Post by Zevon on Jul 22, 2007 20:50:45 GMT -6
Haberdasher: Oh-hoh-hoh-hoh!
JR Zevon is staring down the flamboyant fake Frenchman from his lawn chair perch in the dark basement of The New Alhambra Center in Philadelphia. A lone light bulb is still flashing in and out.
Haberdasher: I just had to see this with my own two beautiful eyes. I can assure you it has thus far been well worth the tedium of travel.
A huge smile comes across the naturally creepy face of the man in the beret. He taps the legs of the lawn chair with his walking stick.
Ping! Ping!
Haberdasher: (in an all too pretentious British pronunciation) Aluminium… good choice. Light yet sturdy… just like a good liqueur.
The eyes of the former champion have not ceased to stare, and they have not ceased to show intense loathing. Haberdasher continues to explore Zevon’s position.
Haberdasher: What a habitat! Chair… debris… malfunctioning light bulb… a fabulous clime to house such a pitiful excuse for a man.
Haberdasher flicks on the lights with a fluid stroke from his walking stick. Unlike with Stephie’s previous action, Zevon is unaffected by the sudden burst of light. He continues staring into the eyes of Haberdasher.
Haberdasher: I see you are still deficient in the realm of facial hair. Hmmm… I thought you would have grown into it by now. Nice to know that I’m still more masculine than thou.
Haberdasher stops examining and meets Zevon’s stare.
Haberdasher: What? Have I crashed your self-pity party? So very sorry…
Haberdasher pokes Zevon in the cheek with his walking stick.
Haberdasher: Did a small slimy creature emerge from the dark and steal your repertoire of facial expressions?
Haberdasher pokes again.
Haberdasher: Come on boy! Show some love! You already ran the lovely Miss Campbell away… and to think I’m the one people always think is a poof.
Haberdasher slaps Zevon’s left cheek with his walking stick. Zevon doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t move. He only stares with hatred.
Haberdasher: Still no love for old Horatio? After all the wonderful things I’ve done for you over the years! Ungrateful! Didn’t your mother teach you better?
Haberdasher quietly pulls the white glove off his left hand. He slaps Zevon across both cheeks. No response.
Haberdasher: Not up for a duel? Has this Anthony fellow actually broken you? The great JR Zevon, who constantly flaunts his superior intellect and impeccable soundness of mind? I thought I’d never see the day. Not to say that I haven’t dreamed of this day… to see my old friend in such a dilapidated state.
Haberdasher backs up slightly to get a better look. He looks at Zevon quizzically. Zevon still stares back.
Haberdasher: To think, I’ve been trying to break you for years and John Anthony does it with a simple roll-up. Pfff…
Haberdasher waits, having fully expected that his snide remark would rouse a response. Haberdasher nonchalantly motions to someone off-screen. After a few moments he grows agitated and turns around.
Haberdasher: Nigel!... Bloody ‘ell son, bring me my throne!
The camera spins around. There is noone else in the room except the two man camera crew and the two lunatics. There never was anybody else in the room. Haberdasher continues to act as if there was. After a few awkward moments, one of the crew slips a steel folding chair into Haberdasher’s free hand.
Haberdasher: About time Nigel! But the delay… inexcusable! No afternoon tea!
Haberdasher sets his “throne” before Zevon and takes a seat. He bangs on the side with his walking stick.
Clang!
Haberdasher: Steel… hmmm… maybe I too should switch to aluminium.
Haberdasher stares into Zevon’s stare. He smiles.
Haberdasher: You drove your sorry excuse for a car to New England without even being booked for a match. Dan Real didn’t show and you somehow sweet talked Randall Lovejoy into giving you his spot. You proceeded to soundly defeat “Toro Verde” Enrique Alvarez in your Power On Wrestling debut and then proceeded to pick up another convincing win against Eddie Buchalini Jr. And then at Big Bang you nailed Mick Cormac with the Zeffect and became the first ever Eastern Heavyweight Champion…
Zevon: Preciousss
Haberdasher: And he speaks! But he interrupts… how rude.
