Whimsy, Whiskey, Women

Monday, May 12, 2003 - Las Vegas, NV - J.C. Wooloughan's at JW Marriott Las Vegas
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Victory, any victory, was still the sweetest taste of all for any and every grappler in the realm of professional wrestling.  One that had been hard fought, and won with the utmost pain and suffering along the way made it all the sweeter.  For now though, the burden had been lifted off the shoulders of the Whiskey Devils.

Flare and Thunder, like McCracken and Vincent before them, had fallen.  

A few hours now though, to sit back, and yes, reflect, on the battle that was.

Although tired and beaten, battered, exhausted, bloodied, bruised...and any other similar adjectives - they all applied - the Whiskey Devils, Finnegan, Lancaster, knew there was only one place to be, and that was back at Wooloughan's Irish Pub just outside of the main Las Vegas area.

The two Brits walked in slowly into the nearly packed pub, immediately after Silver, and were greeted rather surprisingly, namely with a rousing ovation from the Las Vegas crowd.

They may have been BWWa supporters and fans - but Finnegan, Lancaster, the blood in their veins demanded and received respect and warmth from their fellow Islanders.

Rob and Seamus glanced at each other, as patrons stood clapping while still holding their Guinnesses and Carlsburg's, smoking their cigarettes and pipes.  They received pats on the back, and a number of friendly smiles, and words.

They soaked in the atmosphere once more.  Lancaster grinned and, suddenly, with his CAL Tag Team Title in hand, climbed the nearest table, much to the surprise of the customers, and yelled, at the top of his lungs,

 "FECKIN' AYE!!!"

The bar erupted into a roar of cheer, as Seamus, holding his shellelagh, also cried out.

"FECKIN' AYE INDEED!!! WE'RE THE KINGS O'THE WORLD!!! BARKEEP...TWO DRINKS FER THE KINGS O'THE WORLD!!!"

Once more the bar burst into cheers, as Lancaster dismounted from the table.  It was nice to let-loose and do things...just for the hell of it.  The band that was present continued playing "Whiskey You're the Devil" as people settled back down to their eating, drinking, and making merry.

Lancaster and Finnegan were seated to their table, when someone no other than Kathy sauntered over, a wide seductive grin on her face.

"Evening again lads...congrats on your win...we're all so proud of ya here..."  She blinked slowly at Lancaster before turning her gaze over to Seamus. "Now what can I get ya loves..."

Nudge nudge, wink wink!

"Well, what can she get us, lad? Are ye thinkin' what ah'm thinkin'? Do ye hear that foghorn in the distance???"

The Duke smirked and nodded, playing along.

"Oh...I think I do...I see a ship...no...a boat!  Perhaps...potato boats?!"

Seamus slammed his fist onto the table. "FECKIN' AYE!! POTATO BOATS!"

Lancaster looked up with a quiet expression, at Kathy, who stood near laughter.

 "Yes...Potato, boats.  Quite."

"An' don't go easy on the sour cream, lass!!! And drinks...LOTS OF DRINKS...LOTS AN'LOTS O'DRINKS!!!"

Kathy playfully yelled,  "Well what kind of feckin' drink ya silly wanker!"

The Duke smacked Kathy equally playfully on the arse.  Thankfully, not resulting in a sexual harassment suit for the flirtatious Brit!

Kathy shrugged her shoulders and lifted her arms in the air again, pointing at Robert.  "I'm gonna ask ye again Seamus - is he ALWAYS this bad?!"

"Aye!  But to be THIS feckin' bad it it usually takes a certain special someone to bring it out o'the bastard, if ye know what I mean!"

"Awww that's so sweet.  Ye know I think I'm gonna give ya what ye deserve!"  Kathy motioned to kiss Rob but suddenly turned and planted a big one on Seamus' cheek.

"That's for being such a gentleman!  Be back with yer things in a few minutes!"  The equally cheeky barmaid turned tail and walked off to deliver their order to the kitchen, leaving Seamus laughing at Lancaster.

Lancaster glared at Seamus playfully.

"Well, what are ye lookin' at me fer?"

"You sir, stole OUR  woman!"  

When Lancaster began talking in third person as he used to back in his days of infamy, one knew the bullshit was about to fly.

"Thankfully for ye though, we are your tag team partner, so we shall not thrash your arse in front of all these good people here!"

