Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Add Reply
DJ RP
Topic Started: Mar 4 2011, 11:25 AM (28 Views)
The Corporation
sVo Icon
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"Drinking is one ways man of knowing that he still has alot to learn about self-loathing." - Unknown

DJ, maniacal idiot, has spent the last several weeks attempting to not only achieve greater success then Chris Wrestling but to completely obliterate his legacy in all ways. Part of this method is to break every record, or perceived record, Chris Wrestling has ever held thus proving himself to be obviously superior. Of course part of this course means that DJ would be forced to do things that he might not normally do, after all DJ, being a paranoid individual, didn't get out much and Chris Wrestling was well known for his public outings. Specifically those that resulted in drunk and disorderly conduct.

And so DJ found himself, not less then a week away from another important match and not even a hush of time since Chris Wrestling was blown kingdom come attempting to, for one night, get more drunk then Chris Wrestling had ever personally achieved.. and then to walk through town thus proving that not only could he get drunker then Chris Wrestling but that he could walk through town with more class and tacted. While you might question the sanity or intelligence of such a decision it might become painfully obvious that DJ does not have a perfectly working brain and somewhere in his deluded brain this all really does make sense. So it is more or less just best to sit back, relax and enjoy the show..

- Davenport's Piano and Cabaret Bar

Seated off to the side in the brightly lit and living musical bar where two men. Two stranger men, for such a place, could not have been more idealistically placed in such a contrasting location then they were here. DJ, in his typical designer black suit and vest scowled dubiously at all around him, his Corporation arm band standing out against the light blue walls around him. Too his side was Phineaus Mooreland, the butterball turkey given human form and squeezed, painfully, into a demi-formal dress shirt and slacks. He wore a knit sweater, likely made by his mother, of pale blue which made him look like a 40 year old attempting to look like a 9 year old with gigantism.

Beyond just looking uncomfortable it was clear that Phineaus, thanks to his healthy girth, had pinned DJ against the near by wall ensuring no easy escape for the easily terrified DJ further feeding his anxiety. Of course, they looked like the most unlikely gay couple visiting a Cabaret Bar, which in and of itself was not completely bizarre but certainly suspect. The wandering eyes of curious onlookers didn't help the matter much as Phineaus grappled with something he was seated upon. After a few moments of manhandling his own ass, or so it would appear, he managed to reveal his treasured Wrestling Book of Records, flipping it open as DJ rolled his eyes. After a few moments he stopped and lifted the book so DJ could see it.

Phineaus: There, you see? It was well documented that Chris Wrestling did indeed like to get shit faced.. in fact he currently has a standing SVO record for most scenes of drunk and disorderly conduct. You know he was once beaten down in a hotel lobby when he drunkenly stumbled in after losing the Tag Titles?

DJ: Yes-yes, fine. So he got a little hammered, everyone does now and again. The question is how hammered do I have to get and how long do I have to stumble around Chicago before Batman or the police pick me up?

Phineaus considered the question for a moment before he lifted his hand, summoning over the waitress who was taking care of them. With careful consideration he turned to DJ.

Phineaus: About how much are you willing to spend tonight to try and overcome this mighty hurdle in the chase of Chris Wrestling's legacy?

The Future of Wrestling made a slightly stressed face as he cocked his head to the side, picking up the drinks menu. After a few minutes he set the menu down and shook his head.

DJ: This is highway robbery in broad.. um.. mood light! They are selling me Poison and upcharging me almost 100 percent! I could just.. like.. Go home and get this all myself at a lower cost. Say why am I NOT doing that?!

Phineaus: Easy, DJ, don't get to loud. You're not even drunk yet and you sound like you're plastered already. Stop being a penny pincher and just get it over with, it will be much easier that way. The really expensive stuff you can barely taste the Alcohol in.

DJ: Bah.. it's none of your business if I am a so called penny pincher or not! It's not your job to question me or my methods right? So shut up and sit down.. I know what I am doing... maître d!

- Ten Minutes Later

The spread in front of DJ was considerable. Cheap tequila, vodka and whiskey co-mingled with rum, amaretto and a small stack of jello-shots. Lording over it was the Future of Wrestling and his side kick, Phineaus, who looked at DJ with a worried expression.

Phineaus: Listen I know you said you know what you're doing but are you sure about this? I mean.. you have your big match coming up soon and drinking this much or even trying.. you don't drink all that much DJ, you might give yourself alcohol poison-

DJ: I knew the risks before I decided to stand in the shadow of Chris Wrestling and outgrow it. I know, Phineaus, that I have a match against Nero. I know what is going on, don't you dare and try and tell me what I know and do not know. I know what I am doing right here and I can assure you that it will not hinder my performance at Showdown when I beat Nero.

