| The Party: Part 0; Sam/Minnie Collab. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 15 2018, 08:00 PM (36 Views) | |
| Seshmaster Sam | Jan 15 2018, 08:00 PM Post #1 |
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It’s the first time we’ve seen it in a while, but we see the ‘GOAT’ John Morris sitting alone. There’s no midgets, no mimes, no chairs, and even odder is the lack of his stoner girlfriend. The last time he’s been alone like this in any room was after his relationship with Snickers Ivy ended. That was why he tried to distract himself, staring down at his cell phone in an attempt to avoid the fight he would have with his own conscious. He took a quick drink of whatever-the-hell was in his cup. Fortunately, it was alcoholic. That was one thing he liked about this place. His eyes made their way around the place. Everyone was so… happy. Or drunk. That oftentimes was a substitute for the emotion of joy. It was a damn good one, though. The constant buzzers and dings of the games went off. If only it had been a few years back, and this would have been his spot every night. Life had other plans for Mr. Morris, and due to it he was a bit too mature for Dave & Buster’s. But not tonight. Tonight, he had to meet someone who loved places like these. He was meeting a party-lover. Oh, how Morris missed those days. But those days also had him jittering and peeling his skin off for pills the day after. The good with the bad, right? Finally, he could lower his phone and look up. At seeing another being he could interact with, he beamed and welcomed him over. ”Well there he is. The ‘Seshmaster’ himself.” The former IBW talent and current owner of a pair of legs that weren’t functioning properly - no thanks to the double JD and Coke residing in his left hand - approached his former boss, almost collapsing onto a nearby chair as he does so. Using his free hand to steady himself on a pillar, the self-proclaimed “Life of the Party” resigned to simply leaning on the column as he made a nod of acknowledgement towards Morris. ”Uh, hey there, Morris, dude! Whatever, er, brings you here? I was under the impression that your time spent at places like these had, well, passed you by.” Morris looks him up and down. He was right. His days of drinking and drugs had been over, at least doing all of that in public locations like this. Clubbing reminded him far too much of past flames he wished to extinguish. However this was not just a ‘night out’ for Morris. He came with a goal. ”Your impression is correct. I don’t really do… this… anymore. I actually came because a little bird told me you were here. And by little bird I mean someone on Twitter. I have a request for you, Samuel.” Seshmaster Sam’s eyes perk up. Not only was he not expecting anybody else here that he knew, but now this man wanted something from him? Most unusual, he thought, but it was a thought he shrugged off with the next chug of his drink. ”You uh, you do? Now what could you possibly want from this pissed gentleman? Is there uh, a peculiar set of skills of mine you need to employ? Because quite honestly, aside from drinks, punching people, and more drinks, there are MUCH, er, much better people to talk to than me. I can barely move my lower half as it is, right now!” The grin on John’s face shifted from happy to wicked. ”That’s exactly the set of skills I was looking for. Well, the first and the last. I’m pretty good at the second one myself. But there’s a birthday party coming up for someone who has done so much for me, and I want to give back. And by giving back, I mean I want to throw a ‘uge party. I’m talking gi-gan-tic. And I would have thrown it myself, but you said it yourself… I’m not one for drinking in these sorts of establishments anymore.” John reached an arm out for a moment, looking to put it gently on Sam’s shoulders. Worried about the light force disturbing his balance, John put his hand back to his side. ”And that’s why I came looking for you. I hope you’d be willing to do such a task?” Morris knew the answer, yet asked in such a genuine way that it very easily would come off as sincere to the drunk. ”You’re uh, you’re certainly speaking my language here, pal! Nothin’ gets past you, does it? You know I’m the very man people go to for a grand old sesh, and so here you - here you are! And to your request of me putting on one