 |
Journal Entry #1 in "Doozer's Journal!!!" |
**Warning**: I have Dusty's Permission to use Dusty in this Journal Entry!!! Cast For Journal Entry(Their Name Will Be Their Color for this Entry): Dear Journal, {***}This morning, I woke up like it was any normal morning. The alarm on my clock, which sits on my desk, rang at exactly 6:00 A.M. Naturally, I reached over, since the desk is merely an arms length away from the bed. I picked it up with the little morning power that I had and slammed it hard onto the red carpeted floor. Then, like it’s a ritual or something, I let out a long yawn, stretched out my arms, and slowly came out of my covers and stood up beside my bed. I was wearing what I usually wear to bed, a silk button up pajama top and regular pant-like pajama bottoms, each colored red for my baseball team, the Boston Red Sox. Just as usual, I ran my hand back and forth through my bleached blonde hair a couple of times, then proceeded to walk out of my room. From there, I stepped into the hallway. {***} {***}The hallway is just like any normal hallway, probably twenty feet long, with white carpeting and rather narrow. I could still smell the paint of the freshly painted white walls and ceiling. The walls in my hallway are completely filled with Red Sox banners and pictures of me growing up in Fenway Park. Then, before plopping down on my comfy sofa, I slowly and gloomily ventured over to a cupboard, just above the refrigerator. From that wooden cupboard, I grabbed a bowl. No, not that kind of bowl… You pot-head of a journal… I’m talking about the kind of bowl that you eat cereal from. The bowl was white, with a single blue stripe going all the way around the bowl right around the center of it. Then, I took the bowl and set it down on the counter. The counter is made of white and black swirled marble and runs both to the right and to the left of the fridge, about ten feet on both sides. It connects the dishwasher on the left side and the stove on the right. {***} {***}With the bowl sitting on the counter, I took a step or two over to my clean, white refrigerator. It has two doors which each run from top to bottom, vertically. The door to the left has a water dispenser on it and is quite a bit thinner than the door to the right. It is the freezer door. The door to the right is the refrigerator door, it is almost three times wider than the freezer door. I slowly opened the bigger refrigerator door and pulled out the white, one-gallon container of 'Oakhurst' milk. I then walked over to my cupboard, which is just around the corner of the room and on the right side of hallway. I opened up the door, reached inside and from the top shelf I pulled out my favorite cereal of all time… "LUCKY CHARMS!!!" Then, I took the box of Lucky Charms over back over to where the bowl and milk both sit on the counter. There, I poured the Lucky Charms into the bowl of cereal, and filled it up to the very brims of the bowl with milk. {***} {***}Just then, as I was getting all cozy and everything on my sofa with my cereal in hand, or hands, some rude bastard rang my doorbell. At first, I just sat there, on my orange sofa with Doozer embroidered in it in red lettering, and stuffed my face with good old Lucky Charms. But, the bastard was persistent and he kept ringing the doorbell like he was making a dollar for every ring. So, with a disturbed look on my face, I placed my Lucky Charms on a nightstand to the left on me and slowly walked up to the door. I opened it to see a short man, probably around five feet, five inches tall and quite fat just standing right outside my door looking quite impatient. I'd say he was at least 200 lbs. He was wearing a black suite with a white, long-sleeved shirt underneath as well as suite pants and black dress shoes. After just standing there, still zonked out from not much sleep, I snapped back to reality and let the man in. He walked in with those "I'm Cool" struts that some people have to their steps. He then turned around quickly and starting talking. {***} :-=Stewart=-: He had a cool smile on and started speaking while just getting seated in my Lazy Boy Recliner. "Doozer, I am an interviewer from the Dream Wrestling Federation. That is the federation in which you are employed at this time." :-=Doozer=-: I shook my head as I proceeded to interrupt him. "No shit Sherlock. Look, I don’t need to be told where I wrestle, let alone that some douche bag like you is an interviewer. Now, I’m grumpy in the morning. So, if you want everything in this interview to turn out fine, then you will let me go about my day as usual and I’ll let you interview me also." :-=Stewart=-: He looked a little put down, but nevertheless he continued on with his cheery voice. "All right, I’ll agree with those terms." :-=Doozer=-: I had cut him off again. "Look, did I ask if you agreed?" I paused for a second, but when he started to answer, I started up again. "No, I didn’t. Now, get this stupid ass thing out of the way. I got better things to do today than an interview." {***}He stopped himself from saying anything that might have gotten me mad at him. He just sat there and nodded his head as I went back and sat down on my nice sofa. I picked up my Lucky Charms, from the nightstand on which I set them, and began to stuff my face with the sugary goodness of those little marshmallow things. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his mouth open, so I held up my head motioning him to stop, since I was still eating. It only took about two or three more minutes and I was ready for my first interview back as The Dooze. So, I placed the empty bowl back down on the nightstand. I stood up and walked over to my bean bag seat, which resembles a baseball. After plopping down on it, I did the little hand thing that signaled to him that he could start the interview. {***} :-=Stewart=-: Stewart seemed quite pleased that I was letting him start the interview now. So, almost directly after I waved my hand at him, he started up. "So, Do…" {***}He got off one more time, but this time… I didn’t do it!!! There was a loud banging sound at the door. Directly after the loud banging sound hit the door, there was another that sounded like a two ton block of ice just crashed down on the front porch. That, was quickly followed up by a voice that screamed "Oh poo!!!" After a second or two, some more loud sounds boomed, then finally… The doorknob turned and the door pushed open by a 7 foot, five hundred pound monster of a man. He was wearing a blue T-shirt, which was really tight on him and some relaxed fit jeans, which were also rather tight on the large man. Covering his hair was a black hat, which read "Retardsville" on the front in red lettering. Yes, it was Dusty. I had now figured out what had happened. The big klutz, so over-excited to see me, just like he is every day, ran right into the door at full speed. Full speed isn't very fast for him, but can still be lots of impact when you are five-hundred pounds. After smashing into the door, he must have fallen back and lost his balance and well… That was the sound of something crashing down on the porch. Well, he walked over to the my sofa with a smile on his red, cheery face and plopped right down in the middle. I thought my sofa was about to break, but thankfully, for Dusty, it didn’t. With all the commotion settled down, Stewart tried to continue with the interview… But again, he was cut off…{***} :-=Dusty=-: He looked at me, then back at Steward, back at me, and at Stewart again. Then, he said… "So, what are you boys up to?" :-=Stewart=-: At this, Stewart looked very frustrated. "Well, we are trying to do an interview if you don’t mind…" Dusty holds his hands up in that innocent, so sorry to disturb type of way. "Good then… So, Doozer… What everybody wants to know is, how were you able to come back in just two weeks after that horrid beating you suffered by the Future World Leaders? And, on top of that, how were you able to finish forty-ninth!?" :-=Dusty=-: Before I could answer, Dusty barged in with his two cents. "You see, Doozer did it because of…" :-=Doozer=-: I interrupted him before he said anything stupid. "Well, I was able to come back so soon because I am that damn good. I am The Dooze and nothing or nobody can stop me. If I want to do something, I will do it. I wanted to be in Dream Rumble, so I did. I wanted to finish good, so I did. That’s about a simple as you can put it…" :-=Stewart=-: "So, why do you feel that you couldn’t defeat Caged Explosion to win that Dream Title right then and there?" :-=Doozer=-: I twisted my neck hard, until I heard a nice cracking sound. Then, I turned it back and looked at Steward and answered his question. "Well, as I have said… No, as ‘The Striking Lightning’ Scott Lavigne has said many times, he was just lucky. That’s all, he was fresh. Actually, he was as fresh as you can get coming out number fifty. I had been worn down by twenty men before he got in the ring and that is why I just couldn’t finish him off." :-=Dusty=-: Dusty was still wearing his wide smile as he started to speak again. "Want to know why I got out seventh?" :-=Stewart=-: Stewart’s eyebrows rose as he pretended to think for a second, then he spoke up. "I’m guessing because you suck. If you didn’t, then I’d be interviewing you here today." :-=Dusty=-: Dusty’s eye-patch lowered down and now sat over his left eye. His other eye acquired the color red. "You dare say I suck?" :-=Stewart=-: "Well, tiger, if I could rewind time, then I’d show you. Yes I did, and I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it." :-=Dusty=-: Dusty’s eye-patch wasn’t over his left eye anymore. "Okay, just checking…" :-=Stewart=-: Stewart just shook his head for a little while wondering if there is anybody on the face of Earth that is more stupid than Dusty. Suddenly, he snaps out of it and continues the interview. "Doozer, I know you already have made comments close to this, but why exactly did you switch back? Why didn’t you stay as ‘The Striking Lightning’ Scott Lavigne?" :-=Doozer=-: "Dude, that’s an easy question to answer. I switched back because I am more comfortable as Doozer. I achieved a popular and very famous status around all the federations over the world as Doozer. The people love Doozer. As you know, I am a face and it’s all about the fans to me. If you don’t agree, then I’ll Dooze you, then Abuse you!!!" :-=Stewart=-: With the fear of being Doozed and Abused in the back of his mind, Stewart quickly changes the subject. "Now, as we all know, Doozer was the Man of A Million Tag Teams. He was a team player. The Dream Title is the biggest singles competition belt. If you win the Dream Title, will you continue on with your fantastic, 3-0 tag team career?" :-=Doozer=-: I grew almost a disappointed look in my face with such a stupid question. "You said it yourself, I am a team player. So, what do you think?" :-=Dusty=-: Dusty raises his hand in excitement, then