We see Frances Marigold, and for the love of god, he's slouched over an old jasmine acoustic gutiar in his lap. Dust and grime caked up on it's fretboard. One eye open, the other fluttering, he's sort of seemslyl tuning the guitar as he begin barking at the XWF camera crew through a series of belches'.

"I *ERPH* I *ERPH* YALL KNEW *RURRRPH*...."

*HICCUP*

He gasps and the fluttering eye opens- - -

"Y'all knew I sat with- - -*ERRRPHHH*"

The man is clearly, belligerently drunk,

His bottom lip opens, his jaw pushing back and leftward into his neck, he gags a little, swallowing back a retch.

"GRRRRAWWW - - -all, Y'ALL know I sat with Ku-KU-*SWOLLOWED RETCH*-Ku-KURT-- we wrote these lyrics, you... bitch!"

Frances' foot begins awkwardly stomping the floor...but for whatever reason, in rhythm.

Inexplicably, he begins plucking the rhythm for Come As You Are, fairly goddamn precisely.

Hell, now he's even adding some lead-sauce in-between the changes.

Old Frances can actually play!

Granted his eyes are rolled in the back of his head, and he appears absolutely comatose...

but even still, we can hear it burrowing up in him, his about to start signing!

If it's anywhere near as good as his guitar work, then this will sound pretty good!

"---COME!---"











"---as youCOME!---"











"---as youCOME!---"








"---AS I NEEEEEEEEEEEED YOU TO COME!---"




Okay, so his rhythm is still on point, even though he's essentially barking the incorrect lyrics now.


"TATIANA JOLIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE---UHHHHHH!"


He's still playing the song. The guitar actually sounds decent. His bloodshot eyes opening in the camera

"GONNA BLEEEEEEEED UUUUUHHHHH"


"You listen to me, little miss maple leaf"

he keeps playing

"I'm gonna' soak you in bleach, baby girl. Clean that stank off of you. Stinking ass can't even win a match. You give pure wresting a bad name-- heh-- as if it needed anymore help.

Listen here, little acaridan driftwood, you getting caught up in the middle of the Mississippi, down in Memphis with Frances Marigold, where the SOUL of the fight is all that's known.

That's Frances Marigold.

I'm gonna' beat yo' skinny ass up, and write you a song about it, the same way I helped write Alanis' lyrics. We actually had a thing going on, she and I, her jagged little pill was always some cute allegory for Frances Marigold."

His eyes are in the back of his head again, his playing fore frenetically now... it doesn't sound good


"I'MMMMMA BEEEEAAAAT YA---"

Frances tumbles over, landing face first, and heroically vomiting into the carpet, destroying his guitar.


The scene fades.

Jesus fuck...

Call a medic.