Post by Steve Sinclair on Dec 5, 2018 20:44:07 GMT
A red 2018 Kia Stinger that just so happens to be owned by one Joe Jones pulls up in a shady part of town. How shady you ask? Well, not to stir the pot or anything, but it’s the part of town where “white folk” ain’t welcomed. Run down shit holes of houses, row house no less. Busted up, beat down, rusted out cars on blocks or just sitting on the frames from being burned out. Trash, cardboard, bottles and trash litter the streets. Pretty sure if you look closely you’ll find empty dime bags, blunts and dirty needles everywhere.
And Joe and his buddy Armbar Armstrong stick out like a sore thumb. Even worse is the hot pink fake fur jacket Joe is wearing today with neon yellow Adidas tennis shoes and a pair of purple dyed vintage Jordache jeans. So what if their girls jeans, that is the least of their problems. Armbar meanwhile, he’s the one wearing a black hoodie and jeans, and he pulls that hoodie up over his head, eyes to the ground, hands in his pockets, minding his own business.
AA “You sure this is the place?”
Joe climbs out of Stinger and closes the door and steps up on the busted ass concrete sidewalk, looking at this MCM brick ranch house with broken windows, rusted out front door, porch that has seen better days. It even has blankets covering the windows.
JJ “Yup!”
AA “Yeah?”
JJ “This is the place.”
Joe glances at Armbar who makes his way around to the front of the car.
JJ “If you ever wonder where monster sleep? It’s at 89 Elm street.”
Armbar steps next to Joe, who quickly gives his phone one last check for messages.
AA “I think everyone is watching us.”
“They better.” Joe says as he slides his phone back into his pocket and looks at Armbar. “That’s what I pay them for.”
AA “You what?”
JJ “You heard me.”
Joe places one foot in front of the other, and then other and so and so forth, he repeats this motion all the way to the front door. Armbar, he eventually does this, at a much quicker pace and catches up to Joe just as Joe opens the front door and steps inside the roach motel…….
Elsewhere in a nice part of town. Where there's no monsters, crack whores and pimps, in another words, not where Sugar Valentine is, but you find your OCW SuperHero Champion. Orgulloso Guardián Del Arcoiris. OGDA for short.
And today, he’s looking rather confused.
Sporting his Smiley Face logo shirt, the OCW SuperHero Championship firmly around his waist, standing inside the OCW arena, in a part the arena that over looks where the ring would be.
“I don’t get it! I don’t understand it! What happened?” A annoyed OGDA says.
“I agreed to it! I said yes! You know those wedding shows on TV, Say yes to the dress? Where this pretty girl is getting married and she is looking for the dress of her dreams, her wedding dress and she shops and shops, tries on countless number of dresses, maybe has a argument with her mom, sister, cousin, aunt and best friend who is her maid of honor, before finally settling on a dress, and she gets all teary eyed when she sees herself in the mirror in the dress and it’s everything she was looking for.”
OGDA pauses. He clears his throat.
“Or so I heard those sort of things happen on that show. My buddy tells me that is what happens. uh….Mister Jones has every season on DVD. Yeah, that’s it.”
OGDA might have told a small little white lie just now…..
“I agreed to a match against Mister O’Connor! I especially want this wrestling match after what happened at Massacre! Ruin my top notch wrestling match against Miss Hernandez! I don’t know who was going to win that wrestling match and thanks to those, those, those, DO DO HEADS! We’ll never know! So can you imagine the look on my face when I woke up this morning and checked my texts and saw that I wasn’t going to wrestle Mister O’Connor! Instead! I’m wrestling Mister Losem!”
“Unless Mister O’Connor went to the courthouse and legally changed his name over night, and I highly doubt that since I saw with my own two eyes, Mister Losem wrestling my Team OGDA team member, Mister Turner! The greatest Wrestler money can buy and let me tell you something, Mister Tuner is the greatest wrestler money can buy! He is just fantastic I tell you! Fantastic!”
OGDA is all worked up. He really wanted to face Mack O’Connor.
“But you know what your money can’t buy? That’s right! OGDA, Me! Versus Mister O’Connor! Instead, you’ll be getting your OCW SuperHero Champion versus Mister Losem in a beat the clock match and this just doesn’t make any sense I tell you! This isn’t the wrestling match anyone wants to see a week before Death March! My Rainbow Warriors I tell you, they don’t want to see this either! No one wants to see this! Not even me! That is why, this match is going to be over quicker than you can say, Refund Please!”