"Ach, yer far too kind, lad...tell ye what, I'll put in a good word for ye wi'her...perhaps ye'll still be showin' her the true meanin' o' 'The Nobility of the Sword' later on tonight...if ye play yer cards right, of course."

Seamus winked at Lancaster, who in turn raised his eyebrow.  

"Course, if I were still single, she'd be feeling 'Forty Shades of Pleasure' instead!"

Lancaster laughed heartily at Seamus' innuendo.

"Is that so!  Well...since neither one of us can prove it to her realistically...who the better lover would be...might I suggest Messrs. Walker, J&B and Bushmills help settle this score??"

That meant only one thing.  A drinking contest.  And bottle upon bottle of scotch whiskey flying off the shelves of the Wooloughan.

Seamus was the only man alive to defeat Lancaster at a boozing contest.  Likewise, contrarily, the English Noble was the only man capable of defeating the Irish Assassin.  

The score was tied, 1-1.  Lancaster lost the last bout, resulting in a severe hangover the following day.

"Well, let me think about that one for a minute or two lad..."

Seamus thought about it, but it was more like 2 seconds.

"...FECKIN' AYE!!!"

Kathy smiled as she returned with a generous basket of potato boats, overloaded with cheese, tomato and chives, setting it in front of the hungry Brits.

She smiled, when she realized she forgot to get their drinks order.

"AUCH I'm sorry lads, I forgot to get yer drinks...what'll ye have?"

 "I know love, ye'll have to make it up to me later on...but for now...oh...let's say two bottles of Bushmills, three of John Walker Red, and two more of J&B's...please.  And two glasses of course.  That should do, right lad?"

"Feckin' Aye!"

Kathy looked down in amazement, walking away slowly, unsure of how to tell the bartender such an order!  Seamus and Lancaster in the meantime digged in to the potato boats.

"So...still no word from that wench o'yers I take it?"

Lancaster was somewhat taken back by Seamus' dubbing Steph a "wench," but could hardly dispute that her behaviour over the past two months or so had been nothing but wench-like.

"Well, not directly, no...not really.  Last time I was over as you know was a few weeks ago to see Eddie...she wasn't there obviously.  Things haven't moved one inch really.  I have no bloody clue what's going on, where things are going...or what she's even been doing.  For now..."

Kathy had returned, almost unable to handle the seven large bottles of scotch on her tray.  She placed them down, one at a time.  She looked at the two, concerned about the quantity of liquor the two were going to attempt to deal with.

"Be careful...right love?"

The buxom, sweet  Irish waitress leaned down and this time kissed the Duke gently on the cheek, before getting back to work. The band began one of the Whiskey Devil's favourite tunes, "Whiskey You're the Devil." By the time that night was over, Whiskey certainly proved itself to be just that.

"...I'm not too worried.  I'm willing to be that this shyte will all blow-over, but I'll enjoy single life, or as near to it, as I can, 'till then."

The Northern Irelander listened intently and smiled sympathetically.

"Ach, I'll drink to that lad...to 'Till Then'!!!"

Lancaster uncapped a bottle of Bushmills to get things started, filling two glasses.  They lifted them in the air, clinked glasses, and each man downed their portions in a second flat.  The Duke poured another few glasses and lifted his glass once again.

"Next, I'd like this one to go to Flunder...erm, Flare and Thunder.  They're good  men, with skill and talent, and they put up a helluva fight.  Here's to 'em lad, and here's hoping they hang on to those BWWa Tag Team Titles for a long time to come."

"Feckin' aye! They put up a pretty good fight alright, ah've gotta give 'em credit! Ah'll drink to that as well!"

Once again they backed down another shot of scotch.  Once again, no effect.

Seamus wiped his lips and just as Lancaster was about to pour another generous helping, he took the bottle away from him.  The Duke raised his eyebrow.

"Something wrong lad? Am I not pouring the glasses filled enough?"

Seamus shook his head.

"Nay lad, not at all. I'm tired of feckin' toasting...auch, one more...to me wee nipper when he's near! And after this, screw the toasting...and show me what ye've got again and try to drink me under the feckin' table!"

"You sir...have a deal," declared the Duke.  "To your wee nipper!"

"Aye, an' to my wee lass, carryin' the wee nipper around as well!"

The Whiskey Devils backed down their over-flowing glasses.  Something suddenly struck Lancaster.

