Please Login or Register to get full access to the forums.

Lost Password?
Current time: 03-19-2024, 02:26 AM (time should display as Pacific time zone; please contact Admin if it appears to be wrong)                                                                


X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
He Who Is Mediocre Likes Milk Toast (RP #1)
Author Message
Tony Santos Offline
Santos Glares at You



XWF FanBase:
(.Awaiting user update)


#1
02-01-2014, 08:03 AM

Burly Waiter: What would you like for breakfast?!?

Tony Santos, sitting at this cutesy little diner with pink walls, rainbow tables, with plates made of broken satellite dishes and silverware made of Theo Pryce's immaculate, perfectly crafted shits, raises his hand and smiles at the large man above him... literally floating above him... taking his order.

Santos: Pancakes!

Burly Waiter: With butter?!?

Santos: Margarine!

Burly Waiter: That's fantastically bland, sir! What else?!?

Santos: Eggs! Two of them! No yoke!

Burly Waiter: No yoke?!? Egg whites only?!? That's incredibly unadventurous of you!

Santos: I care about my health and don't like things that taste good!!!

Burly Waiter: By god, you're a sissy boy with a poor appetite and a completely inadequate interest in good things!!

Any more food, Mr. Blandy Pants?!?


Tony twirls his head left, then right, then up at his waiter, then... straight at his waiter, as Tony is floating upwards, reaching the same height as his poor man's maitre d'. He reaches down toward the table, trying to grab his menu, but to no avail. He stretches and stretches, then attempts to pull a Supernova and get that shit up to him telepathically, but his brain waves are continuously interrupted by stray bits of undigested barley and hops.

Santos: Well, god damn sir, looks like I can't reach my menu to make any more choices! Since I have no ability to make intelligent or creative decisions on my own, I guess that will be... wait!

Tony notices a propped up food and drink menu hanging from the ceiling, just over the waiter's left ear. Tony's eyes light up.

Santos: Ah, thankfully there is another menu to do the work that my measly, mediocre brain cannot!!! Thank the, um, whatever that ecclesiastical being in the sky is called... in that place with the clouds and the things with wings and dead people that read a book with a lot of conviction and talked to themselves successfully for many many years... that place just below the Land of Supernova.

Things or something.


The waiter glares at Tony, his bugged out eyes ready to launch directly in to Tony's shriveling ball of pink sludge and destroy any remaining independent thoughts.

Burly Waiter: Sir! Food?!? Drinks?!? I have other customers to serve!

He has no other customers to serve. The remaining tables were filled with poodles, sitting and conversing in Galactic Basic.

Santos: Bloody Mary.

Burly Waiter: Ah! A fantastic and utterly interesting choic...

Santos: Make it a virgin, please.

Burly Waiter: Argh! You insignificant humanoid!!!

The waiter raises his hand and swings it like a tilt-a-whirl at Tony's face, knocking Tony backwards, against the wall, causing the pink to ripple like when a stone drops in to the ocean. Tony's teeth flow from his mouth and drop, some hitting the floor, while the other chiclets drop on the table. Tony slides down the wall, a smear of gray leaving a trail from where he began. Cupped in his seat, Tony stares absent-mindedly at the wall on the other side of the room, a dopey smile on his face.

Just then... Tony takes a dull arrow to the head, killing him instantly. The waiter looks down at the newly deceased Tony Santos and shakes his head.

Burly Waiter: What a shame. A man with no goals and only modest success, killed by a projectile as bland and unassuming as the man himself. The world will continue to turn, people will continue to live and die, just like they always do. None of us are worse off for this, but rather a bit better for the oxygen that we can now share amongst our more productive selves.

Goodnight, sweet peasant. I have customers to serve you to.


End dream.

Santos: Ah! Wait, I...

Tony looks at his outstretched hands. He scans his bony fingers and the ever-widening cracks making their own miniature roads on his skin. He bends his fingers, rotates his forearms and twirls his wrists. He smiles that toothy smile wiggles his toes and scans the room, his hotel room in Boston, Massachusetts, a city he'd been spending more and more time in as a getaway from the city that he hated (Miami) and the woman that he feared (Shannon).

Santos: I'm not dead! I'm not mediocre! I'm not a loser! By god, I'm not a loser!!

Tony looks to his right, finds a spare box of matza, and begins eating the cardboard-esque "treat." He turns the hotel TV on, and smiles as he sees the face of none other than Kevin James appear on his screen.

Santos: Ah, King of Queens! Perfect! This will be just the cure for the Saturday morning blues, right, Foo Foo?

Tony looks to his right, smiles, and pets his adopted pet poodle as the scene fades to black.

September 2013 and May 2019 Star of the Month
1x Hart Champion
1x Television Champion
1x Xtreme Champion

[Image: VIh61T5.jpg]
Edit Hate Post Like Post
[-] The following 2 users Like Tony Santos's post:
(02-01-2014), Theo Pryce (02-01-2014)




Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)