| Casino Capers; Roleplay #01 (Good luck, guys =]) | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 13 2007, 11:16 PM (162 Views) | |
| Tristan Walker | Nov 13 2007, 11:16 PM Post #1 |
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Casino Capers I’m broken. Lying bloody and battered outside on the hard gravely sidewalk, the small sharp stones cutting into the flesh of my face, stinging like a bitch. Bright lights are flashing, hazy in my mind, unable to distinguish anything from anything else. I know what you’re thinking. How did I get here? Well, that’s an interesting question, with an interesting answer…… Last Sunday, I met up with Jimmy Morretti to discuss my contract terms and clauses, all the boring paper work. I managed to squeeze a Number One Contenders match for the Hardcore title out of the tight fisted sleaze ball. Anyway, after it he invited me to a get together at his place, Goodfellas Casino. Of course, I was excited about this prospect of meeting the talented and wonderful superstars of sVo. A great night out is what I was looking forward to. How very wrong I was. I tried persuading Jefferson to come along. He wasn’t having any of it though. Insisted gambling was wrong and just gobbled up people’s money. I had to agree with this statement, however I wasn’t going to go to that night just to gamble and get drunk. I wanted to mingle and get myself in the know with everyone else at sVo. I went out in the city centre and managed to get my hands on some nice gear. A purple and blue striped shirt at only $8.99! I treated myself to this as Jefferson kept telling me to get something nice after my endeavours of trying to get into sVo. So anyway, I now looked the part, leaving the beanie hat at home, I made my way to Goodfellas. A short bus journey later, I arrived outside the glitzy and glamorous building of Goodfellas Casino. Neon magenta lights were shaped in letters, spelling out the name of the place. Not one, not two, but THREE bodyguards were standing outside. Large, muscular and mean looking, I was surprised Page and Morretti hadn’t snapped them up as superstars on the roster yet! I entered the building and a wall of bright lights and the sound of money hit me with the force of a heard of elephants. It was seaming with slot machines, crammed with casino wheels and packed with poker tables. About 100 card dealers were dotted around the place in white shirts, velvet crimson waistcoats and shining black shoes. The waitresses were weaving in between people holding large silver platters with champagne flutes sitting neatly upon them, sparkling and shimmering in the light. As soon as I took one step forward, Mr. Jimmy Morretti himself stepped out in front of me, beaming showing bright white teeth. He was holding a thick Cuban cigar in his fingers, ash tumbling from the end and smoke wafting in my face. It surprisingly smelt good. Morretti held out his hand to me and I shook it. “How are ya, Tristan?” I was surprised he remembered who I was, never mind my first name! “Um, very good thank you, Mr. Morretti” He smiled at me again and I vaguely smiled back. “No son, you can call me Jimmy. So then, champagne?” I didn’t really have chance to refuse as he picked one out smartly from a nearby waitresses silver plate and handed to me. I took it and sipped. The taste was foul. Never had anything so nasty in my life! However, out of politeness, I continued to sip it quietly, daring not to spit it back out onto the very posh three piece suit of Morretti. He leaned against the wall and nodded to people walking past. “So, have many people from sVo been here?” I questioned this after having a good look around and not being able to notice anyone I recognised from my first visit to Goodfellas. “Actually, no. You’re the first here. But you see I highly doubt anybody else will turn up. They all follow a very strict training regime” He looked sideways at me expectantly. “Oh yes, so do I. Tonight’s my night off” Morretti chuckled as he groped a waitress’s ass as she walked by cheekily. She turned around and winked at him as a satisfied grin spread across Morretti’s face. “It’s good to be in charge. Do what I want. Eat what I want. Sleep who with I want. It’s pretty much the same lifestyle for any Champion in the sVo. You know, people like Mike Polowy, Johnny All-Star and Spring Heeled Jack” This gave me an epiphany. I suddenly realised, I so badly wanted that. This was my opportunity. Sunday night, I step into that ring with two other hungry competitors, fighting for that opportunity to become rich and famous. I could achieve this in the short space of two matched at sVo. How amazing! This got me excited, pumped even, ready for battle to commence. When I shut my eyes, I can see myself holding up the coveted sVo Hardcore Championship Belt above my head to thousands of fans, all cheering and chanting my name. Tristan Walker…..Tristan Walker……Tristan Walker….. “Tristan Walker?! Oi, Tristan” I came back to my senses. Morretti had just slapped me pretty hard to get my attention. I was about to retaliate, but managed to keep myself under control by clenching fists behind my back and squeezing. A good technique taught to me by Jefferson, who still uses it to calm himself down. “C’mon! Lets go blow some cash” He had strolled over to the poker table. Having never played poker, I opted out of it and just watched. “No. I insist. Gamble here or get out” He looked pretty serious, so I pulled out a shining silver quarter, my last one and slowly slotted into the fruit machine. I pulled the handle and watched as a blur of an array of different shapes, sizes and colours muddled in my eyes. Abruptly, the first one stopped jerkily. It landed on ‘BAR’. I watched, almost uncaringly as the second one stopped as well. A slight ‘Ahh’ from the people around me made me look back. It too had landed on ‘BAR’. Mere fluke, I told myself as I looked away again and a sudden ‘Wow!!’ from the crowd made me look round, amazed at the machine. Sitting neatly, together in a perfect line were three identical objects. BAR BAR BAR. My heart stopped, as dollars and dollars of coins spurted out from the