Viola Moonlight
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AF12: Grimm vs. Jacoby Capone
- Thread starter Viola Moonlight
- Start date
- Status
Jacoby Capone was seated near a terminal in a packed airport waiting area. On the arm of his chair was his phone which was currently being used as a paperweight for his plane ticket. Many of the seats around Capone were still yet unfilled; his plane wasn’t scheduled to leave for another 55 minutes. Capone was slumped in his chair with his feet propped up on his luggage as he stared blankly at a magazine. White wires for his earbuds sprouted from the pocket of his sweater-jacket and disappeared under his hood. His ear buds had been playing the same song by a band dear to him on loop for a half hour to this point, but Capone probably hadn’t even realized this.
It's like I'm falling out of bed from a long, weary dream.
Passerbys shot Capone an aggravated look as they tried to maneuver around the clutter he’d created with his leg rest, but Capone didn’t catch their look, he was busy staring blankly at the magazine. The pages had yet to turn; 45 minutes until the flight.
The sweetest flowers and fruits hang from the trees; falling off the giant bird that’s been carrying me.
A scatter plot of people had now claimed seats in the waiting area. A middle aged, husky man in a yellow polo thumped into the seat directly by Capone. The man sat a Starbucks cup and folded up newspaper between his legs while bringing his left wrist, in which sported a watch, towards his eyes
Thirty minutes til that sum bitch leaves. I’m ready to get the hell out of dodge, declared the man. After receiving no response from Capone, the man curiously peered over at Jacoby to see what had his attention and noticed the magazine page that Capone was so fixated on. Hey, I know him. Oh that’s that, uh.., damn, that’s, OH I KNOW IT, he snapped his fingers trying to recall the name of the wrestler who was not only the focus of the picture, but of Jacoby Capone, Hah, I know! That’s Grimm. The wrestler!
Still yet no response; the man bent over and picked up his newspaper and coffee, giving up any hope of small talk with Capone.
Capone had truly been oblivious to the man’s attempts at friendliness, but one word managed bleed in through ear buds and the music playing from them; Grimm.
Hey I know him. That’s Grimm. The wrestler! That’s Grimm. The wrestler! Grimm. Grimm. Grimm. Hey I know him. Grimm.
It's like I'm falling out of bed from a long and weary dream. Just exactly as I remember. Every word. Every gesture. I'm a heart in cold ground.
Jacoby’s voice began narrating the scene.
I hate flying. I never fly. I guess I just don’t like to travel. But I was summoned by a phone call. My talents are wanted. Not the first time Jacoby Capone has been requested. But this time…I said yes. This time I’m being placed on a pedestal that allows me to voice my opinions and spread my word. My outlook!
A few feet from Capone in the waiting area, a trio of teens arrived wearing the t-shirts of top 40 rappers. They were being quite loud and obnoxious.
Fifteen minutes.
I see society differently and I struggle seeing its ridiculousness every day, but now I’m being requested, to be placed on a pedestal that makes my voice and words relevant? Of course I accepted, and yes, I’ll even fly to make it happen.
In the eye of the beholder. I'm a fish now out of water.
I’m so close to obtaining this pedestal. But even I am anxious, scratch that, I’m nervous that it will be yanked right back if I don’t pass my first showing. I have to overcome in my first battle. If not then I’ve flown out here to display how irrelevant of a force I am, and that thought makes me ill. I can’t stand that thought. I HATE the thought of losing this first one.
Hey I know him. That’s Grimm. The wrestler!
Falling off a giant bird that's been carrying me. I fell open. I laid under. At the tip out. I was just a number.
When I land and get off of that damned plane, my mindset is locked on battl-
Capone’s phone vibrated on the wooden arm rest loudly. Jacoby jolted and let out a startled gasp. Half of the now filled up waiting room turned and stared at Capone. He played it off cool by wiping his forehead, it was drenched in sweat. He looked down and noticed the tight grip he’d had on the magazine had bent paper dramatically and his previously sweaty, but now dried, thumbprints peeled off with a slight pull. He stuffed the magazine into his luggage and looked at his phone. It was a good luck message from a friend. He was confused as to why he was being wished good luck until reality quickly sunk in again.
Five minutes.
Capone merely pulled out his iPod and turned the volume up.
I wanna slip it over. And get back under. And if you think this is over. Then you're wrong. If you think this is over. Then you're wrong.
Hey, pal, c’mon, you’re going to be late.
It was the man again nudging him on his shoulder, beckoning him to get out of his seat. Capone realized that the flight was being boarded and they were the only two left. Capone mumbled a “thanks” to the man and began walking with ticket in hand.