says… "Well, I’m no math whiz, but I know the answer to this question. Obviously…" :-=Doozer=-: I stopped Dusty right in his tracks. "No, you definitely are not a math whiz. Man, you couldn’t add two plus two using your hands." :-=Dusty=-: That devilish eye-patch was back over Dusty’s left eye. "You dare question my intelligence? Sure, my counterpart isn’t exactly the brightest crayon in the crayon box but…" Satan, or Dusty possessed by Satan, begins to weep a little. His eyes start to water. "But… You don’t have to make fun of him for it… It’s not his fault that he ate paint chips as a kid and… I'll shut up now." :-=Doozer=-: I had a confused look on my face and said. "Ya know what? As many times as I have heard that saying, I still have no clue what it means." :-=Stewart=-: Stewart shrugged. "Who gives a flying rat’s ass anyway? Onto the next question…" Stewart paused for a second and thought. "So, Doozer, what do you think about Big Shot? Last Sunday Night Slaughter, he left you to defend for yourself in a handicap match. Then, when you seemed to get the upper advantage, thanks to the retard sitting on the couch, he tried to get himself back in the match and win. How did you feel about that?" :-=Doozer=-: "Oh, I hate Big Shot and I always will. I don’t hate him anymore just because of that. Big Shot was just being himself, a sneak. He saw me getting the upper hand in the match, so he wanted to put himself back in the match and get the win. It’s as simple as that. He saw another win coming my way, so he wanted in on it. So, naturally, when he went for the pin, I hauled his ass off and took it for myself." I paused for a second. Just then, Stewart was about to speak up, but decided not to once I started up again. "See, as many times as I have beaten Big Shot, three or four… Anyway, he just wanted to get some revenge on me. Even though I was ‘The Striking Lightning’ Scott Lavigne, I think he sensed my severe hatred for him, and my extreme popularity with the crowd and he just put two and two together. So, he knew I was Doozer and he tried to make me look like a fool out there. Anyway, it's like I said before, I do what I want to do and I don’t do what I don’t want to do. And well, I didn’t want him to make me out to be a fool." :-=Dusty=-: Dusty sat there looking disappointed. Then, he decided to speak up. "So, you’re saying Big Shot can put two and two together and I can’t? I don’t know you anymore. Before, you had no faith in me whatsoever… And now… You have no faith in me. Wait a minute… I guess I do know you know you…" Dusty paused, then suddenly he sprang up with another comment. "Oh my god? You were ‘The Striking Lightning’ Scott Lavigne? Wow, you are good at disguising yourself, Mr. I’m Good at Disguising Myself." :-=Stewart=-: The thought of how anyone could be more stupid than Dusty floated back into Stewart’s head. Then, he spoke up. "Well, I guess that’s all the information I need to squeeze out of you for the day, Doozer. I guess I’ll leave now." :-=Doozer=-: "Alright, keep cool man…" {***}Stewart eventually got up, and I followed him. I opened up the door and let him through. He walked out on the sky blue porch, then down the steps, and onto the tar walkway over to where he parked his Ford Explorer. I waved him goodbye and closed my front door. After closing the door, I turned and looked back into my huge house. I looked for Dusty, but he wasn’t sitting down in the sofa like he was before. Yet, I knew exactly where to look from there. I did so and saw it. Dusty had gotten into the refrigerator, but he wasn’t there anymore. I walked up to my refrigerator door and I stood surprised seeing its door ajar. I checked everything out and at the bottom and the drawer, where I keep my fruits, was open. I saw that there were right around ten or so apples missing.{***} {***}I walked down three or four steps and turned into my long hallway. From there, I walked about four doors down to the fifth door on the right, which is my bedroom. I just opened the door and peeked inside. Sure enough, there was Dusty. He had exactly ten apples all placed down, in no particular order, on my bed. At the foot of my bed was Dusty, sitting down Indian Style, with all the apples in front of him. Then, I saw him pick up two apples with his huge right hand and two with his just as big left hand. He held them up in front of his round face and I heard him say, "Two apples and two more apples is…" I tried not to chuckle, but it was hard. Dusty just sat there doing something you don’t see him do everyday… Hell, you don’t see him doing this once a month even, once a year if you are lucky. {***} {***}While trying desperately not to laugh, I decided to help out the poor fat ass of a moron. So, I decided to do it in a way that will make him think it was just a voice in his head that thought it up. Then, I coughed while inserting the number "4" in the midst of the cough. Yet, he kept on thinking like I hadn’t said anything. So, I decided to try something different. I decided to act like I was just singing a song while passing into the room. I opened the door the whole way and started singing very quietly, "One… Two.. Three…" Then, I picked up my voice to a yell, "FOUR!!!" But, Dusty still didn’t catch on. Anyway, journal, that’s all that I have to write about in this journal entry. I am sitting down here at my computer and Dusty is still on my bed trying to think up two plus two. It’s pathetic, but still very funny…{***} Sincerely,
|