"Wait one moment...we didn't toast our would-be opponents in the IWA...whomever they might be...if they knew we were here in Las Vegas cheering our opponents whom we just soundly thumped, without toasting our opponents who will be SOON to be THUMPED? They might never forgive us."

"Aye, you've got a point there lad...[Seamus raises his glass] TO OUR FUTURE GOBSHITE OPPONENTS IN THE IWA!!! MAY THEY FALL AT OUR FEET JUST AS EASILY AS THE GOBSHITES WE JUST DEFEATED FELL AT OUR FEET!!! FECKIN' AYE!!!"


Several Bottles Later...
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[in a heavy drunken slur] "We're feckin' lucky, ye know why, lad?"

Lancaster slowly moved his hand and brushed it against his glass, aiming it slowly towards his mouth, slurping the scorching substance yet again down.  Unrealizing he was spoken to until then, he burst out, also in a slur.

"Ohhh....nay, why's thaaat ye fecker??"

"'Cause look at us, lad! We're the goddthamed Coalition of Alliated Fleagues Tag Team Champions!!! We're the best there is...the best there was...and, ummmmm...feck, I forgot my train o'thought!"

Seamus laughed drunkenly.

"Auch......HEUNDE SCHENDE DE FORGETTT ZEE TRAIN? CHOO...wha? My GOD what's in this shyte..."  

Lancaster held up the now emptied bottle of John Walker Red, looking for some supposed explanation for his behaviour.

"Feck lad, yer startin' to sound like that shobgite...errrr, gobshite chef o'yers!!! BORK BORK BORK!!!"

The Duke groaned rather dramatically.

"Ohhhh GODDDD. You know why I HATE that Iron Chef Martha Stewart Chef Boyardee SWEDISH MOUSTACHED FECKER??"

"Why's tha'???"

"Cause 'e's thinking his cooking is UNBEATABLE like Xdam A's ass tales, he's a BITCH like Ripper's hairdo, and he's a FLIPPIN TWIT LIKE SNAKE BOY, what's his name Python...yes, INDEED. INDEED."

Illogical? Oh yes.  Nonsensical? Oh yes.  Fun? Oh yes.

"Ahhhhh, yesssss...let's drink to Pythonnnnnnnn...nah, on second thought, let's NOT drink to Pythonnnnnnnnnn!!!"

"No, NO Python he's RUINED Jeff that poor old guy with that fecker he enjoys hanging around wha the BEST?"

"Nay, the BEAST!"

"Same thing, right?"

The Whiskey Devils laughged uproariously.

"Aye!!! [raising a glass] TO THE BREAST...ERRRR...BEST...ERRRR...Beast? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

Lancaster and Seamus almost simulaneously there after laid their heads on the table, unable to even lift their glasses.  Lancaster knocked his glass over, spilling his scotch.  He mumbled and slowly picked the glass back up.

"Welllll lad, methinks we've had it...call it a draw......aye......please say it's a draw...and besides [whispering] I don't want to make an arse of myself in front of Kathy..."

"Aye, draw!!! [Seamus pulls a pen out of his coat pocket, grabs a napkin and draws a happy face on the napkin] There, I drew!!!"

Kathly suddenly walked up, her hands on her hips, staring down at the two intoxicateds.

"Too late I'm afraid...didn't I tell ye to be careful? Now look at ye..." Kathy once again took the liberty of sitting on Lancaster's lap.

"OOOOOOOOH...look a'tha' lad...Kathy-love, tell Santa what ye want fer Christmasssssssssssss!"

She looked down at the Duke who looked at her hungrily, his eyes glazed over long ago.

"I want to take this young man back home wit' me, 'cause, I'm done my shift, and I see this fine English gentleman with nowhere to go."

Lancaster smirked and winked at Seamus.

"Suddenly laddy...I'm not all that thirsty any more, and I want to get the feck out of here now..."

"Awwwww feck, well, ye go on there an'have yerselves some fun...ah'll just go on back to the hotel, call up the wife an' have  a wee bit o'fun wi'Mr. Winky!"

Seamus made a lewd hand gesture towards his groin.

On that, Lancaster, with Kathy, and Seamus, heading towards another woman, namely his beloved wife, departed.  Lancaster smiled as he walked out with Kathy, but longed still, even drunk, for his Stephanie.

But it was proven, without a doubt, that whimsy, whiskey, and women...truly made a potent mix, with potent results...





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