Post by andrei on Oct 23, 2008 3:42:54 GMT -5
-Andrei Karishnikov, on your feet!
The jail guard unlocks the cell and swings it open. Andrei gets up and heads to the officer, who then proceeds to un-cuff the Fallen Angel.
I wonder what Britney had to mortgage off to pay the bail?
Andrei rises from his bunk and heads to the cell door. It buzzes open and the officer leads him out of the confines and into a hallway.
I will miss this ugly blue jumpsuit though. Might make a good gimmick if I get desperate in the TWD...
-You can get changed back into your clothes in here and your effects will be waiting for you to be signed out down the hall. Knock when you’re done.
The officer uncuffs AK and the cell door buzzes open. Andrei steps into the sterile room and the guard closes the door.
On the table was a nice khaki and polo shirt number with a pair of nice leather sandals.
How the hell did she even find out I’d gone to California?
Andrei easily slips into his gear, underwear graciously included. He folds his prision suit and places it neatly on the chair and knocks. The door buzzes and the officer opens it and leads Andrei down the hall, where his other crap was indeed, there waiting.
AK snaps on his watch, dons his sunglasses. It appears someone overlooked his money and cigars, which was generous as there was only fourteen hundred dollars and three Cubans. A generous donation and tax write off for a budding wrestling promoter.
The Angel King signs his name on the form, slips his empty, silver money clip into his pocket and the officer leads him to another door. The final buzzing one.
I wonder if Brit’s gonna be pissed or just happy to see me? It’s only been three weeks, but we are supposed to be getting married in exactly 29 days so an arrest a month before the wedding is pretty severe.
I wonder if she knows it’s only for a small, mis-understanding...
3 WEEKS EARLIER
San Diego, California.
Andrei Karishnkiov is sitting in a hotel suite at the Coronado Island Marriott Resort, at a couch to be more specific. He’s hunched over a table, and if you creep just a little closer and look over the other sofa, you’d notice he’s rolling, what appears to be, a joint.
AK, Talking to himself.
-Time to fire this baby up and see if Joe Morgan really knew what he was talking about.
Dear God, am I really about to smoke pot in a fucking hotel room?! I should’ve drank more from the mini bar...
AK blazes up a lighter and inhales deeply. He holds it, savors it. Closes his eyes and let’s the sweet taste cleanse his very soul. He blows out a great billow of smoke. He eyes the length of the spliff and immediately begins coughing dramatically. He tries to suck in wind, but is way too busy coughing his lungs out and continues to do so for several minutes.
Dear God, what the Hell is the name of this shit sucking the life from me?!?!
Karishnikov grabs the jar and looks at the label: LAMB’S BREAD.
The coughs subside enough for The former TWF Heavyweight Champion to take a drink of ice water.
Smells good at least...
Andrei takes another long pull, holds it, takes a sip of ice water and blows out the cloud.
-Room Service!
Oh shit...
-Uh, just a minute!
Shit, shit, shit. I’ve gotta get them the fuck outta here!
It was too late, the made walked into bedroom and saw the still burning cigarette in the ashtray, the jar on the table, the pothead trying not to fall over the sofa to-
-No! Senor, no. I sorry, senor...
Andrei tripped over the sofa and face first into the housekeepers chest. He, almost instinctively, takes her to the ground, which causes her to yell
-RAPE!!! HELP ME!!!!
-No, look hang on, dammit.
This is not good, this is not good...
Andrei gets up from the floor and tries to help the poor woman up, but she backs away quickly and gets to her feet on the stairs. She is up and out the door before Karishnkov could even figure out what to do with the weed.
-Shit!
The weed, dummy, the weed!
Some minutes later, several police officers showed up to his suite and placed him under arrest. After a brief explanation at the station, Andrei was still booked with possession for the joint they found. Oh, he hid the weed alright, but like a stoner he forgot about the joint that had thankfully burned to not much.
Unfortunately, he got hit by a tough cop and what should have been a slap on the wrist fine or even a pass with a charitable donation locally turned into several charges, none of them rape and most of them aimed at maximizing the penalties for some “villian”.
PRESENT DAY.
And somehow, Britney found out I’m in California, not New York, and put the rest together and now I have to face THAT music-
The officer opens the door and there stands.
-So, tell me, did you drop the soap you gay bastard?
Tomas, Fucking, Luger?!?!
-What the Hell are you doing here, Tommy? Brit send you to pick me up?
-Nah, Brit doesn’t even know where the hell you are. I told her you were probably in New York seeing to Quentin’s progress as Champion, chekcing in on the ol OWL.
I will say this, Tomas Luger can lie with the best of them. He makes a living on it.
-So...how the Hell did you find me?
-C’mon, I’ll tell you on the flight.
SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO.
Brighton Beach, New York.
-You hit like a girl, ungh!
-Otherwise I’d knock you out in one punch, oof!
Andrei and his brother, Vitali, are scuffling in front of a run down apartment building. A Lincoln Town Car pulls up and two rather large men in suits get out of the front and open the back for an older looking gentleman. He has a pitted face and sharp, piercing eyes and very straight, pointy features. He smiles, but it’s not a warm one.
(Thick, Russian accent.)-Andrei, Vitali. How are you boys?
Vitali glares at the Russian, Andrei stands in front of his brother, just slightly.
-Hi Mr. Dimitriov. My parents are upstairs.
-Thank you Andrei. You boys run and get a soda pop or something.
He hands andrei a twenty and pats him on the head as all three men brush by the boys and into the building. Andrei heads up the road and Vitali runs to catch up.
-You’re not actually going to spend that, Andrei. I don’t like that man, he’s not a nice man.
-Who cares, twenty bucks is twenty bucks.
-I want to give the money back. Don’t spend it Andrei.
-Get lost you dweeb, I’m gonna get two sodas and make you jealous.
-I’m going back home to tell Mom, she wouldn’t want us spending it.
-Fine, go tell her. Nothing she can do once I’ve bought and drank the soda already.
Vitali, tears welling in his eyes, runs back home.
Andrei laughed and continued to the store-
-Wake up, shit head, we’re about to land at the airport.
PRESENT DAY.
Dallas, Texas.
-Wake up and put your seatbelt on, asshole.
Tomas prods Karishnkov again and he finally wakes from his dream. He buckles his seatbelt and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.
-Morning good lookin.
-Hey. Thanks for bailing me out, but you are going to have to tell me the real reason you followed me to California
-You’re welcome, and no I don’t. Want to know who you’re booked against this week?
-Oh, you mean I still have a job? You still have a job? We’ve both been gone for almost a month.
-Pfft. I’m the number one contender to the TWD Heavyweight Title and the TWD Tag Team Titles. I’m a walking icon around this federation. I feel like phoning in my camera time and just gimping through a match, I do it!
-So Patrick fined us?
-Yeah.
-A lot?
-Two months pay.
-Fair. So who’m I booked against this week?
-Dragz.
Andrei stops and Tomas turns to find out why. Andrei has a faint smile from ear to ear.
-Aside from the obvious, why is that so funny?
-Fucking evil monkey.
FADE OUT
The jail guard unlocks the cell and swings it open. Andrei gets up and heads to the officer, who then proceeds to un-cuff the Fallen Angel.
I wonder what Britney had to mortgage off to pay the bail?
Andrei rises from his bunk and heads to the cell door. It buzzes open and the officer leads him out of the confines and into a hallway.
I will miss this ugly blue jumpsuit though. Might make a good gimmick if I get desperate in the TWD...
-You can get changed back into your clothes in here and your effects will be waiting for you to be signed out down the hall. Knock when you’re done.
The officer uncuffs AK and the cell door buzzes open. Andrei steps into the sterile room and the guard closes the door.
On the table was a nice khaki and polo shirt number with a pair of nice leather sandals.
How the hell did she even find out I’d gone to California?
Andrei easily slips into his gear, underwear graciously included. He folds his prision suit and places it neatly on the chair and knocks. The door buzzes and the officer opens it and leads Andrei down the hall, where his other crap was indeed, there waiting.
AK snaps on his watch, dons his sunglasses. It appears someone overlooked his money and cigars, which was generous as there was only fourteen hundred dollars and three Cubans. A generous donation and tax write off for a budding wrestling promoter.
The Angel King signs his name on the form, slips his empty, silver money clip into his pocket and the officer leads him to another door. The final buzzing one.
I wonder if Brit’s gonna be pissed or just happy to see me? It’s only been three weeks, but we are supposed to be getting married in exactly 29 days so an arrest a month before the wedding is pretty severe.
I wonder if she knows it’s only for a small, mis-understanding...
3 WEEKS EARLIER
San Diego, California.
Andrei Karishnkiov is sitting in a hotel suite at the Coronado Island Marriott Resort, at a couch to be more specific. He’s hunched over a table, and if you creep just a little closer and look over the other sofa, you’d notice he’s rolling, what appears to be, a joint.
AK, Talking to himself.
-Time to fire this baby up and see if Joe Morgan really knew what he was talking about.
Dear God, am I really about to smoke pot in a fucking hotel room?! I should’ve drank more from the mini bar...
AK blazes up a lighter and inhales deeply. He holds it, savors it. Closes his eyes and let’s the sweet taste cleanse his very soul. He blows out a great billow of smoke. He eyes the length of the spliff and immediately begins coughing dramatically. He tries to suck in wind, but is way too busy coughing his lungs out and continues to do so for several minutes.