“Now, I don’t know what this whole Beat the clock stuff about and to be honest, I don’t really care. I want Mack O’Connor in that ring, not Mister Losem! As far as I’m concerned, he can go get lost! I’ve been here all day I tell you, all day! Looking for Mister Welsh, who I swear, doesn’t like me at all, not at all! I thought we were friends! I thought we were buddies! If so Mister Welsh, If we are such good buddies, if you really do care about me like you tell me you did, then why?! Why?! Did you take my signed Bester Tee and throw it in the trash? Huh? Huh Mister Welsh! Explain that one to me! I found this!”
Bester pulls from his pack pocket, a personalized signed Bester Freund T Shirt. [Insert footage of Joe Jones breaking into Marcus Welsh’s office very early this morning and tosses said shirt in the trash. We see him do this as the office door was open. Whatever you do, don’t tell OGDA.]
“I gave you this out of love Mister Welsh! I gave you this because you signed me to OCW! You wanted me here and I wanted to be here! You told me you couldn’t wait to see what I could do, and do you know what I can do? Why I did this!”
OGDA tosses the shirt away and pats the face of the title, his title.
“I won the OCW SUperHero Championship and you’re welcome Mister Welsh! You are welcome! I’m starting to think that Mister Jones is correct when he says that you don’t like me anymore! When Mister Jones tells me that you think I can’t beat anyone, let alone beat Mister Losem in 4 seconds or less! I believe Mister Jones when he says you said, I can’t beat Mister Losem in 4 seconds or less! Well let me tell you a thing Mister Welsh, Get ready to be all surprised! Be ready to have your mind blown and get ready for the ribbing that Mister Zybala is going to give you when I do in fact beat Mister Losem in under 4 seconds! If you thought you have seen the wrath of the Narwhal before! Well Mister Welsh! You haven’t seen a Narwhal stampede till you see the one that I’m going to bust out on Mister Losem at Massacre! And if you think….”
OGDA snaps his fingers, pops his fist into his open palm and points at the camera.
“If you think I have forgotten about you Mister O’Connor, you are sadly mistaken! I will see you at Death Match! We are not finished! Not by a long shot!”
Your SuperHero Champion stares down the camera before fading out…….
Joe and Armbar enter the dark and dank house. Drywall is missing, mold is up on the ceiling where the roof leaks. There is no heat in the place, not that you need that is Florida. Much like the outside, the inside is filled with trash and debris. Armbar is afraid to touch anything and sticks close to Joe. Joe makes his way through the kitchen, if you can call it that, towards the back of the home where the bedrooms are. Armstrong sticking close to him. At the end of a hallway is one of the bedrooms. Instead of being a door, there is a locking jail cell sliding door. It’s closed and I would guessed locked. Joe walks up to it, Armstrong wondering what in the hell is this all about.
“Big guy!” Joe shouts out. “Fatty agreed to the match. It’s been back and forth with the lawyers now a dozen times. I was able to get what you wanted in the match without him noticing. His own fucking lawyer didn’t even saying anything, which makes me thinks he’s paying a intern somewhere to be his lawyer.”
Armstrong sports a puzzled look on his face. “What match?”
Joe glares at him, telling him to shut the fuck up without saying a word.
“We’re doing the signing at Death March. The match will happen next month in 2019. We’re still working out which date that will be. Kinda gotta wait to see who ends up with control of OCW.”
There is no response from within the bedroom. Armstrong tries to look, he peeks and sees no one. Joe leans up against the bars. He looks at Armstrong and winks at him.
“So listen, in that match, it’s a handicapped match. I don’t care what you do to the other guy, “Henry”. (Joe chuckles as Nanook thinks Joe signed Henry) But the other guy. I need you to not hurt him. I brought him here so he can meet you. He’s a good kid Steve. He’s not with Fatty. He’s with me. It’s just complicated you know. His name is Armstrong.”
Joe pauses for a couple of seconds. No response. Joe crosses his arms.
“Can you do me this one favor? Don’t break the kid.”
