Post by Deleted on Mar 15, 2015 11:01:49 GMT -6
--------Tampa, Florida------
---------“Super 8 Motel”----------
-----------Room 163-------------
With a bed sheet wrapped around her body, the one legged “lady of the night” hops up from the motel bed and glances over towards the front of the dingy poorly kept “Super 8” room.
Seeing the completely nude 5’7”, rather stocky man from Tampa Florida wiping off his “man parts” with the motel room’s curtains, the local Tampa Bay area prostitute known as “One Piece” shakes her head and then shutters in disgust at the sight of her odd looking, grizzle faced recent “trick”.
ONE PIECE: I want my money.
Seemingly completely unaware of her presence, the often angered, somewhat foul mouthed man known as Buck Florida slides on a pair of filthy “tighty-whities” and then proceeds to slam one of his cheap cigars into the side of his grubby portly mouth.
After lighting up the stogie, the somewhat short, deep tanned grappler from the Sunshine State takes a deep puff and then glares back over at the currently unpaid amputee.
BUCK FLORIDA: Fuck you. You should be paying me for that shit. Don’t you know who the fuck I am?
ONE PIECE: Verne Troyer’s older, uglier brother?
BUCK FLORIDA: Real funny, you dirty slut. I ain’t paying you a fucking dime.
ONE PIECE: The hell you aren’t!
Hopping over to the motel room’s dresser, the somewhat rough looking woman known as “One Piece” reaches into her “Hello Kitty” back pack and removes her own “piece”.
Gaining her balance, the Tampa Bay area prostitute aims the Glock 22 pistol at the center of Florida’s buzz cut haired topped head and cracks a couple of teeth missing filled smile.
ONE PIECE: Pay me troll or I’ll send you back to the “It’s A Small World” exhibit in a body bag.
BUCK FLORIDA: Easy “Hop-A-Long”, just take it fucking easy!
Just as the “business transaction” in the seedy “Super 8” motel room has seemingly hit grid lock, the door to the room opens.
Entering the room unaware of the situation, the slick haired, well dressed, notorious “Ambulance Chasing” lawyer also from Tampa Florida known as Winston Westwood suddenly stops dead in his tracks at the sight of the “at gun point stand-off”.
WESTWOOD: What the hell?
BUCK FLORIDA: Put down the gun slut cakes. I got a fucking witness now.
ONE PIECE: I’ll put it down when you pay me my fifty bucks.
WESTWOOD: Fifty bucks?
ONE PIECE: Yes genius, your fat stumpy gnome buddy over here owes me for my “services”.
Raising his left hand as a sign of “peace”, Winston Westwood slowly moves his right hand into his tan suit coat breast pocket and removes his leather billfold.
The attorney pulls out a fifty dollar bill and cautiously hands it over towards the one legged, gun toting prostitute.
Frowning, “One Piece” lowers the Glock and snatches the bill from Westwood’s hand. The “lady of the night” then makes her way over to the motel’s dresser, stuffs the cash as well as the money into her “Hello Kitty” back pack, and then hops out of the motel room in a huff.
Shrugging his portly shoulders, Buck Florida takes another drag off his cheap cigar and then throws a frowning glance over towards his attorney and business manager of the past 5 plus years.
BUCK FLORIDA: What a fucking bitch.
WESTWOOD: Are you some kind of moron? You would take a bullet to the head over fifty dollars? What the hell is wrong with you?
BUCK FLORIDA: Blah, blah, fucking blah. Just shut your pie hole you know it all fuck. I knew what the fuck I was doing.
WESTWOOD: Yeah, right. As usual, you are dead wrong. Listen, we need to talk. I may have found some work for you finally.
BUCK FLORIDA: Fuck, just give me a minute you impatient fuck. I have to take my after love making fucking shit.
Rolling his eyes as well as attempting to not vomit in his own mouth, the slick haired attorney watches as the underwear only wearing Buck Florida puffs his chest out and rumbles towards the motel room’s bathroom as if he was the head of “The Lollipop Guild” on the way to address Dorothy.
After his “client” has closed the bathroom door, Winston Westwood adjusts his “Perry Ellis” necktie, takes a deep breath, and then proceeds to take a seat in one of the run down motel room’s chairs.
Westwood had been representing the foul mouthed grappler for several years now. Buck Florida’s usually inept yet destructive ways had kept Westwood quite busy in both civil as well as criminal defense cases. What the eternally angered short, somewhat stocky man had earned in his thousands of professional wrestling matches in countless numbers of promotions had in the end, barely covered his legal fees.
Florida’s last few stints in promotions had been especially chaotic as of late. Fueled by jealously, anger, insecurity, and everything else which accompanies “Short Man’s Disease”, Buck Florida had come into each new federation haphazardly running his mouth at anyone and everyone that would pay mind to his rants.
