Post by Sin City Saint on Jul 16, 2005 2:16:40 GMT -5
Sitting on his hotel room queen size bed, is The Sin City Saint Eddie Towne. The curtains are drawn close, only the slightest amount of sunlight adorns the room. Saint's room is cluttered with dirty clothes, hung all around. A wet towel lies next to his bed, as his hair still has small remnants of the shower he had taken only minutes ago. Wearing only a pair of old faded blue jeans, Saint's chest is scripted in tattoos. Words and pictures tell his story. In his right hand is a remote control for the tv set in his room. The Sin City Saint is watching The All Wrestling Channel and catching the final remarks of his nemesis, The Assassin Brandon Bailey. Saint sits there, calm and relaxed, his arms stretched out back. His eyes peer towards the screen, as thoughts of this Sunday dance in his head. The promo finally finishes and Saint lifts his arm up, turning the tv off. He stands up and walks over to the mini fridge in the room. He opens the door and grabs a can of Miller Lite. He pops the top and takes a chug. He places the can on top of the entertainment center that encases the tv.
[Sin City Saint] Bra...........
The Sin City Saint erupts with a gaseous filled burp. His mouth opened wide and his eyes shut, Saint scratches his head and continues to speak.
[Sin City Saint] As I was saying. Brandon Bailey let me start by saying........DAMN!!! That bitch is hot! Where you been hiding her?! Mmmm....Rick James! That is truly one of those.......well, you know. I don't need to go into detail. But this isn't about your adoptive sister, this is about you and me and this Sunday. You are always talking about this mighty mountain top. Talking like you think you are better than everyone else. You speak with such the broken tongue. You speak like you are wearing twelve pounds of gold around your waist. Fact is, the only belt I see is the one that is holding up your pants. What you did or what you are claiming you will do is completely irrelevant. Wrestling is much like gambling in general. Even the best get beat. If you're the Doyle Brunson of poker.....I'm Gus Hansen. When you think you are playing me....thats when I'm really playing you.
The Sin City Saint grabs his beer off the entertainment center and finishes the rest off. Another gaseous burp erupts and Saint crushes the can his hand. He tosses the crushed can at the waste basket, sinking from 5 feet away.
[Sin City Saint] Shoot and score. You know my father used to say; "You Can't Escape Your Blood, Kid." My father played poker. Played it all his life. It was his life. Not being around the house and when he was.....he talked poker. By age twleve I had accepted that I didn't have a father. I had a guy that every once in a while was home and used my mom and me as layovers till his next big game. So we kind of got a few things in common, you and me. Family life. Goals and aspirations. And the fact that we don't like each other. Great thing about sports, wrestling or poker, you don't have the like the guy you are playing with. In fact it makes what you have to get done, a lot easier.
The Sin City Saint walks over to the round table that is placed near the balcony. On this table are 2 half empty glasses, a beer can, a bag of potato chips, Hustler Magazine and a deck of cards. Saint takes a seat in one of the 2 chairs and begins to shuffle the cards.
[Sin City Saint] I loved how you came at me with all these poker analogies. Straight flush over 4 of a kind. I couldn't even calculate how bad the odds would be for you and I to have those hands. The odds of landing a straight flush are less than one percent. And throw the 4 of a kind on top of it? You have been watching too many of those hollywood movies. This is my game. Poker, wrestling. Doesn't make too much of a difference to me. I play them the exact same way....aggressively. Brandon Bailey, you MIGHT have been a somebody in days gone by, but your days are numbered.
Saint stops shuffling. He cuts the deck in half and draws the top card. Its the jack of diamonds.
[Sin City Saint] Jack of diamonds. Nice card, Brandon. Really nice. Thing about a jack is, it look good on paper. But put that baby into play........
The Sin City Saint cuts the deck in half again and pulls off the top card. He places it face down for a moment and thenlifts it off the table. He holds the card up to the camera with a fierce look in his eyes. Queen of spades.
