Post by pariah on May 30, 2009 2:17:49 GMT -5
The scene opens to the parking lot, cliche, I know. But the guy refused anything else for an entrance...
ANYWAYS
A loud screech and some rattling draws nearer and nearer, and just as the camera begins a zoom, what appears to be a Winnebago of sorts tailspins into view, tread marks and all. As the rusted hunk of metal pushes closer and closer, the camera pans back out, this time with both security guards at the back gate coming into the picture...
Guard One: The hell is that...?
Guard Two: Probably your dad. He changed his mind. He DOES love you!
A leer is shared as the Winnebago comes to a halt, crammed between two other cars, taking off their mirrors. And then...
Nothing.
The Winnie just sits there, idle, smoking, clicks and clanks from the engine. The camera, which had panned in to try and peak through the windows of the vehicle, gets the guards back into the picture just in time for the two to continue their conversation. Convenient, right?
Guard One: Should we head over there? We don't know if they're alone.
Guard Two: Are you sure you're ready? I mean it's been so many years, he might have chan..
He's cut off.
Guard One: SERIOUSLY, JOHN!
So it appears his name is John...
John: I've got your back...
The two cautiously begin their ascent on the car, but don't make it more than a few steps before the passenger door is kicked open to reveal a rather muscular physique, a pair of laced up boots, and some asshole with a real poor disposition...
He hops down, slams the door, and puts his hand over his back as if he's electronically locking the door. But there's nothing in his hands...
Pariah: BEEPBEEP
...he shouts, as he the Winnebago continues to moan and groan after the ordeal it's most surely been put through at the hands of the mystery man.
Okay, so we gave away his name.
But yea, still a mystery to the other two bozos...
Not John: How about you stay right there for just a second, sir.
Pariah: Huh?
Not John: Sir have you been drinking tonight?
Pariah: Do you know where I can find some Tacos?
I told you this wasn't going anywhere. You clicked it anyways.
John: Got some ID on ya...?
Pariah: I don't know, that depends...
You know what's coming. You're STILL reading, aren't you? Idiots!
Not John: On...?
Pariah: You got tacos?
The two decide the charade is over, flank him, and reach into his pockets...
John: Just another reject with a new contract.
He shoves the note, which had been an invitation to the fed, back into the man's pocket...
Not John: Locker rooms are that way, He'll want to know you're here. We'll send you the bill for these cars by the end of the week.
Pariah: Yea yea...so where's the taco bar?
The two guards release the grip, roll their eyes, and point their nightsticks towards the back entrance to the arena.
Yay!
TBC?
ANYWAYS
A loud screech and some rattling draws nearer and nearer, and just as the camera begins a zoom, what appears to be a Winnebago of sorts tailspins into view, tread marks and all. As the rusted hunk of metal pushes closer and closer, the camera pans back out, this time with both security guards at the back gate coming into the picture...
Guard One: The hell is that...?
Guard Two: Probably your dad. He changed his mind. He DOES love you!
A leer is shared as the Winnebago comes to a halt, crammed between two other cars, taking off their mirrors. And then...
Nothing.
The Winnie just sits there, idle, smoking, clicks and clanks from the engine. The camera, which had panned in to try and peak through the windows of the vehicle, gets the guards back into the picture just in time for the two to continue their conversation. Convenient, right?
Guard One: Should we head over there? We don't know if they're alone.
Guard Two: Are you sure you're ready? I mean it's been so many years, he might have chan..
He's cut off.
Guard One: SERIOUSLY, JOHN!
So it appears his name is John...
John: I've got your back...
The two cautiously begin their ascent on the car, but don't make it more than a few steps before the passenger door is kicked open to reveal a rather muscular physique, a pair of laced up boots, and some asshole with a real poor disposition...
He hops down, slams the door, and puts his hand over his back as if he's electronically locking the door. But there's nothing in his hands...
Pariah: BEEPBEEP
...he shouts, as he the Winnebago continues to moan and groan after the ordeal it's most surely been put through at the hands of the mystery man.
Okay, so we gave away his name.
But yea, still a mystery to the other two bozos...
Not John: How about you stay right there for just a second, sir.
Pariah: Huh?
Not John: Sir have you been drinking tonight?
Pariah: Do you know where I can find some Tacos?
I told you this wasn't going anywhere. You clicked it anyways.
John: Got some ID on ya...?
Pariah: I don't know, that depends...
You know what's coming. You're STILL reading, aren't you? Idiots!
Not John: On...?
Pariah: You got tacos?
The two decide the charade is over, flank him, and reach into his pockets...
John: Just another reject with a new contract.
He shoves the note, which had been an invitation to the fed, back into the man's pocket...
Not John: Locker rooms are that way, He'll want to know you're here. We'll send you the bill for these cars by the end of the week.
Pariah: Yea yea...so where's the taco bar?
The two guards release the grip, roll their eyes, and point their nightsticks towards the back entrance to the arena.
Yay!
TBC?