Post by DTP TBH on Aug 7, 2008 12:21:11 GMT -5
The bullet hit the floor, bouncing off of the unforgiving sidewalk. The black cold-hearted gun vibrated in my hand following the micro, bronze dagger shooting itself from inside of it from a single push of a trigger. The man in the black leather jacket groaned, his long clothed arm holding the wound in his lower spine where the bullet had targeted and successfully hit. The man fell to the ground, firstly on his knees before falling on his back, trying to cover the wound. I looked around the area at the surroundings. Graffiti-covered walls, crooked street lights blinking on and off from inside its cracked glass shade. Several blocks of apartments filling the area, in a simple rectangular black shapes, the exterior of the buildings playing the part of the horizon over the dark blue, clear sky. Silence was all around me, aside from my footsteps, quiet yet awkward groans from the wounded man as well as crickets chirping. Cars on the main road in the next street over still driving around, yet this street deserted. With every single light off, the walls of each building surrounding me made of old bricks. I could hear a voice in the distance, seemed like he was in one of the allies. I turned around, and swiftly dropped my gun onto the road, hiding it beneath my black boot. He smirks beneath a black cowboy hat, cigarette in his mouth, his mouth surrounded by black stubble, due to lack of shaving. Dressed in black also, this man stares at me, and looks up, pulling his shades down a little bit. The man reveals the black shirt beneath his mysterious long sweatshirt. His hair, black as the night, swung down the back of his hair like a ponytail, a little flick of black hair swinging down from his fringe. To get to this point, I'd have to go back to twelve o'clock today...
It was midday on the outskirts of New York City, the home of some legendary landmarks, also known as a hellraising city. I had woken up from a long night in a bar, because the stress of being a world champion, in my case, a World Cruiserweight Champion was pretty stressful, I was pretty much on the road night after night, hitting the ye olde green bottle of evil after shows. And I have not known when to stop, mainly because all of my life I've been living off of a Pepsi with ice, but lately, I've favoured basking in the devilish apple cider and the land of alcoholic beverages. It's funny how over the last thirty or so years, my taste buds have changed so much. I used to choke on alcohol and taste the paper of a cigarette rather than the actual tobacco. But, this morning in particular, I woke up lying by a dumpster in the back ally of the bar I had enjoyed a supposed sensible drink in. But for some reason, there was blood dripping from my mouth, and I spat out blood as soon as I made my first taste of the day. My shirt torn, making me look like a vampire in my black pants also. I had an enormous crick in my back which I predict was the result of sleeping all night sat up against a dumpster on a leather jacket and the tail of a rat.
I used the dumpster wall to help me up, though I was sluggish to get onto my feet, especially after the spaghetti legs I suffered last night. I grabbed my leather jacket, and fell on the dirty floor again, having to crawl out of the ally and use a disabled person's ramp rail to get back on my feet. I pulled the jacket over my shoulder and stumbled through the busy streets of New York. Fast forward to the time I got to my block of apartments, half an hour later. I vowed to myself that I would get payback on the owners of that store and that I would never visit a bar of that distance away ever again, when really it was fifteen minutes away but I took half an hour because I was groggy. After spitting alot of blood from my mouth with assistance of water, I took a painkiller to help my injuries, changed clothes and covered several bumps, bruises and cuts on my torso and legs. I went to a local diner at one, the streets still busy. The diner had a real 1950s feel to it, complete from the floor being black and white checkered tiles to the main counter having the image of many Greasers in black leather jackets. I went to the counter, my jaw feeling as bitter as a year-and-a-half old cheese waffle being eaten. There stood a cute petite blond woman, wearing a little black cap and everything, probably stuffing down her bra too.
Female Employee
Hello, welcome to Elektraz, may I take your order, sir?
Daniel Tomlinson Pratt
Okay, I don't feel good too, I so me have burger please cheese?
Female Employee
Erm, could you repeat that, please sir?
Daniel Tomlinson Pratt
Give Pepsi please, don't feel well...
Female Employee
Oh my god, are you okay, sir?
I choked on the blood brewing in my mouth like terrible mouthwash, and doubled over, head first into the counter, groaning in an unwell manner. I eventually let out the blood, and let it pour from between the teeth removed from my childhood, leaving a messy puddle over one of the Greasers on the laminated counter. The girl obviously had no idea what to do, there was like two customers watching on shock, causing one businessman, obviously on a coffee break, to drop his burger. The employee waved her arms high in the air, and not that I was looking for that purpose or anything, but the girl looked very fine beneath that black buttoned shirt, if you know what I'm saying. The cute girl bent over and whispered in my ear.
Female Employee
Let's get you an ambulance. Gosh darn, it murders me to have to watch cute guys suffer.
That said it all, it was obvious she liked me. I could tell from first sight, even when I spoke mumbo-jumbo when I first met her, she giggled a little at me in the most adorable way. But right then, I knew I shouldn't be thinking about the girl, I should of been thinking about trying to survive. The girl ran to the drive-thru window and told the family about my situation. She probably told them I needed an ambulance too. I couldn't survive with this, I had to make my own way there, I'm a wrestler for god's sake. I fell on I disagree on the hard tiled floor and layed back on the cold floor. I turned onto my front and used my strong forearms to pull my unlively body more across the floor, hoping to reach the door so I could get away from the heat and try and make it to the hospital in pride, rather than being given the stretcher treatment, also known as the ride of shame. I pushed the door open when I reached it and went to crawl through and get through the exit door, but the door slammed shut on my ribs. The female employee ran to help me as now it was hard for me to breathe. I was literally choking on two things at the same time. My saliva once clear, now colored red as it dripped from out of my lower lip and to the floor. I rolled onto my side as the girl tried to hold my head up. Everything went blurry, but when I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, in a very interesting situation with the employee leaning over me, giving me some view of the 'gap between her shirt and skin'.
Female Employee
Are you okay, Mr Tomlinson? You gave everybody quite a scare back at Elektraz. You've got two broken ribs and a torn tongue, not to mention a dozen scars.
Daniel Tomlinson Pratt
Ith thorry for fee thcare, miff. Iff my chongue gonna be fine?
Female Employee
Please, call me Jaynie. And you shouldn't talk, it'll make your life painful and you need to recover on those stitches...
And that's where we have to cut it short...To Be Continued tomorrow with hope...
If you take points away just because I didn't refer to my opponents then I'll quit...