hell of a big ol’ sesh, quite possibly the party to top all parties, I say this…” Sam raised his drink in the air, a whiff of triumphance - and strong alcohol - exuding from him as he downed the remainder of the glass and wildly swung his arm in front of Morris’ face, attempting a ‘thumbs up’ gesture around the empty container. ”Let’s fuckin’ do it, son!” Morris gave an uneasy smile. The ”Glad you’re on board, Sam. I really am.” ”Eh, it’s no problem at all, I’m always down for anything that gives me an excuse to get shitfaced. Not that I don’t get shitfaced without an excuse, you understand, it’s just, er… more socially acceptable this way, you know? So, now that we have the uh, the idea, where were you thinkin’ of hosting this big ol’ birthday bash? Like, are we talkin’ homely? Big nightclub party? Gimme some opinions, pal.” ”Well, we could always deck out the Morris & Mime Training Ring-slash-production studio. Or I could probably throw some of my money into renting a big club for the night, but that just seems… Especially wasteful. Unless you know of any great venues already?” Sam pondered for a second - which was enough time for him to slip away from the pillar and fall sideways into the same chair he had put so much care into avoiding earlier. Morris’ eyes go wide for a moment as he watches but does not speak about the sudden movement. After collecting himself and cursing the furniture under his breath, Sam returned to leaning on the column. ”Well I mean, usually I just go over to my flats and crank it up there, but uh, we’re talkin’ making it one of the best and most powerful parties in existence and I’m uh, not really - we don’t want security coming round to stop it at early AM, so that kinda removes that. And I kind of agree, I agree with the club thing probably not being somethin’ we wanna do. Too many stairs.” Morris gives a light chuckle before continuing. ”Well my building should work then. The neighbors know-slash-love-slash-respect-slash-fear me enough that we shouldn’t get called in for noise complaints. So we’ve got a good venue… Though I feel it would be best to dismantle the rings before it happens. Just seems… safer.” ”More room for dancing too, if that’s er, what you’re into.” ”It depends on how drunk I am, Sam. So we got a locale. I’ll keep it a close-knit group. Morris & Mime Inc. and the off-camera crew make a good, wild bunch. I assume you’ve got a few lunatics who turn into the legends of stories when fed booze like some mythological gremlins?” Morris cursed under his breath for trying too hard with that simile. Sam, however, was hammered, and laughed audibly at the absurdity of the statement. ”Ha! I er, I feel like it’s gonna be a great night. Yeah, I uh, I know a few people, for sure. I’ll be bringin’ in my regulars, Franco and Amy - you might’ve seen ‘em occasionally in some of my vids? Yeah, they’re for sure good people. Just er, one piece of advice though.” ”Yeah?” ”Whatever you do, make sure Amy keeps away from the red wine. She’ll go down faster than a cardboard buildin’ in Tornado Alley.” ”... Gooootcha. I’m sure that won’t be a problem. I’m assuming the only drinks we’ll be serving are much worse for your liver than red wine.” Sam smirked knowingly - he doesn’t often meet many people on his wavelength, but when he does, the ensuing party is often one he’ll describe as ‘the best in the entire world’ - until the next time he goes out drinking, that is. ”Oh, I’m certain we can cater to that. Then there’s another couple of guys I’ll probably be bringing along with me. Let’s see now, who’s most likely to enjoy a good sesh with a bunch of people they’ve probably never met before… ...Ah, yeah! Elliot. A uh, a bit of a ladies’ man, or at least that’s what he, uh, considers himself to be. Though come to think of it… I don’t actually think he’s pulled a girl at a club in his entire life. Still a good kid though, if a teeeensy weeeeensy bit overcoffi- Overdonciff- Overcenfi- Cocky.” Morris watches Sam struggle with his words. He used to be at that point. And maybe he would return there soon. ”Gotcha. I’m sure he’ll fit right in. Reminds me a lot of a certain Sanchez brother I know. Any other big personalities you got showing up? I feel like we should know just what we’re dealing with before we throw Fireball in the mix.” The single brain cell not focussed on keeping Sam