He said that while he glared down at the bottle of cheap tequila in front of him, a slightly fearful expression taking hold. It was true that DJ did not tend to drink very often and so when he did he knew deep down inside that it affected him slightly more quickly and more effectively then it affected others. He was a cheap drunk and he knew it.. and postponing the inevidable was only easing the fear of humiliation by but a few short moments as he reached a shaky hand out.

Phineaus: It's not too late, DJ.. we can still turn away from this road! You have so much left to give the world DJ!

DJ: For christ sake, Phineaus, I am having a drink, I am not going to kill myself! God damn it, save that kind of bullshit for others. I'm just trying to get drunk here in order to achieve a personal goal! Is that so wrong!? If it is I do not want to be right, Phineaus, I just do not want to be right!

By now Phineaus and he had made enough of a showing that several people were giving them sideways glances to which DJ only turned his head and tucked his chin to his chest. Already attracting the kind of unwanted attention that would steal from his later attention grabbing fiasco when he stumbled out of here drunk, he had no doubts. Phineaus, for his part, shut up for the moment as he plopped down, with some bounce, back into his seat, resting his chin on his two hands in a bored fashion.

In the background the louge music could be heard crooned out by some distant singer who was playing piano. The setting was new and confusing to DJ but still he moved forward. Grasping the tequila bottle with one hand and a shot glass with the other he poured his first tall shot and eyed it for a moment.

DJ:..when I take this glass it will be my first step into a larger, less Chris filled world..

Phineaus: Oh yes.. the world of a slobbering drunk who probably will pass out before he even makes it to the door at closing time.

DJ:...shut up...

And with that DJ threw the glass back wincing as the burn of the cheap booze tore into his throat. It was like someone poured donkey piss into his mouth mixed with battery acid and he literally hacked for a few minutes as he tried to rid himself of the horrific taste of the cheap tequila. Phineaus slapped him a few times on the back as DJ buckled for a few moments unsure if he could continue after trying the foul extract that came from Mexico and Spain. Clearly they did not believe in things that tasted good in the south and he would not be surprised if Tequila was really fermented urine. It certainly tasted that way.. however it was a success in that DJ had managed to finally take a drink of alochol on his quest to get plastered.

- Five Minutes Later

DJ: Oh god what the hell have you done Phineaus?..

The once proud looking DJ leaned half heartily on the table in front of him, his uneven eyes staring at the dark gray concoction that Phineaus had devised for him. Some wretched combination of amaretto, vodka and whiskey which was quickly poured into a glass to ensure that DJ would get drunk as quickly as possible. At this point DJ had stopped tasting anything and was basically just downing anything that was in a liquid state in hopes that he could power through this challenge as quickly as possible. Of course, the more drunk he got the easier this became and with him being slightly toasted at the moment he was willing to try well.. just about anything.

Phineaus: I don't really know, I just tossed stuff together.. it kinda looks like sink water. I think I will call the drink that.. Sink Water. You wanna try it, I sure as hell am not going to drink this..

DJ:..sure, slide it over to me and I'll try it..

Waivering slightly, DJ held his hand out toward Phineaus. The hand wafted back and forth for a moment as if he were trying to follow a bug that was just outside of his vision. Finally he seemed to regain his composure and pick the glass up out of Phineaus' hand eyeing it for a moment. Smacking his lips with a sound of disgust he rolled his eyes and tipped his head back downing the greyish liquid in one swallow.

DJ:..Woooorarraagghghgl! Oh good... heeecccckkk! Huurrraaak!

He made several retching motions as he turned to the side trying not to throw up. Apparently the drink was so wretched tasting it activated his gag reflex which DJ was currently doing his best to fight back. Of course at this point the entire bar is watching the bizarre contest of DJ's while Phineaus stands off to the side offering weak waves every now and again, patting DJ on his back.

DJ: Ooh god! It tasted like.. like Robot Urine mixed with angry bees.. and now it's in my stomach.. I have robot peed stained angry bees in my stomach.. urrggh..

Phineaus: Fight through it DJ, you need at least another five drinks before you've reached the quote, unquote, stupidly drunk stage! You're almost there..

DJ:..I.. I just drank some greyish liquid.. grummble..that you gave me.. I... huurrrk!..uggh.. I.. I think I am already at stupid drunk stage...

