Post by Lora Shaw on Nov 17, 2014 2:00:40 GMT
“Pffttt... Ah-hahahahahaha!”
Thick, acrid smoke lingers through the shot, creating a semi-opaque veil in front of the relaxed face of Lora Shaw. The room they occupy is dimly lit; the TV the only source of light at this moment in time. Through the fog, a small, circular light burns – glowing brighter with every second.
Then the exhale.
Lora: “Babe... Babe... Do you think they'll get to White Castle?”
Warren – who has refrained from smoking – sits beside his wife and nods. He's taking regular sips of water from his plastic bottle, keeping his throat well lubricated.
Warren: “I think the question is – who the hell cares?”
He's not as jovial as Lora at this moment in time, who – upon hearing his flippant remark – loses control and succumbs to a fit of laughter. With a sense of a dwindling patience, Warren shuffles forward on the sofa of their living room and begins his questioning, as planned.
Warren: “Okay, darling. I think we've got you to where you need to be. Tell me how you feel.”
The blonde grins.
Lora: “Fucking fantastic!”
Her husband rolls his eyes in a dismissive fashion.
Warren: “Evidently. So you feel great despite the fact that this place currently smells like a Jamaican ashtray. Excellent. Let's make a note.”
He scribbles quick sentences down onto a small reporting note pad, ideal for short hand.
Warren: “Patient... is exhibiting signs... of... delusion... and is shut off... to her... surroundings. Okay great. Stand up.”
Lora: “Do I have to?”
Warren: “Yes! We have to know what sort of control you have. Stand up.”
Reluctantly and with accompanying groans, Lora pushes herself off the sofa and stands to a vertical base, grinning foolishly in the process. She stumbles back for a moment before regaining her balance.
Lora: “Whoa! Did you feel that?!”
Warren shakes his head and makes another note of his findings.
Warren: “Patient is not... steady on her feet... and is... not sure... why. Okay, I want you to run around the sofa once and return to me as quickly as possible and as controlled as you can. Got it?”
There's a confidence oozing from Lora, as she nods and over-exaggerates her body motions. She begins her sprint, which – unsurprisingly – is slower than her usual pace. She doesn't finish the journey before she slips and crashes into a side table with all the elegance of a bear on roller skates.
Silence.
Lora: “I'm okay!”
A simple shake of the head is all Warren can muster, as he makes a note.
Warren: “Patient has... absolutely no balance... or... control... over her... movements.”
The pretty blonde hauls herself up and leans against the back of the sofa.
Lora: “Can we stop this now? I'm hungry.”
Warren: “I think so. It doesn't take a genius to work out that you're completely out of your face right now.”
His wife returns to her spot on the sofa, moving gingerly and cautiously following the crash. Her composure is gone but her giggles remain.
Warren: “Herbert smokes this stuff like we drink water. What the hell must that be doing to him?! I mean, I know you inside and out, darling. You're fast, you're strong, you're capable with all your movements – but now? Well...”
Lora is curled up in a ball on the sofa, mesmerized by the movements of her fingers, as she wiggles them in front of her face.
Warren: “... Hmm. In any case, the leaf is just one of many things that are going to hijack his hopes of winning this fight. He doesn't know his opponent at all. Hell, nobody does; save for what he's supposedly capable of inside the ring. He'll be facing a couple who have been together for eight years. We train together, live together, eat, sleep and breathe together. There's no better team unit in this company than you and me, darling. That puts Herb at a huge disadvantage enough, without adding all the effects of weed to his problems.”
Lora has zoned out of the conversation, prompting Warren to grab his now empty water bottle and aim it at her.
Warren: “Honey, think fast!”
He tosses it and connects with her head. There's nothing for a few seconds after the collision, until eventually, she rubs her forehead and scowls.
Lora: “Ouch, man!”
Warren: “Patient has... slow... reaction... time. That's interesting. He's billed as the fastest guy in the fight. He better lay off his medicine then or that'll soon change. No wonder his focus is terrible.”
Lora: “Look, baby. Let's just chill... Kay?”
She pulls Warren in for a cuddle and both of them return to the movie.
Warren: “So stoners don't put up a fight. Noted.”
The pair snuggle up as the scene fades.