Armstrong looks at Joe, tries to peek around the corner into the bedroom. That is when a large shadow moves in front of the door to the bedroom. Armstrong’s eyes start at eye level, and they slowly start to work their way up, and up, and up and up. His eyes grow wider and wider the more they move upwards and this figure blocks out any light that is coming from the bedroom engulfing the hallway in complete darkness.
But the horror on Armstrong’s face, that is clear as day.
cut.
And Joe and his buddy Armbar Armstrong stick out like a sore thumb. Even worse is the hot pink fake fur jacket Joe is wearing today with neon yellow Adidas tennis shoes and a pair of purple dyed vintage Jordache jeans. So what if their girls jeans, that is the least of their problems. Armbar meanwhile, he’s the one wearing a black hoodie and jeans, and he pulls that hoodie up over his head, eyes to the ground, hands in his pockets, minding his own business.
AA “You sure this is the place?”
Joe climbs out of Stinger and closes the door and steps up on the busted ass concrete sidewalk, looking at this MCM brick ranch house with broken windows, rusted out front door, porch that has seen better days. It even has blankets covering the windows.
JJ “Yup!”
AA “Yeah?”
JJ “This is the place.”
Joe glances at Armbar who makes his way around to the front of the car.
JJ “If you ever wonder where monster sleep? It’s at 89 Elm street.”
Armbar steps next to Joe, who quickly gives his phone one last check for messages.
AA “I think everyone is watching us.”
“They better.” Joe says as he slides his phone back into his pocket and looks at Armbar. “That’s what I pay them for.”
AA “You what?”
JJ “You heard me.”
Joe places one foot in front of the other, and then other and so and so forth, he repeats this motion all the way to the front door. Armbar, he eventually does this, at a much quicker pace and catches up to Joe just as Joe opens the front door and steps inside the roach motel…….
Elsewhere in a nice part of town. Where there's no monsters, crack whores and pimps, in another words, not where Sugar Valentine is, but you find your OCW SuperHero Champion. Orgulloso Guardián Del Arcoiris. OGDA for short.
And today, he’s looking rather confused.
Sporting his Smiley Face logo shirt, the OCW SuperHero Championship firmly around his waist, standing inside the OCW arena, in a part the arena that over looks where the ring would be.
“I don’t get it! I don’t understand it! What happened?” A annoyed OGDA says.
“I agreed to it! I said yes! You know those wedding shows on TV, Say yes to the dress? Where this pretty girl is getting married and she is looking for the dress of her dreams, her wedding dress and she shops and shops, tries on countless number of dresses, maybe has a argument with her mom, sister, cousin, aunt and best friend who is her maid of honor, before finally settling on a dress, and she gets all teary eyed when she sees herself in the mirror in the dress and it’s everything she was looking for.”
OGDA pauses. He clears his throat.
“Or so I heard those sort of things happen on that show. My buddy tells me that is what happens. uh….Mister Jones has every season on DVD. Yeah, that’s it.”
OGDA might have told a small little white lie just now…..
“I agreed to a match against Mister O’Connor! I especially want this wrestling match after what happened at Massacre! Ruin my top notch wrestling match against Miss Hernandez! I don’t know who was going to win that wrestling match and thanks to those, those, those, DO DO HEADS! We’ll never know! So can you imagine the look on my face when I woke up this morning and checked my texts and saw that I wasn’t going to wrestle Mister O’Connor! Instead! I’m wrestling Mister Losem!”
“Unless Mister O’Connor went to the courthouse and legally changed his name over night, and I highly doubt that since I saw with my own two eyes, Mister Losem wrestling my Team OGDA team member, Mister Turner! The greatest Wrestler money can buy and let me tell you something, Mister Tuner is the greatest wrestler money can buy! He is just fantastic I tell you! Fantastic!”
OGDA is all worked up. He really wanted to face Mack O’Connor.
“But you know what your money can’t buy? That’s right! OGDA, Me! Versus Mister O’Connor! Instead, you’ll be getting your OCW SuperHero Champion versus Mister Losem in a beat the clock match and this just doesn’t make any sense I tell you! This isn’t the wrestling match anyone wants to see a week before Death March! My Rainbow Warriors I tell you, they don’t want to see this either! No one wants to see this! Not even me! That is why, this match is going to be over quicker than you can say, Refund Please!”
