Author:
The Hardcore Hooligan Johnny Damage
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Date Posted: 20:30:33 03/15/02 Fri
::The scene is that of the rickety place in the East Bay so proudly proclaimed "Pub" in a cheap flourescent light above the door of the bar. As the cameraman is heading towards the door, two bodies come flying outside, fists flying towards one another as they both crash to the ground, each hitting and rolling away from one another, popping to their feet at almost the same time. One of the combatants is that of The Hardcore Hooligan who slams a boot into the midsection of the other, wrapping him up in a front face lock and dropping the man in a lightning quick DDT, the camera picking up the sick splattering sound of the man's skull cracking into the unforgiving pavement. The Hooligan flips the guy on his back and rises to his feet, seeing the cameraman and grinning::
HH: Another non-believer I had to teach...
::He grins a bit and motions the cameraman inside, the cameraman following closely to the Hooligan as he makes his way across the bar, shoving someone who bumped into him out of the way very hard, finding his seat at the corner of the bar, motioning down to Lou the Bartender::
HH: Another bottle...
Lou: Sure thing Johnny...
::The bottle comes sliding down the bartop, The Hooligan catching it as it reaches him, twisting the cap off and taking a greedy drink from the bottle, downing about a quarter of it off right away::
HH: Ahhh that's much better...Well if you are wondering what that little tiff was about, some obviously beligerent drunk...
::chuckles a bit as he says that::
HH:...told me that Hatebreed is gonna kill me.
::He laughs at this and shakes his head a bit::
HH: I know I shouldn't laugh seeing as that is a threat on my life, but I just can't help it. Hatebreed, you may be big and bad and think oh so highly of your new "style" or whatever, but I'm here to tell you this plain and simple. I won't be laying down for you. You want this belt, then you are gonna have to kill me, so you better live up to the words you speak about my death. Cause I'm tellin you straight up if you don't kill me, you'll wish you would have.
::He slams down another long couple of gulps off of the bottle, setting it down to light up a cigarette, taking a nice long healthy drag of it, he then grins a bit, a kind of fuzziness coming to his eyes, that signals a man who's got a buzz::
HH: But I pose you no threat...You think. You show up because I beat up Brett Armstrong? Mr. Softcore...? The fact he pisses you off, makes me laugh seeing as that sissy couldn't punch his way out of a wet paper bag. And that's all good and fine that you put him through a table...You want a cookie for that? An "I beat up Brett Armstrong and all I got was this Lousy T-Shirt" T-Shirt? I hope you aren't stupid enough to think because you can beat Mr. Softcore means you can beat the Hardcore Hooligan. I am a whole different breed of man from Mr. Softcore, Hatebreed do not take me lightly...
::He sneers a bit and slams down another slug of the JD::
HH: But I've just got a good idea. If yer so certain that you are just gonna walk all over me, then I'm sure you will have no objection to my modest proposal. Consider it a wish of a dying man if you will. How about putting those tag titles you got on the line? Since you got no declared partner, I wouldn't see a reason why the boys in the back wouldn't gimme a shot at em...But if you are scared...That's cool too.
::He laughs a bit more jovial at this, dragging from his cigarette again, picking up the bottle once again::
HH: But yer not scared of little ol' me are ya?
::He grins and raises his bottle up::
HH: Here's to Hardcore...CHEERS!!!
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