you. Actually, this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship for you, if you play your cards right. "The Black Knight, and Abby Knight." We're sitting on a gold mine here.
Owen applauds.
Hastings: Right, so for next time, you work on the Leg Biter and the Flesh Wound, got it.
Chris nods.
NotTyvola: Goodbye...delicious...steak...
We are once again in the middle of a make-shift ring in the middle of a backyard. The ring has been constructed by means of driving four long wooden stakes into the ground as ring posts, tied together by jump ropes. The "class" sit across from Donovan and Calypso, the latter holding her clipboard. Chris Peterson raises his hand.
Calypso: ...Tyvola.
Nothing happens. Chris leans to the bearded bum seated next to him.
Chris: I think that means you.
Hastings: No talking, sit quiet.
NotTyvola: I still haven't gotten any soup.
Hastings: Keep it up and you'll get a bucket of ice water.
Calypso: Could you do that anyway? Might help with the smell.
Hastings: Mistress T-A, if you could complete the attendance.
Calypso: I don't even know what half these names refer to, and we haven't seen the Old Bag since before we came to UGWC.
Hastings: She's still with us in our hearts.
Calypso: Hrm.
Hastings: Are you going to finish that?
Calypso: If you'd let me, I'm trying to.
Hastings: I meant Owen, that Slurpee looks good.
Owen is holding a nearly full Slurpee. He looks at in longingly for a moment, but hands it over a jump rope to Donovan, who takes a sip and makes a face.
Hastings: What is this, peach? Rubbish.
He throws it back over his shoulder, entirely over the neighbor's fence. Calypso stares at him.
Calypso: Really?
She steps over a jump rope and heads for her chair.
Hastings: What about attendance?
Calypso: Stuff it.
Hastings: Right, okay. Let's get started. How did everybody do on their homework?
He stares at Chris, then gestures to Owen, and the elder Peterson hands him the megaphone.
Hastings: Scrawny Niglet, step forward.
Chris begrudingly gets up and stands in front of Donovan.
Hastings: Please tell me you've gotten some better material.
Chris: Actually, I thought that I could-
Hastings: I'VE GOT IT!!!
Donovan snaps his fingers as Chris hesitates.
Hastings: Forget whatever you we're thinking, I'm sure it was garbage anyway, seeing as it was generated by the same brain that came up with taking a letter of the alphabet and throwing it in front of "plex" and passing it off as a credible finisher. We'll call you...
Donovan holds up the megaphone, and Chris winces in anticipation.
Hastings: The Black Knight!
Chris: You're kidding me.
Hastings: Never been more serious in my life. Think about it, I mean, it comes with a built-in catchphrase! "Because the Black Knight always triumphs!"
Chris looks at Owen, who shrugs his shoulders.
Hastings: Don't look at him, his big idea a couple years ago was for me to dress up as a pirate. This is great stuff, though. We'll work on a submission hold that attacks the knees, and you'll call it "The Leg-Biter."
NotTyvola: Mmm...legs...
Chris: This isn't happening.
Hastings: And we'll need something high impact, and you can call it "The Flesh Wound." Man, I am on fire here.
Calypso: Is that what smells?
Hastings: Alright, let's practice.
Chris: Practice what?
NotTyvola: So hungry...
Hastings: You there, go over by that turnbuckle.
NotTyvola stares at Donovan.
Owen: He means the stake.
NotTyvola: Steak!
NotTyvola walks over to the wooden stake in the corner, his back to Chris and Donovan.
Hastings: Now's your opening! Front Facelock!
Chris: From behind?
Hastings: How else would you do it?
Chris: What?
Hastings: Move!
NotTyvola: Must be well done...
Hastings: Oh, it will be.
Donovan chopblocks NotTyvola.
NotTyvola: Augh! My knee!
Hastings: See? Now you would work the knee over some more before you set up the Leg Biter. There's a psychology to all this.
Calypso: It's called insanity.
Hastings: Well, whatever works. You getting all this, NiggaKnight?
Chris: No.
Hastings: Take better notes. Don't forget Outlast is less than two weeks away.
Chris: Yeah, about that...
Hastings: Oh, goody, a question. Remember, class, there are no stupid questions, just stupid people that ask questions. Let's have it.
Chris hesitates a second.
Chris: I wanted to talk to you about my Outlast team.
Hastings: We don't need you.
Chris: Wait, what?
Hastings: I made the presentation of a lifetime last week to Peasant Rudo, got us NBK, Owen has a phone call in with Piston Honda, and there's always Chicken Licken. We should be good.
Calypso: I hate that damn chicken.
Chris: Really?
Hastings: She really does, I'm not sure why.
Chris: No, I mean, I can be on another team?
Hastings: WRONG.
Chris winces at the megaphone right in his face again. Donovan tosses it aside, where it hits the fallen NotTyvola.
NotTyvola: My other knee!
Hastings: Of course you're on Team Hastings! I can't even fathom the thought of having a discussion otherwise.
Owen rolls his eyes.
Hastings: Now keep in mind, I'm being serious here, you're going to have to fight your own match this week. You can't have mine.
Chris: I didn't want yours.
Hastings: There's no need to be modest around here.
Calypso: Obviously.
Hastings: You're on your own too. I'm going to have to be the Captain of Captains, especially with the teammates I've got, the consistantly over-matched JK, and, uh...
He glances at Calypso, who doesn't look up from her book.
Hastings: The other teammate. None of the peasants that we're up against are likely to pose much of a threat, so that's really going to be the challenge, keeping Frick and Frack in line on the apron. I understand you're in what's probably going to be a messy schmozz, so just keep in mind that NBK is a nutjob and you need to be careful with people like that.
Chris: No kidding.
Hastings: You don't want to piss him off the week before you have to stand next to him. We might recruit this Knight chick too, that bodes well for you. Actually, this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship for you, if you play your cards right. "The Black Knight, and Abby Knight." We're sitting on a gold mine here.
Owen applauds.
Hastings: Right, so for next time, you work on the Leg Biter and the Flesh Wound, got it.
Chris nods.
NotTyvola: Goodbye...delicious...steak...
x2
