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Long Road Pt. 2; CONCLUSION
Topic Started: Apr 3 2010, 09:07 PM (315 Views)
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The apartment of Ronnie Long is trashed. The front door is wide open, and a book lies on the ground spread wide open pages down. A woman stumbles out the bedroom and heads for the door. Ronnie Long pulls himself up off the carpet in his living room with the couch, and sits with his back against it.

'God damn! What a night!'

Ronnie Long sees the woman's back, as he grabs the bottle of beer that is near him, and throws it at her with extreme force and shatters it against the hall's wall.

'GET OUTTA HERE BITCH!'

Ronnie screams at her after the bottle shatters. He rubs his face, feeling the scruff that is left from his week long binge.

'Man, what a fucking dream...'

Realizing that there is no one around to talk to, not even his narrator that once annoyed the hell out of him. He reaches on the glass top table and grabs the pack of Newports, and pulls one out. He starts to pat himself at the pockets, trying to find a lighter. He fishes into his right front pocket and pulls out a small ass BIC lighter. He strikes it several times before a small flame comes out and he uses it to light the cigarette.

'NARRATOR!'

His screams echo around the living room, as the smoke rolls from his mouth. He throws the lighter behind him, as he waits for a reply.

'NARRATOR!'

Starting to get a little bit annoyed by the silence, he takes a big drawl off the Newport, as he exhales and starts to laugh shaking his head.

'THIS IS FUCKIN' GREAT! The one damn time I want the bastard around, and he is late for work? Explain to me how that is possible!'

Ronnie states as if someone will magically answer him. Foot steps are heard, as a hand reaches around the door frame and knocks against it.

'ANYONE HERE?'

A voice yells out, without being seen.

'Yeah, who the hell wants to know?'

A face of a man he feels he knows comes around the corner, but after a night of drinking hopelessly, he is having a tough time piecing together the puzzle.

'I do not tend to check on people, but you were pretty wasted last night. You managed to tell me where you lived, and I had one of my waitress drive you home...'

Suddenly, Ronnie remembers the man as the bartender.

'AH, That is who she was!'

The man looks at Ronnie with a disturbed look.

'Who?'

Ronnie laughs, before smashing the cigarette out on the glass top table, as no ashtray can be seen near him.

'The woman who just left my apartment. I thought someone might had robbed me or attempted to at least. You probably just missed her man...'

The man rubs his head and shakes it.

'Was not searching for her, was looking for you. Are you okay?'

The bartender reaches down and grabs the book. He looks into it, and notices it is a poetry book.

'Yeah, I'm fine I believe. What did you just pick up?'

The man reads it over and laughs nonstop after just a few seconds.

'A fan of poetry?'

Ronnie shakes his head no, wondering what the bartender is speaking of.

'Why? I've never seen that book before in my life!'

The bartender keeps reading, laughing still.

'Ever heard of the poem by Poe, The Raven?'

Ronnie's eyes grow extremely big, as if he just saw a ghost.

'You know something... I know the poem, read it in school, eighth grade I believe. However, last night, I had this weird dream about this poem. I was like living it, just a remixed version of it. It was really strange, I could not make sense of it. I am guessing it had to do with my match against Raven.'

The man nods his head, with a big smirk on his face.

'I do not think you were dreaming. This is a pretty twisted version of a famous poem. The page itself is glued over what appears to be the actual poem itself and the author is not even the same. This one is written by some guy named Marshall Graham.'

Ronnie looks at the man with a questionable look.

'Who the hell is that?'

The man shrugs his shoulders, unsure himself.

'Just listen to this...

