Post by Ernie K on Jun 30, 2011 22:30:17 GMT -5
A black boot kicks down, and the engine revs and roars to life.
A giant of a man straddles the leather and metal hog, tattoos decorating the arms sticking out of the ripped tee and wet black hair pulled back under a bandana as he looks out down the road and his fist makes the engine growl again.
Ernie K. sits and waits on his Harley as a neon-haired Tinkerbell wails away at him, her fists seeming so tiny as they pound down on his back and shoulders. "You bastard! What the hell do you think you're doin'? Where the hell do you think you're goin'?"
"Movin' down the road. Movin' down the line. Got a contract where I don't sweat the law when I'm makin' good on the deals."
"Monkey feces!" Tessa LaCroix's cajun drawl mangling the phrase and making it sound so much dirtier, her cheeks flushed nearly as red as the streaks in her blonde hair. She stops her failed assault on Ernie and stomps around to the front of the bike, blocking it's path to the highway and lifting one finger, purple nails, to point at the camera as she screams in his face. "You ain't never had to sweat the law cause you ain't been caught. Wait... what the hell's with the cameras? We on COPS? DID YOU GET YOUR FREAKISHLY HUGE BEHIND ON COPS AND DRAG ME DOWN WITH YOU?"
"I'm joinin' the circus, babydoll. The ringleaders, the acrobats, the sideshow freaks and the clowns. I'm goin' off to be on TV, making a livin' in the world of vanity an' violence, of glitz and gore."
"SPEAK ENGLISH!"
"The Soldier of Fortune, the human weapon, is takin' his talents to the ACW, babydoll. Ernie K. is going big-time."
Quicker than a blink, the agitation, the sugar-induced rage and ranting stops to be replaced with a quiver of the lip and a barely contained vibrating body that is a pixie two seconds before a tantrum turns to tears. "You're goin' big-time... an' you ain't takin' me?"
"Babydoll... Ya know I wouldn't chance that you huntin' me down in a motel an' killin' me while I sleep. Only reason I ain't already in Cleveland is cause your screamin' at me instead of on the bike."
Tessa squeals and nearly hurdles the handlebars to hug the big man and plant a sloppily passionate kiss right on his lips. Then she hops on the back of the Harley and hangs on with one hand as the other salutes the cameras with a single finger, the engine drowning out whatever insults she screamed as the bike heads up I-70 out of Columbus.
A giant of a man straddles the leather and metal hog, tattoos decorating the arms sticking out of the ripped tee and wet black hair pulled back under a bandana as he looks out down the road and his fist makes the engine growl again.
Ernie K. sits and waits on his Harley as a neon-haired Tinkerbell wails away at him, her fists seeming so tiny as they pound down on his back and shoulders. "You bastard! What the hell do you think you're doin'? Where the hell do you think you're goin'?"
"Movin' down the road. Movin' down the line. Got a contract where I don't sweat the law when I'm makin' good on the deals."
"Monkey feces!" Tessa LaCroix's cajun drawl mangling the phrase and making it sound so much dirtier, her cheeks flushed nearly as red as the streaks in her blonde hair. She stops her failed assault on Ernie and stomps around to the front of the bike, blocking it's path to the highway and lifting one finger, purple nails, to point at the camera as she screams in his face. "You ain't never had to sweat the law cause you ain't been caught. Wait... what the hell's with the cameras? We on COPS? DID YOU GET YOUR FREAKISHLY HUGE BEHIND ON COPS AND DRAG ME DOWN WITH YOU?"
"I'm joinin' the circus, babydoll. The ringleaders, the acrobats, the sideshow freaks and the clowns. I'm goin' off to be on TV, making a livin' in the world of vanity an' violence, of glitz and gore."
"SPEAK ENGLISH!"
"The Soldier of Fortune, the human weapon, is takin' his talents to the ACW, babydoll. Ernie K. is going big-time."
Quicker than a blink, the agitation, the sugar-induced rage and ranting stops to be replaced with a quiver of the lip and a barely contained vibrating body that is a pixie two seconds before a tantrum turns to tears. "You're goin' big-time... an' you ain't takin' me?"
"Babydoll... Ya know I wouldn't chance that you huntin' me down in a motel an' killin' me while I sleep. Only reason I ain't already in Cleveland is cause your screamin' at me instead of on the bike."
Tessa squeals and nearly hurdles the handlebars to hug the big man and plant a sloppily passionate kiss right on his lips. Then she hops on the back of the Harley and hangs on with one hand as the other salutes the cameras with a single finger, the engine drowning out whatever insults she screamed as the bike heads up I-70 out of Columbus.