Walk Alone - Printable Version +- X-treme Wrestling Federation (https://xwf99.com) +-- Forum:   (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=113) +--- Forum: Archives (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=13) +---- Forum: LEAP OF FAITH 2018 (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=115) +---- Thread: Walk Alone (/showthread.php?tid=31846)

Walk Alone - Prof. Bobby Bourbon - 07-13-2018 As night befalls DC, Robbie Bourbon, still struggling with the recent departure of his girlfriend from his life, encounters the fact he will be sleeping alone at home in his bed. Guess I'll take a stroll. WALK ALONE "See, now that's how you help starving children." some time ago... The sounds of Harry Nilsson's "Everybody Talkin'" start to play. Everybody's talking at me I don't hear a word they're saying Only the echoes of my mind The hazy glow of streetlights on a hot summer night illuminate the streets of DC. Far less busy than in the daytime, we still see lots of people walking here and there, going about their evening. Among them, we see Robbie Bourbon. His head is cocked at a slight angle, as though he's busy considering everything at once and how it all fits together, or as though he's a dog who just heard a funny sound and thus is busy considering everything at once and how it all fits together. A couple walks past him, and he glances up, a weak smile creeping across his face as he sees someone to live vicariously through, if not for a moment. As they pace, Robbie's head swivels to watch them walk away. As he turns, he catches a low branch of a tree to the face. From not far, sitting on a stoop, a group of young adults all laugh. Yo, you need to watch your face, Robbie Bourbon! I'm busy watching my ass. People stopping, staring I can't see their faces Only the shadows of their eyes The group laughs as Robbie gives them a thumbs up. He continues onward and turns the corner, and the whole street is alive like a carnival. 14th Street, downtown DC, where yuppies (conservative hipsters), hipsters (who are pretty much yuppies only liberal), and locals (all the black people you kind of got alarmed by if you're racist) flood the sidewalks. Night spots, restaurants, the Source Theater, Big Barrel Liquors, Thai Tanic, Busboys and Poets, the hot spots those who live in the city all flock to. Just names to the average tourist, but just far enough away from the National Mall, which is where all the tourists go. Robbie walks past the crowd, acknowledging people here and there who happen to recognize the big man, his notoriety around the city as being it's superhero, of sorts, and his antics in the XWF. I'm going where the sun keeps shining Through the pouring rain Going where the weather suits my clothes As he walks, Robbie finds himself just north of U Street, and 14th is barren. Sparse foot traffic is highlighted with grocery bags, people walking dogs, and the occasional cyclist walking their bike uphill. Robbie sinks his hands into his pockets and looks down at the ground. His chest heaves as he kicks at a cigarette butt on the ground. Yo, Bourbon! A man on a bike rides by with his hand in the air. Robbie forces a smile and raises his, and the ride by high five, one of the sweetest of high fives, commences. Banking off of the northeast winds Sailing on a summer breeze And skipping over the ocean like a stone Robbie continues to walk, coming across an inner city shopping plaza. People walk in and out of chain restaurants, a Safeway, and a line of people all wait to enter a movie theater. A grown man and his two children turn in the movie line and point at Robbie. The man is wearing a shirt that reads "Everybody Starts Shit in DC, Bourbon Ends It". The two boys run up to Robbie. Robbie's chest heaves as he kneels next to them. One of them punches Robbie in the face, but the kid is like five, so no harm no foul. Their dad snaps a picture on his phone. Robbie stands and waves at them. I'm going where the sun keeps shining Through the pouring rain Going where the weather suits my clothes Robbie continues to walk a ways, past the shopping plaza, to a place where gentrification hasn't hit yet. Police lights flicker as three cruisers are at a gas station, a man on the ground in handcuffs, another figure lying in a puddle of blood not far off and moving slowly. At least they're alive. The signs go from distinctly English to distinctly Spanish, which is only really unsettling if you're a bigot, but it's definitely a feature of what surrounds Robbie. Most of the passersby look up and wave politely at Robbie, the big white man in a lucha mask, wondering what he could possibly be doing in their neighborhood. Banking off of the northeast winds Sailing on a summer breeze And skipping over the ocean like a stone Signs saying "Mercado" and "Bodega" beset Robbie on either side. The pedestrians cast their gaze away from Robbie, trying to mind their own business. Robbie looks up and notices a Salvadorian restaurant. The doorman nods at Robbie, and Robbie returns the acknowledgement with the Hawaiian 'hang loose' hand gesture. A trio of statuesque women, giving the word voluptuous all the weight in the world, gabbing to one another in musical and expeditious Spanish, enter the place, one turning to gawk at Robbie, quickly covering her mouth and laughing at the sight of a grown man in plaid cargo shorts, a striped polo shirt, and lucha mask. Robbie nods his head no, silently assenting to himself that she was right, he was not the one for her. Everybody's talking at me Can't hear a word they're saying Only the echoes of my mind Robbie continues to walk, and comes up to a scene where a fire engine, an ambulance, and two more police cruisers are on site, lights flashing. Past them there is a yellow school bus. In the windows, terrified children can be seen, and standing at the door of the bus is a man with an ornately decorative vest. Flashing lights, clocks, wires, a detonator, the man is wearing a bomb. Robbie stops and glares. His chest heaves as he looks at the ground. "She won't care. I can't make her by doing this. But..." The world goes silent as the music stops and we hear the innermost thoughts of Robbie Bourbon. "But someone has to do something. I can't just run in there, that guy will kill everybody." Robbie turns and rushes into the Salvadorian restaurant. In a moment he comes back out, holding a platter of papusas. A man in an apron follows suit, not angry but certainly confused, and watches as Robbie walks up to the police line and past it. The man with the bomb on his chest looks at him. Stay back! I will, I will. Look, I just, well, I wanted to help these kids! I'll kill them! I swear! Look, I just want to help them, okay? Look, my mom, when I was growing up, always told me that I should finish my dinner because there were starving kids in the world. Those kids look hungry. They're about to be hamburger! Woah! Hold on. Look, I just had a theory is all. Hey, kids, do you see me? The children, more aware than given credit for, respond positively. Are you hungry? The children respond positively again. Okay, well, watch. I get you're starving children, and as such, I'm going to eat this whole plate of food to help you out. What? Yeah, you gotta finish your dinner because of starving people. Robbie plucks a papusa from the plate, folds it in half, and crams it into his mouth. (See?) Robbie's muffled speech sounds more like 'fee'. Look, that's nonsense! How is eating a whole plate of food supposed to help starving children? Robbie swallows his papusa. Well, like this! Robbie wangs the thick porcelain plate at the man with the bomb vest. Papusas fly as the dish breaks against the man's head, knocking him unconscious. Robbie then grabs the hose off the nearby fire engine and douses the bomb. He drops the end of the hose line and looks back at the emergency responders. See, now that's how you help starving children. Robbie walks on, his gait similar to before, his shoulder hunched, his demeanor placid if not distant. The music kicks back into play. I won't let you leave my love behind No, I won't let you leave I won't let you leave my love behind