tray. I instantly started cramming my pockets with coins, filling them up rapidly. My heart was now beating incredibly fast. I just won the jackpot on my first ever attempt at a fruit machine!! I was rich. I could buy so many things with this earnings. But what exactly? I couldn’t decide now. After collecting every single coin, I took out my cell phone and tapped in Jefferson’s home number. After about 3 rings he picked up. “Hello?” “JEFFERSON!! I JUST WON THE JACKPOT AT THE CASINO!! COME PICK ME UP!!” “Oh….wow! How….that’s…..I’m speechless” Jefferson definitely sounded it as he coughed slightly and spoke back down the receiver. “Certainly! Ten minutes, I’ll be there!” He hung up as people started swarming around me, looking gob smacked as they all started asking questions. After suffering 5 minutes of claustrophobia, I broke away from the crowd as they all started having a go at the fruit machines, also in the hope of winning the jackpot. I waited outside in the bitter cold wind, eagerly awaiting the arrival of Jefferson in his orange rusted car. Maybe with the money I could afford to buy him a brand new car. My pockets were jingling as I jumped around trying to keep warm. I saw a small car pull into the car park and I ran after it, trying to spill any money as I went. It stopped and I instantly climbed in the passenger seat. I looked up excitedly at the drivers face, to see not Jefferson, but the three bouncers on the front door, all three of them filling up the car, looking wide eyed at my pockets, hungrily. “I think you’ll find that money belongs to Goodfellas Casino” Said the bulky black driver. This was very worrying. “No. I won this money. It’s mine” “Oh but you see, nobody wins the jackpot at Goodfellas. We’ve rigged each of those machines not to dispense a jackpot winning amount. So in some shape or form, you have cheated and therefore, that money does not belong to you. Now, you have two options,” He held up 2 sausage sized fingers. “We can do this the easy way. You step out the car, hand over all the money and you can walk away” He pulled one finger away, leaving just one finger sticking in my direction. “Or we can do this the hard way. As in, we beat the shit out of you until every single dollar has disappeared from your pockets. Your decision” I pondered for a moment. It was like falling into my greatest ever dream then having it all taken away from me in one large swoop. God must hate my guts. “Well….You do realise, I am a professional wrestler and I could take on all three of you and still come out on top” What was I saying?!! I was half the size and the weight of these men. I knew this was the worst mistake of my life as the driver looked around at the other two and nodded knowingly. “And do YOU realise, we have been trained in how to beat people up? I could make you puke your own bollocks if I wanted” And without warning, they all started laying into me. I could feel blows hitting my rib cage as the blows came hard and fast. Then, one almighty punch to my jaw and I blacked out. I woke up, lying bloody and battered outside on the hard gravely sidewalk, the small sharp stones cutting into the flesh of my face, stinging like a bitch. Bright lights are flashing, hazy in my mind, unable to distinguish anything from anything else. To be continued….. BITCH BOOK Well now is possibly my favourite time. My time to lay verbal abuse on my upcoming opponents. That’s right, it’s the Bitch Book time! This week, Mr. Jimmy Morretti and Mr. Jon Page have booked me in a match quite possibly the worst match I could. I mean, only a Number One Contenders match?! What were you guys thinking! And to really rub salt into the wound, you decided to do it for the Hardcore Championship!! The lowest belt in this pathetic federation. I feel insulted. I should be headlining that show against Mike Polowy for the World Championship. None of this Hardcore crap. It’s a pathetic belt for losers. However, I would quite gladly take it away from Spring Heeled Jack like candy from a baby and watch him bawl his eyes out. That retard in the foolish jumpsuit and dodgy bells that make you sound like a cow. Get a life. Anyway, my opponents for this upcoming Showdown. ‘STB’ Jason Cash and Clifton ‘Hot Rod’ Blaze. I’ll start with Cash in this edition of the Bitch Book. You know, Jason, there is one question that has plagued me for too long. I’m sure the readers would be intrigued to acquire the knowledge of what ‘STB’ stands for. Well, after some vigorous research and endless deciphering of codes and foreign languages, I finally discovered it’s meaning. I am pleased to say that the STB in Jason Cash’s name stands for……..STUPID TINY BASTARD! That’s right, you read it here first! Tell all your friends and family and prank call Mr. Cash calling him this until he decides to camp out in his bathroom with only a bag of crisps and a vibrator. Even if you were to be locked in the bathroom, Mr. Cash would still probably wet himself on many occasions You see where the Stupid bit comes from now. Well, the tiny bit is self explanatory……*cough*oneinchwonder*cough*. And as for bastard, that is also self explanatory. It is well known that Mr. Cash’s mum was a hooker and got banged from behind every day of the week (she had a timetable and everything) and of course as one of her 235 children, she have birth to Jason Cash. Now due to the fact that Cash’s family was so poor, they were going to use Baby Jason as a cheap alternative to Christmas turkey, but unfortunately the authorities stepped in. And since then Jason was been scared of turkey and Christmas. Every 24th of December he sits by the fireplace with a shotgun, getting ready to shoot any red fat arse that comes down that chimney. Ladies and gentlemen, that was a fully in depth view of Jason Cash’s pointless life. I hope you have enjoyed this weeks edition of the Bitch Book! Next week: Clifton Blaze, “Hot Rod” or “Small Rod”? Thanks for reading, Tristan Walker. |
![]() Career Stats sVo Record: 2-0-0 Achievements: Became No.1 Contender for the Hardcore Championship in his debut | |
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6:56 PM Jul 11