Post by merlinmatrix on Aug 17, 2007 3:01:22 GMT -6
(occ: I missed the deadline but Mick needs to have at least one rp per show whether it counts or not. I guess this my apology for my screw up or just because I have such a large ego that I don't know how you guys could live without a rp from your favorite Irish Brawler)
The window is closed off from all light from the afternoon sun shining down on Cormac’s home in Cork. He is sprawled out on the giant bed in the master bedroom with a red headed freckled farmer’s 18 year old daughter lying next him and a large amount of empty whiskey bottles around the floor. A sudden burst of noise and flashing lights from his cell phone on the nightstand interrupts the quiet scene and walks Mick in a stupor. The girl doesn’t move as Mick stirs up and notices her arm across his chest. He gently pushes the arm away and sits on the side of the bed where he scratches his head and glares at the annoying ringing phone that interrupted his dream of a deserted isle, a case of whiskey and a naked Fairuza Balk.
Mick (answering while lighting a smoke): WHAT!?! This better be d**ned important…
(he takes a pause as he listens to the frantic voice on the other line)
Mick: What do you mean I have a match England hasn’t even opened yet….in the Midwest what in the f**k do you mean?
(He takes another pause fully awake and pacing back and forth in the room.)
Mick: Well it’s kinda had to be in the Midwest when I’m in effing Cork, Ireland Buddy.
(He takes another pause as he fires up a laptop)
Mick: Okay okay okay listen I can make it by before my match maybe by show open by the earliest but I’m going to need you to give me a ride in that van of yours…
(takes another pause)
Mick: No I’m not alone but she’s (Mick looks over at the past out girl) quite detained at the moment…did I do what? What in the f**k is a Pittsburgh Platter….oh Jaysus that’s disgusting…. No I didn’t motorboat her…Buddy will you pleas…Oh yeah I we defiantly did that….there is nothing better to get rid of whiskey dic…anyway so you’ll be at the airport…good meet you there.
Mick (shaking his head turns the laptop off after hitting a couple of keys to pay for his private flight): Jaysus how in the hell am I spose to compete in this state.
Girl (waking up): Your up?
Mick: Your alive?
Girl: Alive? I’m ready to go again. How bout you or did the yanks take away your fighting spirit?
Mick (chuckles a little bit, looks at the clock by the bed and shrugs): Well I don’t have to be out of here for another hour so if you want to…
Girl (bright eyed in the only way that youth can have): Want no I need….
Mick: Good have you ever heard of a thing called the Pittsburgh Platter?
Girl (pulling Mick into her): No what’s that?
Mick: Let’s just say we’ll have to burn these sheets after you find out personally (smirks)
(Fade to black)
The window is closed off from all light from the afternoon sun shining down on Cormac’s home in Cork. He is sprawled out on the giant bed in the master bedroom with a red headed freckled farmer’s 18 year old daughter lying next him and a large amount of empty whiskey bottles around the floor. A sudden burst of noise and flashing lights from his cell phone on the nightstand interrupts the quiet scene and walks Mick in a stupor. The girl doesn’t move as Mick stirs up and notices her arm across his chest. He gently pushes the arm away and sits on the side of the bed where he scratches his head and glares at the annoying ringing phone that interrupted his dream of a deserted isle, a case of whiskey and a naked Fairuza Balk.
Mick (answering while lighting a smoke): WHAT!?! This better be d**ned important…
(he takes a pause as he listens to the frantic voice on the other line)
Mick: What do you mean I have a match England hasn’t even opened yet….in the Midwest what in the f**k do you mean?
(He takes another pause fully awake and pacing back and forth in the room.)
Mick: Well it’s kinda had to be in the Midwest when I’m in effing Cork, Ireland Buddy.
(He takes another pause as he fires up a laptop)
Mick: Okay okay okay listen I can make it by before my match maybe by show open by the earliest but I’m going to need you to give me a ride in that van of yours…
(takes another pause)
Mick: No I’m not alone but she’s (Mick looks over at the past out girl) quite detained at the moment…did I do what? What in the f**k is a Pittsburgh Platter….oh Jaysus that’s disgusting…. No I didn’t motorboat her…Buddy will you pleas…Oh yeah I we defiantly did that….there is nothing better to get rid of whiskey dic…anyway so you’ll be at the airport…good meet you there.
Mick (shaking his head turns the laptop off after hitting a couple of keys to pay for his private flight): Jaysus how in the hell am I spose to compete in this state.
Girl (waking up): Your up?
Mick: Your alive?
Girl: Alive? I’m ready to go again. How bout you or did the yanks take away your fighting spirit?
Mick (chuckles a little bit, looks at the clock by the bed and shrugs): Well I don’t have to be out of here for another hour so if you want to…
Girl (bright eyed in the only way that youth can have): Want no I need….
Mick: Good have you ever heard of a thing called the Pittsburgh Platter?
Girl (pulling Mick into her): No what’s that?
Mick: Let’s just say we’ll have to burn these sheets after you find out personally (smirks)
(Fade to black)