Sliding his electronic cigarette into the side of his mouth, Winston Westwood takes a small puff and then leans back a bit more in the motel chair.
There was no denying that his client was tough. Florida’s mouth and inept attempts to “fuck someone over” in the many promotions along the way had brought many vicious beatings served up to his quite vertically challenged at 5’7” client.
Buck Florida had bled and bled hard. Yet, Westwood was continued to be amazed at the seemingly relentless, and often unjustified, ego of the rather short, somewhat stocky grappler from Tampa Florida to never stay down for long.
The financial situation of Buck Florida, however, had been unfortunately quite a problem for a while now. Florida’s nomadic career and constant “out of the ring” antics had continued to dwindle away any and all earnings the man ever seemed to acquire.
This new opportunity, like so many of the others in the past, could go either way. If Florida could focus on his in ring work and not trying to handle things “out of the ring” against his opponents, the results could be quite financial rewarding. However, if Bucky Boy pulled his same old nonsense in this new promotion the results would most likely be as unrewarding as in the past.
As Winston Westwood notices the motel bathroom door begin to open up, he takes another much deeper drag off his e-cigarette.
He had to somehow convince his client to focus on what one would think would be obvious for any professional wrestler.....wrestling!
Luckily for the eyes of Westwood, Buck Florida emerges from the bathroom now at least wearing a “Tampa Rays” t-shirt and pair of Bermuda shorts.
BUCK FLORIDA: Ok, you know it all fuck. What did your ass want to fucking talk to me about?
WESTWOOD: New Edge Wrestling. Thankfully, there is a promotion still around willing to put up with you. They sent a contract over earlier today.
BUCK FLORIDA: Where the fuck are they out of?
WESTWOOD: Chicago.
BUCK FLORIDA: No fucking way. It’s still cold as shit up in that garbage fucking city.
WESTWOOD: Listen Buck, this is a huge opportunity. The “NEW” has for years chewed up and spit out frankly much more talented wrestlers than you.
BUCK FLORIDA: Fuck you. I don’t care what the fucking place is all about, I’ll fucking freeze to death up in that shit town.
WESTWOOD: You don’t have a choice. You are broke and you also still owe me a lot of money. You need to earn Buck and this opportunity will let you do that immediately. They already have you booked in a match against Ricky Bobby Cassels.
BUCK FLORIDA: Ricky fucking who?
WESTWOOD: Ricky Bobby Cassels. He is listed at 6’3”, 245 pounds, and apparently self- proclaimed the “Toughest Sum-Bitch in the Trailer Park”.
BUCK FLORIDA: Rip Bash? I’m fucking facing that fucker again? I didn’t know he was in that fucking fed.
WESTWOOD: The guy’s name is Ricky Bobby Cassels. He is a pretty well sized and muscular guy.
BUCK FLORIDA: Hmmm, what does the fuck look like?
WESTWOOD: I don’t know for sure. He has pretty long hair and a mustache…..
BUCK FLORIDA: Rip Bash? What kind of shit are you pulling on me here? I thought you said it wasn’t that loud mouthed hick.
WESTWOOD: It’s not Rip Bash! Cassels is from Alabama not Texas for starters. Just drop it and focus on Cassels. The guy has held some titles in New Edge Wrestling already. The booking with Cassels is also for a “Steel Cage Match”. If you don’t go into that match focused and you are liable to get your head torn off.
BUCK FLORIDA: Fuck you. I’m not worried about some fucking piece of trash from bum fuck Alabama.
WESTWOOD: Well, you better be. Like I said, this is a huge opportunity for you. I would focus on this match with Ricky Bobby Cassels and nothing else.
BUCK FLORIDA: I’m going to focus on blowing up every fucking Wal-Mart in Alabama. Sounds like the odds are in my favor that I’ll get one of them with this Ricky Bobby slack jawed fuck shopping in them. I’ll get the fucking win by “no-show”….No fucking problem.
After shaking his head, Winston Westwood sighs, stands up from his seated position, adjusts his tie, and then glares over at the 5’7”, 250 pound grappler known as Buck Florida.
WESTWOOD: Whatever, just show up in Chicago and try not to blow it in this promotion for once.
Just as the Tampa Florida attorney begins to walk over towards the “Super 8” motel room door to exit, Buck Florida positions his stumpy frame directly in front of Winston Westwood’s path.
BUCK FLORIDA: Hey fuckstick, loan me some fucking cash.
WESTWOOD: Are you crazy? I just saved your life by paying off that prostitute with my own money. No dice.
BUCK FLORIDA: Come on you selfish fuck. My dong was burning like crazy when I was taking a fucking piss in the shitter earlier. I need to run down town to that fucking clinic and get another one of those bullshit penicillin shots.
Winston Westwood once again shakes his head in disgust and then looks down at the now grinning, grubby face of Buck Florida.
WESTWOOD: Fine, how much?
BUCK FLORIDA: Fifty Fucking Bucks.