Lora: “You know, I should totally write a song about this...”
Thick, acrid smoke lingers through the shot, creating a semi-opaque veil in front of the relaxed face of Lora Shaw. The room they occupy is dimly lit; the TV the only source of light at this moment in time. Through the fog, a small, circular light burns – glowing brighter with every second.
Then the exhale.
Lora: “Babe... Babe... Do you think they'll get to White Castle?”
Warren – who has refrained from smoking – sits beside his wife and nods. He's taking regular sips of water from his plastic bottle, keeping his throat well lubricated.
Warren: “I think the question is – who the hell cares?”
He's not as jovial as Lora at this moment in time, who – upon hearing his flippant remark – loses control and succumbs to a fit of laughter. With a sense of a dwindling patience, Warren shuffles forward on the sofa of their living room and begins his questioning, as planned.
Warren: “Okay, darling. I think we've got you to where you need to be. Tell me how you feel.”
The blonde grins.
Lora: “Fucking fantastic!”
Her husband rolls his eyes in a dismissive fashion.
Warren: “Evidently. So you feel great despite the fact that this place currently smells like a Jamaican ashtray. Excellent. Let's make a note.”
He scribbles quick sentences down onto a small reporting note pad, ideal for short hand.
Warren: “Patient... is exhibiting signs... of... delusion... and is shut off... to her... surroundings. Okay great. Stand up.”
Lora: “Do I have to?”
Warren: “Yes! We have to know what sort of control you have. Stand up.”
Reluctantly and with accompanying groans, Lora pushes herself off the sofa and stands to a vertical base, grinning foolishly in the process. She stumbles back for a moment before regaining her balance.
Lora: “Whoa! Did you feel that?!”
Warren shakes his head and makes another note of his findings.
Warren: “Patient is not... steady on her feet... and is... not sure... why. Okay, I want you to run around the sofa once and return to me as quickly as possible and as controlled as you can. Got it?”
There's a confidence oozing from Lora, as she nods and over-exaggerates her body motions. She begins her sprint, which – unsurprisingly – is slower than her usual pace. She doesn't finish the journey before she slips and crashes into a side table with all the elegance of a bear on roller skates.
Silence.
Lora: “I'm okay!”
A simple shake of the head is all Warren can muster, as he makes a note.
Warren: “Patient has... absolutely no balance... or... control... over her... movements.”
The pretty blonde hauls herself up and leans against the back of the sofa.
Lora: “Can we stop this now? I'm hungry.”
Warren: “I think so. It doesn't take a genius to work out that you're completely out of your face right now.”
His wife returns to her spot on the sofa, moving gingerly and cautiously following the crash. Her composure is gone but her giggles remain.
Warren: “Herbert smokes this stuff like we drink water. What the hell must that be doing to him?! I mean, I know you inside and out, darling. You're fast, you're strong, you're capable with all your movements – but now? Well...”
Lora is curled up in a ball on the sofa, mesmerized by the movements of her fingers, as she wiggles them in front of her face.
Warren: “... Hmm. In any case, the leaf is just one of many things that are going to hijack his hopes of winning this fight. He doesn't know his opponent at all. Hell, nobody does; save for what he's supposedly capable of inside the ring. He'll be facing a couple who have been together for eight years. We train together, live together, eat, sleep and breathe together. There's no better team unit in this company than you and me, darling. That puts Herb at a huge disadvantage enough, without adding all the effects of weed to his problems.”
Lora has zoned out of the conversation, prompting Warren to grab his now empty water bottle and aim it at her.
Warren: “Honey, think fast!”
He tosses it and connects with her head. There's nothing for a few seconds after the collision, until eventually, she rubs her forehead and scowls.
Lora: “Ouch, man!”
Warren: “Patient has... slow... reaction... time. That's interesting. He's billed as the fastest guy in the fight. He better lay off his medicine then or that'll soon change. No wonder his focus is terrible.”
Lora: “Look, baby. Let's just chill... Kay?”
She pulls Warren in for a cuddle and both of them return to the movie.
Warren: “So stoners don't put up a fight. Noted.”
The pair snuggle up as the scene fades.
Lora: “You know, I should totally write a song about this...”
