Post by Chris Schofield on Jun 24, 2012 23:18:01 GMT -6
(OOC: There isn't a CD RP board so not sure where to put this)
Isn't it funny the places life takes us? Take me for example, the youngest son of a middle class family from Indiana, with a university degree and yet I find myself here!
Here being a rundown pub in Northern England, which the locals describe as ‘rustic’, though I’d say it was more of a shit house. But they can’t know that! It is bad enough they know I’m from the states.
Why am I here you ask? Well that in itself is quite the story but not one I am inclined to share.
I gaze somewhat longingly into my half empty pint glass (definitely NOT half full!) and start to get the all too familiar and common spine-tingling sensation of someone watching me. I don’t mean just a casual passing glance, I’m talking a deliberate full on studious glare as if trying to peer into my very soul and take my full measure. Sufficed to say I am not too comfortable with it! I’ve had this feeling, as if someone was following me, ever since I arrived in this god forsaken town!
Time to deal with it!
I polish off what remains of my drink, emboldened by its [] side effects and very obviously make my way to the exit, studying the few other patrons for likely suspects in the process. Outside the pub and I am greeted by the ‘wonderful’ English weather that everyone raves about accompanied by the drab, gloom of the dark. So It would be a safe guess that it’s night?
Perhaps this wasn’t such a great idea…
Gut instinct tells me there is someone skulking behind me so in a moment of pure genius I duck into an alley behind the pub. I am so going to get myself stabbed or something.
"Christopher Dean McMichaels?"
Oh god, oh god, oh god!
Turning ever so slightly I come face to face with a shady figure, their face masked by a hooded jacket, standing mere paces away from me.
"W-w-who are you? What do you want?"
"Thought that was obvious, I want you Chris."
I rush forward with a burst of speed I never thought I would possess again and grab my would-be assailant by the collar, pushing him against the wall. From the voice I am certain of two things:
1. It does not belong to a local
2. It's male...or a very convincing trannie
"Sorry to disappoint you but these pants are staying on."
My stalker simply chucked in response. Good job Chris, give him ideas.
"As tempting as that may sound, it is not exactly what I had in mind. On the contrary I am here to offer you a once in a lifetime opportunity."
"I am not interested in anything you have to say."
"Oh I think you will be. You see Chris, I am here to offer you a chance at redemption."
A pair of very rough hands wraps themselves around my wrists, their tight, vice-like grip, revealing a considerable amount of strength behind them. I am in deep trouble.
"I am here to give you a chance to get back into the ring."
CRACK!
That’s all I remember before everything falls to black…
Isn't it funny the places life takes us? Take me for example, the youngest son of a middle class family from Indiana, with a university degree and yet I find myself here!
Here being a rundown pub in Northern England, which the locals describe as ‘rustic’, though I’d say it was more of a shit house. But they can’t know that! It is bad enough they know I’m from the states.
Why am I here you ask? Well that in itself is quite the story but not one I am inclined to share.
I gaze somewhat longingly into my half empty pint glass (definitely NOT half full!) and start to get the all too familiar and common spine-tingling sensation of someone watching me. I don’t mean just a casual passing glance, I’m talking a deliberate full on studious glare as if trying to peer into my very soul and take my full measure. Sufficed to say I am not too comfortable with it! I’ve had this feeling, as if someone was following me, ever since I arrived in this god forsaken town!
Time to deal with it!
I polish off what remains of my drink, emboldened by its [] side effects and very obviously make my way to the exit, studying the few other patrons for likely suspects in the process. Outside the pub and I am greeted by the ‘wonderful’ English weather that everyone raves about accompanied by the drab, gloom of the dark. So It would be a safe guess that it’s night?
Perhaps this wasn’t such a great idea…
Gut instinct tells me there is someone skulking behind me so in a moment of pure genius I duck into an alley behind the pub. I am so going to get myself stabbed or something.
"Christopher Dean McMichaels?"
Oh god, oh god, oh god!
Turning ever so slightly I come face to face with a shady figure, their face masked by a hooded jacket, standing mere paces away from me.
"W-w-who are you? What do you want?"
"Thought that was obvious, I want you Chris."
I rush forward with a burst of speed I never thought I would possess again and grab my would-be assailant by the collar, pushing him against the wall. From the voice I am certain of two things:
1. It does not belong to a local
2. It's male...or a very convincing trannie
"Sorry to disappoint you but these pants are staying on."
My stalker simply chucked in response. Good job Chris, give him ideas.
"As tempting as that may sound, it is not exactly what I had in mind. On the contrary I am here to offer you a once in a lifetime opportunity."
"I am not interested in anything you have to say."
"Oh I think you will be. You see Chris, I am here to offer you a chance at redemption."
A pair of very rough hands wraps themselves around my wrists, their tight, vice-like grip, revealing a considerable amount of strength behind them. I am in deep trouble.
"I am here to give you a chance to get back into the ring."
CRACK!
That’s all I remember before everything falls to black…