[Sin City Saint] Ain't lady luck a bitch?! Sunday Night Slam, less than 48 hours away. You say you are going all in, one hand. I got news for ya.........I call. Guess come Sunday, we get to see who is holding what.
The Sin City Saint stands up from his chair and walks over to the bed. He grabs his tshirt and slips it on. He grabs his room key and his gold plated money clip from the dresser drawer. He sticks both items in his right pocket and opens the door to his room. He walks out. The queen of spades card twirls in the air, as it cascades to the carpeted floor.
[Sin City Saint] Bra...........
The Sin City Saint erupts with a gaseous filled burp. His mouth opened wide and his eyes shut, Saint scratches his head and continues to speak.
[Sin City Saint] As I was saying. Brandon Bailey let me start by saying........DAMN!!! That bitch is hot! Where you been hiding her?! Mmmm....Rick James! That is truly one of those.......well, you know. I don't need to go into detail. But this isn't about your adoptive sister, this is about you and me and this Sunday. You are always talking about this mighty mountain top. Talking like you think you are better than everyone else. You speak with such the broken tongue. You speak like you are wearing twelve pounds of gold around your waist. Fact is, the only belt I see is the one that is holding up your pants. What you did or what you are claiming you will do is completely irrelevant. Wrestling is much like gambling in general. Even the best get beat. If you're the Doyle Brunson of poker.....I'm Gus Hansen. When you think you are playing me....thats when I'm really playing you.
The Sin City Saint grabs his beer off the entertainment center and finishes the rest off. Another gaseous burp erupts and Saint crushes the can his hand. He tosses the crushed can at the waste basket, sinking from 5 feet away.
[Sin City Saint] Shoot and score. You know my father used to say; "You Can't Escape Your Blood, Kid." My father played poker. Played it all his life. It was his life. Not being around the house and when he was.....he talked poker. By age twleve I had accepted that I didn't have a father. I had a guy that every once in a while was home and used my mom and me as layovers till his next big game. So we kind of got a few things in common, you and me. Family life. Goals and aspirations. And the fact that we don't like each other. Great thing about sports, wrestling or poker, you don't have the like the guy you are playing with. In fact it makes what you have to get done, a lot easier.
The Sin City Saint walks over to the round table that is placed near the balcony. On this table are 2 half empty glasses, a beer can, a bag of potato chips, Hustler Magazine and a deck of cards. Saint takes a seat in one of the 2 chairs and begins to shuffle the cards.
[Sin City Saint] I loved how you came at me with all these poker analogies. Straight flush over 4 of a kind. I couldn't even calculate how bad the odds would be for you and I to have those hands. The odds of landing a straight flush are less than one percent. And throw the 4 of a kind on top of it? You have been watching too many of those hollywood movies. This is my game. Poker, wrestling. Doesn't make too much of a difference to me. I play them the exact same way....aggressively. Brandon Bailey, you MIGHT have been a somebody in days gone by, but your days are numbered.
Saint stops shuffling. He cuts the deck in half and draws the top card. Its the jack of diamonds.
[Sin City Saint] Jack of diamonds. Nice card, Brandon. Really nice. Thing about a jack is, it look good on paper. But put that baby into play........
The Sin City Saint cuts the deck in half again and pulls off the top card. He places it face down for a moment and thenlifts it off the table. He holds the card up to the camera with a fierce look in his eyes. Queen of spades.
[Sin City Saint] Ain't lady luck a bitch?! Sunday Night Slam, less than 48 hours away. You say you are going all in, one hand. I got news for ya.........I call. Guess come Sunday, we get to see who is holding what.
The Sin City Saint stands up from his chair and walks over to the bed. He grabs his tshirt and slips it on. He grabs his room key and his gold plated money clip from the dresser drawer. He sticks both items in his right pocket and opens the door to his room. He walks out. The queen of spades card twirls in the air, as it cascades to the carpeted floor.
is he back?! Is he finding his niche? Good Biatch! Cause NOW it's on! Period! LOL! I like this rp and it shows that you're starting to get more comfortable with this character.