Once upon a midnight blurry, as my body shook with worry,
Over the quaint and cool vestibule, of my dinner of before
While i sweated, nearly hurling, suddenly there came a whirling
as if some one gently swirling, about my bathroom decore
"Tis the booze," I grumbled, 'knocking about my bathroom decore.
Only this, and nothing more

Oh, vividly I recall, it was after my fall
and each of them laughing at my indignation brought by the cage door
Eagerly I wished the morrow, I sought to swollow
from my bottles gone hollow, the numbness that'd follow, as I could not lose anymore
For the rare occasion, that'd bring me jubiliation, was soon to come knocking upon my door
Nameless I'd be nomore

And the sulken sad rustling of each bloody heaving
unnerved me, never having alcohol poisoning before
So that now, to still the queasyness of my stomach, I stood repeating
"I will not drink anymore"
"at least until I'm sober I will not drink anymore"
"This is it, and nothing more"

Presently my stomach grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,
"Bitch", said I "or whatever your name is, help me off the floor
Fact is I was needing, and so idiotically forgetting
about the woman sleeping, sleeping behind my bedroom door
That whench that I picked up from the bar before
A drunken night fuck, and nothing more

Deep into my stupor reeling, long I fumbled undressing, preparing,
Penetrating, fucking in positions no mortal ever dared to dream before
The silence was unbroken, and the bitch was smokin
and the only word there spoken, was the screams of "More"
This i responded, with a smack and left that bitch sore"
With this, I had used the whore.

Back into the room of living, with a smoke aburning,
Soon after I heard a tapping, coming from my front door.
"Surely" said I, "Surely no one is dumb enough to bother my ass
Let me see then, who it is, and give them a what for
Let my stomach stay still so I may give them a what for
unless it's the pizza I ordered before.

Then here I flung the door, when, with many a curse and mutter.
Up stepped a homely fellow, I had not seen before.
Not the first word made he, but in the light stood he
Bless my lord ole mighty, look at this man I hadn't seen before
Standing upon my porch just outside my front door
Stood a pint sized Raven and no one more.

Then this multi haired fellow started a smiling
He was a perfect double to the man in his hair and clothes that he wore
Surely you know this is no safe haven, for a would be Scott Hardy's Raven
Who's style and moves we've certainly all seen before
Why are you upon the porch of my front door?
Quoth a Raven, "nevermore"

And that is all that is said before the original starts back up.'


Ronnie starts to laugh, but not just any laugh. A case of Deja Vu strikes him. He pauses and looks at the man, and starts to laugh again.

'Am I missing something?'

Ronnie still laughing, nods his head up and down.

'I thought it was a dream, but unquestionably, it was real! What is written there, is what went down after I returned here last night!'

The bartender's eyes grow wide, as if he questions Ronnie's statement.

'You are positive?'

Ronnie nods, without a second to think of the question.

'Trust me, I have never read that poem, and this is exactly what I remember, all but blurry.'

Suddenly, it all starts to make sense to the man. It does make sense for a drunken mess that Ronnie was after leaving the bar.

'By the way, I never got your name...'

The man smiles, as he turns to walk out the door. He looks back at Ronnie.

'The name is Travis, and dreams die fast these days. Have a good one Ronnie!'

The man turns back and heads out the apartment. Ronnie seems more confused then he was. He pulls himself up off the floor and flops on the couch.

'Raven, I am no Poe, but I know of your type. Everything about you screams CHEAP! The name, the look, the moves, hell... Even your pathetic attempts at speaking. You are no threat, and will never become a disappointment in my life. One of you got lucky, and I mean EXTREMELY LUCKY! I will never fall asleep at the wheel again. One blotch on my record is enough to last me for awhile. Only you stand in my way of getting a chance at what I truly want. You step into a ring Sunday night, and enter into my world. A ladder, a contract, and two men...

However, only one man can grab that contract and it will be a cold day in Twenty-Nine Palms California before I allow that one be some blind carbon copy. You know Raven, I can handle some twat being the Las Vegas champion, and I can handle a group of nobodies attempted to be known as "THE CORPORATE' within sVo. One thing I cannot handle is a cheap clone of two, sharing a ring with me. I pull no punches and I spare no expenses. Come Sunday, you find out exactly why guys like you make me fuckin' sick!'


Ronnie scratches his neck, and looks around the room taking a deep breath.

'NOW GET THE FUCK OUT!'

"The Long Shot" Ronnie Long
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