upright worked overtime to come up with the names of his other common drinking buddies. ”Well, there’s always Corey. He’s a good guy too, a bit flamboyant, sure, kind of sarcastic, err, he keeps his hair in order, Musical Theatre student…” Sam lowers his voice to a whisper and stumbles forward a little in his attempt to lean in towards his fellow party co-ordinator. ”He’s very much your cliché gay, you know what I’m saying?” ”Like sit-com gay. Got it. Boy, this is going to be a fun night. Not just fun… Legendary! This is going to be the John Morris of parties!” The ego of Morris was showing juuuust a tiny bit. ”Aw man, I’m so fuckin’ hyped for this, you would not e-vun buh-lieeeve. So hows about your lot? Who’d you reckon you know that’d come along to this rad shindig? I’ve said my peeps, how about yourselves? Who’ve you got?” ”Oh the entire Morris & Mime Inc. squad will be there! You know the basics. Me, Morris. The Mime. The Midget… and remind me later we have to talk about his cake…. The Minnie… And then we start running out of ‘M’s. From there, we go on to some of the lesser known crew members. Like the Super Sanchez Brothers. I assume you know some of the stories of Big Mark? Otherwise known as Señor Bird Stomper in Argentina, if you ever have gone to any Argentinian parties.” ”Pal, I barely know where Argentina is on a map, never mind been travellin’ there for a party. Sure sounds like a fuckin’ riot though, I tell you what, I’ll have to consider it sometime. That guy, Big Mark, he the same Sanchez you mentioned earlier or…? Sam was kind of impressed at himself for remembering that detail in the conversation, something he’d normally be incapable of after having as many drinks as he’d had. ”No, not quite. Big Mark is the younger brother to that Sanchez. The one I referred to was the immature one, otherwise known as…” Morris let out a sigh, and the excitement fell dead from his lips. The hype of the party planning seemed to vanish in seconds when referring to Joe Sanchez by his preferred name. ”Dr. Dirty Sanchez…” Another sigh from John puffed through the air. ”Heh heh. Dirty Sanchez…” Morris wanted to facepalm. There was one pro to this, though. Dr. Sanchez would have someone to be friends with. Oh god. The sheer thought of what antics Dirty and Sam could get into frightened Morris. And through this party they would meet. Just thinking about it gave John an urge to switch the person of discussion. ”Then we have the Worldwide Warfare Guys. You ever party with a Russian, a Korean, or a Greek before?” ”Eh, depends. Do you count having a White Russian, then ordering Korean and Greek food afterwards?” ”Who wouldn’t?” ”Then I can already tell this is gonna be a group of entertainers, no doubt.” ”And if you’re lucky, maybe the Chair can pop in. I know his partying days are over after he did a keg stand with twelve kegs at the same time. And then right after he beat Michael Phelps in a swimming race. Is that what it’s called? Either way. I… can’t think of a legendary story with the Chair to finish this off in three’s, but just know one exists.” Normal people would probably get on the phone to admit Morris to a psychiatric ward at this point. Seshmaster Sam didn’t care. He did have one comment, though. ”Does uh, does the Chair have any exes?” Morris had to think on that one. ”No, not really. I mean he’s been with most celebrities and models, but they kinda know it’s not a relationship to begin with, yuh know? Like they knew going in they couldn’t hold him down to settle in a relationship. Too wild.” ”Right, right, no, the only reason I’m asking is because I think a mate of his tried to attack me earlier…” Sam wearily pointed towards the now knocked-over seat he fell onto previously. ”Bastard chair.” ”I’ll be sure to bring that up to him. Get things fixed.” Morris didn’t have much to talk about. The two had an awkward bit of glancing around, before John went to wrap his arm around the Life of the Party. ”So now, I gotta talk to you about one thing in specific… Walk with me.” Sam obliged his former superior, stepping along as John partially carried him away by his shoulders. ”This cake…” Just as the juicy details are about to be revealed about this special cake, their voices seem to not reach the viewers ears as the scene fades to black… |
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10:40 AM Jul 11