Post by George Duke on Mar 20, 2007 19:23:28 GMT -6
Single Bedroom
One Bath
Kitchen/living room
Balcony with city view
Close to heart of city
Low price, no pets.
This sounds about right. On the fifth floor of a six story apartment building, the small apartment is more than enough for George Duke. It's a place to sleep and exercise. The area isn't too bad and it smells alright. The other apartment he looked at today was near a fish market. That wasn't going to work out. A small and thin man with features like a weasel shows off the living space. As the Realtor walks George through the rooms, he proclaims it's positive points.
"The neighbors are quiet enough. Maybe the occasional party on the weekends, but you won't hear much. The walls are soundproofed, the bedroom is recently dry-walled. New paint in the living room. Top of the line dishwasher in the kitchen and there's a laundry room on the first floor. Do you live alone, Mr. Duke?"
George glances around at the little place and nods with a grunt.
"Well, then you should have plenty of room. It says here that you're from Pennsylvania. Why the move?"
George doesn't even look at him, preferring instead to study the room as he answers.
"Business."
Most people wouldn't pry at this point, but nosy people are just that.
"And what do you do for a living, Mr. Duke?"
George seems a little bit irriated, but wanders into the bedroom to continue looking around. He calls out to the Realtor who waits in the kitchen.
"I break necks..."
The Realtor looks down at his clipboard and scans the pages nervously.
"I see."
Duke returns and snatches the clipboard away. He sets it on the kitchen counter and signs on the dotted line, in triplicates.
"Looks good to me. I'll be around next week."
"Well Mr. Duke, there are a number of other interested tennants and-"
Duke's hard stare cuts him off.
"And.. they'll have to look elsewhere. Congratulations Mr. Duke, welcome to your new home."
Duke shrugs.
"Home? God forbid."
They leave the room and George follows the Realtor to the car. As they ride back to the office, they mostly ride in silence. The Realtor breaks the ice with an awkward question that has had him a bit scared.
"If I may ask, what did you mean by breaking necks?"
George grins at the question and lights a cigar. The Realtor begins to protest but decides not to and instead rolls down the windows.
"I'm a professional wrestler. There's matches at the Star Pavilion at the Casino a few miles away. I fly in every week from Philly. I figured I'd get an apartment while the boss is still willing to pay part of it."
The Realtor is a bit relieved. As most in his field and social class, he knows little of the sport.
"Gets a little rough, I imagine. What's your character?"
Duke seems a bit annoyed.
"You're looking at it, bud. I don't do that character sh*t. That's why I'm a champ. Yessir - Valor Champion of POW in Kansas City. My opponent this week dips into the character thing. He's an Ancient Roman, you know. Hell, I dunno. Maybe it's not a character. Maybe he's just that friggin' crazy. It would explain why he has that weasly manager running off at the mouth for him. Don't worry about it, though. You'll still have a tennant. That's what I meant when I said I break necks. I'm going to break his and send him back wherever the Hell he came from. His rat manager can find a new cash cow - let him ride someone else's coattails. I know a lot about nerves and anatomy. I learned a lot about it when I was working in the circus. They taught me how to drop a guy real fast, so I could take on any comer. Big muscle guys get in the little makeshift ring and think they're gonna take home a cash prize. I slap a hold on them and they're done. Next! Hehe, but there's more fun in this business. It's more of a challenge with professionals, you see. I mean, this guy Macros is smart and talented enough to avoid the nerve holds or get them to be less effective, so you gotta work harder. Besides, if you want to drop a pro, you need more than nerve holds - you gotta hurt 'em. You cut out they're legs or make it so they can't walk, you've got the match in the bag, my friend! Plus, you don't have to worry about them coming back for a rematch. If you retire a guy, it gives you a certain sense of pride. You take a guy with a beautiful record like Macros - and you not only ruin his record, you ruin his body - there's a lot of acclaim to be gained. People talk - 'Hey, that's the guy that put Macros down'. You're a bigger draw for the gate and your piers know you can kill them. Best business in the world where you get to hurt people, get to play god with their lives. I like it. I like to hurt people."
The Realtor is scared again. A stout gentleman smoking a cigar has just bragged about crippling people. In a desperate attempt to make a connection, he blurts out...
"I met Hulk Hogan at a charity event a few years ago."
Duke is annoyed once again.
"Hogan's a schmuck."
