Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Jan 27, 2010 1:56:49 GMT -6
Andrew wakes up in his hotel room bed, clutching his forehead and groaning.
“Aahhh...my head hurts...too much to drink last night...”
He freezes at this, looking over slowly to see Emma Danielson laying next to him, eyes closed with a content look on her face. Andrew's eyes nearly shoot out of his skull, and he practically leaps out of bed.
“HOLY ****! Oh crap, oh crap, she's going to KILL me! What do I do? How the hell do I deal with THIS?!"
Emma stirs, almost purring in contentment. She opens her eyes, looking over to him with a big smile on her face.
"Mmm...morning, big boy. Last night was just, ohh..."
Her eyes flutter as she sighs. Andrew frantically tries to explain.
"Look, I was drunk! We were probably BOTH drunk! I swear, it was an accident!"
He fumbles with his words, pausing when he hears the sound of her snickering and simultaneous (bad) attempt to cover it up. The expression on his face goes from terror to annoyance in an instant.
“You suck, you know that?”
Emma grins, rolling out of bed and pulling her clothing on as she speaks.
“Yeah, yeah. I just thought it'd be funny to mess with your head. And you know what? It was!”
He pulls his own jeans on, still glaring daggers at her.
“Well, it's been a day. Let's see if Captain Crazy replied to you.”
“Captain Crazy, I like it. Alliteration is always fun.”
Emma and Andrew walk over to his laptop, pulling up the nCw site. Emma points to a link.
“There we go. Simply Bates, Part 3. It's like that 'The West' thing we had to watch in US History, I guess.”
Andrew nods, clicking on the link.
“Except I liked that. These are...boring. Still, gotta know your enemy.”
The video loads as Emma hums 'Know The Enemy' by Green Day. Fade to black.
"Stop it."
"Sorry."
(ONE BATES PROMO LATER)
Fade back in. Emma and Andrew watch the end of the promo in silence. Neither says a thing for about twenty seconds. Finally, Emma turns to Andrew.
“I guess I *am* kind of a bitch sometimes, yeah?”
He cracks a grin.
“Only when you're drunk. So, this's how Bates responds? Emotionally manipulating his wife and going after the Vikes. Oh, and more insult-slinging. Tell me, Batesy, how did you determine that I have Hun ancestry? Let me guess: my facial structure. Oh, wait, that screams “English”. Ooh, I know. It was my hair. No, THAT screams “Kelly at Winston's Barbershop”. So...oh yeah, with your new 'Simply Bates' direction—which, by the way, sounds like the name for a line of perfumes—you decided to throw factuality or research out the window and go with baseless insults. That saddens me, Bates. I thought that maybe we could connect on an intellectual level. Still, if you're going to go the Rob Diamond route, it's a good start.”
Emma smirks.
“Good reference. But really, you think that Bates would stick to anything resembling common courtesy? I mean, the man's emotionally abusing his wife. And before anyone says anything, emotional abuse is abuse. I remember that from Health class. Andrew, in the end what it comes down to is your respective strengths and weaknesses.”
Andrew ****s one eyebrow, in the style of the Rock.
“I would never have guessed that, Emma. Thank you. By the way, do you know what that word he used means?”
She shakes her head.
“You were always the word guy...'callipygous'. Sounds Greek. Let's check...”
Emma punches it into Google, and they open the first link. Emma reads aloud.
“Callipygous...from the Greek—I was right!—from the Greek “kallipugos”...'pertaining to or having finely developed buttocks'...did Norman Bates just say I had a nice ass?”
Emma shudders involuntarily.
“That scares me. I'm going to be looking over my shoulder in the shower from now on. And besides, what'll his wife think? Not that he cares, it's obvious he left any concept of compassion with those bits of flesh in the ring.”
Andrew winces as if on cue, looking to her. Emma blushes.
“Okaaay, sore topic, I get it.”
He groans loudly.
“Bad pun?”
Andrew nods again.
“Yeah...I think it hurt more than that briefcase shot. But back to the whole 'strengths and weaknesses' thing. Let's see if we can get a good list going...”
Emma pounces on the opportunity, opening up a file on the laptop.
“While you were passed out muttering about Sexy Jason's antibiotics, Joe Everyman no-showing, and rather inexplicably Santa Christ, I made THIS. 'course, it was before I knew Bates was a man in tights, so...”
Andrew stares at the image, dumbstruck.
“...do we really have the same hair?”
Emma groans, pointing to the words.
“Yes, somewhat. Now, do you get what I wrote? Are you digesting the material?"
Andrew nods, stroking his chin.
“I am, and you're right. His anger's his greatest weakness. Well, his overconfidence runs a close second, but his pissed-off attitude could cost him the match. All that bitterness about being told 'no' shows that he's desperately insecure. Man, he needs a good shrink, and pronto. Maybe we can send him, Jimmy Zane, Rob Diamond, and Chris Cobain together? Get a group rate.”
Emma snickers at this, shaking her head.
