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Freakshow shrinks back as the animal encloses in on his personal space. This was bad. This was really, really bad. Freak hated most animals. Mammals, he hated most. Couldn't stand them, the fur, the fact that they'd let themselves be domesticated. He had, however, never before considered the problems that a snake posed. Mainly that it was venomous. "Come on..." The loopy veteran slurred to the black eyed reptile, bargaining. "Say," He squints at the creature, finally appearing to reach some sort of consensus on the thing. "You look kinda like my ma',"

The snake attaches itself to Freaks shoulder by it's teeth. In a split second the veteran disappears underneath the ring with the serpent dangling behind him, hooked into the veteran. He only stays under there for about five or ten seconds before he emerges out the other side, the creature now coiled around his neck. It's amazing how quick you can move when there's a deadly animal trying to kill you. Up on his feet, with surprising agility and deftness of foot, he takes a couple steps forward before flopping right down onto his face, twitching.

"Bllllgh.."

Freakshow drools on the floor while the snake unravels itself from the veteran, slithering underneath the ring for refuge. The lights in the arena began to intensify as the villain stared out into the see of hostile faces, unable to hear a single word of what they were saying, only a very high frequency buzzing. They all looked vaguely satanic to him, they had this glow, he couldn't quite place it. It was quite frightening. Where had the snake gone? He wondered to himself, repeating it in his head. Where had the snake gone? Where had the snake gone?

Freakshow finds himself bound up against the ropes, his arms extended outwards, his head tilts down onto his shoulder. Blood crawls down his face as the lights, the sounds, the sensations, all start to blur together in a vortex. "I.." He spits out, his voice withering, "I need a drink," His mouth hangs open as he struggles momentarily for air. "Wha-..." He pulls weakly at the ropes, "I really need a drink,". He monotones.

Freakshow reflexively opens his mouth and lets the liquour pour down his mouth. Like a hamster. He looks like a hamster drinking from whatever it is that contraption that hamsters drink out of is called. A bottle. That's what they drink out of. Hamsters drink out of bottles. Freak was also drinking out of a bottle and it tasted real good. Well, actually, it tasted like water to him. It all tasted like water to him. Or maybe not, he couldn't remember what water tasted like. He never drank it.

Hot. Hot. Hot. Freak felt his face burn. Why? It couldn't be that hot. A ball of fire erupts then consumes itself immediately. The memphis traditionalist had thrown his fair share of fireballs into peoples face, never before had it been done to him. It did not feel very good. Not very good at all. In fact, it felt just awful. The veteran in his flailing and gesticulating wrests himself free of the ropes before slumping to the ground, clinging to the ring banners as his skin blisters pink.

Freakshow didn't hear what Salem was saying to him. That is not to say that he was not hearing anything at all. He was hearing something. His high school girlfriend, namely. "Ah whattya mean- OOOF-" The skinhead buries his face into the floor, lazily wrapping an arm around his ribs as he feels the boo of a toe smack into it. "C'mon Cindy, baby," He moans in a whiny jive sounding lisp, his chest felt like it was eating itself. "Just tell em' you fell down the stairs," The mutters before throwing a weak looking punch at the phantom, "Yah.." Slowly he turns over. Jesus, those welts. Towards the casket, some kind of perverted instinct guiding him, he slowly tries to drag himself.

"Sleep.." The new yorker warbles to himself uneasily, putting one hand over the other in a slow mechanical effort towards the casket. "I need some sleep.. Or.." He arrives at the foot of the wooden container, pressing his head against the side of it. "Somethin',"