High Steaks & Tough Breaks

[Michael Morrison]

(some mood music)

[ame=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VvKjpGP6P5Y]YouTube - Young Men Dead - The Black Angels[/ame]

 

Turmoil will take place in the great state of Texas – a state which has brought us many things: NASA, the Dallas cheerleaders and Madness...

 

...and even though the following takes place, two days prior, the Texas inspired moral remains the same: Use the right weapon when hunting, make sure it’s dead before you eat it, wash it down with beer and bring plenty of ammo, just in case there’s trouble. The first and last rules are the most important as they ring true in just about any situation… especially in OCW.

 

We join The Bloodline, where Morrison has decided to treat his friends to one of the simple pleasures of Texas: A good old fashioned steakhouse -- complete with a full bar.

 

MORRISON: Can I get two more pitchers over here?

 

Malu downs a pitcher like it was 6 ounce can of soda, leaving Morrison to re-estimate his request.

 

MORRISON: …make that 12 more pitchers.

 

The steakhouse is full of regulars, who seem to enjoy the ruckus caused by the outsiders, but there’s always the group that “don’t take kindly to strangers” in these parts. And there’s not much out there that’s stranger than a pie-loving Samoan; two midnight colored cousins with the fashion sense of Dennis Rodman & 50 Cent; and a 260 pound mime. However, everything seems to be going well so far.

WESLEY: This place is something else, man. It’s like I’m stepping into a movie, straight out of the Wild-West or sumthin.

 

Wesley notices one of the waitresses, admiring his unique skin pigmentation from across the way.

 

WESLEY: Hehe… {in a horrible Texas accent} Well gosh darnit, I think little miss Suzie-Q has a hankering for some well-done steak.

 

MORRISON: Who knows, if you cut the Billy-Bob accent, she might let you ride the rodeo.

 

WESLEY: Why the hell would I do that? You know Billy-Bob tapped Angelina Jolie and Halle Berry, right?

 

MORRISON: Perhaps… but do you think Daisy Dukes over there is eyeballing your ballsack because you look like all the locals? All day long she’s around truck driving, rednecks in cowboy hats, who wear the same cliché getup… which they probably buy from the local Wal-Mart.

 

Wesley looks at Smythe with partial understanding.

 

SMYTHE: Just tell the snowflake that you’re from New York and you know Kanye.

 

MALU: I met Kanye once.

 

SMYTHE: Really? Compared to me, what did’ja think of him and his $2, crackerjack glasses?

 

MALU: It was back when I was…

 

SASHA: There you are, you Westley Snipes lookin’ sumbitch… I don’t have time to waste, waiting to exhale, while you all go out and screw up my itinerary.

 

Sasha starts walking towards their table from the steakhouse entrance, making sure that each footstep can be heard as she slams one foot in front of the other.

 

SMYTHE: What’s up, baby? Morrison just wanted to show us some southern hospitality. I didn’t want’a disrespect the brotha.

 

MORRISON: Howdy.

 

SASHA: Oh shut-up… you’re not even originally from here, Mike, so turn that mess down. Howdy? I swear I should…

 

A sudden commotion interrupts Sasha and all their attention moves across the steakhouse, where a bunch of local boys are giving Wesley a hard time for spitting game instead of spitting chewing tobacco.

 

SASHA: Great, just great. Southern hospitality, my ass.

 

Sasha places her hands on her hips and swings her neck around so that her disappointed eyes lock onto Malu.

 

SASHA: Well? You gonna go do somethin’ bout this?

 

MALU: On it.

 

Malu stands up with a steak in hand, takes a bite out of it and heads towards the soon-to-be-resolved situation.

 

SASHA: {sighs} I’ll be right back. You two stay here… I’m not through with either of you, yet.

 

Once Malu and Sasha leave the table, Smythe wipes his mouth with a napkin and makes an expression that clearly states, “Thank God she’s gone.”

 

SMYTHE: So… Morrison.

 

Morrison grins, already aware of what will come out of Smythe’s mouth in the next few seconds.

 

MORRISON: Yeah?

 

SMYTHE: Road 2 Glory.

 

MORRISON: What about it?

 

SMYTHE: Come on, playa… I’m just tryin’ to be upfront about this.

 

MORRISON: What… you don’t trust Mad Mike?

 

SMYTHE: I trust you to be who you are. I may be the captain of this ship, but I allow everyone aboard to row how they want…

 

MORRISON: …because that’s why you brought us on-board in the first place, right? {grins}

 

SMYTHE: Exactamundo. I never planned on trying to control all of y’all, because trying to control the uncontrollable is something I save for… others… if you get what I’m sayin’.

 

MORRISON: Oh, I get it loud and clear, El Capitan… but you can lower the tension on your dreads, because I’m not Aries. At Road 2 Glory, you have nothing to worry about.

 

SMYTHE: {laughing} Woo… that’s why I like you, Morrison… you get what I’m trying to do here. Having been a faction leader, yourself, I knew I could count on you to understand.

 

MORRISON: I understand plenty, but remember this: Despite popular belief, I was never the leader of ToP. We were all equals at the time… which is why we were so successful. When everyone is on the same level, it eliminates doubt. We could trust each other, because we all called the shots. Without trust, you might as well be I-Gen. Without trust, you can’t move forward. Remember that.

 

WESLEY: Remember what, cuz?

 

Wesley – now wearing a cowboy hat – pulls out a chair from the table and sits down. Malu and Sasha – also wearing cowboy hats – soon join him. Morrison quickly goes from his serious demeanor, to a more up-beat tone.

 

MORRISON: Remember the Alamo. Isn’t that right, Smythe?

 

SASHA: F*** the Alamo! In fact, f*** Texas while you’re at it -- 'bunch of cow-humping hicks, with their open ranges and closed minds. Which brings me back to all of you. Don’t think I forgot what I was saying before Clint Limpwood over here {glares at Wesley} almost got himself hung from a tree by hitting on one of the Dixie Chicks.

 

Sasha closes her eyes; takes a deep breath and tries to calm herself down.

 

SASHA: Well at least I got a new hat out of it.

 

WESLEY: And I got some Dallas digits.

 

MALU: And I got more steak.

 

SMYTHE: Malu… you’re my boy and all, but did you seriously take their steaks?

 

MALU: They won’t be able to eat it anymore. In fact, they won’t be able to eat anything solid for a while.

 

Morrison steps away from the table while taking the hat off of Malu and placing it on his own head.

 

MORRISON: I’m gonna call Parker and see if he’s willing to take a break from hunting hobos.

 

SASHA: Don’t forget to tell him to change clothes before bringing his pasty ass over here.

 

MORRISON: Why don’t you try using those lovely lips of yours to help me release some stress, instead of causing it.

 

SMYTHE: Pump the brakes, Mike.

 

SASHA: You tell him, Smythe. You better keep that roid rage under control... and don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about. Who ever heard of a 6’3” Rican? You ain’t foolin’ me, motherf****er.

 

Morrison flexes his chest muscles at Sasha and grins, sarcastically, before heading towards the phone at the bar. The 12 pitchers of beer finally make it to the group’s table as loud cheers fill the steakhouse and the party continues

[Justin Rockstar]

Never expect southern hospitality in Texas, they've got the death penalty you know.

[Wesley Adams Poe]

Sick read man. Made me miss those good ole bloodline rps i was in. Can't wait to see how this coincides with the actual show.

[Adrian Bold]

loved the music it made the RP just that much better. Bold approves of MMM in the battle royal!