Haberdasher pokes Zevon’s forehead with his walking stick.
Haberdasher: Quiet! I’m telling a story!
You emerged from the Lethal Lottery tournament victorious, despite not even being scheduled to compete in it. Of the other eight men who competed in that tournament, only three remain on the roster. And only Buddy Love has been active the entire stretch. You pinned Toro, and he is gone. You pinned Eddie, and he is gone. You destroyed Mick Cormac, sending him into the gutter. You alone came out unscathed. Victor Bloodmoon, everyone’s pick to win, faded into oblivion. JR Zevon came out on top. JR Zevon took POW by storm and became the Eastern Heavyweight Champion.
Zevon: Preciousss
Haberdasher slaps Zevon with his glove.
Haberdasher: Hush! Blimey!
JR Zevon quickly became the top star of Power On Wrestling New England. And when POW crowned Flying Diamond Cutter Man their first ever World Champion, JR Zevon was the man chosen for FDCM’s first defense. In fact, JR Zevon has thus far been the only man deemed worthy of facing the World Champion. And Flying Diamond Cutter Man was the only man to ever defeat JR Zevon in the ring. Nothing to be ashamed of, yet still amusing to one Horatio Haberdasher.
But then it all changed. In walked John Anthony. A man you avoided like the plague, and he briskly seized the Eastern Heavyweight Championship…
Haberdasher makes a preemptive strike. Zevon says nothing.
Haberdasher: from your frail grasp. I must admit, it brought great joy to mine eyes oh-hoh-hoh. One month on the roster and you were on top of the world. But you knew you couldn’t beat John Anthony, and you hid behind every trick you could think up. The next month, the week before Over in Dover, you paid Macros to put John out… and he did. A reprieve… and you put on a hell of a show with Flying Diamond Cutter Man instead. But the clock was still ticking, and John Anthony loomed on the horizon. And he played you like a bloody fiddle! Oh-hoh-hoh.
Haberdasher taps Zevon on the chin with his walking stick.
Haberdasher: A roll-up? You lost to the simplest move in the book! How utterly embarrassed you must have been! You didn’t even stick around to disrupt John’s proposal! You just scurried off and holed yourself up in this dreary place. You went from the top of the mountain to a laughingstock in the matter of three seconds! I absolutely love it! A gripping tale, especially when it involves you old friend!
Haberdasher is now quite giddy, and pokes Zevon in the chest with his walking stick in jest.
Haberdasher: The Great Zevon, FORMER Eastern Heavyweight Champion!
Zevon: Preciousss.
Haberdasher: What a pleasure to my lips! And you probably should refrain from uttering that word in such a manner or the Tolkien estate will take you to the cleaners. Given your smell, it would actually be quite welcome.
Haberdasher glares into Zevon’s hate filled eyes. He raises his walking stick for another jab but Zevon blocks with his arm.
Haberdasher: Life! Oh-hoh-hoh! Glad to see the fun can continue. It’s not very enjoyable torturing dummy. I was beginning to think that John Anthony won your soul along with the Eastern Heavyweight Championship.
Zevon: He stoles it! My preciousss. Revenge we will have!
Haberdasher: Indeed we shall… Sunday actually. Well, I’ll be... did I neglect to inform you that I invoked your rematch clause on your behalf?
Zevon’s demeanor changes. His eyes are still filled with hatred, even more so to be precise, but something has finally clicked in his brain. Zevon slowly rises out of his lawn chair. Zevon stares down at Horatio Haberdasher. Haberdasher stands as well, not at all afraid.
Haberdasher: We better get going! A steel cage is nothing to take lightly! Aluminium would be more sinister… but steel will do nicely!
Zevon knocks the beret off of the flamboyant one’s head. He turns and begins to walk off.
Zevon: (with great contempt and stern body quiver) HABERDASHER!
Zevon has left the scene. Haberdasher retrieves his beret. Zevon returns for his lawn chair and quickly exits again without looking at Haberdasher. Horatio rises from the ground, a huge grin on his face. He prances off, twirling his walking stick.
