Post by John Champa on Mar 22, 2015 17:12:01 GMT -6
The tapping of finger nails on a hardened surface breaks the silence. The scene fades in to John Champa sitting on a bar stool, with a few empty shot glasses close by. He picks up his cell phone and begins to dial numbers.
C'mon, answer the fucking phone.
John's empty look changes to that of disappointment as the voice-mail picks up.
You never answer when I call. I really need to talk to you about the future, my future. Call me back and save me before I get sloppy drunk again.
John sets the phone down and motions to the bartender for another round.
I can't keep doing this, drinking like this, whenever I get in a rut. The ring is my only solace but my head isn't fully in the game...get your head out of your ass John and get back to being the best. I need to figure things out, and quickly.
The scene fades out.
C'mon, answer the fucking phone.
John's empty look changes to that of disappointment as the voice-mail picks up.
You never answer when I call. I really need to talk to you about the future, my future. Call me back and save me before I get sloppy drunk again.
John sets the phone down and motions to the bartender for another round.
I can't keep doing this, drinking like this, whenever I get in a rut. The ring is my only solace but my head isn't fully in the game...get your head out of your ass John and get back to being the best. I need to figure things out, and quickly.
The scene fades out.