Capone was seated by the window. He promptly pulled the shade down to the disappointment of his young, intrigued neighbor. He fiddled with the tray in front of him until it came down onto his lap. Capone removed the magazine and opened to the wrinkled picture again, replacing it onto the tray. He rested his head against the window shade and gazed into the picture and the volume of the iPod increased again.
Like I'm falling out of bed from a long and weary dream. Finally I'm free of all the weight I've been carrying. When I ask you again. When I ask you again. Wake me up, wake me up.
It's like I'm falling out of bed from a long, weary dream.
Passerbys shot Capone an aggravated look as they tried to maneuver around the clutter he’d created with his leg rest, but Capone didn’t catch their look, he was busy staring blankly at the magazine. The pages had yet to turn; 45 minutes until the flight.
The sweetest flowers and fruits hang from the trees; falling off the giant bird that’s been carrying me.
A scatter plot of people had now claimed seats in the waiting area. A middle aged, husky man in a yellow polo thumped into the seat directly by Capone. The man sat a Starbucks cup and folded up newspaper between his legs while bringing his left wrist, in which sported a watch, towards his eyes
Thirty minutes til that sum bitch leaves. I’m ready to get the hell out of dodge, declared the man. After receiving no response from Capone, the man curiously peered over at Jacoby to see what had his attention and noticed the magazine page that Capone was so fixated on. Hey, I know him. Oh that’s that, uh.., damn, that’s, OH I KNOW IT, he snapped his fingers trying to recall the name of the wrestler who was not only the focus of the picture, but of Jacoby Capone, Hah, I know! That’s Grimm. The wrestler!
Still yet no response; the man bent over and picked up his newspaper and coffee, giving up any hope of small talk with Capone.
Capone had truly been oblivious to the man’s attempts at friendliness, but one word managed bleed in through ear buds and the music playing from them; Grimm.
Hey I know him. That’s Grimm. The wrestler! That’s Grimm. The wrestler! Grimm. Grimm. Grimm. Hey I know him. Grimm.
It's like I'm falling out of bed from a long and weary dream. Just exactly as I remember. Every word. Every gesture. I'm a heart in cold ground.
Jacoby’s voice began narrating the scene.
I hate flying. I never fly. I guess I just don’t like to travel. But I was summoned by a phone call. My talents are wanted. Not the first time Jacoby Capone has been requested. But this time…I said yes. This time I’m being placed on a pedestal that allows me to voice my opinions and spread my word. My outlook!
A few feet from Capone in the waiting area, a trio of teens arrived wearing the t-shirts of top 40 rappers. They were being quite loud and obnoxious.
Fifteen minutes.
I see society differently and I struggle seeing its ridiculousness every day, but now I’m being requested, to be placed on a pedestal that makes my voice and words relevant? Of course I accepted, and yes, I’ll even fly to make it happen.
In the eye of the beholder. I'm a fish now out of water.
I’m so close to obtaining this pedestal. But even I am anxious, scratch that, I’m nervous that it will be yanked right back if I don’t pass my first showing. I have to overcome in my first battle. If not then I’ve flown out here to display how irrelevant of a force I am, and that thought makes me ill. I can’t stand that thought. I HATE the thought of losing this first one.
Hey I know him. That’s Grimm. The wrestler!
Falling off a giant bird that's been carrying me. I fell open. I laid under. At the tip out. I was just a number.
When I land and get off of that damned plane, my mindset is locked on battl-
Capone’s phone vibrated on the wooden arm rest loudly. Jacoby jolted and let out a startled gasp. Half of the now filled up waiting room turned and stared at Capone. He played it off cool by wiping his forehead, it was drenched in sweat. He looked down and noticed the tight grip he’d had on the magazine had bent paper dramatically and his previously sweaty, but now dried, thumbprints peeled off with a slight pull. He stuffed the magazine into his luggage and looked at his phone. It was a good luck message from a friend. He was confused as to why he was being wished good luck until reality quickly sunk in again.
Five minutes.
Capone merely pulled out his iPod and turned the volume up.
I wanna slip it over. And get back under. And if you think this is over. Then you're wrong. If you think this is over. Then you're wrong.
Hey, pal, c’mon, you’re going to be late.
It was the man again nudging him on his shoulder, beckoning him to get out of his seat. Capone realized that the flight was being boarded and they were the only two left. Capone mumbled a “thanks” to the man and began walking with ticket in hand.
Capone was seated by the window. He promptly pulled the shade down to the disappointment of his young, intrigued neighbor. He fiddled with the tray in front of him until it came down onto his lap. Capone removed the magazine and opened to the wrinkled picture again, replacing it onto the tray. He rested his head against the window shade and gazed into the picture and the volume of the iPod increased again.
Like I'm falling out of bed from a long and weary dream. Finally I'm free of all the weight I've been carrying. When I ask you again. When I ask you again. Wake me up, wake me up.
- Status