“I don't think therapists offer group rates. He's been told he couldn't do a lot, but he did anyway...well, I guess that means we have to stop saying no and just DO something, eh? Say...getting in even better shape?”
He nods.
“Yeah. Screw cutting back on my preparation, I'm going double-time. Let's get to work. To the Batcave! ...I mean, gym!”
(ONE MID-60S OPENING THEME LATER)
Andrew walks out of the locker room at the local YMCA, followed by Emma from the women's room a minute or two later. The moment she comes out, Andrew immediately heads for a weight machine. He carefully loads up the machine's weights to a bit above his usual. This draws a raised eyebrow from Emma,
“Em, go relax at the pool or something. It's not like I'm going to get kidnapped.”
She nods, smirking.
“Get a trainer to spot you, Andy. I'll be taking your advice. It's been a long time since I went swimming...”
Emma walks back into the locker room. Andrew turns back to his lifting, smiling.
::That woman deserves a lot for being so tolerant of me...I've got to take her out drinking one of these nights. Maybe after I retain and she gets named #1 contender to the Women's Title? Yeah, that sounds good. Dinner and booze...and booze...and booze.::
He grins wider, continuing to work out.
(TEN MINUTES LATER)
Emma walks back out in a black two-piece, sitting on the side of the free swim pool. She looks around, covertly observing the men at the Y today. She grins, spotting one particularly chiseled specimen swimming in the lap pool, but her moment of bliss is interrupted by a smug, supposedly suave...
“Hel-lo.”
Emma looks back to find the decidedly not chiseled Jason Dunn standing over her, a lecherous grin on his face and a Speedo on his body. She groans, standing up.
“What do you want? I'm not working, and judging by your outfit, you're here for synchronized swimming classes.”
Jason feigns injury.
“I'm wounded, Miss Danielson. Surely, a man can admire a beautiful woman, can't he? How long has it been a crime to gaze upon a thing of beauty?”
She shakes her head.
“You're not smooth at all. Just...get out of here and you might be able to walk at the end of the day.”
Jason presses the topic, seemingly oblivious to her annoyance.
“You know, I don't have any plans for later. Maybe we could—“
He's abruptly cut off by Emma kneeing him in the gut and loading him up. Without a word, she hauls Dunn up onto her shoulders, spreads his arms, and, over his shouted resistance, Jagerbombs him into the pool, creating a humongous splash. Andrew looks up, hearing someone scream, but sees who's in the water and just laughs, resuming his workout.
::My manager is awesome.::
Fade to black, amid Jason's protestations.
“Aahhh...my head hurts...too much to drink last night...”
He freezes at this, looking over slowly to see Emma Danielson laying next to him, eyes closed with a content look on her face. Andrew's eyes nearly shoot out of his skull, and he practically leaps out of bed.
“HOLY ****! Oh crap, oh crap, she's going to KILL me! What do I do? How the hell do I deal with THIS?!"
Emma stirs, almost purring in contentment. She opens her eyes, looking over to him with a big smile on her face.
"Mmm...morning, big boy. Last night was just, ohh..."
Her eyes flutter as she sighs. Andrew frantically tries to explain.
"Look, I was drunk! We were probably BOTH drunk! I swear, it was an accident!"
He fumbles with his words, pausing when he hears the sound of her snickering and simultaneous (bad) attempt to cover it up. The expression on his face goes from terror to annoyance in an instant.
“You suck, you know that?”
Emma grins, rolling out of bed and pulling her clothing on as she speaks.
“Yeah, yeah. I just thought it'd be funny to mess with your head. And you know what? It was!”
He pulls his own jeans on, still glaring daggers at her.
“Well, it's been a day. Let's see if Captain Crazy replied to you.”
“Captain Crazy, I like it. Alliteration is always fun.”
Emma and Andrew walk over to his laptop, pulling up the nCw site. Emma points to a link.
“There we go. Simply Bates, Part 3. It's like that 'The West' thing we had to watch in US History, I guess.”
Andrew nods, clicking on the link.
“Except I liked that. These are...boring. Still, gotta know your enemy.”
The video loads as Emma hums 'Know The Enemy' by Green Day. Fade to black.
"Stop it."
"Sorry."
(ONE BATES PROMO LATER)
Fade back in. Emma and Andrew watch the end of the promo in silence. Neither says a thing for about twenty seconds. Finally, Emma turns to Andrew.
“I guess I *am* kind of a bitch sometimes, yeah?”
He cracks a grin.
“Only when you're drunk. So, this's how Bates responds? Emotionally manipulating his wife and going after the Vikes. Oh, and more insult-slinging. Tell me, Batesy, how did you determine that I have Hun ancestry? Let me guess: my facial structure. Oh, wait, that screams “English”. Ooh, I know. It was my hair. No, THAT screams “Kelly at Winston's Barbershop”. So...oh yeah, with your new 'Simply Bates' direction—which, by the way, sounds like the name for a line of perfumes—you decided to throw factuality or research out the window and go with baseless insults. That saddens me, Bates. I thought that maybe we could connect on an intellectual level. Still, if you're going to go the Rob Diamond route, it's a good start.”