JR Zevon is staring down the flamboyant fake Frenchman from his lawn chair perch in the dark basement of The New Alhambra Center in Philadelphia. A lone light bulb is still flashing in and out.
Haberdasher: I just had to see this with my own two beautiful eyes. I can assure you it has thus far been well worth the tedium of travel.
A huge smile comes across the naturally creepy face of the man in the beret. He taps the legs of the lawn chair with his walking stick.
Ping! Ping!
Haberdasher: (in an all too pretentious British pronunciation) Aluminium… good choice. Light yet sturdy… just like a good liqueur.
The eyes of the former champion have not ceased to stare, and they have not ceased to show intense loathing. Haberdasher continues to explore Zevon’s position.
Haberdasher: What a habitat! Chair… debris… malfunctioning light bulb… a fabulous clime to house such a pitiful excuse for a man.
Haberdasher flicks on the lights with a fluid stroke from his walking stick. Unlike with Stephie’s previous action, Zevon is unaffected by the sudden burst of light. He continues staring into the eyes of Haberdasher.
Haberdasher: I see you are still deficient in the realm of facial hair. Hmmm… I thought you would have grown into it by now. Nice to know that I’m still more masculine than thou.
Haberdasher stops examining and meets Zevon’s stare.
Haberdasher: What? Have I crashed your self-pity party? So very sorry…
Haberdasher pokes Zevon in the cheek with his walking stick.
Haberdasher: Did a small slimy creature emerge from the dark and steal your repertoire of facial expressions?
Haberdasher pokes again.
Haberdasher: Come on boy! Show some love! You already ran the lovely Miss Campbell away… and to think I’m the one people always think is a poof.
Haberdasher slaps Zevon’s left cheek with his walking stick. Zevon doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t move. He only stares with hatred.
Haberdasher: Still no love for old Horatio? After all the wonderful things I’ve done for you over the years! Ungrateful! Didn’t your mother teach you better?
Haberdasher quietly pulls the white glove off his left hand. He slaps Zevon across both cheeks. No response.
Haberdasher: Not up for a duel? Has this Anthony fellow actually broken you? The great JR Zevon, who constantly flaunts his superior intellect and impeccable soundness of mind? I thought I’d never see the day. Not to say that I haven’t dreamed of this day… to see my old friend in such a dilapidated state.
Haberdasher backs up slightly to get a better look. He looks at Zevon quizzically. Zevon still stares back.
Haberdasher: To think, I’ve been trying to break you for years and John Anthony does it with a simple roll-up. Pfff…
Haberdasher waits, having fully expected that his snide remark would rouse a response. Haberdasher nonchalantly motions to someone off-screen. After a few moments he grows agitated and turns around.
Haberdasher: Nigel!... Bloody ‘ell son, bring me my throne!
The camera spins around. There is noone else in the room except the two man camera crew and the two lunatics. There never was anybody else in the room. Haberdasher continues to act as if there was. After a few awkward moments, one of the crew slips a steel folding chair into Haberdasher’s free hand.
Haberdasher: About time Nigel! But the delay… inexcusable! No afternoon tea!
Haberdasher sets his “throne” before Zevon and takes a seat. He bangs on the side with his walking stick.
Clang!
Haberdasher: Steel… hmmm… maybe I too should switch to aluminium.
Haberdasher stares into Zevon’s stare. He smiles.
Haberdasher: You drove your sorry excuse for a car to New England without even being booked for a match. Dan Real didn’t show and you somehow sweet talked Randall Lovejoy into giving you his spot. You proceeded to soundly defeat “Toro Verde” Enrique Alvarez in your Power On Wrestling debut and then proceeded to pick up another convincing win against Eddie Buchalini Jr. And then at Big Bang you nailed Mick Cormac with the Zeffect and became the first ever Eastern Heavyweight Champion…
Zevon: Preciousss
Haberdasher: And he speaks! But he interrupts… how rude.
