Sitting at the counter of the bar, I find myself alone. It’s odd, because before I was always surrounded by my friends in the Bandits. But here lately I’ve been flying solo, and I’m not too sure I like it.
“Can I get you a refill?” the bartender asks, as she is already in the process of grabbing my empty glass.
I slowly look up to her and shrug, as if it didn’t matter. In all honesty, it didn’t. I couldn’t care less if she gave me another one, or another 20. It was just a glass of orange juice, and even the good shit with extra pulp.
She walks away, leaving me to my sulking.
I look to the seat to my right, empty. Look to my left, empty. Look behind me, and tables are full of smiling, happy families, enjoying an early Sunday brunch at the newly opened Toasted Yolk. Zeb had the brilliant idea of investing in the place, I mean, why wouldn’t we all join in on a restaurant geared towards eggs?
Dooze wanted to call it the Egg Carton, but that would have been dumb… We already had a Discord called that, we wouldn’t want to over use the term, now would we?
The tender of the bar, who has no name, dropped my glass of orange juice off, before she took off to help someone else further down the bar.
Sighing, I begin to lament to myself softly, “I feel like I’m missing something…”
Wracking my brain, I suddenly realize what it is!
“I NEED SOME NPCS!” I shout to myself, causing quite a few weary eyes to cast my way.
But the truth was, without the Bandits, I was just a lone sail drifting in the sea. Gilda had Jatt, or was that vice versa? Dane has Skaaland, Gracie, and whoever else. Hell, even that hack Harrison has TWO! Rebecca Hines and Jack Marley.
That’s what I’ve been lacking. I need a couple of hirelings to follow me around and that I have 100% sole control over. Hmmm….
I begin to quietly chuckle to myself, like a maniacal evil genius, as a plan begins to form in my mind.
The poster is simple. No bells, or whistles. I mean, it’s very Miracle Man-esque. Half assed, and leaving much to be desired. But like the Miracle Man, it gets its point across.
NPCs FOR HIRE
Looking for a couple of lazy good for nothings, that I can boss around. Very low pay, a lot of fringe benefits*, fully paid trips around the US**, and guaranteed nudes (of questionable quality.)
Please call 832-216-459 for inquiry
*More information on that when I learn what they are.
** Fully paid, as in you must pay your own way.
Red font? Check! Super big words? Check! Man, I sure hope someone applies!
Man you sure do like to rehash the past a lot! I guess I can’t really complain, because I’ve basically forgotten that it was you who brought me back to HOW. I guess it’s because before the ink could dry on my new contract with Lee, you were nowhere to be seen? I, for one, think it might be better to forget you brought me here. Before Lee drags you into a sidebar, and has words for cursing him with the likes of me.
Hell, he probably wishes my unreliable days would return.
Ohhhhhh Daaaaaaane. I’ve got a little secret for you, my old friend. I don’t know if I should spill it or not though. I mean, it might make you rethink our whole history. Oh well, here goes nothing.
I’ve never been scared of you.
Not even a little bit.
I’m not afraid of losing to you. I’m not afraid of getting my ass handed to me in the most violent means by the likes of you. I don’t care if you make me the butt of your god awful jokes. And please, don’t worry about respecting me! I never wanted, nor asked for your respect!
Honestly, there is nothing about you that remotely scares me. Never has been.
The reason why I lead you to believe that I was afraid of you, was because I wanted to be your lackey. Why would I want to be your lackey in the first place, you may be wondering? Simple. I ride coat tails. Mike creates stables, whereas I hitch my wagon to the brightest rising star. Your name is higher up the marquee than ole Bobby Dean? Then, expect me to kiss your ass, offer to carry your luggage, or get you a cup of coffee.
Why? Why would anyone want to do that!? Because, when your name goes up on said marquee, look who’s little name is right alongside yours? Maybe it’s in parentheses? Or maybe it’s in a smaller font. But it’s up there all the same.
I’ve won the tag team titles in a match I wasn’t even a part of.
I am the current LSD Champion! (When Cancer let’s me be.)
What accolades have you accomplished? Oh, that’s right, none. You wonder why I won’t be your lackey anymore…
So stop acting like your respect means much of anything, especially when you’ve never actually respected me. You thrive on intimidation. You think by using your deep voice, and your big vocabulary, that I should be shaking in my boots.But it just doesn’t work.
You say you won’t treat me like a bitch, that you’ll treat me like a “man”, but you’re pretty quick in offering me that old bitch role. Not to worry, you can keep your offer. I’m the proud Bitch of the eGG Bandits!
In return, I get to carry a shiny title belt around on my shoulder! (That is, when Cancer let’s me.)
What you fail to realize is that we all have a role to play. Some play their roles better than others. And some, are nothing like the role they play.
For instance, Cancer Jiles? The sarcastic laid back stoner, who doesn’t care about anything. I’ve got news for you, he cares. He REALLY cares!
Doozer? The wholesome vet who LOVES when people talk about how old he is, as if he’s not reminded of it every time he wakes up in the morning. Who still, somehow, finds himself as the underdog. *Wink, wink, nudge, nudge* He’s not as wholesome as he makes you believe. He’s into some seriously kinky shit. Like EvilAngel kink.
Darin Wood? Nice boys, really. Likeable, easy to befriend, just good hardworking lads that you can’t help but pat on the head in reassurance when they win a match. Never mind the fact that they lose 9 out of 10 times to one particular tag team! They win that 10th match and suddenly they’re singing We’re the Champions, ignoring the fact that they’ll lose the title in the 11th, 12th, 13th, and 14th match. You get the point.
Steve Harrison? He’s the snakeoil salesman, who will con you out of your shirt, then sell it back to you for prime dinero. He’s also obsessed with me. I don’t know if we had an inner office romance in another company, and he’s upset that I don’t remember it? Or if he’s simply trying to use my name as a stepping stone. (Which, I have to admit, is the dumbest strategy you can come up with, considering my name won’t get you shit these days!)
Mike Best? He’s the Golden Boy who wins at everything he does. He’ll accept all challengers! What’s the catch with Mike? I mean, everyone else had a catch, so what could possibly be wrong with my dear friend Mike? Out of the vast number of challenges, he somehow always finds himself facing the weaker species of prey in the jungle that is HOW, instead of the other killers. Where is the Fartypants vs. Best match? Why isn’t he squaring off against you, Dane? Why doesn’t he give Cancer Jiles a shot?
Why is he wasting his allotted 1 month title defense against the likes of me? Or squaring off against Hollywood? Or Stevens? Next month it’ll be Mike Best vs. Steve Harrison!
The whole point is, we each have a role to play. But our roles aren’t written in black n’ white. There are shades of grey to this.
I guess the real question is, what’s your role Eric? Mike Best Lite? Be the Golden Boy who is supposed to win at everything, but will run with your tail tucked between your legs the moment you lose to a guy like Zeb Martin, who you don’t think is on your “level”?
I warned you, I’m a passive aggressive asshole!