“Now, I don’t know what this whole Beat the clock stuff about and to be honest, I don’t really care. I want Mack O’Connor in that ring, not Mister Losem! As far as I’m concerned, he can go get lost! I’ve been here all day I tell you, all day! Looking for Mister Welsh, who I swear, doesn’t like me at all, not at all! I thought we were friends! I thought we were buddies! If so Mister Welsh, If we are such good buddies, if you really do care about me like you tell me you did, then why?! Why?! Did you take my signed Bester Tee and throw it in the trash? Huh? Huh Mister Welsh! Explain that one to me! I found this!”
Bester pulls from his pack pocket, a personalized signed Bester Freund T Shirt. [Insert footage of Joe Jones breaking into Marcus Welsh’s office very early this morning and tosses said shirt in the trash. We see him do this as the office door was open. Whatever you do, don’t tell OGDA.]
“I gave you this out of love Mister Welsh! I gave you this because you signed me to OCW! You wanted me here and I wanted to be here! You told me you couldn’t wait to see what I could do, and do you know what I can do? Why I did this!”
OGDA tosses the shirt away and pats the face of the title, his title.
“I won the OCW SUperHero Championship and you’re welcome Mister Welsh! You are welcome! I’m starting to think that Mister Jones is correct when he says that you don’t like me anymore! When Mister Jones tells me that you think I can’t beat anyone, let alone beat Mister Losem in 4 seconds or less! I believe Mister Jones when he says you said, I can’t beat Mister Losem in 4 seconds or less! Well let me tell you a thing Mister Welsh, Get ready to be all surprised! Be ready to have your mind blown and get ready for the ribbing that Mister Zybala is going to give you when I do in fact beat Mister Losem in under 4 seconds! If you thought you have seen the wrath of the Narwhal before! Well Mister Welsh! You haven’t seen a Narwhal stampede till you see the one that I’m going to bust out on Mister Losem at Massacre! And if you think….”
OGDA snaps his fingers, pops his fist into his open palm and points at the camera.
“If you think I have forgotten about you Mister O’Connor, you are sadly mistaken! I will see you at Death Match! We are not finished! Not by a long shot!”
Your SuperHero Champion stares down the camera before fading out…….
Joe and Armbar enter the dark and dank house. Drywall is missing, mold is up on the ceiling where the roof leaks. There is no heat in the place, not that you need that is Florida. Much like the outside, the inside is filled with trash and debris. Armbar is afraid to touch anything and sticks close to Joe. Joe makes his way through the kitchen, if you can call it that, towards the back of the home where the bedrooms are. Armstrong sticking close to him. At the end of a hallway is one of the bedrooms. Instead of being a door, there is a locking jail cell sliding door. It’s closed and I would guessed locked. Joe walks up to it, Armstrong wondering what in the hell is this all about.
“Big guy!” Joe shouts out. “Fatty agreed to the match. It’s been back and forth with the lawyers now a dozen times. I was able to get what you wanted in the match without him noticing. His own fucking lawyer didn’t even saying anything, which makes me thinks he’s paying a intern somewhere to be his lawyer.”
Armstrong sports a puzzled look on his face. “What match?”
Joe glares at him, telling him to shut the fuck up without saying a word.
“We’re doing the signing at Death March. The match will happen next month in 2019. We’re still working out which date that will be. Kinda gotta wait to see who ends up with control of OCW.”
There is no response from within the bedroom. Armstrong tries to look, he peeks and sees no one. Joe leans up against the bars. He looks at Armstrong and winks at him.
“So listen, in that match, it’s a handicapped match. I don’t care what you do to the other guy, “Henry”. (Joe chuckles as Nanook thinks Joe signed Henry) But the other guy. I need you to not hurt him. I brought him here so he can meet you. He’s a good kid Steve. He’s not with Fatty. He’s with me. It’s just complicated you know. His name is Armstrong.”
Joe pauses for a couple of seconds. No response. Joe crosses his arms.
“Can you do me this one favor? Don’t break the kid.”
Armstrong looks at Joe, tries to peek around the corner into the bedroom. That is when a large shadow moves in front of the door to the bedroom. Armstrong’s eyes start at eye level, and they slowly start to work their way up, and up, and up and up. His eyes grow wider and wider the more they move upwards and this figure blocks out any light that is coming from the bedroom engulfing the hallway in complete darkness.
But the horror on Armstrong’s face, that is clear as day.
cut.