Heaving once again DJ jumped up out of his seat and stumbled forward onto the ground where he hit face first, sprawled out on the floor. Several people rushed forward to check up on DJ who merely waved them off, dragging himself up to his feet on the side of another table.

DJ: I am all.. all wight, thank's.. As.. Future of Wrestling.. I can say with slurtainty that I.. I perfectly capa-

Another stumble resulted on DJ once again on the floor as Phineaus, now chuckling at the stupid antics of his boss, hurried over to pick him up off the floor.

- Thirty Minutes Later

DJ: WOOOOUUUAAAAHHH! YUeaaaah. Hey.. hey everybody.. can.. can you hear?! Yo!

Sloppy drunk and attached to a Karaoke Machine down at Davenport's in Chicago, DJ was officially wasted. Of course, being completely drunk DJ felt he was more then capable of doing other tasks which he was otherwise incapable of doing even sober. With ample amounts of liquid courage pumping through his system DJ lifted the small corded Mic to his mouth as he smiled a stupid looking smile at the crowd. Not the cruel, maniacal smile he was used to wearing but a sloppy drunk smile that showed off his pearly white teeth.

DJ: Ok.. ok.. ok... Folks.. I.. am DJ, the.. Future of Wrestling but for a moment I'm gonna pull a DVD.. oh yes.. I am about to properly butch a popular song.. why? The only reason I can.. hick.. the only reason I can think to butcher a song.. becaaause I'm just a bastard that way I guess.. ok.. so.. now I give you.. to you.. Float On by Might Mouse... Modest Mouse!

At the bar Phineaus Mooreland could be seen, his bulk leaning against the clean couter top as he nursed a beer staring at the drunk DJ with an amused expression. DJ had always been a slightly uptight, unpredictable bastard so it was fun to watch him devolve into a drunken mess. Naturally the crowd, also growing thick with drunks, cheered DJ on as he declared his intention to sing Float On as the music started up. DJ started to shakingly sway from side to side as his hair fell across his face giving him a slightly charming, drunk guy look. For a moment Phineaus would have sworn.. DJ was almost going Face on him..

DJ: I backed my caaar unto er cop car the otherdah. Well'e just droov off, sometimes life's OK. Mmm uh run my mouth off a bit too much, oh what did I say? Well you just laughed it off, it was all OK. An wer'll all float on OK-we'll all float on alright..er OK! And we'll all float on OK. And we'll all float on anyway.. um.. thats all I know mmkay? I think.. uh.. it just goes.. mmmon more like that...

DJ held his hands into the air having completed, to a degree, his song as the drunks cheered him on. At least he was short and sweet with his singing even if he didn't get the lyrics right nor even manage to finish the first stanza. Lifting his hands into the air DJ waved them into the air as the rest of the folks continued to sing the rest of the song in their equally drunk sluring of the already slurred lyrics. Phineaus started to laugh out loud at the absurdity of seeing DJ lead a group of bar patrons to a song as he turned back to his beer.. In doing so he did not managed to notice DJ.. slipping out the door..

- An Hour Later...

DJ:..nuuuuu offsire.. I'ma publik offsical.. Corporation..mm..mmeans I have..too be public yeah?.. even if drunk see.. as a public offical if I were.drunk..mmin private I'd be a private official n'that makes no sense! Now.. now I gotta be in a match.. against.. Nero.. in a few days n'I can't be bothered to deal with ur.. um.. your autograph signings n'besides you know me! I'm just the Minivan of Wrestling.. wes cool, dawg, we is down right? Yeez, I didn't even rucall walking through that.. stop sign yeah? give us a warning.. I promise on my grandpa's grave I won't enlist children to hit me in the crotch anymore..

DJ waivered for a moment as he stuck a large finger into the chest of a patrol man who was currently shining a flashlight into DJ's face. DJ, somehow in his random drunken wandering, had managed to make it just outside the police station where he was fighting with all of his ability to stay on two feet.

Officer: Sir, you're drunk.. I could smell you from inside the precinct. I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me.

Undaunted DJ threw his hands into the air in his final act of protest.

DJ: Foolz! I have.. diplomatic.. immunity. Opp! Night time.

Like a light suddenly being turned off DJ fell face forward onto the ground with a loud slapping sound as the Officer tried to catch him. Yelling for help one could hear the soft, cooing noises of DJ snoring lazily off in his drunken dreams.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Free Forums with no limits on posts or members.
Learn More · Sign-up Now
« Previous Topic · sVo Showdown RP Archive · Next Topic »
Add Reply

threesixty by tiptopolive of the Zetaboards Theme Zone