George turns his gaze out the window and they ride again in silence all the way back to the office.
One Bath
Kitchen/living room
Balcony with city view
Close to heart of city
Low price, no pets.
This sounds about right. On the fifth floor of a six story apartment building, the small apartment is more than enough for George Duke. It's a place to sleep and exercise. The area isn't too bad and it smells alright. The other apartment he looked at today was near a fish market. That wasn't going to work out. A small and thin man with features like a weasel shows off the living space. As the Realtor walks George through the rooms, he proclaims it's positive points.
"The neighbors are quiet enough. Maybe the occasional party on the weekends, but you won't hear much. The walls are soundproofed, the bedroom is recently dry-walled. New paint in the living room. Top of the line dishwasher in the kitchen and there's a laundry room on the first floor. Do you live alone, Mr. Duke?"
George glances around at the little place and nods with a grunt.
"Well, then you should have plenty of room. It says here that you're from Pennsylvania. Why the move?"
George doesn't even look at him, preferring instead to study the room as he answers.
"Business."
Most people wouldn't pry at this point, but nosy people are just that.
"And what do you do for a living, Mr. Duke?"
George seems a little bit irriated, but wanders into the bedroom to continue looking around. He calls out to the Realtor who waits in the kitchen.
"I break necks..."
The Realtor looks down at his clipboard and scans the pages nervously.
"I see."
Duke returns and snatches the clipboard away. He sets it on the kitchen counter and signs on the dotted line, in triplicates.
"Looks good to me. I'll be around next week."
"Well Mr. Duke, there are a number of other interested tennants and-"
Duke's hard stare cuts him off.
"And.. they'll have to look elsewhere. Congratulations Mr. Duke, welcome to your new home."
Duke shrugs.
"Home? God forbid."
They leave the room and George follows the Realtor to the car. As they ride back to the office, they mostly ride in silence. The Realtor breaks the ice with an awkward question that has had him a bit scared.
"If I may ask, what did you mean by breaking necks?"
George grins at the question and lights a cigar. The Realtor begins to protest but decides not to and instead rolls down the windows.
"I'm a professional wrestler. There's matches at the Star Pavilion at the Casino a few miles away. I fly in every week from Philly. I figured I'd get an apartment while the boss is still willing to pay part of it."
The Realtor is a bit relieved. As most in his field and social class, he knows little of the sport.
"Gets a little rough, I imagine. What's your character?"
Duke seems a bit annoyed.
"You're looking at it, bud. I don't do that character sh*t. That's why I'm a champ. Yessir - Valor Champion of POW in Kansas City. My opponent this week dips into the character thing. He's an Ancient Roman, you know. Hell, I dunno. Maybe it's not a character. Maybe he's just that friggin' crazy. It would explain why he has that weasly manager running off at the mouth for him. Don't worry about it, though. You'll still have a tennant. That's what I meant when I said I break necks. I'm going to break his and send him back wherever the Hell he came from. His rat manager can find a new cash cow - let him ride someone else's coattails. I know a lot about nerves and anatomy. I learned a lot about it when I was working in the circus. They taught me how to drop a guy real fast, so I could take on any comer. Big muscle guys get in the little makeshift ring and think they're gonna take home a cash prize. I slap a hold on them and they're done. Next! Hehe, but there's more fun in this business. It's more of a challenge with professionals, you see. I mean, this guy Macros is smart and talented enough to avoid the nerve holds or get them to be less effective, so you gotta work harder. Besides, if you want to drop a pro, you need more than nerve holds - you gotta hurt 'em. You cut out they're legs or make it so they can't walk, you've got the match in the bag, my friend! Plus, you don't have to worry about them coming back for a rematch. If you retire a guy, it gives you a certain sense of pride. You take a guy with a beautiful record like Macros - and you not only ruin his record, you ruin his body - there's a lot of acclaim to be gained. People talk - 'Hey, that's the guy that put Macros down'. You're a bigger draw for the gate and your piers know you can kill them. Best business in the world where you get to hurt people, get to play god with their lives. I like it. I like to hurt people."
The Realtor is scared again. A stout gentleman smoking a cigar has just bragged about crippling people. In a desperate attempt to make a connection, he blurts out...
"I met Hulk Hogan at a charity event a few years ago."
Duke is annoyed once again.
"Hogan's a schmuck."
George turns his gaze out the window and they ride again in silence all the way back to the office.