Emma smirks.
“Good reference. But really, you think that Bates would stick to anything resembling common courtesy? I mean, the man's emotionally abusing his wife. And before anyone says anything, emotional abuse is abuse. I remember that from Health class. Andrew, in the end what it comes down to is your respective strengths and weaknesses.”
Andrew ****s one eyebrow, in the style of the Rock.
“I would never have guessed that, Emma. Thank you. By the way, do you know what that word he used means?”
She shakes her head.
“You were always the word guy...'callipygous'. Sounds Greek. Let's check...”
Emma punches it into Google, and they open the first link. Emma reads aloud.
“Callipygous...from the Greek—I was right!—from the Greek “kallipugos”...'pertaining to or having finely developed buttocks'...did Norman Bates just say I had a nice ass?”
Emma shudders involuntarily.
“That scares me. I'm going to be looking over my shoulder in the shower from now on. And besides, what'll his wife think? Not that he cares, it's obvious he left any concept of compassion with those bits of flesh in the ring.”
Andrew winces as if on cue, looking to her. Emma blushes.
“Okaaay, sore topic, I get it.”
He groans loudly.
“Bad pun?”
Andrew nods again.
“Yeah...I think it hurt more than that briefcase shot. But back to the whole 'strengths and weaknesses' thing. Let's see if we can get a good list going...”
Emma pounces on the opportunity, opening up a file on the laptop.
“While you were passed out muttering about Sexy Jason's antibiotics, Joe Everyman no-showing, and rather inexplicably Santa Christ, I made THIS. 'course, it was before I knew Bates was a man in tights, so...”
Andrew stares at the image, dumbstruck.
“...do we really have the same hair?”
Emma groans, pointing to the words.
“Yes, somewhat. Now, do you get what I wrote? Are you digesting the material?"
Andrew nods, stroking his chin.
“I am, and you're right. His anger's his greatest weakness. Well, his overconfidence runs a close second, but his pissed-off attitude could cost him the match. All that bitterness about being told 'no' shows that he's desperately insecure. Man, he needs a good shrink, and pronto. Maybe we can send him, Jimmy Zane, Rob Diamond, and Chris Cobain together? Get a group rate.”
Emma snickers at this, shaking her head.
“I don't think therapists offer group rates. He's been told he couldn't do a lot, but he did anyway...well, I guess that means we have to stop saying no and just DO something, eh? Say...getting in even better shape?”
He nods.
“Yeah. Screw cutting back on my preparation, I'm going double-time. Let's get to work. To the Batcave! ...I mean, gym!”
(ONE MID-60S OPENING THEME LATER)
Andrew walks out of the locker room at the local YMCA, followed by Emma from the women's room a minute or two later. The moment she comes out, Andrew immediately heads for a weight machine. He carefully loads up the machine's weights to a bit above his usual. This draws a raised eyebrow from Emma,
“Em, go relax at the pool or something. It's not like I'm going to get kidnapped.”
She nods, smirking.
“Get a trainer to spot you, Andy. I'll be taking your advice. It's been a long time since I went swimming...”
Emma walks back into the locker room. Andrew turns back to his lifting, smiling.
::That woman deserves a lot for being so tolerant of me...I've got to take her out drinking one of these nights. Maybe after I retain and she gets named #1 contender to the Women's Title? Yeah, that sounds good. Dinner and booze...and booze...and booze.::
He grins wider, continuing to work out.
(TEN MINUTES LATER)
Emma walks back out in a black two-piece, sitting on the side of the free swim pool. She looks around, covertly observing the men at the Y today. She grins, spotting one particularly chiseled specimen swimming in the lap pool, but her moment of bliss is interrupted by a smug, supposedly suave...
“Hel-lo.”
Emma looks back to find the decidedly not chiseled Jason Dunn standing over her, a lecherous grin on his face and a Speedo on his body. She groans, standing up.
“What do you want? I'm not working, and judging by your outfit, you're here for synchronized swimming classes.”
Jason feigns injury.
“I'm wounded, Miss Danielson. Surely, a man can admire a beautiful woman, can't he? How long has it been a crime to gaze upon a thing of beauty?”
She shakes her head.
“You're not smooth at all. Just...get out of here and you might be able to walk at the end of the day.”
Jason presses the topic, seemingly oblivious to her annoyance.
“You know, I don't have any plans for later. Maybe we could—“
He's abruptly cut off by Emma kneeing him in the gut and loading him up. Without a word, she hauls Dunn up onto her shoulders, spreads his arms, and, over his shouted resistance, Jagerbombs him into the pool, creating a humongous splash. Andrew looks up, hearing someone scream, but sees who's in the water and just laughs, resuming his workout.
::My manager is awesome.::
Fade to black, amid Jason's protestations.