Haberdasher pokes Zevon’s forehead with his walking stick.
Haberdasher: Quiet! I’m telling a story!
You emerged from the Lethal Lottery tournament victorious, despite not even being scheduled to compete in it. Of the other eight men who competed in that tournament, only three remain on the roster. And only Buddy Love has been active the entire stretch. You pinned Toro, and he is gone. You pinned Eddie, and he is gone. You destroyed Mick Cormac, sending him into the gutter. You alone came out unscathed. Victor Bloodmoon, everyone’s pick to win, faded into oblivion. JR Zevon came out on top. JR Zevon took POW by storm and became the Eastern Heavyweight Champion.
Zevon: Preciousss
Haberdasher slaps Zevon with his glove.
Haberdasher: Hush! Blimey!
JR Zevon quickly became the top star of Power On Wrestling New England. And when POW crowned Flying Diamond Cutter Man their first ever World Champion, JR Zevon was the man chosen for FDCM’s first defense. In fact, JR Zevon has thus far been the only man deemed worthy of facing the World Champion. And Flying Diamond Cutter Man was the only man to ever defeat JR Zevon in the ring. Nothing to be ashamed of, yet still amusing to one Horatio Haberdasher.
But then it all changed. In walked John Anthony. A man you avoided like the plague, and he briskly seized the Eastern Heavyweight Championship…
Haberdasher makes a preemptive strike. Zevon says nothing.
Haberdasher: from your frail grasp. I must admit, it brought great joy to mine eyes oh-hoh-hoh. One month on the roster and you were on top of the world. But you knew you couldn’t beat John Anthony, and you hid behind every trick you could think up. The next month, the week before Over in Dover, you paid Macros to put John out… and he did. A reprieve… and you put on a hell of a show with Flying Diamond Cutter Man instead. But the clock was still ticking, and John Anthony loomed on the horizon. And he played you like a bloody fiddle! Oh-hoh-hoh.
Haberdasher taps Zevon on the chin with his walking stick.
Haberdasher: A roll-up? You lost to the simplest move in the book! How utterly embarrassed you must have been! You didn’t even stick around to disrupt John’s proposal! You just scurried off and holed yourself up in this dreary place. You went from the top of the mountain to a laughingstock in the matter of three seconds! I absolutely love it! A gripping tale, especially when it involves you old friend!
Haberdasher is now quite giddy, and pokes Zevon in the chest with his walking stick in jest.
Haberdasher: The Great Zevon, FORMER Eastern Heavyweight Champion!
Zevon: Preciousss.
Haberdasher: What a pleasure to my lips! And you probably should refrain from uttering that word in such a manner or the Tolkien estate will take you to the cleaners. Given your smell, it would actually be quite welcome.
Haberdasher glares into Zevon’s hate filled eyes. He raises his walking stick for another jab but Zevon blocks with his arm.
Haberdasher: Life! Oh-hoh-hoh! Glad to see the fun can continue. It’s not very enjoyable torturing dummy. I was beginning to think that John Anthony won your soul along with the Eastern Heavyweight Championship.
Zevon: He stoles it! My preciousss. Revenge we will have!
Haberdasher: Indeed we shall… Sunday actually. Well, I’ll be... did I neglect to inform you that I invoked your rematch clause on your behalf?
Zevon’s demeanor changes. His eyes are still filled with hatred, even more so to be precise, but something has finally clicked in his brain. Zevon slowly rises out of his lawn chair. Zevon stares down at Horatio Haberdasher. Haberdasher stands as well, not at all afraid.
Haberdasher: We better get going! A steel cage is nothing to take lightly! Aluminium would be more sinister… but steel will do nicely!
Zevon knocks the beret off of the flamboyant one’s head. He turns and begins to walk off.
Zevon: (with great contempt and stern body quiver) HABERDASHER!
Zevon has left the scene. Haberdasher retrieves his beret. Zevon returns for his lawn chair and quickly exits again without looking at Haberdasher. Horatio rises from the ground, a huge grin on his face. He prances off, twirling his walking stick.