Dear God, what the Hell is the name of this shit sucking the life from me?!?!
Karishnikov grabs the jar and looks at the label: LAMB’S BREAD.
The coughs subside enough for The former TWF Heavyweight Champion to take a drink of ice water.
Smells good at least...
Andrei takes another long pull, holds it, takes a sip of ice water and blows out the cloud.
-Room Service!
Oh shit...
-Uh, just a minute!
Shit, shit, shit. I’ve gotta get them the fuck outta here!
It was too late, the made walked into bedroom and saw the still burning cigarette in the ashtray, the jar on the table, the pothead trying not to fall over the sofa to-
-No! Senor, no. I sorry, senor...
Andrei tripped over the sofa and face first into the housekeepers chest. He, almost instinctively, takes her to the ground, which causes her to yell
-RAPE!!! HELP ME!!!!
-No, look hang on, dammit.
This is not good, this is not good...
Andrei gets up from the floor and tries to help the poor woman up, but she backs away quickly and gets to her feet on the stairs. She is up and out the door before Karishnkov could even figure out what to do with the weed.
-Shit!
The weed, dummy, the weed!
Some minutes later, several police officers showed up to his suite and placed him under arrest. After a brief explanation at the station, Andrei was still booked with possession for the joint they found. Oh, he hid the weed alright, but like a stoner he forgot about the joint that had thankfully burned to not much.
Unfortunately, he got hit by a tough cop and what should have been a slap on the wrist fine or even a pass with a charitable donation locally turned into several charges, none of them rape and most of them aimed at maximizing the penalties for some “villian”.
PRESENT DAY.
And somehow, Britney found out I’m in California, not New York, and put the rest together and now I have to face THAT music-
The officer opens the door and there stands.
-So, tell me, did you drop the soap you gay bastard?
Tomas, Fucking, Luger?!?!
-What the Hell are you doing here, Tommy? Brit send you to pick me up?
-Nah, Brit doesn’t even know where the hell you are. I told her you were probably in New York seeing to Quentin’s progress as Champion, chekcing in on the ol OWL.
I will say this, Tomas Luger can lie with the best of them. He makes a living on it.
-So...how the Hell did you find me?
-C’mon, I’ll tell you on the flight.
SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO.
Brighton Beach, New York.
-You hit like a girl, ungh!
-Otherwise I’d knock you out in one punch, oof!
Andrei and his brother, Vitali, are scuffling in front of a run down apartment building. A Lincoln Town Car pulls up and two rather large men in suits get out of the front and open the back for an older looking gentleman. He has a pitted face and sharp, piercing eyes and very straight, pointy features. He smiles, but it’s not a warm one.
(Thick, Russian accent.)-Andrei, Vitali. How are you boys?
Vitali glares at the Russian, Andrei stands in front of his brother, just slightly.
-Hi Mr. Dimitriov. My parents are upstairs.
-Thank you Andrei. You boys run and get a soda pop or something.
He hands andrei a twenty and pats him on the head as all three men brush by the boys and into the building. Andrei heads up the road and Vitali runs to catch up.
-You’re not actually going to spend that, Andrei. I don’t like that man, he’s not a nice man.
-Who cares, twenty bucks is twenty bucks.
-I want to give the money back. Don’t spend it Andrei.
-Get lost you dweeb, I’m gonna get two sodas and make you jealous.
-I’m going back home to tell Mom, she wouldn’t want us spending it.
-Fine, go tell her. Nothing she can do once I’ve bought and drank the soda already.
Vitali, tears welling in his eyes, runs back home.
Andrei laughed and continued to the store-
-Wake up, shit head, we’re about to land at the airport.
PRESENT DAY.
Dallas, Texas.
-Wake up and put your seatbelt on, asshole.
Tomas prods Karishnkov again and he finally wakes from his dream. He buckles his seatbelt and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.
-Morning good lookin.
-Hey. Thanks for bailing me out, but you are going to have to tell me the real reason you followed me to California
-You’re welcome, and no I don’t. Want to know who you’re booked against this week?
-Oh, you mean I still have a job? You still have a job? We’ve both been gone for almost a month.
-Pfft. I’m the number one contender to the TWD Heavyweight Title and the TWD Tag Team Titles. I’m a walking icon around this federation. I feel like phoning in my camera time and just gimping through a match, I do it!
-So Patrick fined us?
-Yeah.
-A lot?
-Two months pay.
-Fair. So who’m I booked against this week?
-Dragz.
Andrei stops and Tomas turns to find out why. Andrei has a faint smile from ear to ear.
-Aside from the obvious, why is that so funny?
-Fucking evil monkey.
FADE OUT